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For Woman’s Work.
MY PRAYER.
——-
Just for to day, Lord.
To-morrow I may not need
That Thou should'st keep me warmly clad,
And in the shelter of thy tender grace.
To-morrow is not here;
By then I may have passed
Beyond the reach of Thv forgiving hand.
And stood before Thiue awful face.
In thine own love,
Keep me, I prav this day,
From all the ills that throng life’s path,
Till night draws near and day is done.
And through the night
While I lie helpless and asleep,
Oh! keep me safe from danger then,
Till draws to-morrow’s brilliant sun.
And then, dear Lord
I’ll pray Thee once again
To keep me in thy tender care
So safe from harm.
Maud S. Peaslee.
For Woman’s Work,
CHRISTMAS GIFTS.
Never forget the glad Christmas season.
Your gifts need not necessarily be costly
ones. The simplest love token is treasured
and appreciated, and every one has scraps
of silks, ribbons, velvets and other materi
als, from which many dainty presents can
be made.
A piece of silk or satin only four inches
square may be made into a pretty scent
bag, by placing over a layer of cotton
sprinkled with some delicate sachet powder,
rose, violet and heliotrope are the best, and
folding together corner-wise, finishing the
edges with a small gilt or silk cord, leav
ing three small loops at each corner.
Another of these pretty and acceptable
gifts, is made of wide ribbon or satin.
Take a piece twenty inches long and three
and one-half inches wide. Turn back the
two ends and join in the center of the rib
bon. Overhand the edges neatly together
and you have two bags, one on each side
of the joining. Fill these lightly .with
perfumed cotton, and tie an inch wide rib
bon through the center, over the joining.
Many pretty articles may be made from
the common palm leaf fans, which are sold
for a few cents. For using as a fan, edge
with lace and make a puff of gauze in the
center, finished with a bow of ribbon. To
make a pretty wall pocket, first steam a
fan to render it pliable, then bend the
edges together and lace half-way up with
narrow ribbon or silk cord.
For a photograph frame, cover with
plush or velvet, and cut a s|.ace in the cen
ter for holding the picture. Others are
covered to half their depth with velvet, for
holding several photographs. They may
be covered with satin, and brass hooks
screwed into them, so that keys, scissors,
pencils, or whatever may be required, may
be attached to them as they bang up.
A combing towel is a very pretty and a
uselul present. Get a damask towel of
some pietty pattern, and cut it to fit the
neck and shoulders smoothly, Fasten at
the neck with buttons and button-holes.
Ornament the fronts with outline stitch.
A pretty design is a brush and comb for
oneside, and three or f< ur hairpins crossing
each other, for the other side. The fringe
hangs just below the waist at the back and
front.
A dainty twine-holder is a pretty pres
ent. Get a ball of pale blue knitting silk
and crochet a bag large enough to hold a
ball of the pink twine, such as druggi.-ts
use. Hang up with a bow of pink and blue
baby ribbon, tying a small pair of scissors
in one loop.
One ol the prettiest gifts for a gentleman
is a toothpick case. Cover a piece of stiff
pasteboard seven inches long and five
inches wide with pale green plush and line
with pink silk or silesia. In the center of
the plu.-h. embroider an initial with p-nk
silk, and in the lower left corner fasten the
center of a piece of pink ribbon nine inches
long. Tie the two ends tightly around a
bunch of quill toothpicks, and fasten a
loop of ribbon at the back for hanging up.
A handsome tobacco pouch is of crim
son silk, scalloped at top and bottom and
worked in golu floss.
Pretty aprons are al ways acceptable gifts.
A charming little apron is made of dotied
Swiss muslin. Make a hem two inches
wide, and work three rows of daises across
the apron above the hem, by covering the
dots with French knots of brown silk and
making the petals of yellow silk with a
long loop stitch. Run a shirr at the top.
and draw inch-wide yellow satin ribbon
through to tie around the waist.
Pretty bon-bon baskets are made from
the small,fancy-shaped wickerwork baskets.
Those shaped like hampers are the prettiest.
Some have covers, while others do not.
