THINGS TO DISCOVER. 
Faces of pansies, sweet and rare, 
Cheeks of apples rosy. 
Eyes of potatoes, lying there 
In Mother Earth’s bed cozy. 
Ears of the corn-clan, listening 
To the gossip of the breeze,— 
Say, little men and women, 
Have you ever thought of these ? 
Heads a-plenty, in Cabbage Tribe, 
Curly heads and red heads, too. 
Necks among the summer squashes— 
A bit crooked, it is true. 
Hands where timid grape vines clamber, 
Clinging to the old stone wall,— 
Say, my little men and women, 
Have you thought about them all ? 
Temper ’mong the Pepper People, 
Tears when Onion Folks are near, 
Dainty bonnets on the strawberries, 
Skin upon the russet pear. 
Now, then, little men and women, 
See what else you can discover. 
Put your glasses on and find them— 
Wonders all the wide world over. 
—Annie Hamilton Donnell in Youth's Companion 
hardly finished this self-imposed task, 
when the screen door slammed, there 
came the sound of hasty footsteps cross¬ 
ing the kitchen floor, and the impera¬ 
tive voice of one of her brothers calling, 
“ Clara ! Clara ! Where’s Clara ? ” 
“ What’s wanted ? ” 
“ Father wants you to come out and 
help rake. There’s a shower coming 
up — ” 
“I’ll be there in two minutes,” was 
the ready response. 
It was at the supper table, when her 
father was congratulating himself on 
having got the last load of hay in before 
it began to rain, thanks to Clara’s timely 
and energetic help, that she preferred 
her request. It was doubtless this wil¬ 
lingness on her part to come to his aid, 
that tipped the scales in her favor, and 
gained his consent to her plan, for he 
did consent, albeit protestingly, with 
and late in the fall, her well-filled 
shelves in the cellar closet became quite 
celebrated through the neighborhood. 
There were jars of rhubarb, strawber¬ 
ries, raspberries, blackberries, currants, 
huckleberries, barberries, tomatoes, 
grapes, pears, peaches, plums, quinces, 
and ground cherries. 
“We never fared so well in the matter 
of fruit, any winter before, that I can 
recollect,” Mr Ferris was heard to ob¬ 
serve more than once, during the next 
six months. And, “We never passed 
through a winter before, with so little 
sickness in the family,” said Mrs. Ferris, 
when spring came. 
Late in June, one lovely afternoon 
immediately after dinner, Clara and her 
mother took the horse and carryall and 
drove to a city five miles away. They 
had a most enjoyable time, and when 
they started home, there was stowed 
definite time in the future, but we’re 
going to get the good of them right along 
now, every day, and I’m going to make 
the table look just as pretty and nice as 
I know how, every single meal.” 
When the table was set, not only with 
the new dishes, but with food specially 
prepared for the occasion, Clara placed 
a vase in the center and filled it with 
roses. “ I always wanted to set a table 
that wouldn’t disgrace a vase of flowers,” 
she said. “ There !—isn’t that fine ?” she 
cried, standing off to survey her work. 
The boys, coming in just then, agreed 
that it most certainly was, and the si¬ 
lence of Mr. Ferris, who stood in the 
background, doubtless signified assent. 
L. ROBBINS. 
WHERE GIRLS LEARN TO COOK. 
WRITER in Harper’s Round Table 
describes one of the cooking classes 
A SET OF DISHES. 
H, dear ! ” said Clara despondently, 
as she began wiping the dinner 
dishes which her mother was washing ; 
“what is the use of living? Nothing 
ever happens that is the least interest¬ 
ing. There’s nothing to look forward 
to, and nothing to look back on. It’s 
just working, eating and sleeping. We 
sleep so we can work, and work so we 
can eat, and that is all it amounts to. I 
hate the farm.” 
Mrs. Ferris was evidently used to such 
outbursts from her daughter, for she 
only sighed and looked unhappy. Clara 
worked a few minutes in silence, and 
then began again, this time in an injured 
tone. 
