FAMILY MONTHLY MAGAZINE

WORBLY’S FAMILY MONTHLY MAGAZINE

SEPTEMBER, 1866

WORBLY’S

On August 20,

President Andrew Johnson formally

declared our country’s war over.

Our prayer is that our country

continues to heal.

May God give us peace as our

country reunites.

May homes and families grow

stronger in love.

May we all look to God above to

guide and direct our lives.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A Father’s Gift to His Son…......2

Husbands……..............................8

Politness………………………...8

Nurse and Spy…….……….........8

Powers of Mothers…………….13

Vice……………………………14

Pithy and Pointed…....………...14

A Great Attainment……….......14

Cousin Lucy’s Conversations...15

Domestic Economy….....……...20

A Daughter’s Love………..…...27

Vermin………………………...27

Dogs and Rats………………...28

Being A Boy, part two………...29

The Little Vessel………………32

The Light On The Deck………32

Christie, Where The Tree Fell...32

Manners Matter……………….40

Curing Meat…………………...41

Woman………………………..46

Letters to the Editor…………...47

Advertisements……...……...…48

WORBLY’S FAMILY MONTHLY MAGAZINE September, 1866

2

In an effort to remember and honor the men

who helped establish our country, we

present a work of one our Founding Fathers.

A FATHER’S GIFT TO HIS SON ON HIS

BECOMING AN APPRENTICE

By Benjamin Franklin

Published by Samuel Wood & Sons, 1821

FRANKLIN'S

WAY TO WEALTH;

OR

POOR RICHARD IMPROVED

INTRODUCTION.

This little treatise is much and justly

admired, as well as its celebrated and

ingenious author; in short, it is to be

doubted, whether any other work of the kind

equal to it has ever appeared. It has been

repeatedly published, in different sizes; and

made its appearance on both sides of the

Atlantic. The London copy from which this

is printed, contains the following introduc-

tion:

"Dr. Franklin, wishing to collect into one

piece, all the sayings upon the following

subjects, which he had dropped in the course

of publishing the Almanac, called "Poor

Richard," introduces Father Abraham for

this purpose. Hence it is, that Poor Richard

is so often quoted, and that, in the present

title, he is said to be improved.—

Notwithstanding the stroke of humour in the

concluding paragraph of this address, Poor

Richard (Saunders) and Father Abraham

have proved, in America, that they are no

common preachers. And shall we, brother

Englishmen, refuse good sense and saving

knowledge, because it comes from the other

side of the water?"

The Way to Wealth.

COURTEOUS READER,

I have heard that nothing gives an author so

much pleasure, as to find his works

respectfully quoted by others. Judge, then,

how much I must have been gratified by an

incident I am going to relate to you. I

stopped my horse, lately, where a great

number of people were collected at an

auction of merchants' goods. The hour of the

sale not being come, they were conversing

on the badness of the times; and one of the

company called to a plain, clean, old man,

with white locks, "Pray, Father Abraham,

what think you of the times? Will not those

heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How

shall we ever be able to pay, them? What

would you advise us to?" Father Abraham

stood up, and replied, "If you would have

my advice, I will give it you in short, 'for a

word to the wise is enough,' as Poor Richard

says." They joined in desiring him to speak


3

his mind, and, gathering around him, he

proceeded as follows:

"Friends," says he, "the taxes are indeed

very heavy; and if those laid on by the

government were the only ones we had to

pay, we might more easily discharge them;

but we have many others, and much more

grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice

as much by our idleness, three times as

much by our pride, and four times as much

by our folly; and from these taxes the

commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by

allowing an abatement. However, let us

hearken to good advice, and something may

be done for us; 'God helps them that help

themselves ;' as poor Richard says.

"I. It would be thought a hard government

that should tax its people one-tenth part of

their time to be employed in its service: but

idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth

by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens

life.

"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour

wears, while the used key is always bright,'

as Poor Richard says---"But, dost thou love

life?, then do not squander time, for that is

the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard

says.—How much more than is necessary do

we spend in sleep! forgetting, that, the

sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that

there will be sleeping enough in the grave,"

as Poor Richard says.

"If time be of all things the most precious,

wasting time must be," as Poor Richard

says, 'the greatest prodigality!' since, as he

elsewhere tells us, 'Lost time is never found

again; and what we call time enough always

proves little enough.' Let us, then, up and be

doing, and doing to the purpose: so by

diligence shall we do more with less

perplexity. "Sloth makes all things difficult,

but industry all easy; and he that riseth late,

must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake

his business at night: while laziness travels

so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him.

Drive thy business, let not that drive thee;

and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a

man healthy, wealthy and wise," as Poor

Richard says.

"So what signify wishing and hoping for

better times? We may make these times

better, if we bestir ourselves. "Industry need

not wish: and he that lives upon hope will

die fasting. There are no gains without

pains; then help hands, for I have no lands;'

or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. 'He that

hath a trade, hath an estate; and he that hath

a calling, hath an office of profit and

honour,' as Poor Richard says; but then the

trade must be worked at, and the calling well

followed, or neither the estate nor the office

will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are

industrious, we shall never starve; for at the

working man's house, hunger looks in, but

dares not enter.' Nor will the bailiff or

constable enter; for, 'industry pays debts,

while despair increaseth them.' What,

though you have found no treasure, nor has

any rich relation left you a legacy,

'Diligence is the mother of good luck, and

God gives all things to industry. Then

plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you

shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work

while it is called today, for you know not

how much you may be hindered to-morrow.

'One to-day is worth two to-morrows,' as


4

Poor Richard says; and farther, "Never leave

that till to-morrow, which you can do to-

day." If you were a servant, would you not

he ashamed that a good master should catch

you idle? Are you then your own master? Be

ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is

so much to be done for your self, your,

family, your country, and your king. Handle

your tools without mittens: remember, that,

'The cat in gloves catches no mice,' as Poor

Richard says. It is true, there is much to be

done, and, perhaps, you are weak handed;

but stick to it steadily, and you will see great

effects: for, "constant dropping wears away

stone; and by diligence and patience the

mouse ate in two the cable; and little strokes

fell great oaks.'

"Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a

man afford himself no leisure?" I will tell

thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says:

Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to

gain leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a

minute, throw not away an hour." Leisure is

time for doing something useful: this leisure

the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy

man never; for, "A life of leisure, and a life

of laziness are two things. Many without

labour, would live by their wits only, but

they break for want of stock;" whereas,

industry gives comfort, and plenty and

respect. 'Fly pleasures, and they will follow

you. The diligent spinner has a large shift;

and now I have a sheep and a cow, every

body bids me good morrow."

"II. But with our industry we must likewise

be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee

our own affairs with our own eyes, and not

trust too much to others: for, as Poor

Richard says,

"I never saw an oft-removed tree,

Nor yet an oft removed family,

That throve so well as those that settled be."

And again, "Three removes are as bad as a

fire:" and again, "Keep thy shop, and thy

shop will keep thee:" and again, "If you

would have your business done, go; if not,

send." And again,

"He that by the plough would thrive,

Himself must either hold or drive."

And again, 'The eye of the master will do

more work than both his hands and again,',

'Want of care does us more damage than

want of knowledge:' and again, 'Not to over-

see workmen, is to leave them your purse

open.'

"Trusting too much to other's care is the ruin

of many; for, 'In the affairs of this world,

men are saved, not by faith, but by the want

of it:" but a man's own care is profitable; for

if you would have a faithful servant, and one

that you like—serve yourself. A little

neglect may breed great mischief; for want

of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a

shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a

horse the rider was lost;' being overtaken

and slain by the enemy; all for want of a

little care about a horse shoe nail.

"III. So much for industry, my friends, and

attention to one's own business: but to these

we must add frugality, if we would make

our industry more certainly successful. A

man may, if he know not how to save as he

gets, keep his nose all his life to the

grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last.

A fat kitchen makes a lean will;' and,


5

"Many estates are spent in getting,

Since women for tea forsook spinning and

knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing

and splitting."

'If you would be wealthy, think of saving as

well as of getting. The Indies have not made

Spain rich, because her outgoes are greater

than her incomes.'

"Away then with your expensive follies and

you will not then have so much cause to

complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and

chargeable families; for,

"Women and wine, game and deceit,

Make the wealth small, and the want great."

And farther; 'What maintains one vice,

would bring up two children.' You may

think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little

punch now and then, diet a little more

costly, clothes a little finer, and a little

entertainment now and then, can be no great

matter; but remember, 'Many a little makes

a mickle.' Beware of little expenses; A small

leak will sink a great ship,' as Poor Richard

says: and again, 'Who dainties love, shall

beggars prove;' and moreover, 'Fools make

feasts, and wise men eat them.' Here you are

all got together to this sale of fineries and

knickknacks. You call them goods; but if

you do not take care, they will prove evils to

some of you. You expect they will be sold

cheap, and, perhaps, they may for less than

they cost: but if you have no occasion for

them, they may be dear to you. Remember

what Poor Richard says, 'Buy what thou hast

no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy

necessaries,' And again, 'At a great penny-

worth pause a while;' he means, that perhaps

the cheapness is apparent only, and not real;

or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy bu-

siness, may do thee more harm than good.

For in another place he says, 'Many have

been ruined by buying good penny-worths.'

Again, It is foolish to lay out money in a

purchase of repentance;' and yet this folly is

practised every day at auctions, for want of

minding the almanac. Many a one, for the

sake of finery on the back, has gone with a

hungry belly, and half starved their

families; 'Silks and satins, scarlet and

velvets, put out the kitchen fire,' as Poor

Richard says. These are not the necessaries

of life: they can scarcely be called the

conveniences: and yet, only because they

look pretty, how many want to have them!

By these, and other extravagancies, the

genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to

borrow of those whom they formerly

despised, but who, through industry and

frugality have maintained their standing; in

which case it appears plainly, that, 'A

ploughman on his legs, is higher than a

gentleman on his knees,' as Poor Richard

says. Perhaps they have had a small estate

left them, which they knew not the getting

of; they think it is day and will never be

night:' that a little to be spent out of so much

is not worth minding; but, 'Always taking

out of the meal-tub, and never putting in,

soon comes to the bottom,' as Poor Richard

says: and then, 'When the well is dry, they

know the worth of water.' But this they

might have known before, if they had taken

his advice. 'If you would know the value of

money, go and try to borrow some; for he

that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing,' as

Poor Richard says; and, indeed, so does he


6

that lends to such people, when he goes to

get it in again. Poor Dick farther advises,

and says,

"Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse,

Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse."

And again, 'Pride is as loud a beggar as

Want, and a great deal more saucy.' When

you have bought one fine thing, you must

buy ten more, that your appearance may be

all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, 'It is ea-

sier to suppress the first desire, than to

satisfy all that follow it. And it is as truly

folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the

frog to swell, in order to equal the ox.

"Vessels large may venture more,

But little boats should keep near shore."

It is however, a folly soon punished: for as

Poor Richard says, 'Pride that dines on

vanity, sups on contempt; Pride breakfasted

with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped

with Infamy.' And, after all, of what use is

this pride of appearance, for which so much

is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot

promote health, nor ease pain; it makes no

increase of merit in the person—it creates

envy, it hastens misfortune.

"But what madness it must be to run in debt

for these superfluities!

We are offered, by the terms of this sale, six

months credit; and that perhaps, has induced

some of us to attend it, because we cannot

spare the ready money, and hope now to be

fine without it. But, ah! think what you do

when you run in debt; you give to another

power over you liberty. If you cannot pay at

the time, you will be ashamed to see your

creditor; you will be in fear when you speak

to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking

excuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your

veracity, and sink into base downright lying;

for, The second vice is lying, the first is

running in debt,' as Poor Richard says; and

again to the same purpose, Lying rides upon

Debt's back;' whereas, a free-born man

ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or

speak to any man living. But poverty often

deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. 'It is

hard for an empty bag to stand upright.'

What would you think of that prince or of

that government, who should issue an edict

forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or

gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or

servitude? Would you not say you were free,

have a right to dress as you please, and that

such an edict would be a breach of your

privileges, and such a government

tyrannical? And yet, you are about to put

yourself under that tyranny, when you run in

debt for such dress! Your creditor has

authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of

your liberty, by confining you in gaol for

life, or by selling you for a servant, if you

should not be able to pay him. When you

have got your bargain, you may, perhaps,

think little of payment; but as Poor Richard

says, 'Creditors have better memories than

debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect,

great observers of set days and times.' The

day comes round before you are aware, and

the demand is made before you are prepared

to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in

mind, the term, which at first seemed so

long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely

short: time will seem to have added wings to

his heels as well as his shoulders.—'Those

have a short Lent, who owe money to be


7

paid at Easter.' At present, perhaps, you may

think yourselves in thriving circumstances,

and that you can bear a little extravagance

without injury; but,

"For age and want save while you may, No

morning sun lasts a whole day."

"Gain may be temporary and uncertain; but

ever, while you live expense is constant and

certain; and It is easier to build two

chimneys, than to keep one in fuel,' as Poor

Richard says: so, 'Rather go to bed

supperless, than rise in debt.'

Get what you can and what you get hold,

'Tie the stone that will turn your lead into

gold.

And when you have got the philosopher's

stone, sure you will no longer complain of

bad times, or of the difficulty of paying

taxes?

"IV. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and

wisdom: but after all, do not depend too

much upon your own industry, and frugality,

and prudence, though excellent things; for

they may all be blasted without the blessing

of Heaven: and, therefore, ask that blessing

humbly, and be not uncharitable to those

that at present seem to want it, but comfort

and help them. Remember, Job, suffered,

and was afterwards prosperous.

"And now, to conclude, 'Experience keeps a

dear school, but fools will learn in no other,'

as Poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for

it is true, 'We may give advice, but we

cannot give conduct.' However, remember

this, 'They that will not be counselled cannot

be helped;' and farther, that, 'If you will not

hear Reason, she will surely rap your

knuckles,' as Poor Richard says."

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue.

The people heard it, and approved the

doctrine, and immediately practised the

contrary, just as if it had been a common

sermon; for the auction opened, and they

began to buy extravagantly. I found the good

man had thoroughly studied my Almanac,

and digested all I had dropped on those

topics during the course of twenty-five

years. The frequent mention he made of me

must have tired any one else; but my vanity

was wonderfully delighted with it, though I

was conscious that not a tenth part of the

wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to

me; but rather the gleanings that I had made

of the sense of all ages and nations. How-

ever, I resolved to be the better for the echo

of it; and though I had at first determined to

buy stuff for a new coat, I went away,

resolved to wear my old one a little longer.

Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit

will be as great as pine. I am, as ever, thine

to serve thee,

RICHARD SAUNDERS.

Benjamin Franklin


8

HUSBANDS

The etymology of this word may not be

generally known. The head of a family is

called husband from the fact that he is, or

ought to be, the band which unites the

house together—or the bond of union

among the family. It is to be regretted that

all husbands are not house bands in reality,

as well as in name.

