Page Twelve
THE CAROLINA UNION FARMER
Country Home Department.
Conducted by Mrs. E. D. Nall, Sanford. N. C., to Whom all Mat
ter for this Department Should be Sent.
‘IT IS NOT YOURS, O MOTHER.’
It is not yours, O mother, to com
plain.
Not, mother, yours to weep.
Though nevermore your son again
Shall to your bosom creep.
Though nevermore again you
watch your baby sleep.
Though in the greener paths of earth.
Mother and child, no more
We wander; and no more the birth
Of me whom once you bore
Seems still the brave regard that
once it seemed of yore!
Though as all passes, day and night.
The seasons and the years,
From you, O mother, this delight.
This also disappears—
Some profit yet survives of ail your
pangs and tears.
The child, the seed, the grain of corn.
The acorn on the hill.
Each for some separate end is born
In season fit, and still
Each must in strength arise to
work the almighty will.
So from the hearth the children flee.
By that almighty hand
Austerely lead; so one by sea
Goes forth, and one by land;
Nor aught of all man’s sons escape
from that command.
So from the sally each obeys
The unseen almighty nod.
So till, the ending all their ways
Blindfolded loth have trod;
Nor knew their task at all, but
were the tools of God.
And as the fervent smith of yore
Beat out the glowing blade.
Nor wielded in the front of war
The weapons that he made.
But in the tower at home still plied
his ringing trade. ,
So like a sword the son shall roam
On nobler missions sent;
And as the smith remained at home
In peaceful turret pent.
So sits the while at home the
mother well content.
—Robert Louis Stevenson.
CHILDREN’S DRESSES.
I think it is a great injustice to
children to dress them in fussy cloth
es, either for every-day of Sunday
best. It “Makes me tired” to see a
child loaded with ruffles and yards
and yards of lace and insertion put
into their clothes, and of course the
child’s mother looks tired.
I have noticed at Sunday-school,
concerts, picnics, and other gather
ings, the children dressed plainly,
simply, yet daintily, wore that look
of ease, at peace with everybody be
cause they felt comfortable in con
trast with those whose clothes re
minded me of dolls in show windows
and their restless petulant condition
due to being ' over-dressed. They
were ill at ease and had a grievance
with everybody. Mothers, why do
you do it?
Perhaps some of you will say: “Of
course the mother of six, if she does
her own work as most of us do, she
does not have the time to put much
work on one garment.’ Well, truly,
I do not have very much time, but
if I did, I certainly would not waste
it putting unnecessary stitches in
children’s clothes, but rather I
would go with the little ones out un
der the grape arbor and read to them
an interesting story and perhaps
take “tea” with them afterwards in
their play-house there, or we would
go down to the spring-house and
have a lively game or merry romp
under the large oaks there.
I imagine the children all over the
land feel like erecting a monument
to the one who planned the rompers
for they are so comfortable for every
day wear. They are easily made and
easily ironed.
A friend visited me one summer,
and I had looked forward to her vis
it with much pleasure, for we had
been friends from childhood. But
when she came with her two chil
dren, with clothes enough for them
for a half-dozen children, nad kept
them dressed up in starched clothes
all the time, it went far toward spoil
ing the visit to me as well as to
them. How I longed to put them in
clothes suitable to play in and tell
them to climb the apple trees, pick
berries, hunt eggs in the hay loft
and enjoy life in a child’s way. I
thought to myself, “Poor things”;
but I wonder what their mother was
thinking to herself about mine?
Doubtless it was: “Your mother
dresses you like little heathens.” But
there was more difference in their
ruddy cheeks and happy dispositions
than in their clothes. I wish more
of the mothers would write, especial
ly those with a family of little chil
dren, and tell us some of their ways
of managing them.
MOTHER OF SIX.
MATS FOR THE HOUSE-WORK.
Not even the woman clerk in the
city department store is on her feet
as many hours a day as many a farm
er’s wife going about her ordinary
house-work. When night comes the
house-wife feels as if there were hun
dreds of bones in her body which
the anatomist overlooked and that
each bone is stinging and tingling
with aches innumerable.
