i) caustic Sconomn. 
PAT, FRYING AND BROILING. 
% - 
BY JULIA COL MAN. 
That fat is not food is a principle which 
I see more and more frequently expressed of 
late by scientific writers. I have, therefore, 
been led to inquire whether there are any 
facLs in every-day fife which will help any 
thinking person to form an opinion for 
himself on that subject. I have looked into 
the habits of animals. I think they seldom 
eat it when lean meat can be had, and very 
little of it any way. 
Fat is Dead Mutter, 
(in most cases,) and accumulated in a sys¬ 
tem which takes more food than it can 
work off healthily. It is stored away in the 
cellular tissue. The latter contains some 
nutrition which is left in the “scraps,” and 
these, animals frequently cat. 
But pure fat—who cats it? The Esqui¬ 
maux, ns everybody will tell us, eats im¬ 
mense quantities of it. Well, if it. were 
very nutritious lie could not cat “ immense” 
quantities. But his eating it does not prove 
that it nourishes him, any more than alcohol 
nourishes some of our nearer neighbors. 
The Esquimaux also cats lean muscle, and 
the tissue of the blubber itself contains some 
nutriment. But suppose fat were food, w'lio 
would wish to live on it, if it would make 
him like an Esquimaux? Shall we try it? 
If it is as nutritious ns our use of it seems 
to indicate, we ought to lie able to make at 
least one comfortable meal of it, 
A Blent of Fat. 
What will you have? lard, tallow, goose 
oil or bear’s grease, one or all of them ? 
Serve warm or cold and as tastefully as you 
please; mold and curl and decorate. To 
what will you be helped? You do not 
seem to eat heartily. In fact you only taste 
and nibble. Not accustomed to such fare? 
Well, here is some such sausage fat as you 
trimmed your griddle cakes with this morn¬ 
ing. Here is the top of the chicken gravy 
you had yesterday. Better still, here is 
some fresh fish oil such as the Esquimaux 
drink, i do not see as these suit you any 
better. Do you give it up ? Yon are “ not 
an Esquimaux?” Well, if you were, you 
could not live on such things. 
But the doctors say cod liver oil is very 
strengthening, fattening. Let them prove it 
then. No, better still, you may prove it. 
Here is some. Will it help you make out a 
dinner? You beg to be excused. I am 
sorry it is not. any more inviting, since it is 
so “ wholesome I” What nonsense! 
On further retlcetion, you may say that 
you take fat as a relish, and, (if you have 
read it some where,) to aid digestion. Let us 
see:—If your food is good and properly pre¬ 
pared, it ought not to require the addition of 
anything that is not food to make it relish. 
Putting anything into the stomach that is 
not food, taxes the* stomach to dispose of it. 
What is tlie ease with fat? The gastric 
juice cannot digest it. Does that seem to in¬ 
dicate that it is good food? If it is not 
mingled too intimately with other substances, 
it passes out of the stomach as fat still; and 
there is no proof that it nourishes the system 
in any way. 
Fnt Cooked In. 
But we do not often take it mingled with 
other substances; we coat it upon, or cook 
it into, any variety of other matters—animal, 
vegetable and cereal, and send them down 
lor the stomach to digest. What can it. do? 
Thu fat, as we have seen, does not acknowl¬ 
edge the power of the great solvent, the gas¬ 
tric juice, but then there, locked up in it, is 
the fibrous nourishment, that must, be digest¬ 
ed by the gastric juice, or not at all. So the 
stomach sets to work with its muscular pow- 
ei. It beats, and works, and rubs the ali- 
nii'ul, to get the fat out, and some say that it 
calls in the bile to help; but the bile and the 
gastric juice do not work together cordially, 
while the bile and the fat get up a “suds.” 
“Clean out the stomach,” you say? Well 
tnen, be consistent, and send down a scrub¬ 
bing brush to help the operation. 
