—
!
|
i
a ae
KEEPING ‘THE FOURTH
i= x.
Tpsl
LAr
T is curious, is
jt not? said
Eleanor, rolling
up the long or-
ange colored
strip of her af-
ghan for the
church, fair,
which was fin-
islied, and pre-
paring to begin
upon: the blue—
“it is curious
how people have
gotten out of
the way of keep-
ing the Fourth.
They seem. to
look upon it as
rather a bore in these days, and every-
body who can tries to dy from the
city and hide in some remote country
place where there is not so much as
the sound of a firecracker to be heard
People coddle themselves in these
days, even in their patriotism.”
“Yes,” answered Jean McDermot, to
whom Eleanor had spoken, “times
change and people change with them
When I was a child, the Fourth of
July was the greatest day in the whole
year. We looked forward to it as if it
were Thanksgiving or Christmas, and
for weeks beforehand all our plans and
arrangements were made keeping the
Fourth in view. Often we had family
parties on that day, and its coming
gave a sort of impulse to the whole
town. Early in the morning of the
Fourth we children would wake up
to see the town brilliantly decorated
with flags, gay scarfs of bunting
twined around the pillars of public
buildings, and evergreens forming
archways across the streets. At dawn
there would be the thunder of cannon
from the forts outside of town—for
you know my old home was not inland,
but on the coast, and we had a fort
quite near us, and another out on an
island near the harbor. We were fa-
miliar in those days with soldiers and
martial music the year round, but
the Fourth of July brought a special
air of jubilee with its coming. There
were first the soft muffled thunder of
the distant guns, and then nearer the
steeples: seemed fairly to rock in the
exultant sound of the booming guns;
and as for explosives of all kinds
which children could manage, there
was simply no end to the thing rs and
the fun.”
“People didn't seem to mind noise so
much then,” said Eleanor. “Noise uses
up our lity now. Thete is so much
more of it all the time, I suppose.”
“No, they didn't mind it then. They
hadn't the way of giving up to their
nerves so much, I often think that we
make more fuss about nerves than is
necessary. Grandmother was a very
old lady, but she used to be up on the
Fourth as soon as the youngest child
in the house, and she took as much in-
terest as any of us did in the celebra-
tion. You see it wasn’t all noise. By
10 o'clock in the morning processions
would be forming all over town. The
militia assembled in their armories
and came out on parade. The veterans
walked with them, and a good many
citizens formed into line and marched
along behind the drums. The children
followed on Dbehind—all the different
Sunday-schools with their banners—
the little girls beautifully dressed in
white with wide sashes of red and
blue, and the boys in blue jackets with
brass buttons and white trousers—all
with little flags pinned on for badges.
1t was simply a splendid sight to see.
and it was something to remember all
one’s life to have marched in that
grand procession. The music would
go ahead. I never hear such music in
any other place or day. It was the
most inspiring thing, and some of the
tunes come back to me now. * Some-
times when I sit with my sewing or
my knitting I can hear those strains
again.”
“Did you have the Declaration of
Independence read?’
“Always. That was one of the most
important parts of the ceremonial.
The children of my day were as
familiar with that document as the
children of the present are with the
daily papers.
cause it was not so many years
the country was born into freedom,
and I used to look at the bold signature
of John Hancock and faney what cour- |
age it tock for him to write it down
there at the top, and as we looked at
the other names and remembered—for
we were constantly told—that those
men took their lives in their hands
111144
when they signed the Declaration, they
seemed to me the most impressive
worthies in the world. We realized
what fame meant then, and what glory
was. We were educated into good
citizenship, and taught to love our
country.”
“Well,” said her friend, “one good
thjng hag happened now, and that is
that our young people are learning
that wealth and money-making are not
the only things in life. They are find-
ing out that itis something to have a
country and ‘that great men are willing
to die for it. "That is one of the geod.
things that comes out of that evil
thing—war. It must have beem.yery
tiresome, though, to hear the Declara-
tion read so often. -Dreadfully ted-
ious!” . .