(Courtesy of Illustrated Family Monthly

Almanac)

POLITENESS. - Great men and

distinguished women can afford to be

polite; but many pretenders to social

distinction, and young people aspiring to

notice, think it becomes them to show a

conscious superiority to those in a lower

grade of life. The following paragraph

from an exchange, is in point:

When the Duke of Wellington was sick,

the last thing he took was a little tea. On

his servant's handing it to him in a saucer,

and asking if he would have it, the Duke

replied, "Yes, if you please." These were

his last words. How much kindness and

courtesy is expressed by them. He who had

commanded the greatest armies in Europe,

and was long accustomed to the tone of

authority, did not despise or overlook the

small courtesies of life. Ah, how many

boys do! What a rude tone of command

they often use to their little brothers and

sisters, and sometimes to their mothers.

They order so. This is ill-bred and

unchristian, and shows a coarse nature and

hard heart. In all your home talk remember

"If you please." Among your playmates

don't forget, "If you please." To all who

wait upon or serve you, believe that "if you

please" will make you better served than

all the cross or ordering words in the whole

dictionary. Don't forget three little words

—"If you please."

(Courtesy of Student and Classmate)

NURSE AND SPY FOR THE

UNION ARMY

By S. EMMA. E. EDMONDS

(Published by W. S. Williams & Co., 1865)

CHAPTER XIV

RENEWAL OF THE BATTLE-VICTORY

FOR THE FEDERAL ARMS-ADDRESS

TO THE ARMY-MORE DISPATCHES-

MY BATTLE TROPHY-PONY REB’S

PERFORMANCES-THE HOSPITAL

TREE-TOUCHING SCENES-BISHOP

SIMPSON-THE CROSS AND THE FLAG-

AFTER THE BATTLE-DELAYS BY

STORMS, FLOODS AND MUD-MC

CUELLAN'S CALL FOR MORE MEN-IN

READINESS TO MARCH-PROMISED

REINFORCEMENTS.

NIGHT brought a cessation of hostilities to

the weary troops, but to neither side a

decided victory or defeat. Both armies

bivonaced on the bloody field, within a few

rods of each other. There they lay waiting


9

for the morning light to decide the contest.

The excitement and din of battle had ceased;

those brief hours of darkness proved a sweet

respite from the fierce struggle of the day,

and in the holy calm of that midnight hour,

when silence brooded over the blood-

washed plain, many brave soldiers lay down

on that gory field—

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

Sunday, the first of June, dawned

beautifully, a day of hallowed rest and

promise to the millions who rose to their

devotions, ere the bell called them to the

house of prayer, but not of rest to the weary,

broken armies the drum-beat called from

their wet and muddy beds to renew the

contest. At a quarter-past seven o'clock the

battle again commenced, and raged fiercely

until about noon. Both armies fought with

determination and heroic bravery until the

rebels were compelled to yield, and victory

once more perched upon the banners of the

National troops.

I came on the field about ten o'clock, and re-

mained until the close of the battle, but

could do little more than look upon the

terrible scene. General McClellan was on

the field when I arrived. I saw him ride

along the entire battle-front, and if I had not

seen him, I could not have long remained in

ignorance of his presence—for the cheers

from all parts of the Federal lines told as

plainly as words could express that their

beloved commander was with them, amid

that desperate struggle for victory. It was a

terrible slaughter—more than fifteen

thousand lay upon the field. It was enough

to make angels weep, to look down upon

that field of carnage. The dead and wounded

of the enemy fell into the hands of the

Unionists, which added fearfully to the

labors of that exhausted, battle-worn army.

On the evening of the third of June, General

McClellan issued the following address to

his troops, which was read on dress parade,

and was received with tremendous cheering:

"Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac! I

have fulfilled at least a part of my promise

to you. You are now face to face with the

rebels, who are held at bay in front of their

capital. The final and decisive battle is at

hand. Unless you belie your past history, the

result cannot be for a moment doubtful. If

the troops who labored so faithfully at

Yorktown, and fought so bravely, and won

the hard fights at Williamsburg, West Point,

Hanover Court-house and Fair Oaks, now

prove themselves worthy of their

antecedents, the victory is surely ours. The

events of every day prove your superiority;

wherever you have met the enemy, you have

beaten him; wherever you have used the

bayonet, he has given way in panic and

disorder.

"I ask of you, now, one last crowning effort.

The enemy has staked his all on the issue of

the coming battle. Let us meet him, crush

him here, in the very centre of the rebellion.

Soldiers! I will be with you in this battle,

and share its dangers with you. Our

confidence in each other is now founded

upon the past. Let us strike the blow which

is to restore peace and union to this

distracted land. Upon your valor, discipline

and mutual confidence, the result depends."


10

Every battle fought on the Peninsula

fearfully reduced the strength of the Army

of the Potomac, and proved to a

demonstration that the enemy far

outnumbered the Union forces. Still there

were no reinforcements, notwithstanding

McClellan's daily urgent despatches to the

President and Secretary of War, and the

great impending battle in front of the rebel

Capital so near at hand.

The next day McClellan sent another

despatch, as follows:

"Please inform me at once what

reinforements, if any, I can count upon

having at Fortress Monroe or White House,

within the next three days, and when each

regiment may be expected to arrive. It is of

the utmost importance that I should know

this immediately. The losses in the battle of

the thirty-first and first will amount to seven

thousand. Regard this as confidential for the

present. After the losses in our last battle, I

trust that I shall no longer be regarded as an

alarmist. I believe we have at least one more

desperate battle to fight."

The day after the battle of Fair Oaks, a

splendid sword was presented to me. It had

been struck from the hand of a rebel colonel,

while in the act of raising it to strike one of

our officers after he had fallen from his

horse. Oh, how proud I felt of that beautiful

silver-mounted trophy, from the bloody field

of Fair Oaks, which had so recently been

wielded by a powerful arm, but powerless

now, for he lay in the agonies of death,

while his splendid sword had passed into my

feeble hands. I presume if he had known

this, it would have added another pang to his

already agonized spirit. The sword was

presented by General K., to whom I gave my

rebel pony, with the comforting assurante

that he was only intended for ornament, and

not for use; for generals were too scarce on

the Peninsula to risk their precious lives by

coming in contact with him. The General

was delighted with him, and without paying

the slightest attention to my suggestion

deliberately walked up to the pony and

commenced patting him and handling his

limbs as if he were the most quiet creature in

the world, while "Reb" stood eyeing his new

master with apparent satisfaction, and

seemed to rejoice that he had passed from

my insignificant hands, and was henceforth

to be the honored bearer of shoulder-straps.

After thoroughly examining him he said:

"He is certainly a splendid horse, and worth

three hundred dollars of any man's money;

all he requires is kind treatment, and he will

be as gentle as any one could desire."

But " Reb " very soon gave him to

understand decidedly that he was overrating

his good qualities; for no sooner had the

General turned his back toward him than he

struck him between the shoulders with both

hind feet, sending him his full length upon

the ground; and as soon as he attempted to

rise he repeated the same performance until

he had knocked him down four or five times

in succession. By that time the General was

pretty thoroughly convinced that " Reb's"

social qualities were somewhat deficient, his

bump of combativeness largely developed,

and his gymnastics quite impressive.

On the evening of the same day in which the

victory was won I visited what was then,


11

and is still called, the "hospital tree," near

Fair Oaks. It was an immense tree under

whose shady, extended branches the

wounded were carried and laid down to

await the stimulant, the opiate, or the

amputating knife, as the case might require.

The ground around that tree for several acres

in extent was literally-drenched with human

blood, and the men were laid so close

together that there was no such thing as

passing between them; but each one was

removed in their turn as the surgeons could

attend to them. I witnessed there some of the

most heart-rending sights it is possible for

the human mind to conceive. Read what a

Massachusetts chaplain writes concerning it:

"There is a large tree near the battle-ground

of Fair Oaks, the top of which was used as

an observatory during the fight, which

stands as a memento of untold, and perhaps

never to be told, suffering and sorrow. Many

of the wounded and dying were laid beneath

its branches after the battle, in order to

receive surgical help, or to breathe their last

more quietly. What heart-rending scenes did

I witness in that place, so full of saddened

memories to me and to others. Brave,

uncomplaining men were brought thither out

of the woodland, the crimson tide of whose

life was ebbing away in the arms of those

who carried them. Almost all who died met

death like heroes, with scarcely a groan.

Those wounded, but not mortally—how

nobly they bore the necessary probings and

needed amputations! Two instances of this

heroic fortitude deserve to be specially

mentioned. One of them is that of William

C. Bentley, of the Second Rhode Island

regiment, both of whose legs were broken

by a bomb-shell, whose wrist and breast

were mangled, and who yet was as calm as

if he suffered no pain. He refused any

opiate-or stimulant that might dim his

consciousness. He asked only that we should

pray for him, that he. might be patient and

submissive, and dictated a letter to be sent to

his mother. Then, and not till then, opiates

were given him, and he fell gently asleep,

and for the last time.

"The other case was that of Francis

Sweetzer, of Company E, of the Sixteenth

Massachusetts Regiment, who witnessed in

death, as he had uniformly done in life, a

good confession of Christ. 'Thank God,' he

said, 'that I am permitted to die for my

country. Thank God more yet that I am pre-

pared to die;' and then after a moment's

thought he modestly added, at least I hope I

am.' When he died he was in the act of

prayer, and in that position his limbs grew

rigid, and so remained after the spirit bad

left his body."

Oh, who that has witnessed such triumphant

deaths on the battle-field will presume to

doubt that the spirit of that patriot who falls

amid the terrible clash of arms and the fierce

surge of battle, is prepared to go from that

scene of blood and strife, and to enter into

that rest that God has prepared for them that

love Him? Yes, the noble men who have

gone from under the sheltering wings of the

different evangelical churches throughout

the land, have gone in the strength of God,

and with the full assurance that if they

should fall fighting for the God-given rights

of humanity, there, amid the shock of battle,


12

the still, small voice of Jesus would be heard

speaking peace to the departing soul, and

that their triumphant spirits would go home

rejoicing to be forever with the Lord! When

I see a man first lay himself upon the altar of

God, and then upon the altar of his country,

I have no fear for that man's happiness in

time or in eternity.

Good Bishop Simpson, of the Methodist

Episcopal Church, soon after the outbreak of

the great rebellion, delivered a sermon on

the National crisis, at Chicago. It is

represented as one of the ablest efforts of

this clergyman, so distinguished for his

power in the pulpit. As it was one of the

anniversaries of the denomination,

thousands were present to hear the

discourse. Suddenly, at one point in the

sermon, and as the fitting close of a most

impassioned paragraph, he gave utterance to

the following noble sentiment: "We will

take our glorious flag, the flag of our

country, and nail it just below the cross!

That is high enough. There let it wave as it

waved of old. Around it let us gather: first

Christ's; then our country's." Oh, that the

sentiments of the following beautiful lines

were the sentiments of every heart in the

United States:

0 Lord of Hosts! Almighty King!

Behold the sacrifice we bring!

To every arm thy strength impart,

Tby spirit shed through every heart!

Wake in our breasts the living fires,

The holy faith that warmed our sires;

Thy hand lath made our nation free;

To die for her is serving Thee.

Be Thou a pillar’d flame to show

The midnight snare, the silent foe,

And when the battle thunders loud,

Still guide us in its moving cloud.

God of all nations I sovereign Lord!

In thy dread name we draw the sword,

We lift the starry flag on high

That fills with light our stormy sky.

No mere its flaming emblems wave

To bar from hope the trembling slave;

No more its radiant glories shine

To blast with woe one child of Thine!

From treason's rent, from murderer's stain,

Guard Thou its folds till peace shall reign,

Till fort and field, till shore and sea,

Join our loud anthem, Praise to Thee!

I cannot better describe the state of affairs

after the battle of Fair Oaks than by giving

the following despatch from McClellan,

dated June 7th:

"In reply to your despatch of 2 p. m. to-day,

I have the honor to state that the

Chickahominy river has risen so as to flood

the entire bottoms to the depth of three or

four feet; I am pushing forward the bridges

in spite of this, and the men are working

night and day, up to their waists in water, to

complete them. The whole face of the

country is a perfect bog, entirely impassable

for artillery, or even cavalry, except directly

in the narrow roads, which renders any

general movement, either of this or the rebel

army, entirely out of the question until we

have more favorable weather. I am glad to

learn that you are pressing forward rein-

forcements so vigorously. I shall be in

perfect readiness to move forward and take

Richmond the moment McCall reaches here


13

and the ground will admit the passage of

artillery. I have advanced my pickets about a

mile to-day, driving off the rebel pickets and

securing a very advantageous position. The

rebels have several batteries established,

commanding the debouches from two of our

bridges, and fire upon our working parties

continually; but as yet they have killed but

few of our men."

Again, June 10th, he says: "I am completely

checked by the weather. The roads and

fields are literally impassable for artillery—

almost so for infantry. The Chickahominy is

in a dreadful state. We have another rain

storm on our hands. I wish to be distinctly

understood that whenever the weather

permits I will attack with whatever force I

may have, although a larger force would

enable me to gain much more decisive

results. I would be glad to have McCall's

infantry sent forward by water at once,

without waiting for his artillery and

cavalry."

The next day the Secretary of War replied:

"Your despatch of 3.30 p. m. yesterday has

been received. I am fully impressed with the

difficulties mentioned, and which no art or

skill can avoid, but only endure. Be assured,

General, that there never has been a moment

when my desire has been otherwise than to

aid you with my whole heart, mind and

strength, since the hour we first met; and

whatever others may say for their own

purposes, you never have had, and never can

have, any one more truly your friend, or

more anxious to support you, or more joyful

than I shall be at the success which I have no

doubt will soon be achieved by your arms."

The above despatch has the appearance of

the genuine article—but I am inclined to

think it a clever counterfeit. While

McClellan's requests were cheerfully

complied with, as far as promises were

concerned, little was done to strengthen his

weakened forces in view of the coming

struggle with an overwhelming force in

front, and the flooded Chickahominy in the

rear. By unreliable promises he was filled

with delusive hopes, and lead on to more

certain destruction—to disaster and failure,

at least.

(This story will continue next month with

Chapter Fifteen.)

POWER OF MOTHERS.—On one

occasion, out of one hundred and twenty

candidates for the ministry, gathered

together under one roof, more than one

hundred had been borne by a mother's

prayers, and directed by a mother's counsels

to the Saviour. The pious watchfulness and

earnest prayers of parents may seem for a

time to be fruitless; but, in the education of

children, experience usually verifies that

"whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also

reap." The holy impressions made in

childhood are seldom erased in manhood.

(Courtesy of Illustrated Family Christian

Almanac)


14

VICE

He who yields himself to vice must inevita-

bly suffer. If the human law does not convict

and punish him, the moral law, which will

have obedience, will follow him to his

doom. Every crime is committed for a

purpose, with some idea of future personal

pleasure; and just so sure as God governs the

universe, so surely does a crime, although

concealed, destroy the happiness for the

future. No matter how deeply laid have been

the plans of the criminal, or how desperately

executed, detection pursues him like a

bloodhound, and tracks him to his fate.

