WORKING TO LIVE.-I. 
ONE GIRL’S STRUGGLES. 
[“Yes,” replied the narrator of this story, In answer to our query 
“It is all true, every word. It was all lived by one person; I almost 
wish It had not been, It Is so sad.”—E d.] 
DO not know that you will care for my story, but 
often a failure may teach us as important a lesson 
as a success. When my adopted mother died, I was 
quite alone. I had a married sister, hut she was poor, 
and her little ones needed every cent of the family’s 
small income, so her affectionate offer was not to be 
considered for a moment. I must not go to her. There 
was a little property, household goods, etc., to be sold, 
but I would take nothing, leaving it all to my adopted 
mother’s children who were to be cared for by distant 
relatives, and so, when all was sold and the home 
broken up, I found myself in a tiny, bare, clean and 
sunny room, for which my sympathetic landlady 
charged but $3 a month, with the problem of life 
before me, $3 in my pocket, and only one thought clear, 
through the heartbreak—that I must make my way 
and incur no debts. I had a rug on the floor, a small, 
comfortable bed with plenty of good covers and pil¬ 
lows, a sewing machine, a knick-knack or two, and 
several beautiful plants, some in full bloom, and, oh, 
what those plants were to me in my desolation ! The 
buds, as I watched them unfold, seemed like words of 
love from the dear sealed lips—they were something 
alive; something human almost My books and a few 
delicate pieces of china, saved from the household 
stock, and my wardrobe completed my wealth, none 
of it convertible into coin, which, hitherto thought 
little about, T must now have, to live. I had no wish 
to do so, but, since God would not take back the gift 
of life, I must do what I could with it. 
Friends I had in plenty, who offered me money, but 
my pride said “ No, I want work.” But what work ? 
That was the difficulty. What was I fitted for ? and 
could I get such work ? I was all worn out with nurs¬ 
ing and not able to do exhaustive labor such as a clerk¬ 
ship demands. I could not keep books, though I had 
a book-keeper’s place offered me at $75 a month; for 
in school I had hated arithmetic, and loved rather 
poetry, history, geography and literature, all of which 
appealed to the imagination. But, as I was perfect in 
none, they would not bring me a copper cent in my 
need. T had been considered a bright girl in society, 
had rather plumed myself in repartee and conversa¬ 
tion. Being also sympathetic and affectionate, 1 had 
no lack of friends in the days when I needed none. 
No, that sounds cynical; one always needs friends. 
Nor did I have to complain of forgetfulness when my 
dark hour came, only what could they do when I would 
not accept money and work was so hard to obtain ? 
I first secured a little copying from a lawyer ; this 
took me two weeks. He seemed pleased, and paid me 
$15, but there was no more work for me ; still, it paid 
rent and procured food. Then a music teacher asked 
me, rather timidly, if I would be willing—she had 
noticed how tasty and handy I was with my own 
clothes—to come and bring my own sewing machine, 
and make up some spring clothing for herself and 
two little girls; she would pay me $1.25 a day, with 
board. I was grateful for the chance, but told her I 
could not cut and fit. However, she would do that 
before she went to her pupils. Thus followed another 
two weeks of blissful reprieve from my torturing 
anxiety ; for I lived but in the days as they came, not 
daring to look ahead. I began to think I could do dress¬ 
making, so elated was I over my success ; but soon a 
fat lady brought me some underwear to make. She 
had no pattern, but wanted them like my own, and 
would pay 50 cents a garment. I stupidly cut them 
by my own, and, as I was slight, they would not go 
on above her wrist! I had to endure her iust and 
loud-voiced censure, keep them myself—which was no 
possible advantage, as I could not wear red flannel— 
and, though I wanted to pay for them—she would not, 
for a time, take the money. This so increased my 
humiliation that it is painful even now to recall it. 
Then came weeks of eager, unremitting, but un¬ 
successful search, and constant letters to a lady friend 
whose husband was the Chief Executive of the State. 
Finally, perhaps irritated by my persistent appeals, 
she wrote : “I will not get for you the place of copyist. 
I would not put one of my own daughters there, and 
could you see the kind of associates you would have, 
you would not ask it.” 
