642 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
Woman and the Home 
From Day to Day. 
WALLS OF CORN. 
Smiling and beautiful, heaven’s dome 
Bends softly over our prairie home. 
But the wide, wide land that stretched 
away, 
Before my eyes in the days of May; 
The rolling prairies’ billowy swell. 
Breezy upland and timbered dell; 
Stately mansion and hut forlorn— 
All are hidden by walls of corn. 
All the wide world is narrowed down 
To walls of corn now sere and brown. 
What do they hold—these walls of corn, 
Whose banners toss in the breeze of morn? 
lie who questions may soon be told— 
A great state’s wealth these walls enfold. 
No sentinels guard these walls of corn, 
Never is sounded the warder’s horn ; 
Yet the pillars are hung with gleaming gold, 
Left all unbarred though thieves are bold. 
Clothes and food for the toiling poor; 
Wealth to heap at the rich man’s door; 
Meat for the healthy and balm for him 
Who moans and tosses in chambers dim ; 
Shoes for the barefooted; pearls <o twine 
In the scented tresses of ladies fine; 
Tilings for use in the lowly cot 
Where (bless the corn) want cometh not; 
Luxuries for the mansion grand, 
Booty for thieves that rob the land; 
All these things and so many more 
It would fill a book but to name them o’er, 
Are hid and held in these walls of corn 
Whose banners toss in the breeze of morn. 
Where do they stand, these walls of corn, 
Whose banners toss in the breeze of morn? 
Open the atlas conned by rule, 
In the olden days of the district school. 
Point to this rich and beauteous land 
That yields such fruit to the toiler’s hand. 
“Treeless desert” they called it then, 
Haunted by beasts and forsook by men. 
Litle they knew what wealth untold 
Lay hid where the desolate prairie rolled. 
Who would have dared, with brush or pen, 
As this land is now, to paint it then? 
And how would the wise oneg have laughed 
in scorn 
Had prophets foretold these walls of corn, 
Whose banners wave in the breeze of morn ! 
—Ellen P. Allcrton. 
* 
Dolly Varden undergarments are 
among elaborate new models; they are 
made of white cross-bar lawn with ring 
or flower designs in colors, and ribbons 
to match, elaborated with lace and em¬ 
broidery. 
* 
A new YORK journalist recently went 
into raptures over “schnitz und klase,” 
as served in the Mohawk Valley, which 
he declared the most delicious dish he 
had ever eaten. It consists of light 
dumplings boiled with a ham bone and 
then served with dried apple sauce 
poured over the whole. The New York 
man’s enthusiasm makes us think the 
Rural housewives ought to be acquainted 
with this dish; we like to learn of any 
appetizing method of cooking farmers’ 
fare. Who can give us a standard re¬ 
cipe for “schnitz und klase?” 
♦ 
Tea punch is a delicious Summer 
drink, as given by the Catholic Stand¬ 
ard and Times. The grated yellow rind 
of three lemons and the juice of six 
lemons to a cupful of brown sugar and 
three quarts of water. Let this come 
to a boil. In a large earthenware 
pitcher put 10 teaspoonfuls of tea (any 
preferred brand), pour the boiling lem¬ 
onade over it, and let it brew for five 
minutes. Then strain the tea and let 
it get cold. This quantity is sufficient 
for 12 persons. Serve in glasses with 
cracked ice, a thin slice of orange and 
a sprig of fresh mint. 
* 
The poem “Walls of Corn,” reprinted 
from the Atchison Globe, is a classic 
of the West, which has appeared in 
many a nwspaper and pamphlet of the 
great corn belt. It is not yet familiar 
in the East, and it seems fitting that 
this tribute to our great national grain 
should be remembered at a time .when 
the comfort and happiness of thousands, 
east and west, depends upon the devel¬ 
opment of this crop. Wall Street may 
control the destinies of the idle and 
luxurious women who are now flocking 
to the Summer resorts, but the woman 
of the farm knows that her destiny and 
the destiny of her children depends, di¬ 
rectly or indirectly, upon those “Walls 
of Corn.” 
* 
Roasting meat in the oven of a gas or 
oil stove needs care to avoid cooking 
too rapidly, but it is quite possible to 
roast it in a casserole or covered earth¬ 
en vessel with much satisfaction. Put 
an asbestos mat over the flame, and put 
the roast in a flat two-gallon crock if 
you do not have the regular casserole. 
