Chapter XV: Part I: Motherly Talks with Young Housekeepers (12)

“What time has a young girl to do anything at home?” True. What time for home affairs, with the present mode of education, and the present customs of social life, have young men or maidens? Our teachers know they are expected to “fill” their pupils to the utmost extent of their mental capacity, and social life grasps every moment that can be spared from books or schools, even claiming the hours that should be given to sleep. No matter about the health. “That is not our business,” say the educators; and, “That is not our business,” echoes Fashion. Our children go from one study to another--rushing on to be educated--as fast as possible; and, in two years after leaving college or seminary, of what practical use will half these studies, for which they have given so much time and health, be to them? Far be it from us to undervalue a thorough, practical education,--one that will fit our boys and girls to lead good and useful lives. “Its price is above rubies.” But we sometimes think that they are being educated to death; mind and body enfeebled and made unhealthy for lack of practical common-sense on the part of parents and teachers. If more time was given to physical labor while our children are growing up, and less time to schools, and fewer studies crowded into each term, the fathers and mothers would not grow old so fast,--being relieved of part of their work; and our young people would have nobler minds in sounder bodies.

But to return to housekeeping, and the young who must take that position: let them secure as much knowledge as they can without injury to health, but let it be understood that, whatever place they may be called upon to occupy, a thorough domestic education will be the best foundation on which to build, and by which they can best secure happiness, honor, and usefulness.

Instead of filling the papers with lamentations because they are not permitted certain rights which an unregulated ambition urges them to claim, let our women first be certain that they fully understand how to exercise all the _rights_ which are unalienably their own, and which no one attempts to dispute. Let these rights be well cared for and properly executed, and who will object to any woman’s reaching out after, and securing just as many more as she can possibly assume and manage successfully, without neglect of other duties already her own. Let the highest right, the noblest that woman can desire,--for it is next to the angels’,--the _supreme right_ which God gave us, and no man disputes or can usurp, be fully appreciated and acted upon,--the right to make a glorious _home_, to make our husbands nobler, because they are happy and comfortable there (they don’t know how to do that, they can’t take care of themselves without us); the right to nurse and rear and bless our children; the right, with the ability, to teach our servants by our own practice how to be a blessing to themselves and to us. Then enter the lists, if you choose, and do battle for just as many of what have been called _man’s rights_ as you are capable of managing well, or have any ambition for.

Until these first duties are understood and properly performed the prospects for home comforts and happiness are very shadowy. The fault is not wholly with the servants. If those duties which belong to the mistress are delegated to uneducated, ill-informed subordinates, what, even with the very best intentions, can you expect but anarchy and misrule? Care and experience are as essential to good housekeeping and home comforts as in any other profession or field of labor.

The lawyer cannot look for success in his profession if he simply opens an office and delegates the care to an ignorant office-boy, while he himself knows nothing about law, and never studies. The doctor gives years of time and study before he attempts to practice. The merchant goes through a long apprenticeship before he commences business for himself; but our young girls leave the school-room to assume a _right_ of which they know nothing,--the privilege and honor of making a _home_. If women would only understand how much skill and power is requisite, what a noble, honorable thing it is to succeed, or become eminent as a _homemaker_, there would be fewer boarding-houses, fewer miserable, dissipated husbands, fewer fast, wild, reckless children, and fewer worthless servants.

LXXII.

A FEW LITTLE THINGS.

WE take up now a few perplexities which are apt to disturb the equanimity of the young housekeeper, and propose to give some minute directions for the better performance of those “little things” which so often discourage the beginner, such as the building of fires, dusting, etc.

With an open grate or fireplace in daily use, it is very necessary, before any dusting can be thought of, to clear out the grate, remove the ashes, and kindle the fire; for nothing so fills a room with dust as the necessary work about a fire of any kind, even with the most careful management. To be ready to do this, or in a condition to instruct a girl how to do it, it is important that the necessary implements and conveniences should be on hand, and in a suitable condition for easy and successful operation.

And, first, a coarse piece of bagging, or an old bit of carpeting, or, if you have neither, a large piece of stout brown wrapping-paper, should be kept in an appropriate place, ready for this part of the morning’s work; even old newspapers will answer, though by no means so convenient or durable as bagging. Spread a large strip before the grate or fireplace to protect the oil-cloth or carpet from ashes and cinders while you are clearing out the grates. This done, lift up the fender or polished hearth-pan, always in front of a grate, and set it down on the floor-cloth or bagging. Put up the blower, and with the poker rake out all the ashes that can be shaken from the under part of the grate. By keeping the blower up while doing this, most of the ashes which would otherwise float over the room, lodge in the furniture or carpet, and in the end do them much injury, will be made to fly up chimney. Having thus removed all the ashes, you can take the blower down and rake again smartly from the _top_ until only the half-burnt coals remain.

