9 
MARCI3 3 
of the steam and smoke our lamps made no 
light, and for three or four minutes we groped 
our way in much difficulty, Abnost at every 
turn we came upou lads of ten to fourteen 
yoai-s, whose duties probably consisted of 
attending to the switches of the railways. 
When mules and engines came into the central 
chamber together, the scene was a lively one. 
The poor mules, how we did pity them. The 
guide took us to visit their stable where they 
had stalls and feed boxes, the same as have 
mules on earth. The coal walls and ceiling 
were whitewashed, and a long pipe brought 
them water from without. The guide warned 
us of rats, which lie said abounded there, and 
instantly a great rat ran across my frieud’s 
foot which greatly terrified, her. much to my 
amusement, as I am uot afraid of that lively 
rodent, She declared that she rather visit 
a hundred rniucs and be blown up by gas than 
to encounter such a rat again. The mules 
after being brought down into the mines never 
see daylight again, unless they become mbit 
for labor. One mule named “Torn,’' who had 
worked in the mine for twenty-jive years with¬ 
out having seen a ray of sunshine, had been 
sent up on earth to finish his career in pastures 
green—a retired aud honoml veteran, My 
guide was enthusiastic about mining life, and I 
declared that no class of men had such splen- \ 
did throats and lungs as have miners, or sing , 
so marvelously, and the air of the mine was I 
perfectly pure. A peculiar odor that I thought 
to be gas, the guide said was sulphur. At in¬ 
tervals a current of air swept through the 
mine, being forced by a ventilator. Upon our 
return to the guide's office, he presented us 
with beautiful specimens of "peacock'' coal— 
coal brilliant with iridescent lines like opal. 
As we had been underground for an hour, and i 
seen most- that was interesting (we visited the 
blacksmith sbop where the mules are shod) we I 
returned to the ‘‘cage 7 ’ and were quickly 
lifted to sunshine again, profoundly thank fid 
for safety, and full of pity for men who 
toil in a coal mine. The guide laughed at 
that and said that the miners liked their life j 
and would exchange it for no other, and in ; 
answer to my inquiry as to the longevity of 
miners, he said that they lived as long as any 
class of men, aud he mentioned one man who 
had begun work in a mine at eight years of 
age and had lived to be more than eighty. 
We found the youngster jubilant over the 
gift of a miner’s lamp and a unde driver’s i 
whip—aud he has never regretted not having j 
seen the mine, and neither have 1. 
for lUomni. 
CONDUCTED BY SiISS HA Y CLARK. 
Then the next day I bake pies, cook corn, fry 
doughnuts, bake cookies, and it is dinner-time 
and no dishes washed, aud baby bogs to be ta¬ 
ken; and if the ‘‘sawyers” should come in and 
find the carpets unswept, etc., they might tell 
that “ A's wife was uot very.neat." At last, 
with head throbbing and limbs aching with 
weaiiuess, the dinner is over, the dishes in 
their places, and the rooms in order. I take 
my binding into my arms aud sit down in my 
rocker with a sigh of relief. There will bo a 
little.while, at least, before supper-time:—a 
team drives up, aud company is announced. I 
am always glad to see my friends, but (woof 
those three ladies do not care for reading, writ¬ 
ing, music or art: noticing hut neat . neat, and 
1 know that at one sweeping glance two of the 
throe whose cry is “ neat, neat” will take in 
my dusty lambrequins, unpolished stove, and 
the place on the carpet where baby spilled her 
cup of milk. They are not blessed as I am, for 
no I laliy tinge ns have ever unsealed the foun¬ 
tain of tenderness in their breasts, and they 
say—heaven help them—that they “never 
want to be bothered with young ones!" Well, 
a cake must be made for tea. For the first 
time, perhaps, in years, this cake is a failure— 
for, like the billows of the ocean, it rose and 
fell; and while 1 am gulping down a few tired, 
nervous, mortified tears, aud concoct another 
mixture, one of the “neat, neats" comes and 
stands in the pantry door and inquires about 
the pedlar who was selling earthen ware; but 
every woman knows how I felt then, just 
when my pantry was so disorderly. 
