1872.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
AG 3 
THE H©U§ElE[<Om 
fW (For other Household items , see '•'■Basket" pages.) 
Chopping and Choppers. 
cutting edge. The motion is communicated by a 
crank, and by means of multiplying wheels is very 
rapid. The machine is much more simple than it 
appears to be, is easily cleaned and kept in order, 
and does its work in a very satisfactory manner. 
i-rni ^ea—-► <* - 
Chopping or mincing is one of the frequent 
mechanical operations of the kitchen. Where any 
special apparatus 
is used for the pur¬ 
pose it is the old- 
fashioned chop¬ 
ping-knife, fig. 1, 
made with a curved 
cutting edge if a 
round or oval 
bowl is used, and 
with a straight one 
if a flat-bottomed 
tray is to hold 
the material to be 
chopped. Chop¬ 
ping in this way is tedious work, not on account 
of the strength required, as this is but little, pro¬ 
vided the knife be sharp, but from the many blows 
or cuts necessary to reduce the material to the de¬ 
sired fineness. Sometimes the common knife is 
made with two blades, and this with some mate¬ 
rials facilitates the work, while with others it is 
apt to clog. In fig. 2 is given a French chopping- 
knife, which is made of two blades a foot or more 
in length. The material to be minced is spread 
upon a chopping-board, and the knife is worked 
Fig. 1.— CHOPPING-KNIFE. 
Fig. 2.— FRENCH CHOPPER. 
with a rocking motion. The German butchers, 
who often chop meat for their customers, use two 
heavy cleavers, one in each hand; these play upon 
the meat alternately, and chop it rapidly, though 
at an unnecessary expense of strength. Chopping 
machines of various kinds have been devised, and 
have met with more or less success. One of the 
earliest of these was a cylinder in which the blades, 
placed on an axis in a spiral form, revolved against 
other blades attached to the interior of the cylinder. 
This, however, tore rather than cut the meat, and 
is now much less used tliau formerly. The latest 
chopping machine is called the “American Meat 
and Vegetable Chopper.” It is made of several 
sizes, one of which is shown in figure 3. The 
knife is moved up and down in a cylinder which 
turns a short distance around with each movement 
of the knife, and thus exposes a fresh place to the 
New Heels in Old Socks. 
I like to darn stockings, but sometimes the heels 
of my husband’s socks gave way before his rough 
boots in such a shocking manner that I had no 
heart to undertake their repair, and was fain to 
provide new socks instead. The heels of these I 
lined with strong cloth. Once, before the use in 
our family of farmer’s “ stoga ” boots, I thought it 
enough to run the heels with doubled yarn like the 
socks. In spite of even the linings, the heels 
would wear out all too soon, and a day came when 
my stocking-bag was no longer a pleasure, but just 
a reproach to me, and I dreaded nothing more than 
the call for clean socks. 
One night, when the baby was restless and pre¬ 
vented my sleeping, light 
Eureka! I was im- 
patient for morn¬ 
ing to dawn, and 
at the earliest con¬ 
venient moment I 
sat down to make 
those socks “al¬ 
most as good as 
new.” I took 
strong cloth, new 
denim, hickory, 
drilling, or duck- heeling a stocking. 
ing, and cut out heels large enough to cover 
all the ragged portion of the sock-heel. All this 
ragged part I cut away, and put the new heels in 
double, the outer cloth being larger than the inner, 
in order that there might be no bungling place 
where the new heels joined on to the old socks. 
I turned in the edges of the outer heel and hemmed 
them down neatly, but the inner cloth I only cross- 
stitched on. It all took but little time, not one 
quarter so long as it would to knit in new heels, as 
some good knitters do, and I think the cloth heels 
will wear much longer, as none of these double 
cloth heels have worn out yet. I do not doubt that 
many and many a smart woman has made this dis¬ 
covery for herself long ago, but she failed to report 
it for the benefit of the sisterhood of stocking- 
darners—“ hence these tears,” and hence the delight 
I found in invention. Marmar. 
Home Topics. 
BY FAITH ROCHESTER. 
The School Exhibition.— Some of the best 
teachers and some of the wisest parents are op¬ 
posed to school exhibitions. These are of two 
kinds—the public examination and rehearsal, and 
the regular exhibition with its foot-liglits, stage 
scenery, and dramatic performances. Of the latter 
we will speak first. Intelligent teachers get up 
these exhibitions with a good deal of secret mis¬ 
giving as to their utility. They know that the 
learning of parts in dialogues, and the attendance 
at rehearsals, and all that, interfere with the regu¬ 
lar progress of the pupils, or overtask them. 
