S. 24 
THE RURAL fiEW-¥ORKER 
123 
goEesfa tttonomi). 
EXECUTIVENESS. 
We opine that the lady who writeB tho 1 ‘ Homo 
Interests” in the Weekly Tribune had somo of 
the shiftless, listless, do-nothings, to bo met with 
in all grades of society, in her mind’s eye when 
she penned the following: 
There is a marvelous difference among indi¬ 
viduals with respect to their power of accom¬ 
plishing work. Some pass a lifetime in doing 
what amounts to nothing. They seem born to 
‘ putter.’ to waste themselves on trifling, weak, 
useless tasks; mere human lichens are they, 
parasites, chips on the current of life, drifting 
aimlessly. Others have every day something to 
show for their time; 
“Somethingaccomplished, something done, 
Hath earned a night's repose.” 
Those possess a purpose arid energy, a strong 
will, a clear perception, and often an active im¬ 
agination i all of which combined, render them 
motors in society. Though a great deal depends 
on original endowment, a groat deal also depends 
on training. Children who are brought up to do 
nothing, generally do nothing. Those who aro 
trained from infancy in all ways of self-help and 
helpfulness to others, havo tho ability to help 
themselves and to help others. “To him that 
hath shall bo given." Lord Bacon says : “ There 
is no stand or impediment in tho wit but may bo 
wrought out by lit studies. It a man's wit be 
wandering, let him study matliematies; fur in 
demonstrations, if his wit bo called away novel 
so little, he must begiu again; so every defect 
of mind may have a special receipt.” This last 
assertion is as true in matters pertaining to 
character as in those intellectual. The purpose¬ 
less individual may, if he will, change himself in 
this particular, by setting himself tasks to per¬ 
form, and steadily performing them. This may 
be found at first laborious, and even painful; 
but habit renders all things easy. 
I This setting one’s self tasks, however, does 
not so surely develop one’s powers as having 
these tasks set by somo one clso; and of all 
taskmasters, stern necessity bus tho most to 
show for his pupils on examination day. Lot no 
one who loves himself repine at tho commands 
of tliis severe taskmaster; his mission is most 
beneficent. From what, crude and rough mate¬ 
rial does ho often fashion noble, accomplished, 
beneficent men and women! This ho does by 
laying heavy burdens on them, by subjecting 
them to hard ami cruel blows from tho hand of 
fortune, by compelling them to make bricks 
without straw, by forcing them to develop every 
resource of their power, and oftou every' capa¬ 
bility they possess for doing and suffering. 
It is useless for ouo without a definite purpose 
or plan to droam of accomplishing much. Few 
indeed are they upon whom this greatness is 
thrust. Tho doers in this life aro those who in¬ 
tend to do; all others aro cumberers of the 
ground—thistles, weeds, unfruitful fig trees des¬ 
tined to perish. It is a very easy matter to 
3pend day after day and week after week in 
merely going through tho forma of doing, and at 
tho end of this timo havo actually nothing ac¬ 
complished. Tho butterfly doubtless visits as 
many flowers as tho bee, the grasshopper goes 
over as much ground as the ant, but how different 
the showings in the two contrasted cases, A 
purpose animates tho bee axul tho ant; ono 
moves in a “ bee lino” to the accomplishment of 
her purpose, the other works with such persist¬ 
ent industry that for 3,000 years at least the ant 
has been an example known and read of by 
many as have studied her ways. 
A great deal of the time of even purposeful 
men and women is wasted for want of a well 
digested plan of action. The •• executive ” indi¬ 
vidual has a pretty clear idea, first of c xaotlv 
what he wisheH to accomplish, and secondly of 
the manner in which ho intends to work. He 
doesn’t blunder into a thing and blunder on all 
the way through it. Ho may not see what bis 
last step will bo, but he sees quite clearly what 
the first one must be, and then the seccnd, and, 
as ho progresses, the end becomes clear. He 
does not allow himself to be diverted or detained 
from his work by slight causes, petty hinder- 
ances, trivial interruptions. If one stops to fol¬ 
low all the little side-paths that lead off from tho 
main thoroughfare from Joppa to Jerusalem he 
will be a long time in reaching that ancient 
capital. The way to secure main issues is to 
neglect all smaller ones that have not a direct 
bearing on the success aimed at. 
