1903. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
S 43 
Dyeing a Faded Carpet. 
Perhaps it will be encouraging for 
the inquirer about dyeing a carpet to 
know of some one who has been suc¬ 
cessful in accomplishing that task, and 
lived to tell the story. We wanted a 
carpet for a long corridor. We had a 
partly worn crimson Brussels carpet, 
but it was too shabby as it was, and we 
were in despair, when the thought 
struck me to try to dye it. Sending for 
two packages of crimson dye the shade 
of the carpet, they were quickly pre¬ 
pared according to directions, the car¬ 
pet was ripped, and one breadth at a 
time laid on the laundry table and the 
hot dye applied with a small stiff brush 
(a small handled brush such as is com¬ 
monly used about a sink, a small scrub¬ 
bing brush), the dye was thoroughly 
rubbed into the nap of the carpet, and 
even the worn places “responded to 
treatment,” and the breadths were then 
laid on the grass to dry. After they 
were dry a wet cloth was laid over them 
and a hot iron run over to raise the 
pile, and a good brushing with a whisk 
broom completed the process. Tired, but 
triumphant, we laid what appeared to 
be almost a new crimson carpet the 
length of the corridor, and when it 
needs it I shall repeat the bath. It 
would be much more difficult to do a 
whole carpet on the floor, and great 
care would have to be exercised in go¬ 
ing around the different colored spots, 
but it could be done with a small brush, 
a tooth brush for instance. Would it 
not be possible to restore the cream 
color with gasoline? We wash our car¬ 
pets on the floor with a naphtha prepa¬ 
ration, removing all the furniture and 
opening the windows wide. They look 
like new. Frances e. seavey. 
I successfully colored a 9x11 rug prac¬ 
tically the same colors as the inquirer’s, 
a deep golden brown, by two appplica- 
tions of Diamond dye, using five pack¬ 
ages to about eight quarts of water 
each time, which I kept at the boiling 
point on a small two-burner oil stove. 
I tacked the carpet to the storeroom 
floor, where it was left until perfectly 
dry, using a long-handled scrubbing 
brush, which made the work easy. I 
used dark brown dye for wool. One 
application would give F. A. M. the tan 
color she suggested (the reds do not 
change with the brown dye), and I am 
sure she could dye her rug a green just 
as successfully if she prefers that color. 
I used a liberal amount of salt, accord¬ 
ing to directions, letting three days 
elapse between applications. f. m. b. 
Pickling Olives. 
I’loase Rive directions for stuffing and 
preserving olives in oil and pickle. 
A. T. B. 
A ns. —Circular No. 24, “Olive Pick- 
Hug,” issued by the California Exper¬ 
iment Station, recommends the pickling 
of ripe olives as much superior to the 
green, both in flavor and nutritive value. 
The olives are first put in lye (two 
ounces of potash lye to one gallon of 
water) for four hours. This is to re¬ 
move the tartness, and the process is 
repeated once or twice if necessary. The 
olives are then rinsed thoroughly, and 
put in cold water, which is changed 
twice a day until the potash is all re¬ 
moved, as judged by the taste. The 
water is then replaced with brine com¬ 
posed of four ounces of salt to a gallon 
of water, and allowed to stand two 
days. This is followed by soaking for 
seven days in brine with six ounces of 
salt to the gallon. Next the olives are 
put in a brine containing 10 ounces of 
salt to the gallon for two weeks, and 
finally they are put in a brine containing 
14 ounces of salt to the gallon of water. 
Vats or other receptacles used should 
be perfectly clean, odorless and taste¬ 
less, earthenware being the best, but 
commercially it is usually more conven¬ 
ient to use wooden receptacles thor¬ 
oughly treated with boiling water and 
soda, so that they are sterilized, and all 
taste of the wood removed. Some of 
the best pickled olives are made without 
the lye treatment, being placed in pure 
water, which is changed twice a day un¬ 
til the bitterness is extracted, but this 
takes 40 to 60 days or more. The keep¬ 
ing quality of the pickled olives is 
much improved by heating; if this is 
done they should be heated to 175 de¬ 
grees in jars, like ordinary canning, and 
a weaker brine used than that recom¬ 
mended for last pickle. One of our 
California friends kindly gives the fol¬ 
lowing personal experience: 
I know nothing about stuffing olives, 
although, stuffed olives are plentiful in 
the market here. If opportunity offers 
I will find out where they are prepared, 
etc. We have eaten them occasionally. 
They are not in oil, but some kind of 
brine. Preserving olives in oil is new 
to me. Pickling ripe olives is getting 
to be quite general in this section. There 
are many methods and recipes. I pickled 
some this season as follows, and they 
are very fine: To 100 pounds of olives 
(ripe) add one pound of concentrated 
lye in water enough to cover the fruit. 