Wipe and season the meat, putting a 
little chopped suet over it, but add no 
water; it will cook in its own juices. 
Put on a tight cover, and leave it; it will 
need no basting, and can be left until 
time to season the gravy and drain off 
any excess of fat. Tough meat is ten- 
uer and juicy after this sort of cooking; 
the length of time needed varies from 
30 to 40 minutes to the pound for beef; 
lamb 20 to 25 minutes; chicken 30 to 
35 minutes to the pound and duck 40 to 
60 minutes. 
* 
• 
According to a recent writer, there 
are in New York State 14,000 women 
65 years old and over who have to earn 
their own living, and no doubt there are 
among them many white-haired grand¬ 
mothers who are the only support of 
dependent children. One of the prob¬ 
lems often confronting those working 
to improve the conditions of the city 
poor is the tendency of young men to 
shirk family responsibilities, and throw 
the burden of support upon women and 
girls. ' There are many homes where 
the daughters are self-respecting work¬ 
ers, while the sons drift into the idle 
borderland between hoodlumism and 
criminality. It is a vast problem, ren¬ 
dered all the greater this year by • the 
real poverty existing here in New York, 
which is lowering physical strength and 
self respect among people who need 
both. Saddest of all is the effect upon 
the children who will form our next 
generation of citizens—if they survive 
the privations that surround them. 
A Chick Nursery. 
“’Once upon a time,” as the fairy tales 
say, I wanted a nice roomy place—a com¬ 
mon shed with removable wire parti¬ 
tions where the little chicks could have 
sun, and earth to run on, and yet be 
shielded from the brisk winds of early 
Spring. Then at night it would be no 
bother to shut the chickens up, and 
no chasing through wet grass after a 
despairing and loudly yelling straggler, 
which is a very exasperating thing. 
I was weary indeed of a half dozen 
coops of all shapes and sizes, and boxes 
and barrels. They do not add beauty 
nor neatness to any farm. But being 
a woman with considerable ambition 
and very little knowledge of carpenter¬ 
ing and still less ready money, I found 
the problem not very easy of solution 
A woman is said to be able to talk, and 
I found that persistent talking will 
sometimes works wonders. Then my 
husband found a good Samaritan who 
gave us all the boxes we needed. They 
were dry goods boxes mostly, about 
three or four-foot matched boards. 
Sometimes there would be quite a lot 
of straw which crockery or glass had 
been packed in, and that made fine bed¬ 
ding for the horse and cow. At odd 
moments and rainy days my husband 
has ripped up the boxes, and by saving 
the nails and using a few pieces of old 
joists around the place I have the sat¬ 
isfaction of developing my “scheme.” 
Fifty cents’ worth of tar paper, 12 cents’ 
worth of spikes and a few odd laths 
complete the bill for a shed 8x12 feet. 
It is about seven feet high in front, slop¬ 
ing to 4^2 feet at back. The front will 
be closed by two wire doors when de¬ 
sired, and I intended to hang burlap or 
old straw matting over the wire along 
Thanksgiving time. But yesterday I 
was reading a bulletin from the Massa¬ 
chusetts Experiment Station, and I be¬ 
gin to think I should like to try win¬ 
tering some pullets there on the “open 
front” plan. The lumber is pretty thin 
to be sure, but I feel confident that be¬ 
ing “matched” it will never be draughty, 
and to my mind that is the worst pos¬ 
sible thing to lower the vitality of any 
living thing. The chickens like my 
scheme apparently. When in coops the 
old hens were constantly clucking and 
lost, wet little babies were always yip¬ 
ping as if the old cat was after them. 
They ran and scratched everything on 
the place. Now they are as contented 
as a calf after a good meal. The mother 
hens do the scratching and roam about 
the chicken yard as early and as late as 
they wish. Their “bedrooms” are al¬ 
ways ready and free to go into or leave. 
The sense of freedom helps to make 
them in better condition I believe. In 
a day or two I shall take the hens away 
and teach the half feathered youngsters 
to roost. Of course then it will be neces¬ 
sary to shut the doors at night for pro¬ 
tection from roaming four-footed thieves. 
