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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.