T H E. H O M E:
3 monthly, for the “wife, the 31mm, til: Sister, ant flzc Qatghter.

VOL. IV.—DECEMBEB, 1857.—N0. VI.

 

HARRIET MARTINEAU.

ARRIET MAnrerAn was born at
Norwich, Eng, in 1802. Her
atnily is of French descent, and was
Piven into exile by the revocation of
the Edict of Nantes.
An unusual attachment existed be-
tween her and her elder brother, Rev.
ames Martino-an, and this, with deli-
‘me health and partial deatiiess which
Prgcluded the usual enjoyments of
chlldhood, led her early to literary
Pursuits. How intensely she suffered
Pom the privation of hearing she has
mist vividly described :
0 .ve known deafness grow upon
" Densitive child, so graduallyas never
VOL. w. 16.

 

to bring the moment when her pa-
rents felt impelled to seek her eonli-
denee; and the moment therefore,
never arrived. She became gradu-
ally home down in health and spirits
by the prestsure of her trouble, her
springs of pleasure all poisoned, her
temper irritated, and rendered Ino-
rose, her intellectual wide puffed up
to an insufferable hauglitiness, and her
conscience brought by perpetual pain
of heart into a state. oftrembling sore-
ness—all this, without one word ever
being ofl‘ered to her by any person
whatever of sympathy or sorrow
about her misfortune. Now and

 

  

246

then some one made light of it; now
and then some one told her she mis-
managed it, and gave advice, which
being inapplicable, grated upon her
morbid feelings; but no one inquired
what she felt, or appeared to suppose
that she did feel. Many were anx-
ious to show kindness, and tried to
supply some of her privations; but it
was too late. She was shut up, and
her manner appeared hard and ungra-
clOUS, while her heart was dissolving
in emotions. N 0 one knew when she
stole out of the room, exasperated by
the earnest talk and merry laugh that
she could not share, that she went
to bolt herself in her own room, and
sob on the bed, or throw herself on
her knees to pray for help or death..
No one knew of her passionate long-
ing to be alone, while she was, for
her good, driven into society; nor
how, when b chance alone for an
hour or two she wasted the luxury by
watching the lapse of the precious
minutes.

“And when she grew hard, strict,
and even fanatical in her religion, no
one suspected that this was because
her religion was her all—her soul’s
strength under agonies of false shame,
her wealth under her privations, her
refuge in her loneliness; while her
mind was so narrow as to require that
what religion was to her—her one
pursuit and object—it should be to
everybody else. In course of years
she in great measure retrieved herself,
though conscious of irreparable mis-
chief done to :her nature. All this
while man hearts were aching for
her, and t c minds of her iiunily
were painfully occupied in thinking
what could be done for her temper
and her happiness. The mistake of
reserve was the only thing they are
answerable for; a mistake which,
however mischievous, was naturally
caused by the Very pain of their own
sympathy first, and the reserve of the
sufferer afterward.”

Most happy was it for Miss Mar
tineau that she found in authorship an
outlet for her eanisitely sensitive

 

HARRIET MARTINEAU.

nature. Her first work, a devotional
one, was published when she was
twenty-one, and was followed soon
after by “Christmas Day.” It was a
great happiness to her when she was
able by her pen to relieve her family
of her support, and thus assist her
father, who had been reduced by bu-
siness reverses'from wealth to compar-
ative poverty.

The young authoress rapidly fol-
lowed up her first successes. Before
she was thirty she had written eight
or ten volumes of tales, “ Original
Hymns,” tracts, and three prize essays
on theological subjects.

In 1832 Miss Martineau appeared
as a political writer, in a series of
“ Illustrations of Political Economy,”
“ Taxationfi’ “ Poor Laws,” in which,
under the disguise of a story, she
sought to'infuse into the public mind
her own notions of rcfiu'm. I Ier ob-
jeet was truly philanthropic, and gave
her an American as well as European
celebrity.

These publications were followed
by her memorable visit to the United
States in 1835. We have not yet
forgotten with what open-armed hos-
pitality she was entertained here, nor

ow rank and wealth rivaled each
other in doing homage to the distin-
guished guest. Everywhere 1191’
apartments were crowded with vislt'
ors, and her tables piled with notes 0f
invitation from one elegant mansion
to another.

After an ovation which would have
melted the heart or turned the h
of any other Woman, she went home
to dissect and book us. -I~Ier reflOO'
tions were returned to us in two V0 ‘
umes, “ Society in America,” :3
“Retrospect of Western Travela
which she discussed our il'istitutl9n'
and manners in a way little flatter
to our national vanity. But With
her discourtesy, her ignorance “1
one-sided prejudice, She to“ 115 many
wholesome truthS, WhiCh W0 h‘d ‘
temper to receive, nor wisdom  P“f
in practice. With the malof'lty 
Americans, Miss Martineau 18

 

mnnr. ..._.__. ‘

   

 

 

 

 

IMPROVEMENT.

considered the synonym of every
thing that is harsh, crabbed, and sour
in womankind. Her gifted and dis-
criminating friend, Charlotte Bronte,
draws a very different picture of her,
in a description of a visit to Amble-
side:

“I am at Miss Martineau’s for a
week. Her house is very pleasant,
both within and without, arranged at
all points with admirable neatness
and comfort. Her visitors enjoy the
most perfect liberty ; what she claims
for herself she allows them. I rise
at my own hour, breakfast alone—
she is up at five, takes a cold bath,
and a walk by starlight, and has fin-

ished her breakfast and gotto her,

work by seven o’clock. pass the
morning in the drawing-room—she
in her study. At two o’clock we
meet — work, talk, and walk together
till five, her dinner hour; spend the
evening together, when she converscs
fluently and abundantly, and‘with the
most complete frankness. I go to
my own room soon after ten—she
sits up writing letters till twelve.
“She seems exhaustless in strength
and spirits, and indefatigable in the
faculty of labor. She is a great and
a good woman; of course not without
peculiarities, but I have seen none as
yet that annoy me. She is both hard
and warm-hearted, abrupt and affec-
tionate, liberal and despotic. I be-
lieve she is'not at all conscious of her
9% absolutism. When I tell her of
It, she denies the charge warmly;
then I laugh at her. I believe she
rules Ambleside. Some of the gen-
try dislike her, but the lower orders

aVe a great regard for her. ‘ *

6 government of her household is
admirably administered. All she
does is well done, from the writing of
8 history down to the quietest female
00cupation.”

. Since her American tour Miss Mar-
tMean has published several works
r01‘ children, and two novels, which are
3 racterized by an excellent critic as

full of acute and delicate thought, and

egant description.” “ Eastern Life:

 

247

Past and Present,” is one of her most
valuable productions, and embodies
her observations of Egypt, Palestine,
Greece, Syria, and Arabia, during a
tour of these countries made in 1846.
She has excellent qualities as a trav-
eler, and her opinions are entitled to
great weight.

“ Household Education,” published
in 1849, tpropounds Miss Martineau’s
theory 0 domestic training. It is a
digest of long and thoughtful observa-
tions, and makes us feel that it needed
only the more intimate relations of
wife and mother to render her one of
the most lovely and benignant of her
sex.

The last feature in the life of this
lady is one which her truest friends
and admirers look upon with profound
sorrow. A woman among unbeliev-
ers — Harriet Martineau, in league
with Hume, Gibbon, and Voltaire, to
undermine the foundation of our most
holy faith, is indeed a humiliating
s ectacle. In “ Letters on Man’s

ature and Development,” she avows
herself without disguise, and takes
her place in the deadly ranks of athe-
ism. This, so far as we know, is her.
present attitude: let us hope that her
errors are of the head rather than of
the heart—the transient vagaries of
an over-speculative mind, and that
her splendid powers will yet be en-
listed in a nobler work.

 

IMPROVEMENT.

IF you have great talents, industry
will improve them; if moderate
abilities, industry will supply their
deficiencies. Nothing is denied to
well-directed labor; nothing is ever
to be attained without it. Remem-
ber, a man’s genius is always in the
beginning of life as much unknown
to himself as to others; and it is
only after frequent trials, attended
with success, that he dares think him-
self equal to the undertak' sin which
those who have succeeded ve fixed
the admiration of mankind.

 

 

248

MRS. GRUNDY’S OPINION OF
HER ACQUAINTANCE.
as IRS. c. n. GILDERSLEEVI.

“ Not only good and kind,
But strong and elevated is thy mind ;
A spirit that with noble pride
(,‘an look superior down
On fortunc’s smile or frown ;
That an, without regret or pain,
To virtuc's lowlicst dut sacrifice."
[Iona errurox.

“The world has won thee, lady, and thy joys
Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys."
Oman.
“ 0 you know, Mrs. Nettleton,
I’ve found out why Mrs. Finch
got that new gray raglan to wear this
am, when she had a good black
stella?”

“No, I don’t; but how did you
become acquainted with the import-
ant secret?” said the lady addressed,
with a half-concealed tone of con-
tempt for the speaker, which the lat»
tcr lady did not perceive, so much
absorbed was she by the important
discovery she had made.

“ How? Why, by —- What (lo you
call it? It ’s that Word they “so
when animals seem to know things.”

“ Instinct '? ”

“Yes! instinct told me so.”

“Good authority, Mrs. Grundy.”

“ The very best, my dear Mrs. Net-
tlcton. And instinct also tells me that
she will line that same article of dress,
and trim it up, to make people be-
lieve that she’s got a new cloak this
very winter. Dear me! how decep-
tive some people are! \Vhy, that
woman never hires a dressmakcr but
to fit and haste her dresses, and makes
them all herself on the sly, and then
goes out into our very best society!
It ’s a shame! She knits all her hus-
l-and’s stockings evenings, when her
f'riPnds are in to sit with her; but
I understand that Well enough, she
wants to show her hands to good ad-
vantage.”

“ How do you know that, Mrs.
(‘mmdy ’l ”

“I might as well say that I found
out this by my Be“ ,Who was with
her a short time. 6 girl said that

Mr. and Mrs. Finch were a great deal

 

MRS. GRUNDY’S OPINION OF HER ACQUAINTANCE.

more merry and chatty when there
was no company in, and it was so
different where she lived before; for
at Mrs. Morgan’s, all the pleasant
talk'was saved up for visitors. So
she thought she would find out what
amused them so much, and one even-
ing she left the back parlor-door ajar,
so she could pass in from the dinii -
room. At first Mr. Finch was redd-
ing from the night’s paper out loud,
while Mrs. Finch kept on knitting,
and looking off her work as if she
thought her husband the only man in
Christendom.

“Well, by-and-by the paper was
all read up, so Betty said, and he laid
it down and asked her if it did not
tire her to keep those needles going all
the time, and she answered, ‘l\'ot a
bit.’ He said, ‘ I ’m glad, for it shows
your hands so prettily; and I do so
love to watch them.’ Betty said she
thought Mr. Finch very silly to say
such things when they had been mar-
ried seven or eight years, and I must
acknowledge I respect Betty’s opinion.
She is a very sensible girl. Then
Mr. Finch went on to tell his wife it
was getting Cold weather, and did n’t
she want some money to buy her
winter’s clothes; and she said no;
she had plenty of clothes, and plenty
of money for the present. She could
drain his purse by-and-by to his en-
tire satisfaction.

“ Betty said she was very stingy to
her girls —— would n’t let her haVe but
one gas-burner going at a time even-
ings, and all the while Betty was in
hcl‘ house, a whole month, Mrs. Finch
gave her but one dress, and that was
a pink calico, and a spotted linen
collar, with a pink edge to match,
while I’ve given the girl two of my
silks, and that lace cape I wore lasii
winter to parties sometimes. Mrs,

Finch is always trumping up son: 

old body to feed and clothe, ad

would be glad to take the lead' 

fashion with her odd notions, but so-
ciety is too sensible for that, though
all the fools ain’t dead I’m sorr to
say. Then Betty said, Mrs. inch

 

 

. - -_......_<

 

 

 

 

HRS. GRUNDY‘S OPINION OF HER ACQUAINTANCE.

249

 

went on to tell her husband that she
was going to trim her blue silk with
velvet up the sides, and get her light
brown merino colored darker, and
made up with a deep basque, and she
should not need any more, with the
others she had; and what did the
great simpleton of a man do but—I
would not believe every one, but
Betty is a girl of truth—throw his
wife’s knitting under the sofa, take
her on his knee, and then kiss her
under her chin, and say she was worth
ten million such women as— who do
you think he said? When I tell you

ou must not wonder 'at my love for
Mrs. Finch. He said me—Mrs.
Grundy! I would n’t have Grundy
know it for the world, for he is al-
ways saying something wonderful
about her; but one thing he can’t
say—he can’t praise her beauty;
and if he knew how she managed to
look genteel, he could not—yes he
would too; he thinks it all ri ht to
deceive society in that way. I c has
not the least respect fiir gentility, nor
his wife either; so I tell him some-
times, and he only grunts. I don’t
believe matches are made in heaven
and never did. lmarried Mr. Grundy
because everybody decided that he
had such business tact; and he says
he can’t tell why he married me.
Why do n’t you say something, Mrs.
N ettletpn 2 ”

“For two reasons,” the lady an-
§Wered; “ one is, you took no breath-
lng time; and the other, I was thinking
of Mrs. Finch. My husband has
chanced to converse with her several
times in society, and is greatly pleased
with her, while I have unfortunately
scarcely spoken to her. I told hus-
band, only last night, I would go this
very day and call upon her. I am
alwa s sure I shall like all who please

1‘. hettleton. She seems to attract

People, and —”

“Yes; but they don’t know how
3he deceives by pretending to be one
Of us, with her old clothes all fixed
Over ; and then—I would not tell any
bOGy but you—Betty said she knew

 

that she wrote for the newspapers,
for she overheard what one of the
publishers said to her about her not
using her name; and Mrs. Finch rc-
plied that she had rather not be
known. Are you going to call now,
Mrs. Nettleton ? ”

“ Are you sure, Mrs. Grundy?”

“ Betty’s word is as good as print.”

“I promised my husband Iwould
visit her, and I will; but whether I
go again depends on the observation I
make.”

“ Let me know, my dear friend, all
about it, won’t you? ”

And so they parted: Mrs. Grundy
to speculate on Mrs. Finch’s hidden
attractions, and Mrs. Nettleton to see
if she could fathom the same mys-
tery. '

Mrs. Nettleton found Mrs. Finch
seated by a work-table, with all the
eteeteras of sewing, and a small vase
of autumnal flowers exquisitely ar-
ranged, throwing their beauty over
shreds and odd bits of old merino,
and ends of velvet ribbon, and Mrs.
Finch’s hands nimbly plying the nee—
dle. She received her new acquaint-
ance cordially, but made no excuse
for her occupation, as Mrs. N ettleton
expected, according to the usual form-
ula of such ooccasions. Noth' by
way of apology was offered by rs.
Nettleton for this call, or for not
doing so sooner. Nothing was said
of unruly servants, the distressing
monetary difficulties, or the com-
plaints of husbands over the times,
and, what was more remarkable than
all, not a syllable was uttered of
their neighbors. A voice from the
hall called out:

“May I come, mamma?” in the
sweetest of childish accents, and the
answering “Yes!” opened the door,
and in tripped Mrs. Finch’s little
da hter.

S e replied prettin to the visitor’s
salutation, and began ins eating her
mother’s occupation. A ittle dress
of plaid merino was nearly completed
for the child, over which the little crea-
ture was cooing out her admiration.

 

  

250

MRS. GRUNDY’S OPINION OF HER ACQUAINTANCE.

 

“An old one of mine,” said Mrs.
Finch, not at all chagrined at this
proof of her economy. “I always
select such material as will be of serv-
ice to my child, as delicate textures
are of little use to a domestic, or to
the poor, should we give them away.
Besides it creates a taste in them for
clothing too expensive for their means.
Do n’t you think so, Mrs. Nettle-
ton?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Finch; but won’t
your intimate friends remember the
garment, and accuse you of ever-
thought for your expenditures?”

“1 hope so, Mrs. N ettleton, for it ’s
a part of my creed, and religion too,
I may add, to waste nothing, and it is
needful in these hard times to relieve
our husbands of every burden by
careful outlays. The world at large
may render the verdict its capricious
will pleases, it is of no consequence
to me, so that the ‘still, small voice’
whispers ‘well done.’ My husband
has as yet sustained little inconveni-
ence from want of resource. And
you agree with me, do you not, in
my theory and practice, too’.l ”

“I am sorry I can’t answer in the
affirmative to both, my dear Mrs.
Finch. I believe every word of
your theory, but the practice calls for
more courage than I possessed when
I came in; but I believe your example
will give me a little strength. I came
out this afternoon to drive away the
thoughts of my disappointment be-
cause my husband said it would be
impossible for him to spare the large
sum it required for furs, at the pres-
ent size and quality. He is a very
indulgent husband, and grants my ev-
ery desire. I was not prepared for
denial, and fear I did not meet it very
philoso hically, or good-naturedly
either must in justice acknowledge.”

“ Our wants are imaginary, at least
the most expensive ones are.”

“True, Mrs. Finch, but society’s
demands are imperative. You smile,
but you know it is hard to cast off its
rule in any thing.”

“I do not find it imperative, and

 

its ruleI heed very little. My hus—
band’s admiration of my costume, and
the motive that prompted its adop-
tion is sufficient for me.”

“ Excuse me if I ask a very inquis
itive question, but my heart seeks, in
its blindness, for light to guide me
from the unsatisfying pleasures of
dress .and display. I am told you
write for the public, and does not this
serve your cravings for seeing your-
self admired in some way '9 ”

“I have no such motive, I assure
you. It has been said that woman
never seeks fame if she is happy and
satisfied; and that may be true, un-
less she does it to elevate those she
loves, and whose name she bears.
But believe me, I write because I am
happy and satisfied, and desire to give
a glimmer of my enjoyment to others,
and at least show them the way they
may look for the same satisfaction.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Finch; and when
I comprehend your independence, and
stagger in my endeavors to follow the
same path, albeit at a long distance
behind you, will you give me encour-
agement also 'l ”

“ You won’t need it from without,
it is all within. But we have had. a
strange conversation for a first ac-
quaintance. I hope you will pardon
me the freedom of my remarks, but
there was something in your manner
allowed me to say all I pleased.”

“Can’t we meet often, Mrs. Finch?”

“It would give me pleasure cer-
tainly, Mrs. N ettleton.”