Now, with a stout, coarse holder kept expressly for that purpose, take the ash-pan, full of ashes, from under the grate, and empty it in an ash-barrel in the cellar, or outdoors; by no means empty them from the pan into an empty coal-hod in the room, as is too often done. Be careful that no live coals go into the barrel. You will be obliged to watch a girl very carefully about this “little thing,” or, under the silly idea that it saves work, most girls will do this so carelessly when you are not by, that your rooms will be filled with ashes by their folly.

When the ashes have been emptied, if your grate rests on _cleats_ or is fitted into _sockets_, lift it off and turn into the ash-pan the half-burned coals which remain, to be taken out and sifted before using again; then, placing the grate on the bagging, with a small whisk-broom proceed to brush down into the pan all the soot and ashes that have lodged on the sides and back of the fireplace. Do this gently, so as to avoid sending it out into the room. When done, remove the pan, sweep up any ashes or litter that may be on the hearth, wash it clean, and put back the grate and ash-pan into their proper places. Set up the fender, roll up a quantity of waste paper and put into the grate (if thrown in loosely it will burn out instantly before the kindling catches), put on the kindling, and start the fire. If where you can get _coke_ from the gas-houses for the foundation of the fire, it will, we think, prove good economy, for you will need but two or three pieces of kindling, as it ignites readily without a blower, making a very warm fire, and soon causing the hard coal to burn brightly.

Here, also, great watchfulness is requisite if you trust to a servant to start fires, for, unless closely followed, they will persist in half filling the grate with kindling, even when they are provided with coke, and need to use but very little wood. In the city, where wood is so dear, economy in kindling-wood becomes quite important.

The fire having been kindled, the rooms can now be set in order. Of course the window-blinds were opened the first thing after dressing in the morning, that gas or lamps might not be left to burn needlessly. We are tempted to stop, before dusting, and say a word on the extravagant use of gas or oil by the servants about a house, but we must leave that for another time, and proceed to finish the first part of every morning’s work.

In _dusting_, a soft but not too fine cloth should be first used. At almost all dry-goods stores cloths are to be had with soft, tufted nap, especially adapted for dusters; but an old towel may be kept for that purpose, and answers very well if you cannot obtain these. Gently wipe _up_ with the dusting-cloth whatever ashes or dust may have settled over the mantel or furniture, but do not wipe it _off_ on to the floor to settle again into the carpet or furniture in the room,--that would be spending time for naught,--and as you proceed take it up into the dust-cloth, and every little while shake it out of the window or door. In this way go over everything _once_, that the greatest part of the dust may be disposed of, being particular to wipe in and around moldings, carvings, and cornices, where dust seems more inclined to rest than on the plainer surfaces. This finished, go over all again with an old silk handkerchief or chamois-skin, rubbing hard enough to remove spots or finger-marks, and bring a nice clean polish on the furniture or ornaments in the room. If you have pictures hung round the walls, a long-handled feather-brush is quite necessary, especially if the room is high studded, as city rooms generally are at the present day. You cannot spare the time every morning to bring in a step-ladder in order to dust the tops of the picture-frames or the casings and moldings over and around doors and windows; but if left some days untouched, the moths will soon find it out and take up their abode in such desirable quarters. The long feather-brush will easily remove most of the light dirt that settles in such high places, but do not use it with a sharp, quick flourish, as whatever dust lodges so high cannot be taken _up_ with the coarse dusting-cloth, and must, of course, if disturbed, fall to the floor, but if brushed off rashly, will fly over everything. For this reason the tops of pictures and doors should be dusted first, that there may be an opportunity to remove whatever settles unavoidably when going over other parts of the room.

Every three or four weeks the tall step-ladder is needed, and then all these places which cannot be reached otherwise must be well cleaned and rubbed, and the casings of windows and doors wiped clean with a wet cloth. This work, when done, must always be _after_ the regular sweeping-days.

Windows require attention every day; we do not mean, to be washed every day, but to be dusted and have the spots carefully rubbed off. The dust from the streets finds easy entrance, and settles readily on the window-panes, which would soon become dim and blurred without daily oversight. Especially is this the case in damp weather, or when one lives near salt air. Brush each window with a short-handed feather-brush, if you have one; if not, save and dry turkeys’ wings, or the long tail-feathers from any poultry, tie them up neatly, and you secure an inexpensive feather-brush, and as effective as if bought at the store. If you find spots or finger-marks on the window-glass, put your mouth to the spot and breathe sharply on it; then, before your breath evaporates, rub quickly with a clean linen cloth or a chamois-skin, and you will be well repaid for your labor.

It requires some time and many words to explain, as minutely as you wish, how all these _little things_ should be done; but if you are methodical, you will soon learn to work quickly as well as thoroughly, and will be very much surprised to see how short a time is needed to do all that we have been so long telling. You will use less time, take the month through, by careful dusting and necessary cleaning each day than--neglecting this duty--you would be compelled to give every few weeks in one great cleaning effort, by which the whole family must be incommoded, meals delayed, poorly cooked, or dispensed with altogether for the time being, because it is “cleaning day.” No wonder husbands shrink from such days, preferring dirty rooms all the time to having clean ones, for which they pay such unsatisfactory premiums. A little quiet care and cleaning every day will, we think, secure the largest amount of freedom, and certainly much more pleasure and happiness for all, than these dreaded days of confusion and discomfort.