ORIGINAL RECIPES. 
Cruller* ■ —At Mrs. Mary Olin’s request I send 
two recipes for making what we call tip-top 
crullersThree eggs; two cups sugar; half 
cup butter ; oue cup sweet milk ; two teaspoons 
cinnamon; one small teaspoon soda; two do. 
cream tartar. ' r tlteaspoons of baking pow¬ 
der. Another Recipe. —One cup buttermilk; 
one egg ; 1}^ cups sugar; ouo teaspoon soda; 
butter the size of a walnut: lemon extract. I 
tried Mrs. Snell's Loaf Cake, contributed by a 
Fanner's Wife in Rural of Jan. 20, and found it 
tip-top ; but it can be mado with leas butter and 
be good enough. Don't frost cako for homo use; 
it adds nothing to tho taste of a cako, and only 
makes it tho more unhealthy. Good, plain 
cake, in my opinion, never harmed any ouo. 
Brownie. 
Fried-Cakes, Doughnuts and, Crullers. —At the 
present time there seems to be no distinction 
made between fried-cakes, doughnuts, and crul¬ 
lers. Every concoction mado of butter, eggs, 
sugar, flour and milk, tho same to bo fried in 
lard, aro termed crullers. Now when I first be¬ 
came a housekeeper many y ears ago, in order to 
please Mr. Rustic- who, by the way, hud a very 
sweet tooth and a great hankering after good 
millers I sought the advice of those who were 
experienced in such matters (Cook Books not 
being as plenty then as now). I was told that 
mixtures like the above recipes were called fried- 
cakos, and those mado with yeast, or sugar, 
butter, and eggs mixed in a piece of dough re¬ 
served from the bread - making, wore called 
doughnuts, and crullers were made in tho fol¬ 
lowing manner t—One egg ; one heaping table- 
spoonful of sugar; ono tablospoonful of butter; 
and flour enough to make a stiff dough. Roll 
out thin and fry in hot laid. Spice to suit the 
taste, which was usually nutmeg, as the modern 
flavoring extracts woro not known, at all events 
in the “Far West." Mrs. IIushc. 
— ■» » »- 
SELECTED RECIPE8. 
Pie Crust. —Ono coffeo-cup of lard, two coffee- 
cups of flour, one half coffee-cup of very cold 
water, a pinch of salt. Use a knife to cut tho 
lard through the flour until fine, then add the 
water and mix with tho knife until all is a lump, 
and no flour remains in the bowl. Roll in a largo 
sheet and dust with flour ; fold up, turning in 
tho ends, and repeat the procoss twico. At tho 
last rolling cut tho paste into strips tho width of 
the hand and lay one on top of tho other, cutting 
from this pieces for tho top and bottom. This 
will make two largo pioB. For minco pioB, placo 
small bits of well-washod butter over tho sheets 
of paste, dust well, and proceed as before. Also 
glaze them before baking, with equal quantities 
of white of egg and oold water, laid on evenly 
with a clean, now brush—an ordinary shuvuig- 
brush is the best. Havo a quick oven and place 
tho pie on the bottom to bake the lower crust 
first; if likely to brown too fast on top, place a 
sheet-iron pan, with water, on the rack abovo 
until the lower crust is done. The lower crust 
should be very thin; upper less than one-fourth 
inch thick.— .V. 1'. Times. 
Potato Pie Om*/.—Put u teacupful of rich 
sweet cream to six good-sized potatoes after they 
havo been well boiled and mashed fine. Add salt 
to taste, and flour enough to roll out the crust. 
