Ralph Jackson remarked to Aunt Sarah: "I never imagined there were so many interesting, natural features right here in Bucks County."

"Oh, yes," exclaimed the impressible Fritz Schmidt, "we have a few things besides pigs and potatoes."

"Yes, Ralph," said the Professor, "there are still several places of interest you will like to see. 'Stony Garden' is another very interesting freak of nature. It is about two and a half miles from the small town of 'Snitzbachsville,' as Fritz calls the hamlet, and 'tis a wild spot. About an acre is covered with trap rock. The stones are of odd shapes and sizes and appear as if thrown into the forest in the wildest confusion. No earth or vegetation is found about them. 'Tis said the rocks are similar to those found at Fingal's Cave, Ireland, and also at the Palisades on the Hudson, and are not found anywhere else in this section of the country."

"And Ralph," said Fritz, "I want to show you 'Big Rock,' at Avondale, where a party of us boys camped one summer for two weeks. Oh! but I remember the good pies given us by a farmer's wife who sold us milk and eggs, and who lived just across the fields from our camp."

"I think," said John Landis, "it is time we began hitching up our horses and starting for home. We have a long drive before us, and, therefore, must make an early start. Sarah, get the rest of the party together and pack up your traps."

At that moment the Professor came in sight with an armful of ferns, the rich loam adhering to their roots, and said: "I'm sure these will grow." Later he planted them on a shady side of the old farm house at "Five Oaks," where they are growing today. Professor Schmidt, after a diligent search, had found clinging to a rock a fine specimen of "Seedum Rhodiola," which he explained had never been found growing in any locality in the United States except Maine. Little Pauline, with a handful of flowers and weeds, came trotting after Mary, who carried an armful of creeping evergreen called partridge berry, which bears numerous small, bright, scarlet berries later in the season. Ralph walked by her side with a basket filled to overflowing with quantities of small ferns and rock moss, with which to border the edge of the waiter on which Mary intended planting ferns; tree moss or lichens, hepaticas, wild violets, pipsissewa or false wintergreen, with dark green, waxy leaves veined with a lighter shade of green; and wild pink geraniums, the foliage of which is prettier than the pink blossoms seen later, and they grow readily when transplanted.

Aunt Sarah had taught Mary how to make a beautiful little home-made fernery. By planting these all on a large waiter, banking moss around the edges to keep them moist and by planting them early, they would be growing finely when taken by her to the city in the fall of the year—a pleasant reminder of her trip to the "Narrows" of the Delaware River. Frau Schmidt brought up the rear, carrying huge bunches of mint, pennyroyal and the useful herb called "Quaker Bonnet."



Driving home at the close of the day, the twinkling lights in farm house windows they swiftly passed, were hailed with delight by the tired but happy party, knowing that each one brought them nearer home than the one before. To enliven the drowsy members of the party, Fritz Schmidt sang the following to the tune of "My Old Kentucky Home," improvising as he sang:

The moon shines bright on our "old Bucks County home," The meadows with daisies are gay, The song of the whipporwill is borne on the breeze, With the scent of the new mown hay. Oh! the Narrows are great with their high granite peaks, And Ringing Rocks for ages the same; But when daylight fades and we're tired and cold, There's no place like "hame, clear alt hame."

The last lingering rays of the sun idealized the surrounding fields and woods with that wonderful afterglow seen only at the close of day. The saffron moon appeared to rise slowly from behind the distant tree-tops, and rolled on parallel with them, and then ahead, as if to guide them on their way, and the stars twinkled one by one from out the mantle of darkness which slowly enveloped the earth. The trees they swiftly passed, when the moonbeams touched them, assumed gigantic, grotesque shapes in the darkness. Mary quoted from a favorite poem, "The Huskers," by Whittier:

'Till broad and red as when he rose, the sun Sank down at last, And, like a merry guest's farewell, the day In brightness passed.

And lo! as through the western pines, On meadow, stream and pond, Flamed the red radiance of a sky, Set all afire beyond.

Slowly o'er the eastern sea bluffs, A milder glory shone, And the sunset and the moon-rise Were mingled into one!

As thus into the quiet night, The twilight lapsed away, And deeper in the brightening moon The tranquil shadows lay.

From many a brown, old farm house And hamlet without name, Their milking and their home tasks done, The merry huskers came.

"You mean 'The Merry Picknickers Came,'" said Fritz Schmidt, as Mary finished, "and here we are at home. Good night, all."



CHAPTER XIX.

MARY IS TAUGHT TO MAKE PASTRY, PATTIES AND "ROSEN KUCHEN."

Mary's Aunt taught her to make light, flaky pastry and pies of every description. In this part of Bucks County a young girl's education was considered incomplete without a knowledge of pie-making. Some of the commonest varieties of pies made at the farm were "Rivel Kuchen," a pie crust covered with a mixture of sugar, butter and flour crumbled together; "Snitz Pie," composed of either stewed dried apples or peaches, finely mashed through a colander, sweetened, spread over a crust and this covered with a lattice-work of narrow strips of pastry laid diamond-wise over the top of the pie; "Crumb" pies, very popular when served for breakfast, made with the addition of molasses or without it; Cheese pies, made of "Smier Kase;" Egg Custard, Pumpkin and Molasses pie.