“No, it never seemed so to us. I
think we had more patience than peo-
ple have now, because we used to sit
in church and listen to long sermons
which we did not in the least under-
stand, yet we did not complain. It
was part of our life, and the result
was that even when we did not quite
comprehend we learned self-control,
and were happy in being part of an
assembly, all of whom were interested.
Gradually the grand words and
phrases sank into our memories and
became part of our experience. After
the Declaration had been read we
would all arise ‘and sing the ‘Star-
speech, a free press, freedom to wor-
ship God—these were the watchwords
of our young lives.”
The two ladies were silent for a time,
absorbed in reminiscences. There came
a knock at the door. To Miss Jean's
“Come in” there entered a young girl
in a bicycle costume—her cheeks were
glowing: her eyes were bright; her
whole manner was alert and eager, as
is the wont of our girls.
“I've left my wheel outside, Aunt
Jean,” she said. “I’ve had a splendid
spin. I just ran-in te tell you that we
are going to have an old-fashioned
Fourth of July this year in town; that
none of the” yotmig people.are going
away, and that everybody is to help
along. I knew you would be ‘pleased,
because you have never felt-that we
were living up to our privileges when
we fled from the small boy and his
ubiquitous torpedo and cracker. There
are to be magnificent fireworks in the
evening. The town council has voted a
generous sum for them, though T think
that the money should have gone to
our soldiers in camp, or should in some
way be used to help the war along. It
doesn’t seem right to burn up a lot of
money when there is so much use for
it in more practical directions.” .
“There is something in that,” said
Aunt Eleanor, musing for a while;
“and yet an old-fashioned Fourth of
July must have fireworks in the even-
ing. That's one of the principal fea-
tures.”
“Now, what I want to know from you,
Aunt Jean,” said the girl, “is what to
have as an ideal Fourth of July din-
ner. We girls have planned to give a
treat to the people at the Soldiers’
THOMAS JEFFERSON,
Who Wrote the Declaration of Independence.
Spangled Banner’ or ‘Hail, Columbia,’
or perhaps the rollicking strain of
‘Yankee Doodle’ would be sung with
a will, and then the orator of the day
would come forward. It might be the
Governor, or some great statesman,
or a favorite clergyman. Whoever he
was hie would speak with an eloquent
voice, and our hearts would thrill as
we listened to him. He would talk
about our country, and what we owed
it: he would dwell upon the great ex-
tent of our territory, our mineral
wealth, our rivers, our harbors, the
broad acres we had, which God had
given us to be an asylum for all the
world. Very likely some child would
rise, and with kindling eyes and vibrat-
ing voice repeat Mrs. Hemans’ poems:
The preaking waves dashed high
“On a stern and rock-bound ceast
And the woods beneath a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed.
“Whatever else we negicotol; the
Somehow it was more |
important to us then than now, be-|
children of my day were taught the
history of their own country, and as a
result learned to love it and cherish its
traditions, and the annual keeping of
the Fourth had no small share in mak-
ing us loyal and true, giving us the
| feeling that we must stand for our
native land, and love her and cherish
her beyond every other. We grew up
with the knowledge that God meant
{ that this country, the home of the free,
| should be a pattern for all free peoples,
{ and should open its arms to take in the
of all the globe. Free
oppressed
HOUSE IN WHICH JEFFERSON WROTE THE DECLARATION
OF IN
{DEPENDENCE.
lamb and green peas, tomato saiad,
and you must finish off with cherry |
pie. If you like, ice cream may fol-
low the cherry pie, and last of all, of
Home, and we thought we would have
the same bill of fare for them that
grandpa used to have when he invited
his old comrades and néighbors in to
help him keep the Fourth.”
“You must have cream of asparigus
soup,” said Aunt Eleanor; * ‘after. that
you may have bluefish, then Bary
course, you will serve coffee.
elaborate repast, but it is not one to be
en either. Just a nice dinner.”
