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Vol. XX. —No. 31. NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1887. so Ho off once

Copyright, 1887, by HARPER & Brothers.

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As a guide to the most refined observance of social etiquette it has won general endorsement and esseen; and in its revised and enlarged form it will be sound more worthy of confidence and study than ever. It is .# and pleasantly written, and is eqnally edifying and Éo Evening Gazette, Boston.

To say all in a word, we think Mrs. Sherwood's little book the very best and most sensible one of its kind that we eversaw.--N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. ..

While all needful attention is given to the formalities that seem to be generally looked upon as essential to the observance of social proprieties, and to the niceties of behavior that good taste suggests, the book is liberal and independent in scope. . . . The tone of the work is wholesome, and its precepts are admirable in every respect.—Troy Times.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

The above work vs for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by HARPER & BRothkits, postpaid, to any part of the United States and Canada on receipt of the price.

Haiti'itit & BRothkits' CATALoguk sent on receipt of Ten Cents postage.

SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1887.

Our meat number will contain a PATTERN-SHEET SupploMENT, with a variety of full-sized patterns, illustrations, and descriptions of Ladies' Summer Tolettes, Tailor Dresses, Lace Mantles, Lingerie, and Dressing Sacques ; Boys' and Girls' Clothing, Garden Baskets ; Embroidery Patterns, etc.; with the usual literary and artistic attractions.


WTYPHERE are only two other countries that go beyond our own in the manufacture

of silk, although we are only just beginning to be seriously named as producers and raisers of that article in its raw state. At various times in our history efforts have been made to introduce the culture of the silk-worm, but never with much success till lately, when the effort has received aid from the States where it has been made. An association was formed some half-dozen years ago, of which the officers are women of well-known names, which has received aid from the general government, and has already done excellent work, while other and large ventures, we understand, are in successful operation in the southern valley of the Mississippi. Probably the warmer latitudes of the country will be more fortunate in the long-run, although there are a small number of successful silk growers in Massachusetts, the larger part of whom are women, which latter fact shows up a new field in which the energies of women can employ themselves.

The silk-worm, as everybody knows, needs the mulberry leaf for its nutrition, and the mulberry-tree, growing so freely in the South, grows well also with but a little care in the North. A large and sunny and well-ventilated room, with nothing unclean in the neighborhood, is everything else that the silk-worms require, except, of course, protection from vermin; and thus well provided for, they are born, they spin their silk, and they die, all in a space of time occupying less than two months.

The capital required for the business, beyond that used in the purchase, is enough to plant a few acres of mulberry-trees, every other tree to be stripped of its leaves each season, and the leaves to be fed to the worms, the young trees easily recuperating, and when not doing so, as easily supplied by new ones. In the Orient, from whence much fine silk used to come, the seed of the mulberry is sown in rows, and the springing plants are cut off entirely, the shoots sprouting again at once. An ounce of seed in this country is worth less than a quarter of a dollar, and is enough for thousands of such plants. This method can only be followed in sections of the country where the winters are short and the springs open early, That the business pays can be seen when it is understood that other things may be grown in the rich soil between the rows of mulberry plants, and that without them the profit has sometimes been, although not always, several hundred dollars tlll to C1'0,

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The work of raising and feeding the silkworms is certainly as easy work as it is possible for a woman to find, and is a suitable, lady-like,and pleasantemployment. Men can be hired for the mulberry culture, if need be, and still leave a large margin of profit, although mulberry culture itself may not be found either too difficult or too laborious for healthy women to undertake without masculine aid. The cocoons, of course, always find a ready market. Without donbt, if the same energy and industry and care are used, the business is infinitely more profitable in the South than in any part of the North. But wherever it is raised, North or South, the American raw silk has

