Chapter IX: Part I: Motherly Talks with Young Housekeepers (6)

“The people living in my native town and thereabouts, who are in the least acquainted with me or my husband, find it vastly convenient, when they come to the city, once or twice a year, or oftener, to shop, do errands of various kinds, or attend conventions,--of which we have legions,--to come directly to my house, with all the freedom of brothers and sisters, and stay till their mission to the city, whatever it may be, is accomplished, with no thought or inquiry of how it may conflict with my plans and convenience, or whether my health is sufficient to enable me to bear the addition to my work. And still worse, they never give any notice of their coming; but arrive, perhaps, in the noon train, just as I am dishing up dinner for my small family, with their strong country appetites, whetted by their morning ride, and expect a good dinner and a hearty welcome. If it were only one or two who take such liberties, I would not mind it; but as one after another makes my house their hotel, it becomes a weariness to the flesh. Nor is this all. The hardest and most annoying of all is to have a woman come bringing a young child, and remain till she has made her purchases for a large family. This of course takes two or more days. The child is left in my care, while the mother is only in the house at meal-times. The child is home-sick, lonely, and fretful, and completely wears me out, mentally and bodily; and I have no means of redress. When the mother leaves, she says, ‘Now come and make me a visit,’ well knowing that I never will.

“I might speak of the annoyance of rising two hours earlier than usual to get breakfast in season for an early morning train; but I forbear, hoping you will help those who suffer from this cruel and heartless practice.”

This victim of a selfish and heartless custom has so well portrayed the annoyances that spring naturally from it, that few words of ours are needed. But, in justice to the writer, we must assure our readers that this is no fancy sketch; the half of what the landladies of these gratuitous hotels are called upon--no, compelled--to endure has not been told. Happy, if when sick, without help, or unable to afford to keep any, they do not find it necessary to furnish two or three extra meals, at different parts of the day, after the family have been fed, the table and dishes all cleansed, and the weary provider has just sat down to that large basket of long-delayed mending. Long delayed! And why? Because the time and strength which might have been given to that work have been frittered away for those who have no legitimate claim upon either, and who, perhaps, taking notes of everything which their presence compels the lady of the house to neglect, go away and requite her hospitality by criticising her housekeeping and remarking upon her inefficiency! Or it may be, these long-suffering ladies are rung up at midnight to receive unscrupulous and untimely guests; or, instead of one child to look after, they are expected to act as nurse to three or four. We have tried and known it all, and confess _we don’t like it_.

Aside from the fatigue and inconvenience, the pecuniary tax is often much heavier than the poor victim can afford to pay. We think the meanest kind of pilfering is that practised by self-constituted guests. We would ride, in the darkest night, over the roughest corduroy roads ever seen at the West in her earliest days, until we found a _log-tavern_, on the edge of a “clearing,” with no private room, no eatable food, and a bed already fully inhabited, before we would thus trespass on any one upon whom we had not strong claims of hearty love or relationship, and especially without warning. And one who has ever tried this alternative, will acknowledge that we could not well express our abhorrence of the practice of “visiting for one’s own convenience” more forcibly.

Look at it on the score of the host’s convenience. Even with an abundant income, an ample supply of well-trained servants, every housekeeper knows that one is liable to have on the table what may be sufficient for “the family,”--the last of the bread, and only enough meat. The new bread may be almost ready for the oven, but not for the table. The butcher may have been delayed, or forgotten your order, and you have no more supplies on hand. Who does not know the anxiety and annoyance of “improvising” a dinner for unexpected guests, when the larder is not well filled? (By the way, dear young housekeeper, keep watch that you are not often caught with short “rations.”) Then, you often have engagements that demand your attention immediately after you have finished your dinner, and failing to meet such engagements may cause you much trouble, and subject you to very great annoyance. And for whom must you allow all these arrangements, connected with your own or your family’s interests, to be deranged? For almost a stranger,--a mere passing acquaintance, in nowise congenial, who finds your house more pleasant and convenient, and certainly more _economical_, than a public hotel. There are mischievous, roguish boys in most families, who have a very emphatic nomenclature of their own by which they would designate such liberties; but as we very gravely rebuke all “slang” phrases in our own family, we dare not venture to use their terms, however appropriate, and can simply say, that it is the coolest and most unpardonable kind of unwarrantable familiarity.

There is another trouble connected with _convenient and economical visiting_, which our friend has not noticed. We trust she has never experienced it. We have, many times; and in former years, with young children to care for, it was the hardest to bear of all the vexations caused by these unwelcome guests. We refer to the disturbance and dissatisfaction which such unexpected increase of labor causes among our servants. If these visits are not like those of the angels, “few and far between,” (and such _hotels_, once found, are not often left quiet,) your “help” will be very likely to appear before you, carpet-bag in hand, saying, “Please, mem, I must leave you; I did not hire out to a _boarding-house_.” Ah, what blessed independence! They can give notice to leave, but you cannot. You cannot quit your post, but must stay by, and silently endure. So custom ordains. But if custom enacts unjust laws, lays upon weary shoulders heavy burdens most grievous to be borne, is not a revolt justifiable? We think it is, and, in mercy to patient workers, the sooner it begins and the more unflinchingly it is sustained the better.

