278 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[September, 
girl. Here is tbe account of my mother’s ‘ setting 
out in life ’ when she was married, in the hand¬ 
writing of my grandfather, Amos Dogett.” 
“ When was that ?” I asked. 
She read from the manuscript: “ Our oldest 
daughter Sally was married to John Walton Jan. 
ye 29th 1784.” 
“That was just after the war of Independence.” 
She continued “ Things that I let my daughter 
have was oue horse 10 pound, one new side saddle 
and bridle 5pound.” “ Horse flesh was pretty cheap 
then,” I remarked. “ Reckoning the pound at 
three dollars and a third, which was its value in the 
New England States, it would make the horse 
worth only thirty three dollars and a third, and the 
saddle and bridle half as much—which is only 
about one quarter of the price of good sound 
horses in Hookertown to-day. Side saddles have 
not fallen off much. They were a good deal in de¬ 
mand then, and not much now. You see Mrs. 
John Walton, hride, had no other way to get to her 
new home but on horseback, and all other brides, 
and damsels in general, had either to try the saddle 
or go on foot. Happy was that damsel who could 
boast of a horse on her wedding day.” 
Immediately following the saddle was the entry 
of “one pot 8 shillings, one small iron kettle 6 
shillings, one iron spider 4 shillings, one pair of 
flats.” It would seem from this that Mrs. Walton 
was expected to cook her husband’s dinner, and to 
iron the clothes. Mrs. Bunker says she was a cap- 
ftal cook aud laundress. I think it must run in the 
blood. I have no doubt I am indebted to that pot 
and spider for all the good dinners I have eaten un¬ 
der my own roof. 
Then follows, in the bridal outfit, “ two candle 
sticks, two shillings.” These must have been iron, 
such as went out of date about the time I was a 
boy. The bottoms of the dilapidated sticks used 
to figure on butchering day, in scraping off the hair 
from hogs, and nothing better has been invented 
since. Then follows “ one case of knives, one fire 
shovel, one large iron kettle, one teapot, one tea¬ 
kettle, one tramel.” Then for personal adornment 
the bride had “one gauze handkerchief, 3 shillings 
sixpence, one pair of gloves same price, one pair 
of English shoes 6 shillings, one pound of whale¬ 
bone, and four and a half yards moreen for a skirt,” 
which shows what the whale-bone was intended for. 
Our grandmothers probably split their own whale¬ 
bone, and never dreamed of steel hoop skirts. 
The fitting out of the bridal chamber was “ one 
feather bed, 4 pound 10 shillings, two under 
beds, 1 pound 1 shilling, four pairs of sheets, 
two coverlids, two fulled blankets, one chest and 
lock, and oue looking glass, aud one paper of pins.” 
There was no wash-stand with bowl and pitcher, 
soap dish, and mugs, towel rack, and other indis¬ 
pensable articles in a modern bedchamber. The 
morning ablutions were probably made in the 
kitchen, or at the back door from a stone -hollowed 
out for the purpose. Possibly they kept as clean 
as those who have better facilities for washing. 
The table furniture was rather meager, one set of 
teacups, nine plates, four platters, half a dozen 
spoons, half a dozen teaspoons, two basins, two 
porringers. There is nothing said of table linen, 
and probably Mrs. John Walton was in the bight 
of fashion, not only at tea, but at every meal, eat¬ 
ing from a bare board. This, I mistrust, was not 
mahogany or black walnut oiled, but plain pine, 
or maple, which was scrubbed daily for the whole 
term of her natural life. 
A significant entry was “ one little wheel, one 
pound.” This was the linen wheel on which all 
the sewing thread was spun, and the fine linen for 
shirts and sheets, and other articles for the bed, and 
for the person. There was also “ one set of loom 
irons 3 shillings.” John was expected to make the 
loom himself. Fortunately it consisted mainly of 
wood, and the framing was not difficult. This 
brings back the good old days of homespun. In 
that loom was woven all the clothing, woolen and 
linen, of herself, husband, and children, for a whole 
generation. What visions of solid work and hap¬ 
piness the loom and wheel open to us. 