Supper is over at last, find mother kindly 
washes the dishes. Company gone. “A" comes 
in and says: “ To-night is the party for which 
we received cards.” Can’t help it—the idea of 
going to a party when I am so tired! but in 
the end we go, just as you all knew we would, 
for we must go when we can, and mother is 
here to-night to take care of baby. We have 
a fine ride; the night is star and moon-lit; we 
feel happy and at peace with each other. But 
the next day goes hard, and the sawyers stay 
to dinner. Now, I don't mean that the saw¬ 
yers always put in a voice at such times, but 
sometimes, and if they do uot, aud I have just 
got everything in tolerably neat shape and am 
beginning to feel quite conceited concerning 
my modus operandi of housework, something 
will set everything on the bias, which can only 
be straightened by time and labor. This min¬ 
ute I ought to be paring apples for mince pies, 
instead of writing, so I bid my Rural friends 
“good-bye" for this time. Eva Ames. 
INITIALS. 
The decrees of dame fashion once in a while, 
are such as a good housekeeper would be glad 
to follow. That one of marking towels, table- 
MY FRIEND AND I. 
I never saw tier, but I long 
So much her hand to hold. 
To look within her eyes so strong, 
And brave with love untold: 
To note the changing shades of thought 
O’er features—though unknown, 
Have many a pleasing fancy wrought 
And strangely dear have grown. 
I know there is a chamber—where 
Not all way enter In- 
Sacred to hope and earnest prayer. 
Echoes of “ Might have been ” 
Are straying there; but no complaint 
Is uttered, for “Be strong 
Oh! weary heart, you must not faint,” 
Has cheered her way along. 
I cannot make or change her way. 
But I always ean be true. 
Can wish that sorrow’s lowering day 
May not follow her pathway through. 
And some t-lmc, if we never meet 
This side the golden shore. 
We’ll know when souls each other greet 
What joys this friendship bore. 
Eva Ames. 
-» - 
SOME KINDS OF TRIALS. 
I have been reading with interest the ways 
of systematizing housework; the ways and by¬ 
law* thereof, which drop from the pen of more 
titan one able writer, aud find a place in the 
columns of everybody’s friend, the Rural. 
Though not all the systems are in accordance 
with my poor way. still there is excellence in 
all. and could either of them be followed, the 
result would be a well-ordered household in¬ 
deed. But I, for one, cannot do my work by 
rule, aud no one likes order or tidiness better 
than I. Perhaps it is because I do not keep 
“help,” 1 but my experience of that kind has 
been so galling that I am determined to do 
alone some way, even if my baby’s precious 
finger-marks are not scrubbed off from door 
and window every day. We lmve a way of 
getting out of victuals at the most unreason¬ 
able times, say washing or ironing days; then, 
when the last piece of pie or cake disappears, 
lo! the wood-sawyers put in a decided appear¬ 
ance. Though so tired that, every move¬ 
ment is an effort, 1 must prepare breakfast in 
part —ami just here 1 wonder if those “ saw¬ 
yers” smelled corned l>eel all night the way 
A. L. J,’s friend Lulu smelled the doughnuts. 
FiG.fcae. 
linen, etc., with worked initials in the corner 
is very satisfactoiy and pretty when finished. 
There is no neceessity for using elaborate 
fancy letters, which require study and more 
time, than many leel able to spare, for that 
Fig. 97. 
purpose. If they are of medium size aud 
plain that is sufficient. We give the two first 
letters of the alphabet in this week’s issue and 
shall continue them until we reach “zed.” 
CULTIVATED TASTE. 
It means nowadays a taste so refined that 
one can sec more beauty in a sunflower than in 
all the other sweet, old-fashioned flowers; eveu 
the pinks our grandmothers used to carry “to 
meeting,” along with sprigs of caraway seed, 
to nibble din ing long sermons, are entirely ig_ 
nored. Large orders for sunflower seeds are 
sent to the florists, and father wonder’s i! there 
will be room for him to grow “garden stuff.” 
Mother says she cannot see wliy her daughters 
are so delighted with those coarse sunflowers, 
for when she was a young lady there was a 
great aversion to them, owing, uo doubt, to the 
rhyme that— 
“ Where sunflowers grow 
Beaus never go." 
The amateur, intent-on making home ‘-just too 
lovely for anything,” goes wild over “decora¬ 
tive art." So, wise-looking owls gazing at the 
moon; shadowy storks, drooping among cat¬ 
tail flags, adorn “little brown jugs.” old-fash¬ 
ioned platters, butter jars, and tiles. In this 
ease ‘‘beauty unadorned” would be suggestive 
of a lack of culture, and a person who has tal¬ 
ent for painting ought uot to throw it away 
upon rubbish. Imagine the surprise of Mrs. 