Pies were made of all the different fruits and berries which grew on the farm. When fresh fruits were not obtainable, dried fruits and berries were used. Pie made from dried, sour cherries was an especial favorite of Farmer Landis, and raisin or "Rosina" pie, as it was usually called at the farm, also known as "Funeral" pie, was a standby at all seasons of the year, as it was invariably served at funerals, where, in old times, sumptuous feasts were provided for relatives and friends, a regular custom for years among the "Pennsylvania Germans," and I have heard Aunt Sarah say, "In old times, the wives of the grave-diggers were always expected to assist with the extra baking at the house where a funeral was to be held."

It would seem as if Bucks County German housewives did not like a dessert without a crust surrounding it.

The Pennsylvania German farmers' wives, with few exceptions, serve the greatest variety of pies at a meal of any class of people I know; not alone as a dessert at twelve o'clock dinner, but frequently serve several different varieties of pie at breakfast and at each meal during the day. No ill effects following the frequent eating of pie I attribute to their active life, the greater part of which, during the day, was usually spent in the open air, and some credit may he due the housewife for having acquired the knack of making good pie crust, which was neither very rich nor indigestible, if such a thing be possible.

The combination of fruit and pastry called pie is thought to be of American invention. Material for pies at a trifling cost were furnished the early settlers in Bucks County by the large supply of fruit and vegetables which their fertile farms produced, and these were utilized by the thrifty German housewives, noted for their wise management and economy.

The Professor's wife taught Mary to make superior pastry, so flaky and tender as to fairly melt in one's mouth; but Mary never could learn from her the knack of making a dainty, crimped edge to her pies with thumb and forefinger, although it looked so very simple when she watched "Frau Schmidt" deftly roll over a tiny edge as a finish to the pie.

Mary laughingly told the Professor's wife (when speaking of pies) of the brilliant remark she made about lard, on first coming to the farm. Her Aunt Sarah, when baking pies one day, said to her, "Look, Mary, see this can of snowy lard, rendered from pork, obtained from our fat pigs last winter!"

"Why, Aunt Sarah!" exclaimed Mary, "is lard made from pork fat? I always thought lard was made from milk and butter was made from cream."

The Professor's wife possessed, besides a liking for pies, the German's fondness for anything pertaining to fritters. She used a set of "wafer and cup irons" for making "Rosen Kuchen," as she called the flat, saucer-like wafer; and the cup used for serving creamed vegetables, salads, etc., was similar to pattie cases.

"The 'Wafer and Cup Irons,'" said Frau Schmidt, "were invented by a friend of mine, also a teacher and an excellent cook, besides; she gave me several of her original recipes, all to be served on wafers or in patties. You shall have a set of the irons when you start housekeeping. Mary. You will be surprised at the many uses you will find for them. They are somewhat similar to Rosette Irons, but I think them an improvement. They are pieces of fluted steel fastened to a long handle and one is cup-shaped. This latter is particularly fine for making patties. Then the cup may be filled and served on saucer-like wafers, which I call 'Rosen Kuchen,' or the 'Rosen Kuchen' may be simply dusted with a mixture consisting of one cup of sugar, one teaspoonful of cinnamon and a quarter teaspoonful of powdered cardamon seed, and served on a plate, as dainty cakes or wafers."

Aunt Sarah, when cooking fritters, always used two-thirds lard and one-third suet for deep frying, but "Frau Schmidt" taught Mary to use a good brand of oil for this purpose, as she thought food fried in oil more digestible and wholesome than when fried in lard. The patties or wafers were easily made. "Frau Schmidt" placed the long-handled iron in hot fat, the right temperature for frying fritters. When the iron was heated she quickly and carefully wiped off any surplus fat, then at once dipped the hot wafer iron into a bowl containing the batter she had prepared (the recipe for which she gave Mary), then dipped the iron into the hot fat; when the batter had lightly browned she gently dropped it from the iron onto brown paper, to absorb any fat which might remain. These are quickly and easily prepared and, after a few trials, one acquires proficiency. Pattie cases or cup-shapes are made in a similar manner. They are not expensive and may be kept several weeks in a cool, dry place. When wanted for table use, place in a hot oven a few minutes to reheat. They make a dainty addition to a luncheon by simply dusting the "Rosen Kuchen" with pulverised sugar. Creamed vegetables of any variety may be served on them by placing a spoon of cream dressing on top of each, over which grate yolk of hard boiled egg; or use as a foundation on which to serve salads; or serve fruit on them with whipped cream. The patties or cups may be used to serve creamed chicken, oysters, or sweetbreads if no sugar be used in the batter. These pattie cases are exactly like those sold at delicatessen counters, in city stores, and are considered quite an addition to a dainty luncheon. They are rather expensive to buy, and we country housewives cannot always procure them when wanted, and they may be made at home with a small amount of labor and less expense.

