"'I sha'n't taste of sich a lookin' thing as that,' says he, and up he
jumps from the table, appearantly jest as mad as a March hare.
"I felt purty much riled myself, and should 'ave been glad if the
tarnal puddin' had been right in the middle of the Red Sea. Arter I'd
taken so much pains, worried myself e'en jest to death about it, as
'twere, I thought 'twas too bad for him to speak about it in sich a
short, scornful way.
"I didn't tell Aunt Keziah anything about it, 'cause, as she was sick,
I was afeared 'twould worry her; but, afore I'd finished doin' the work
up arter dinner, Uncle Higgins got cooled down a leetle atom, and went
into aunt's room to see how she was. She mistrusted by his looks that
everything wasn't raly right, so she says to him--
"'How did the dinner suit you?'
"'Well enough,' says he.
"'Did Tabitha make the rice puddin' to yer likin'?' says she.
"'I didn't eat any rice puddin',' says he. 'There was a mushy-lookin'
thing on the table that she _called_ a rice puddin'; but it didn't look
like an eatable to me.'
"'What appeared to be the matter with it?' says Aunt Keziah.
"'Why, one thing that ailed it was, there wa'n't a drop of whey in
it; 'twas dry as a contribution-box, and you know I never eat sich
puddin's.'
"'I guess you put a leetle too much rice in your puddin' accordin' to
the other gred'ences,' says Aunt Keziah, the first time I went into the
room arter Uncle Higgins was gone.
"'I put in jest as much as you said I must,' says I.
"'Well,' says she, 'Mr. Higgins told me 'twas too dry--that there
wa'n't any whey in it.'
"'If that's all,' says I, 'I'll try my luck ag'in to-morrow, and make
jest the same, on'y scant the rice the least mite that ever was.'
"'So do,' says Aunt Keziah. 'I rather guess you were a leetle too
heavy-handed when you measured the rice.'
"Well, I do declare that I didn't think of anything but that tarnal
rice puddin' all the arternoon; and, the minute I fell asleep at night,
rice puddin's were settin' round in every direction, jest as thick as
a swarm of bees. Once I thought I went to draw a pail of water, when
up came a bucket full of rice puddin'. Then, ag'in, I thought I was
starchin' some of Aunt Keziah's best caps, and found I'd been dippin'
'em in a mess of rice puddin', instead of starch. That was the way I
was tormented all night long. My sleep didn't do me an atom of good;
but, arter breakfast, I brightened up a little, and felt detarmined in
my own mind, if there was any sich thing as makin' a rice puddin' that
would suit Uncle Higgins, I would do it. So I went to work, and, the
land o' massy! if I should live to be as old as Methuselah, and forty
years on to the eend of that, I shall never forgit how I fussed and
worried over that 'ere puddin'. If I measured the rice once, I raly
b'l'eve that I measured it half a dozen times, so that, at last, I got
to be so addle-pated that I could 'ave hardly told B from a broomstick.
"Aunt Keziah said there sartainly couldn't be any danger of its bein'
too dry; and, if it erred a leetle bit on t'other hand, I could dip out
two or three spoonfuls of the whey.
"I don't know how the President feels to be at the head of government;
but, if the affairs of the nation weigh as heavy on his shoulders as
that puddin' did on mine all the time 'twas bakin', he'd soon give up
beat.
"There was never anything that looked a mite nicer than it did when I
took it out of the oven. 'Twas enough to make a pairson's mouth water
to look at it; but, the moment I put the tarnal thing into the deep,
blue-edged dish, it looked 'xact as t'other did, on'y, if anything, a
leetle more mushy, as Uncle Higgins called it. If there'd been time,
I'd 'ave gone off by myself and had a good cryin' spell. It was my
fairm belief that the puddin' was bewitched. What to do I didn't know.
One minute I thought I'd put it on the table, and Uncle Higgins might
eat some of it or not, jest as he was a mind to. The next minute, I
made up my mind to hide it away, and not let him know that I'd made
one. I was right in the midst of my quandary, when, the first thing I
knew, Uncle Higgins walked into the kitchen, and marched right up to
the table, where sot the puddin'.
"'What do you call that?' says he.
"'A rice puddin',' says I; and, judgin' by my feelin's, I turned all
manner of colors.
"'Well, don't put sich a lookin' thing as that on to the table,' says
he. 'It don't look fit to be sot afore anybody but a heathen. I've no
notion of havin' what leetle appetite I've got sp'ilt by havin' that
dispisable-lookin' thing afore my eyes.'