LXXIII.

PLANNING FOR THE WEEK.

NOTHING so simplifies labor as a well-defined, regular plan for each day’s specific duties. At first, to one unaccustomed to systematic work, it may be difficult to get into the track, and follow the route until it is so familiar that it becomes almost second nature. But with each effort, duties thus methodically performed will be easier, and when the plan you design to follow has been well digested, and each part so adapted as to reach toward the good of the whole, labor will not only be greatly diminished, but a positive pleasure in the performance of duties so perfectly organized will be the crowning reward.

Yet to arrange a plan for each day requires thought and judgment, and she must be a wonderful character who, from the beginning, can so perfect a code of laws for the regular discharge of household labor, that no modification or change will be necessary. If a young housekeeper, at the end of one year’s trial, begins to feel somewhat at home in her dominions, she should be well content, nor allow a shadow of discouragement to mar her comfort, even if now and then she finds her carefully planned rules requiring some little adjustment, to secure a smooth and easy action. _Try_, and _reject_, until you have secured a plan by which _you_, the mistress, can best manage others, or yourself perform the work. No one can tell you by what rules you can best govern your domains. Suggestions may be given, which will be of great service in enabling you to arrive at the desired results in the most successful and expeditious manner; but further than that, _the work to do is yours, and not another’s_. Each one must work out the problem of what is best for herself individually, with what aid she can glean from the experience of others, according as it shall be congenial, or adapted to her own peculiar way of working and her own peculiar position.

Even those daughters who are fresh from the wise instructions of a mother, who led them with her through a daily round of cares until they are as skillful in domestic management as she is herself, will not find, when they enter the marriage state, the duties of their new homes exactly like those of their mother. Many things may, and doubtless will, compel a somewhat different administration, although the fundamental principles will be still the same. The husband’s position may demand change in the mode of proceedings to which she has, from childhood, been accustomed. His tastes or means may render it advisable that the wife should modify or enlarge her rules for the performance of domestic duties. The desired change may, from necessity, or from _whims_, which for permanent happiness she will be wise to humor, be so abrupt and entire as to require almost a new mode of action and labor, calling for much deliberation before it can be perfectly satisfactory; and of course this will be almost like commencing an education from the beginning.

Different homes and diverse tastes demand, and justly, to be regulated on somewhat different plans. New duties, and new modes of performing them, are opened to the young housekeeper, however efficient she may have been in all domestic affairs under her mother’s eye; but this should be no reason for discouragement or self-reproach. Put the mother in the daughter’s place, and she might find it equally strange, and no easier to rearrange her code of laws for domestic labor, only so far as age and longer experience has taught her more wisdom and greater facility in regulating household affairs. But whatever the style or position, there is none, however high or low, that is not improved and the work simplified by systematic arrangement. Let each day of the week have its own peculiar work, modified or varied, of course, by changes which cannot be foreseen,--such as sickness, absence of part of the family, unexpected company, invited guests, or holidays.

And here let us say, it is desirable, when you invite friends to dinner or tea, that you choose such days as are the least filled with work which cannot be well set aside,--such as washing, ironing, etc.,--so that you may take time for entertaining your guests, without the burden of feeling that you are compelled to leave for to-morrow the work that should have been done to-day, and, by so doing, to lay up for yourself too heavy burdens and unsettle the regular course of labor for the rest of the week.

We do not propose to give rules for any one. That would be quite impossible, as so much depends on the taste of the master and mistress, the number of the family, and of the servants employed. But there are a few things which, in our opinion, will make the work easier, and increase the comfort of all concerned. For instance, on Saturday all the clothes for changes should be laid out, so that the Sabbath may find us arrayed in spotless garments. And this being done, as all the soiled clothes are ready, it would seem that Monday must, almost of necessity, be set apart as the established _washing-day_. Of course, if one has a laundry distinct from the kitchen, as soon as the washing and ironing of one week is finished, the range will be cleaned out, ashes brushed off, kindling laid, and floor scrubbed, all for the next week; and if everything is thus in order, it must be an uncommonly large family if the washing is not all done, clothes-lines and pins brought in, and, in winter, coarse clothes sprinkled and folded, in good time on Monday night. This should be Monday’s work, somewhat modified, perhaps, according to the help employed in this department. When two or three girls are employed in one house, as we have before said, we do not think it the most comfortable way for the _cook_ to take charge of the washing. Let her help, if necessary, as she may find time; but if she first performs her regular duties, the family will be more comfortable; and if the second girl has charge of the washing, the clothes will, or should be, more satisfactorily done by one steady hand. Let Tuesday be for ironing. Wednesday the chambermaid and laundress will need for cleaning the laundry and halls, wiping off finger-marks from doors, and any chamber-work which did not receive particular attention Monday or Tuesday. The cook will need by Wednesday to clean up her tins, floors, closets, or if company or the family require, to do some extra cooking. On Thursday the silver should be carefully looked over and polished by chamois-skin, after washing in _hot_ soapsuds, or with whiting if any brown spots are found. Friday is the best day for sweeping, and seeing that mattresses and bedsteads are free from dust; which, if left to accumulate, will breed moths and other vermin. Saturday may be employed in cleaning parlors, washing windows, polishing door-handles, bell-pulls, and stair-rods, and a thorough oversight of the house generally.