But so great was my need, which she could not 
realize, that I did still want the work. The $2 and 
$3 a day seemed a pot of gold to my fancy ; as for the 
associations “ to the pure all things are pure.” I had 
not then learned of the evil that may lurk in high 
places, but I would not ask her further or accept the 
money she offered as a loan or gift. I could starve if 
I must, and then I used to break down and sob in a 
most inconsistent manner. Over and over I repeated: 
“ No one else suffers with me” ; but the heartache 
grew none the less keen, and often I put away my 
food untasted for very loneliness. I got work at last 
in a great publishing house as copy holder at $G a 
week, and this was for a little while li the pain called 
Ease”; for my lungs were strong, I did not tire readily, 
and could read fast or slowly as was required, so that 
my work pleased. I had, however, the misfortune to 
attract the notice of one of the members of the firm, 
and so I was soon compelled to seek another place, 
with the added, and bitter knowledge, that poverty 
brought other and greater dangers than starvation. 
The next work I secured was in a dark, underground 
cellar where girls were employed for three days in a 
week to fold papers for a weekly publication that 
had not then the folding machine generally used. The 
girls were paid $1 a thousand, and it was astonishing 
to see how well and how rapidly some of them worked, 
making excellent wages; but the work was done 
standing, and I was too weak, so I was forced to give 
it up. I had meantime reduced my living expenses to 
a very small figure : eggs were 25 cents a dozen, and 
I could make one egg do for two days, in rice cakes, 
which were very nice with honey, 10 cents a bottle, 
and this would last me a month. Potatoes, too, were 
cheap, and 10 cents’ worth of mutton chops would 
last me two, sometimes—if little bone—three days. 
After my regular work ceased, I limited myself strictly 
to bread and tea, that I might be sure of rent money. 
My especial place for this was never opened from the 
time of deposit until rent day. 
But after a time, a friend secured me a position as 
governess, and I went forth thankfully to new trials 
in an unknown field. mary vaughn. 
COOKERY, AND OUR INVALIDS. 
O boil a ham” says one prominent writer, 
“ place it in cold water and let it come to a 
boil.” I thought common sense and the laws of chemis¬ 
try had long since exploded that antiquated idea in 
cooking meats. But the prayer must still be: Send 
the day when a premium shall be placed upon truth, 
no matter what its source and no mere name can be 
traded upon at any price. 
To boil A ham plunge it into rapidly boiling water, 
covering it well; remove to the back of the stove, and 
let it simmer—not boil—until done. It should be 
cooked from four to six hours according to size. 
Placing meat in rapidly boiling water sears the outer 
tissues, thus retaining the juicy constituents which 
are slowly absorbed by the fiber, rendering P sound, 
tender and juicy. When the meat juices are drawn 
out into the water, the fiber is stringy and tough. 
When soup is wanted, buy a soup bone, break it 
well, place in cold water, add a little salt and cook to 
shreds, and you will find only shreds left. The soup 
pot should be put on at breakfast time and the con¬ 
tents cooked slowly. Do not expect to have roast and 
soup from the same piece of meat; there is no economy 
in such a plan, and, as Miss Leslie says, in such a 
country as America, where good things are abundant 
and cheap, there is no necessity for imbibing the 
flatulency of weak, washy soups. 
Care of the Sick Room. —Here are a few hints 
as to the care of the sick-room. Having just nursed a 
patient through what we all thought would prove a 
three months’ siege, perhaps, of “ slow fever” now so 
prevalent in the South, I attribute the convalescence 
in 10 days to the scrupulous care taken of the room. 
The bed was placed where no draught could reach it, 
the room ventilated as freely as the patient could bear 
without being the least chilled, and a bright fire was 
kept burning in an open fire-place all the time. At 
night all the air was excluded, and the fire tempered 
to suit the closed room. After adopting this plan of 
excluding all the night air, there was a marked im¬ 
provement in the patient. 
All the spoons used in the sick room were dropped 
immediately into cold water to remain there till needed 
again. Paper was placed in the bottoms of all vessels 
used for expectoration or other purposes. These ves¬ 
sels were filled at least one-third full of cold, fresh 
water every time they were-used and emptied, and 
fresh paper was used each time; hence nothing 
adhered to them ; they were more easily cleansed and 
no odor clung to them. Pure, cold water is the best 
disinfectant I have ever tried for the sick room. 
