The winners in the last prize contest 
are : 
First Prize, Mrs. Levi H. Niles, Wisconsin. 
Second Prize, Rosa Woodard, New York. 
Third Prize, Mrs. N. D. McNeil, Michigan. 
Some of the manuscripts received are 
very good in every respect, except that 
they do not con form to our requirements 
in length. Our space is limited, and the 
necessity of the occasion demands that 
articles be short if we are to have 
variety in our pages. We repeat the 
offer and trust that more attention to 
length may save some disappointment 
November 11, we will pay $2, $1 and a 
year's subscription to The It. N.-Y., for 
the best three short articles on any sub¬ 
ject sent us before that time. 
^CONDITIONS. 
The articles may be on any subject 
whatever—grave or gay, poetry or prose. 
They may be original or taken from 
other publications; but in every case 
the fullest credit must be given. They 
must not exceed 350 words in length. 
The prizes will be awarded to the 
articles which, in the opinion of the 
editors, are most helpful in power, sug¬ 
gestion and moral to the readers of this 
department. We do not want long 
essays or sermons, but bright, forcible 
and suggestive notes. No person may 
take two prizes two successive periods. 
Nothing is better for one than unprej¬ 
udiced criticism. It is not always pleas¬ 
ant ; but it is wholesome and nourishing. 
Like oatmeal, when we know its value, 
we can take pleasure in swallowing it, 
and get along without sugar with the 
one or flattery with the other. 
* 
We give the first of a series of articles 
on a model kitchen, and desire sugges¬ 
tions and criticisms from every one in 
order that we may discuss the subject so 
thoroughly that a combination of all the 
good points given will, indeed, be a 
model kitchen. If you haven’t in mind 
what you would like to have, tell us 
what you won’t have. The things to be 
avoided must be considered, as well as 
those to be desired. 
* 
“ IIow a Woman Can Earn Money,” 
is a standard subject among a certain 
class of writers, and many fine theories 
are put forth. While they remain on 
paper, they produce much enthusiasm. It 
is when one attempts to put these theories 
into practice, that enthusiasm flags. One 
very soon learns that the value of a prac¬ 
tical article does not depend on, or con¬ 
sist in, its literary merits. These look 
well on the printed page, but facts and 
figures are more to the point. The arti¬ 
cles we give on Poultry Keeping for 
Women are written by two women who 
have done the work, and speak from ex¬ 
perience rather than imagination. 
POULTRY KEEPING FOR WOMEN. 
DOES IT OFFER REAL INDUCEMENTS ? 
There’s a Living at It. 
SEE no reason why the average wo¬ 
man should not be able to make, at 
least, a living with poultry. I believe 
that failure comes most often from inat¬ 
tention to details ; if one cannot give 
time and the closest attention, and is not 
willing and able to work and work hard 
and almost incessantly at certain sea¬ 
sons of the year, I would not advise 
engaging in poultry culture. But with 
the attention which other kinds of busi¬ 
ness demand, and a natural fondness 
for the feathered tribe, women may be 
successful with poultry. Authorities 
tell us that, in order to succeed, we must 
do three things well : first, we must 
breed well; next, we must feed well; 
and last hut most important, we must 
sell well. I use incubators and brooders 
which I find satisfactory. Our poultry 
are given a warm mash each morning 
composed of equal parts of corn meal 
and bran, with a small quantity of animal 
meal or green bone ground. Boiled pota¬ 
toes are also added twice a week. At 
noon and night, they are given whole 
grain—barley, wheat, oats and corn, fed 
in such a way as seems to make most 
variety. jennie galusha. 
Good for Health and Wealth. 
I have cared for fowls the last 20 
years, and I know that there is money 
in it. I keep 100 fowls, and raise 100 
chickens every spring. We have poultry 
every week for the table. I do not give 
them a great deal of care. I have a large 
house to take care of, and five in the 
family, and do my own work. If I were 
obliged to earn my money, I am sure 
that I could make money taking care of 
fowls. I have a bone mill, and give 
them fresh-cut bone twice or three times 
a week, plenty of clean water, a soft 
mess in the morning—two parts fine 
feed, one part meal, with a handful of 
salt in it, mixed with cold water in sum¬ 
mer, and warm in winter. They have 
all the cracked corn and wheat they can 
eat. 
