Thebe is a great deal of talk in New 
York about liberty sinee some of our 
heretofore unenforced laws have been 
enforced. Do the people talking about 
liberty know what American liberty is ? 
For what kind of liberty did our fore¬ 
fathers come to America when it was a 
land full of dangers and deprivations ? 
For the liberty to do right and serve 
God. We owe something to their efforts, 
their memory and their principles, and 
since there yet remain some of their de¬ 
scendants who value American liberty 
above license, there will be the Ameri¬ 
can spirit of enduring opposition against 
the introduction of foreign customs 
under the counterfeit of liberty. 
* 
“ What is your opinion of MissS?” 
said a shrewd man to a young lady. His 
companion, knowing by hearsay—not by 
her own observation—that her ques¬ 
tioner was a student of human nature, 
felt flattered by his question, believing 
that he regarded her opinion as worth 
something. In her reply, she made an 
indifferent admission of Miss S's worth, 
and, in endeavoring to make her opinion 
true to life, the lady’s most apparent 
deficiencies were unsparingly described. 
She did not understand the man who 
was studying her reply. He was looking 
for the sweetness it might have con¬ 
tained, and its sharpness was a disap¬ 
pointment. How many times we make 
mistakes from not being aware that we 
are being studied rather than admired. 
* 
It was with fear and trembling that 
the editors included poetry in our offer. 
Not that we haven’t confidence in the 
poets, for we have ; and admire them, 
too. They are modest people who de¬ 
serve encouragement and appreciation. 
The poetry of life is a very valuable and 
indispensable part of it. Hut there are 
so many writers who make the mistake 
of thinking that a good thing is so much 
better if told in verse. For instance, we 
received a poem based on an incident 
which was described in the letter accom¬ 
panying it. The incident was good, and 
will be published as given in the letter. 
But the poem was “ unavailable.” A 
poetical thought demands poetry for 
expression ; but it requires a skillful 
writer of poetry to put a practical 
thought into poetry with good effect. 
THE PRIZE WINNERS. 
FBOM P0ETBY TO PRACTICAL PROSE. 
Our Best. 
FIRST P RIZ E . 
Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife, 
Some pure ideal of a noble life 
That once seemed possible ? Did we not hear 
The flutter of its wings, and feel it near 
And just within our reach ? It was. And yet, 
We lost it in this daily jar and fret. 
Adelaide Procter in these lines presents 
an idea that finds responsive echoes in 
the hearts of thoughtful people of mature 
years, in the occasional moments when 
they indulge in sentiment. But for every¬ 
day use by practical folks Blla Wheeler 
Wilcox stirs us to renewed effort in this 
wise : 
Build on resolve, and not upon regret, 
The structure of the future. Do not grope 
Among the shadows of old sins, but let 
Thine own soul’s light shine on the path of hope, 
And dissipate the darkness. Waste no tears 
Upon the blotted record of lost years, 
But turn the leaf and smile, oh, smile to see 
The fair white pages that remain for thee. 
Prate not of thy repentance. But believe 
The spark divine dwells in thee. Let it grow. 
That which the upreacliing spirit can achieve 
The grand and all creative forces know. 
They will assist and strengthen as the light 
Lilts up the acorn to the oak tree’s height. 
Thou hast but to resolve, and lo! God’s whole 
Great universe shall fortify thy soul. 
And our own Prudence Primrose in 
these columns once bade us “ Prepare 
yourself for the best you can imagine, 
believe that you will realize the highest 
of which you are capable, work and press 
forward.” Oh, blessed encouragement! 
Grasping the spiritand truth of thoughts 
here presented, how many readers will 
now go on in this strain : This is my 
home—my very own ! Here I do the 
best I can. If I had more tact, more 
wisdom, more physical strength, more 
money, I am sure I could make a better 
home, for my heart is here. My labor 
here cannot be drudgery, for the result 
now lies before the Father as my best 
work under existing circumstances and 
surroundings ; not as good and effective 
work as some women do, but my best ? 
“ She hath done what she could.” 
AUNT SUSAN. 
Lack of Ease in Conversation. 
SECOND PRIZE. 
There is one great reason for lack of 
conversational power ; in too many cases 
the art is never practiced inside the 
home circle. No attempt at pleasant 
converse is ever made save when visitors 
are present ; the various members of the 
family may gossip a little, but they 
make no attempt at entertaining talk. 