One serious loss I have learned comes 
from the natural tendency of a flock 
to squeeze and crowd into a corner so 
tightly I really wonder any of them 
can breathe. I have found that aside 
from those who die from suffocation, 
the whole flock make a slower growth 
June 27, 
from the time they begin “huddling,” 
and so by giving them plenty of low 
roosting quarters the grain they eat 
(and it is more every day) shows 
quicker returns. I have lost a few, per¬ 
haps half a dozen out of 70, and now 
they are mostly feathered out I believe 
the rest will live, barring accident. Also 
the garden will be safe from “those 
pesky chickens again!” If the shed is 
all right for Winter quarters too I 
shall have solved the question of cheap 
shelter, and can go into the hen business 
as deep as I like, since the question of 
capital has always been a stumbling 
block. ADAH COLCORD BARNES. 
The Rural Patterns. 
No. 2431, misses’ five-gored empire 
skirt. Any of the thin Summer mate¬ 
rials in wool or wash goods make up 
charmingly in this style; 3 sizes, 13 to 
17 years. No. 2439, misses’ eight-gored 
skirt, closed with buttons at center of 
front and having an inverted box-plait 
at center-back seam. This new flare 
skirt is an exceptionally good model for 
skirts of linen, pique, duck, khaki, or, 
in fact, any washable material; three 
sizes, 13 to 17 years. No. 2415, misses* 
jumper dress, with attached one-piece 
kflt-plaited skirt. Plain or flowered lawn 
develops charmingly in this pretty 
model; three sizes, 13 to 17 years. No. 
2153, misses’ seven-gored tucked skirt. 
An excellent model for almost any 
material. Three sizes, 13 to 17 years. 
No. 2027, misses’ feeven-gored iripple 
skirt. A good model for linen, duck, 
pique, or, in fact, any of the washable 
materials; three sizes, 13 to 17 years. No. 
2027, misses’ seven-gored ripple skirt. A 
good model for linen, duck, pique, or, 
in fact, any of the washable materials; 
three sizes, 13 to 17 years. 
No. 1418, misses’ shirtwaist, with 
turn-down collar and elbow sleeves. 
Linen is the best medium for a waist of 
this style; three sizes, 13 to 17 years. 
No. 2410, misses’ waist, with body and 
sleeves in one and having body lining. 
The sleeves to be in full or three-quar¬ 
ter length. This pretty though extreme¬ 
ly simple little model is particularly 
adaptable to waists of thin silk or or¬ 
gandie; three sizes, 13 to 17 years. No. 
2443, misses’ tucked shirtwaist. This 
dainty, trim-looking little tailor-made 
shirtwaist is developed in lilac and white 
striped madras; three sizes, 13 to 17 
years. No. 2188, misses’ tucked shirt¬ 
waist, with long or three-quarter length 
sleeves. Any of the light Summer ma¬ 
terials develop well in this style; three 
sizes, 13 to 17 years. No. 1949, misses’ 
fancy waist, with elbow sleeves, high 
or low neck and with or without body 
lining and Japanese sleeve bands. Blue 
flowered lawn combined with white lace 
makes this a charming model; three 
sizes, 13 to 17 years. 
Swiss Pudding.—One pound pared 
and sliced apples, a quarter of a pound 
of bread crumbs, two ounces suet, three 
ounces sugar. Mix bread crumbs, suet 
and sugar together. Butter a pudding 
dish and put layers of apple and mix¬ 
ture till dish is full. Then pour sauce 
over and bake three-quarters of an hour 
in moderate oven. Sauce: Two ounces 
flour, two ounces butter, one pint milk, 
two eggs. Melt butter in pan, stir in 
flour. Add milk and let it boil. Allow 
to cool. Mix in yolks of eggs. Pour this 
over pudding and bake. Beat whites 
stiff and sweeten. Put on top of pud¬ 
ding and brown slightly. 
Apple Rings.—Peel some large and 
rather tart apples, remove the cores, cut 
them into slices across about a quarter 
of an inch thick, so as to make “rings.” 
Lay these in very cold water for ten 
minutes, take them out, drain lightly, dip 
in fine sugar and then fry a few at a 
time in enough smoking hot fat to float 
them. When done, which will only take 
a minute or two, take up, drain from fat 
on paper. Pile up on a very hot dish, 
dust a little sugar over and serve. 
