®fie J^TObSies iftorai tuml SHetorial 3HEo»ie ftanijimiioii. 
OLD AND NEW. 
About two y ears ago, soon after my young friends 
Adolphus and Dulciphiua were married, and had set 
up their household gods in a cottage on Willow Ave¬ 
nue, I recollect making them a visit. Being a friend 
as well as a distant relative—unfortuately the terms 
are not synonymous—the bride so kindly pressed me 
to remain, that an intended morning call was length¬ 
ened to an all-day’s stay, which included, as a matter 
of course, a thorough inspection of the new home. 
It was pretty, elegant even, overflowing with all of 
the comforts and many of the luxuries of life, and 
abounded, as usual, with all the dainty knick-knacks 
that modern young ladies construct, so skillfully ; be¬ 
sides there were boons, plants, and pictures; not in 
profusion, but iu sufficient, number to indicate the 
tastes of the occupants. A new, nicely furnished and 
convenient modern house has a great charm for me 
before the tins lose their shininess and the coal gets 
low in the bin, and, in short, the saw-dust filling of 
life crops out everywhere. But after dinner, as we sat 
in the parlor, a doubt crept into my mind, and I said 
to my pretty hostess : 
“Dulcie, I want to ask you a very impertinent 
question ? ” 
“ Oh, you careful soul! ” she exclaimed, laughing, 
“ I only wish you would—a dozen of them; but I 
haven’t the slightest hope of it. Nothing of that sort 
will ever proceed out of your mouth. What is it? 
“ Have you any bed-quilts?” 
Dulcie lay back in her easy-chair and laughed till 
the tears came. 
“ I knew that was it,” she said, “ I felt a presenti 
ment of it all the time. No, Cousin Hesah, my bed- 
quilts are not anywhere just now; and why should 
they be ? I don’t want them ; ” and she recommenced 
rocking in a slightly defiant manner. 
“ I think you will,” I said, meekly, (for I well knew 
the modern prejudice against tearing calico in pieces 
to sew it together again), “ and I am sure you will be 
of my opinion before the year is out. Quilts are far 
better than your heavy comfortables for summer, not 
as easily soiled as spreads, and, to my taste, quite as 
pretty.” 
Here Dulcie began to laugh again. 
“ I am so sorry, Cousin, that I haven’t a rising sun 
or a blazing star in the house; I must commence at 
once, I see, on an elegant log-cabin, like the one that 
nearly ruined my best, hat at the last fair, if I expect 
you to visit me often.” 
“ I did not mean to defend such inanities,” I com¬ 
menced—but just then visitors were announced, and 
the subject was dropped. 
Early the next summer I received the following note, 
which explains itself: 
No. 9 Willow Avenue, June, 2, 1875. 
Dear Cousin Hesah : 
If you can look in upon me some day this week I 
shall be very glad. I am suffering from that conta¬ 
gious but not dangerous disease, the bed-quilt mania, 
and entreat yon to fly to my relief. 
Distractedly, yours, 
Dulciphina Smith. 
Half an hour afterward, I rang the bell at No. 9, 
but before the maid could show me into the parlor, 
Dulcie appeared at the top of the stairs. 
“ Come up here,” said she ; “ I am quite unable to 
leave my room except to call people into it,” and, 
upon following her iu, I did not wonder. Upon the 
floor and bed lay fi ve discarded summer suits iu al¬ 
most their pristine freshness, each perfectly lovely 
once, but hideous now, according to the decree of fash¬ 
ion : a buff linen lawn, a white pique, and three cam¬ 
brics; a gaily-flowered Dolly Vardeu, a blue spotted 
with white, and a green and white striped one. 
“ What am I to do with them?” said poor Dulcie; 
“ I can’t make them over, for no two will go together, 
nor wear them mornings, for they are unsuitable. If 
I attempt to bestow them upon the poor, they will 
be sure to object to the style, and I have about con¬ 
cluded to make a bed-quilt or two, and finish off by 
inviting all my friends to an old-style quilting, with 
pumpkin pie and cheese for refreshments. What do 
you say to it ? ” 
“ Capital,” said I. “ Where shall we begin?” 
After much deliberation, we decided upon a “ sash- 
work” quilt of the green striped cambric 'and the 
pique, and a star pattern of the buff and blue dresses— 
buff stars upon a blue ground. For the sash-work 
we cut the white cloth into blocks eight inches square; 
there were some half-blocks to come at the sides, and 
four quarter-blocks for the corners. The green stripes 
were about an inch and a half wide. 
Commencing with a quarter section, I basted a green 
strip across the straight edge and cut their ends slant¬ 
ing outward. Dulcie stitched this across on the ma¬ 
chine, while I took a half-block of white, basted a 
strip of green across the perpendicular edge, then 
joined a plain white block to the green, another green 
strip to the white block, and finished with another 
half-block of white. When Dulcie had sewed these 
seams, I joined the row to the corner and they were 
stitched together. 