But seriously, do you wonder that the 
stomach complains? Would it. be surprising 
if it should get. tired out, or worn out, with 
all this unnatural work, mid unable to do j 
anything properly? This is the way that 
lat “ helps the digestion.” This is the result 
of eating things baked, or boiled, or fried in 
grease. This is the mischief that “ shorten¬ 
ing” does. This is the reason that cakes 
and pie crusts, and shortened biscuits arc 
unwholesome to everybody, wheihor they 
recognize it at once or not. This is why 
crullers are so much worse food than bread 
and butter and sugar. This is why all short¬ 
ened articles produce dyspepsia, mid why 
the trying pan should give place to 
f The Gridiron. 
This article should lie of wire, with two 
handles, and open like a book cover. Trim 
the tat from your stake or chop, lay it in 
compactly on one side, close the oilier side 
upon it, and bold it over afresh bed of coals. 
Turn it often, and keep turning it. Stick no 
fork into it until 3*011 are nearly certain that 
it is done, for it lets out the juice. If broiled 
too much it is more difficult of digestion. 
Most people will readily learn to like it 
slightly rare. Then turn out on a warm 
platter, sprinkle a little salt on it, and work 
it in with a knife, though it is becoming 
quite common to leave it to be salted by tlie 
JRobcs anb iHanncrs. 
*?> _ 
MINTWOOD'S CONVERSAZIONE. 
A Sermon for tlie “Growler*.” 
Since the inauguration of this department 
in the Rural New-Youker, over two years 
Sir . 
-w-.'a 
WOOD BOX WITH LAMBREQUIN GARNITURE. 
consumer. Add no butter, the natural 
flavor of the meat is more delicate without. 
“ Broil chop , did you say?” 
I did. Lamb or mutton is as much im¬ 
proved by broiling as beef, though I prefer 
mutton boiled. Veal and chicken can also 
be broiled nicely; but if any prefer them 
stewed, I should commend their choice. 
Veal is not tlie most wholesome of meats. 
Beef and mutton take the palm over all 
others, I believe, except venison. 
But in any case, and in all eases, have as 
little fat as possible. Pour it off; skim it 
off; strain it off'—anything to got rid of it, 
and then do not cook it into anything else. 
That, would be making a bad matter worse. 
You do not wish to throw it away? Cer¬ 
tainly not, but eating it to save it would be 
a double waste. It would make excellent 
soap (with potash, instead of bile) and a 
good deal better, and more available for all 
cleanly purposes out of the stomach than in it, 
-- 
ODDS AND ENDS. 
Wood Box with Luiiibreiiuin Garniture. 
Tins box of carved oak is twenty-eight 
inches high and twenty-two long. Tlie two 
end pieces or frames are hound together by 
live rods, twenty-four inches long, two on 
each side, and one in the bottom. These 
are fastened at tlie ends by ornamental 
knobs or buttons. The inside lining is of 
dark brown material, (oilcloth is best,) which 
is fastened around with furniture nails. The 
outside is ornamented with three lambre- 
quins, six Inches wide; material of dull 
brown oilcloth, trimmed with worsted braid 
of a brighter shade. These are fastened on 
the top piece of the basket, and to the bars, 
(forming loops,) with small noils. A worsted 
fringe finishes the top, and tassels, the point¬ 
ed ends of the lambrequins. 
Chicken l*io« 
Oim plan is to make a crust of sour cream 
with saleratus enough to sweeten it; a little 
salt, and flour enough to make a good dough. 
Line a pan and put in the chickens, well 
seasoned, and gravy enough. Don’t get in 
too much, or it will boil over. Cover with 
some of tin! crust. Cut a place in tlie center 
for the steam to pass out. Bake three-quar¬ 
ters of an hour.— L. e. it. 
ClnrU’M Wn»liiiuc Mueliinc. 