A woman must be willing to put on an 
old dress and go into the henhouse and 
keep it clean. I think it is a good thing 
for women to have some outside work 
to do. I could find enough to do in the 
house all the time, but my health is bet¬ 
ter for being obliged to go out and 
take care of my chickens. It requires 
judgment, and a good deal of persever¬ 
ance to go out in all kinds of weather. 
MRS. JENNIE R. MANN. 
WILL’S FIRST LESSON. 
Y ! Don’t those roast chickens 
and onions and turnips, and 
squash, smell good, though,” exclaimed 
Will as he came into the farmhouse 
kitchen after a drink of water, and hung 
around to have a little chat with his 
mother and sister. “ And I declare if 
Jennie isn’t making one of those famous 
apple puddings to go with it ! I wish 
we weren't going to have company to 
help eat it. Say, mother, can’t I have 
my dinner out on the kitchen table with 
John ? A fellow can’t take any comfort 
eating when there’s a table full of com¬ 
pany to watch every mouthful. 1 hate 
company, anyway, don’t you Jennie V” 
“ No, I don’t,” answered Jennie with 
spirit. “ I just love to have Uncle Joe 
and Aunt Jane come; you know I am her 
namesake, and although I don’t feel well 
acquainted with Isabel, I think that we 
shall have a nice time. Then there’s 
Harmon about your age ! Why, I would 
think that you’d like him, Will. He’s 
just splendid ; so polite and genteel for 
a boy of his age. As for eating in the 
kitchen, I wouldn’t be such a pig ; you 
can eat all you want, if we do have com¬ 
pany,” said Jennie indignantly. 
“ Yes,” spoke up his mother. “ You 
need not be afaid to eat all you want; 
it is not so much how much you eat, as 
how you eat it, that makes one appear 
vulgar. And you are too big a boy to 
eat by yourself ; besides, it wouldn’t 
look well when there’s a boy of your age 
at the table. If you never begin to go 
among folks, you never will know how 
to appear when you do, or are away 
from home.” 
“ I don’t want to go away from home ; 
and I don’t know how to appear now, 
and probably never shall,” replied Will 
moodily. 
“ There’s no reason why you should 
feel that way ; and you’ll soon want to 
go about and see a bit of the world, and 
the best passport into good society is 
good manners,” said his mother encour¬ 
agingly. “ There is Harmon who has 
always been everywhere with his father 
and mother and sister Isabel, ever since 
he was a little child, and he isn’t afraid 
of any one, and carries himself like a 
young gentleman.” 
“ That’s just it !” exclaimed Will. 
‘ ‘He’s been everywhere with his father 
and mother, and seen things, and knows 
just what to do and how to do it. Why 
didn’t you and father take me every¬ 
where with you, and teach me how to 
appear, if you wished me to be a gentle¬ 
man? There’s Jennie knows a heap more 
about such things than I do, though I 
can beat her ’way out in algebra and 
history.” 
“ Why, Will ! You know you never 
wanted to go ; you were so bashful that 
you would rather be left at home, and 
go fishing or nutting, or somewhere by 
yourself ; and we did not like to compel 
you to go visiting with us ; and you 
always kept out of sight when we had 
company when you were little, so that 
you never got acquainted with.any one.” 
“ Well you ought to have made me go. 
I’d have thanked you for it now. I used 
to w r ant to go all the time ; but, as you 
say, 1 was so bashful that I hated to say 
£ 
PLAN OF A KITCHEN. Fig. 232. 
so. I needed encouragement. Jen used 
to tell me what nice times she had, and 
I wished that I had gone ; while, as for 
keeping out of sight when you had com 
pany, I used to do it because 1 was never 
dressed up and made ready to receive as 
girls are, and I was afraid to come into 
the parlor alone; and often when I’d 
almost made up my mind to go in, the 
thought of how they’d all look at me 
and expect me to shake hands all 
around, would frighten me so, that I 
dared not go. Besides, I was always 
afraid I’d do something to make you 
and Jen ashamed of me, mother,” he 
added humbly. 
“ Why, Will, what an idea ! We are 
never ashamed of you,” interrupted Jen 
nie sympathetically. “ We know just 
how good and smart you are in spite of 
your bashfulness and awkward ways. 
Why, we all expect you to do something 
yet to make us proud of you.” 
