STAND FAST
GRANT
ENDOWMENT FUND
BEATRICE V. GRANT
MSU 1929 - 1965
PROFESSOR of FOODS & NUTRITION
COLLECTOR of RARE COOKERY BOOKS
Her private collection of rare cookery books was donated
by her sister, Dr. Rhoda Grant, to the MSU Libraries, May 1984
Elizabeth Treffinger
Given by Mary Dietz
April, 1968
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
We love our Pennsylvania, grand old Keystone State;
Land of far famed rivers, and rock-ribbed mountains great.
With her wealth of "Dusky Diamonds" and historic valleys fair,
Proud to claim her as our birth-place; land of varied treasures rare.
The incidents narrated in this book are based on fact, and, while not absolutely true in every particular, the characters are all drawn from real life. The photographs are true likenesses of the people they are supposed to represent, and, while in some instances the correct names are not given (for reasons which the reader will readily understand), the various scenes, relics, etc., are true historically and geographically. The places described can be easily recognized by any one who has ever visited the section of Pennsylvania in which the plot (if it can really be called a plot) of the story is laid. Many of the recipes given Mary by Pennsylvania German housewives, noted for the excellence of their cooking, have never appeared in print.
THE AUTHOR.
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY FRIENDS WITH GRATITUDE FOR THEIR MANY HELPFUL KINDNESSES.
"HE WHO HAS A THOUSAND FRIENDS HAS NEVER A ONE TO SPARE."
"To do the best that I can, from morn till night,
And pray for added strength with coming light;
To make the family income reach alway,
With some left over for a rainy day;
To do distasteful things with happy face,
To smile instead of frown at Fate,
Which placed me in a family always late
For meals; to do the sewing, mending and
The thousand small things always near at hand,
And do them always with a cheerful heart,
Because in life they seem to be my part;
To know the place of everything and keep
It there, to think, to plan, to cook, to sweep,
To brew, to bake, to answer questions,
To be the mainspring of the family clock.
(Or that effect) and see that no tick, tock
Is out of time or tune, or soon or late,
This is the only symphony which I
Can ever hope to operate."
MARION WILEY.
ONE morning in early spring, John Landis, a Pennsylvania German farmer living in Schuggenhaus Township, Bucks County, on opening his mail box, fastened to a tree at the cross-roads (for the convenience of rural mail carriers) found one letter for his wife Sarah, the envelop addressed in the well-known handwriting of her favorite niece. Mary Middleton, of Philadelphia.
A letter being quite an event at "Clear Spring" farm, he hastened with it to the house, finding "Aunt Sarah," as she was railed by every one (Great Aunt to Mary), in the cheery farm house kitchen busily engaged kneading sponge for a loaf of rye bread, which she carefully deposited on a well-floured linen cloth, in a large bowl for the final raising.
Carefully adjusting her glasses more securely over the bridge of her nose, she turned at the sound of her husband's footsteps. Seeing the letter in his hand she inquired: "What news, John?" Ouickly opening the letter handed her, she. after a hasty perusal, gave one of the whimsical smiles peculiar to her and remarked decisively, with a characteristic nod of her head: "John, Mary Midleton intends to marry, else why, pray tell me, would she write
"Well, well! Mary is a dear girl, why should she not flunk of marrying?" replied her husband; "she is nineteen. Quite time, I think, she should learn housekeeping--something every young girl should know. We should hear of fewer divorces and a less number of failures of men in business, had their wives been trained before marriage to be good, thrifty, economical housekeepers and, still more important, good homemakers. To be a helpmate in every sense of the word is every woman's duty, I think, when her husband works early and late to procure the means to provide for her comforts and luxuries and a competencying she may, in time, become as capable a housekeeper and as good a cook as her Aunt Sarah; and, to my way of thinking, there is none better, my dear."
Praise from her usually reticent husband never failed to deepen the tint of pink on Aunt Sarah's still smooth, unwrinkled, youthful-looking face, made more charming by being framed in waves of silvery gray hair, on which the "Hand of Time," in passing, had sprinkled some of the dust from the road of life.
In size, Sarah Landis was a little below medium height, rather stout, or should I say comfortable, and matronly looking; very erect for a woman of her age. Her bright, expressive, gray eyes twinkled humorously when she talked. She had developed a fine character by her years of unselfish devotion to family and friends. Her splendid sense of humor helped her to overcome difficulties, and her ability to rise above her environment, however discouraging their conditions, prevented her from being unhappy or depressed by the small annoyances met daily. She never failed to find joy and pleasure in the faithful performance of daily tasks, however small or insignificant. Aunt Sarah attributed her remarkably fine, clear complexion, seldom equalled in a woman of her years, to good digestion and excellent health; her love of fresh air, fruit and clear spring water. She usually drank from four to five tumblerfuls of water a day. She never ate to excess and frequently remarked: "I think more people suffer from over-eating than from insufficient food." An advocate of deep breathing, she
Sarah Landis was not what one would call beautiful, but good and whole-souled looking. To quote her husband : "To me Sarah never looks so sweet and homelike when all 'fussed up' in her best black dress on special occasions, as she does when engaged daily household tasks around home, in her plain, neat, gray calico dress."
This dress was always covered with a large, spotlessly clean, blue gingham apron of small broken check, and she was very particular about having a certain-sized check. The apron had a patch pocket, which usually contained small twists or little wads of cord, which, like "The Old Ladies in Cranford," she picked up and saved for a possible emergency.
One of Aunt Sarah's special economies was the saving of twine and paper bags. The latter were always neatly folded, when emptied, and placed in a cretonne bag made for that purpose, hanging in a convenient corner of the kitcken.
Aunt Sarah's gingham apron was replaced afternoons by one made from fine, Lonsdale cambric, of ample proportions, and on special occasions she donned a hemstitched linen apron, inset at upper edge of hem with crocheted lace insertion, the work of her own deft fingers. Aunt Sarah's aprons, cut straight, on generous lines, were a part of her individuality.
Sarah Landis declared: "Happiness consists in giving and in serving others," and she lived up to the principles she advocated. She frequently quoted from the "Sons of Martha," by Kipling:
Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood, to make a path more fair or flat,
Not as a ladder from earth to heaven, not as an altar to any creed,
But simple service, simply given, to his own kind in their human need."
"I think this so fine," said Aunt Sarah, "and so true a sentiment that I am almost compelled to forgive Kipling for paying 'The female of the species is more deadly than the male.'"
Aunt Sarah's goodness was reflected in her face and in the
The secret of Aunt Sarah's charm lay in her goodness. Being always surrounded by a cheery atmosphere, she benefited all with whom she came in contact. She took delight in simple pleasures. She had the power of extracting happiness from the common, little every-day tasks and frequently remarked, "Don't strive to live without work, but to find more joy in your work." Her opinions were highly respected by every one in the neighborhood, and, being possessed of an unselfish disposition, she thought and saw good in every one; brought out the best in one. and made one long to do better, just to gain her approval, if for no higher reward. Sarah Landis was a loyal friend and one would think the following, by Mrs. Craik, applied to her:
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort, of feeling safe with a person--having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are--chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."
She was never so happy as when doing an act of kindness for some poor unfortunate, and often said, "If 'twere not for God and good people, what would become of the unfortunate?" and thought like George McDonald. "If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of any man or woman (I should add child) I shall feel that I have worked with God."
Aunt Sarah's sweet, lovable face was the first beheld by many a little, new-born infant; her voice, the first to hush its wailing cries as she cuddled it up to her motherly breast and oft with loving hands, softly closed the lids over eyes no longer able to see; whom the Gracious Master had taken into His keeping.
One day I overheard Aunt Sarah quote to a sorrowing friend these fine, true lines from Longfellow's "Registration" :"Let us be patient, these severe afflictions not from the grounf arise, but oftimes celestial benedictions assume the dark disguise."
The day preceding that of Mary's arrival at the farm was a busy one for Aunt Sarah, who, since early morning, had been preparing the dishes she knew Mary enjoyed. Pans of the whitest flakiest rolls, a large loaf of sweetest nut-brown, freshly-baked "graham bread," of which Mary was especially fond; and array of crumb-cakes and pies of every description covered the well-scrubbed table in the summer kitchen, situated a short distance from the house. A large, yellow earthenware bowl in the table contained a roll of rich, creamy "smier kase" just as it had been turned from the muslin bag, from which the "whey" had dripped over night; ready to be mixed with cream for the supper table. Pats of sweet, freshly-churned butter, buried in clover blossoms, were cooling in the old spring-house near by.
The farm bouse was guiltless of dust from cellar to attic. Aunt Sarah was a model housekeeper; she accomplished wonders, yet never appeared tired or flurried as less systematic housekeepers often do, who, with greater expenditure of energy, often accomplish less work. She took no unnecessary steps; made each one count, yet never appeared in haste to finish her work.