been fonnd fine and firm, and bears an em

viable reputation. It is the efforts of women that have brought this employment to a successful issue in this country, and it is especially fitting that the work should be pursued and the profits reaped by women. Doubtless men will rush in where women have feared to tread, now that the thing has been demonstrated to be practicable, but that need not hinder women from doing all they wish of it, since silk enters so largely into so many manufactures, besides that of the splendid fabrics of dress and upholstery, that the demand for it is scarcely likely to de&rease. No work, if constant, can really be called light, for labor is labor of one sort or another; but there are few branches of it lighter and less painful and more simple than the silk culture, and it will repay any woman who needs to do work or procure money, and who finds herself favorably situated for the work, to inform herself concerning it, and learn what can be done and how to do it. able, and the intelligence or skill required is not beyond her power if she has any power at all. There is a novelty about such occupation that renders it piquant and pleasant merely to think of, this taking from the ancient, Orient its craft, and making ourselves masters of secrets that have come down from immemorial eld through the almond-eyed and long-nailed children of the East. The two monks who, centuries ago, brought away with them in the hollow of their bamboo sticks the first cocoons that ever came out, of Asia little thought what they were doing, little thought that Europe would rival the Flowery Kingdom in the production. and manufacture of the treasure that they brought, and that a land undreamed of, beyond the set of sun, should inherit it all with its marvellous appanage of art. For who, looking at a cocoon, and then at some wondrous web of brocade where the flowers swim to the shining surface and “change but to the changing light with radiance insincere,” can regard the outgrowth of one from the other as anything but one of the many miracles of art?


APPINESS is hard to define, because every one has his or her own ideal of it; with this one it is money to build a hospital; with another it is a box at the opera, to be always dressed in the fashion and a little better than one's neighbors; with a third it is a fine marriage, if loveless; with the cripple it is a straight back; with the poor, a competency; with the rich, a good investment; with the young, the privileges of age; with the old, the bloom of youth. Nora, the maid-of-all-work, thinks that Doris in her tailor-made costume, with her pony, her bouquets, her accomplishments, her lovers, her leisure, white hands, and beauty, is the happiest of mortals; but Doris knows that all these things are but the fringe and ribbons of happiness, and that in reality she is as far from it as Nora herself in her shabby calico, with her coarse hands, her envious heart, and plain face. The sentimental young woman with “a longing for the far-off, unattainable, and dim,” thinks she should be happy to see her name among the contributors of the leading magazines; but the fortunate people whose names are already there could tell her

that happiness is not purchased in any

such cheap way. No doubt there are happy people in the world, but their happiness is not the ultimate consequence of possessing this or that gewgaw, more diamonds than another, more admirers than one's compeers, but something quite distinct; indeed, they often happen to be those who possess less rather than more: people who have a faculty for happiness, who can extract it from the flowers of the field—as the old painters did their wonderful dyes —from a sunset or moonrise, from the first hint of spring, from the good fortune of a neighbor, from a book or picture. Happiness is defined as an irregular verb, conjugated in the past, with no present

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tense; but these finely constituted people do not so conjugate it; and while some of us get only the fringe and ribbons of it, the tassels and adornments, some touch divine, far transcending that of King Midas, which transmuted common things to gold, turns every trivial thing within their sphere to “sweetness and light,” and ministers to their utmost needs. The best part of happiness is, perhaps, something that defies analysis, something that we could not give an account of, as subtle and inexplicable as the perfume of a flower, as searching and mourishing as the sunbeam, as pervading as the vital air of heaven.


