Chapter VI: Part I: Motherly Talks with Young Housekeepers (3)

The wool is no longer carded by hand. Our factories have banished the spinning-wheel from the good old kitchen fireside; the little ones nestle no longer by mother’s knee, watching with never-ceasing wonder and enjoyment the “head” of flax disappear from the distaff and become a smooth, bright thread, under the skillful hand and foot that keep the pretty wheel so active. The cool breeze, laden with the perfume of cinnamon-roses and lilacs, while it sweeps through the open window of the old attic, no longer sports with golden curls, as the children run merry races in their efforts to “keep step” when the long white rolls of wool in the hand of the mother are transformed by the rapid revolutions of the big wheel into yarn for knitting. Little hands no longer wind it, from the spindle on the swifts, into skeins, or fill the bobbins for the weaver’s shuttle, and no bright eyes watch it as it flies through the warp.

The mothers escape the labor of the loom, while the little folks lose all this, or the still greater sport of meddling with the web, in their vain efforts to throw the shuttle through, or to _bang up_ if they succeed,--the frolic often cut short by _banging_ their fingers, instead of the woof, with the heavy beam. Machinery relieves us from all such labor, and deprives our children of much real fun, for which there is no compensation.

We almost regret those old-fashioned times, and often wonder if the elegancies and (supposed) increased comforts of our modern dwellings are a sufficient compensation for the multiplied labor and the necessity for so much more help which we are forced to employ. For though our mothers and grandmothers did more rough, homely work, we do not believe that they had half so hard a time in doing it as their daughters have in their efforts to teach modern servants how to perform the necessary labor of our present style of housekeeping. To weave a web of cloth is but child’s play, compared to the worry and disappointment and mortification that cause our modern housekeepers to “die deaths daily,” through the utter incompetency of those they are compelled to have about them. The tyranny of our modern style of living increases the proper amount of work to be done far beyond what one pair of hands can perform.

We think the deterioration is in the _servants_, and not in the mistresses. With all loving respect for our mothers and grandmothers, we feel confident that their daughters’ executive ability is equal to their own.

To be sure, husbands will tell of their mothers’ gingerbread, pies, and doughnuts, and, with an air of hopeless longing or patient endurance, wonder why nobody “nowadays” can ever cook as their mothers did!

To be sure! Why can’t they? For the very reason that our husbands cannot eat “ever so many” pickles, pies, gingerbread, and big bowls of bread and milk, as they used to do on returning from school; finish off with a pocketful of apples, and then be half ready to cry that their containing powers are not equal to their appetites. A good game of “tag,” however, up the front stairs, down the back, through the long hall once or twice, soon remedied that difficulty in boyhood. If husbands will only let their brains run wild for a short time, quit study, forget business, gold markets, and all such corroding cares, and be wild, harum-scarum boys once more, their wives’ gingerbread will taste just as good as their mothers’ and grandmothers’ did. That is the trouble with the husbands’ appetites. But the housekeepers’ troubles lie deeper than this.

The whole routine of modern housekeeping is much more complex than in our parents’ time. To be sure, they rose early; parents and children then knew what “sunrise” meant, for they were dressed and at work before the sun’s red wheel began to rise over the eastern border. The cows were milked, the milk put in the cool milk-cellar, the butter made, the breakfast ready--a good substantial, healthy breakfast--long before the time when our housekeepers of to-day are out of their beds. “Early to bed, early to rise,” simple, nourishing meals, quiet home pleasures,--not many hours spent in senseless calls, but an occasional good old-fashioned visit to keep the heart fresh and living,--these insured health and strength, good digestion, tranquil sleep, and cheerful homes.

_Early rising_ facilitates the action of the domestic machinery in a wonderful manner. One hour lost or wasted in the morning clogs the wheels, and the work drags heavily all day. One hour gained is the best lubricator in the world. Everything glides along smoothly,--head, heart, and hands work in harmony.

Once, when a little girl, we were in despair because our “stent” was not finished in season for us to go a berrying with the brothers and sisters. Taking her kerchief from the black satin reticule that always hung on her arm when knitting, the dear old grandmother gently wiped the fast-falling tears, saying, “Ah, little one! you didn’t want to get up this morning when the others did. Remember that if you lose an hour in the morning you will waste half a dozen hunting it all day long, and deprive yourself of much pleasure. I’d try and remember, if I were you, never to lose another.”

We regret, for their own comfort, that our present housekeepers do not retain their parents’ habits of early rising. But contrast the life of our parents with the modern life of their descendants. The demands of society, late hours, too much visiting and company, make laggards in the morning; and the appetite, injured by untimely eating at these late hours, is supposed to need coaxing with dainties at breakfast. The elaborate breakfast requires as much time and labor as belongs to a dinner; and the dinner, with all the variety that etiquette claims,--several courses, and a multitude of dishes consequent upon these courses,--increases the labor immensely; and, unless blessed with a good corps of servants, requiring little oversight, we can secure little time for rest, reading, or sewing. Such servants are seldom granted to mortals in our times. Twenty years ago, one girl, without any of the modern improvements,--water to be brought from the street pumps, suds to be taken up and emptied in the gutter,--accomplished more work, and made the family more comfortable, than three or four will do now.

