iiiip ||U SS 
iHitt 
m ermts^BaUFi 
W Wm 
VOL L. NO. 2 164 
NEW YORK, JULY 18, i 89 i 
PRICE, FIVE CENTS. 
$ 2.00 PER YEAR. 
Come and listen to my story, from your labor gently turn. 
All ye dairymaids quit hardening your muscle o’er the churn, 
I've a bit of ancient history that never has been told, 
’TIs about the chain that bound you to the churn in days of old. 
In those golden days consumers never dreamed of ‘ butter fat, 1 ’ 
People took milk for a liquid, and they smacked »heir lips at that. 
’Twas a terrible misfortune, so the early housewives said. 
When some bothersome Inventor got the idea In his head 
That the m'lk was ’most all water—that Its value lay alone 
la the “solids” that were from It In the act of churning thrown. 
Then began the endless struggle with the comfort-eating cream. 
And the churn made bitter butter from the dairy maiden’s dream. 
As the ancient records tell us. It was many years B. C., 
When the housewife first was carried Into dairy slavery. 
And the man who did the mischief was a chip named Jack Lacteal, 
Would he hnd some means of knowing how his present victims feel 
Ho walked out one summer morning, and he took his lunch along. 
He was stout ami big and hearty, and his appetite was strong 
And an ash-cake In his pocket, and a g< at skin full of milk. 
With his out door li e and exercst kept him a-t fine as silk. 
On be went, till or a sudden In his path he chanced to see. 
Some big fellow from another tribe, 'most twice as big l s he. 
Jack very diplomatic—he knew, If he ran away. 
He might catch some smallerjellow on a more convenient day, 
And belabor him In comfort, while the chances were that, ho 
Would got most of the ■ elaborlog in " present company.” 
So he turned about and traveled at a speed that shamed the wind, 
Up the hill and down the valley, with the otherchap benln I. 
Till the big man stopped, discouraged -with hls ei ergy pumped out, 
kor Jack’s clothes could not impede him, and his legs were long and stout. 
When at last he halted, breathless—he was hungry as a bear 
8o he grasped hls skin of goat’s milk for a luncheon ihen ami there. 
He rolled tip his eves In ecstacy prepared to take a drink 
Then he quickly rolled them down again surprised ! What do you think ? 
He had mixed things up In running, and hls good sweet milk had turned 
To a soft, and pasty substance, far, nd stlekv-lt was churned ' 
So he rubbed some on his ush cake, just to sample the new sniff. 
Then he smacked hls chops-regrcttlng that he hadn’t half enough, 
For it seemed to grease the hinges of hls appetite and make 
Some new aveuu to pleasure—’twas economy to take 
All the work of drinking water just to get a little fat.”— 
Out ef lire and thus save labor men are fond of saving that. 
So with bu'ter on hls palate, and his head swelled big with pride, 
Jack ran home to start a dairy, on the ro kv mountulo side 
Where hls herd of goats were a feeding. Were thev scrub or thoroughbred ? 
Were they bred for mil* or goat’s meat ? History hath never said 
’Twas an easy thing to milk some goat’s milk In his big fur cap. 
” Now,” th aght he ” » ho’ll do the runn'ng ?” f vil chance ! By nn 
Fell hls eye on Mrs Lacteal. “Since” quoth he “ ’its woman’s work 
Ladles need t > practice running otherwise they’ll lenr to shirk ” 
So upon his lady’s shoulder did he tie the goat skin light. 
And then up anil down the mountain did she speed aw«y In fright, 
For hls ciiog. 1 ouchcd her sorely every lime she stopped her race 
Anil the churning was accomplished at a most surprising pace. 
Now we see what great things follow from a single, simple thought 
This Idea of Ylr. Lacteal, that hls wife coil'd run. has brought 
Untold misery to woman to the churn It t ed In r fast 
making - woman’s work ” of churning—so ’twill be until Hie last. 
But if Jack had done the running he'd have "dignified tti Job,” 
And all men would deem it ma; ly. Just to give the • burn a bob. 
Thus was butter mnklng started -us for cheese, a laic t"ey tell,— 
Though of course I don't believe I —h w th milk once had a spell 
Of “ not coming ” though the dairymaid ran miles of >o< ky road 
Until she stopped disgusted and tleew down her weary load, 
Wi h a look so sour and bitter, so malign .nt that strai lit way 
DI1 the milk turn ’round and cuidle Into cheese without delay. 
Many years have gone since Lacteal up and down the ancient hills 
Went so merrily a-churnlrg yet the same old spirit thrills 
Through the hearts of hls descendants—churning still Is woman’s Job, 
And the dasher’s grasping flngi rs from her back’s weak strength will rob, 
He'll no longer chase her strarily up the hill and down again. 
But he’ll sit and watch her churning, though he knows she's wrenched with pain, 
And of course he couldn't help her, f->r within hls mind doth lurk 
That fine, ancient superstition -churning must be woman’s work ! 
And he’ll buy new rakes and mowers, weeders, wagons, plows and such, 
But the household labor savers why, they don’t amount to much. 
And the reason why cheese making suits the men may soou be told. 
They wr uld claim a big monopoly on all the rights to scold. 
And scowl and look disgusted when they fancy ihlngs go wrong. 
And as sour looks made milk curdle, why of course they come up strong. 
It is strange, In light of history that men who claim their race 
Is ga nlng In Intelligence at such a rapid pace, 
Now should give us such good evidence that all their brains and skill 
Have but brought them in a circle that the old-time feeling still, 
Comes a bobbing to the surface till they study now to shirk 
Disagreeable occupations—just because they’re “ woman's work.” 