These items are only by way of suggestions, to be filled up or discarded as the housekeeper’s judgment, taste, or position may deem advisable. We only claim that, having once examined and become fully persuaded in your own mind what your position and the comfort of your family demand, you should settle upon some well-considered plan, and then determine to carry it into practice, as far as possible, with promptness and regularity. Take time to consider; _try, and try again_; but having settled what is best, act upon it without flinching.

LXXIV.

SHOPPING.

WE have heard from ladies remarks like the following: “Before I was married, and cares and responsibilities became more and more exacting every year, there was nothing I used to enjoy more than roaming from shop to shop, seeing everything that was to be seen, but without the responsibility of purchasing, because my mother always attended to that. My shopping in those days was only to gratify curiosity. But now it must be done in earnest, without shopping for sight-seeing or loitering,--the only desirable part of the business.”

Now, I cannot but think this waste of time and gratification of a childish curiosity in young women altogether wrong. The amount of “shopping,” as it is called, done from no necessity, but only to while away the time, is very great, particularly by young ladies who have no intention of purchasing. While there are books to be read, sewing to be done, mothers to be helped, and their burdens lightened by their daughters’ loving care, and painting, drawing, and music to be practiced, we don’t understand how time can hang heavy on one’s hands. Pleasant walks and rides, lectures, concerts, and picture-galleries, can surely furnish all the exercise and recreation that is needed or at all desirable, and will be much more conducive to the improvement of the mind and strengthening of the body than this too prevalent custom of sauntering through the streets, gazing into the windows, or visiting the stores, looking at and handling everything one fancies, but buying nothing. Many evils spring from this absurd method of _taking exercise_, or wasting time. There can be no healthy exercise in loitering in a crowded and perhaps ill-lighted, poorly ventilated store; for capacious, airy, and well-ventilated establishments are not common. The effect of such dissipation on the mind and character cannot be ennobling. To watch and criticise the people who pass, to remark on their dress, manners, and peculiarities, is almost certain to establish an unkind, censorious habit, and, in the end, make those who practice it confirmed gossips,--the most unlovable and unsafe of all characters. A love of dress; a desire to imitate or surpass those who are the most extravagant in their outlays; an envious disposition; dissatisfaction with their own condition and the income allowed for their dress; longing to cast aside good clothes and secure the newest and most stylish, every time the shopping farce is performed,--are some of the evils which, it is to be feared, will grow out of this propensity; and added to this, another still more to be deprecated,--the selfish disregard for the feelings and interests of others.

It is painful to observe with what recklessness our young ladies will sit at a counter and call for one piece of goods after another, until the shelves before them are almost entirely stripped,--tossing one article here and another there, throwing heavy goods upon delicate articles, while the perplexed clerk endeavors to hide his anxiety, and shield his wares from harm, in the most gentlemanly and unobtrusive manner; but his politeness and delicacy are wasted, for this class of shoppers care little for the discomfort of a clerk.

In this manner they flit from counter to counter, wasting not only their own time, but that of the employés in the store, and exciting false hopes of a good sale, and then, without a word of apology for the trouble they have given, leave that store to go through the same folly at other establishments.

A few days since we witnessed a most provoking display of this manner of wasting time, and by no means an uncommon occurrence. All the room for some distance on one side of the store, and two or three of the clerks, were monopolized by a party of young girls,--we fear they thought themselves entitled to be addressed as _young ladies_. The earnestness with which they called for one class of goods after another warranted the attendants in anticipating a large sale; but when woolens, silks, linens, ribbons, and laces were heaped around them in great abundance, and many really earnest purchasers had been kept long waiting for attendance, or, not having time, had been obliged to go elsewhere, these girls carelessly rose and turned to leave.

“I am sorry we can show you nothing satisfactory,” courteously remarked one of the clerks.

“O, we didn’t come in to buy,--only to look around,” replied the leader of this ill-mannered party, with a scornful air; and an absurd, silly giggle went through the party as they left the store, evidently satisfied that they had had a good time and played off a smart joke on the clerks.

The expression of disappointment suddenly changed to contempt, visible among the young men who had so politely waited upon those thoughtless girls, was very significant of their estimate of such characters. If their mothers could have seen the whole performance, and, giving each a _good shaking_, sent them home to learn good manners, and a proper use of time by a term of labor in the kitchen, we should have been thankful.