When those who have no claim upon your time or your affections take such liberties, besieging you in your home, we think it not at all reprehensible or discourteous to say, frankly, with unmistakable plainness, that it is inconvenient or quite impossible for you to accommodate or entertain them. Be as kind and gentle as you can, but be firm. They have no claim upon you; let it be well understood that you recognize none, and mean to act accordingly. If you accept the intrusion, without protest, you will but rivet your bonds; and while you find them growing stronger and more galling every year, you will also find that your power to resist and break the chains becomes weaker. Your submission to such imposition and oppression will be well noised abroad, and you will find yourself at the mercy of many a chance customer.

To such as come to you in love and for love’s sake, let your doors swing wide open. Intercourse between friends and relatives is another and very different thing. It is giving and receiving, and the pleasure makes the labor light. But to all who use your house for their own selfish convenience, lock the door and drop the key in your pocket.

XXXVI.

WILL THEY BOARD, OR KEEP HOUSE?

WE think it is considered allowable to criticise and gossip about household matters _generally_, so that we don’t intrench on anybody in _particular_. But to avoid meddling was a doctrine so thoroughly inculcated in our youth, that in our talk with young housekeepers we have found ourselves shrinking from touching upon many little mistakes that need rectifying, or topics that will bear discussion, forgetting that we are really not prying into private family matters. Yet, thanks to many letters of inquiry from unknown friends, which give us license and courage to take up prevailing modes or ideas and suggest what we think a better way, we shall go on, and perhaps be considered a meddler after all!

When young people marry, the first question asked is, “Will they board, or keep house?” And the reasons for or against keeping house show a very great variety of opinions. We hear this question so often, and see, with pain, how poorly prepared, through the reprehensible indulgence of their mothers, many of the young ladies of the present day are for the performance or superintendence of home cares and duties, that, having waited for some explicit inquiries on the subject, we now propose to embody, in an imaginary letter, some of the anxieties and distress which this same indulgence stores up for the tenderly reared daughters. We will suppose that one of these young ladies writes us as follows:--

“I know that you generally advise young people to go to housekeeping, instead of boarding. That may be the best way for most, and of late I am inclined to think it is; but I am peculiarly situated. I wonder if you can understand how very hard it must be, how almost impossible, for a young lady who has lived twenty years without any cares, who has always seen an abundance of everything,--never knowing or thinking that economy was or could be necessary,--to undertake the care of a house, under circumstances which will make it desirable that the work, if not done by her own hands, should be wholly under her constant supervision. What sort of a housekeeper would you expect her to make? I have just learned that my parents are not able, now, to start me in life as elegantly as I have always been brought up to expect. In a few weeks I shall be united to one, not rich, but I think well worthy of any sacrifice or hardship. He earnestly desires me to consent to begin housekeeping as soon as we are married. I don’t want to, because I am sure boarding will be wiser and safer than my unskillful housekeeping. But my friend says, if I will consent, he will be patient with my short-comings and mistakes, and will work enough harder to make up for all I waste while learning. Poor fellow! he little dreams what an ignoramus he is about to risk his comfort and perhaps happiness with. Why, I know absolutely nothing of what I am just beginning to feel is of the greatest importance, if we would secure a happy union. To be sure, I can sing and dance well, so partial friends say. I paint with skill and accuracy sufficient at least to amuse myself and while away such time as would otherwise drag heavily during a rainy day, and am quite skillful with my needle when I use it for fancy work; but when it comes to useful, necessary work, I am as helpless and useless as a child. Ah, if my dear parents had lavished half the money to teach me household mysteries that was expended to make me _thoroughly accomplished_, in the fashionable sense of that term, how happy I should now be and how bright the future would appear! I have good health, and, if I only knew how to do anything, would shrink from no hardship; but I honestly know nothing useful. And this foolish lover of mine talks about being patient with my mistakes until I learn to keep house! Alas, it will take years to teach me so that I can see my way through this fog and tangle of ignorance. I shall be an old woman, bent and gray, before I understand the first principles of household economy. Will he bear with me through all the vexatious blunders I shall make while learning, and be patient if, after years of trial, he finds I am but an awkward and unskillful worker still?”

Yes, if this young man is worthy of your love, he will value the efforts you make, and sympathize with you when you find the results unsatisfactory. If he would have your praiseworthy struggles to make the home attractive successful, he must not look back to the “leeks and onions of Egypt,” but accept the journey through the wilderness with cheerfulness, and be lovingly grateful if the “manna” falls at first but seldom. Many a young, inexperienced wife has had all her efforts paralyzed, because her husband was so often murmuring about _his mother’s bread and pies and gingerbread_. That is cruel and unmanly.