"So I goes and pokes it away in a sly corner, for it had tried my
feelin's so I parfectly hated the sight on't. I wa'n't much afeared
that Uncle Higgins would starve, if he didn't have the puddin' to top
off with. He was a dreadful great eater--eat as much as two Christian
men ought to; but I guess he didn't take a terrible sight of comfort
eatin' his dinner, for he had on an awful long face the whole time. I
s'pose that tarnal old puddin' was runnin' in his head. If 'twa'n't in
his, it was in mine.
"Well, Aunt Keziah was mighty airnest to know what luck I had with it.
I meant to ave told her afore dinner, and should, if Uncle Higgins
hadn't come in so, all of a sudding, while I was tryin' to settle in my
mind what I should do about puttin' it on to the table for dinner. When
she asked me about it, I had tough work to keep from bu'stin' right out
a cryin'; for I felt sorry, and I felt 'shamed, and, to tell the plain
truth, a leetle mite put out.
"'Well, it does seem curious,' says she, arter I'd finished tellin' her
about it. 'Run, Tabitha, and bring the puddin' here, and let me have
a squint at it. If I ever made one puddin' by that resait, I'm free
to say I've made a hundred, and al'ays had first rate luck. The very
witches have got into the puddin', I b'l'eve.'
"So off I goes and gits the puddin', and carries it in for Aunt Keziah
to look at.
"'La, child,' says she, the minute she clapped her eye on it, 'I've
found out the marvellous mystery. You've put it into the wrong
pudding'-dish.'
"'What odds can it make,' says I, 'whether it's in this or any other?'
"'Why, don't you see, child, that the dish, by bein' so deep and so
small over, don't give the whey a chance to settle off round the edges,
but makes it all mix in with the rice? I al'ays puts it into that
shaller, Chany dish, with a gilt edge, that you'll find on the lower
shelf of the cupboard. Now, if you'll jest shift the puddin' into that
'ere dish, you'll see 'twill look as different as light and darkness.'
"Well, off I went and put it into the dish she told me about, when, lo
and behold! the whey settled off jest as calm and purty as a summer's
mornin', and made a streak round the outside of the puddin' clear and
bright as crystchal. I could hardly b'l'eve my own eyes, and I s'pose
I was as tickled and proud a critter as ever walked on the face of the
airth. I carried it right along to let Aunt Keziah see it.
"'There,' says she, 'that looks right; that'll suit Mr. Higgins. Say
not a word about it, Tabitha; but jest set it into the kittle to-morrow
and heat it over with the steam, and 'twill do for dinner; for, if you
should try forty thousand times, you wouldn't hit it righter than you
have this time.'
"'Well,' says I, 'if you or any other pairson had told me that I should
undergone so much misery on account of usin' the wrong puddin'-dish, I
wouldn't 'ave b'l'eved 'em.'
"The next day, I steamed the puddin', put it into the Chany dish, and
sot it on the table for dinner.
"'There, now, that looks somethin' like,' says Uncle Higgins. 'I'll
tell you what, Tabitha, it isn't best for young, inexperienced gals,
like you, to be too wilful--too fond of havin' their own way. You
thought you'd tire me out, and git me to eat one of your mushy puddin's
at last; but I must be nigh on to famishin' afore I could eat sich a
puddin' as you made yesterday.'
"'I'm glad it suits you, sir,' says I, lookin' meek and innocent as old
Aunt Peggy's cosset lamb, when it turns its basin of milk over.
"You've no idee how I wanted to tell him 'twas the identical puddin'
he run down so to the very lowest notch the day afore; but, you see,
I daresn't, so all the pay I could git was the privilege of laughin'
in my sleeve as he sot there eatin' the puddin', and praisin' it every
other mouthful."
A PLEASANT LETTER.
CAMPBELL CO., _Va._
MR. L. A. GODEY--DEAR SIR: I owe you for my subscription to the "Lady's
Book" for 1852 and 1853. I send you five dollars inclosed. Give me
such credit as you may think proper to extend to an old subscriber of
fifteen years' standing, who sometimes pays in advance, and sometimes
don't, yet never clubs, and never fails to pay without charge to you.
I call that a pretty strong appeal.
