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PUMPKIN PIE.

table. But each time the paste is turned over, all adhering Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING. flour should be carefully brushed from the upper surface, with a pastry brush, before the rolling is resumed.

To make small patty cases or vol au vents, cut them from the rolled out paste, in circular or diamond shapes (see Fig. 6), with a tin cutter or a sharp knife, which should be dipped in hot water before using each time. Lift them to a baking sheet with a broad bladed knife, cut lightly into the top of each patty, and when baked remove the marked out covers, pick out the unbaked paste, fill the centers, and replace the little covers or lids.

Properly made puff paste contains 2,304 distinct sheets or layers, and unless a patty case, in baking, rises from five to seven times its original thickness, the paste composing it is of inferior quality.

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

-Emma P. Ewing.

A WORD TO MOTHERS.

I write to you, parents, concerning the welfare of your children. But especially do I write to you, mothers, as having the greater responsibility in the bringing up of the little ones and in the moulding of their characters. The message I would bring home to you, one and all, is this: Never frighten them. Do not, I beseech of you, run the risk of making idiots of them by filling their young minds with horrors. Do not attempt to frighten them into good behavior by solemn warnings of imaginary terrors. A large proportion of mothers use these means to coerce their children into obedience. They fill their infant minds with dire stories of goblins, ogres, "bogiemen, raw-head and bloody-bones," and hosts of other fictitious and terrible characters. The little ones go about expecting to find a lurking fiend in every corner. The practice is not only devoid of common sense, but is absolutely injurious and dangerous. Many a child has been driven insane through intense fear. So deeply instilled are these things in their minds-for mama would not tell a lie, you know--that it takes years and years of after life to thoroughly eradicate them.

The writer had a kind, good, self-sacrificing mother---God bless her-but she committed this one error in the bringing up of her children. Many a time I lay in my crib with covered head and suffered the most intense agony of fear; many a time I nearly went into spasms upon being caught in the dark, which I imagined peopled with strange and fearful beings, and fraught with unseen dangers for naughty boys. like unto me. And strange to say these feelings followed me nearly to manhood, and I believe they still lurk somewhere in my innermost nature.

Now, mothers, for the very love you bear your children, avoid this great error. Bring them up as near as you can without the knowledge of fear. If fear be shown by them at any time, try to reason it away and show them that there is no cause for it, if there be none. Tell them no tales of ghosts, ogres, goblins, or other imaginary characters; neither tell them of horrible realities such as Indian atrocities and the like. Such narratives take a deeper hold on their young minds than upon maturer intellects, and many a little one awakes at midnight with the cold sweat of terror on his brow, from the effects of some blood-curdling tale he has heard or read before going to bed.

Make the little folks live as happy as possible, and so bring them up that in after life they shall have no cause to entertain hard feelings towards their parents.

-E. H. Pray.

"SUCH AS MY MOTHER USED TO MAKE."
'Twas early in autumn, the time I recall,
When bright crimson leaves were beginning to fall.
When apples fell temptingly down at the feet,
Like apples of Eden, so juicy and sweet.
The fields slightly faded and tinted with brown,
Were flecked here and there with the light thistledown-
The corn that all summer had whispered and told,
How, hidden within it were treasures of gold,
Had felt the keen edge of the sickle of late,
With many a shiver and sigh at its fate,
And now it was all by the ears in the shock,
As sheep when alarmed huddle close in a flock—
The pumpkins once scattered all over the ground,
Were gorgeous and golden in many a mound,
Suggestive of sunshine of rain and of dew,
And later of coveted sweets, not a few.

One morn at this beautiful time of the year,
From spire and from belfrey came ringing so clear
The chimes that portended a wedding was near.
Cousin Tom had been wooing Miss Jennie, a belle
With many a suitor, as he knew full well,
But Tom was persistent and Jennie was kind,
So a happier couple one scarcely could find,
As solemnly taking their vows at the altar,
Each willingly donned the hymenial halter.
And then came of course, what so seldom is missing,
The bride blushed and took a good orthodox kissing.
Salutations all over, the groom and the bride,
Both radiant and happy, set out for a ride.
The world lay before them we well may suppose,
Transcendently lovely, all coleur de rose.

