502 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
July 21 
From Day to Day. 
I’m worried an’ rattled an’ flustered, my 
brain’s in a sort of a whirl, 
Jest like every wheel was a buzzin’, ac¬ 
count o’ that notionate girl. 
An’ Mother she says that she reckons when 
God in His infinite grace 
Was lillin’ His order fur babies he left the 
wrong kid at our place. 
We’re common an’ plain an’ old-fashioned, 
and mightily sot in our ways, 
While she is high-toned in her notions, an’ 
chasin’ up every craze; 
She seems to regret she’s related by blood 
to her mother an’ me 
Sence Maria got home from the city an’ 
says we mus' call her Mah-ree! 
Afore 1 was struck with the notion (that 
now seems the dream of a fool) 
Of sendin’ her off to be finished in a big 
eddieational school, 
There wasn’t a girl on the ranges could 
down her in all-around work- 
in washin’ an’ sweepin’ an’ milkin’ her 
ma never knowed her to shirk. 
She’d help her ol’ dad with the feedin’, an’ 
my bosom with joy used to swell 
To hear her sweet voice all a ringin’ with 
song in the barn an’ corral, 
But now jest the smell o’ the cattle ’ll 
make her as sick as kin be, 
Sence Maria got home from the city an’ 
says we mus’ call her Mah-ree! 
She uses big words in her talkin’ invented 
sence I went to school, 
Hitched up like a joint snake together an’ 
spoken accordin’ to rule. 
An’ slings in some French as a dressin’ to 
flavor the flow of her talk, 
Till nobody ever would think her a chip 
from this family block. 
She talks of a glorious future, of triumphs 
she's goin’ to git 
With talent she calls histeronic, an’ says 
she's a goin’ to flit 
In glory acrost the hoe-risin’ o’ fame, an’ 
it’s worryin’ me 
Sence Marla got home from the city an’ 
says we mus’ call her Mah-ree! 
She sassily calls me her paw-paw, when 
she knows I’m her nateral dad, 
A name she regardeu as sacred afore she 
got hit with the fad, 
But now she allows it is vulgar, an’ says 
it’s an obsylete word. 
An’ “mam” is a horrible ut’rance, inex¬ 
cusably rude an’ absurd, 
You’d think from her flighty-like notions 
an’ hearin’ her mealy-mouth talk 
That she was a thorrer-bred heifer corraled 
with the scrubbiest stock, 
An’ that is the orful reflection that worries 
her mother an’ me, 
Sence Maria got home from the city an’ 
says we mus’ call her Mah-ree! 
—Denver Post. 
“One can endure sorrow alone, but it 
takes two to be glad. Only by giving 
out our joy do we make it our own—by 
Sharing, we double it,” says Fra El- 
bertus. Unfortunately, we don’t all 
realize that; hence our habit of sharing 
our miseries and hoarding our joys. 
* 
A very spicy portiere of the Japanese 
type is made by stringing long glass 
beads interspersed at intervals with 
cloves. It is surprising, also, how many 
hard seeds may be used in this way. The 
little round shells, so common along the 
entire Atlantic coast, are also utilized 
for portieres. 
* 
A novel style of necktie seen this 
Summer with shirt waists is a black silk 
cord about as thick as one’s little finger, 
covered wu.fi fine jet beads, and finished 
at the ends with jet tassels. It is usual¬ 
ly worn with a colored stock, being 
passed once around the neck and tied 
in one knot. 
• 
CoiN-srox linen is one of the Summer 
dress fabrics. It is seen in a variety of 
colors, such as maize, raspberry, cadet 
blue, amethyst and pale green, and is 
woven in coin spots, like damask table 
linen. The effect is very pretty, the 
spot looking darker than the satiny sur¬ 
face of the material. The fabric is quite 
expensive for wash goods. 
It is said that the manufacturers of 
some forms of petroleum jelly are re¬ 
commending their wares to bakers as a 
substitute for butter and other fats in 
cooking. Is it possible that the cook 
books of the future will advise the 
housewife to beat together vaseline and 
sugar as the preliminary basis of a 
cake? On second thoughts, however, we 
think that even vaseline would be more 
inviting as a culinary ingredient than 
the ill-savored mystery offered by some 
grocers as “cooking butter.” 
* 
The pretty wash silks which are so 
much worn as Summer waists are often 
spoiled in laundering, and this is a pity, 
for they really do wash nicely. Soap 
should never be rubbed on them, but 
lukewarm suds should be made with 
good white soap, and the fabric dipped 
up and down in this, spots being gently 
rubbed until they disappear. Rinse in 
cold waiter, and allow the silk to dry. 
Then press on the wrong side with a 
moderately warm iron. Never scald the 
silk, and always rinse in cold water. 
* 
Among the newer English novelists 
who have acquired an army of appre¬ 
ciative readers in this country is Ellen 
Thorneycroft Fowler, whose wholesome 
wit made Concerning Isabel Carnaby one 
of the most delightful books of the past 
year. In her latest novel, The Farring- 
dons, appears this bit of philosophy 
about the ways of husbands: 
“They’ve no sense, men haven’t,” said 
Mrs. Hankey, “that's what’s the matter 
with them.” 
