Mending Overshoes.

In putting on rubber overshoes a rupture in the shoe over the instep frequently occurs, the result of haste and pressure in drawing them on. A cement to remedy such accidents is obtainable from a city drug store or shoe-findings store, but is not always to be had in the country. A simple and more desirable expedient is to place under the rent a fragment of black worsted cloth doubled, a trifle longer than the fracture and extending about an inch on either side, stitch with a needleful of black silk twist, waxed if convenient, taking long stitches of uneven lengths. This will be found perfectly efficacious, the stitches retaining their hold, not cutting out, as where the edges are merely caught together they ordinarily do.

For Mending Rubber Boots.

Procure from a depot of rubber goods, or from a large store where such goods are to be had, a piece of virgin India rubber. With a wet knife cut from it the thinnest shavings possible; with a pair of sharp shears divide the shavings into fine threads. Fill a wide-mouthed bottle about one-tenth full of the shredded rubber. With pure benzine, quite less of oil, fill the bottle three-fourths full. The rubber in a moment will perceptibly swell if the benzine is a good article. If frequently shaken the contents of the bottle in a few days will be like a syrup. Should there be clots of undissolved rubber through it, add more benzine; if it be thin and watery a moiety of rubber is needed. The unvulcanized rubber is sometimes obtainable at the druggists. A pint of cement may be made from a piece of solid native rubber the size of a large hickory nut; this quantity will last a family a long time and will be found invaluable. It forms an admirable air and water-tight cement for bottles by simply corking them and immersing the stoppers in it. Three coats of it will unite with great firmness broken places in shoes, refractory patches and soles on rubbers, will fasten backs on books, rips in upholstery, and will render itself generally useful to the ingenious housewife, as it dries in a few minutes. Invisible Patches for Shoes.

From the druggist's procure two ounces of bi-sulphuret of carbon. Put it into a wide-mouthed bottle; add to it one-half ounce of gutta percha shredded as directed above in "Rubber Cement." The India rubber is frequently procurable in shavings kept for this purpose, in India rubber supplies. Shake the bottle often until the gutta percha is perfectly dissolved, it is then ready for use. Scrape gently the boot or shoe until free from blacking and the leather is slightly roughened, thin with much care the edges of the bit of leather to be applied, dust with the tiniest mite of finely powdered resin both patch and shoe, spread a little of the cement well over each; but little of the cement is needed. The surfaces must be pressed close together, and smoothed with a warm iron or spoon. The parts will adhere firmly in a few moments and may then be worn. A few hours will be required for the cement to harden. It is water-proof and will probably outlast the shoe. If nicely done the patch will be invisible. It may easily be done by a lady, and is within the compass of a boy or girl eleven or twelve years of age. Inexpensive, a sufficient quantity of virgin India rubber may be bought for ten cents to do the patching of the shoes for a family for quite a length of time, the bi-sulphuret of carbon costs only a nickel or ten cents per ounce. The very disagreeable odor of the latter quickly evaporates.

Castor Oil Dressing for Boots.

Common cold-drawn castor oil renders shoe leather soft and impervious to water. Boots and shoes dressed with it should be worn during the winter season only in wet weather, or over marshy ground, as the oil renders them cold to the feet. The boots or shoes to be thus treated should be perfectly clean and dry, the oil put on hot and gradually rubbed in with the hands until an overflowing large spoonful has been rubbed into each boot. Pour the oil all around the welt, that the space between the soles and upper leathers and the stitches be saturated with it. The oil is to be rubbed in alike on both soles and upper leathers; include also the tongues of shoes. The gelatinous property of the oil fills the pores of the leather, the soles become soft and pliable, conducing not only to the comfort of the wearer but greatly increasing the durability of the boots. I repeat, if the uppers and soles of common leather boots, when new, be soaked in boiling hot oil, it will prove not only a source of untold comfort to the wearer of them, but of

economy pecuniarily; a boot soft and flexible, that gives to the foot, will twice outlast a stiff, unyielding one. The oil may be used when necessary for wet weather, a smaller quantity being required after the first application; with brighter days the leather will be susceptible of a good polish from good quality of shoe blacking, or with a sponge may be brushed over with a thin coat of gum tragacanth soaked in water, a plan pursued by tanners as the finishing touch to dressed leather. Sportsmen will find the castor oil an admirable dressing for ordinary leather boots in hunting. Several applications of it may be required before the pores are thoroughly filled and the boots perfectly soft. Crude petroleum mixed with a little melted tallow answers the same purpose.

