Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.