FEB I® 
I2S 
THE BUBAL fSEW-YOBKER. 
of spilein’ the color. Ho I thought I’d jest run 
over to Miss Brown’s and borry her reseat. 
Widder Brown’s farm jines ours on the 
south and it aiut but a little ways so I didn’t 
stop to change my dress. 
The house was all shut, up and I remember 
hearin’ the old lady out a-callin’ her geese in 
the mornin’ and thought likely she was out to 
the barn pickin’ on ’em, so 1 went along out 
and opened the door softly, Sure enuff there 
sot the old lady on a stool in the middle of the 
floor, and she had a big gander lyin' on his 
back m her lap and she was holdiu’ him by 
the neck with one bawl and tearin’ the feath¬ 
ers oft’ his breast with the other. 
She looked up sudden and see me and then 
she screamed and jumped up, dropping the 
gauder, and made a spring landing m the cow 
manger whore she lay all in a heap. 
I couldn’t think what ailed her and called 
out. 
“Miss Brown, Miss Brown, what's the mat¬ 
ter ? ” 
The old lady raised her head and peeked 
over the manger. 
“Why, land sakes! Miss Stebbins,” ses she, 
“is that you' I thought ’twas a painted 
iujun.” 
And she crawled back over the manger and 
made a dive at the gander which was flound¬ 
ering about the floor, floppin’ his wings and 
rankin’ the feathers fly like a snow storm. 
“What in the world have you ben a-doin’ Miss 
Stebbins?” ses she, a snatehin’ away at the 
gauder as if ho had no more feelin’s than a 
bundle of flax. 
“I’m a colorin’ my carpet-rags,” ses I, “and 
I’ve lost the reseat for the blew so I come 
over to get yours.” 
“Oh laws!” sez she, “I don’t never have no 
reseat. 1 jest put my gregeneea in the swill 
pail; 1cmme see, it’s so much coekalic acid 
and so much wliat-you-cull-it of potash, I 
don’t jest remember the exact amount of 
each, but you can guess ut it. Thou you pour 
on as uracil bilm’ water as you think you will 
need and put in your rags and stir ’em ’round 
with a stick as long as you think they want, 
ami then take ’em out. That’s all there is 
of it.” 
And then the old lady begun one of her 
long stories about what a time she had once 
pickin’ geese afore she was married, but I 
was in such a hurry I didn’t stop to hear how 
it came out, but started home as fast as I 
could go. 
Just as I was a-goiu’ over the bridge I 
heerd a buggy a-comiu’, and lookin’ around 1 
made sure it was Em and her bus baud, par- 
tieklerly as Jeremier had said he see em go 
past. So I walked along with my big sun 
bonnet pulled down over my face and jest as 
they got alongside of mo I sez, 
“Ain’t you goiu’ to speak to a body ?” 
And the woman in the buggy sez, sez she, 
“Why yes, of course I be,” and she reached 
out her hand and grabbed initio; as the mau 
stopped the horse she poked her head under 
my bouuet and kissed me on the cheek. 
Wonderin' what made Em so uueomtnoo af¬ 
fectionate, I looked up on’, mira bile dick- 
loo. as the papers say, I'd never seen one of 
the Ockipants of that, butjyy before! Where¬ 
as Em is slim and her husband fat, and their 
ehildrou both girls and white as lambs, this 
woman was shaped like a whale and her man 
like a liberty pole, and the children were both 
boys and black as monkeys. 
“Why, why,” sas 1, confused as a lien on 
the wrong nest, “I thought you was my cous¬ 
in and her husband, yon must excuse me, 
but—” 
“I visited around here once,” said the wo¬ 
man, “and when you spoke 1 sposed you was 
somebody I knowed.” 
And then we both explained who we was, 
and we found out she was introduced to my 
sister ut meeting once aud that made us feel 
a little acquainted, and we fixed it up as well 
as we could and they drove on. And though 
the man was glum as an owl all tho while we 
was a talkin’ and never said a word, I heerd 
hnu snicker aud say. 
“What, a blamed old dunce.” 
And the other side of the hedge, in the di¬ 
rection of our straw berry-bed I heerd an¬ 
other noise, something bet ween a choke and a 
snort, and I knew Jeremier had seen and 
heerd all. And almost burstiu’ with shagrin 
I hurried home. 
The first thing was to march straight to the 
big looking-glass in the parlor,and seel) a pic- 
ter as met my eyes! 1 hud on an old gray felt 
skirt and black waist and both were patched 
aud streaked with all kinds of dye and cov¬ 
ered with little bits of down from tho old 
lady’s geese. There was a red stripe down 
my nose, a yellow one crosswise of one cheek, 
aud a brown smutch on tho other, aud the 
print of my band in bright green on my fore¬ 
head. My hands showed all the colors mixed 
together and no wonder Miss Brown took me 
for an iujun. 
