THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
459 
lltOl 
and the blue sky and smell the sweet 
air; or you can make yourself miserable 
by listening to the buggy squeaking, and 
seeing the old tin cans and rubbish 
(hat’s been dumped at the side of the 
Toad, and choking yourself over the 
dust the horse stirs up when he walks 
up the hills. 
‘‘Once, when I was a girl, there was 
a phrenologist come to town, and we all 
bad our heads e;xamn)ed. 1 got more 
interested than any of the rest of tne 
girls, and I bought a plaster head ami 
some books and went to studying. When 
I was in the city, 1 would go to the 
.Natural History Rooms and look at the 
skulls, and I wished I had one to study. 
Well, all that time, whenever I went out 
for a walk in the woods or pastures. I’d 
most always find some little animal’s 
.skull—a rabbit’s or a woodchuck’s, or, 
maybe, some bird’s. I got quite a col¬ 
lection of them. You see it was what 
I was interested in at that time, and so, 
having it in my mind, I saw skulls 
everywhere. Probably I’d been over 
that same ground dozens of times before 
I was interested in skulls and hadn’t 
seen one. 
“It’s the same way with you. For 
some reason you’ve got interested in the 
mean side of folks. You are on the 
lookout for bits of scandal and for all 
such unwholesome things. In order to 
find ’em, you’ve got to be thinking about 
such things, and have ’em always in 
your mind, or else you would not 
see ’em. You’ve been at it a year, 
and 1 declare my collection of skulls 
looks pretty small side of your collec¬ 
tion of m(!an stories about folks. If 
I'd been more interested and looked 
harder, I might have found more, but 
you’ve been real industrious, I must 
say. 
“'I'here, there! Mary, I didn’t mean 
to make you cry. 
“What’s that? You’ve a good mind 
never to open your mouth again? 
Fiddlesticks, child! T'hat’s no way to 
mend matters. Maybe, I’ve been a little 
hard on you, but I knew you didn’t real¬ 
ize, and I wanted to make you see, if I 
could. Now, wipe your eyes—that’s 
right—and put up your handkerchief, 
and we’ll see what kind of glasses we 
can fix up for you. 
“Let’s see; what did I get interested 
in after the skulls? I guess ’twas birds 
that come next. Yes; I'm pretty sure it 
was birds. I’d see ’em and hear ’em 
everywhere I went, and I most forgot 
there was such a thing as phrenology. 
Now, Mary, don’t you ‘s’pose you could 
get Interested in the nice things about 
folks? If you can’t find ’em, why, just 
try doing some nice, kind, neighborly 
things yourself. I tell you, it’s doing 
just the little bits of thoughtful things 
for folks that makes kind feelings and 
good neighbors. 
“You’ve got some dretful pretty 
flowers in your garden this Summer, 
and if I was you I’d make up little 
bouquets and give ’em to the neighbors 
when you go to see ’em. And then I'd 
talk about the flowers, and be kind and 
sympathetic if folks tell you their 
troubles, and I’d make it a rule never to 
say a word about anybody uuless ’twas 
something kind and pleasant. 
“You’ll fiml that people will appreci¬ 
ate your flowers, and they’ll feel more 
cheerful when you go away than when 
you come, instead of feeling bluer. And 
the world will be a different place for 
you, too. You’ll see kindness and loving 
feelings where you never thought of 
looking for ’em before, and you’ll most 
forget there is such things as scandal 
und hateful actions in the world. You 
just try it for a while and see if I ain’t 
right. I do believe I can see that you 
begin to look happier already. 
“(lot to go? Well, I didn’t know ’twas 
so late. Just wait a minute; I’ve got 
something for you. I know how inter- 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use “Mrs. Wins¬ 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
ested you are in old-fashioned things, 
and a week or so ago I come across this 
old foot-stove, and I’ve been keeping it 
for you. 
“Oh, that’s all right; I want you to 
have It, and I’m real glad if you like it. 
Come over again soon, and good-bye 
an.l good luck ro you.” 
SUSAN nuowN HonuiNs. 
Rural Recipes. 
Rhubarb Jelly.—Cut off the leaves and 
ends from the stalks, and wipe with a 
clean, damp cloth. Use an earthen dish 
,for cooking. Without removing the 
skins, cut the rhubarb into pieces 2V^ 
inches long, and put over them cup¬ 
ful of sugar, a piece of lemon peel, and 
a pint of water, this proportion to two 
pounds of rhubarb. Cover and set In the 
oven on a shelf. Moisten a half-ounce 
of white gelatine in a quarter of a cup¬ 
ful of cold water. When the rhubarb is 
tender put the gelatine in a large bowl, 
on which an earthen colander is placed. 
