£ox Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
MOTHER’S HUCKLEBERRY PIES. 
How oft goes memory hack to childhood, 
When picking berries on the hill, 
With pnil In hand I’d strip the bushes 
Along with little brother Will! 
What cared we for the heats of Summer 
With broad straw huts tipped o’er our eyes ? 
For, with those very huckleberries 
Our mother made those famous pies! 
I see her now, dear cherished mother, 
With apron on as white as snow, 
Her plump arms bare up to the elbow, 
And on her cheeks a rosy glow : 
I seem to see her roll the pie crust, 
And fill the plates of largest size ; 
For well she knew how hungry children 
Enjoyed her huckleberry pies. 
And father, he’d come ln‘from haying. 
And stand by mother very near, 
And say : “ Now, wife, In all the township 
None make such pies as you do, dear. 
Except, perhaps, my dear old mother ; 
Why, at the fair, you’d take the prize. 
Come, children, now we’ll all to dinner, 
And have a feast of mother’s pies.” 
Those dinners now I well remember, 
Within the kitchen large and cool ; 
Those summer days of our vacation, 
When we were free of books and school. 
Ah ! can It be of years full thirty ? 
And yet It must be ! how time tiles ! 
Since we sat In that farmhouse kitchen 
And ate In childhood, mother’s pies. 
Within our modest home is sitting 
An aged lady, saintly fair ; 
While at her side my lad and lassie 
Arc looking np with earnest nlr. 
“ Grandma," they say, “ We picked these berries, 
We meant It for a great surprise.” 
And Graudma SffitU < and says. “ My darlings, 
I’m not too old to make good pies.” 
—Maud Miller. 
-- 
DESCRIPTION OF CUTS. 
Fig. 479.—Marchioness of Blandford. 
Fig. 480.—Countess of Clarendon. 
Fig. 481.—Miss Sinclair. 
Fig. 482.—Mrs. Cavendish Bentinck. 
These cuts represent the costume of ladies 
at the “ Olde English Fay re" held in England 
Fig. 479. 
in June last. The object of these reproduc¬ 
tions is not to give portraits, but to show the 
style of dress. They will serve as guides for 
costumes for participants in fancy dress enter¬ 
tainments, the time of which is drawing near. 
Figs. 4S3, 486. —Monogram in Satin Stitch. 
Fig. 485. —Corners : Embroidery. 
Fig. 484. —monogram for embroidering 
pillow shams, etc. 
These cornel’s are suitable to be worked in 
white or colored cotton upon collars, hand¬ 
kerchiefs, tidies, etc. ; the designs are in satin, 
cording, or knot stitches. 
Fig. 487.— Design for Lambrequin or 
OTHER DRAPE. 
SUMMERING. 
R. B. 
Among the crowd of those who went from 
home, seeking rest for mind and body, during 
the Summer months, I for one have come back 
with a feeling of delicious refreshment, and 
with many pleasant memories. 
I will give you just a glimpse of where and 
how I went—or rather we, for I did not go 
alone. Wo were a feminine trio, exhausted 
mentally and physically. We decided to try 
the Catskills as the held for our recuperation. 
“ Girls,” said Miranda, as she folded a pitl 
of examination papers, “we haven’t a fortune 
to squander this Summer, and we do not want 
to be bothered much about clothes; we do not 
want to meet crowds of people, nor to have to 
be dignified and proper. Let us hunt up a 
farm-house somewhere, where the people are 
ignorant of the last new agony of style, where 
we can do just as we please without shocking 
anybody. I want to live out-of-doors, to 
swing in a hammock and lie on the grass, to 
ramble over the hills and climb the steep 
places and wear out my' old dresses and 
shoes.” 
“ That’s my view of the case exactly,” said 
Abigal. “ I haven’t time to get ready; all I 
want is to be off.” 
We looked up advertisements and wrote let¬ 
ters of inquiry at once, in answer to which we 
received several epistles, some of which were 
assurance enough that the writers had never 
even heard of Boston, so that we were on the 
right track if we wanted quiet, unconvention¬ 
al places. 