We find also among the bridal items “hard 
money for to buy a cow with, 5 pounds 8 shil¬ 
lings.” The hard money indicates the abundance 
of paper currency at the close of the war. The 
price of cows was relatively much higher than the 
price of horses. Twice the sum would now buy a 
very good cow. That cow laid the foundation of 
John Walton’s fortune. His wife understood the 
mysteries of the dairy, and the one cow grew in a 
few years into a herd of thirty, and the Walton but¬ 
ter and cheese became famous. 
The whole outfit foots up forty-four pounds nine¬ 
teen shillings sixpence, or less than one hundred 
and fifty dollars. That stocked a housekeeper in 
1784, and probably she was better off than most 
of her neighbors. The whole would not equal the 
cost of the piano, now in many a farmer’s parlor. 
“The tea set that Dea. Smith gave Eliza at her 
wedding cost $200,” added Mrs. Bunker. 
“ I know it and the rest of the presents were 
worth a thousand dollars, to say nothing of the fur¬ 
nished house into which she entered when she 
got back from the bridal trip.” 
“ A single looking glass costing eight shillings, 
and a mirror covering half the side of a parlor, and 
costing three hundred dollars, is another contrast 
worth looking at,” said Sally. 
“ And the young brides that prink before them 
are no handsomer or smarter than Sally Walton’s 
daughter, forty years ago.”—“It is time you for¬ 
got that, Timothy. It is a long while ago.” 
Here the dinner bell rung and the dingy account 
book was returned to its place in the bundle. 
Hookertown, \ Yours to command, 
Aug. 10th, 1863. j Timothy Bunker Esq. 
---*» -—<a-»w—- - 
For the American Agriculturist. 
How to Wash Flannels. 
“ I do hate to wear flannel under clothes,” said a 
gentleman friend, “ they chafe so.” It was in a 
mixed company that he spoke, but I thought to 
myself, if I was acquainted with his sister or wife 
I’d tell her how to wash the flannels in such a 
manner that they might not chafe. Now flannel is 
made of animal substance, and is not so easily 
cleaned as a purely vegetable material, so in our 
house the flannels invariably form a distinct wash¬ 
ing by themselves. Soft water is indispensable. 
Early in the morning then, we put on the full 
wash boiler to heat, and for one pair of blankets, 
throw in borax about the size of a walnut, and cut 
in a bar of hard soap very fine. When the blank¬ 
ets have a spot here or there, which by accident 
may have received extra soiling, we take a needle 
and thread and mark it with a couple of stitches, 
aud rub on a little soap, for without this precau¬ 
tion the spot could not be found after the blankets 
were wet. We then put them down in a tub and 
pour the contents of the wash kettle boiling upon 
them. The tub stands for an hour, or until it is 
cool enough for the hands, when we rub the before- 
mentioned spots, “ souse ” the blankets, and wring 
out. The second suds is prepared as the first, save 
that only half a bar of soap is required. The third 
water is clear and boiling, and is designed to 
cleanse the blankets of the soap of the preceding 
water, for soap is not healthy for the skin, and if 
the third water appears sudsy, we give them a 
fourth hot water with a squeeze of blue in it, very 
little, however, or the blankets will be streaky. 
