meant for Christ by that queer arrangement on his head, probably intended for the "Crown of Glory." He is hauling a man out of the water with a rope-pretty substantial faith! In the course of a few days the door-bell rings again and in walks the ever present agent with "Beatrice Cenci." We have all seen this, but how many of us stop to notice that although a copy of Guido's picture, it is a miserable thing, that the marvelous expression of deepest sadness which made the original famous is not in this picture. And so in our house cleanings and movings, gaudy fruit pieces and flower pieces, blurred "Voyages of Life," horrible "Crucifixions," poorly drawn dog pieces and cat pieces cover our walls. We keep on buying such pictures. When we get rich, with the mistaken notion that an oil painting is the highest round in a ladder of pictures, we pay $100 or more for a large one. But there are just as many poor oil paintings as poor chromos. In no way have we fitted ourselves to judge of their good points, and their weak points, and naturally we put our painting in a gilt frame a foot wide; what a refining influence it must have! The two excuses for buying such pictures are that we could afford no better, and that as time passed on we expected to improve their quality. The "can afford no better" argument is worthless for we can get good pictures for the money that we pay for our poor ones, only we must be convinced that it is a good thing to have a good picture, and in some way we must learn what a good picture is. If we look into our homes we shall find that we have not improved their quality as we expected. Our last pictures are more expensive, perhaps, but they are not more artistic than our cheap chromos. These prize chromos sent out year after year by thousands have injured us; and they have helped to keep good pictures out of the market. We seldom look at our pictures, less often think of them, and almost never speak of them with the object of self improvement. Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING. -Belle Fargher Meyer. THE CHILDREN HAVE GROWN AWAY. My little children have grown away, Grown to be men and women tall, With passions and loves and hates and all From childish play. My little children that were so dear, How can I help but wish them here With arms round my neck in the old loving way I have not known for many a day, Not since home was my kingdom, precious and sweet, Those feet that led them away from me Leaving me here in my lonely room That even in sunshine seems full of gloom, I thought I should be the first to go, And I cannot but wish it might have been so, So I'm trusting our Lord, and can clearly see Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING. M RS. WILLIAMS was tired, worn out and discouraged; Molly was tired and cross; Mr. Williams was mad; Henry was plainly and unmistakably disgusted, and Ethel was tired and tearful, which was, perhaps, the worst of all; and it was all on account of the servant girl, or I should say, more correctly speaking the lack of a servant girl, for Bridget had departed leaving behind her in good vigorous Irish, her opinion of the Williams family. Three dreary weeks had followed upon the servant's departure, weeks during which Mrs. Williams and Ethel had done all the work; under protest it must be admitted, but still it had been thoroughly well done, and yet they were as undecided what to do next as on the first day they had been left alone. Good competent help was not hard to get in Oakland, provided one paid high wages, but the Williams's could not afford, nor was their family large enough to make it seem right that they should give more than fifteen or sixteen dollars a month to a servant whose only work was in the kitchen and dining-rooms, for all the washing was done out of the house, and Mrs. Williams and Ethel attended to the bed rooms. The free and independent spirit which had characterized them at the outset when Bridget first left, was being slowly, but surely crushed under the inevitable dish-washing, table setting, unending routine of kitchen work; and on this memorable evening the family was ready for peace; by fair means if possible, but under any circumstances peace. They were sitting around the parlor fire gloomily discussing ways and means, how they could best intimate to some of Bridget's lady-friend kitchen girls that they were willing to be forgiven. and worked for once again, when the bell rang, and young Mrs. Eldridge appeared upon the scene, fresh and smiling. "Well, you poor people," said she after greeting them all, "I have had an idea this afternoon, and came over to give you the benefit of it, though my husband said when I told him, that I ought to think twice before I gave away what I so rarely possessed, but I came to see why you do not send to the Japanese Mission and get a good school-boy to do your kitchen work for you?" "Get a what?" asked all the Williams's in a breath; and