Page images
PDF
EPUB

bear, and resist tears. Many beautiful traits of brute instinct, as it is called (dogs of course affording the most interesting), appear; but anecdotes and facts in relation to all animated creatures, great and small, find a place in this "Monthly Advocate of Humanity." We are glad to append the following, from an American

Source:

forefathers, short-weights and measures, and unwholesome food were well looked after by proper officers appointed for the purpose, and the perpetrators of such crimes against their customers suffered in person as well as purse. Now, when discovered, a fine, which a few days' repetition of the offence repays with interest to the unprincipled tradesman, is all that comes of it, and the fraud flourishes as successfully as before. The revelations with regard to tea at present before the public is but a glimpse of the abuse to which consumers are subjected in a single article-now one of absolute necessity. The "Food Journal" gives us the following facts with regard to coffee, and informs us that out of forty-seven samples purchased in London, and sold as coffee, only sixteen were pure and good. Husks and "parchment," sand, chicory, roasted grain, and foreign roots, composed the greater part of the remainder.

"NEW WORK FOR WOMEN.-The quarterly meeting of the women's branch of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was held at No. 1,320, Chestnut-street. Mrs. Caroline E. White presided, and Miss Elizabeth Morris acted as secretary. The report of the president, which was read, set forth that through the assistance the society had received, it had been enabled to perform a great part of its work, and to employ an additional agent, who was very active. The society numbers 500 members, many of them young ladies. The society has published 2,500 little books entitled Early Lessons in Kindness,' 2,000 copies of The Horse's Petition,' and 'Take Not the "The adulteration noted as roasted grain is princiLife you cannot give,' and 1,000 picture-cards containing the photograph and story of Gray Friar's pally made by means of raspings of loaves, stale seaBobby,' a Scotch terrier, who slept upon his master's biscuits, and other refuse farinaceous matters. This grave for seven years and a half. It is proposed to sophistication seems to be the most in vogue at predistribute them gratuitously among schools of all de- sent, and it is certainly the best to defeat popular denominations, and permission had been asked of the tection by the sense of smell. We were much struck Board of School Controllers to distribute them in the with the fact that all the coffees so adulterated had a private schools, which was referred to a committee, most palpable fragrance to the nose, but entirely lost and will probably be acted upon at an early date. We this quality when infused and tasted. We accordare much gratified to hear of the progress of the ingly made a set of experiments which showed us that society. Women are naturally kind-hearted, and the bread-refuse, &c., placed in a closed roaster with a sex ought to be active helpers in the hard task of en- quantity of real coffee at the one end, came out with forcing the laws against brutality and cruelty to the the aroma communicated. This is doubtless the reason creatures committed to our care.' why it is used instead of chicory; and if we are to accept the adulteration of low-priced coffee as an invariable and inevitable fact, we would much rather drink bread-coffee than an infusion of chicory or dandelion."

THE FOOD JOURNAL. (London: J. M. Johnson & Sons, 3, Castle-street, Holborn.) — When new periodicals are sent us for notice it would be as well to begin at the beginning. The second number of this Journal is the first we have received. The object of the publication is to review our "Social and Sanitary Economy," and to give a monthly record of "Food and Public Health." So much we learn from the cover-objects not only useful, but, in view of the almost universal adulteration of food and drugs, absolutely essential; and so we welcome the "Food Journal." But the functions of such a work do not end in suggesting new articles of food, or of pointing out the misuses of established ones, or even in the analysis of them, and the statistics of adulteration. It aims, we are glad to see, at the destruction of these abuses by which the public is not only robbed in pocket but in health, and we trust will never cease its efforts till our Government interferes much more rigorously than at present, to prevent and punish so nefarious and abominable a system as that which taints our foodmarkets at present. In the days of our Saxon

English housewives will possibly feel contempt for the following information; but we who have seen the hardy little Irish children reared for the most part upon butter-milk, know that Doctor Bellot is in the right.

A good deal of attention has been paid by Dr. Bellot, of Rotterdam, and Professor Simon Thomas, to the introduction of butter-milk as food for very young children, in conjunction with rice or wheat-flour. Besides being easier of digestion, it is cheaper, and less liable to adulteration than milk from the cow. Dr. Van Maanen, of Barneveld, says that butter-milk is invariably used by the children of that district, and with the best effects. They get through their infantile Scrofula is undisorders with wonderful celerity. known, and the bills of mortality are reduced to a minimum, all owing, according to the doctor, to the use of butter-milk."

