1901 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
379 
A Balsam Pillow. 
Part II. 
So April passed and May and June. 
The crops were planted, the vegetables 
in. Brie strained every nerve. She pet¬ 
ted her hens, and coaxed every possible 
egg out of them, she studied the tastes 
of the two cows, she maintained a brave 
show of cheer for her ailing mother, but 
all the time she was sick at heart. Ev¬ 
erything seemed closing in. How long 
would she keep it up? 
The balsam firs of the hill gi’ove could 
have told tales in those days. They 
were Brie’s sole confidants. The conso¬ 
lation they gave, the counsel they com¬ 
municated, were mute, indeed, but none 
the less real to the anxious girl who sat 
beneath them, or laid her cheek on their 
I'ough stems. June passed and with 
early July came the answer to Brie’s 
many prayers. It came as answers to 
prayers often do, in a shape of which 
she had never dreamed. 
Miss Mary Morgan, teacher in gram¬ 
mar school No. 3, Ward Nineteen, of the 
good city of Boston, came, tired out 
from her Winter’s work, to spend a few 
days with Farmer Allen’s wife, her sec¬ 
ond cousin, stopped one day at the Dor¬ 
set’s door, while driving, to ask for a 
drink of water, took a fancy to the old 
house and to Brie, and next day came 
over to propose herself as a boarder for 
three months. 
“I can only afford to pay $7 a week,” 
she said, “but, on the other hand, I will 
try not to make much trouble, if you 
will take me.” 
“Seven dollars a week; only think!” 
cried Brie, gleefully, to her mother after 
the bargain was completed, and Miss 
Morgan gone. “Doesn’t it seem like a 
fortune? It’ll pay Reuben’s wages and 
leave ever so much over! And she 
doesn’t eat much meat, she says, and 
she likes baked potatoes and cream and 
sweet baked apples better than any¬ 
thing. And there’s the keeping room 
chamber, all cleaned and ready. Doesn’t 
it seem as if she was sent here to us. 
Mother?” 
“Your poor father never felt like 
keepin’ boarders,” said Mi’s. Dorset. “i 
used to kind of fancy the idea of it, but 
lie wasn’t willin’. I thought it would be 
company to have one in the house, if 
they was nice folks. It does seem as if 
this was the Lord’s will for us, her com¬ 
ing in so unexpected and all.” 
Two days later Miss Morgan, with a 
hammock and a folding canvas chair 
and a trunk full of light reading, arriv¬ 
ed, and took possession of her new quar¬ 
ters. For the first week or two she did 
little but rest, sleeping for hours at a 
time in the hammock, swung beneath 
the shadowing elms. Then, as the color 
came back to her thin face and the light 
to her eyes, she began to walk a little, 
to sit with Brie in the fir grove, or read 
aloud to her on the doorstep while she 
mended, shelled peas, or picked over 
berries, and all life seemed to grow eas¬ 
ier and pleasanter for the dwellers in 
the solitary farmhouse. The guest gave 
little trouble, she paid her weekly due 
punctually, and the steady income, small 
as it was, made all the difference in the 
world to Bi'ie. 
As the Summer went by and she g ew 
at home with her new friend, she found 
much relief in confiding to her the pei’- 
plexities of her position. 
“I see,” Miss Morgan said, “it is the 
Winter that is the puzzle. I will en¬ 
gage to come back next Summer, as I 
have this, and that will help along, but 
the time between now and then is the 
difficulty.” 
“Yes,” replied Brie, “the Winter is 
the puzzle, and Reuben’s money. We 
have plenty of potatoes and corn and 
vegetables to take us through, and 
there’s the pigs to kill and the chickens 
will lay some; if only there were any 
way in which I could make enough for 
Reuben’s wages, we could manage.” 
“I must think it over,” said Miss Mor¬ 
gan. 
She pulled a long branch of the bal¬ 
sam fir nearer as she spoke, and buried 
her nose in it. It was the first week of 
September, and she and Brie were sit¬ 
ting in the hill grove. 
“1 love this smell so,” she said. “It 
is delicious. It makes me dream.” 
Brie broke off a bough. 
“I shall hang it over your bed,” she 
said, “and you smell it all night.” 
So the fir bough hung upon the wall 
till it gradually yellowed, and the nee¬ 
dles began to di’op. 
“Why, they are as sweet as ever— 
sweeter,” declared Brie, smelling a 
handful which she had swept from the 
ficor. Then an idea came into her head. 
She gathered a great fagot of the 
branches and laid them to dry in the 
sun on the floor of a little-used piazza. 
When partly dried, she stripped off the 
needles, stuffed with them a square cot¬ 
ton bag, and made for that a cover of 
soft sage-green silk, with an odd shot 
pattern over it. It was a piece of what 
had been her great-grandmother’s wed¬ 
ding gown. Do you I'ealize the situa¬ 
tion, readers? Brie had made the first 
of all the many balsam pillows. It was 
meant for a good-by gift to Miss Mor¬ 
gan. 
“Your cushion is the joy of my life,” 
wrote that lady to her a month after 
she went home. “Everyone who sees it 
falls in love with it. Half a dozen peo¬ 
ple have asked me how they could get 
one like it. And, Brie, this has given 
me an idea. Why should you not make 
them for sale? I will send you some 
pretty silk for the covers, and you might 
cross-stitch a little motto if you liked. 