Said Aunt Sarah, "The lack of system in housework is what makes it drudgery. If young housekeepers would sit down and plan their work, then do it, they would save time and labor. When using the fire in the range for ironing or other purposes, use the oven for preparing dishes of food which require long, slow cooking, like baked beans, for instance. Bake a cake or a pudding, or a pan of quickly-made corn pone to serve with baked beans, for a hearty meal on a cold winter day. A dish of rice pudding placed in the oven requires very little attention, and when baked may be placed on ice until served. If this rule be followed, the young housewife will be surprised to find how much easier will be the task of preparing a meal later in the day, especially in hot weather.
The day following, John Landis drove to the railroad station several miles distant, to meet his niece. As Mary stepped from the train into the outstretched arms of her waiting Uncle, many admiring glances followed the fair, young girl. Her tan-gold naturally wavy, masses of hair rivaled ripened grain. The sheen of it resembled corn silk before it has been browned and crinkled by the sun. Her eyes matched in color the exquisite, violet-blue blossoms of the chicory weed. She possessed a rater large mouth, with upturned corners, which seemed made for smiles and when once you had been charmed with them, she had made an easy conquest of you forever. There was a sweet, winning personality about Mary which was as impossible to describe as to resist. One wondered how so much adorable sweetness could be embodied in one small maid. But Mary's sweetness of expression and charming manner covered a strong will and tenacity of purpose one would scarcely have believed possible, did they not have an intimate knowledge of the young girl's disposition. Her laugh, infectious, full of the joy of living, the vitality of youth and perfect health and happiness, reminded one of the lines: "A laugh is just like music for making living sweet."
Seated beside her Uncle in the carriage, Mary was borne swiftly through the town out into the country. It was one of those preternaturally quiet, sultry days when the whole universe appears lifeless and inert, free from loud noise, or sound of any description, days which we occasionally have in early Spring or Summer, when the stillness is oppressive.
Frequently at such times there is borne to the nostrils the faint, stifling scent of burning brush, indicating that land is being cleared by the forehanded, thrifty farmer for early planting. Often at such times, before a shower, may be distinctly heard the faintest twitter and "peep, peep" of young sparrows, the harsh "caw, caw" of the crow, and the song of the bobolink, poised on the swaying branch of a tall tree, the happiest bird of spring; the dozy, drowsy hum of bees ; the answering call of lusty young chanticleers, and the satisfied cackle of laying hens and motherly old biddies, surrounded by broods of downy, greedy little newly-hatched chicks. The shrill whistle of a distant locomotive startles one with its clear, resonant intonant, which on a less quiet day would pass unnoticed, which on a less enjoyed to the full the change from the past months of confinement
"Uncle John," said Mary, "tis easy to believe God made the country."
"Yes," rejoined her Uncle, "the country is good enough for me."
"With the exception of the one day in the mouth, when you attend the 'shriners' meeting' in the city," mischievously supplemented Mary, who knew her Uncle's liking for the Masonic Lodge of which he was a member, "and," she continued, "I brought you a picture for your birthday, which we shall celebrate tomorrow. The picture will please you, I know. It is entitled, ' I Love to Love a Mason, 'Cause a Mason Never Tells.'"
They passed cultivated farms. Inside many of the rail fences, inclosing fields of grain or clover, were planted numberless sour cherry trees, snowy with bloom, the ground underneath white with fallen petals. The air was sweet with the perfume of the half-opened buds on the apple trees in the near-by orchards and rose-like pink blossoms of the "flowering" crab-apple, in the door yards. Swiftly they drove through cool, green, leafy woods, crossing a wooden bridge spanning a small stream, so shallow that the stones at the bottom were plainly to be seen. A loud splash, as the sound of carriage wheels broke the uninterrupted silence, and a commotion in the water gave evidence of the sudden disappearance of several green-backed frogs, sunning themselves on a large, moss-grown rock, projecting above the water's edge; from shady nooks and crevices peeped clusters of early white violets; graceful maidenhair ferns, and hardier members of the fern family, called "Brake," uncurled their graceful, sturdy fronds from the carpet of green moss and lichen at the base of tree trunks, growing along the winter's edge. Partly hidden by rocks along the bank of the Stream, nestled a few belated cup-shaped anemones or "Wind Flowers," from which most of the petals had blown, they being-growth in the woods, in passing, could be seen the small buds of the azalea or wild honeysuckle, "Sheep's Laurel," the deep pink buds on the American Judas tree, trailing vines of "Tea Berry," and beneath dead leaves one caught an occasional glimpse of fragrant, pink arbutus. In marshy places beside the creek,
Leaving behind the spicy, fragrant,"woodsy" smell of winter-green, birch and sassafras, and the faint, sweet scent of the creamy, wax-like blossoms of "Mandrake" or May apple, peeping from beneath large, umbrella-like, green leaves they emerged at last from the dim, cool shadows of the woods into the warm, bright sunlight again.
Almost before Mary realized it, the farm house could be seen in the distance, and her Uncle called her attention to his new, red barn, which had been built since her last visit to the farm, and which, in her Uncle's estimation, was of much greater importance than the house.
Mary greeted with pleasure the old landmarks to her on former visits. They passed the small, stone school house at the crossroads, and in a short time the horses turned obediently into the lane leading to the barn-a country lane in very much a tangle of blackberry vines, wild rose bushes, by farmers called "Pasture Roses," interwoven with bushes of sumach, wild carrots and golden rod.
Mary insisted that her Uncle drive directly- to the barn, as was his usual custom, while she was warmly welcomed at the farm house gate by her Aunt. As her Uncle led away the horses, he said, "I will soon join you. Mary, 'to break of our bread and eat of our salt.' as they say in the 'Shrine.'"
On their way to the house. Mary remarked : "I am so glad we reached here before dusk. The country is simply beautiful! Have you ever noticed, Aunt Sarah, what a symphony in green is the yard? Look at the buds on the maples and lilacs--a faint yellow green--and the blue-green pine tree near by; the leaves of the German iris are another shade; the grass, dotted with yellow dandelions, and blue violets; the straight, prim, reddish-brown stalks of the peonies before the leaves have unfolded, all roofed over with the blossom-covered branches of pear, apple and 'German Prune' tree. Truly, this must resemble Paradise!"
"Yes." assented her Aunt,"I never knew blossoms to remain on
"Aunt Sarah," inquired Mary, "is the rhubarb large enough to use?"
"Yes, indeed, we have baked rhubarb pies and have had a surfeit of dandelion salad or 'Salat,' as our neighbors designate it. Your Uncle calls 'dandelion greens' the farmers' spring tonic; then and '
"And what use will my thrifty Aunt make of the blue violets," mischievously inquired Mary.
"The
"Aunt Sarah, notice that large robin endeavoring to pull a worm from the ground. Do you suppose the same birds return here from the South every summer?"
"Certainly, I do."
"That old mulberry tree from the berries of which you made delicious pies and marmalade last Summer, is it dead?"
"No; only late about getting its Spring outfit of leaves."
"Schuggenhaus," said Sarah Landis, speaking to her niece, Mary Midleton, "is one of the largest and most populous townships in Bucks County, probably so named by the early German settlers, some of whom, I think, were my father's ancestors, as they came originally from Zweibrucken, Germany, and settled in Schuggenhaus Township. Schuggenhaus is one of the most fertile townships in Bucks County and one of the best cultivated; farming is our principal occupation, and the population of the township today is composed principally of the descendants of well-to-do Germans, frequently called 'Pennsylvania Dutch.'"
"I have often heard them called by that name," said Mary. "Have you forgotten, Aunt Sarah, you promised to tell me something interesting about the first red clover introduced in Bucks County?"
"Red clover," replied her Aunt, "that having bright, crimson-pink heads, is the most plentiful and the most common variety of clover; but knowing how abundantly it grows in different parts of the country at the present time, one would scarcely have believed, in olden times, that it would ever be so widely distributed as it now is.
"One reason clover does so well in this country is that the fertilization of the clover is produced by pollenation by the busy little bumble-bee, who carries the pollen from blossom to blossom, and clover is dependent upon these small insects for fertilization, as without them clover would soon die out."
"I admire the feathery, fuzzy, pink-tipped, rabbit-foot clover," said Mary; "it is quite fragrant, and usually covered with butterflies. It makes such very pretty bouquets when you gather huge bunches of it."
"No, Mary, I think you are thinking of Alsatian clover, which is similar to white clover. The small, round heads are cream color, tinged with pink; it is very fragrant and sweet and grows along
Many old-time industries are passing away. Yet Sarah Landis was a housewife of the old school and still cooked apple butter or "Lodt Varrik," as the Germans call it; made sauerkraut and hard soap, and baked old-fashioned "German" rye bread on the hearth, which owed its excellence not only to the fact of its being hearth baked but to the rye flour being ground in an old mill in a near-by town, prepared by the old process of grinding between mill-stones instead of the more modern roller process. This picture of the old mill, taken by Fritz Schmidt, shows it is not artistic, but, like most articles of German manufacture, the mill was built more for its usefulness than to please the eye.