“Jennie,” said Aunt Jean, “how are
you girls, going to manage. with .so
many of the boys away, as they are,
this year?’
We Diced it with powder
When the f
The | |
y ourth of July dinner is not a very | Out on the uncertain brink
REVOLUTIONARY POWDER HOUSE.
The oldest historic building in the
vicinity of Cambridge is the old Pow-
der House (on the road leading from
Arlington to Winter Hill), built in
1703. General Gage sent an expedition
to seize the powder stored here, be-
The Flag She Made.
Ripple her out, my darlin’, where the winds
low wild and free,
For the flag you made for the regiment is
the dearest flag to me!
For I know the tears from your eyes of
blue fell fast where the stars I see,
An’ the flag you made, my darlin’, is the
dearest flag to me!
longing to the province, on the morning | Ripple her out, my darlin’, where the winds
of September 1, 1774. This was almost
the first hostile act of the British. The
exasperating intelligence spread, and
several thousand men assembled on
Cambridge Common the next day.
T was the firs t occasion on which
THE OLD POWDER HOUSE.
the ‘provincials came together armed,
to oppose the King’s forces.
this time that Lieutenant-General Oli-
ver was compelled to resign (it was his
house referred to in the foregoing
which was used as a hospital after the
Battle of Bunker Hill). The Revolu-
tion had now begun, and accident
alone prevented the opening battle and
bloodshed of the war being at Cam-
bridge instead of Lexington.
Before it was used as a powder
horse this old building was used as a
grist mill, and it ground for
old farmstead of Middlesex and Essex.
From homes
farmers’ sons came to miil with their
many an
sixty miles away the
corn. Being built of solid masonry,
the old mill is good for another century
yet.
An Old-Fashioned Fourth of July.
These new- -fangled noticns are giving the
oy
A queer kind of Fourth—one without any
noise;
With i rceches and picnics no patience
ha
And 1
pine for an old-fashioned Fourth of
;
July.
Then we rose with the dawn, and the can-
non came first—
till ready to
)1
And my! Yow the glass in the windows
Wher
did fly .
startled the echoes on Fourth of
Ve hitched up old Dobbin, and all tum-
bled in
The roomy old wagon—the fat and the
thin—
Even grandma was there, and as chipper
and spry
As any young maiden the Fourth of July.
We went to the barbecue—who cared for
showers
ast was a-flutter with banners
owers;
And if down came the rain in the midst of
it, why,
It was part of an old-fashioned Fourth of
July.
The rockets and pin-wheels and fire-crack-
ers, too
At evenin g al 1 joined in the hullabaloo,
And w ashington rode on his horse in the
Af n flame on the Fourth of July.
blow glad an’ free;
For the flag is dear—but the flag you made
is dear = than all could bel
For you kissed the stars an’ the erimson
ars, an’ your tears fell fast an’ free,
An’ the flag vou made, , my darlin’, is the
dearest flag to me!
Ripple her out, my darlin’, to the wel-
comin’ winds afar;
A woman's love and a woman’s tears hal-
low each stripe an’ star!
A womezn’s love and a Ww oman’: tears hal-
low each stripe and star.
A woman’s love an’ tears an’ prayers shall
shine through the strife to be,
An’ the flag you made. my darlin’,
dearest flag to me!
is the
Casabianca to Date.
The boy stood on the back-yard fence,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flames that lit his father’s barn
Shone just above the shed.
One bunch of crackers in his hand,
Two others in his hat,
With piteous accents loud he cried,
“I never thought of that!”
(A bunch of grackers to the tail
Of one small dog | he ‘d tied;
It was at | The dog had sought the well- filled barn
And ’mid its ruins died!)
The sparks flew wide and red and hot;
They lit upon that brat;
They fired the SE in his band,
And eke those in his hat.
Then came a burst of rattling sound—
The boy! Where had he gone?