J’retty soon, in cuiuo Jeremier, boldin’ his 
sides aud lafflu’ like to split. He lay down on 
the floor and rolled, and kicked, and yelled. 
“Oh, somebody hoop me, for pity’s sake,” 
sez be, “I shall bust, I know I shall! Oh mur¬ 
der! Oh, won’t this be a rich thing for Polly 
Jones to get hold of? Oh, cracky!” 
And I knowin’ that something would have 
to be saekrifised aud knowin’ too that Jere- 
mier’s better fcelin’s could best be stirred by 
appealin' to his stummick, said solemnly: 
“Jeremier Stebbins, if you’ll quit makm’ an 
idiot of yourself I’ll lull one of ray best Brainy 
pullets and make a pot-pie for supper. And 
I’ll serve it up in reg’lar sewin’ society style, 
too. But you must proiuis never to breathe a 
word of this to anybody.” 
“Well,” ses Jeremier, givin’ a final whoop, 
“I’ll agree to that as I’m pretty near busted 
and will have to stop anyhow. But mind you, 
there’s to be uo scrimpin’.” 
HOME WAYB AND THINGS AT THE 
RURAL GROUNDS. 
ALICE BROWN. 
Mr. Carman asked one evening, as lie sat 
in the cretonue-covered rocking-chair iu his 
ottice: “Is there a basis for politeness found¬ 
ed on common sense aud suited to every class 
of society?” After a moment’s thought Mrs. 
Carman said: “The same rules cannot he ap¬ 
plied to all classes. It would be impossible 
for a hard-working man to follow the laws of 
society that a wealthy mau in a city feels 
bound to observe. Aud a workingman’s wife 
cannot for example set her table with the 
spotless linen aud fine dishes that a wealthy 
woman thinks absolutely necessary. She may 
want to do it, but she cannot always have 
even a spotlessly clean tablecloth and fresh 
napkins, for that would require large numbers 
of both, and a great deal of hard work that 
she would have to do herself. She may even 
find it necessary to do without napkins and 
use an oilcloth instead of a linen tablecloth, 
and the laws of polite usage for her canuot be 
the same as those for her wealthy neighbor. 
Some men always put on a dress coat, and go 
to their own table just us they would to a cer¬ 
emonious dinner in the house of a friend, 
while farmers come m from the hot sun iu 
summer aud eat their meals iu their shirt 
sleeves. Now, the same rules cannot apply to 
those two classes of men.” 
“Yes, but there must be a law underlying 
politeness,” Mr. Carman rejoined, “that will 
apply equally to both, or else what is polite¬ 
ness worth? Now supposing the working¬ 
man comes to his table with his hands aud 
lace cleau. He can always do that, cau’t he? 
Suppose we grant that for comfort it is occa¬ 
sionally necessary that he should come to the 
table in his shirt, sleeves. Is there any objec¬ 
tion to putting ou a light coat kept handy for 
the purpose? Then the table that he comes to 
must have clean dishes on it and as neat a 
cloth as his wife eau afford. Now if these peo¬ 
ple do the very best they eau, will they not 
be just as truly polite as the man who puts on 
a dress coat and goes to a table covered with 
spotless lineu and glittering silver?” 
“True politeness will lead everyone to be 
just as courteous, and to have things just as 
nice, when no strangers are iu the house as 
when it is full of guests.” 
“That is true iu some things,” Mrs. Carman 
answered with spirit, “hut you cannot, carry 
that out in everything, for it would follow 
that ail of our liest things must be used every¬ 
day or else not used when guests came because 
that would be giving them something better 
than we have ourselves every day.” 
“No, now you misunderstand me,” Mr. Car¬ 
man answered. “If we have a basket of rare 
grapes, and expect guests to supper, it would 
be real kindness and politeness to save the 
grapes until that meal, instead of eating them 
up for dinner. To save any pleasure to share 
with friends is right, if by enjoying it alone 
you make it impossible to share it with them 
too. If a clean table cloth is to be put on at 
some meal of the day, deference to your fam¬ 
ily does not require that you should put it ou 
at breakfast time, if friends ure expected to 
dinner.” 
Almost everybody [quarrels with some of 
the forms of politeness, but a family where 
real courtesy is shown by all of its members 
to each other, is a little paradise where child¬ 
ren grow symetrically in a loving atmosphere, 
and the parents are not harassed by strife and 
bitter words Htuong the children. 
Courtesy is made up of little things, the ob¬ 
servance of which is thought by some to be 
unmunly or to show a lack of spirit, aud to 
give no chance to assert the “rights” they hold 
so deal’. 
