“ Like father, like son.” So it is not 
surprising that Pres. Eliot, of Harvard, 
has signed his name to a protest against 
woman suffrage, when we recall that 
his father was the only member of Con¬ 
gress from Massachusetts who voted 
for the -Fugitive -Slave Law. 
* 
The small cabinets to hold spices and 
seasonings are convenient affairs ; but 
one may have the same convenience by 
following the suggestion given by Mrs. 
Rorer in one of her lectures. She said 
that a good cook should be supplied 
with all kinds of spices and seasonings, 
as an intelligent use of them adds so 
much to the palatability of food. To 
have these where they will be handy, a 
knifebox may be used to hold the boxes 
containing them. Thus all may be 
placed near at hand, at once, and the 
little dash of this or that seasoning need 
not be omitted because it has been for¬ 
gotten. 
* 
After doing duty at the Marlborough- 
Vanderbilt wedding, one of the police 
captains says that he would rather man¬ 
age a crowd of 5,000 men than one of 500 
women. There is no doubt that when 
women become as interested in politics 
as they are in weddings, they will be 
able to get to the polls without assist¬ 
ance, and in spite of pretty active oppo¬ 
sition. The only difficulty suffragists 
have to contend with, is the ti-ansfer of 
feminine affections. When woman val¬ 
ues the ballot as highly as she does a bit 
of bride-cake, she will be able to nullify 
many apparent barriers to her freedom 
without appeals to legislatures. 
-x- 
But we do not [agree^with Dr. Park- 
liurst in this regard. He says, “When 
the sex has succeeded in doing perfectly 
what God and Nature evidently intended 
to hhve her do, it will be ample time for 
her to think about doing some things 
which God and Nature have expressed 
themselves less definitely.” Apply these 
limitations to your own sex, Doctor, be¬ 
fore you recommend them to the 
“weaker” half of humanity. If we 
thought that suffrage would not be 
g-ranted to women before the whole of 
them became qualified for it, we would 
wait until the millennium before begin¬ 
ning to talk about it. Women do not 
value the ballot very highly. We admit 
that. Do men ? Ask those to whom it 
applies which they would give up first, 
their votes or their tobacco. When the 
ballot was given to men, it was not in 
exchange for any privilege or preference 
of theirs. Why should not its bestowal 
on woman be as unqualified ? 
* 
“ The college-bred man often fails to 
make a livelihood ; the college-bred 
woman is a success all along the line,” 
says M. W. F. in another column. That 
is rather a broad assertion. But if it is 
true, let us see just what it amounts 
to. College-bred women form so much 
smaller part of their sex than do college- 
bred men of theirs, that a just compari¬ 
son of the sexes cannot be made along 
these lines. Among college-bred men 
is a proportion of blockheads whose 
families send them to college hoping to 
make something of them. The feminine 
blockheads are seldom put through such 
heroic treatment, and the record of 
college-bred women is therein relieved 
of one great drawback. College women 
are mainly the brightest and most ener¬ 
getic of their sex. The same is not true 
of college men, and if their respective 
records vary as much as claimed, there 
is a fairer way of expressing the fact. 
THE PASSING OF MISS MAJ0R- 
IBANKS. 
ND so this is cousin John’s farm ! ” 
Miss Majoribanks picked up her 
skirts daintily, and looked about. “But 
that surely can’t be his wife,” she ejacu¬ 
lated, as she espied a pallid, worn-look¬ 
ing, little woman emerging from some 
nondescript buildings in the rear, with 
a baby on one arm, and a pile of wood 
on the other. For a moment, Miss Major¬ 
ibanks felt uncomfortable. Her smart, 
traveling suit seemed aggressive, some¬ 
how, in the presence of this pitiful ap¬ 
parition. Yes, it must be John’s wife ! 
She wished that she had not come. How¬ 
ever, the situation must be faced. 
“lam Helen Majoribanks—Mr.Thomp- 
son’s—John’s, cousin,” she said advanc¬ 
ing and extending her hand. “ I am on a 
flying trip East, and found that the 
connections were such that I could run 
up here for 12 hours. I suppose that 
this is John’s wife?” “Dear! She 
looks ready to drop with that bundle of 
wood, and that big baby—and company 
thrown in ! I’m just glad I’m here, 
after all ! Such a condition of affairs 
needs some adjustment. It isn’t as if 
John were abjectly poor. I happen to 
know that he is not! ” the visitor thought, 
as they made their way to the back door. 