But in the case of the “mother and housekeeper,” who inquires how real, earnest, practical shopping may be disarmed of its terrors, and made easy and simple, we would say there is nothing easier if you begin right. Before leaving home on a shopping expedition, be “fully persuaded in your own mind” that you know just what you want, what you must have, and how much you are willing and can afford to pay for what you desire to purchase. Make out a plain list that you can understand at a glance, and when you enter the store call first for the _must-haves_, examine the quality and pattern, and ascertain if the price is such as to justify you in buying. Then, if satisfied on those points, look at various patterns of the same fabric and price, and select the one that pleases you the most perfectly, and, naming the quantity and place to send, pass on to other departments. Don’t allow your attention to wander to anything but the article under consideration, until you have decided that item. If it is a dress, examine and decide before looking at sheeting or table linen or anything else. That settled, pass on to the next topic on your list, and so continue until you have finished the work you had arranged to do. Then, if you have a little leisure, you can look about you at the various articles displayed, gratifying your love of fine things, and gaining an insight into the quality and price of articles you may need in time; only take care that when your purchases are finished, you do not interfere with other purchasers, or engross the time of busy clerks unduly. In making out a list, classify the articles you are intending to buy, putting groceries, crockery, books, dry goods, etc., each by themselves, and begin at the nearest place. By this method you will save yourself much time and fatigue.

These are very simple rules; but try them and see if shopping is any longer a duty to be “dreaded.”

LXXV.

DUSTING.

AMONG the many little things a good housekeeper should vigilantly watch over, while trying to teach a child or inexperienced girl, careful and thorough _dusting_ is one of the most prominent. It is not alone those who are confessedly ignorant that require this supervision, but one half of all the hired help we ever saw have never been trained to do that kind of labor perfectly. They are accustomed to look at it as being of less importance, and more easily slighted without attracting notice and subjecting themselves to rebuke, than other portion of their duties. They may be very capable in many other parts of the work allotted to them, yet lamentably fail when they undertake to dust a room. A parlor- or chambermaid may begin her work properly. With broom, whisk, duster, and dust-pan, with short sleeves, a clean handkerchief or cap over the head to protect the hair from dust, she commences to clean and “put the room to rights” in the most approved manner. Books, papers, works of art, ornaments, or furniture--everything movable--are carried into the next room if convenient, or if not, neatly covered from the dust, which must necessarily be raised while sweeping; thus leaving the floor as nearly vacant as possible, to facilitate that operation.

But, if superintending this work done by a new girl, you will notice that, however methodical in all else pertaining to her work, she does not stop to clean, carefully dust, and polish each article, as she takes it from the room, and by so doing have them all ready to set back again, with no delay, when the room is well swept and dusted. She seems to have no idea that this will simplify her work, save time and extra handling, and, as often happens, in case of any necessity for unusual haste in finishing the work, be a great convenience. But, seeing how like a good worker the girl takes hold of the other portions of her labor, you perhaps think it not best to embarrass her by too many criticisms at first, having no fear but at the close of the sweeping the dusting will be well done; called away by other duties, you leave her to finish, on the whole well pleased, and hopeful that you have secured one who will prove faithful and reliable, relieving you from constant watchfulness in her department.

On your return, the first glance at the room confirms your hopes, but by a second look your dream of peace grows shadowy. The room is nicely swept, the furniture placed more nearly in the proper position than, for a first trial, you had expected; but there the charm vanishes. Such dusting! It must have been attempted; for you see the mark of the dusting-cloth, as if hastily passed over, or brushed across the plain surfaces of tables, chairs, etc., but looking more as if flies or spiders had run races over them, than like the efforts of a human hand to dust the room. Here and there some one or two articles have been tolerably polished, but wherever there is any elaborate carving, intricate molding, or dainty piece of statuary, requiring extra care, the dust has settled, and lies unmolested in ugly masses, defacing or concealing all the beauty.

You summon the girl, trying all the time to school your heart and voice to patience. You show her the dust, and, taking the work into your own hands, proceed to give her practical demonstration of how the work can and must be done. As you pass from one article to another, you explain the injury to furniture and ornaments which will follow careless dusting. Point out how speedily dust hides in the moldings and carvings, and show her how to gain access to all the intricate and troublesome ornamental work. As you proceed she sees how easily and perfectly it can be done; but do not flatter yourself that this lesson, so thoroughly and plainly given, will relieve you from the responsibility of following up your chambermaid with continued watchfulness and reminders. Be prepared to repeat this lesson every week, and at the end of months find the repetition still necessary. If you do not find this so, you may thank God and take courage, for you have secured a treasure which you will do well to cherish.