Thus thrilled with the joys and delights of the day,
They were filled with content as they talked by the way.

Now Tom had a practical bump on his head,
And tastes that Aunt Betsey had pampered and fed.
And wondrous discrepancy, seen at a glance,
The bride saw the world through a veil of romance.
Quoth Tom, "Please to notice those pumpkins, my dear,
The finest I've seen, love, in many a year,"
"O yes," answered Jennie, "how richly they shine,
Like gold hidden deep in the heart of a mine,
So gorgeous in beauty, so fair to the eyes;
Said Tom, "I imagine they're better for pies.
By the way love, I trust that you know how to make,
Pumpkin pies, which I dote on, but if I mistake,
My mother can teach you the art in a trice,
And give you a volume of wholesome advice."
Now Jennie, sly puss, had a wise little heart,
And she saw there were trials to meet in the start,
For she knew that when Tom was a rolicking boy,
Aunt Betsey just found her delight and her joy,
In stuffing her darling from morning till night,
Till eating at last came to be his delight.
And now she discovered with keenest regret,
The faults of his boyhood enthralling him yet.
In Indian summer, one very fair day,
When the honeymoon lay in the heavens midway,
Tom and Jennie, so happy, to housekeeping went,
In a vine-covered cottage with sweetest content.
Now Jennie's deft fingers found ample employ,
She trusted that nothing their love should annoy,
That all their fond dreams should be put to the test,
Ere the honeymoon settled far down in the west.
All the dainty devices I scarcely could tell,
But her cottage might rival a palace as well,
For all was so gracefully done by her skill,
That her fingers wrought marvels as fairy hands will.

So time rippled onward 'till into their joy,
Came little by little, a shade of alloy.
For Tom had developed a will of his own,
And he thought it his duty to sigh and to groan,
When things failed to please his fastidious taste,
As often they will in the bustle of haste;

He frowned at his coffee, complained of his tea,
And grew just as savage as savage could be,
And told how his mother did this and did that,
Instead of indulging in laughter and chat.

Poor Jennie she wept very much I confess,

In those sorrowful days, but she worked none the less,
Yet she thought with a sigh of our first "mother Eve,"
In the garden of Eden with nothing to grieve,
She was sure that with all Eve's trouble and bother,
That Adam could never have quoted his mother.
At last a bright thought came to Jennie's relief,
Which offered a balm to her passionate grief.
"Tom's mother shall teach me to make pumpkin pies,
And I will prepare him a pleasant surprise.
Perhaps all my love and devotion he'll spy,
If baked and concealed in his favorite pie."

How swiftly her eagerness bore her along,
While hope set her singing sweet snatches of song,
'Till she reached the old farm-house a long mile away.
And heard Tom's old mother excitedly say,
"Good gracious! and what is the matter, pray tell?
Is the cow in the pound or the pig in the well?
My Tom must be sick and he wants me to come,

I thought that you both had forgot the old home."

"No, mother," said Jennie "You're all in the wrong,
The cow and the pig are both getting along
As nicely as can be, and Tom is quite well,

But how do you make pumpkin pies? please to tell,
For Tom thinks I never will learn how to cook,
And says you know everything just like a book."
Aunt Betsey just bristled with pride as she rose,
Adjusting her "specs" to the bridge of her nose,
And scanning poor Jennie from bonnet to boot,
Gave vent to her pride in a half-uttered hoot;
"Of course I ken cook, goodness me! so I ken,
And women was made jest to cook for the men,
And not to be curlin' and frizzin' their hair,

While their husbands have nothin' to live on but air.
Poor Tom must be starved with your new fangled ways,
And so for his old mother's victuals he prays.