“ I like pretty things, and what is there 
pretty in or around this shabby house ? 
Look at these dishes ! I don't believe 
doubts of her ability to buy advan¬ 
tageously, and prophecies of certain 
failure. 
Clara glowed with pleasure. She had 
expected a fiat refusal, for Mr. Ferris 
not only hated change, but the traditions 
of his family led him to disapprove 
strongly of allowing his wife and daugh¬ 
ter to have the handling of money. They 
must come to him if they wanted any¬ 
thing, and if the proposed purchase 
seemed to him a reasonable one, he 
would make it, on his next trip to 
town. Clara felt that he had made a 
great concession, and was grateful ac¬ 
cordingly. When he and the boys and 
the hired man had gone out to their 
chores, she gave her mother a rapturous 
embrace. 
“ Now I have something to live for,” 
she cried exultantly. 
Clara knew how to cook, and had done 
away in the back of the carriage not only 
a set of dishes of 140 pieces—white, 
decorated with a delicate brown vine— 
but also a dozen each silver-plated knives 
and forks, a china teapot with a tile to 
stand it on, two or three glass dishes, 
and several agate ware cooking utensils. 
“ I never thought I could save so much, 
so soon,” said Clara. “ Buying flour, 
molasses, and some other things, in the 
city, has helped, of course, and father 
has forgotten and bought meat several 
times, and that has helped a little, too. 
The best of it all is that father says we 
have lived better the past year than we 
ever did before. I asked to make sure. ” 
When Mr. Ferris helped unload the 
pui-chases, and had been enlightened as 
to where the money had come from, he 
only’said “ Humph ! ” but his face would 
have made a study for a painter. Clara 
flew around and built a fire, and washed 
of the New York Cooking School in the 
United Charities Building. A troop of 
school girls form one of the classes of 
this charitable organization which aims 
“ to teach the young of the deserving 
poor how to prepare food in the highest 
style of the culinary art.” As soon as the 
21 cooks reach the large hall, which is 
fitted up as a model kitchen, they don 
white pinafores and regulation “ chef ” 
caps. Then the class is separated into a 
“ gas ” and an “ egg ” class. 
The “ gas ” is the primary class, and 
its members are initiated into the art of 
preparing dishes over gas jets without 
burning them ; the advanced or “egg” 
concoct tempting morsels that have eggs 
for a basis. 
Having gathered ’round their instruc¬ 
tress before going into the practical work, 
the entire class is subjected to a “quiz.” 
“ Why do you put salt into poached- 
there’s another family in 10 miles that 
has such a set of old, cracked, nicked 
odds and ends, and so few of them that 
if we ever had company there wouldn’t 
be enough to lay the table with. If I 
could only earn something,—but father 
won’t hear of my going away—and, of 
course, I wouldn’t leave you to do all the 
work alone—and if I speak of raising 
anything to sell, he laughs at me.” 
There was another silence. “ Don’t 
you believe father would let us have a 
new set of dishes, mother ? ” 
“ I’m afraid he wouldn’t feel as though 
he could afford it, now,” said her mother 
reluctantly. 
“Can’t he afford it, really?” ques¬ 
tioned Clara, doubtingly. “ He spends 
money for things we should never think 
of buying. He always gets too much of 
everything, and quite often he buys 
something just because it is cheap,—and 
just think of the apple parers, and egg 
beaters, and flour sifters, and chimney 
cleaners, and stove lifters, and nutmeg 
graters, and pie forks, and knife sharp¬ 
eners, and glass cutters, and can openers 
he has filled the house with ! He hardly 
ever goes to town that he doesn’t bring 
home something of the kind. I believe 
he can afford a decent set of dishes, but 
it isn’t likely I can make him think so, 
though,” she added, relapsing again into 
despondency. 
Suddenly she seemed struck by a new 
idea. “Oh, mother! If father would 
only let me have the spending of the 
house money, I believe I could save 
enough in a year to buy a set of dishes. 