"Aunt Sarah, what is pumpernickel?" inquiry Mary, "is it like rye bread?"
"No, my dear, not exactly, it is a dark-colored bread, used in some parts of Germany. Professor Schmidt tells me the bread is usually composed of a mixture of barley flour and rye flour. Some I have eaten looks very much like our own brown bread. Pumpernickel is considered a very wholesome bread by the Germans--and I presume one might learn to relish it, but I should prefer
"Aunt Sarah," said Mary later, "Frau Schmidt tells me the Professor sends his rye to the mill and requests that every part of it be ground without separating-making what he calls 'whole rye flour,' and from this Frau Schmidt bakes wholesome, nutritious bread which they Call 'pumpernickel.' She tells me she uses about one-third of this 'whole rye floor' to two-thirds white bread flour when baking bread, and she considers bread made from this whole grain more wholesome and nutritious than the bread made from our fine rye flour."
The Bucks County farmer, John Landis, rather more scholarly in appearance than men ordinarily found in agricultural districts, was possessed of an adust complexion, caused by constant exposure to wind and weather; tall and spare, without an ounce of superfluous fat; energetic, and possessed of remarkable powers of endurance. He had a kindly, benevolent expression; his otherwise plain face was redeemed by fine, expressive brown eyes. Usually silent and preoccupied, and almost taciturn, yet he possessed a fund of dry humor. An old-fashioned Democrat, his wife was a Republican. He usually accompanied Aunt Sarah to her church, the Methodist, although he was a member of the German Reformed, and declared he had changed his religion to please her, but change his politics, never. A member of the Masonic Lodge, his only diversion was an occasional trip to the city with a party of the "boys" to attend a meeting of the "Shriners."
Aunt Sarah protested. "The idea, John, at your age, being out so late at night and returning from the city on the early milk train the following morning, and then being still several miles from home. It's scandalous!"
He only chuckled to himself; and what the entertainment had been, which was provided at Lulu Temple, and which he had so thoroughly enjoyed, was left to her imagination. His only remark when questioned was: "Sarah, you're not in it. You are not a 'Shriner.'" And as John had in every other particular fulfilled her ideal of what constitutes a good husband, Sarah, like the wise woman she was, allowed the subject to drop.
A good, practical, progressive farmer, John Landis constantly read, studied and pondered over the problem of how to produce the largest results at least cost of time and labor. His crops were skillfully planted in rich soil, carefully cultivated and usually harvsted earlier than those of his neighbors. One summer he raised potatoes so large that many of them weighed one pound each, and
Aunt Sarah, speaking one day to Mary, said: "Your Uncle John is an unusually silent man. I have heard him remark that when people talk continuously they are either very intelligent or tell untruths." He, happening to overhear her remark, quickly retorted:
"The man who speaks a dozen tongues,
When all is said and done,
Don't hold a match to him who knows
How to keep still in one."
When annoyed at his wife's talkativeness, her one fault in her husband's eyes, if he thought she had a fault, he had a way at saying, "Alright, Sarah, Alright," as much as to say "that is final; you have said enough," in his peculiar, quick manner of speaking which Aunt Sarah never resented, he being invariably kind and considerate in other respects.
John Landis was a successful farmer because he loved his work, and found joy in it. While not unmindful of the advantages possessed by the educated farmer of the present day, he said, " 'Tis not college lore our boys need so much as practical education to develop their efficiency. While much that we eat and wear comes out of the ground, we should have more farmers, the only way to lower the present high cost of living, which is such a perplexing problem to the housewife. There is almost no limit to what might be accomplished by some of our bright boys should they make agriculture a study. Luther Burbank says, 'To add but one kernel of corn to each ear grown in this country in a single year would increase the supply five million bushels.'"
The old unpainted farm house, built of logs a century ago, had changed in the passing years to a grayish tint. An addition had been built to the house several years before Aunt Sarah's occupancy. The sober hue of the house harmonized with the great, gnarled old trunk of the meadow willow nearby. Planted when the house was built, it spread its great branches protectingly over it. A wild clematis growing at the foot of the tree twined its tendrils around the masstive trunk until in late summer they had become almost covering it with feathery blossoms.
Near by stood an antique arbor, covered with thickly-clustering vines, in season bending with the weight of "wild-scented" grapes, their fragrance mingling with the odor of "Creek Mint" growing near by a small streamlet and filling the air with a
From a vine clambering up the grape arbor trellies, in the fall of the year, hung numerous orange-colored balsam apples, which opened, when ripe, disclosing bright crimson interior and seeds. These apples, Aunt Sarah claimed, if placed in alcohol and applied
A short distance from the house stood the newly-built red barn, facing the pasture lot. On every side stretched fields which, in summer waved with wheat, oats, rye and buckwheat, and the corn crib stood close by, ready for the harvest to fill it to over-flowing. Beside the farm house door stood a tall, white oleandor, planted in a large, green-painted wooden tub. Near by, in a glazed earthenware pot, grew the old-fashioned lantana plant, covered with clusters of tiny blossoms, of various shades of orange, red and pink.
In flower beds outlined by clam shells which had been freshly whitewashed blossomed fuchsias, bleeding hearts, verbenas, dusty millers, sweet clove-scented pinks, old-fashioned, dignified purple digitalis or ioxglove, stately pink Princess Feather, various brilliant-hued zinnias, or more commonly called "Youth and Old Age," and as gayly colored, if more humble and lowly, portulacas; the fragrant white, star-like blossoms of the nicotiana, or "Flowering Tobacco," which, like the yellow primrose, are particularly fragrant at sunset. Geraniums of every hue, silver-leaved and rose-scented; yellow marigolds and those with brown, velvety petals; near by the pale green and white-mottled leaves of the plant called "Snow on the Mountain" and in the centre of one of the large, round flower beds, grew sturdy "Castor Oil Beans," their large, copper-bronze leaves almost covering the tiny blue forget-me-nots growing beneath. Near the flower bed grew a thrifty hush of pink-flowering almonds; not far distant grew a spreading "shrub" bush, covered with fragrant brown buds, and beside it a small tree of pearly-white snowdrops.
Sarah Landis loved the wholesome, earthy odors of growing plants and delighted in her flowers, particularly the perennials, which were planted promiscuously all over the yard. I have frequently heard her quote:"One is nearer God's heart in a garden than any place else on earth." And she would say. "I love the out-of-door life, in touch with the earth; the natural life of man or woman." Inside the fence of the kitchen garden were planted straight rows of both red and yellow currants, and several gooseberry bushes. In one corner of the garden, near the summer kitchen, stood a large bush of black currants, from the yellow, sweet-scented blossoms of which Aunt Sarah's bees, those
Her garden was second to none in Bucks County. She planted tomato seeds in boxes and placed them in a sunny window, raising her plants early; hence she had ripe tomatoes before any one else the neighborhood. Her peas were earlier also, and her beets and potatoes were the largest; her corn the sweetest; and, as her asparagus bed was always well salted, her asparagus was the finest to be had.
Through the centre of the garden patch, on either side to the walk, were large flower beds, a blaze of brilliant color from early Spring, when the daffodils blossomed, until frost killed the dahlias, asters, scarlet sage, sweet Williams, Canterbury bells, pink and white snapdragon, spikes of perennial, fragrant, white heliotrope blue larkspur, four o'clocks, bachelor buttons and many other dear, old-fashioned flowers. The dainty pink, funnel-shaped blossoms of the hardy swamp "Rose Mallow'" bloomed the entire Summer, the last flowers to be touched by frost, vying in beauty with the pink monthly roses planted near by.
Children who visited Aunt Sarah delighted in the small Jeru-salem cherry tree, usually covered with bright scarlet berries which was planted near the veranda, and they never tired pinching the tiny leaves of the sensitive plant to see them quickly droop, as if dead, then slowly unfold and straighten as if a thing of fire.
Visitors to the farm greatly admired the large, creamy-white, lily--like blossoms of the datura. Farthest from the house were the useful herb beds, tilled with parsley, hoarhound, sweet marjoram, lavender, saffron, sage, sweet basil, summer savory and silver-striped rosemary or "old man," as it was commonly called by country folk.
Tall clusters of phlox, a riot of color in midsummer, crimson-eyed, white and rose-colored blossoms topping the tall stems, and clusters of billiant-red bergamot. Near by had been growing, from time immemorial, a cluster of green and white striped grass without which no door yard in this section of Bucks County was considered complete in olden times. Near by, silvery plumes pampas grass gently swayed on their reed-like stems. Even the garden was not without splashes of color where, between rows of vegetables, grew pale, pink-petaled poppies, seeming to have
A short distance from the farm house, where the old orchard sloped down to the edge of the brook, grew tall meadow rue, with feathery clusters of green and white flowers; and the green, gold-lined, bowl-shaped blossoms of the "Cow Lily," homely step-sisters of the fragrant, white pond lily, surrounded by thick, waxy, green leaves, lazily floated on the surface of the water from long stems in the bed of the creek, and on the bank a carpet was formed by golden-yellow, creeping buttercups.