Now, in the first place, let us say to every young couple, _Go to housekeeping by all means_. However awkward or unskillful you may be, or however small and simple must be your habitation, do not let the first years of married life be passed in a boarding-house. It is no place to learn each other’s character, to become accustomed to the peculiarities that belong to every one; it is no place to accept as _home_.

If you are not able to employ servants while you two, who have just been made one, are the only occupants of your new home, happy are ye. In this early stage of married life, to venture on boarding, or risk the tyranny of servants, is to deprive yourselves of the sweetest experiences of a true home. No matter how heavy or how light your purse may be, if you are wise, commence small. If young people assume the cares of a large mansion, and with it, of necessity, the supervision of a number of servants, they will soon become disheartened, and vote housekeeping wretched work. But in a small house, before “olive plants” cluster around to tell you that

“The cottage is too small,
And the table wanteth space,”

you become accustomed to the care, and so well versed in all the minutest details of home labor, that you will scarcely feel the additional tax on your energies, either of the olive branches or a larger house, and the additional care of servants, which will, of necessity, come with a more imposing residence.

Then, as to the shrinking from venturing into the new and untried household domains, which young ladies so naturally feel who know absolutely nothing but the “accomplishments” taught in schools, we would say, for your encouragement, that the road to such knowledge as will enable you to form some correct idea of the work which lies before you is not so long or so difficult as your fears have led you to imagine. With a willing heart, with hands made quick and skillful by love, the way will soon become easy and pleasant. If possible, employ much of the few last weeks before your marriage in making yourself familiar with the rudiments of household affairs. Read all you can about it,--how your house should be arranged, what will be necessary in each department. Learn all you can about marketing,--what articles are most desirable, and during what seasons; seek how to judge of the quality of the food you buy, and the honest price for it. These are homely details, but the knowledge will be all needed, indeed it is indispensable to perfect you in good management; but you will secure the most effective knowledge, and the greatest confidence in your own capacity, by going about the house, and, little by little, doing with your own hands the work belonging to each department, under your mother’s supervision, or that of a well-trained housekeeper. At first, as it is all new work to you, it will not be easy or pleasant; but repeat the trial, and with each attempt you will find that you are acquiring skill and courage. Let there be no part of household labor that you do not perform a few times yourself, until you are well assured that you have sufficiently mastered it to do it again, or to detect any mistake or blunder in a servant. If you must keep servants, they will give you little comfort unless they see from the first--and they are usually very quick to discern between an intelligent or ignorant mistress--that you mean to overlook your work daily, and are abundantly able to discover any deviation from the right track. But above all things, unless for a year or two after marriage you can have the privilege of discarding servants entirely, endeavor, before marriage, to feel so much at ease in the kitchen, and so far mistress of cooking, that you will be able easily to detect any failure, and know the reason for it. If bread is brought to the table that is not satisfactory, it is wise to be able to say to your cook, with confidence, “Your bread should have risen longer before being put into the oven. It is not exactly heavy; but it feels solid, and bites tough.” Or, “Your bread is full of holes. You have not kneaded it sufficiently.” Or, “Cook, we must return that barrel of flour. It is not good. See how it ‘runs’ as you are kneading it. We shall have no real good bread from such flour.” “The pastry was not nice to-day. You have handled it too much, and it cuts as tough as leather. Please be more careful about it.”

Thus, by spending an hour a day in your mother’s kitchen, taking an active part in the work to be done there, and going through every department in the same thorough manner, even one month will advance you so that you can see the “silver lining” to all these clouds, and will give you sufficient confidence in your own knowledge and power, to banish all the mystery and dread. Then, when you walk with well-assured steps, knowing that you have conquered so far, and can, of course, conquer all, by patient endurance in well-doing, you will begin to enjoy every step of progress you make. No matter if you are and will be possessed of fabulous wealth, this knowledge should be secured by every young lady. But should you begin with large or small means, in either case your prospects of comfort and happiness are very insecure, if you enter the married state unwilling to acquire that which every woman should know,--the art of housekeeping. In after life, when home cares may be less pressing, become lawyer, judge, or President, if you can; but surely young women can find noble work, sufficient for all their talents and energies, in laying the foundation of and securely establishing a well-ordered and happy _home_.

XXXVII.

CHOICE OF COLORS IN DRESS.

BLONDES.

IN the selection of articles for dress, one should be guided, not only by the quality of the fabric and durability of color, but also by observing if the color will harmonize with the complexion of the wearer.

Nothing marks refinement and culture, or the want of it, more than the combination of colors in one’s attire. It is folly to spend time and thought upon the adorning of the body, to the exclusion of other and more important matters; but it is always wise to do well whatever is to be done, and to develop and perfect such gifts as God has bestowed, either of body or mind, so as to make them as attractive and valuable as possible. We hold it to be a duty to give such time and thought to dress as will secure the largest amount of pleasure and gratification to one’s family and friends. To labor to secure a prominent position, to become a leader of fashion, is another and very different thing. When seeking to impart pleasure to friends, we are influenced by love; but when striving to be among the most fashionable, we cater to a selfish vanity or a poor and low ambition.

