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For Woman’s Work.
SOMETIMES.
Sometimes, when all about is still,
And calmly wafts the evening air,
The pent-up feelings, and the will,
Both prostrate lie in deep dispair.
Sometimes.
Sometimes in spite of reins well held,
.Whose white-hand power is self-control,
" ’tn J. 1 ?. 8 corn pressed, and bosom swelled
With heart-ache hunger of the soul.
Sometimes.
We cannot pray, we only moan,
And lie in misery so abject—
With hands clasped tensely, cold as stone,
And tears dried hotly—none suspect.
Sometimes.
We long for death, a sudden hush
To fall upon us as we sit:
Oblivion withoul noise or crush,
And thus the end, while shadows flit.
Sometimes.
Perhaps the dearest hopes of earth,
Our idols shattered, merest clay,
Long years of toil, that knew no'girth
, By lightest breeze are swept away.
Sometimes.
We wonder if He knew or cared ?
It seems so to our breaking heart.
Mocking the life that He hath spared,
Thinking naught of that greater part.
Sometimes.
Mrs. s. c. Hazlett.
Note.—Space frequently compels us to
condense communications, but we feel as
sured our friends will not condemn the
necessity for the exercise of this liberty.
All are welcome—too many cannot come
—and we note with pleasure every new
arrival and every repeated visit. Let each
add to the value of this popular department
by asking for and giving information, mat
ters of interest, etc.
Dear Woman’s Work:
All material things are products of com
bined elements, or forces; “happy combi
nations,” “felicitous conjunctions,” “harmo
nies of color and sound,” are common ex
pressions. Not only can diverse elements
be brought into sweet accord, to gratify
sight and hearing, but in the realm ot taste,
cunning fingers have evolved from the
union of alien objects, very happy results.
In making currant jelly, the French use
raspberries and white currants mixed with
red, one-sixth each of white currants and
red raspberries; the first is to make the
requisite color, and the raspberries for fla
voring.
Strawberries and pineapples, cherries
and strawberries, are preferred to either
alone, especially for putting up in jars.
Quinces are used with apples, and pears
also with gifcpes. Quinces bell-flower ap
ples, and crabs, a third of each are used in
preserves.
Blackberries and blueberries are a good
combination in pies, or stewed as jam.
The red pine-apple is used with straw
berries as it aids in preserving color, and
fragrance—two qualities so difficult to
retain in this fruit.
Elderberries are used with wild grapes,
and many people prefer pies made of them,
to others which general opinion regards
superior.
There are other combinations worth
knowing besides those of fruit. One is that
baking powder, and soda, used together
will result in a marvelous triumph over
either alone; another that a half teaspoon
ful of vanilla and the same of lemon will
furnish, combined, a superior flavor.
Miss Parloa reccommends the mingling
together of herbs for seasoning, so that all
you need to do is to gather up a handful of
the conglomerate, when it is required. In
this way you have the united result of
all, with no special sense of any. Lettuce
is cooked with green peas, and with cucum
bers. As the time for lettuce is drawing
near we will give a recipe for
STEWED PEAS AND LETTUCE.
Take a quart of green peas and two large
cabbage lettuce; when prepared, put in a
stewpan, and stew till tender, thicken with
butter and flour, season with pepper and
salt. Some thicken with eggs, and some
add cayenne pepper.
Emelie Harris.
Dear Woman’s Work:
I hdve been wanting to write a letter for
your readers for the past year. I bad a
great deal to say, but did not know how to
say it; however, you have encouraged me
to think that any one can say a few words
of cheer. I consider our paper the purest
family monthly that I have seen. As my
subscription has expired, I will renew and
send another name. I value the paper so
highly that I beg my friends to take it.
Will some friend give me a recipe for
destroying borers in peach trees ? Would
any like to exchange crochet samples? I
will close this my first letter to Woman’s
Work, lest the readers will agree with me
in thinking that I have more to say
than I know how to say. Bybon.
Dear Woman’s Work:
I have long wanted to write a few words
for your correspondence columns, and
although I find time, now and then, to
send you other articles for your interesting
paper, never before have I written a letter
for this department.
