Kitchen Garden Play for Little Housekeepers

This is the second article in March of the School for Housewives 1904 series published on Mar 13, 1904, and is a short article on teaching children house.

School for Housewives – Kitchen Garden Play for Little Housekeepers

That phlegmatic personage of French fiction who “lived on good soup and not on fine language” becomes strongly sympathy to us around meal time.

Cooks are a factor in civilization. We can’t get along without them, and the importance of this branch of a girl’s education can hardly be overestimated.

One reason or the sorry fact that so many of our girls are poor cooks or no cooks at all, is the deferring of this important study until so late a period of life. In the large portion of American families it is not until the song woman is engaged, or even married, that she thinks it worth while to know a kettle from a skillet. Other homely housekeeping knowledge is equally neglected.

In reality, “the littlest girl” of the family is old enough to begin mastering the rudiments of this great science.

One ideal method for beginning the housekeeping lessons is known as the “kitchen kindergarten,” in which the most important details are presented in the guise of play.

The little ones are taught to build fires scientifically in doll’s stove; to lay covers correctly upon the dollhouse table with dollhouse china; to sweep with toy brooms and carpet cleaners.

Every mother who has difficulty in interesting her little daughters in these matters should invest in a book explaining the kitchen garden system and familiarizer herself with its plan.

Marion Harland

OTHER ARTICLES ALSO PUBLISHED…
Good Recipes
Helps and Hints Around the House
Marion Harland’s Chat With the Council Table Members
Learn to Think
Pronouns That Trip Up the Unwary

The Linens Which Should Fill the Linen Closet

This is the second article in March of the School for Housewives 1905 series published on Mar 12, 1905, and is a longer article with advice to housewives on what types of linens they should keep in their homes.

School for Housewives – The Linens Which Should Fill the Linen Closet

Household Supplies Which Make the Latter-Day Housewife’s Lot a Happy One

From force of habit I had nearly written “Linen closet.” If your house is a suburban cottage, I hope you can boast of such a linen pantry as is my delight for seven months of the year. A tiny room, but large enough to allow one the privilege of turning freely from side to side when the door is closed. It is lighted by a window, through which the sunshine pours all day. Summer airs enter freely to sweeten piles of clean, smooth sheets, pillow cases, counterpanes, towels, and such “things” as a prospective bride, whose letter I published last week, writes she would fain be making up in the hours that would otherwise hang heavy upon her hands.

SHELVES FOR FLAT DWELLERS

If you are a flat-dweller, you content yourself with shelves, and in nine cases out of ten conceal their contents by a literary looking curtain. Other flat-dwellers are not deceived by the plausibly drapery. Most of them, if pressed to candor, would confess to as much and as lively interest in what they know – and you know that they know – is arranged “in beauteous order” upon the veiled shelves, as they would feel in rows of library bindings or artistically shabby “first editions.”

But to our linens-technically so-called. The fact that half of them are cotton does not modify the term. In our grandmother’s day the sheets used by gentlefolk were always linen. Two summers ago, on two hot June nights spent in a Colonial homestead in Delaware, I slept between linen cambric sheets eighty years old, trimmed with real lace, and sheer and fine as my best pocket handkerchief.

If you can afford it, have a few pairs of linen sheets. Our bride that is to be asked me for a list of “the commoner” housewifely properties requisite for her outfit. Let her watch the advertisements of linen sales in reputable department stores, and buy enough for a pair or two at a time, then make them up herself. She says she has abundance of time, and is eager for employment. Cut each sheet three yards long. Long sheets last far better than short. Stretching and straining and tight tucking in at head and foot in time wear the fabric, not to mention the discomfort of sheets that cannot be coaxed to cover one’s shoulders without uncovering one’s feet. Have a hem of equal width at top and bottom. That is another economical device, since they can be turned upside down at will, and made to wear evenly throughout. I do not advise hemstitched sheets to those who buy linen but seldom and wish to keep it long. The threads in the drawn work break sooner than in the plain hem. Hem by hand, rather than on the machine. The hem is neater and more durable. The machine needle cuts the threads the hand needle goes between them. Make your handsewed sheets elegant by embroidering your initials in one corner.

You must have cotton sheets for winter and for daily use. It is far cheaper to buy them in the piece than to get them ready made in the shops. Select what is known as a “close weave.” That is, an even thread of gold texture. Too little attention is given to this by purchasing housewives. Uneven weaving – where coarse threads break the web into roughness – injures the durability of the fabric. Heavy sheeting wears no better than one lighter in weight and finer in quality; is no more comfortable in winter, and the finer quality is incomparably pleasanter for the rest of the year.