Some of this weariness of bone
and muscle may be saved if the
housekeeper will make mats of sev
eral thicknesses of old sacks or bag
ging, or even of the clothing the men
have discarded. These mats must
be thick and soft so that standing
on them will lessen the fatigue of
the day. Lay them in front of the
sink, tub, stove, or any place where
your duties will keep you standing
for a considerable length of time.
‘THE SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE.
In Stockholm a very little girl one
day crept to the piano and strummed
out a fanfare which she had caught
from the soldiers. Her grandmother,
in an adjoining room, came to the
door, and, seeing the tiny tot, ex
claimed: “Child, was that you?”
When the little girl’s mother return
ed home, the grandmother, after tell
ing her of the incident, added: “Mark
my word :that child will bring you
help” (the mother was in financial
straits). This prophecy was abun
dantly fulfilled, for that little girl be
came the world-renowned Jenny
Lind, the “Swedish Nightingale.”
When Jenny Lind was about seven
years old her mother, being hard
pressed for funds, determined to go
out as a governess. With this inten
tion, doubtless, she answered the ad
vertisement of a certain childless
couple for a child to take care of.
It developed that this couple lived
in the very same Widows’ Home in
which Jenny’s grandmother had lived
for some time, the man being the
steward of the Home and occupying
the lodge at the gate. This all seem
ed to fall in admirably, as Jenny
would have the companionship of
her grandmother, to whom she was
[Thursday, June 13, 1912.
devoted. So there she was sent,
probably in the year 1828, and her
mother retired from Stockholm and
took a place as governess.
Jenny lived at the Widows’ Home
for a year or more—a happy child,
singing with every step she took. She
had a cat, with a blue ribbon round
its neck, of which she was very
fond; and together they would sit
for hours in a window of the stew
ard’s rooms, which looked out on the
lively street, the little girl address
ing her sweetest songs to her pet.
Among the passers-by who heard the
child with amazement was the maid
of a Mile. Lundberg, of the Royal
Opera House, who told her mistress
that she had never heard such beau
tiful singing as that of this little girl
to her cat. Mile. Lundberg, after
finding out who the child was, sent
to ask her mother, who was in Stock
holm at the time, to bring her to
sing to her. This the mother did;
and after Mile. Lundberg had heard
her, she remarked: “The child is a
genius, and you must have her edu
cated for the stage.” But Jenny’s
mother, as well as her grandmother,
was prejudiced against the stage, and
she would not consent to this. “Then
you must at any rate have her taught
singing,” said Mile. Lundberg; and
the mother was persuaded to accept
a letter of introduction to Herr Cro-
elius, singing master at the Royal
Theatre. They started off with the
letter, but as they went up the steps
of the Opera Heuse the mother was
again troubled by her doubts. Lit
tle Jenny, however, urging her to
go on, they entered the room where
Croelius sat. The child sang some
thing out of an opera: Croelius was
moved to tears, and said that he
must take her to the head of the
Royal Theatre, Count Puke, and tell
him what a treasure he had found.
But the Count would have nothing
to do with her when he found that
she was only nine years old. Croelius
then said to him: “If the Count will
not hear her, then I will teach her my
self, and she will one day astonish
you!” Whereupon the Count con
sented to hear her sing, with the re
sult that he, too, was moved to tears.
She was accepted, and was taken
and taught to sing, and educated, at
the Government’s expense. She re
mained with the Royal Theatre twen
ty years, winning unexampled victo
ries. As one has said: “As she pull
ed at her mother’s unwilling hand
that day she took the step which de
termined her whole destiny.”
After twenty years of operatic
singing, during which time she be
came famous ali over Europe, Jenny
Lind retired from the stage and de
cided to devote herself to concert
singing and oratorios. In a letter
during her American tour she wrote
“I cannot tell how happy I feel about
leaving the stage. I shall sing in con
certs so long as I have a voice. I
have begun to sing what has long
been the wish of my heart—oratorio.