The boy, uo doubt, is sincere enough in his 
belief that he is very manly when ho announc¬ 
es t.lmt “lie will not. take off his hat to any¬ 
body,” aud his sister probably feels that she 
shows a praiseworthy independence when she 
declares that “she will not wuste her time iu 
dressing up when nobody is coming.” 
But there are more people, probably, who 
are only careless, and not witfully and purpose¬ 
ly rude and illinannered in their own homes. 
True love, nodoubt, exists in many families 
where little courtesies are never exchanged, 
but love, like wheat, needs to be made avail¬ 
able for food; the wheat i.iust beeome flour 
before it can be bread, and the home love 
must lieeome pleasant smiles, habitual greet¬ 
ings and many little tokens of respect before 
it can be food for liuugry hearts. 
Little formalities serve as reminders that, 
kindness needs expression. The carelessness 
of human nature must, account in part for tho 
need of forms, sometimes meaningless in them¬ 
selves, to express the kinder side of that nature. 
Forms should uever become masters to 
tyrannize over a household, but skillful, 
friendly assistants, to care for and keep fresh 
all that is brightest and truest in life. Every 
family has an ideal life that it tries, at least 
at times, to reach. Some families thiuk it 
good only for festive occasions and when away 
from the home, and they put On all of good 
manners, gracious ways and ueat, becoming 
dress that is possible for such times aud lay 
them aside at all other times; but the ideal 
life that is lived only on such occasions is apt. 
to fit awkwardly aud show its seamy side at 
unexpected and embarrasing times. 
In endeavoriug t.o bring good maimers into 
the everyday life wo lead here, numberless 
little things are aids. Pleasant good-morn¬ 
ings are exchanged when theday is beginning. 
“Excuse me” prefaces the act of leaving the 
table at meal time, whether Mr. Carman gets 
up to give the canary a choice bit of celery, or 
Cerise rises to get her Papa the scrap of 
labeled paper on which ho makes iKites of the 
quality of the new potatoes cooked for the 
first time, or Travers finishes his meal and 
wants to return to his play. A cheerful good¬ 
night ends each day, and though only a form 
in itself, expresses the wish the words imply. 
When Cerise was a wee fair-haired child, 
her papa taught her to say at bedtime “Good¬ 
night. pleasant dreams, av reeoir, day-day, 
adieu, good night; and when Travie became 
old enough, he, too, learned it, and after he 
has said merely good-night to every other 
member of the family, he. expects a corres 
ponding response to each part of this good¬ 
night list from his Papa, and only then is he 
content to fall asleep. 
He tries very hard to lie polite, aud has 
some little formalities all his own. Some¬ 
times he is wit h his mamma when school time 
comes, uud he then says goodby before going 
to the next room to school. If she gets him 
ready to go outdoors to play, bo sometimes 
adds a kiss to his goodby. If he accidentally 
stumbles over one of the cats be sometimes 
says “Excuse mo” in all seriousness, for he 
bolds these furry pets in very great esteem. 
Surely there is a basis for true politeness 
that will apply to every class but it takes con 
staut. and patient, practice to acquire charm¬ 
ing home manners, and polite expressions of 
genuine good-heartedness, But why any fam¬ 
ily is content to put on its best behavior only 
for those outside its home is a question worth 
considering. 
That any one would choose to do any¬ 
thing tho worst way possible instead of the 
best, scorns incredible and probably there 
are few who deliberately choose to be habit¬ 
ually impolite but failing to choose to be as 
courteous as circumstances will allow, they 
often unconsciously fall into careless, rough 
ways. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
To live long it is necessary to live slowly... 
A merry heart maketh a cheerful counte¬ 
nance . 
Activity may lead to evil; but inactivity 
canuot be led to good ... 
He that brings most of use into his life 
lives the longest. 
A recent commencement orator gave to 
the graduates three strands to weave into the 
rope of prosperity. Mastery of their art, the 
character and bearing of a gentleman, and 
common sense. 
The Impressions we receive depend, not on 
our actual situation, but on tho mood we hap¬ 
pen to be in at the time. 
1 was tempted to cheat my neighbor. 1 
thought to gain a dollar by hiding a little of 
the truth; by giving bad measure or poor qua¬ 
lity. What 1 really meant was to aim a 
deadly blow at, the security aud order of the 
universe. 
Time, the great, destroyer of other mens’ 
happiness, only enlarges tho patrimony of 
literature to its possessor. 
How wearisome the grammarian, tho phre¬ 
nologist, tho political or religious fanatic, or 
indeed any possessed mortal whoso balance is 
lost by the exaggeration of a single topic. It 
is incipient insanity. 