I want to say to Harry, I know he can
succeed in his resolve, but it will take pa
tience and perseverance.
I have a friend who used to be the gay
est of the gay, and inherited the love of
liquor, that it seemed impossible to con
quer ; but he did, and to-day his friends
can hardly realize that the earnest, faith
ful minister was ever the wild young man
of twelve years ago.
I would say to Mary, that there are
many things in this day and age that a
woman can do, if she has “energy and a
willing heart,” even though she hasn’t a
very good education.
Perhaps she can cultivate flowers or
small fruits, and vegetables for the market;
or if she is a good cook she might furnish
rolls, bread, cake, doughnuts, baked beans,
or some specially good dish to her friends
in the neighborhood, or to some Woman’s
Exchange.
She might get subscribers for some paper
or magazine that pays agents well. For
further particulars she can address me.
I would advise Annie Laurie to have for
light refreshments for a wedding, small,
thin sandwitches, coffee, pickels and a
salad for the first course, and for the second
ice cream or ices and three kinds of cake.
I have a large supply .of woman’s jour
nals and some other reading matter that I
will send upon receipt of postage stamps
and the addresses of any readers of
Womans Work. With best wishes to all.
Carrie M. Ashton.
Rockford, 111.
Dear Woman’s Work Friends :
From this remote corner of Uncle Sam s
dominion, I write you to-day, where Fate,
and the N. P. R. R., brought us five
months ago.
It was a warm May-like day in October,
when we drove over from Olympia, two
miles distant, to see the place.
“There is Tumwater, and at the
head of Puget Sound,” said Hal as we
emerged trom behind the green fir trees
upon the north bank of the Sound, and the
little town burst full upon our view on
the opposite shore. It reminded me of the
pictures we see of Swiss Villages, nestled
as it is upon the hillside. There at our
feet lay the Sound, a narrow inlet at this
place—Budd’s Inlet they call it, not a
pretty name, but the Sound is pretty with
the tide in, as it was then.
We crossed the bridge, drove up through
the principal thoroughfare to the center of
the town, to the right, the distance of a
block, and there on the corner, “ laid upon
a shelf,” like the immortal bachelors bread
and cheese, stood a little ivy-covered cot
tage, which, with the four lots adjoining, we
had come to inspect with a view to pur
chasing.
It was rather a sorry looking place, but
showed a host of possibilities, so we bought
it and moved in two or three days, and
here we are “ At Home ” to all of you, and
ready to show you the beauties Dame Na
ture has lavished upon Tumwater.
First, we will visit the Falls. The Des
Chutes River empties into the Sound at
this place, and makes three falls within a
distance of about forty rods from its mouth.
The Upper Falls we will view from the
new bridge, a block away. It is a pretty
little cascade,though but a few feet in height.
Turning from them we look in the oppo
site direction, to the north, away down the
Sound, and catch a glimpse of the white
sail of some foreign vessel dotting the blue
water. Away beyond, lie the Olympic
Mountains, their snowy peaks tossed in
proud grandeur against the sky.
Almost at our feet are the Middle Falls
that have been dammed, and made into
a horizontal line across the river—not
much account any way, except as pow
er for the grist mill. But the Lower Falls!
If my guest is not timid we will walk out
over them upon the foot bridge, and watch
the water swirling, tumbling, foaming at
our feet, here falling in a glassy sheet, here
dashed into spray against the black rocks;
beautiful always, and from our point of
observation, almost awful.
Now, if you are good at climbing, we
will visit our observatory, three or four
blocks back among the woods, up on the
hill, adjacent to the twenty-five acre tract
purchased last summer by no less noted a
personage than Julia Ward Howe.
Here we mount to the top of some big
logs and look eastward. There lies the
Cascade Range with Mt. Ranier, a triple
headed monster looming up majestic and
alone 14,444 feet above sea level, with its
crest of eternal snow, tossed high above the
clouds—a mighty monument of the won
derful forces of nature in the hand of God.
As we gaze we are reminded with over
whelming force of the insignificance of
man, and the frailty of all things human.
As we return we catch a glimpse of Mt.