I copy some for you. Two people have 
given me an order already. They will 
pay $4 apiece if you like to try.” 
(Jirl’s Costuinc, 
0 to 12 years, 
3821 Fancy Shirt 
•Waist, 
32 to 42 in, bust. 
This suggestion was the small wedge 
of the new industry. Brie lost no time 
in making the two pillows, grandmoth¬ 
er’s gown fortunately holding out for 
their covers. Then came some pretty 
red silk from Miss Morgan, with yellow 
filoselle for the mottoes, and more or¬ 
ders. Brie worked busily that Winter, 
for her balsam pillows had to be made 
in spare moments when other work per¬ 
mitted. The grove on the hill was her 
unfailing treasury of supply. The thick¬ 
set twigs bent them to her will, the up¬ 
per branches seemed to her to rustle as 
with satisfaction at the aid they were 
giving. In the Spring the old trees re¬ 
newed their foliage with vigorous pur¬ 
pose, as if resolved to balk her in her 
purpose. 
The fir grove paid Reuben’s wages 
that Winter. Miss Morgan came back 
the following June, and by that time 
balsam pillows were established as ar¬ 
ticles of commerce, and Brie had a 
munificent offer from a recently estab¬ 
lished decorative art society for a supply 
of the needles, at $3 a pound. It was 
hard, dirty work to prepare such a quan¬ 
tity, but she did not mind. 
As I said, this was some years since. 
Brie no longer lived in the old home. 
Her mother died the third year after 
Miss Morgan came to them, the farm is 
sold and Brie is married. She lives now 
on a ranch in Colorado, but she has 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use “Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
never forgotten the fir grove, and the 
memory of it is a help often in the de¬ 
sponding moments that come at times 
to all lives. 
“I could not be worse off ihan I was 
then,” she says to herself. “There 
seemed no help or hope anywhere. I felt 
as if God didn’t care and didn’t hear my 
prayers; and yet, all the time, there was 
dear Miss Morgan coming to help us, 
and there were the trees, great beauti¬ 
ful things, nodding their heads and 
trying to show me what could be made 
out of them. No, I never will be faith¬ 
less again, nor let myself doubt, how¬ 
ever dark things may look, but remem¬ 
ber my balsam pillows and trust in 
God.”—Susan Coolidge in Colorado 
Weekly Times. 
Rural Recipes. 
Flannel Cakes.—One cupful of Indian 
meal, two cupfuls of flour, three of boil¬ 
ing milk, one-fourth of a yeast cake, one 
teaspoonful of salt, two tablespoonfuls 
of butter and one of sugar. Pour the 
boiling milk upon the meal and butter; 
let it cool; then add the flour, salt, 
sugar and the portion of yeast dissolved 
in four tablespoonfuls of cold water. Let 
it rise over night, and in the morning 
fry as you would griddle cakes. 
Election Cake.—Rub into half a pound 
of sifted flour five ounces of butter, add 
a saltspoonful of salt, one cupful of 
sugar; mix. Scald two cupfuls of milk, 
and when lukewarm add one yeast cake 
dissolved, and two eggs well beaten. 
Make a hole in the center of the flour, 
pour in the milk mixture, stir in a lit¬ 
tle of the flour; cover and stand aside 
for three hours. Then beat in all the 
flour, add the juice of three oranges, a 
tablespoonful of cinnamon and half a 
nutmeg grated; turn into a greased 
round pan and, when very light, bake 
in a moderate oven for one hour. 
Sweet Potato Pudding.—One quart 
grated raw sweet potato, one quart milk, 
three eggs, two cupfuls sugar, piece of 
butter the size of an egg, one-half tea¬ 
spoonful of salt, cinnamon and allspice 
to taste. Mix well, put in a buttered 
earthen pudding dish, and bake two 
hours in a moderate oven. 
Kentucky Corn Nuts.—To one quart 
of cornmeal add two teaspoonfuls of 
baking powder and one teaspoonful of 
salt; sift twice. Then add enough sweet 
milk to make a stiff batter that can be 
molded in the hands. Form into small 
nut-sized balls, drop into deep hot fat 
and fry like doughnuts. The balls must 
be quite small or they will not cook 
through. 
Pistachio Nut Cake.—Cream one cup¬ 
ful of sugar and one-half cupful of un¬ 
colored butter together until very light; 
add half a cupful of milk, sift cup 
of flour; use the pastry flour for all 
white cakes; reserve one tablespoonful 
of this to mix with the baking powder, 
and sift the rest into the mixing bowl 
and beat with a wooden spoon for live 
minutes. Now stir in lightly the whites 
of five eggs beaten very light and add 
last of all one teaspoonful of baking 
powder sifted through the tablespoonful 
of flour which was reserved for that 
purpose; flavor with half teaspoonful 
of pistachio extract. Line a square cake 
pan with well-greased paper, pour in the 
batter and cook 40 minutes in a moder¬ 
ate oven. The greatest care must be ex¬ 
ercised in the baking; do not take it out 
of the oven too soon or it will fall. When 
the cake is cool make a boiled icing with 
one cupful of sugar cooked until the 
stringing point, poured over the white 
of an egg beaten well meanwhile and 
flavored with pistachio extract. Chop 
very fine one ounce of pistachio nuts, 
spread them over the cake and spread 
the icing on top. 
Corns that ache quickly re¬ 
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