hope once more began to shine in the eyes of the wife and mother. "Now listen to me," said Mrs. Eldridge, seating herself comfortably in a rocking chair. "I'll tell you all I know about this thing, and who knows but through it you may soon be out of your valley of humiliation and slough of despond. Of course you have never for one moment tried the Chinese-I know you don't like them and won't have them about, though what in the world I should do without my Ling I don't know, but that is neither here nor there; I know you cannot get a Chinaman, good, bad or indifferent for less than twenty dollars a month, so that subject is ended." "They're so impertinent" murmured Mrs. Williams, but the interruption was unheeded. "Now, it seems the Japanese send out dozens and dozens of boys constantly to California to be educated, some of these boys are of very high aristocratic families, as well as from poorer homes, but they all come for the one purpose-a good education; and as they seem to have no false pride, they are willing to go into any one's home while they are learning and work. Thus their time out of school hours not only brings them in a little income, but they get their rooms and board, learn how the American's live, to say nothing of the help -John A. Clark. they obtain in learning to speak English. Some of the richer boys rent rooms and never do any outside work, but the majority of them all do housework before and after school hours while going through the grammar grades for the smallest wages, as their principal object is to get time to study, and a place to study in. Mrs. Reed, who told me this, has the second son of a viscount, or whatever the corresponding Japanese rank is-in her kitchen, and he is politeness itself. He wears a gold watch and chain, gold sleeve buttons and studs, in fact, dresses better than her own son; has his initials worked on his underclothes, and stamped on his valise, and owned such a beautiful silk umbrella; she used to say she was always tempted to borrow it when she went out, and in every way he is altogether gorgeous, but nevertheless makes a splendid kitchen and table boy, and now that they have grown used to ordering royalty about, they find him very satisfactory. Mrs. Reed says if you wish it she will speak to Tomi, and he can bring you a friend probably in a day or two." "What wages are these paragons prevailed upon to accept?" asked Mr. Williams, as Mrs. Eldridge paused a moment to take breath. "For the school boys who know very little beyond dish-washing and waiting on the door and, in a fashion, on the table, a dollar or a dollar and a half a week is given, but as they advance further in the knowledge of cooking, their wages are correspondingly better. Mrs. Reed's servant gets the breakfast, washes the dishes and goes to school comes home at noon, sets and clears the table, leaves before one, and returns at half past three; then works about the house until time to cook the dinner. Gives her all his time Saturdays, and as long as she needs him on Sundays, and all for two dollars and a half a week; so you see they are useful as well as ornamental." That was the beginning of the new era, and when Mrs. Eldridge left, she took with her an urgent appeal from Mrs. Williams, to Tomi, the Japanese boy, to send her his friend as soon as possible. About half past four the next day the new boy arrived, accompanied by Tomi who introduced him. As Mrs. Williams opened her front door they both bowed low, and stood respectfully before her, two slim, short, dark, young fellows, well and quietly dressed, and thoroughly self possessed. Tomi began the conversation being watched by his friend with deep admiration the while. "Madam, how do you do? Mrs. Reed send me, I Tomi, she say you want school-boy, this my friend, my very good friend, I like you try him." "What can he do?" asked Mrs. Wil liams, the question was followed by a brief colloquy in Japanese, whereupon the interpreter answered, smilingly, "He can wash dishes, he can cook a little, set table, he say he hope you try him, he very clean boy." "What wages does he want?" She again questioned, and Tomi replied "one dollar a half a week." To the question "when can he come?" the unexpected and satisfactory reply "to-night," came promptly, and with a "thank you Madam," and a low bow from both of the boys, they departed leaving Mrs. Williams to return to her family and report progress, scarcely believing she had a servant engaged. About seven o'clock as the family were finishing dinner the new boy arrived bag and baggage, and was shown into his room, from which he almost immediately issued with a white apron on, and ready for work. He spoke very little English and watched every person and thing with absorbing interest. On being asked his name, he replied "Arata," and gravely spelled it once or twice, repeating it at the end, slowly, as though to guard against any false pronunciation. He cleared the table deftly