And so they parted: one to remove
traces of her economy from her re-
turning husband’s eyes lest he should
think she watched the signs of the
times too closely for her comfort, and
the other to seek the beginning of the
path her new friend found so agree?
bio, and which commended itself so
warmly to her sense of right.

Mr. Nettlcton came 11011“: lOOkiflg
sad, for he expected to meet the d19-
satisfied face of his potted wife. He

was surprised to see her standing on
the verandah, waiting for his return,
only as she did in her very happiest

 

 

 

 

 

 

HRS. GRUNDY’S OPINION OF HER ACQUAINTANOE. 251

 

moods. Down the steps she ran, and
up again by his side afler the very
fashion which disgusted Mrs. Grundy
so much, and which she forgot to
mention to her friend in her late in-
teresting communication. Mr. Net-
tleton was on the qui viva to know
what extraordinary pleasure had so
elated his wife’s spirits, and his curi-
osity came near forming itself into
questions, when Mrs. Nettleton re-
marked that she had been delighted
with a call upon a lady he admired,
and thought his taste excellent. As
she chirped away, she stroked his
whiskers very much as Mrs. Finch
would have done, but which her fash-
ionable habits had long since caused
her to forget.

Her husband forbore inquiries, and
listened to as merry a chat that even-
ing as gladdened any anxious business
man in that great city. Indeed, he
forgot for a longer period his perplexi-
ties, than for many a weary day or
night before. Not a word was said
of the furs, and he began to relax his
resolution to live on asmaller outlay,
and quite reproached himself for his
ill-nature in refusing any'thing toso
lovely a woman as that same one who
was humming and purring at his side,
before the cheerful autumn fire.

“ Pet,” he began, “ was n’t I a trifle
cross at dinner to-day? ”

“Not a bit, my dear. Why? ”

“Didn’t somebody want five hun-
dred dollars for something, and did u’t
somebody say that somebody must
try and be happy without that some-
thi ’l”

“ es! but what of that? ”

“Why, somebody has altered his
mind, and if somebody is silly, so all
men are who have such wives, to
make them forget ‘how the money
goes.’ Here is the amount, my
dear.”

“ Do n’t tempt me if you love me,”
she said, pushing back his hand, to Mr.
N ettleton’s utter amazement. “I am
a better woman since dinner, and
those furs would not give me the
least pleasure in the world. Believe

 

me, for I have seen another variety of
happiness in Mrs. Finch’s parlor to-
day. Let me tr to be like her.”

“What will rs. Grundy say?”
he replied, for want of someth'
more apropos, forgetting it had been
a favorite expression of his wife.
She colored, and the tears came up
quickly as she said :

“Don’t tease me the first day of
my reformation, for it is no easy les-
son for a silly woman like me to
learn.”

I suppose it is but justice to say
that it was Mr. Nettleton’s time to
follow the example of the Finch fam-
ily and kiss his wife. .

I' I' I ‘I' Q I

According to promise of further
revelations if there were any, Mrs.
Grundy’s carriage stopped before
Mrs. Nettleton’s door at the earliest
possible moment society would per-
mit. Glad to' find her friend alone,
she commenced a modern edition of
the longer catechism.

“ My dear friend, what of yester-
day’s call? Do tell me all at once;
I am dying of curiosity. Does she
write for the newspapers? And .her
husband doing such a handsome busi-
ness too! She is money-loving and
miserly, for all her charities. She
admitted as much in an indirect way.
Ridiculous! and yet people will call
there and invite her to be their

ual.”

“ I should not wonder if some found
her their superior, Mrs. Grundy.”

“How funn you are sometimes,
my dear, and declare you make me
laugh when I feel quite shocked.
Did you catch her at any of her ef—
forts to hide her economy?”

“She was making over a dress of
llfdrs “Sir, Kitty, and it was quite pretty

“Just asI told you! and she will
exhibit that young one the first fair
day in the streets, and people who
do n’t see behind the curtain think
that she has patronized our most fash-
ionable stores. If you will credit

 

  

952

me, my husband would uphold her in
that very thing.”

“So would mine, Mrs. Grundy.”

“ We can sympathize in that par-
ticular; my dear, sympathy is so com-
forting.”

“I hope our husbands can ’t indulge
in the last mentioned pleasure,” re-
plied Mrs. Nettleton, the sarcasm be-
coming visible to a less preoccupied

rson.

“How can we make her less pop-
ular with our husbands?”

“ Only by imitating her.”

“ Never! ” said the indignant Mrs.
Grundy.

“1 shall try,” returned Mrs. Nettle-
ton, her courage rising.

“ Mrs. Nettleton ! ’

“ Mrs. Grundy!”

“ Are you sane? ”

“I think I am beginni to be.”

“I am astonished ! t me go
now, and remember that your last re-
marks were jokes.”

“Pray don’t, Mrs. Grundy, for I
fear my courage will ebb next time I
am upon this subject.”

Off rolled the carriage, and Mrs.
Nettleton was miserable. She had
not reckoned the cost of her avowing
a womanly simplicity of taste, and a
human, not to say a tender regard for
the struggles of her husband in these
days of trial. A fiicetious writer
calls women “strange animals,” and
verily he has come to a very correct
conclusion. She could not endure to
lose Mrs. Grundy’s approbation, al-
though said opinions were laws that
might, under the new light that shone
upon them, be appealed from on cer-
tain occasions.

The afternoon found Mrs. N ettleton
so uneasy and miserable, that she re-
solved to call upon her astonished
friend, and have a talk, in fact give
her reasons for the change in her
creed and the conse uent happiness.

At four o’clock a e sat in the par-
lor of Mrs. Grundy, who no doubt
was taking time over Mrs. N ettleton’s
card to decide how she should meet
her. In the adjoining room Miss Ger.

 

 

HRS. GRUNDY’S OPINION OF HER ACQUAINTANCE.

trude Evelina Grundy, called Gerty
Grundy for brevity, sat enjoying the
society of her dolly. The one-sided
colloquy was quite satisfiying to the
visitor.

“ Dolly ’s got a beau, haint she?
Aunt Nelly’s little white puppy Jip
come to see it this morning, did nt
he? Papa said sister Annie’s beau
was a puppy, and Dolly’s got one too,
only sister Annie’s don’t know as
much as Dolly’s beau, does he, Dolly?
We’ll have good times, won’t we,
and she shall have that new white
taffeta, a cerise ribbon, and that
sweet Bayadere too. Dolly hain’t
got no pa, but she has got a grandpa,
and I’ll tease him just as mamma and
Annie do, and he will give us all we
want just to stop our noise, won’t be?
We can’t go to see Mrs. Nettleton
any more, and get biscuit and jelly,
’cause mamma says she is a fool, and
hain’t got genteel notions bred in her.
IIain’t it too bad, Dolly, when she has
got such good jelly! And ma says
she always knew she was vulgar, but
did not like to say so till she saw if
she could n’t .make her somebody.
Ma says, too, she should n’t wonder a
bit if her husband got ashamed of her
y‘pt, not a bit. I'Iain’t you sorry,

olly, ’bout the jelly? I knew you
was, and ma says she should n’t won-
der if she got to be as low as Mrs.
Finch, ’fore long. Mrs. Finch is aw-
ful deceitful, ma says. If Kitty is
so pretty, all her clothes are old ones,
and mamma don’t know what the
world is coming to, nor we either, do
we, Dolly ? ”

This coutretemps, whether fortu-
nate or otherwise, the writer does not
quite know, but it decided Mrs. Net-
tleton that she had not sufficient leis-
ure to waste it upon affection already
forfeited, and she let herself out of
the palatial mansion of Mrs. Grundy,
to be omitted in the list of invitations
to the next grand party give", to Show
to the whole city that $11030 n0t PW"
out were of little or no consequenoo
to society.

The new friends spent the same

 

!
a
1;

 

 

“I .

 

 

mm. 253

 

evening together, and neither the
Finch or Nettleton family seemed
disposed to wear sackcloth. On the
contrary, a cheerfulness, hard to be
accounted for, possessed them, and
did not give the least indications of
being less than legion. The spell of
refined contentment was contageous,
and others followed in the bright
wake of sensible pleasures, and ceased
to find their highest delight in the
oontemptible ambition of out-dressing
each other.

Mrs. Grundy, of course, found enough
who were glad to fill the vacuum, for
there are plenty of people in this world
who seem to hold themselves in no
higher estimation than to occupy
s ace—particularly ladies. I think
t is last sentence a happy thought, for
it has been a difficult problem to de-
cide to what end some were clothed,
fed, and I won’t say,educated. It has
troubled me as much as Mr. Grundy’s
reason for the selection of a wife.

 

TIIE MONITOR— MUSIC.

E give place to the following

article on Music, not because
we agree with our correspondent in
the result arrived at, or with the ac-
tion of the Society of Friends with
regard to it, but because it is a mat-
ter well worth thinking about. Per-
haps if the botanical and mineralogical
tours proposed were carried to such
an excess as music is in some cases,
the accompaniments of evil would be
quite as bad. The wise will observe
moderation in all things; but what-
ever is in fashion will always be in
excess—ED.

I HAVE known several men who
were skillful players on musical in-
struments. Nearly all of them were
of idle habits, and worthless charac-
ter—showing that music has not
that elevating and sublime influence
which some claim for it. I have

known several girls, commonly called

 

“young ladies," who had spent two
or three years in learning to play on
the piano, and they had thus become,
as they thought, very “ accomplished; ”
yet they could not write a letter in
a neat manner, could not express
themselves well, nor spell correctly,
nor punctuate properly, nor fold and
direct a letter neatly. They could
neither make good bread, nor mend a
coat neatly, and understood very lit-
tle of household economy. The study
of music had contributed largely to
destroy their usefulness, and to pre-
vent intellectual improvement.

I have known young people of both
sexes, who had a strong passion for
music; they resolved to indulge in it,
and having acquired some skill,
sought such companlyi‘as appreciated
their attainments. is soon led to
midnight parties, to the acquaintance
of skillful musicians of a low charac-
ter, to wine drinking, to concerts, to
balls, to theaters, to practical infidel-
ity, to ruined morality. The Society
of Friends has therefore, with muc
wisdom, adopted the principle of total
abstinence ; it has reasoned as temper-
ance men have done, and maintained
that, on account-of the numerous evils
which are very apt to result from
a study of music, and the bad influ-
ence and bad company to which it
often leads, the simplest and easiest
remedy is to forego the little good
it may sometimes do, and to exclude
it from the list of studies and amuse-
ments.

Young people want and should have
amusements. But far more enduring
charms may be found in the pursuit
of the natural sciences, in making bot-
anical collections, in studying miner.
als, in geological tours, in microscopic
examinations, in drawing and sketch-
ing objects of natural history and
landscape, and in the pursuit of as-
tronomy, and the enjoyment of the
wonders of the telescope. These im-
prove the intellect and expand the
mind, and do not, like music, address
themselves merely to animal de-
lights.

 

  

254

MUSIC. .

 

There are, at the present time, ac-
cording to authentic statistics, seven
hundred thousand ianos in use in the
United States. 0 cost, at three
hundred dollars each, would amount
to over two hundred million dollars.
This sum would build two hundred
thousand school-houses, at an expense
of a thousand dollars each; or, it would
construct a Pacific railroad; or, it
would provide fine libraries of about
a thousand volumes each, for two
hundred thousand neighborhoods; or,
it would provide every human being
in the world with a cheap Bible or
Testament.

Is it not a wise prohibition which
Friends have adopted, of the practice
which has led to this enormous ex-
travagance, for a useless, not to say a
worse than useless gratification, While
so many are suffering for the necessa-
ries of life, and are growing up in ig-
norance and darkness for want of
suitable provision to enlighten them?
It is now common to find families
provided with costly pianos, who,
when called upon to assist charitable
purposes, “can not afl‘ord to;” and
the parents “can not ” buy for their
children useful books, for intellectual
and religious instruction.

The attempt has sometimes been
made to make studies at school allur-
ing, by largely interspersing music;
but as the mind can not be exercised,
disciplined, andidevelo ed, except by
positive exertion and abor, to which
there can be no “royal road,” the in-
tended assistant is likely only to make
an enervated and thoughtless people.
I have no doubt that what is called
“Church music,” has this tendency.

A pious and intelligent Presbyte-
rian minister, assured the writer that
it was his conviction that the religious
world at large were suffering greatly
for want of more of the spirit of
Friends’ modc‘of worship in their re-
ligious meetings. He thought there
was not enoug of silent, individual
exercise—every thin was done by

the minister and the c oir, and every
moment was occupied either in act-

 

ing or listening, from the commence-
ment to the close. Yet the incompa-
tibility of the enervating influence of
music, and the exercise and discipline
of silent worship had not occurred to
him. It is questionable whether tin
two, so opposite in their nature,
could ever be advantageously intro-
duced in the same assembly.

The artificial, not to say superficial
influences which are ’called in to aid
religious worship, were strikingly
shown some years ago at an extensive
revival in a large village in New
York. A oung woman—a very
skillful musician—was leader of the.
choir, and was waited on by a special
deputation of the leading men of the
congregation, to secure her regular
services; “ for,” said they, “ the
Lord’s cause can not go on without
your help ; ”— although she made no
profession of religion, and even her '
moral character was not of the highest
grade.

AMELIA 0P1E’S FAREWELL T0 MUSIC.

I have loved thee, oh Music, I have tasted
thy powers,

And have praised thy sweet song that his
robb'd me of hours ; _

I have said thou could‘st lull every feeling
of strife, .
And have counted thee one of the blessmso

of life:

I have thought that thy anthems of holy (19'
n he

Brought the dawnings of day ’mid the shud'
ows of night;

That the spirit, oppress’d with unspealeis

snefi
Could at least find one refuge, one cel’tlin
relief.

Ahl thou lily-white wand, and thou fw‘
bedecked thorn, .

Thou betrayest the heart, and then leavest It
to mourn ;

For thy comfort is transient, not a boon ‘0
bestow,

From thy high mountain anthems what 
meanings flow.

l
Then I’ll leave thee, I’ll leave thee, I‘ll bid

thee farewell, .
Nor shall reason or conscience beneathr

ward rebel ;

 

 

l.
l.
1.
l.
l
A,

 

WILLIE‘B DEATH. 255

Thou shalt rob me no more of sweet silence

and rest,

For I’vefiproved thee a trap,:a seducer at
best.

Yes, thou spirit of darkness transformed
into light,

ThOu voluptuous form clothed in raiment of
white;

It is thine when the passions seemed con-
quer’d and fled,

But to raise up and cherish the evils we
dread. '

Then go thou where vice haunts the thought-
less and gay,

Where the midnight of folly sends reason

away;

Where the mind draws its pleasures, its sor-
rows from thence,

And the heart pants alone for the raptures of
sense.

But oh, enter thou not where devotion has

trod,
To beguile the soul from its duty to

God,

For the well-spring of life, and the bread of
the day,

It ls thine not to give, but to barter
away.

And while sin, open sin leads its thousands
astray,

Tens of thousands are borne by false pleas-
ures away;

Let the Christian in heart then redeemed
and set free, _
Never dare to return, oh vain Music, to

thee.

Let us weigh, as in a balancenthe
“little geod that it may sometimes
do,” the time spent, and the mil-
lions of dollars expended, while so
many are remaining uninstructed 1n
usefulness, a burden to themselves
and to community:

“That God sees not as men behold, is true,
Eternal things attract the human view;
But, lo! the Lord surveys the inward parts,

His eye discerns, and he accepts the heart.
1. Susan, xvi.

Christ in his sermon on the mountain fam‘d,
The theme of notes or singing never named;
Did not on tunes to please the fancy strike,
Nor instruments of muSic David like.

Axos n.—-5.

Yet, He the things that were essential told,
Said: ‘All who hear and mind my words,
behold,

 

Are like a man whose house is on a rock,
That stood the rain, flood, and tempestuous
shock.’

When worshipers on vocal sounds are fixed,
Amusement of the creature will be mixed;
Take thou away the noise of song from me,
I will not hear the viol’s melody.

Amos v.-21.

Tho’ .this may have of choicest fruit the
signs,

Good notice take, ‘All is not gold that
shines.’ ”

R. W..

 

WILLIE’S DEATH.

BY ISABELLA SHELDEN.

Tn: painter’s task is finished. He has traced

Upon the canvas with unerring hand

The sparkling eye, the pallid brow, and
cheek

Hollow and pale, save where the hectic flush

Too surely heralds the approach of death.

His parents gaze half joyful, half in tears;

"I were sweet to have e’en this when he is
gone.

But Fancy pictures his dear form as ’t was

In days long past, when, with a rosy check,

A lightsome step, and joyous shout he ran

To meet his father when his work was done.

But Willie’s thoughts are sweet and happy
now;

His flowers have not yet lost their charms
for him; . ‘

And as within his trembling hand a book

Is placed by his fond father, see him smile;

His cup of earthly happiness seems full.

“ And thou, my Willie, thou wilt draw these
flowers

Before they fade. Say, wilt thou not? ”

He answers not. Can he have slept so

soon ?
“ 0h, Willie! Willis 1 ” But they can not
wake _
Him from that last long sleep. Without a sigh,
And with a smiling face he ed away.
Ohl then was felt a mother s agony,
As with a bursting heart she sees that Death
Has Ingtched her only son; and smothered
so s
Bear painful witness of a father’s grief,
But hush! oh, hush! ’t were best for him to

8°:
When his young heart o’erflowed with happi-

ness.
And we will leave his- book and fading
flowers,

Fit emblems of his brief sojourn on earth,
To lie with him beneath the churchyard
We". . '

For ’t were a sin to tear them from his grasp.
Wruasoaouen, Sept, 1857.

 

 

~__‘_‘_V “W. .mwm- '.“_ ... “~u -

  

256 LETTERS FROM QUIETSIDE.

 

LE’I'I‘E-RS FROM QUIETSIDE.
VI.

GIRARD, October 20, 1857.

0U ask, dear M. . . ., why so long

a time has elapsed since you
heard from me? The simple reason
is, that I disapprove of “running ac-
counts,” and I found on my ledger a
great discrepancy between the debit
and credit pages. So, said I to my
metalic thought painter, rest awhile;
it is unfair that you should work all
the time without remuneration. Be-
sides, it is by no means certain but
we may be obtrusive. At any rate,
the old saw says “all work and no
play” is unhealthy, both mentally
and physically. Rest awhile; per—
haps after a while we may call out a
response; and so we did; and the re-
sponse or inquiry came.