Give both insideand out-idea coat of liquid
gilding, and when perfectly dry. trim with
bright colored satin ribbon. When filled
with candy they make very pretty gilts
Margaret Percy.
For Woman’s Work.
FRIGHTENING CHILDREN.
Both experience and observation lead
me to lift my pen in protest against the
pernicious practice of frightening children.
The amount of mental .-uttering inflicted
upon infantile humanity by tins monstrous
evil, is appalling Notice a healthy, active
child, who has taken a ‘‘playful spell”
when an attendant is trying to hurry him
to sleep. Watch the merry light of the in
nocent eyes change to one of cringing fear
as the lips, that to his trusting mind are
infallible, utter such sentences as, “Be still
now, and go to sleep quick, or‘boogers' will
come and get you.” “Big dog. come out
of the woods and take him oft’.” “Bad
man will come out of the dark and get you
if you don't mind,” and so forth. The
spirit of a naturally brave child will soon
be crushed by such means, for to him each
cowardly lie .s a fearful truth, and unless
he be a reckless little bravado, if before he is
old enough to reason, he will have imbibed
a superstitious fear that will cling to and
curse him through life. If the victim be a
sickly, waiing thing, it is pitiable to listen
to its repressed choking sobs, and to watch
the shrinking little form come close to its
tyrannical tormentor for safety.
Accustomed always to darkness as well
as light, a child will no more fear the one
than the other, unless taught to do so.
“Ernest” said a lady acquaintance to her
little boy of six, “go up to the north room
and bring me the lamp from the table.”
Without a word the child passed to an
other room, up a flight of stairs, then
through still other apartments, and present
ly came back, as fearlessly and with no
more concern than if sunshine had lighted
his pathway instead ol having to grope his
in utter darkness.
“Why did you send him?” I asked
when he had passed from hearing.
“Because I was afraid to go myself. I
was frightened so much in my childhood
that I can’t overcome my shrinking fear of
dark moms.”
“Is Ernest not afraid ? ”
“He never hears the word, doesn’t know
what fear is, and John would order anyone
off the place for trying to teach him
Darkness or light is all the same to him.”
Often the results of fright, accidental or
intentional, are terrible. Several years
since, while traveling through Ohio, I met
on the cars an old lady of Pennsylvania
Dutch stock, who was emigrating to the
West. In the seat beside her was a large,
well developed woman, of perhaps, thirty,
whose vacant look told plainly of imbecili
ty. Later I heard the story. The old
lady and her husband had lived in the
eastern part of the Keystone State. This
woman, their second child, had been as
bright and pretty as any prattler of the
place, and, as was usual in the times, was
left much to the care of an elder sister.
One warm May day, with other children
of the village, they played on the green
sward of the quiet streets, when a shower
of rain began to fall. Tne si-ter leit the
younger—then not quite two years old—
for a moment to bring a light wrap. A
stray cow wearing a large bell, wandered
up the street and not noticing the child,
paused directly before her and uttered a
long and loud biwl. The strange noise,
the rattling bell, and the great animal her
self, were too much for the mental range of
the child.
She fell backward in spasms of terror,
passing from one to another for days, and
finally emerging with her intellect com
pletely paralyzed. Healthy physica'ly,
her mind remained utterly incapable of
development.
A brave, bright boy of ten or twelve was
sent to a neighbors late one evening on an
errand. He passed fearlessly through the
little bait of timber on his way, and when
he returned entered it whistling merrily.
Suddenly he pauses, gazes for a little time
with strained, horror-filled eyes, and then
reeling backward, falls insensible to the
earth.
And who would not have been terror
stricken? Directly before him and only a
lew yards away, a white-clad humam
figure floated, now reaching its ghastly
arms toward him, then receding, its snowy
garments trailing not on tne earth but in
the air. Again it came more swiftly than
before, its threatening arms nearer still.
No sound of footsteps, no voiceot greeting,
only a shadowy face and gleaming form.
Who could have kept his blood from
■ freezing round his heart at such a sight?
It was no imaginary vision. It was as
real as the boy himself. His mind grappled
with the thronging thought-, struggled
j with them but his comprehension was too
i frail. Whose would not have been?