It is because our servants are so inclined to slight this seemingly small, but really very important part of domestic economy, that we think mothers should begin early to teach their little daughters how to dust a room, and polish, by thorough dusting, all the furniture and articles of beauty. Let them take first lessons in learning to keep their play-room and playthings free from dust, and the knowledge thus gained in play will soon be of much practical and valuable assistance to their mothers. We know there are some children naturally careless and flighty, while others are born neat and methodical. This difference is very observable in children of the same family, trained by the same mother, with equal care; and mothers soon understand that one child must be looked after, in every step of her way toward becoming a practical, useful, helpful daughter and woman, more than the other. Such children draw very heavily on their mother’s strength, patience, and hopefulness; but if the child is of an affectionate disposition, in the end love and experience will conquer.

There is great need that mothers be not discouraged in their endeavors to teach their daughters all that pertains to practical domestic economy; for, if we are not greatly mistaken, the time is not far off when we shall all feel the necessity of looking to our daughters to assist us in the nicer parts of housework, if we would have comfortable, happy homes; relying on servants only for the coarser, harder parts that would tax our strength too severely, or engross our time too much, to leave any for social life or intellectual improvement. These must receive their full share of our attention; but the home cares have equal claims. Let there be an equal distribution, giving to each her portion in due season, and there will be less waste and extravagance, and lighter hearts and happier homes.

LXXVI.

A CHAPTER ON SOUPS.

HESITATION in taking the first steps in any new enterprise or new work is very common. With some it springs from great caution; with others, from lack of confidence in their own ability. They magnify troubles which may arise, and imagine all manner of difficulties, until very small and easy duties are clothed in a mystery which they shrink from solving.

In working, a novice, if at all timid or lacking self-reliance, often keeps herself in a constant state of alarm lest she make some great mistake, and, strange as it may seem, few things in the whole round of cooking-experiments assume a more formidable aspect than the simple act of making a soup. It is a mystery which grows more _uncanny_ the longer it is looked at from a distance; but lay your hand upon it, and you will soon learn that you have been frightened at a shadow.

There are several things preliminary to making soup which are quite essential. First of all, it is desirable, though not absolutely indispensable, that you provide yourself with the best and most convenient utensils.

A _stock-pot_ is usually a large, round kettle, with a closely fitting cover, into which the meat or bones and odd bits for preparing the stock or broth for soups are put, to be cooked. It is generally made of iron or copper.

A _soup-digester_ is a kind of stock-pot made wholly of iron. The lid fits closely into a groove in the top of the digester, with a projecting piece which, when turned till it meets the socket or notch on each side of the groove, acts like a lock, holding the lid on tightly. In that respect it is far better than the stock-pot, for nothing can boil over in the digester, and no steam escapes except through the _valve_ at the top of the cover. They are to be obtained at almost all hardware stores, and are of all sizes, from three quarts to ten gallons.

Next, having provided the utensils, good “stock” of various kinds should be kept constantly on hand, regulating the quantity prepared at one time by the state of the weather and the size of your family. In summer, in a cool cellar, it will keep, by frequent scalding, several days. In winter it is safe to keep it much longer, only, like everything else, it requires to be looked after carefully. Few soups can be of the best quality without a strong _stock_ to start with. _Liebig’s Extracts of Meat_ answers very well for a substitute, but is better used in connection with the stock.

Every bit of meat which is left over, that cannot be satisfactorily employed otherwise, should go at once into the _stock-pot_ or _digester_. Bones, after carving from them all the meat that can be advantageously secured, must be well cracked and added to the other pieces. The vessel should be always near, ready to receive any stray morsel. When enough is collected to make a good quantity of stock, put cold water to the pieces; for the juices, which are what you desire to obtain, are much more readily extracted in cold water than in hot. On the contrary, meats that are to be boiled for table use should always be put into _boiling_ water, which closes the outer surfaces instantly, thus retaining the juices.

When the water is added, set the digester over a moderate fire, where the contents will not boil rapidly, only simmer. After it begins to boil, add salt and pepper. Opinions differ as to the length of time needed in the preparation of good stock; but it is generally allowed to simmer most of the day, which is too long, and it thereby becomes muddy. We think a few hours’ boiling will extract all the juice, and make better stock than longer. Remember that stock should have more salt, pepper, and seasoning than would be desirable in the soup to be made from it.

When done, strain it into a large stone pot, kept for that purpose exclusively, and cover closely till morning, when the fat will all rise to the top and harden, and should then be removed. Never allow stock to remain in the stock-pot or digester overnight; for, even when there is no copper to render it unsafe, it will assuredly taste of the iron, and the flavor be very greatly injured by it.