I know this smacks of a business
character; perhaps too much to be
strictly genteel; but gentility, discon-
nected with life’s necessities, is to me
an unlearned lesson. Activity in the
8 here assigned us by Providence, is
t e truest gentility. From the hum-
ble pavier to him who guides the
helm of state, he is" noble, who nobly
performs his duties.

“Honor and shame from no condition rise,
Act well your put, there all the honor lies."

Immediately after man was formed,
his Creator brought him to the garden
of Eden, which he had planted, and

laced him there “to dress and keep
t.” Hence we infer that labor is an
honorable condition, calculated to
promote the best interests of man,
morally, mentally, and physically.
He who ignores it, on the scale of so-
cial elevation, greatly mistakes the
true honor and dignity of his nature.
Constituted as the world is, there
must be various kinds of labor, re
quiring minds of different calibre;
but as all are the workmanship of one
great Artist, who shall depreciate
one and elevate another, with no
hi her authority than conventional
rules, which, like all others, are not

 

unexceptionables, is there not danger
of injustice to one, whose spirit came
from the same great Being, who first
breathed into man the breath of life,
and he became a living soul ?

It would be well to look less to the
gentilin of the various occupations of
life, and more to the importance
which attaches to the performance of
the duties belonging to them.

“ He who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly - angels could no more.”

In the whole range of duties, perhaps,
the complete circle of those well-per-
formed, can be found only in the
Christian home. Here is Heaven
epitomized. In no condition, under
no circumstances, are the mandates of
duty so varied, so onerous, so compli-
cated, so important, and so inade-
quately appreciated, as are those of

THE HOUSEHOLD.

Among the rich endowments that
have fallen from heaven to earth, per-
haps none is so momentous for weal
or woe, so fraught with the present
“ bliss that has survived the Fall,” as
the establishment of the household.
Or, by perversion, it is the most glar-
ing type of the misery which “seized
the trembling earth— when nature
groaned in muttering thunder; saw
the lowering sky weep sad drops, at
the completion of the mortal sin orig-
inal.”

In His wisdom and infinite mercy,
God “ sctteth the solitary in families.”
To parents he says, each time that 8
new immortal is added to the group,
“ Take this child and nurse it for m6:
and I will give you wages.” From
the manner in which this commanf1
is observed, results the future happy
ness or wretchcdness of all immedl‘
ately interested ; also more remotely:
the eternal destiny of numberlw
households, et in the distant future-

Perhaps t ere is no important 8‘3
jcct that receives so little attention 89
that of the influence which every p61”
son exerts, no matter how humble, 51'
limited his sphere. The child know3
no higher example than that Of his

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

parent, and copies it; not always ex-
actly, but frequently adds such em-
bellishments as he may, from time to
time, collect from his street and school
associates. Generally ,the character
of these is not very dissimilar to the
home example. In the home the
tastes originate and are cultivated,
and they seek their aliment among
congenial objects. If the household
example be correct, the young copy-
ist, by a refinement of sentiment
which enables him to discriminate,
learns to reject with disgust the coarse
vulgarity, the profane jest, and the
boisterous, annoying mirth of the
wicked. Yet he has imbibed the poi-
son. Is it possible to handle pitch
without being defiled? his hitherto
untainted imagination has received
images of impurity, and they are
hung upon memory’s walls, never to
be displaced, till death closes the en-
trance. He may not yield to their
promptings, but the stain is on his
heart, and he can never again be what
he was before.

What a wonderful power is influ-
ence, es )eciall y when it is an agent for
evil! her more than five centuries,
Noah was a preacher of righteousness;
for one hundred and twenty years his
efforts were energized by the knowl-
edge of the coming catastrophe. Yet,
we have reason to suppose, that not
one listened to the conversion of his
Soul ; as none but his own family were

ermitted to enter the ark. All who

(I lived on the earth for more than
Sixteen centuries, were engulfed in
the universal ruin. The great weight
of influence, then, is thrown into the
Scale of the wicked. Hence the Con-
Viction that “ the heart is deceitful
above all things, and desperately
Wicked.” Who can know it, is a Sol-
emn question; for we are sure that
He who formed the heart, knows its
Propensities.

A family of children must be edu-
fmtcd. To do this, the parents, anx-
lOus to obtain an honorable celebrity
through their children, s are not la-

01‘ or expense “to bring them

LETTERS FROM QUIETSIDE.

 

257.

through” a respectable scholastic
course at boarding-school and college.
The usual number of books are looked
at, in the requisite number of years;
and showy diplomas testify that a
certain course has been rambled over.
The counting-house ledger exhibits
the number of thousands which have
been expended in the cause, and the
young persons are presented to soci-
ety, as having “finished their educa
tion.” '

Is this the fact? Have they not
yet to learn the first rudiments of
living? With an ample purse in.
hand, they have vied with their asso.
ciates in the gratification of their
tastes. Each year has presented an
increased call for additional indul-
genCes, which the fond parents allow,
in consideration of the poor things
being away from home, and obliged
to study so hard.

Little do they realize, that this is a
very imperfect preparation for the
lifestruggles, which strew thickly
and thornily the path that must be
scaled by all earth’s denizens, who
strive to reach their goal. Searcer
knowing disap ointment but by name,-
the inviting de ights of an untried life
beckoning in the bright,distant future,
habits and tastes formed upon the en-
joyment of their affluent homes, with-
out the least idea of the labors and
struggles which others have borne,
that they may revel in their present
position and future prospects—they
Commence a career fraught with eter-
nal results, as heedlessly and with as
little consideration for its terminus as
if they were embarking on a pleasure
excursion for a single day.

These are the future heads of house.
holds yet to be established, in perpet-
uation of the institution whieh God
himself first formed in Paradise. If .
the head of that household, made in'
the image of God, with his Maker to
instruct in all that 'Was essential for
him to know; and all his surroundings
designed appliances for his enjoy-
ment; ministering angels for his
associates; without a painful memory

 

 

258 LETTERS FROM QUIETSIDE.

of the past, and not a bitter experi-
ence to elicit dread for the future;
if he yielded to blandishments and
fell, what may not be feared for the
youth taking his first independent
ste over life’s attractive threshold?

‘ Fleasure, with beautiful aspect and
full of promise, beckons him on,
pointing to gardens redolent with
flowers, and sparkling with bright
rivulets, allurcs him within their fas-
cinating inelosures. To his dismay,
he finds himself hedged in with
thorns; turn as he may, he is lace-
rated and torn. His only safety is in
retracing the deceptive path. Few
have the moral courage necessary for
this, and the consequence is, remedi-
less ruin. An occasional one, not
entirely oblivious to social obliga-
tions, determines to begin life anew,
and takes the first step in fulfillment
of this wise resolve, by taking an
helpmate. The probability is, that
he will choose one no better qualified
for the station than himself. From
such a household what is to be
expected? New and strange cares
bring new necessities and responsibili-
ties, but do not open new avenues to
meet the demand. Criminations and
recriminations follow; pleasures, in-
dependent of home, are eagerly
sought and indulged, until misery
takes possession of the domestic
hearth, accompanied by reproach and
shame.

Here is a wrecked household. From
its ruins may arise a lofty spirit,
struggling with overwhelming difii-
culties; but conscious of latent power,
he seeks and elicits the electric spark
of wisdom, guided by its sure and
steady, though faintly glimmering
ray, he pursues—and pursues in the
face of almost insufferable objects,
till suddenly, and almost to his own
surprise, though observers have long
seen him nearing ‘it, he finds himself
at the goal for which his most stren-
ous eflbrts have been made, himself a
crowned victor, having conquered
lions which beset his way, and many a
time nearly oVercame him in the con-

 

flict. Among all the lessons which
have been spread out for his instruc-
tion, that of human nature as it ex-
ists in real life, has been carefully
studied. He sees that nothing is
permanently joyous, in a world lying
under the ban of God’s curse; that
the only thing in life worth possess-
ing is a knowledge of duty, and the
performance of its mandates his
highest glory. He consults the only
chart that has been laid down for
man, and finds it perfect; he resolves
to make it the rule of his faith and
practice.

With a spirit strengthened by hard
collisions with opposing elements, and
encouraged by the cheering revealed
voice, he takes his place on life’s bust-
ling Flotilla, and manfully breasts the
rushing wave, looking to his Heav-
enly Pilot for support and guidance.
Amid his labors and fatigues, there
are moments when he longs for sym-
pathy and companionship, such as is
found only in woman’s love. W ell
is he aware that upon this event hang
momentous consequences. This step
must not be taken but with great
caution. With earnest heart he seeks
divine guidance. He is forbidden to
yoke himself unequally, and com-
manded to do all in the fear of God.
Obedient to the sacred injunction, he
seeks a companion of congenial tasteS,
and Christian principles; one who can
sympathize in his cares, and laborS,
and difficulties,'as well as share the
products of his labor, in the gratifioar
tion of her tastes.

This household is established upon
the basis of God’s word. The first
act is to erect a family altar, on
which is poured the morning a.
evening oblation, sendng its rich .1!!-
cense of praise and thanksgivmg
heavenward to Him, who with such
offering “is well pleased.” 31100095

elicits aeknowled Inents of God’9
mercies with than fiilness. AdverS-
ity is received as coming from the
same hand, either by direction. or
permission; and he is mainly anxxoul
to secure the blessing which he 19

 

!

 

 

 

 

EXPERIENCE IN A nonsa'wrra “MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.” 259 '

sure comes under this disguise; he
knows that in giving, God is supremely
ood; nor less so, when he denies.
very Christian knows that he must

not

“ Judge the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His :

Behind a frownin Provi ence,
He hides a ng face."

Under such influence and guidance
the rising generation may be expected

.to magnify the happy results of faith-

ful training. Such a household is
azed upon by approving angels.
Even a heedless world admires the
erfect order which reigns and regu-
ates all things there, though they
may not care to imitate it.

But even from this stronghold of
faith, from causes quite unaccountzv
ble, may issue those, who may bring
deep, deep sorrow and shame to the
hearts of pious arents. Well may
it be asked, “ ho is sufficient for
these things?” When the life-roll
shall be called, happy, thrice happy
they who can ap ear- with their house-
holds and say, “ {ere am 1, Lord, and
the children that thou hast given me.”
“Children, obey your parents in the
Lord; for this is right. That it may
be well with thee, and thou mayest
live long on the earth.” “And ye,
fathers, provoke not your children to
wrath; but bring them up in the nur-
ture and'admonition of the Lord.”

L’Aimr.

 

EXPERIENCE IN A HOUSE WITH
“MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.”

BY HENRY WAXD FISCHER.

IIE following capital article on
T “ Modern Conveniences and First-
Class Houses,” we transfer from the
Independent:

There are many persons who sup-

se that people who live in first-class
muses, with all modern improve-
ments, must of course be much puffed
up, and that they become quite grand
in their own eyes. It is true, some-

times, that fine houses have proud
people in them. But we suspect the

 

same of very poor tene'r'nents. We
can imagine a pride so reluctant of
discipline, and so indocile, as to sur-
vive in spite of the experience of a
first-class house.

When we moved into a capacious
brown-stone dwelling, our better na-
ture, with great simplicity whispered,
“Beware of temptation.” And with
an ignorance quite as simple, we sup-
posed that the thieves of grace would

e found lurking in large rooms, at
ambush behind cornices reproduced
from old Rome, or in stately appear-
ances! How little did we suspect
that these were harmless, and that
very different elements were to moth
our patience.

But let a little preliminary exulta-
tion of a new man in a new place be
forgiven, ye who are now established!
Remember your old household fervor
on first setting up, while we recount
our economic joy and anticipations of
modern conveniences, that would take
away all human care, and speed life
upon a down-hill path, where it was
to be easier to move than to stand
still! Eve thing was admirable!
The attic within it a tank so large
as better to be called a reservoir.
Down from it ran the serviceable

ipes to every part of the dwelling.

h chamber had its invisible water-
maid in the wall, ready to spring the
floods upon you by the mere turn of
your hand; then the bath-room, with
tub, douche, shower, and indeed vari-
ous and universal uirt—up, down,
and promiscuous. he kitchen, too;
the tubs with water waiting to leap
into them; the long cylinder by the
side of the fire, as if the range had
its baby wrapped up, and set perpen-
dicular in the corner to nurse. But
greatest of all admirations was the
furnace. This, too, was interframed
with the attic tank, for it was a hot
water furnace. For a time this was
our peculiar pride. The water flowed
down into a system of coiled tubes,
which were connected with the boiler
surrounding the furnace fire. The
idea was, when the WSW 80‘? as 110‘

  

260

as it could well bear, that it should
frisk out of one end of the boiler into
the pipes, and round through the
whole system, and come back into
the other end cooled off. Thus a com-
plete arterial system was established ;
the boiler being the heart, the water
the blood, the pipes at the hot end the
arteries, and the return pipes at the
0001 end the veins; the whole inclosed
in a brick chamber, from which the
air warmed by this liquid heat was
given off to the dwelling. It was a
day of great glory when we thought
the chill in the air required a fire in
the furnace. The fact was, we wanted
to play with our pet, and were half
vexed with the old conservative ther-
mometer, that would not come down
and admit that it was cold enough for
a fire. However, we do not recollect
ever afterward to have been so eager.

In the first place, we never could
raise enough heat to change the air in
the house more than from cold to
chill. We piled in the coal, and
watched the thermometer; ran down
for coal again, and ran back to watch
the thermometer. We brought home
coal, exchanged glances over the bill
with the consulting partner, and made
silent estimates of the expenses of the
whole winter, if this was but the be-
ginning. But there was the old red
dragon in the cellar devouring coal re-
morselessly, with his long iron tail,
folded and coiled, in the furnace cham-
ber, without heat. Thus, for a series
of weeks, we fired off the furnace in
the cellar at the thermometer in the
parlor, and never hit. But we did
accomplish other things. Once the
fire was driven so hard that steam be-
gan to form and rumble and blow oll‘,
very innoCently ; but the girls did not
know that, and took to their heels for
fear of being blown up. \Vhrn the
cause Was discwered, the remedy was
not easy, for the furnace bottom was
immovable, and fire could not be let
down. But one Joan of Arc assailed

the enemy in his own cam , and
threw a bucket of water into t 0 film,
This produced several effects; it put

 

EXPERIENCE IN A HOUSE WITH “MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.”

out the fire; it also put out so much
gas, steam, and ashes, that the maiden
was quite put out also. And more
than all, it cracked the boiler. But
this we did not know till some time
afterward.

There were a few days of compara-
tive rest. The weather was mild out
of doors, and cold within. it was
soon reported that one of the pipes
was stepped up in the chamber, for
the water would not flow. The
plumber was sent for. He was al-
ready well acquainted with the way
to the house. He brought upon him-
self a laugh of ridicule by suggesting
that the water had given out in the
tank! Water given out? We turned
inwardly pale behind the outward red
of laughing. .We thought we had
a poeketocean up stairs. Up we
marched, climbed up the sides, and
peered down to the dirty bottom of
an emptied tank! Alas, the whole
house was symmetrically connected.
Every thing depended upon this tank;
the furnace in the cellar, the range in
the kitchen, the laundry departn‘ient,
all the washing apparatus of the cham-
bers, the convenient china closet sink,
where things were to be washed with-
out going down stairs, the entry clos-
ets, and almost every thing else, ex-
cept the door-bell were made to go by
water, and now the universal motive
power was gone! A new system of
conveniences was now developed.
We stationed an Irish engine at the
force pump to throw up water into
the tank from the street cistern.
Blessings be on that cistern in the
street. N 0 man knew how deep that
was. Like the pond in every village,
nobody had ever found bottom.

And so we limped along for a few
days. Meanwhile, the furnace having
been examined, the secret of all this
trouble was detected. The life-blow!
of the house had been 002mg fluid
flowing away through the furnace!
How much would it cost to repair It?
More money than a hot air 111111809
would cost, and half more than that!
So we determined to clear out the

 

 

 

EXPERIENCE IN A HOUSE WITH “MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.” 261

 

pet. Alas, (again,) how we fondled
the favorite at first, and how con-
temptuously we kicked at last! It is
said that no one is a whole man; we
have partial gifts. In our own case,
the gift of buying was liberally be-
stowed, but the talent of selling was
withheld, or lay an undeveloped em-
bryo. How to sell the old furnace
and to get a new one! There is a
great psychological experience there.
We aroused ourselves, gave several
days to contemplation, laid aside all
other cares, ran from furnace to fur-
nace, saw six or eight patterns, each
one of which was better than all oth-
ers, and all of them were able to
evolve vast quantities of heat, with an
imaginary amount of fuel. But for-
tune, that had so long persecuted us,
did not presume to destroy us yet,
and, as a cat with a rat, let us out of
its paws for a moment‘s case.

But oh, the changing! It was mid
winter. The mild weather took this
chance to go south, and got in its
place the niggardest fellow that ever
stood sentinel in Kamtschatka. The
cellar was divided from the kitchen in
part by this furnace. For two or
three weeks they were chiseling the
tubes apart, and getting the rubbish
out of the way—masons, tenders,
iron-men, old iron and new iron, tin
pipes, carpenters, and then new air
boxes, girls and dinner, the Irishman
wheezing at the pump - all mixed in
such confusion, that language under
the tower of Babel was a euphonious
literature in comparison. Sometimes,
as we walked out, our good and loving
deacons, in a delicate way, would warn
us of the danger of being puffed up
with the pride of a stylish_house!

At length, after nearly SIX weeks of
the coldest weather of the season, the
new furnace took charge of the house.
Water returned to the attic. The
girls no longer dreaded being blown
up by the boiler at the range. .But
the report came up that the smks
were stopped. After investigation,

the kitchen floor must be ripped 9P,
the great waste pipe reached by dig-
VOL. IV. 17.

 

ging, and laid open. Broken tum-
blers, plates, and cups stopped up the
pipes. Another week for this. Just
as we were sitting down to a danger-
ous peace, we walked to the window
one morning to see that our yard had
disappeared! The roof of the store
on which it was laid had given away,
and carried down all the earth, crash-
ing through the four stories to the
ground! Just one thing more was
needed -— that the house itself should
slide off bodily and dump itself into
the East River. Yet the misfortune
was not without comfort. The store
was used for grinding drugs. Ten
thousand pounds of salts, ipecac, rhu-
barb, strychnine, and such like delica-
cies, were hidden beneath a hundred
tons of earth—the medicine being,
where many people for whom it was
destined Would have been, buried un-
der ground. For several weeks after-
ward, I think the bills of mortality
improved in the region around.

