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For Woman’s Work. I AM OLDER NOW. By Mattie M’lntosh. The years in their sweeping touched lightly, There was sunshine on heart and brow, But each coming New Year Brings eternity near. Because I am older now. Life in it's beauty is fleeting, It passes, you scarcely know how, But each coming New Year To me brings no fear, Because 1 am older now. Youth, with its hopeful tomorrow, Enjoys the years, I trow, et to me they are sweet, Though a little more fleet, Because 1 am older now. Time with his certain reminder, For he always keeps his vow, Rolls on with each year, Though he brings a’ sad tear. And ah! I am older now. For Woman’s Work. HOME CHAT. BY MONNIE MOORE. How the months do fly! And how short is life at best. Yet how great is its responsibilities and how grave the duties laid upon us! But shall we not strive to make this world better even though it may not be in a wonderfully great way? A prominent divine is telling us that this world is better, and in some respects, i.e. in the way of improved civilization, in modern invention, in Science and in culture the world is better than it was a century ago. But. is the heart of man better? Ah! there we must stop. God knows I would not judge my fellow creatures harshly, or unjustly, yet when I look about me. when I see the world more each day as it is and learn more of the waysand hearts of the seething, busy, or alas! the idle part of the world about me, I am siezed with an intense longing to fold my arms about my own nestlings and shield them from the evils of this life. Only for a moment do I thus doubt my Father above. Only for a moment count myself stronger than He. Yet, God helps him who helps himself, and to rely upon His promises, means to obey his com mands, and seek to do the best ourselves. Upon each parent does the burden rest I am tired of hearing that the mother alone molds the character of her child. 1 have seen more than one instance where the good impressions of the mother were almost, if not entirely, over-thrown by the opposite influence of the father. A mother may be possessed of excellent gov ernment, and so far as her own authority goes, control her children injustice and kindness, receiving absolute obedience, while on the other hand the father will pamper and humor, or deal such injustice, and inflict punishment without reason to so great a degree, as to win only a resent ful bending of his children’s will to his own. Thus planting in there minds an unholy spirit which will crop out on many occas ions when the mother will have need of their obedience. Opposite cases may as often occur. Yet as a rule I believe mothers depend most upon love in ruling their children after they have arrived at an age to reason. If they make the mis take of depending upon brute force, woe to them, and thrice woe to the children. Happy the home wnere love reigns and where the parents see alike in the govern ment of their children. I would that a change in home rule might occur in favor of the parent whose government proves best, and would that in some way the scales might fall iroin the eyes of that one whose government is not just. / Ah! how hard it is to see as we should and do the thing that is always best! A mot her who has raised to noble man hood three sons, said to me when I asked her how she bad managed them: “Through their affections. There is no way so sure by which a boy may be kept in paths of right as by his love for mother. Keep their love and confidence and all is well.” I was pleased to hear her thus echo my own convictions on the subject. Mothers, teach your boys to think they cannot receive your help and approval without obedience on their part. Win their respeci by keeping your own. Oh! mothers, don’t lose all care as to your personal appearance and allow your sons or daughters to be ashamed of you. Don't get to the place where you seem to take a pride in saying: “1 never look into a book or at a paper. I have no time to read, and don’t care for looks any more,” while your house fairly bristles with usless fancy work and you have burned out all your beauty over kitchen fires, that your family might have dyspepsia, and your husband pay doctor’s bills. What is the reward of such mistaken sacrifice? Fbizr children are ashamed of you. Do not mistake me. If early life has deprived you of a first class education, you may still know something of what is going on in the world about you. It is the natural, unaffected and progressive person who is most interesting. We have not all of us time to cultivate the highest in art, in music, in literature, but we can look about and see what is going on around us. We can maintain an individuality all our own, and cultivate an expansion of thought. We can bake a few less pies or puddings to the week, and just give an ex tra touch to our toilets in the time thus gained. And husband smiles across the table, and most likely makes some remark about going back to our courting days, while our big overgrown sons come around to give us an affectionate caress, and declare that mother is the best looking woman in town, tho’ our looking glass will in no wise agree with him. No matter, the boy who is proud of mot her is not going to do very badly, I believe. And dosn’t it pay? Go out with your children too. Take an interest in what is an interest to them. Be yourself the judge of their associates. Do not leave them to blindly choose a com panion who may wreck their lives and eter nally ruin-their souls. And mothers, whatever else we may fail in, keep the boys and girls too in at night. Evening after evening, as I hear the patter of hurrying feet, and listen to the shoutsof young voices from the street with out, I thank the Ruler of all that I, at least, have not failed in this. My son would no more think of roaming the street at night, than would I. When evening comes, he knows, and cheerfully accepts his place at home. Oh! no, he is not a goody, goody boy, but a thorough