Fun-loving but good natured boys had
! prepared the swing that carried the float
ing figure; one of their number bore the
insensible iorm of their victim to his home,
i l'h vsiciaus came, and when the first shock
I had passed, informed the father that his
son must become an inmate of an asylum
lor the insane. He went, leaving a throng
ul breaking hearts behind him.
After long years he returned, handsome,
bright and j <yous once more.
When once the mind has been over
thrown it is much more easily unsettled by'
calamity. Perhaps the inherent fear ot
that very result helps to bring it about.
Later, unfortumate affairs again unbalanced
hisbrignt intellect and necessitated another
short stay at the asylum for treatment.
This morning at town I met him. He
greeted me like the gentleman that he is
when under the control of his reason,
spent a few moments in social chat, and
passed on. The recent death of a loved
one has shaken his intellect to its very
foundations for the third time, and be is
struggling manfully to overcame the foe
that is throttling his soul. I pitied him as
we talked and 1 saw how hard he tried to
concentrate his mind upon the theme ol
conversation. Again and again bis iron
will seemed to thrust back the strange,
wild glitter trying to creep into his eyes
and turn his brains into a den for demon
revelry. I thought of his ceaseless danger
all through life; of the sorrowing parents
and proud, loving sisters always trembling
for his safety.
1 watched his handsome form as he
walked away, his bonny brown hair shining
in the sunlight, his fair forehead gleami g
white as marble as he lifted his hat to an
acquaintance. I saw the deep longing* for
love and hope, and happiness that could
never be his, because he might never dare
to take what he might so easily win; 1 saw
his lite wrecked, his home blighted, bis
future a barren waste, with an almost cer
tain ending in a madhouse, and my heart
ached unutterably.
I wish that these were only imaginary
cases, but they are actual facts. And
thinking of these and of the millions of
minor sufferers from fright, leads me to
beg of parents to teach children to be fear
less themselves and to never dare to trifle
with the delicate organism of the minds of
their associates. Practical jokes are dan
gerous, and it is as well perhaps to dis
courage them altogether. Above all don’t
govern children by dread of some unseen
toe. It is an outrage upon the helpless!
Alva Ross.
For Woman’s Work.
SHARP WORDS.
How they sting and wound and rankle!
How the ghost of them lingers to torment
us! They hurt alike those that give and
those tnat receive them. And how full the
world isot them, how readily they leap to
tongue, and fall from the lips!
O. the great pity of it! the great wonder
of it when we love our own s<> well, and
know that any moment we may see them
turn to dust and ashes before our eyes and
we be powerless to prevent it,that we should
pain them with these sharp words, which
will sting both them and us so bitterly!
Wed lor us all would it be, if, when the
care, the pain and the labwr of the day is
over, we could sink upon our pillows to
rest, with no ghosts of angry words to
haunt our slumber and leer at us in the
darkness and in the silence ot the lonely
night watches.
Ah, readers ot this dear paper, which is
trying so faithfully to lead us in all
right and pleasant ways, let me entreat
you to guard well the citadel of your lips,
watch well the words which fad fr 'in your
tongue, lest you mar and disfigure both
your own life and those entrusted to
your keeping. Let us endeavor to
speak kindly whether wc feel so or
not, and cultivate it as a habit, until
it becomes as natural to us as the air we
breathe, There are heights and depths in
kindness, of which we have perhaps never
yet dreamed.
And did you ever think how much sor
row and suffering, every’ human heart has
to bear in this world of sin? There is no
day so bright in any human life but what
some cloud floats over its sunshine, there is
no heart so tree from care that it does not
bear the burden of a cross; then let us not
add the weight of unkindness to burdens
already heavy.
Boys and girls, if you knew your angry
words to brother or sister, and your willful
ways brought the grey hairs to your moth
er’s head, and the wrinkles to her brow,
you surely would remember to be more
kind and thoughtful.
And mothers, if you knew the busy feet
so ready’ to patter after you evety where,
would soon wander into an open grave,
you would take more pains to lead them
into all right and loving ways; if you could
realize that the restless hands so ready to
find mischief would soon be folded so still
and cold that all your kisses and your tears
could not move them or warm them you
would be more gentle and more patienU
May we all in the future, be more care
ful of our words, and watchful of our tongues,
that we may help instead ot hinder others!
