THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
SEPT. 13 
be picked and taken to market; the remainder Of 
the tobacco ground must be fitted and plants set. 
Neither men nor horses could be spared to go girl¬ 
hunting. No help for It, one must do the work of 
two, and all day long the tired feet must keep up 
their ceaseless round from pantry to kitchen and 
back again. 
Baby, who is not yet two. must be left to amuse 
lierself, and when she began to grow cross and 
feverish, and her older sister to show the same 
symptoms, the work must go undone. Where 
now was the tidy kitchen or orderly house, and 
how could It be helped? “It never rains but 11 
pours.” The children the next morning were 
found to be covered with an eruption which was 
pronounced at once to be chicken-pox, not a for¬ 
midable disease, but just now very annoying, to 
say the least. Then, help of some kind must be 
had. And now I come to the one great annoyance 
of farm life, hired help. 
We live three miles from town, and a girl can 
never be obtained from that quarter for love or 
money ; It la too lonely In the country, and they 
cannot have the evening out. We arc therefore 
obliged to pul up with what we can get, and as 
there are no poor people ever known In this happy 
region, one. neighbor Who has a surplus of girls 
offers us one of them. She Informs you that she Is 
not obliged to "work out;” that she considers 
herself just as good as any one, If not a Utile better ; 
that she has heard you are proud and stuck-up 
and never do anything yourself, and that Mrs 
Such-a-one says your work la very hard; and Is 
horror struck at the Idea of being called a servant. 
You find In this case you really are the servant 
she will only do such things as she pleases, you 
must take all the drudgery upon yourself. The 
cleaning of porches, outhouses, carrying out 
slops, straining milk, baking and cooking are left 
or you to do. A friend who was visiting me once 
when under such an Infliction said: “ Why, really 
your ‘help’ has mor e leisure than you have.” She 
surprises you every day by some new freak. Per¬ 
haps when you are entertaining callers from town, 
she walks Into the parlor, seats herself and re¬ 
in >1 ns until they leave. And I actually knew a 
girl of this kind leave In high dudgeon because 
the lady did not call her Into the parlor and Intro¬ 
duce her to company! 
Sundays she gets up earlier than any other 
morning, dresses herself In her best (after hurry¬ 
ing through with her work), leaves for home and 
Is seen no more until night. You can teach her 
nothing, she knows everything, and her way and 
Mrs. Somebody’s way and Ma's way are so much 
better than yours. You worry through with It all 
until at last patience gives out, and you toll her, 
at the risk Of being misrepresented lo all your 
neighbors, that you don’t need her any longer. 
Am I alone in this experiencev Are there not 
many rural women who wear themselves out with 
over-work rather than be annoyed by such help ? 
And are there not those who, like myself, would 
be willing to pay with gratitude, as well as money, 
a good, faithful servant—one who would appreci¬ 
ate a good home and kind treatments -one who 
would look to the Interests of her employer, and 
share, not add to, the burdens of the mistress of 
the household ? clare. 
CANDLE AND SOAP MAKING. 
Some refined natures will shiver with disgust at 
the very title, the bare Idea of this vulgar work, 
while the more practical will think these hints 
untimely for they should all be done with before 
the winds of March or the showers of April. Yet 
I was behind this year, and having just finished, 
while the lesson from experience Is fresh upon 
me, Is the time to Impart to others. Meat-hang- 
ng and candle-making should precede soap making 
that the wastes may all go to the last. Wc have 
a large salt kettle holding eighty gallons or more, 
sunk Into the earth over a rock furnace or flue, 
upon the brim of which rests one end of a huge 
trough, formerly used for salting pork tn; the 
other end elevated upon a section of log. into 
this trough the ashes are put. as they are taken 
from the fire-places; the rain supplies the mois¬ 
ture necessary, to decay them. In the latter 
parl or February, or the flrst of March, as the 
weather suits, the. moat is taken up from the salt, 
lye run (this being close to the creek, puddle 
holes are made at Intervals in the ashes and kept 
filled with water, the boiling down.going on at the 
same time of dripping), red pepper boiled In the 
lyc, the hams and shoulders dipped, sprinkled 
with black pepper—from a perforated oyster can 
and hung highest In the smoke-house. This soapy 
lye, waste scraps aud greasy salt, help out. In the 
soap-making, the soap made of the pepper-lye, 
being good for cleaning places troubled with in¬ 
sects. in this L usually make up my dirty-grease, 
for scouring purposes. In this age of lamps and 
electric lights, It seems ridiculous to apeak of 
dipping candles. And more so for a young house¬ 
keeper to attempt to instruct others upon so an¬ 
cient a custom. But, with all the “ light upon the 
subject,” and with all of man’s modern inventions 
we have not discovered a means of molding anew 
old people’s fancies. They arc afraid of lamps, 
and I find moulding candles almost as difficult 
as moulding a man’s second nature, so I dtp 
them, and as ancient arts sometimes become new 
ones, and have to be learned by tbe rising gen¬ 
eration. I presume and become instructor. Have 
a board a foot long, wrap around tills, the wick, 
three times, clip open at one end, twlst-lt slightly, 
pass It around a rod a yard long, l wist, it to¬ 
gether, and keep on till you have prepared wicks i 
for two dozm candles to each pound and a half 
of tallow which you Intend to make Into candles, 
placing enough on each rod to hang one wick or 
more apart and lo dip Into the kettle without 
dragging the sides. 