“I know just how you feel, Will, for 
I’ve been there myself,” spoke up Lis 
father, who had been a silent listener. 
“ It is one of the misfortunes of a coun¬ 
try boy to be kept in the background as 
long as possible, as though he were some 
sort of an animal dangerous to society 
(and maybe he is); then when he is at 
his most awkward and ungainly age, to 
shove him forward and expect him to 
appear well, and wonder why country 
boys are so much more awkward and 
green than city boys. Perhaps folks think 
that is the easiest way to break them 
in and tame them, but it’s hard on the 
boys. If people would only begin early, 
and gradually accustom them to things, 
how much easier and pleasanter it would 
be for both parties. Take a country boy, 
for instance, who has run wild, or rather, 
barefooted, with knee breeches hung on 
by one suspender, and starchless shirt, 
and dress him up in long pantaloons, 
stiff collar and cuffs, and narrow-pointed 
toe shoes, and launch him into society ; 
why ! it’s just like hitching a young colt 
in harness for the first time, before a 
wagon, and expecting him to draw a 
load. He’s just about as miserable and 
capable of appearing easy and well. But, 
never mind, Will, perhaps mother and 1 
Lave neglected you, and if we have, I’m 
sure we’re sorry for it. And to show you 
that I am, I’ll help you to-day. I have 
to go over to the depot to meet the folks, 
and I was going alone, not thinking 
about you at all. I don’t see how we can 
all ride in one wagon, but you can take 
the colt and buggy, and I’ll take the 
two-seater, and then you and Harmon 
will have a chance to get quite well 
acquainted on the way home. Run now, 
and dress up, for we’ll have to hustle.” 
It is needless to say that Will hustled 
and enjoyed it, and he and Harmon be¬ 
came well acquainted on the way home. 
Will decided that Harmon was a nice 
fellow, and Harmon was quite surprised 
to find Will so congenial. Who ever 
heard of a 15-year-old boy being troubled 
with bashfulness while driving a four- 
year-old colt ? When they reached home, 
Harmon insisted on driving to the barn, 
and Will went in with him and his 
father, and was properly introduced. 
Then they sat down to dinner, which 
was waiting, and had a jolly time, which 
lasted all the evening, and Will forgot 
to be shy with any of them, even his 
queenly cousin, Isabel. When he went 
to bed that night, his last loving thought 
was of his father (who was a brick for 
sure), and he wondered why, if parents 
wished their children to appear well, 
they did not all help them as his father 
had done, and make it easy for them. 
And his father decided that, hereafter, 
when he went to the city on business or 
pleasure, Will should go with him and 
see and learn the ways of the world. 
ALICE E. PINNEY. 
MY KITCHEN IN SPAIN. 
Y ideal kitchen, seen as yet only 
in my mind’s eye,” is about 18 
feet square ; the floor is of birch, doors 
and window frames of spruce, other 
woodwork of Georgia pine, all oiled 
and shellacked. The sides of the room 
are ceiled with the pine to a height of 
four feet; the remaining space is cov¬ 
ered with paper and border of a cheer¬ 
ful, creamy complexion. The windows 
have one pane to a sash. On the north 
side of the room, one foot from the east 
end, is a porcelain-lined sink, to the left 
of which, of the same width and height, 
extends a bench six feet long, to be 
used when wiping dishes, cleaning 
lamps, preparing vegetables, or in a hun¬ 
dred other ways ; at the right a similar 
bench fills up the foot of space between 
the sink and the wall, and on this are 
kept soap dish, washing powder, big dip¬ 
per, and drinking glass, while two feet 
above it is a narrow shelf for lamps and 
the matchbox. The space beneath the 
sink and narrow bench is open, with a 
nail at either end for the dishpan and 
wire dish-drainer, respectively. I shall 
also keep a high stool there for the bene¬ 
fit of the dishwasher when she feels in¬ 
clined to sit down to her work. The 
space under the long bench is filled with 
two rows of drawers, four in each row, 
wherein will be kept kitchen and cook¬ 
ing utensils too numerous to mention. A 
windmill pumps the water that comes 
through a pipe into the house, the faucet 
being over tne sink. Above the faucet, 
high enough so that it need never be 
spattered, is a half window; on this 
side, also, is an outside door opening on 
