u 
in memory, and causes me to be patient with 
my own fear stricken babies. I must confess, 
I am not very courageous now. b. h. j. 
THE GIRLS’ SEWING CLUB. 
I HAVE always known that I was meant 
to have a “mission” in life, but somehow 
until lately I never could find out in what 
particular line it lay. I couldn’t teach a class 
in Sunday School. I had tried, and beyond 
the questions and answers of the lesson book, 
I couldn't find a word to say. I could have 
all the children at my home on a Saturday, 
and make their little hearts glad, but I 
couldn’t moralize, and I loved them all so 
much that I couldn’t lecture them, even when 
1 caught them playing pranks under the very 
nose of the superintendent. I live in a village 
where there are few really poor people, but 
there is a great field for active benevolence of 
a certain kind among those who are above 
actual want, and it came to me like an in¬ 
spiration that it would be a sort of benevo¬ 
lence to teach the village girls to sew. It is 
not easy for mothers with all the care and 
work of a large family, to find time to direct 
the little stupid fingers that hold the needle 
so awkwardly, and must have the knots put 
in, and the needle threaded, and the end fast¬ 
ened, for every two or three inches of sewing. 
It was one thing to think of it, and another 
to manage to get the children together. They 
would need some other lure than learning to 
sew, so I began in a very small, modest way 
by asking the two little girls of my next-door 
neighbor, who had a teething baby, and sev¬ 
eral small boys besides, to come in and spend 
the afternoon. They were nice little girls of 
eight and ten, and 1 pleased myself with the 
thought of how much help they would be to 
their tired, patient mother in after years. 
I thought of my own childboood, and re¬ 
called the patchwork which had been so dear 
to my girlish fancy. I never tired of looking 
over my “blocks,” and examining the dif¬ 
ferent patterns of the calico, and a fresh de¬ 
sign was always an incentive to renewed 
labors. I cut a number of square patches 
from the prettiest bits of calico in my posses¬ 
sion and basted them firmly together; then after 
I had amused the children awhile with books 
and pictures, I proposed that we should make 
a dolly's quilt. As I had supposed, they had 
never used a needle, and we did not make 
very much progress that afternoon, but I had 
interested them, and that was the principal 
thing. I gave them leave to bring several of 
their little cousins aud friends the next week, 
and thus was the nucleus of our girls’ sewing 
club formed. 
After the dollies’ quilts, came dishcloths for 
mamma, and very proud was each little girl 
to carry home to mamma a nicely hemmed 
dishcloth. It was not all plain sailing, and at 
times I felt as discouraged as most people who 
have undertaken self-imposed “missions,” but 
1 persevered, and in course of time the 
needles did not get so persistently sticky and 
bent, and the threads were less grimy. 
Dish towels and all sorts of old soft muslin 
dusters were hemmed by my industrious little 
band. I did not ask them to bring work from 
home until they were able to do presentable 
work, then they were encouraged to bring 
cloth to make into simple undergarments for 
themselves. With ver 3 r poor children it would 
be a fine charity to furnish canton flannel, 
cutting it into warm night-gowns, drawers, 
waists and skirts. It will help the work along 
wonderfully, and be a great incentive to them 
to persevere if you foster their love of the 
beautiful by giving them some strong, simple 
edgings to sew on them. Encourage them not 
only to sew, but to sew well. It is a dear, old- 
fashioned accomplishment, that of being able 
to hem, fell, back-stitch and gather neatly. 
They have learned to sew on buttons, to 
make button-holes, and to darn stockings, and 
I flatter myself that they will make far better 
wives and mothers for my year’s work. A 
wealthy lady who became interested in my 
little school sent a neat woolen dress pattern 
for each little girl for Christmas, and after 
the Holidays I shall have each child make her 
own dress entirely with her own hands. 
It only takes one afternoon a week, at least 
that is all the time I can spare to give to our 
club, and it seems to me a most potent 
way of doing good. What do the 
Rural sisters think of it? minnie grey. 
DOES AGE BRING WISDOM ? 
I N regard to the neglect of their 
health and disobedience to the laws 
of hygiene, I think old people are as much to 
be censured as the young folks. A woman, 
though she be a grandmother, will run up¬ 
stairs until it becomes a physical impossibility 
for Jier to do so. $ho will pet the wrong 
tbjuge, fMthougli she jjj (Jjs&grpa 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
with her, and she will overwork without re¬ 
flection that this means premature old age, 
and mayhap helplessness. 