Ask of the winds that far around
Strewed bits of meat and bone
nd scraps of clothes, and knives. and tops,
And nails, and hooks, and yarn—
The relics of that dreadful boy
That burned his father’s barn
— Indianapolis ! Sourmak
Warren’s a
Stand! the ground’s ir own, my braves!
Will ye give it up to ves?
Will ye look for greener graves?
Hope ye merc il
What's the mercy despots feel?
Hear it in that battie pe: I!
Read it on yen bris
Ask it-—ye who will.
Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you! They're afire!
And, I . sce
Who h: From the vale
On they com 1d w ill ye quail!
Leaden rain an iron bai
Let their welcome be!
In the God of battles trust!
Die we may—and die we must;
But, O where can dust to dust
Je consigned so well,
As where licaven its d all shed
On the martyre
And the rocks shall raise
Of his 11!
head,
leeds to tell!
—John Pierpont.
The False Firecracker,
A large canuon cracker stood up on a
| shelf,
And chuckled with glee as it thought to
“What
t
For they think ru explode with a deafen-
| mg noise.
|
|
: |
“They ns
my
| That peanuts and candies are under it hid.
Oh, what fun it will be when my string
they ignite,
And pb, back, expecting a horrible
fri
suspect if they'd just raise
Tt all came to pass as the cracker foresaw;
They lighted 1t timidly, breathless, with
awe;
But the look on their faces immediately
The band marching out in their uniforms after
cay '
Struck up by tae light of the bonfires to
yay
“The Star-Spangl led Banner”
By and By,”
And so ended a glorious l'ourth of July.
—Minna Irving,
panion.
Freedom,
Here in the forest now,
As on that oid July
| When first our fathers took the vow,
The bluebird, stained with eartn and sky,
Shouts from a blowing bough
| In green aerial freedom, wild and —
And now, as then, the bobolink,
Of the swaying maple, swings,
Loosing his song out, link by golden link;
While Je the wood his proclamatior
A En "boast that would unkingdom
kings!
“That's one reason,” said Jennie,
everything cheerful and gay. There
is hardly a house in town from which |
1 not gone to the war, and our hearts
are heavy enough without thinki ing |
of what they must endure in camp, of
privation and hardship, and of what
may Lappen to them in battle: but we
feel that they are giving themselves
for their country
mean and cowardly
for which they are willing to brave so
much. It is just now the fashion to be
patriotic, and we want to do all we
can to encourage that spirit. I con
lade which the small boy will keep up
through the day, but I shall say noth-
ing to speil their pleasure.”
“How are the little Elderkin boys to
have any Fourth?’ said Miss Jean.
“Their mother has been taken to the
hospital; their father is at the war;
and that old Hannah, who takes care
of them, is a perfect dragon. I think
I will invite them to spend the day
here, and you and I, Eleanor, can pro-
vide them with all the ammunition
they want.”
“Aunt Jean,” said Jennie, “you are
a perfect angel; but you would better
think twice before you have those wild
little Elderkins ranging over your flow-
er-beds and kindling bonfires on vour
grass-plot. I am afraid you will be
sorry if you let them come.”
“No doubt,” said Miss Jean, “they
will need a little supervision, but Peter
Jennet takes care of my garden, and
savage rushing across the flower-beds.
I would like for once to
body happy on the Fou
I used to be when I was a gi
per’s Ba
“why we are doing our best to kee wo That day
fa | The word ‘God 1 ut
one or two of the young men have | gan—
. and it would be very |
for us to sit down
and cry and not care about the flag | WE
that I could spare some of the fusil- |
I'm very certain he will not allow any |
Even so the wild oirds sang on bough and
wall
the Bell of Independence Hall
PThundered upon the world the Word o
M: um,
That dav when Liberty began .o be,
j 42d = mi
3.
| But Fre dom calls her conscripts now a
| then:
| Tt is an endless battle to be tree.