Punkin pies, the boy wants; bless his heart, he shall have 'em,
He shall not go hungry when mother can save him,
And I'll teach you to make 'em so then when I die,
My son shall be sure of his favorite pie;"
And she wiped with her apron a tear from her eye.

"First git you a ‘punkin,' and as to the size,
It depends more or less on your number of pies:
Then cut it in two and then into pieces,
Quite a lot for in stewin' the 'punkin' decreases.
So then when your 'punkin' to stew has begun,
You've only to let it stew on till it's done.
Now get you some eggs and some milk in a pan,
And stir in your 'punkin' as quick as you ken,
And season with ginger, put pepper in too,
And sweeten with sugar though 'lasses will do.
"Then git you some flour, some water, some lard,
Be careful not mix it too soft or too hard,
And roll it out quickly and put on a tin,
And then put your 'punkin' and other stuff in.
And see that your oven is jest about right,
Then at last they will turn out a beautiful sight.

"Come to think, I've been bakin' some pies for myself,
And I set them to cool on the wide pantry shelf;
Tom shall have one of mother's own pies, so he shall,
The biggest of all that will last him a spell;

And tell him I sent it along with my love,
And hope it a comfort and blessin' will prove."
So Jennie set out with the pie on her arm,
So late from the oven, still glowing and warm,
With the thought in her heart as she hastened along,
"Perhaps she is right and perhaps I ara wrong;
And yet, as to pies, I am scarcely the wiser,
For all I have learned from my willing adviser.
I know by the looks of the pie she has sent,
That Tom will not touch it, so I will invent

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She found, to her joy, was a help and a treasure,
For it taught her to cook both by weight and by measure;
The pastry she made, very seldom is found,

With delicate crinkley crust all around.
The center so rich and so perfectly done,

A feast, as she thought, for a king on his throne.
When Tom came to dinner, 'twas plain to be seen,
That his temper at that time was far from serene,
For he snapped at poor Tabby as cross as a bear,
With a word that in fact was akin to a swear.
"Don't be cross, now, dear Tom," pleaded Jennie at length,
For I tell you I've taxed all my knowledge and strength,

In an effort to give you a pleasant surprise;

Behold! here is one of your favorite pies."

Tom seized at the pie that his mother had sent,
And over the coveted treasure he bent,
Essaying a bite at the crust, but he found

A leathery substance that would not go down.
Aunt Betsey was surely quite out of her head,
For she left out the ginger, put pepper instead,
The sugar by some means was strangely forgot,
And as for the "lasses" there was not a jot.

What a rage seized on Tom as he tasted the pie,
And he turned on his wife with a flash in his eye,
Then rushed to the door as she knew that he would,
And sent the pie flying as far as he could.

At last, when he'd strangled and coughed himself hoarse,
He roared "I'll not stand it, I'll get a divorce."

"O, Tom," pleaded Jennie, "don't promise in haste,

I think I've a pie that is more to your taste,

Your mother, dear soul, sent you over a present

Of one of her pies, now isn't that pleasant?"
Then she brought out her own dainty pie on a plate
And placed it before him awaiting its fate.

"Of course it is mother's, I know by the smell,

If I saw it in France I should know it as well.
"Now madam," he said with a frown on his face,
"Such a pie as you made is a shame and disgrace."
Then Jennie sat lovingly down by his side,
(With gentle forbearance forgetting to chide,)
And tenderly told him with tears in her eyes,
The whole of the troublesome tale of the pies.
'Twas then he acknowledged albeit with shame,
He had acted the brute, was deserving of blame,
Then promised anew he would cherish the wife
And ne'er quote his mother again in his life.
Sometimes, half forgetting the promise, he'll tell
Of some wonderful dish that his mother made well,
And Jennie, an eloquent light in her eye,
Says never a word, but she looks "pumpkin pie."
-Lavilla E. Allen.