“Mother is just as apt to go to the well for 
a pail of water without her bonnet as if she 
did not have to tell each of her half dozen 
brood, a dozen times a day, to put their hats 
on before going out,” said a young lady, and 
half an hour later she, too, accompanied a 
friend to the door, and stood gossiping ou the 
piazza long enough to get chilled through. 
We have to pay dearly for all such impru¬ 
dences, sooner or later. A friend of mine 
was accustomed to move her square piano, on 
sweeping days, without aid, and I have even 
heard her boast that she had once moved it 
into an adjoining room. The cancer in the 
breast from which she died after great suffer¬ 
ings, was traced to a bruise made by pressing 
against that heavy article of furniture when 
moving it. 
Some women will clean house in May, even 
though the weather may be very unsuitable: 
result, heavy cold, heavy doctor’s bills to 
pay, and much discomfort to the whole 
family. 
“I should be miserable if I did not get my 
washing out of the way on Monday,” said a 
neighbor to me a short time ago. It was a rainy 
Monday, damp, cold and penetrating, but she 
washed, and blued, and wrung, in her steam- 
heated Kitchen,hung such unstarched pieces on 
the line as she thought would be benefited by 
remaining there all night to “freeze as white as 
the driven snow,” said she with more poetry 
than I thought the subject warranted. On 
Thursday I found her in bed with pneumonia, 
and the clothes were still unironed, while if 
she had waited until Wednesday, she would 
have had a fine day, and the work 
would have advanced further, to say nothing 
of her freedom from suffering. 
More women have died from too rigid an 
adherence to the idea that Monday is the only 
day of the week suitable for washing, than we 
“dream of in our philosophy.” System is a 
good thing, but it may be carried too far. 
I am sorry to have had such a circle of 
senseless acquaintances, because a man, and I 
suppose a woman is known by the company 
she keeps, but I once knew a young lady who 
would walk in the rain without taking any of 
the usual precautions to keep from getting her 
feet wet, and to all remonstrances would say 
“I never take cold.” For a time it seemed as 
if she could commit almost any imprudence 
with impunity, but for the past 10 years she 
has been the victim of rheumatism in a most 
aggravated form. 
People forget that as they grow older, they 
cannot safely endure excess of work aud must 
husband their resources. Don’t be afraid of 
confessing that you are not as strong as you 
once were. It won’t make you an hour older, 
while every time you err a little on the side of 
care and prudence, it will add to your 
chances for a long and comfortable life. I 
never can understand the feeling that makes 
people shrink from acknowledging that they 
aro growing old. One can only be “sweet six¬ 
teen” for a single short year. To my mind 
the woman of sixty, who has grown old wise¬ 
ly and gracefully, is far more pleasing an ob¬ 
ject or companion than an unformed school¬ 
girl. Don’t be afraid of old age which must 
come to every one if he lives long enough, 
but see to it that your wisdom increases with 
your years to the benefit of both mind and 
body. SELMA CLARE. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
I F we shut our eyes to the beauty of things 
around us, who is to blame if we find life 
dreary and monotonous . 
Be thrifty, but not covetous: therefore give 
Thy need, thine honor, and thy friend his due; 
Never was scraper a brave man. Get to live: 
Then live, and use It: else It Is not true 
That thou hast gotten: surely use alone 
Makes money not a contemptible stone. 
—Qeorge Herbert. 
The Christian Union says that Bronson 
Alcott was a vegetarian. Once he told Dr. 
Walker, of Charlestown, his belief that the 
eater of mutton became a sheep, the eater of 
beef a cow or ox, and the eater of pork a hog. 
“Aud is it then true,” asked Dr. Walker, “that 
vegetable eaters become poor potatoes?”. 
Praise not thy work, but let thy work 
praise thee; for deeds, not words, make each 
man’s memory stable. If what thou do’st is 
good, its good all men will see; musk by its 
smell is known, not by its label. 