Labor-saving implements and machines 
are a boon to toiling humanity that never 
fail to arrest the attention of those for whose 
benefit they are designed. The engraving 
given herewith is a representation of Clark’s 
Washing Machine, the construct ion of which 
may be readily understood by a study of the 
cut. The corrugated roller operated by the 
handles shown, presses upon a surface at the 
bottom of the machine, so const ructed as to 
ago, nearly a dozen letters, perhaps, have 
been received, filled with virulent language, 
in regard to “ Mintwood's Conversazione.” 
The fu st one came from “ A Woman," (none 
have borne the honest name of the writer, 
that I now recall.) Her wrath was aroused 
at my having advised Rural reading women 
to choose Irish poplin for a best winter dress, 
if it could be afforded. Like some of her 
successors, she predicted the entire demoli¬ 
tion of this journal, if such “stuff” was not 
at once stricken from Us columns. But as 
tiie Rural continues to ride as serenely in 
the journalistic heavens, as does fair Lima in 
the firmament above us, and every half year 
numbering an unprecedented list of subscri¬ 
bers, it is natural to infer that its downfall 
has not yet begun. So I forgive her. 
Another wrathful writer protested, on the 
ground of the extravagant love for dress it 
would produce, and that half Hie Rural 
readers would he obliged to see their farms 
sold under the sheriff’s demands. As no 
such case 1 ms been repotted, I feel at ease 
about that, and pardon this one. 
The Rural lias half a million of readers 
each week. Is it a possible tiling for any 
kumau or super-human being to please each 
individual reader in all things? 1 rend a 
story in my school reader, when I went to 
shool in “ pantalettes," called “ The Ass and 
his Master,” and it cured me of the folly of 
trying to please everybody. 
I respect every man’s and woman’s 
opinions; I respect nobody’s prejudices j 
Kindly but honest criticism of one’s work 
comes to every conscientious writer ns a 
blessing. And in no way can tlie writer in 
the city and the reader in the country he 
brought into proper sympathy hut by the 
expression of wants and needs on t he part of 
the latter. Had 1 not been reared in the 
country—a farmer’s daughter—educated in 
all the mv’steries of economy, both at home 
and in school anil college, 1 should never 
have dared to undertake the management of 
a department so peculiarly difficult, as this, 
of itself, must he. From the first I have 
made it. a matter of conscience, and every 
individual who lias written to me for advice 
or information, his or her case has been 
treated us honestly and conscientiously as if 
it had been my own. That there have been 
errors of Judgment,, I do not doubt; I claim 
no infallibility, and then:—I’ve yet to see my 
first gray hair. 
As to the matter of “ extravagance, ” 1 
hope no woman who reads this has ever 
committed the folly of purchasing a single 
article she could not afford to." I would 
wear a ten cent calico to the end of my days, 
and then be buried in it., before I would 
live “ beyond my means.” Men are very 
apt to prate about tie extravagance of 
women’s dress, but ignore, entirely, the 
amount expended on their own vices. I re¬ 
member well to have written about fabrics 
anil costumes occasionally, so costly, that 
perhaps not more 1 him one out of a thousand 
of my readers could produce their like. It 
happened, because I was " so foolish” as to 
suppose that women liked to read of such 
things, although never able to have them, 
nnd in tact, having no desire for them, I 
Judged them by myself—for there's nothing 
I love better to see than an elegantly-dressed 
woman, and am glad that boidc people have 
money to buy velvet and satins, laces and 
jewels, ami thereby not only gladden all 
beauty-loving eyes, but in flo doing put bread 
into thousands of hungry mouths and cloth¬ 
ing on thousands of shivering bodies. It is 
rank heresy this preaching of the wicked¬ 
ness of dress. Extravagance is wicked, but 
is it not a sort of duty for rich people to 
dress richly ? The greatest consumer of the 
fmtitific antr 
INITIAL LETTERS. 
be adjusted thereto ami held in position b, 
spiral springs, the washing being performed 
by passing the clothes backward and for¬ 
ward by the rotary motion given to the 
corrugated cylinder by the crank handles. 