Works on the combinations of color in dress divide complexions into the “fair and ruddy blondes,” and the “pale and florid brunettes.” In the fair blonde we find a delicate white skin; light hair, in all the shades from a golden hue to yellow or orange-brown; light blue or gray eyes; a slight tinge of rose on the cheek, and a richer tint on the lips. In all such complexions the rose-color is not decided enough, and the hair would be improved by a deeper hue; and these changes can be made, in a good degree, by a suitable mingling of color in the dress. One of the most favorable colors for the fair blonde is a _delicate green_, as it imparts to the flesh-white of the skin a tint of red, which, mingling with the natural hue, forms an agreeable rose-tint,--a good contrast both to the face and hair, especially if the hair is golden, inclining to orange.

The best colors to mingle with the green, as trimmings, are red, orange, and gold. Green and gold form a rich harmony, peculiarly becoming to the fair blonde. Scarlet, blended with green, harmonizes better than red; but if red, inclining to crimson, is used, then orange and gold must also be combined with it. There are some shades of green that are not becoming, unless blended with and enlivened by other harmonious colors. A green bonnet, with rose-color and white, with a white feather, will always be becoming for this complexion. Be careful that too much white is not used, else it will have a cold effect, and therefore will not aid the fair complexion so much. Orange or gold may be substituted for the pink or rose; also red, in a small bonnet, but neither should be placed close to the face. Orange, in a green bonnet, in small quantities, is becoming, if the wearer’s eyes are blue. A few autumnal shades of red, orange, or yellow-green are also in harmony with the fair complexion; but dark green is not at all desirable.

Blue is very suitable, giving an orange tint, which harmonizes finely with the delicate white and flesh hues of the complexion. There is always a natural trace of orange color on the skin, and this color, by intensifying this natural tint, is very pleasing; but the blue must be light, and not too positive. Blue being the perfect contrast of orange, it agrees finely with golden or orange-brown hair. This is the reason that light blue head-dresses are so very becoming on light hair. To give a good effect to blue by gas-light, a little white or very pale blue is necessary to be in contrast or very near the face. If there are green leaves with the blue flowers of a head-dress, they should be placed as near the face as possible.

White, black, a very little yellow, orange, straw, or stone color, may either of them be used in the trimmings of a light blue bonnet with good effects; but not if there are pink or purple flowers on it, as these colors mingled with blue are unsuitable. The colors to be used carefully or avoided altogether, with fair complexions, are yellow, orange, red, and purple. The light shades of lilac may be sometimes used; but it is very trying, and must always, if used, be separated from the flesh by an edging of tulle or some similar trimming, or be associated with its harmonizing colors, cherry, scarlet, light crimson, or gold color, and then they will in part overcome the bad effects; but green and lilac should never be coupled, as it will form a positive discord. A very little light purple is agreeable for a head-dress on light hair, but must be placed near the skin.

Neutral colors, if not too dark, accord well with fair blondes; gray, fawn, drab, and some few shades of brown are the best. Black is good for the fair blonde who has some healthy color, because it increases the _rose_ in the complexion; but it is bad for pale skins, as it bleaches them by the painful contrast. No delicate color can be blended with black without seeming of a _lighter tone_. Unless used for mourning, black must be mingled with either blue, cherry, mulberry, drab, or lilac, to remove the somber effects; but cherry and lilac must be used sparingly. Red must not be used at all with black for fair blondes, as it gives a rusty tinge. White is suitable with black, if some other color is added; otherwise it is too cold. A black bonnet looks well with a fair complexion, but a little white and rose-color should be added, keeping the rose away from the skin. White is pleasant for all complexions, but more so with the fair blonde who has some color than for any other. Bright colors with white bonnet may be added, but must be kept low, and well grouped. White increases the paleness of a pale skin, but this effect may be neutralized by a blue or green wreath brought well on the face.

The _ruddy blonde_ has a full-toned complexion, inclining to positive rose-red or carnation; dark blue or brown eyes, blonde and brown hair. All the colors suitable for the fair are generally suitable for the ruddy blonde, but the tones and in some cases the hues must be changed. As a rule this type may use more freedom in the selection of colors than the fair; her complexion, not being so delicate, is less sensitive. The hair being the medium between gold and black, and the complexion higher toned and more positive, rich and moderately dark colors may be used.

Green is very becoming, but it must be of the darker shades, and not the delicate green that is so becoming for the fair blonde. If the complexion is light and can use more red, without being overcharged, rich, full-toned green, such as grass or moss green, may be used, as, although sufficiently bright to yield color to the skin, it is not so powerful a contrast as to bleach it. In proportion as the complexion increases in color a deeper green may be selected, passing from the positive to the neutral hues, as sage, tea, or olive green. These deep, neutral greens do not cast much red, while they both harmonize with and reduce the natural hue. A simple rule for the ruddy blonde is, the paler her complexion the brighter must be the green she wears, the _rosier_ the cheek the deeper and more neutral must be the green. For the high-toned blonde the green may be neutralized by mingling rose, scarlet, orange, or white flowers. If on the inside of a bonnet, the colored flowers must be surrounded with some gray or semi-transparent material to keep from contrast with the skin. On the outside dead-green or autumnal leaves, with a few flowers of orange or scarlet, are selected. Rose-colored flowers harmonize better with bright yellow-green than with dead-green leaves.