“If you haven't any one to help you,” 
she announced, “I am just going to post¬ 
pone my trip and prolong my visit. 
That baby is too much for you to take 
care of, even though you did not do an¬ 
other thing ! ” At this, the little mother 
sat down, and unexpectedly began to 
cry. 
“ Excuse me for being so silly,” she 
faltered ; “ but I was so tired, and when 
A DAINTY “ THROW.” Fig. 249. 
you spoke so kind, it seemed like I 
couldn’t hold in any longer ! ” 
‘‘ There, there,” said Miss Majoribanks, 
soothingly ; “you must have a good rest. 
I know how it is when one is completely 
worn out. A word, a look, is sufficient 
to set off the overstrained nerves. Now, 
you tell me where the potatoes are, and 
run and lie down while I get supper. I 
used to get meals for John occasionally, 
and I can now. And baby will be as 
good as can be, I know. Yes, go ! ” she 
repeated firmly, as the little woman 
hastily dried her tears, and began put¬ 
ting thing-s to rights. “ But tell me 
where the potatoes are first.” The wo¬ 
man’s face colored. 
“Well, we haven’t any,” she said. 
“ We didn’t raise any last year, and John 
always forgets them when he goes to 
town—and the fact is, I haven’t been 
able to bake, and there isn’t a thing in 
the house to eat.” 
“ Never mind,” the visitor said cheer¬ 
ily, picking her up and depositing her 
on a couch in an adjoining room. “ I’ll 
get something.” She shut the door 
preparatory to beginning operations. It 
was not a very inviting looking prospect 
—that kitchen, with ashes and crumbs 
on the floor, and-a great pile of unwashed 
dishes on the table. However, Miss 
Majoribanks was great upon rising to 
occasions, and she did not falter now. 
First, she donned an old shirt waist 
which she found in the entry, and pinned 
up her skirts. Then she swept the floor 
and washed the dishes, stopping, occas¬ 
ionally, to amuse the baby. A few 
minutes later, she “called supper” by 
means of a huge bell which she found 
suspended between a maple tree and the 
house. Before the tones had died away, 
her cousin appeared on the scene. 
“ Well, for a hungry man,” he began, 
and stopped as he saw Miss Majoribanks. 
“ Cousin John,” she said sweetly, ad¬ 
vancing, “I’m Helen—don’t you remem¬ 
ber me ? And aren’t you glad to see me ? 
Your wife has lain down—I made her, 
she looked so tired, and I got your sup¬ 
per. I’m going to do all the cooking 
now !” 
The man looked at the table and 
flushed. “ I’m afraid you hadn’t much 
to cook,” he said ; “ but somehow, Jane 
always seems so able to get something 
out of nothing, that I know I’m pretty 
shiftless about remembering what she 
asks for when I go to town. I’ll attend 
to her list this very night.” He pulled 
out a slip of paper from his pocket and 
gazed at it studiously. 
“ Your wife’s asleep,” Miss Majori¬ 
banks said, tiptoeing to the door, “ so 
I’ll not call her ; and, John, get the very 
best steak the town affords, to-night, 
and I’ll cook it as only I can—you re¬ 
member my broils don’t you ? She needs 
something nourishing every meal, and 
just lots of rest!” 
Immediately after supper, “ Cousin 
John ’ started for town. Miss Majori¬ 
banks sat on the back porch crooning to 
the baby, when the little mother sud¬ 
denly appeared at the door. “ I have to 
dress this way when 1 milk for the 
baby,” she faltered, as her visitor looked 
up in astonishment. “Her cow is afraid of 
a woman, and won’t let a skirt or a ruffle 
come near her ! She looked down at her 
costume, which consisted of an old coat, 
a man’s slouch hat and a pair of blue 
jean “overalls.” 
“ You see the baby can’t wait,” she 
said shnply. “ She must have her milk 
on time ; and when John forgets or is 
busy, I milk for her. But I shan't mind 
to-night, when I don’t have to take the 
baby with me !” She passed hurriedly 
down the steps, and a little later, Miss 
Majoribanks saw her letting down a stile 
into an adjoining- field. 
“ Yes, things do need adjusting !” she 
said emphatically. eleanor root. 
(To be continued.) 
A NEW “ THROW.” 