Original in Good Housekeeping.

CHRYSANTHEMUMS.

Oh, consecrate and desolate of heart!

When dead leaves drift through field and forest drear,
On Winter's solemn verge ye stand apart,

In the chill twilight of the fading year,
Dreaming of sunny skies, of fragrance flown,
Of roses dead and warmth and radiance gone.

Through fitful Spring and Summer's fervid glow,
Nursing your infant buds for perfect bloom,
You spread your ripened beauties to the snow
In the pale sun that lights November's gloom,
And dreamful wait when all are gone beside
To crown with wreaths the altars where they died.
-Elizabeth M. Griswold.

Original in GoOD HOUSEKEEPING.

THE FASHIONS.

EARLY WINTER CONSIDERATION AND COMMENT. EVER is Miss Japonica more wofully aware of dress destitution and "nothing to wear," than when calmly surveying her wardrobe after a summer's dissipation, as some famous general may view a field of battle after a hot action when desolation and debris alone mark the late affray. La mode is very despotic of late, and black balls every one who tries to make "auld claithes luke amaist as gude as new," which will do for the poor, but not for society, my dear; still, the decrees of mammon are not always to be regarded, yet it is significant of the season that objects of luxury, as well as of the reverse, never were offered at so low a price before. With the exception of the larger establishments, patronized only by those who don't know the meaning of diminished dividends and sinking shares, there are hundreds of other fashionable stores on the avenues, and Broadway and the streets leading out of Broadway, where there is a store of all that woman's heart inclines to, as good and fashionable and as cheap. The charm of the present outlook is the brightness of the new fabrics of whatever nature. In the darkness of wintry days women should study the sweet art of being the sunshine in a shady place even in dress. A careless house mother, who keeps her best attire for out of door exhibition, can never command respect, even love will expand wings and fly. Faded, stained, antiquated silk or shabby wool toilettes are not "good enough for the house," but will, dyed, make excellent linings. There is nothing more durable, that lends the same effect, as a black American silk. It is far more durable than wool, yields gracefully to any amount of sponging after a long journey, bears damp ness, bad weather, adapts itself to the house for a "company dress," looks brighter than ever after being made over and, finally, resigns itself amicably into a pretty quilted street skirt, rich as one made of satin or silk, purchased, would cost two or three dollars to buy ready made. For the rest, never has there been more attractive materials offered for a mere nominal price, such as bright homespun camels hair checks, cameo cloths, striped wool buntings, soft, fine flannels of all colors, striped and checked, diagonal homespuns, etc.; either of these are now sold for such low prices, as from fifteen cents to thirty-five. The homespuns are fifty-six inches wide, the checks are forty inches wide. Every woman, whether mistress or maid, feels more amiable and attractive in a new dress fashionably made, whether she is a resident of the metropolis.or a far distant prairie. Just a soupcon of variety is a good exotic to cultivate, only enough to make one consult the mirror as to teeth, hair, complexion, dress, to look well in the eyes of others. The woman who is indifferent to her appearance, who does not possess an innocent desire to maintain her husband's and childrens' respect and admiration by innocent little wiles and pretty ways, is no true woman. She should avoid loose wrappers, excepting for the sick room, and curl papers, crimping pins and other disfiguring abominations in public. Here is the Demorest design of a housekeeping dress, a simple princess design uniting also style and even elegance., It is tight-fitting, the back is cut with extensions laid in a boxpleat under each arm on the under side, that gives the fullness to the skirt, there is a gathered flounce and bands of contrasting material in the model, but is a matter of taste; twelve yards will be sufficient of material twenty-four inches wide. The Satilla costume shows the popular feature of the