As the old dangers lessen from the skies
New dangers rise;
Down the
Ag
A
s eter nally,
rise Thermopylae—
in, a en Leonidas
d for God the imperiiled Pa
3 rise on Lexington;
many a valorous Warren fall
Upon the impcrilled wall.
Man is the cc nseripb of an end 'ess quest,
| A long divine ad Iventure without rest—
A holy war, a battle yet unwon
When he shall climb beyond the burnt-out
sun.
| Each hard- earn:d freedoia withers to
i on
Freedom aver is beyond—bevond!
Edwin Markham.
Fourth of Jul;
Voices are happy, and faces are bright,
Summer has brought us a day of deli ight.
Bunting and flags afloat, wave in the air,
Old hearts crow young again, leaving thei
care
Little fo ~appily, gladly ery,
“Awfully Jolly,
The Fourth of July!
All sorts of fireworks, purchased to see,
Just what a merry old Fourth it can be.
ave to 3s there,
End s varieties, ready laid
Just to be used, you ay
Fourth of July!
, too, has a hand laying away,
and bandages,
y for holiday thi
Tn
e usef ul, all by ¢
bandages—
1
and “Sweet
ered when the world be-
Rockets and crackers are purchased with
t wiit surely be needed that day,
Struck the cracker so droll it exploded
with laughter!
—Carolyn Well
s, in Munsey’s.
Bang, Bang, Bang.
in Woman's Home Com- Pang bang, bang,
With vour crackers and things, O kid!
And I would that each cost a dollar,
For you'd soon be through if it did.
O’loudly the janitor’s boy
And his sister are shooting away;
They commence at a quarter to 4
And they never let up all day.
And neither has guessed nor cares
What the racket is all about;
All they know tha® this is the time
To get the firecrackers out.
| Bang. bang, bang,
And zipp and cwizzle and roar;
And let’s thank the Lord w hen the rack-
et’s done
And the t trash cleaned up once more.
The Red, White and Blue.
f£ In the making of our banner,
Was there meaning in each hue?
Was the blood-red stripe of courage
Meant to lead the white and blue?
ity hopes were out on land and And the white, as sign of pureness,
There for all the world to view,
Ss Meant to be the guiding pillar
In between the red i 5) blue?
Ww ‘hile the las t. an open promise
hat all rulings would be true,
Joining justice to the union,
To ti 1 white, the blue.
THE DAY WE CELEBRATE!
a
ir
Willie—**Aw,
disturb de
say, Johnnie!
de mem'’ry o’ de Fourth?”
iii nr ain’t
am wid er cracker.
Why
grandiloquent tauts o’ in-
and speration when I'm composin’ a ode to
disturbin’ yer
Dis is me automobile
HOUSEHOLD
AFFAIRS
TO REMOVE SPOTS.
To remove spots from cloth make a
paste of fuller’s earth and carefully
cover the spot; when quite dry brush it
off. For light face cloth, dry French
chalk should be applied in the same
way.
TO MAKE SILK PORTIERES. :
A. lady is inquiring about silk por-
tieres. To make a nice pair of por-
tieres, one and one-half yards wide,
three yards long, good and heavy, it
requires about six and 2 half to seven
pounds medium fine.
CLEANING THE SINK.
A true housewife should take the
greatest pride in her kitchen sink and
keep it spotlessly. clean. The easiest
and best way to clean a galvanized
jron sink which has been more or less
neglected is to rub strong soap powder
into every corner and over every inch
of surface. Let it remain on for ten
or fifteen minutes, then with a stout
brush go over the whole, dipping the
brush into boiling water. When the
sink is thoroughly scrubbed, polish it
with kerosene, rubbing the oil into the
jron and leaving no residue of grease
behind. The kerosene prevents it from
rusting after the strong soap powder
and boiling water are used. Care
must be taken that the painted wood-
work around the sink does not come
jnto contact with the powder, as it
may eat off the paint. The kitchen
sink should be cleaned as thoroughly
as this twice a week, and every day
carefully rinsed out with hot soap
suds.
sm ra
HIGH AET WITH EGGS.