And now the quicker they are dried the better, it is 
very disastrous to have rain come on, or have them 
snowed upon, or lie overnight; indeed I never wash 
blankets unless the sun smiles upon me when I am 
about it. In our way of washing, flannels never 
shrink, and consequently never get “ hard,” and as 
we don’t rub them, the nap is left on, they are 
more comfortable, and wear much longer than 
when washed in the ordinary way. The colored 
flannels we put in the tub as we take the white 
flannels out, having first added a little melted soap ; 
we wash them out right away, as the color will come 
out by standing. The water must be as hot as the 
hands can bear, aud the soap that is rubbed on 
about the collars aud wristbands of flannel shirts, 
can not be put on when they are out of the suds, 
for in many kinds of colored flannel the mark of 
the soap is left, unless used while the flannel is in 
the water. Colored flannel does not shrink like- 
white, and for this reason and that the color is like¬ 
ly to come out, we do not use boiling water. Ir 
other respects we go through the same process in 
washing, save that the impression of blue is omit¬ 
ted in the last rinsing. In conclusion, sister read¬ 
ers, use flannel plentifully in your households. In 
this northern climate, cotton is a very poor substi¬ 
tute. If people paid out as much for flannel as they 
do for those homeopathic sugar pills, the doctors 
would be all the poorer, and their own homes all 
the happier. Marion. 
Carroll County, Illinois. 
How to Take Leaf Impressions. 
In answer to several inquirers who ask howto 
take correct copies of leaves, wc publish the direc¬ 
tions given in “Art Recreations,” a manual of or¬ 
namental work, published by J. E. Tilton & Co., 
Boston, Mass. 
Hold oiled paper in the smoke'of a lamp, or of 
pitch, until it becomes coated with the smoke ; to 
this paper apply the leaf of which you wish an im¬ 
pression, having previously warmed it between 
your hands, that it maybe pliable ; place the lower 
surface of the leaf upon the blackened surface of 
the oiled paper, that the numerous veins that are 
so prominent on this side may receive from the pa¬ 
per a portion of the smoke; lay a paper over the 
leaf, and then press it gently upon the smoked pa¬ 
per ; with the finger or with a small roller, (covered 
with woolen cloth, or some like soft material,) so 
that everypart of the leaf may come in contact with 
the sooted oil paper. A coating of the smoke will 
adhere to the leaf. Then remove the leaf carefully, 
and place the blackened surface on a piece of white 
paper, not ruled, or in a book prepared forthe pur¬ 
pose, covering the leaf with a clean slip of paper, 
and pressing upon it with the fingers or roller, as 
before. Thus may be obtained the impression of a 
leaf, showing the perfect outlines, together with an 
accurate exhibition of the veins which extend in 
every direction through it, more correctly than the 
finest drawing. And this process is so simple, and 
the materials so easily obtained, that any person, 
with a little practice to enable him to apply the 
right quantity of smoke to the oil paper and give 
the leaf a proper pressure, can prepare beautiful 
leaf impressions, such as a naturalist would be 
proud to possess. Specimens thus prepared can 
be neatly preserved in a hook form, interleaving 
the impressions with tissue paper. [But we con¬ 
sider all leaf impressions vastly inferior to care¬ 
fully pressed real leaves themselves.—E d.] 
Don’t Apologize. 
A few months ago one of the Editors of the Ag¬ 
riculturist, (who was then staying, not living in the 
city, for nobody really lives there,) happened to 
call unexpectedly at a farm house hy the tea-side. 
The good wife in asking him to dinner, apologized 
for the homeliness of the meal, regretting that she 
had nothing but clam pie; but “ if she had known 
that he was coming, she would have had fresh 
meat.” If there is anything in the world that this 
Editor is tired of, it is roast beef, and out of any 
possible, bill of fare, that he could have chosen 
from, clam pie would have had his preference. 
We mention this to show that country people are 
much mistaken in thinking they must make a fuss 
over their city friends. Any change of food is 
pleasant, even if it is from richer to plainer. If you 
receive your city friends, give them as good as you 
have yourself, and don’t make them feel uncom¬ 
fortable by any unnecessaty apologies for your 
fare. If you have only fried pork and potatoes, 
serve it neatly and eat it thankfully.—We have 
sometimes sat down to a table, and had our appe¬ 
tite almost destroyed by the hard things said about 
the food by the one who had spared no effort to 
make it first-rate.—Our first genuine New-England 