In the side yard grew two great clumps of iris, or, as it is more commonly called, "Blue Flag." Its blossoms, dainty as rare orchids, with lily-like, violet-veined petals of palest-tinted mauve and purple.
On the sunny side of the old farm house, facing the East, where at early morn the sun shone bright and warm, grew Aunt Sarah's pansies, with velvety, red-brown petals, golden-yellow and dark purple. They were truly "Heart's Ease," gathered with a lavish hand, and sent as gifts to friends who were ill. The more she picked the faster they multiplied, and came to many a sick bed "sweet messengers of Spring."
If Aunt Sarah had a preference for one particular flower, 'twas the rose, and they well repaid the time and care she lavished on them. She had pale-tinted blush roses, with hearts of deepest pink; rockland and prairie and hundred-leaf roses, pink and crimson ramblers, but the most highly-prized roses of her collec-tion were an exquisite, deep salmon-colored "Marquis De Sinety" and an old-fashioned pink moss rose, which grew beside a large bush of mock-orange, the creamy blossoms of the latter almost as fragrant as real orange blossoms of the sunny Southland. Not far distant planted in a small bed by themselves, grew old-fashioned, sweet-scented, double petunias, ragged, ripple, ruffled corollas of white, with splotches of brilliant crimson and purple,
In one of the sunniest spots in the old garden grew Aunt Sarah's latest acquisition. "The Butterfly Bush," probably so named on account of its graceful stems, covered with spikes of tiny, lilac-colored blossoms, over which continually hovered large, gorgeously-hued butterflies, vying with the flowers in brilliancy of color, from early June until late Summer.
Aunt Sarah's sunflowers, or "Sonnen Blume," as she liked to call them, planted along the garden fence to feed chickens and birds alike, were a sight worth seeing. The birds generally confiscated the larger portion of seeds. A pretty sight it was to set a flock of wild canaries, almost covering the tops of the largest sunflowers, busily engaged picking out the rich, oily seeds.
Aunt Sarah loved the golden flowers, which always appeared to be nodding to the sun, and her sunflowers were particularly fine, some being as much as fifty inches in circumference.
A bouquet of the smaller ones was usually to be seen in a quaint, old, blue-flowered, gray jar on the farm house veranda in Summertime. Earlier in the season blossoms of the humble artichoke, which greatly resemble small sunflowers, or large yellow daisies, filled the jar. Failing either of these, she gathered large bouquets of golden-rod or wild carrot blossoms, both of which grew in profusion along the country lanes and roadside near the farm. But the old gray jar never held a bouquet more beautiful than the one of bright, blue "fringed gentians," gathered by Aunt Sarah in the Fall of the year, several miles distant from the farm.
"There's no deny'n women are foolish,
God A'mighty made them to match the men."
A short time after her arrival at the farm Mary poured into the sympathetic ear of Aunt Sarah her hopes and plans. Her lover, Ralph Jackson, to whom she had become engaged the past Winter, held a position with the Philadelphia Electric Company, and was studying hard outside working hours. His ambition was to become an electrical engineer. He was getting fair wages, and wished Mary to marry him at once. She confessed she loved Ralph too well to marry him, ignorant as she was of economical housekeeping and cooking.
Mary, early left an orphan, had studied diligently to fit herself for a kindergarten teacher, so she would be capable of earning her own living on leaving school, which accounted for her lack of knowledge of housework, cooking, etc.
Aunt Sarah, loving Mary devotedly, and knowing the young man of her choice to be clean, honest and worthy, promised to do all in her power to make their dream of happiness come true. Learning from Mary that Ralph was thin and pale from close confinement, hard work and study, and of his intention of taking a short vacation, she determined he should spend it on the farm, where she would be able to "mother him."
"You acted sensibly, Mary," said her Aunt, "in refusing to marry Ralph at the present time, realizing your lack of knowledge of housework and inability to manage a home. Neither would you know how to spend the money provided by him economically and wisely, and, in this age of individual efficiency, a business knowledge of housekeeping is almost as important in making a happy home as is love. I think it quite as necessary that a woman who marries should understand housekeeping in all its varied branches
"Our lives are all made up of such small, commonplace things and this is such a commonplace old world, Mary. 'The commonplace earth and the commonplace sky make up the commonplace day,' and 'God must have loved common people, or He would not have made so many of them.' And, what if we are commonplace? We cannot all be artists, poets and sculptors. Yet, how frequently we see people in commonplace surroundings, possessing the soul of an artist, handicapped by physical disability or lack of means! We are all necessary in the great, eternal plan. 'Tis not good deeds alone for which we receive our reward, but for the performance of duty well done, in however humble circumstances our lot is cast. Is it not Lord Houghton who says: 'Do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things of life.' I consider a happy home in the true sense of the word one of the greatest of blessings. How important is the work of the house-mother and homemaker who creates the home ! There can be no happiness there unless the wheels of the domestic machinery are oiled by loving care and kindness to make them run smoothly, and the noblest work a woman can do is training and rearing her children. Suffrage, the right of woman to vote; will it not take
"This present-day generation demands of women greater efficiency in the home than ever before. And Mary, many of the old-time industries which I had been accustomed to as a girl have passed away. Eletricity and numerous labor-saving devices make household tasks easier, eliminating some altogether. When housekeeping you will find time to devote to many important questions of the day which we old-time housekeepers never dreamed of having. Considerable thought should be given to studying to improve and simplify conditions of the home-life. It is your duty. Obtain books; study food values and provide those foods which nourish the body, instead of spending time uselessly preparing dainties to tempt a jaded appetite. Don't spoil Ralph when you marry him. Give him good, wholesome food, and plenty of it; but although the cooking of food takes up much of a housekeeper's time, it is not wise to allow it to take up one's time to the exclusion of everything else. Mary, perhaps my views are old-fashioned. I am not a 'new woman' in any sense of the word. The new woman may take her place beside man in the business world and prove equally
"Aunt Sarah. I am surprised to hear you talk in that manner about woman's sphere," replied Mary, "knowing what a success you are in the home, and how beautifully you manage everything you undertake. I felt, once you recognized the injustice done women in not allowing them to vote, you would feel differently, and since women are obliged to obey the laws, should they not have a voice in choosing the lawmakers? When you vote, it will not take you out of the home. You and Uncle John will merely stop on your way to the store, and instead of Uncle John going in to write and register what he thinks should be done and by whom it should be done, you too will express your opinion. This will likely be twice a year. By doing this, no woman loses her womanliness, goodness or social position, and to these influences the vote is but another influence. I know there are many things in connection with the right of equal suffrage with which you do not sympathize.
"Aunt Sarah, let me tell you about a dear friend of mine who taught school with me in the city. Emily taught a grammar grade, and did not get the same salary the men teachers received for doing the same work, which I think was unfair. Emily studied and frequently heard and read ahout what had been done in Colorado and other States where women vote. She got us all interested, and the more we learned about the cause the harder we worked for it. Emily married a nice, big, railroad man. They bought a pretty little house in a small town, had three lovely children and were very happy. More than ever as time passed Emily realized the need of woman's influence in the community. It is true, I'll admit, Aunt Sarah, housekeeping and especially homemaking are the great duties of every woman, and to provide the most wholesome, nourishing food possible for the family is the duty of every mother, as the health, comfort and happiness of the family depend so largely on the
"But what did the husband think of all this?" inquired Aunt Sarah, dubiously.
"Oh, Tom studied the case, too, at first just to tease Emily, but he soon became as enthusiastic as Emily. He said. 'The first time you are privileged to vote, Emily, I will hire an automobile to take you to the polls in style.' But poor Emily was left alone with her children last winter. Tom died of typhoid fever. Contracted it from the bad drainage. They lived in a town not yet safe-guarded with sewerage. Now Emily is a taxpayer as well as a mother, and she has no say as far as the town and schools are concerned. There are many cases like that, where widows and un-married women own property, and they are in no way represented. And think of the thousands and thousands of women who have no home to stay in and no babies to look after."
"Mary, Mary! Do stop to take breath. I never thought when I started this subject I would have an enthusiastic suffragist with whom to deal."
"I am glad you started the subject, Aunt Sarah, because there is so much to be said for the cause. I saw you glance at the clock and I see it is time to prepare supper. But some day I'm going to stop that old clock and bring down some of my books on 'Woman's Suffrage' and you'll be surprised to hear what they have done in States where equal privileges were theirs. I am sure 'twill not be many years before every State in the Union will give women the right of suffrage."