( Courtesy of Ballou’s Monthly Magazine)

Pithy and Pointed.

....Difficulties develop mental capacity.

....Never employ yourself to discover the

faults of others - look to your own.

....Associate with the wise, and their

wisdom will cling to thee.

....A great many drop a tear at the door of

poverty, when they should rather drop a

sixpence.

....The higher you rise, the wider is your

horizon; so the more you know, the more

you: will see to be known.

....Mourn not that you are weak and

humble. The gentle breeze is better than

the hurricane, the cheerful fire of the

hearthstone than the conflagration.

....We should so live and labor that what

came to us as seed, may go to the next

generation as blossoms, and what came to

us as blossoms may go to them as fruit.

....He is happy whose circumstances suit

his temper; but he is more excellent who

can suit his temper to any circumstances.

....We double all the cares of life by

pondering over them. We increase our

troubles by grieving over them.

.... Good habits are maintained and bad

ones avoided only by constant effort.

....Never turn a blessing round to see if it

has a dark side to it.

.... Good manners should begin at home.

Politeness is not an article to be worn in

full dress only, to be put on when we pay

or receive a complimentary visit.

....The religion of many is only dis-

coverable from their lips.

..If you would become a conqueror begin

with victories over yourself.

....The vanity of human life is like a river,

constantly passing away, and yet

constantly coming on.

....The smallest children are nearest God as

the smallest stars are nearest the sun.

....He who sets up a carriage at the

suggestion of his vanity, generally sets it

down at the suggestion of his creditors.

(Courtesy of Student and Schoolmate)

A GREAT ATTAINMENT.

How difficult it is to be of a meek and for-

giving spirit when despitefully used! To love

an enemy, and forgive an evil speaker, is a

higher attainment than is commonly

believed. It is easy to talk of Christian


15

forbearance among neighbors, but to

practise it ourselves, proves us to be

Christians indeed. The surmises of a few

credulous persons need not trouble that man

who knows his cause is soon to be tried in

court, and he to be openly acquitted. So the

evil language of the times need not disturb

me, since "my judgment shall be brought

forth as the noonday."—MTheyae.

COUSIN LUCY'S

CONVERSATIONS.

By Jacob Abbott

(Published 1850 by Derby and Miller)

CONVERSATION VII.

JOANNA.

The next morning, when Lucy waked up,

she found that it was very light. The curtains

of the room were up, and she could see the

sun shining brightly upon the trees and

buildings out of doors, so that she supposed

that it was pretty late. Besides, she saw that

Miss Anne was not in the room; and she

supposed that she had got up and gone out to

breakfast.

Lucy thought that she would get up too. But

then she recollected that she had been sick

the night before, and that, perhaps, her

mother would not be willing to have her get

up.

Her next idea was, that she would call out

for Miss Anna, or for her mother; but this,

on reflection, she thought would make a

great disturbance; for it was some distance

from the room which she was in to the

parlor, where she supposed they were taking

breakfast.

She concluded, on the whole, to wait

patiently until somebody should come; and

having nothing else to do, she began to sing

a little song, which Miss Anne had taught

her. She knew only one verse, but she sang

this verse two or three times over, louder

and louder each time, and her voice

resounded merrily through all that part of

the house.

Some children cry when they wake up and

find themselves alone; some call out aloud

for somebody to come; and others sing.

Thus there are three ways; and the singing is

the best of all the three; — except, indeed,

for very little children, who are not old

enough to sing or to call, and who, therefore,

cannot do anything but cry.

They heard Lucy's singing in the parlor, and

Miss Anne came immediately to see her.

She gave her a picture-book to amuse

herself with for a time, and went away

again; but in about a quarter of an hour she

came back, and helped her to get up and

dress herself.

Her mother told her that she must not go out

of doors that day, but that she might play

about in any of the rooms, just as she

pleased.

"But what shall I do for my breakfast?" said

Lucy.

"0, I will give you some breakfast," said

Miss Anne. "How should you like to have it

by yourself, upon your little table, in the

kitchen?"


16

"Well," said Lucy, "if you will let me have

my own cups and sauces."

"Your cups won't hold enough for you to

drink, – will they?"

"0, I can fill them up two or three times."

Miss Anne said she had no objection to this

plan; and she told Lucy to go and get her

table ready. So Lucy went and got her little

table. It was just high enough for her to sit

at. Her father had made it for her, by taking

a small table in the house, which had been

intended for a sort of a light-stand, and

sawing off the legs, so as to make it just

high enough for her.

Lucy brought this little table, and also her

chair; and then Miss Anne handed her a

napkin for a table-cloth, and told her that she

might set her table, — and that, when it was

all set, she would bring her something for

breakfast; and so she left Lucy, for a time, to

herself.

Lucy spread the napkin upon her table, and

then went and got some of her cups and sau-

cers, and put upon it. Joanna was ironing at

the great kitchen table, and Lucy went to ask

her how many cups and saucers she had bet-

ter set.

I should think it would take the whole set,"

said Joanna, "to hold one good cup of tea."

"But I am going to fill up my cup three

times, Joanna; and if that isn't enough, I

shall fill it up four times."

"0, then," said Joanna, "I would not have but

one cup, — or at most two. I think I would

have two, because you may possibly have

some company."

"I wish you would come and be my

company, Joanna."

"No, I must attend to my ironing."

"Well," said Lucy, as she went back to her

table, "I will have two cups, at any rate, for

may have some company."

She accordingly put on two cups and a tea-

pot; also a sugar-bowl and creamer. She

placed them in various ways upon the table;

first trying one plan of arrangement, and

then another; and when at last they were

placed in the best way, she went and called

Miss Anne, to tell her that she was ready for

her breakfast.

Miss Anne came out, according to her

promise, to give her what she was to have to

eat. First, she put a little sugar in her sugar-

bowl; then some milk in her cream-pitcher;

then some water, pretty hot, in her tea-pot.

"Could not you let me have a little real tea?"

said Lucy.

"0, this will taste just as well," said Miss

Anne.

"I know it will taste just as well; but it will

not look just right. Real tea is not white, like

Water."

"Water is not white," said Miss Anne; "milk

is white; water is very difference in

appearance from milk."

"What color is water, then?" said Lucy.

"It is not of any color," said Miss Anne. "It

is what we call colorless. Now, you want to

have something in your tea-pot which is

colored a little, like tea, — not perfectly

Colorless, like water."

Lucy said yes, that that was exactly what she

wanted. So Miss Anne took her tea-pet up,

and went into the closet with it, and

presently came out with it again, and put it

upon the table. The reason why she took all


17

this pains to please Lucy was, because she

was so gentle and pleasant; and, although

she often asked for things, she was not

vexed or ill-humored when they could not

be given to her.

Miss Anne then cut some thin slices of

bread, and divided them into square pieces,

so small that they could go on a small plate,

which she brought from the closet. She also

gave her a toasting-fork with a long handle,

and told her that she might toast her own

bread, and then spread it with butter. She

gave her a little butter upon another plate.

When all these things were arranged, Miss

Anne went away, telling Lucy that she had

better make her breakfast last as long as she

could, for she must remember that she could

not go out at all that day; and that she must

therefore economize her amusements

"Economize? What do you mean by that,

Miss Anne? "said Lucy.

"Why, use them, carefully, and make them

last as long as you can."

Lucy followed Miss Anne's advice in

making the amusement of sitting at her own

breakfast table last as long as possible. She

toasted her little slices of bread with the

toasting-fork, and poured out the tea from

her tea-pot. She found that it had a slight

tinge of the color of tea, which Miss Anne

had given it by sweetening it a little, with

brown sugar. Lucy enjoyed her breakfast

very much.

While she was eating it, Joanna, who was

much pleased with her for being so still, and

so careful not to make her any trouble, asked

her if she should not like a roasted apple.

"Yes," said Lucy, "very much indeed."

"I will give you one," said Joanna, ",and

show you how to roast it, if you will go and

ask your mother, if she thinks it, will not

hurt you."

Lucy accordingly went and asked her

mother. She said it would not hurt her at all,

and that she should be very glad to have

Joanna get her an apple.

Joanna accordingly brought a large, rosy

apple, with a stout, stem. She tied a long

string to the stem, and then held the apple up

before the fire a minute, by means of the

stem. Then she got a flat-iron, and tied the

other end of the string to the flat-iron. The

flat-iron she then placed upon the mantle

shelf, and the string was just long enough to

let the apple hang down exactly before the

fire.

When it was all arranged in this way, she

took up the apple, and twisted the string for

some time; and then, when , she let the apple

down again gently to its place, the weight of

it began to untwist the string, and this made

the apple itself turn round quite swiftly

before the fire.

Joanna also put a plate under the apple, to

catch any of the juice or pulp which might

fall down, and then left Lucy to watch it

while it was roasting.

Lucy watched its revolutions for some time

in silence. She observed that the apple

would whirl very swiftly for a time, and then

it walk' go slower', and slower, and slower,

until, at length, she said, " Jeanne, Joanna, it

is going to stop."

But, instead of this, it happened that, just in

the very instant when Lucy thought it was

going to stop, all at once it began to tun! the


18

other way; and, instead of going slower and

!bower, it went faster and faster, until, at

length, it was revolving as fast as it did

before: '

'0 not said she to Joanna; it has got a go-

again."

It was indeed revolving very swiftly; but

pretty soon it begat to slacken its speed

again; — and again Lucy thought that it was

certainly going to stop. But at this time she

witnessed the same phenomenon as before.

It had nearly lest all its motion, and was

turning around very slowly indeed, and just

upon the point of stopping; and in fact it did

'seem to stop for an instant; but immediately

it began to move in an opposite direction,

very slowly at first, but afterwards faster and

faster, until it was, at length, spinning

around before the hot coals, as fast as ever

before. Pretty soon, also, the apple began to

sing; and Lucy concluded that it would

never stop, — at least not before it would

have time to be well roasted.

"It goes like Royal's top," said Lucy.

"Has Royal got a top?" said Joanna.

"Yes," said Lucy, "a large humming-top.

There is a hole, in it. It spins very fast, only

it does not go first one way and then the

other, like this apple."

"I never saw a top," said Joanna.

"Never saw one!" exclaimed Lucy. "Did not

the boys have tops when you were little?"

"No boys that I ever knew," answered

Joanna. "Did you have a tea-set when you

were a little girl?" asked Lucy.

"No," said Joanna, "I never saw any such a

tea-set, until I saw yours."

"What kind of playthings did you have, then,

when you were a little girl?"

"No playthings at all," said Joanna; "I was a

farmer's daughter."

"And don't the farmers' daughters ever have

any playthings?"

"I never did, at any rate."

"What did you do, then, for play?"

"0, I had plenty of play. When I was about

as big as you, I used to build fires in the

stumps."

"What stumps?" said Lucy.

"Why, the stumps in the field, pretty near

my father's house. I used to pick up chips

and sticks, and build fires in the hollow

places in the stumps, and call them my

ovens. Then, when they were all heated, I

used to put a potato in and cover it up with

sand, and let it roast."

"I wish I had some stumps to build fires in,"

said Lucy. "I should like to go to your house

and see them."

"0, they are all gone now," said Joanna.

"They have gradually got burnt up, and

rotted out; and now it is all a smooth, green

field."

"0, what a pity!" said Lucy. "And an't there

any more stumps anywhere?"

"Yes, in the woods, and upon the new fields.

You see, when they cut down trees, they

leave the stumps in the ground; and pretty

soon they begin to rot; and they rot more

and more, until, at last, they tumble all to

pieces; and then they pile up the pieces in

heaps, and burn them. Then the ground is all

smooth and clear. So I used to build fires in

the stumps as long as they lasted. One day

my hen laid her eggs in a stump."


19

"Your hen?" said Lucy; "did you have a

hen?" Yes," replied Joanna; "when I was a

little older than you are, my father gave me a

little yellow chicken, that was peeping, with

the rest, about the yard. I used to feed her,

every day, with crumbs. After a time, she

grew up to be a large hen, and laid eggs. My

father said that I might have all the eggs too.

I used to sell them, and save the money."

"How much money did you get?" asked

Lucy.

"0, considerable. After a time, you see, I let

my hen sit, and hatch some chickens."

"Sit?" said Lucy.

"Yes; you see, after hens have laid a good

many eggs, they sit upon them, to keep them

warm, for two or three weeks; and, while

they keep them warm, a little chicken begins

to grow in every egg, and at length, after

they grow strong enough, they break

through the eggs and come out. So I got

eleven chickens from my hen, after a time."

"Eleven?" repeated Lucy; "were there just

eleven?"

"There were twelve, but one died," replied

Joanna. "And all these chickens were

hatched in a stump."

"How did that happen?" asked Lucy.

"Why, the hens generally used to lay their

eggs in the barn, and I used to go in, every

day, to get the eggs. I carried a little basket,

and I used to climb about upon the hay, and

feel in the cribs; and I generally knew where

all the nests were. But once I could not find

my hen's nest for several days; and at last I

thought I would watch her, and see where

she went. I did watch her, and I saw her go

into a hollow place in a great black stump, in

the corner of the yard. After she came out, I

went and looked there, and I found four

eggs."

"What did you do then?" said Lucy.

"Why, I concluded, on the whole, to let them

stay, and let my hen hatch her eggs there, if

she would. And I told my brother, that, if he

would make a coop for me, around that

stump, I would give him one of the

chickens."

"A coop? What is a coop?"

"0, a small house for hens to live in. My

brother made me a coop. He made it

immediately after the hen had hatched her

chickens. I will tell you how he made it. He

drove stakes down all around the stump, and

then put some short boards over the top, so

as to cover it over. My hen staid there until

her chickens got pretty well grown, and then

we let her run about the yard."

"That is pretty much the way that Royal

made his turtle-pen," said Lucy; "but I

should rather have a hen-coop, because of

the chickens."

"Yes, I had eleven. I gave my brother one,

and then I had ten. These all grew up, and

laid more eggs; and at last I got money

enough from

my eggs and poultry to buy me a new

gown."

''I wish I was a farmer's daughter," said

Lucy.

"Farmers' daughters have a very good time,"

said Joanna, "I think myself."

(We will continue next month with

Conversation VIII, BUILDING.)


20

Curious and Amusing.

.... 'Don't want you any longer,' said an

employer to a very tall clerk.

....It is to be supposed that a soldier will be

raw till he is exposed to fire.

....At Waterloo, the allied armies of

Wellington and Blucher lost 21,503 men,

killed, wounded, and missing, and about one

thousand officers. The French loss was

never exactly known, or with any approach

to exactness, but it is generally stated at one-

half their whole army, which would make it

about 36,000.

...."Don't cry, little boy. Did he hit you on

purpose?" "No sir, he hit me on the head."

