AUG. 13 
TUI RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
538 
THE GIRLS AGAIN. 
Much Has been written and said about tlie 
bringing up of tbe girla; ao much, that It would 
seem as if every mother mu3t nave heard or read 
enough on the subject to awaken her to a full re¬ 
alization of the arguments and the wisdom of the 
suggestions; but yet every day we see homes 
where it Is evident that either the voice of the 
reformer has not been heard or the newspaper 
containing this gospel for mothers and daughters, 
has not strayed or that those concerned have not 
taken It In sufficiently to heed aud resolve to put 
It Into practice. 
The subject has been dealt with by the best 
thinkers of the day on every side, physical, moral 
intellectual; from infancy to maturity; from 
heredity to higher education. That the young 
women of this country are not the very perfection 
of womanhood is not the fault of the pioneers in 
this movement of philanthropic progress. 
I have nothing new to offer, nothing new to 
consider, but the old topic of the slavish mother 
and the incapable young-lady daughter has late¬ 
ly come to my notice practically Illustrated to 
such an extent tnat, In a Btate of acute exasper¬ 
ation, I have taken my pen to-night to have my 
little say about. It. 
Many a good mother, looking hack oyer the long 
road of the past, and remembering tbe rough, 
hard places, and gazing at her horny hands 
resolves that her daughter shall have a bet- 
ter time. That Is good and right; but too 
often she carries It too far, and the girl who 
might have become a kind, thoughtful, efficient 
woman, she renders selfish, indolent and depend¬ 
ent by watting on her unduly and teaching her to 
expect to do little or nothing for others, while all 
must deny themselves for her sake. 
The mother to whom I referred just now la no 
longer strong and Mlaa Jenny Is a healthy young 
woman of twenty-two. Yet the mother does all 
the housework including the sewing and mending 
for her daughter. The latter makes tatting and 
edging for her underclothing, and tidies and mats 
and rugs innumerable, and plays very fairly on 
the piano, which has been squeezed In somewhere, 
for the family is anything but rich. The mother 
goes without a new bonnet and fixes her dress 
over and over, In order that Jenny may appear as 
well dressed as the other girls of her set. When 
cempany comes, Jenny entertains them and her 
mother goes on with her work in the kitchen. She 
waits on the table and if anything Is wanted dur¬ 
ing the meal, Jenny never rises to get tt, hut 
passes the empty dish to her mother ror replen¬ 
ishment and adjusts her pretty wristlets In happy 
Ignorance of the thoughts of those looking on. 
Now this Is all wrong. This girl is not naturally 
bad; her mother, la solely to blame. Instead of 
making her more attractive in the eyes of the 
world, she has taught her to treat her parent as a 
servant, and has caused strangers tdteganl her as 
an undutltul, selfish, indolent child. 
I tor one, do not believe in the plan of wearing 
the oldest out first. Let tho younger ones have a 
good lime, spare them the rough sides as much as 
possible without conflicting with duty and right 
development; don’t be so strict as our ancestors 
were with their families, who had to walk a chalk 
lino from their very cradles to manhood and 
womanhood, but, parents, have some respect for 
yourselves and for your own rights or your chil¬ 
dren will doubtleab have none for you. a. u. 
----- 
LABOR. 
Thkrh never has been a doubt In my mind but 
that labor was a curse, as It was Intended to be. 
“ By the sweat of thy brow thou shalt earn thy 
bread," The normal condition of childhood and 
youth la Idleness or unproductive activity. A boy 
will build snow houses, or pile stones for a mock 
fort, or sit upon a bridge patiently fishing all day. 
but put a shovel in his hands to clear the snow 
from tho path from the house to the gate, or set 
him to throwing the stones on to a boat, or to 
watching the cattle with au ox goad in his hand, 
and you will have a pitifully tired boy at night, 
and a wronged and abused one. 
Let that boy got the idea that his father ought 
to support him, and hts mother work for him, and 
he Is on the broad road to loaferlsm. 
The natural heart la not to be trusted to guide 
Into path - of industry and usefulness. Every hour 
of play should be earned aa soon as the child Is 
old enough to know how to pick up his scattered 
playthlugs, and put away his shoes and stockings, 
and put on his own •' nightie " when the birds and 
babies alike seek tbeir nests. 