Handlo it as little as possible. This paste is ex¬ 
cellent for apple dumpling or meat pies, and may 
be eaten by the most confirmed dyspeptic. 
Suet Crust. —Chop the suet very fine, add six 
to eight ounces of it, to a pound of flour ; when 
chopping tho suet add a little of tho flour, as it 
will prevent tho suet adhering MU with cold 
water, not. forgetting to add a little salt, and 
work to a smooth paste. This crust is excellent 
for hot pies or tarts, but is not so good for those 
which aro to be served cold. 
Apple Short-Cake.'- Make a soft dough as for 
biscuit; roll out this and put a layer in a jolly 
pan ; over thi. spread a layer of stewed apples • 
sprinkle over sugar and spice ; dot with small ; 
lumps of butter ; then put on a layer of dough, 
another of apple sauce, a very thin layer of 
dough, and hake in a very quick oven. This is a 
most delicious dessert dish, and may be served 
with or without sauce. 
Omelet. —Take a tablespoonful of sweet milk 
for each egg and a pinch of salt also ; beat the 
eggs lightly. Dissolve in a small frying-pan a 
piece of butter as large as a walnut; when hot, | 
pour iu the eggs; when the under-side is just 
set. put the pan for a minute or two in a brisk 
oven. When sliding the omelet from the pan to 
the dish, fold it double. Serve immediately. 
An Omelette ScnCftee. — Separate the whites 
from the yolks of six fresh eggs; beat the yelks 
thoroughly first by themselves and then with 
four tablospooufuls of powdered sugar and the 1 
rind of half a lemon grated. Whisk tho whites 
to a stiff froth, mix them well but lightly with 
the yelks. I’ut four ounces of fresh butter into 
a small clean frying-pan, and so Boon as it is all 
dissolved, add the eggs and stir them round, that 
they may absorb it entirely. When the omelet 
is just set, turn it into a well-buttered dish and 
set it in a brisk oven for two or three minutes. 
Sift a little powdered sugar over the omelet aud 
eat as quick as possible after removing from the 
oven. It will have risen to a great bight, but 
will rink and become heavy in a very short space 
of time. 
ijmifltic Jttfonnatimt, 
INSTINCT OF AFPETITE. 
If there are any readers of tho Rural New- 
Yorker who are called upon to administer to the 
sick, let them follow Dr. Hall’s very sensible 
suggestions on giving to their patients tho things 
which thoy most crave, particularly those that 
aro feverish, whose longings are generally for 
good, cool water, which, in moderato quantities, 
will not injure them. 
Observant farmers know that ono kind of 
grain, or seed, or plant will flourish luxuriantly 
iu a particular field, whilo another, in that same 
field will grow feebly, and fail to arrive at per¬ 
fection. tt is beeauso the soil in the former in¬ 
stance contains an element which nourishes the 
thriving plant, and iu tho latter case it is defi¬ 
cient iu that element which ia the life of that 
sickly growth ; and yet there is nothing amiss in 
the soil or in the seed simply a want of adapta¬ 
tion. Bo in the case of a mother and her new¬ 
born child. Both may bo in ordinary good 
health, and yet the child dwindles and dies—not 
because there is osseutiul disease in either, but 
because thero is want of mutual adaptation. In 
a few days there may bo a change, and all is 
right. But it is interesting to remark the wis¬ 
dom of Omnipotence, in implanting an instinct 
for tho child’s safety, for it refuses to take the 
breast; or, if intense hunger impel* it. it iadono 
unwillingly, and Nature may, to some extent, bo 
conquered, and tho infant may come to tolerate 
what it. could not welcomebat it will die, fur 
all that. 
Another parallel in agriculture is, that for a 
number of years a field will givo abundant crops 
of a particular grain, but after a while thoy be¬ 
come less and less beautiful, under tho sauio 
culture, and finally there is a total failure. In 
like manner many of ns have obsorved in our 
own persons that for a long timo we had a hearty 
relish for a particular kind of food, ft almost 
scorned that wo could never eat enough of it; 
hut in process of time tho expression escapes us: 
“ I don't oare anything about it now." In somo 
instances thero is positive aversion. 