There is much other interesting matter treated of in the Journal.

LEAVES

FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

THE THREE FAWNS.

BY T. E. D.

I once heard a seven-year-old child begging her father for a story, and when asked "what kind of story?" she was quick to reply, "Oh, a story about yourself, when you were a little boy; that is the kind of a story Allen and I like best." I think there are many little girls and boys who like true stories best, and so I will tell them a story of the time when I was a little girl.

I was a frail, delicate city child, with an intense love for the country, and it seemed like entering Paradise, after being shut up in the close, prison-like town all the winter, to make a long visit in the spring to my Uncle Bertram's, who lived on a large farm in a beautiful part of the country. There I had my cousin Jenny and Kate to play with, and the whole farm to roam over at pleasure; there were woods on every side of us, which were filled with a great profusion of wild flowers, and a beautiful little lake, not more than half a mile distant, where my cousin Harry kept a tiny green boat, and many pleasant hours we spent in rowing around the wooded shore.

My cousins were strong, active girls, spirited as yonng colts, and they almost lived out of doors. They swam like ducks, climbed trees to a height, the mere sight of which made me dizzy, and rode their ponies without saddle or bridle. I was timid to a fault, and for this reason was often left alone, while they were scouring the country around with Mary Bower, a neighbour's daughter, who was as wild and fond of frolic and fun as themselves. As I could not bear to stay moping in the house, I spent my time chiefly with my cousins' pets. They had a host of them, chickens and dogs, lambs and rabbits, guinea-pigs and calves; but my especial favourites among them all were three tamed fawns, that had been sent to them by their eldest brother, Bertram, who had married and gone from home several years before. Pretty little creatures they were when they came, with their smooth grey coats, their breasts white as the new-fallen snow, and their soft brown eyes.

But how droll and out of proportion their long slender legs looked, compared with the small bodies they supported. My cousins called them Caper, Nelly, and Major, and quite aptly were they named.

was

Nelly, my own particular favourite "(Nelly a lady," as in the words of the song, she was proud and dainty), held her head high, and seldom stooped to common things; but she was

very shy, and not so tame as Caper, who always came running to meet us.

friendliness

We soon found her extreme arose from her love of good eating. She was not at all particular what we brought her, or whether it was clean or otherwise, and I have seen her poking her long nose into the dunghill, searching for refuse, to the great disgust of Nelly, who stood by, regarding her with high disdain. Nelly was graceful in all her motions, and she seemed more sedate and thoughtful than Caper, who was always ready for a frolic, but she was rough and boisterous in her play, very like some children I have seen, who never will play gently. She came rushing at us, swift as the wind, and many an unexpected tumble she gave us. But we were fond of her notwithstanding her faults; she was good-natured, and took all our teasing and tormenting in the right spirit. Major, on the contrary, kept us at a distance; he seemed a born tyrant, and made poor Nelly and Caper obey him in all things. He was no great favourite with "us girls," but Harry stood by him, and took his part on all occasions. The liking seemed to be mutual, since with Harry he was as tame and gentle as one could desire.

My uncle allowed them the freedom of the grounds, and the house as well, for they did not hesitate to walk in whenever they found a door open, but my Aunt Mary complained sadly of the havoc they committed in her flower-garden. All the beautiful pinks and sweet-williams, in which she took so much delight, were uprooted and destroyed. And yet she was forbearing and tender with them, for she knew it was impossible to keep them out of the garden, since the high_palings were as nothing to them, and who could blame them for being fond of pinkroots?