_Blue_ also is suitable, but it follows the same rules as _green_: it must be deeper and richer for the ruddy blonde than for the fair. The best colors to associate with the rich blues are orange, salmon, and chocolate; white and black also harmonize with blue. Bonnets and head-dresses, and wreaths of blue, need the same colors blended as for the fair blonde, only of a deeper tint, and all colors pointed out as injurious by the one type must be avoided by the other. The most difficult color to introduce in any dress is _violet_; its effect on all complexions being so unsatisfactory. All skins appear yellow when in contrast with it, and look sickly and disagreeable. A large proportion of yellow is needed to reduce and neutralize the effects of violet. It becomes positively lost in artificial light, and should never be used or introduced into an evening dress.

Neutral colors are mostly suitable for the ruddy blonde; when light they increase the color, when dark they reduce it by contrast. Russet, gray, slate, maroon, and all shades of brown are the most pleasing of the _dark_ neutrals, and gray, drab, fawn, and stone color, the most desirable of the _light_ neutrals.

XXXVIII.

HARMONIZING COLORS IN DRESS.

BRUNETTES.

IN the last chapter we noticed the colors most appropriate and harmonious for the _fair_ and the _ruddy blonde_. We shall now note a few peculiarities of the _pale_ and the _florid brunette_.

In the _pale brunette_, the eyes and hair are usually a deep brown or brown-black, and the skin pale, often with some sallow shade. With this peculiar complexion, light or very dark colors are the most becoming, because the light colors harmonize with the tint of the skin, and the dark colors with the hue of the hair and eyes. Thus we follow Nature’s coloring, and sustain her effective contrasts. When the colors of the dress are a medium between the skin and hair and eyes, they “reduce the expression, and injure or destroy the greatest charm.”

_Black_ being similar to the color of eyes and hair, and a perfect contrast to the complexion, increases the purity of the natural tints, and is very suitable for the pale brunette. All the shades of dark brown being similar to the hair and eyes, are also appropriate. Claret, dark russet, and crimson are not unsuitable, but less desirable and becoming than black or brown.

Positive blue, green, or purple must not be used; but dark blue, green, or violet may be accepted, provided the complexion has no shade of yellow or sallowness. If there is, these colors must all be avoided.

_White_, being analogous to the hue of the skin, is very desirable, enhancing the richness of the eyes and hair, and, as it receives a yellow tint from artificial light, is particularly desirable for an evening dress for the pale brunette. Yellow and white united are also becoming in the evening for this class of complexion, but become dull by daylight, and very undesirable. Gold or maize color contrasts pleasantly with black or dark brown eyes and hair, and neutralizes any disagreeable sallowness that there may be in the skin.

The _florid brunette_ often inclines to the olive complexion, and, in many cases, to the copper-colored, or subdued yellow, or orange-brown, with more positive red on lip and cheek than in the blonde types. The eyes are black, the hair jet or blue-black. The tones yellow, orange, and red predominate in the florid brunette, and harmonize together by _analogy_ or _similarity_; but they also harmonize with the black hair and eyes, by _contrast_; therefore great care and good judgment should be exercised, lest this agreeable group of harmonizing tints should be weakened or destroyed by the use of objectionable colors. On the other hand, it is desirable to seek to neutralize any unpleasant tone in the complexion, caused by too much yellow, which will otherwise give a sallow and unhealthy tinge to the skin. Yellow, maize, or gold color will effect this; because, while they contrast favorably with the color of the hair and eyes, intensifying their richness by the purple tint which this combination forms, they also harmonize, by analogy, with the tints of the complexion, and at the same time sufficiently neutralize any excess of yellow that these tints may exhibit. When the skin shows more orange than yellow, maize or yellow in the dress will enrich the complexion by the increase of red which these colors will develop.

A _yellow bonnet_ is very becoming to the florid brunette; but as it is worn near and surrounds the face, much of its effects must be neutralized by introducing violet, purple, or deep blue as trimmings; they must not come in contact with the face, however, and should be used very sparingly.

Orange is too brilliant and gaudy to be used in dress, except in very small quantities, and the same rule holds good of red, scarlet, bright crimson, magenta, and all brilliant colors of the like class; they, with orange, are suited to some complexions where it is advantageous to neutralize, but they are too bright for general costume. A scarlet head-dress is becoming with dark hair, intensifying it by contrast, and by the purple shade which it adds when worn near black. Dark red, also, is suitable for complexions that have too much red on the cheeks or lips, neutralizing the color of the skin, and reducing it by contrast. Violet is not agreeable, unless its bad effects are controlled or counteracted by the addition of yellow; but the dark shades of violet are less objectionable than the positive color. A violet bonnet may be used with this type of complexion, if trimmed with pale yellow,--primroses, for instance; the flowers being a good contrast to the violet bonnet, and harmonizing well with the skin.

