1875.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
65 
fig. 4. The short ends of wool thus made, form the 
rays of the daisies, and when these are combed 
up with a fine-tooth comb, the edges become some¬ 
what frayed, and form a ball very similar to the 
center of the flower of a daisy. The threads are 
then cut with a sharp penknife, all around the 
frame in the center of 
the groove, which frees 
the mat from the frame. 
The fringe around the 
•edges is then combed 
out, and the mat ap¬ 
pears as in fig. 5. By 
choosing proper colors 
and material, very hand¬ 
some mats for various 
uses may be made. j'jg. —making the mat. 
White floss-silk, or cot¬ 
ton, will make beautiful toilet mats, sulphur yel¬ 
low also makes a delicate mat. Green and orange, 
red, white, and blue, or other mixtures of wool, 
make useful lamp mats, or table mats for vases, 
clocks, inkstands, and a very large variety of other 
uses. These mats may 
be washed many times, 
will stand very rough 
usage, and if securely 
tied, are almost in¬ 
destructible by ordinary 
wear. The mat from 
which fig. 4 is drawn, 
has been in use since 
1855, and is now as good 
as new. After being 
washed, the mats shrink 
somewhat, and are improved both in appearance 
and for service. For each size of mat, a different 
frame is needed, and by using a large frame with 
two-inch notches, woolen rags may be cut into 
strips as for rag-carpet filling, and used to make 
very serviceable door mats and rugs. 
Fig. 5.— MAT COMPLETE. 
When to Eat and How to Cook Cabbage. 
Faith Rochester writes in reply to a note from the 
•editor : Did I plan to have cabbage for breakfast in 
that bill of fare for a week, I sent off last week ? 
I do not remember. I asked the family at dinner 
to-day, “ Did we ever have cabbage for breakfast ? 
and no one could remember that we ever did, but I 
could see that no one of them thought there would 
be anything improper in the proceeding. I re¬ 
member that two things in particular interfered 
with the carrying out of that programme. One of 
the little ones took cold and was quite unwell, and 
ate very little of only the simplest food, and one 
went over to grandpa’s for a few days, so that there 
was an unusual amount of “ warming over ” that 
week. Then grandpa brought us a chicken, which 
made two meals. 
The editor “ pitched into ” me as follow's : “ Cab¬ 
bage for breakfast! Shade of the departed Blot! 
But why did you not say how—raw—boiled—or 
that abomination to the nose and the stomach— 
fried. Cabbage for breakfast for women and babies 
should not stand unqualified and unexplained. I 
am not making fun at you, but really desirous to 
know how a woman who talks about hygiene, 
physiology, dress-reform, stomach-reform, and all 
—does eat cabbage for breakfast, if at all.” 
I suppose that the editor dresses his cabbage with 
vinegar, or has it cooked with vinegar—as we never 
do. [Nor we.—E d.] I should like the taste of it, 
but one tea-spoonful of it (or any preparation with 
vinegar) would surely give me a sick headache, as 
I learned long ago by repeated experiments. Of 
course it is not so with every one. 
We like our cabbage cooked like cauliflower, and 
it is almost as good. It is cooked with milk, and I 
never dreamed that it was unwholesome. Like 
most vegetables of the kind, there is not much 
nourishment in cabbage, and it could not be sub¬ 
stituted for graham bread or meat, but used with 
either, it supplies wholesome vegetable juices, and 
if palatable does good, as every harmless thing 
Boiled Onions with Milk or 
Cream Gravy.— -Put the peeled 
onions in a good deal of boiling 
water, and keep them boiling 
steadily for an hour. Pour off the 
water and turn into the sauce pan 
(for a dozen onions) nearly a pint of 
good milk, as creamy as you can 
afford. Salt to taste. When it boils up, thicken I .fust a Bit of Nonsense. —Young folks 
with flour stirred to a smooth paste in water. | like “ nonsense pictures,” and we have seen old folks 
the latest from the seat of war. 
does which helps to make up a pleasing variety. 
Is it not so, my critical friend ? 