“You never spoke a truer word, Mrs. 
Hankey,” replied Mrs. Bateson. “The very 
best of them don’t properly know the dif¬ 
ference between their souls and their 
stomachs, and they fancy they are a-wrest- 
ling with their doubts when really it is 
their dinners that are a-wrestling with 
them. 
“Now take Bateson hisself,” continued 
Mrs. Bateson. “A kinder husband or better 
Methodist never drew breath, yet so sure 
as he touches a bit of pork, he begins to 
worry hisself about the doctrine of election 
till there’s no living with him. And then 
he’ll sit in the front parlor and engage in 
prayer for hours at a time till I says to 
him: 
“ ‘Bateson,’ says I, ‘I’d be ashamed to 
go troubling the Lord with a prayer, when 
a pinch o’ carbonate o’ soda would set 
things straight again.’ ’’ 
• 
The lucky horseshoe is now an epi¬ 
demic in brooches, being used to an ex¬ 
traordinary extent. Every second woman 
one meets appears to fasten her necktie 
or hold her belt and skirt together in the 
back, or confine the loose locks at the 
back of her head, with one of these 
brooches. The favorite shape is slen¬ 
der and open, but ranging in length from 
one to three inches, the larger sizes 
being convenient at the back of the belt. 
They are very pretty in plain gold or 
silver, but ugly enough when decorated 
with a row of mock jewels. It is a long 
time since the horseshoe held place as a 
modish model for jewelry, but it is now 
at the h^ad of the procession. It is often 
amusing to note the unanimous manner 
in which women in the great cities sud¬ 
denly adopt a style. 'Something at once 
novel, pretty and adaptable appears, in 
hats, or trimmings, or trinkets. At first 
it appears occasionally, on the up-town 
streets; then it invades the shopping 
streets, and by the time conservative 
women have just learned that there is 
such a style, every second woman in the 
business district displays it. Sometimes 
the result is disastrous, as, for example, 
a few years ago, When some enemy to 
the human race persuaded misguided 
women that it was the right thing to 
wear a purple net veil. Those appalling 
veils enjoyed a sudden popularity which 
no one can explain, either on ethical or 
aesthetic grounds, and their appearance 
was saddening enough to cast a gloom 
over the entire population. 
* 
According to the Rockland (Me.) 
Opinion a quilting party in that section 
was hopelessly broken up, one day last 
Winter, by a catch of eels. The women 
were busy quilting when the husband 
and son of the hostess, who had been 
out eel-fishing, returned from their ex¬ 
pedition. 
The two men repaired to the kitchen and 
dumped their heavy catch into the sink. 
Then, leaving the eels to thaw out in hot 
water, they .epaired to the barn to attend 
to the cattle. Soon the eels, which had 
appeared to be frozen stiff and lifeless, 
began to feel the effect of the warmth and 
to writhe and twist in the full vigor of life. 
They flopped out upon the iioor and, so to 
speak, pervaded the room. The sitting- 
room about this time had become very 
warm, and some one opened the door lead¬ 
ing into the kitchen. Suddenly a lady saw 
one of the eels, screamed, rose from her 
chair, and shrieked: “There’s a snake!” 
In an instant the wildest excitement pre¬ 
vailed. 
A glance in the kitchen, and there was a 
cry: “Oh, the kitchen is full of snakes!” 
The quilters rushed out into the hall and 
up the stairs to the dressing-room. At 
this juncture the men came in from the 
barn, and there was some lively work be¬ 
fore the eels were slaughtered. The shock 
and the fright which the ladies had re¬ 
ceived effectually broke up the quilting- 
party. _ 
Miss Prissy’s Remarks on 
Careering. 
“So Mirandy Pitkin has decided to liev 
a career,” remarked Miss Prissy, 
thoughtfully, as she settled berself to 
sew on Mrs. Knapp’s best black silk, 
which was being turned by her skilful 
fingers for the second time. “Well, all 
I hev to say is, it’s a great pity for the 
Pitkinses. 
“You needn’t look so astonished, Mis’ 
Knapp; I don’t mean there’s any harm 
in a career, jest ez a career, fer Mirandy 
or any other girl. But then I’ve known 
the Pitkinses ever since they wuz mar¬ 
ried, ’nd I feel kinder sorry fer Silas and 
Mary Ellen at this juneter— I do so! 
“You see, Mary Ellen hez the three 
boys besides, but she alius wanted a girl 
the most. Mary Ellen ain’t very rugged 
in her health, ’nd never wuz. She said 
she knew boys would never be any help 
around the house, but a daughter wuz 
the greatest blessin’ in thet way; ’nd 
ever sence Mirandy wuz born, I’ve per¬ 
ceived that Mary Ellen hez kinder 
looked forward, after doin’ fer her chil¬ 
dren all her life, to hevin’ one of them 
thet would do somethin’ fer her in her 
old age in return. 