We are inclined to believe that the heaviest trials of housekeeping may be traced, not to the degeneracy of our mothers’ daughters, but to a marked and most unfortunate change in the character and capacity of our “help.”(?) This is no freak of the imagination. Some few families still retain servants that have been with them for years, and such housekeepers have no sympathy with their less favored sisters; but let death or marriage remove these comforts, and compel them to seek others to replace the old and well-tried ones, and they will learn that this complaint has very substantial foundations.

What remedy may be found it is impossible to say. In part our housekeepers are to blame. They have such horror of being left without help, such dread of constant changes, that they live as slaves to the whims and caprices of an ignorant class of persons, who soon recognize their fears and dependence, and use this knowledge to extort high wages for very little service,--compelling then mistresses to pass over their impudence and arrogance by bold threats of leaving.

This lack of independence, this fear to assert their own authority and rights, is, we apprehend, in a great measure the cause of the insubordination and uselessness of the girls of the present time. When they learn that their services will not be accepted unless faithfully rendered, we may look for easier and happier times. But how is this to be accomplished? A few cannot remedy the evil. It can only be effected by general co-operation. We are not willing to acknowledge that the housekeepers of the past were any more capable than those of our time; but we do think that our position, owing to the great annoyance we are subjected to from the kitchen cabinet, is far more trying than our mothers’ could have been.

What sort of housekeepers our daughters will become, enervated by late hours and all the gay and strange excitement of modern life, and crippled by the hideous freaks of fashion, it is painful to imagine and impossible to foretell.

XVII.

WOMAN’S KINGDOM.

“I SEE unrest, discontent, strife, and sin: I see girls--children in years--from whose cheek the first blush of innocence, from whose soul the last vestige of youth, have vanished; women sold to frivolity; women wasting most precious gifts; women whose ambition has no higher object than to mislead and triumph over men; men growing hard, selfish, and wicked, the slaves of their passions, going down to death, with no hand to save,--all for the lack of a _true home_. Then I remember that the home is the true kingdom of woman, where her rights can never be dethroned; that all pure love, all right thoughts, all religion, all governments, if you would have them live, must have their roots beneath its altar. This conviction impels me to say to every woman who has a home, Let home stand first, before all other things! No matter how high your ambition may transcend its duties, no matter how far your talents or your influence may reach beyond its doors, before everything else build up a true home! Be not its slave! Be its minister! Let it not be enough that it is swept and garnished, that its silver glistens, that its food is delicious. Feed the love in it. Feed the truth in it. Feed thought and aspiration, feed all charity and gentleness in it. Then from its walls shall come forth the true woman and the true man, who, _together_, shall rule and bless the land.”

Is this an overwrought picture? We think not. What honor can be greater than to found such a home? What dignity higher than to reign its undisputed, honored mistress? What is the ability to speak on a public platform to large, intelligent audiences, or the wisdom that may command a seat on a judge’s bench, compared to that which can insure and preside over a true home, with such skill that husband and children “rise up and call her blessed”? To be the guiding star, the ruling spirit, in such a position is higher honor than to rule an empire. _Woman’s rights!_ Has man any higher rights than these?

To be sure man often abuses his power, and brings sorrow and woe upon her who, trusting and loving him, should always be the mistress of his heart, an equal partner in all his possessions, his joys, and his sorrows. But are there no cases on record where “the woman Thou gavest me” has abused the power with which the marriage vow endowed her; destroying the peace, and making shipwreck of all that her husband holds most precious?

The law does not as yet secure to a wife such independence as will guard her against injustice and meanness from the hands of her husband; but what defence have they provided against the bitter sorrows that bad wives can bring down upon their husbands? Has any one ever ascertained the full statistics, or clearly estimated the average? It is well, no doubt, that this matter has been so widely agitated, as it all tends, we hope, to establish the rights of both man and woman on a firm foundation; but if, before this “revolution” is settled, man should make a full statement of his wrongs, there are those who could bring forward just cause of complaint in large measure. Ah! if husbands and wives would always remember that, with them, as in other associations, “union is strength”; that “united they stand, divided they fall”; that _together_ they should walk through life, _together_ share the joys, _together_ bear the burdens and the crosses,--what a happy world this would be! If it is a united kingdom, the wife accepts the rough as well as the smooth of household rule, as her part of the administration. If able to govern without a “kitchen cabinet,” a happy woman is she! But if not, she also takes the trials of the kitchen, the disagreeable details which must form a part of her home life, the vexation of spirit caused by the inefficiency of the servants of the present time, and this is the dreariest part,--all great and increasing hindrances to the perfection at which she should aim. But a good wife will endure these infelicities till a remedy is found, remembering that they are but a small part of home. The purest, sweetest, holiest elements that constitute a home, if recognized and administered in the right spirit, will enable her to forget these trials in the joy and peace that is set before her, and to which all may surely attain, if woman forgets not her high calling in a poor ambition.

