FEB 40 
THE BUBAL USEW 
CONDUCTED BY MISS KAY CLARK. 
JOTTINGS FROM CHESTNUT HILL 
FARM. 
It has been a very busy time here for a 
month back. The poultry killed and sent off, 
hogs killed, the lard tried out—and let me say 
here, If lard is put in a tight can or something 
of that kind, it will keep a great deal longer. 
I have some, two years old, that is sweet, 
nice lard yet—sausage and head cheese made, 
spare-ribs baked, and if packed in a jar with 
lard poured around them, will keep along time. 
The sweet apples are rotting badly, some 
are being canned others pickled; we will have 
a variety in those we can. In some we will 
put lemon, in others raisins and in Borne apples 
only. We must use all of them in some way, 
will dry a few to use in fruit cake. 
We use coolers set in a Spring for our milk 
and I would advise ladies that have the care 
of milk, and have running water near, of the 
temperature of 45 or 50, to urge the matter 
of using it. At the latter temperature it 
must stand twenty-four hours. It is so 
much less work and is steady, every day’s 
work alike, no ‘‘flats” in your cream no dust or 
impurities can get in the milk, and is not 
much expense. I skim the milk and rinse 
the coolers, but all the lifting and heavy work 
is done by the men. One of our neighbors 
came in one day and wished to borrow our 
churn, saying they had so many flats in their 
butter, and “You don’t have them, do you?” 
I said we have none in our cream, and have 
not had since we built our milk-room in the 
basement. We often hear of people that can¬ 
not bring their butter at this time of the 
year. It is a certain fact that it is too cold. 
Every lady that has not a thermometer 
should just put it on her memorandum to be 
bought, the first time she goes to town. I 
make butter and cheese by one, could not get 
along without one in either case. 
We have three about the house. For churn¬ 
ing iu Winter, temperature should be 68, un 
less you have a milk-room where it is 62. 
Never put in cold water, but invariably hot 
water, a little at a time, until the butter 
comes. This is for those who have no ther. 
mometer; those that have, if they warm their 
cream to 68, they will have good butter and 
no trouble. I have been trying to have some 
that take no agricultural paper take the Ru- 
jral, but some think it costs too much, others 
do not like it, etc. They are principally 
small farmers, growing poor every year for 
the reason they do not know how to farm 
with profit. One case I will state. A boy 
was to work for us, 15 years old. I said to 
him: “Would you not like to subscribe for 
the Rural ? You are old enough to have a 
paper of your own to read; or you and your 
father take it together.” 1 gave him one of 
my numbers with the extra sheet, to take 
home for his people to read. He answered: 
“I do not like to read, and mother has 
no time; father likes stories—he would not 
care for the Rural.” “What paper do you 
take?” “Not any.” “Why, how can you 
get along without a paper in the house? We 
have—let me see: here are the Rural, Ameri¬ 
can Sentry, Demorest s Magazine, Household, 
The Visitor, Chicago Sentinel and our county 
paper, making seven papers. I was not 
aware we were taking so many; they 
are all read, and even the little five- 
year-old boy is interested when the news¬ 
paper is thrown upon the table to see 
the pictures that always have a resem¬ 
blance in his little bright eyes to papa’s roos¬ 
ters, or perhaps to grandpa’s cows, or some¬ 
thing on the farm, and every night when he 
goes to bed mamma must read to him from 
some of them; and there was that great boy 
had no taste for reading. Surely his parents 
are to blame for this, in not providing read¬ 
ing matter for him and themselves. He is 
growing up an awkward, ignorant boy. 
“Mother has plenty of time for ruffles and all 
of the fixings for herself and children, if not 
can hire it done, but no money for papers or 
time to read them.” Ladies, let us never be 
guilty of such an error; go without some of 
these vanities, if reading cannot be obtained 
in any other way. The Rural would be 
worth five times its price to that man. 
Will Mr. Henry Stewart inform us where 
we can get parafine paper and how it 
is sold, by the sheet or box, and what the 
price will be. Millie Roberts. 
