Manuscript Cookbooks

Angel Cake. Lavern. 1 1/2 cup egg whites 1 1/2 cup cake flour. 1 3/4 cup sifted sugar. 3/4 teasp salt 1 1/2 teasp cream of tartar 1 teasp vanilla.

Green tomato delish.

Slice green tomatoes and a layer onions and sprinkle salt on it fill 1 gallon jar. Let stand over night next morning pour brine off and let stand in cold water for 1 hour. Pour off and boil till done in juice of 3 cups vinegar 3 cups brown sugar with cloves & stick cinnamon 1 tablespoon

Mother| Butter Scotch Cookies 2 cups Brown Sugar 1 scant cups butter & lard 2 eggs 1 cup milk 4 cups flour 1 tsp. cream of tartar 1 tsp. soda 1 tsp. vanilla 2 Tablespoons flour Mix well together in the evening & bake in the morning.

1 pound dates cut up 1 pound walnut meats out 1 pound Brazil nuts cut up 1 cup sugar. 4 egg yolks. 1 1/4 cup flour 1/3 teasp salt 2 teasp Baking Powder Sift flour baking powder salt over nuts mix carefully add sugar mix again beat egg yolk light & thick and stir

Apple Pie Milly. Make crust. Cut apples in put 4 tablespoons sugar on top Then make crumb of 1/2 cup flour 1/2 cup Brown sugar 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon spry and walnuts mix and put on pie & bake

Banna Salad 4 large Bannas 1/2 bunch celery 1/2 cup walnuts Slice bannas dice celery & break walnuts Dressing 1 cup cream. 1/2 cup sugar. Juice of 1/2 lemon. Let come to boil dissolve 1 Tabl flour. in a little water and stir into mixture add 1 beaten egg yolk. cool and mix all together

Cabbage Slaw Carrots & Pear Potatoe salad Weiners Biscuits Coffee Olives & Pickles Jello torte deserte

For the Companion MAKING WAX FLOWERS.

Now that spring flowers are opening, and it is a good time to make wax flowers, perhaps some of the Companion readers would like to know how they are made. The wax bought innthin sheets, which are nearly as flexable and easily cut as cloth. It is used single or double, according to the thickness of the flower, and can be bought for about 30 cents a dozen sheets. It comes white and in colors. The softer shades are painted upon white; when blending is required, dry powder is rubbed on with the tip of the finger. To make wax flowers, it is necessary to have wire for the large and small stems, a little gluten, some wiry spool thread- and moulding tools, which can be procured withnthe wax. The art in making these flowers, is in avoiding stiffness and copying nature as closely as possible. To do this, when it is convenient, one should keep a nayural flower before her, when moulding, and proceed as follows: Pick a flower, we will say a rose, to pieces, and cut it in paper an exact pattern of the petals --five of each size. Do the same with the geeen leaves, which are to be carefully notched around the edges with a sharp penknife or sissors, which can be wet to avoid sticking. Make a stem for the rose by covering a large wire with wax, and smoothing and polishing the same. Next place a bit of wax on the end where the calyx is to be, and arrange around it, neatly, the inside petals of the rose, lapping one over the other, as in the natural flower. Then add the next row, and the next, after having moulded the edge of the petals to avoid stiffness, until all are added, taking care to work the petals well on to the calyx, or they will fall off. The petals being arranged, form the calyx, and arrange the sepals in the same way. After the rest is completed, it will be necessary to arrange the petals by opening and closing, to give them the proprr appearance. The green leaves have the wire smaller and extending to the tip, across the middle, which is concealed by strips of green wax. When stamens are required, cut bits of white thread and tie them upon the end of the wire; after which dip the ends in gluten, and then into dry yellow paint, which will adhere to it in globules, then proceed as before. These flowers are expensive and delicate, and should be protected by a glass shade. -----------------For the Companion THE QUAKER WIFE In a plain, unpainted cottage, Slowly sinking to decay, Lived a sober Quaker maiden, Simple-hearted Patience Gray. And no jewels save the ornament Of spirit pure and meek Even in her gayest girlhood Did this Quaker Maiden seek. For the very height of fashion Patience's dresses seemed too scant, And her hair was reddish-tinted Where the sunlight fell aslant. Thee and thou she rendered pleasant Sweet her smile, if somewhat sad; Neat and clean her shrivelled figure In a suit of homespun clad. Though to ape the rich and stylish Patience Gray would not decend, All unconscious at the wash-tub She acquired the "Grecian Bend." Never was her weak brain troubled With the questions of the day; She cared not a tittle whether Woman had her rights or nay. Thus this poor, unlettered creature Ate content her hard-earned bread, Knowing that her Lord and Master Had not where to lay His head. When she died and went to heaven She was never asked to tell What had been her earthly stationSo 'twas really just as well! M.P.R.