There is nothing should be taught sooner than 
that this la a working world, and that labor, pn}a- 
ical or mental, is a necessity for the whole 
progeny of the first tiller of the ground and sower 
of the fig leaves. 
l nnd that mol hers try to spare their daughters 
the necessity of labor (by talcing the burden on 
theraselve:-) much more than fathers do their 
sons, in fact, my experience Is that men, as a 
rule,'are lazier than women. The boys are made 
to work and earn tor their fathers before tbe 
mothers think the girls can do more than to hem 
their ruffles or trim their hats. Mothers take 
pride In their daughters’soft hands and round 
cheeks when their own hands have become hard* 
enend, their own cheeks hollow. Tho danger of 
this is that the sort hands and smooth faces be¬ 
come the first thought or the daughters, and a 
seinsli aud idle life lfl the result. Daughters, you 
will have hut one mother—care for her and spare 
her. “No love like mothers’ love," unselfish, 
thoughtful, unreasoning often for herself, but al¬ 
ways taking thought, for *• the children.” 
An Idle lire is always a selflah one. No heart la 
so naturally good aa to escape the demoralizing 
effectsot days without labor, that bring night* 
without weariness. 1 know this Is all old, true and 
haa been said thousands of times much better, but 
I see so much of trying to shirk the curse of labor 
among the young people of the day that It will not 
■hurt to say it again. o. w. e. 
FOOD TAKING. 1 
“All the world and the rest or roanklud," to 
use the expression of a great American statesman, 
claim to believe It to he very unhealt hy ahffftlghly 
Improper to retire for the night Boon alter a full 
meal. Many persons feel compelled to go to bed 
hungry when obliged to waft supper till bed time, 
and many at such times eat, If at. all, but sparing¬ 
ly, and that under a protest, through fear of bad 
dreams, nightmare, spooks and Incubuses. 1 have 
no doubt that such unhappy events often occur 
after eating a fnll meal near the time of retiring, 
especially if of tempting dishes and out of the 
usual time that has been established by habit. 
But ts It really true that sleep Is more perfect and 
refreshing, the body more perfectly Invigorated, 
by sleeping on an empty stomach than on one 
moderately filled, and the appetite satis tied? or 18 
It true that digestion and assimilation are more 
perfect If performed during working hours than If 
performed during sleep ? or are these unpleasant 
feelings during sleep after a fall meal simply the 
effect of breaking over a long fixed habit ? Let 
us reason this matter, for during the whole his¬ 
toric period more or less of popular optntons have 
In the course of time been proven to be hut popu¬ 
lar errors. Experiments are recorded of dogs of the 
same age. size and breed, fed alike, one put on the 
chase at once and the other left at rest. After a 
stated time the food upon the hunter was found 
scarcely affected, while in the other it was fully 
digested. All our domestic animals He down and 
rest after their appetites are satlsded. Beasts and 
birds of prey are almost incapable of action during 
the digestion of the contents of a gorged stomach. 
Experienced teamsters learn to give ilielr animals 
their fullest feed at night after their labor for the 
day Is finished, and In all the brute world, so far 
as we are able to observe, their natural habit of 
digestion induces rest and steep. 
But says my lady friend of a dyspeptic diathe¬ 
sis “theyare but brutes," admitted, but they 
don’t have dyspepsia, neither do l admit that we 
can learn nothing of benefit to ourselves from the 
natural habits of brutes; were It so the many In¬ 
nocents, dogs, cats and hares that have been sac¬ 
rificed to science by the surgeons scalpel, have 
been made martyrs In vain. But let us refer to 
the animals of our own species, man as near as 
we can find him following hta' own natural in¬ 
stincts. The Indian hunter gorges himself and 
Ues down to sleep when ho has slain his prey. 
The overland travelers across the plains eat their 
principal meal when camped for the night. Sol¬ 
diers on the march do the same. Explorers and 
surveyors follow suit; and our grandfathers and 
grandmothers when relieved from the cares and 
labora of life are very apt to take a nap after 
dinner. Your own physician It he ts orthodox, 
tells you, It ts better to rest after a full dinner and 
your lawyer who labora with mind and brain to de¬ 
fend your cause will eat but lightly at the dinner 
recess, and make It up when the trial Is over or 
adjourned for the night. 
But let ua reason further, phystologlsta tell us 
that while any portion of the body, whether brain 
or muscle is In full exercise, there the blood flows 
in excess of what is wanted during rest, for the 
support of the organ in use, and to repair Us 
waste. 