One letter was so especially unique that its 
very lack of literary merit attracted us. It 
was written with an utter disregard of rhetor¬ 
ical rules, capitals were thrown in promiscu¬ 
ously, and it was guiltless of punctuation, ex¬ 
cept a period here and there in the wrong 
place. Yet there was a heartiness about it, in 
spite of an extravagance in announcement, 
that savored of impressions received from the 
studied perusal of the periodic circus bill. “ A 
quarter of an aker of crokay ground and home 
Friveliges very long Piazza and eggs, fresh 
Irish and my daughter has had Musick lessons 
which she will exhibit to them staying here 
and is perfectly Grand. I’ll garanty you that 
yowl always be sorry if you Miss Coming for 
were moren able to make you happy and only 
charge reasonable.” 
“ If we do not like it we can change. Let 
us go to this private heaven. A quarter of an 
acre of home privileges, long eggs and fish 
reasonable ! What more could we ask ?” said 
Miranda. 
So we went. Our journey was part of the 
way by boat up the Hudson, and then a veri¬ 
table stage ride to our destination. We began 
to look out for the house with some misgivings 
when we found ourselves nearly there, and 
we fairly shrieked with laughter when the 
stage stopped and we caught sight of that 
piazza, it was indeed long, but it was unde¬ 
niably narrow. 
“He did not mention the width because 
there wa-s not enough of it to mention,” whis¬ 
pered Abigal. We found a typical country 
home, with no sign of ceramic craze or any 
touch of art insanity. Some framed certifi¬ 
cates graced (?) the walls, with a sampler near¬ 
ly a hundred years old. There was a cabinet 
organ in one comer of the sitting-room and 
aud some wide old rocking-chairs stood invit¬ 
ingly about. All was severely neat and the 
most of the appointments were very primitive, 
but there was an unmistakably homey look 
about it all. Our hostess had a fresh, smiling 
face that won our hearts at once, und she was 
very kind aud anxious to please. AVhen we 
had refreshed ourselves and went down to tea 
we found the table all that was desired. 
There was fresh, nice bread, butter that was 
beyond the faintest suspicion of oleo.! dried 
fish, cottage cheese, milk, good tea, and a large 
glass dish of luscious wild strawberries buried 
in delicious cream. Wo ate as we never ate 
before, it seemed to me, and theu, after un¬ 
packing, we went to our vest in very comfort 
able beds. 
I will not attempt to tell of the quiet, rest¬ 
ful days that followed, how we wandered out 
into the little grove to read and talk, or 
swung in a hammock, or over in the old 
swing in the lane; how we betook ourselves 
to the cool ravine on hot days, though we 
did not suffer much with heat up there; how 
we explored the country for miles around; 
how we took off our dignity and our shoes 
and crossed the brooks on stepping-stones; 
how we laughed and grew brown and too 
large for our clothes. We pitied our friends 
who had gone to more fashionable places, 
who had to spend time and thought on 
toilettes, and who could uot. indulge in that 
abandon that was giving us new life and 
vigor. 
When the time came to leave we wished 
we could stay linger, but visits to old friends 
called us in different directions; but these 
were really only variations of our blessed 
idleness. 
We decided to return by a different route, 
so that we might have a fuller view of the 
mountain scenery. We therefore engaged a 
neighboring farmer, who kept a team and 
covered vehicle for such trips, to take us to 
a town thirty-five miles across the hills. 
We started in fine spirits. The morning 
was a little cloudy, but all the more pleasant 
for that, “ I never stop for cloudy weather,” 
said Mr. Q. “ My step-father always used 
to watch the weather, aud I've known him 
to put off a trip for two weeks and then get 
a rainy day after all. AVhen I get ready 
I go.” 
Mr. Q. was a big man with a broad, com¬ 
fortable back, which rounded over in that 
particular shape on which the coat always rides 
up in ridges across from under the arms. 
He had a fine team and a good brake on the 
stage and was a model driver. He soon es¬ 
tablished quite fatherly relations, inquiring 
our given names, and discovered that two of 
ours were those of his wife and daughter and 
the third that of a former “spark.” He en 
tertaineil us with information about the 
“ mountings ” aud the “ mountainous region," 
the method of harnessing and driving “tan¬ 
trum,” etc-., in a style aud pronunciation en¬ 
tirely his own. We visited the Mountain 
House, taking in, on our way up the moun¬ 
tain, the Rip Van AA r inkle Notch. The House 
faces a cliff in the rocks, through which one 
gets a glimpse of the Hudson and the far 
stretch beyond. We spent a little time at 
the Mountain House enjoying the fine view 
from its elevated site, and then went on to 
Laurel Hill. The hotel was filled with Sum¬ 
mer guests, who could hardly have chosen a 
more picturesque spot. There are the Can- 
terskill Falls, to see which visitors pay twenty- 
five cents. A good path has been made and 
feuced above the dangerous precipice, while 
many (lights have steps leading down to the 
second fall. It detracted slightly from the 
beautiful seelieto find that the slender stream 
which runs constantly is increased by ma¬ 
chinery, is literally turned on, when people 
go to see it. It comes then with a rush and 
roar, and as it falls from a great liight it 
descends in mist and spray, whence comes its 
name—The Bridal Veil. 
