388 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
May£ 
[ Woman and Home ] 
From Day to Day. 
CLANCY OF THE OVERFLOW. 
I had written him a letter, which I had, for 
want of better 
Knowledge, sent to where I met "him, down 
the Lachlan years ago. 
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent 
the letter to him, 
Just “on spec’’ addressed as follows: 
“Clancy of the Overflow." 
And an answer came, directed in a writing 
unexpected (which I think the same 
was written with a thumb-nail dipped 
in tar). 
’Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and 
verbatim I will quote it: 
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and 
we don’t know where he are.” 
In my wild erratic fancy, visions came to 
me of Clancy, 
Gone a-droving “down the Cooper” where 
the western drovers go; 
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy 
rides behind them singing. 
For a drover's life has pleasures that the 
townfolk never know. 
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and 
their kindly voices greet him 
In the murmer of the breezes and the river 
on its bars. 
And he sees the vision splendid of the sun¬ 
lit flames extended, 
And at night the wondrous glory of the ever¬ 
lasting stars. 
I am sitting in my dingy little office where 
a stingy 
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between 
the houses tall, 
And the fetid air so gritty of the dusty, dirty 
city, 
Through the open window floating spreads its 
foulness over all. 
And in place of lowing cattle I can hear the 
fiendish rattle 
Of the tramways and the buses making 
hurry down the street, 
And the language uninviting of the gutter 
children fighting, 
Comes fitfully and faintly through the cease¬ 
less tramp of feet. 
And the hurrying people daunt me, and the 
pallid faces haunt me, 
As they shoulder one another in their rush 
and nervous haste; 
And their eager eyes and greedy, and their 
stunted forms and weedy. 
For the townfolk have no time to grow— 
they have no time to waste. 
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like 
to change with Clancy— 
Like to take a turn at droving where the 
seasons come and go, 
While he faced the round eternal of the 
cash-book and the journal, 
But I doubt he’d suit the office—Clancy of 
the Overflow. 
—Australian Paper—Credit Lost. 
• 
Some of the fine city apartments have 
clothes closets with an electric light, 
which is switched on by opening the door. 
We heard recently of a man who was 
startled by the size of his electric light 
bill, after he had been absent from the city 
for a month. On investigation, he dis¬ 
covered that he had left a closet door 
open, in the hurry of departure, and the 
electric light had been working conscien¬ 
tiously 24 hours a day for the entire 
month. 
* 
A delicious method of cooking calves’ 
liver is that in use at Mme. Begue’s fa¬ 
mous restaurant in New Orleans. Cut a 
pound of calf’s liver in half-inch cubes. 
After washing and draining, place in a 
bowl which has been rubbed with an 
onion. Between two layers of liver place 
a layer of chopped onion and parsley, 
sprinkling with salt and dusting lightly 
with cayenne. After half an hour take 
out the liver and shake off all the onion. 
Roll lightly in flour and drop into a deep 
kettle of boiling fat. Drain on paper and 
serve very hot with lemon. The liver 
cooks to delicious tenderness and delicacy 
of flavor. 
* 
Egg timbales make a delicious supper 
dish—a change from poaching, scram¬ 
bling, and the ordinary methods; Beat 
four eggs, add to them one cup of milk, 
half teaspoonful salt, and four dashes of 
pepper. Pour into buttered custard cups, 
set these in a pan of hot water, and cook 
in a slow oven until the timbales are set 
in the center. Turn out on a hot dish, 
and pour over them a cream sauce made 
by placing half a pint of milk in a double 
boiler; rub together a rounding table¬ 
spoonful each of butter and flour, stir 
this into the boiling milk until it thick¬ 
ens. add half a teaspoonful of salt and 
four dashes of pepper. 
* 
The Committee on the Prevention of 
Tuberculosis of the New York Charity 
Organization Society has issued a circu¬ 
lar letter on sweeping and dusting. They 
call attention especially to the danger 
lying in the use of feather dusters, which 
merely stir up dust, instead of removing 
it, and they also advise the use of damp 
sawdust or bits of damp paper scattered 
over the floor before sweeping, to collect 
the dust. We have never owned a fea¬ 
ther duster, and have always considered 
its use “slack” beyond words. Accord¬ 
ing to our observation, feather dusters 
are less used in the home than in offices 
and public buildings—the very places 
where there is greatest danger from tu¬ 
berculosis germs. Of course the only 
absolutely sanitary way of dusting a room 
is the vacuum process, which sucks the 
dust off the premises; perhaps the next 
generation will see this applied to ordi¬ 
nary domestic work. 