plain skirt with the simple narrow pleating of the foot, broad panels on each side, short pointed basque and straight drapery in the back; this is equally adapted, notwithstanding its simplicity, for either of the above fabrics, or silk, velvet, or velveteen; the panels may be covered with bead passementerie, braid, jets, or made of some brocaded material, tucked across, or whatever trimming is preferred. With the warm underwear, now almost universally adopted, the little wraps are not to be deplored, as the chest, back and arms are sufficiently protected. The coquettish little Beaufort jacket is made like the others, tailor-finish, the double box-pleats behind fit exactly over the tournure, and the front is closely buttoned down to within a few inches of the waist, falling open below, the sleeves may be either slightly flowing or in coat shape; a wrap, more for dressy purposes, the Elmina, is still shorter behind, with loose fronts nearly covered with a wide sash, gathered in at the throat and drawn in at the waist with a fancy clasp of oxidized silver; there is a fullness, laid in pleats, on the inside of the back at the waist. There must be a belt or ribbon to fasten the wrap at the waist inside, to draw in the back.

In furs, the long, comfortable fur lined cloaks again present themselves as securities against the cold blasts of winter. Many of these are lined with mink. The outside, where economy is concerned, should be of Sicilienne or the American Duchesse satin. There is no economy in the plain black French silk that in one season assumes the fatal shiny gloss. It is a great mistake for those who practice economy through necessity, to purchase cheap garments which are unmistakably stamped with their price and length of life no one would like to insure, and receive the attention accorded to a poor relation. It is wiser to economize in something else for the one excellent outside wrap with a long lease of life.

Some of the new sealskin sacques are quite short according to taste, others are forty-two inches in length; the fronts of one style extend nearly to the edge of the dress, the back fits closely over the tournure. Never has there been a greater display of fur trimmings. The more costly are the Hudson Bay sable and the Russian sable tails that form a fringe around the edge of the garment; there are also the fisher-tails, and borders, then next in routine are the bands of silver fox, beaver, lynx, marten, blue fox, black monkey, cinnamon bear, Russian hare, blue lynx, chinchilla, Astrakhan and other furs. Some exceedingly rich dolmans and jackets, tight fitting, have fur bands all around them; these are made double-breasted, and untrimmed except the large flat carved wood buttons. The finest fur wraps are untrimmed. There are pretty coquettish caps and turbans of sealskin, trimmed with sharp bows of seal brown velvet, or a bird's head and pompon, or tufts of brilliant birds' wings. The shoulder capes of fur are not approved of on the score of health; in fact, are severely denounced by physicians and sensible people. The furs for little children are seen in all qualities, from the pretty squirrel set to the more costly sealskin coats and cloaks, muffs, and caps. Favorite sacques for the little ones are curly gray krimmer with caps and muffs to correspond; there are pretty white cony sets, but in the way of beauty, chinchilla is unexceptionable, with its soft fleece and charming bright satin linings.

In the advance of artistic tastes relating to all things worn or used, the linen manufacturer takes his part in exquisite beauty of design. There is a departure from the traditional rose, thistle, and shamrock; the lustrous damask, in one example, represent a panel formed by creeping plants and the lotus flower,-the center depicts the lotus rising from the rippling water. Others, of creamy and ivory tinted grounds, have various designs in white of a marine view, a landscape, a façade of a Gothic cathedral, pagodas, graceful with clustering vines, the chase. A vase of Egyptian form stands upon

an altar filled with the flowers of the lotus, a drapery is held back by a figure of Sleep with the stem of poppies in one hand extended to Morpheus. A supper cloth and napkins, valued at $135 for the set, is embroidered with gold thread and scarlet silk in an acanthus design three inches wide, with a narrower border to match. A Holbein damask is embroidered in old tapestry style in old gold and old blue in mediæv: 1 design in the wide border, the narrow in lighter blue, outlined with dull red, the center has a medieval design with ferns on the edges in graceful profusion. This costs $144. Some exceedingly elaborate sets of towels, or covers, are valued at the same price for a dozen, made of finest momie cloth, netted fringes with tassels, and the two borders embroidered with gold floss silk in obelisk shape, with inner work of blue and red silk in palms. A Greek border is like point lace work in intricate patterns, and a border above in acanthus, palms, and ferns. An open wheel work in two rows, of another style, is connected with ferns and eyelets a quarter of a yard wide. Less costly styles are embroidered heavily with drab thread, and the net work fringe is half a yard deep of the thread netted in the edge. A charming set of towels and table scarfs show extreme grace and elaboration worthy of being framed instead of ignoble usage; in this it is evident the French do not agree with me. The border is white in open work, below this is a border of stiff fleur de lis in gold floss, then comes next gold fish with blue scales exquisitely embroidered, forming the standard for a boat-shaped blue and gold design for holding flowers, with which it is heaped.