Meanwhile the husband--the household king--accepts his part in the rule of this united kingdom. Are his cares any lighter than his wife’s? Look at them. The dust and toil and strife, the battling with the great world outside, in whatever sphere his talents and duties call him, to provide necessities, luxuries, or honors, accordingly as he is prospered, for the family who are sheltered in his home.

We think the joys and the sorrows, the crosses and the crowns, in married life are about evenly balanced, and nothing will right all the wrongs, and bring order out of the confusion of these vexed questions, so surely as the shelter of a _true home, ruled by the true wife and mother_.

XVIII.

THE KITCHEN.

UNFORTUNATELY, many ladies have not health or strength sufficient to take such supervision as will secure a neat and well-arranged kitchen; and, still more unfortunately, there are many, and we fear the number is increasing, who have such repugnance to any care save the genteel arrangement of their parlors, or the fashionable adornment of their persons, that they shun their kitchens as they would the plague. They will give occasional directions for some fancy dish, or the more elaborate details, if preparing for company; and then, if their husbands attend to the marketing, relieving them from all care, and the cook and waiter have breakfast, dinner, and tea at the desired time and in proper shape, they are content. If their parlors and chambers appear neat and inviting, they ask no questions as to the condition of their kitchens, and never inquire if the supply of utensils is adequate to the amount and quality of the labor the cook is expected to perform, or if they are of a kind to expedite or simplify her work. Indeed, one would suppose that the kitchen was entirely out of the mistress’s domains,--a region for which the cook only was responsible. If any are content to eat what is set before them, “asking no questions,”--not “for conscience’ sake,” but for the sake of their own indolent self-indulgence,--that is their _right_, and we would in no wise interfere with the full enjoyment of it.

But we know there are those who find no bliss in such ignorance, but prefer to know when and in _what_ their food is prepared, and willingly accept the care and, it may be, the annoyance which the knowledge will bring. In many of the most palatial abodes, where comforts and luxuries of every character abound, little attention is paid to any comfort or convenience connected with the kitchen. Refusing to provide _straw_, Pharaoh exacted the _full tale of brick_ from the Israelites of old; and so some housekeepers exact the most elaborate meals, without any thought of providing the conveniences which will best enable the cook to gratify their wishes.

We once watched with a sick child belonging to _the rich_ family of the town. The furniture, the silver and glass, were of the best. It was necessary to prepare _wine whey_ for the little sufferer during the night. The mother, exhausted with much watching and anxiety for the child, was sleeping, and, unwilling to wake her, we left a fellow-watcher in charge while we found our way to the kitchen,--if the miserable room could be called by that name. The floor was made of loose, rough boards, that sprang up with every step; an old, dilapidated table, minus one leg, was propped up on the back of a chair; broken dishes, worn-out saucepans,--in truth, we were at our wits’ ends to make even the simple _wine whey_ in such utensils as we found in that strange kitchen, and have often since marvelled by what skill the excellent dinners and suppers we have partaken at that house could ever have been manufactured in such a den and with such “conveniencies.”

Whenever it is possible, a large, airy kitchen should be provided, with every thing to expedite and simplify the labor, and with every facility for perfect ventilation,--a most important point. In the homes of the wealthy there is no reason why the kitchen should not be in all respects so arranged and furnished that the cook must be inexcusable if she does not keep it and its belongings in the most perfect order.

But for those who cannot command the means to build and furnish a kitchen of this kind, the necessity for the greatest neatness and order in that department is still stronger. The occupants of second-class houses are often those who must themselves do or overlook much of the heaviest labor of the family, and therefore have no time to spend in the doubtful luxury of “clearing-up days.” Such days are generally _wasted_ days. Those who find them a necessity are mostly a class who, for five days in the week, never put anything in its proper place, leaving all in disorder till Saturday. Then everything is hunted out of its hiding-place, washed, scoured, polished, and put where it really belongs. The improvement is so striking that one would suppose the kitchen would never again be a scene of disorder and confusion; but probably before Monday’s sun has set carelessness and misrule will have again regained their empire, and taken unto themselves seven spirits worse, if that be possible, than the first. And thus Saturday’s labor will have been given in vain. There is not one servant in a hundred who does not need the watchful eye of a methodical mistress to enforce the necessity of order and neatness in the kitchen. If it is made and furnished in the best manner, it should certainly be carefully kept; but if it be small, inconvenient, and have a meagre supply of utensils, neatness and order become an imperative necessity.

Jules Gouffe, a famous French cook, says: “The more inconvenient a kitchen may be, the more need for cleanliness, carefulness, and for plentiful and good utensils to simplify one’s work. Cleanliness! Cleanliness!--the great essential in all cooking operations--should, I maintain, at the risk of being thought over-particular, be written in large capitals on the door of every kitchen, large or small. A kitchen may be small, badly arranged and lighted, but it should never, on any plea, be dirty. Failure in cooking is often attributable to want of attention to cleanliness. Nothing more than a dirty saucepan is often sufficient to spoil the effect of a whole dinner. All kitchen utensils should be examined daily. Saucepans of all kinds cannot be kept too carefully; they should be washed, scoured with fine sand, and well rinsed each time they are used. The washing of many things in the same water should be carefully avoided; the greasiness this engenders adds much to the labor of cleaning. The brightness and cleanliness of the outside is very commendable; but the cleanliness of the inside must not be sacrificed to that.”