Domestic Ccoitoimj 
CONDUCTED HY MRS. MINER E. M. CARMAN. 
One way to lessen the cares of the mistress 
of the house is for her to make the members 
of her family responsible for certain portions 
of the daily work. See that each person 
understands what he or she is to do, and how 
it is to be done, and then firmly enforce its 
performance by the proper person at the cor¬ 
rect time. 
Parents are surely ueglectiug a sacred 
duty when they know nothing of the habits 
and morals of the companions of their child¬ 
ren. The responsibility of parentage is great¬ 
er aud involves more earo aud self-sacrifice 
than most people are pleased to recognize. It 
is our belief that if a child go astray, it is, 
ninety-nine cases out of a huudred,his parents’ 
fault. We know that this radical belief is not 
universally accepted, because it is not com¬ 
fortable ; nevertheless it will bear thinking over. 
THE AMATEUR COOKING CLUB 
BrtEAKFAST. 
I had been away from my native town for 
many months, and as I had heard no more of 
the “Amateur Cooking Club” or “Amiable 
Cheshire Cats,” as they sometimes styled 
themselves to the mystification of strangers, I 
rashly concluded that with the fickleness that 
young people sometimes display, they had 
given up their praiseworthy pursuit of tho 
homely knowledge. A pretty card inviting 
me to a breakfast the other day convinced me 
that I had formed my conclusions too hastily. 
The breakfast was a most excellent one, and 
the menu as follows: 
The fruit which was served first consisted of 
sliced banauas and oranges. The latter had 
been pared, every particle of the bitter white 
skin removed, and then sliced with the sharp¬ 
est of knives, and every seed carefully re¬ 
moved. One banana sliced very thinly is 
sufficient for two orauges Sift sugar over 
each layer aud set iu a very cold place for an 
hour or two before serving. It may seem ab¬ 
surd to give such minute directions for doing 
so simple a thing as preparing this dish of 
fruit, but if you have never eaten carelessly 
prepared oranges, where the fruit was in 
stringy chunks, bitter from the seeds aud 
white skin, you will appreciate the difference 
lietween the two methods. 
The wbeuton grits were cooked to perfection 
and eaten with real cream. The salmon on 
toast was garnished with tiny fiat cakes of po¬ 
tatoes fried a golden brown. Make a cupful 
of drawn butter sauce and add to this a large 
cupful of cold salmon picked into Hakes; lot it 
get thoroughly hot, when one well beaten egg 
and two tablespooufuls of rich cream are 
added. Four the smokiug hot salmon 
over neat squares of buttered toast. 
Drawn butter when properly made is 
smooth aud velvety, aud as it is the basts of a 
good many sauces it may be well to tell just 
how it is made. Put two teuspooufuls of flour 
and a little salt in a bowl, and add a teacupful 
of hot water a voiy little at a time, working 
it smooth, put this in a saucepan set in a vas¬ 
sal of boiling water ami stir constantly until it 
has boiled a minute; add one and a half ounce 
of butter cut into bits, and when it has entire¬ 
ly melted aud mixed with the sauce it is ready 
for use. When this is wanted for puddings 
use milk instead of water. 
Croquettes of sweetbreads with green peas, 
is too expensive a dish for ordinary family use 
unless in the case of farmers who kill their 
own calves and retain such dainty bits as the 
liver and sweetbreads for home consumption. 
In whatever mariner sweetbreads are to be 
cooked, the first stop is to free them from 
striugs, skin uud fatty particles. ^Put them iu 
cold water enough to cover with a teaspoonful 
of vinegar, seasonings, a sprig of parsley and 
a bit of onion. Lot them come to a boil, slowly 
simmer for 10 minutes; drain and press be¬ 
tween two plates until firm ami cold. For 
croquettes chop very fine, and for four sweet¬ 
breads mushed to a paste with the beaten 
yelk of one egg, add an ounce of melted but¬ 
ter, a gill of cream, and crumbs to make a 
paste Stiff enough to mold into little cones. 
Dij* these in beaten egg; roll in crumbs aud 
fry iu smoking-hot fat. Arrange on u hot 
disli witli a circle of green i>oas around. 
A boefstouk us it lay in its own rich gravy 
proved upon tasting to bo something that any 
young lady might be proud of having cooked, 
so juicy aud tempting it looked. Miss Gladys 
herself, the president of the club excused her¬ 
self during the preceding course to attend to 
the preparation. Tho suet was trimmed from 
a steak three quarters of an inch thick, which 
wan then broiled uver a bed of clear coals, 
using a double broiler so that it could lie 
turned constantly. Twelve minutes is tufll 