L certainly has the element of simplicity, 
lire real test of all these inventions is in 
toeir practical use. Those interested are re¬ 
ferred to the advertisement of the manufac¬ 
turers. 
A third moralist ventured to affirm that 
halt the people in his neighborhood would 
at once “stop the paper,” if young people 
were Lo receive advice through its columns, 
in regard to affairs wf the heart. It was an 
old man who wrote that letter—one so old 
that he had forgotten the time when such 
affairs were, to him, more than all the rest 
in the world, and that kindly advice from 
one in whom Confidence is placed, may be 
the means of averting great shame, or great 
sorrow. So, in consideration of his thought¬ 
lessness, I forgive him. 
The last one who “ frees her mind,” is an 
“Aunt Eliza” of Brighton, 111. Only out 
of kindly regard for her—for at heart I dare 
say she is kind and good- do I withhold her 
letter from print. It might do her good to 
he shown herself in the light, of other peoples’ 
eyes; but it would wound her feelings, if she 
has any; and I have yet lo learn that any 
one’s life is long enough to afford to be un¬ 
kind. In the “civilest” end of her letter 
she expresses herself to the effect that 
“country people don’t want city fashions.” 
Very true. But the Rural New-Yorker 
numbers thousands of city subscribers as 
well as rural ones. 
I lmte self defense; but sometimes it hap¬ 
pens that, for certain reasons, it is expedi¬ 
ent and best to “explain things.” And per¬ 
haps once in two years is none too often, 
when one takes all things into consideration. 
results of labor is really the greatest bene¬ 
factor. lie creates a market and demand 
for labor. I don’t think God ever intended 
pearls to lie forever in the depths of the sea, 
diamonds to he buried in tropical sands, or 
cocoons decay for lack of utilization. But 
this is not pertinent to my “ Sermon.” 
I have only to say, in conclusion, that so 
long as the demand for such matter as this 
department affords, continues to be as great 
as it has been in the past, it will be continued, 
“growlers,” notwithstanding. Equal atten¬ 
tion will be given to every one, whether (he 
information he apropos of love, of satin, of 
calico or linsey, whatever my readers wish 
to know about, and l am wise enough to ti ll, 
that shall be the rule in this” my dominion.” 
1 shall endeavor lo use, as 1 have in the pant, 
only such words as can he found in Web¬ 
ster’s Dictionary, although the parlance of 
Modes and Manners takes very largely from 
the French. If terms used are amhiimous to 
individual readers, I will endeavor to simplify 
if requested so to do. “Finally,” it any of 
you growling spirits find it impossible to 
restrain your wrath hereafter, let me advise 
3 *ou, in all kindness, to he courteous. Dis¬ 
courtesy never win* anything hut shame and 
loss of self respect. 1 am a I wavs read y to he 
convinced of the “ error of mv ways’* n lien 
proper means are employed,* hut' I cannot 
stoop to cross lances with conceit, ill man¬ 
ners, and the quintessence of selfishness To 
the many friends and readers from whose 
pens have come words of gratitude and kind 
appreciation, I give heartfelt thanks, and be 
assured it is always a pleasure to serve yon. 
MENDING RUBBER BOOTS. 
Several months ago I read in the Ru¬ 
ral Nkw- Yorker an article giving direc¬ 
tions for the mending of India rubber boots. 
I have followed the directions given in that 
article, dissolving pure rubber in benzine, 
coating a patch with the solution, cut from 
the leg of nn India rubber boot, (Hie kind of 
patch was not specified,) and placing it se- 
curcly over the. part to he mended. After 
the lapse of several days, giving it, as I sup¬ 
posed, ample time to dry. I examined the 
patch, and to my sad disappointment, found 
that the adhesion was too slight to be of any 
practical utility. I then tried ihc warming 
process, both of the boot and the patch ; but 
this, too, was a failure. 1 then scarred the 
surface o( the part to be mended, but with 
the same result*. After several other inef¬ 
fectual trials, I gave it up as a hopeless job. 