Wo constantly notice at our own table that a 
child will bo ravenously fond of a particular dish, 
aud after a whilo turns from it. The reason is, 
that thero was a constituent in the much-loved 
food which the system required, and which it de¬ 
voured greedily until it. was fully supplied, and 
then instinct would receive no more. A thirsty 
man, like the arid soil, drinks iu wator until the 
one is full and tho other saturated, and then tho 
water is refused or rejected. Tho soil will not 
rocoive it, and it flows off; and when a man has 
enough, ho becomes nauseated if be tries to 
drink moro. To most persons water has a very 
disagreeable taste, if it. is attempted to be forced. 
The practical conclusion to bo’drawn from 
these facta ib simply this: Do not force your 
children or yourselves to take one single mouth¬ 
ful of any food or drink which they do not like. 
In sickness or in health, consult the tnsticts of 
the appetite, and yield to them implicit and in¬ 
stant. obedience. Thero is uometimes a marked 
appetite, and if indulged in freely, in jurious, if 
not. fatal effects may follow. But in tho most 
of those oases even, we prefer to believe that it 
is tho quantity which does the harm, and not the 
quality. So that wo aro in the habit of saying 
to somo classes of dispoptics: “ Fat what you 
most crave ; but if you find that it is uniformly 
followed by Borne disagreeable reelings, instead 
of discarding that article of food, tako half aa 
much next time, and continue to diminish tho 
quantity until it is found out how much of its 
favorito dish Nature can take with perfect im¬ 
punity. If a spoonful only can bo taken with 
perfect impunity, give Naturo that spoonful as 
long as she craves it. 
Most of us can call to mind cases where a 
craved dish or drink was most imperatively for¬ 
bidden, under fear of death if indulged in ; and 
yet the patient, in desperation, has gotten up in 
the night, satisfied the appetite, and recovered 
from that hour. We advise the safer plan: take 
a very little at. a time of what, is so earnestly 
craved, and gradually feel the way along to an 
amount which Nature will bear. Physicians may 
rest assured that if the instincts or tho invalid 
and the convalescent were moro closely observed 
aud studied, they would be more successful, with 
less medicine. 
---— 
PETROLEUM FOR BALDNESS. 
The Continent, published iu Geneva, Switzer¬ 
land, reports that a discovery has just been 
made which cannot fail to rejoice the hearts of 
all whose hair is beginning to grow thin “ on the 
top," aud of those aspiring youths whose chief 
ambition is to acquire busby whiskers and hand¬ 
some mustaches, though tt will assuredly create 
a profound sensation iu hair-dressing circles, and 
scatter dismay among the numerous class who 
get livings and make fortunes by vending hair 
balsams and manufacturing bear’s grease. A 
luxuriant growth of hair may, it is said, bo pro¬ 
duced by a very simple process, described by 
Consul Stevens in his recently-issued commercial 
report on Nicolaef for the past year. In the 
Bummer of 1875, Consul Stevens’s attention was 
drawn to several cases of baldness among bul¬ 
locks, cows, and oxen, and tho loss of mnnes and 
tails among oxen. A former servant of the Con¬ 
sul's, prematurely bald, whoso duty it was to 
trim lamps, had a habit of w iping his petroleum- 
besmeared lingers in the scanty locks which re¬ 
mained to him ; and after three mouths of lamp- 
trimming experience, his dirty habit procure! 
