THE CHILDRENS’ COUNTRY WEEK. 
E P., in “ Woman and the Home Department,” 
• in the issue of July 29, has a wrong' conception 
of the scope and aim of the city associations which 
provide a week’s outing to the poor children of their 
localities, to judge from the words she utters. There 
are very, very few farmers who take these children to 
board gratis. The Philadelphia association pays $3 a 
week for each child, and many country people make 
it a business, or side business, rather, to board them. 
The officers of the association, people of wealth and 
culture, give their time and labor free, while the 
money for board, transportation, etc., comes from 
benevolent city people. 
It costs $500 a week to run the society mentioned. 
It sends out thousands of little ones and delicate 
mothers every summer. When at home, on the farm, 
we took six each summer, fixing up three beds in a 
large, pleasant attic room for them They arose at 
five, took great delight in watching us milk, romped 
about all day, and, brown and tired, retired early, 
first kneeling down and acknowledging God’s good¬ 
ness and mercy. We charged nothing for their 
board, but were a thousand times repaid by their hap¬ 
piness. So now, in my own home, with three babies 
and no help but my own hands, I take two poor city 
children to board, gratis. I inclose a card to the edi¬ 
tor, which shows this. It is a service of love and an 
acknowledgement of God’s goodness to us. 
A. E. P. speaks of the “ poor farmers,” and of their 
inability to “educate their own children,” let alone 
“ taking care of city waifs.” Farmers are the richest 
class of people on earth ! It is a libel to call them 
poor ! I do not mean that they have millions; but 
they have an all sufficiency. Who needs more ? In¬ 
deed, who has more? Again, the farmers do educate 
their children. My father educated a large family of 
boys and girls. One boy is now an “M. D , LL. D.,” 
a college professor; another is also a jirofessional 
man ; two more are farmers, with educations. Why, 
all our great and talented and best men were and are 
“ poor ” farmer’s sons ! 
Now let me offer A. E. P. a suggestion : Organize a 
society this fall for the purpose of sending, not your 
poor children (the country has no really poor), but 
your own sons and daughters, to the homes of city 
people for a week’s outing there, you paying their 
board and car fare! Plenty of benevolent persons 
there will, as country people with city children, take 
your children. Try it, if you really desire your sons 
and daughters to have a peep at city life in winter. 
Some few city families will, it is likely, take these 
country “ waifs” gratis, just as a few of the country 
families take city “ waifs ” gratis. 
The fact is, a great many country families might 
easily take a few of these city children through the 
hot weather, if only one a week, and not charge 
boaid, either, and I am sure it would work them no 
hardships, especially where the “love of Christ con- 
strainetli them,” remembering his words: “ Inasmuch 
as ye have done it unto the least of these, etc.” 
Hut here comes Mr. K. with two of those blessed 
little city waifs, and I must close to welcome them. 
MRS. A. A. K. 
[Another reader writes that she thinks A. E. P.’s 
views are very just. A man voices his ideas, thus : 
“ It’s a good charity, no doubt about that; but it’s 
pretty cheeky fcr city people, people of wealth, to 
ask the farmers in the summer time (worked almost 
to death, as so many of them are), to care for these 
children.” 
Each of the friends who has written is sure she is 
right; but A. A. K , sensible as she is, is judging the 
whole matter from the practice in the localities which 
she knows. We think there is no doubt that the 
majority of Fresh Air children are boarded gratis by 
those country people who are willing to take them at 
all. And it is not the board, but the annoyance and 
care that often accompany the matter, that is grudged. 
To one thing, however, those who would do benevo¬ 
lent work, would do well to make up their minds 
early. This is, that the sentimental aspect of every 
question is certain to change to hard practicality. 
There must be earnest endeavor and resolve to do 
good for the work’s sake, or there is certain to be at 
times reaction, discouragement and even disgust. 
It is certainly a beautiful charity, this of the chil¬ 
dren’s week. But some of the children are sweet and 
pleasing ; others are a trial to the flesh ; all are a care. 