There was once great consternation in the 
office of “Zion’s Herald” when the writer 
of an ordinary article upon a mother in Israel^ 
having said in pious phrase that she died and 
“claimed the promises,” the paper was made 
to aver that she had died “and cleared the 
premises.” And it was out at Worcester, 
Mass., vfbere the Rey, (feorge II Hep worth, 
having declared in a public address, “lam not 
a free lance,” the sedate “Spy” gave him fame 
by printing the sentence, “I want a free 
lunch.”. 
Dr. Spear, in his “Bible Heaven,” justly 
says if the pangs which one feels be the 
natural and proper result of thoughtfulness, 
then he may be sure that there is some serious 
error in his practical life’ and what he should 
do is, not to dismiss the thinking because it is 
unpleasant, but to reform and reconstruct 
that life. Rest to the soul gained by mere 
dissipation of thought, is always purchased at 
a very dear price. 
The Pilgrim Teacher says one is great 
in the kingdom of heaven just in proportion 
as he loses his desire for greatness, and for¬ 
gets himself in his desire to be of service to 
others. When one honors all others but him¬ 
self, then he becomes honored of God. “For 
though the Lord be high, yet hath He respect 
unto the lowly; but the haughty He knoweth 
from afar.”. 
Dr. John Hall says that one who is 
healthy does not wish to dine at a dissecting- 
table. There is evil enough in man, God 
knows! But it is not the mission of every 
young man and woman to detail and report it 
all. Keep the atmopshere as pure as possible, 
and fragrant with gentleness and charity. 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
He who distinguishes the true savor of h*‘s 
food can never be a glutton; he who does not 
cannot be otherwise. A Puritan may go to 
his brown bread crust, with as gross an 
appetite as ever an Alderman to his turtle 
Not that food which entereth into the mouth 
defileth a man, but the appetite with which 
it is eaten. thoreau. 
A FAMILY OF BOYS. 
T HEY sit in front of me every Sabbath, 
and I must confess that they sometimes 
cause my attention to wander. Their little 
round heads look so fumiy sloping up or down 
like a pair of steps. There are seven of them, 
and the oldest is only 12. Their jackets are 
so neat and well brushed, that only an ex¬ 
perienced eye can detect now and then a tiny 
darn in one of the elbows. When I come in 
late with my small flock—I should say with 
my one ewe lamb—it is such a reproach to me 
to see those seven boys headed by their tiny 
mamma, already in their pew, for Monsieur 
B-. doesn’t count in the matter of getting 
them ready. 
I had a pleasant little afternoon chat with 
madame B-. the other day, who mean¬ 
while was busily repairing a suit belonging to 
her eldest boy, going about it in such a 
scientific way that, in my usual fashion, 1 
mentally made a “note on it.” 
The sleeve linings were badly worn. These 
were ripped out carefully, much use being 
made of a sharp penknife, always kept for 
the purpose. The old lining was pressed, and 
the new one cut by it exactly, made and put 
in in the same manner, care being taken to 
cut both at once so that they might not turn 
out to be for the same sleeve. The sleeves 
themselves were a little short, and the cuff 
was ripped off, and put on an inch lower 
down, the sleeve faced inside with cloth of a 
different pattern, but matching somewhat in 
color. Next the pockets were examined. 
Those that were badly worn where they 
joined the garment, were ripped out entirely, 
pressed, and new ones cut from stout muslin 
and put in carefully. Others required patch¬ 
ing, or piecing, half way down. In every 
case, the new cloth was cut by the old, and 
allowance made for the seams. 
The button-holes were all worked anew, 
and the whole garment thoroughly sponged 
with warm water to which two teaspoonfuls 
of ammonia had been added to a quart of 
warm water. Care was taken to dampen 
every spot. Grease spots were removed with 
benzine, the coat hung to dry on a form, aud 
pressed while still a little damp. The greatest 
triumph of home tailoring was the repairing 
of a light overcoat of her husband. The 
silk facing was worn, the buttons had torn 
out bits of the cloth, and the whole appear¬ 
ance was shabby in the extreme. The facings 
were taken out carefully, pressed, and new 
ones cut from a breadth of an old brown silk 
dress which happened to be of the right shade, 
and of so good a quality that Madame B—= 
said it would wear as long as the rest of thp 
garment. While the linings were out the 
corners of the pockets that had torn loose 
from the coat were Pfitltly fastened tq pun»{iq 
stays on the wrong side and firmly stitched 
down on the right with the machine, after 
which they were pressed, with a wet cloth 
laid over them. Bits of the cloth cut from a 
wide seam were laid under the holes made by 
the tearing off of the buttons, blind-stitched 
down neatly first on the wrong side, and then 
on the right around the ragged edge. They 
were then pressed, and the buttons sewed on 
firmly. 