What would be Jules Gouffe’s sensations could he look into many of our kitchens? What would our good housekeepers themselves say--those of them that are not obliged to do the cooking for their families--if we should tell them that the pans in which their bread is baked are seldom washed out and dried, but are, unless thrown into the closet just as the bread was taken from them, wiped with a wet, greasy dishcloth, and bread baked in them over and over again, day after day, with no other cleansing? Said a good lady, “What is the reason that the bottom crust of my bread always tastes like rancid butter?” Examine your bread-pans, and you will no doubt find the reason, to your great surprise and vexation. How often, think you, is your molding-board set away without being washed after molding bread or rolling pastry, and the dough left to dry and sour on it, and the next batch molded on the same unwashed board? “That can’t be possible. I saw it hanging up in the store-room over the flour-barrel only this morning, and it was clean.” Turn it over, under side up, before you speak with too much certainty. How about the flour-sieve? Is it left in the flour-barrel,--thrown in with the sponge, from the cook’s wet hands, upon it, or a piece of unused pastry put in it? If so, when the barrel of flour is about half used, you will find that it has suddenly become sour.

Is it not well to watch over these things daily?

XIX.

HOW MUCH IS A WIFE WORTH?

A FEW weeks since, a party sitting near us in the cars were speaking of a young man, a wealthy farmer, who had just disturbed his friends by venturing to marry a poor girl. We judged by the conversation that he had been well educated, and for wealth and intelligence was quite looked up to by his townsmen. But he had married for love, not money or position, and these friends were liberally using friendship’s privilege to make rather severe remarks about him in his absence.

First, it was _so_ foolish, after his fine education, instead of entering into one of the “professions,” to return to the homestead, the quaint old farm-house, and taking the care of his aged parents upon himself, settle down to a farmer’s life. _So foolish!_

But that was a trivial offence compared to taking a poor girl for a wife, with nothing but a common, practical education, good health, a loving heart, and willing hands to recommend her. With his cultivated and refined tastes, what happiness could he hope for in such companionship? But then he _would_ be a farmer, and perhaps she would be all that a farmer’s wife need be.

We have often thought of the tone of this conversation. For what do men generally marry, and what estimate do they put upon their wives? How many really good husbands ever realize how large a share of the prosperity of their home, its comforts and success, they owe to their wives. The husband earns the money, it may be, but does he ever make an estimate, a fair business estimate of what it would cost, in dollars and cents, to _buy_ the care and comforts that he receives through his wife’s labors, whatever may be their standing in the community? Particularly is this a pertinent question in regard to a farmer’s wife.

While this subject and the conversation just alluded to were fresh in mind, we chanced to pick up a stray paper which spoke quite clearly on some of the points in question. We subjoin a few sentences. They may not come exactly under the head of “talks with young housekeepers,” but they certainly belong to the “Household.” Besides, while we are on such intimate terms with the wife, common courtesy demands that some little attention should be paid to the husband.

“We will for the present leave out of sight all sentiment, all reference to the little comforts and felicities that go to make up the sum of domestic happiness, and come right to the practical question, ‘Does a young woman, who comes to her husband with little or no dowry, but with willing heart and hands and a fair share of intelligence, who takes care of him, of his house, and of his family as it increases, often without any hired help, really earn anything more than her board and clothing?’

“No man will deny that a good wife is a treasure. Her care and labor certainly secure him many comforts; but how much would he consider them worth in dollars and cents? It is a great comfort to a husband to have his three meals a day properly cooked and prepared at hours that suit his convenience. He can swallow a dinner in twenty or thirty minutes, that it has taken most of the wife’s forenoon to prepare. He thinks it a good dinner; but how high an estimate think you would he put upon the labor of preparing it, if required to state the worth in money?

“With what astonishment and disgust would he look upon his table if set with dishes that had not been washed since last used; but how high a money value would he be willing to put upon the one unromantic item of washing dishes, which, nevertheless, takes so large a share of a woman’s time?

“With what satisfaction he puts on the clean, smoothly ironed shirt and the nicely darned socks! They do not look much like the ones he pulls off to throw into the wash.

“Some one had to rub pretty smartly to get the dirt all out; some one strained over the hot flat-irons to make this shirt so glossy; some one spent an hour, perhaps while he slept, to darn those unsightly holes in the heels of these stockings. And if a farmer, it was his wife most probably that did it all; and not this one week only, but every week, as sure as the week comes round. Now, he does appreciate cleanliness, notwithstanding his protestations against washing-days and house-cleaning; but is he willing to own that it is worth anything _in money_ if done by his wife?