and washed the dishes quickly and neatly, only asking to be shown where the things belonged. After all was done, he inquired at what time the fire was to be made in the morning and shut himself into his room with his books. Several days passed during which he did his work easily and well, being quick to learn and very willing. He asked the name of everything he saw, and pronounced it afterward, learning as Ethel said, according to the true Meistershafft system. On the morning of the sixth day however, as Mr. Williams entered the dining-room he heard a groan, the sound coming from Arata's room, and going to the boy's door he was confronted by the pale, sleepless suffering fellow, his face swollen with toothache, and his whole expression one of misery. "What's up Arata?" Mr. Williams asked kindly, and Arata handed him a note, and replied “I pray you forgive me, I go now," and stood anxiously waiting a reply. Mr. Williams opened the letter, and after one astonished look gave the boy a consenting nod, speech being denied him for the moment, and then he hurried up stairs to place the document before his wife. It read: 66 'Dear Madam, My teeth is a very hurt, therefore I pray you cessation from work that I go to the dentist which prescribes Arata." from the sick. "Poor boy," said Mrs. Williams, laughing, "I hope his teeth will get a very better, but in the meantime what are we band "for he has left his traps here;" and sure enough, two to do?" "Oh, he'll come back all right," replied her husdays later he turned up serene and smiling in the afternoon, dashed into his room and soon came out with another note which he handed to Mrs. Williams, and which was read and preserved amongst the family curios for weeks, and enjoyed by all. "Dear Madam, I cannot too exhaust at language for your great kindness, but I now is a little better. Pleas take moneys for two days from week moneys. Arata." The household wheels now seemed to roll smoothly for some little time. The Japanese boy acquainted with the routine did his work regularly and well and peace descended upon the household, when one night after dinner he came into the sitting-room and after several ineffectual attempts to unburden his mind, he delivered himself of the following: "Oh Madam, I very sorry for you, I go now, I cannot stay, I very sorry for you," and for no apparent reason, and without further notice, go he did, but returned the next day with a friend whom he went through the form of introducing. The new boy gave his name as Sartu and electrified the family by calling himself Prince Sartu. If rank were always distinguishable by courtesy then indeed his title may have truly been his, for a more gracious, affable and thoroughly polite prince never stepped than this same Sartu, but at the end of forty-eight hours he was needed by the Japanese consul, or so he said,-and the family mourned his loss. "He said he knew how to make sponge cake," mourned Molly, "and we did not have time to let him, t'would have been such fun to have eaten cake made by a prince," but Harry, who was more or less of a dyspeptic argued that the fun might not have been for the cake-consumer. A regular procession of school-boys followed Sartu's departure; some good, some bad, many indifferent, and all addicted more or less to letter writing in its most violent form, so that many were the laughs enjoyed by the family over the notes sent upon every possible occasion. Okayama was the boy who wrote a note to the baker, when told to return him some stale bread. The opportunity was too good a one to lose, and the bewildered baker received the following epistle which he called upon Mrs. Williams to interpret. "Dear Baker, There are breads in the safe, but it is too hard, pleas change for fresh bread. Mrs. Williams' Japanese Boy." By the time Mrs. Williams had had six or more school boys she determined that, as definite settled help they were not to be depended upon. Above every other desire, was their wish to learn, and whenever they could get a position with the least work to do, most time for study and the fewest interruptions, and the greatest help from the family in a conversational way, there they would remain. As soon as one boy became at all indifferent to a place he would exchange situations with a friend, leaving without warning in the majority of cases, or merely saying "he would bring his friend," and one had nothing to do but submit. Perfectly independent, and usually paid by the week; if the full time was not up, the new boy worked off the remaining number of days, and received the money, which he no doubt divided with his companion. Altogether the Japanese school-boy was not so much of a success considered in the light of a servant, as when one looked upon him as a literary curiosity; then, indeed, he was unrivalled. Furi, when he came was full of ambition, curiosity and small talk. Coming from a family in which there had been several young girls, who