The room was slowly but thoroughly swept every 
morning and well aired as soon as the morning damp¬ 
ness was off. The patient was moved to a cosy, 
comfortable lounge during the day, still away from 
draughts ; the night bed being well shaken up, aired 
and covered with a thin spread. It was made up—the 
sheets and blankets having been well aired, or changed, 
if soiled—only when the patient was ready for it at 
evening or night. 
Clean towels and handkerchiefs should of course be 
supplied at least once a day. If the patient is so weak 
as to require cloths to expectorate on, do not use 
towels for that purpose, but old, soft, worn rags, to be 
burned when used—a fresh one each time. Rinsing 
the mouth with salt water cleanses it of the nauseat¬ 
ing phlegm that so frequently worries sick persons. 
Bathing the head, hands and feet in water as hot as 
can be borne will cool fever much more quickly, by 
evaporation, than will the application of cold water. 
In fact, it lowers the temperature too quickly if care 
is not taken in its use. Constant watchfulness of the 
patient’s condition will give many opportunities of 
doing things at a time when he will be least disturbed. 
S. ARMISTEAD N. 
WINTERING BEES. 
ECEMBER 10.—The bees are safely housed in the 
cellar, for in this latitude the air is damp as well 
as cold, and strong swarms generally succumb if left 
out on their summer stands through the winter. 
M ine are placed in rows on the cellar bottom, so I can 
go to each hive, at any time. When they were first 
brought in, and had become quiet, I carefully lifted 
the wooden covers, to see if the little blankets were 
dry. Tn most cases, I found that from the constant wet 
weather the wooden covers had become thoroughly 
soaked, and of course the blankets were wet too. 
These were exchanged for dry ones; the wooden covers 
were also taken to the kitchen stove, dried, and re¬ 
placed. In a month, perhaps less, I shall look them 
over again, being very careful not to disturb the bees, 
and if there are any damp cloths or covers, put dry 
ones in their places. After this, I have found by experi¬ 
ence, that the bees can be left until spring, and come 
out for the most part with clean, bright combs, and a 
good quantity of young brood. I find this is easier 
for me than filling cushions, and answers the purpose 
as well. 
The bees are kept in the vegetable cellar—which by 
the way is very dry, else it might be necessary to look 
out for damp covers more frequently—and ventilated 
only from the kitchen, as we go for vegetables, apples, 
etc., and this seems to answer their needs; for the air 
always seems sweet and wholesome, the delightful 
fragrance of numerous barrels and boxes of apples 
being the most prominent odor. 
Clipping Queen’s Wings.— Years ago, when teach¬ 
ing was my profession, one of the lessons taught was 
never to hurt harmless insects unnecessarily. Clipping 
a queen’s wing would be against the principle, and for 
aught I know, the poor little bee might suffer as much 
to have a wing cut off, as I would to have an arm am¬ 
putated. Besides, it is not the old queens that make 
me the most trouble, and it might not be wise to clip 
a young queen, before swarming, as w'as so kindly 
suggested by O. A. W. who has my hearty thanks for 
trying to help a somewhat troubled bee-keeper. 
Michigan. may' maple. 
* * * 
We are in receipt of an inquiry regarding the best 
methods of drying and evaporating various vegetables. 
When the matter is more seasonable, we will try to 
give it attention. Correspondents who are posted (by 
experience) on this subject may find here a hint, also. 
Consumption carries off many of its 
victims needlessly. It can be stopped 
sometimes ; sometimes it cannot. 
It is as cruel to raise false hopes as it 
is weak to yield to false fears. 
There is a way to help within the reach 
of most who are threatened— careful 
living and Scott’s Emulsion of cod-liver 
oil. 
Let us send you a book on the sub¬ 
ject ; free. 
SCOTT & Bowne, Chemists, 132 South 5th Avenue, New York. 
Your druggist keeps Scott’s Emulsion of cod-llver oil—all druggists 
everywhere do. (1. 