Do you suppose he would ? ” 
“ He might,” said Mrs. Ferris, but her 
tone was not very encouraging. 
“ Well, I’m going to ask him, anyway,” 
declared Clara, energetically. “ He can’t 
do more than refuse.” 
She hurried through her after-dinner 
work,changed her dark calico fora clean 
light one, and then sat down to figure 
out from the family cash book the aver¬ 
age amount of money spent in one week 
for housekeeping purposes. She had 
a part of the family cooking for several 
years, though she was now only 19; but 
she had always disliked it. Now, how¬ 
ever, her feelings on the subject under¬ 
went a decided change. She found that 
there were several standard works on 
cooking, in the public library, and she 
took them out, and studied them. Mr. 
Atkinson’s food tables, which a neigh¬ 
bor loaned her, also came in for a share 
of her attention. 
She became much interested in the sub¬ 
ject of “balanced rations” for human 
beings, and really enjoyed trying differ¬ 
ent recipes, and in cooking plain food 
in so superior a manner that it would be 
appetizing. 
Mr. Ferris had been in the habit of 
letting the butcher’s bill run till it 
amounted to $25 or $30. Clara paid cash, 
and on this account, the butcher often 
threw off a few cents, and gave her 
better meat, besides. 
“ I am not going to buy as expensive 
meat as father used,” she told her mother. 
“ Mr. Atkinson says the cheap cuts are 
just as nutritious, and if I cook them in 
such a way that no one can tell the differ¬ 
ence by the taste, why, we save so much 
the more toward the dishes.” Clara also 
took an unusual interest in the garden 
that summer. Her mother spoke of it 
one day. “ I never knew you so willing 
to pick things,” she said. “ You com¬ 
plained a good deal last summer, I re¬ 
member.” 
“Don’t you see?” laughed Clara. “ ’Tis 
the same old story. The more garden 
stuff and fruit we eat, not only the bet¬ 
ter it will be for us, but the less money 
I shall have to spend on other kinds of 
food. I don’t mean that a kernel of corn, 
or a bean, or so much as a small potato 
or a huckleberry, shall be wasted this 
year. I am going to can everything I 
can lay hands on. Mrs. Doe says that 
quart Mason jars are only 85 cents a 
dozen, and at that price I’ll not hesitate 
to buy all I can fill. I’m going to dry a 
lot of apples, too.” 
Clara was as enterprising as her woi d, 
the new dishes, and arranged them on 
the closet shelves, and gloated over them. 
It was half past five by the clock, and 
the important moment had at last ar¬ 
rived. “ Now we shall see what we shall 
see !” Clara cried joyously, as she spread 
the clean, white tablecloth, and began 
to lay the plates. “Some folks would 
save them all for company, or some in¬ 
egg water ? ” 
“ Because it co-ag-u-lates the albumen 
whites of the eggs,” is the ready reply. 
“ Shall we let the water boil ? ” 
“ No! If the water boils, the eggs 
break, and that isn’t nice,” pipe the tiny 
cooks. 
“ How do you measure ? ” 
“ Level for salt, pepper, spices, and 
Accept None of the 
Pretended Substitutes for 
Royal Powder 
y BECAUSE inferior and cheaper made baking 
fl KIq j| preparations are bought at wholesale at a price 
so much lower than Royal, some grocers are 
urging consumers to use them in place of the Royal at 
the same retail price. 
If you desire to try any oi the pretended substitutes 
for Royal Baking Powder bear in mind that they are 
all made from cheaper and inferior ingredients, and are 
not so great in leavening strength nor of equal money 
value. Pay the price of the Royal Baking Powder 
for the Royal only. 
It is still more important, however, that Royal Baking 
Powder is purer and more wholesome, and makes better, 
finer, and more healthful food than any other baking 
powder or preparation. 
ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., 106 WALL ST., NEW-YORK, 