Have the wash-kcttlc so elevated that a tire may 
be kept under it, flil It with water to half-inch of 
the brim, finish It with melted tallow an which 
has previously been boiled a half teacup of lye to 
raise the dregs for skimming off); holding the rods 
one at a time, parallel wttli the brim, dip quickly, 
and hand to your assistant to place upon two poles 
between wlilcb t he candles hang, always having 
one rod dtppingwhile the other Is being placed, and 
another handed, you. if ft cool day. you may keep 
going over them until nmria large enough for a 
candle-stick; when the stalactites or drips may be 
cut off to the wicks and the dipping finished. 
Remove from the rods and place in a box with 
close fitting lid. Thirty-five pounds will make 
twenty-two dozen, and last us a year. 
For soap-making I boll down eighty gallons of 
lye to ten. dip it out, and put In three gallons of 
grease, let il heat through, and feed In the lye, 
a cup full at a time, stirring constantly. The 
grease will be eaten by. the time tbe lyc Is all tn; 
cock down till It falls from the paddle In a roping 
stream; If a little dropped Into clear water proves 
the grease not to be all eaten, more lye Is added; 
when thick, a half gallou of salt, 3S stirred Into It, 
and If not hard enough for cooled drops ol it to be 
easily slipped from a tin surface, more Is added— 
It Is dipped out Into a tub to cool, and the trough 
started and ruimlng again. When cold. It Is cut 
In squares, placed upon shelves, and the soft dip¬ 
ped out Into the soap trough. If a great quan¬ 
tity of lye be boiled down strong enough to 
strip a leather when dipped slowly Into It, several 
kettles full may be made In a day. 
For utilizing scraps of toilet soap most satisfac¬ 
torily, drop them Into a corner of the wash-stand 
drawer Mil enough accumulates to work with. 
You will have them of all colors, pink, yellow, 
brown and white. If you arts Impatient, and can¬ 
not watt for the slow accumulation, add your 
scraps of home-made soap; shave them up in a 
bowl, and pour over a little water or vinegar or 
grape-juice or camphor, sweetened with honey or 
glycerine, or soda or borax. Let stand till the out¬ 
sides are sofb-make Into balls convenient for 
handling, andyouhave a soap containing the vin¬ 
egar, camphor, honey, glycerine and soda, fine for 
softening the skin; and that containing the grape- 
Jutce and borax, flue for the hair and eyes. The 
juice Is obtained from the grape-vine by clipping 
off the end of a down-hanging branch, tying a 
bottle to It, with the stem Inserted In it. It will 
run a half-pint, In spring, directly. The soap will 
be beautifully mottled or marbled through, and 
will not crumble or break till used u 
Mks. M. L. S. 
-■*••*-*-- 
HOW MANY DO IT 1 
Dear Sisters of the Club :— I have pondered 
long the feasibility of joining your club. Have 
thought much of doing so ever since reading “ The 
Successful Housewife," In Issue of May Si. That 
piece did me much good. Love caused me to leave 
the city and take up my abode In the country. 
For this life and its duties I was totally unpre¬ 
pared by education and health. In both I have 
gained much since wifehood and motherhood have 
come to ine* though half a decade has not yet 
passed since I left "the busy haunts ol men” and 
came to the unbroken prattle to help make a 
home. As the weeks go by I realize more and 
more my responsibility as mistress of a large farm, 
and may some time give a wee bit of my experi¬ 
ence with help, ln-doors and out. Blit now I 
would ask, how many of you give plenty of oat 
meal porridge to your little ones, and partake ot 
It yourselves? From my experience, I fear tills 
wholesome article is much neglected, especially In 
the country. Farmers' wives should be able to 
prepare more tempting dishes than dwellers In 
the city, for have they not most of the Ingredients 
fresh and at hand ? But I will return to the oat 
meal, and give my favorite method of preparing a 
dish of It for supper. Place In a small stew-pan or 
spider one quart of cold water. Into this stir one 
pint, of the cat meal, continue to stir briskly till It 
bolls, then place on tbe back of the stove and 
allow It to cook slowly for is or 20 minutes, stir¬ 
ring occasionally. If It becomes too thick, add 
some boiling water. The amount can, of course, 
be varied to suit the size of the family. We usu¬ 
ally use cream and sugar with our porridge, but 
butter is good, and the better way for many dys¬ 
peptics, whose sensitive stomachs refuse cream. 