A black bonnet is not as becoming for the brunette as for the blonde; but by using white, red, orange, or yellow trimmings, it is quite pleasing. It enhances the red by reducing the lighter tints of the skin, but it has no power to neutralize any objectionable tint that may exist. White is more favorable than black, and accords well with this complexion. A white bonnet is suitable, if trimmed with red, orange, or yellow; but the yellow should be mingled with white only for evening wear.

In grouping color with color, nothing is more common than to see discordant tints placed together,--purple and green, for instance; and however rich the material or beautiful the wearer, such incongruity is exceedingly distasteful. In arranging colors, it should be borne in mind that there are two kinds of harmony,--the harmony of contrast and the harmony of analogy. When two dissimilar colors are blended agreeably, such as blue and orange, or lilac and cherry, they form a harmony of contrast. Two distant tones of one color, such as very light and very dark blue, associated, harmonize by contrast; but in this latter instance, the harmony is neither so striking nor so perfect. When similar colors, such as orange and scarlet, crimson and crimson-brown, are grouped together, they form a harmony of analogy; and if two or more shades of color, closely approximating in intensity, are associated, they harmonize by analogy.

Harmonies of contrast are more effective, but not more important, than those of analogy. The former are brilliant and decisive, the latter quiet and undemonstrative. Both hold equal positions in matters of dress, and in arranging the colors of the costume be careful to choose the proper species of harmony.

There are two rules to be observed: first, associate with colors favorable to the complexion tints that will harmonize by analogy or similarity, because contrasting colors would diminish and injure its favorable effect; second, if the color selected for the dress is injurious to the complexion, then contrasting color must be associated with it, to neutralize its objectionable influence.

There is much more to be said on the selection of colors for dress, but we must not trespass longer. We hope that, by our having thus called attention to this subject, our readers may find it sufficiently interesting to become familiar with the rules given, and carry the lessons it may have taught into practical use.

We are very largely indebted to “A Manual for Ladies,” by W. and G. Audsley, for much of the information grouped in this and the preceding article.

XXXIX.

A WORD ABOUT MOTHS.

“MOTHS in the winter! Pray don’t speak of them! Some weeks later will be time enough to stir up our minds by way of remembrance. The vexatious little torments! they surely don’t work in winter! And yet I have noticed several little spots, or holes, that looked as if eaten by moths. I am sure they were not there early in the fall: I couldn’t understand it, but was so confident that moths did not do their mischief in winter, that I have been trying to find some other cause for these marks.”

Ah! there was where you were mistaken. There are two kinds of moths,--one a large silver-colored fly; its worm is shaped somewhat like those found in chestnuts. The other was first noticed some eight or ten years since, by the upholsterers. It is smaller, of a brown or dark drab color. It is governed by no times or seasons, but works steadily on, summer and winter. The heat of our city homes or furnace-heated country-houses may promote this uninterrupted activity. The moth or fly, it is said, finds its way into a sofa or chair between the back or seat under the lining, where, among the springs, it finds a safe and convenient hiding-place. They will often secure a home in these secret places within a week of the time that furniture, right from the cabinet-maker’s, has been brought into the house. If they do, they are so enormously prolific that in a month or two they can be numbered by thousands. We cannot but think that when, in a carefully kept house, these moths are found in new furniture, they must have been first introduced through poorly prepared hair or material with which the article was upholstered or the hair, having been wet, was used before it was carefully dried. This theory may be only an imagination of our own but every year’s experience confirms the idea,--upholsterers to the contrary notwithstanding.

It is said that these moths will not eat pure curled hair, but only use it to fasten their cocoons upon, as being secure from any disturbance, through the elasticity of the hair. They use the inside of furniture only for propagation, and here at the same time may be found the fly, the worms, and the eggs. From this concealment the worm escapes, to feed on the plush or woolen materials, or, falling to the floor, feeds on the carpet. Plush being made with cotton back generally, they seldom eat through that, though they do sometimes cut through the muslin backs of sofas, etc. Little protection may be hoped for from the use of cayenne pepper, Scotch snuff, camphor, turpentine, or all other remedies against the large moth. Continual watchfulness is the only safety.

At least once a week the furniture should be moved away from the walls into the middle of the room and well brushed and beaten with a “furniture whip” or braided ratans. After brushing carefully all around the buttons with a furniture button-brush, pull up the material which will lie in loose folds or pleats about the buttons, and hold them up with one hand while you brush off all lint or dust that may have settled in these folds. These are nice little hiding-places for the worm, and must be looked after. As fast as each piece of furniture has been faithfully brushed and whipped, set it into the next room and keep the doors closed.