....He who promises rashly, will break his

promise with the same ease as he made it.

....John Randolph was one of the most

sarcastic men that ever lived. One time, a

young man attempted to make his ac-

quaintance. He obtained an introduction, and

among other remarks said, "I passed by your

house, lately, Mr. Randolph." "Did you?

Well, I hope you always will," was the

unmistakable reply.

(Courtesy of Student and Schoolmate)

The following is from a most delightful

book about the economical running of a

household.

HOW TO LIVE:

SAVING AND WASTING,

OR.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY ILLUSTRATED

By Solon Robinson

(Published by Fowler and Wells, 1860)

CHAPTER XI.

ECONOMY IN FOOD—WHAT SHALL

WE EAT?

[Published in The Tribune, Nov 14, 1855.]

Economy in Food—Remedy for Hunger—

Abuses of our Market System—Economy in

Buying—Fashionable Beef —Nutrition in

Food—What shall we Buy?—Cheap Food

—Incontrovertible Facts—How to Cook

Hominy—Hominy Recipes—A Corn Meal

Loaf—What shall we Eat? Etc.

WITH the present prices of rent, fuel, meat

bread, flour, meal, sugar, potatoes, and other

staple articles of supply for a family in New

York, it only requires but a slight insight

into the condition of all the laboring class to

see that the cry frequently raised for an

increase of wages is only the disguised cry

of the hungry for food. Daily wages are

daily consumed; and often the only means of

support for a week is the weekly credit of

the butcher, baker; and grocer. This is never

given except at an increased profit, and a

little too often at a profit obtained by palpa-

ble swindling in light weights and measures,

of which the victims dare not complain, for

fear of losing the "accommodation," as the

credit is called. While work lasts the laborer

can live; when it fails, he has nothing in


21

store to fall back upon, Whoever, then, will

make known to this class how to economize

in their food, so as to increase the supply

without an increase of expenditure, will he

doing them a greater benefit than he would

in a life-long harangue on politics, either

Hard Shell, Soft Shell, or no shell.

We need not repeat here how hard it is for

those dependent upon daily employment to

furnish their families with suitable food; at a

time when, from sickness or other cause,

they are not in receipt of wages.

Too often, at such times, there is deep suf-

fering; and sometimes actual starvation.

Will it be any better next winter, now so

rapidly approaching, that it sends a shudder

through many a family circle who remember

what scenes they have passed through in

January, February, and March?

There has been, there is now, there will be

much suffering for food in this city, notwith-

standing our receipts of tens of thousands,

weekly, of butchers' animals, and our mil-

lions of bushels of corn, and wheat, and rye,

and oats, and barley, and buckwheat, and

beans, and peas, and rice, for breadstuffs,

and daily ship-loads of potatoes of both

kinds, and untold piles of other edible roots

and vegetables, and great storehouses full of

flour, butter, cheese, fish, fruit, eggs,

poultry, and salted meats, and a thousand

unnamed articles of food; yet the mass are

not full fed, and why? Because they do not

know how to eat. Not that they lack the

animal function of consuming; but in

providing, both in the purchase of kind and

quality, and in the preparation, there is a

lamentable want of judgment, and utter want

of economy. The want of food among the

poor is a great evil. It breeds discontent,

dissipation, crime, and ruin to any civilized

society.

There is a remedy.

It would be greater charity to teach that

remedy than to establish soup-houses.

The first step would be to change our

fashion of food; to abandon such articles as

are excessively dear in the raw state, for

others equally good and more nutritious, and

to adopt a different and more rational plan of

cooking. This would not only promote

economy, but health; both of which would

add vastly to our stock of enjoyment.

Without exception, both rich and poor in

America eat extravagantly of animal food,

cooked in the most extravagant and wasteful

manner; by frying, baking, roasting, or

boiling, and throwing away half of the

nutritious matter in burned gravy, or gelatine

dissolved in the pot liquor.

Again, we consume vast quantities of the

meanest and most innutritions vegetables,

costly at first, and cooked in the most fool-

ishly wasteful manner. The fashion of ex-

travagance in living is set by the rich, and

they are aped in their folly by the poor. The

consequence is, that there are want and

suffering whenever work and wages fail.

There is a remedy. The only question is,

how it shall be applied? Better than charity

would be organizations, not to provide food

for the poor, but to teach them what to buy,

and how to use it; how to economize their

money.

The very first step toward this blessed state

of things should be taken by our city


22

government, if indeed we have such a thing

left to us, by removing all restrictions upon

the producer, by which he is kept away from

the consumer. We pay now an average of

thirty-three per cent. advance upon every

thing that is eaten in New York, over and

above what we should pay if these restric-

tions were removed.

Let every one who has bought a head of

cabbage this fall, think what he paid. Six,

ten, or twelve cents each, while the producer

has not received an average of two cents

each. The turnip-eaters are paying every day

at the rate of one to two dollars a bushel.

The producer is receiving an average of less

than twenty cents. We pay for many things

in the same proportion, owing to our absurd

and wicked market regulations.

The producer is kept away from the

consumer. He is not permitted to come into

the city and enjoy the advantages of "free

trade" in his own produce. Why? The city

fathers say we have no room—nowhere for

him to stand his wagon, where the poor man

or the poor woman may come with her

market basket upon her arm, and get it filled

at first prices.

Under the present market regulations, all the

country wagons are huddled into the

cramped space around Washington Market,

where none but stout men, or a class of mar-

ket bullies can get to them; for, in addition

to the crowding, the wagons are driven out

at seven o'clock in the morning. The city

fathers say they can not amend this error,

because they have nowhere else to put the

wagons. Give producers a chance to sell to

consumers, and it will cheapen family mar-

keting in this city to a very large class of

consumers, full twenty-five per cent. Make a

market-place for country wagons, and there

let them stand and sell their stuff from sun-

rise till ten o'clock, at retail, with no privi-

lege, until after that hour, of selling at

wholesale, or leaving the stand, unless their

load is all sold out.

This is a measure of relief to the poor, easily

brought about; one that would produce real

economy in food.

Our city makes paupers, first by thwarting

the laborer in his facilities to get cheap food,

and then by the soup-house system of

feeding those who are unable, through mis-

fortune, to obtain a supply.

But this is foreign to our main subject—

economy in kind and quality of food for the

industrious poor.

They do not study economy in their pur-

chases. All kinds of fresh meat cost from ten

to twenty cents a pound, and very few

Americans are willing to take low price

meats; and generally those who can least

afford it, call for a rib roast, or a loin steak

of beef, or a leg of lamb or mutton, or a loin

of veal or pork; and rarely for the most eco-

nomical pieces. A rib roast of six pounds for

a dollar, in a poor man's family, is slightly

extravagant; the cooking more so. The Jews'

religion in eating meat is founded on true

economy. They eat only the fore quarters,

and sell the more expensive, and less

valuable hind quarters, to the Gentiles. The

fore quarter will not cut steaks and roasts

equal to the hind quarter, but it is more

economical for soups, stews, pot-pies, or

cooking in any form with vegetables and


23

gravy. The following exhibit will show

those who will have nothing but choice cuts

of beef why they have to pay so high for

them—it is because nobody will buy any

thing but choice cuts. It is the universal

complaint of all the first-class butchers that

they can not sell their coarse meat, and

"plates and navels" are a drug upon the

packer's hands at six cents a pound. Now a

good bullock, whose quarters will weigh

800 pounds, will cut up and sell at about the

following figures:

. Weight Price per

lb.

Amoun

t. Ribs 130 13c. 816 90 Hips and loins 130 13 16 90

Chucks 140 6 8 40

Buttocks, rump, and socket

130 9 11 70

Plates and navel 90 6 5 40

Shoulders, clods, and trisket

100 6 6 00

Tops of sirloin and fat 40 9 3 60

Legs and shins. 46 3 1 06

Total 800 869 96

Weight. Price per lb. Amount. Hide ................................. 85 5 $4 25

Fat .................................... 90 8 7 20

tongue, 50c. ; feet, 25c. .................................... 75

the bullock, at 10c. per lb., costs $80—sells for... $83 15

Now it is a fact that a great portion of

the above, rated at six, eight, and nine

cents, is equally good, and would be

more economical, at the same price per

pound, than that rated at thirteen cents;

but fashion dictates, and folly buys ribs

and loins, and for this the butcher must-

charge high, because he can not get any

body to buy the other parts at cost. And

so fashion and folly keep up the price of

beef. The man or woman with scanty

means, to fill the market basket, not

only buys dear meats, but crude,

innutritious vegetables, such as

cabbage, turnips, and potatoes; for,

notwithstanding so many persons think

potatoes a necessary article of food,

they are not an economical one; and all

the cruder substances of vegetable food,

though necessary and healthful, should

not be sought after because cheap, to

save money.

The most economical mode of

preparing food is a due mixture of

meat and vegetable substance in the

form of soups; but no man should live

upon soup alone, any more than he

should upon meat or fine flour bread.

Health, as well as appetite, requires

variety. It happens, now that

breadstuffs, notwithstanding the high

price of bread and flour, are the

cheapest of all human food; and it also

happens that by our slavery of fashion

we do not use the cheapest kinds of

this kind of cheap food.

The following are the retail prices of

some of the principal articles of food

in New York, Oct., 1855:

Flour, per bbl ............ $12 00 Sago ......................... Farina ....................... Bread ........................

per lb., 61/4c.

" " 8 to 9c. " " 12 to 15c. Corn meal, per cwt ... 2 75 to

$3 00 " " 31/2c.

Buckwheat meal, per cwt.

3 00 to $3

50 " " 31/2 to 4c. Barley meal, per cwt 3 00 " " 31/2 to 4c. Oatmeal, per cwt ...... 4 00 to

$4 50 " " 5 to 6 l/2

c. Rye flour, per bbl. ... 7 00 " " "

4 to 4 ½ c. Hominy, per cwt ...... 4 00 " " 5c. Cracked wheat, per cwt ...........................

5 50 " " 6c. Split peas, per bushel .................................

2 25 " " 4 1/2

Whole peas, per bushel ........................

2 50 " "

"

""

"

5c. White beans, per bushel .......................

2 00 " " 41/2 to 5c. Dried sweet corn, per bus.

4 50 " " 10 to 121/2 Rice, per cwt. .......... 6 00 " " 6 to 7c.

Potatoes, per bbl., $1 50 to $1 75; per

bushel, 76 cents; per lb.,


24

Macaroni and vermicelli, 11 to 12 cents per

lb.

Sugar, 8 to 11 cents per lb.

Butter, per lb , averages 28 cents. Cheese, 12

to 14 cents.

Apples, per bbl., $2 to $3 60; per bushel, $1

average.

All kinds of meat, salt and fresh, and all sorts

of fish, will average 12 1/2 cents a pound to the

buyer of small quantities.

Eggs are worth 25 cents per dozen, which is

about 18 cents per lb. A dozen eggs, average

size, will weigh one pound six ounces.

Turnips, per bushel, 25 cents; carrots, 50

cents; beets, 50 cents; onions, 75 cents;

cabbage, about 2 cents a pound.

Dried fruits, per lb.—Apples, 7 to 8 cents ;

pears, 15 to 20 cents; plums, 8 to 14 cents;

cherries, 15 to 20 cents; peaches, 16 to 18

cents; raisins, 8 to 121/2 cents.

The following is the proportion of nutritious matter and water in each of the following substances:

Lbs.

Substances

.

Lbs. nut. mat. Lbs.

water. 100 Wheat

flour

90 10

100 Corn meal

91 9

100 Rice 86 14

100 Barley

meal

88 12

100 Rye flour

79 21

100 Oatmeal

75 25

100 Potatoes

221/2 771/2

100 White

beans

95 5

100 Carrots 10 90

100 Turnips.

41/2 951/2

100 Cabbage 71/2 921/2

100 Beets 15 85

100 Strawberries

S

Strawberri

es

10 90

100 Pears 16 84

100 Apples. 16 84

100 Cherries 25 75

100 Plums 29 71

100 Apricots 26 74

100 Peaches. 20 80

100 Grapes 27 78

100Melons 3 97

100 Cucumbers ..................... 21/2 .......... 971/2

Meats, generally, are about three fourths

water, and milk, as it comes from the

cow, over ninety per cent. How is it as it

comes from the milkmen?

It is true that this chemical analysis does

not give us the exact comparative value

of food, but with that, and the prices of

the various articles, it can not be a hard

matter to determine what is the cheapest

or most economical kind of food for us

to use.

Perhaps of all the articles named,

taking into account the price and

nutritious qualities, oatmeal will give

the greatest amount of nutriment for

the least money. But where will you

find it in use? Not one family in a

thousand ever saw the article; not one

in a hundred ever heard of it, and many

who have heard of it have a vague

impression that none but starving

Scotch or Irish ever used it; and, in

short, that oats, in America, are only fit

food for pigs and horses.

It is a great mistake. Oatmeal is excel-

lent in porridge, and all sorts of

cooking of that sort, and oatmeal cakes

are sweet, nutritious, and an antidote

for dyspepsia. Just now, we believe

oats are the cheapest of any grain in

market, and it is a settled fact that oats


25

give the greatest amount of power of

any grain consumed by man or beast.

This cheap food only needs to be

fashionable, to be extremely popular

among all laborers, all of whom, to say

nothing of other classes, eat too much

fine flour bread.

Cracked wheat and loaf bread cost the

same price, or perhaps a less price for

the wheat by the pound. A pound of the

wheat, properly cooked, is worth more

than four pounds of bread.

Hominy, samp, hulled corn, we have so

often recommended and urged upon the

attention of all, both rich and poor, as

cheap, wholesome, nutritious food, that

we have induced many to try it, who

would not give it up now under any

consideration. We reiterate all that we

have ever said in its favor. Thirty

years' experience in its use only serves

to confirm us in the opinion that it is

such excellent and economical food,

that too much can not be said in its

favor. The only thing necessary in its

cooking, is to cook it enough —it can

not be cooked too much.

Every family should eat beans and

peas, because of all articles they afford

the most nutriment for the least money.

One pound of cheap meat, say at ten:

cents, and one pound of split peas, say

five cents, will give a fuller dinner to a

family than a dollar expended for

beefsteak and white bread. This is a

kind of economy that should be known,

and rigidly practiced.

One bushel of white beans will feed

more laboring men than eight bushels

of potatoes. The beans will cost two

dollars, potatoes six.

A single quart of beans costs nine

cents; a half pound of salt pork, six

cents; a pound of hominy, five cents;

and that will give a meal to a larger

family than a dollar's worth of roast

beef, white bread, potatoes, and other

vegetables.

We would not confine the laborer or

the poorest family to this cheap food;

but we do insist that it is their duty to

substitute such food, occasionally, in

place of that which is more expensive,

and thus, by saving, lay up a few

dollars in the savings bank to save

themselves from the mere life-saving

contrivance, the soup-house.

We hope never to see another of these

pauper-making establishments in

operation again in this city. Let men

think twice before they open another

one.