Helens ofl to the southeast, while all about
us rise the giant firs, 250 feet in height,
some of them, and six or seven feet in di
ameter. These are now isolated cases here,
but there is timber in other parts of the
sound, region, which, were I to describe to
you, would no doubt make many of you
doubt my yeracity greatly.
“So you have reached Fairyland!”
writes a friend in response to a recent let
ter of mine. Well we look out at the fruit
trees bursting into blocm, we listen to the
robins singing in perfect ecstacy after a
summer-like rain, we see the growing
grass, bright blossoms and beauty every
where, and we remember that at this time
(March 15th.) a year ago the snow-drifts
were piled over the fence tops at the old
home in far-away Wisconsin; we think of
52° below zero to which we. were intro
duced in our Dakota home the winter pre
vious, and contrast it with 20° above the
lowest register of the past winter here, and
we are ready to answer our friend that our
home on Puget Sound over which we broke
the tenth commandment so many times
before we got one, is if not a veritable
Fairyland, sufficiently like it for mortals.
An irrepressible masculine at my elbow
suggests that I disperse fleas parenthetically
throughout my letter to let you know there
are ills even here. Yes, we do have them
in great superabundance. Won’t some
one benevolently disposed tell us how to
get rid of them ?
Our Editress is looking cross at my long
letter, so I’ll bow myself out. Yours sin
cerely, Lillie Sheldon.
Tumwater, Wash. Ter.
Dear Woman’s Work:
I am to you what I wish to be no longer
—a stranger. Three copies of your paper
have come to me, each better than the last.
I cannot think of any household recipes
at present which are“ true and tried,” be
cause my mind dwells on spring clothes,
and how to have them fashionable and
pretty for the least possible cash. A dress
for Easter puzzled me much. Five dollars
was the extent of my wealth, and my am
bitious soul dreamed in vain of a black lace
robe. But I determined to have two
dresses; so 1 rummaged in an old trunk,
where I put away bits and ends of every
thing, and found four yards of blue surah
that I had worn twice, as a sash, with my
winter dress. It was the new shade of
dark, bright blue, and was not crumpled as
it had not been tied—but pinned in place.
This was a find! —a bonanza! I congratu
lated myself on having put it away so
smoothly and carefully. I found to match
it, some pretty all-wool suiting—of pale
tan with a tiny blue stripe, for fifty cents
a yard. It was double width, and I bought
only five yards. I knew it would require
close cutting to get a dress out of it, but I
never despaired a moment, and this is the
way 1 made it: I wanted the sleeves puffed
at the elbow and shoulder, but the small
quantity of material would not admit of it,
so I had to be content with a plain coat
sleeve. Then I clipped away—cutting the
narrow skirt front of the striped cloth to
hang perfectly straight, with five rows of
shirring below the belt. The back, I cut
also of the striped goods, and it hangs—
without a loop—gracefully over a small
pad and one short reed. The side gores
are covered with plaits six inches deep—
every alternate one being of surah. The
basque I cut short in front, and put on a
Directoire collar, a wrinkled vest, and
cuffs of surah. It is finished and ready for
Easter. I look at it with pride, and smile
all to myself as I think how nicely I kept
the tan gloves I bought in the winter, and
how they just match my new dress.
I have written so much that I can’t tell
you about my other dress, which is a chailie
with all sorts of colors in it, but I am go
ing to make it green by trimming it with
green ribbon and surah. I’m not very big,
and perhaps, that is why I can get a pretty
dress out ot very little material. But I
think the true reason is, that I made it
myself.
I don’t live far, and I may come again.
With best wishes for Woman’s Work, I
am very truly, Claiborne.
Dear Woman’s Work:
I suppose you of the South are having
flowers and early vegetables while your
neighbors of the North, East and West
are yet having more or less of cold and
wind, with occasionally a few days of sun
shine.
House cleaning will soon interest the
most of us. I used, in my younger days,
to try to clean the whole house at once,
but I find that it saves time and a
great deal of confusion, to clean one
room at a time, commencing with your
rooms up-stairs. Unless you have plenty
of help rest some; don’t wear yourselves
out rushing. You will find it never pays
in the end. Aunt Lucy.