ENRY HEINE thinks that children are nearer to animals than their elders are; that they remember when they were birds and squirrels, and so keep easily on speaking terms with them, while we have, he says, “too much jurisprudence and bad poetry in our heads.” This makes it important that they should spend at least some summers of their early life on a farm, in close intercourse with these humble relatives of theirs; that they should not merely be, as Wordsworth says, **Rolled round in earth's diurnal course With rocks and stones and trees,” but borne round in the daily rotation of out-door occupations with the animal life beside them. It is too much, perhaps, to ask that they should rise at cock-crowing, or learn to distinguish, as the Southern negroes do, between “first fowl crow” and “chicken crow” and “day clear.” But af. ter a reasonable waking they can at least find a daily interest in the driving of the cows to pasture, in the harnessing of old Billy for the plough or the cultivator, in the feeding of hens and pigs and pigeons, and later in egg-hunting; and, as the sun sinks, in the slow return of the cows from pasture with the day's contentment all mirrored in their peaceful faces, their lazy walk, their replenished udders, and their voluptuous nibbling of the very last head of clover before they pass the bars and leave all pasturage behind. Then the milking must be watched by the child, and the warm pail personally carried to the weaned calf, and the various younger animals must be put to rest. The snow-white lamb, with black nose and feet, must be duly tended; the pretty white fan-tailed pigeons, too young to fly back to the nest from which they have timidly fluttered down, must be caught softly one by one and replaced where they can coo and arch their dainty necks in safety. A farm at nightfall is a varied village of living things, all sinking into slumber in their own way.

A child brought up without the knowledge of .

pet animals is a solitary being, no matter if there be brothers and sisters, while a child who has animals to tend is never quite alone. A dog is of itself a liberal education, with its example of fidelity, unwearied activity, cheerful sympathy, and love stronger than death; nay, love that is triumphant over shame and ignominy and sin– influences that so often wear out human love or make it change to hate. How many of us hold to our friends with a love as inexhaustible and inextinguishable as that which our dog gives to us? The child especially finds in the faithful creature much of its own impulsive and ardent life; the delight in little things, the ready curiosity, the ceaseless activity, the quick changes of occupation, the unabated interest in existence. Kittens, again, seem sent to give to a child just what the dog leaves out; the more refined ways, the soft playfulness, the gentle domesticity, the willingness to be tended and petted. Kittens about the house supply the smaller punctuation in the book of life; their little frisks and leaps and pats are the commas and semicolons and dashes, while the big dog puts in the colons and the periods. Animals, again, give to us, even by what they receive and evoke from us, the habit of care and tenderness. Those petted dogs we see carried in the arms of young girls in fashionable equipages are rarely a substitute for the natural object of such emotion, they are rather a preparation or

intermediate possession that precedes it; some

thing that is more than a doll and less than a human child. Mr. Carnegie tells us that he saw at a large New York stable a card nailed up giving for the coachman the address of the proper physician to be called upon if the favorite dog should be ill. He also tells us of a young lady who, having to go on a journey, had to leave her favorite collie to some one's special attention, and Mr. Carnegie suggested that as he had given her the dog, it might be perfectly safe to leave her with him, “ or rather with Jack and the horses.” With a grave shake of the head, she answered, “I have thought of that; but it won't do; he requires a woman's care.” Here the woman and the favorite met on equal terms; neither could do without the other. The care given by the young girl was simply the anticipated tenderness of a mother for her child. The self-control that must be learned in dealing with animals is in itself an education. One of the child's first lessons in governing its impulses is when it finds that the kitten cannot be caught by running and shouting, but by quiet and measured approaches. The control of animals, from the lamb to the lion, is not a matter of force, but of gentleness and a steady eye. Impulses that seem the very strongest in animals, as the disposition of dogs to chase cats or birds, can be better overcome by accustoming them very early to the sight and touch of these weaker creatures than by any blows. All this is a lesson to the child, and it unconsciously learns the application to itself. In days when oxen were employed


largely on our farms it used to be a common thing at a “cattle show” to see some sunburnt farmer's boy drive in a yoke of half-grown steers, and win the admiration of all the men by the gentle skill with which he handled them. On a farm near my summer home there is a fine bull, which is better controlled and led by a boy of thirteen than by anybody else. There surely is, as Heine says, an occult sympathy between children and animals, as between two races not sundered very long ago. Who can study the face of a fine dog, and watch its play of expression, its excitement under sympathy, its ready disappointment, its visible struggle between some sore temptation and the sense of duty, its tender loyalty, its look of comfortable peace on being petted, without being reminded of some of childhood's sweetest qualities? It is one of our most agreeable associations with Martin Luther that when writing his treatise on the Resurrection he looked down upon his impatient little dog, and promised him that he also should rise again at the Great Day, and should have a little golden tail. - T. W. H.