They had such winning ways, and were such gentle, pretty creatures, one could scarcely get vexed with them. Often on summer afternoons we would leave the fawns quietly reposing under the shade of the old beech-tree, and go upstairs into the nursery to have a good time with our dolls. While we were in the midst of our labours, of dressing them for a grand ball, we would hear the patter of little hoofs upon the stairs, and Kate would jump up exclaiming : "There they come, now let's have fun." Away went Laura Matilda, with her ribbons and laces flying about her, into the dark closet, and Clarissa and Pamelia, half-dressed, followed after, while we all three scrambled under the bed. Once there, we secured a peephole to look and see what they would do. Presently in they marched, Caper at their head, bold as a lion. At the door they would stop awhile

looking about them, as much as to say-"We thought we would come up and see what you girls were doing." Then they would walk in very demurely, as though suspecting some trick, but scorning to be imposed upon. If we did not show ourselves, they would walk out, and the stairs would sound again with the patter of their feet. If we sat still, they would come up to us, poke their noses into our pockets, stay as long as they pleased, and then go back to their old place under the beech-tree, to dream away the summer afternoon.

In the fall of the year, when the evenings began to grow cool and long, it was an established custom with my uncle and aunt to have a plate of apples brought in about eight o'clock, and by what wonderful instinct the fawns knew the exact time when they were to come I cannot imagine, but they were always at the door as punctual at the fruit-plate.

ner, and the gentleman strove in vain to call off the dog, but without success; finally she leaped over the palings and dashed off at full speed across the country, and they never saw her more. Harry and his comrades hunted far and wide, but were not able to find a trace of her. In the early spring the skeleton of a fawn was discovered in a corn-field several miles away, and my cousins thought it might have been all that remained of our proud and dainty Nelly; but I was never willing to admit the truth of it for a moment. I always believed that she roamed far, until she reached the forest, where she found friends among the herds of deer that my cousin Bertram said roved there, and that she still goes careering over the greenland as free and as beautiful as ever. Caper seemed to droop after losing her companions, and one unlucky night she managed to escape from her pen, and went wandering over the country. One of the neighbour's dogs, a cruel bloodhound, beset her, and injured her so much, that she died a few day afterwards. Harry

Sometimes we would hide the apples in our pockets, but with their quick, unerring scent, they soon discovered them. If we refused to give them any, they would up with their fore-wrote to me this time, for he said the girls took feet, cross them quickly and strike us, not very hard, but it was enough to remind us of what we owed to them, and as much as to say"Don't be stingy, now, share with us." When they found we would give them no more, or they were satisfied with what they had received, they would leave us as quietly as they came.

It happened one fall, soon after my return home, that my Cousin Kate wrote me, in much sorrow, a letter, stating that Major had died very suddenly. They could not account for his death in any way, for he seemed perfectly well the night before, and in the morning he was stiff and cold.

"We buried him under the beech-trees in our little grave-yard," she wrote, "by the side of Jenny's kitten, and we all cried but Harry, and he was very nerr it. He has since placed a nice white board at the head of the grave, and he coaxed mother to write a verse for it. We all think it very affecting, so I will copy it for you:

'Passer by,
Give a sigh,
Shed a tear!
A stricken deer
Lieth here!'"

I did not grieve so much over Major's fate, as I did not love him so well as Caper and Nelly, and yet I was sorry that the happy trio should be broken, and thought how lonely the poor things would be.

Little did I think then, that I was doomed to hear still sadder news before the winter was over.

her death so much to heart that they could not bear to speak of it. "We buried her," he said, "by the side of Major, and I tried my pen at an epitaph for her, but the girls think I have made a poor fist of it, and yet I am free to confess I do not think it is so bad-girls are always wanting some sentimental thing or other."

When I went to see my cousin in the spring, my first run was taken to the grave-yard, and I read there Harry's first attempt at rhyme. It was something like this:

"Like a vapour

Died poor Caper;
Where she goes
No one knows."

My next visit was to my aunt's flower-garden, where I found her very busy, bringing order out of chaos.

She showed me, with a good deal of pride, the old border with the sweet-williams and pinks blooming in all their glory. "Neighbour Marly," she said, "had given her the roots very early in the spring, and as there were no fawns to disturb them, they had thrived wonderfully."

"No fawns!" Cruel Aunt Mary, to talk in that cool way about our great loss, when I could scarcely keep back my tears to think I should see them no more, but I saw that she was too much interested in her flowers to notice my feeling, and I left her to go with Jenny and Kate to the lake, where Harry promised to meet us and take us out sailing in his new boat.

