HOUSE - BOUND
MRS. E. E. KELLOGG.
LIL things have relative val-
ues. The individual lacking
a roof tree, houseless, is con-
sidered unfortunate in the
Equally to be de-
plored is the situation of the
one whose life must be spent
within the confines of a
house. The one is bereft of the attri-
butes of a home; the other, of that vi-
vacity and vigor which come through a
free out-of-door life, for good health is
a condition incompatible with a general
quarantine against fresh air and sunshine.
In the effort made some years ago to
civilize the American Indians, a certain
government agent in the Northwest built
some comfortable, up-to-date dwellings
upon the farms in his jurisdiction, which
he succeeded in persuading the Indians
to occupy. Not long thereafter circum-
stances necessitated his leaving his sta-
tion for a time, but he left congratulating
himself upon the progress his wards had
made toward civilization. Imagine his
surprise upon returnng to his charge two
years later to find the Indians reinstated
in their wigwams, while the houses he
had taken so much pains to provide for
them were devoted to the storage of their
farming implements. Upon inquiry as
to the occasion for such a change, he was
informed that all who slept in the houses
became sick, and some of them spit blood.
When they returned to their well-aerated
wigwams, they regained their health, and
naturally they preferred health to houses.
“Too much house,” was the Indian
chief’s naive diagnosis of their difficulty.
Too much house may be rightfully cred-
ited as the cause of a large share of ills
in these days of modern architectural
achievements.
It is pretty well understood that air
and sunshine are among the most effica-
cious remedial agents in cases of illness.
That which is of so much utility in the
restoration of health is of no less value
for its preservation. The life-giving,
life-sustaining properties of sunlight and
air evince the Creator’s purposeful pro-
vision for the health of his creatures.
Why, then, spurn these munificent gifts
of heaven to immure one’s self behind
air-tight walls of brick and wood and
stone, with closed doors and shaded win-
dows, keeping out as much as possible of
the vivifying elements?
extreme.
THE WATCHMAN
REAL OR SHAM
Two women were driving past a hand-
some house.
* If I had the money to buy that house,
I would own it before I was a week
older,” declared one.
“1
could not live in the style that such a place
demands.”
“, I should not mind that,” said the
first speaker. “I would do all my own
work, and deny myself almost everything,
to have my home present such an appear-
ance to the eyes of the public.
“And I,” said No. 2, “would rather
have my cottage, and be genuine through
and through. I detest the thought of
unbleached muslin under velvets and sat-
ba
1s.
“1 would not,” said the other.
“ But the world sees only velvets and
satins. It does not know of the un-
bleached muslin.”
“But I know,” was the prompt re-
sponse.
Too many people have the notion that
as long as the outside of the cup and
platter presents a fair appearance, the
condition of the inside is of little conse-
quence. On account of this desire to
keep up appearance of a state of affairs
that does not exist, men and women work
themselves into their graves. The
woman who, as wife and mother and
housekeeper, determines to live only as
well as she can afford, and never consents
to entertain or dress nmiore extravagantly
than her means justifies, will be a happy
woman. She may have longings for
beautiful and expensive trifles; but were
she to possess them unfairly, it would be
at the expense of her self-respect. There
is a world of comfort in the thought that
one is, in her manner of living, just what
she pretends to be; and that there are no
ugly interiors or under-surfaces to be
carefully hidden, lest their exposure causc
one to blush for her hypocrisv.— Har-
per’s Bazaar.
BJ JY
LET THE CHILDREN HELP
“How can the mother of eight chil-
dren look so young?” asked a friend who
found her time fully occupied in caring
for her little ones. The lady in ques-
tion was a fair-faced matron of forty-
five, who looked at least five vears
younger.
“ She teaches the children to help al-
most as soon as they can walk,” was the
775
reply; and this was the secret of her
management.
A mother should not be a slave to her
children, for it makes them selfish and
exacting. Laziness is almost a crime in
this busy world, and if the mother will
teach them to bear their part of the bur-
den of housekeeping early in life, it will
develop industrious habits, and they will
always like to work. It also teaches
them to appreciate her and her work for
them as they never will do if they know
nothing about it. Look around you
and see which mothers are loved and
honored most in their old age; almost
invariably it is those whose children
have been taught to work, instead of
those who have willingly made drudges
of themselves to spare the children.—
Selected.
I
HOME - MAKING
“THERE is an ocean of difference be-
tween housekeeping and home-making.
One is business, the other is an art.
Many women make a great success in the
business who fail absolutely in the art.
Their houses are perfectly kept. Every
department is run with care and exact-
ness. ‘There is never a failure to meet
demand, but it is not a home.
“A home exists for the comfort, hap-
piness, and health of the family. There
is no department of housekeeping that is
not made to yield to the needs of any
member. There is never a crisis of tem-
per if a meal is late, or the convenience
of a member demands a change in the
hour. A few minutes — yea, even a
number of minutes — spent in kindly con-
versation in the morning, the call of a
friend, or the sudden desire for an hour's
outing, never seems to the home-maker
a violation of the moral code. Dust does
not cause a night-mare, nor disorder a
display which love and charity agree to
call nervousness. Not things, but souls,
are the objects of the home-maker’s care.
She values peace more than system, hap-
piness more than regularity, content more
than work accomplished. Yet with it
all, her home, when she touches perfec-
tion, is the essence of regularity. It is
this that makes home-making an art.”
I
Two classes there be that we view with mis-
giving:
Who live without work, and who work with-
out living.
— Joseph G. Torrey.