And why not for breakfast ? I have lost my copy 
of that bill of fare, and the Jan. Agriculturist (which 
will contain it I suppose) has not yet come to hand. 
I wonder what other dishes were to be eaten at the 
same meal. Gems of any kind, or anything that 
will go well with cauliflower or turnips—as pota¬ 
toes and beef. If cabbage (cooked as we cook it) 
seemed to me so hard of digestion, as it appears to 
be reckoned by the editor, I would as soon eat it 
for breakfast as. for dinner. [Cabbage is one of the 
most nutritious as well as one of the most indi¬ 
gestible of vegetables, and quite unfitted for per¬ 
sons with weak stomachs. It contains about 92 
per cent of water; in the dried state S3 parts of 
cabbage contain as much nutriment as 100 parts of 
wheat. When eaten raw, it digests in half the time 
it does when cooked.— Ed.] It is a common ex¬ 
perience with persons who get accustomed to two 
meals a day, that the heartier meal works best in 
the morning. “‘Grandpa”—who has had a life¬ 
3BOTS & (HUS’ ©©WlIMo 
How w <> Groir! 
PUZZLE PICTURE—HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 
long tug with his stomach, but who by great care¬ 
fulness in late years has come at last to be stronger 
and healthier than ever before in his life—often 
says, “ If I am going to have cake, 
give it to me in the morning, so 
that I can work it off.” For sup¬ 
per he wants only his bread and 
butter, and some warm drink. As 
to the propriety of cabbage for 
breakfast, I have nothing to say. 
None of my readers suspect me of 
being much influenced by Fashion 
in such a matter. 
How to Cook Cabbage. 
Chop the cabbage head fine, or 
cut it as small as you can well with 
a knife. Half of an average head 
is sufficient for a meal. Put it 
into a kettle, and pour over it 
about a pint of boiling water. 
Cover it, and keep it boiling 
steadily, (not letting it bum dry 
by too hard boiling), for half an 
hour. Pour off what water re¬ 
mains—the cabbage itself supplies 
some water in cooking—and pour 
in a tea-cupful—or two if you like 
—of good milk, salting to taste. Let 
all boil up together, and it is done. 
If you put in considerable milk, it 
will be much liked if poured 
over “white gems” split in two. 
When I was a “ jacket-and-trowserser,” the good wo¬ 
man who came and made up my clothes, was always 
cautioned to “ allow for growing.” This family of boys 
and girls has got to be so large, that the Publishers have 
been obliged to “allow for growing.” You need not tell 
anybody, but I will quietly inform you, that the old folks 
have been pushed about in a most remarkable manner, 
to make room for you young folks. The Publishers have 
given you over one half more room than you had before ; 
yet in doing this they have not given the older readers 
any less, but on the contrary, they have more reading 
matter than ever before. So we are all better off. Father 
and mother will have more, and you youngsters will have 
more, and so we sail along in the new year with colors 
flying. Hurrah for the Publishers 1 Hurrah for the boys 
and girls! says The Doctor. 
441.— Puzzle Picture, and a good one, 
too, as we think, as it tells us something about the life of 
that Jack, dear to all boys and 
girls, who know the story of 
“ The House that Jack Built.” 
There was a “ rat that ate the 
malt that lay in the house that 
Jack built,” and we might think 
that he was a brewer, were it 
not that the idea of a farmer 
is suggested by “The cow with 
crumpled horn who tossed the 
dog that worried the cat that 
killed the rat that ate the malt 
that lay in the house that Jack 
built.”—Until we saw this pic¬ 
ture, we did not know that Jack 
was a gardener, but he must 
have been, and a good gardener 
too. with his close fence, his 
hotbeds, and his cold-frames. 
After you have sufficiently ad¬ 
mired Jack’s garden, perhaps 
you would like to see the 
“House that Jack built.”—It is 
there in plain sight, and per¬ 
haps after you have once seen it, 
it will be difficult to help seeing it. It is generally the 
case with puzzle pictures that they never puzzle but 
once—but it is fun to see others bother about them. 
THE DISCOVERY. 
THE PURSUIT. 
