534 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
ered it over pretty well with barn-yard manure, giving 
orders to put in corn only where the manure was spread; 
but it proved that I had enough to cover the lot of five 
acres, which was in good sod. Then after the manure 
had been drawn out, I sent both teams with the plows to 
the lot At noon I was met with the following droll in¬ 
formation from my old tenant: “You had better keep that 
feller out of that field. Don’t take my word for it; go 
and see yourself.” I put on my sun-bonnet while the men 
were at dinner, and walked up the lane. I saw the differ¬ 
ence. In one place the even brown furrows lay one lapped 
over the other straight and true, and no sod appeared. In 
the other the plow had bobbed out and was caught up two 
or three yards further on, leaving a stretch of green be¬ 
tween, unplowed. This occurred in many places, and 
what few furrows were turned presented a jagged, torn 
look. To be sure, the man had covered more ground than 
the other; but to what effect ? His half day’s work was 
lost; while the other’s told. The curt advice I got was 
this: “ Set this fellow at something else this afternoon, 
and to-morrow morning put him at the harrow right be¬ 
hind me. Let him rattle the dirt off while dry, and tell 
him to harrow it the same way it is plowed.” I was wil¬ 
ling to follow this advice. I set the man in the garden at 
work, clearing up rubbish and hauling on the manure. 
The consequence was that I harvested a splendid crop of 
corn in the fall, but where the careless plowing was done 
it showed a poor growth the whole season. Indeed, the 
place never recovered from the ill effects of the job. Every 
crop on it was poor, and it proved almost an impossibility 
to get any catch of seed on the streak. I had observed a 
good deal as to the manner of plowing, but this experience 
proved my theory—that work well done is twice done. 
I was carrying a large stock, and the preceding year had 
been dry, and a poor hay crop was the consequence. The 
winter before I had to economize on fodder. In like cases 
the man has no judgment. Seasons of drought cut the 
hay crop short, but the quality makes up for the quantity. 
The hay is richer in dried juices in dry than in wet seasons, 
consequently it went further. To be sure, the cattle re¬ 
quired the amount of bulk. The hired man would throw 
in the hay. The cattle would eat it only to a certain ex¬ 
tent. Then they would mumble it over and push it under 
foot, and the man would throw in more. I was told the 
hay was so poor that the cattle would not eat it. I could 
not bear this wanton extravagance, and took to foddering 
them myself. I soon found that they required only a 
small quantity to satisfy their appetites, and after that the 
residue was of no avail. To avoid the loss due to this, 
I gave them a foddering of oat-straw after the hay which 
I stinted to a certain amount—just what they would eat 
up clean twice a day. This plan worked admirably and 
saved hay. This occurred in the latter part of the year 
—toward spring—after the corn-stalks had been exhausted. 
I had a reserve of roots in the cellar. I had the rye-straw 
passed through a cutter, moistened and then sprinkled 
with corn-meal—a quart for each. The plan did not work 
well. The cattle would lick off the meal and leave the 
straw. I then fed each feed separate—the roots, meal and 
straw—and came out better with a ton of hay left 
over. C. B. 
OUR FRESH AIR CHILDREN. 
“ You are already overworked,” was the objection raised 
when I announced my intention of taking a couple of 
“ Fresh-Air ” children. 
“ So are all farmers’ wives, and many who will receive 
them have not as much room and can not accommodate 
them as well as we can. Besides, if one waits to do a good 
act until everything is in readiness and one can do it just 
as well as not, that time seldom comes.” 