UESDAY morning brings another early start. The week's ironing, although more tedious and in some respects more wearying work than the washing, is yet less formidable in being less disagreeable. It is, at all events, a drier task, and the maid can look neat while she is doing it— an end difficult of attainment when she must be up to her elbows in suds. Still, with a long and fatiguing day before her, it is wisdom and kindness both for the mistress to lend a hand again in the preparation of the breakfast and the necessary household duties. The maid should, however, hold herself in readiness to attend the door. She can iron as well in a trim calico dress as in the shabby garb some seem to feel it incumbent upon them to assume at such times, and her cap and white apron can be at hand where they can be slipped on at an instant's notice. Unless there is a very large washing and ironing, the maid should be expected to do the plain cooking, although no “fussy” dishes should be required when these tasks are in progress. Tuesday is an excellent time for the mistress to display her skill in the manufacture of appetizing entrées and tempting side dishes. More than one housewife selects ironing-day for experiments in fancy cookery, and makes the meal that is often dreaded as a “pick-up” lunch the daintiest repast of the week. Fruit is always an excellent dessert for Tuesday. Fried food should not be prepared while ironing is going on in the same room, if it is possible to avoid it. The odor of the fat is apt to cling to the clean clothes, and the smell of cold grease is always unpleasant. If frying must be done, the clothes-horse should be carried into another room, and not returned until the kitchen has been well aired. The clean clothes should, of course, have been dampened down the night before. In doing this the plain pieces should be sprinkled first, using

either the hand dipped in a bowl of tepid water

or a regular clothes sprinkler. The latter does the work more evenly and easily. Sort the pieces, folding those of a kind together, as the napkins, towels, etc., rolling each bundle tightly. Pack them in a clothes basket, laying the dampened and folded starched garments above, and over all spreading the folded sheets to keep in the moisture. In the morning put aside the sheets, and begin with the starched pieces first. This is contrary to the custom of many laundresses, who lead off with handkerchiefs, pillow-cases, napkins, and the like, leaving those articles which demand more strength and pains until they have begun to be weary. In the majority of houses collars, cuffs, and shirts are sent out to the Troy or Chinese laundries, and the chief test of a laundress's efficiency, her skill in ironing a shirt, is thus escaped. In those houses where all the laundry-work is done in the house it is better to begin with the shirts, etc., giving to them the first and best efforts of the day. Shirt irons are sold that are preferred by those who wish to produce a polished surface. They are rather heavier than the ordinary flat-iron, and have a steel finish on the bottom. The irons must never be allowed to become red-hot, as this roughens them. The shirts and collars out of the way, the other starched clothes come next. Gingham and calico dresses should be ironed on the wrong side to produce the lustreless effect seen in the new material before it has been laundried. Black stockings should also be smoothed on the wrong side. For use on skirts, especially those of dresses, there is manufactured a rather narrow iron with a sharp point that will run up between the gathers. After the fine starched garments follow the table-linen and bed-linen, and so on with the smaller plain pieces. In large families where there are many sheets and towels, time and labor may be saved by the purchase of a mangle. This machine, immortalized by its connection with Sloppy and with Mr. Mantalini, is really a useful contrivance. While it will hardly answer for most body clothing, it does very well for bed-linen, towels, etc., and also for underflannels, stockings, and handkerchiefs. The question of what shall be ironed and what shall not is often a serious question to a busy house-mistress. Some of these go so far as to urge using the sheets rough-dry sooner than take the time for smoothing them from other pressing duties. “Something must be crowded out,” they plead, and better use unironed sheets than neglect oth. er household cares. This is a point each must decide for herself. Smooth sheets are undoubt.

