THE REASON. 
Grandma Gruff said a curious thing, 
Boys may whistle, but girls must sing." 
That’s the very thing 1 heard her say 
To Kate, no longer than yesterday. 
“ Boys may whistle.” Of course, they may, 
If they pucker their lips the proper way; 
But for the life of me I can’t see 
Why Kate can’t whistle as well as me. 
“ Boys may whistle, but girls must sing:” 
Now I call that a curious thing. 
If boys can whistle, why can’t girls, too? 
It's the easiest thing in the world to do. 
So if the boys can whistle and do it well, 
Why cannot girls—will somebody tell ? 
Why can’t they do what a boy can do ? 
That is the thing I would like to know. 
I went to father and asked him why 
Girls couldn’t whistle as well as I, 
And he said, “ The reason that girls must sing 
Is because a girl's a sing-ular thing.” 
And grandma laughed till I knew she’d ache, 
When I said I thought it all a mistake. 
“ Never mind, little man,” I heard her say, 
“ They will make you whistle enough some day.” 
—New Orleans Picayune. 
The nurse system is said to be more 
common in Russia than in any other 
country. The young Empress, who is a 
young mother, will set a good example 
to the neglectful mothers of her empire, 
by fulfilling her duty to her child, in 
nursing it herself. 
* 
Ik you would set a table that will be 
the pride of the neighborhood begin by 
exercising great care in selecting your 
vegetable seeds. Whether you do or do 
not excel in cakes and pies, let not that 
part of the feast be the objective point. 
Grow some of the rare and choice vege¬ 
tables. These, when prepared for the 
table, will lend a charm to your dinners 
that the neighbors may well envy—and 
emulate your example next year. Re¬ 
member, too, that flowers should have a 
place on a well-set table. As for fruits, 
we suppose that they are already at¬ 
tended to. 
* 
This is the way one of our correspond¬ 
ents expresses her arguments in favor 
of scolding: 
If a wife has a husband that is dumb to sensi¬ 
bility, is void of feeling, with no sympathy, desti¬ 
tute of perception, is selfish in the extreme, turns 
a deaf ear to mild entreaty, scorns his patient 
wife’s wishes, until her physical strength is ex¬ 
hausted or nearly so, and he refuses obstinately 
to listen to her pleading tones of “if you please,” 
until she is compelled to be practical and demand 
in terms that he cannot misunderstand, in order 
to have her requests, which aie reasonable, 
acceded to, and she, being confined to one con¬ 
tinued round from day to day, year after year, 
without relaxation, her mind as well as body is 
tired, and under such circumstances, is it any 
wonder that she becomes indignant, perhaps 
petulant ? _ 
THE SCOLDING HABIT. 
I THINK that the editor must have 
thought confession good for the 
soul, when she called upon scolding 
wives to give good reasons for the exer¬ 
cise of sharp and nimble tongues. For 
what is it but confessing ourselves 
seolds, if we come forward to give good 
reasons for scolding ? We culprits 
would not care so very much if we could 
make a confessional of the editorial 
sanctum, and steal quietly in, one by 
one, to argue it pro and con with the 
editor alone. But to confess in public, 
and on paper, must be very, very good 
for the soul indeed, absolving it from 
the guilt of many scoldings, and curtain 
lectures. Perhaps the editor thought 
that not being able to give good reasons, 
we would forever after hold our peace 
—our tongues rather—both at home and 
abroad. 
Perhaps some one more clever than I 
can give good reasons, but 1 have racked 
my brain in vain for even one. So I say, 
“ Don’t scold.” 
“ Well, set an example yourself, then ; 
and stop scolding some one retorts. 
“I am trying to,” I meekly reply, but 
bad habits are not mended as soon as 
repented. If they were, what saints we 
all would be. But when I am tired, and 
Robin comes in all excitement over some 
boyish project, and sends his cap spin¬ 
ning under the lounge, and tosses his coat 
in one corner (after all my teaching and 
exhorting, too) ; and Bobolink lets fall 
some dish ; or Einnet leaves the marks 
of her buttery fingers in the most con¬ 
spicuous places, and another of Fred’s 
air castles tumbles down, thereby dis¬ 
pelling rose-colored daydreams of my 
own ; then that unruly tongue of mine 
gets fairly forked, it grows so sharp. 
But not always. Sometimes I set my. 
teeth together, and hold them there 
until my wrath simmers down. But it 
is hard work, for it does seem to me that 
those delinquents ought to have a piece 
of my mind, in order that they may see 
things as I do, for I am always right (?) 
you know. And if I don’t forcibly im¬ 
press upon them the mending of their 
ways, they will all go to destruction. 
But after a time, and some reflection, 
I find that Robin, if spoken to seriously, 
but pleasantly, is much more thoughtful 
for a time than if I had scolded; and 
Bobolink regrets the broken dish as 
much as I do. As for the finger marks 
—well, that is my own fault; for if I 
had set Linnet at the table to eat her 
bread and butter, and when she was 
through eating, if I had wiped her hands, 
there would have been no finger marks. 
But if I had scolded, what then ? Why, 
we would have been miserable and un¬ 
happy for a time, the children subdued 
or sullen. But the scolded ones would 
be well revenged,-though they knew it 
not. In the silent hours of the night, 
while the others were sleeping peace¬ 
fully, I would lie awake staring into the 
darkness, thinking how good and faith¬ 
ful Robin is in many tilings. And I 
would remember with pity the startled 
look in Bobolink’s brown eyes at the 
result of her carelessness. And my 
thoughts wander back to that other 
mother I knew in days gone by, who 
never punished or scolded a child for a 
fault not wilfully committed, saying that 
they did not mean to do it. 