Man retires at night with hla stomach moder¬ 
ately tilled hla appetite satisfied hla mind relieved 
from the cares and labora of the clay; he falls to 
sleep, hla bralu and muscle are at rest, hla lungs 
are inflated less frequently hla diaphragm more 
sluggish his pulse beats slower, tor his spare 
blood has gone to tuo assistance of bis stomach, 
for the involuntary muscles of it are at work, hla 
sleep is tranquil, and if he has dreams they are 
of a pleasant nature, for Nature has had her own 
way, and the man Is all right. s. b. p. 
TAKE LIFE CHEERFULLY. 
There are great numbers of people of both sexes 
who live lu a coutlnual atmosphere of delight In 
being unhappy; they seem to sec everything 
through a jaundiced or otherwise diseased vision: 
they Judge, weigh and measure everything In pro¬ 
portion as It has bearing upon their peculiarly mor¬ 
bid state of feeling. 
The man wlU never have done grumbling and 
mourning over the loss of some trifle, and will neg¬ 
lect many more times Its value In some parts of 
his business, apparently for the delight In nursing 
the recollection of a loss, or an Injury. 
Wholesome, timely regret la good; Is a part of 
all manhood and womanhood, but. not the foolish 
effort to perpetuate the regret or sorrow after due 
consideration should have laid it aside. 
Cheerfulness is the next thing In life to godli¬ 
ness. and Instead of making keepsakes or injuries 
done us by accidents or design, let us layaway the 
yesterday's troubles with our oast-off-clothlng, as 
having doue Us purpose, served its office, and be¬ 
ing no louger of practical use. 
It Is touching a tender subject to say to a wo¬ 
man that she shall not keep the little shoes, the 
hat and dresses, and doll’s house about her, day by 
day, the same after her child Is with the angels 
as when it, prattled In her care; but.to those who 
can by easy remorse and judicious disposal and 
change withdraw from view the unnecessary me¬ 
mentoes and reminders of sorrow, there is an op¬ 
portunity for doing a service of inestimable value. 
There may be no harm la storing away the little 
articles, the mementoes, In convenient or remote 
places where purposed effort may turn to them, 
but there is much pity for the otherwise healthful 
mother of Intelligence and native energy who 
must live day by day In the presence of the things 
which moat disturb her happiness, and tend to 
baw her perpetually under the heavy influence. 
Cannot thousands such make a determined ef 
tort and lay away Borrows, arid live lu the hope¬ 
ful view that there are health, love and desirable 
purposes of life to be lived for? 
To by far the greater number of persons who 
will thus be persuaded to.step out from under the 
gloomy shadow, there will early come most de¬ 
lightfully interesting tasks of value to them over 
the world. B—a—b. 
Professor Maria Mitchell, at Vassar college, 
always gives a “ Dome Party” to her graduating 
astronomy class. 
Miss Lilian Whiting, of the Boston Traveler, 
is at, the concord School of Philosophy, In the in¬ 
terest of that paper. 
■- *■-*-* - 
My wife and daughter were made healthy by the 
use of Hop Bitters and I recommend them to my 
people.—Methodist Clergyman .—a av. 
glomtstit (foitomi). 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MAPLE. 
CONCERNING STORE BILLS. 
WAGER-FISHER. 
if I were to proffer a bit of advice to young peo¬ 
ple at the outset of their housekeeping, the sen¬ 
tence that I would put foremost would be, ** Don’t 
run up a store MU And there are people no 
longer very young who would profit by heeding 
the homely advice. 
The habit of having small bills charged becomes, 
after a time, a seeming necessity to certain classes 
of people, while to many of them tt seems such 
from the outset, of their beginning. Certain arti¬ 
cles are required, there is no ready cash to pay for 
them, the shop-keeper Is asked to charge the 
amount, and ao the account, continues with fre¬ 
quent additions, until at the end of a year, there’s 
a large bill to be paid for what. It appears, there 
his been no substantial benefit from. My knowl¬ 
edge of “ store bills” Is of an entirely Indirect 
character, for If my memory serves me rightly, I 
never had a store bill charged. My father very 
thoroughly trained me never to buy an article un¬ 
less I had the money In my pocket to pay for tt, 
and the older I grow, the more apparent the sound¬ 
ness of that principle becomes. If I bad no other 
cause for which to thank hts memory, that alone 
would be sufficient to fill my heart with a large 
measure of gratitude, aa It has saved me a great 
deal of annoyance, aa well as of money. It has 
saved me from buyL g what I really did not need. 