All the way there I was silent, thinking of last spring, when Caper and Nelly ran on before us, and how fond they were of the pond-lily buds we gathered for them, and how daintily they ate them, and of all their winning, affectionate ways, and then I wondered, with an indignant feeling at my heart, how anyone could think more of pinks and sweet-williams than of

It was some time near Christmas that I received a letter from Jennie, telling me of the melancholy loss of poor Nelly. It happened that one of the neighbours, who was a great sportsman, came there with one of his dogs, a fine pointer, who, seeing Nelly in the garden, set off at full chase after her. She ran round and round the garden in the most frantic man-living, breathing fawns.

THE LADIES' PAGE.

INSERTION FOR VELVET OR RIBBON.

MATERIALS.-Boar's-head Crochet-cotton of Messrs. Walter Evans & Co., Derby, for fine lace No. 20 or 24, and Walker's needle No. 4; if for a coarser kind, cotton No. 18.

The Beading.-Commence with 7 chain, turn, and missing 6 chain, work 2 treble, both in the 1st stitch; turn back, that is on the contrary side. Make 6 chain and work 2 treble, both on the wrong side of the last treble stitch; turn back. Continue working 6 chain and 2 treble as before, until a sufficient length is worked. The loops of 6 chain at the edges form the Points.

Commence at the 1st point and work 2 plain in it; *, make 4 chain, and work 2 treble, both in the first stitch of these 4 chain: make 4 chain again, and work 2 treble, both in the first stitch of the 4 chain; then 2 plain in the next point of the Beading. Make 9 chain, and,

*

missing a Point, work 2 plain in the next point but one. Repeat to the end. Work a second length of the Beading the same as the first.

Commence with 2 plain in the first Point, then 4 chain and work 2 treble in the 1st stitch of these 4 chain; then 2 chain, take the first side and join between the treble stitches of it; and on the 2 chain miss 1, 1 single; make 4 chain and work 2 treble in the first stitch of it; 2 plain in the next Point; make 7 chain, join to the centre of the 9 chain; miss 1, and 2 single on the 7 chain; then 4 chain, and, missing a Point, work 2 plain in the next Point but one. Repeat to the end.

MUFF CROCHETED IN IMITATION OF FUR.

With a fine bone hook, No. 12 Bell gauge, and the grey wool, single Berlin (of which you require six ounces), make a chain of 78 stitches. 1st row.-Dc (double crochet), at the end 1 ch. 2nd, 1 dc in the first de, taking up the back of the loop, which is done throughout the work, take up the back of the 2nd loop, draw the wool through, pass the wool round the needle, take up the same loop again, making 3 loops on the needle in this one stitch, draw the wool through these 3, then through the 2 on the needle; take up the whole of this row in this manner. 3rd. Plain dc worked from the

back of the loop as before. Repeat the 2nd and 3rd row. Work a piece wide enough for your muff, then make it up; for this you re quire blue silk in the piece, two pair of black tassels, some blue ribbon to run in the runner, and a sheet of wadding. Lay your wadding the size of the piece of crochet you have worked, cover it on both sides with silk, then sew together; make a slot at each outer edge, sew up the piece of crochet, place it over the silk, run the edges of the crochet to the extreme end of the slot, then pass your ribbon in; add the tassels by the join.

BABY'S SHOE IN CROCHET.

MATERIALS.-Red and white 4-thread fleecy wool.

This little shoe is easy to make, and a very good shape. Begin at the toe. With white wool make a chain of 9 stitches; turn, work 4 stitches of double crochet; then 2 stitches in one, and 4 more as before. Continue to work in double crochet, inserting the needle at the back of the stitches, and always increasing in the middle. When you have worked 11 ribs, or 22 rows, work, on one side only, over 15 stitches; without increasing, work 8 ribs; fasten off, and cut the wool. Fasten it on again on the other side, and work 8 more ribs over 15 stitches. Unite both sides at the back by

a seam. Cut out a good pattern of a sole in paper, work it in close crochet, or crochet à tricoter, with white wool; join it on to the shoe by a row of single crochet with red wool. Over the upper part of the shoe work two rounds of loops, each composed of 2 chain, 1 purl, 2 chain, with red wool. Then, inside this edging, on the white stitches, work with red 1 round of double crochet, 1 round of treble, one more of double, and one of loops, similar to those round the foot. Pass a cord of red wool in the open round, and finish it off with small tassels.