young American. Which means that he is not relegated to the heathendom of a street life at night. I could write on and on, but this chat is long enough. In mercy to my readers, I will lay down the pen, wishing you a happy, happy Christmas and New Year. For Woman’s Work. THE TYPICAL OLD MAID OF TO DAY. The time has long since gone by when the term “old maid” implies disgrace. There is no freer creature in our land than the maiden woman, who is no longer doomed to a life of dependence in the house of some one of her numerous rela fives. She is free to enter any profession or vocation of life, can spend her money as she pleases can keep house or exercise own her sweet will. In fact there are few things that she cannot do, and the best of it is she is truly an independ ent creature. She may be a writer of books, edit a mewspaper andean always demand a position as a competent type writer or stenographer. It is far wiser and better to be a happy old maid than a miserable, wretched wife, as some women are. Do you think lam advocating the theory that the old maid is far better off and happier than the wife? A happy marriage is undoubtedly the most perfect state to live in and the Creator intended that, but Ido say most emphatically, these perfectly happy unions are few and far between, and lather than marry a man for a home or to be taken care of, or simply for the sake of being married, as so many do, I would be an old maid all the days of my life. Because a person does not marry is no reason why he or she need be crabby, morose or ill tempered. Indeed they are quite as likely to be jolly and lively as many wives or husbands. The old maid of today is often envied by her married friends, and she is not, as she was once pictured in all the newspapers, tall, angular and forbidding in appearence, but the very personification of every thing that is good and true and lovely. It may have been from choice, and it may have been from duty that they have never married, but whatever the cause, they are to be admired as a class for devoting themselves to the duties lying nearest to them. Who has done more than they for our country? As nurses, authors, or in whatever position duty called them they have been faithlul in the little things as well as the great. Many of my warmest and truest friends are among thesingle women. Society is so constitued that there are a certain number of women who cannot marry and they are termed by some people as •■surperfluous” women. But for them, life would lose much of it’s sunshine and brightness. I feel like sighing quite often, “if there were only more of these noble women to make the world better.” God bless the single women of our land! Carrie M. Ashton. Let veils be abandoned; they are injuri ous to the eyes, especially those of crape and those which are spotted or figured. A veil should never be worn, except to pro tect tho eyes from dust or sleet, and then for as short a time as possible. ' For Woman’s Work. A USEFUL ACCOMPLISHMENT. One of the most useful accomplish ments is the ability to carve well—which i means to do it with grace and ease. It may be just as well to say at once that peo j pie whose carving is done by a butler can have no interest in this article, but any one who as guest in a house where butlers are unknown, has watched the struggle of a [ hospitable, polite, but awkward host, as he wrestled with the festive goose, or turkey, I will appreciate the necessity for every one, j young and old, to learn to carve if he is | ever to play the part of a host. I was once the guest of a very jolly gen : tieman who possessed every genial quality, ; but always left the carving to his wife. lOn this occasion, however, the lady had . lamed her wrist and a fine turkey was : placed before her husband, who proceeded to attack it in any thing but a scientific manner, and finally, by a peculiarly un dexterous twist, succeeded in landing it in front of a guest, to whom he transferred ; he dish and carving implements, saying: “This is the first time I ever saw a bird i fly, after it was cooked; it evidently pre fers being dissected by you.” Such acci dents are, however, generally attended with more awkwardness both to guest and host. It is necessary, too, to learn which are the choicest mor-els, so that a guest may not be slighted unintentionally. The under-part of fish is the best, for which reason it should be dished with that part uppermost. The flavor of the parts next the bone is never so good as that of the under-parts. In helping a fish with roes, put a part of the roe on each plate. Os ail large fish, the choicest pieces are next the head, the thin pieces esteemed i next. The position that the carver should I take is a point whereon authorities agree to I differ. A well known writer says “a per son must not stand up. ’ This is very well if the chair is high and the carver tall, in which case it is undoubtedly moreeasvand unostentatious to remain seated. It is un necessary also to stand if the meat to be carved be small, such as a steak or loin, which if properly unjointed by the butcher, is very reaaily carved. But in case of a large roast of beef, or a large turkey, or a baked or boiled ham, it is to my eye more gracelul to carve, standing. The dish should always be of good size; much larger than the meat it is intended to hold, in order to give room for the | joints and slices, which must be laid aside j until enough is carved to begin help ■ ing. Fowls should be placed on the dish I breast up. Put the fork into the breast, and hold it with the left hand while you take off the wings and legs. Then cut off the white meat in thin slices; take out the breast bone, leaving the well browned skin over it. and after cutting off the side bones, divide the remainder in two from tne neck downward. Give a portion ol each, light and dark meat, to each guest. A short, narrow, sharp-pointed, and ' very sharp knife is best lor poultry and 1 game. In carving a rib-roast, cut thin slices I from