taught, and made much of him; his head was quite turned with the sense of his own importance. He had a way, as Henry expressed it, of "fishing for compliments," that nearly drove the family mad. After doing a thing, and particularly if he knew it had been well done, he would say, with the most pleadingly interrogative tone in his voice, "I pray you excuse me, I fear not very good?" when of course he would have to be reassured, and would retire covered with conscious pride, while Henry longed to kick him. During the time he was with them Mrs. Williams came down with an old time attack of neuralgia, and for a few days knew little and cared less about what was going on around her. On her first convalescent day, Furi smilingly carried her luncheon tray up stairs and insinuated himself into her room, prepared as usual to captivate. good, you wash dishes very good, you set table very good, I think you very good boy." The following day a new boy appeared with a letter of introduction from Furi. He had sent "his very good friend," being as usual, permanently detained by his many business, or the Consulate of Japan. The new boy was taken on probation, as had all the others before him. There was nothing remarkable about him or different from the others unless it might have been his gait. He never walked. He fairly flew. He set the table, and waited upon it on a tight run, he would tear to the door when the bell rang, admit a guest, dash up stairs and precipitate himself down again in a second. Always breathless, he absorbed knowledge on the fly, and usually kept an open book on a table near by, where he could catch a word or sentence, rule or exception in his rapid flights from one part of the kitchen to another. This did all very well as long as his work went on and was not allowed to suffer, but when one day came in which he had tried to combine mathematics and dish washing, history and window cleaning, and at noon potato-mashing with English grammar, the family felt as if in justice to the language, but one thing should be done at a time. Ethel entered the kitchen at twelve to order luncheon served, and lo! there stood Obi, by the stove, spoon in one hand, grammer in the other, repeating the articles in a dreamy monotone, and rhythmically beating the potatoes in time. This language lesson a la pomme de terre was doomed to an abrupt termination. On Ethel's entrance into the room, Obi raised his eyes and voice inquiringly, “Miss Ethel, how many articles are there in the English language?" "1,475," promptly responded she, "and you'll never learn them, never! Evidently the shock caused by the sudden knowledge worked upon his nervous system, for some hours later a crash was heard in the kitchen, and the silence following upon it, was spent by him in letter writing, to this effect. "Dear Madam, I now made mistake, broke plates, pleas for He did not get the plates, but some time after got his dismissal for haughtily writing to inquire, when asked to do some extra service : "Dear Madam, "Oh, Madam," he began, "I very sorry for you, I pray you be very careful?" "Yes," languidly replied the invalid, "I am careful Furi." Furi beamed, and with a little indraw-give and when I get moneys I get plates." ing of his breath, which, always preceded a particularly brilliant flight into English conversation, began again,-"I very sorry for you, I think you get book, you read, you be very better. You know Robinson Cruso? he very good book, you read Robinson Cruso, you feel very better, I give you Robinson Cruso," and fairly glowing with success he turned to go for the book, when the quite tired voice stopped him. "Thank you, Furi, but I am not quite strong enough yet to read" and the tray being returned to him, he blushed himself out of the room. That evening as Ethel hurried into the kitchen in search of mustard for Mrs. Williams, whose neuralgia had returned, despite the novel prescription, she was met in the doorway by Furi; "Oh, Miss Ethel," he began, "what are you opinions of free trade and protections? "Haven't any," she briefly replied and fled, feeling that the education of the Japanese mind was just a step beyond her. Some days later Furi presented the following note: "My dear Madam, I wish I go to the city this afternoon, for I must get some cloths, and attend to the Consulate of Japan, and I have some many business. I shall come back about eaght o'clock, and then I will wash dishes tomorrow morning. Your faithful boy Furi." "I mistrust his return," said Henry dubiously on reading the note, a trip to the city, or an imperative (?) summons from the Japanese Consul, as a rule results in empty is our kitchen, servants gone! Still, who cares, we cannot possibly have any worse ones than we have already had and, perhaps, our next one may not have such a voracious appetite for compliments. I used to get so tired, he remarked plaintively, of hearing first Ethel, and then Mollie say-" you read very Whereas please