To converse well one needs constant 
practice. In many busy households, 
meal time is the very time when the 
mother will complain of domestic worry, 
the father of business cares and the 
daughters of shabby frocks. All this 
ought to be changed; if complaints must 
be made let them come at a proper time. 
Pleasant talk relieved by an occasional 
laugh, will be more beneficial than a 
pound of pills. Some bright little story, 
or bit of news that will cause animated 
talk—how it will increase the brightness 
of the working day ! rosa woodard. 
Mending the Clock. 
THIRD PRIZE. 
One cold day last winter the kitchen 
clock stopped and flatly refused in spite 
of much coaxing, to run. After a care¬ 
ful examination the head of the family 
gave an opinion: ‘‘Nothing broken about 
it ; the works are dirty, and the cold 
makes them sticky. Let's boil it.” Ac¬ 
cordingly the works were taken from 
the case, immersed in a pan of strong 
suds and allowed to boil a few minutes. 
The suds was then poured off, when the 
works still felt st’cky to the touch. An¬ 
other application of suds and another 
boiling ensued, after which the works 
were well rinsed with clear boiling 
water and dried on the shelf over the 
stove. They were then oiled with a very 
little sewing machine oil, applied with 
my finest paint brush, returned to the 
case and when started ran as smoothly 
as the newest clock could and is still 
giving satisfaction. Thus was saved 
two trips to town through the cold, the 
loss of the clock several days and a big, 
round dollar. linda wilton-mcneil. 
SIDE-RAYS FROM MRS. RORER'S 
CANDLE. 
I NEVER witness one of Mrs. Borer’s 
demonstration lectures, but I feel 
that I have had a good time ; and I come 
away rested and encouraged. Simple, 
bright, chatty, absolute mistress of her 
subject, ready to answer any question 
that may be asked, she seems to me to 
be unapproachable as a teacher in her 
chosen line. Yet when she was married, 
she did not know how to cook ! 
Young housewives are almost sure to 
reach a point of discouragement, where 
they sit down with tears and say that 
they never can learn to cook ; shall they 
not be encouraged by the above facts ? 
If one woman can wrest success from 
defeat, why not another? 
“ One-half cupful of soup stock,” said 
the cooking teacher's soft voice, as she 
proceeded with her combined work and 
talk. “ But as I have no soup stock at 
hand. I shall use a teaspoonful of beef 
extract and, perhaps, three-quarters of a 
teacupful of water.” 
“ But, Mrs. Rorer,” arose a protesting 
voice from the middle row, “ Can noth¬ 
ing be cooked without beef stock ? Beef 
stock is very expensive ; many of us can¬ 
not afford it for every-day use.” 
“ It needn’t cost you a cent.” was the 
swift, unruffled reply. “ I’ve been keep¬ 
ing house for 28 years, and I always have 
beef stock on hand; and I never paid 
out any money for beef for stock in my 
life. The scraps and bones from the 
average family will always furnish 
enough stock for present use. More 
and more every day I am coming to know 
how much money is spent that need not 
be ; that is literally thrown away.” 
“ But if you had the ordinary cook, 
Mrs. Rorer,”—persisted the voice of pro¬ 
test. 
“ But I wouldn’t,” smiled the author¬ 
ity. “ Nothing would induce me to em¬ 
ploy the average cook. I couldn’t be 
bothered with her ; and, more, I couldn’t 
afford her, for she is too wasteful.” 
“ But,” still went on the Unsatisfied, 
“you would have to, if you were an 
average housekeeper—that is—unless 
you lived in your kitchen.” 
Apparently, for a moment, the lec¬ 
turer had dropped the subject. “ I was 
in Chicago for six months during the 
World’s Fair, as I presume most of you 
know.” 
The plumes in front of the platform 
nodded assent ; the eyes looked the in¬ 
quiry, “ What has that to do with 
it ? ” 
“ During that six months,” the mute 
inquiry was answered, “I lectured every 
day. I did not miss a single morning. 
I was on hand daily at half-past nine, 
ahead of my class. The afternoons I 
usually gave to the fair generally, ‘doing 
it,’ as people of ease did. I kept house 
for my family ; the house was small. 
There is enough Virginia blood in me to 
necessitate my being hospitable, and I 
must have guests. There was, therefore, 
no room for servants, except an abso¬ 
lutely necessary seamstress. I kept my 
house, did all the cooking and other 
necessary work for my family of five, 
edited my magazine, entertained my 
guests — I presume acceptably — and I 
generally answer about 50 letters a 
day. 
