WOMAN'S WORLD.

Mataura Ensign, 25 January 1912, Page 7

WOMAN'S WORLD.

BETTER THAN GOLD. Better tfcan grandeur, better thap gold, Than rarife or title a hundred told, Is a beauiiful body, a mind at ease, And simple pleasures that always please. A heart that can feel for a neighbor's And share in the joys with a friendly With sympathies large enough to enfold (All men as brothers is better than gold. Better than gold is the sweetest repose Of the sons of toil when their labors close; . Better than gold is the poor man s sleep And the balm that drops on his slumbers sweet, t Better than gold is a thinking mind in realms of thought and books can find '"Treasures surpassing Australian ore And live/with the great and good ot yore. "Better than gold is a peaceful home, Where all the fireside chanties come. The shrine of love, the heaven of life, Hallowed by mother or sister or wife. However humble that home may be, Or tried with sorrow by heaven s decrcc The blessings that - never were bought i or sold "" r And centre there are better than gold. Better than gold in affliction's hour Is.the balm of love with -its soothing power. Better than gold on a dying bed Is the hand that pillows a sinking head. - When thLpride and glory of life decay, And the earth and its vanities fade away, The prostrate sufferer needs not to be told ! That trust in heaven is better than gold. A —Katy Tannahill in ' Nor'-west V Farmer.' j f THE GIFT OF TRITEMiUS. j Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day. While kneeling at the altar's foot to P r ay> . . I Alone with God, as was his pions choice,; (Heard from without a miserable voice, A sound which -seemed of all sad things ' to tell, - As of a lost soul crying out of hell. Thereat the Abbot paused; the chain whereby ' His thoughts went upwards broken by that cry; And, looking from the casement, saw; below j A wretched woman, with grey hair a-flow, \ And withered hands held up to him, '. who cried

' For alms as one who might not be denied.

She cried, "For the dear love of Him i who gave His life for ours, my child from bond-( age save— | My beautiful, brave first-born, chained with slaves | In the Moor's galley, where the sun- j smit waves I Lap the white walls of Tunis!"—" What j I jsan i I give," Tritemius said: "my prayers." j —"0 man | . Of God!" she cried, for grief had madei her bold, j "Mock not me thus; I ask Hot prayers, ( but gold. Words will not serve me, alms alone suffice; Even while I speak perchance my firstIborn dies." "Woman!" Tritemius answered, "from our door None go unfed; hence are we always poor: A single soldo is our only store. Thou hast our prayers;— What can we give thee more?" "Give me," she said, "the silver candlesticks On either side of the great crucifix. God well can spare them on His errands sped, Or He can give you golden ones inv., stead." Then spake Tritemius, "Even as thy word, Woman, so be it! (Our most gracious Lord, Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice, Pardon me if a human soul I prize Above the gifts upon His altar piled!) Take what thou askest, and redeem i thy child." But his hand trembled as the holy alms He placed' within the beggar's eager palms And as she vanished down the linden shade • He bowed his head and for forgiveness prayed. So the day passed, and when the twijiigTifc came He wcfcato.fiiid the chapel all aflame, And, dqmb with grateful wonder, to behold Upon the altar candlesticks of gold! EVERYTHING HANDY. ' . THE IDEAL KITCHEN. fhe woman's club had met at Mrfl NewbilVs (says the Chicago 'lnterOcean'), and she was showing its members her little conveniences to make housework 'easier. > "Over my kitchen table," she explained, "almost every tool I use * n S e tting a mea l i 8 within easy reach just where I need it. Tom nut up the shelves, both over the table and over the sink, and I drove nails where I wanted them. He put partitions in the table drawer to separate knives forks and spoons so that I can et a t'them without fumbling. Above, on the shelves, are cook books, dock, salt pepper, sugar and flour in sifters, \ qo da • baking powder, cocoa and tea, two graduated measuring cups—one for wit and one for dry materials—egg Later scissorß, big spoons, can opener all the things I need oftenest. Here • slate for jotting down orders and !Lnus and a nail for sales slips. On ST wall hang the cake rack, sieve, Stable press, grater, cream whip, A s7 on With these things all in Seir places and a big newspaper spread ■ «,; table I am ready for work. The on the tawe mes3iness . I am S2 just roll up the pa*er and and I don't have to clean my ? d bTßy tne way, you see that it is oWs so that I can move it around ° n * Ca ev£ I am working, with all the wh IX articles on it. One more thing

weights and measures which I am typewriting now. I shall cover it with glass and passepartout binding and hang it where I can consult it easily. "The stools follow me about the kitchen. At the table I use them when I am doing anything that will keep me for some time. At the sink I sit to wash and dry dishes. AH my ironing is done with their aid. The little fellow which my huSband made I sit on near the gas stove when I am using the low broiler burner.

I "Here's my sink shelf that Tom put tip_it is compact and convenient. These dish mops I wouldn't be without —they are much better than cloths, for you don't have to put your hands in hot water nearly so much. They stay in this jar of soda solution between times 'to keep sweet. Up above are small brushes to clean vegetables and so on, one brush for the sink and a larger scrubing brush. The two hanging brushes are for milk bottles and others. On the shelf 'a jar of washing soda, ammonia, cleaning and washing powders, borax, etc. Hanging up there is my fine dish-drainer. And when I work here J pull my stools over, of course. Oh, here's my knife-cleaner—-just a square piece of wood with a strip cf old carpet tacked to it, twice as long as the board and folded over, pile side in. I scrape into the fold some scouring soap or batli brick and when a knif,e must be cleaned I push it in and rub it back and forth. It saves handling the soap each time, and a little does several times.