I do not think this dish can be surpassed as a reg¬ 
ulator of the bowels In children and adults If 
mothers gave their children more of such diet, 
with the addlMon of ripe traits, we would soon be¬ 
come a healthier and happier race And now 1 
would ask our dear patroness If very plain letters 
on motherhood would be acceptable, or does she 
believe In the more conservative plan ot allowlug 
physicians and their books to give all necessary 
Fig. 11. 
advice ? I doubt not that many of our elder sisters 
could give us much needed instruction on this and 
kindred subjects If they were permitted to do so. 
Farewell, for my youngest darling will soon arise 
and call, "Oh! ma,” or, “ Vida.” 
OUR GIRLS. 
As this Is tbe Club that, is free from any admit¬ 
tance fee, I present myself. I suppose you to be 
farmers’ wives. 
We generally ha.ve a subject. This shall be 
about the girls. What shall we do wl them ? 
Why need we be alarmed about them ? They 
will take care of themselves! No iraeed, they 
will not unless mothers teach them how; 
and the necessity of an effort on their part. 
We cannot begin too soon to teach them to be use¬ 
ful. The flrst tiling Is tn obey, for as the twig Is 
bent so Is It Inclined. Teach them to take care of 
play things, then their clothes. Give them needles 
and thread to make dollle's clothes, then as they 
grow In tody and strength, teach them to wash 
dtslms. cook, wash and iron! It is an honor to 
know how to keep a house 1 order, and every 
daught er should be taught, so it, she may know 
when her servants have all th i s In order. If so 
taught there would be more happy homes, and we 
would not hear so much about hard times. . 
Fig 8. 
Girls need not be slaves to house-work and it 
will not. keep them from learning music, painting 
and kindred accomplishments. And when In turn 
they have homes of their own, they will rise up 
and call you blessed for teaching them. It Is the 
mothers of our laud that have to do the work of 
teaching. A good Connecticut, mother was asked 
why she taught her six daughters all klDds of 
housework. They were wealthy. Her answer 
was: “If they became poor they would know how 
If rich, would know when well done.” Three were 
poor. Riches may take wings and fly; what we 
learn will not. e. m. r. 
fitmirn Uliscrlliiiur. 
TRIP LIGHTLY. 
Trip lightly over trouble, 
Trip Unfitly over wrong; 
We only make grief double 
By dwelling on it long, 
Why clasp Woe's hand so tightly 1 
Why sigh o’er blossoms dead t 
Why ding to forma unsightly ? 
Why not seek Joy instead ? 
Trip lightly over sorrow, 
Though alj tliadayp be dark, 
The nun may shiue to-m irr.nv 
And gnyly sing the lark. 
Fair Hope has not departed, 
Though roBes may have fled; 
Then never be down-hearted. 
But look for Joy instead. 
Trip lightly over sadness. 
Stand not to mil at doom; 
We’ve pearls to string of gladness 
On this side of the tomb. 
Whilst stars are Might' y shining, 
And heaveu is overhead, 
Encourage not repining, 
But look for joy instead. 
-- 
IN POLLY’S NET. 
CHAPTER II. 
MV HIGHLAND LAIdUR. 
The new-comer, who was, as Miss McLeod had 
surmised, no other than Archibald Earl of Ivor, 
was a fall, stalwart, and well-built man of thirty 
or thereabouts, carrying himself well, and with a 
certain stately grace which rarely failed to win 
notice and admiration. His eyes were half proud, 
half sleepy, and of a deep gray ; his hair, close 
shorn to bts head, was fair and curly, and his 
mouth, which had a mingled expression of pride 
ami sweetness, was shaded by a heavy, silken 
moustache. 
Fig. 10. 
Young ladles were apt to turn admiringly 
when Lord Ivor passed, and exclaim at his good 
looks, and as he came up to Miss McLeod, looking 
ve: y handsome In Ills evening dress, few finer 
specimens of manly beauty could be found. 
•* You are very late, Archibald,” said Miss 
McLeod, and Mr. Blair heard the change In her 
voice, the softness aud sweetness which Had come 
into It, corresponding with the sweet love-light In 
ner brown eyes. “ 1 thought you were not coming 
at, all.” 
"And 1 did not think I should be able to manage 
It,” tie a nswered, In pleasant, musical tones. “ But 
at least I was determined to be here In time to put 
you Into the carriage, if possible." 
As he spoke he glanced rather Inquiringly at Mr. 