HEREVER the name originated, 
it surely applies to this style of 
drapery for chairs or easels. “Throws ” 
are just to use that way—throw over 
something, without a suggestion of stiff¬ 
ness or regular lines. The one shown at 
Fig. 249 is even filmier and daintier than 
its predecessors. Itismadeof “illusion” 
—cotton, preferably—because it will 
wash, but silk by all means for dainty 
effect alone. A scarf of the illusion lace 
is first made to be gathered carelessly a 
little to one side of the center and tied, 
if one wish, with multitudinous loops of 
the tiniest, satin-edged yellow “baby 
ribbon.” The bits of daisies for its 
further adornment are made of small 
rounds of the illusion gathered on their 
edges and folded over into the middle, 
where little yellow silk French knots 
for stamens cover over all stitches and 
raw edges. On one end of the scarf, are 
three groups of daisies in points, with a 
yellow silk ball-tassel to “top off” with. 
On the other end, are two larger points 
of the daisies—five, four, three, two, one 
—with silken tassels, too. Any pre¬ 
ferred grouping of the tiny, filmy daisies 
may, of course, be used. When the little 
“throw” is finished, for sheer daintiness 
of effect, it is sure to hold its own and 
win favor. A. H. D. 
A DOLL FOR GRANDMAMMA. 
HRISTMAS time always sees many 
children happy over dolls presented 
by loving grandmammas. Suppose that 
the little girls this year make grand¬ 
mamma a doll to stand beside her work- 
basket and take charge of her pins and 
needles. Buy a china doll five inches 
tall. Any pretty silk or chally will be 
suitable material for the dress, though 
it is better to use a plain, bright color, 
or a design in small figures. A plain 
little bodice may be made and sewed in 
place, and a folded long shawl placed 
over it. An ordinary pin flat, 3J^ inches 
in diameter, is made for dolly to stand 
upon, and her skirt is just full enough 
to reach smoothly around the edge of 
this. Overhand the bottom of the skirt 
to the pin flat, and fill it with combings 
or raveled yarn, not pressing it very 
full, for the doll must stand in the mid¬ 
dle of it, and the skirt should slope in 
to the belt. Gather the skirt along its 
upper edge, place Miss Dolly in position, 
and draw the gathering thread close 
about her waist and over the shawl ends 
in front. Use a piece of white flannel or 
cashmere for the apron, and let it have 
a narrow ribbon for a belt, and tie 
prettily in the back. 
For the hat, cut from an old postal 
card a circular piece the size of a silver 
quarter ; also a piece representing one- 
quarter of a circle and measuring two 
inches on its straight edges. Cover these 
with the cloth by brushing them lightly 
with boiled flour paste, having the cloth 
enough larger to turn over a fourth of 
an inch all about the edges. A trifle of 
paste will hold the cloth folded over on 
the back in little plaits. The circular 
piece, which is the brim, is not cut out 
in the center, but pressed, while still 
damp, on to Dolly’s head with a touch 
of glue to hold it in place. It will be 
easy to make it fit her head somewhat, 
and take on some becoming curves. For 
the crown, roll up the quarter of a circle, 
letting it lap till it is the right size, and 
securing it with paste or glue. When 
all are dry, a few stitches back and front 
will fasten the crown in place, and tiny 
bows of narrowest ribbon will, in turn, 
conceal the stitches. Place needles 
evenly across the lower part of the apron, 
and pins about the fiat on which the doll 
stands. 
On the card which accompanies the 
little gift, might appear the following 
lines : 
To care for your pins and needles, 
Here comes little Mother Goose; 
She has put by all her nonsense, 
And wants to be of use '. 
PRUDENCE T. PRIMROSE. 
AT THE KITCHEN WINDOWS. 
HE apple tree that smiled into the 
kitchen windows, stands bare and 
brown—its apples are garnered, its work 
for this season is over, and now comes 
rest—for the tree, and for the busy 
workers who passed under its branches, 
for “ the fall is here.” The outlook is 
over the deserted garden, where still 
bloom pansies in their purple and gold, 
holding up their cheerful faces in sun 
or shade. There are phlox, too, and gay 
gaillardias, and some bright geraniums. 
It seems strange to pick violets, June 
roses, and periwinkle, as one can do this 
year, out of season—the second growth 
that robs us of next year’s flowers and 
fruit. 
Beside me is a basket of Flemish 
Beauty pears ; they are quite yellow, 
and, when cut, betray the fact that they 
are past mellowness. What a pity it is 
that, as soon as they are ripe, they begin 
to think about decaying, though keep¬ 
ing a fair exterior ! The youngest ama¬ 
teur cook is trying her hand at canniug 
them, and the greenest were made up as 