"WHEN OUR SHIP COMES IN." A little child dwelt by the sea, And her home was the home of poverty. She ran with bare feet o're the golden sands, And gathered shells with her small brown hands. Gay strangers came in rich robes dight, But the little maiden shunned their sight; And shaking her curls o're her blushing face, Sped away like a fawn that flies the chase. When strangers were gone, said the mother mild, "What was it dismayed thee, my darling child?" "O, mother! my feet were bare and brown, I had no bonnet, and then- this gown!" She held up the skirt of her faded frock, Sadly rent by the jagged rock, And she said, with a deep and long drawn sigh, "Shall I have such dresses as they by-and-by?" Her mother smiled with a grave, sweet grace, And she smoothed the curls from the half-grieved face, And sad, "When our ship comes in from the sea, You shall have garments and all things free." "When our ship comes in!" said the little one, And away to the highest rock she ran, And watched till night-shadows dimmed the shore, For the freighted ship and its treasured store. Long and often she watched in vain. No ship for her sailed over the main. How many such watchers in life there be For the ship that never comes over the sea!

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OCTOBER Shake the last dust from the (missing) Royal rose or this (missing) Which is fairer now? Worst of weeds and queen of flowers, Pride and mock of summer hours; Dry shrivelled, old and brownIn the wet grass tread them down.

Poppies, with the morning's Burning beauty flushed; Little-cared-for daisies, Used to being crushed; Loveless, scentless, side by sideWhich now most cause for pride? Dry and shrivelled, old and brownIn the wet grass tread them down.

Rankly-growing night-shade; Child of gloom and death; Lillies, white and saintly, With celestial breath; Useless now to bless or harm, Vain their poison, vain their balm; Dry and shrivelled, old and brownIn the wet grass tread them down.

Amaranths, we fancied Flowers that could not die; Morning-glories, fading Ere their dew was dryWhich has now the nobler claim? Which has now the prouder name? Dry and shivelled, old and brownIn the wet grass tread them down.

Aconite and nettle, Myrtle-wreath and rose, All, all fall together, When the north wind blows. Summer honors will not last After summer-time has passed; Dry and shrivelled, old and brownIn the wet grass tread them down. -----------------------

For the Companion.

A CONQUEROR. He trusted me. He saw I was a mean looking fellow, but he trusted me!" I said this to myself while I held the gentleman's horse. The cart was full of peaches. Presently some of the fellows came up and hailed me. They wanted some peaches. "Stand back," I said. "The man told me to take care of 'em. He trusted me. I should like some of 'em as bad as you, but they can't be touched. He give 'em in my charge, and you can't have a peach." With that they begun to yell and hustle me; but I hit right and left, and drove them off. "You have good pluck, my boy," said the owner of the wagon. " I saw how well you behaved, and here's a dollar for you." My eyes stood out. "A whole dollar!" says I. "Yes; do what you please with it." "I'll make another dollar with it," said I. The man had been looking at me earnestly. "If you want a home," he said, " I think I can give you one. Jump in the wagon. I want a spunky, clever boy, who can learn to make money, and look after his employer's interests." I went home, and from that day was like a son to the man who had so strangely become my benefactor. When I was twenty-one he died, and left me ten thousand dollars. With that I traded, speculated, geew rich; rich enough, I thought, by the time I was twenty-five, to marry sweet Lilly West. If Lilly had been my only love! Gold was the rival of my wife. I wanted money, momey, money! Lilly loved me, but I was engrossed in business, and had no time for home. I almost forgot I had a wife, at times, and left her with but little regret, to go distant places, on business; left her for months together. At last I began to grow avaricious. I was haunted for fear Lilly was wasteful, extravagant. I looked at her purchases with suspicion. I cut down the expenses of the household. "Do you really need two servants?" I asked her, one day. "I don't know that I really do," she answered, for she was anxious always to please me. " I am afraid I cannot afford it," I said. "Then I will dismiss my housemaid," she said. Then I begrudged her the cook. How slyly this passion steals upon the doul! Beware of it, young man. It is like a deadly frost that benumbs all the faculties but that one- the craving, the utter longing to get money. Year by year I grew more saving; prudent, I called it. God forgive me! sometimes there was no food in the house. Lilly grew like the flower she was named for, white and waxen. She seemed a burden to me. If I were only alone, I thought, how much richer I could get! It was madness. Finally, I told her that she was a burden, by taunts, and-yes, by curses. She learned to fly from my presence, and at last craved the protection of a relative. My wish was granted; now I could save! I shut up all the house but one room. People looked askance at me. At last I was taken ill. Heaven must have seen something in me to save, for I recovered. I wandered round the cheerless rooms, and one day, all at once, like a ray of light from the upper world, it flashed upon me what had made them so. I remembered my benefactor's happy home, and how he had first trusted me, though I had fallen amoung thieves. Was this the way to re-pay his generous confidence? And Lilly, she had been the child of his dearest friend; and I had, after making her my wife, driven her away. The recollection of her sweet

pale beauty, fired my heart. And yet she is mine," I said. "Shall I send for her? What, to abuse, mistrust and starve her? Never."