“Mirandy is a real quick, handy girl, 
too. She kin make her mother a dress 
or trim a hat fer herself in no time; ’nd 
she makes ez good pie ez Mary Ellen 
ever did, ’nd thet’s sayin’ a good deal. 
Mirandy’s clever, ’nd p’r’aps it ain’t 
strange, in these days, when wimmen 
seem to be doin’ everything ’cept stay 
at home, thet she should start out with 
the rest. 
“I’ve never perceived ennything about 
Mirandy to make me understand jest 
what career she wants, fer she don’t 
sing, nor paint, nor write, nor draw 
picters; but careers fer wimmen, nowa¬ 
days, the papers say, is ez plenty ez 
huckleberries; so probably she’s got 
some fixed point to career to, and hez it 
all planned. 
“But while she’s careerin’, what’s goin’ 
to become of Mary Ellen’s old age—ef 
Mary Ellen ever gets to it, which I 
doubt will happen, ef she’s got to do the 
work fer Silas ’nd the three boys from 
now on. 
“I ain’t goin’ to argue thet wimmen 
oughtn’t to hev careers, fer I don’t know 
nothin’ about such things. I’d like 
every woman to hev all she kin get 
thet’s good for her 'nd good fer others, 
’nd there’s high authorities that sez thet 
wimmen should hev every chance to 
work the same ez men. What I want to 
know is, Who’s going to fill the places of 
the wimmen that career?—thet’s all. 
“I dono’ Dut Mary Ellen’ll hev to train 
the youngest boy to do housework. 
Sam’s a reel gentle little feller, ’nd he’s 
young enough to learn. They say men 
makes the best cooks, ’nd the best 
house-cleaners, ’nd the best house-fur¬ 
nishers, too, in the cities, so Sam’s 
bein’ a ooy isn’t reely ag’in him at all. 
Seems kinder queer, at first, to talk of 
a man’s doin’ thet kind of thing, but 
then the wiimmen thet’s advancin’ the 
fastest say thet the world’s all got to be 
readjusted; and Mary Ellen might ez 
well begin the readjustin’ ez ennybody 
else. 
“P’r’aps thet’ll be the way it’ll turn 
out—all tne folks, men ’nd wimmen, 
thet hez careers, will go careerin' out 
into the world equally, ’nd all them thet 
hezn’t, men ’nd wimmen alike, will stay 
at home ’nd do the work. My life’s 
most over, ’nd I ain’t likely to live to 
see it, ner you either, Mis’ Knapp,” con¬ 
cluded Miss Prissy, philosophically; 
“but, my! I’d like to see how it’d work; 
for sech social movements, when you 
ain’t in ’em like poor Mary Ellen, is 
profoundly interestin’.” — The Well- 
spring. 
Wearing a Shirt Waist. 
To look trim in her shirt waist seems 
to be an impossibility to the average 
Summer girl. Apparently she goes on 
the principle that because the waist is 
loose it requires no attention beyond 
putting on and buttoning. Nothing 
could be further from the fact. Careful 
adjustment is necessary to give the good 
fitting, well put together appearance, 
says the New York Herald. Large safety 
pins or wn.te-headed pins three inches 
long should be regarded as comple- 
mental of every shirt waist. Use three, 
or perhaps four, of these, preferably the 
white-headed ones. Having put on and 
buttoned a shirt waist, first pin the back 
down to the corset below the waist line. 
Pull the shirt well down before adjust¬ 
ing the pin. This improves the fit and 
reveals the curve of the back, one of the 
prettiest of feminine lines. Next see 
that the fronts of the waist from the 
under arm seam to the gathers are 
smooth on the figure, then pin each side 
securely down to the corset on a line 
with the back. This done, the dress 
skirt may be put on, and that fastened 
in the back to the shirt with the fourth 
pin. About the waJist then goes the belt, 
and the arrangement is complete. 
Shirts are sometimes made with a 
gathering string which pulls from the 
back of the waist, tying in front, and 
these are worn by a number of de¬ 
luded women, who fancy that because 
they tie a string about the waist they 
are getting a trig effect. On the con¬ 
trary, of all shirts this style is most 
“isloppy.” The gathers spread unbecom¬ 
ingly, pull up out of place, and after an 
hour of wearing the whole waist has the 
appearance of trying to wrest itself 
from its owner. Some women have eyes 
sewed on the backs of their shirts, with 
corresponding hooks on the dress skirt. 
This, as far as it goes, is recommended 
for trigness, but is disastrous to the 
shirt, for the weight of the skirt is often 
too great a strain; moreover, the eyes 
frequently tear the fabric in the wash, 
and never fail to rust, leaving two bad 
stains. Shirt waists that wrinkle in front 
and back, pulling up from the belt and 
generally askew, are more commonly 
seen than is necessary. There is no rea¬ 
son why they should not fit as well as 
the body of a tailor gown. But it does 
not all lie with the shirtmaker. The 
woman must do her part. He will fit the 
thing well, but is defrauded of bones to 
guarantee its perfect shape. So the 
woman, if she be trig, shapes it herself. 
And this she does by pulling it in close 
all around to her figure and firmly fas¬ 
tening ut to her corsets with three long 
white-headed pins. 