So when the day came upon which the little folks were 
to arrive, the train which brought three car-loads of them 
found myself with many others at the depot waiting to 
receive them and take them to our homes for a two weeks’ 
vacation. One car-load of 60 stopped at our station, while 
the others went to towns further on, for distribution. The 
children were mostly, if not entirely from a mission Sun¬ 
day School in the lower part of the great city of New York— 
that portion of the city with narrow, crooked streets, and 
crowded tenement houses, whose inmates look out upon 
nothing but brick or stone walls and pavements, with a 
small patch of sky overhead. They were “ Tribune Fresh- 
Air Children,” and each one wore a badge on which was 
printed “ Tribune Fresh-Air Fund, Olivet Sunday School, 
65 Second street.” 
Lest some of the more distant readers of The Rural may 
not understand the signification of this device, allow me to 
explain that several years since, the New York Tribune, 
originated the charity known by this name, which has for 
its object sending out into the green fields and homes of 
the country the children of the city, whose only play¬ 
ground is the hot and dusty street, that they may enjoy for 
two weeks the fresh air, the flowers and the green fields, 
roam over the hills, gather berries by the roadside, ride on 
the loads of hay, drink plenty of fresh, warm milk. They 
return to their homes, with faces tanned and sunburned ; 
but with hearts full of happy memories, lungs invigorated 
and muscles strengthened. 
“ Send for girls,” had been the injunction, “ for the boys 
will raise the mischief with everything out-of doors; ” but 
my girls turned out to be boys, for it so happened that 
nearly every one was like-minded with ourselves, and 
wanted that portion of the race from which they appre¬ 
hended the least annoyance. Thus it was that the kind 
lady who had the matter in charge, fearing that this pre¬ 
judice, if such it were, would deprive a just proportion of 
the boys of their outing, ventured to impose upon my good 
nature and change my order. My boys are named Her¬ 
man and Albert—Hoyman and Albit they call each other. 
They are German, and when both are talking and asking 
questions, we have a task to understand^what they are 
saying. Albert is a pale, delicate child, as fair as a girl, 
and was very tired with his long ride of 18 hours. Neither 
had ever been in a carriage before, and Albert had never 
seen a cow till on his journey hither. 
“ Can you take a cow up into the carriage,” asked he ? 
“ Why no, a cow is as large as a horse.” 
“ Will it bite ? ” came next. The boys were delighted 
with every flower by the roadside, and the yards which we 
passed on our way home filled them with exquisite 
pleasure. They have each a promise of a box of flowers to 
be taken home with them, and do not fail to keep it in 
memory by frequent allusions to it. They were warned 
not to go near the bee-hives, and informed of the probable 
consequences of a failure to obey; so they have been on the 
alert, and have thus far had no encounter with the bees. 
But to-day Herman informed me that he had seen in the 
verandah “a sting bee with a needle.” One day I sent 
Herman to the hay field to call the men to dinner. 
“ Grandpa, come home to eat, and you John, come home 
to eat,” called he. 
For a day or two after their arrival, they were exceed¬ 
ingly busy, investigating everything, and we felt it neces¬ 
sary to keep an eye upon them, but since we have found 
them to be trustworthy and they have learned through 
frequent injunctions, to leave the calves and chickens 
alone, they do very nicely. Herman is eight, one year 
older than Albert, and he is much of the time looking 
for something to do. He fills the wood-box and helps to 
pick currants and gooseberries, and prepare them for the 
table. The first day of their arrival, they asked if they 
might pick some strawberries, and on being given permis¬ 
sion, soon re appeared, each triumphantly bearing a branch 
of currants which they asked should be laid on a plate. 
They are out-of-doors a large part of the time, and, on the 
whole, we are rather glad that boys instead of girls fell to 
our lot. Certainly, they have been as little trouble as one 
could expect, and we shall have the satisfaction of feeling, 
when they have gone, that although the addition of two 
such lively youngsters to the family, has of necessity add¬ 
ed somewhat to the work and the care, it will leave a 
bright spot in their memories, and, it may be, throw a 
happy influence over their future lives. MRS. W. C. G. 
IVoman s IVork. 
THE ART OF COOKING ILLUSTRATED. 
HAT waste makes want is a maxim that our fathers 
have always striven to impress upon us, with the 
intent of deterring us from wasting; but now comes Mr. 