Linen pillow-slips are more luxurious and more wholesome the year round. One who is accustomed to them find cotton heating to the cheeks and head. Buy the linen by the yard and hem or hemstitch them by hand. Here, again, the touch of daintiness is imparted by embroidered letter or initials or monogram.

HANDWORK IS BEST

Hem table cloths and napkins by hand always. It is cheaper here, also, to buy by the yard, but far less elegant. Except for the kitchen, buy “the set,” that is, tablecloth and napkins, woven in a pattern running all around the square or oblong. Breakfast and luncheon cloths and dollies “come” fringed on the four sides, from time to time, fashions varying in this respect as in others. “Whip” the raw edges where the fringe is joined to the linen to prevent raveling. Four long tablecloths for dinner, and three breakfast cloths, with napkins to match each, would be a fair beginning for two people. I take it for granted you have a fair supply of tray-cloths and center pieces for the table linens, together with luncheon squares. If you work initials upon napkins, set them in one corner, if upon tablecloths, near the outer edge of the central design, and in two places diagonally opposite to one another. They give a “style” to a damask nothing else imparts.

Be liberal in the matter of towels. Good housewives will tell you that “you cannot have too many.” If you do not mind work – and you intimate that you do not – get a good quality of wide huckaback and plain damask by the yard, cut into generous lengths; lay wide hems and hem stitch them neatly. Then work a small initial about four inches above the hem on one end. At a cost of 50 cents each you will thus secure towels you could not buy for $1 apiece.

You can buy chamoisine for dusters also by the yard. They are admirable in their way and not expensive. Yet many prefer cheesecloth for this purpose. They take up the dust readily, may be washed again and again, and last well. Stitch the hems with turkey red cotton, and outline a big “D” in the middle with the same, as a precaution against the misuse of them for dishcloths and floorwipers. The red is a flag of warning.

Carry the same principle of generous provision into the purchase of dish-towels. Have three qualities – one very stout for pots and kettles, a medium-weight for china, very fine for glass and silver. Hem and mark each kind with red cotton “K” for kitchen use, “C” for china, “G” for glass, and be conscientious in holding each to its work. Hem squares of the different qualities for dishcloths.

For facecloths for chambers and bathroom buy white Turkish toweling, cut into squares and hem with stout cotton very securely, as they will ravel with the using.

Next week’s “Talk” will be upon “Kitchen Plenishing.”

Marion Harland

OTHER ARTICLES ALSO PUBLISHED…
The Extra Linens
Household Talks with Members of the Housewives’ Council
Recipes Contributed by Readers
Setting the Table for a St. Patrick’s Day Dinner

Hardanger Embroidery and Other Novelties in Lenten Fancy Work

This is the first article in March of the School for Housewives 1904 series published on Mar 6, 1904, and is a very short article on embroidery.

School for Housewives – Hardanger Embroidery and Other Novelties in Lenten Fancy Work

The coming of Lent is often a single for the introduction of some novelty in fancy work, and the needlewoman has no cause to be disappointed in the Lenten output this year.

She can choose among the recently brought out Hardanger and the many attracting forms of cross-stitch, which, according to best authorities, “will be everything” for the next six months.

The Hardanger, a Swedish embroidery, is available for many kinds of fancy articles. Table covers, sofa pillows, bureau boxes are all being carried out in it.

Although hailing in modern times from Sweden, the Hardanger pattern was originally Persian. Delicate Oriental intricacies are perfectly recognizable if the motif is closely studied for a moment.

The vogue of cross-stitch has revived the old-time canvas backgrounds, which are all propitious for work of this kind. Everything, down to the smallest sachets and glove cases, is being built upon these canvases.

A couple of new sachets made in this style are shown in the illustration.

The Lenten seer will also be interested in the pair of pretty work bags shown for her benefit. Cretonne is a good material for these – and a cheap one.

For utility work, if time can’t be spared for frivolities, I would suggest one of the little crocheted sweaters represented here.

It would be hard to name a more serviceable garment than this, especially at the present time of year.

Coats will soon be coming off, and when they do, such a jacket will be found about the handiest thing imaginable.

The two models illustrated are “latest out” in their line. One of them is the Norfolk effect; the other has a nautical finish.

