69o 
September l 1 ?, 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
From Day to Day 
A WISH. 
No matter what your troubles are, 
'Tis well to bear In mind 
However dark the clouds may be, 
They are with silver lined.. 
And though that comforting remark 
I don't presume to doubt, 
Yet how I wish the clouds would wear 
Their clothing inside out! 
—McLandburgh Wilson in Lippincott’s. 
* 
Slices of apple spread with cream 
cheese form a luncheon relish offered by 
some New York hotels. 
* 
Chop Suey is ordinarily regarded as one 
of the mysteries of the Chinese restaurants, 
but the name is also used to designate 
a novelty served at the soda fountain. 
It consists of chopped nuts and raisins in 
a foam of ice cream soda, and is consid¬ 
ered most delectable by the devotees of 
such refreshments. 
* 
Dainty little trifles that will sell well 
at a bazar are dress shield covers, which 
are useful for wearing with a thin waist. 
Four pieces of lawn or dimitv are needed 
for each cover. Cut a seam larger all 
around than the shield. They are seamed 
together to form two pockets, joined to¬ 
gether in the middle on one side; after 
the shield is slipped in the remaining 
seam, which is edged with lace beading, is 
laced together with baby ribbon. 1 he 
edge all around is finished with narrow 
lace, eased on. 
♦ 
When trying out lard, a homemade 
press will be a convenience in squeezing 
the last drops of fat from the scraps. 
Two pieces of firm boards about six 
inches wide and two feet long are planed 
smooth and trimmed down at one end so 
that they may be grasped firmly. At the 
wider end they are hinged together with 
a piece of leather, so that they can be 
folded flat together with the leather hinge 
on the outside. Strain the lard through 
a strong piece of cloth, and when pressure 
is needed, gather up the cloth like a bag, 
while the helper grasps the press by the 
handles, and squeezes the bag. 
* 
According to the New York Board of 
Health, 27 per cent of the babies who died 
in this city during July were fed on con¬ 
densed milk, although only about seven 
per cent of all the babies in Manhattan 
are fed on condensed milk. In other 
words there were four times as many 
deaths among babies fed upon condensed 
milk as among those fed upon sterilized 
fresh milk or nursed by the mother. This 
is not surprising when we think of the 
watery fluid we see in the feeding bottles 
of some luckless infants. This Summer 
infant mortality has been very high in 
this city, and it is officially stated that this 
is chiefly due to improper food or careless¬ 
ness in its preparation. It is also stated 
that the enormous number of ignorant 
foreign immigrants entering Manhattan 
this year has caused a great increase in 
infantile mortality, as they have no idea 
of sanitation or hygiene. 
* 
We have just been making our chili 
sauce, according to a recipe used for a 
number of years. Though a familiar rel¬ 
ish, there may be some housekeepers who 
have not yet tried it. The same propor¬ 
tions may be observed in making as large 
a quantity as desired: Peel and chop fine 
one onion, and six large tomatoes, add one 
green sweet Spanish pepper and one small 
hot chili pepper, chopped; then season 
with one cupful of vinegar, one tablespoon¬ 
ful salt, two teaspoonfuls brown sugar, 
one teaspoonful each of ground ginger, 
cinnamon, cloves and black pepper, and 
half a nutmeg. Boil slowly until very 
thoroughly cooked, then bottle and seal 
when cold. .As originally received the 
recipe called for twice the quantity of 
brown sugar, but this was too much for 
our taste. The hot pepper used is a long 
slender one about the size of one’s fore¬ 
finger; it is very fiery, and we do not like 
to overdo it, or the sauce is too ardent for 
one whose palate is not hardened by a 
course of Tabasco sauce. 
* 
We have met some citizens from various 
sections who displayed great self posses.- 
sion when introduced to the wonders of 
city life, though few more equal to an 
emergency that the Dakota man thus de¬ 
scribed by the Youth’s Companion: 
“You take a man from Dakoty and you 
can’t surprise him with any play o’ the 
elements—wind or storm or what not,” 
said Mr. Boggs, reminiscently, “and there’s 
other things a man raised out in Dakoty 
takes mighty calm, too.” 
“Such as whatr” demanded the post¬ 
master, with whom Mr. Boggs was whil¬ 
ing away a hot afternoon. 
“Well,” said Mr. Boggs, slowly, “I could 
tell ye plenty of incidents, but I’ll jest se¬ 
lect one that occurred in the streets of 
New York City when my cousin Joshua 
from Dakoty was on, and we were seeing 
the sights together. 
“We were walking along a street one 
day on our way to the Battery, and stop¬ 
ped to look into a window. A woman that 
was investigating the contents of a tin 
pail she was trying to freeze some ice 
cream in lost her holt on it, and it fell off 
the window ledge three stories up, and 
lit plumb on Cousin Joshua’s back as he 
was stooped, looking in at the shop. 1 
heard it coming, but too late to warn 
him. , 
“Well, the pail, ice cream and all, slid 
off his back, and skeetered out across the 
sidewalk into the gutter. Joshua straight¬ 
ened up and looked at me. He didn’t see 
it go, Ixit he heard it. He never turned 
round at all, but just -began to rub his 
back with both hands. 
“ ‘We have ’em as large —about as large 
and hefty as that—our hailstones—in Da¬ 
koty,’ he said to me as he was rubbing, 
‘but I don’t recollect their ever coming 
single that way; not more than once or 
twice, at any rate.” 
