As Seen Through Woman's Eyes.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue VI, 9 February 1901, Page 277

As Seen Through Woman's Eyes.

Indian Servants. A colonial lady, who has lived some years in India, writes: I often hear you envy we Anglo-Indians the perfect servants we have in India, and 1 must confess, when driven wild by The colonial product, we are rather apt to boast of the comforts we enjoyed "when I was in India,” as an eminent colonial chmehman is so fond of remarking. Undoubtedly Indian servants are splendid, but they re not all perfect. There are exceptions.

I often remember this when I am nelined to think that I have, at last, lit upon the perfect butler, or the ■est ayah, or a cook worthy of the dadras Club; and only Indian house-et-pers will know how very soon our chest hopes are shattered.

the story of my first ayah was too -appointing. I will not record that; hough I still look back with regret ’ii the neat fingers, the snowy white -arees, the dainty flowers always on my dressing-table, the quick alacrity i the very best ayah I have yet had. d cooks I have had many, good, bad nd indifferent—the majority good. *ne. indeed, told me that he had '• I'ed at the Madras Club, and left some, reason—drink, most probwhich would not hinder him ,' om proving a good cook. It must ate been drink, for he professed penitence, and begged for a trial; so * n ? a ?ed him, and for some time we ‘evened in most excellent cookery.

he day of awakening arrived. It ... very wet. The monsoon was l, 'g its worst, and the rain came " n in a steady downpour, making ‘e evening chilly and depressing. We ‘"'e home to the brightlv-lighted "'-alow, anticipating a good dinner ' ‘ I j e *' us up this miserable even- '■ J dressed quickly, and we went e dining-room. The table was * as usual, adorned with fems and

floWers. the rack of toast between our two places, the glass and silver spotless; but there was an indescribable something in the air which told me that things were amiss. “Cook has not excelled to-night,” said Lance; “isn’t there something wrong with the soup?” I noticed a queer taste, and said so, and left it untouched. Lance did the same. “I will speak to cook,” I said; "never mind to-night.” But the fish was long in coming; there was a long and ominous pause: the butler disappeared: Lance grew impatient, and I nervous. Presently the boy* brought us plates with some half-roasted fowl. I noticed the butler put in no appearance. so I summoned him, and asked, crushingly, what had become of the rest of the dinner —for that there was nothing else coming was evident. Lance had sent away his plate.andsat waiting the result of the conference. He was hungry, and had had no dinner. "Please find out,” said I, “I can’tmake this boy speak out.” Lance, with the sternness of a dinnerless man. told the butler to explain immediately; and then it appeared that our good cook had been having a tamasha all by himself in the kitchen, and was now as tipsy as ever he could be! We dined off biscuits. and bread and cheese, and I told the butler to inform cook that “Master” would interview him in the. morning. This interview never came off, for cook, in mortal fear. I suppose. fled before the threat, and never appeared in the storeroom again. For a time my butler was the envy of the station. He took all housekeeping off my hands, he managed the other servants, he paid all my bills, and looked so imposing with his tall figure, his heavy moustache and snow-white garments, that a friend

told me he added an appearance of “eminent respectability” to the bungalow! One day I did a very careless thing. I had been paying money to the butler, and, being in a hurry, put my little cash-box inside my dress basket, which was standing empty in my bedroom. I put the key in my pocket. and never gave the money another thought. We were dining out that night, and our solemn butler added his stately presence to the diningroom. and waited, as usual, behind my chair. As I dressed next morning. ayah told me the butler was waiting to speak to me, and this being an unusual departure at tiiis hour, I went to the verandah to see him. For once he was untidy, his turban tumbled, his chin unshaved. He told me hurriedly that a thief had broken into the house, and “Missis’ box” was ransacked. I followed him into the little morning-room, leading out of my bedroom, where the box had been dragged, and there it stood, the lock broken, the leather torn, the lid open, and the cash-box gone! I had left 150 rupees in cash in the box. We sent for the police, and the servants, in great excitement, ran about the house and compound seeking for signs of the thief. The butler alone was calm and dignified. As I passed into the back verandah with the police inspector I saw him putting the freshly-made butter into that rose design which the Madras boy loves. It seemed an idle indignity to march off this servant of “eminent respectability” to the court with all the other boys; but he had to go, and all day long we were left servantless. The end of course is evident. After a whole day of inquiry, suspicion pointed clearly to the butler, and, being driven into a corner, he confessed, and told, moreover, that a considerable portion of the money