Marion Harland

OTHER ARTICLES ALSO PUBLISHED…
Secret of Good “Quick Bread”
Summer Curtain Time Coming
Tasty and Delicious Recipes
Topics of Interest to Housewives Discussed With One Another and Marion Harland

An Afternoon “At Home”

This is the first article in March of the School for Housewives 1905 series published on Mar 5, 1905, and is an interesting article about receiving visitors at home. I can only imagine the sorts of wonderfully decorated calling cards ladies in fancy homes would leave behind.

School for Housewives – An Afternoon “At Home”

If your time is worth anything, and you have any system with regard to exercise in the open air and other duties, you will find an “at home” day an economical measure. It is, moreover, a convenience to those who really wish to see and talk with you when they call, since they are thus assured that they will find you “in.” Lastly, it is a neat method of purging your visiting list of acquaintances who would rather be represented by printed pasteboard than by their persons.

Let your friends know that you stay at home one afternoon or evening, or both, of every week during a term of months for the express purpose of receiving them. The fact is a compliment in itself.

Write out the names of those you wish to hold upon your “calling list” and enclose to each in a small envelope your visiting card, engraved after this fashion:

MRS. JOHN BLANK,
103 W. TEMPLETON PLACE.
Tuesdays in Mach and April.
From 4 to 7 p.m.

Or “Tuesday afternoons in March.” Or “Tuesday afternoons and evenings in March and April,” as may suit your convenience. Send out cards at least one week before the date of the first “day.”

Upon the afternoons designated have your drawing room in dainty order, with a few flowers set here and there to add an air of modest festivity and of hospitable expectation. If your dining room adjoin the parlor, set out your refreshments there. If, as often happens, your apartments offer two reception rooms, one larger than the other, fit up the inner and smaller of the two as a tea room.

Tea is the feature of the preparations made for the physical refreshment of your guests. I hope you know how to make it.

First, and above all, have the water boiling. Not “just off the boil,” not already boiled, but actually boiling.

The only safe and the most convenient way is to make your tea on the table. To this end provide yourself with a brass, copper, or silver kettle, heated by a small spirit lamp. Pretty brass kettles range in price from $3.50 to $23. Some of them rest on a standard on the table, while others depend from a high crane set on the floor at the pourer’s right hand. These cranes are of iron, fashioned usually in the shape of the figure 5, and are ‘the thing’ for 5 o’clock tea.

Fill your kettle with hot water and light the lamp. Put into the teapot the requisite quantity of tea; when the water boils pour enough on the leaves to cover them, and put the kettle again over the lighted wick. Cover the teapot closely. At the end of five minutes the “steeping” process will be completed, and you may fill the pot with the still boiling water. After it has stood a minute longer the delicious drink is ready to be enjoyed.

One of the requisites in a good cup of tea is to have it very hot. This object should not be attained by allowing the pot to stand on the side of the range, or, after the manner of our grandmothers, on the hob, where it is almost sure to stew and be ruined, but by covering it while on the table with a “cosy.”

To make a cosy, cut two semi-circles of some thick, rich colored material, such as tricot, felt, plush, or velvet, and join there at the top and sides. Cut two half circles a little smaller than the others, of very heavy wadding, and still another pair of satin or sateen for the lining. Fit the wadding inside of this and quilt or tack the wadding to the lining to prevent its slipping. The seams at the sides and bottom should be finished with a silk cord fastened in loops at the tops and corners. When finished, the whole fits over the teapot lie a snug cap.

Do not make a toil of the weekly entertainment of your friends. Cover the table with a pretty white cloth, and arrange thereupon your choicest china and silver plates, cake basket and tea equipage, a pile of napkins, a bon-bon dish and two plates for sandwiches.

Marion Harland

OTHER ARTICLES ALSO PUBLISHED…
Dainty Dishes to Serve When Friends Gather at Your Tea
The Housemothers’ Exchange
Some of the Things That Help with Informal Teas

The Advantage That Is to Be Gained by Arising Fifteen Minutes Earlier in the Morning

This is the first article in March of the School for Housewives 1902 series published on Mar 2, 1902, and is a short article on the benefits of getting up earlier in the morning.

School for Housewives – The Advantage That Is to Be Gained by Arising Fifteen Minutes Earlier in the Morning

Up in the morning’s early light.
Up in the morning early!

This was the strain of the old-fashioned ditty-maker. There are still writers of “goody” books and works on hygiene who extol the morning mood. According to them, the whole human machine is then at its best. The head is clear, the stomach is vigorous, the spirits are buoyant, life is a joy.