They see also how the public display cultivates 
jealousy, and vanity, and selfish ambition among 
the little men and women. The rehearsals take 
place in the evening, and children going to them 
without the company of their parents are liable to 
exposures of health, and perhaps of morals, from 
which careful parents would protect them. The 
exhibitions usually take place in the evening, and 
close late. Late hours and crowds are bad enough 
when children are only quiet spectators and audi¬ 
tors, but when they are the excited actors upon 
the stage, subjects of the criticism or applause of 
the crowd, it is very great abuse of innocent child¬ 
hood. Flushed and heated by the close air and by 
excitement, the children expose themselves to cold 
draughts of air, and become victims of disease, 
sometimes of speedy death. Little girls are in 
especial danger of catching cold, because more 
barbarously exposed by their insufficient clothing. 
One would suppose that the parents of these 
rate their children’s lives very cheaply. 
The reason most frequently urged in favor of 
putting children upon the public stage is that “it 
gives them confidence”! O dear! So it does! 
But does it seem to you that Young America suffers 
from excess of modesty? Human nature hardly 
needs cultivation in the way of self-confidence, 
love of display, desire for applause. Oratory is 
well in its way, but I thing it is over-rated. I have 
a suspicion, too, that our children may be taught 
to read and speak with proper expression, and with 
a natural (or, if you please, dramatic ) rendering of 
conversations, better in the regular reading-class 
than in the especial training for exhibitions and 
theatricals. That subject is too large for this page, 
and I want to take it up again. 
The public examination is superseding the old- 
fashioned dramatic school exhibition, and it has 
many firm friends among professional educators. 
The pupil's are examined in the presence of their 
parents and friends, so that all may see just what 
progress has been made by each, and give credit 
accordingly. The expectation of these periodical 
examinations is supposed to act as a stimulus with 
teachers and pupils alike. That is the idea of the 
public examination, and if I had not been inter¬ 
ested as pupil, as teacher, and not exactly as 
parent, but as elder sister and children’s friend, I 
suppose I might not feel so much like calling these 
examinations a humbug. The parents are deceived 
most; the children take another lesson in the arts 
of deception, and in the immense importance of 
being able to make a show; and the teachers feel 
how almost impossible it is to help this wretched 
state of things until the public mind learns the 
true idea of education. 
The public examination is no true test of the ad¬ 
vancement of the pupils, or of the teacher’s ability 
as an educator. Children naturally quick and 
ready show to the best advantage, while slower 
ones are abashed and discouraged. Those who 
need stimulus most get the least help from the 
public exhibition. Those whom nature has gifted 
with quicker wits, get praise which nurtures their 
self-conceit, instead of encouraging their lagging 
faculties. The poorest educators often make the 
best show as exhibitors on examination-day. They 
can show you that the pupils have been trained to 
a certain dexterity and mechanical precision, and 
to concert action which is very effective with the 
unreflecting crowd ; but no teacher can exhibit the 
best things a good teacher can do in the way of 
education. The illustrations which have bright¬ 
ened all the daily tasks ; the bits of history and 
biography which have endeared to each pupil text¬ 
books otherwise dry and dull; opportune sugges¬ 
tions as to methods of study; and, better still, 
sympathetic help toward the formation of noble 
character, toward the development of honest men 
and women with clear heads, and warm hearts, 
and helpful hands—can any public examination, 
yearly or monthly, make a true exhibit of these 
most precious works of an educator ? Will it be 
likely to help or to hinder this larger education ? 
If you would satisfy yourself as to the faithful¬ 
ness and ability of your children’s teacher, go and 
see him or her at work two or three times at least 
every term, dropping in unexpected for fifteen 
minutes or a half-day, as you can find time. Let 
the teacher feel that your eye is on him and your 
heart in his work. If you talk with the children 
at home about their school work frequently, as well 
as visit them in school, it will do them a deal of 
good—provided all is done with true sympathy , and 
not in the character of a cool superior critic. 
Warm Feet. —To go with cold feet is to under¬ 
mine the constitution, and this half of the women 
and girls are doing. They have a habit of cold feet 
and an accompanying habit of ill-health. Thick, 
home-knit woolen stockings are not very fashion¬ 
able. Once, no country girl was reckoned fit to be 
married until she had knit her pillow-case full of 