After Mary retired that evening Aunt Sarah had a talk with her John, whom she knew needed help on the farm. As a result of the conference, Mary wrote to Ralph the following day, asking him to spend his vacation on the farm as a "farm hand." Needless to say, the offer was gladly accepted by Ralph, if for no other reason than to be near the girl he loved.
Ralph came the following week--"a strapping big fellow," to quote Uncle John, being several inches over six feet.
"All you need, young chap," said Mary's Uncle, "is plenty of good, wholesome food of Sarah's and Mary's preparing, and I'll see that you get plenty of exercise in the fresh air to give you an appetite to enjoy it, and you'll get a healthy coat of tan on your pale cheeks before the Summer is ended."
Ralph Jackson, or "Jack," as he was usually called by his friends, an orphan like Mary, came of good, old Quaker stock, his mother having died immediately after giving birth to her son. His father, supposed to be a wealthy contractor, died when Ralph was seventeen, having lost his fortune through no fault of his own, leaving Ralph penniless.
Ralph Jackson possessed a good face, a square, determined jaw, sure sign of a strong will and quick temper; these Berserker traits he inherited from his father; rather unusual in a Quaker. He possessed a head of thick, coarse, straight brown hair, and big honest eyes. One never doubted his word, once it had been given. 'Twas good as his bond. This trait he inherited also from his father, noted for his truth and integrity. Ralph was generous to a fault. When a small boy he was known to take off his shoes and give them to a poor little Italian (who played a violin on the street for pennies) and go home barefoot.
Ralph loved Mary devotedly, not only because she fed him well at the farm, as were his forefathers, the "Cave Men," fed by their mates in years gone by, but he loved her first for her sweetness of disposition and lovable ways; later, for her quiet unselfishness and lack of temper over trifles--so different from himself.
When speaking to Mary of his other fine qualities, Aunt Sarah said: "Ralph is a manly young fellow; likeable, I'll admit, but his hasty temper is a grave fault in my eyes."
Mary replied, "Don't you think men are very queer, anyway, Aunt Sarah? I do, and none of us is perfect."
To Mary, Ralph's principal charm lay in his strong forceful way of surmounting difficulties, she having a disposition so different. Mary had a sweet, motherly way seldom met with in so young a girl, and this appealed to Ralph, he having never known "mother love," and although not at all inclined to be sentimental, he always called Mary his "Little Mother Girl" because of her motherly ways.
"Well," continued Mary's Aunt, "a quick temper is one of the most difficult faults to overcome that flesh is heir to, hut Ralph, his temper and learn to control it, knowing that unless he does so it will handicap him in his career. Still, a young girl will overlook many faults in the man she loves. Mary, ere marrying, one should be sure that no love be lacking to those entering these sacred bonds. "Tis not for a day, but for a lifetime, to the right thinking. Marriage, as a rule, is too lightly entered into in this Twentieth Century of wasy divorces, and but few regard matrimony in its true holy relation, ordinated by our Creator. If it be founded on the tower of enduring love and not ephemeral passion, it is unassailable, lasting in faith and honor until death breaks the sacred union and annuls the vows pledged at God's holy altar."
"Well," replied Mary, as her Aunt paused to take breath, "I am sure of my love for Ralph."
"God grant you may both be happy," responded her Aunt.
"Mary, did you ever hear this Persian proverb? You will understand why I have so much to say after hearing it.
"Says a proverb of Persia provoking mirth;
When this world was created by order divine.
Ten measures of talk were put down on the earth.
And the woman took nine.' "
Speaking to Mary of life on the farm one day, Ralph laughingly said: "I am taught something new every day. Yesterday your Uncle told me it was 'time to plant corn when oak leaves were large as squirrels' ears.' " Ralph worked like a Trojan. In a short time both his hands and face took on a butternut hue. He became strong and robust. Mary called him her "Cave Man," and it taxed the combined efforts of Aunt Sarah and Mary to provide food to satisfy the ravenous appetite Mary's "Cave Man" developed. And often, after a busy day, tired but happy, Mary fell poplar outside her bedroom window.
But country life on a farm has its driveions. One of Mary's and Ralph's greatest pleasures after a busy day at the farm was a drive about the surrounding country early Summer evenings, frequently accompanied by either Elizabeth or Pauline Schmidt, their nearest neighbors.
One of the first places visited by them was a freak of nature called "Rocky Valley." situated at no great distance from the farm.
A small contury place named "Five Oaks," a short distance form "CLear Spring" farm, was owned by a very worthy and highly-educated, but rather eccentric, German professor. He came originally from Heidelberg, but had occupied the position of Professor; a perfect Lord Chesterfield in manners. Very tall, thin almost to emaciation, although possessed of excellent health; refined, scholarly looking; a rather long, hooked nose, faded, pale-blue eyes; snowy, flowing "Lord Dundreary" whiskers, usually parted in the centre and twisted to a point on either side with the exceedingly long, bony lingers of his well-kept, aristocratic-looking white hands. He had an abrupt, quick, nervous manner when speaking. A fringe of thin, white hair showed at the lower edge of the black silk skull cap which he invariably wore about home, and in the absence of this covering for his bald head, he would not have looked natural to his friends.
The Professor always wore a suit of well-brushed, "shiny" black broadcloth, and for comfort old-fashioned soft kid "gaiters," with elastic in the sides. He was a man with whome one did not easily become acquainted, having very decided opinions on most subjects. He possessed exquisite taste, a passionate love of music, flowers and all things beautiful; rather visionary, poetical and a dreamer; he was not practical, like his wife; warm-hearted, impulsive, energetic Frau Schmidt. who was noted for her executive ability. I can imagine the old Professor saying as Mohammed has been quoted as saying, "Had I two loaves, I would sell one and buy hyacinths to feed my soul." Impulsive, generous to a fault, quick to take offense, withal warm-hearted, kind and loyal to his friends, he was beloved by the the students, who declared that "Old Snitzy" always played fair when he was obliged to reprimand them for thrir numerous pranks, which ended sometimes. I am
The Professor's little black-eyed German wife, many years younger than her husband, had been, before her marriage, teacher of domestic science in a female college in a large city. "She-was a most excellent housekeeper," to quote the Professor, and "a good wife and mother."
The family consisted of "Fritz," a boy of sixteen, with big. innocent, baby-blue eyes like his father, who idolized his only son. who was alike a joy and a torment. Fritz attended the university in a near-by town, and was usually head of the football team. He was always at the front in any mischief whatever, was noted for getting into scrapes innumerable through his love of fun, yet he possessed such a good-natured, unselfish, happy-go-lucky disposition that one always forgave him.
Black-eyed, red-cheeked Elizabeth was quick and impulsive, like her mother. A very warm and lasting friendship sprung up between merry Elizabeth and serious Mary Midleton during Mary's Summer on the farm, although not at all alike in either looks or disposition, and Elizabeth was Mary's junior by several years.
The third, last and least of the Professor's children was Pauline, or "Pollykins," as she was always called by her brother Fritz, the seven-year-old pet and baby of the family. A second edition of Fritz, the same innocent, questioning, violet-blue eyes, fair complexion, a kissable little mouth and yellow, kinky hair, she won her way into every one's heart and became greatly attached to Mary, who was usually more patient with the little maid (who, I must confess, was sometimes very willful) than was her sister Elizabeth. Mary, who had never been blessed with a sister, dearly children, and thought small "Polly" adorable and never wearied telling her marvelous fairy tales.
Shortly after Mary's advent at the farm she one day said: "Aunt Sarah, the contents of this old trunk are absolutely worthless to me; perhaps they may be used by you for carpet rags."
"Mary Midleton!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah, in horrified tones, "you extravagant girl. I see greater possibilities in that trunk of partly-worn clothing than, I suppose, a less economically-inclined woman than I ever would have dreamed of."
Mary handed her Aunt two blue seersucker dresses, one plain, the other striped. "They have both shrunken, and are entirely too small for me," said Mary.
"Well," said her Aunt, considering, "they might be combined in one dress, but you need aprons for kitchen work more useful than those little frilly, embroidered affairs you are wearing. We should make them into serviceable aprons to protect your dresses. Mary, neatness is an attribute that every self-respecting housewife should assiduously cultivate, and no one can be neat in a kitchen without a suitable apron to protect one from grime, flour and dust."
"What a pretty challis dress; its cream-colored ground sprinkled over with pink rose buds!"
Mary sighed. "I always did love that dress, Aunt Sarah. 'Twas so becoming, and he-he-admired it so !"