There were a great number of
other things exceedingly convenient
in our house. The water-pipe from
the roof tothe front cistern was car-
ried down within the wall to the
ground. The bitter cold froze it up.
Nobody could get at it. We salted
it; we poked hot irons into the tap ;.
we took counsel, and final] let it
alone. The cornice leaked, t e walls
were damp, the ceiling threatened to
come off. Our neighbor’s pipe dis-
charged so much of its contents on
the ground as to saturate the wall in
our basement entry; the area over-
flowed into the cellar; we dug a cess-
pool to let it off, and cut through the
cistern pipe leading to the kitchen
pump. It could not be soldered with
water in it, and the cistern must be
run dry before that could be fixed.
The attic tank gave out again. No
water!

remembers.
to wash with. Then came on a sys-
tem of begging. We took the neigh—
borhood in order, and went from house
to house, till we exhausted the patience

 

 

262

EXPERIENCE IN A HOUSE WITH “MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.”

 

 

and the cisterns of every friend within
reach. Then we betook ourselves to
the street pump, and for two months
we and the milkmen subsisted upon
that.

There was a grand arrangement of
bells at our front door, which seldom
failed to make everybody outside
mad because they would not ring, or
everybody mad inside because they
rang so furiously. The contrivance
was that two bells should be rung by
one wire ——a common bell in the ser-
vant’s entry, and a gong in the upper
entry. The bell train was so heavy
to draw, that it never operated till
the man got mad and pulled with the
strength of an ox. But then it went
off with such a crash and jingle that
one would think a band of music, with
all its cymbals, had fallen through the
skylight down into the entry. Thus,
women, children, and modest men,
seldom got in, and sturdy beggars
had it all their own way. It was
quite edifying to see experiments per-
formed on that bell. A man would
first give a modest pull, and then re-
flect what he was about to say. No
one coming, he gave a longer pull,
and returned to waiting and medita-
tion.

A third pull was the preface to
stepping back, surveying the windows,
looking into the area, when, seeing
signs of unquestionable habitation, he
returns with flushed face to the bell.
Now for it! He pulls as if he held a
line by the side of a river, with a
thirty pound salmon on it, while
all the bells go off, up and down,
till the house seemed full of bells.
Things are not mended when he
finds the gentleman of the house
is not at home! We fear that
much grace has been lost at that front
door. ‘

In the midst of these luxuries of a
first-class house, we sometimes would
look wistfully out of the window,
tempted to envy the unconscious hap-
gilziess of our two-story neighbors.

ey had no convmzenceaand were at
peace, while we had all manner of

 

conveniences, that drove us up and
down stairs; now to keep the flood
out, and then to bring it in ; now to
raise a heat, then to keep off a confia-
gration ; so that we were but little better
off at home than are those innocently
insane people who leave home every
summer and go into the country to
take care_0f twenty trunks for two
months. But the cruelest thing of
all, as we stood at the window, was
the pious looks of passers-by, who
seemed to say with their eyes, “A
man can not expect much grace that
lives in such a line house.”

It has certainly been a means of
grace to us! Never such a field for
patience, such humbling of expecta-
tions and high looks., lt'it would not
seem like trifling with serious sub-
jects, when asked how one might at-
tain to perfection, we should advise
him to buy a first-class house with
modern improvements, and live in it
for a year. If that did not fit him for
translation, he might Well despair of
any chance.

Ye who envy us, will you exchange
with us? Ye who laugh sarcastically
at ministerial luxury, will you lend
us your sackcloth, and take our con-
venienCes? But those who do live in
houses full of conveniences will, hence-
forth, be our fast friends. They will
say, What if he is an Abolitionist and
we Pro-slavery? What if he is radi-
cal and we conservative”! The poor
fellow lives in a firstclass house, and
is punished enough without our add-
ing to his misfortunes!

Meanwhile, we practice the same
charity. \Ve rail no more at Fifth-
avenue, and admire what saintly vir'
tue enables so many to carry cheerful
faces who live in houses with even
more conveniences than ours. We
are grateful for our happier 103-
Though we are worse off than people
in two-story houses, how much better
are we placed than if we llved 1“
Fifth-avenue!

We bear our burden patiently,
knowing that in the very moment_0
despair, persons are at the very pomt

 

 

l
H
in
ll
:1

I

l
'l

 

 

EARTH’S SLEEPERS.

263

 

of deliverance. \Vho knows but
that he may have a fire as well as his
neighbors? One hour would suffice
to set a man free from all his trou-
bles, and permit him to walk the
streets at liberty, unharrassed by
plumbers, carpenters, tinners, gla-
zicrs, gas-fixers, carpet-fitters, bell-
hangers, and the whole tribe of bell-
pullers!

We are now living at peace. We
are in a plain two-story country house,
without “ conveniences.” We are re-
cruiting. Nothing gets out of order.
\Ve do not wake to hear the water
trickling from bursted pipes ; we have
no chandelier to fall down; the gas
never leaks ; we are not afraid to use
our furniture; our chairs have no linen
cloths on; the carpets are without
druggets. The children bless the
country and a country house, in which
they are not always scratching some-
thing, or hitting something with shoe,
or button, or finger-nails. And we
already feel that a few weeks more
will so far invigorate us that we shall
be able to return for aten month’s
life in a modern house with conven-
iences.

 

EARTII’S SLEEPERS.

BY MISS MARY A. RIPLRY.

Faou ice-locked regions to the tropic is-
lands,

From the bright orient to the prairied
west, .
In mossy valleys, and on rock-based high-
lands,

0h, Earthl thy children restl

Weary they sink upon thy throbbing bo-

som, . _
When the clay-fetters from their spirits

lreak; .
Some sleep in graves, enrobed in leaf and

blossom,
Some in the billowy lake.

In the dim forest, where the wild beasts wan-

er
Through the still night-hours watching for
their prey,
In the lone vale where silvery streams me-
ander,
They wait the judgment-day.

 

Some float within the emerald depths of
ocean,
Or slumber in its gleaming coral caves,
Forever swaying in the endless motion
That reigns amid the waves.

Some pale cheek lieth on a slimy pillow,
Sea-shells and briny weeds about his
head,
While the carousing monsters of the bil-
low
Are wrestling round his bed.

White brows are shining in the sca’s gemmed

palace,
Pearls gleam amid wet locks of golden
hair;
They drank exultingly of Death’s dark
chalice, .

And won a burial there.

And some within the stainless crystal moun-
tains
That guard like sentinels the northern
zone,
Found, when the wintry breath had chilled
life’s fountains,
A tomb not all unknown.

Within the pyramids of Egypt’s desert,
Their desecrated halls, still, cold, and
grand,
In dark sarcophagus, huge built and stately,
Sleeps a most royal band.

Within the saintly gloom of old cathedral,
Beneath the dusty arch or pillared dome,

Remembered not, save by historic column,
Dead monarchs find a home.

White ashes lie beneath the lettered tab-

let
Beneath the altar hidden by the shrine ;
White ashes in white urns are meekly wait-
mg
The resurrection sign.

In the damp aisles of consecrated ab-
beys,
Whose marble rings no more to knightly
tread,
Whose matin songs and vespers are un-
chanted,
Sleep the monastic dead.

They bore the cross while toiling up the
mountain—
A Calvary of sufl'ering — and it lies
On the still heart, which, pains and woe!
o’ercoming,
Sought but the Christ-won prize.

So wait in silence all earth’s sleeping mil-
lions,
In rural vales and in the winter’s tomb;
Still wait they for the great millennial morn-
in
To break death’s dresmless gloom.

 

i. .
g
z
i

m ». .‘Wm—M’.

264 HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

 

HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.
(Concluded)
BY H38. 0. A. “ALBERT.

{ROM the vast mass of facts and
suggestions for domestic comfort,
health, and economy, collected by
Prof. Youmans in his new work, we
scarcely know what to select for the
readers of THE HOME, or rather what
to omit. We shall endeavor to pre-
sent those which are the least familiar
and most practical, condensing the
words of the author or not as is most
convenient.

PART I.,

Considers the properties and applica-
tions of heat. rbuthnot makes a
curious suggestion respecting the ef-
fect of temperature on language. He
thinks the close, jagged utterance of
northern nations comes from their re-
luctancc to open their mouths wide in
the cold air; hence consonants abound
in their speech, while the Greeks and
other inhabitants of warm climates
select smooth, full vowel sounds, and
form a softer tongue.

Although we all know that “heat
expands and cold contracts,” we do
not practically make due allowance
for the law. Twenty-three pints of
water expand into twenty-four on be-
ing raised to the boiling point. The
seasons greatly affect the bulk of liq-
uors. Spirits will measure five per
cent. more in summer than in winter;
yet the weight of substance is not al-
tered by expansion.

A thermometer, Scosfing from fifty
cents to a dollar an half,) should be
bought by every family with its culi-
nary stock, and take the place of feel-
ing and guessing. The following are
a few from a group of facts concern-
ing temperature: Best temperature
for a room, 650—680. Tem erature
of warm bath,llO°—120°. alding
heat, 150°. Baking tem erature of
the oven, 320°—400°. I eat Of com-
mon fire, 1000°.

Rough surfaces transmit heat most
freely. The radiating power of a

 

coal blacked surface being repre-
sented by 100, that of glass is 90,
polished tin, l4, brass, '7, and silver,
3. The best radiators are the poorest
substances for containing articles to
be kept warm; glass, porcelain, and
earthen ware should never be used
for such purposes. A polished tea-
kettle is slowly raised to the boiling
point, but retains its heat for a long
time. Brightly burnished stoves and
stove-pipes are more ornamental than
economical in warming a room.

Dark bodies absorb heat better than
light bodies; a soil darkened by the
application Of tan, soot, or some simi-
lar substance, will ripen its crops
sooner than another not thus treated;
and a wall by being blackened will
mature grapes or other fruit early.

Air in cooling, deposits 3 part of its
moisture in the form of dew; what-
ever therefore keeps it in motion so that
it will be removed from an object be-
fore it has cooled enough to make a
deposit, will prevent dew, and frost,
or frozen dew. A current of air
made to pass through a cellar by
means of a fire, smoke, or other
means, will retard freezing. Another
principle is made available for the
same purpose. Water, in freez-
ing, sets free considerable heat. If
placed near fruits and vegetables in
tubs and pails, it will raise the tem-
perature of the air several degrees,
and assist to protect them. Freezing
is thus made the means of warm-

ingrh

e conducting power. of building
materials is a matter of great import-
ance, and one which is little under-
stood by the mass of people. Bad
conductors should be sought not only
for saving the internal heat in winter,
but for excluding the outer heat in
summer. Loose, porous substances
which confine much fixed air, are best
for this end; and when combined
with strength and beauty, leave noth—
ing to desire in the walls of our house“.
Slate being taken at 100, the conduct‘
ing power of brick is 60, oak, 34,
earth and plaster, 25, plaster and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.J‘xr'

 

HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

265

 

sand, 18. Soft wood is a poorer con-
ductor than hard, dry than wet, and,
universally, the more intimate the
union of the particles, the better the
conducting power.

Among articles of clothing woolen
fabrics are the poorest, and linen the
best conductors. The latter, by their
great capacity of removing heat, are
the most soothing as a dressing for
local inflammations. The round form
of the fibre also renders it less irri-
tating. The oil cloth feels colder to
our feet than the woolen carpet; not
because it is lower in temperature,
but because it more rapidly conducts
the heat from our bodies.

Water has a greater capacity for
containing heat than any other sub-
stance, that is, it will swallow up and
conceal more in ascending from a
given lower to a given higher temper-
ature. It is from this reason that it
quenches thirst so well, and removes
the heat of the mouth, throat, and
stomach without being itself uncom-
fortably warmed.

‘: Suppose that the water of oceans,
lakes, rivers, and that large proportion
of it contained in our own bodies, re-
sponded to changes of temperature,
lost and acquired its heat as promptly
as mercury, the thermal varieties
would be ineoneeivably more rapid
than now, the slightest changes of
Weather would send their fatal undu-
lations through all living systems, and
the ineonstant seas would freeze and
thaw With the greatest facility. But
now the lar e amount of heat accumu-
lated in bogies of water during sum-
mer is given out at a slow and meas-
ured rate, the climate is moderated,
and the transitions from heat to cold
are radual and regulated.”

ater boiling violently is not a
particle hotter than water boiling
moderately, and the heat may be at
Once reduced when the boiling point
.38 attained. This is a hint worth act-
mg upon by cooks, as, thereby, much
f'uel might be saved. Double ket-
tles, the outer one containing water,
Md the inner the article to be cooked,

 

are excellent in boiling articles easily
burned. By saturating the water in
the outer vessel with salt, several de-
grees more of heat can be attained.

Heat holds the same relation to
living tissue that it does to dead mat-
ter, expanding the vessels of the body
so that their liquids move more
freely, and imparting thus a pleasant
sensation which we term warmth.
When excessive, its first effect is to
excite, and its second to exhaust the
system. Evaporation is the body’s
great defense against undue heat, but
this is not without its dangers. “ The
rush of the circulation to the surface,
and the increased transpiration and
secretion of the skin are accompanied
by a necessary diminution in the ac-
tivity of some of the internal organs.
As the exhalation from the skin rises
the secretion from the kidneys and
mucus membranes falls. The pre-
vailing maladies of hot climates may
be referred to in illustration of the
continued heat on the body. Fevers,
diarrhea, dysentery, cholera, and liver
diseases may be regarded as the spc.
cial maladies of the burning, equato-
rial regions.”

Wet clothing produces colds, be
cause by rapid evaporation it abstracts
large quantities of heat from_ the
body. If it can not be immediately
removed, a dry garment should be
thrown over it to cut 01? the external
air. The effect of too sudden change
from heat to cold is to throw the
blood which has been brought to the
surface violently back upon the inter-
nal organs, thus inducing serious and
often fatal disturbance.

Prof. Youmans gives some valuable
information concerning the heating
properties and economical value of
various kinds of fuel. Green wood
contains from twenty to fifty per cent.
of moisture, all of which must be ex-
pelled before, or during the recess of
combustion. About half 0 this may
be removed by exposure to the air for
a year. Green wood is not economi-
ca fuel, because a large proportion of
its heating power must be used in

 

 

266 HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

l

evaporating the water; equal weights
of all kinds of wood in the same con-
dition, (equally dry,) produce equal
quantities of heat; and yet it is not
safe to buy wood by weight, on ac-
count of the very variable amount of
moisture. In comparing the heating
value of twenty-four varieties of Amer-
ican wood, shell bark hickory stands
at the head, and white pine at the
foot of the list. Soft wood gives an
intenser flame than hard, but is infe.
rior in the second stage of red hot
coals. Wood charcoal produces more
heat than an equal weight of any
other fuel. It is important in order
to secure the most heat from wood, to
burn it rapidly enough to carry oxida-
tion at once to its highest pitch, viz.,
the production of carbonic acid and wa-
ter. The total heat thrown out by a
stick burned with a smothered flame is
not nearly so great as when combus-
tion is more brisk, besides contaminat-
ing the air with most poisonous gases.
Air-tight stoves are therefore less eco-
nomical than is generally supposed;
but their unhealthiness is their great-
est objection. The carbonic oxide
which is produced by a low smolder-
ing fire is far more deadly than car-
bonic acid, and with a feeble draught
this oisonous gas is constantly escap-
ing t rough the imperfect joints of the
stove into the room. Stoves with
large surfaces warmed bya small brisk
fire are most healthful. Little is
gained by lengthening the pipe, but cl-
bows save heat by breaking up the
current of interior air at each angle,
and projecting its hottest part upon the
surface of the pipe.

In the opinion of our author the most
health and com fortablemode ofwarm-
ing a once is by a combination of the
Open fireplace with some moderate
hot-air arrangement, by which ventila-
tion is secured, and a soft mild atmos-
phere is diffused through all the apart-
ments. But it is too expensive to be
indulged in by the masses of the peo-

le. The common belief that hot air,
ot water, and steam apparatus are
free from risk of fire has been shown

 

to be fallacious by experiment. Heat,
not much above the boiling point, long
applied, so bakes and chars the wood
in contact, that it will ignite without
the applieatian of flame, thus a fire
be “ kindling upon a man’s premises
for years.”

PART II.,

Contains interesting facts respecting
the nature and relations of colors,
productions and management of artifi-
cial light, defects of vision, ctc., etc.
We have room only for a few remarks
on the tasteful combination of colors
Birticularly interesting to ladies.

ark colors diminish the apparent size
of a erson, while light colors increase
it. n selecting wall paper, the amount
of light style and color of furniture
are our principal guides. “Among
simple colors, light blue, light green
and yellow seem fittest for hangings.
Yellow is lively, and accords well with
dark furniture and brunette complex-
ions, but it hardly appears well with
gilding. Light green is favorable to
pale skins, deficient in rose, and suits
with mahogany furniture. Light blue
goes well with mahogany, is excellent
with gilding, and improves blond com—
plexions. White and light gray, with
velvet patterns the same color as the
ground, are well adapted to a wall to
be decorated with pictures.

“In selecting a border, we should
seek for contrast, so that it may
appear, as it were, detached from the
hangings with which it is associated-
If there is a double border, an interior
one of flowers and an exterior one,
the last must be dee in color and
muchsmaller. Yellow ngingsshould
be bordered with violet and blue mixed
with white. Green will take anyhlle
of red as aborder. Whitehfin 85
should have orange and yellow. ray,

uniform hangings admit of borders of

all colors, but no strong contrastso
tone; gilt borders do well With these-
If the gray be colored, the border
should be complementary. The neu-

tral tints of paper, drabs, stones, 0th
are particularly appropriate for picture

 

f
I,
i

 

:‘m-‘zzr; "

s‘ . 3r:

 

 

HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

267

 

galleries; they produce good effects
in other rooms with well chosen bor-
ders and moldings.”

In furniture, crimson asserts well
with rosewood, but not with mahog~
any; the latter, with all red-colored
woods, trim well with green or green-
gray. The carpet should be selected
with reference to the other furniture
of the room. If mahogany is used,
the carpet should not haVe a predom-
inance of red, scarlet, or orange in it.
If the furniture exhibit various and
vivid colors, the pattern of the carpet
should be simple and sober, as green
and black for example; while if the
furniture is plain, the carpet may be
gay.” Picture-frames should not be
suffered to distract attention from
what they enclose by noticeable splen-
dor of color or omament.