Having a moment of leisure on my hands while addressing you on
business, I am tempted to put in a word to you extra--to you, who have
been talking to me steadily for fifteen years, while I have never
had a chance for a syllable in reply. Indeed, I am not positively
assured that editors, however fond they may be of holding forth before
their readers, do manifest any remarkable solicitude to have them
"answer back again." I should take it they were rather of that class,
Irishman-like, who prefer to have "all the reciprocity on one side."
I believe it may be justly said of them, that they do not admire any
sort of correspondence that don't pay well. It, however, seems that an
old subscriber will, once in a while, presume on long acquaintance,
and treat you as a familiar friend, with whom he has the right to
make free. I, at this present moment, feel an impulse of this kind;
but apprehend my position may appear to you rather gawky, and even
peradventure unwarrantable. But old men, you know, and especially
conceited ones, are garrulous.
By the way, Mr. Godey, are you phrenologist enough to tell me why it
is that, when all the other faculties are growing smaller, the organ
of self-esteem is increasing in size? We hear a great deal said about
"the aggressive" and "the progressive." Well, it appears to me that
this same organ of self-esteem deserves to bear off all the first class
premiums at the next "World's Fair" of Active Principles, whether
"aggressive" or "progressive." I beg your pardon, my dear sir, I had no
idea of being at all personal. But you politely intimate that "brevity
is the soul of wit." Thank you! I remark this, with editors, is quite
a favorite prescription (you see, I naturally fall into professional
figures). Nevertheless, it is one they are not overly fond of calling
into requisition themselves. Albeit, Mr. Godey, you and I shall not
fall out here. For, as we possess none of the corporeal parts, neither
of us has much use for "the soul." Don't frown; I'll praise you
presently.
I can remember, in time past, when concluding the perusal of a number
of the "Lady's Book," I have found myself soliloquizing thus: "Well, I
have read it through, and what is in it? Absolutely nothing that I can
remember, or, what is worse, nothing that is worth remembering. I will
discontinue. I wish Godey was more of a utilitarian, and would give
us a little less of his whipped syllabub, and a little more of solid
food." But another year would come in and go out, and I still remained
a subscriber to the "Lady's Book;" and, all this time, its strides
"progressive" were very humble and moderate, indeed. But times have
changed, and the "Lady's Book" has changed with them. I am glad to say
there has been a great improvement--a very great improvement in your
magazine. Thanks to your industrious, judicious, and sensible editress,
the ratio of the useful and valuable is fast gaining on the trashy,
"flat, and unprofitable." Go on.
I, some time back, said to my daughter--only, and motherless--
"Well, child, I believe I must discontinue 'Godey.'"
"Why, pa?"
"It is not suited to my taste, and you are always at school."
"But, pa, I always read the numbers through when I come home. I like it
very much. It is very interesting. I prefer it to any of the magazines."
"There is 'Harper's'--more solid matter."
"I don't like 'Harper's.' I can't read it. I greatly prefer 'Godey.' I
do not know what I should do without it. Do, pa, continue to take it
for me."
I saw at once you had a strong hold on her regard, and I dropped the
subject. Since then, I observe she has got out the old numbers for
many years back (we keep them carefully filed away), and has been
very busy with them; and, when she is done with them, she sorts them
all over nicely and puts them away again. The upshot of the matter
is this letter and the inclosure. Trusting that none other than
benign influences will ever be derived from the pages of your popular
magazine, I subscribe myself,
Your ob't s'v't, W. S. G.
* * * * *
(_Underscored._) P. S.--A word about underscoring. I would thank my
excellent friend, Mrs. Hale, to give her lady contributors a gentle
hint--a very gentle one. Lady authors are much given to underscoring;
that the practice is considered, by some of the readers of the "Lady's
Book," not to be in good taste, and far "more honored in the breach
than in the observance." It generally is declaratory of about this:
"Reader, here is the point, which I fear you have not penetration
to perceive;" or, "How funny that is!" or, "What a nice thought is
here!" or, "How smart and striking this!" or the like. Now, I would
respectfully suggest that the better way is to write nothing that
does not deserve to be underscored, as might be exemplified, if my
modesty did not forbid, in the preceding delectable epistle. If a
writer deems a composition to be superlatively fine, as authors not
unfrequently do, just recommend that the word "underscored" be written
at the top, as I have done at the top of this postscript, with the
assurance that the editor will put that in type, too, and then the
thing will be fixed. For really some readers do not think it polite in
authors to be everlastingly reminding them that "Here is a beautiful
idea, which I fear you are too obtuse to discover." We poor readers
would be gratified by finding we had a little credit for common sense.