"And HE, can do so still." replied Aunt Sarah, with a merry twinkle in her kind, clear, gray eyes, "for that pale-green suesine skirt, slightly faded, will make an excellent lining, with cotton for an interlining, and pale green Germantown yarn with which to tie the comfortable. At small cost you'll have a dainty, warm spread which will be extremely pretty in the home you are planning with HIM. I have several very pretty old-style patchwork quilts in a box in the attic which I shall give you when you start housekeeping. That pretty dotted, ungored Swiss skirt will make dainty, ruffled sash curtains for bedroom windows. Mary, sometimes
Aunt Sarah sighed; memory led her far back to when she had planned her home with her lover, John Landis, still her lover, though both have grown gray together, and shared alike the joys and sorrows of the passing; years. Aunt Sarah had always been the perfect "housemother" or "Haus Frau," as the Germans phrase it, and on every line of her matured face could be read an anxious care for the family welfare. Truly could it be said of her. in the language of Henry Ward Beecher: "Whoever makes home seem to the young dearer and happier is a public benefactor."
Aunt Sarah said earnestly to Mary, "I wish it were possible for me to impart to young, inexperienced girls, about to become housewives and housemothers, a knowledge of those small economics, so necessary to health and prosperity, taught me by many years of hard work, mental travail, experience and some failures. In this extravagant Twentieth Century economy is more imperative than formerly. We feel that we need so much more these days than our grandmothers needed; and what we need, or feel that we need, is so costly. The housemother has larger problem? today than yesterday.
"Every husband should give his wife an allowance according to his income, so that she will be able to systematize her buying and occasionally obtain imperishable goods at less cost. Being encouraged thus to use her dormant economical powers; she will become a powerful factor in the problem of homemaking along lines that will essentially aid her husband in acquiring a comfotable competency, if not a fortune. Then she will have her husband' s interest truly at heart; will study to spend his money carefully, and to the best advantage; and she herself, even, will
"The majority of housewives of today aren't naturally inclined to be extravagant or careless. It is rather that they lack the knowledge and experience of spending money, and spending it to the best advantage for themselves and their household needs.
" Tis a compulsory law in England, I have heard, to allow a wife pin money, according to a man's means. 'Tis a most wise law. To a loyal wife and mother it gives added force, dignity and usefulness to have a sufficient allowance and to be allowed unques-tioningly to spend that money to her best ability. Her husband, be he a working or professional man, would find it greatly to his advantage in the home as well as in his business and less of a drain on his bank account should he give his wife a suitable allowance and trust her to spend it according to her own intelligence and thrift.
"Child, many a man is violently prejudiced against giving a young wife money; many allow her in run up bills, to her hurt and to his rather than have her. even in her household expenditure, independent of his supervision. I sincerely hope, dear, that your intended, Ralph Jackson, will be superior to this male idiosyncrasy, to term it mildly, and allow you a stated sum monthly. The home is the woman's kingdom, and she should be allowed to think for it, to buy for it, and not to be cramped by lack of money to do as she thinks best for it."
"But. Aunt Sarah, some housewives are so silly that husbands cannot really be blamed for them and preventing them from frittering it away in useless extravagance."
"Mary, wise wives should not suffer for those whoe are silly and extravagant. I don't like to be sarcastic, but with the majority of the men. silliness appeals to them more than common sense. Men like to feel their superiority to us. However, though inex-perienced. Mary, yon aren't silly or extravagant. and Ralph could safely trust you with his money. It makes a woman so self-re-specting puts on her oil her m to have money to do as she pleases with, to be trusted, relied upon as a reasoning, responsible being. A man, especially a young husband, makes a grave mistake
"But, Mary, I've not yet finished that trunk and its contents. That slightly-faded pink chambray I'll cut up into quilt blocks. Made up with white patches, and quilted nicely, a pretty quilt, lined with white, will be evolved. I have such a pretty design of pink and white called the "Winding Way." very simple to make. The beauty of the quilt consists altogether in the manner in which the blocks are put together, or it might be made over the pattern called "The Flying Dutchman." From that tan linen skirt may be made a laundry bag, shoe pocket, twine bag, a collar bag and a table runner, the only expense being several skeins of green embroidery silk, and a couple yards of green cord to draw the bags up with, and a couple of the same-hued skirt braids for binding edges, and." teasingly. "Mary, you might embroider Ralph Jackson's initials on the collar and laundry bag."
Mary blushed .rosily red and exclaimed in an embarrassed manner most bewitchingly, "Oh!"
Aunt Sarah laughed. She thought to have Mary look that way 'twas worth teasing her.
"Well. Mary, we can in leisure moments, from that coarse, white linen skirt which you have discarded, make bureau scarfs, sideboard cover, or a set of scalloped table mats to place under hot dishes on your dining-room table. I will give you pieces of
"Oh, Aunt Sarah, how ingenious you are."
"And, Mary, your rag carpet shall not be lacking We shall tear up those partly-worn muslin skirts into strips one-half inch in width, and use the dyes left over from dyeing Easter eggs. I always save the dye for this purpose, they come in such pretty bright colors. The rags, when sewed together with some I have in the attic, we'll have woven into a useful carpet for the home you are planning."
"Oh! Aunt Sarah," exclaimed Mary, "do you mean a carpet like the one in the spare bedroom?"
"Yes, my dear, exactly like that, if you wish."
"Indeed I do, and I think one like that quite good enough to have in a dining-room. I think it so pretty.It does not look at all like a common rag carpet."
"No, my dear, it is nothing very uncommon. It is all in the way it is woven. Instead of having two gay rainbow stripes about three inches wide running through the length of the carpet, I had it woven with the ground work white and brown chain to form checks. Then about an inch apart were placed two threads of two shades of red woolen warp, alternating with two threads of two shades of green, across the whole width, running the length of the carpet. It has been greatly admired, as it is rather different from that usually woven. All the rag carpets I found in the house when we moved here, made by John's mother, possessed very wide stripes of rainbow colors, composed of shaded reds, yellows, blues and greens. You can imagine how very gorgeous they were, and so very heavy. -Many of the country weavers use linen chain or wrap instead of cotton, and always use wool wrap for the strips."
"Aunt Sarah, I want something so very much for the Colonial bedroom I should like to have when I have a home of my very own."
"What is it dear? Anything, c'en to the half of my kingdom " laughingly replied her Aunt.
"Why, I'd love to have several rag rugs like those in your bedroom, which you call 'New Colonial' rugs."
"Certainly, my dear. They are easily made from carpet rags. I have already planned in my mind a pretty rag rug for you, to be made from your old, garnet merino shirtwaist, combined with your discarded cravenette stormcoat.
"And you'll need some pretty quilts, also," said her Aunt.
"I particularly admire the tree quilts," said Mary.
"You may have any one you choose; the one called 'Tree of Paradise,' another called 'Pineapple Design,' which was originally a border to 'Fleur de lis' quilt or 'Pine Tree,' and still another called 'Tree of Life,' and 'The Lost Rose in the Wilderness.'"
"They are all so odd," said Mary, "I scarcely know which one I think prettiest."
"All are old-fashioned quilts, which I prize highly," continued her Aunt. "Several I pieced together when a small girl. 1 think old-time patchwork too pretty am! useful an accomplishment to have gone out of fashion.
"You shall have a small stand cover like the one you admired so greatly, given me by Aunt Cornelia. It is very simple, the materials required being a square of yard-wide unbleached muslin. In the certre of this baste a large, blue-flowered handkerchief with cream-colored ground, to match the muslin. Turn up a deep hem all around outside edge' cut out quarter circles of the handherchief at each of four corners ; baste neatly upon the muslin, leaving a space of muslin the same width as the hem around each quarter circle; briarstitch all turned-in edges with dark-blue embroidery silk, being washable, these do nicely as covers for small tables or stands on the veranda in Summertime."
"Aunt Sarah," ecstatically exclaimed Mary, "you are a wizard to plan so many useful things from a trunk of apparently useless rags. What a treasure Uncle has in you. I was fretting about having so little to make my home attractive, but I feel quite elated at the thought of having a carpet and rugs already planned, besides the numerous other things evolved from your fertile brain."
Aunt Sarah loved a joke. She held up an old broadcloth cape. "Here is a fine patch for Ralph Jackson's breeches, should he ever become sedentary and need one."
Mary reddened and looked almost offended and was at a loss for a reply.
Greatly amused, Aunt Sarah quoted ex-President Roosevelt:
" 'Tis time for the man with the patch to come forward and the man with the dollar to step back,'" and added. "Never mind, Mary, your Ralph is such an industrious, hustling young man that he will never need a patch to step forward. I prophesy that with such a helpmeet and 'Haus Frau' as you, Mary, he'll always be most prosperous and happy. Kiss me, dear."
Mary did so, and her radiant smile at such praise from her honored relative was beautiful to behold.
"Aunt Sarah," questioned Mary one day, "do you mind if I copy some of your recipes?"
"Certainly not, my dear," replied her Aunt.
"And I'd like to copy some of the poems, also. I never sail-any one else have so much poetry in a book of cooking recipes."