Paar IV.,

Discusses the great subject of ali-
ment. All alimentary principles are
ranged in two classes: nitrogenous,
and non-nitrogenous; the former,
containing albumen, fibrin, casein, and
gluten is concerned in building the
growth of the system, repairing its
wastes, and forming new tissue; the
latter, including starch, sugar, gum,
oil, and vegetable acids, is the body’s
fuel, and is expended in keeping up
the great process of respiration.

Water, the universal solvent, stands
in a class by itself. That which falls
from the clouds, far from houses, near
the close of prortacted stems, after
the contaminations of the air have
been washed out, is the purest which
nature provides. It is only surpassed
by a distilled water of t e chemist,
and yet, from its very freedom from
mineral agents, it is insipid and unpal-
stable.

It is a curious fact that slightly
alkaline waters, when exposed for a
short time to air, light, and warmth,
swarm with invisible animal life,
while by substituting an acid for an
alkali not a trace of living creatures
will be found, but a vast growth of
microscopic plants will take their

 

place. It is well understood that in
some localities water is poisoned by
contact with lead pipes, while in
other places it is not perce tibly in-
jured. The difference is in the water;
that containing pure carbonic acid, or
the bi-carbonates of lime, magnesia,
and potash is most liable to become
thus poisoned. Common salt also in
solution forms a poisonous chloride
of lead. The damage can not be de-
termined by the hardness or softness
of the water. Its chemical analysis
alone can ascertain its safety.

Wheat may well be called the
prince of grains, for it yields more
largely than any other all the ele-
ments of complete nutrition. It is
rich both in tissue-forming and heat-
producing properties. The excellence
of wheaten flour may be measured b '
the tenacity of its dough, the lengt
to which it may be drawn in a thread,
and the extent to which it may be
spread in a thin sheet. W/n'lmms-s is
not a sure test of the nutritive value
of flour, but rather the reverse
showing the absence of the dark glu-
ten, so necessary to impart strength
to the consumer.

Flour should always be obtained
as freshly ground as possible; for
experiment shows that when long
kept, even in a cool airy situation, it
deteriorates, especially in its gluti-
nous qualitics. Farina, a preparation
from the inner portion of the wheat
kernel is much more nutritious than
rice, arrow root, or tapioca for inva-
lids and children. Rye is nearly as
nutritious as wheat, and contains
more sugar, but forms a less adhesive
dough. Corn is richest in oil of
all the grains, but is not sufiiciciftly
glutinous to make an adhesive fer'
mented dough. It is well adapted by
its heating property for the dish of
northern natives, and is chosen by
arctic navigators in preference to
what. Oat-meal ranks first in nit-
rogen, accounting thus for the brawn
and muscle of the Scotch Peasantfiy
who are fed almost entirely upon it,
and suggesting its more extensive use

 

268 HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

 

among the poor of our own land.
Rice is richest in starch, and poorest
in oil of all the grains. Eaten alone,
it is a very insuflicient article of diet.
Peas afford the most concentrated
form of Vegetable nourishment; they
are selected by travelers as a provis-
ion in crossng deserts in preference
to the grains. Beans differ from
them but little in composition, con-
taining a little more lime, the mineral
basis of bone; both beans and peas
are too concentrated nourishment to
be eaten alone.

Fruits will not compare with grains
in nutritive properties, being nearly
all water, and are chiefly rized for
their delicious flavor. e apple
crowns the fruits as wheat does the
grains. Says Liebig:

“The importance of apples as food
has not hitherto been sufliciently esti-
mated or understood. Besides con-
tributing a large proportion of sugar,
murilagc, and other nutritive eom-
pounds in the form of food, they con-
tain such a fine combination of Vege-
table acids, extractive substances, and
aromatic principles, with the nutritive
matter, as to act powerfully in the ca-
pacity of refrigerants, tonics, and an-
tiseptic, and when freely used at the
season of ripeness by rural laborers
and others, they prevent debility,
strengthen digestion, correct the put-
refactive tendencies of nitrogenous
food, avert scurvy, and probably
maintain and strengthen the power of
productive labor.”

The cabbage, when dried so as to
remove its water, contains a great
amount of nutriment; it is therefore
sought instinctively by the Irish, in
the absence of flesh, to mix with their
.potatoe. In_ its decaying state it is
peculiarly unwholesome, from its nit-
rogenous and sulphurous compounds,
and should be quickly removed from
cellars, and the vicinity of houses.
The analysis of the potato furnishes
about seVenty-five per cent. of water
and twenty-five of solid matter,
mostly starch. In strueture it is a

net-work of cells, each one containing

 

small particles of starch floating in a
watery fluid. In boiling a good ripe
potato the starch will abSorb all this
liquid, and swell even to bursting;
but if the starch be deficient the liq-
uid will remain in excess, and we
term it watery. Potatoes deteriorate
in spring, because the young sprout
withdraws the starch for its own
nourishment.

The white of eggs consists of albu-
men and water; the yoke is mostly
a bright yellow oil, the shell a porous
carbonate of lime. The secret of
preserving eggs is in excluding the
air, which is made to pass freely
through the shell to supply the wants
of the unhatehed chicken. This may
be done by coating them with oil,
varnish, or gum arabic, and laying
them in bran, meal, or similar sub-
stances. Milk, the “ typical ” food of
infancy, consists of oil, casein, sugar,
salts and water. The relative pro-
portions of butter and casein in the
milk of cows is thought to be much
affected by their food. Experiments
indicate that stall-fed animals yield
most butter, while those who graze
and select their own food yield most
curd; but this interesting question,
so important to the dairymau, is not
yet fully investigated. Compared
with the milk first drawn, the last, or
stripping/at, will yield from eight to
sixteen times as much cream, the lat-
ter being literally the cream of the
milk as it lies in the udder of the
cow. '

“Cow’s milk is richer in butter
than human milk.” Says our author,
“That nature, temper, and character
are communicated by her milk from
the mother to the nursing child, is
not an idle prejudice. Not only do
bodily circumstanCes of health affect.
the Cretie secretion, but conditions of
the mind and passions also. A par-
oxysm of anger may perf'cl‘t 811d
even poison the fountain ofilfth And
there is no thought more natural than
that on the breast of its mother, Qh"
infant may imbibe, together with its
milk, her nobleness of mind.”

 

 

 

~23—

 

 

 

HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

269

 

The fat of meat is the best, and the
muscle or lean part the feeblest of all
respirants. Hence, tram-oil, blubber,
and tallow candles are delicacies in
arctic climes, while they are an abom-
ination to the native of the equator.
No wonder that the Esquimaux,
whose food is almost wholly burned
as fuel in his body, to keep up the
unequal strife with the elements, is
dwarfed in statue, shrunken in mus-
cle, and feeble in intellect. Pure
muscular flesh, divested of all visible
fat, still contains about eight per
cent. of this combustible material.

Whether boiled, baked, or roasted,
meat should be raised at once to a
brisk heat to coagulate the albumen
on the surface, thus forming a crust,
and preventing the escape of the inte-
rior juices. Slackening the fire then
so as to reduce it to a temperature
of about one hundred and sixty de-
grees, the inside of the meat will
be steamed in vapor of its own;
the thicker the piece the less of its
savory contents will escape.

The theory of cooking soups, broths,
and stews, is exactly opposite. Here
we wish to dissolve out the juices of
the flesh; it should therefore be laid
in cold water, and gradually raised to
the boiling point. Liebig says that
the most savory soup that can be
made is prepared by putting one
pound of lean beef finely minced in its
own weight of cold water, raising it
slowly to boiling, and after boning it
a few minutes, straining it through a
towel; long boiling injures the soup
by coagulating the juices which have
been extracted, and should remain
dissolved in the water. Truly it is a
fine thing to have a chemist for a
cook, and we wish Liebig would give
us more of his excellent receipts.

The kind of water used in cooking
is of the first importance. Soft wa-
ter more readily penetrates substan-
ces, and dissolves their soluble parts;
it is therefore best for soups, stews,
tea, coffee, and all infusions, but its
solvent powers are too rest for ten-
der, juicy vegetables; t eir form and

 

flavor will be best preserved if cooked
in hard water, or, if soft, must be
used, by the addition of a little salt.
Beans, and peas, especially if old, are
much more digestible if boiled in
soft water.

\Vithout question, the most impor-
tant of culinary arts is bread-mak-
ing—to furnish it light, sweet, and
wholesome, is the best achievement of
a cook. We have room for but a
very few of our author’s extended re-
marks upon this subject. Mechanical
injury destroys yeast. Even a jar, or
fall, or simple pressure diminishes its
force, so that it should be removed
from place to place with great care.
The use of hop yeast is not to excite
fermentation, but to arrest it when
commenced, before the sugar is con-
verted into alcohol, and thence to
acid, and also to impart an agreeable
flavor. The raising of bread without
ferment by the use of certain chemi-
cals, as tartaric acid, cream of tartar,
or hydrochloric acid with soda is much
advocated at the present day ; but as
a substitute for yeast bread for daily
consumption it can not be commended.
In the first place these acids and alka-
lies are almost never so accurately
proportioned by domestic measure-
ment as exactly to neutralize each
other — one or the other will remain
in excess in the bread ; secondly, sup-
pose they are neutralized and disap~
pear, they mostly leave some medi-
cinal salt in their place; and, thirdly,
these chemicals are seldom found in a
pure state, but are almost universally
adulterated with some injurious in-
gredient. It is well known that ha-
kers employ alum extensively to
bleach their flour. It is a most perni-
cious mineral; magnesia is also used
for the same purpose, and even blue
vitriol. Liebig proposes a method of
improving the quality of old and infe-
rior flour without the use of any pol.
sonous or medicinal agents, simply
by the use of lime water. he re-
ceipt is this: “Mix a quarter of a
pound of slacked lime in a gallon
of very pure, cold, soft water, in

 

 

l
i
7
a
l
{

 

 

270 , HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE.

 

stopped bottles, or vessels kept tight
for air; pour off the clear liquid from
the top as wanted, and replace by
cold water. Use five pints of lime
water to every nineteen of flour, adding
sufficient common water to mix the
bread. In other respects the process
is as usual, and the result is that a
sweet, beautiful, fine-grained elastic
bread is obtained of exquisite taste,
which is preferred by all who have
eaten it any length of time to any
other.” American housekeeper, try it.

Respecting the choice of culinary
vessels, Prof. Yeomans reiterates the
oft-repeated warning against the use
of brass and copper. Sugar, vinegar,
vegetable acids, salt, and all kinds of
fat enter into poisonous combination
with these metals, and into what
preparation of food do not some of
these ingredients enter. Without the
most vigilant care of the mistress of a
family, vessels of brass and copper
will be used in an improper condition,
to the serious detriment of the health
of the household; and we therefore
wish they were banished from the
kitchen ; the rust of iron vessels is ob-
jectionable but not absolutel y poison-
ous. Utensils of tin and enameled
iron ware are pronounced on the
whole safest and most wholesome for
domestic use.

From the consideration of the gen-
eral subject of aliment, of which we in
our limits haVc not attempted even a
partial synopsis, Prof. Yeomans eon-
cludes that man was designed for a
mixed diet. N 0 one food contains all
the elements of nutrition and respira-
tion in its due properties.

“Lean flesh is the most concen-
trated form of nutriment, is easily di-
gested, and quickly converted again
into muscle. Yet,'though a most per-
fect nutriment, it is least fitted to
meet the complete demands of the
system. It is not a complementary
food, like Wheat, answering to the
double requirements of the body; its
deficiency of respiratory matter makes
it neatssary to consume with it fats and
gravies, or else join it with those sub-

 

stances at the opposite extremity or
the scale, rice, potatoes, vegetables,
etc., which abound in calorfying mat-
ter, but are deficient in the nutrition.
On the other hand, if we attempt to
live exclusively on rice, potatoes, or
vegetables, in order to procure suffi-
cient of the flesh-producing ingredi-
ents, we must consume an enormous
bulk of respiratory matter, so much
more than is needed, as to produce
deformity and disorder of the system.
It is easy to see, however, by refer-
ence to the preceding scale, that we
can make such combinations of dietet
ical articles, as shall compensate for
natural deficiencies. Indeed, the due
admixture of these different principles
of food is a vital and imminent neces‘
sity, which, if disregarded, makes it-
self quickly felt in physiological
derangement, so that man’s instincts
have sufficed to guard him in many
cases against broad departure from
the proper and healthy course.

“ In all countries we notice dieteti-
cal adjustments tending to the same
physiological end. In the coarsest and
crudest diet of barbarous tribes, or
the high wrought luxuries of the re-
fined, the same instinctive cravings are
ever regarded -—- the same purpose of
nature is always in bias. Potatoes and
vegetables, with beef, mutton, and pork,
are almost universal combinations.
Beans and peas, which are the most
highly concentrated vegetable nutri-
ments, are associated with fat pork, in
the well-known dishes, ‘pork and
beans,’ ‘pork and peas pudding,’ and
the extreme oiliness of ham or bacon,
is corrected by the highly-nutritive egg,
‘ham and eggs.’ So also milk and
eggs are cooked with rice, and butter
is added to bread, which is deficient in
oil matter.”

ith this extract we close, leaving
our readers to explore for themselves
the equally interesting and valuable
sections on air, light, and cleansing,
and also to go over, in a more satis-
factory manner, the portions of which
we have sought only to give them an
appetizing glimpse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

CHRISTMAS-EVE AT THE GERMAN BLIND ASYLUM. 271

 

CHRISTM AS—EVE AT THE GER-
MAN BLlND ASYLUM.

HRISTMAS—Evn, as is now well
known, is the great day of all the
year in Germany; it is the festival
looked forward to, and prepared for
by all classes, and celebrated in every
family, every institution or commu-
nity. It'is, however, with special ref-
erence to Christ’s appearance upon
earth in the form of a child, more
particularly regarded as a children’s
feast; and it is in this light that it as-
sumes its deepest meaning, and ac-
uires its most poetical associations.
On the birthday of the Holy Child—
the pattern of childish purity, the
guardian of childish innocence, and
the preacher of child-like humility-—
all the little ones of Ilis flock are to
be made glad; to feel, cVen before they
can understand or appreciate it, how
intimatel y His spirit is connected with
all their joys. Therefore, wherever
children are united, either by the tics
of relationship, the claims of educa-
tion, or the bonds of benevolence,
there the tree burns more brightly,
the gifts are more numerous and va-
ried, the mirth louder, and the sur-
prise more startling. From the princes
and princesses in the palace, down to
the pauper-child in the workhouse,
every little German heart beats with
joyful anticipation at 'the approach of
Christmas-eve.

The images impressed on the mind
by this festival remain engraven there
for life, and are associated with the
tenderest and brightest recollections
of childhood. The grown-up son, who
has for years been absent from his
German home, still recalls the happy
scene of former days, whenever Christ-
mas-eve comes round : he contrives, if
possible, to send his parents some tri-
fle to swell the amount of surprises,
or, at any rate, calculates carefully
that his letter of affection and con-
gratulation may arrive on that day.
On that day the aged mother thinks
of her children swttercd abroad in

 

the world, and not without melan-
choly dwells on the past, when she
assembled them all around the lighted
tree, and was the minister of their
greatest joys. On that day many a
heart that has sought a home in other
lands, and is fain to own them a more
prosperous abode, longs to be once
more amidst the merry groups in his
German home, singing German songs,
eating German fare, enjoying the cor-
dial hospitality, the unrestrained
eheerfulness of German society.

It was not till a few years ago, that
I had an opportunity of witnessing
this season in all its true German
bearings, and became aware how in-
timately the interest connected with
it, pervades every phase of society in
Germany. For weeks before Christ-
mas, every housewife is busy planning,
calculating, purchasing, not to men-
tion baking and brewing. She has to
find out the wants and wishes of hus-
band, children, and servants, and
secretly endeavors to provide for
their gratification when the great day
arrives. The younger members of
the family have each their secrets, and
have their hands and heads full of
fancy-work of different kinds—slip-
pers, collars, cushions, purses, bell-
robes, and the like—all of which
must be completed before Christmas.
Every tradesman knows that his
character will suffer if he does not
finish the article ordered, and send
home the goods on the important day.
Every household servant, every la
borer’s wife would consider it a cry-
ing sin to leave one corner of the
house unscrubbed, one window un-
cleaned, for the grand occasion.

Many public institutions, in which
active benevolence is busy to sup 1y
things domestic poverty denies, aflgrd
an interesting spectacle on this day,
and might invite a numerous crowd
of visitors, were not almost every.
body too busy at home to seek amuse-
ment abroad. As a stranger, and
desirous of the peculiar features
of the country, I gladly availed

 

 

972 cnarsrmsava AT 'rns seams BLIND ASYLUM.

 

myself of an opportunity offered me
to witness the Bescheerung or distribh-
tion of Christmas presents at the
Blind Asylum. This took place at
half-past four o’clock in the afternoon;
and as lwalked with a friend through
the town, we could not but notice the
unusual air of business and expectancy
that pervaded every countenance we
met. There strode a peasant-woman
carrying a heavy laden bag and bas-
ket, and, moreover, a pretty orna-
mented stand for tapers laid over her
shoulder. Here came a gentleman
holding an ill-concealed flower-vase
or other ornament for his lady’s table.
There again walked a cor man, with
a small fir-tree in one and, and some
toys just bought at the fair, in the
other. On arriving at the asylum,
which is situated just outside the town,
we were shown into a large ball, con-
taining at one end a few benches for
visitors, whilst the gcater part was
left open for the reception of the in-
mates of the asylum. Opposite the
door stood a tree, not brilliantly il-
luminated, yet supplying the princi-
pal light of the apartment. Along
the whole of one side of the hall were
arranged narrow tables, completely
covered with various articles prepared
for the blind children; and at one
end stood an organ. Soon after we
had taken our seats on one of the
benches, the inmates of the asylum
were admitted, about forty in number.
As they came in, almost all seemed
to have sufficient perception of light
to be attracted by the lighted tree,
and to turn their eyes involuntarily
in that direction. No doubt their
imaginations had been worked upon
by previous description, for many
gave signs and gestures of sur rise,
and even uttered sounds of dclig t, as

they seemed to catch a glimpse of the .

emblem of the festival. Notwith-

standing this excitement, however,
they ranged themselves in a perfectly
quiet and orderly manner round the
organ, the girls on one side, the boys
on the other, and conducted them-
selves with the greatest propriety.