We went on in this way till the side of the quilt 
measured eight feet in length, and then we finished 
the middle row, running from corner to corner, with a 
quarter-block at each end, and in each succeeding row 
left out one white block till we, as Dulcie said, “ nar¬ 
rowed it off.” When we had finished, there were 
quite enough of the green stripes left for two more 
quilts. Dulcie bestowed part of them upon an ad¬ 
miring lady friend who dropped in while we were at 
work one morning,—it is my private opinion that she 
put them in the rag-bag on reaching home, but I 
never expect to know,—and laid the remainder aside 
to go with the Dolly Varden. 
Dulcie was a little dubious about the buff and blue. 
“ I know,” she said, “ it will be patriotic and Revo- 
lutionary, and very much like the flag of our country 
forever, but it’s too much to expect it to be pretty, too; 
besides I don’t want it to give my guests the night¬ 
mare and have them celebrating the Fourth of July in 
their dreams.” 
But as there appeared to be nothing else to do, she 
was finally persuaded to set about it, though regard¬ 
ing the task a little unkindly. When done, she ac¬ 
knowledged it to be quite pretty. The buff stars were 
eight-pointed, made of four double, diamond-shaped 
pieces, and around each we put alternate squares and 
half-squares of blue, thus making a square block; 
these were joined to each other by plain blocks of the 
blue. There were about fifty of the star-blocks in the 
quilt when completed. 
After berth were finished, we held a council of war, 
at which Adolphus was permitted to assist, and it was 
decided that the quilting should come off on the Fourth 
of July. Thirty invitations or more, printed upon 
brown paper in ye olden style, were duly sent out, and 
the thirty expert needlewomen who received them re¬ 
turned immediate acceptances; about the same num¬ 
ber of gentlemen who were bidden to the “ frolic” in 
the evening, responded “ aye” to a man. 
The eventful day —a cool one, fortunately—beheld 
the front and back parlor cleared for action, each con¬ 
taining a quilt, stretched, however, upon such patent 
frames as our grandmothers—unfortunate souls !— 
never dreamed of; and at two P. M., precisely, eight 
maids and matrons, in costumes suited to the occasion, 
took their seats at each. Martha Washington, I am 
happy to say, worked with a royal will; one or two 
more made their appearance presently, and seemed 
willing to do likewise, as' did Abigail Adams, Mrs. 
Knox, and many others whom we read of. We were 
greatly entertained by Mistress Dorothy Dudley, who 
performed Washington’s March with much grace and 
spirit upon an ancient spinnet, borrowed for the occa¬ 
sion from a music store ; and a dulcimer, on which 
Adolphus’ great aunt Keziah had made melody in 
the days of her youth, was- vigorously thumped by 
nearly all the (palters in succession. 
After an hour’s steady work, the first set of quilters 
were relieved and bidden to amuse themselves with 
games of croquet, etc. while others took their places. 
Bo well did this plan work, that by seven o’clock, the 
hour at which the gentlemen were to appear, the ladies 
were at liberty, and the two quilts neatly folded and 
laid away. 
At about eight o’clock Samuel Adams, who had 
been hovering around most of the afternoon, led tin; 
way to the dining-room, where a “goodlie collation ’> 
was set forth. I fear the domine’s grace before meat 
was of modern length, but it suited well the sharp ap¬ 
petites of the hungry quilters. As the tea was passed 
in tiny, ancient cups, I overheard Mrs. Abigail A - 
remark to her nearest neighbor, that a rare packet of 
it, sent by husband from Philadelphia as a present to 
herself, had been mistakenly appropriated by Mrs. 
Samuel, but, as it was all iu the family, she should 
never mention it; no, indeed ! 
Time would fail me to tell of all the good things 
set before the company. Pumpkin pies had been 
found a possibility, as Adolphus had discovered at a 
farm-house a few miles off a supply of that useful vege- 
ble, dried. 
Lemonade and coffee, doughnuts and cheese, elec¬ 
tion cake, boiled ham, yellow pickles, sandwiches of 
brown bread spread with butter and honey—does not 
one cry enough! just to read of them ? And after¬ 
ward ? There were old-time games, a few worldlie 
songs, and a reel or two, walked through in the man- 
1 ner supposed to have been en regie at the Republican 
Court to music supplied by a very squeaky fife. 
At ten o’clock the domine and his lady took a cere¬ 
monious leave, and the remainder of the guests soon 
followed, the gentlemen all declaring that somebody 
ought to have a quilting every year, but for some rea¬ 
son the ladies did not echo the sentiment as strougly 
as they might. Hesah Brown. 
Canaries. —Make just half the fuss directed in the 
bird-book over the matter, and you will have, doubt¬ 
less, better success in raising birds. Never give them 
sugar, but all the red pepper they will eat. It is the 
best thing for them. And if your bird feels hoarse at 
any time, put a piece of fat salt pork in the cage, and 
see how the little fellow will enjoy it. Give him flax¬ 
seed once in a while, and if he appears dumpy, occa¬ 
sionally give a diet of bread and water, with red pep¬ 
per sprinkled in. 
a. 