"Perhaps not," replied her Aunt, "but you know, Mary, I believe in combining pleasure with my work, and our lives are made up of poetry and prose, and some lives are so very prosy. Many times when too tired to look up a favorite volume of powms,it has rested me to turn the pages of my recipe book and find some helpful thought, and a good housewife will always keep her book of recipes where It may be readily found for reference. I think. Mary, the poem 'Pennsylvania,' by Lydia M. D. O'Neil, a fine one, and I never tire of reading it over and over again. I have always felt grateful to my old schoolmaster, Professor T---, for teaching me, when a school girl, to love the writing of Longfellow. Whittier hear him repeat 'Thanatopsis,' by Bryant, and 'The Builders,' by Longfellow. The rhymes of the 'Fireside Poet' are easily understood, and never fail to touch the heart of common folk. I know it appears odd to see so many of my favorite poems sandwiched in between old, valued cooking recipes, but, Mary, the happiness of the home life depends so largely on the food we consume. On the preparation and selection of the food we eat depends our health, and on our health is largely on the food we eat depends our prosperity. Who is it has said, 'The discovery; of a new dish makes more for the happiness of man than the discovery of a star'? So, dearie, you see there is not such a great difference between the one who writes a poem an dthe one who makes a pie. I think cooking should be considered one of the fine arts-and the woman who prepares a dainty, appetizing dish of food, which appeals to the sense of taste, should be considered as worthy of
"Yes," said Mary, "but remember, Aunt Sarah, Chautauqua will be held next Summer in a near-by town, and, as Uncle John is one of the guarantors, you will wish to attend regularly and will, I know, enjoy hearing the excellent lectures, music and concerts."
"Yes." replied her Aunt. "Chautauqua meetings will commence the latter part of June, and I will expect you and Ralph to visit us then. I think Chautauqua a godsend to country women, especially farmers' wives; it takes them away from their monotonous daily toil and gives them new thoughts and ideas."
"I can readily understand, Aunt Sarah, why the poem, 'Life's Common Things," appeals to you; it is because you see beauty in everything. Aunt Sarah, where did you get this very old poem, 'The Deserted City?"
"Why, that was given me by John's Uncle, who thought the poem fine."
"Sad is the sight, the city once so fair!
An hundred palaces lie buried there;
Her lofty towers are fallen, and creepers grow
O'er marbled dome and shattered portico.
Once in the gardens, lovely girls at play,
Culled the bright flowers, and gently touched the spray;
But now wild creatures in their savage joy
Tread down the flowers and the plants destroy.
By night no torches in the windows gleam;
By day no women in their beauty beam;
The smoke has ceased-the spider there has spread
His snares in safety-and all else is dead."
"Indeed, it is a 'gem.' " said Mary, after slowly reading aloud parts of several stanzas.
"Yes," replied her Aunt, "Professor Schmidt tells me the poem was written by Katidasa (the Shakespeare of Hindu literature), and was written 1800 years before Goldsmith gave us his immortal work, 'The Deserted Village.'"
"I like the poem, 'Abou Ben Adhem and the Angel,' " said Mary, "and I think this true by Henry Ward Beecher:
" 'Do not be troubled because you have not great virtues, God made a million spears of grass where He made one tree; The earth is fringed and carpeted not with forests but with grasses. Only have enough of little virtues and common fidelities. And you need not mourn because you are neither a hero nor a saint.'
"This is a favorite little poem of mine, Aunt Sarah. I'll just write it on this blank page in your book."
There's a little splash of sunshine and a little spot of shade. always somewhere near,
The wise bask in the sunshine, but the foolish choose the shade.
The wise are gay and happy on the foolish, sorrow's laid.
And the fault's their own, I fear.
For the little splash of sunshine and the little Spot of shade
Are here for joint consumption, for comparison are made;
We're all meant to be happy, not too foolish or too staid,
And the right dose to be taken is some sunshine mixed with shade.
"Aunt Sarah, I see there is still space on this page to write another poem, a favorite of mine It is called 'Be Strong,' by Maltbie Davenport."
Be Strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard word to do, and loads to lift.
Slum not the struggle; face it, 'tis God's gift.
Be Strong !
Say not the days are evil-who's to blame?
And fold the hands and acquiesce-Oh, shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.
Be Strong!
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not, fight on! Tomorrow comes the song.
How lovely are life's common things,
When health flows in the veins;
The golden sunshine of the days
When Phoebus holds the reins;
The floating clouds against the blue;
The fragrance of the air;
The nodding flowers by the way;
The green garss everywhere;
The feathery beauty of the elm,
With graceful-swaying boughs,
Where nesting songbirds find a home
And the night wind sighs and soughs;
The hazy blue of distant hill,
With wooded slope and crest;
The crimson sky when low at night
The sun sinks in the West;
The thrilling grandeur of the storm,
The lightning's vivid flash,
The mighty rush of wind and rain,
The thunder's awful Crash.
And then the calm that follows storm,
And rainbow in the sky;
The rain-washed freshness of the earth-
A singing bird near by.
And oh, the beauty of the night!
Its hush, its thrill, its charm;
The twinkling brilliance of its stars;
Its tranquil peace and calm.
Oh, loving fatherhood of God
To give us every day
The lovely common things of life
To brighten all the way !
{Susan M. Perkins, in the Boston Transcript.)
Abou Ben Adhem-may his tribe increase-
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said:
"What writest thou ?" The vision raised his head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered: "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke low,
But cheerily still, and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote and vanished. The next night
I came again, with a great, wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
LEIGH HUNT.
A very original character was Sibylla Linsabigler, who had ken a member of the Landis household several years. She was Aunt Sarah's only maid servant, but she disliked being referred to as a servant, and when she overheard "Fritz" Schmidt, as he passed the Landis farm on his way to the creek for a day's fishing, call to Mary:"Miss Miidleton, will you please send the butter over with the servant today, as I shall not return home in time for dinner?" Sibylla said, "I ain't no servant. I'm hired girl. What does that make out if I do work here? Pop got mad with me 'cause I wouldn't work at home no more for him and Mom without they paid me. They got three more girls to home yet that can do the work. My Pop owns a big farm and sent our 'Chon' to the college, and it's mean 'fer' him not to give us girls money for dress, so I work out. "Taint right the way us people what has to work are treated these days." said Sibylla to herself, as she applied the broom vigorously to the gay-flowered carpet in the Landis parlor. "Because us folks got to work ain't no reason why them tony people over to the Perfessor's should call me a 'servant.' I guess I know I milk the cows, wash dishes, scrub floors, and do the washin' and ir'nin' every)' week, but I'm no servant.' I'm just as good any day as that good-fer-nothin' Perfessor's son," continued Sibylla, growing red in the face with indignation. "Didn't I hear that worthless scamp, Fritz Schrnidt, a-referrin' to me and a-sayin' to Miss Midleton fer the 'servant' to bring over the butter? Betch yer life this here 'servant' ain't a-goin' to allow eddicatcd people to make a fool of her. First chance I get I'll give that Perfesser a piece of my mind."
Sibylla's opportunity came rather unexpectedly. The gentle, mild-mannered Professor was on good terms with his sturdy, energetic neighbor, John Landis. and frequently visited him for a neighborly chat. On this particular day he called as usual and found Sibylla in the mood described.
"Good afternoon, Sibylla," said the Professor, good-naturedly. "How are you today?"
"I'd be a whole lot better if some people weren't so smart," replied Sibylla, venting her feelings on the broom. "Should think a Perfesser would feel himself too big to talk to a 'servant'."
"On the contrary, my dear girl, I feel honored. I presume you are not feeling as well as usual. What makes you think it is condescension for me to address you ?" asked the genial old man, kindly.
"Well, since you ask me, I don't mind a-tellin' you. Yesterday your son insulted me. I won't take no insult from nobody. I am just as good as what you are, even if I hain't got much book larnin'."
With this deliverance, Sibylla felt she had done full justice to the occasion and would have-closed the interview abruptly had not the Professor, with a restraining hand, detained her.
"We must get to the bottom of this grievance, Sibylla. I am sure there is some mistake somewhere. What did my son say?"
"Wel1, if you want to know," replied the irate domestic, "I'll tell you. He called me a 'servant.' I know I'm only a working girl, but your son nor nobody else ain't got on tight to abuse me by callin'me a'servant'."
"Ah! I see. You object to the term 'servant' being applied to you," said the Professor, comprehendingly. "The word 'servant' is distasteful to you. Yon feel it is a disgrace to be called a servant I see I see!" In a fatherly way. the old man resumed: "In a certain sense we are all servants. The history of human achievements is a record of service. The men and women who have helped the world most were all servants--servants to humanity. The happiest man is he who serves. God calls some men to sow and some to reap ; some to work in wood and stone; to sing and speak. Work is honorable in all, regardless of the capacity in which we serve. There is no great difference, after all, between the ordinary laborer and the railroad president; both are servants, and the standard of measurement to be applied to each man is the same. It is not so much a question of station in life as it is the question of efficiency. Best of all, work is education. There is culture that comes without college and university. He who graduates from the college of hard work is as honorable as he who takes a degree at Yale or Harvard; for wisdom can be
At the conclusion of the Professor's little talk on the dignity of labor. a new light shone in Sibylla's eyes and a new thought gripped her soul. The spirit of "doulos" had displaced her antipathy toward the word servant.