“My publisher was one of my guests ; 
it happened so. He looked through my 
kitchen and pronounced it the best exhi¬ 
bition at the great fair. I was very glad 
of this,” she concluded, naively, “because 
I thought that he would thus have a 
great deal more respect for my cookery 
books. You see—do you not?—that I 
did not ‘live in the kitchen,’ but I assure 
you that my family are well fed.” 
During all this, which appeared much 
like an ordinary conversation, the fair- 
haired teacher was composedly “lard¬ 
ing ” the rabbit which was the real sub¬ 
ject under exposition, making only an 
occasional brief reference to the method 
in which she did her work. One might 
have thought this the side topic ; but 
“ larding ” anything is a slow process, 
and when questions are asked and 
answei-ed, the audience is satisfied, and 
the demonstrator does not have to rack 
her brain for something to say. 
The Unsatisfied took a new tack. “Do 
you approve of the use of pork ? ” she 
asked, as one fat “ lardiue ” after an¬ 
other slipped easily into place after the 
long needle. 
“ No family in which there is any scrof¬ 
ulous or consumptive tendency, can 
afford to use pork,” was the quick an¬ 
swer. “And even pie is never used in 
my own family. Under the pressure of 
rent bills that must be paid, I occasion 
ally make pies, showing and telling 
other people how to make them, but al¬ 
ways with the assurance that I would 
not use them myself. 
“I am thoroughly assured that it is 
improper feeding that is at the root of 
the nervous, dyspeptic and insane con¬ 
ditions which afflict this nation. The 
rural population—what do they live on ? 
The Creator has given them wheat, with 
13 elements in it; they remove all but 
two, and try to live on those two, made 
up into white bread. They add, as 
staples, pork (which I do not suppose 
any of us ever believed to be really 
clean), and—pie! The insane asylums 
of this country (more in proportion than 
those of any other country on earth), 
are not filled with brain-workers. They 
are filled with these ill-fed products of 
white bread, pork and pie, who have 
broken down physically before they 
broke down mentally. And I know 
whereof I speak.” myra v. norys. 
A COMMON-SENSE VIEW. 
OMETIIING like this has been going 
the rounds of the papers : “Rev 
So-and-So has been preaching against 
the wearing of bloomers, taking for his 
text, ‘ A woman shall not wear that 
which pertaineth unto a man, for it is an 
abomination unto the Lord.’” Without 
attempting any advocacy of this style of 
dress, one feels tempted to inquire what 
particular article of apparel is meant, 
the wearing of which is the sole preroga¬ 
tive of the masculine sex. Men wear 
hats, so do women ; both wear coats, and 
not infrequently they are very much 
alike. Many young women, at the pres¬ 
ent time, wear a shirt front with collar 
and necktie very much like those worn 
by their brothers. Yet none of these 
draws down the anathemas of these rev¬ 
erends. It must be then, that their inter¬ 
pretation of this Scripture applies solely 
to the breeches. But men did not wear 
breeches when this commandment was 
given, and even up to the present day in 
all Oriental countries, the dress is along 
flowing robe, such as was worn ages 
ago. Only a small part of the men in 
this world, at the present time, wear 
breeches, and in many countries the 
sexes are dressed so nearly alike that it 
is difficult to distinguish them by this 
means. In ancient Greece, none but 
slaves wore breeches, and this garment 
was a distinguishing badge of their ser¬ 
vile condition. 
Is the bloomer dress so exactly the 
counterpart of the trousers worn by 
men, that preachers of the gospel feel it 
a sacred duty to warn their wearers 
against breaking a Divine command ? 
If women, for the sake of health, 
safety or convenience, choose to adopt a 
dress which was denounced by a recent 
medical association in Missouri, because 
of its being inartistic, who shall say 
them nay ? No one insists on man 
wearing long, powdered, curling wigs, 
knee breeches and buckles and ruffled 
shirt fronts, such as were worn two or 
three generations ago. But such a dress 
is doubtless more artistic. The trend of 
the times is towards more independence 
in dress as well as in everything else. 
Convenience and healthfulness are more 
and more made a consideration. Among 
educated women, fashion is losing its 
iron grip, and in the evolution of time, 
a dress for women will sometime be 
found which combines not only these 
requisites, but is also artistic. It is be¬ 
littling the great Creator when men use 
Scripture for such a purpose. “ Thou 
thoughtest that I was altogether such a 
one as thyself,” are words of Jehovah 
which might very appropriately be ap¬ 
plied to such preachers. There are enough 
giants of sin to slay, without striking at 
windmills. ei.iza c. gifford. 