It has saved me from the mortification of small 
debts. It has taught me to discriminate between 
real and apparent necessities. It has held me to a 
wise decision In innumerable Instances. It is an 
Invaluable doctrine to teach a child, and I in turn 
shall teach It to mine with explicit care. But 
“ indirect knowledge” is sometimes very em¬ 
phatic, and from what l know of “store bins," I 
judge there is nothing else that eats up so surpris¬ 
ing an amount of money, and yields in turn so 
tittle satisfaction. ( have observed, too, that the 
habit of making sucb bills, ieaos people Into dls- 
uonest dealing, aud bills are run up, here and 
there, whenever one oan get trusted, until finally 
honest payment is out of the question, and the 
shop-keeper may “ whistle" for hla money. There 
are people who have no conscience whatever about, 
their indebtedness to shop-keepers, their entire 
anxiety being limited to ways aud means of sup¬ 
plying their wants, aud who will wear a garment 
that Is unpaid ror with all the aplomb imaginable, 
Such people have no true pride of character and 
the audacity with which they race the world Is 
simply Incomprehensible. But to the person of 
ordinary feeling and honesty, to be In the meshes 
of small debts, must be very harrowing. I can't 
well Imagine anything more uncomfortable than 
to owe for one s tea and coffee, sugar and rice, nut¬ 
meg and allspice -to always be cognizant of the 
fact that the food you eat and the clothes you 
wear are unpaid for! A large debt, like that ror 
land, or for any basis upon which one’s income la 
to be obtained, la altogether a different affair, 
while to be owing for what la all the time being 
lost sight of, really, what is more annoying and 
degrading, too ? As a rule, I opine, the bulk of 
snore bills Is made up of what could have been dis¬ 
pensed with, until the money was at hand to pay 
for them. The people who at once dispute this, 
are those who have never made the experiment 
or dispensing with what cannot be paid for on the 
spot, and to my mind there is no comparison be¬ 
tween the “ enjoyment” of gratifying one s appe¬ 
tite, at the cost of self- respect, and the freedom 
and independence of mind that comes from self 
denial, for the worst slavery la that which hamp¬ 
ers the mind and vexes and Irritates Us serenity. 
To incur debts for the sake of “ keeping up appear¬ 
ances," is to mortgage one's liberty to the most 
ungrateful of things—the public, l can see no 
difference between living off the charity of others, 
and in buying what, you require “ on credit,” 
where you do not see your way clear to the honor¬ 
able payment of such debts, except, that In the 
one case, the help extended Is gratuitous, while in 
the other it is extortion In legal parlance. The 
result Is the same, It is living off the labor and 
Income of other people. 
There Is no time In the career of householders, 
when self denial and a resolve to keep free from 
small debts, can be more easily put In practice 
than by young people at the outset of their house¬ 
keeping. They have youth and health and hope 
and ambition, and oan forego many luxuries and 
"neeessailes” that would be hard for old people 
to dispense with. At all events, I believe It to be 
the experience of the majority of people, that 
money, or Its equivalent, usually comes, somehow, 
to meet the demands of what Is absolutely essen¬ 
tial, and that It Is possible tor even the poorest to 
avoid running In debt tor their dally expenses. 
l used olteu lo see a poor little lady in Paris, 
who earned a modest living by teaching rnua’c 
and French, and when pinched by her poveriy, 
she eomtorted herself by saying: “It Is so dis- 
unyue to be poor and ’honest," and 1 often think 
of the consolation lying in the truth of her remark 
To he poor, and to owe no man beyond one’s 
meanB, la consistent with great happiness. But 
there Is nothing at all “distinguished” In being 
poor, and in debt up to your ears. I would have 
peace and freedom of mind, If I had to live on a 
crust and had nothing better with which to serve 
my friends. 
-♦ ♦ -- 
THE KITCHEN CLUB HAVE A PICNIC- 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
The mid-summer heat has well-nigh passed and 
there cornea now a little breathing spell broken 
only at intervals In the housekeepers routine—by 
preserving and pickling the later fruits and vege¬ 
tables. so the members of the Kitchen Club 
thought they would have one hoUday, and with 
wonderful and mysterious baskets they met at a 
grove near-by to enjoy the rest and shade afforded. 
NO subject had been prepared, the talk was desul¬ 
tory, but many things spoken of were Important 
and useful, as la often the case in “ a multitude of 
counsel.” Mrs. Stratford had Just put her daugh¬ 
ter to school In a distant city and we discussed the 
pro and eon with her, and by a quiet count I dis¬ 
covered that more people were tn favor of a course 
of home training than that of the boarding-school 
when the influence of home was pure and good. 