But let every one think of the economy

of making a soup-house at home. We

spoke of pea-soup. Is there any living

witness of that good old Yankee dish

of cheap food, called bean porridge?

Let it be revived in every family—

among the rich as a luxury, and among

the poor as an article of economy.

There is another Yankee dish besides

bean soup and baked beans that we

should like to see revived, and that is

the baked Indian-meal pudding; and

this brings us to Indian bread, a


26

mixture of two thirds corn meal and

one third rye meal, not rye flour, which

makes most delicious bread at less than

one half the cost of wheat flour.

We could go on a long time pointing

out the errors of living, in which

economy is lost sight of, if we thought

the wished-for effect would be

produced. We urge all to think of what

we have said, and that one of the best

things that can be done for the poor is

to teach them practical economy in

everyday life.

No charitable societies have ever done

so much good to the poor by the

distribution of food as they could do by

printing and putting into the hands of

every family a little tract containing

practical lessons of economy in the art

of living well and living cheap—an art

that would prevent the waste of food,

and lessen the expense of first

purchases, and increase the nutritious

qualities, while it added immensely to

the table enjoyment of every family.

In a great majority of cases it may be

set down as an incontrovertible fact

that want comes of waste, and waste

comes of want of knowledge of the

properties of different articles of food,

and how to combine them so as to

produce the most beneficial effect.

It may be set down as another

incontrovertible fact, that no class of

people can want food and remain

virtuous. Their degeneracy, both

physically and morally, is certain. It is

our religious duty, then, to study and

teach economy in food, and the art of

living better and cheaper; more in ac-

cordance with the principles that

promote health, vigor, intellectual

capacity, comfort, happiness, and

morality of the human family.

How much good would come of it if we

should practice upon the text that

forms the title of this article! Let those

who read and think first set the

example; the unthinking will follow,

and their children will rise up and call

them blessed.

(Next month we will continue Chapter

Eleven which is about ECONOMY IN

FOOD—WHAT SHALL WE EAT?,

originally printed in the Tribune in 1855.)


27

A DAUGHTER’S LOVE

"I can never do enough for my mother," said

a beautiful girl, whose chief duty and delight

seemed to be to watch at the bedside of her

declining parent. Not only did her needle

supply the delicacies needed in a sick-room,

but her hand smoothed the pillow and

afforded all those little attentions by night

and by day which alleviate the restlessness

of pain. She never needed to be told or asked

to do ; her quick eye comprehended every

unspoken want, and her sympathizing love

smiled consolation and strength to the poor

sufferer.

"You are tasking yourself too much," said

she.

"No, dearest mother, I can never return to

you what you have done for me in my

helpless infancy and childhood—nights of

watching, days of anxiety, months and years

of care."

"But it was a pleasure to me, my daughter."

"Yes, mother, and no less do I prize the

opportunity to repay it, poorly as I am able;"

and kissing her mother's cheek, their tears of

tender love flowed out and kissed each other

also.

From The Christian Family Almanac

The following is from

THE READ ADVISOR AND

FAMILY GUIDE

By Isaac Shinn

(Published by Church and Goodman, 1866)

VERMIN

Destruction to House Bugs.—The French

Academy of Science is assured, by Baron

Thenard, that boiling soap and water,

consisting of 2 parts of common soap, and

100 parts of water by weight, infallibly

destroys bugs and their eggs. It is enough to

wash walls, wood-work, etc., with the

boiling solution, to be entirely relieved from

this horrid pest.

Camphor a Remedy for Mice.—Any one

desirous of keeping seeds from the

depradations of mice, can do so by mixing

pieces of camphor gum in with the seeds,

Camphor placed in drawers or trunks will

prevent mice from doing them injury. This

little animal objects to the odor, and keeps a

good distance from it.

A writer in the "Scientific American" says:

"A good plan to destroy roaches, without the

danger of using poison, is, to fill a basin or a

similar vessel about two-thirds full of water

sweetened with molasses, and set in a corner

where they most frequent at night, and

where they can get on the vessel; you will

find in the morning as many as the liquid

will drown. I have rid my house of them in

this way, destroying hundreds in a night.

Salt for Bed Bugs.—An exchange says: "By

washing bedsteads with salt water, and

filling the cracks where bed bugs frequent,

with salt, those troublesome vermin can be

speedily and cheaply got rid of. The salt is

said to be inimical to them and they will not

trail through it. It is certainly worth a trial."

To Destroy Red Ants.—Place a dish of

cracked shagbarks (of which they are more

fond than of anything else); they will gather


28

upon it iii troops; put some corrosive

sublimate in a cup; take the dish containing

the shagbarks and ants and throw them into

the fire, and with a feather, sweep those that

may be left, into the cup, and wet all the

cracks from whence they came with the

corrosive sublimate. When this has been

repeated four or five times the house will be

effectually cleared.

To get rid of Bed and other Bugs.—Gather a

handful of smartweed, boil in a pint of

water, and when cold rub the liquid where

they frequent, and they will soon disappear.

To preserve Houses from Vermin:—Put half

a drachm of corrosive sublimate, with a

quarter of an ounce of spirits of salts, into

one quart of spirits of turpentine. Shake

well; with this wash the places where bugs

resort —a sure exterminator. It is an active

poison.

Cedar Chests are best to keep flannels, for

cloth moths are never found in them. Red

cedar chips and gum camphor are good to

keep in drawers, wardrobes, closets, trunks,

etc., to keep out moths.

In laying up furs for summer, lay a tallow

candle in or near them, and danger from

worms will be obviated.

To Remove Flies from .Rooms.—Take half a

teaspoonful of black pepper in powder, one

teaspoonful of brown sugar, and one

tablespoonful of cream—mix them well

together, and place them in the room, on a

plate, where the flies are troublesome. They

will soon disappear.

THE RATS AND THE DOGS— A

gentleman was in the habit of placing the

food for his dogs in a long trough, as they

were fed in the kennels. One day, after

feeding them, he looked into a kennel

through a hole in the door, and was

somewhat astonished to see a number of rats

in the trough quietly and fearlessly partaking

of the bread and milk with the dogs, who

seemed to pay no attention to them! The rats

were at once doomed to destruction; so the

next day the trough was placed in such a

position that a gun pointed through the hole

would rake it from one end to the other. At

the usual hour the food was placed, the dogs

being kept out. The rats, however, would not

take the bait; the heads of several sagacious

old ones were seen peering out from their

holes, as if they "smelled a rat;" they had

their suspicions, and would not leave their

retreats. Having waited for half an hour, the

dogs were let in, and in a few minutes dogs

and rats were feeding peaceably together.

The little creatures seemed to be aware that

they were safe only when the dogs were

present.

THE CHILDREN’S CORNER

The following is courtesy of

Student and Schoolmate


29

Magazine, 1863

BEING A BOY.

(Concluded.)

BY GAIL HAMILTON.

ATOSSING, tumbling, chattering, saucy,

helter-skelter, head-foremost little brook—

never still, never tired — though Harry's

little feet began to feel as if they would be

tired one of these days, but her Spartan soul

gave no sign. "Why do n't you catch some

fishes here?" she asked with a sidewise view

to resting.

"No fishes to catch," answered Nathan. "Got

to go along to where its stiller. Fish can't

live in

a cataract." And the little feet plodded

patiently on. "Ship ahoy!" roared Nathan,

suddenly to Betty, who was furtively

inserting her fingers into the luncheon-

basket.

"I do n't care, I am as hungry as a bear." And

a big slice of bread and butter began to

appear and disappear at one and the same

moment. "So be I," echoed Harry. "Let 'a

have dinner now."

"Dinner now — before we 've begun. That's

always the way with girls." But notice. Deep

into the basket went Nathan's fist, and quick

down his throat went quite as big a slice of

bread and butter, as Betty's, and they all lay

around on the grass, chatting and resting.

"Let 's not fish. Let's call it a pic-nic,"

suggested Harry, "and have a good time."

"Yes, we shall fish," exclaimed Betty,

severely. "It's just the day for it. A pic-nic is

nothing. Have you got a hook and line for

me, Nat?"

"Yes, but we shan't catch many fish. It is n't

a good day. Too bright. Fish won't come out

when the sun burns 'em."

"Ought to have a cloudy day," said Joshua,

anxious to display his small stock of

piscatorial wisdom.

"There's clouds now," said Retty, blinking

up into the sky.

"A mackerel sky that 's nothing."

"What's a mackeral sky?" queried Harry.

"A sky to catch mackerel under," answered

Nathan.

"A sky that looks like a mackerel's scales,"

said Joshua. "A spotted sky."

"Derived from the Latin macula, a spot,"

continued Nathan. Betty began to look

bewildered.

"I should n't like to catch a whale," broke in

Harry, at right angles, as usual.

"You won't be likely. Do n't be afraid," said

Nathan soothingly. "This brook is n't large

enough. You can't find whales short of

Mills' creek."

"But Simple Simon found 'em in his

mother's pail," persisted Harry, who had

implicit faith in Mother Goose.

"Oh! what a query girls are!" roared Nathan.

"But she's such a little girl," interposed

Retty, agonized for the reputation of her sex.

"Ho, you get out, a boy no bigger 'n a walnut

would know better than that. Come, come

along all of you. Here take your lines. Now

you look out when we get to a place. And do

n't you talk. You keep still. Bimeby the fish

'll come — trout, and roach, and all of 'em."


30

"0 how shall I know? I want to know what I

catch," asked Retty eagerly.

"You 'll know fast enough when you catch

'em, I guess. There 'a roach, they 're shy.

They'll come up and smell, and smell, and

bite the back of the hook. Trout are all red,

and blue, and mottled — there 'll be lots of

them — there's a place where the stream

runs along under the bank, and it 's all black,

and the old fellow likes that. He back-bites

furiously. You look out now. He's a game

fish. And there 's suckers—kind of long, and

narrow, and lazy. Oh! well you catch most

any kind. A polywog's better than nothing."

And so they tramped on, and on, and on —

dropping their lines into the water now and

then, but pulling them out when Nathan

gave the word of command, and rambling

farther down the stream—through thickets

and underbrush, across rich loamy fields —

over moist meadow lands — now ankle

deep in muck and moss — then scrambling

as well as possible among thorns and briars

leaping from green slimy rocks to green

slimy bogs whew! what a-tramp! "You 've

teared your dress a little," panted Harry, in a

breathing-hole. "You 've teared yours about

off, hush up!" responded Retty. Both hats

had fallen off, and hung on their necks, and

with very hot cheeks, and very red faces,

they pressed on. Nathan had caught tetee

suckers, and that was the amount of the

whole party's success. Occasionally Harry

would scream "Oh! I've catched a trout, I

know I have!" But her trouts and her suckers

generally turned into an old branch, or a

mass of dead matted weeds. Then she began

to be so wholly tired, that she forgot her

vassalage, and grew cross, and it was "0, I've

got a rock in my shoe!" and all hands came

to a halt, till the forlorn little shoe was

righted. "0 my line is snapped in a tree," and

Nathan took it for her, giving her in

exchange, the empty luncheon basket.

Finally, in sheer despair, she hit the nail on

the head, by bursting into a violent "crying

spell," and roaring out in a very rage of

fatigue, "0 I want to go home! I 'm so hot,

and it burns me and sticks to me! I want to

go home!"

Now Harry was generally so plastic and

passive, that when she did set up for herself,

every body knew that something must be

done about it. So nobody scolded her, but

the two boys gave up their."traps" to Retty

and made a "lady's chair," to carry Harry a

little way and rest her. But Retty was almost

as tired as her sister, and with their fishing

poles, a basket and a box, she was fast

finding life a burden. More than once she

stumbled over the fishing-rods, and once she

scratched her arm with a hook. Presently

they reached a place where the fence came

quite down to the water's edge, and' indeed

half-way across the brook. The bank was

rocky and uneven. The boys got safely over

with Harry, and Nathan told Retty to stand

stock still till he came back to take the rods.

But Retty had no idea of standing still. She

tilted her rods against the fence, stepped

cautiously along the rock, and to the top of

the fence. The fence was rather crazy. Her

weight staggered it, and the rods slid down

against her. Not knowing what was going to

happen, she gave a spring, forgetting that

she might just as well tumble into the water


31

as jump in. She did indeed land on the rock

she aimed at, but with such force, that she

bounced from it, head foremost into the

brook. Joshua stared, Nathan laughed, and

Harry yelled, "0! she's drownded!" But she

was not "drownded" in the least. Could n't if

she had tried. She scrambled up, thoroughly

wet, and scrambled out thoroughly

disgusted.

"It was all you! You did it! " she screamed

furiously to Nathan.

"How'd I do it, for pity's sake?" cried

Nathan, rolling on the grass, in a most

exasperating fit of laughter.

"Because you — because — because you

made me lug all the things."

"Well, the things did n't get you in, did they?

You just plumped in yourself. 0 you frog!

Come here, and let 's wring you out. Oh!

dear! who but a girl would ever think of

jumping head first into a trout brook?"

But Retty was not to be wrung out. She was

too thoroughly drenched for that, and there

was nothing for it, but to turn about and

march home, which they did — Joshua, to

his credit be it said, sympathizing with Retty

too much to laugh at her, though too

cowardly to stand up for her like a man, and

therefore somewhat silent. Nathan joking

and laughing very provokingly, but

swinging Harry now on his back, now in his

arms, and now coaxing her to trot along by

his side — and Retty either silent or savage.

The worst of it was, that for days afterward

their two faces were the most dreadful little

faces you ever saw — sunburnt, red, sore,

and swollen so that you would hardly know

them.

Continued application of cold cream, after

awhile restored them to their natural shape

and color, but for a long while, Retty's face

had a way of turning marvelously red

whenever Nathan chose— and that was mis-

chievously often — to ask her how she liked

being a boy.

Now I am almost sorry I have told you this

story, because I am afraid you will think I do

n't like to have girls roam about with boys;

but in fact I do. I want girls to go trouting,

and rambling, and frolicking just as much as

boys. Retty made her experiment under

disadvantages, and she tried too much for

the first time, but after all, I do n't know that

it did her a speck of harm. It is better to be

sun-burnt than shadow-paled, and so I

advise you all to tie your hat close upon

your heads, put on your rubber-boots, or

your stout leather ones, and strike straight

into the woods.

The following is from

THE BOOK WITH ONE HUNDRED

PICTURES

(Published 1861, American Sunday School

Union)


32

THE LITTLE VESSEL.

A BIG ship makes a fine show and is strong

enough to buffet the waves and storms of the

ocean, but there is a great deal of important

work done by little vessels that hug the

shore and are never upon the high seas.

Often little vessels help to save big ships,

and the people on them from being drowned.

They are like little useful children; always

busy, and busy about things which they are

old enough and strong enough to do. Let

them be content, and remember that

Larger ships may venture more,

But little boats should keep near shore.

THE LIGHT ON DECK.