99 66

Slowly and surely aristocratic Fifth avenue is changing into a business boulevard. Carriage-makers, tailors, artistic furniture men, modistes, druggists, art rooms, designers, dry goods houses fill the great mansions lately occupied by the millionaires, who, like poor Joe in "Bleak House," move on," until checked by Central Park. Lately, Mrs. Thompson, the benefactor of women generally, has taken possession of one of these fine houses and opened the most tempting hair rooms "the world has ever seen,"-I quote,-where ladies with thin or gray hair are made beautiful and renew their youth with some admirably natural coiffures to suit their styles,-distracting waves hiding too lofty brows, changing the stern Minerva face into one of gentle sweetness; but, seriously, these little waves of natural curly hair are most excellent for saving the crimping of one's own hair, which may be smoothed safely back. There are so many becoming devices for different faces, I hear that Madam Patti returned to Wales the richer by seven new wigs called the "Patti." There are delicious creams, too, that prevents wrinkles, the finest toilette soap, finest powders and whatever will make women innocently improve on nature under the preparation of a chemist. What with these beautiful rooms to be made lovely, and the new club-room for ladies soon to be organized, where we shall discuss bohea while tearing to pieces a certain she, on the same aristocratic avenue, there will be not little left to ask for. --Georgiana H. S. Hull.

AN EXTRAVAGANT OLD ROMAN. The outrageous absurdities of Elagabalus equaled or surpassed those of Calignia and Nero. He fed the officers of his place with the brains of pheasants and thrushes, the eggs of partridges, and the heads of parrots. Among the dishes served at his own table were peas mashed with grains of gold, beans fricasseed with morsels of amber, and rice mixed with pearls. His meals were frequently composed of twenty-two services. Turning roofs threw flowers with such profusion on the guests that they were nearly smothered. At the sea-side he never ate fish, but when far inland he caused the roe of the rarest to be distributed among his suite. He was the first Roman who ever wore a complete dress of silk. His shoes glittered with rubies and emeralds, and his chariots were of gold, inlaid with precious stones.-Quarterly Review.

Original in GoOD HOUSEKEEPING.

CARE OF BEDS AND SLEEPING ROOMS. MAKING WRONG-DOING AS NEARLY RIGHT AS POSSIBLE. PERSON who advertises to

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cleanse and renovate feather beds and mattresses claims that, by his process, he recently extracted from a single mattress several pounds of effete matter. This he claimed was absorption from the human body. I wish to show in this article how to protect our beds, as far as may be, from the impurities arising from personal exhalations. This result can be brought about, very successfully and almost entirely, simply by mechanical protection. A bed slept upon for any considerable number of years must, of necessity, absorb from the sleeper an appreciable amount of bodily effluvium. . Let us contemplate for a moment an hereditary feather-bed, with its long line of ancestral accumulations. Are we startled at the modern theory that it is suicidal to sleep upon one? Dr. Dio Lewis mentions this prominently among his "Ways of Committing Suicide." Yet I find that many people still persist in their use, especially in the winter season. And if they must be used, it is best that they should be hygienically protected. The bed should be kept from contact with the sleeper, and the sleeper from the contamination of the feather-bed. Like the mother who had forbidden her child to go after berries, and, when the child would go in spite of her, said, "if you will go, get good ones," we recommend that if people will do wrong, they may do it as nearly right as possible, (a statement which is triflingly paradoxical).