lay untouched at a friend’s hut in the bazaar. The next time I saw him he was working on the road, in prison dress, with a c'-ain clanking from his ankles. Alas for my confidence. Unpaid bills began to pour in which I believed to be paid; and when I produced my file of receipts, I discovered in several cases that the receipts were forgeries, cleverly managed by connivance with the bill collector.

How Nurses are Made.

(By Honnor Morten.)

Please accept it at once, that though a poet may be born, a nurse must be made. And the making of anything involves a large amount of hacking and hewing and adding and polishing. If a woman is to be made into a good nurse, her natural failings of inaccuracy, untidiness, laziness, etc., must be got rid.of, and all her good qualities, such as patience and kindness, must be polished up. We don’t expect a lawyer to be tit to manage an action till he has been articled; nor a carpenter to make a table till he has been apprenticed. We don’t expect a setter to be worth shooting over till he has been trained; and it is simple rubbish in cases of life and death to uphold the theory that every woman is a nurse, and that she can, without being taught, chart a temperature, recognise variations in symptoms, or put on a bandage which gives equal pressure throughout. One has only to look at the list (which we are unable to quote here) issued by one hospital of the things its nurses must learn during their period of probation—to be assured of the fallacy of this supposition. Probationers are also expected (among other specified duties) “to become acquainted with the best practical methods of supplying fresh air, warming and ventilating sick rooms in a proper manner; and are taught to take care of rooms and wards: to make accurate observations and reports to the physician of the state of the pulse, skin, appetite, temperature of the body, intelligence—as delirium or stupor —breathing, sleep, condition of wounds, eruptions, formation of matter, effect of diet, or of stimulants, or of medicines; and f o learn the management of convalescents.”

We suppose the “born nurse” comes into the world with all this knowledge ready at her finger-tips. but. for our part, if ever we have a burn that wants dressing or a wound to be bandaged, we trust it may be performed by a nurse who has been taught her duties, not acquired them intuitively.

Look, again, at this list of moral qualifications issued by the same hospital: “All nurses are required to be sober, punctual, quiet, orderly, cleanly, neat, patient, kind, cheerful and obedient to the rules of the institution.”

Evident, indeed, is it that a good nurse must be made.

The first thing is to get a month’s trial. A month’s trial generally ends in the probationer being either very earnest in her desire to stay, or very eager to go: if she has done fairly well in her work and her health has remained good, the hospital authorities will let her stay if she wishes, and if she will bind herself to remain for a term of years. During those years they undertake to supply her with full board, partial uniform and washing, and a salary. -* Then the training begins in earnest, every morning the probationer has to rise early, and after a very simple breakfast enter her ward and commence sweeping and dusting. Perfect cleanliness is necessary in hospital life, and absolute tidiness, the mere fact of being put into such a simple neat uniform, and being surrounded everywhere by such complete order that the slightest deviation from the approved routine is immediately marked, is usually enough to cure the probationer of any careless habits she may have formed at home. She soon learns to be as particular over the straightness of her cap and the freshness of the water in which her flowers are kept, as over much larger matters: she is, in fact, trained to be "punctual, orderly, clean y and neat."