notify what are extra work, "I LOVE my books! they are companions dear, If love, joy, laughter, sorrow, please the mind, Original in Good Housekeeping. OUR BABIES AND THEIR MOTHERS. CLAIMS OF THE ONE and Duties of the Other. B CHAPTER IV. THE BOTTLE PROBLEM. RINGING Baby up by hand is considered a difficult task, but the young mother who finds herself confronted with this misfortune need not be disheartened. With proper care and an even start the "bottle" baby has as good a chance as his nature fed brother; and while nothing can equal mother's milk, where it is just right and the mother shielded from adverse circumstances, there is very much to be said in favor of the bottle. The greatest element of danger in artificial feeding is the lack of exactness in preparing the food, making its quality uncertain, and the absence of care in keeping the bottles scrupulously clean. When you add the other item. of allowing the nurse or neighbor's child to take care of the baby by the hour, feeding it whenever it can be induced to take food, you have the trinity that compass the bottle-baby with dangers round. It is a notorious fact that a large proportion of mothers who find themselves unable to nurse their children seem to think themselves justified in shirking, more than usual the attention which is the child's due. For the first two or three days an infant does not need a large amount of food. One teaspoonful of sweet cream to four teaspoonfuls of water, a trifle of sugar, will be about the right proportion in the majority of cases. If milk is used, make it one-fourth. This preparation is better than sage tea, cracker water, rice water, or any of the other villainous compounds nurses are so fond of giving. To many grown persons herb tea is nauseating, and I don't know by what logic it is supposed to be palatable or nourishing to infants. As you value your own peace, don't follow the theory that babies need no nourishment for forty-eight hours. While a few seem only to care for sleep, in which case feed only as a secondary matter, the majority of infants will protest strongly against the starvation plan, even for six hours, and will make the most shrieking, head-splitting appeal they are capable of producing. Unless the child drops to sleep immediately after being dressed, give it some of the before mentioned food, which has been heated to just 98°. Give it slowly and, as a rule, not more than two tablespoonfuls-often much less. The child's circulation is thereby stimulated, the introduction of food aids the action of the bowels; baby is comfortable, warm and sleepy. Lay it away, and often three or more hours will pass before aught is heard from the little stranger. Many a child is made fretful by too much or wrongly bestowed care during the first week. Touch not, handle not, so long as quiet and good natured, should be maxims in every nursery for at least the first six months, when the infant life is trying to adjust itself to its surroundings. When choosing the cow to furnish baby's milk, don't choose one known as an extra butter-maker; the milk is too rich in oil. This fault is inherent in the milk of nearly all the fine breed cows,-Jerseys, etc. By preference get a good "mooley," with no airs about her, and pedigree only on one side worth mentioning; not famed for butter, but for luscious milk. Choose one not over three years old if possible, and new milch or nearly so. Having obtained the cow care for her. Give her the sweetest of hay or grass, plenty of pure water, and for mess only sweet skim milk and meal or bran. See that she is not fed from the swill pail nor on rotten veg etables. Keep her in a clean, comfortable, airy barn in the winter and, my word for it, if you have trouble with the milk it won't be mooley's fault, but the nurse's or baby's. It is hard to lay down rules as to the proportions and frequency of feeding since to some extent each child is a law to itself, some thriving on undiluted milk after three months old; others unable to take stronger than two-thirds milk when a year old; others still not able to digest cow's milk in any form or proportion. However, the following proportions will serve as a basis, to be varied to suit individual cases: After the first week, one-fourth milk. At the end of six weeks, one-third. Six months, one-half. At nine months, two-thirds. At one year, seven-eighths, or undiluted. These proportions are understood to be without the use of artificial foods. As to quantity of food during twenty-four hours, an oft quoted authority gives: For the first two days, four and one-half gills. At one month, nine and three-fourths gills. It is, so far as my experience goes, much above the average, and I advise the addition of more milk, or if the child cannot digest a larger proportion of milk, the addition of some artificial food, rather than the giving of such a quantity of fluid, which taxes the kidneys severely and weakens the stomach, and in