--- 
PRETTY THINGS FOR HOME ADORN¬ 
MENT. 
EMBROIDERED LETTER HOLDER, ETC. 
The receptacle represented in Fig. 67 is a 
very useful one for holding stray missives on 
a writing table. The flaps are of velvet or 
plush, embroidered either with gold thread 
or colored silks, in a floral design. The case 
is lined with silk of a contrasting color, and 
set on an easel mount. 
Fig. 68 is another piece of fancy work. 
very ornamental and pretty. Looks well 
on a corner bracket, marble table or man¬ 
tel. It takes the form of a slab, with 
LETTER RKCETTACLE—FIG. (!7. 
easel mount. Bristol board can be used, 
or a piece of white wood, which is covered 
with velvet, satin or plush, and a design, 
either embroidered or painted, in theupper cor¬ 
ner, or as given in cut. A gilt hook fastened 
on the top will change it into a watch stand. 
Another pretty little thing for a wall panel 
can be made of a strip of clack satin embroid- 
Domestic Cc0tl0im$ 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY M/ J LE 
HOUSEKEEPING EXPERIENCE OF A 
CITY GIRL WHO MARRIED 
A FARMER. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
FIG &S. 
ered with some pretty floral device. If this is 
supplemented at top and bottom with bands 
of crimson or old gold color, it adds much to 
the beauty. A silken cord may be used to 
suspend it, and balls of silk attached to the 
lower end. The decoration of the panel can, 
of course, be varied as the taste of the artist 
may suggest. Birds, figures, land«capee and 
other appropriate things could be substituted 
for the flowers. 
The Mountain Road— [111. Art Notes.]— Fig 
It was July, sultry and still, the scent of 
the roses, the rich, old-fashioned damask 
roses, mingled with the fragrance of the 
sweet- briar at my windows, and the clover 
bloom was sweet and fragrant. The bouse 
was quiet and I stepped feebly ont to the 
kitchen, where I had not been for two long 
weeks. The nurse had taken her departure 
that day and left me with a baby boy who had 
not seen quite fifteen days. Strong and 
healthy, large of limb and frame, with a head 
that was simply immense, and a wrinkled red 
face, he was everything but lovely in my 
eyes. Yet how I loved his very ugliness as 
he lay quietly on the lounge gazing vacantly 
into space, unseeing. It was nearly tea time, 
yet the dinner dishes were unwashed, in the 
sink, and my clean kitchen bore traces of 
unwonted disorder. Where wa9 Sophie ? 1 
called but no answer came, and I shuffled 
along till I came to the dairy on the Bteps of 
which she sat complacently in company with 
a young man who lived near her home. He 
was eating bread and cream from a bowl, and 
made no movement on my approach. But I 
was a poor hand to fight, even when strong, 
and without a word I returned to the house 
and sank exhausted in a chair. Baby began 
to cry and, for the first and last time in my 
life, I used soothing sirup which tbe nurse had 
bade us procure but which bad never been ad¬ 
ministered. I was weak and tired; I wanted 
to go into the kitchen and begin work, so I 
gave—well, tbe prescription said 10 drops, 
but my hand trembled and I think perhaps 14 
went into the spoon, and the baby gurgled 
and protested, but swallowed the dose. Soon 
sleep came, and I put him carefully down, but 
by this time Sophie had returned to her work 
and Richard came in to tea. Evening set in 
and still the baby slept, i shook him, took 
him in my arms, imagined he breathed heav¬ 
ily, and then confessed what I had done. How 
foolish we were! for I could not get rid of the 
haunting fear that a want of precision in tbe 
number of drops might lead to the sleep that 
knows no waking. But no effort of ours 
aroused him, and I was about to administer a 
dose of castor oil to the unconscious babe when 
wheels were heard and Richard’s mother 
opened the door, her arms, 
as usual, full of bundles and 
baskets. “ How’s the wean ?’ 
was her first exclamation, 
and seeing my frightened, 
disordered look she inquired 
what was the matter. “Hout, 
let the bit wean sleep! ” she 
said, when 1 had confessed; 
" that muckle winna hurt 
him. But, woman, I wadna 
hae ye gie the bairn a drap 
o’ that stuff; he’s no needin’ 
it—a healthy, braw laddie! 