George Washington, could she have seen her 
butter-ladle in her drawing-room tied up with 
a blue vibliou. and a Jersey cow painted upon 
one side of it aud a Durham lily on the other 
side. Nothing make* home so attractive us 
nice works of art, music and good readiug- 
jnatter. But for pity’s sake do not paint old 
churns or butter-bowls, for they will uot be an 
object of beauty to those who appreciate their 
usefulness. Mary Elwood. 
Domestic (Bceraomij 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MLALE. 
CONCERNING SOAP; FOOT BLANKETS; 
USE FOR OLD RUBBER BOOTS; 
HANDKERCHIEFS. 
MARA' WACER-KISHElt. 
I am “ notional " about soap, and one of my 
veiy explicit directions to the dish-washer is 
“Never use laundry soap in the dish washing, 
for it is made of dead beasts of any aud every 
description, and far from luting fit to wash 
clothes with, even,' 1 And every box I buy of 
it, I make a weak vow that it shall be the last, 
A gentleman was telling me the other day 
that “Out West,” where he had traveled much, 
hogs that die from cholera are rendered for soap 
grease. Scientists inform us that many skin 
diseases are produced by impure soaps, and 
that infections diseases are sometimes gener¬ 
ated through them. Upon reflection the possi¬ 
bility and probability of all this are easily ap¬ 
parent. Even in home-made soap care should 
be observed to keep the “grease” clean and 
sweet. This can be done by the frequent render¬ 
ing of it. by at once putting it in strong lye. It 
is perfectly obvious that what is used to wash 
the hands, particularly, which are often cut or 
otherwise injured, should be free from all nox¬ 
ious substances. If there can be enough of 
home-made soap to supply the needs of the 
house, it should Ik* a cause for thanksgiving. 
But- if one has to buy soap, there are room aud 
reason for the exercise of discretion. For dish 
washing and cleaning pots and pans use wash¬ 
ing soda. It is quite as cheap and greatly to be 
preferred. For the toilet choose soap made 
from oil. It costs more, but, like every other 
best thing, it is eheajiest in the end. Palm-oil 
soap is fully as nice as tliat made from olive 
oil, and I, for one. like it better. Genuine Cas¬ 
tile soap is made from olive oil aud soda, aud 1 
have been assured that eveu for laundry pur¬ 
poses the Castile soap is as economical as the 
ordinary hard soap sold for that- purpose. Car¬ 
bolic soap is, of course, excellent for skin dis¬ 
eases and wounds of all sorts; but much that is 
sold for good soap is nothing of the sort. I 
remember sending a young person to a country 
store with the* injunction to purchase some Cas¬ 
tile* soap, and the article lie brought home was 
never used for any purpose. Of course, the 
store-man would never have attempted to palm 
off so spurious an art icle upou an intelligent 
adult. As the cultivation of the sunflower in¬ 
creases, the oil from its seeds will Ik* largely 
utilized in soap making. Cotton-seed oil. I be¬ 
lieve, is not altogether agreeable in soap, but 
that objection will probably Is* overcome, so 
that the coming man will delight solely in 
vegetable soaps. 
WARM FEET. 
Children and all feeble folk whose feet be¬ 
come cold in bed, should lx* provided with a 
foot-blanket. An ordinary woolen blanket will 
make four, if cut in two and then across at right 
angles; hem or bind the edges and the blank¬ 
ets are ready for use. To insure complete 
comfort, warm the blankets at bed-time. 
The habit most children, and many adults, 
have of drawing up the limbs in bed for great¬ 
er warmth, is a bad one, as when the body is 
in a constrained position the circulation of the 
blood is greatly retarded. Children in partic¬ 
ular should lx* taught to lie straight in bod. 
and whan they sleep in a very cold room it is 
but common- comfort to give them a foot- 
blanket. it is one form of safety to have warm 
foot-blankets ready for such members of the 
family as have been out in the cold at night. 
Rubbing the feet smartly is better tliuu warm¬ 
ing them at, a fire. For sick persons, warm 
shoes as hot as the feet will bear, and put t hem 
on: it is a much bettor and quicker way than 
using a bottle of hot water, or heating a brick. 
To go to bed with cold feet, or hungry, is idi¬ 
ocy, when both can be avoided. 
WORN-OUT RUBBER BOOTS. 
