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Our gift to the world, what is it?
A cherry smile, or a frown?
A hand outstretched to the fallen,
Or a weight to keep them down?
Does it make the shadows deeper,
Or has it power to throw
Out into the cold and darkness
The warmth and light of its glow?
When You Take the Children
Traveling.
I T has been quite a while since I
* have had the pleasure of carrying
“the children traveling,” and therefore
my personal experience would not be
I fear very practical, but as so many
mothers are just now making their
plans for summer trips, this splendid
article from the pen of Bertha Rellows
Streeter in American Motherhood will
lam sure be appreciated. She says:
My small son came running down
the aisle of the day coach, his blue
eyes as big as they could be.
“Oh, mamma!” he gasped. “There’s
a lady down there and she has a bas
ket like Sambo brings the groceries
in and —guess what she’s got in it!”
“A cat?” I ventured. “No? A dog
then? Is it a rabbit —a —”
But the child could contain himself
no longer.
“Oh! You never can guess,” he cried.
“It’s a baby, mamma; a real live baby
girl! And she’s asleep in that bas
ket, too cute for anything. Her moth
er’s got mosquito netting over her to
keep the flies off and there’s two other
little girls and they’re having such
fun playing with paper dolls. Can’t I
go down and see the baby and play
with the little girls? Can I if I’ll be
an awfully, awfully good boy?”
Who could resist such an appeal?
I told the little fellow that he could
go and watch the children at their
play and, if he were invited, join them.
Judging by the sounds of hilarity that
presently came from that end of the
coach he was welcomed as a playmate.
Soon he was busy having such a good
time that I felt in duty bound to sug
gest that he be more quiet or he
would wake the baby.
“Noise does not bother her in the
least,” remarked the sweet-faced lit
tle mother as she lifted the basket,
baby and all, form the seat and de
posited it in her lap. “Baby is used
to all sorts of noises all day long.
Won’t you sit down? Your little boy
says you are going to the same town
we are. I wonder if it could be that
we have mutual friends.”
She discovered that we did have a
number of friends in common and I
discovered that she knew more about
traveling with children than any other
woman of whom it had been my good
fortune to hear. Her husband had
work on the railroad that necessitated
his going from place to place, and she
had learned how to overcome almost
every difficulty in traveling with a
small family.
The baby’s bed arrested my attention
as it had Paul’s. Mrs. Thomas —our
new friend —noticed my interest and
laughed.
“It’s a queer way to carry a baby,
I know,” she admitted, “but you’ve
no idea how handy it is, and I think
it must be a great deal more com-
THE HOUSEHOLD
A DEPARTMENT OF EXPRESSION FOR THOSE WHO FEEL AND THINK.
EDITED BY MRS. MARY E. BRYAN.
OUR GIFT TO THE WORLD.
Bessie M. Marr, Brookhaven, Miss.
Are the souls it touches stronger
In the strift for nobler things?
Or will it leave Hope fluttering,
With bruised and broken wings?
Will a better, purer standard
By its aid be unfurled,
After they’ve laid m the casket
Ourself —our gift to the world?
sortable for her than carrying her in
my arms would be. Besides, it takes
two hands to carry her that way, and
I need one for the suit case and the
other children when their father is not
along to help me.”
One remark brought on another and
soon she began to tell me some of
the things she does when traveling
with the children.
“I have learned to take only necesr
sities with me,” she said. “When you
get right down to the heart of the
matter, that isn’t very much so one
needs very little luggage. In the bot
tom of baby’s basket are plenty of
clean napkins. Then I have about two
dozen pieces of old soft cloth about a
foot square that can be used as wash
cloths and thrown away afterwards,
while a dry piece serves as a towel.
Next time the towel is the wash cloth.
At this end of the basket on the very
bottom, is a bottle of soapy rain wa
ter that removes dirt and grime in
short order and saves many a trip to
the lavatory. On top of those things
is a piece of oil cloth and a thick pad
just the size of the basket, you see.
Then this tiny quilt at the head serves
as a pillow and this other one can
be thrown over baby when she is
asleep or the air grows chilly. I keep
a very thin bonnet on most of the time
when we are on the train. It keeps
cinders from her ears and helps to
deaden the unusual noise of the train.
“The older girls always wear their
blue and white seersucker rompers
when we go traveling. They look so
trim and neat and are so easy to wash
out when they get soiled. I carry a
couple of extra rompers for each,
washing out the soiled ones at night
in the bowl in the dressing room if we
are to be on the train more than two
days. This saves carrying two night
gowns in the suit case because the
fresh rompers can be put on at night
after the children’s underclothes have
been removed. More than once when
the garments I had washed out the
night before were not dry in the morn
ings the girls have dressed in the
rompers they had slept in. You see,
the seersucker does not show creases
and when the under garments were on,
no one would have suspected that
those rompers had served two pur
poses!”
“Oh, mamma,” ejaculated the older
of the two girls, “the little boy has
cut a hole in h’s stocking.”
“Never mind, son,” comforted our
new friend. “We will have it mended
in just a jiffy.”
True to her word, Mrs. Thomas pro
duced her thimble and a needle al
ready threaded with black darning
cotton and proceeded to repair the
damage, remarking as she did so:
The Golden Age for May 29, 1913
“It is so hard for me to thread
a needle on the train that I keep
a dozen always threaded in this stout
paper envelope. With scissors and
thimble and a few white buttons in
this pill box in my hand bag my girls
and I are prepared for most common
emergencies.”