If you have no bones or bits of meat on hand to make stock with, a knuckle of beef or veal can be procured with little expense; or, if a rich soup is desired, several kinds of meat should be mixed. For instance: Take four pounds of the shin of beef, four pounds of the knuckle of veal, and a half-pound of good lean ham--any scraps of poultry, necks, wings, etc.--that may chance to be unused. Three onions, three carrots, one head of celery, a few chopped mushrooms, two or three fresh tomatoes, or what would be equal to them in canned tomatoes, if they can be obtained; just a shake of savory herbs and parsley, and, in cold weather, three turnips. In warm weather turnips will cause the stock to ferment. Add an ounce and a half of salt, one table-spoonful of sugar, twelve white peppercorns, six cloves, three small bits of mace, and four quarts of water. Line the nicely cleaned digester, after well buttering it, with the ham cut in thin, broad slices carefully trimmed from all the outer fat that may taste too strong of the smoke, or which is at all rusty. Then cut all the meat from the beef and veal into about three-inch pieces, and lay them over the ham. Set it on the stove, and when all is delicately and equally browned, put in the beef and veal bones, well cracked, the bits of poultry-trimmings, and pour over all four quarts of _cold_ water. When it comes to the boiling point, bring to the side of the stove or range, skim very carefully, adding now and then a little cold water, to stop rapid boiling. Let it simmer in this way till it is quite clear, and then put in all the vegetables and other ingredients, and keep it simmering over the stove five hours. Do not let it at any time come to a brisk boil, as that will waste the stock and injure the color.

When done, strain through a fine hair-sieve or cloth into a large stone _stock-jar_, and cover up carefully till needed.

Prepared in this way, a stock will keep in cool weather a long time, if kept covered closely from the air, by occasionally scalding, and is always on hand when you wish a rich soup. While it is cooking, in adding water to stop boiling, be sure that you add enough to supply that wasted in steam, so that when done and strained you will have four quarts of liquid. One quart will be sufficient for the stock for four rich soups.

A less rich stock may be obtained by using less meat and seasoning, or by carefully saving the water in which fresh meat or fowls have been boiled, adding vegetables and seasoning to suit yourself. Let it simmer gently for six hours, skimming it carefully, and then strain and set aside for use.

_White stock_, for white soup, is made like the rich stock; only, instead of browning the meat before adding any water, you should rub the digester with butter, lay in the meat, moisten with half a pint of water, and simmer slowly, until the gravy begins to flow; then add five quarts of cold water and such vegetables and seasoning as you prefer, or the same as for rich stock, and let all simmer five hours. When stronger stock is required, double the quantity of veal, or put in an old fowl. The liquor in which a young turkey has been boiled is excellent for white stocks or soups.

_Browning_ for soups is made with two ounces of powdered sugar and half a pint of water. Put the sugar in a smooth, clean saucepan over a slow fire till it begins to melt; keep it in motion with a wooden spoon all the time until it becomes black, when the water should be added. Let it dissolve in the water, then cork closely, and use only a few drops when required. In France an onion is burnt to put with the browning; but all browning, although it adds somewhat to the looks of some kinds of soups, does not often improve the flavor.

To _clarify_ stocks or soups which are sometimes a little muddy, carefully separate the whites of eggs from the yelks, and use the whites to clear the soup. One egg to every quart of stock or soup to be clarified. Beat well together, with one fourth of a pint of water to every egg, and, still beating, add gradually to the stock, which should be just warm. Then place it over the fire, and when it boils skim thoroughly, whisk it well, and draw the kettle to the side of the stove, to let it settle till the whites of the eggs become separated from the soup; then strain through a fine cloth, and, if rightly done, the stock or soup will be clear.

Thus, as will be readily understood, we have given most important preliminary steps toward making soup. In the next article we give directions for making several kinds of soups, and thereby answer several requests in one chapter.

LXXVII.

MORE ABOUT SOUPS.

MANY suppose they can obtain just as good soup by preparing the whole between breakfast and dinner, claiming that the idea of keeping “stock” on hand is a foolish one, and an increase of the cares and labors of providing. We think this is a mistake, springing from ignorance in some cases, in others from the fact that the objectors have never tried what seems to us the better way. It is certainly the most economical, and on trial we are sure will be found a saving of time and labor, instead of an additional tax.

By allowing the material for stock to simmer slowly, one obtains the foundation for the strongest and best flavored soup which can be made from flesh. Whereas, if the meat is taken in the morning, and prepared for dinner the same day, one must hasten matters, and cannot take time to separate the meat in small pieces, or have a soup free from muddy streaks and a strong, disagreeable flavor.

Liebig objects to cooking the stock for any great length of time, because he assumes, and justly, that the albumen and fibrin which, after protracted cooking, will rise hard and bony, cannot be so thoroughly separated as not to leave some disagreeable flavor, and take away much of the real nutriment of the soup. He says if we take one pound of beef free from fat, and separate it from the bones finely, as for mince-meat or sausages; then mix it uniformly in its own weight of cold water, heat it slowly to a boiling point, and allow the liquid to boil briskly for only a few minutes; then strain through a towel to free it from the coagulated albumen and fibrin which will be mixed with it, we can, by this short boiling, secure an equal weight of the most aromatic soup or beef-tea, of such strength as cannot be obtained, even by boiling for hours, from a solid piece of flesh. Youmans says, by long boiling the rich part of the meat extracted by the cold water coagulates and becomes insoluble, instead of remaining dissolved in the soup, as it should do, in order to secure the most highly nutritious substance of the meat. A piece of flesh put into boiling water _undivided_ is in the most unfavorable condition possible for making good soup. It is customary to protract the boiling, because it is supposed to thicken and enrich the soup.