Edward Atkinson, and tells us, in a treatise called “ The 
Art of Cooking ” (reprinted in pamphlet form from The 
Popular Science Monthly), that almost the whole of the 
coal or the oil which we use in cooking is wasted, and that 
we witness want in the midst of plenty because we waste 
enough to support another nation ! He also asserts that 
all the ordinary methods of quick baking, roasting and 
boiling are bad ; that nine-tenths of the time devoted to 
watching the process of cooking is wasted, and that the 
heat and discomfort caused by cooking-stoves are an evi¬ 
dence of worse than waste, while the smell of cooking 
food gives evidence of waste of flavor. As such positive, 
and many would think exaggerated, statements must 
needs be supported by a complete line of reasoning or by 
proof, Mr. Atkinson proceeds to offer both. 
Cooking is both a science and an art. The true science 
of cooking consists in the regulated and controlled appli¬ 
cation of heat by which flavors are developed, and the 
work of conversion of food products Into nutritious form 
is accomplished ; the essayist’s idea of the art of cooking 
is that it consists chiefly in directing such application 
of heat. He alludes to several great obstructions to im¬ 
provement in this art, among which are the absolute and 
imperative preference of the public for a stove which shall 
do the work quickly, and the almost universal misconcep¬ 
tion that the finer cuts of meat are more nutritious than 
the coarser portions, the latter notion being coupled with 
a prejudice against stewed food. These, he Bays, must be 
removed before any true art of cooking can become com¬ 
mon practice. 
As an instance of the development of the best qualities 
of a product by the application of heat, the preparation of 
the coffee berry is mentioned. If this is dried, ground and 
made into a drink without being roasted, it is scarcely 
drinkable ; it is only when carefully roasted before grind¬ 
ing, that it makes true coffee. The delicious flavor and 
other properties are the actual product of heat, correctly 
applied. 
The three principles of the science of cooking are laid 
down somewhat as follows : 1. The heat should be derived 
from fuel which can be wholly consumed with no other 
chimney than that of a lamp or burner (else a chimney 
must be provided to take away the gases developed but not 
wholly consumed, and such chimney carries off the 
greater part of the heat). 2. The oven in which the food is 
to be cooked must be so constructed that the heat imparted 
to it may be accumulated up to a certain degree, and then 
it must be kept substantially at that temperature until 
the work is done. (This can be done by jacketing the oven 
with an incombustible and non-conducting material.) 3. 
There should be no direct communication between the 
oven in which the food is placed and the source of heat, lest 
the food be tainted by the gases or exposed to scorching. 
These principles, except possibly the first, were not orig¬ 
inated by Mr. Atkinson, but he has spent some hundreds 
of dollars in studying and developing them, being ham¬ 
pered for a long time, as he says, by his belief in the old 
superstition that it was necessary to have a heat at, or 
above the boiling point, in order to cook at all. Notice that 
he calls this a “superstition,” asserting positively that 
meats and grains may be most nutritiously cooked at less 
than a boiling heat; that eggs should always be thua 
• AUG. 16 
cooked ; but that most roots, tubers and vegetables require 
a higher degree. 
In working out this problem, and endeavoring to de¬ 
monstrate these principles and assertions, Mr. Atkinson 
has invented two apparatuses, called respectively the 
“Aladdin” cooker and the “Aladdin” oven. These are 
not patented, and the inventor expresses himself as desir¬ 
ous that some manufacturer should take them up and 
make them on a scale that shall put the price within reach 
of the poorer classes, he himself holding only a certain 
control by means of the trade-marks, so that he may make 
sure that the ovens are made of safe and incombustible 
material, and possibly recover the money spent by him on 
experiments. He states that the quantity of fuel required 
by this manner of cooking is almost absurdly small, com 
pared with the amount commonly used; his oven, which 
he still considers wasteful of fuel, having cooked by ac¬ 
tual experiment 60 pounds of bread, meat and vegetables, 
with one quart of oil; and at another time, four pounds of 
fish, six pounds of lamb, three ducks, a squash, stuffed 
tomatoes, and a large pudding—a dinner for 16 persons— 
with one pint of oil, costing less than two cents. 
