66 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[February, 
at first, with the water gradually lessened, but not 
entirely omitted, even after the child was a year old. 
Baby was a year old. I began mixing her drinks 
one fourth water and three fourths milk, and from 
that time the sores went away as fast as possible. 
A word here about sores. I would never drive 
them in or heal them up rapidly by outward appli¬ 
cations. Their cause is almost invariably in the 
diet—too much grease of some kind, usually. 
Change the diet of the child to more simple yet 
nutritious fare, and that with pure air and cleanli¬ 
ness is your best method of cure. I ought to say 
that our cow’s milk is unusually rich, and she was 
almost a year past calving. 
I have a suspicion that my friend’s child suffered 
from the sugar in the milk much more than from 
the water Only healthy stomachs, among us 
grown-up people even, can take milk and sugar 
together without getting a sour stomach in conse¬ 
quence. A very young babe should be fed the milk 
of a cow whose calf is also very young. As the 
milk of a cow (or of any animal) grows richer with 
the increasing age of its offspring, it would proba¬ 
bly be necessary to dilute the milk (but not to 
sweeten it, I think) if only that of a cow several 
months past calving could be obtained. 
To Keep Fresh Meat in Winter. —In Minne¬ 
sota,where winter thaws are not much to be feared, 
it is quite common to hang up a porker or a leg of 
venison or beef, and cut from it as it hangs, week 
after week. It seems to us that meat so kept must 
greatly deteriorate in flavor. We like best to cut 
the beef or venison into good pieces for cooking in 
various ways, and pack them down in snow. Of 
course they freeze, but thawing a piece brought in 
to cook is a simple matter. Put frozen poultry or 
meat in cold water, and all the frost will shortly 
leave it. A coating of ice will be found on the out¬ 
side. which will easily cleave off. 
To Clean a vert Greasy Spider or Kettle. 
r-Don’t waste your soap on it. Put ashes into it, 
and pour in a little water. In a few minutes scrape 
it all out with a stick, and rinse it out with water. 
It is then ready for your dish-water and cloth 
without additional soap. 
In that little book called “ How to Live, or a 
Dime a Day,” Solon Robinson represents Mrs. 
Savery as keeping a jar of lye beside her sink, into 
which she dipped any very greasy dish. Too much 
trouble for me, and a little dangerous where chil¬ 
dren are about A drink of lye would kill a child 
if not immediately counteracted by plentiful doses 
of oil 
Toe-Gaps and Ear-Protectors.— Grandpa,who 
enjoys no employment more than the preparation 
of nice stove-wood, must look out for his toes this 
nipping winter weather. He knows this very well, 
lor he remembers another grandpa who chilled his 
feet so badly that one of his toes came off after 
months of slow and steady suffering. So our 
grandpa wears toe-caps under his stockings. These 
are cut out of soft flannel, in the shape of the toe 
of a sock, and made to cover about half of the 
foot. In sewing them up, the seams are laid flat, 
so as to make no unpleasant pressure. He thinks 
his feet keep warm much better when thus protect¬ 
ed. Perhaps your grandpa would like to try it. 
Ear-protectors, or ear-caps, may be made of silk 
or velvet, and lined with some warm material. Cut 
them in an oval shape, large enough to cover the 
ear when hemmed (or bound), and drawn up with 
a rubber cord. The cord will keep them in place 
when the ear is once snugly tucked iu. To keep 
the pair together, fasten a rubber cord to them, one 
end to each, and long enough to go under the chin, 
or over the head under the hat, or behind the neck 
under the hair. Gentlemen find these very com¬ 
fortable in cold weather. If made of material near 
the color of the hair they are scarcely noticeable. 
Ventilate the Living Rooms. 
Whew ! How can a body breathe in such a room 
as this? Every window is dripping with dew. 
The walls are covered with drops of condensed 
steam. The air of the room is all saturated with 
moisture, and clouds of hot vapor are constantly 
adding to its unhealthy state. It is not pure water 
either that escapes from the pots and kettles on the 
stove. Odorous particles of beef or pork, of tur¬ 
nip, or potato, or cabbage, or what-not, are float¬ 
ing about, and lodging here and there. Have you 
never smelt fried cakes, or pork, or cabbage, in 
the best clothes your neighbors wore to meeting ? 
I have. Certain children who went to school with 
me in my youth always brought a sickening odor 
of their breakfast griddle-cakes, and—well, of 
burnt grease, in their clothing. 
The air of kitchens often goes from one extreme 
to another. When it is not unhealthily damp on 
account of the escape of steam, it is likely to be 
too much dried, and even scorched, by the cook¬ 
ing-stove when baking or ironing is going on. 
If the air is too moist, a sensitive body, or a skin 
healthily appreciative of wholesome conditions, 
becomes uncomfortable, and. cries out for a supply 
of fresh air. The body must constantly part with 
some of its own moisture, or suffer in consequence 
of having this “insensible perspiration ” (which 
goes on every moment while we are in health) shut 
in by any cause. If the air is already saturated 
with moisture, it is in no condition to relieve the 
skin pores by taking up the degree of vapor which 
the animal economy brings to the surface. The 
fluid matter thrown out from the lungs and skin is 
by no means pure water. It contains carbonic acid 
and animal matter which is deleterious. Then let 
in pure air from the supply out of doors. 