(I observed that she spoke in 
broad Scotch when excited), 
and she took him on her knee 
and cooed to him till he opened 
his eyes, when she patted him 
I 
THE DOLLAR PROBLEM. 
Practical housewives keep account of all 
the expenditures of the household, and no 
doubt that many of them find tbe sum total 
on Dec. 81st, much larger than they antici¬ 
pated and much larger than it should be. 
The first few weeks of the new year will prob¬ 
ably be rigid examples of kitchen economy 
and frugal industry. Stinginess in the grocery 
bill is a good thing as long as it applies to 
stimulating drinks and condiments, but it is a 
poor plan to stint the appetite for wholesome 
food, or fail to gratify it. You cannot reduce 
the table expenses very much. It will not do 
to deprive the children of good books and 
papers, for the mind needs food as well as the 
body. You must not think of “Jewing” down 
the hired girl or the washerwoman; they work 
hard and deserve good pay, and it is much 
better for home and society to aid the poor 
laborer than the idle beggar. Can we save 
something on the dress account? Well, it is 
likely that many of us can, though farmer’s 
wives understand pretty thoroughly the way 
to make new garments out of the old. After 
every member of the family is supplied with 
clothing necessary for comfort, health, and 
style, sufficient to save from tbe opprobrium 
of oddity, we may curtuil the rest; all that is 
spent for show aud foolish pride may be saved 
or turned to a better use in the line of useful 
books or articles for the house more last¬ 
ing than fine plumes, kid gloves or fanciful 
trimmings. Emma C. Stout. 
in her ample lap and handled him in the cap¬ 
able manner that only grandmothers know. 
How glad I was that she stayed with me one 
pleasant week, petting and feeding ns both 
with her well-prepared food, and I learned 
then the need that exists that all girls should 
have a knowledge of the care of infants aud 
cooking for invalids, instead of the Latin and 
algebra and ’ologiee that are made compul¬ 
sory in their education, without regard to 
their future. I know it is a gift, and that 
Richard’s mother was a “ woman of faculty,” 
but early training has a great deal to do with 
success in these matters, and the subject is 
too generally ignored. With what admira¬ 
tion I watched her as she deftly washed and 
dressed “ baby ” every morning, with a bath 
of warm water placed at her feet, a tiny 
clothes-horse before tbe ftre with the clean 
robes and under-linen, the baby’s pink lined 
basket beside her containing soft linen, soap 
and Bponge. How gently she handled him, 
absorbing the moisture from the body by gen¬ 
tle pressure instead of rubbing, and turning 
him only when actually necessary. Oh, the 
mystery to me of all these things! How wise 
she was, aud why had I been brought up in 
ignorance of these essentials of a domestic 
education? 
It hurt me very much in my helplessness to 
know that my kindly visitor had to go into 
kitchen and dairy to clean up the waste and 
dirt in the former, and in the latter empty the 
unskimmed pans of milk that had by neglect 
become mouldy [and useless; but she did not 
by word or look blame me, and I remem¬ 
ber that I derived comfort from tbe experi¬ 
ence of Marion Harland, who wrote, “You 
find with displeasure that the servants have 
taken advantage of your situation to omit this 
task and to slur over that." I do not affirm 
that this is always the case; for I afterward 
found efficient help that could be relied on not 
with “eye service" alone, 
Btraw’berries were ripe during this memor¬ 
able week, and as we had a bed of “Wilsons” 
in the garden I wished to have them canned 
and preserved for future use. The fruit was 
hulled in tbe evening and spread on flat dishes 
with powdered sugar sprinkled over it. In 
the morning two cups of water and a pound- 
and-a-half of sugar were put on the Are. in 
the porcelain kettle aud simmered gently, care 
being taken to remove any scum that might 
arise. Then the juice which was found to 
threaten to overflow the dishes wherein the 
strawberries lay, was mixed with the clear 
sirup and once more brought to a boil. The 
fruit was then put in for ten minutes, and 
skimmed out into jars. I remember that I 
had several small-sized ginger and mustard 
jars; these were filled and corked, then 
cemented around with resin and beeswax 
spread on a piece of cloth and tightly tied 
down over the cork. Two years afterward 
this fruit was found perfect aDd of flue flavor. 