Gas Tar.

Gas tar may be applied to the soles of boots and shoes with excellent results, they will become firm and smooth as horn and very durable. A friend, a martyr to dyspepsia and asthma, whose pedestrian feats during the summer months over the mountains of North Carolina in pursuit of health were marvelous in the eyes of his friends, always, preparatory to starting forth on his mountain tours, coated the soles of his walking boots with gas tar. They looked as if painted with a heavy black varnish.

Patent Leather.

The freshness of patent leather may be preserved by gently wiping off spots of mud with a damp sponge, and drying with a soft cloth or an old silk handkerchief. Never touch with the blacking brush. Do not allow boots to become dingy; rub them with a little oil or cream. The same care will keep kid boots in nice preservation; a mixture of oil and ink may be used to touch them with if needed. The oil softens and the ink blackens them. The old adage, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," holds good in the care of shoes and clothing generally.

Shoe Polish.

When shoe polish is used the formula given is as little hurtful to leather as any in use, is liquid and gives an excellent jet black gloss. Keep a convenient quantity of the polish in a wide-mouthed bottle, apply with a swab made with a bit of soft sponge fastened to the bent end of a piece of wire, the other end of the wire piercing a cork that will fill the mouth of the bottle. Digest five parts white turpentine, two parts gum sandarac, twelve parts of shellac, one part lamp black, four parts spirits turpentine and ninety-six parts of alcohol.

Care of Umbrellas.

After coming in out of the rain let the umbrella down and stand it on the handle, that it may dry in this position. The water will thus drip from the edges of the frame and the cover dry uniformly. When placed with the handle upward, as is frequently done, the water runs to the top of the umbrella and the moisture is there retained in the lining underneath the ring for some length of time, causing the silk or fabric with which the frame is covered to become tender and soon rot. Ordinarily the top of an umbrella wears out sooner than any other part of it, and in the majority of cases may be thus accounted for. A silk umbrella is much injured by being left open to dry; the silk becomes stretched and stiff and will sooner split thus cared for. When not in use let the folds hang loose, not fastened down. The creases are less apt to split from such usage. When carried in the hand in anticipation of falling weather the folds may be strapped down, as it adds to the neatness of its appearance. Dispense with an umbrella case except in traveling as a protection from dust and cinders. To the friction from the case is partially due the minute perforations that appear in the silk despite all care and expense in purchasing. -Olive Chesney.

Prepared Expressly for GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

WISE SAYINGS.

IMPALED BY OUR STEEL PEN AND STEAL SHEARS. Free minds make free governments. Youth for acquirement; old age for revision. Age and large experience teach forbearance. Capital builds the ship and enterprise works it. A pleasant illusion is better than a harsh reality.

To do a thing with too much care is to do it indifferently.

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

IN THE SICK ROOM.

A ROOM WITHOUT A CLOSET.

N order to have our invalid in a large, sunny room, it became necessary to move her and her belongings into a room that had no closet. In an ordinary sleeping-room the lack of a closet seems the lack of the one thing needful, but in a sick-room a closet seems indispensable. Especially is it so when the nurse is a sister or daughter who, in addition to the care of the invalid, has also the general care of the household, and does with her own hands the greater part of the housework. Then the saving of steps becomes a matter that must be planned for, and articles that are used daily in the sick-room must, as far as is possible, be kept in the room or near at hand. It was suggested to us that a closet might be improvised by throwing a cretonne curtain across one corner of the room; but to this our invalid rather objected, having an unconquerable dislike to what she calls "calico furniture." She begged for a reprieve of a day or two, believing she could plan something that would do away with such a necessity. And this is what she finally planned, and what we, under her directions, carried into execution:

The headboard of the bedstead was very high, its center reaching nearly to the top of the room, and its lowest corners being high enough to conceal a person standing behind it. Into a narrow strip of wood, three-fourths of an inch thick, and as long as the width of the bedstead, we screwed twelve small hat hooks, and then screwed the strip to the back of the headboard, about four feet from the floor. The bedstead was then placed so that its head stood across a corner of the room, and there was a closet! Wrapper, flannel skirt, dressing sack, bed-shoes, etc., were hung on the hooks,-out of sight but within easy reach.