Draw off and pour hack three times 
each day for three days. Now cover 
with fresh water,' which draw off and 
replace with fresh water three times per 
day for three days. Now add one-half 
pound of lye in water enough to cover 
the olives, drawing off and pouring 
same back three times each day for 
three days. Lastly, cover with brine, at 
the rate of one-half pound of salt to 
each gallon of water. Every three days 
draw off and cover with new brine of 
the same strength until they are no 
longer bitter. Pickled ripe olives are 
very appetizing and the desire for them 
grows with most people until they con¬ 
sider them more as a necessity than 
as a luxury. The above recipe is for 
medium-sized olives. Small olives do 
not require so much lye, while large ones 
like the Sevillano require more severe 
treatment. h. g. keesling. 
The Huckleberry Picker. 
“I won’t go huckleberrying again,” you 
say with decision, sinking wearily on 
the stone doorstep and looking deject¬ 
edly into your tin pail, where a dozen 
or more blueberries are rolling around 
among bits of twigs and small leaves. 
“What is the use,” you continue, “of 
tramping all over creation and getting 
all tired out and not getting any berries 
either? No, I’ll stay at home after this 
and be sensible.” 
It is the next day, or the next but 
one, and it is cooler. Somehow your 
mind reverts to huckleberries. You think 
how good some would taste with crisp 
crackers and cold milk for your sup¬ 
per. Your mouth fairly waters. You 
know there are cans of milk in the 
well, and you go into the pantry and 
put some crackers in a tin dish and 
set it in the oven. The fire is going 
out, but that is all the better; the 
crackers will crisp without scorching. 
Then you find a pail and buckle your 
belt through the bail so as to have your 
hands free and you set forth. 
It is a beautiful day. To be sure the 
sun is warm, but there is a delightful 
breeze laden with piney odors. You 
breathe deeply and your heart thrills 
with delight. You have in mind a cer¬ 
tain huckleberry bush where there used 
to be big handsome berries. You picked 
nearly a quart off it one day long ago. 
You hurry through the pasture, brushing 
the fragrant bay-berry bushes as you 
passs. You go through the pines and 
on along the familiar cart path. You 
come to the place where the bush ought 
to be. The young oaks, maples and 
witch hazel have grown all out of your 
remembrance, but at last you find the 
bush, grown, too, amazingly, but—you 
fail to find a berry upon it. You look 
around a bit blankly. You think of the 
crackers in the oven, and the milk in 
the well. Well, who cares, crackers and 
milk alone are very good if the crackers 
are crisp and the milk is very cold—and 
one has a good appetite. 
The pail is rather in your way. You 
slip it around behind you and go on. 
Somehow you dismiss berries from your 
mind and take up other subjects. It is 
years since you have seen Brown’s 
Island. You will go there. How the 
path grows up in a few years. You 
halt suddenly as you hear a familiar 
clucking sound, and you look eagerly and 
see a partridge, her feathers ruffled, 
bustling about like a diminutive setting 
hen; then she whirrs up from the ground 
out of sight. This pleases you somehow, 
and the sight of the pretty wild creature 
gives you more satisfaction than would 
many huckleberries. You go on down 
the familiar but now unfamiliar path 
till you come to Brown’s bars, only there 
are no bars now, and the trees are so 
tall that there are dim vistas where there 
used to be thick foliage. You attempt 
to go down to .the meadow, but you en¬ 
counter an impenetrable barrier of 
horsebriar, so you turn and follow the 
newer path around to the east side of the 
meadow. The ground feels cool and soft 
to your feet; the big groups of ferns 
growing in the dense shade, the tall tree 
trunks and the thick overarching foliage 
all give the place a tropical effect. You 
come out to the meadow, into the warm 
glow of the sun, but when you attempt 
to cross the brook to the “island” you 
find the water higher than you expected, 
and you give up going. You look down 
the brook and see the pure flame of the 
cardinal flower, and the dull purple of 
the Eupatorium. 
Somehow you cease to be in such a 
hurry. You go slowly back till you come 
to a group of pines where the ground is 
covered thick with brown needles. Slip¬ 
ping your pail around to your side, you 
lie down flat on the ground and gaze up 
into the trees. You recall those lines of 
Keats as you look: 
The freshness of the space of heaven above 
Edged round with dark tree tops, through 
which a dove 
Would often beat its wings, and often too 
A little cloud would move across the blue. 
As you dreamily watch the slow move¬ 
ments of the tree tops in the light breeze, 
you gently drift into sleep. How long 
you doze you do not know, but you 
are awakened by the movement of some 
wild creature in the bushes, or by the 
cry of a bird, you are not sure which. 
At any rate you wake and sit up and 
look about you drowsily. You left your 
watch at home so you don’t know what 
time it is, and you don’t much care. 