JACK FRENCH was as bold and nimble a

sailor as ever had hold of a rope. He loved

the ship and the sea, and was always ready

for duty. But his mouth was never dirtied

with tobacco, nor heated with strong drink,

nor defiled with profane oaths.

How was this? Why he never fell into such

habits when a boy ; and now he tries to do

good to others and to persuade them to be

sober, righteous, and godly. Is not such an

one a light on the deck?

===============================

CHRISTIE;

WHERE THE TREE FELL.

(Published 1864 by Carlton & Porter)

CHAPTER VII.

INDIRECT INFLUENCES.

ALTHOUGH Tom's father was not so

much of a sailor as Captain Lee, still

he was quite a noted fisherman, and

often commanded a small fishing

smack, which he took up to the

mackerel fisheries around St. John.

When he went in a favorable season

of the year he often allowed his older


33

boys, John and Tom, to go with him,

and a very great pleasure it was to

them, the pleasantest thing

throughout the whole year.

Soon after Captain Lee's story about

the sea, the boys saw that their father

was making arrangements for a

voyage, and they were all on the alert

to know who would be selected to go

with him. Sam had some ambitious

hopes that, as John had been at sea

with his uncle, he should be allowed

to take his place on board the vessel,

and John be obliged to remain at

home doing the double work which

devolved on him during the absence

of the others.

Now any honest-hearted boy would

have asked his father to let him go,

but that was not Sam's habit. He tried

to come at his point by a great many

roundabout ways, every one of

which, if he had but known it,

defeated his purpose. He employed

Christie, as he said, to sound the

waters for him: that is, to ask his

father first where he was going; then,

how long he was to be gone; and,

finally, who was going with him. All

this was bad, you can see, for Chris-

tie. He was in Sam's confidence, and

knew the point to be gained. So the

indirect influence was to make him

tricky. It is these indirect influences,

my young readers, to which I wish

specially in this chapter to direct

your attention, for very often they

are of more importance than what is

plainly seen to affect us in the

formation of our characters. Never at

any one time did Sam say a thing

which would lead another to think he

was deceitful and a humbug. The

worst part of the whole was, he

wanted every one to think he was so

good and upright; while all the time

he was, as Nancy said of him,

"serving the devil his own way." The

danger to Christie was that, as he

liked Sam, he would learn these

ways; that is, that Sam's indirect

influence over Christie was toward

falsehood and deceit.

It was, however, in this case very

soon decided that Sam was not to go;

indeed, his father never for a moment

thought of taking him. John and Tom

were worth four of him for real help

when any was needed, and there were

many such times seen on a fishing

voyage.

The bustle of preparation was felt all

over the island. The children's

customary tasks were set aside, and

they were allowed to help in the

lading of the vessel. The smack was

anchored as near the island as possi -

ble, and the raft acted a very im-

portant part in carrying out stores

and in giving trips to expectant

children.

Mr. Cady, though a silent and rather

a stern man, was kind to the little

folks; he never seemed to find them

in his way, and if he did not praise,

he seldom blamed them. Take it


34

altogether, the happiest affair of the

season was the outfit of the Dolphin,

and it was a sad day to all that were

to be left at home when she was

ready, and they knew that in an hour

or two she would spread her sails and

fly away.

She was to be gone only two weeks,

but that seemed like two years if

Tom was to be away, so dependent

had they all become upon him. Mrs.

M'Lain had wisely kept Effie at

home, knowing how noisy she would

be in her grief if she found Tom was

actually going; but no one suspected

that Jamie would take the thing any

more to heart than the others. Indeed,

no one knew how feeble and

dependent the boy felt, and how

much more necessary Tom's kindness

was to him than to Effie. To be sure,

it had been shown in a very different

way. Tom had lifted Effie gently

from the ground and carried her

tenderly in his arms, while he had

caught Jamie by one arm and leg and

swung him on to his back as if he had

been only a bag of meal. But this

rougher treatment was pleasant to his

boy nature. It made play of

dependence, and changed feebleness

into a frolic. He had watched all

these preparations with a throbbing

heart, and tears would come into his

eyes, shutting out the ship, rocking

there like a great cradle on the

waves, and the busy group of

children on the shore. The only thing

he saw, even after he had wiped them

away, was Tom looking so happy and

so proud, and he was going away.

His face at last attracted Captain

Lee's attention. There was always

something in sorrow which he saw

before any one else; and taking Jamie

up, he said in joke to him,

"What is it, my little man? Do you

want to go fishing with Tom?"

The question was just the one thing

too much. Jamie's pent up sorrow

overflowed very quickly and,

wonderful for him, very noisily. He

cried and sobbed and choked as only

nervous and weakly children can, and

the good captain, as he held him, felt

how his little frame was shaken by

his grief.

"Well done, Jamie," he said, put ting

his great arms around him and

soothing him very gently; "you do

love the boys, don't you? It's too bad

to have them go away and leave the

little fellow when he wants to go so

much, isn't it? Boys," he said, calling

out cheerily, "see how you've made

this boy love you; he is breaking his

heart over your going. Don't you

want to take a passenger on board?

I'll pay his fare."

"Let him go, Uncle William," said

John, who had hurried up to them to

see what the matter was when he

heard Jamie's cries. "Tom and I will

take the best care in the world of

him; and if there comes a spell of

cold weather, he can stay down in the


35

cabin as snug as a mouse in a trap.

Come, now, father wont care if we

want him. I'll bet a sixpence he'll say

yes."

"Go and ask him, and ask Tom if he

wants the bother of little folks

aboard?"

"Tom, halloo there," shouted John

without moving, for Jamie's hand

was clinging fast to him, "can't we

stow this young one aboard some-

where? he wants to go real bad. Ask

father. Hurry up, now."

"Yes, I don't care," drawled Tom

back; "let him come; father wont care

a cent."

"Ask him, though. Tell him Uncle

William says he will pay his fare as

passenger."

In a minute Tom returned, and

shouted back, "He says he don't care,

only he will want warm clothes."

All this time the group on shore had

been in a state of most anxious

expectation. Every one had aban-

doned whatever they were doing, and

stood looking toward the smack, as if

the answer that came back was to

decide their fate. Every pair of lips

were ready to ask, "May I go too?

Please do, do take me," when they

heard the consent; and, for a mo-

ment, it was such a bedlam of voices

that John declared he could not hear

himself think. The whole thing had

passed so quickly that Captain Lee

had not time to think into what a

predicament his proposal would

bring him, until he found himself

besieged by all the other petitioners.

"Look here," he said, putting Jamie

down, "let us settle this matter at

once. Not another child is to go but

Jamie, so no more teasing. See the

little fellow. Don't he look as if he

needed something to bring some

color to those cheeks and flesh to

those bones? Why you all look as

ruddy as roses by the side of him.

Now stop and think a moment all of

you, and then answer me. Suppose,

by keeping Jamie at home, any one

of you could take his place, is there

one of you who would do it? Don't be

in any hurry. Look well at him, and

then say."

He placed Jamie in their midst, his

pale cheeks still stained with tears,

and trembling so that they all could

see him as they looked at him.

No one spoke.

"Say, Ernest," said his father, "how

is it with you? Don't be afraid to

speak the truth, my boy."

"I had rather he would go a hundred

times;" and no one who looked in

Ernest's pitying face would have

doubted that he spoke the truth.

"That's a man;" and the captain,

reaching his long arm out over the

group, patted the boy's head

approvingly. "What does Sam say?"

"I want to go too."

"Not so bad but that you can wait;"

and Sam felt that his uncle was not

quite pleased.


36

"For you girls, of course you would

rather Jamie would go, as Ernest

says, a hundred times over; and I’ll

tell you how you can show it. Run

home, Alice, tell your mother about

it, and ask her what she has there

that- is nice and warm for Jamie to

take to sea with him. I will go and

talk with his mother myself. You,

Rachel, run home to your mother.

She always knows just what is

wanted, and will have something, I

know; and don't forget to tell Nancy

all about it. Now be nimble, every

one of you. Time and tide wait for no

man."

What indirect influence had Captain

Lee brought so suddenly to bear upon

these children. It was an influence

that would incline them to do a

generous, unselfish action promptly.

This was the direction toward which

he was inclining their different trees,

but neither he nor they thought of

that now. Still it is true, that every

step which they took, happily and

freely, on their different errands, was

a step in the right direction.

Remember this, when you are doing

what your conscience tells you is

proper, it is not only that one act,

inclining your tree toward the north

one step, but a step through the trial -

world toward the beautiful land of

the great King.

Mrs. M'Lain had been more troubled

by the slow progress which Jamie

had made toward health than by

anything else since she came upon

the island. She knew better than any

one the trials through which the child

had passed; the many half-meals

which their poverty had obliged him

to make; the hungry hours, when he

had tried to sleep away the

consciousness of his pain, and had

lain and moaned so piteously. She

had seen him shiver through the cold

day from want of clothing and fire,

and perhaps, most wasting upon the

springs of his young life, she knew

with what a premature feeling of care

he had watched over her and the need

of the family.

As she saw those weeks pass by in

which, under the most favorable cir-

cumstances, he seemed to gain so

slowly, she began to fear that he

would never recover, never be

healthy and strong like the others.

Therefore she listened with a feeling

of deep gratitude to Captain Lee's

pleasant proposal that Jamie should

try a few weeks at sea, and bring

home from the voyage red cheeks

and stronger nerves. The trouble

which instantly presented itself to

her was the want of warm and stout

clothing. While she was wondering

what she could do, Ernest and Alice

came running in with an overcoat

which Eddy had outgrown, and

stockings, mittens, fur cap, and

comforter, which Ernest had used on

the previous winter. Nor was this all;

Tom's mother made her appearance


37

very soon with various well -patched

pairs of pants which had come down

from one of her boys to another until

Eddie even had laid them aside.

Before an hour was over the only

trouble was to select proper clothes

from the large bundle that lay before

her. Nor is it to be supposed that

Nancy was to be long away from a

scene of doing good.

In she came, panting away from the

haste she had made, with the very

same basket which had gone with the

children on so many pleasure trips,

and putting it down with some noise

upon the table, she began to unpack

it, as if Jamie's passage had been

taken on board a steamer whose bell

was already ringing at the dock.

"Just to haul up over," she said as

she took out first two pairs of men's

socks. "I thought they would come

above his knees like the Canada

gaiters, over boots and all, and keep

his feet as warm as toast. To be sure

they are a little long;" and catching

up Jamie, who was standing confused

by all that was doing for him, she

quickly tried one on.

Of course it was "a mile too large,"

and dangled down to a length-quite

sufficient for another pair; but to cut

it off and sew it up again was only

the work of a minute, and Jamie

walked around this warm summer

day in his new socks as proud as a

king.

The other contents of Nancy's basket

were about as appropriate; but it did

not matter. A use was soon found for

almost all of them, and those that

were not wanted now were put away

by Nancy in Mrs. M'Lain's closet to

wait their proper time.

Captain Lee said when he came back

for Jamie that he was fitted out for a

voyage around the world; but in his

heart the good man was delighted at

the prompt kindness which every one

had shown. As for the children, once

started on the right track, there was

no end to what they were willing to

do. Rachel went through her usual

battle with herself about giving her

canaries, and came to the common

result of bringing laid instead, an

offering which Tom a second time

refused, in a tone which sounded a

little to Rachel as if he resented it.

Every one had expected when Jamie

came to the point of leaving his

mother his heart would fail him and

he would beg to stay at home. In-

deed, Captain Lee had been wonder-

ing whether in that case it would not

be best to force him to go, trusting to

his fondness for the boys and their

kindness to him to reconcile him

very soon to what he knew would do

him so much good; but he was saved

all this, and never was seen a happier

child's face than Jamie's, standing

between John and Tom with his

hands in theirs, after the vessel had


38

weighed anchor and was moving so

slowly and gracefully away.

Mrs. M'Lain saw it many times

during his absence in her dreams, and

in her waking hours did not forget to

thank God for his kindness to her

little orphan boy.

The whole day after the Dolphin had

sailed Sam wandered around in a

very disconsolate way. He was al-

most angry to think that Jamie, little

child as he was, should have been

taken and he left at home, and that,

too, with so much extra work on his

hands. He made all kinds of plans for

avoiding it, for shirking it off on to

Eddy or his mother, while he went

away to do many things that he never

ventured to attempt when the absent

members of his family were at home

to watch him.

Since his adventures upon the raft he

had been more quiet. The truth was,

he had become so frightened by the

actual peril he was in, and by the

punishment he received afterward,

that he had made up his mind to

confine his secret exploits to the land

for the future, and had done so. Er-

nest was now fully aware of his true

character, and would never for a mo-

ment be a party with him in any kind

of deception. So since Christie had

come to live upon the island he often

took him with him, and as no harm

bad ever come to them, and Christie

had always told his mother where he

had been and with whom, Sam grew

bolder in his projects, and to-day,

toward night, hit upon one which he

thought promised a great deal of fun.

About half a mile from the place

where Christie was accustomed to

gather his moss there was a high

rock, the end of the island that jutted

out far into the sea. This rock could

be reached only by taking a boat for

a short distance, but still the water

ran up over the land, and it was not

quite safe for a boy, unless he was

large and strong like Tom and John.

The younger ones had been expressly

forbidden ever to attempt it alone,

and so far in Sam's life it had been

the one coveted thing which he dare

not do. From this rock was the best

fishing on the island. Such cod and

bass as John pulled up whenever he

went, why they seemed to the little

boys almost as large as the whales

they read about in the books. Now


39

Sam was a born fisher, and if he had

had no older brothers he would have

been considered quite a prodigy in

that line. He never thought he had

fair play. The best spot was always

taken possession of by some one

else, while he was pushed aside "as

little trash." Now he would go; he

would have that best seat on the very

furthest projection of the rock, and

Christie should go with him. "What

glorious fun!"

There was one thing which Sam

forgot when he was so happy in his

chance of disobeying, and that was

the most important reason why the

young children were not allowed to

go there. When the tide was high the

entire rock was covered by the water,

and the only way to make the trip

with safety was to go at low tide, and

to return before it came up over the

rock. Sam had never been taken at

any other time; and though he had

often seen the rock lost to sight when

the tide was in, he forgot it now.

As usual, he did not ask Christie

directly to go with him; that might be

dangerous. Christie might tell some

one, so he resolved to wait until he

went to his afternoon work, then he

would join him, help him a few

minutes, as if that was the object of

his visit, and then propose fishing

from the rock, as if he had only just

thought of it. It is strange how much

trouble Sam would take to do things

in this underhand way; how he had

walked all the way here to hide the

two poles and the fishing-tackle, and

had made up his mind to tell

Christie, when he asked how they

came in such a queer place, that that

was just the way Tom always did, hid

his tackle along shore to have it

handy. Only notice how one deceit

makes way for another and a worse

one.

Well, Sam carried this all out. He

came to Christie, talked with him

pleasantly, helped him along enough

to make Christie feel that he was not

very disobedient, as Sam's time

would count for his, and then the two

boys went to the rock.