for him a much finer bend of glossy black hair 
than ho ever possessed before in bis recollection 
Struck by this remarkable occurrence, Consul 
Btoveus tried tho remedy on two retriever 
spaniels that had become suddenly bald, with 
wonderful success. His experience, therefore, 
induced him to suggest it. to tho owner of several 
black cattle and horses affected as above stated ; 
and, whilo it stayed the spread of tho disease 
among animals in tho samo sheds and stables, it 
effected a quick and radical cure on the animals 
attackod. Tho petroleum should bo of tbo most 
refined American quulity, rubbed iu vigorously 
aud quickly with the palm of tho bund, and ap¬ 
plied at Intervals of tlireo days, six or seven 
timea in all. except in tho case of horses’ tails 
or manes, when more applications may bo requi¬ 
site. After a nibbing, caro should be taken to 
avoid bringing the part operated upon in contact 
with a light; otherwise a premature explosion 
might scatter to the winds all hopes of a luxuri¬ 
ant orop. 
: alter < 
WOOD RENDERED INCOMBUSTIBLE. 
Since it has been discovered that doth can bo 
mado almost indestructible by tiro, wo see no good 
reason why wood cannot bo treated by a similar 
procoss, and if practicable wo may yot have 
houses with their contents, entirely fire proof. 
Tho Boston Journal or Chemistry says that it not 
only can bo dono but that it has been demon¬ 
strated by tho most rigid experiment that wood 
immersed in a “ pickle" of a solution of tung¬ 
state of soda cannot bo ignited under any of tho 
ordinary conditions to which it may bo expoeod. 
Tho tungstate is mado by tho addition of tung¬ 
state of llmo to hydrochloric acid and salt, afford¬ 
ing as a by-product chloride of lirno iu largo 
quantities. Tho action of tho tungstato upon 
soft woods Is to render them quite hard as well 
as incombustible, and it also acts as a preserv¬ 
ative against dry rot. 
Sticks and boards of the prepared wood havo 
been saturated with kerosene oil aud sot on fire; 
tho oil burned off entirety without igniting tho 
wood. Two small houses have been built, one 
of ordinary pine wood, the other of the prepared 
wood, aud fires of great urgency kindled in each. 
The oue of ordinary wood was quickly consumed, 
whilo the other was loft only olightly charred. 
Thero is no doubt that all tbo wood-work of 
theatres can be mado practically incombustible, 
and at no very great cost. A bath of the tung¬ 
state of soda, consisting of several thousand 
gallons, can be employed, and sufficient wood to 
construct all tho scenery and appliances of a 
theatre can lie prepared In a few weeks' time; 
aud tho painted canvas also can be treated in tbo 
same way. Even if oil colors wero used on tho 
canvas, wo think it could uot bo readily ignited. 
Tho attention of theatre managers should bo 
called to tins subject, and the authorities of 
cities should insist upon having every means 
used which modern science suggests to prevent 
fires in public buildings. 
SNOW AS A FERTILIZER. 
It is an old saying that snow in March and 
April is “the poor man’s manure,” but we are 
not informed how much would bo required to 
make a poor, worn-out soil rich; tho Boston 
Journal of Chemistry, however, tells bow a blan¬ 
ket of snow may bo of value to the farmer. 
Tho body of snow upon the groimd in all the 
! Northern and Middle States ia very great, and 
| millions of acres of land aro covered by it, as 
with a blanket of the whitest wool. It is prob¬ 
able that seldom, perhaps never, lias so wide an 
area of our country been covered aa during this 
month of January, 1877. The question whether 
snow is capable of affording to lands any of tho 
elements of fertility is one often asked, and in 
reply it may bo said that it probably is. Tho 
atmosphere holds ammonia and somo other, 
nitrogenous products, which aro undoubtedly 
brought to tho soil by tho snow-flukes, as well as 
by rain chops. Experiments both here and 
abroad would seem to prove the truth of this 
conclusion. Rains aro uot only valuablo for tho 
moisture which they Bupply, but for what they 
bring to us from the atmosphere. During a 
thundor-Btorm nitric acid is produced ill consid¬ 
erable quantities, and, dissolved in the rain dropa 
to a high degree of attenuation, its effects upon 
soils are highly salutary. 