You rise to your feet and slowly walk 
along through the quiet woods. You 
feel calm and rested and at peace with 
the whole world. You wonder how 
anyone can choose to live in a city when 
they can have such beauty and quietness. 
You wonder how it would seem to 
pitch your tent and live here in the 
woods. The sound of the wind in the 
tree tops is like the voice of the sea. 
Every breath is a delight, laden as it is 
with fresh woodsy odors. The light is 
soft and every leaf and twig looks per¬ 
fect. The gentle breeze caresses your 
face. You find a Black birch tree and 
you break off a twig and nibble it, de¬ 
lighting in the sweet spicy taste. You 
go home by a different path and soon 
come to the pasture where the cows are 
feeding. They look at you with big dark 
eyes, and one comes to meet you with 
an air of cordial friendliness. You pass 
along among the bushes, giving a big 
dogwood with its sinister red stems a 
wide berth. 
Then suddenly you become aware of a 
dim blue, misty bush in front of you. 
Huckleberries had entirely slipped your 
mind, but now you remember with a 
start and you pull your pail around in 
front of you and fall to picking in fev¬ 
erish haste. As you work you scan 
the surrounding bushes and you see an¬ 
other one loaded with big berries. 
“Well, now,” you say, as you reach 
home, your pail heaped up, “it wa9 
worth while this time. I’ll go again 
to-morrow.” And deep down in your 
heart you know that you would go again 
to-morrow even if you had not found a 
berry. It is not really huckleberries that 
you go after. susan brown robbins. 
n-Eddystone 
Zephyrette 
Ginghams 
These remarkable fast- 
color Zephyrette Dress 
Ginghams are the result 
of our new scientific pro¬ 
cess. Unusually stylish, 
durable and economical. 
New Process 
Dress 
Ginghams 
To insure get¬ 
ting the genu¬ 
ine, be sure to 
ask your dealer 
for Simpson- 
Eddystone 
Zephyrette 
Ginghams. 
Write us his 
n a m e if he 
hasn’t them in 
stock. We’ll 
help him sup¬ 
ply you. 
The Eddystone Mfg. Co. 
Philadelphia 
t ,WWAPAT.Orf. 1 <' 
EddystonE 
Zephyrettes 
A LABOR SAVING device 
for WOMEN is a 
RELIANCE MOP 
WRINGER 
Do not wring a filthy mop 
with your hands: nor stoop 
over a pail of dirty water and 
Inhale the offensive fumes. 
Everyone expresses their de¬ 
light with the “Reliance.” 
Every wringer guaranteed to 
give satisfaction. 
LEE CHAIR CO., Box C, Oneida, N.Y, 
TORTiH 
■ /TELEPHONES specially 
l ■ adapted to farm lines. Sold 
direct from factory. 
Book of instructions 
how to organize 
farmers and build 
line free. Write for 
Bulletin No. 319. The North 
Electric Co., Cleveland, O, 
Kansas City, Ho. Dallas, Tex, 
Ten Days' Free Trial 
allowed on every bicycle we sell. 
We Ship on Approval and trial 
to anyone in U. S. and prepay the freight. 
If you are not satisfied with bicycle after 
using it ten days don't pay a cent. 
Factory Prices gc*£ 6 %* 
pair of tires from anyone at any price until 
you receive our latest Art Catalogs of high 
grade bicycles and sundries and learn our ««• 
heard of prices and marvelous new offers. 
It Only Coats a cent to write a postal 
and everything will be sent you FREE 
by return mail. You will get much valuable 
information. Do Not Wait; write it Now 1 
Tires, Coaster Brakes, single wheels, 
parts, repairs and sundries at half usual prices . 
MEAD CYCLE CO., Dept. B80, Chicago 
I Have You a 
| Summer Stove ? 
heating the room. 
The stifling air of a 
close kitchen is changed 
to comfortable coolness 
by installing a New Per¬ 
fection Wick Blue Flame 
Oil Cook-Stove to do the 
family cooking. 
No kitchen furnishing 
is so convenient as this 
stove. Gives a working 
heat at once, and main¬ 
tains it until turned out 
—that too, without over- 
If you examine the 
NEW PERFECTION 
Wick Blue Flame Oil Cook-Stove 
you will see why this is so. The heat from the 
chimney of the “New Perfection” is concejitrated 
under the kettle and not dissipated through the room 
by radiation. Thus it does the work of the coal 
range without its discomfort. Ask your dealer about 
this stove—if not with him, write our nearest agency. 
The r is a ver y 
jK&yOLamp 
housefurnishing and gives 
a clear, powerful light more agreeable than gas or 
electricity. Safe everywhere and always. Made 
of brass finely nickel plated—just the thing for the 
living-room. If not with your dealer, w’rite our 
nearest agency. 
Standard Oil Company ol New York 
(Incorporated) 