It would be well to be certain that one is equal to the 
emergency before taking any of the children merely 
because of the “religiosity” of the deed coupled with 
the expectation that all of them will be “ dear, sweet 
little things.” 
But we thank A. A. K. very heartily for her letter; 
even though we do not believe it the duty of any 
woman with three babies to take up this work. Un¬ 
less, indeed, she be as warm-hearted and as glad to 
do it as our friend.—E d.] 
WHAT WAS TOLD IN THE ASH BARREL. 
IDE by side in an old ash barrel lay a pair of very 
dingy, worn-cut slippers and an old boot. The 
slippers had evidently been of high standing in so¬ 
ciety when new, but the boot must have belonged to 
a child, for it was small and square-toed and looked 
as if it had seen hard times, though for that matter 
so did the slippers. The boot had lain there for some 
time, but the slippers had just been thrown in. 
“How came you here?” asked the boot; for the 
slippers wore an air of faded respectability which 
could not be mistaken. The left slipper replied, for 
it was not in quite so dilapitated a condition as the 
other, and looked stronger-minded; but its state¬ 
ments were always corroborated by its right fellow. 
“You see it is quite a long story,” said the left slipper. 
“ We were not always what you see us now ; we were 
once young and handsome,” (“ Indeed we were,” said 
the right slipper.) “with bronze tips and shining, gilded 
buckles, and we were purchased by a beautiful young 
lady to wear to a fine ball. After that we went to 
many others, but finally the young lady thought we 
were not good enough to wear any more, so she pre¬ 
sented us to the laundress. Now the laundress had a 
son, only six years old,” (“ Only six,” remarked the 
right slipper mournfully.) “but he was the very em¬ 
bodiment of mischief, (“ Indeed he was,” again inter¬ 
rupted the right slipper with great spirit.) “and she 
was often obliged to administer corporal punishment,” 
continued the left slipper, “ and I grieve to say that 
we were often used as the medium through which the 
punishment was administered.” Then both slippers 
sighed deeply. “ And as occasions became more fre- 
qu°nt it was very excruciating, and we became quite 
worn out with the worry and excitement of it all; my 
companion eveD more so than myself, he being the 
right slipper and oftenest used, so the laundress was 
obliged to purchase a new pair, and we were thrown 
in here.” Again both slippers sighed sadly, and the 
boot n ow spoke. 
“ Yours is indeed a sad story, and I can sympathize, 
for I too was once young, though perhaps not hand¬ 
some, for I was made for use alone. My companion 
and myself were purchased for the baker’s little boy. 
Master Tommy was constantly having mishaps, and 
his mother was always expecting him to be brought 
home from school with a broken neck or fractured 
limb. One day coming home from school, he fell into 
a large mud puddle and became quite wet. After 
reaching hom i we were placed on the door steps to 
dry in the sun, when Towser, the big dog which lives 
around the corner, came along and spying me, imme¬ 
diately picked me up in his teeth, and carrying me into 
the back yard, chewed me quite severely. There I 
was found by the baker’s wife who threw me in here. 
Alas! I know not where my companion is.” The 
boot uttered a sigh, the slippers echoed it, and then all 
was silent in the ash barrel, marguerite e. keyes. 
A PLEA FOR THE FARM MOTHER. 
ER life has but little recreation, for by her home 
situation, she is usually some distance from 
neighbors, and the relaxation of even a brief chat de¬ 
mands “ hitching up,” if a horse be available, or a 
wearisome walk, which she is often too tired to under¬ 
take. Of course, there are occasional “ spendings of 
the day,” sociabilities for which she must do double 
duty the day before, and, once in a while, a trip “ to 
town.” 