 

After them came in the director, or head
manager of the institution, and took
his place at an elevated reading-desk.
At a signal given by him, the organ,
at which one of the blind youths, were
seated, struck up a hymn, joined by
the voices of all the children, who per-
formed this and several other pieces,
in a very superior manner, not only
keeping their parts with perfect cor-
rectness, but putting much feeling
and spirit into their songs.

The blind are remarked to be often
gifted with a fine musical ear, and their
Voices are also very often rich and
mellow, and capable of high cultiva-
tion. In this institution, music is re-
garded as one of' the prime levers for
improving and civilizing these unfor-
tunate children; and infinite pains
are taken to procure them the best
instruction, and to make them famil-
iar with the best compositions. The
pieces on this occasion, were admin»
bly chosen, being of a solemn yet an-
imated character; there were some
short portions of the Messiah, and at
last, a beautiful fragment of Shiller’s
Story of the Bell— namely, the prayer
for peace. Between the songs came a
little episode: a little girl dressed in
white, and shewing by her whole
bearing that she belonged to a differ-
ent class of society from her compan-
ions in misfortune, was brought for-
ward by the director, to whom she
clung with affectionate bashfulness,
and repeated a pretty little verse in
a clear and sweet voice. She did not
belong to the asylum, but living in the
neighborhood, was sent there at stated
times to enjoy some of the instruction,
peculiarly adapted to her condition,
and in her infantine helplessness,
seemed to attract the sympathy and
interest of all. I was much struck
by the earnest composure evident m
the deportment of all the young per-
formers. Thcse poor children, freed
from the disturbing influence caused
by the sight of new W 81111 varied
objects, seemed wholly engrossed
with the task they had m hand, and
stood perfectly still, the words and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS-EVE AT THE GERXAN BLIND ASYLUM. 273

 

notes of their songs as present to their
mind’s eye as if they had been able
to read them off from a book. I can
not say, however, that their appear-
ance was pleasing, so far as external
form is concerned; they are, for the
most part, unhappy beings, rescued
from filth and misery, whose aflliction
has arisen out of the neglect of ill
treatment of vicious, ignorant, 0r
brutal parents; therefore, their whole
aspect often denotes a sickly constitu-
tion, and their awkward figures and un-
gainly movements bear the stamp of
a rude origin, whilst their very homely
attire is not calculated to add any
grace in their exterior. Nevertheless
it was highly interesting to see the
wonderful effects that music can pro-
duce in elevating the mind, and even
the expression, and to listen to the
clear, soft, and deep tones proceeding
from those clumsy forms, and speak-
ing of a soul alive to nobility of sen-
tiinent.

The singing having now ceased,
the director—a short, plain little
man, with a finely developed brow
and bright twinkling eyes—read a
brief address, suitable for the season,
concluding with a prayer; and then,
descending from his rostrum, he lpro-
ceeded, with the aid of the teac ers
connected with the institution, and a
lady who has the superintendcnce of
the domestic department, to lead the
children to the table spread for them,
and at which a certain space was
marked off and numbered for each
recipient. Poor things! they could
see nothing of the various objects
laid out before them ; the bright color
or the delicate pattern could not at-
tract their attention or gratify their
sense; yet they were,l am well as-
sured, at that our as happy as any
children possessing all the power of
sight could ossibly be. Loud were
the shout, 0 joy, as they spread their
hands over their portion of the table,
and caught hold of new and unex-

ted treasures; then was there clap-
ping of hands, beating of breasts,
jumping, and merry peals of laughter

 

whenever a new discovery was made
amid the heap.

The gifts had been selected with
wonderful discretion and adaptation
to the peculiar exigencies of the case.
All the other senses were to be grati-
fied, since sight was denied, so there
were whistles and fifes, Pan’s pipes
and drums, bells and J ews-harps for
the hearing; scented soap, scent-bot-
tles and bags for the smell; ginger-
bread, apples, and nuts, for the taste;
smooth round balls and polished mar-
bles, for the touch. Nothing seemed
to give more universal pleasure than
these last; little boys and great girls
seemed alike to delight in rubbing
them between their hands, stroking
them against their faces, and kissing
them with their lips. The musical
instruments were immediately put
into action, so that the din of varied
discordant sounds became quite deaf.
ening.

Strange to say, the eatables were
regarded with less interest than any
other object, and I did not see a sin-
gle child devouring greedin its cake
or sweets. Clothing being provided
by the establishment, necessary arti-
cles of dress are not distributed at
this season; but only little extras,
that appear rather in the light of 111::-
uries, were admitted among the
Christmas gifts. Warm comforters,
muii'etees, and gloves, and a pair of
elastic garters, fell to many a one’s
share, and loud were the expressions
of joy elicited by their discovery.
The elder. girls also had collars and
neck-ribbons to be worn on state oc-
casions, and showed, by the eager
pleasure with which they examined
them, that even want of sight does
not render the sex insensible to the
charms of finery. One girl asked
what color her ribbon was; and when
I replied that it was blue, “ 0h,” she
exclaimed, “ that is my favorite color! ”
yet she had never had any perception
of color. Perhaps she had heard
that the heavens are blue, and identi-
fied this color with the beauties 0!
that place.

 

 

. Wm.,.....~-.u_m.._...m.w»~w WmaW—wm. r... 44“ .

    

274

OCCUPATION.

 

The young children had various
toys—ninepins, tops, dolls, etc., and
almost every one had a basket of some
kind. One end of the long table was
set out for a few elderly pensioners
who had been admitted for life into
the asylum. These also had their
share of presents, and showed their
satisfaction in a calmer but not less
gratifying manner. One old woman
was especially delighted with a little
tureen or covered basin that had fiillen
to her lot, and in which, as she told
us, she was every day to fetch her
dinner from the kitchen. She felt it
all over, admired the smoothness of
its surface, and the symmetry of its
form, and was never tired of taking
off and putting on the cover, which
fitted so nicely. She had also re-
ceived a bag, and, in spite of her
blindness, did not fail to call upon us
to admire the prettiness of the pat-
tern and the harmony of the colors.
The director, the teachers, and the
lady before mentioned—a most
pleasing, active little woman— went
about among the party, sympathizing
with each, ‘and pointing out the uses
and beauties of the various articles,
the director especially evincing by his
kind and paternal tone, and the differ-
ent manner in which he addressed
himself to different individuals, the
warm affectionate interest he felt for
all, and the insight he had gained into
the character of each. The visitors
also were permitted to walk about
and inspect every thing, yet the chil-
dren appeared to feel not the slightest
restraint, but gave free vent to their
joy in a perfectly natural manner.

When ample time had been al-
lowod them for examining all they
had received, they were marshaled
out of the room again, laden with
their newly acquired riches, which
many of them were unable to carry
off themselves; and as they walked
past him, the director again spoke a
word of encouragement or sympathy
to each, and many a one stopped to
press his hand affectionate] , and to
say once more how delig tful had

 

been the treat. We offered our
thanks and congratulations to this
gentleman, who then explained to us
the great value he set on this festival
as a means of softening and elevating
the character of the unfortunate be-
ings committed to his charge, who
often came to him in a state of degra.
dation hardly raised above that of
the brutes, and required the most
careful training to call forth the higher
and nobler faculties of their nature.
Having heartily wished him further
success in his philanthropic labors,
we hastened away to the Bescheerung
awaiting us at home. As we hurried
along the new dark streets, it was a
pleasure to see the unwonted illumin-
ation in most of the houses, in many
of which even the little attic windows
showed that something was going on
in honor of the‘holy feast.

 

OCCUPATION.
CCUPATION ! what a glorious

thing it is for the human heart.
Those who work hard seldom yield
themselves entirely up to fancied or
real sorrow. When grief sits down,
folds its hands, and mourufully feeds
upon its own tears, weaving the dim
shadows that a little exertion might
sweep away into a funeral pull, the
strong spirit is shorn of its might, and
sorrow becomes our master. When
troubles flow upon you, dark and
heavy, toil not with the waves—
wrestlc not with the torrent—rather
seek by occupation to divert the dark
waters that threaten to overwhelm
you, into a thousand channels which
the duties of life always present. Be-
fore you dream of it, those Wawrs
will fertilize the present, and give

birth to fresh flowers that they 1118)”

brighten the future —-flowers that Will
become pure and holy, in the sunshine
which penetrates to the pith 01' duty.
Grief after all, is but aselfish feeling ;
and most selfish is he who yields him-

self to the indulgence of any passion"

that brings no joy to his fellow men.

 

 

M um

 

 

 

 

 

 

-
. .._._.-....._....,_.~__...- ..

 

A SKETCH FOR THE TIMES; 0R, FAMILY ECONOMY. 275

 

A SKETCH FOR THE TIMES; OR,
FAMILY ECONOMY.

BY COUSIN THINKEB.

“ PPALLING, certainly!” ex-

claimed Mr. Nelson, as he
dropped the evening paper upon his
lap which he had been perusing, and
looked up into the faces of the group
seated around him.

“ What, George '9 ” asked his little
wife, as she cast a loving glance at
him from her work; “ more reports
of the failures of banking institu-
tions -—not an uncommon occurrence
now-a-days.”

“ Yes, Mary, and the report to-
night is quite large. All the banks
in New York city have suspended,
together with those of Boston, Phila-
delphia, and various other prominent
cities. In addition to this, we have
telegraphic reports of large mercan-
tile and manufacturing establishments
which have failed. In our own city,
many of the proprietors of machine
shops and other places of business
have discharged their ‘hands,’ for
want of means to carry them on.”

“This is a sad aspect of affairs
truly,” replied his wife. “ \Ve must
undoubtedly look for hard times this
winter, when our banks have sus-
pendedspeeie payments, and the me-
chanics and laborers have been thrown
out of employment.”

“Right, my wife,” resumed Mr.
Nelson; “8 sad work has indeed been
executed during the past week. Ev-
ery grade of society feels this mone-
tary shock, but it bears heavnest upon
the working class-the bone and
sinew of the land. By the calcula-
tion of one who has given much re.
search to this subject, he estimates
that fifteen thousand five hundred
and seventeen working-men have
been thrown out of employment by
this crisis, who belong to twenty of
the principal trades.” .

“Can it be possible, father!” said
Jessie, their oldest daughter. “ Who
would have thought that so large a
number have been thrown out of

 

situations! And the number is con-
stantly on the increase. IIow ghastly
must want stare these persons in the
face as they look upon the long win-
ter months before them ! ”

“Yes, my daughter,” said Mr.
Nelson. “Provisions are low this
season, yet many of these families
have little or no money with which
to buy. If the heads of these house-
holds do not find employment else»
where, their families will be thrown
upon the hands of a charitable pub-
lic.”

“Other families then, who have a
sufficiency, should be economical in
their expenditures, so as to feed these
hungry months,” said Mrs. Nelson.
“Somebody has said, in order to
reform a nation, each individual
citizen must first reform himself. In
the position in which our country is
now situated, it devolves upon all
families to be economical in their ex-
penditures, and each member of the
household should take an interest
therein.”

“ You have well reasoned, Mary,”
said Mr. Nelson, with a look of sat-
isfaction at his wife’s knowledge on
this subject. “Say on—we long to
be farther instructed upon this do-
mestic topic.” '

“ If this plan had been adopted and
carried out during the past few
months, much of the distress and
suffering consequent upon this money
pgressure would never have occurred.

ut it is not too late yet; and if this
project could be adopted in every
iousehold now, what a visible change
would transpire, and how much more
smoothly would theafl'airs of a fam—
ily progress. As ‘Charity begins at
home,’ let each of us eheerfull y adopt
this motto —economical in every thing.
Although we are not an extravagant
family by any means, and do not fol-
low the dietates of fashion, yet 1 can
not help but think we might be a lit-
tle more frugal in some things: We
would thus have an ample SUmCiency
to spare, which would gladden the
hearts of many a destitute home.”

 

276 A SKETCH FOR THE TIMES; 0R, FAMILY ECONOMY.

 

“ True, mother,” said Jessie, “your
scheme is an excellent one, and should
be carried into execution in every
family. We can exercise our charity
in numerous ways. It was only to-
day I heard a most pitiful tale from
a woman at the gate, whose husband
had been thrown out of employment.
She showed me bills to the amount
of several dollars—the only money
they had —— 0n broken banks, and they
were alm0st without the common ne-
cessaries of life. When[l slipped be-
tween her thin fingers a silver coin,
and replenished her little stock of
provisions from the buttery, I could
not but think her position was a sor-
rowful one, as the tears found a chan-
nel down her furrowed and wan
cheek, in thankfulness for the little
favors I bestowed upon her.”

“ It is not an unusual case, J essie—
would that it were,” replied the mo-
ther. “ And besides observing strict
frugality in our domestic afi'airs, I
would sug est that we immediately
procure a I‘amily Daybook, in which
to keep our expenditures.

“First-rate plan, mother,” spoke
Charles N elson, who had been listen-
ing to the preceding colloquy with
much interest. “I will gladly offiei

ate as bookkeeper. Mr. Dicks told-
me the other day I had progressed

‘ much in this study this term, and
would soon be able to keep my fath-
er’s books. lshould rather commence
on a ‘ small scale ’ first, however.”

“I agree with you there, my son,”
said Mr. Nelson. “But what think
you upon this, wife—could we with
confidence place this responsible duty
in Charles’ hands 'I ”

“I doubt whether we could make
a more favorable selection. In this
way Charles can bring his book-keep-
ing into practical execution, and have
ample time to attend to it during the
long winter evcnings. Do you prom-
ise to keep the account faithfully,
Charles 2 ”

“ Yes, mother, I will willingly
and cheerfully comply with your re-
quest.”

 

 

“ We do then confer upon you the
honorary title of Domestic Book-
keeper, and prepare yourself to enter
upon the duties of the ofiice to-mor-
row evening.”

“I thank you for the title, and
trust to merit your confidence in my
abilities.”

“ N ow that we have appointed our
book-keeper,” resumed Mrs. Nelson,
“let each one of us consider in what
manner we can narrow our personal
expenditures. Come, Jessie, you may
first lead off by giving your thoughts
upon this matter.”

“You have many excellent plans
in your head, mother,” said Jessie,
“and those which add materially to
our domestic happiness, you do not
keep from our ears a single moment.
As to this matter of cutting down
our expenditures, you have struck
upon a vein most suitable for the
times. In adapting this to myself,I
shall willingly ibrego the pleasure of
taking the piano father designed pur-
chasing me. My furs will answer
quite well another season. I have an
ample supply of dresses and basques,
and to-morrow I shall re-trim my
bonnet. I know of nothing I shall
need at present farther than a thick
pair of lady’s gaiters.”

“You are too liberal for your own
comfort, I fear, Jessie,” said Mr.
Nelson. “The sweet music of your
voice is dearer to me far than the har-
monious strains of a piano could be, and
I shall follow the dictates of your own
frank mind as to purchasing the instru-
ment this season.”

“Come, Charles,” said Mrs. Nel-
son, “ let us know in what respect
you can exemplify yOur frugality.”

“I am amply provided for, mother,
and shall be satisfied if I have nothing
more than the pleasant home We "9“?
enjoy. You have taken much Pam”
to repair my overcoat, and other Of
my winter clothing. Although you
promised me a new overcoat for Sun-
day, yet the old one Will answer every

purpose. I got a strong pair of boots .

today at the shoemaker’s, which is

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A SKETCH FOR THE 'I‘IIIEB; OR, FAMILY ECONOMY. 277

 

all I shall ask in the way of shoe-
leather. Yesterday I was strongly
urged by a friend to purchase a sea
son ticket for the lectures this winter,
and I am glad I did not consent, as I
find much more pleasure around our
fireside, listening to and discussing in-
teresting topics, and engaging in other
home amusements, than I should seated
in the crowded lecture-room.”

“You have well spoken, Charles,”
said the father. “ Your mother is
very careful of all our articles of
clothing, and does not suffer a rent or
a missingbutton to be seen on our
apparel the second day. As to secur-
ing lecture-tickets, I may possibly
procure a double one for the course, al.
though we might drop this amusement,
for the sakeof carrying out our plan.”

“ Does Clara choose to speak upon
this subject?” said Mrs. Nelson, as
she looked down into the blue eyes of
their little one seated by her side.
“ Does my little pet want a new joint
doll or other trinket to add to her
collection of playthings? ”

“ I asks nos’n, ma. My dolly ’8
lost one arm, but it looks jish as
well whenl puts some cotton in the
sleeve. ’ou and pappa gives me all
I wants and more too,” she-added, in
her peculiar childish dialect, which
brought a smile from the group.

“ You sweet little dimple face, I
must kiss you for that,” said Jessie, as
she picked Clara up into her lap, and
imprinted a sister’s kiss upon the
little girl’s cheek. “Come, pa,” she
added, casting a loving glance toward
the paternal head, “you can not be
exem t from this discussion.”

“ es, yes, pa,” interceded Charles;
“ let us know how you can aid in this
matter of family economy '9 ”

“I shall pledge myself to perform

my part in this most worthy scheme. .

Besides adVancing frugality at the
fireside, I shall also exercise it in my
buSiness transactions. You are most
loving children, and have denied
yourselves many comforts to encour-
age economy. This ObJOCt has not
been urged on you; you have acted
VOL. xv. 18.

 

upon‘it from the impulses of your
generous hearts, and I do not fear
but that you will can your resolu-
tions into execution. 00 much care
can not be taken in this respect. If
the principle of economy .had been
adopted by households in general,
much of the bankruptcy and financial
embarrassment which has shocked our
country would have been averted.
As your mother truly says, it is not
too late yet to commence. Let us
go forward in the work we have en-
listed in to-night, undaunted, that oth.
ers may take pattern thereby, and
fall into the long ranks of Economy
and Frugality.”

“You have argued well, father,”
said Jessie, “and we do not fearbut
that you will perform your part in this
new enterprise. Now, mother, it de-
volves upon you to wind up our
animated discussion.”