“Then comes the case of the milk and butter. Every day it must be attended to at the proper time, the cream churned, the butter made and carefully worked and salted. He is proud that his wife makes good butter, and quite happy to have customers tell him, ‘Your wife makes better butter than any one round here.’ But then, are not the cows his? Does he not furnish the food? does he not milk and take care of them? Is her part really worth anything in dollars and cents?

“Then, again, her energies are taxed early and late in the care of the children. She is, of course, an interested party here; but then she don’t pretend to own but half a share. Is it really worth nothing to soothe, amuse, correct, teach, and watch over _his_ half of the little folks as well as her own? This is real brain-work. Where is the man who will say that this care for their children does not require all a woman’s wit and wisdom? But if asked to place a pecuniary value upon this part of a wife’s and mother’s care and labor, to how high a figure, think you, it would mount?

“A farmer’s wife, who really does her own work, or faithfully oversees its being done, which is by far the most trying part, has no easy task; but we would ask for her only what is justly her due. If there is any standard by which her services can be rightly estimated, we would like to know it. We wish to know whether there be any surplus in her favor; whether, when she asks for a few dollars for some purpose not strictly necessary (a book, for instance), she ought to feel that she is asking for her husband’s hard-earned means, or whether she has a right to feel that it is her due? How much must a wife credit to her husband’s generosity; how much use with a free conscience as her own faithfully earned portion of their joint labors?”

Young men will do wisely to give this matter a serious thought, lest they make the mistake of taking a wife’s labor and attentions as a matter of course, as a right, instead of feeling that in taking his name, his wife claims, not only an equal right to his cares and labors, joys and sorrows, but also an equal right to a proper use of the money which she has done her part to earn or to save. A wife, a farmer’s wife particularly, has too much toil and perpetual watchfulness to make her life desirable, if with it all she is to be considered a beggar, a recipient of charity, instead of a joint partner with her husband in all that he has.

XX.

TEACH LITTLE BOYS TO BE USEFUL.

HOW often, when anything has been said of teaching little boys to be useful, have we heard mothers exclaim, “What an idea! Teach _boys_ to be useful! I wish you would tell me how; for of all the restless, awkward, mischievous, troublesome comforts on the face of the earth, I do think boys are the most trying. I am sure I love my boys just as much as I do my girls; but it is so much harder to manage them, to keep them out of mischief, to know what to do with them. They were vexatious enough when we were boarding; but now, when, with four children on my hands, I am but just entering upon my novitiate as a housekeeper, feeling my way step by step, they fret me woefully. They are under my feet all the time. Too young to be sent to school more than a few hours a day, or to be turned out unattended, to play with chance companions, they hang about me, uneasy, restless, fractious, teasing for something continually. I often think it would be a comfort could we put them on a shelf to sleep through the unquiet, turbulent period of childhood, to wake up full-grown men. My little girls can always find something to do, but the boys--_make boys useful, indeed!_ It would be a true benefactor who could teach mothers how to accomplish such a marvellous thing!”

Well, I notice that you very wisely and skillfully combine instruction with amusement in your management of your little girls. I watched with much interest how pleasantly you were teaching them to be useful, while they found work to be only amusement. “I wonder which of these little girls would like to run and bring mamma a few apples”; and away, in great glee, trotted little three-year-old Kitty, with her little basket.

“Would Mary like to help mamma pare this nice red apple? Which, think you, can make the largest paring without breaking?” How happy the little lady was to leave her play and make the trial! Why not make the same effort to amuse and instruct your little boys?

“Would you have me teach them to set the table, wash dishes, sew, or try to work?”

Do you not believe they can be taught all this as easily as girls? We hold that, in a large family, each one, boy or girl, should be taught to be useful; to help their mother indoors and out, and, above all, learn to help themselves. This they cannot do if allowed to be idle.

In the city, and in families that depend entirely on hired help, it is more difficult to train children to be industrious and useful. It is not well to let the young, imitative little ones be much with servants, certainly not unless the mother is there also; and all instructions of a practical nature should be given by her, and practised under her eye. Wealth is by no means to be despised; but when it is so employed as to remove all labor from us, or to so free us from care that we do not teach our children how to make themselves serviceable, it is no blessing, and may become a curse. Those who have begun life poor, and worked their way to wealth by real hard labor, forget, when their children start up around them, how much true, solid pleasure was in their struggle for this well-earned prosperity, and as they relax their exertions and begin to feel the enervating effects of wealth, they remember only the hardship, forgetting the pleasure. Because there is now no absolute necessity for it, they shrink from permitting their children to follow in their early footsteps, and so cheat them out of the strength and independence for which no amount of gold can in any way compensate.

But we are neglecting the boys. We will give you an example which will explain somewhat our idea of making children useful, boys and girls alike.