* 
The Boston Transcript tells of a visi¬ 
tor traveling across Cape Cod who came 
upon a charming house by the roadside. 
It bore a fresh coat of white paint, which 
was well set off by green blinds. There 
was a smooth piece of lawn in front, a 
group of fine shade trees and hammocks, 
piazza chairs, brilliant sofa pillows and all 
the adjuncts of Summer comfort in lux¬ 
urious profusion. 
“Whose place is this?” he demanded 
of the boy of twelve who accompanied 
him as guide and adviser-in-general. 
“That there?” said the boy. “Oh, that 
there’s the poorhouse.” 
“The poorhouse!” the man exclaimed. 
“You seem to have luxurious paupers in 
this town.” 
“Well, you see,” was the explanation, 
“we hain’t got but one, ’n’ she’s an old 
woman, ’n’ the overseers they board her 
out with one o’ the neighbors ’n’ let the 
poorhouse to some o’ them Boston folks 
for the Summer, ’n’ that pays her keep.” 
That seems a particularly wise bit of 
New England thrift. 
* 
We have been experimenting with 
stenciling in home adornment, and find it 
very satisfactory, a charming set of cur¬ 
tains being decorated in this way. The 
material selected was fine cream-colored 
cheesecloth, at 8 l / 2 cents a yard. A sim¬ 
ple conventional design was drawn and 
then cut out in stiff parchment paper, 
making a band the width of the curtain. 
This was basted on flat just above the 
hem. Blue dye of the requisite strength 
was prepared, th,e curtain stretched over 
a sheet of blotting paper, and the dye ap¬ 
plied, a little pad of absorbent cotton, at¬ 
tached to a skewer being used in place cf 
a brush. The blotting paper is necessary 
to prevent blotting, as otherwise some of 
the dye will form pools underneath. 
Dexterity is gained by practice, and many 
artistic effects are secured. The dye used 
was a ready-prepared material which does 
not require boiling. A heavy glazed ma- 
nilla paper can be used for the stencil, 
and several colors can be used in combi¬ 
nation if desired. Many different fabrics 
may be thus decorated; a friend tells us 
she made beautiful crepe de chine scarfs 
with stenciled borders, and also burlap 
portieres and cushions. 
Mrs. Spraker Talks. 
“Baked beans this time of day!” ejacu¬ 
lated Mrs. Spraker, and her tone told me 
plainer than words that she was disap¬ 
pointed in me. 
“But they have cooked ever since seven 
o’clock this morning, and I thought lots 
of folks had their baked beans for Satur¬ 
day’s dinner.” 
“Ever since seven o’clock,” she re¬ 
peated, and I somehow felt that there 
was nothing for me to say. 
She rose to go. “Come over to my 
house to-night and I will let you taste of 
some baked beans,” she said. 
I accepted her invitation. “They do 
taste different,” I said. “They are delici¬ 
ous. Would you be so good to tell me 
how you do it?” 
Mrs. Spraker beamed. She can no 
more help showing that she is pleased 
when her cooking is praised than she can 
help expressing herself bluntly at times. 
“I’ll tell you just what to do,” she said 
comfortably. “Friday night you get your 
beans and pick them over and wash them, 
put them in your bean pot with plenty of 
cold water and let them stand over night. 
As soon as you are up in the morning— 
five o’clock isn’t it?—set the bean pot on 
top of the stove to warm up. As you 
have a chance while you are getting 
breakfast, put in your pork, sugar and 
salt. I can’t tell you the exact propor¬ 
tion because folks differ in their taste so 
much. As soon as the water begins to 
boil, put the bean pot in the oven with¬ 
out any cover. Let the water cook away 
once or twice, being careful not to let 
the beans burn. This gives them a good 
color. If you have to use the oven for 
anything else, set the beans on top of the 1 
stove where they will simmer gently, but 
put them back as soon as you can. You 
want a good hot fire all day so they will 
be cooking all the time. At about one 
o’clock take a spoon and taste of the 
beans. If they need more salt or sugar, 
put them in. You will have to keep add¬ 
ing water as it boils away, some days 
more than others, but don’t put in any 
after four o’clock if you can help it. You 
may have to take off a few of the beans 
on ton if they are scorched. 
“There,” said Mrs. Spraker in conclu¬ 
sion, “that is the way to cook baked 
beans. Of course, if you prefer them 
stewed—why stew them and don’t go to 
calling them baked.” 
“I won’t any more,” I said meekly. 
SUSAN B. ROBBINS. 
i > X ‘ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ » 
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