“See the picture I drew, mother,” ex
ulted my son as he held up a trans
parent slate. “Will you buy me one
of these when we get to Uncle Will’s?”
“I think they are the nicest play
things for children on the train,” ob
served Mrs. Thomas. “Every child
likes to draw pictures and it is such
clean entertainment. The girls like
these stencils, too, and their paper
dolls and colored pencils. I have a
friend who always takes a scrap book
along and lets the children paste pic
tures, but that strikes me as too
mussy. When children play with such
things you never can be sure that
they are not daubing sticky fingers
over the car seats or making them
selves a nuisance to fellow passen
gers. Every once in a while the girls
and I pick up some new toy to be saved
just for entertainment on the train.
But with all the new things, I find
that there must be made room for a
couple of the old toy®. Old rag Susan
there is so dear to Rosalie that I
have not the heart to leave her behind,
even though I am almost ashamed to
have her along. And Genevieve loves
that old battered picture book more
than anything else she ever possess
ed. I wonder what Ruthie will want
to lug along when she gets a little
older. I know what she wants now —
it’s her old black mammy.”
By the time the baby was fully
awake her bottle was all ready for
her. Out of the hand bag had come
a little alcohol lamp such as is used
for heating curling irons. A tin cup
half filled with water had been set
above the blaze and the contents of
the bottle heated by ®haking in that
when the water was hot. I noticed
that the mother did not test the heat
of the milk by putting the nipple to
her mouth. She shook a little milk
out on the back of her hand, instead.
The milk was carried in one of the
new double walled, insulated bottles
and it was icy cold when turned into
the nursing bottle.
“I see that you do not believe in
keeping the milk warm a long time as
some of the women who use those bot
tles do,” I remarked.
“Mercy, no!” was the quick reply.
“I believe that practice is at the bot
tom of one reason why so many wom
en are set against taking the children
away from home in the summer. They
think the babies get sick from change
of milk, when the real cause I be
lieve, is that they did not know how
to care for What milk they took with
them. It seems nothing short of crim
inal to me to give a child milk that
is nearly sour! The heat of the body
sours it as soon as it reaches the
stomach, and there you are —with a
sick baby on your hands. And travel
ing with a little one is hard enough
at best, without having it fretful and
uncomfortable, annoying you and all
the other passengers.”
“But how do you get milk on a long
journey?” I asked.
“Well,” she replied, “fresh milk pro
duced under sanitary conditions and
immediately packed in ice and salt as
you would ice cream until it is fifty
degrees F., or lower, then poured into
these bottles, ought to be in good con
dition two days or even three. Before
we leave home I boil the water needed
to dilute the milk and for the baby’s
drinks, carrying it in a quart jar se
curely sealed, in the suit case. That
is the heaviest thing I have in the line
of baggage, but it cannot be dispensed
with. Once when we were to be five
days on the road I tried a can of one
or the best baby foods to help out
last three days. It served to tide us
over, but I was glad to get good cow’s
milk again. I confess that I have not
much faith in these patent foods. With
all man’s wisdom, he has not come up
to the Creator in making food for
babies, and while cow’s milk is not
exactly what a baby ought to have, it
comes closer to it than any of the
patent foods on the market.”
“Some women would think that they
could not afford the vacuum bottle,”'
I mused.
“Yes, I know,” replied my seat mate;
“but a small covered pail containing
a piece of ice would do almost as well
if the milk had been sufficiently chil
ed before leaving home. It is lots of
bother to keep supplying it with ice
on a long trip, but it can be done.
The price of it, however, with the
tips for the porter, would go a long
ways toward paying for a bottle like
mine.”
(To be Continued Next Week.)
“THE HAUNTED HOUSE.”
Dear Mother Meb:
With your permission and for the
pleasure of those who enjoy reading
the happenings of long ago, I will re
late this story, which was at that
time called fun, real, bona fide fun.
There lived in a neighborhood two
brothers, and a carpenter.
One night a crowd of young people
were invited to meet at a farmer’s
home to make merry the hours.
Near this place stood an old house
that was known to everyone, both far
and near, as “the haunted house.”
Leading by this haunted house was
a new road which was very rough
with low growth and small stumps.
The two brothers and the carpenter
thought this would be a golden oppor
tunity to have some fun —to give the
young people a fright that would long
be remembered —would be the finest
of sport.
They made a dumb-bull. This was
made by tightly stretching and tack
ing rawhide over each end of a hol
low gum. A hole was made through
the rawhide; knots were then tied in
a rawhide string, then rubbed well
with pine resin. By pulling this string
back and forth through the gum, a
most unearthly noise was made.
They made a coffin, covered with
white. A tree stood near the haunted
house. In this a pulley was in some
way fixed. By passing a rope over
this pulley, the coffin could be ra : sed
or lowered at will.
TRY THIS FOR PAINFUL, AND ACHING
FEET.
Get a twenty-five cent box of Tyree’s
Antiseptic Powder from any drug store or
direct from the ma,nufacturer, sprinkle
some into the shoes or stockings, or dilute
strongly with water. Apply morning and
night. This will reduce any swelling, al
lay pain and stop the odor of perspiration.
Pleasing and gratifying. Try it and if
not pleased, return the empty box and get
your money back. J. S. Tyree, Chemist,
Washington, D. C. Mr. Tyree will send a
liberal, free sample of his powder and full
directions free to any who write mention
ing this paper.