We remember a large family in which there were seven boys. They were not _driven_ to work, but from their earliest childhood were, little by little, trained to understand and do all kinds of _outdoor_ work pertaining to a large farm; but it was also understood that they were to lend a helping hand _indoors_ whenever the mother or sisters needed them. They knew they would only be called in when it was quite necessary, but very early recognized the importance of knowing how to do anything that came before them. If the mother or sisters were sick or absent, they could so far fill up the gap as to keep things comfortable till health was restored. They could dress the youngest, make a bed, sweep a room, make a cup of tea or coffee, broil a steak, or wash the dishes in a very satisfactory manner.

When quite little, not old enough to undertake heavy or rough work, they were allowed any amount of play, but it was expected that all but the baby must do something useful, something that was _work_, in the course of each day. So, little by little, as they trotted about after mother, they gathered up many things which, in mature life, were of great value.

The family lived some miles from church, and as it was customary to have preaching in both morning and afternoon, with Sabbath-school between services, they took a slight lunch of crackers or gingerbread, stayed through all, and returned in season for a late dinner and tea united. Now it was a settled rule that the parents and part of the children should go to church every Sunday, rain or shine; and the oldest children, boys and girls, took turns in staying at home to get dinner and take care of the baby.

They all took great pride in having everything in order, and a good dinner all ready, when the church-goers returned; and the boys’ housekeeping was as creditable as the girls’. None felt it to be a hardship; on the contrary, those who were too young to be left in charge looked forward with great anxiety to the time when they should be allowed to “take their turn” with the older and more favored ones.

When these boys left home for school or college, a box, with scissors, needles, thread, and buttons, was always placed in each trunk; and the lost buttons were replaced and the ever-recurring rents repaired by their own hands; and with the stitches went many thanks daily to the wise mother who had taught them to take care of themselves, as well as be helpful to others.

Now, my dear young housekeeper and anxious mother, do you not think your little sons would be less restless and fretful, and far more happy, if you allowed them to “make b’lieve” that they were a most important help to you, until, by a little patience and indulgence, you succeeded in making the imaginary help a reality, which would repay you in later years for all the slight inconvenience and annoyance you experienced in teaching them, and insure comfort and independence to your sons, under whatever circumstances they might be placed.

XXI.

BLEACHING, STARCHING, AND REMOVING STAINS.

A YOUNG housekeeper writes us: “Without the least knowledge of domestic concerns, I passed from the school-room into the position of a farmer’s wife. Together with other things of which I am ignorant, I need some minute directions for starching, ironing, removing stains, etc. Any hints on these points would be very acceptable to me, and I doubt not to many others. I can now succeed very well in managing the cooking and butter-making, but am sorely tried about my washing and ironing sometimes. With cooking and butter-making, my sewing and babies, I have enough to do, and feel like evading the care or oversight of the washing and ironing, but cannot. There are so many kinds of stains,--fruit, tea, and grass stains. Then if the girl succeeds in doing the washing pretty well, she makes such work with the starching, and _smuts_ the clothes so badly in ironing, that I am much troubled. Whether not particular enough in cooking or straining the starch, I don’t know.”

We judge from this letter that our friend is obliged to depend on “hired help” for her washing and ironing. We think we can show her how to succeed as well in this department as she seems to have done in cooking and butter-making; but whether she can manage to secure the observance of our directions by the girl in the laundry, is another and very doubtful question. One of the hardest of the housekeeper’s trials with the servants of the present day is their unwillingness to receive any directions or counsels about the mode of doing their work; yet they seem utterly without any capacity to plan or arrange their labor for themselves, so that it may be performed in the best and easiest manner. They will be an hour in doing that which with a little forethought or method could have been done in one third of the time, and in no one item of household labor do they manifest their total want of system so strikingly as in the laundry; yet they will not be taught a more excellent way.

With regard to stains, which are a grief of heart to all good housekeepers, it is much surer and less troublesome to remove them when fresh; and the eye of the mistress must watch over this, or they will be left to dry, and most likely be overlooked when the washing is done.

Most, if not all, _fruit_ stains can be taken out if stretched over a dish or pail, and _boiling_ water slowly poured over them. If the stains have not been allowed to dry long, this will speedily remove them. But if they have, unfortunately, been put into the wash, the soapsuds will “set” the stains, and then, when discovered, they should be dipped in “Javelle water” or “bleaching fluid.” They should remain in this but a few moments, then be well rubbed and put at once into the boiler, and, as a general thing, when the article is taken from the boiler to rinse, the stain will have disappeared. If the stains from tea or grass are fresh, “Javelle water,” or a little ammonia, will easily remove them; but in either case, if done before the regular washing, the article should be well washed and spread on the grass to bleach and dry. Stains that have been long dried, or washed and boiled in before they were noticed, are much more difficult to remove. Ink stains can be taken out of linen as follows:--

Wash the spot in salt and water as soon after the ink is on as you can, taking care that it is not put into suds before it has been well washed in the salt and water, and then sponged with lemon-juice, else the soap will instantly “set” the color, making it almost impossible ever to remove the ink.