In the use of both the cooker and the oven, the heat is 
derived from common lamps. In the cooxer the heat is 
conveyed through water, in a metal-lined wooden box, and 
the work is done by contact of the hot water with the out¬ 
side of the vessels in which the food is placed ; or by the 
steam generated if the water is heated to a boiling point. 
This works somewhat similarly to an ordinary double 
boiler, except that the heat is more even, and is conserved 
so that there is a minimum of waste. 
The Standard Aladdin oven has about the dimensions of 
an oil-stove oven, being IS inches wide, 12 inches deep and 
14 inches high, inside measure. It consists of an inner 
oven of sheet metal, fitted with movable shelves, and an 
outer jacket oven of indurated fiber or wood pulp. The 
heat is conducted into the space between the two ovens, 
the outer, non-conducting material preventing it from 
passing out into the room and being wasted. It is heated 
by a single lamp, which may be the Rochester, the Glad¬ 
stone, or, indeed, any lamp which has a circular wick 13*3 
inch in diameter, with a central duct to convey air from 
below to the wick, and thus insure perfect combustion 
either turned at full hight or less, without smell or 
smoke. A deflector is placed directly over the chimney to 
prevent the heat from striking directly upon the bottom 
of the oven; this insures slow cooking, no scorching, and 
no smell of fat from meats. Food may also be boiled in 
the oven by removing the shelves, and placing the vessel 
containing it directly on the bottom of the oven, over the 
lamp. It is claimed that fish, custard, cauliflower and 
onions may all be cooked together at the low degree of 
heat obtained in these ovens, without any flavor being 
imparted from one to the other; that they can be used 
in the dining-room, there being no odor from the cooking; 
and that earthen dishes may be used and transferred di¬ 
rectly from the oven to the table. Cooking may imitate 
the common methods of broiling, roasting, baking or 
the braising, which is so highly praised by first-class 
cooks. 
Mr. Atkinson well says that, in order to bring his ideas 
of the true art of cooking into common practice among 
the lower classes, people must be persuaded: that a better 
and more nutritious breakfast can be made ready to eat, 
as soon as the family are out of bed, by putting meat- 
stews, oat-meal, brown bread, and many kinds of puddings 
into the cooker, and simmering all night by the use of a 
single safe lamp, than in any other way ; that dinner can 
be put into the oven when both husband and wife go away 
to work, and the oven can be so heated that the meal may 
be found perfectly cooked at noon without requiring any 
attention ; that the best bread, raised with good yeast, can 
be mixed between 12.30 and 1 p. M., placed in a bread- 
raiser, which will raise it ready for the oven at 6 or 7 P. M., 
and perfectly baked in two hours by the evening lamp 
which gives light to the family for sewing or reading. He 
has demonstrated by nearly two years’ constant use of his 
inventions in his own large family, that all these things 
can be accomplished by them, and he calls the attention of 
the Public Health Association to these matters, especially 
to the increased digestibility and nutrition obtained by 
his methods of cooking, and to the saving of fuel in their 
use. Absolute necessities of life, he says, are first, food; 
second, clothing; third, shelter. If the expenditure for 
the first is unduly large, one or both the others must of 
necessity be restricted. Half the average income of the 
people of this country is spent on food, a small part of the 
waste on which, if saved, might enable the family to 
double the expenditure on a dwelling-place. This being 
the case, it follows that the most difficult question for 
modern reformers, that of providing more ample and com¬ 
fortable dwellings, may be solved by improved methods of 
cooking, so that the family may be better housed, yet 
more fully nourished than at present. Here is certainly 
meat for much reflection, especially among those to whom 
the problems of food, clothes and shelter, are serious ones. 
£Ui$ccllancou.o gulvmteing. 
In writing to advertisers, please mention The R. N.-Y. 
When Baby was tick, we gave her Castorla, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Castorla. 
When she became Miss, she dung to Castorla, 
When she had Children, she gave them Castorla. 