“I doubt whether I can be quite as
limited in my expenditures as the rest
of you, but at the same time will ob-
serve rigid economy. Holding as I
do the family purse, you can rest as-
sured it shall be opened only in cases
of necessity and benevolence. Upon
an article of use or provisions be-
ing purchased, it will be my chief
object to see that they are not ex-
travagantly used or wasted by the
domestics. I fear there is much use
less waste in the kitchen. As I have
a large supply of dresses of different
textures and qualities in the ward-
robe, I shall not have occasion to
patronize the dry goods merchant
for some time. All of us co-opemt.
ing together for the same end, we
can not but bring about amost ha py
result, and will be a benefit to each of
us which will be of lasting effect, In
this we are not only happy ourselves,
but secure an overplus by economy, to
lighten the hearts of 'those around us.
Remember, ‘He that giveth to the
poor lendeth to the Lord;’ so that
we not only add to the hap iness of
other homes, but also have the appro-
bation of our Heavenly Father.”

BUFFALO, Oct. 17, 1857.

 

«» . weerme a

 

  

m‘.-‘—‘ er- -., -—-»W’.- —.... m... ... _

 
 

I

WIIO THEN, IS READY?

BY RN. 0. STARK BAILEY.

[10 then, is ready? Who, in
this autumn time, when the
leaves turn red upon the maple, and
the mountain ash blushes in the sun, is
ready to lay aside the work of life,
and walk up the way of the Life be,
yond? \Vho is ready, when in this
time of year we behold the decay of
flower and leaf, to lay aside the
body with the flower. and the leaf, and
hail with spiritual joy the Resurrec-
tion and the Life? Who is ready to
leave the gold and the profit of trade,
and say, “Come sweet spirit, heav-
on] y dove.”

Is there a young girl to-day, fresh
and lovely in this autumn time, ready
to lay aside the hope of the earthly,
and go arm in arm with the angel
Death through the shadowy passage;
or, a young man ready to embrace the
kiss of Death, and go home to where
the eternal harmonics fill the soul
with the age-lasting life ?

Now is the time to prepare the
work of the soul. Now is the time
to place ourselves in the battle line
of spiritual duty, and put on the whole
armor of God ; and then having lived
out our days in respect, duty, and
honor,——having borne the heat and
burden of the day, with God’s bene-
diction upon us, we shall quietly and

eefully submit when the angel,
girth, appears, and go home to God,
attended by the shouting hosts of
heaven. And those who come to visit
the spot where repose in silence the
wasting bones, will point to our tablet
with admiring words; and though
many an autumn time shall come, yet
new-r shall our name grow dim as
the. years pass on.

Tn die and be forgotten! \Vho
would wish an end like this? To
live and die, and have no spiritual
deeds to proclaim your citizenship,
is an end most deplorable indeed.
Live. to be useful, and even your death
will have its voice of significant men-
tion. True greatness lies in the char.

2~8 WHO THEN, IS READY?

 

acter that lives when the voice has
been silenced. Those are the great-
est men, whose memorics are great-
est when Death shuts out the lamp
of life. What if no tablet marks the
spot where sleepeth the body, yet
shall the bright deeds of our day. and
the result in life of our practical Faith
prepare an age-lasting monument in
the hearts of men, invincible against
the assaults of time, and growing
brighter as the'years pass on. Then
spend your time, your money, your
life, all that you have, may have or
can have, to make your name imper-
ishable; laying the foundation-stone
upon the Christian rock, building up
higher and higher in perpetual and
increasing beauty, the man and his
manhood, until your last days are
your best days, and the closing scene
the brightest period of the whole life
and joumey.

Who then, is ready? As the leaves
fall and the flowers fade, who will
put on increasing Faith, and resolve
to be stronger and better as the years
crowd thickly upon us. Summer has
gone. I mourn for the glory of the
summer woods; and the bright eyed
flowers that grew by the garden fence,
are bright and lovely no more. And
how much do we feel in this “melan.
choly season of the year ” that we are
growing old? The tension of life is
departing, and “ we do fade as the leaf.”
I look back to boyhood, and see in
imagination those golden days; but
they are gone;— then up into man-
hood, how many more have gone, how
many are going! Am I ready ? Are
you ready? \Vhat spiritual signifi-
cance in these questions! Do not
then forever be standing at the well
of Jacob, but seek Jesus and the W8-
ter springing up into everlasting life.

COLUMBUS, N. Y., Oct. 21, 1357.

 

 

III: who marries for beauty only is
like a buyer of cheap furniture—the
varnish that caught the eye will not
endure the fireside blaze.

«-h~"—~u‘ ' 3;.“

 

.‘L.
,
_
l

.

 

 

 

:- #1-- .g. «- .u'

 

 

 

was RIGHT LIGHT. 279

 

THE RIGHT LIGHT.

BY HRS. H. E. G. AREY.

“I THOUGHT you had often told
me that your sister was a pru-
dent, economical woman,” said Mrs.
Ross somewhat tartly, as her hus-
band returned to the sitting-room, af-
ter looking to the fastenings for the
night. “I don’t see how a woman
who traVels in such merino as that,
and sports such a dashing gold watch
and chain, can be called economical.
I never had so fine a merino in my
life, and you always say we must
travel in something we are not afraid
of s oiling.”

“I presume my sister agrees with
me in this,” said Mr. Ross. “If her
merino is finer than any you ever
had, it has probably lasted longer,
and done more service. I know at
least that it is the same dress she
wore to the White Mountains three
years ago, for Iwas there when she
left, and it had already seen some
service. She wears a watch and
chain to be sure—wears them, not
sports them if you will observe, for
she makes no display of them as a
gambler’s wife might be expected to
do. They may look dashing to us,
but that is because the ladies we are
accustomed to see do not wear them,
but the reason of that is that they
can not afford them, I suppose—not
because they consider them too dash-
ing. A watch is' almost a necessity
to my sister. She is so closely occu-
pied that she is obliged to divide her
time very carefully.”

“You can never make me believe
that any one with such white hands as
hers can have very much to do,” said
Mrs. Ross, not at all molliiied by
what her husband had said. “She
doesn’t look as if she touched a bit of
work from one year’s end to another.
If I lived and dressed as she does,
you might Well complain of me for
my extravagance. But I have no pa-
tience when you set her up as a

model. and lecture me on economy.”
“ We shall probably never think

 

alike on this subject, my dear,” said
Mr. Ross kindly, “and so we must
‘agree to difl'er,’ and let the matter
was without quarelling about it. Mr.

elland often says that his wife laid
the foundation of his fortune, and I
think she did.”

“I suppose that is another hit at
me,” said his wife; “I have never
had any foundation of a fortune to
lay —I wish I had. But to have you
think that I am extravagant, when we
have never been able to do more than
make both ends meet comfortably at
the close of the year, is quite too
much.”

“I do 'not say that you are extrav-
agant, my'dear,” said Mr. Ross.

“ No! I know you did n’t say it
now, but you used to lecture me end-
lessly about it when we were first
married, and hold up your sister, Mrs.
\Velland, as a pattern; and Iknow
you think the same thing yet, and it
vexes me.”

“ Do n’t let it vex you, little wife.
I can assure you of a pretty favorable
standing in my opinion, and you
ought to be satisfied. I should be
glad if we got on a little better with
the world, but perhaps there is some
wise reason why we do not. If we
can not see this matter of eConomizing
in the same light, we must see it as
we can. It is in little things that the
wisest economy is shown, and we
must show it in these if we ever wish
to possess greater. Mr. VVelland’s
income was less than ours when they
first began to lay aside that which has
since become a fortune, and my sis.
ter had, as well as yourself, full lib-
erty to make the wants of her family
come quite up to her husband’s in-
come, yet they managed to lay aside
some hundreds every year, while we
have only contrived, as on say, to
make both ends meet. They lived in
the city, and we in the country, so
you can not but see that there has
been a difference somewhere in the
internal arrangement.”

“ And you think that the difference
is in my department? I think it’s in

 

   

s
,.

280

 

THE RIGHT LIGHT.

 

the business. It’s a great pity if I
must be blamed because my husband
does not succeed in business.”

“ Well, so it is, my dear, so it is,”
said Mr. Ross good-humoredly. “ And
as we must be up betimes in the
morning, I think we had better go to
bed and sleep upon it.”

Mr. Ross did not think on this sub-
ject, he know. He had had in early
life a very strong desire to pOSSess a
fair share of this world’s goods. He
had made a close comparison of his
income, and his outlays with those of
his brother-in-law, whose success he
would have been glad to copy. He
know very well where the leak in his
affairs was to be found, but he had
tried for many years to stop it with-
out success. He was aware that his
family used more butter than any
other one of the same. size in the vil-
lage — that more webs of cotton and
more yards of calico were consumed
there, and that the flour barrel and
spice box needed to be replenished
more frequently than in other meal
rooms and pantries. In the early
years of his married life he had tried
to make his wife see this, but she
Could not understand, if she dressed
her children in calico, while others
clothed theirs in dclaine or merino,
that she was not more economical
than they; no matter how short a
time the garments lasted. If her hus-
band talkod to her about economy,
she was sure to buy an abundance of
cheap and worthless things, and then
spend a great deal in replenishing, at
unfavorable times, when their worth-
lessness was discovered. And finding
that he could not change this method
of administration without sacrificing
his domestic peace, be had long rc-
frained from saying any thing on the
subject, wisely considering that peace
was better than wealth. But his wife,
who was awoman of many virtues as
well as some glaring faults, had re-
membered his frequent references to
his sister as a model of domestic
management; and now that Mrs.
Welland, after many years, had come

 

for the first time to visit them,- the
old sore had broken out anew.

Mr. and Mrs. Welland remained
for a short visit, and then 
home, leaving their daughter ‘Mary
to spend the summer in the ooumity
with her cousiuLucilla Ross, whowal
near her own age. A few days> after
she had been left with her cousin they
were sitting sewing at one of the low
parlor windows, when a young man
opened the front gate, and came up
the walk.

“There comes my parsnip beau,”
said Lucilla, laughing in such a way
that he could scarcely fail to hear.

Mary looked up to see why her
cousin had called him “ parsnip bean,”
and saw a light haired young man
dressed in farmer’s style, who made a
somewhat awkward bow to her cousin
on entering, blushing meanwhile like
a peony, as Lucilla afterward said.
But it was quite a manly blush for
all that, for if he had not heard the
remark just made, he had undoubtedly
heard the laugh that accompanied it.‘
He was awkward to be sure, but
there was nevertheless a grace that
hung about his firm, Well-rounded
limbs, ifhe had only dared to let it
show itself. g

Lucilla turned to find him a chair,
concealing the titter still upon her
face, and casting at the same time a
droll look at her cousin, to whom she
had just named him as Mr. Hamilton.
Lucilla made a remark ‘or two after
he was seated, but not at all in a way
to relieve his embarrassment, for she
was so evident] y bursting with smoth-
ered laughter that it could not fail to
create awkwardness on all sides if it
excited no indignation.

Lucilla had some tact at rhymicfi,
and sometimes scribbled for the ' -
lage papers, so that she was regarded
by some of the village people as quite
a prodigy of wisdom for soyoung a
person. During the past Winter and
spring Charles Hamilton, the son of a
well-to-do farmer, who lived at a little
distance from the village, had been in-
clined to show her some attentions

3

 

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THE RIGHT LIGHT. 281

 

though he had by no means been pro-

. fuse in them.

Fair Mary Welland, roused by her
sympathy for the young man’s em-
barrassment, and thinking that per-
haps Lucilla. treated him with more
than usual coolness on account of the
presence of her city cousin, joined in
the conversation; and though the few
sentences he uttered were brief and
confused, for he was evidently sufl'er-
ing from the reception he had met,
she could not but notice that he ex-
pressed himself with remarkable ease
and refinement for one of his external
ap earanee.

ucilla took the opportunity offered
by her cousin’s conversation with
their guest, to scribble a few lines
upon the paper pattern from which
she was working, and pass them
over to her cousin. Surprised at
the rudeness of such an act, Mary’s
first impulse was to push the a er
from her; her second to punish her
cousin by reading the lines aloud.
But she did a less ill-natured thing
than either of these. Glancing down
upon the paper as it lay in her lap
she read:

“ With a poppy blush and a fright-{mg stare,

And a. shock of swinglc t0w,

And collar half an acre square,
You have seen my parsnip beau.”

And then said gravely, “Your pat-
tern is quite correct,” and returned
the paper to her cousin.

Rebuked by Mary’s manner, Lu-
eilla endeavored to treat their guest
with more civility, but he had evi-
dently perceived himself to be the
butt of her ridicule, and soon took his
leave.

“ Why do you call him your pars-
nip beau ? ” asked Mary, when he
was gone.

“ Uh, because he is sweet and whit-
ish,” said Lucilla.

“Rather whitish to be sure,” said
Mary somewhat amused, “ but why
do you call him sweet 'l ”

“You would think him sweet your-
self if you had seen what a nice cake
of maple sugar he sent me as a pres-

 

ent last spring,” replied Lucilla. laugh-

“That was sweet certainly; I
should not' have objected to such a
present myself. . I am very fond of
maple sugar.”

“ Oh! so am I, especially when it
comes in ten pound loaves. My onl
wonder is that he did not set it al
around about with some of his mo-
ther’s glowing hollyhocks.”

“Perhaps they did not happen to
be in blossom at that season of the
year,” said Mary, who had noticed
some just such discrepancies of fancy
in some of her cousin’s poems, and
thought this would be a good time to
hint their incongruity.

“I never thought of that,” replied
Lucilla, blushing slightly at discover-
ing this blunder in the imagination,
upon which she so prided herself. “I
trust you admired his bow,” she con-
tinued. “ Do n’t you think he would
make his fortune as a dancing-mas-
ter in New York? I might recom-
mend ir. to him.”

“ IIis mamma would not show him
to have been used to the most refined
society,” said Mary. " But mamma
often tells me

‘ That man when smoothest he appears,
Is most to be suspected!
Because they rarely show this re-
markable smoothness of manner with-
out having cultivated it as an art, and
those who feel a confidence in their
own solidity of character are not a t
to do this in early life, and they only
become polished as they adopt refine-
ment of manner instinctively from

the usages of good society. At least.

that is the way mamma explains it.

“Well, I don’t fancy that Charles
Hamilton has had much opportunity
to adopt a refinement of manner from
any society he has ever seen. You
ought to see his mother. He’s an
only son you know, and lives on abig
farm out among the peach and apple
orchards about a mile from the vil-
lage. They all three come to church
together like a loving famil. , and
he’s so attentive to his ma. ways

I". ,. _

 

  

282 THE RIGHT LIGHT.

 

opens the hymn-book for her, and
helps her find her specs. He’s such
a pattern son. His mother’s dresses
are not long enough to do much dam-
age among the garden sarce, and she
wears but a small amount of hoops.
She is a picture worthy of an artist I
assure you. The son they say is lit-
erary. I expect it was 'my verses
that attracted him. I am expecting
every day to getanoriginal love ditty
frOm him. You shall see it when it
comes.”

“Thank you!” said Mary. “ Per-
haps it may be worthy of more at
tention than you appear to think it,
when it does come. I certainly liked
what the young man said about that
ipllarrel with the village teacher. He
s owed some independence in daring
to entertain an opinion different from
that of the great men of the village,
whose word you say is law, but
whose opinion in this matter is very
likely to be an interested one. It is
possible that his mother in her style
of dress is independent enough not to
follow a foolish fashion. Long dresses
and hoops would probably be very
much in the way, in garden and
dairy. Are you acquainted with
her?”

“,Not in the least. But if she
knows any better than to dress as she
does, I think she would show it in
some way.”

“Then perha s it is to his mother’s
want of taste t at we may attribute
his acre of collar as you call it, and
his home-made clothing. He should
not allow his taste in dress to over-
'come his vei'ieration for his mother,
if he. is, as you say, a pattern son.”

“Really, Mary, I believe you have
taken quite a fancy to him. I shall

ass him over to your keeping. I
fancy already that I see him sitting
with his red hands and time among
the mustachioed beaux in your father’s
parlor. Would n’t he make a figure
amogg them '9 ”

“ on are generOUS, my dear cous-
in,” said Mary. “I should be sorry
to rob you of your prize. But as for

 

the mustachioed beaux in my father’s

parlor, I assure you they are very -

rare. Mamma permits me to ex-
change as few civilities as possible
with the whisker-rearing, cigar-smok-
ing, and wine-sipping young men who
are so popular now-a-days.”

. “Permits you, Mary? Are you
not old enough to permit yourself?
Does your mother have to permit
what you do ’l ” .

“ Certainly she does. She is the
mistress of her household, and I hope
I shall live under the permission and
supervision of my excellent mother
this long while yet.”

a .a- * a s a

The summer and autumn had passed
away, and the time had come for
Mary Welland to return home. On
the last day of her stay the young
people of the village had gone into
the woods nutting, at the suggestion
of Charles Hamilton, who had grown
quite popular among them since their
city guest had showed that she consid-
ered him worthy of being treated
with attention. He was no longer
awkward. The knowledge that he
was well received in the society where
he moved had taken from him the last
vestige of that boyish awkwardness
that characterized him at first.

“ I dare not tell you how dark your
going will make the autumn seem to
me,” said Charles to Mary, as they
stood upon the brink of a little cas-
cade which he had offered to show
her. “But I could not let you go
without thanking you for the good
cheer that your presence here has
given me. “’0 probably shall not
meet again, but I shall be a better
man for it all my life.”

“Very probably we shall meet
again,” said Mary.

“I think not,” said Charles. f‘PI‘OV:
idence has placed us in dlfl‘erent
spheres, and—and, it is better that
We should not.”

“Charles,” said Mary. all“ a few
mommt’s pause, “I wish you would

0 to school at B. . . . Professor

lay there is a friend of ours, and

 

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Eu»: Lama-5M1 44-». a... . .

 

ran RIGHT LIGHT. 283

 

would take an interest in you. I
flunk you could find no better man to
direct your studies.”

.“Do you wish it?” said Charles
in Borne surprise, while his face flushed
redder than the old peony blush that
be Used to wear. “I have thought
some,” he added hesitatingly, “ of en-
tering the Junior class at A. . . t in
the spring. I think I could join them
ifI studied through the winter. I
have read as far as they, and with a
little reviewing have no doubt I could
keep up with them.”

“The Junior class, did you say?”
asked Mary.

“Yes! I have thought of it. It
would give me less than two years in
college, and I think father could spare
me that time.”

“But when can you have read
so much, and who has been your
teacher? ”

“No one,” said Charles; “at least
no one since I left the high school
over the river three years ago. If a
man is determined to do a thing he
does not need a teacher.”