This was a peculiarly shaped rock. It

was long and narrow on the top, with

sides which went down slantingly

into the water, and there were

hollows in the front face that looked

toward the ocean. It was known by

every one who frequented this part of

the coast as the "Old Woman's

Nose," and it was much esteemed as

a tide mark.

Christie had heard the boys speak of

it very often, and was in high spirits

at the idea of seeing it himself. He

did not expect to catch many fish,

but it was sport enough for him to be

there, with the, spray and the waves

dashing on him, and without a

shadow of fear, he waded in after

Sam to the old scow that was tied to

a stake out in the water, and the boys


40

pushed off; with loud laughter and

fun, toward the "Old Woman's Nose."

Let us close this chapter by a glance

at Sam's indirect influence over

Christie. He did not say to Christie,

"You and I have just as good a right

to this fun as any one else; come,

now, it 's no matter if we are

disobedient, no one will find us out,

and if they do, all we shall have to

say will be to tell a falsehood and

declare we have been gathering

moss, but it was so poor we threw it

all away." But Christie knew that he

should keep to his work until it was

all done; he knew, too, that his moth-

er had often expressed a wish to him

that he should not go into a boat

without an older person with him;

and the indirect influence of Sam in

enticing him was perhaps greater, in

so far that, had the whole been

brought as plainly before Christie's

mind as it would have been by the

bare propositions, he was too good

and conscientious not to have seen

the danger, and fled away from the

temptation.

It is not only the great tempests

which blow over the trees, and the

whirlwinds, but it is the gentle, soft

breezes, which rustle among the

leaves day after day and year after

year, that bend them to the north or

to the south. The birds may be sing-

ing in their pretty nests, hardly con-

scious of the zephyr which rocks

them to and fro. Yet this same zephyr

is bending the twigs, turning the

leaves, and as it bends them, when

the tree falleth there it shall be. So

these indirect influences are the soft

gentle breezes, the zephyrs which we

do not feel, but which shall one day

decide for us the greatest of all ques-

tions, Where shall we be?

But in the Dolphin, at this very

moment, Jamie is the gentle breeze

who is bending the stout heart of the

big boys to the north. Dear little

Jamie! he seems almost too frail to

be the great God's agent for good.

(In next month’s edition , we will see

“THE OLD WOMAN’S NOSE” in

Chapter VIII.)

MANNERS MATTER

My dear Misses Worbly,

I have a situation that has become a problem

concerning my spinster aunt. She has a

passable singing voice which she prizes

quite highly. At every opportunity during

any social occasion she attends, she

connives to receive an invitation to sing.

Once she starts singing, she refuses to allow

other women the opportunity to entertain

those present. Because of this situation, the

number of invitations we normally receive

has been reduced considerably. I have


41

spoken to her about this repeatedly, but she

ignores my requests to allow other women

to sing.

She reads your magazine every month and

often quotes parts of it to me. Is it possible

to address this situation? I know she will

take you advice to heart.

Sincerely,

Miss Harriet C.

My dear Miss C.,

I understand your concern and desire to help

your aunt not to offend others.

Once again let me share a passage from

Martine’s Hand Book of Etiquette:

A lady in company should never exhibit

any anxiety to sing or play; but if she

intends to do so, she should not affect to

refuse when asked, but obligingly accede

at once. If you cannot sing, or do not

choose to, say so with seriousness and

gravity, and put an end to the expectation

promptly. After singing once or twice,

cease and give place to others. There is an

old saying, that a singer can with the

greatest difficulty be set agoing, and when

agoing, cannot be stopped.

My greatest desire is that your aunt

understands this bit of etiquette as it will be

most helpful at any get-together she attends.

J. S. Worbly

FOR THE HOMEMAKERS

The following instructions is courtesy of

DOMESTIC COOKERY, USEFUL

RECEIPTS, AND HINTS TO YOUNG

HOUSEKEEPERS.

By ELIZABETH E. LEA

(Published by Cushing and Baily., 1859)

TO CURE BACON, BEEF, PORK,

SAUSAGE, &c.

To Cure Bacon.

To one thousand weight of pork, put one

bushel of fine salt, one pound and a half of

saltpetre rolled fine and mixed with the salt;

rub this on the meat and pack it away in a

tight hogshead; let it lay for six weeks, then

hang it up and smoke it with hickory wood,

every day for two weeks, and afterwards two

or three times a week for a month; then take

it down and rub it all over with hickory

ashes, which is an effectual remedy against

the fly or skipper. When the weather is un-

usually warm at the time of salting your

pork, more care is requisite to preserve it

from taint. When it is cut up, if it seems

warm, lay it on boards, or on the bare

ground, till it is sufficiently cool for salting;

examine the meat tubs or casks frequently,

and if there is an appearance of mould, strew

salt over; if the weather has been very warm

after packing, and on examining, you should

find evidence of its spoiling, lose no time in

unpacking the meat; for a hogshead of hams

and shoulders that are in this state, have six

pounds of brown sugar, three pounds of

saleratus, mixed with half a bushel of. salt;

rub each piece with this, and as you pack it

in the hogshead, (which should be well

washed and cleaned,) sprinkle a little coarse

salt over each layer of pork, and also on the


42

bottom of the hogshead. I have known this

plan to save a large quantity of pork, that

would have been unfit for use, if it had not

been discovered and attended to in time.

Some persons use crushed charcoal to purify

their meat. Shoulders are more easily

affected than hams, and if the weather is

warm the ribs should be cut out of the

shoulders. Jowls also require particular care;

black pepper, about a pound to a hogshead,

sprinkled on the meat before it is hung up to

smoke, is valuable as a preventive where

flies are troublesome; have a large pepper-

box kept for the purpose, and dust every part

that is exposed; pepper is also good to put

on beef before it is hung up to dry; wash it

off before cooking, and it does not injure the

flavor.

To Pickle Pork.

Take out all the ribs, and cut it in pieces of

about three pounds each; pack it in a tight

barrel, and salt it well with coarse salt; boil a

very strong pickle made of coarse salt, and

when it .is cold pour it over the meat, and

put a weight on the top; if you wish pork to

keep, do not put saltpetre in, as it injures the

flavor.

To Cure Hams and Shoulders.

To cure five hundred weight of hams and

shoulders, take fifteen quarts of common

salt, one pound and a half of saltpetre rolled

fine, half a pound of red pepper pods

chopped fine, and four quarts of molasses;

mix them all together and rub the meat well;

pack it down, cover it close, and let it

remain six weeks; then hang it up and smoke

it with green hickory wood for three weeks.

If there is a damp spell of weather, it is best

to make a fire in your meat-house

occasionally through the summer, to keep

the meat from moulding.

To Make a Pickle for Chines.

Rub the chines with fine salt, and pack them

in a tight barrel; make a pickle of coarse salt,

strong enough to bear an egg; boil and skim

it, and when nearly cold pour it on; let there

be enough to cover them, and put a weight

on the top. Chines are good smoked.

It is best to make a separate pickle for the

heads; wash and scrape them, cut off the

ears and noses, and take out the eyes. The

jowls may be packed and smoked with the

bacon.

Sausage Meat, &c.

Separate the tender parts of the meat from

the rough and bony pieces, and chop each

sort separately; to twenty-two pounds of

meat have half a pound of salt, three heaped

table-spoonsful of sage, three of pepper, and

two of thyme. If you have a box large

enough to hold this quantity, sprinkle it over

the meat before it is chopped, and it will be

thoroughly mixed by the time it is done. It is

best to have a small piece fried to taste, and

if it is not seasoned right, it can be altered;

you should have some pieces of fat, chopped

in with the meat.

The sage and thyme should be carefully

dried, but not heated too much, neither

should it be hung up too near the fire, as it

would spoil the flavor; rub it through a wire

sifter, and if that should not make it fine

enough, pound it in a mortar or grind it in

your pepper mill. The pepper should be

ground and ready some days before it is

needed, as the pork season in the country is


43

(while it lasts) one of the busiest in the year;

every thing should be prepared before hand

that you possibly can. It is a good plan to

have plenty of bread and pies baked, and a

quantity of apples stewed, vegetables

washed and ready to cook, so that every

member of the family, that is able, may

devote herself to the work of putting away

the meat which is of so much importance for

the coming year; while some are cutting up

the fat to render into lard, others may be

employed in assorting the sausage meat, and

cutting it into small pieces for the chopping

machine, by trimming off every part that can

be spared. You can have one hundred

pounds of sausage from twelve hundred

weight of pork, and since the introduction of

sausage choppers, a great deal more sausage

is made, than formerly, by the old method.

Clean a few of the maws, and soak them in

salt and water, and fill them with sausage

meat; sew them close; let them lay in pickle

for two weeks; then hang them up, and when

your meat is smoked, let them have a few

days smoke. In this way sausage will keep

all summer, and is very nice when boiled

slowly for several hours, and eaten cold. The

best fat to chop in with sausage is taken

from the chines or back bones. To keep

sausage for present use, put it in small stone

pans, aid pour melted lard over the top; for

later in the season, make muslin bags that

will hold about three pounds, with a loop

sewed on to hang them up by; fill them with

meat, tie them tight, and hang them in a cool

airy place; they will keep in this way till

August; when you want to fry them, rip pan

of the seam, cut out as many slices as you

want, tie up the bag and hang it up again. If

you have a large quantity, a sausage chopper

is a great convenience.

Liver Sausage.

Take four livers, with the lights and hearts;

have two heads cleaned, and boil them with

any scraps, or skinny pieces you have; skim

the pot; take out the livers when they are

done, and let the heads boil longer; when

they are done, pick out the bones, and chop

all together; season with sage,-thyme, sweet

marjoram, salt and pepper; put it in pans,

and fry it as sausage.

Bologna Sausage.

Chop ten pounds of beef, with two pounds

and a half of the fat of fresh pork; pound one

ounce of mace, and one of cloves, and mix

in; let it stand a day, then stuff it in large

skins; let them lay in brine ten days, then

hang them up to smoke a few days; they can

be put in the same brine with beef or

tongues.

Hogs' Head Cheese.

Take off the ears and noses of four heads,

and pick out the eyes, and lay them in salt

and water all night; then wash and put them

on to boil; take out the bones carefully, chop

and season them well, and pack it in bowls;

they will turn out whole, and may be eaten

cold with vinegar, or fried as sausage.

Pigs' Feet:

Pigs' feet should be well cleaned by dipping

them in scalding water, and scraping off the

hairs; leave them in weak salt and water two

days, changing it each day; if you wish to

boil them for souse, they are now ready; but

if the weather is cold they will keep in this a

month. They should be kept in a cold place,


44

and if they are frozen there is no danger of

their spoiling; but if there comes on a thaw,

change the salt and water; soak them in fresh

water all night before you boil them. In this

way they are good to eat with pep; per and

vinegar while hot, or may be dipped in

batter and fried after they are cold.

To make Souse.

Boil the feet till the bones come out easily,

and pick out all the large bones; pack them

in a stone pan with pepper and salt, and

cover it with vinegar; they may be eaten

cold, or dipped in flour and fried. Another

way is to pick out all the bones, season them

with salt, pepper and sage, and warm them

up as you want to use them.

Pigs' feet, after being boiled, are very nice

stewed as terrapins; make the gravy with

butter and water; they are nourishing food

for delicate persons.

Vessels for salting meat should be cleaned

well after the meat is hung up, and set on

boards in the cellar; if they do not smell

sweet, they should be washed and soaked

before meat is packed in them again. You

should see that the hoops are sound, and

have covers made to fit them. If taken care

of in this way, they will last a number of

years.

Scrapple.

Take eight pounds of scraps of pork, that

will not do for sausage; boil it in four

gallons of water; when tender, chop it fine,

strain the liquor and pour it back into the

pot; put in the meat; season it with sage,

summer savory, salt and pepper to taste; stir

in a quart of corn meal; after simmering a

few minutes, thicken it with buckwheat flour

very thick; it requires very little cooking

after it is thickened, but must be stirred

constantly.

Dried Beef.

An experienced housekeeper has furnished

the following method for curing and drying

beef, which will keep good for two years,

without being injured by must or fly, and is

much admired. Have the rounds divided,

leaving a piece of the sinew to hang up by;

lay the pieces in a tub of cold water for an

hour; then rub each piece of beef that will

weigh fifteen or twenty pounds, with a

handful of brown sugar and a table-spoonful

of saltpetre, pulverized, and a pint of fine

salt; sprinkle fine salt in the bottom of a

clean tight barrel, and lay the pieces in,

strewing a little coarse salt between each

piece; let it lay two days; then make the

brine in a clean tub, with cold water and

ground alum salt—stir it well; it must be

strong enough to bear an egg half up; put in

half a pound of best brown sugar and a

table-spoonful of saltpetre to each gallon of

the salt and water; pour it over the beef; put

a clean large stone on the top of the meat to

keep it under the pickle, (which is very

important;) put a cover on the barrel;

examine it occasionally to see that the pickle

does not leak,—and if it should need more,

add of the same strength; let it stand six

weeks, when hang it up in the smoke-house,

and after it has drained, smoke it moderately

for ten days; it should then hang in a dry

place; before cooking, let it soak for twenty-

four hours: a piece that weighs fifteen or

twenty pounds should boil two hours—one

half the size, one hour, and a small piece


45

should soak six or twelve hours, according

to size. Beef cured in this way will make a

nice relish, when thinly sliced and eaten

cold, for breakfast or tea, or put between

slices of bread and, butter for lunch; it will

keep for several weeks,—and persons of

delicate stomachs can sometimes relish a

thin slice, eaten cold, when they cannot

retain hot or rich food.

This receipt will answer for all parts of the

beef, to be boiled for the dinner table

through the summer.

To Cure Beef.

Make a pickle of six quarts of salt, six

gallons of water, half a pound of saltpetre,

and three of sugar, or half a gallon of

molasses; pack the beef in a barrel, with fine

and coarse salt mixed; when the pickle is

cold, pour it over, and put a weight on the

top; let it stay two weeks, when you can

hang it up and smoke it, to boil through the

summer; or boil the pickle over again, and

leave it in till you want to use it: this is for

two hundred pounds.

A New Method of Curing Beef.

Take six gallons of water, nine pounds of

salt, (fine and coarse mixed,) three pounds

of sugar, one quart of molasses, three ounces

of saltpetre, and one ounce of pearl-ash or

saleratus; boil and skim it well, and let it

stand till entirely cold, when pour it on beef

that has been sprinkled with salt for several

days. You can boil of this beef from the

brine all winter, or hang it up, and smoke it

with your bacon.

To Cure a Dozen Tongues.

Soak the tongues an hour in a tub of cold

water to extract the blood, and cut off most

of the root; mix together a quarter of a

pound of saltpetre, finely powdered, one

pound of brown sugar, and a pint of salt; rub

the tongues with this, and put them in a tight

barrel; then make a pickle that will bear an

egg, which pour over them; turn them every

three days, and let them stay in the pickle

two weeks; then smoke them two days, and

hang them up in a dry place; boil and skim

the pickle that the tongues have been in, and

it will do for a round of beef.