Any way, for one, I prefer to emphasize for myself. Now, I have not
the same prejudice or objection, whichever you choose to call it, to
capitals. They may be often used with fine effect. As, for instance,
in the preface to D'Aubigne's "History of the Reformation," where the
author states his principle to be that there is a "GOD IN HISTORY." I
am pleased to see that some of your best contributors have no use at
all for the underscore.
W. S. G.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAKING ORNAMENTS IN RICE SHELL-WORK.
In our January number we described the whole process of preparing
the shells, and making all those separate portions necessary to
form a wreath; the same instructions apply equally to the present
branch of our subject; but then we only spoke of the "simple" form of
this work, or that composed merely of shells and silver wire. It is
doubtless the most chaste, from its extreme purity; but it is also
the most perishable, for we all know how quickly silver tarnishes; it
likewise is not so convenient for wear, especially in the hair, for,
be as careful as ever we will, we cannot entirely avoid roughness and
projecting points.
[Illustration: SPRAYS IN RICE SHELL-WORK.]
The "composite form," which we are now about to describe, admits of the
ornaments being made to match, or contrast with, or set off, any hue of
dress or complexion. In the making of composite rice shell-wreaths,
&c., various materials are brought into use, as floss-silk; fine
wire-chenil; Roman-pearl beads, and beads of a similar kind of coral
color, turquoise, pink, green, or yellow; flower-seeds; velvet or
satin, or silver leaves; and silver bullion.
To make a wreath, and a set of sprays for a bridal-dress, we should
use white floss-silk, white chenil, and silver bullion. The shells are
to be "wired," as directed in our former article; but, in making them
up into leaves and flowers, instead of using the fine wire, we use the
floss-silk to wind or bind them; and thus, instead of the wires being
all exposed, they are hidden, and the stems present a smooth silken
surface.
For making a simple, or single flower, we use the five shells as
before, but we cut half an inch of silver bullion, thread it on one of
the cut lengths of wire (of which we directed there should always be a
supply), fold it into a loop, twist the wire to keep the bullion firmly
in form and place, and put this in the centre of the flower, arranging
the five shells round it, and binding the stem with the silk.
[Illustration: DOUBLE FLOWER.]
In making the "double flower," we use twenty instead of the seventeen
shells before directed; viz. five for the flower, and fifteen for the
five leaflets of three shells each; in the centre of the five shells
we put the loop of bullion just described, and between the flower
and the leaflets we arrange five loops of fine wire-chenil at equal
distances, as in this cut, allowing each loop to project nearly half
an inch, and binding them on with the fine wire; the leaflets are then
arranged round the stem so that the centre shell of each one appears
between, and just beyond each two loops; the whole is bound together
with silk, and the stem covered to its extremity. The "bud" may either
have a loop of chenil standing up on each side of the shells of which
it is composed, or it may be formed solely of two or three loops of
chenil bound on to a stem of wire with floss-silk. When the flowers are
colored, by adding chenil and beads, or seeds to them, green leaves and
green buds have a very pretty effect.
The leaves for the bridal ornaments we were speaking of, may either be
composed of shells and wound with white silk or silver, or white satin
or velvet, or crêpe leaves may be used. We need scarcely add that silk
must be used to bind all the parts together.
Let us imagine, now, that a _brunette_ desires to dress her hair, and
decorate her snowy ball-dress with wreaths, and sprays, &c., of scarlet
or coral color.
The shells must be prepared, and wired in the ordinary way, and half a
dozen reels of floss-silk, and a knot of chenil of the desired hue, and
four strings of small coral-colored beads, and two of beads about the
average size of peas, got. These beads must each be threaded separately
like the shells, but on rather shorter lengths of wire, and the wire
folded and twisted to make it hold its beads firmly. One of the larger
beads should be put in the centre of every double flower, and three of
the small ones in the centre of every single flower. The flowers may
be made simply with the five shells and five loops of chenil, omitting
the leaflets. If the leaves are to be made of shells, the stems must be
bound with this colored silk; but velvet, or satin, or tinsel leaves of
the same hue may be substituted for or intermixed with the shell leaves
with good effect.
Ornaments for blue, pink, green, or maize _toilettes_ may in like
manner be formed _en suite_ by substituting beads, silk, and chenil, of
the chosen shade, for the color we have given. Mourning-wreaths, &c.,
may likewise be made by using black silk, chenil, and beads; or gray
silk and chenil with pearl beads, and gray or white satin leaves.