When ink is spilled on the carpet or on woolen goods, if attended to instantly after the accident, it can be taken out entirely by sweet milk. First, wipe off carefully all that can be soaked up by a handful of cotton batting. Then have a dish of sweet milk ready, and dipping the clean cotton batting in it, wash the spot, changing the batting for a clean piece as soon as it gets black with the ink; and also get clean milk, when the first becomes discolored. Continue this till the ink no longer shows; then take a pad of hot suds and a clean cloth, and wash as far as the milk has wet; rinse with clean warm water, and rub dry with a clean cloth. We have never known this to fail.

Ink spots, paint, or grease can be removed from clothing by mixing four table-spoonfuls of spirits of hartshorn, the same quantity of alcohol, and one table-spoonful of table salt. Mix it well and apply with a sponge or brush. Wash off with clear alcohol.

To remove ink stains from colored articles, drop hot tallow on the spot; then soak and rub it with boiling milk. This will be found effectual. Of course, the tallow and milk must be afterward washed off, either with soapsuds or alcohol, else a grease spot will be left.

Your oil-cloth should never be scrubbed with a brush, and on no account use soapsuds or hot water. It has a bad effect on the paint, and the cloth will not last as long. After sweeping, wash with soft flannel and lukewarm or cold water. Let the oil-cloth get thoroughly dry; then prepare a small bit of bees-wax, softened with a little turpentine, and rub the cloth well with this preparation, using for that purpose a soft furniture polishing-brush. This need not be done every week, but whenever the oil-cloth grows dingy. Cared for in this way, it will last twice as long as with the ordinary scrubbing, and always look fresh and new.

A less troublesome way, but not quite so effective, is to wash the oil-cloth, after sweeping and washing with flannel and warm water, with sweet skim-milk, and then rub very dry with a clean dry cloth. Wipe straight one way of the cloth, not round and round, as that will give a cloudy, unpleasant look to the cloth.

When clothes have become yellow or of a bad color from poor washing or from lying unused some time, it is well to take them, after boiling, from the first suds and spread on the grass to bleach, while another boilerful is being washed. When the second is put on to boil, take up those that have been bleaching on the grass and rinse faithfully through two generous rinsing waters; the last water to be blued. Then pass through the wringer, starching such as need it in hot starch, unless you prefer to wait till you fold them, and hang up to dry. Then take the second lot from the boiler, and leave on the grass to bleach, while you get the coarser articles washed and on to boil. This done, take up the second, rinse and hang out, and so on till all the white clothes are on the line.

Most servants object to the bleaching, and they wash all the white clothes and leave them wrung out in piles in the baskets till all are washed, before they hang up anything. This is poor work. The clothes become yellow and streaked by lying in coils as they come from the wringer, and under such management it is impossible to make them look clear and white. The sooner they are on the line after passing through the last rinsing, the clearer the clothes will be, and if well snapped as they are hung up, and pulled straight and evenly on the line, one finds compensation for the little extra trouble--and it is very little--in the greater ease with which they can be folded and ironed.

It is well to bleach clothes while washing, all through the pleasant weeks of spring, summer, and fall, as it can be so much better done than in winter. One hour on the clean grass before rinsing is long enough. It is not well to leave clothes out overnight when it can be helped, as they are liable to be trampled over by cats and dogs during the night, or be spotted by the drip of the dew or fogs from the trees or vines.

For _blueing_ there is nothing better than the “Nuremberg Ultramarine Blue,” which comes in pretty little balls about the size of a small cherry, at from fifty to seventy-five cents a box. One box with care, in a medium-sized family, will last several months. The balls must be tied into a blueing-bag, and used like common blueing.

A large fire-proof earthen saucepan or one of the yellow-ware pipkins is better than tin or iron to make starch in; but if these are not to be found, a tin kettle will do very well, if kept bright and clean, and never used for any other purpose. When cooking it should be carefully attended to, and then there is no danger of its scorching.

Two even teaspoonfuls of starch for each shirt, a salt-spoonful of salt, a piece of sperm or white wax as large as a pea, or, if these are not to be had, that much lard or butter, is a good rule. Use enough cold water to wet the starch, so that it can be stirred free from lumps and beaten perfectly smooth, then pour on boiling water. It is not easy to give the quantity of water to this amount of starch, as the tastes vary in regard to the stiffness of collars and bosoms. The starch must be stirred often, and boil slowly from fifteen to twenty minutes. Skim and strain while hot into a large wooden bowl or earthen dish; keep a bag for straining starch, which should never be used for anything else; but it is safe to keep close watch, or towels, napkins, etc., will be used for this purpose instead of the bag. It is not long since we found one recommended as a _splendid_ laundress straining starch through a _shirt-sleeve_, which was tied about the wrist with a fine handkerchief. A good starch-bag was hanging not six feet off. “Never mind, my lady, I’ll wash it all out.”

If you prefer to starch after the clothes are dried, wet the bosoms, collars, and wristbands in hot water, wring very dry, and starch while the cloth is yet warm. Rub the starch in faithfully, wring in a dry towel to remove all starch that may adhere to the outside, spread the garments out evenly, rub with a dry cloth, roll up tightly, and let them remain two or three hours before ironing.