Rubber boots that have holes in the feet, 
but good tops, can be further utilized by fitting 
the feet with rubber overshoes. The tops of 
worn-out rubber boots make excellent leggins 
for keeping the stockings dry. 
HANDKERCHIEFS FOR THE CHILDREN. 
Give them plenty —small squares of soft, 
cheap muslin are quite good enough for daily 
use—aud teaeh them tn make prayer vac of 
them. A constant sniffing of the nose is dis¬ 
gusting as well as injurious, and wiping the 
nose on the coat sleeve is hideous—and yet 
how many children form both habits. Good 
manners are far more desirable tlian good 
clothes. 
WASHING. 
Having stepped in at Mrs. B-’s early one 
Monday afternoon. I was surprised at seeing 
the room in order aud she neatly dressed, not¬ 
withstanding Monday was her wash-day. I 
ventured to ask ** Ho\v do you get your wash¬ 
ing done so soon? I am sure you buve enough 
of it to do, judging from the amount of clothes 
your family wear.” “Well, I will tell you,’ 
said she. as she went into another room and 
brought out her work-basket containing some 
old collars. ” Many years ago a friend gave 
me a recipe for a washing-fluid which I have 
been using ever since, and I sliall use it until 1 
find something better to take its place. “What 
is it f’ I exclaimed, for I wa* anxious to lessen 
that every-weok burden. The good woman 
gave me the recipe, which reads as follows: 
“Take one pound of washing-soda, two ounces 
of borax, one cup of lime, six quarts of soft 
water. Put over the fire and bring to a boil¬ 
ing heat, then lot it settle, and bottle it. 
For washing use one cup to every five gallons 
of water and as much soap as you would use 
in washing hi the ordinary way. Soak the 
clothes over-night in cold water.” “Now,” 
said Mrs. B-, “ I always soak the clothes 
the night before. If you do not like to do this 
on Sunday, you can sort the clothes on Satur¬ 
day; put the w hite clothes in the tllb (the fine 
ones on top) aud all you will have to do on 
Sunday evening is to pour enough water on to 
wet them. I remember hearing a lady say 
that she always put the clothes to soak <>n Sat¬ 
urday w hen she did her washing on Monday. 
I would rather not soak them at all than do 
this, as 1 think they would become rancid. 
If I want to get the washing done early, the 
first tiling 1 do in the morning is to put the 
clothes through the wringer, then put the fine 
ones in the kettle or boiler, iu cold water, with 
the fluid aud soap, and start the tire. Let 
them boil about fifteen or twenty minutes, then 
take them out aud put in the coarse clothes. 
While these are boiling rub out the fine ones 
just once, applying soap when needed. I 
always rinse my clothes out twice, and this is 
the way I have been doing my washing for 
many years and have not had cause to change.’ 
Emma Sohx. 
DOMESTIC RECIPES. 
COMPANY TEA. 
Will Annie L. Jack give me a list of eat¬ 
ables required for tea when a few friends in 
the country are invited. The first question is 
‘always: “What sliall we have to eat?” And 
if we have already sat at our neighbors’ well 
filled tables of pastry cooking (for which Now 
England housekeepers are noted aud w hich is 
so injurious to the health) one feels obliged to 
set an extra table, that we may uot be t hought 
mean. In many places there is much need of 
a reform. It is not only the rich food placed 
before us but we often overeat because we 
might offend if we did uot try each kind of 
cake. The labor necessary in preparing for 
company is often so great that the hostess is 
so worn out and nervous that she horself is not 
at ease, neither are her guests, aud she feels 
relieved when the time comes lor them to go. 
M. R. H. 
CHOCOLATE PUDDING. 
One quart Of new milk, one ounce of grated 
chocolate, five eggs, sugar to sweeten and 
vanilla to flavor. Put the chocolate into the 
milk, sweeten and put on the back of the stove 
until the chocolate is dissolved. Take from 
the fire and lot cool. Flavor and stir in the 
beutOD yelks of the eggs, put into a pudding- 
dish and bake slowly until of flic* consistency 
of a buked custard. Whip the whites stiff, add 
two or three spoonfuls of powdered sugar, 
spread over the top of the pudding aud brown 
delicately. Eat cold. Mrs. Kate Green. 
orange cake. 
Two cups of sugar, yelks of five eggs and 
whites of three, one-half clip of cold water, 
two-aud-a-half cups of Hour, two teaspoonfuls 
of baking powder, t in* juice and grated rind of 
one orange and a pinch of salt. Beat the egg ■ 