"I'll take that butter over to the Perfesser's home right away," she said to herself.
Before leaving Sibylla, the Professor quoted from the "Toiling of Felix." by Henry Vandyke:
Hewing wood and drawing water, splitting stones and cleaving sod, All the dusty ranks of labour, in the regiment of God, March together toward His triumph, do the task His hands prepare; Honest toil is holy service, faithful work is praise and prayer."
They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God.
Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of earth is toil.
Sibylla Linsabigler was a healthy, large-boned, solidly-built, typical "Pennsylvania German" girl. Her clear, pinkish complexion looked as if freshly scrubbed with soap and water. A few large, brown freckles adorned the bridge of her rather broad, flat nose. She possessed red hair and laughing, red-brown eyes, large mouth, which disclosed beautiful even, white teeth when she smiled, extraordinary large feet and hands, strong, willing and usually good-natured, although she processed of a quick temper, as her red hair indicated. Kind-hearted to a fault, she was of great assistance to Aunt Sarah, although she preferred any other work to that of cooking or baking. She kept the kitchen as well as other parts of the house, to quote Aunt Sarah, "neat as a pin," and did not object to any work, however hard or laborious, as long as she was greatly attached to both Aunt Sarah and Mary, but stood rather in awe of John Landis, who had never spoken a cross word to her in the three years she had lived at the farm.
Sarah Landis, knowing Sibylla to be an honest, industrious girl, appreciated her good qualities, thought almost as much of Sibylla as if she had been her daughter, and treated her in like manner, and for this reason, if for no other, she received willing service from the girl.
Sibylla, a swift worker at all times, never finished work so quickly as on Wednesday and Saturday evenings, when she "kept company" with Jake Crouthamel. "Chake." as Sibylla called him. was a sturdy, red-faced young farmer, all legs and arms. He appeared to he put together loosely at the joints, like a jumping-jack, and never appeared at ease in his ill-fitting "store clothes." He usually wore gray corduroy trusers and big cowhide boots, a pink and white striped shirt and red necktie.
Sibylla did not notice his imperfections and thought him handsome as a Greek god.
Jake, an honest, industrious young fellow, worked on 3 near-by
Jake Crouthamel was usually called "Boller-Yockel," this name having been accorded him on account of his having delivered to a purchaser a load of hay largely composed of rag-weed. The man called him an old "Boller-Yocked" and the name had clung to Jake for years.
Several days had elapsed since that on which Mary's Aunt had planned to use the contents of her trunk to such good advantage, when Mary, coming into the room where her Aunt was busily engaged sewing, exclaimed:"Don't forget, Auntie, you promised to teach me to crochet rag rugs!"
Indeed, I've not forgotten, and will make my promise good at once." said Aunt Sarah. "We shall need quantities of carpet rag, cut about one-half inch in width, the same as those used for
"Or you might have a design similar lo a 'Pin-wheel' in centre
"I'd like one made in that manner from different shades that harmonize, browns and tans, for instance," said Mary.
"You may easily have a rug of that description," continued her Aunt. "With a package of brown dye. We can quickly transform some light, woolen carpet rags I possess into pretty shades of browns and tans.
"For a circular rug, with design in centre resembling a pinwheel, commence crocheting the rug same as preceding one. Crochet three rows of one color, then mark the rug off into four parts, placing a pin to mark each section or quarter of the rug. At each of four points crochet one stitch of a contrasting shade. Crochet once around the circle, using a shade similar to that of the centre of rug for design, filling in between with the other shade. For the following row, crochet two stitches beneath the one stitch (not directly underneath the stich but one stich beyond), filling in between with the other color. The third row.
On her return from an afternoon spent at Professor Schmidt's, Mary remarked to Aunt Sarah, "For the first time in my life I have an original idea!"
"Do tell me child. what it is!"
"The 'New Colonial' rag rugs we have lately finished are fine, but I'd just love to have a Navajo blanket like those owned by professor Schmidt; and I intend to make a rag rug in imitation of his Navajo blanket."
"Yes," answered her Aunt. "I have always greatly admired them myself, especially the large gray one which covers the Professor's own chair in the library. The Professor brought them with him when he returned from "Cutler's Ranch' at Rociada, near Las Vegas, New Mexico, where he visited his nephew, poor Raymond, or rather, I should say, fortunate Raymond, an only child of the Professor's sister. A quiet, studious boy, he graduated at the head of his class at an early age, but he inherited the weak lungs of his father, who died of consumption. Raymond was a lovable hoy, with a fund of dry humor and wit-the idol of his mother, who, taking the advice of a specialist, accompanied boy, as a last resort, to New Mexico, where, partly swing to his determination to get well, proper food and daily rides on the mesa, on the back of his little pinto pony, he regained perfect health, and today is well, happily married and living in Pasadena, California, so I have been told by Frau Schmidt, who dearly loves the boy."
"But Mary, forgive an old woman for rambling away from the subject in which you are interested-Navajo blankets. Ever since we planned to make a rug with a swastika in the centre, I have been trying to evolve from my brain (and your Uncle John says my bump of inventiveness is abnormally large) a Navajo rag rug for the floor of the room you intend to furnish as Ralph's den, in the home you are planning Well my dear a wooden
The rug, when finished, was truly a work of art. and represented many hours of labor and thought. Km Mary considered it very fascinating work and was delighted with the result of her labor--a rug the exact imitation of one of the Professor's genuine Indian Navajo blankets, the work of her own hands. and without the expenditure of a penny.
Mary remarked : "I do not think all the triangles in my rug are the exact size of the paper pattern you made me, Aunt Sarah. The two in the centre appear larger than the others."
"Well," remarked her Aunt, "if you examine closely the blankets owned by Professor Schmidt, you will find the designs
"Tis said Navajo blankets and Serapes will become scarce and higher in price in the future, on account of the numerous young Indians who have been educated and who prefer other occupations to that of weaving blankets, as did their forefathers; and the present disturbance in Mexico will certainly interfere with the continuance of this industry for a time.
"Mary, while you have been planning your Navajo rug, I have been thinking how we may make a very attractive as well as useful rug. You remember, we could not decide what use to make of your old, tan cravenette stormcoat? I have been thinking
"And you might crochet a rug, plain 'Hit or Miss.' of rather bright-colored rags."
"Yes." said Mary, "I think 1 will crochet a swastika in the centre of a rag. as you suggest, of bright orange, outlined with black, and a stripe of orange edged with black at each end of the rug to match the centre. Don't you think that would be pretty, Aunt, Sarah?"
"Yes, indeed, but Mary. don't you think the swastika would show more distinctly on a rug with a plain background?"
"Perhaps it would." replied Mary, "but I think I'll crochet one of very gayly-colored rags, with a swastika in the centre."
"Aunt Sarah." said Mary. "do tell me how that pretty little rug composed of silk scraps is made.
"Oh. that
"Use tiny scraps of various bright-hued silks, velvets and satins, cut about 3 1/2 inches long and about one-half inch in width. Ends should always he cut slanting or bias; never straight. All yon will require besides the silk scraps, will be a ball of common cord or twine, or save all cord which comes tied around packages, as I do, and use that and two ordinary steel knitting needles. When making her rug, Aunt Cornelia knitted several strips a couple of inches in width and the length she wished the finished rug to be. The strips when finished she sewed together with strong linen thread on the wrong side of the rug. She commenced the rug by knitting two rows of the twine or cord. (When I was a girl we called this common knitting 'garter stitch.) Then. when commencing to knit third row, slip off first stitch onto your other needle; knit one stitch, then lay one of the tiny scraps of silk across or between the two needles; knit one stitch with the cord. This holds the silk in position. Then fold or turn one end of silk back on the other piece of silk and knit one stitch of cord to hold them in place, always keeping silk on one side, on the top of rug, as this rug is not reversible. Continue in this manner until one row is finished. The knit once across plain with cord, and for next row lay silk scraps in and knit as before. Always knit one row of the cord across plain after knitting in scraps of silk, as doing this holds them firmly in position. Of course." Mary, you will use judgement and tastein combining light and dark, bright and dull colors. Also, do not use several scraps of velvet together. Use velvet, silk and satin alternately. Should any
"Thank you, Aunt Sarah, for your explicit directions. I cannot fail to know just how to knit a silk rug, should I ever care to do so. I think the work would be simply fascinating."
One day in early June, when all nature seemed aglow with happiness