The bedstead being very wide, the triangular space it cut off was found to be large enough to admit a narrow table; so a table was placed across the corner, parallel with the headboard. On one end of it, to-day, an earthen tile-one of those so prettily used as teapot-stands-and a small tray hold medicine bottles, glasses, teaspoons, and water pitcher. On the other end are piled the extra blanket and pillows used when the invalid is propped up in bed. The bedstead corners are not close to the wall; on that side of the bed least exposed to the room space is left between wall and bed-post for a door-way to the closet.

Next we turned our attention to the commode. We built a narrow shelf across its back, not too far from the top to be reached easily, and devoted it to hair-brush, tooth-brush, etc., our invalid having a notion that such articles ought never to be shut away from the air, in box or drawer. No amount of care, no degree of neatness, is sufficient to keep them quite sweet when thus shut away.

When the commode was rolled into position across a corner, there was room behind it for the slop-jar,-an article always too suggestive of homely uses to be strictly ornamental. The commode had one drawer, and below the drawer a closet perhaps fifteen inches high. We built a wide shelf across the upper part of this closet, and on this were soon arranged a row of two-ounce vials containing ammonia, carbolic acid, alcohol, spirits of camphor, rose water, and other like articles used in sick-rooms; boxes of vaseline, borax, mustard, etc., and last, but not least in importance, a flat wooden box in which "may be found at any time of day or night," hop bags

ready for use, large pieces of flannel, and a good supply of what our invalid calls "emergency rags," both linen and cotton. To the inside of one of the commode doors we tacked a stout linen pocket to hold a brush-broom and a dusting-cloth; on the other door we hung a dust-pan.

The deep drawers of an old-fashioned bureau hold the invalid's wearing apparel and the sheets and pillow-cases used in this room; towels, handkerchiefs, and wash-cloths are kept in the commode drawer, and three table-drawers stand ready at all times to receive or to deliver up any one of a hundred little things too small to claim a special place of their own.

So our invalid is living very cozily in her room without a closet. Everything needed in taking care of the room has found a place in it, except a broom. To-day the Genius and Architect of the family suggests that the broom be hung on the twelfth hat hook, which suggestion we propose to carry out to-morrow morning.

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

"ONLY ME!"

Fair stood the city by the sea, Teeming with health and life, Till fever-laden grew the air And pestilence was rife.

-Nelly Browne.

By scores and hundreds people fled
Some refuge safe to find,
While helpless, hopeless, poor and sad,
The many stayed behind.

A few stood bravely in their place,
Daring the fever's breath,
Sending the printed record forth
Of each day's woe and death.

A little lad came to them there,
And told his sobs between,
How "brother Jim" had died that morn,
His brother, aged seventeen.
"Please put it in the paper, sir,

For he was always good,
And, since our father's death, to us
In father's place has stood."

Next day he came with wistful face,

"This time 'tis Dick and Joe, They will be buried in one grave,

For they are twins, you know."

A week passed by; he came again,
With faint "Excuse me, sir,
But baby's gone! I couldn't help
But tell you about her."
Once more he came with weary step,
Climbed the steep stair, and said
With quivering lip and faltering voice,
"Please tell them Mother's dead!"
He turned about with puzzled look,
As if some question vexed,
Then murmured softly to himself,
"I wonder who'll go next?"
"How many still remain?" said one
Who spake with kind intent,
While on the poor boy's troubled face
A pitying look he bent.

The well-worn cap was pulled, to hide
A face 'twas sad to see
On one so young; checking his sobs,
He said, "There's only me!"

-Mrs. C. H. N. Thomas,

THERE is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howso'er defended,
But has one vacant chair.-Longfellow.

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

H

AMATEUR ENTERTAINMENTS.

II.

THE VIENNA BAKERY.

"Ye belfried blacksmiths in the air,

Smite your sweet anvils good and strong, Ye lions, in your lofty lair

Roar out from tower to tower, along The wrinkled coasts and scalloped seas, Till winter meets the orange breeze From bridal lands, that always wear The orange blossoms in their hair, Centennial bells, ring on, ring on!

Where prairies hold their flowery breath
Like statues in a marble ledge;
Where mountains set their glittering teeth
'Gainst wide horizons rugged edge,
And here and there, and everywhere,
With rhythmic thunders, strike the air,
Centennial bells, ring on, ring on!

OW the musical rhythm of Benjamin Taylor's beautiful and stirring verses bring back those “rare June days," when we stood with kindling hearts, among the surging masses, at the threshold of the great Exposition, listening to the "clock tick of the continent."