In cold weather it is safe to dampen and fold clothes at night, and then it is desirable to have the starched clothes ironed first. In warm weather starched clothes should never be dampened or folded till morning, as there is danger of the starch becoming sour and mildewing; and unless there is a cool, airy room to leave them in, it is not safe to sprinkle and fold anything, for they may mildew in a warm room in a night.

If any article needs mending, it is well to do it before ironing. When ironed, fold and press each article neatly, and hang evenly on the clothes-bars, leaving them there till perfectly dry. Fold shirts so that the bosoms will not be bent in the drawer. Collars should be kept in round boxes. Ladies’ undergarments should be folded so as to bring the sleeves and necks outside. It is no more trouble, and it certainly is pleasant to have a drawer look neat and attractive when one opens it. It is what a good old grandmother used to call _sort o’ restful to look at_. Skirts should be made not much stiffer than new cotton. The noise of a very stiff skirt when one is walking is not the pleasantest music. They should be either hung up in a deep wardrobe or folded together lightly and laid on a broad shelf.

XXII.

TO IRON SHIRTS, VESTS, AND EMBROIDERIES.

SHIRTS cannot be ironed with ease and ironed well without a bosom-board. It should be made of pine, well seasoned and entirely free from gum; one and a half inches thick, one foot nine inches long, and eighteen inches wide; very smooth and straight; rounded on one end, and rubbed with sand-paper to remove all roughness. The square end must also be smooth, and with a hole in the middle near the edge, to hang it up by. Take two or three thicknesses of an old woolen blanket and cover one side. Stretch it very smooth and tight, and fasten to the board with tacks. Use the galvanized tacks, so that the clothes will not be iron-rusted by coming in contact with them. When tacking on the last side, be sure and draw both thicknesses of blanket very tight, so that there may be no wrinkles. Over the blanket tack two thicknesses of Canton flannel, the fleecy side up. Bring the edges of both blanket and cotton over the sides, so that when nailed you can cut them even with the other side of the board. Then turn it over and cover the other side with thick flour paste, and stretch over it a piece of Canton flannel; when this is quite dry, paste on another, and so on, as each becomes perfectly dry, till you have four thicknesses of Canton flannel pasted together on the board; the last one being trimmed so as to lap over and be tacked on to the side of the board, thus making a neat finish and covering up all rough edges. The soft side is to iron embroidery, Marseilles vests, and other figured articles on; the hard side to be used in giving a polish to shirt-bosoms, collars, etc.

The bosom-board being thus prepared, make cotton covers to slip over all, fitting as tightly to the board as they can and yet allow of its being readily removed without tearing. Be careful to have these covers changed after each week’s use.

A skirt-board should also be kept in every house to iron skirts and dresses. This must be six feet long, eighteen inches wide at the bottom, one third narrower at the top, and one and a half inches thick. The top should be rounded. Cover one side with two or three thicknesses of an old blanket, as directed for the soft side of the bosom-board; tack on smoothly; cover the other side with coarse cotton, and nail over on to the edge of the board, so as to cover the raw edges of the blanket. Have cotton cases also made for the skirt-boards, to be changed and washed with each week’s use.

Covers for the holders will also pay for the trouble of making them, as they insure, as far as possible, against smut on the clothes when ironing. But to make this _pay_, the housekeeper must be put to the slight inconvenience of seeing herself that these covers are changed, and follow up this care by promptly demanding them, when each fresh washing comes up, to be put away with the other clean things.

The ironing-table should be covered with a thick blanket, doubled, and that with a cotton sheet. A coarse, thick, gray or white blanket, like an “army blanket,” may be bought quite cheap; they come on purpose for “ironing-blankets,” and answer just as well as a better quality.

_Flat-irons_ should be carefully kept from dampness, which soon rusts them. Leave them standing on the end; they soon spoil if set on the face. If they become rusty, scour with emery till quite smooth, or, if past your skill, send to an emery factory and have them ground smooth. Keep a piece of yellow bees-wax, wrapped in a cloth in the drawer of your ironing-table, to rub the irons on in case they get coated with starch. Have a clean cloth at hand to wipe them on before using, each time you take a fresh one from the stove.

Having our ironing-table, bosom-board, and other implements now all ready, we will attend to the ironing.

A perfectly clean sheet must be spread over the other ironing-sheet before commencing to iron the starched clothes. In ironing a shirt, begin with the binding at the neck; then fold the back in the middle and iron; then iron the sleeves, and wristbands, if there are wristbands on the shirt; fold the sleeve in neat plaits and press them hard after ironing; then iron the plain part of the shirt and the collar, if on the shirt, ironing the bosom last. Iron the bosom and collar on the bosom-board; rub the bosom over lightly with a damp cloth, and iron hard and quickly with a polishing-iron. If you have none, you should get one if possible. They are found at all hardware stores. They are rounded instead of being flat, like other irons, without an edge, and very smooth, so that no mark of the iron is left on the article ironed. This iron is very convenient to use for caps, vests, and many small things.