Her home is, perhaps, beau 4 iful, with its sunny, 
peaceful, country landscape ; and she loves it and its 
inmates, and gives up her very life for them. Mother 
is always ready to stay at home that the daughters 
may g i “ a-pleasuring ; ” it is mother that does with¬ 
out the new gown or bonnet, gives up hired help, 
raises poultry and sells the rags, that the children 
may have their wishes granted. The dear mother 
heart is ever reaching out for them. Her own ambi¬ 
tions may have been long laid aside, but they rise for 
her daughters, and she strives that they may be ac¬ 
complished, and takes the heavy burden of the daily 
work upon her own shoulders that their young lives 
may be unclouded by uncongenial toil. Perhaps they 
sweep, and daintily arrange the house in the early 
morning, with time to read, embroider or dream in 
the hotter forenoon ; while she broils in the kitchen, 
where corn beef and cabbage are boiling, potatoes, 
waiting to be pared, and butter to be “ worked over.” 
Outside, the farmer is away at the field, with the 
sweet beauty of summer all about him, growing crops, 
soft, green grass, cattle feeding, and lambs playing; 
or he is off along the pleasant roads to the black¬ 
smith’s shop or town, amid sweet sights and sounds 
and companionship. 
What a contrast to his wife in the kitchen ! Her soul 
may be more attuned to Nature’s melodies. Yet she 
sees but an endless round of dishes, and cooking, her 
only resting hour, perhaps, to be employed in mend¬ 
ing some tattered jacket or torn skirt. She does not 
murmur, or e/en think she has cause to murmur; it 
is her life, aDd work is for all, and honorable. 
But like the gradually starving man, she wonders 
why the pots are so heavy, and the work drags so, and 
she thinks it is the weather. The poor woman is tired 
—dead tired of the dreary monotony. Now is the 
time, fair sons and daughters, to come to mother’s help. 
Father may not perhaps understand so well or quickly. 
The housework does not seem to him a thing of much 
magnitude. She has always gotten along without 
help, and he thinks she would rather do so. He stirs 
about more, going here and there in his management 
of the place, and he thinks his worries the more 
momentous. He cannot realize that it is the monotony 
that makes his wife grow so old, and tired—the same 
round of duties to be done every day, yet never 
finished. A word to father may do much in lighten¬ 
ing mother’s burden, for there is a very tender spot in 
his heart for the old wife. 
Girls, take more of the drudgery of the work upon 
yourselves, consider if there isn’t something that you 
can do without, and plan with father and brothers that 
mother may have a vacation. Get her ready with a 
gown or two, and send her away for a little visit. 
Tuere are sure to be welcoming friends; the farm has 
ever extended such hospitality. 
But let it not be to the home of some overworked 
sister, or married daughter with little children. 
Grandma will there find too much to do. She may 
stop a little with these dear ones on her return ; but 
let her go now to the camp meeting or the confer¬ 
ence, or the Chautauqua Assembly. Here she will 
find not only rest for the body, but food for the mind 
and soul, and absolute change. Then see how mother 
will come back to you, rejuvenated. 
It will repay your sacrifices and struggles with in¬ 
efficient help and unaccustomed housekeeping, and 
you will have been finding out what mother is to the 
home. 
Then why not make your mother more as one of 
you ? Get her to take up a course of reading with you 
in the long winter. Insist on her often leaving the 
routine of her work for friendly visits ; thus you will 
find the wrinkles smoothing out of the dear face. 
For, though all the culture, beauty and happiness 
of the world are within our reach, remember, chil¬ 
dren, there is for us each the pure, unselfish love of 
but one mother heart. marie allen kimball. 
French Mustard. —This is a condiment that is usually 
purchased, but is easily and quickly made at home ; 
when properly prepared, the quality cannot be sur¬ 
passed. Beat two eggs, add one teacupful of thick, 
sweet cream, one teaspeonful each of butter and 
sugar, rne teaspoonful of salt and one-half cupful 
of mustard; set the dish containing the ingredients 
in a vessel of boiling water ; stir constantly till thick, 
then add slowly one cupful of sharp vinegar, s. fern. 
A cream of tartar baking powder. 
Highest of all in leavening strength. 
—Latest United States Government 
Report. 
Royal Baking Powder Co., 
106 Wall Street, New York. 