From the East and West, from the North and South we came, to hear those grand, melodious chimes, to feel the heart throbs of our nation, and reap the rich harvest of the Old World treasures spread before our eager eyes.

How much of hope, ambition and an impetus to higher culture, and the widening of our horizons in science, literature and art, can be dated from that wonderful time, when with kindling hearts we stood amongst flying flags, the roar of cannon and crash of music, and heard

"The foot-fall of a world that nears

The field-day of a hundred years!"

Who can ever forget the rare fascinations of "Italy," the glamour of the Russian exhibit with its magnificent wealth of furs, amber and malachite-all the treasures far too numerous to even refer to, which now we can hardly remember except as a gorgeous bewildering dream- "a joy forever!"

But while the art treasures, the grand machinery, the countless products of all climes and nations may have faded from our memory, in detail, there yet remains with us the remembrance of the Vienna Coffee.

O sad commentary on our poor human nature!

But it is even so-who, save the artist is able to describe the terrible attitude of Rizpah while defending the bodies of her children from the vultures; who, except the flower-lover will recollect the beauty and richness of the exquisite collection of rhododendrons?—who, but the machinist can describe the mighty movements of the great Corliss engine?-but how many weary, thirsty and hungry souls will gratefully remember the comforts of that "place of public refreshment," the Vienna Bakery.

How many ambitious housewives went home from the Quaker City to Maine, to Texas, to Florida, to Oregon, to astonish and delight their admiring families and envying neighbors with the serving of the delicious Vienna Coffee. In those days the "High Tea" and "Kaffee Klatch" were all unknown, the "Kettledrum" had not been revived, but many were the occasions when the Vienna coffee and Vienna rolls were duly enjoyed. Very successfully, too, was the Vienna Bakery introduced into the church entertainments. The first attempt was upon a rather simple scale, and might be repeated at any ordinary sociable, or made a part of some general entertainment.

A simple frame work, octagonal or six-sided, was placed in one corner of the room, one opening for the door way being festooned in red curtains, the others for windows being hung with lace curtains above a simulated window seat containing growing plants and vines, the space below filled in with. lattice work or cambric.

Inside the appearance of a coffee room is kept up by the round tables and chairs, and the white aproned maidens, who deftly serve the fragrant, amber-colored liquid, piled high with the snowy, whipped cream which makes the Vienna coffee what it is and the crisp, crescent-shaped rolls, served with pats of golden butter, and tiny cakes of Dutch cheese or "smearcase " and glasses of rich milk, piled high with the whipped cream.

The latter articles were the only addition to the coffee and rolls in this case, but the Vienna Bakery was voted a success. The rolls and twists can easily be made at home, by the formulas given us in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING, or by our cookingschool teachers-Heaven bless them both!—with the suitable pans for baking them, but can also be ordered by the dozen, or the hundred from the Vienna Bakeries in the cities. They should be reheated when used, and can be kept well for several days with care.

There is no secret about the coffee—it must be the best, made fresh, clear and strong, with the whipped cream piled on the top. Some persons use the whites of eggs well-beaten with the cream, but I prefer the latter alone.

While the above arrangement will do for a simple bakery there is another which can be carried out in fuller detail and

made more interesting and remunerative.

In the second case the "bakery" was more elaborate in design, a part of it being arranged to represent a garden by setting up oleanders and small evergreen trees at intervals and filling in the spaces by seats and pot-plants. This formed the entrance to a reception-room and dining-hall, the former fitted up with comfortable sofas, easy-chairs and hat-racks, and other luxurious accessories, the latter, appropriately, with tables, chairs, bright lights, and gay mirrors and pictures.

And here let me say in passing, that I believe one reason why the entertainments with which I have had to do for so many years, have nearly always been such a great success, is because the ladies engaged in them are willing to go to so much pains and trouble to make everything attractive. They are always willing to take their own pictures, lace curtains, rugs, portieres, lamps, anything that will help to furnish and fit up a hall and make bright and attractive the entertainment on hand.

In that may lie one secret of their success, and in another fact the remainder of it-they always endeavor to give full value for money received, and there are none of the dodges often resorted to, to obtain money, but a fair and honest equivalent rendered.

It is a sad commentary on church festivals, the ancient and thread-bare joke upon the "solitary oyster in church soup," or the "ten cents to get in and ten dollars to get out," and we repudiate all of that and make it a point to more than fulfill our promises if possible, and strive to deserve the reputation we have earned for fair dealing.