"In my cupboard I try to keep everything I can in labelled glass jars within easy reach. The tallest ones in the back row contain dried peas and beans, cornmeal, brown sugar, rice, and bread crumbs. In front of these are raisins, dried celery tops, etc. The front row is to be—when I get time—small jars of spices. My idea in arranging all these things is to have them always in the ■•rnie place, convenient. This other section of the cupboard has a small extra shelf between the lowest two, so that more piles of dishes will go in without being set on top of each other. It saves lifting. "Now come into the back hall and see how I keep all my house-cleaning tools. Here they hang on the back, of the door, each with its screw-eye in its handle—bronm, floor brush, wall brush of lamb's wool, floor oiler, whisk, brushbrooms, dustpan, feather duster and the long wire brush for cleaning the refrigerator pipe. They are all off the floor, taking up no room."

"THE BOYS CAN ASK!"

! Years ago I knew a very common, well-meaning woman whose husband had made a fortune and had educated his five sons and four daughters so that they went into society from which their parents had been excluded (says a writer in 'Cassell's Magazine'). All of these sons married, while three of the daughters remained single. The old mother mentioned this fact to an acquaintance, who asked how she accounted for the condition of affairs.

"You see," replied the elderly woman with an honesty that would have brought tears of rage to the eyes of her daughters, "the boys can ask and the girls they can't. So my daughters ain't married."

There was sound truth in the old woman's statement. In this world the men can always ask for, fight for, what they want—wives, wealth, experience, society. So the man, even though he be married, has opportunity to go about and mingle with his kind, while his wife stays at home. All of which reminds me of the remark of an old country-woman to a young lady whom she had tended years before: — "And you aren't married yet, Miss Betty!" asked the old nurse.

"Not yet," replied the girl, "and I don't expect to be." « "But, dearie, isn't that a pity?" queried the kindly old soul. "Why, nurse? Don't you think a woman can be happy unmarried?" "Well, honey, an' perhaps, she can, after she's ceased to struggle," was the careful answer.

There are numbers of married women who spend little time at home, but they are the wives and mothers (if they have children) who can afford to pay 'or trained servants to do the work of the house and to care for the little ones.

THE ART .OF FORGETTING

The pessimist and the woman who never forgets are twin sisters. In conversation with these misguided individuals it will be found that it is the unkind happenings of life they have remembered. They actually experience a morbid pleasure in brooding over and recounting family griefs and slights and all the little unavoidable unpleasant incidents of existence. Pure unadulterated happiness will be an unknown quality to these people until they have acquired the faculty of forgetting. Nowadays one encounters everywhere women who have reached the high mark on life's dials, and even gone past it, yet whose bloom will defy wrinkles and whose smooth unfurrowed faces have the freshness of youth with the subtle added charm of the expression of experience. They are the woman who have acquired the faculty of forgetting. A quiet life is not all that is needed to make a woman keep her youth and good looks. The truth is that a quiet life will not keep a woman young unless she learns to be broad in her ideas, to keep abreast m%h the times, and to think big, new thoughts. She thinks of the glorious possibilities of this grand I old world of ours, of how much each day means, and what chances of happiness and usefulness it contains if well spent. She knows that if she dwells on small worries, grows angry, resentful and revengeful, a great folly is being committed. Life is being wasted, and the waster is tcttering discontented to an unloved old age. The woman who 'never forgets is invariably selfish, and j selfishness is very aging and unattractive. Women rarely think that it is ill-nature that makes them old and lets Father Time fun-ow t.he"r faces ap to show the failures tbey haye made.

There is no cosmetic like the desire to please; it illuminates the eye, tints the complexion and makes the voice like a song; but the woman who has not acquired the faculty of forgetting can never hope to attain it.

HANDY SUGGESTIONS.

Oil stains on any kind of cloth can be removed with talcum powder ; sprinkk the powder thickly upon the spot ant let it remain for a time. Brush off anc repeat several times until the oil disap pears.

To clean ribbons, wash them in the suds of pure soap and water and dry. Lay them on a table or other smooth surface and smooth down with a wet sponge. They will stick to the table, and when dry may be peeled off almost as smooth and fresh as new.

When scrubbing boards, if bathbrick is used in the same way as you would use hearthstone, working with tht grain of the boards and then scrub, the boards will be beautifully white. It is also excellent Avhen crushed and used instead of soap for cleaning paint. To clean steel and brass work of stoves and ranges: Melt in a jar 2oz. of paraffin wax, loz. finest emery flour and 4oz. powdered bathbrick. Apply with a paraffin rag, using only a small quantity. Finish off with a dry duster and chamois leather. Cleaned in this way steel and brass will not require at•Hion for three weeks to a month.

To remove paper from a wall, have a large pail of ho.t water, add a handful of salt, use a whitening brush, wet the paper thoroughly; it will peel off easily. Jf more than one paper, go over it again. Before repairing the wall must be rubbed with cold water and allowed to get quite dry.