Pour the rhubarb on this, but remove it 
very soon to a dish, in order to retain 
sufficient juice with it. Stir the hot 
liquid underneath, and when the gela¬ 
tine is dissolved pour into teacups or 
molds dipped in cold water. Only about 
a quart of Ihiuid from the compote is 
needed for the jelly, the rhubarb, in 
sufficient juice, being available as a 
dish by itself. 
Graham Crackers.—One cupful of 
sifted graham Hour, two-thirds of a cup¬ 
ful of white flour, two teaspoonfuls of 
sugar, a dust of salt, two even table¬ 
spoonfuls of cold blitter rubbed through 
the flour and sugar. Mix with sufficient 
cold water to make a dough. Roll them, 
cut in small oblong and round shapes. 
Bake in a quick oven. They should be 
about as thick as gingersnaps. They 
are very nice. 
Chocolate Tapioca.—Soak three table¬ 
spoonfuls of tapioca in a cup of cold 
water for half an hour; add three pints 
of hot milk, one cupful of sugar, yolks 
of two eggs and three tablespoonfuls of 
grated chocolate. Cook in a double 
boiler until the tapioca is tender. Serve 
with a meringue made from the whites 
of two eggs and powdered sugar or 
whipped cream. 
Ormaloo.—Peel a dozen white onions, 
cover with cold water and steep for an 
hour. Then boil until soft; mash them 
and add to an equal quantity of mashed 
white potatoes; add two or three well- 
beaten eggs, about a cup of milk; do not 
have the mixture too soft, and salt, 
piipper and nutmeg to taste. Whip the 
mixture until quite light; turn into a 
baking dish and bake in a quick oven 
half an hour. When half done, pour a 
little melted butter or gravy over the 
Lop. 
Eggs with Asparagus.—Cut about two 
dozen stalks of asparagus, leaving out 
the hard parts. Into inch lengths, and 
boil tender. Drain, pour upon them a 
cupful of drawn butter, stir until hot, 
then turn into a baking dish. Break six 
eggs upon top and put a bit of butter 
upon each one, also salt and pepper, 
and place in a quick oven until the 
eggs are set. 
Fresh Strawberry Pie.—Bake an 
empty bottom crust, making it extra 
nice; prick holes all over the bottom 
and sides, to prevent its getting out of 
shape. As soon as baked sprinkle the 
inside with sugar and fill with ripe ber¬ 
ries; also well dredge with sugar. Cover 
with sweetened whipped cream and then 
cover all with a meringue of the frothed 
whites of two eggs mixed with two table¬ 
spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of lemon 
juice. Invert a plate in the oven and 
place the pie plate on top of it and 
brown. If the work is very carefully 
done the berries will not be even heated, 
and the result will be delicious. The 
pie should be thoroughly chilled before 
.serving. 
Gingerade.—Dissolve three pounds of 
loaf sugar in two gallons of. water, add 
beaten whites of three eggs and two 
ounces ground Jamaica ginger mois¬ 
tened with a little water; bring slowly 
to the boiling point, skim and settle. 
When cold add juice of a large lemoa 
and one-fourth yeast cake dissolved in 
two tablespoonfuls warm water. Mix, 
strain, bottle, tie the corks down, and 
in two days it is ready to use. 
Too Many Cooks. 
The Youth’s Companion tells of a 
bright Englishwoman traveling recent¬ 
ly in America, who showed herself so 
appreciative of all good things American 
that she was met everywhere with the 
utmost eagerness to afford such infor¬ 
mation and explanation as she desired. 
At home she was the owner of a beau¬ 
tiful estate where she entertained large¬ 
ly and it occurred to her that she might 
offer an agrccalde variety to her Eng- 
Jish guests and a welcome reminis¬ 
cence of home to American friends if 
she could carry back to her cook some 
recipes for dishes distinctively Ameri¬ 
can. She broached the idea while 
lunching with three of her new Yankee 
-acquaintances. They were most re¬ 
sponsive. 
“Beans!” cried the lady from Boston, 
instantly. “My dear, beans!” 
“But we have beans in England,” 
remarked the Englishwoman. “And I 
really shouldn’t imagine they afforded 
much opportunity for—” 
“Fine cookery? But they do, I assure 
you. Boston baked beans are quite dif¬ 
ferent from any other beans. Our 
beans—” 
“Chowder!” interrupted explosively 
the lady from Rhode Island, smitten 
with a sudden happy thought. “Beans 
are nothing to it. Clam chowder! 
There’s no dish so purely and delicious¬ 
ly American as a good clam chowder— 
none. It originated—” 
“Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t,” 
broke in the Maine lady, unexpectedly. 
“It’s a disputed question; but succotash 
is Hurc. Succotash is Indian beyond a 
doubt—real, native, aboriginal Indian. 
It’s the one Indian dish. The Indians—” 
“No more than hominy and chowder. 