We start the young housekeeper with a new, fresh featherbed, so light that you may lose yourself in its downy depths. It is duly enticked in the firmest fabric, whose blue and white are really dazzling to the naked eye. I see no reason why this downy structure may not retain its pristine purity, during a generation of years, if cared for in a sane or sanitary manner. Any one who has chanced to see one of these hereditary feather-beds, knows that it is an unwieldly, soggy mass, that its clear blue and white are lost in a faded dinginess offensive to the eye of taste.

My first suggestion in regard to the care of feather-beds, and mattresses as well, is that they should be thoroughly protected by mechanical means, from the exhalations of the sleeper, and from coming into contact with local objects which may mar their outward cleanliness or appearance. As far as observation extends, this idea has not obtained to any extent among housekeepers; but my own experience of twenty-five years with beds and mattresses, used during this period, makes me regret that I could not have started with the suggestions which I now desire to offer others, and especially to the young housekeeper. Every feather-bed and mattress should be provided with a second tick or casing, enclosing it firmly and entirely. This should be made of material which can be thoroughly cleansed by washing and boiling, and should be removed for this purpose as often as once a year, where the bed is in daily use. For this purpose, I would suggest firm, coarse, unbleached cotton cloth. This will prevent soil of the mattress as it is daily lifted for airing, (by servants whose hands or clothing may not always be too clean) and will prevent injury to the fabric, as the bed is carried through doors from room to room, to the piazza or open yard for weekly sunning. This will form the second layer of protection from infection. For further and complete protection two under sheets should always be used, made of firm, durable material. The upper sheet of the

two should invariably be changed weekly, and never substituted for the one lying next the mattress case. The nethermost sheet ought to be changed at least bi-monthly, while both sheets coming in contact with the sleeper require weekly changes. The mattress or feather-bed should be daily exposed to full drafts of air, sunlight, and if possible, to actual sunshine. These are effectual disinfectants. At least, once a week, the bed should be carried out of doors and allowed to bask in the pouring sunshine for two or three hours. The mattress should be lifted every morning, allowing it to remain on its ends at least an hour, while the pure air from the open windows circulates above and beneath it. This daily process will prevent the matting or sogging of the hair and feathers. The practice of turning the bedclothes over the footboard is not a good one; they should be taken singly and laid neatly upon chairs by the open window. This effectually dislodges all the odor caused by the feet of the occupant, which otherwise would not fully escape.

In regard to bedclothing, of course, nothing should be used save what can be, when needed, thoroughly cleansed. This will restrict us happily to blankets, counterpanes, and the old fashioned bed-quilt. A comforter may be at hand for the exigency of a zero temperature, to be thrown upon the ouside of the bed, but never placed beneath the other coverings. Comforters in constant use, should be avoided and be carefully protected at the top by a neat covering of some fadeless material. All who have used comforters know that they are easily soiled where they come into contact with the breath of the sleeper. Blankets, which should form the staple of our winter bedding, should be changed at least once during the colder months, that is, the pair next the upper sheet. Blankets may be kept pure and sweet by being taken to the open door weekly, thoroughly shaken, and occasionally, on a fine, sunny, breezy day, carefully pinned to the clothes-line and allowed the regenerating effect of sun and wind.

Pillows and bolsters, like the mattress, should be carefully protected by an extra casing of heavy cotton cloth. Every housewife of years knows that her pillow-ticks have become yellow and time-stained, so that she feels a delicacy in exposing them to public view, even for a much needed airing and sunning. The old-fashioned night cap has, luckily for the head, gone into disuse, but not so luckily for the cleanliness of the pillow-case and tick. A second covering, to be removed and washed when necessary, would furnish the protection, and also prevent the escape, of the much dreaded down of the sleeping room, where feather pillows are used. Pillows are portable, and protected from absorption by three firm coverings, and daily subjected to the disinfecting agencies of air and sunshine may be kept healthy and pure, inviting and insuring a sweeter and sounder slumber-a pillow indeed of repose for the weary head.