But "to return" to our coffee-given the suite of apartments described for our Vienna Bakery No. 2, we must now prepare the Bill of Fare-which should be printed in large type on colored cardboard, one in German text, the other in English with prices affixed, and placed on either side of the entrance.

These can sometimes be done by amateurs who are skillful at lettering or at a paint shop where there is usually some

one who will gladly help along a good cause, or charge but a small sum for such work.

Our Bill of Fare ran as follows:

VIENNA COFFEE HOUSE.

25

30

66

66

5

555

15

30

0

75

$1.25

66

66

-Isabella Laning Candee.

Edam Cheese,

Coffee, Chocolate and Tea, to Order.
Rye Bread, Berlin German Cakes.
German Pan-Cakes.

Such an appetizing bill of fare cannot but appeal to hungry mortals who enjoy such delicacies.

As stated before the delicious, crispy rolls, can be ordered from the nearest city, if not obtainable at home bakeries, or with a little trouble can be made at home. The Weiner wörst, bologna sausages, head cheese and other characteristic articles can generally be obtained from any ordinary butcher or meat shop.

It will be observed that Käse (cheese) forms an important item of the bill of fare. Cream cheese, cottage cheese or "smearcase" as our grandmothers called it, can readily be made at home, but the Edam, pineapple, Neuchatel and Swiss cheese will have to be ordered from some of the large groceries from the cities, all of which keep a fine stock at reasonable prices.

The Neuchatel and Swiss cheeses are imported, and done up in tin foil, and are delicious and will keep for a long time if well cared for, while with the Edam or Holland, and pineapple cheese every one is familiar. Schweitzer, Limburger and Hand cheese, those particularly affected by our German friends, are too strong for uncultivated tastes and should be ordered in small quantities and kept apart from the rest. An amusing episode connected with our last Vienna Bakery was the order by the manager-who was not practically conversant with the merits of the different kinds of cheese peculiar to the German taste-of a whole box of Hand Käse two dozen cakes.

The first excitement it caused was at the express office where a famous line from Hamlet was vigorously quoted, and the box of goods for the Vienna Coffee House was overhauled to discover what was wrong. The second act of the comedy occurred at the tea-table of one of our waggish express clerks who astonished his horrified landlady by placing a couple of cakes under her plate and recommending the sample for general use on the table, while the finale of the matter was that the poor Hand Käse had to be hung out of the window in a tin pail during the progress of the entertainment and afterwards disposed of at private sale.

Not so with the Edam, pineapple and Neuchatel, which arranged in attractive fashion on the shelves, sold most readily both for the tables, and to be taken home by purchasers, who could not resist their red and yellow and silver-coated blandishments. The Roggenbrod, and Berliner Pfanküchen are always popular, especially the latter, which are delicious as made from an old German recipe by one of our best German housewives, who, also, has often furnished us with a magnificent prune and lemon pudding from a recipe, which is a family heirloom handed down for ages. And here

Original in GoOD HOUSEKEEping.

THE WAY SHE MADE THE CAKE.
My rule? Why certainly! It's queer-
But no one ever eats that cake,

Who doesn't ask me for my rule,

(How much to use-how long to bake −) I've given it to scores, and yet,

My knack there's no one seems to get.

I take my flour-sometimes a pint-
Though several cakes require a quart,
And sift it twice, or may be thrice,
Or only once, if time is short,
Three eggs, (or four, if under size,)
If scarce, two large ones might suffice.
A coffee cup of sugar, then,

With just enough of butter, beat;-
Or, add more sugar, if you wish,

Should you prefer it very sweet,-
With milk, the butter I increase,
With cream, I use a smaller piece.
Don't let your baking-powder make

Your cake, too tender or too tough;
Flavor the whole to suit your taste,

And stir it till it's stiff enough;
And now, your work is wasted quite,
Unless your oven's heat is right.

If you should have good luck, I'm sure
You won't regret the pains you take, -
But after all it's judgment, more

Than quantity, that makes the cake;
For scores have had my rule, and yet
My knack there's no one seems to get.

-Mrs. George Archibald.

Compiled for GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.
SHAKESPEARIAN HOUSEKEEPING AND HOME-MAKING.
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee.
What raiment will your honor wear to-day?
Oh, this it is that makes your servants droop.
Madam and nothing else; so lords call ladies.
Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home.
I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and young and beauteous,
Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman.
Fall to then as you find your stomach serves you.
Keep house and ply his hook, welcome his friends,
Visit his countrymen and banquet them.