Chowder is Indian, too. First you want 
your clams—good, fresh ones—” 
“I don’t admit that Indian dishes are 
as typically American as some others. 
We’re not Indians, and our ancestors 
weren’t. Now, with baked beans it’s 
different. The distinction is—” 
And just there the cooks began to 
stir the broth and mix it. “Perfectly 
fresh ones, you know, and milk and 
corn and onions and potatoes and pilot- 
icrackers. Some people don’t put in 
corn, but I think”—“taught the settlers. 
It’s corn and beans together, and really 
most appetizing when”—‘|baked for 
hours and hours as slowly as possible; 
and they come out the loveliest brown, 
and so tender and rich”—“fire of drift¬ 
wood and smother it under with sea¬ 
weed and roast the ears in the ashes to 
eat with it”—“every Sunday morning all 
over New England since nobody knows 
when”—“the most characteristic kind 
of a Yankee good time. Till you’ve been 
to a Rhode Island clambake you actual¬ 
ly can’t imagine”—“why, when it's so 
simple, most people don’t mix their 
beans and corn in the right proportion. 
I don’t know; but they don’t, although 
everything depends”—“sure you’d be de¬ 
lighted”—“say it was simply delicious” 
—“never tasted such a tempting mouth¬ 
ful in your life”—“just a sniff is enough 
to make you hungry as a hunter”— 
“there’s nothing else in the world one 
wants to eat so much of—it’s almost 
shocking!” 
The English lady recorded In her note 
book; 
“Succotash: A popular American dish 
invented by the Indians; a kind of fish 
stew, prepared with maize, beans, sea¬ 
weed and the variety of mussel called 
clam. It is simmered over night in the 
oven in a deep earthen pot, and is cus¬ 
tomarily served on Sundays throughout 
the States,” 
With the Procession. 
Phrkl-y Thou glvest, and Thy word 
Is “freely give.” 
He only who forgets to hoard 
Ha.s learned to live. 
—Keble. 
A woman’s lot is made for her by the 
love she accepts.—George Eliot. 
A woman’s hopes are woven as sun¬ 
beams; a shadow annihilates them.— 
George Eliot. 
Ik woman did turn man out of Para¬ 
dise, she has done her best ever since to 
make it up to him.—Sheldon. 
That is true philanthropy that buries 
not its golfl in ostentatious charity, but 
builds its hospital in the human heart. 
—'Hurley. 
Thk most commonplace person ha.s 
wild regions—wildernesses It may be— 
of thought and feeling,’ which even his 
most intimate friends hardly ever enter, 
—Arthur Helps. 
The only faith that wears well and 
holds its color in all weathers is that 
which is woven of conviction and set 
with the sharp mordant of experience.— 
James Russell Lowell. 
How mankind defers from day to day 
the best it can do and the most beauti¬ 
ful things it can enjoy, without thinking 
that every day may be the last one and 
that lost time is lost eternity.—Max Mul¬ 
ler. 
Each man has to seek out his own 
special aptitude for a higher life in the 
midst of the humble and inevitable re¬ 
ality of daily existence. Than this there 
fan be no abler aim in life.—Maeter¬ 
linck. 
He only is advancing in life whose 
heart is getting softer, whose blood is 
warmer, whose brain quicker, whose 
spirit is entering into living peace. And 
(he men who have this life in them are 
the only lords and kings of the earth— 
they, and they only!—Ruskin. 
ABHBTEONO & McKELVY 
l'llt!>burgh. 
BEYMER-BAUMAN 
I'titsliurgh. 
DAVIB-CHAMBERS 
i'itt'.ljuri'h. 
FAHNESTOCK 
I'itHburijh. 
ANCHOR I 
> Cincinnati. 
ECEBTEIN ) 
ATLANTIC 
BRADLEY 
BROOKLYN| 
JEWETT 
ULSTER 
UNION 
SOUTHERN 
SHIPMAN 
COLLIER 
MISSOURI 
RED SEAL 
SOUTHERN 
New York. 
Cliicatfo. 
^St. Louis. 
JOHN T. LEWIS i BROS CO 
PliilailL'Ipliia. 
MORLEY 
Cleveland. 
SALEH 
Salem, Maas. 
CORNELL 
■ IJulfalo. 
KBNTUOKY 
Louisville. 
S THJiRl'l any Pure White 
Lead nowatlays? Yes, 
and it is made in the old- 
fashion ed way by the Dutch 
process'^ ol slow eorrosion. 
The brands named in margin 
are genuine, and, with pure Lin¬ 
seed Oil, they make the only 
durable and satisfactory paint. 
For any color or shade required, use NATIONAL LEAD COM¬ 
PANY'S Pure White Lead Tinting Colors. Pamphlet sent free 
upon application. 
Nakonal Lead Co., loo IVilliani Street, New York. 