Dirt has been defined by Prof. Huxley to be "Matter out of place," and it usually appeals to our sense of seeing. Most ladies are satisfied with the cleanliness of bed and sleeping room if pillow-slips, shams, and counterpane are white and freshly ironed, the room well swept and garnished, the toilet set duly washed, with fresh towels hung plentifully upon the rack; that is, when there is nothing to offend the eye of taste. But there is a finer and more inner sense of cleanliness, akin to health and godliness, which ought to pervade every sleeping apartment. In order that sleep may perform its legitimate work of restoration, it demands that its conditions and environment shall offer no obstacle to its accomplishment. Sleep demands a purer atmosphere than the waking hours of life. Awake and at work we are somewhat on the defensive, but we yield ourselves into the arms of slumber, and are at the mercy of unseen foes, lurking in secret hiding places about our rooms, close beside our beds, yea, beneath our very pillows.

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It is to be regretted that paperings or carpetings should ever be used in the sleeping room. Alas! what evil is lurking in the area of the four square walls which encompass us! What enemy is that, although trodden upon, yet is not subdued! Let the walls of our sleeping rooms be kalsomined and the carpets removed from the floors. Let the crevices be carefully filled with putty (any one can do this), and the floor neatly painted or stained. A rug at the bedside, with small ones at the bureau and commode (Kensington rugs), will relieve the nakedness of the floor. These should be carried out weekly, thoroughly shaken, and exposed for an hour to sun and wind. Towels and wash cloths used during the day should never remain in the room during the night. I have seen washcloths, used day after day in a sleeping room, become sour and musty emitting a strong odor both disagreeable and unhealthy. The water-can and the entire toilette set must be kept perfectly sweet and pure. I do not mean merely clean to the eye, but clean enough for a chemist's use. Attention must also be called to the tooth-brush, which should always be thoroughly cleansed after using, and placed, handle down, in an upright holder. I have found odor enough about one tooth brush to infect the atmosphere of a common sleeping room. In regard to ventilation, open as many doors and windows as permissible, avoiding a draft; but moving air is absolutely indispensable to the health of the sleeper. Let the bed stand as near the center of the room as possible, but on no account close to the wall. No one housekeeper may be able to carry out all of these suggestions, but it is the ideal, or housekeeping as it ought to be, which should be held up to the eye of the reader, that each one may choose what she can best carry out in her daily practice. -Mrs. L. J. K. Gifford.

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

HERE AND BEYOND.
Leagues of gold and crimson glory,
Dazzling, glimmering, far and near,
Sighing, each to each, the story
Of the swiftly wasting year,-
List the story

Of the swiftly wasting year!

Mark yon cliff, whose lone recesses

Glow with autumn's dying grace;
Dreamfully the lake caresses,
Surge by surge, its leafy base.
Vain caresses-
Autumn glows with dying grace!
Steadfast, 'mid the shifting splendor,
Sentried by the friendly kine,

Note yon homestead, whose dear fender
Stands to-day my pilgrim shrine,-
Dear old fender,

Sought to-day-a sacred shrine! By this window, dim and lonely, Where, in days now passed away, Two have lingered long, one only Sadly muses here to-day,— Lonely, lonely,

One who lingers here to-day!
Musing, while the scene is shifting,—
Gusty grows the autumn air;
Leaves are swirling, clouds are drifting,
Change is ringing everywhere,-
Shifting, drifting,
Change is ringing everywhere.
Yet, O Love! life's desolating,

Rounded, recompensed shall be
In that heavenly mansion, waiting,
Changeless, by the jasper sea,—
Ready, waiting,
Loved and lost, for thee and me!

-Georgia A. Peck.

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