I called for my money, and had it laid upon the table before me, and then came a mighty struggle; but God was stronger than the devil. I rolled the bills together and threw them across the floor.

"Lie there, curse of my soul," I cried - "lie there, till I have conquered myself, ay, if the victoroy is not won till you are rotten."

I shut that room and scaled it up. For one year I toiled like a penniless man. By constant exertion I place my business on a successful footing, and began life a new man.

It was only another phase of the malady, my friends cried, but I knew what I was doing. I wrote to Lilly once or twice before I laid bare my heart. I dared not, even now, trust myself. I asked if she would come back if I proved myself a changed man; and, woman-like, angellike, she said yes.

Well, she came. On the day of her return I opened the sealed door. The bank notes lay where I had flung them. I took them up with the pride of a conqueror, and placing them in her hands, I said,-

"They are no longer my tyrants, use them as you will"

Now I am a man, redeemed from the thraldom of covetousness. I can look on my wife without a pang of regret, save that I should once have caused her to suffer. I think of my good benefactor without shame. I am redeemed. Yes, by the forbearance of God and the strength He has given me, I am what Iam. ALMA.

THE DEFORMED CHILD.

When summer days are long and warm, they set my little chair

Without the door, and in the sun they leave me sitting there;

Then many thoughts come to my mind, that others never know,

About myself and what I feel, and what was long ago.

There are no less than six of us, and all of them are tall And stout as any you may see, but I was always small; The neighbors look at me, and say I grow not with the rest;

The father strokes my head, and says, The least are sometimes best.

But hearing I was not like them, within my head one day it came (strange thought that children have!) that I'd been changed away!

And then I cried; but soon the thought brought comfor to my mind,-

If I were not their own, I know they could not be so kind.

For we are happy in our home as ever people were, Yet sometimes rather looks as if his heart was full of care; When things go wrong about the house, then mother vexed will be;

But neither of them ever spoke a cross word unto me.

And once, when all was dark, they came to kiss me in my bed.

And though they thought I slept quite sound, I heard each word they said.

"Poor little thing! to make thee well, we'd freely give our all;

But God knows best!" and on my cheek I felt a warm tear fall.

And then I longed to sit upright, and tell them not to fret, For that my pains were not so bad, I should be stronger yet;

But as the words came to my lips, hey seemed to die away,

And then they drew the curtain close, and left me as I lay.

And so I did not speak at all, and yet my heart was full; And now, when I am sick and ill, for fear it makes them dull

To see my face so pale worn, I creep to father's side, And press it close against his own, and try the pain to hide.

But it is best within the house when nights are long and dark,

And two of brothers run from school, and two come in from work;

And they are all so kind to me, the first word they will say

To mother at the door will be, "Has Bess been well to day?"

And though I love them all so well, one may be loved the best,

And brother John, I scarce know why, seems dearer than the rest.

But tired and cross as I may feel, when he comes in at night,

And take me on his knee and chats - then ever thing is right!

When once, I know, about some work he went quite far away,

O ! how I wished him back again, and counted every day; And when, the first of all, I heard his foot upon the stair, Just for that once I longed to run and leave my little chair!

Then when I look at other girls, they never seem to be So pretty as our Hannah is, or half so neat as she; But she will soon be leaving us, to settle far away, With one she loves, and who has loved her well this many a day.

I [sometlmes] think because I have few pleasures, and no cares,

Wherewith to please or vex myself, they like to tell me theirs;

For sister talks to me for hours, and tells me much that she

Would never breather unto a soul unless it were to me.

One night, when we were quite alone, she gave the fire a stir,

And shut the door, and showed the ring that William bought for her,

And told me all about her house; and often she has said That I shall come to live with them, when she and William wed.

But that I think will scarcely be, for when our Hannah goes,

What we shall do for want of her, not one among us knows;

And though there is not much in me the place she leaves to fill,

Yet something may be always done, where there is but the will.

Then the kind doctor says, and he is very seldom wrong, That I some day, when no one thinks, may grow both stout and strong;

And should I be, through all my life, a care unto my friends,

Yet father says there are worse cares than God Almight sends!

And I will think of this, and then I never can feel dull, But pray to God to make me good, and kind, and dutiful; And when I think on Him that died, it makes my heart grow light,

To know that feeble things on earth are precious in His sight! DORA GREENWELL. ***************************************************