The Artless Tradesman. The fact was recently stated in one of the leading medical papers in England that game can be made to look ripe and green by injecting into the fresh ilesh potassium sulphide, says the London “Express.” This is only one of the numerous deceptions which the artless English tradesman practises upon his customers. Poultry, if the weather be at all muggy, is very apt to smell queer and go green in the joints. To correct this the birds are washed with a solution of permanganate of potash, which sweetens them up, and then, as this solution has a tendency to discolour the skin, they are carefully whitened by being rubbed with Hour. The same deodoriser is also used with considerable effect upon joints of meat. A very harmful practice is resorted to in the manufacture of artificial gorgonzola cheese. This is prepared by taking any ordinary pale, soft cheese and piercing it through and through with lengths of copper wire which have been dipped in oil of vitriol. TTie chemical action of the acid and the copper produces sulphate of copper (bluestone), which is deposited in small quantities in the cheese, thus representing the desired blue mould. Dried fruits for Christmas puddings or mincemeat are freshened up when they grow old by a careful washing in a mixture of sugar and water. This gives the fruit that soft, moist appearance that is deemed so desirable. Those cheap varieties of dates that are seen on barrows, wrapped in a piece of sacking, and sold at a penny a bagful, often find their way into a grocer’s shop, and are pulled apart and washed in the way indicated, when they readily fetch sixpence per pound. Some greengrocers wash old walnuts and pass them off as a new season’s fruit, despite the questionable nature of their contents. Sweets are hardly food, but enormous quantities are being prepared for the Christmas sale just now. There is no remedy for chocolate goods when they are once stale and discoloured, except to go back to the factory and be re-made, and other old sweets are mixed up with newer sorts and disposed of in fancy boxes. Bakers who turn out more stock than they can sell dispose of some in the form of “stales/’ but the rest are usually baked a little more while wrapped in a cloth dipped in milk or water. They emerge from the oven rejuvenated for the time being. o o o o o A Compleat Woman of 1645. By KATHERINE GORDON. A peep into an old book published in 1645 may interest and amuse the housewives of to-day, and perhaps cause them to feel thankful that to be a “compleat woman” in this age is not as serious a matter as it then was, judging from the work of the oracular Mr Gervace Markham, the author of several household works as popular and infallible in their day as “Mrs Beeton” is in ours. “The English Housewife, containing the inward and outward vertues which ought to be in a compleat woman, as her skill in physick, surgery, cookery, extraction of oyles, banqueting stuffe. ordering of greate feastes, preserving of all sortes of wines, conceited secrets, distillations, perfumes, order-

iug of wooli, hemp, Hax, making cloth, and dyeing; the knowledge of dayries, office of malting, of oates, their excellent use in a family, and of other things belonging to a household. A work generally approved and made most profitable and necessary for all men, and the general good of thia nation.” So confident is this genius of the superiority of his achievement that he recommends his path as “both more easie, more certaine and more safe than any —nay, by much lesse ditficulte and dangerous to wa'ike in.” If this be so, we feel sincere pity for those dames of old. The path seems to us both long and difficult. We fear that domestic relations in the household of Mr Gervace Markham might occasionally be a little strained. After having diothed his model housewife "without toyish garnishes," and "far from the vanity of new and fantastic fashions,” and dieted her "from the provision of her own yard,” this masculine meddler goes on to the details of the "worthy knowledges which do belong to her vocation.” First and foremost he places a “perfect konwledge and skill in cookery, without which, though they may love and obey, yet they cannot cherish, serve and keep their husbands with that true duty which is ever expected.” Nor is this a simple matter. She who would excel must also have “skill to marshal the dishes and set everyone in his due place, giving precedency according to fashion and custom. She must have a quick eye, a curious nose, a perfect taste and ready ear. She must not be butter-fingered, sweet-toothed, nor faint-hearted, for the first will let everything fall, the second will consume what it should increase, and the last will lose time with too much niceness.” The housewife would indeed need to be of “stout courage,” “patient,” and “untired,”to preside over an establishment where the following menu would be merely that of an “humble feast, or an ordinary proportion, which and good man maykeep in his family for the entertainment of his true and worthy friends.” It is good then for him that intends to feast to set down the full number of his full dishes -—that is, dishes of meat that are of substance, not empty or for show; and of these sixteen is a good proportion for one course unto one mess, as thus, for example, first, a shield of brawn with mustard; secondly, a boiled capon; thirdly, a boiled piece of beef; fourthly, a piece of beef roasted; fifthly, a pig roasted; sixthly, a neat’s tongue, roasted; seventhly, chewets, baked; eighthly, a goose roasted; ninthly, a swan, roasted'; tenthly, a turkey, roasted; the eleventh, a hauneh of venison, roasted; the twelfth, a pasty of venison; the thirteenth, a kid with a pudding inside; the fourteenth, an olive pie; the fifteenth, a couple of capons; the sixteenth, a custard, or doucets. Now to these full dishes may be added in salads, fricassees, quelque choses, and devised paste, as many dishes more,