some cases has induced a watery diarrhea, which is checked only by giving such a quantity of food as will satisfy hunger without, as it were, flushing the alimentary canal. There are two ways of learning if the milk is undigested from any cause. First, the child is apt to vomit if troubled with indigestion, and to be greatly afflicted with flatulence. Observe the matter vomited; if it consists of fine, soft curds and brownish water, it is in the first stage of digestion and there's nothing wrong unless the fluid part overbalances the curd. If added to this fact baby never seems satisfied, and the stools are very loose, add a larger proportion of milk. If, however, the food is ejected in hard, large curds, either the stomach is weak or the milk too strong. Coupled with this there is usually the passing of a greenish stool containing hard curds. A stool green at its passage, if persistent, is indicative of indigestion and colic and should receive attention. Cow's milk stands first as the most available and the most universally adapted. This standby failing from any cause whatever to fill the bill, there comes a large list of artificial foods to be used either alone or as adjuncts to make up deficiencies. For those living in cities, condensed milk serves an admirable purpose. Condensed milk has the advantages of not being affected by weather, of possessing an even quality and of being transportable in bulk any distance, doing away with the danger of a change of milk if a summer journey is undertaken. It is, however, open to one serious fault, it is so sweet it is apt to sour on the child's stomach and cause formation of gas. The directions on the can for simulating milk are so plain they do not need repeating here. It is in some cases too fattening. The bottle to be used needs much attention not only in being chosen but in caring for it. Get one that is smooth, without lettering, if possible, since when blown in the bottle they form a nice lodging place for tiny curds of milk. Two bottles can be made to do service but three will be found more convenient, especially in summer. If possible avoid the use of rubber tubing; it takes no longer to nurse a child from the bottle than from the breast, and it is much better for a young infant to have the position and warmth that it gains from being held than to be laid in the cradle to nurse itself to sleep, often retaining the nipple in its mouth during the entire nap. Use only black rubber. If you use a tube, exhaust the air in it before giving the babe, as even that amount of air made induces hiccoughs, it being a superflous article. To cleanse the bottles, wash thoroughly in hot water, using shot or gravel if by any mishap sour milk has lodged in the crevices; rinse with warm water containing a little soda; dry in the sun. In washing the rubber portions, avoid hot water as it spoils them; use warm soda water. Take the tube entirely apart; use the brush for the purpose; rinse thoroughly and lay in a dry, airy place. Don't leave them soaking. The food for the day can be prepared in the morning and set in a cool, sweet place. When wanted, heat the portion needed to the proper temperature, testing with a thermometer (in winter, warm the bottle), introduce the tube, draw out the air, and give it to baby. If a portion is left, as there should be a few drops, pour out, rinse the bottle and tube and set away, uncorked; it will be sweet next time. Don't make a practice of heating twice as much as you need, leaving it in the bottle tightly corked and setting in a warm place, for next time such a dose is nauseating. If you don't believe it, try it. The food for the night can be prepared in the evening. By preparing I mean mixed in the right proportions, so that all that is necessary is heating. If you have been careful, you will have two clean bottles. If baby nurses twice during the night, you will need both, and here comes in the call for the third bottle in the morning, which should be cleaned the night before. Forethought and management will so arrange it that the care of the bottles will not be burdensome, the food will always be mixed in certain proportions, and the addition of a ten-cent thermometer will insure an even temperature. As a rule, don't feed oftener than every two hours if the child is well; twice between the hours of 6 P. M. and 5 A. M., up to three or four months; once after that. But see to it that the child takes enough, not just a few swallows and drops to sleep, then it will wake oftener. Original in GoOD HOUSEKEEPING. -Amelia A. Whitfield, M. D. MY FATHER'S CHINA CUP. The roses on its surface smooth, And there's a scar that came the day It such a charmed existence bears, And since 'tis father's, I could not 'Tis plain I must invent a plot For worst of all, no later gift Some day his favorite dish I'll make, Shed one fond tear for memory's sake, And then that china cup I'll take, And hide it in the garret. -Marienne Heaton. |