There I can sing the music I love,
and the words make me feel a better
being.”
Before coming to America she
wrote to one of her friends: “My
life is so full, so beautiful, so w'on
derful, so great that I often feel a
lively desire to share all its memo
ries with those whom I love. I have
for long had the most eager w’ish to
earn a great deal of money, so as
to endow a school foi' poor lost chil
dren in my own country. And the
invitation to America came as a di
rect answer, so that I go there in
this confidence; and I pray God in
heaven out of a full heart that He
will guide me thither,*as ever before,
with His gentle hand, and will gra
clously forgive me my sins and my
infirmities. I shall have much to en
counter; it is a very big undertak
ing. But since I have no less an
aim before me than to help in -widen-
ng God’s Kingdom, the liittlenesses
of life vanish in face of this.”
From Boston she wrote to her
guardian that she had given eigW
concerts, the first two in New York
to charities, and that her share for
six concerts was about $30,000. ^
little later she wrote: “It is indeed
a great joy and a gift from God to
je allowed to earn so much money
and afterwards to help one’s fellow-
men with it. This is the highest joy
I wish for in this life; everything
else has disappeared from the many-,
colored course of my life.”
Jenny Lind’s voice is described as
a brilliant and powerful soprano, its
compass extending from B below tb®
staff to G on the fourth line above it
—a clear range of two octave nad a
sixth. Her technique is said to have
been faultless, its perfection being
the result of hard work, indefatiga
ble practice, and unwearing study
She was never satisfied with a song
unless thes linger looked pleasant,
and regarded singing as a beautiful
gift of nature for which to be thank
ful.—Christian Advocate.
COARSE SOAP.
There is nothing so injurious to
the hands as coarse, strong soaps.
Insist on having a good soap even if
it costs a little more. The woman
who does her own work and whose
hand must be in waters of varying
temperatures, now hot and the next
minute cold, should pay especial at
tention to her hands. She can wear
gloves during some of the tasks, or
she can use a whitener on her hands
which will keep them in good condi
tion.
RECIPES.
Rose Geraniums to Keep Flies Awaj’.*
It is said that if one or two rose
geraniums are kept in the house they
will keep flies away. At any rate, it
is not a hard experiment to try.
*■ *
Cherries in Currant Jelly.
For two quarts of currant juice
and two quarts of stemmed and pit'
ted cherries, you need eight pounds
of sugar. Wash, mash and cook aS
many currants, with stems, as
wili
make two quarts of strained juice-
Let juice come to a boil add sugat
and skim; add cherries and cook
slowly and steadily from ten to
fif'
teen minutes. Pour in jelly glasses.
* * «
Pickled Cherries.
For each quart of cherries provide
two pounds of sugar and vineg^^
sufflcient to cover the cherries. ”
the cherries and put into a larg®
stone jar, cover with vinegar.
let
them stand for twenty-four hours-
stirring it a few times. Then draiu
off the vinegar, measure the saiu®
amount of sugar as cherries and a
ternate in layers, sugar on top.
Stir
this each day for three days to dis
solve all the sugar. Seal in gi®®
jars.
* * «
Cherry Conserve.
For this toothsome preserve y*^*^
need: Five pounds ripe cherri® '
two pounds sugar, one and one-bs
pounds seedless raisins, four orang® ^
two lemons. Wash, stem and pit
cherries. Squeeze out the juice
the oranges and lemons and
raisins. Mix all together and
stand over-night. Boil slowly ^
several hours until thick and cl®
Pour into cans and seal.
Louis C. Elson, the music c
riti®’
tells of a young American
who attempted Schubert’s “Gret®
am Spinnrade” which begins: ’’
Ruh’ ist hin,”—“My peace is
Our fair compatriot mistook the
for a “K” and boldly and
sang, “Meine Kuh ist hin,”"^
cow is dead!”