Richard delighted in strawberry short cake, 
and it was ever afterwards my ambition to 
make it “as good as mother’s,” the recipe for 
which was first given me at that time. To one 
quart of flour add three tablespoonfuls of but¬ 
ter, one large cup of sour cream, one egg, one 
tablespoouful of white sugar, one teaspoonful 
of soda, dissolved in hot water, one teaspoon¬ 
ful of salt. Tbe shortening was chopped up 
in the flour, the egg beaten w r ell and mixed 
with the milk and soda and all mixed lightly 
together, rolled in two sheets, the upper crust 
about an inch thick, tbe lower somewhat 
thinner. The cakes were put in a well greased 
baking pan, one on the other, and baked, sep¬ 
arated while warm and a thick coating of 
strawberries put on sprinkled with sugar and 
the upper crust laid ou. They were then set 
back into the oven a few minutes and sent to 
table hot. What an indigestible dish it is t 
and yet how much prized as a delicacy, of 
which, however, 1 never could partake? 
When I once more took up the burden of 
life everything seemed changed; my duties 
were heavier, baby demanded a great deal of 
my time and attention, and I had no leisure, 
even iu the long Summer days, yet I en¬ 
deavored to have regularity in my hours and 
made seven o’clock the bed-time for him, per¬ 
severing in the practice until, as he grew 
older, he would put his chubby fists to his 
eyes if ten minutes past tbe hour and say, 
“Me want to do to bed.” But that first Sum¬ 
mer with a young infant to care for is vivid 
in nay memory, for Sophie had not vainly 
given the young man the contents of my 
dairy, for before harvest she was married, 
and settled dowm iu a little white-washed 
cottage of one room, in tbe adjoining settle¬ 
ment, I determined then to pass the Winter 
without help, but my heart always aolies 
when I see a young mother, hand-bound and 
weary, holding her baby on one arm as she 
performs household duties. In Spring we en¬ 
gaged a young girl fresh from the “Old 
Country,” who gave the pigs brine the first 
week of her stay, and when confronted with 
their stiff corpses declared, “sure and it was 
only salt and water.” She was a great scourer 
and in her zeal washed off the frosting from 
the face of the clock, thinking it w-as dirt, 
and surprised us by its clean face and the 
view we could have of the works and pen¬ 
dulum. But then she always told us in such 
a good natured way that she “really didn’t 
know any better ma’m.” I had determined 
when Sprmg came again to make some im¬ 
provements in the outside surroundings of my 
home, and in the next chapter will note my 
successes and failures. 
- - 
BITS OF HOUSEHOLD EXPERIENCE. 
VEGETABLES AND FRUIT. 
Last September, as an experiment, I put 
up a jar of sweet corn. It was first boiled a 
few minutes; the corn was cut from the cob, 
cooled and packed tightly—a layer of corn 
and then of salt alternately—then covered 
and set away in a dry place. On examining 
it a short time ago I found that the salt had 
gathered moisture and about one-third of the 
corn at the top of the jar had molded so that 
it was unfit for use. I covered the remainder 
with brine, and tbink that will answer a bet¬ 
ter purpose thun salt. The corn when fresh¬ 
ened is very good, to my taste preferable to 
dried corn, although some of its original 
sweetness was gone; but perhaps last year’s 
corn was not as good as usual for such uses. 
I shall try it again, and shall use brine in¬ 
stead of salt to preserve it. The corn does 
not need haid boiling to prepare it for the 
table. All that is needed is to have tbe water 