When once our readers have begun to carry our directions into practice,
they will perceive how possible it is to create an infinite variety of
tasteful articles, all differing in style, form, and hue. Coronets,
wreaths, and headdresses of every conceivable pattern may be made;
sprays for the dress of any size, length, or shape; bouquets for the
waist or bosom; trimmings for the _corsage_; tiny wreaths to put
between quilled ribbon or _blonde_ for the purpose of ornamenting
gloves, or sleeves, or the top of the dress; flowers for caps; studs or
buttons for the front of a dress; in short, more things than we have
time or space to name. And all these may be made very economically, for
less than one-third of the ordinary cost of such decorations.
We have given, at the commencement of this article, a cut of a spray,
or rather of a portion of one, for want of space compelled us to
shorten it; it has green velvet leaves; the flowers are surrounded by
chenil loops, and have in their centres flower-seeds; it is wound with
silk.
[Illustration: BOUQUET IN RICE SHELL-WORK.]
This cut represents a small bouquet to be worn brooch-fashion in the
bosom of the dress; it is composed of shells and turquoise beads, and
wound with light blue silk. The leaves are of shells, and gradually
increase in size towards the end of it.
The advantage of using silk instead of the fine silver wire for binding
the stems, &c., is, that not only are all points and inequalities
thus smoothed over, but, with ordinary care, the articles wear much
longer--for even if the small portions of silver wire left exposed do
tarnish, they cannot mar the beauty of the whole, forming then so very
trifling a portion of it, instead of the leading feature, as they do in
"simple rice shell-work."
We said just now that studs or buttons could be formed with shells; we
will now explain how this may be done.
Cut out a set of circular pieces of white cartridge-paper, or very
thin card-board of the size it is wished the buttons should be; from
the diameter of a dollar to that of a twenty-five cent piece is the
ordinary scale. Have ready wired some middle-sized and small shells,
and a pearl or colored bead the size of a pea for each button.
With a good-sized pin perforate a circle of holes, about a third of an
inch in, all the way round, and pass the wire of a middle-sized shell
through each, bending the shells down, so that they lie evenly round
with their backs upwards, and their points projecting just beyond the
edge of the card-board. Without disturbing the wires on the wrong
side, now make another circle of perforated holes, and put in another
round of shells, bending them so as just to overlap the outer ones.
Still leave the ends of wire, and pierce a third circle of holes, and
into these put small shells, and bend them in like manner, to fit on
the former rounds. Three circles will generally be sufficient for a
good-sized button. Pierce a hole in the centre, and put in the wired
bead, which will fill up and complete the surface. Now carefully
flatten down the wires at the back, and cover the back with silk,
arranging any shell which may have become misplaced afterwards.
The floss-silk may be obtained at any large Berlin wool shop; it
is sold on small reels, of which from two to six or eight will be
required, according to the quantity of work which has to be wound.
The chenil is procurable at the same place; one knot goes a great way.
It is the small wired chenil we use, not the fine embroidery chenil.
The beads are sold at most fancy repositories. It is not the crystal
glass, or the seed bead which we use, but those French colored glass
beads that have lately been so much worn. It is not absolutely
necessary they be only round; for there is a long, or rather an oblong
variety, which is very effective.
The leaves and flower-seeds may be bought at any artificial florist's;
but the best way is to obtain them from the makers, then they can be
ordered of any color or pattern.
A circular wreath of simple daisy-flowers, like the third flower cut
given in our last article, has very chaste and graceful appearance; or
these flowers may be combined with the wheat-ears with good effect.
But we have said enough to open the path to our readers; and once
entered therein, they will find the work infinitely suggestive, and
offering scope for every graceful and tasteful vagary. So we will only
add a little word of advice--aim at lightness, not only of appearance,
but of actual weight, and never crowd or load any ornament with too
much work. The leading principle of artistic excellence in every
department of art is simplicity; and this may be attained by close
and severe attention. The eye is most pleased when it can retain at a
glance the chief points of attraction.
In our third article, we shall give instructions for making baskets,
&c.
VALENTINE'S DAY.
In the western counties, the children, decked with the wreaths and
true-lover's knots presented to them, gayly adorn one of their number
as their chief, and march from house to house, singing--
"Good-morrow to you, Valentine!
Curl your locks as I do mine,
Two before and three behind;
Good-morrow to you, Valentine!"