The facings were felled in neatly by band, 
and the frayed fronts and collar bouud with a 
silk braid matching the cloth in color. 
“How did you become such an expert tnilor- 
ess?” said I. 
“There is no teacher like necessity, and you 
see I have so many boys that I can afford to 
make a business of looking after their ward¬ 
robes. I dare say if I had only one, I should 
find it a more difficult matter,” this politely, 
as if to prevent any feeling on my part because 
the aforesaid ewe lamb more otter sports holes 
than she does patches. 
However, I have determined to reform, and 
I have been mending and patching and re¬ 
pairing ever since my visit to Madame B—, 
and so in love with my new avocation have I 
become, that, like Alexander, I am sighing for 
new worlds to conquer. a c. 
“It is shallowness that decides instantly; 
that always thinks it knows what it is about.” 
CHEAP DISHES. 
A DISH of yellow Indian meal, boiled a 
long time in a double boiler, served in 
a pretty dish, and eaten as a vegetable, with 
meat, or as a dessert, with sirup, or milk and 
sugar, and stowed fruit, is by no means to be 
despised. Cut into slices half an inch thick, 
and fried a golden brown in a little hot 
dripping, it forms a nice accompaniment to 
sausages, hash, fried or broiled ham for 
breakfast. 
Most recipes for corn bread, pone and hoe- 
cake, call for three eggs to as many cups of 
milk. I have experimented with one egg, 
using a little more baking powder, and find 
the result very satisfactory. 
Macaroni may be cooked in such a manner 
as to be as costly as game, but it may also be 
made very appetizing at a small cost. It 
should be yellow or brownish in color—the 
white sorts being poor. It must be simply 
wiped, and broken into convenient lengths, 
dropped at once into boiling water contain¬ 
ing salt. As soon as it is tender, which you 
may ascertain by pressing it between the 
fingers, drain and add the water in which it 
was cooked, to the stock-pot. Leave the maca¬ 
roni in the colander while you melt together 
over the fire a tablespoonful each of cold but¬ 
ter and flour, and add slowly a pint of boil¬ 
ing water, or half a pint each of water and 
broth; stir until smooth, season with salt and 
pepper, and lay in the macaroni to heat while 
you fry a shredded onion in a little fat; dish 
the macaroni and pour the onion over it. 
This makes an excellent dinner with a pound 
of fried, broiled or boiled sausages, a dish of 
boiled turnips, and a bread pudding. You 
may even preface it with one of the inexpen¬ 
sive “winter soups” latelj” given in the Rural. 
A nice way to cook sausages is to prick them 
with a fork; lay them in hot water for a few 
minutes, roll them in flour and fry brown. 
Cut as many small slices of stale bread as 
you have links or cakes] of sausage, and fry 
them in the fat; dish one under each sausage. 
Make a gravy by pouring a cup of boiling 
water into the fat in the pan thickened with a 
tablespoonful of flour wet with cold water; 
boil up, season, and pour over the bread. 
Very good fish cakes can be made of fresh 
or canned salmon, or of any kind of cold 
boiled, baked, fried, or broiled fish. Their 
excellence will depend upon your skill in 
seasoning, and the delicacy and creaminess 
of your mashed potatoes. Mix together equal 
quantities of fish and potatoes, season with 
salt and a bit of Cayenne pepper, and beat 
well with a fork. You may then roll it in 
crumbs and beaten egg or not as convenient. 
A delicate little breakfast dish is made 
from the veriest trifle of minced poultry, ham, 
or ham aud veal. Mince the meat of what¬ 
ever kind very fine, season rather highly, 
bind together with a beaten egg or a part of 
one, according to the quantity of meat, and 
When Baby was sick, we gave her Castoria, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria, 
When she became Miss, she clung to Castoria, 
When ph§ had ('tlljdrun, nh« gave them Oa*tori> 