While cleaning, turn each chair or sofa bottom-side upward and beat the backs and under part of the seats, to dislodge any that may have found shelter inside. When the furniture has received all needed attention, and is removed from the room, give the carpet a thorough cleansing by going over it with a “carpet-sweeper.” Nothing so effectually gathers up the worms or eggs, and the carpet is less worn than when swept with a broom. Of course, in the corners and around the edges, where the “carpet-sweeper” cannot work, you must use a small whisk-broom and dust-pan, and this must be done before going over the main part of the carpet.

In using a “sweeper” be careful to empty it once or twice while going over a large room, pulling out all the strings and hair that may, when gathered up, have twisted around the axle of the circular brush inside the box. If not removed, it will soon obstruct the motion, and its operation be ineffectual. In using a “carpet-sweeper” have everything out of the way of the machine, that you may have a clear surface across the whole length of the room, if possible; hold the handle up nearly straight, so as to bring all the brush underneath in contact with the carpet; press down, and with a firm hand run over the breadth from one end of the room to the other, going by the seam or thread, lengthwise. When at the farther end lift up the box so that it will not touch the carpet, and, turning round, proceed till the whole length of the carpet has been swept; then begin widthwise and proceed in the same manner, only be careful to run straight. If the “sweeper” is turned round while resting on the floor, the dirt is apt to drop out in rolls by the process of turning. It requires a little experience and good judgment to use a “carpet-sweeper” judiciously; but once understand it and you will not willingly be without one. When this work is done, empty all the dirt from the “sweeper” and comb the rolling-brush with a coarse or “fringe-comb.”

But to return to the moths. If they get inside your furniture, they may be destroyed by taking off the muslin under the seats, the outside ends, and the backs, where they most naturally seek privacy. If this must be done, take each piece out to the yard or on a back veranda, after you have removed the lining; spread down an old sheet and set the furniture on it, and beat with a stick to dislodge the moths. Watch for the flies and worms that you have routed, and kill them as fast as they are seen. If you do not succeed in killing all of them, by a repetition of this operation a few times they will be disturbed and leave the furniture, as they seek to be left in quiet. If they attack the carpet they generally begin under the sofas and chairs or on the edges of the carpet in the corners of the room. In this case, as soon as you find the first intimation of their ill-omened presence, spread a wet sheet on the carpet, and pass a hot flat-iron over quickly; keep a number of irons heating and change often. The heat and steam will destroy both worm and egg.

But do not let this success beguile you into any remissness. They can “creep slyly through a tiny space,” and in a few weeks, if they find you sleeping on your post, will effect an entrance, and will have increased and multiplied until the last state of that furniture will be worse than the first.

XL.

WINTER BUTTER.

MUCH has been said and written on making winter butter. Our papers bring daily complaints of the article as sold in our markets, and furnish us with many elaborate directions how to overcome an evil which can no longer be meekly endured.

In large butter factories, with every facility for preserving uniform temperature, it is not easy to accept any excuse for poor butter, summer or winter; but when butter is only made in small quantities, simply for family consumption, and at a time when the cows are giving much less milk than in the summer and fall, there is a necessity for more care and labor in securing good butter than when we can furnish green pastures and fresh food for the cows. Still we all expect, and should be willing to accept, more discomforts in our winter’s labors than we find in warm weather. Aside from these considerations we fail to see any insurmountable difficulty in securing good sweet butter in the winter. Of course we do not look for yellow butter at this season of the year, and when we see it we distrust its purity; but the golden color, though desirable, as a pleasure to the eye, is not an essential. For years we made a large portion of our own butter from only one cow, with but a few conveniences, and with very limited accommodations to aid us in the work; but we never had _bitter_ butter, and have never found a good reason why any one should be compelled to suffer from that infliction.

In the first place, a great deal depends on having pure, clear milk to start with, and to secure that we think a warm, clean shelter and good food should be provided for the animals. Aside from good hay, free from mustiness, they should have as large a supply of roots--beets, pumpkins, carrots, or potatoes, whichever is the most convenient, or some of all--as you can furnish; but whatever is given should be entirely free from decay, if you would have a healthy cow and pure milk.

The milk will receive no unnatural flavor from any or all of these roots; but no skill can conceal the use of cabbages or turnips, however small the quantity. We know many affirm that they invariably give them to their milch cows and perceive no disagreeable taste in the milk from their use. Judging from much of the butter found in our markets, we can easily believe that cabbages and turnips were lavishly fed to the cows from whose milk the butter was made; and how any one can fail to notice the unpleasant flavor given by such food we cannot understand. Still, we will not quarrel with those who choose to use these esculents so long as our cows are not fed with them and we are not obliged to eat the butter.