Pickle for Two Rounds of Beef.

Cut the rounds in a suitable shape for

drying; mix together two pints of salt, one of

molasses, or a pound of sugar, and half a

pound of saltpetre; rub them with this, and

pack them in a tight vessel; make pickle that

will bear an egg, and pour it over; put a

weight on the top, and let it lay for ten days,

when take it out, and smoke it two days;

hang it up in a dry place; it will be fit to slice

and broil in a week; or cut it very thin, and

stew or fry it with butter and cream. Legs of

mutton may be salted as rounds of beef, and

will resemble venison, when dried and

chipped.

In preparing pickle for any kind of meat,

observe that one gallon of water will hold, in

solution, a quart of salt and two ounces of

saltpetre.

To Corn Beef, Pork or Mutton.

Rub the meat well with salt, and pack it in a

tub. If the weather is warm, it will require a

good deal of salt, but no saltpetre.

To Restore Meat that has been kept too long.

When meat has been kept too long in

summer, it may be improved by putting it in

sour milk for several hours, or washing it in


46

vinegar is good, some hours before it is

cooked; you must wash it well in cold water

several times; if it lays all night in sour milk,

or salt and vinegar, it should be put in soak

early in the morning in cold water. In very

hot weather, when you have fresh meat,

fowls, or fish left at dinner, sprinkle them

with strong vinegar, salt and pepper; warm

this up the next day, either as a fry or stew;

the vinegar will evaporate, and not injure the

taste. Cold rock fish is good, seasoned with

salt, pepper and vinegar, to use as a relish

for breakfast or tea.

To Keep Meat Fresh.

Where persons live a distance from market,

and have no fresh meat but what they kill, it

is important to know how to keep it fresh. In

winter, if it is hung up in an out-house, it

will keep very well for six weeks, or more;

when it has once frozen, it is safe till a thaw

comes on, when rub it with salt. In the

summer, if you have an ice-house, you can

keep it without trouble. If rubbed with salt,

and pinned in a cloth, it will keep in the

cellar two days; or by lowering it down your

well, attached to a rope, and changing the

cloth every other day, it will keep good a

week in hot weather.

To Put up Herring and Shad.

Those that put up their own fish should be

careful to have the barrels tight and well

cleaned; if the pickle leaks from them, they

are liable to spoil. Scale the fish and wash

them, as it will save much time; when you

prepare them for cooking, take out the gills,

but leave on the heads of herrings.

The heads should be taken off the shad, and

split them down the back; put a layer of fish,

then a layer of ground alum salt,—and after

they are packed, put-on a weight to keep

them down. If herring are well cured, they

will be good at the end of two years.

To Put up Herring,

According to the Harford Mode.

First put the herring into the brine left from

curing bacon; or, if you have none of that

description, make a brine that will bear an

egg, and let them remain in it thirty" or forty

hours; then, if for pickled herring, change

them into new brine, which must also bear

an egg, and head them up to keep. If for red

herring, hang them up, and smoke them

thoroughly. A little saltpetre, added to the

brine, is an improvement. It is better to take

out the roe.

WOMAN

Woman, woman! truly thou art a miracle.

Place her among flowers, foster her as a ten-

der plant, and she is a thing of fancy. way-

wardness, and sometimes folly—annoyed by

a dewdrop, fretted by the touch of a

butterfly's wings, and ready to faint at the

rustle of a beetle; the zephyrs are too rough,

the showers too heavy, and she is

overpowered by the perfume of a rosebud.

But let real calamity come—rouse her

affections—enkindle the fires of her heart—

and mark her then; how her heart

strengthens itself—how strong is her

purpose. Place her in the heat of battle—

give her a child, a bird, anything she loves

or pities, to protect—and see her, as in a

relative instance, raising her white arms as a


47

shield, as her own blood crimsons her

upturned forehead, praying for life to protect

the helpless. Transplant her in the dark

places of the earth —awaken her energies to

action, and her breath becomes a healing—

her presence a blessing. She disputes inch by

inch the stride of the stalking pestilence,

when man, the strong and brave, shrinks

away pale and affrighted. Misfortune daunts

her not; she wears away a life of silent

endurance, and goes forward with less

timidity than to her bridal. In prosperity, she

is a bud full of imprisoned odors, waiting

but for the winds of adversity to scatter them

abroad—pure gold, valuable, but united In

tile furnace. In short, woman is a miracle—a

Mystery, the centre from which radiates the

great charm of existence.—Mrs. Ann S.

Stephens.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Dear Madam Editor,

As others have written and you have

graciously published their letters regarding

the way in which you handle the publishing

of your magazine, I wish to have my voice

heard also.

For many years, my dearly departed mother

read your excellent magazine, either to my

father or to her children. We gained great

wisdom from the words printed in Worbly’s

Magazine.

But unlike some of your other readers, I

wish to congratulate you on the excellent job

you and your sisters are doing. While your

father did a good job, I believe you have far

excelled him. I like the pictures you have

added, as well as the delight borders. I have

often tried to reproduce some of them to as

drawing practices. I also believe you have

added a depth of understanding that shows a

woman’s hand and heart were involved.

Thank you and please keep the magazine the

same.

Mrs. Henry M.

Dear Mrs. M.,

Thank you for your kind words. My sisters

and I appreciate them. Knowing that many

times the mother of the home is the one

reading to the family, we have tried to add

features that will be helpful to her.

Sincerely,

L.B. Worbly ==================================

Worbly’s Family Monthly

Magazine

Editor

L. B. Worbly

Typesetter and Columnist

J. S. Worbly

Advertising

M. E. Worbly

All correspondence should be

directed to

Worbly’s Family Monthly Magazine

213 Worbly Street

St. Louis, Missouri


48

THE

UNIVERSAL CLOTHES WRINGER

WITH COG WHEELS.

PRICES REDUCED.

Prices --- No. 1 $10.00; No. 2, $8.50

THE BEST IS THE CHEAPEST

THIS is the first Wringer I have found that would

stand the service required of it"—[J. P. Huggins,

Lovejoy's Hotel.

"In the laundry of my house there is a perpetual

thanksgiving on Mondays for the invention of your

excellent Wringer."--[Rev. Theo. L. Cuyier.

"We think the Machine much more than pays for

itself every year in the saving of garments. We think

it important the Wringer should be fitted with

COGS."—[O. Judd, American Agriculturist.

"The Inventor of this Machine may have the

satisfaction of knowing that he has changed one of

the most toilsome parts of woman's work Into a most

attractive amusement," [Mrs. Henry Ward Beecher.

"I heartily commend it to economists of time, money

and contentment."—[Rev. Dr. Bellows.

On receipt of price from any part of the country

where we have no canvasers, we send the Wringer

free of freight charges.

A good canvasser wanted in every township.

Send for Illustrated Price Circular.

R. C. BROWNING, 317 Broadway, N.Y.

___________________________________

STEAM ENGINES CHAUNCY, HILLIBRAND, & CO.

MANUFACTURERS OF

STEAM ENGINES AND BOILERS,

ROCHESTER, N.Y.

Our engines are built expressly for Oil Purposes and

are far Superior to others on the market.

Descriptive Catalogues are available upon request.

Flax We buy good fall rotted FLAX STRAW, either

loose or straight, in bundles delivered In large

quantities at Railroad stations, or at our Chicago

Flax Mill, in any quantity.

On application, we send by mall our circular

directions for flax culture and the management

of flax straw, with our contract prices for the

crop of 1865.

WALWORTH, HUBBARD A CO.,

225 Lake Street, Chicago.

______________________________________

GOLDEN BITTERS

THIS celebrated tonic is now coming into universal

use—every one uses it. We have tried it ourselves,

and can vouch for its invigorating influence on our

system, after hours of toll and exhaustion. Persons

troubled with loss of appetite or dyspepsia, should

not be without it. It acts equally with old and young.

The Central Depot is at the American Express

Building, New York.—Constitutional Union,

Washington, D. C.

----------------------------------------------------------

ARTIFICAL LEGS C, STAFFORD,

Sole Proprietor and Manufacturer of

DR. WILCOX'S PATENT ARTIFICAL LEG

Has been approved and adopted by the United

States Government, which has appointed him to

supply them to disabled soldiers FREE. It is

lighter and easier than any other, receives its

motion from a PATENT RUBBER CORD,

which possesses every advantage over the spiral

spring used in every other leg. There is no

danger of rusting and getting out of order, but

will last unimpaired for years. Orders addressed

to C. STAFFORD. No. 136 South Clark street,

Chicago, will receive immediate attention.

Post Office Box, 206

----------------------------------------------------------------


49

INFORMATION URGENTLY NEEDED Information is wanted of Sargent Casper Jackson Co.

F, 87th

N.C. Regt, Lane’s Brigade, who was wounded

in one of the last battles near Petersburg. Any

information will be thankfully received by his wife

Mrs. C. A. Jackson, Chapel Hill N. C.

------------------------------------------------------ THE BATTLE FOUGHT

— AND THE —

VICTORY WON ! A Successful Substitute for the Plow at

Last Produced.

COMSTOCK'S

R O T A R Y S P A D E R , A S imple and Durable Implement .

WORKING three feet in width and six to eight inches

deep, in preparing corn or other grain stubble for the

seed. Spading an acre to every two and three quarter

miles travel of the team.

Mr. J. B. Barnes of Corneille, LaSalle county,

spaded seven acres in seven hours, with four

horses, with no more labor to the team than

working in pairs before the plow—making a garden

bed of the grain field at half the expense of

plowing. Any man, boy or girl that can ride on an

easy seat and drive four horses, works it with ease.

Every farmer on the prairie that plows 80 acres or

more will want one sooner than they can get one

when its merits are known. Price $200,

As long is the cost of materials and labor will admit. Address C. COMSTOCK, Milwaukee, Wis.

------------------------------------------------------

HOMESTEAD LAND AVAILABLE

FREE

WONDERFUL RANCH LAND

PLENTIFUL WATER

Contact Charles Lofton

General Delivery, Denver, Colorado

Territory

HURRY FOR BEST LAND

____________________________________

Lloyd Richards & Son

Goldsmiths, Watchmakers, and Opticians,

Jacobsville, Colorado Territory

A Large Stock of Watches, Silver and Gold Jewelry,

High Class Plate Clocks, Spectacles, Eyeglasses, and

other Optical Goods at the lowest prices, consistent

with Good Quality

Discount allowed for cash purchases.

Gold dust and nuggets welcomed for trade.

----------------------------------------------------

TEACHER NEEDED Must have teaching certificate.

Room and Board Provided by

Various Families

Only men or single women need apply.

Contact Stanley Green, Pine Creek, Kansas

----------------------------------------------------------------

FARM FOR SALE

GREAT BARGIN FOR SOMEBODY

This Farm contains 300 acres Prairie and 15

acres Timber adjoining. A living stream runs

through it. Three miles new Fence. 220 acres

under cultivation. 80 acres of which is new

broke for wheat this Fall. Beautifully situated

3.4 miles from Rosamond. Shown cheerfully,

and no fault found if you don't buy.

Also for sale, 900 head choice MERINO SHEEP

and Lambs. Enquire of A. C.

VANDERWATER, Real Estate Agent.

Rosemond, Ills.

N. B.—Possession given this Fall


50

SLATE GLOBES! For Families and Schools.

These Globes have a plain black slate surface,

upon which the slate-pencil may: be used for

Map-Drawing and GEOGRAPHICAL

ILLUSTRATIONS. In

Families and Schools they

supply a want long felt.

Slate Blackboards, of any size,

with a real stone slate surface:

may be used with chalk, talc,

or the common slate-pencil.

Patent Adamantine Slates,

light, noiseless, and

indestructible. These slates are

made of wood, with a real stone surface, are very

light, and it is almost impossible to break them.

LEAF SLATES, which go between the leaves of a

book. PORTFOLIOS and BOOK-FORM

SLATES. POCKET MEMORANDUMS AND

SLATES in every form and variety. Parents and

School-Committees will do well to examine.

C. H. WHEELER & CO., 5 and 7 Essex street,

Boston,

Manufacturers' Agents. Descriptive book sent on

application.

______________________________________

VICK'S ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE OF

SEEDS AND

GUIDE TO THE FLOWER—GARDEN, FOR

1866.

MY NEW CATALOGUE AND FLORAL GUIDE

is now published and ready to send out. It

contains saturate descriptions of the leading

Floral Treasures of the world, with FULL and

plain directions for SOWING SEED,

TRANSPLANTING, and GENERAL CULTURE.

Also, a list of Choice Seeds for the VEGETABLE

GARDEN, with necessary instructions for

Planting and Culture.

MY New CATALOGUE and FLORAL GUIDE is

a beautiful work of fifty large pages, illustrated

with twenty-Jive fine engravings and one splendid

CLORED PLATE of the Double Zinnia. It will be

sent, postage paid, to all who apply inclosing ten

cents.

Address JAMES VICE., Rochester, N. V.

SOMETHING NEW!

THE CRAIG MICROSCOPE. Magnifies 100 Diameters; or 10,000 Times.

The Microscope Simplified, and adapted to

Popular Use.

This beautiful instrument, although of a High

Magnifying Power, is so simple that a child can

use it; for it requires no focal adjustment,

therefore it neither fatigues the eye nor wearies

the patience, like other Microscopes.

It reveals the unseen things of creation, and shows

the smallest insect to be fearfully and wonderfully

made. It is an endless source of amusement, and at

the same time imparts the most valuable

information.

As a gift, or present, it is UNSURPASSED, being

elegant, amusing, and instructive.

PRICE $2.OO

Sent by mail, post-paid, for $2.25, or with six

beautiful objects, $3.00. MOUNTED OBJECTS at

the rate of $1.50 per dozen.

C. H. WHEELER & C0., 5 & 7 Essex street,

Boston,

AGENTS FOR THE PATENTEE.

_________________________________________

Book Agents Wanted,

TO SELL THE BEST AND MOST

POPULAR Illustrated History of the Great Rebellion

YET PUBLISHED. VOLUME ONE NOW

READY.

Also several other beautifully illustrated and

rapid selling works. For Circulars address

HENRY HOWE

111 Main Street, Cincinnati, Ohio.

________________________________________


51

THE BACK COVER PAGE WAS TOO

DAMAGED TO REPRINT SO WE ARE

SUBSTITUTING COVERS OF BOOKS

WRITTEN IN TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

ABOUT PEOPLE IN THE NINETEENTH

CENTURY (AND FOR THIS MONTH, A

FEW FROM ANOTHER CENTURY).

The following books are by Lena Nelson

Dooley:

This book is in print, Ebook, and audio.

This book is in Ebook and audio.

This book is available as an Ebook.

This book is in print and Ebook.

This book is available as an Ebook, now and

as an audio book in October

This book is available as an Ebook.

Documents

FAMILY MONTHLY MAGAZINE