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E were lost in a tangled forest in the interior of Yucatan, and before regaining the path we were covered with tiny ticks that would inevitably entail upon us a small mar. tyrdom of several days' duration. At last we reached the old palace where we intended to make our head-quarters for a few months while we studied the architectural remains of the Mayas. Dismounting from our horses, we ascended for. ty stone steps to a broad terrace which surround. ed the building, and from which we had a magnificent view of the dense forest. There our Indian carriers deposit. ed their loads, and at once started off to their village, although the sun was already sinking below the horizon. For these Indians the wild beasts and genii of the forest were dreadful enough, but nothing as compared to the horror of a meeting with the Xlab-pak-yum, the lord of the old walls, supposed to haunt the ancientedifices, and to punish intruders by causing them to fall sick and die within a year The Mestizo soldiers that had been provided for us by the government, to serve as guard while we were on the territory of hostile Indians, were not very confident of their own safety, and at once col. lected wood and kindled a fire to light up the premises. Late as it was we were obliged to send men into the forest to procure the trunks of two saplings. Af. ter these were cut to the needed length their ends were thrust into small holes in the upper part of the wall and our hammocks suspended from them. We soon retired to the room that we had chosen for our shelter, and while reposing in the hammocks we could still see the glittering stars, and the thousands of fire-flies flitting among the tree-tops. But we were uncomfortable; our couches would not take the right shape, and the wood-ticks tormented us almost beyond endurance, consequently we remained awake nearly all night; but the dreaded Xlabpak-yum did not appear to us. When the first rays of the welcome sun lit up the wall opposite the doorway my gaze fell upon a crimson hand stamped on the stone near my hammock. Reaching out my own hand, I put it over the red impression, finger upon finger. It was without doubt a lady's hand, for the fingers were long and tapering, perhaps impressed there by some stately dame who unwillingly dipped her dainty palm into a blood-red liquid. The contact with that

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red hand thrilled me like an electric current. It seemed to carry me back through ages. It was not cold stone that I felt, but a warm, pulsating pressure. Ah! could that red imprint become a mirror but for one moment, and reflect, not my face, but the face of the person who once stood there! Was she a proud and stately princess? No answer comes from the dead past ! We only know that she was a high-born lady, who, in compliance with the custom of her time, thrust her hand into a red liquid and pressed it against the wall in token of her authority in that place, and to invoke the blessing of Ku, the great invisible god, upon all who were to dwell therein. The sun was not yet high in the heavens when we entered a once sacred portion of the palace, deserted many centuries ago. At the further end of the building there was a platform, and above it on the wall we observed several red hands— hands that, calculating by their size, had been impressed there by people of medium stature. Vague shadows seemed to flit before us; whiterobed priests making offerings to the deity, and pressing their moistened hands upon the wall in token of the sincerity of their devotion. The floor of the ancient temple is now covered with débris, and the walls are dusky with age. The once hallowed spot is the haunt of reptiles; the people who performed the ceremonies of ancient wor: ship have been dust for centuries; even history has forgotten them, but

the crimson print of

their hands is indelibly stamped upon thestones. Passing from one ruined edifice to another, we found ourselves in what had once been a college of wisemen. There were eighteen large chambers, and on the walls of one we again noticed many red hands, some with even the lines of the palm yet clearly marked. Here those initiated into certain sacred mysteries had, no doubt, taken their vows with solemn rites and ceremonies. Seated upon the stone lintel that had fallen from above the door, we gave way to imagi- . nation, and conjured up a procession of weird visions. Then our thoughts reverted to India, where, even at the present time, devotees, after placing offerings of fruit and flowers upon the altars of their holy places, dip the hand in red liquid and place it against the wall, that the deity may remember their vow and their offering. Travellers in Australia have seen red handprints on the rocks in certain sacred localities, which have been stamped there in commemoration of some vow, or of some solemn ceremony; and certain tribes of North American Indians print the same mark on their buffalorobes as a sign of ownership. Is it a mere coincidence that the red hand is found in North and South America and in Australia and India? or did the inhabitants of those conntries communicate with each other in ages long gone by, and learn their many similar customs one from another?

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