In reality – the reality of the everyday life of respectable people who have not ??? long as the wine or anything else ever night – the hard pull of the day is at the beginning.

A young man of education and breeding who lives in bachelor chambers with three other “good fellows” confesses that, while the 7 o’clock dinner hour is always full of cheer and good-will, the four friends seldom exchange a syllable at the breakfast table beyond a brief salutation at entering the room, and a curt “good-day” in separating to their various places of business.

“Thanks to this sensible silence, we have lived together three years without quarrelling.” He wound up the story by saying “Every man is a brute until he has had his morning coffee.”

A celebrated Judge left upon record the saying that “No man should be hanged for a murder committed before breakfast.”

A brilliant woman summed up the popular judgment on the subject, in an after luncheon speech before other literary women, in the assertion that “the human machine needs to be wound up and lubricated and regulated by bath and breakfast before it is fit to work with other machines, or, indeed, to go at all. Breakfast, partaken of in the company of one’s nearest and dearest, is a blunder of modern civilization. It is an ordeal over which each should mourn apart.”

Much of this is talk, and some of it is temper. It is not easy for one to get full command of oneself before the relaxed nerves are braced by tea or coffee and the long empty stomach is brought up to concert pitch by food. If we have slept too heavily we are stupid; if too little, irritable.

Nor is it easy to return a smooth answer to a capricious customer, or to smile attentively upon a social bore, or to refrain from snubbing the lounger in your office or drawing room who thinks your time no more valuable than his own, r to return blessing for railing in a business alteration.

We do daily each, if not all, of these things, because it is polite and politic and Christian to do them. Where principle or interest is involved we tread personal prejudice under foot. The man who gulps down his coffee in grim silence and says never a word between his downsitting and his uprising to and from the penitential feast, nods jovially to his neighbors in the street car, throws a cheerful “Hello!” to the boy who sells him his morning paper, and lifts his hat with a bright smile to the woman he meets at the corner. He would act in like manner if these encounters took place before, instead of after, his breakfast. It would be a part of the decent and orderly behavior befitting every gentleman.

I admit that the American’s first meal of the crude day, with the accompaniment of the rush for car, or boat, or train, that turns out – or in – dyspeptics by the hundred thousand yearly, is not conducive to domestic happiness or the preservation of table etiquette. The householder, devouring porridge, two cups of scalding coffee, rolls, steak ad fried potatoes, at discretion, with one eye on the clock and both feet braced to jump for the station he knows is imminent, is in the first or fortieth stage of what a witty essayist diagnoses as “Americanitis.” His children’s railroad speed of deglutition and their scurry for school are along the same lines of discomfort and disease.

Upon the mother’s hands and head rests the responsibility of “Getting them off for the day,” a battle renewed with each morning, until she “fairly loathes the name and thought of breakfast.”

The remedy for the domestic disgrace – for it is nothing if not that – is simple that I have little hope it will be respected, much less accepted.

It is “Get up fifteen minutes earlier in the morning.”

If you rise usually at 7, have the hot water and cleaned boots brought to the chamber door at a quarter before 7, and get up when you are called. A brisk bath and a smart rubbing with a crash towel, preceded by fifty gymnastic strokes, such as arm-swinging and general flexing of the muscles, twenty-five deep breaths that pump the morning air down to the bottomest well of your lungs and clear the respiratory passages of effete matter lodged there during the night, will set your body in good working order.

Force yourself to speak pleasantly if you cannot at once bring your spirits up to the right level. Study to be a man, or a woman, although breakfastless. To be thrown in the first round of the day by the sluggish flesh and the devil of ill-humor, before the world has a chance to grapple with you, is cowardly and sinful.

It is my persuasion that seven-tenths of the twaddle over the horrors of the family breakfast are affectation and indolence. Breakfasting in bed is an imported fashion, and, to my notion, is not a clean practice. The tray brought to an unaired room, a tumbled bed and an unwashed body looks well in French engravings, but is a solecism in an age of hygienic principles, much ventilation and matutional bath. The inability to be in charity with one’s fellow mortals, to smile genially and to speak gently before the world is well started upon its diurnal swing and the complainant’s physical system is toned and tuned and oiled by eating is degrading in itself. The confession of it is puerile.

Marion Harland

OTHER ARTICLES ALSO PUBLISHED…
The Care of Children
The Housekeeper’s Exchange
Latest Fad Is to Have Your Monogram on Your Soap
Marion Harland’s Recipes