We have no doubt, if the mistress could oversee the whole process, that a better soup would be obtained by less than the four or five hours’ cooking which we recommended in our last article for stock. But if she is obliged to commit the preparing of stock or soups to willing but careless hands, who half the time do not cut the meat up fine or crack the bones, a longer time is necessary to extract the full flavor, which will not then be as pure.

What are called _clear soups_ should be of a light straw color, and not too strongly flavored with the meat.

_White_ or _thick soups_ must only be thick enough to adhere slightly to the spoon when hot.

_Purée_ consists of vegetables or meat reduced to a very smooth pulp, and then mixed with enough stock to make a thick soup like most of the bean or pea soups.

One of the most generally palatable soups is the _turtle_ or _black bean soup_, with rich beef stock for the foundation.

Soak a pint and a half of the beans overnight in plenty of lukewarm water. In the morning drain off all the water and cover with fresh cold water; see that your soup-digester is perfectly cleaned, and three quarts of beef stock put in it, then set it over the fire. (Of course you never allow your digester or soup-pot to be put away without being thoroughly cleaned; but _sometimes_ girls have been known to forget or make a mistake; and it is best for many reasons that all utensils should be examined thoroughly, rinsed with hot water, and wiped dry each time you take them out for use, if only to remove what dust may settle on them while in the closet.)

As soon as your kettle is in order and the stock in it, drain off the water from the beans; put them into the stock and set at once over the fire where it will come to a boil slowly. As soon as that takes place, set it a little one side, and it will simmer, not _quite_ boil, till time for dinner. It will take some four or five hours to make the beans perfectly tender. Half an hour before straining, add a teacupful of tomato catsup and half a pint of canned tomatoes or six fresh ones. Let it cook a little more briskly for a half-hour, then rub through a coarse sieve or colander, and serve hot. In preparing stock for this soup, the savory herbs and mushrooms may be omitted, also the tomatoes, as it is better to add them just before the beans are done, and strain all together. Some like to squeeze a few drops of lemon-juice into soup when in their plates, and it is well to have a quarter of a lemon put on a small saucer or cup-plate by every one at the table, so that they can add it if agreeable.

An excellent _beef soup_ can be made from the bones left from a roast. Cut the bones apart, and crack them to pieces with a broad hatchet kept for that purpose only, as the good husband may object to having his carefully kept hatchet used by “women folks,” and _you_ may be equally unwilling to take articles that have been used you know not for what. Cover the bones with cold water, and set on the range where they will simmer, _not boil_, between three and four hours. When the meat is so tender as to slip easily from the bones, scrape it all off and set it aside; put the stock thus made in a stone pot and cover closely, after it is cold. We should have said in former directions that stock must not be covered up till cold, then closed carefully. The next day remove every particle of the fat; warm the stock enough to strain it; cut up one onion (if you and your family like them), two or three potatoes, one turnip, a few bits of cauliflower or cabbage, if desired, and two carrots. Put these in the stock, adding, if you like, a half-pint of rich stock; add pepper and salt to your liking, half a teacupful of tomato catsup, a table-spoonful of rice washed clean, or “star” macaroni. Boil one hour, and dish without a second straining. Of course all these seasonings and vegetables must be varied or modified to suit the special tastes of different families.

The meat cut from the bone may be made into nice “force-meat balls,” and put into the soup when dished for the table. To make these balls, rub the meat smooth in a marble mortar. If very dry, moisten with a spoonful of rich stock. When smooth, season with salt, pepper, a little thyme, summer savory, and green parsley chopped fine. Beat one egg light and stir in, thickening the whole with cracker crumbs, enough to roll into small balls the size of a large walnut, and fry in boiling lard, or place on a dish and bake a clear, even brown, and put into the soup the last thing before sending to the table.

_Julienne soup_ is among those most used at hotels and eating-houses. Put half a spoonful of butter into the soup-kettle; slice in two onions, and fry to a clear brown, taking care not to scorch them; then add three quarts of good stock, two small turnips and two carrots chopped small. Let this boil gently one hour, and then add a pint of green peas, freshly gathered, and the same of young and tender string-beans, a little mace, salt and pepper as needed, and a single stock of celery chopped fine. Too much celery gives a bitter taste to soup. Boil two hours more; then rub a table-spoonful of butter, with the same amount of flour, and stir gradually into the soup. Boil a few minutes and dish.

A good _vermicelli_ soup with stock made from a shin of veal, boiled in three quarts of water, can be prepared with little trouble. The stock must be skimmed carefully, and, this done, put in one whole turnip, one carrot, and one onion; none of these should be cut up. Boil three hours; add salt and pepper to taste, and a quarter of a pound of vermicelli after the three hours’ boiling, and let it boil gently one hour more, then take out the bone and vegetables and serve. If the stock boils away too much, add a little water.

LXXVIII.

TESTING CHARACTER.