both of the outer sides in order to give your guest a choice of rare, well-done, or medium. A sirloin of beef should be dished with the tenderloin underneath, and after a number of thin cut slices have been taken from the side next the carver, the roast should be turned over and the I tenderloin carved. A portion of both should be helped. Always cut across the grain of the meat. A large experience | with carving, has convinced me that good ; carving is the exception, not the rule. For | large joints, a turkey or ham, a long, thin, and well sharpened blade is essential to good work. A leg of mutton should be first carved across the middle of the bone, slicing towards both ends. When it has been economically carved in this way the first day, the part cut away is sometimes tilled with nicely mashed potatoes, smooth ed over to take the former shape of the leg, | and heated in a quick oven for the next day’s dinner. The delicacy of a tongue depends very much upon its being carved in very thin ; slices. The centre slices are considered the best. There are three ways of carving a ham. The first, and most economical is to begin at the knuckle and slice upward. It is also cut in long, delicate slices through ! the thick fat down to the bone. The third requires considerable dexterity, and a knite peculiarly adapted to it. The point of the knife is run in a circle in the middle, and thin circular slices are cut. This keeps the ham moist. It is a good plan to let the young people in a family take turns in carving, that I they may acquire dexterity by practice. Cook. - To make calicos wash well, infuse three gills of salt in four quarts of boiling water, and put the calicos in while hot, and leave them till cold. In this way’ the colors are rendered permanent, and will not fade by subsequent washings. ■ For this department we desire ffe bright, ' wise, and witty remarks of the little ones under six years of age, and ask all sub- I scribers to send what they can, that their babies may get full credit for their “say ings.” A record will be kept of all the i original contributions. At the close of 1888 a competent committee will be chosen ' to select the “smartest speech,” and the little one who made it, will be presented with a handsomely engraved gold medal. Such a medal will be highly prized through life by the fortunate one, and we hope on : this account, and for the amusement of our I readers, that each will be given a chance. I ' —'— I | No. 97. “ Bring me some wood for the i stove, “ said mamma, to her little boy who was playing and not much inclined to go. He said, “Mamma, let Virginia bring it.” Virginia, his little four-year-old sister start ed out after the wood, and with quite an air of importance said, “JU have it to cut next!” No. 98. Our little four-year-old, Shirley, was at a table the other day, which was covered with vines and leaves. He amused his amt very much by pointing to a tiny leaf which was half way under a large one, ami saying, *■ Auntie, didn’t that big leaf hatch the little one ?” No. 99. Little Percy, not more than three summers old, was on the porch with mother when he observed the new moon. He said very earnestly, “ The moon bake" (broke.) Nut long after, when he saw the full moon, he gaz id at it for a time, and said, *• Oh! its fixed, mover,” (mother.) No. 100- Our little curly-haired Jessie, just four years old, being afraid of strange men and especi lly tramps, entered the door hurriedly the other day, just ready to cry, with, “ Mama, I don’t like peoples that don’t work.” No. 101. Our little girl was going to Sabbath-school not long since, with her papa, when they passed a gentleman named Bear. Papa said. " G >od morning, Bro. Bear,” the child looked up much interested. i “Is he a bear, papa?” Being informed j that was his name, she said. “ Well, White bears don’t bite, do they papa?” No. 102. The <ther morning at break fast, our little one, handed her plate for molasses, when papa helped her to gravy instead. “Oh ! sakes, man ! ’ she exclaim ! ed indignantly, *• people don’t do that way when little girls ask them for molasses.” No. 103. I was teaching my little girl, two years and a half old, her catechism and taught her to tell that God made her. A few days after, when in some mischief, I said to her, •• Daughter, what does make you so bad?” She looked earnestly up i into my face and said, “ Mamma, God made me bad.” No. 104. Two-and-half year-old daugh ; ter, who has been attending Sabbath school, I and learned a few catechism questions: i “Mamma, who made you?” Mamma—“ God.” Baby—“ Well, how did you feel Tore he put your head on?” No. 105. Three-year-old daughter to I mamma, who is dressing a chicken. “ Mamma, what du people call that dres ing it for? Why, that’s undressing it; people don’t know much, do they ?” No. 106. Our little two-and a half year j old Blanche, was taught to pray for all ; near relatives. One morning, while going I overtheusual routineafter mamma, she said, ’ “ Mamma, I’m tired praying for all of them, I I wish they would pray for themselves.” No. 107. Papa and mamma talk garden i ing at the table, and mamma spoke of send ; ing to Vick tor seed, when little two-and a j half year exclaimed in wonder, “ Why, mamma. Vick isn’t a man is he? I always I thought Vick was a flower.” N“. 108—Little Birdie, who has not yet ; reached her third birthday, had been eat i ing some honey and said: “Mamma, bees ' make honey, don’t they?” “Yes, dear,” I said. “Can birds make honey?” “Oh, no,” I answered. “Well,” she said, “I'm ia Bird that can make it;” and when I asked her “how” she said, “ Well, dest give ’ me some India rubber to make the comb, I den l’il pour some syrup in and stop it i up and there’ll be the honey.” Nothing can be too insignificant for the ; attention of the wisest, which is not too in significant to give pleasure or paiu to the ‘ meanest.— Macaulay. As every climate has its peculiar diseases, so every walk in life has its peculiar temp latiuns.—Macaulay.