Fulfilling Her Destiny. 
“Yes, it does seem as if some folks 
missed being just what they was meant 
to be. Sometimes it’s their own fault, and 
sometimes it don’t seem as if they could 
help it. Once in a while one of ’em gets 
the better of circumstances, as you might 
say. and manages to make a good deal out 
of life. 
“Rachel Osgood—you was just asking 
about how she happened to get such a 
family together in the old Bigelow house 
—was one of that kind. She was a born 
home maker, and the most motherly soul 
you ever see. You’d naturally thought 
she’d marry young and bring up a big 
family. It seemed to be just what she was 
fitted for and tne kind of life that would 
make her real happy. 
“Well, instead of that she was an old 
maid, and by the time she was 35 she was 
pretty much alone in the world, and lived 
all by herself in the house that had been 
left to her. 
“Chances? Land’s sake, yes, she had 
enough of ’em, but such chances! You’ve 
seen these women that are real nice and 
good as can be, only somehow they don’t 
seem to attract the kind of men that’s 
suited to ’em. But all the shiftless, no 
’count, half-baked fellers in town seem to 
take to ’em. If Rachel had been like some 
women, she’d ’a’ taken ud with one of 
these crooked sticks just so’s not to be an 
old maid, but she had lots of common 
sense and she knew better than to tie her¬ 
self for life to some one that wa’n’t a bit 
suitable. 
“I thought a good deal of Rachel, and I 
was glad she’d known enough to keep sin¬ 
gle, but I see that living alone the way she 
did wa’n’t going to be the best thing in 
the world for her. 
“I’d been thinking about this one day 
when she come in to see me. It was in 
August, and I was cutting up a dish of 
apples to bake in molasses. They was what 
we called the Jacob apple, and they was 
awful nice to eat—tender and juicy and 
just a little sweet. 
“My kitchen was real pleasant, and 
Rachel sat in a comfortable rocking chair 
watching me work and eating a Jacob 
apple. Finally I come to one that hadn’t 
grown the way it ought to. It was a mis¬ 
erable little nubbin, and the minute I see 
it the idea come to me that it would do 
for the text to a sermon. So I took it up 
on the point of my knife so she could 
see it. 
“ ‘What do you s’pose that makes me 
think of?’ I says. ‘It makes me think of 
an old lady I knew once, that never mar¬ 
ried, and lived all alone.’ 
“Rachel kept right on eating her apple, 
but she looked at me kinder questioning. 
“ ‘It had a pretty little pink and white 
blossom,’ I says, ‘and it ought to have 
been a big, sound, fair apple like these in 
tne pan, but for some reason it didn’t turn 
out the way it promised to. It got hard 
and crabbed and knotty, and if you shoqld 
bite into it you’d find it bitter and sour 
and puckery. Now that’s the way ’twas 
with this woman I knew. She was meant 
to be kind, generous, big-hearted and 
motherly—the kind of woman that every¬ 
body loves and that leaves a big gap in 
the community when she dies. 1 hat was 
what she was meant to be, but unfor¬ 
tunately the right kind of a husband didn’t 
come along, and she got to be like this lit¬ 
tle nubbin. She didn’t realize it, but she 
lived alone and got fussy and cranky and 
narrow. By the time she was 40 she got 
to be just like one of these New England 
old maids we read stories about. She was 
dretful neat and particular, and spent her 
life chasing specks of dust and taking care 
of a miserable, good-fof-nothing old cat. 
She was kinder hard and sour and bitter, 
and she didn’t care for anything nor any¬ 
body but her house and cat, and nobody 
noticed the difference when she died. It 
seemed an awful pity to me/ 1 says. 
“Rachel finished her apple and dropped 
the core into the peelings. ‘It is too bad,’ 
she <^ys, real calm. ‘I’m glad you told me 
about it. Aunt Asenath.’ She reached 
out and took the little nubbin. ‘I guess 
I’ll keep this,’ she says. ‘It’ll be a good 
example not to follow.’ 
“I didn’t see Rachel again for a week. 
The minute she come into the room I see 
she looked like a different person. The 
little worried wrinkles that had begun to 
come in her face was all gone, and her 
eyes was bright and her face was all smil¬ 
ing and happy. 
“She come up to me and give me a hug, 
which was something unusual for her to 
do. Then she give a little laugh and sat 
down in a chair and fanned herself with 
her big straw hat. Then she began to 
talk about the weather and the neighbors 
and politics and farming, and everything 
under the sun but what I wanted to know. 
What had come over her I couldn’t guess. 
I thought maybe the right man had come 
along at last. She certainly couldn’t have 
looked happier if it had been her wedding 
day. But I see she wa’n’t to tell me till I 
asked. 
“Now if there’s anything I don’t like to 
do, it’s to show curiosity. I like to make 
other folks curious and get ’em to ask 
questions, but when the shoe is on the 
other foot—well, it ain’t just comfortable. 
And the worst of it was, I see Rachel was 
enjoying herself just as much as I do 
under the same circumstances. I didn’t 
give in till she put her hat on and said 
good-bye, and then I couldn’t hold out no 
longer, and I says, ‘What are you doing to 
yourself, Rachel Osgood?’ and then she 
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Want to try It? We will gladly mall you a 
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