To properly boil eggs for table use is
a high art. Many rules have been
given as to the time required to prop-
erly boil an egg, but the cook cannot be
looking at the clock all the time, and
it is a very poor rule, anyhow. Nearly
all cooks put the egg in boiling water.
It is a very bad habit and a bungling
way to cook an egg. Soused into boil-
ing water, one of two things is sure to
occur. Either the shell will burst,
permitting part of the egg to escape,
and water to enter the shell, or the silk
on the inside of the shell, and The white
of the egg, will be made to ind une
palatable. The result is that when an
attempt is made to break the egg at
the table the silk comes off with the
shell. Cooks have often complained
when trying to take the shell from
hard boiled eggs that pieces ¢f the
egg sticks to the shell. Of course they
will, if the ese has been immersed in
boiling ator Every kitchen ought
to be provided with an egg tester.
They are easily made, but very eflicient
ones can be purchased at a small cost.
The eggs should be tested before being
put in the water. When ready, put
your eggs in cold Fvater, place upon
the stove, and as soon as the water
comes to a boil they are ready to serve,
if soft boiled are desired. If medium
or hard boiled are preferred, let then
boil a minute or two. {ggs thus pre-
pared are palatable and nutritious, and
you will always know when to take
them off without having to look at the
clock all the ee
eT ee
Ph SUSERp™
sk RECIPES | y
mean tm tm cm etn
English Pudding—One cup molasses,
half a cup butter, one cup sweet milk,
ohe teaspoonful soda, one teaspoon-
ful different spices, one cup chopped
raisins, three and a half cups fiour.
Steam two or three hours and serve
with whipped cream,
Fish Chowder—Six large potatoes
sliced thin in two quarts water; boil
fifteen minutes; cut three slices fat
pork in small pieces and fry out; when
done put in one large onion and a little
water; cock three minutes; then put
with the potatoes, pepper aud salt to
taste; when the potatoes a most
ready add three pounds fis; let beil
five minutes; then add one pint sweet
milk and let come to a i
all drop in a few comme
Baked Bean Soup— cups cold
baked beans, one lt onion sliced,
tops and trimmings of one
celery. Add one and a half quarts cold
water and simmer gently three hours;
strain; stew one quart can tomatoes
thirty minutes and sirain it into the
other mixture; add one large spoonful
sugar and salt to taste; rub ene large
spoonful butter and one cf fiour to a
paste; add a little of the hot scup to
paste and when dissolved add to rest
of soup and boil up till thickened and
serve with croutons. Very nice and
eceonomical.
For Making Bread in Day Time—
In the morning dissolve in threé pints
of warm water two cakes compressed
yeast; add to same two tablespoonfuls
salt, three of sugar, a little shortening
if wanted and enough flour to make
a smooth dough; knead well for ten
minutes; let rise in a warm place for
three hours; knead again for five min-
utes; let rise for one hour and fifteen
minutes; form into loaves and let rise
until about twice its size, usually one
and a half hours, then bake in a
moderate oven. Careful attention to
these directions will enable anyone to
make with ease that rarest of all table
luxuries, perfect bread.
Cost of Maintaining Children.
In the children’s homes of Ohio are
1995 children, which are ned
at a cost of $138 each per
.
;
5
i
i
i
i
RSET
"A SEI
AN ELOG
“THE
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to Cer
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scholarly
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who only
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cannot af
of faith a
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and pher
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are a
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computed
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and the
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The cor
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superstitl
only cor ni
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classificat
3. Catho
tems wh
creed, s
music. I
to one n:
religion
years wa
The t
Assyria;
fined to
to the I
Brahman
faith of
Scandina
Catholic
know nc
ritory.
world.
dah, Mol
ions wer
Catholic
duced ar
prophet.
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or to cor
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appears
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trine of
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