“I am very much surprised at
this,” said Mary. “But if you are
to study through the winter,” she
added, “I still wish you would go to
B. . . . Professor Ray would be an
invaluable assistant to you.”

“Thank you!” said Charles, as
they turned to join the party they
had left. “I will make inquiries
about it.”

“ 0h, Mary! I must laugh at you,”
said Lucilla Ross, running up to their
room after they had returned home.
“ I was so pleased with the impressive
manner in which Charles Hamilton
bade you good-by.”

“I leave no young person here
that I shall be more. sorry to part
with than Charles Hamilton,” said
Mary, smoothing out her gloves, and
laying them in the box with her col-
lars.

“Well, you are a queer girl!”
exclaimed Lucilla. “When there are
such young men here as Dr. Locke
and Mr. Winslow, who are dying for

 

a look from you, to think that you
should not try to captivate any one
better than Charles Hamilton.”

“I do n’t think I have tried to ca
tivate any one,” said Mary, laug -
ing; “ but I could not look for any
‘better,’ when I think that he is
best.”

“I declare, there’s no accounting
for tastes,” said Lucilla. “I believe
I shall take up with Mr. Winslow.
He seems quite charmed with me
since he found there was no use look-
ing for a smile from you.”

“I don’t like Mr. \Vinslow, and
should be very sorry to think that
you had taken up with him as you
say,” said Mary.

“ Why don’t you like him?” asked
Lucilla somewhat pettishl y.

“Because, for one thing, I think
he dresses too well for his circum-
stances,” said Mary. “And that
is sufficient argument against any
one.”

“\Vell, it’s certain you and I
don’t see things in the same light,”
said Lucilla.

a a n- e a 0:

It is now the autumn of eighteen
hundred and fifty seven, dear reader,
and Lucilla has just returned hdme
from the wedding of her cousin, Mary
\Velland, with the junior )artncr of
her father’s firm, Charles Iamilton.
Charles had graduated with the high-
est honors from the college where he
studied, and then went to assist the
future father-in-law in the accumulat-
ing duties of his business. And the

sound men that frequent Mr. \Vel- .

land’s parlor, regard Charles IIamil-
ton as one in a thousand, and look
with much respect upon the “ figure ”
that he makes among them.

But Lucilla has returned to her
village home to mourn OVer her
blighted prospects, and to write
heart-broken'smgs for the country
papers. For Carlton Winslow to

whom she was to have been married
the coming winter, has been sen-
tenced to state- rison for an illegal
appropriation o the property of his

     

.
l
‘l
l
‘

i

 

 

  

284 KIND worms.

 

employer, in the store where he was
engaged as head clerk. And Lu-
cilla bows her head in shame and
sorrow over the choice which she had
made, because she was not accus-
tomed to look at things in “the right
light.”

 

K [N D WORDS.

IKE the perfume of roses, or the
dew upon flowers, or the songs of
birds, are words spoken in kindness.
They cost little, yet avail much. Al-
ice Carey says—and she never ut-
tered a more true or beautiful thought,
that “little drops of water brighten
the meadows, and little acts of kind-
ness brighten the world.” So it is
ever; for as the tender spires of the
meadowy grass grows stronger and
higher under the influence of the cool-
ing summer showers, so does the
heart expand and grow, and its nobler
gualities develop, under the genial in-
uence of kind actions and kind
words.

The psalmist tells us that “A soft
answer turneth away wrath, but that
grievous words stir up anger.” The
truthfulness of this we see often
proved. Hard words may in many
times and cases be necessary, yet at
the same time reproof and advice ad-
ministered in kind and gentle tones,
go oftentimes much farther than the
hot and hasty words of anger. Such
words

6‘

 

have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care ;

And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer."

Unkind Words are more apt to wound
than to cure, to stir up than to calm ;
and instead of effecting good, only
serve to awaken the passions, and
rankle in the heart. Kind words are
to the soul, as the summer showers
and sunshine to the flowers. They
make it glad and light, and strengthen
it to bear up under the common sor-
rows of life.

There are those who can trace a
long and honorable “life of happiness

 

and peace to the influence of some
little words uttered in kindness long
years before. The words were never
forgotten ! they warmed and cheered the
heart, and the obstacles and difficulties
in the path of life seemed to grow fewer
and less perplexing. There are those
too, who in looking back over a long
and wasted life of

restless striving and weary care ;
Of visions tinted with morning rays
Vanishing into air,"

6‘

 

can trace its cause to unkind and cruel
Words. The heart was young and tender
when they were spoken; the words em-
bittered it, and a long life of wretched-
ness and sorrow followed after. Kind
words are words fitly spoken, and they,
we are told, are like “ apples of gold in
pictures of silver.”
J mass 0. PERCIVAL.

 

TIIE WATCIIFU L MOTHER.

V E once sent a Sunday-school book

by a lady patient of ours as a
present to her little daughter. ()n in-
quiring afterward how she liked it—
“ludeed, doctor,l did not give it to
her, as I have not yet had time to read
it myself.” That mother soon passed
away, and doubtless to the better land,
and long years have passed away also,
but we have never failed to admire
that mother’s heart as often as the re-
membrance of her ceaseless vigilance
has occurred to us, accompanied with
the earnest wish, that all parents
should emulate that mother’s care.

Up to the ageof fifteen at least, and
as long after as affection for the parent
will prevent the child from doing any
thing contrary to the known wishes of
father or mother, no book should be
read by a child without the parent’s
permission. Impressions are made
for life, for eternity, on the mind, and
heart, and memory of childhood —— im-
pressions which mold the character for
aye, or open up channels of thought
which fix the destin .

Untold mischief 8 been done to
the minds and morals of the young by
reading books on Physiology, so

 

 

 

THE WATCHFUL MOTHER. 285

 

termed, causing aprehensions which
have acted as a ceaseless torture to
multitudes, until by consultation with
honorable physicians, the groundless
apprehensions have been removed,
which had been excited by plausible
falsities and brazen-faced untruths.

Equal care should be exercised as
to the religious, moral, and miscella-
neous reading of the young. Very
few of our daily papers are fit to be
read at the family fireside. Certainly
not one in a dozen of all city weekly
papers, not connected with a daily is-
sue, but is chargeable justly with be-
ing made up with the veriest trash, to
say nothing of their frequent obscen-
ity, their slang, their spiteful hits at
religion, its ministers, its professors,
and the Bible itself.

A drop of water will ultimate] y
wear through the solid rock, and drop
by drop will empty the ocean, and so
is the influence of the repeated exhibi-
tion of bits of sarcasm, and infidelity,
and profanation, which portions of
the press are steadily throwing out.
Not only are the minds of the young
injurioust all'ected by these things,
but persons of maturity, of intellect,
of mental culture, will suffer by
them.

It is not long since that the death of
Percival the poet, recalled to many
memories his early promise, his later
failure. flow, with a heart, a mind,
a culture capable of achieving great
things for humanity, his light went
down in the night of misanthropy,and
almost atheism! What was it that
froze the heart and made desolate the
whole character of that gifted man?
Reading in the agingvtime of life the
Obscenities of “ on Juan,” the ma-
lignant diatribes, the ranting atheism
of Lord Byron. Had other books
been placed in the hands of this unfor-
tunate man at that critical period of
his life—books which would have
cherished the better feelings of his
nature, which would have invited out
his sympathies toward his brother
man, he might have died 9. Howard or
a Harlan Page, about whom sweet

 

memories will arise for ages to come,
instead of dying as he is said to have
done, an uncomer oddity, a misan-
thrope, and an infidel.
Panama! Have a ceaseless eye to
what your children read.
[Hall’s Journal of Health.

 

TO THE LADY WHO SENT ME
AN APPLE.

BY ANSON G. CHESTER.

Tnnl’s danger in the fruit! Sure thou best
read
Of those who first in Paradise were placed—
Where many a gorgeous blossom reared its
head,
And many a blooming shrub the garden
graced —
How Eve persuaded Adam, to his cost,
How Adam ate the apple and was lost!

0, Woman! Woman! how can we withstand
Thy potent charms and captivating arts?
Our destinies thou holdest in thy hand,
Thou makest very playthings of our hearts;
One smile from thee, and lo! the jocund morn,
One frown from thee, and sullen night comes
on.

I take the fruit, and ask not where it grew,
But eat it not, lest greater woes should come
Upon my head than ever Adam knew.
When he was driven from his Eden home,
Because he ate of the forbidden tree.
Eve went with him—thou canst not go with
me!

I take the fruit and think from whom it came,
I gaze, in fancy, on thy brow and cheek,
Look in thine eyes, bright with their vests!

flame,
Hear once again thy bashful voice and meek,
And warmer sunshine mingles with my lot;
Was Eve like thee? then Adam blame I not!

 

FORGIVEN.

BY IRS. I. P. A. CROZIER.

Foaexvss! How sweetly the word
Comes home to the penitent one!
Tho‘ long and tho’ sadly he erred,
Sweet Mercy has owned him her son;
Forgiven!
Sweet echo of voices in Heaven.

Forgiven! How peaceful he is!
What love is now fillin his soul!
0h ! nothing is sweeter than this,
And he blesses God’s gentle control ;.
Forgiven!
Sweet whisper of portioning Heaven!

1‘:
1 _. l
2.
i
L.

--......._

 

 

mamaiv

 

 

EDITOR’S DEPARTMENT.

 

OUR POSITIONS AND PBOPOSITIONS.

NOTHER rapid year is drawing to its

close, and its days, with their sunshine
and shadows, are going from about us, even
as the autumn leaves fall from the trees that
nourished them. We have gathered about
us_during the year a circle of friends and
correspondents, who have written themselves
as members of our'public “Home” family,
and whose friendship has added sunshine
and cheer to that private home where we
dwell bodily. And now, having journeyed
with you thus far, and come to one of those
wayside marks where we must take each
other by the hand at parting, or for the.
continuance of our pilgrimage together, we
will pause for a little, while we look back to
see what our position for the past has been,
and forward at our propositions for the fu-
ture.

Our wish for the first existence of Tm:
Horn: and our interest and faith in its vital-
ity, was based upon the opinion that it oc-
cupied a ground not heretofore trenehed
upon, claiming the attention of our o’er-lec-
tured sex, not as mere butterflies of fashion,
to whom the texture of a satin, or the
pattern on a French pocket-handkerchief
are matters of vital importance, nor as an
oppressed race, to whom neither Providence
or humanity has assigned a position or a
task; but as sane, reasonable, and substan-
tial beings, fit for the daughters, wives, and
mothers of a republic— strong enough, like
Mount Atlas, to bear the sky upon their
shoulders, if they should, provideutially, be
called upon to do it, and not timid and hys-
terical, like chicken Little, thinking that the
sky is coming down upon them, and thus
falling a ready prey to some Fox Lox in the
term of a spiritualist, or other mad philoso
pher, simply because a rose-leaf fell in the
garden. There is a good deal of philosophy
in some of Mother Goose’s melodies, by the
way —almost as much as in those old classic
fables from which grown children out of
the nursery consent to draw so largely.

We are asked often why we do not adorn
Tu: Hon with fashion plates or patterns

 

EDITOR’S DEPARTMENT. '

for embroidery. We can answer at once it
is because we have enough of these else-
where— too many of them. We are flooded
with them—they meet us on every side,
tempting the young to leave the substantial
duties of life for its mere ornaments; to lay
aside the stong meat and feed frothin upon
the syllabub. If we had nothing else to do
but to fill our pages with these, we would
sell our new type for old lead, and let this
nice box of pens eat themselves out with
rust on the top shelf in the library, while we
ironed aprons, and rubbed the baby’s gums
with a thin sixpence to assist his teething.
But we fondly imagine that there is some
better utterance left for us than this. And
we will give the baby the fresh bath and
bracing airs of firm health to assist his
teething, and tie him in a chair at our knee,
to talk philosophy to the pattern of our
morning dress, while we write on, until mo-
thers learn to cut their children's wisdom
teeth without a silver Sixpence, or express
an unwillingness to listen to what we have
to say.

lI‘he fine steel engraving with which we com-
mence the January number is a new feature in
Tun Home, and these will be interspersed
through the year, adding such other improve-
ments as our success allows; but those we offer
we aim to have real improvement, and not
showy or pretentious ones. We shall give dur-
ing the coming year a department of Domestic
Economy, in which will be found rules for
the management of a kitchen, both upon
physiological principles and with such fru-
gality as shall suit the unprecedented hard-
ness of the times. This, with the Hints for
the Nursery, which will be continued, will
furnish for every wife and nother a hand-
book of the most valuable information that
can be obtained on those subjects which per.
tain most to the physical comfort and well-
being of her household. Tun: HOME aims to
combine amusement with instruction, and to
present pure literature and sound morality in
an attractive form. It will thus present a
cheerful face whether the skies are dark or
bright, such as shall make its visits welcome
in every home it enters.

 

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THE PRESENT TIME. - 287

~ wins,”

 

To those of our correspondents who have
favored us with interesting communications
during the past year, we are truly grateful,
and hope they will continue to drop in upon
us with their favors. ‘

Tna pansnsT Tins.

Bsscnan, in a sermon on the money crisis,
saysz—“Take dare of yourselves. In the
first place, every man should take care of his
body. If y0ur body fails, your energy is
gone. It must not fail you. You want food
and sleep. Sleep is to man’s brain what the
rain is to our cisterns, with this difference -
that our cisterns hold a supply for several
days, whereas our brain holds a supply for
one day only. Sleep over night is the
shower that fills it up. We owe it as a duty
to ourselves to see that this central power
be not exhausted by sleeplessness. It is a
duty to sleep enough. A man who can not
sleep may as well stop business, and put bus-
iness in the hands of the doctor. He who
broods over red-hot plans will end his days
in a lunatic asylum. Both sleep and food are
greatly under the control of the will. They
must be treated as you treat refractory chil-
dren who refuse to eat when setting out
upon a journey. If they say ‘I can 't,’ you
say, ‘You shall, you must!’ Then, beware
of substituting stimulants for nutriment.
This time is one which will make ten thous-
and men go down to the drunkard’s grave-
Do without brandy. Brandy may take you
through, but it will be out of the wrong gate.
Beware, too, of nervousness. A hot brain is
like a new candle put into a hot candlestick.
It burns off at one end, and melts off at the
other, and is all gone in a moment. Do n’t
talk too much. It is wonderful how much a
man may talk himself away. Men talk over
their troubles going up Broadway—talk
them ever going over the ferry— talk in
their houses. Meet yourfricnd with a cheer.

ful face. Do not make a reel ofyour mind
to wind and unwind your business upon ev-
ery day. Never let business cross the
ferry with you. Never let it cross your
threshold any more than you would a wolf.
Rest yourselfat home, leave your business
behind you, and change the current of your
life every night in the company of your wife
and children. If necessary, go home to a

 

bath. It would do good to bathe every day,
some of you. Bathe in music. Try that.
If you have no piano, no band of chorded
instruments is half so sweet as the voice of
an affectionate wife and the prattle of chil-
dren. Do n’t go home to burrow in your bed
as an animal burrows in the earth, to hide
yourself. If you have been in the habit of
riding out, don’t sell your horses. Take
your ride as you have been accustomed to
do—morning, afternoon and evening. Love
music. Find recreation. Go to the Phil-
harmonic concerts; go and buy tickets to
them, if the times are hard ; the music will
do you good. Beware of unsociablemu.
Now is the time to let the bucket go down
to the very bottom of the well. of friendship,
and let it bring up cooling draughts."

HIXTS FOR THE NURSERY.

Massesxsnr or A Damon's on Scnoru-
Lous Cniu).—-“ The inspiration ofa pure air
is indispensable. Some physicians suppose
that vitiated atmosphere alone is sufficient to
generate scrofula. Whether this be so or
not, there can be no doubt that impure air
favors the development of it in those who al-
ready possess the predisposition. If the
child is born late in the year he had better
not be taken out of doors until the following
spring, and if the apartments inhabited ai‘e
well ventilated the confinement will not be
injurious. For the future, when the weather
will permit, the more the child is in the open
air the better. The excellent effect of out-
door life in the country in warm seasons of
the year, upon those who already suffer
from glandular enlargements, has often been
noticed. Exercise should at all times be
moderate and stop short of' fatigue. Early
hours must be observed, and a careful
avoidance of vicious and exhausting indu]-
genccs. A wisely ordered meral oversight is
of infinite importance. * it It

“ When the child has got teeth to masti-
cate solid animal food, it must be commenced
with caution. At first small in quantity, of
the lightest quality, and only on alternate
days. Its effects must be watched. If not
found to heat and flush the cheeks, and the
secretions of the bowels continue healthy
and regular, and the child grows and leeks
well, these are some indications that the

   

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new diet agrees with it. For the future the
diet should always be nmrrz'aking but not
stimulating.

“Great care should be observed that the
clothing is suited to the season of the year,
and amply sulficient to protect the child
from every sensation of cold or chill; at the
same time light in quality, so as not to over-
heat and oppress. The neck, arms, and legs
must be covered. Their exposure is a fre-
quent source of acute disease, and will inva-
riably be found in a scrofulous child to cause
the glandular enlargements so much dreaded.
Flannel should always be worn next the
skin, of lighter texture in the summer, and
always taken off at night.— Maternal Man-
agement.

 

RECIPES.

Bursa on Yoaxsnma Punnmo.— Take a
quart of sweet milk, and mix in a large cup-
ful of flour, making the mixture very smooth.
Beat four eggs, and strain them into the lat-
ter; add a little salt, and mix all well to-

RECIPES.

 

  

gether; butter your dish or tin, and pour the
batter into it. Place 'the dish before the fire
under roasting meat. The pudding when
done easily shakes out of the dish into
another dish to be carried to the table. It
should have a nicely browned appearance.
When dressed before the fire, either turn
the pudding, or place the dish a short time
on the fire to brown the under side.

Pass Panama—Pick a quart of peas;
that is, remove all impurities, or discolored
peas, or shells. Tie them loosely in a cloth,
leaving plenty of room for the peas to swell.
Boil till they are soft, which may be in from
two to three hours. Take the pudding from
the water, and put it into the basin. Open
the cloth and bruise or mash the peas well.
Mix in a piece of butter, with pepper and
salt. Then tie it up tightly, and put it into
the pot again, and boil for about a half an
hour. When ready, turn it out of the cloth
into a vegetable dish. If properly managed,
it will turn out whole.

 

 

 

 

 

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