Vol. LXIV. No. 2900. 
NEW YORK, AUGUST 26, 1905. 
WEEKLY, 11.00 PER YEAR 
A WOMAN'S DAY ON THE FARM. 
Around the Clock at Hillside. 
An October morning ushered in the day set apart for 
finishing up sundry odd jobs preparatory to getting 
through the Winter comfortably. True, 
the frost has not as yet, been in evidence 
on the pumpkin, but “the corn is in the 
shock” and already some trees are toss¬ 
ing bare brown branches in the breeze, 
while others are aglow with scarlet and 
gold. 1 he getting-up-time is 5.30 A. M., 
and while making my toilet I lift up my 
eyes to the hills, where in the glory of the 
dawn is spread a picture of orchard and 
vineyard whose branches bend beneath 
their load of purple and crimson fruit. 
In the valley below nestle groups of farm 
buildings, from whose chimneys the blue 
smoke is curling away in the hazy atmos¬ 
phere. But day-dreaming will not do, 
so I hasten below, where a brisk fire 
awaits me to prepare breakfast. The bill 
of fare is baked sweet apples with sugar 
and cream, baked potatoes, and home¬ 
made sausage; oatmeal gems and butter, 
fruit cookies and coffee. The potatoes 
had been washed and dried the evening 
before; these with the sausages, which 
were laic 1 in i.n oblong granite pie-tin, 
occupied the upper grate of the oven, the 
gems taking the lower one. While this 
oven breakfast is under way, the good 
man of the house brings in several gal¬ 
lons of sweet cider, which I propose to boil 
down in the gocvfl old-fashioned way of , 
our grandmothers. Lacking the time-hon¬ 
ored brass kettle, I till a large porcelain- 
lined one and the big granite dishpati, 
and place them on tc-p of the stove. The 
gasoline stove is lighted, and on this is 
placed the wash boiler, nearly full of soft 
water. Dick, the canary, is given his bath, 
a clean paper in his cage, fresh seed and 
water, and is soon singing merrily; the 
two little daughters are assisted with their 
dressing, and by 6.45 all are ready for 
breakfast. 
“Does anybody else know bow to make 
such nice gems?” says one of the small 
maidens. “Perhaps not,” answers mamma. 
“So far as I know, the recipe belongs 
strictly to the house of Blank.” She re¬ 
solved to give it out for the benefit of 
others, and this is it: Two cups of butter¬ 
milk, two of rolled oats and a teaspoon ful 
of salt are stirred tgether in a mixing 
bowl, and allowed to stand over night. 
In the morning dissolve two level te.i- 
spoonfuls of saleratus in one-fourth cup 
of hot water, and stir it into the batter: 
add one tablespoonful of sugar and one of 
melted butter or other shortening, and 
enough wheat flour to make a stiff batter. 
Bake in gem pans 20 minutes in a hot 
oven. 
After breakfast comes family worship, 
a psalm, a prayer and a gospel hymn to 
start the day right. After this, the girls 
clear off the table while we get washing 
machine, tubs, etc., ready for action, out 
on the broad back porch, convenient alike to the stove 
and the cistern pump. The water for washing blankets 
will be used only moderately warm, as hot water would 
destroy all benefit of the naphtha in the soap, and there 
would be danger of greater shrinkage in the blankets 
if they were wrung from hot water and hung out in 
the crisp October air. Filling the machine two-thirds 
full of water I dissolve about half a bar of soap in it. 
and put the blankets in to soak, while I wash the break¬ 
fast dishes; these the girls dry, and put away. “School 
time” calls out Brownie, so the tangled curls must be 
THE LAST FLOWERS BEFORE FROST. Fig. 265. 
THE ARTILLERY FOR WASHING DAY. Fig. 266. 
brushed and dresses changed; a good-bye kiss and away 
they go, leaving a warm spot in mother’s heart as she 
watches them down the road. 
The washing machine claims attention next; I turn 
steadily for 10 minutes, then run the blankets through 
the wringer into the tub. The suds is drawn off, ma¬ 
chine rinsed, and filled again with a clean suds, not 
quite so strong as the first one, but of the same tem¬ 
perature. The blankets are run through this suds in 
five minutes, then rinsed in clear warm water, given a 
vigorous shaking out, and hung where they will get an 
all-day exposure to the sunshine. By 10 
o'clock I am ready for the next thing. 
The cider will need skimming, so I settle 
down to paring sweet apples for pickles 
while keeping watch of it. 
I he door bell jingles; two callers ap¬ 
pear, one soliciting a pan of baked beans 
(Boston style), the other, flowers, and 
help in decorating tables for a dinner to 
be given to the King’s Daughters the next 
day. I promise to do my best, the callers 
leave, and I resume the apple-cider combi¬ 
nation until time to think of dinner rolls 
around. A kettle roast of beef has been 
simmering on the gasoline stove during 
the forenoon; I cut a small Hubbard 
squash into quarters and put it in to bake, 
peel the potatoes for boiling, slice some 
tomatoes, fresh from the vines, make a 
brown gravy for the meat, and have the 
dinner ready by the time the girls arc 
home from school. An apple tapioca pud¬ 
ding (made the day before) with cream 
and sugar furnishes the dessert. From one 
o’clock until four the time goes to wash¬ 
ing dishes, making beds, sweeping, making 
pickles, canning cider, picking over beans 
and pressing the blankets. The air turns 
cold; fearing frost I decide to gather the 
flowers and secure a last mess of Lima 
beans; these are soon gathered. There is 
plenty of Alyssum, some sweet peas and 
Dahlias, but not nearly enough to fill the 
large silver bowl for the center of the 
table. I hurry away to the good neighbor 
at the foot of the hill, where I am told to 
gather as many as T please. The color 
scheme is pink, white, and green. Some 
ferns I must have, so hastening afield 
(to the carrot patch) I gather armfuls of 
the feathery fronds. 
The beans are parboiled and with the 
pork are put on to boil while supper is 
getting. Potato cakes, eggs, celery, bis¬ 
cuits, honey and tea refresh us after our 
busy day. Another peal of the door bell. 
This time a friend having failed to make 
train connections, seeks lodging. I think 
despairingly of the guest chamber all un¬ 
settled, awaiting the carpet only half sewn 
together. Smiling sweetly as I can (un¬ 
der such circumstances) I make her wel¬ 
come. Leaving her to be entertained by 
my better half. 1 hurriedly spread down 
the breadths which arc sewn, drag a 
dresser and chairs into the room, gather 
the toilet accessories together, rub the 
dust and smoke from the lamp chimney 
and—say things!!! “Why is it that just 
so sure as one is topsy-turvy, sick or 
housecleaning, company is sure to come?” 
etc., etc. The question is still unan¬ 
swered; T pass it on. An hour’s visit puts 
me in better humor; I say “good-night” 
with a “really” smile, and retire—to sleep 
the sleep of the weary—if not the just. 
Michigan. betty blank. 
R. N.-Y.—A large proportion of the essays on “One 
Day's Work on the Farm” discussed the home machin¬ 
ery as operated by the women. We are glad to see that 
even the never ending round of housework may be dig¬ 
nified and estimated at its true w^rth. 