As Linnet stirs in her sleep, I reach 
and softly touch the chubby face and fat 
little hands, thinking, remorsefully, 
What if I should place my hand upon the 
pillow, some wakeful night, and find it 
untouched by the curly head, and the 
little hands folded beyond my reach for¬ 
ever? Thinking thus,I clasp them closely, 
thankful that I have them with me, and 
not caring if there are butter marks all 
over the house. 
And what of it, if Fred's air castles 
collapse ; he will build a grand, substan¬ 
tial one some day. We must all live 
according to the brains with which the 
Creator furnished us. So the ministry 
of silence and rest works out its own 
result, and a prayer rises from my heart, 
that I may be a more patient and kindly 
wife and mother. Josephine stake. 
their strength, which is often the case, 
and a doctor’s bill is added to the family 
expenses. 
Then there are those wives, who, 
while the husbands are doing all they 
can, feel that they have both the time 
and opportunity to earn a little money 
in connection with their household 
work. Their husbands, whom I feel con¬ 
fident represent the majority and not the 
minority of married men, are not going 
to lessen their own efforts to enjoy the 
luxury of being supported from their 
wives’ earnings. What can she do ? 
Can she earn, even under the most fav¬ 
orable conditions, more than a modest 
amount of pin money ? Bear in mind 
that the woman in question has but a 
small proportion of her time at her com¬ 
mand. She is supposed to take up this 
outside work in connection with her 
housekeeping. Hence her earnings, in 
the majority of cases, will prove no 
temptation to the husband, or even sug¬ 
gest the thought that “ he may be car¬ 
ried to the skies on flowery beds of 
ease.” 
I think that there are few wives who 
do not enjoy a little money that they 
have earned themselves. On canvassing 
the subject, there seem to be few under¬ 
takings in which a wife can successfully 
engage, and at the same time care for 
her family. Perhaps the first one that 
suggests itself to a farmer’s wife, is the 
raising of poultry. That many a woman 
earns, in this way, a neat sum of money 
each year, is demonstrated by many an 
article in both farm and poultry papers. 
Probably, all things considered, there is 
no better or more profitable work for 
the farmer’s wife, 
Of late years, a number of articles 
have been published on the ways that a 
wife may earn money, such as making 
pickles, preserves, cottage cheese, and 
other articles of food. 
I will close with a bit of experience, 
which may serve as a timely warning. 
Several years ago, while taking a vaca¬ 
tion at home, l began to wish for some¬ 
thing to do, as practically I had all my 
time to myself. While in this mood, I 
chanced to see an advertisement offer¬ 
ing to send crochet work to women hav¬ 
ing a little spare time, and thereby fill¬ 
ing their pocketbooks. Of course, I 
wrote to the firm, and received an 
answer. Women were said to earn from 
$2 to $10 per week. As a firm could not 
be expected to send material to unknown 
workers, a security of $2.50 was required, 
which, by the way, was not to be re¬ 
funded under any circumstances. De¬ 
spite the advice of the family, I sent the 
money and received my first work. It 
was a large tidy, the material being a 
stiff crochet cotton which was very hard 
to work. Unless a dozen of the tidies 
were made, no pay was to be received. 
With depressed spirits, I went to work. 
I crocheted in season and out of season ; 
a week went by, then another, and the 
last tidy was yet to be finished. I have 
forgotten just how long it took me to 
complete the dozen, but I know that it 
took several days to make one, and I 
am a fairly rapid crochet worker. But, 
as I said, the cord was so stiff that it 
took much longer to make a tidy than 
though the material had been of a softer 
finish. 
At last, the 12 tidies were finished. If 
they had all been joined together, they 
would have made a large bed spread. I 
had to pay return charges. These were 
in the neighborhood of 50 cents. And 
how much, think you, did I receive for 
all this labor ? The munificent sum sent 
in payment was $1.40. That ended for 
all time my crocheting for profit. In¬ 
stead of tilling my pocketbook, I had 
emptied it. nellie c. Andrews. 
WHAT'S IN A NAME? 
O NE who delights to think of herself 
as a member of The R. N.-Y.’s 
Woman and Home club, rises to protest— 
not against anything that has appeared 
in these columns, but concerning things 
which have not appeared. Why use 
initials as signatures? Could you fully 
enjoy a conference where more than half 
of the speakers were hidden behind a 
screen ? And how would you like being 
introduced in a friend’s parlor, each 
week of her at home afternoon, to a 
number of people who talked pleasantly, 
or wisely, or sympathetically, but were 
always closely veiled ? Would masquer¬ 
ading parties where there was no final 
unmasking be very popular ? 
Little does it matter whether a per¬ 
son’s name is Mrs. Brown or Mrs Smith, 
l 
, With Little 
| To Do 
s On The Farm 
Many a young fellow, living in any small 
town or village, could take 
SHALL A WIFE EARN MONEY ? 
I F a wife’s power to earn money, less¬ 
ens a husband’s desire to provide 
for the needs of his family, then that 
wife does her husband an injury in 
engaging in outside work. But such 
husbands, I think, are few and far be¬ 
tween ; for a man must be an exceed- 
ingly poor specimen of the genus homo, 
who will thus take advantage of his 
wife’s poor, little efforts. 
In the next place, not many wives and 
mothers have the time and strength that 
they can lawfully spend in outside work. 
Such wives help their husbands just as 
truly by doing their home duties ; in 
fact, more so, than if they went beyond 
| The Time 
| To Make 
| Some Money 
The Ladies’ Home Journal gives him this £} 
chance. He can earn anywhere from ten to y 
a hundred dollars. Just a little effort is re- S 
quired: the rest comes easy enough. Write to 
f 
The Curtis Publishing Company $ 
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ^ 