You don’t want to “warm up all of out-doors,” 
eh ? Well, if you keep your rooms shut tight, and 
dry the air by heating it, you cheat yourself of 
warmth in the worst way. You will poison your 
blood, and not keep comfortably warm either, in a 
close, hot room. A scientific writer says : “In very 
dry air the insensible perspiration will be increased, 
and as it is a true evaporation it will generate cold 
proportionate to its amount. Those parts of the 
body which are most insulated in the air, and fur¬ 
thest from the heart, will feel this refrigerating in¬ 
fluence most powerfully; hence that coldness of 
the hands and feet so often experienced. The brain, 
being screened by the skull from this evaporating 
influence, will remain relatively hot, and will get 
surcharged besides with the fluids which are ex¬ 
pelled from the extremities by the contraction of 
the blood-vessels caused by cold.” This is the 
coldness (particularly of the extremities) which 
the dwellers in close, hot rooms condemn them¬ 
selves to. This explains their headaches. 
Then make a hole somewhere to let out the 
steam and foul air, and to let in a little uncontami¬ 
nated oxygen. All windows should be made so as 
to open at the top. Femina. 
Neighborly Kindness. 
“ We ants never borrow, we ants never lend.” 
That is what the ant said to the cricket, you know, 
when the cricket found its cupboard bare after 
winter set in. 
“ When the weather was warm, did you lay nothing by ? ” 
Said the cricket: “ Not I. 
My heart was so light that I sang day and night.” 
“ Go, then,” said the ant, “ and dance winter away.” 
When thus he had spoken, he lifted the wicket, 
And out of the door turned the-poor little cricket. 
Silly little cricket! But, to tell the truth, I be¬ 
lieve I would rather be in the cricket’s shoes than 
in the aut’s on that cold winter morning—that is, 
provided the cricket had a warm and loving heart 
iu its bosom. Of course, we are speaking now of 
human ants and human crickets. 
Industry is a flue thing, but how can it lie com¬ 
pared to neighborly love ? But would I encourage 
shiftlessncss ? Oh! no. But I would encourage 
something better. Entourage is the word. Human 
ants arc too apt to believe that the world was made 
only for such as themselves, and that it is their 
duty to crowd every other variety of humanity off 
from this planet, if possible ; whereas “ it takes all 
sorts of folks to make a world,” and if human 
crickets did not serve some useful purpose, the 
Lord would not have put them here. 
The people who never borrow and never lend, 
who make a great effort to be perfectly independent 
of all outside help in the management of all their 
affairs, are apt to look upon misfortune as a crime. 
They have strength, they have shrewdness, they 
have forethought—why should not everybody else 
have these qualities, aud all mind their own busi¬ 
ness, each scraping up his little or big pile alone, 
and making it the object of his life to increase and 
guard that pile ? 
But misfortune is not a crime, and poverty is not 
a disgrace. I think of One who “ had not where to 
lay liis head.” I hear a divine voice saying, “Give 
to every one that asketh of thee, and from him 
that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.” 
As I wrote the words “Neighborly Kindness” at 
the top of my sheet, I saw a little low kitchen 
where a sick woman lay, with no one but her hus¬ 
band, whose business claimed him ten hours daily, 
and a child of four, to do anything for her or for 
the family comfort. She could scarcely drag her¬ 
self about the room, and the bread was all gone. 
A neighbor “ ran in ” for a few minutes iu a friendly 
way—a neighbor with whom the sick woman was 
upon no particularly intimate terms. After a few 
minutes she summoned courage, and drew from 
under her shawl a loaf of bread neatly wrapped in 
a clean towel, saying, “I thought maybe a loaf of 
bread would come handy, and I brought one 
along.” 
Did the sick woman feel “hurt”? Not at all; 
nor in the least humiliated, in the usual sense of 
that word. Botli women had learned from their 
mothers’ lips the Lord’s prayer, “ Give us this day 
our daily bread.” The sick woman said as she took 
the bread: “Your loaf is very welcome, but the 
neighborly kindness that prompted you to bring it 
is sweeter to me than any bread can possibly be.” 
And so it was, and will be to all eternity. Yet 
what a lift it was on that dark, sick day to have the 
daily bread supplied! What a lift it was, too, to 
see that by just such loving thoughtfulness for 
others, the ... , 
“weightof care 
That crushes into dumb despair 
One half the human race” 
might be made endurable, and no one be left to 
feel desolate and uncared for! 
It is blessed to “ receive ” with a thankful heart 
when one is in need, but more blessed still is it to 
“ give,” and it is no more selfish to refuse to aid 
others by the means in your power than it is to 
hedge yourself all about so that no one can do the 
least thing for you, and to refuse all the assistance 
you can possibly do without, accepting what you 
must take with frigid politeness and the determi¬ 
nation to pay for it in cash as soon as possible. 
Rbll. 
Sausage-Making and Keeping. 
To make family sausage, the trimmings and 
other lean and fat portions of pork are used, 
taking care that there is about twice as much loan 
as fat; some consider it an improvement to add 
about one sixth of the weight of lean beef. As to 
seasoning, that is a matter of taste. The majority 
of people use salt, pepper, and sage only, some use 
only salt and pepper, while others, in addition to 
the above, put iu thyme, mace, cloves, and other 
spices. There is something repulsive about the 
intestines or “skins” used for stuffing sausages, 
and the majority preserve the meat in bulk. In 
cold weather it will keep for a long time, but if it 
is desired to preserve it beyond cold weather it 
needs some case. We have found that muslin bags, 
made of a size to hold a roll 2% or 3 inches in 
diameter, keep the meat very satisfactorily. These 
bags, when filled with sausage-meat, are dipped 
into melted lard, and hung up in a dry, cool place. 
For seasoning, we use to 100 lbs. of meat 40 oz. 
salt, and from 8 to 10 oz. each pepper and sage. 