Z. Chastain.
Themoment youare instinctively promp
ted to rub your eyes, stop using them.
For Woman’s Work.
CONSERVE OF ROSES.
In a late number of Woman’s Work I
noticed an inquiry with regard to Rose Am
brosia, I can furnish a recipe over a hun
dred years old.
Conserve of Roses.
Take rose buds, and pick them, cut the
white from the red, sift then through a
sieve to take out the seeds: then weigh
them, and to every pound of flowers put
two pounds and a half of sugar, beat the
flowers fine in a stone mortar put the sugar
to them and beat till it is well incorporated
together, then put in pots and tie it over
with paper, and over that a leather, and
it will keep seven years, and we will haz
ard the remark t will be found well worth
keeping.
In the South where roses are grown so
easily, a very profitable business might be
found in utilizing them in various ways,
such as Conserve Rose Water. Rose Jars,
etc. The medicinal value of roses, has
been lost sight of by the moderns although
well understood in the last century, from
which we have gathered the receipe here
presented.
To Make Rose Water.
To make an excellent rose water, let the
flowers be gathered after sunrise in very
fine weather, beat them in a maible mor
tar to a paste, and leave them in the
mortar, soaking in their juice forfiveor
six hoars, then put the mass in a canvas bag
and press out the juice; to every quart add
a pound of fresh roses and let them stand
for twenty-four hours. Then put the
whole in a glass alembic.put in a head and
receiver and place on a sand heat. Distil
with a gentle heat which must be gradually
increased until the drops follow each other
jas fast as possible. Draw off' the wa
| ter so long as it runs clear, then let stand
I till cold. The distilled water at first has
little fragrance, but after being exposed to
the heat of the sun for eight days, in a
bottle stopped with paper, it acquires an
admirable scent.
Rose water is an excellent lotion for the
eyes if used every morning; it is also useful
in many disease- and an invaluable ad
junct to the toilet.
Emelie Harris.
For Woman’s Work.
LET YOUR BREAD RISE BUT
ONCE.
Sometime ago 1 read an article by a
prominent doctor on the fermentation of
bread. He claimed that the sooner it was
baked after it was once light, the sweeter
and more nutritious it would be; adding
that in his opinion the gases generated by
longer fermentation were poisonous. I
thought very little about this, until my
husband asked why I spent so much time
on my bread, and assured me he always
had good bread with one raising when he
was “ baching” on the cattle range.
Accordingly, I made some good fresh po
tato yeast, andjftAd at least twice as much
in mixing up| 'wßbread as when I was
going to let itadse Arice or three times. I
then mixed it 'iff' aw>ut as stiff as buscuit
d iugh, just enough to handle, and
kneaded it thoroughly—l could afford to
put a little extra time and strength into
it, for I would not have to handle it again
you see. Then 1/et it to rise, and when
light baked it; ana I defy anyone to make
sweeter, more nutritious bread. It has a
peculiarly sweet, nutty flavor in the crust.
I find I need tgftpike fresh potato yeast
every time to instfrA success. By the way,
a favorite wayVif mine to judge of the
lightness of breach is to" heft” the pan.
If it feels light, the bread is ready to bake.
Just after kneading, it is a heavy dead
weight.
1 hope some of you have tried washing
with a “ bottle on a stick,” as described in
October issue. You will find this way
of making bread another help in
the economy of house-work.
Maude S. Feaslke.
Grass Valley Cal.
Scraped potatoes, (raw,) were recomend
ed by Prof. Gibson. Philadelphia, fifty
years ago as a soothing application for
burns.
The juice of the matured leaf of the bur
dock in teaspoonful d<>ses. three times a
day. was given to a child five years old
affected with obstinate scrofulous aphthol
ma. (sore eyes and lids,) and in a few
weeks was cured.
Cabbage leaves, deprived of their coarse
nerves, (ribs.) make an excellent dressing
tor wounds of various kinds and obstinate
ulcers. Apply night and morning with a
bandage over them.