which make the full service uo leaa than two-aud-thirty dishes, which is as much as can conveniently stand on one table and in one mess; and aftei this manner you may proportion both your second and third course, holding fulness in one-half of the dishes and show in the other, which will be both frugal in the spender, contentment to the guest, and much pleasure and delight to the beholders.” The digestive organs of our forefathers must have been sorely tried by their mode of living, especially if “humble feasts” were of frequent occurrence, as no doubt the guest would be expected to do full justice to the good things set before him, liberally seasoned and garnished after the fashion of the day. As, therefore,the learned Mr Gervace foresaw that his housewife’s skill in "physick” would be put to the test where such a cuisine prevailed, he is equal to the occasion, and gives numerous nauseous remedies. If the cookery of his day was. trying, the medicine was much more so! How does the foUowing sound as a cure for quinsy? It is a mild specimen. “Give the party to drink the herb mouseare steeped in a'ie or beer, and look where you see a swine rub himself and there upon the same place rub a sleight stone, and then with it sleight all the swelling and it will cure it.” We doubt whether this triumphant consummation would be the result of such treatment. The would-be physician’s faith in the efficacy of his remedies is quite touching! It is to be hoped the unfortunate patient had strong faith also, for such an ingredient alone could help him. No one need grieve over a scanty parting, or groan in the agonies of toothache. Here are simple and invaluable remedies for both evils. “Take southernwood and burn it to ashes and mix it with common oil, then anoint the bald place therewith

morning and evening, and it will breed hair exceedingly.” "Take some of the green of the elder tree, or the apples of oak trees, aul with either of these rub the teeth and gums, and it will loosen them so you may take them out.” 00000 Corns—Cause and Cure. People often make the mistake Ox thinking that hard tight-fitting boots are the cause of those troublesome anu painful excrescences—corns. Boot, and shoes that are too loose or large are quite as injudicious, and equally as fruitful in producing them. Al. foot-gear should fit perfectly, with out being excruciatingly tight, on the one hand, or uncomfortably baggy, on the other. Then, again, it is an error, into which many women fall, to wear very thick woollen stockings, even in the winter. This kind of ho siery renders the feet very tender, and causes perspiration to an undue extent. There are several makes of fine cashmere which are infinitely preferable to the thicker ones, and these can be worn well on into the summer, until cotton, Lisle thread, or spun silk are adopted in their stead. Care should always be taken that the stockings do not wrinkle, as this also causes the skin to harden, and, ultimately, to form into corns. The same thing occurs when heavy leather boots and shoes are worn: and I therefore advise my readers always to be particular, when selecting new foot-gear of any kind, to get only soft makes, and. if possible, the very best. This, in the end is the greatest economy. Now as to the treatment of corns. First of all, remove the cause of the trouble, otherwise any other attention is quite useless; then every night steep the feet for some twenty minutes in hot water, after each immer sion carefully scraping the softened head of the corn with a sharp penknife; be very careful that the knife

.“-a* £■’~r prove 4 d.ogero". -/><l d ,‘“ c " l ' to P,“ When the corn has been well Craned a small piece of soap plaster should be laid over it When these excrescences appear under the sole of the foot, and are not amenable to the ibove treatment, they should, after caking in hot wa ter, be saturated vith a solution of salicylic acid in collodion, which can be got at any chemist's. Soft corns may be rendered less painful by the insertion of small tufts of cotton wool between those toes upon which the corns appear. Bunions usually take up their position at the root of the big toe, and they are more serious than corns, for when once the joint is affected it • - difficult to cure. Sufferers from bunions should always rest as much as possible, and the bunion must be well soaked in hot water. A dressing, consisting of a piece of lint soaked in cold water, should be bound round the toe, and covered with a strip of oiled silk. When there is a suspicion of any inflammation, a linseed poultice must be applied, and as soon as the gathering has come to a head, it should be lanced. This is very important, as necrleet may end in erysipelas. After the Wedding. CRUMPLED ROSE LEAVES. The rose had been duly planted and admired by crowds of sincere wellwishers, and by those others whose wishes are of the world, wordy, and not meant to be more weighty than the breath that utters them. The assemblage had gone now, melted like the morning mist; there was a feeling of exhaustion in the air, and the rose waited for what should come next.