R

THE TOILET.

(Specially from Paris.)

black lace, with loops of black velvet; in front
loops of velvet and a large rose. Black lace
barbs. For envelope a black velvet paletôt
trimmed with sable.

The bonnet, properly so called, with crown, border, and strings, is fast disappearing altogether. What remains of it cannot last long; it is now reduced to a mere diadem smaller even than the ball-coiffures of a dozen years ago. The hair being raised higher than ever on the top of the head, though now drooping low down in the neck, there can be no very material change in bonnets, which still occupy a small space on the front of the head, leaving the back and ears entirely uncovered, except for the tulle veils, which become large in the same proportion as the bonnets themselves become small.

FIRST FIGURE.-Skirt of light mauve Chantilly gauze, trimmed with three broad crossstrips of white tarlatan, with two small rolls of the same tarlatan in the intervals between them. Tunic very open, forming a puff behind and raised by a large tarlatan bow without ends. The skirts fall square in front. The whole tunic is bordered by two white tarlatan crossstrips, the outer one being deeper than the other, from which it is separated by two rolls of white tarlatan. Close-fitting corsage, high behind, low and square across in front; it is trimmed round the neck with a white tarlatane cross-strip, accompanied by two rolls of the same. Sleeve plain, with a cross-strip of white tarlatan round the top, and at bottom three cross-strips and rolls of the same. High chemisette, trimmed with lace, and having a puffing of white tulle down the front. Cuffs The grand modification of the year is the to match. Waist-band of white tarlatan, fas- substitution of half-high corsages. These are at tened in front by a bow of the same. Straw-present made high in the neck, but very low in coloured kid-gloves. Diadem bonnet of light mauve velvet with a tuft of periwinkles in front, from which issues a mauve feather falling over the ear. Benoiton strings formed of a ruche of mauve velvet. Sandal-wood fan, spangled with steel.

SECOND FIGURE.-Round skirt of chameleon silk, green shot with yellow, trimmed with a deep gathered flounce fastened by a chicory ruche of the same material. Tunic rounding off in a puff behind, raised at the sides, and trimmed with a chicory ruche. Close-fitting jacket with short postilion skirts, raised on each side behind by a plait, and ending at the sides so as to leave the whole of the tunic visible in front. This skirt is trimmed with a chicory ruche. The corsage is close-fitting and the breasts are arranged with a shawl fold. Sleeve plain, with a chicory ruche round the top, and slit up at the wrist where the chicory ruche is repeated. Flat collar, with cuffs to match. Saxony gloves. For a bonnet a small puff of

front. At the recent reunions this commodious style, which is suitable to all ages and every condition of health, was inaugurated. The prettiest way of trimming un corsage decolletté carrément is with a velvet bias, on which is posed, a ruche of narrow lace, or one of simple silk tulle, which is not very durable certainly; but then the price is not ruinous, and when no longer fresh, it is easily renewed.

Scarfs and mantelets to match the dress are spoken of as likely to be worn in the coming season, in place of the short jackets that have had so long a vogue, and which are still as much worn as ever. We are preparing here magnificent things in lingères; old laces have literally become worth their weight in gold, and are eagerly sought for, the present fashion of pagoda and Duchess sleeves and open bodices renewing the necessity for lace, and muslin under-sleeves, chemisettes, guimps, &c. Embroidered silk flounces are also expected to be worn.

THE THEATRES, &c.

PRINCESS'S "PAUL LAFARGE" AND " A DARK,
NIGHT'S WORK"-DRURY-LANE, QUEEN'S,
ASTLEY'S, &c.

The system adopted by managers of "running" pieces expressly prepared to run for lengthened periods, saves us the trouble of much collective criticism. When we have said that such or such a new drama has been built up with elaborate mechanical scenery calculated to show

off striking situations, the invention of in sepions playwrights, we have said all; and it would perhaps hardly come within the scope of criticism to add that the manager having been at great pecuniary cost with his "set" "scenes must trust to them implicitly, and force them on the playgoing world, rather than withdraw the great scene, because the play it belonged to, proved poor or weak per se. But the sort of managereal policy we have bere indicated is

« PreviousContinue »