Then Miss Renahaw, the teacher, had successfully 
carried out a pleasant little concert a few even¬ 
ings before, and the chtef topic of interest was 
whether It was to the advantage of our children 
to take part In these entertainments. The gem of 
the evening was a * Floral Cantata ” called “ The 
Quarrel araorg the Flowers ” by a number of little 
girls. It la musical throughout with such eharm- 
Ing little bits of harmony and pretty airs that they 
haunt one long afterward. Some mothers thought 
this was likely to make the children vain, and for¬ 
ward, but I argued that while It would give them 
confidence It ueed not add to their vanity, for I 
thought the dressing tn simple white, with beau¬ 
tiful flowers for ornament, was not so likely to 
create pride as the jewelry so often put upon little 
girls for display even at ehurch, and other puhUc 
gatherings, Mrs. Rhodes shook her head, she 
thought the girls who took part in the Cantata 
had spent ranch time and thought upon their 
dress. “So did you Auntie Rhodes on that nice 
new cap " said saucy NelUe Rhodes who had been 
one ot the “ flowers ’’ at the concert. I thought It 
was a mistake to assert that such a pure exhibi¬ 
tion fostered pride—that it was the very thing to 
give children grace and ease of manner. But, of 
course, tt would not do to be carried to excess. It 
is too much of anything that is Injurious, and 
that must he guarded against. Our talk had oc¬ 
cupied all the spare time and wo had none left to 
speak about the generous dainties that were 
spread for our picnic, some of which I will give to 
our readers in time ror the Fall shows, at which 
time it Is pleasant to have a picnic lunch. 
DOMESTIC RECIPES. 
Potato He, 
Bon, until two-thirds tender then skin and 
slice. Line a tin pie-plate with a good crust, put 
in a layer of the sliced potatoes, sprinkle abun¬ 
dantly with white sugar, dust with cinnamon and 
then alternate until the dish Is full. Add a little 
water, two spoonfuls of melted butter and a tea- 
spoonful of lemon extract, cover with paste and 
bake. 
Tomato @oiq>. 
Slice an onion and fry to a reddish-brown In a 
soup-pot in two spoonfuls of beef drippings; then 
add a dozen good-sized tomatoes peeled and sliced, 
and when very hot put in three pints of boiling 
water with a spoonful of chopped parsley. Botl 
half an hour then pass through a sieve, rubbing 
through the tomatoes, and return to the pot. Sea¬ 
son with pepper, salt, two spoonfuls of butter 
rolled in flour and wben oolUng stir in a ouptul of 
hot boiled rice. Simmer 1(1 mlnur.es and serve. 
Mrs. Kate Birdslet. 
QUESTIONS ANSWERED. 
Charlotte Busie aud Lady Finger*. 
Will you please give recipes for tbe above and 
oblige, D - 
A ns. - For atM . riotie - Uii.sse : Cut sponge cake Into 
slices and line bottom and sides of a Charlotte pan 
or mold. Whip one pint of thtek, sweet cream, 
flavored with vanilla, or any other flavoring you 
fancy, to a stiff troth, and add to It the well 
beaten whites of two eggs and one half pound of 
pulverized sugar. Mix lightly and carefully to¬ 
gether. Fill the lined mold and set on Ice to 
harden. It preferred, several small charlottes can 
be made Instead of one large one. Many add gel¬ 
atine but It is unnecessary as It will narden with¬ 
out it. 
For Lady Fingers: Mix the beaten yelks of six 
eggs with half a pound of powdered sugar until 
the mixture becomes frothy, then stir in the 
whites of the eggs beaten to a sti ff froi h and at 
the same time a quarter of a pound ot flour dried 
and sifted. Put the batter Into a meringue bag 
and squeeze It through onto pans lined with paper 
not buttered, In strips three inches long. Sprinkle 
over a little flue sugar and bake 15 minutes in a 
moderate oven. The bag spoken of Is tunnel- 
sbaped and made of firm twilled doth. At tbe 
bottom a small, tin tuoe one third or one-balf inch 
in diameter la fastened while the top is gathered 
with a shirr string. This bag v, ill be found very 
convenient In making macaroons, icing cukes, etc. 
Old men, tottering round from Fheumatlsm, 
Kidney trouble or any weakness will be made 
almost new by using Hop Bitters freely.— a dv. 