Doubtless hundreds of your readers arc in 
•lie same fix that. I am—with one or two or 
more pairs of rubber boots sound and good, 
with the single exception of a slight cut or 
crack, and which, if securely mended, would 
render them as serviceable as a now and un¬ 
injured pair. Can such hoots bo securely 
mended ? That’s the question. If so, how ? 
1 know that the horn was slated in the 
Rural; luit were the directions sufficiently 
explicit, full and simple to he comprehended, 
and correctly and successfully utilized by 
unsophisticated countrymen? Is there more 
fight to be bad upon this subject in the 
East? An infallible recipe would be grate¬ 
fully received 113 * a score of gentlemen on 
this Island. N. Farnum. 
North Boss Island, Ohio. 
USEFUL AND S0IENTIFI8 ITEMS. 
Winner In tlio Aiv. 
At the Royal Irish Academy, Dublin, Dr. 
Sigersou has given a lecture on Microscopic 
Appearances obtained from Special Atmos¬ 
pheres, in which, ns was to be expected, lie 
explained that in examining the air of fac¬ 
tories and workshops, he found the atmos¬ 
phere of each charged with particles accord¬ 
ing to the nature of the trade carried on. In 
an iron factory lie found carbon, ash, and 
iron, the iron being in tbo form of trails! licit! 
hollow bulls one-two-thousamlth of an inch 
diameter. In the air of a shirt factory, fila¬ 
ments ol linen and cotton and minute eggs 
were floating; and in places where grain is 
threshed and converted, the floating dust is 
fibrous and starchy, mingled with vegetable 
spores; but, according to Dr. Sigersou, the 
dust of a scutching mill is moire hurtful than 
any, and as much pains should be taken lo 
get rid of it aa that of the grinding-mills of 
Sheffield. In the air of type foundries and 
printing offices, antimony exists ; stables 
show hair and other animal matters; and 
the air of dissecting-rooms is described as 
particularly horrible. All ibis is very dis¬ 
agreeable to think, of; but while it manifests 
that we should be careful to purify the air 
wc breathe, it teaches also that nature lias 
given us a respiratory apparatus endowed 
with a large amount of self-protecting func¬ 
tion. 
BlnuchiiiR ncDuwnx. 
Mr. L. G. Olmstead of New York, gives 
the following statement of a simple and con¬ 
venient method of bleaching beeswax, that 
lie saw practiced in Italy:—“The yellow 
wax is first melted in a kettle, and then is 
dipped out into a long tin vessel Hint will 
hold two or three gallons, and which has a 
row of small Holes, about the diameter of a 
knitting-needle, in the bottom. This vessel 
is fixed over a cylinder of wood two feet in 
length and fifteen inches in diameter, which 
is made to revolve like a grindstone, in one 
end of a trough of water, two and one-half 
feet in width, ten to fifteen feet in length, 
and one foot in depth. As the melted wax 
falls in small streams on this wet revolving 
cylinder, it flatten* out into a thin ribbon 
and floats off toward the other end or ihe 
trough of water. It is then dipped out with 
a skimmer, (that may be made of osier twigs.) 
spead on a table with a top made of small 
willow rods, covered with a clean white 
cloth, and then exposed in this way to tbo 
snn until bleached ."—Manufacturer and 
Builder. 
Rlcnclilnir Iti-ooin Corn. 
I would inquire if any of your renders 
know of any better method of bleaching 
broom corn brush, or bonnets—one that wifi 
give it a paler or greener cast—than the fol¬ 
lowing. which I use, to wit: — Immerse 
the brush in warm water, then put into n 
tight box, put in sulphur, upon which place 
a hot stone or iron; laslty, close the box. If 
any one can tell of any more effective plan 
it will be thankfully received.— L. Harper. 
To Memunri! the Velocity of Wind.—D aniel 
Slovbk ask* if some of our readers can tell him 
“how to make some simple contrivance for 
measuring the velocity of wind, so as to toll 
how many mile* it move* per hour.” 