Dear Woman’s Work:
Maj I come in and join your charming
circle? I will try to be just as inquisitive
as I can, but if I escape the waste basket,
I will come again and give directions for a
mantle lambrequin, made either of .paper
twine or macrame cord, which is very
pretty.
If I could find language to express my
appreciation of Woman’s Work I would,
but I must leave it for you to imagine.
I am a young,inexperienced housekeeper.
Will someone please tell me if carrots are
fit for use the second year ? Mine stayed
in garden all winter and are growing
nicely, and look as round and firm as last
summer. Also, how to make an inexpen
sive but pretty piano cover, and how to
cultivate horse radish and care for Calla
lillies?
There are always many nice recipes
given, but all require milk. As lam de
prived of that luxury. I would be so glad
to see some in our dear paper that could be
made nicely without milk.
As brevity is the rule I will exit.
With best wishes for all and dear
Woman’s Work. Very truly,
Mrs. C. N. O.
N. B. Yes; any suggestion for the
adornment of home is acceptable. You
are cordially invited to come again and
bring what items of interest you can with
you.—Ed.
Dear Editress:
Will you admit me to your circle? I
hope so,I have just commenced taking your
valuable paper which I appreciate so mu n h.
I will send a few tried recipes :
DOUGHNUTS.
Three eggs, half nutmeg, two cups white
sugar, one cup sweet milk with a little
warm water, two quarts flour, four and a
half teaspoons baking powder, five table
spoons lard, half teaspoon salt; Cook in
hot lard.
COOKIES.
Four eggs, four cups white sugar, one
cup sweet milk, one cup butter, two quarts
flour, four teaspoons baking powder, half
teaspoon salt, flavor to suit the taste, lemon
or vanilla; Bake quickly in a hot oven.
With best wishes.
Mrs. Anna J. Spieler.
Dear Editress:
I am delighted with your paper, I may
say my paper, as it seems to belong to each
and all of us, and how gladly would I add
a morsel to the rich collection found in its
columns. The sj’mpathy and friendship;
the efforts to help others, and thus brighten
the pathway of life, win my heartfelt ad
miration. In the cold winter, when sur
rounded with snow and ice, such reading
adds vigor to the mind—soul warmth—
and a desire is enkindled to do good, “if
not in a wonderfully great way,” as Mon
nie Moore says. As a small present, with
large love is prized, so a few kind words
from a loving heart may not be a worth
less offering.
I feel deeply for invalids, or any dear
ones who are suffering. My case is similar
to that of one I read of, who had become
so accustomed to be not strong, that she
preferred to smile at her illness, and forgot
it in service for others.
It is stated that bread made of fine flour
is a cause of ill health. I think (or know)
that it is. I have used unbolted wheat for
years. and sought to avoid all indigestible
lood, and am aware it is not the amount of
food, but the amount digested, that furnishes
stiength and health. Much of the food which
requires labor and pains to prepare, is not
suited for the healthiest stomach. I am
weary of “crowded stomachs and starved
minds.” With best wishes for all the dear
friends. Mrs. M. O. W.
Dear Editress :
The March number of the Woman’s
Work was read with pleasure and with
many kind wishes for its success. I agree
with “Sylvia Silverthorn” in her piece. “Is
Society to Blame ?” that “ Harry,” or
any other young gentlemen, would not re
spect a young lady who chose men under
the influence of liquor for companions. It
should not and can not with safety be done
in all cases, but can we girls not make an
effort to set a good example, be kind, speak
words of encouragement to the weak, and
endeavor to reform the young men who
may, if they conduct themselves well,
climb to the very zenith of fame, and there
write their name in letters which can never
be erased?
The indications now are that “Old Ken
tucky” will produce a large crop of fruit
this year. Nature seems to try herself this
spring to make her garments more beauti
ful than eVer before. But my letter is
lengthy, and as I am only sixteen now, if
I lengthen them each time, when I am
twenty they’ll fill one page, so I will not
write any more. Hoping this shall not
find its way to the waste basket, and with
many hopes for this bright paper, I am,
Its true friend, Minnie Kemp.