(To be Continued.) 
-- 
“ J. AV.” ANSWERED. 
As “J. AV.” suggests, I am a very busy 
woman, though not so overworked, day in 
and day out as to disgust me with labor, 
physical or mental. Still if he has kiid that 
Fig. 481. 
chip on his shoulder, I think I have time to 
knock it off. He—of course, it is a man— 
seems to be in doubt whether the quotation 
“ In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat 
bread ” is Shakespeare or Bible. AVhen he I 
has occasion to take a journey again, if he I 
will use the Bible, the Y. M. C. A. provides 
for the use of the public in the cars he will 
find in Gen. Ill, 19, that labor was meant 
emphatically as a curse. If it was a pleasure, 
the boy would not ha ve to be taught to labor. 
He would take to it as naturally as to marbles 
or fishing. 
Intemperance is a pleasure—gambling is 
not labor. Very few vices have to be taught. 
They come naturally. All the same they are 
curses to humanity. The sole refuge that 
God gave in the beginning to stay the vast 
flood of turgid vice that his Omniscience saw 
would sweep the world through, was the 
necessary curse of labor. When the world 
through the eyes of Adam and Eve saw vice, 
“ become as gods knowing good and evil,” 
chose the evil, they could not be left idle 
longer. “ Thorns and thistles, potato bugs, 
army worms, murrain, pleuro pneumonia,” for 
the former to keep him busy. Physical suffer¬ 
ing l'or the physician, hard won cases for the 
lawyer. The “Devil and alibis works” for 
the preacher to fight, and dust, and disorder 
for the good housekeeper, makes a laboring 
world, while the “ last enemy” lies in wait at 
theend that we all labor to escape aud circum¬ 
vent. 
We all try to escape the penalty for trans" 
gression, and calling labor a blessing only 
shows how demoralized the whole of human¬ 
ity has become, when we “hug our chains, 1 ’ 
and do not milize our degradat ion. Only when 
the pressure is removed, and the curse lifted 
will we be able to see that life without labor, 
and under different conditions is, the perfect 
life. 
Meanwhile I intend to take my share of 
the curse cheerfully if I can, and not slide it 
to the man’s shoulders, though originally it 
was not intended for the woman, o. w. d. 
ABOUT AVOMEN. 
Marian Harland, the novelist, is the wife 
of a Doctor of Divinity. 
The late czar was the first sovereign under 
whom women were freely allowed to practice 
medicine in Europe, 
Signora Ristori is said to be quite an Eng¬ 
lish scholar. She is very anxious to play Lady 
Macbeth in London. 
Miss Louisa Bird, the great traveler, the 
lady who hn.s explored by herself the Sand¬ 
wich Islands, ascended the Rocky Mountains, 
and visited the untrodden parts of Assam, is 
going to be married. 
Poor Lady Mountmorres has had three re¬ 
lapses of pleurisy, now followed by an ab¬ 
scess. Lady Mounttnorres has never recov¬ 
ered the shock of her husband’s cruel murder 
in Ireland a few months ago. 
The visit of Her Majesty to the Palace of 
Holyrood has been looked forward to with 
groat delight by the loyal-hearted Scots, who 
rejoice in the idea that those long-silent ha llg 
will again echo the tread of royal footsteps. 
The mother and wife of our late President 
are now at their home in Mentor, Ohio. It 
must be a satisfaction to them, shrouded 
though it is in the deepest gloom, to feel that 
public scrutiny is at an end and that they can 
mourn in secrecy yet knowing that the sym¬ 
pathy of all stretches out to them. 
A wealthy lady occupying a cottage at Mt. 
Desert had a jewel case made in imitation of 
a Bible. A burglar visited her premises, of 
course, avoiding the Bible as the devil 
would holy water, he carried off the silver- 