Warm food, at least once a day, is not only good for the animal, but insures a better quality and larger quantity of milk and butter. It is very little trouble to put a large kettle over the stove or range early in the morning, and boil such small potatoes as are not nice for table use, or a few carrots, together with all the parings of potatoes or the rind of pumpkins left from cooking. When they have become soft, mash with a long-handled masher, such as any boy of ten has sufficient skill to make; then thicken the water in which they were boiled with a few handfuls of “shorts” or coarse barley or oatmeal; corn meal will decrease the quantity of milk and fatten the cow. Give your cows a generous feed of this _mush_ once a day at least, and they will amply repay your care by increasing and enriching the supply of milk.

With your cows thus fed, kept dry and warm, well cleaned and curried,--for a cow needs that care as much as a horse,--you will have good milk, and from it cream which, with proper care, can be as readily made into _good_ butter in winter as in summer.

Now as to “proper care,” we speak only of private families who have but one or two cows. If your milk-room is in the cellar, it should be entirely separated from the vegetable cellar, and used for nothing that can impart any flavor to the milk, either meats, roots, sauces, or fluids. If it is well cemented and banked up, so as to prevent freezing, you will have very little trouble in keeping the milk warm enough for the cream to begin to rise quickly. Of course you will pour boiling water into the pans, and have them well heated before straining the milk into them. If you have on hand two sizes of pans, fill the larger one third full of boiling water, then strain the milk into a smaller pan, filling it not half full, and set it into the hot water; turn another pan over the top, but not close enough to exclude all air. By so doing you will find that the cream will rise more rapidly and can be more easily churned. When one has but little milk, this is not much trouble.

If you have no cellar that can be kept warm and free from the smell of vegetables, set your milk on a shelf, in a warm closet, where, of course, you will keep no vegetables or meats, as nothing is so easily impregnated with odors of all kinds as milk. Cover the pans or bowls with a fine net, to exclude dust or motes of any kind.

Thirty-six hours is as long as milk should remain unskimmed, summer or winter. Every hour longer, even though the milk may taste sweet, is insuring bitter butter. As you skim off the cream, stir it well each time. The cream should not be in the cream-pot longer than two days before churning. Three days _may_ give you moderately good butter, but it is a very doubtful experiment.

“But how can we churn every two days when we do not gather more than a quart of cream in that time? It would be lost in our churn; we could do nothing with it.”

Take it into a large bowl, and beat or stir it steadily with a silver or wooden spoon. It will take you no longer than to churn in the regular manner, and you will secure a nice roll of sweet butter. But a better, because an easier and more convenient way, is to buy a tall one-gallon stone jar, and get a carpenter to turn you a handle; put on two cross-pieces at the bottom, full of holes; or a circle small enough to go into the jar; pierce this circle with holes as large as a thimble; another circle for a cover, just to fit the top of the jar, with a hole in the center that will slip over the handle, and you have a nice churn, dasher and all. Now put on your large apron, lay a book on the table before you, take your little churn in your lap or on a bench by your side, and read, churn, and rock the cradle if need be (reading and rocking the cradle are not essential, but are very pleasant additions). In fifteen minutes’ steady churning you will find the butter has come, and can be brought together in this tiny churn as nicely as you can desire. If you can’t get at a carpenter, ask your husband or son to do it; or, failing there, haven’t you mechanical skill sufficient to make a dasher and fit it to a stone jar yourself? A piece of a broom-stick, scoured and polished with sand-paper (or if you have no sand-paper scrape it clean and smooth with a bit of glass); two cross-pieces full of holes, screwed on to the bottom of the stick; a round piece fitted into the top of the jar for cover,--you can _whittle_ it smooth, can you not?--with a hole for the handle to pass through, and you have just as serviceable a churn as any carpenter could make you, only, perhaps, lacking a little in the finish a carpenter might have given.

Now, as to the working of the butter: some say, wash it faithfully; others insist that no water should come in contact with the butter. If you have strength and skill enough to work out all the buttermilk with a ladle, or a hand cool and firm enough to toss it from one hand to the other, giving quick, skillful blows as it passes, so that every drop of buttermilk may be beaten out, then we say, _never wash the butter_. But although you do, and by washing must lose some of the rich flavor our mother’s butter used to have, before there were any “modern improvements,” still, better so than not secure entire freedom from buttermilk. If any remains, you cannot have butter that will keep sweet one week.

Take the butter from the churn into a wooden bowl that has been well scalded, and then soaked and cooled in cold water, and with the ladle press out all the buttermilk you can; this done, throw a handful of salt into three or four quarts of cold water, and wash the butter quickly and thoroughly with it; the salt causes the buttermilk to flow off more readily; pour off the salt-water, and wash again with clear cold water till it runs clear, drain off and sprinkle over the butter what salt it requires to suit your own taste. There is such a variety of tastes, that the exact quantity of salt cannot be easily given. We use a table-spoonful of salt to a pound of butter. Press the butter into a compact form, after working in the salt, cover over with a clean cloth, and set it away to harden. The next morning break up and work it over once more; make into neat rolls or prints, put it into a stone pot, and cover with brine strong enough to bear up an egg. Try this and see if you cannot have good butter in winter.

XLI.

REPAIRS.

“The mother, wi’ her needle an’ her shears,
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel’s the new.”