What ought to have come cannot be told, what did come was a shower

of' raindrops,' light as down at first, but thickening gradually till the rose was almost bowed by their weight. Is it posible that Kitty thought life would be all sunshine—that never a cloud would flit over that expanse of purest blue beneath which she had been dwelling for the past six months? Did she think that the rose would never shed even a stray petal? Well for you, Kitty, if it is only a leaf now and again that falls, and that you do not live to see them all scattered, and nothing left of its former beauty but a dusty calyx. We can all (so we say) rise to great occasions, we are rarely found wanting when a sacrifice that eats into our hearts is demanded of us; but the little opportunities which ask for selfrepression and the exercise of patience and long-suffering towards our dearest are allowed to pass by on the other side unrecognised by our blinded eyes.

Kitty had asked Tom to match some silk for her, and Tom had ‘.‘clean forgotten it.” She had anticipated a morning at. her embroidery—work, too, with which she wanted to embellish the home next; and now here she was with spare time on her hands, and absolutely helpless for want of that skein. And Tom didn’t seem to think it mattered a bit-

Sorry, of course; he would be sure and bring it to-night. And, after all, Aunt Jane would never see anything wrong. For his part he didn’t think it worth worrying over! “The very first thing I asked him to do,” sobs Kitty—“the very, very first; and he—he forgot it!” Decidedly, Tom is not perfect. If he loved her as he says, he would surely have remembered. Had she ever failed to do anything he asked her? And Kitty begins to feel a cold hand clutching her heart. Suppose—suppose she has made a mistake? Was it

for this she had left the sheltering home where she had been made so much of, her wants almost anticipated, and certainly gratified?

Ah, little skein of silk, see for what trouble you are responsible! Love may be “a thing apart” with your husband —in fact, it generally is; but it is there all the same. From the worries and troubles, the stress and strain, the wear and tear of breadwinning he will continually hark baek in thought to the little home and the little wife, and rejoice with a sober thankfulness that such a jewel haa been committed to his keeping. Storms will come, winds will blow, and waves will arise—so snowy -crested and. alas so angry-looking, that you vaguely wonder will you ever override them; but in the midst of the turmoil let out your anchor swiftly, and ere the cable has run far you will find a sure hold in Tom’s heart. It is full of love as ever, and more full of trust and confidence than at first, for the storms have tried you, and you have not been found wanting. JESSOP BUSTARD. 00000 Society W ddings. Having regard to the fact that in many cases several hundreds of pounds are spent on a society wedding, and that it may be witnessed by the highest in the land, it is not surprising, says a writer in “Cassell’s Saturday Journal,” in the course of a chat about “Rehearsing a Society Wedding,” that the bride’s mother, who is the stage manager of the ceremony, should in her anxiety be desirous of having now and again something m the nature of an undress rehearsal of the great affair and the smaller ceremonies and duties appertaining to it. Such rehearsals she obtains sometimes, and there are some interesting stories told of the way in

which they have been carried out. On several mornings previous to the event Lady So-and-so has attended the church with her daughter, and in the first place plied the vestry clerk with questions on all manner of subjects, even sometimes anxiously taking his opinion, and apparently attaching considerable weight to it. as to whether the weather is likely to be fine or not on the nuptial day. The good man is asked whether he thinks a certain thing ought to be done in this way, and whether the bride ought to stand like that. In the church an imitation deremony for the benefit of the bride has more than once been gone through, mamma for the time being acting the double role of clergyman and bridegroom. She shows the bride how to stand and walk where to put her feet and hands, and generally gives her full instructions as to wedding ceremony deportment. It is a not infrequent thing for the bridegroom himself to be a little anxious on such points, and to go to the church on his own account for a little enlightenment ; and »he story goes that just before a wedding not long ago the bridegroom one morning suddenly appeared through the vestry door in company with his best man and the clerk, the idea being to get a few “tips,” and there discovered at the chancel steps his blushing brideeleet and her maternal relative carefully going through a course of education in marriage and giving in marriage!