"The Germans make fritters of almost everything imaginable," continued the Professor's wife. "One day in early Spring I saw a German neighbor gathering elderberry blossoms, of which she said she intended making fritters. I asked her how they were made, being curious, I will confess. She sent me a plate of the fritters and they were delicious. I will give you her recipe should you care for it. Mary, have you ever eaten a small, sweet wafer called 'Zimmet Waffle?' My mother made them at Christmas time, in Germany. Should I be able to procure a small 'waffle,' or I should call it wafer, iron, in the city, I will teach you how they are made. I think them excellent. My mother made a cake dough similar to that of pound cake. To one portion she added cinnamon, to the other chocolate, and the last portion was flavored with vanilla. A piece of dough the size of a small marble was placed in the wafer iron, which was then pressed together and held over the fire in the range, by a long handle, until the wafer was crisp and brown. They are delicious and will keep indefinitely."

The Professor's wife finished speaking to Mary, and turned to her daughter Elizabeth, saying, "It is time I mix the dough if we are to have 'Boova Shenkel' for dinner today. I see the potatoes have steamed tender."

"Oh, goody!" said Pauline, "I just love 'Boova Shenkel!'"

"Then," said her Mother, "run down into the cellar and get me three eggs for them, and Mary, I'll write off the recipe for you, if you wish it, as I feel sure you'll like them as well as Pauline. And Elizabeth, dust powdered sugar over this plate of 'Rosen Kuchen,' and you, Mary and Pauline, leave this hot kitchen and have lunch out in the 'Espalier,' as your Father calls it."

"I think," said Mary to Elizabeth, after they were seated in the shade, prepared to enjoy the "Rosen Kuchen," "this little, natural, home-grown summer-house is the oddest and prettiest little place I've ever seen."

"Yes," assented Elizabeth, "Father said he made it as nearly like as possible to a large one at Weisbaden, no great distance from his old home in Germany. He says the 'Frauer Esche,' meaning Weeping Ash, at Weisbaden, had tables and benches placed beneath spreading branches of the tree, and picnics were frequently held there. This one was made by the larger branches of the Weeping Ash, turning downward, fastened by pieces of leather to a framework nailed to the top of posts in the ground, about two yards apart, surrounding the tree. The posts, you notice, are just a little higher than an ordinary man, and when the leaves thickly cover the tops and sides, protecting one from the sun's rays, it is an ideal Summer-house. We frequently sit here evenings and afternoons; Mother brings her sewing and Pauline her doll family, which, you know, is quite numerous."

"I never saw a Summer-house at all like it," said Mary.

The Professor's wife not only taught Mary the making of superior pastry and the cooking of German dishes, but what was of still greater importance, taught her the value of different foods; that cereals of every description, flour and potatoes, are starchy foods; that cream, butter, oil, etc., are fat foods; that all fruits and vegetables contain mineral matter; and that lean meat, eggs, beans, peas and milk are muscle-forming foods. These are things every young housekeeper should have a knowledge of to be able to plan nourishing, wholesome, well-balanced meals for her family. And not to serve at one time a dish of rice, cheese and macaroni, baked beans and potatoes. Serve instead with one of these dishes fruit, a vegetable or salad. She said, "beans have a large percentage of nutriment and should be more commonly used." She also said graham and corn bread are much more nutritious than bread made from fine white flour, which lacks the nutritious elements. Indian corn is said to contain the largest amount of fat of any cereal. It is one of our most important cereal foods and should be more commonly used by housewives; especially should it be used by working men whose occupation requires a great amount of physical exercise. Particularly in cold weather should it be frequently served, being both cheap and wholesome.

The Professor's wife laughingly remarked to Mary, "When I fry fritters or 'Fast Nacht' cakes, Fritz and Pauline usually assist such a large number of them in disappearing before I have finished baking, I am reminded of 'Doughnutting Time,' by J.W. Foley. Have you never read the poem? I sometimes feel that it must have been written by me."

[A]"DOUGHNUTTING TIME."

Wunst w'en our girl wuz makin' pies an' doughnuts—'ist a Lot— We stood around with great, big eyes, 'cuz we boys like 'em hot; And w'en she dropped 'em in the lard, they sizzled 'ist like fun, And w'en she takes 'em out, it's hard to keep from takin' one.

And 'en she says: "You boys'll get all spattered up with grease." And by-um-by she says she'll let us have 'ist one apiece; So I took one for me, and one for little James McBride, The widow's only orfunt son, 'ats waitin' there outside.

An' Henry, he took one 'ist for himself an' Nellie Flynn, 'At's waitin' at the kitchen door and dassent to come in, Becuz her Mother told her not; and Johnny, he took two, 'Cus Amey Brennan likes 'em hot, 'ist like we chinnern do.

'En Henry happened 'ist to think he didn't get a one For little Ebenezer Brink, the carpet beater's son, Who never gets 'em home, becuz he says, he ain't quite sure, But thinks perhaps the reason wuz, his folkeses are too poor.

An 'en I give my own away to little Willie Biggs 'At fell down his stairs one day, an' give him crooked legs, 'Cuz Willie always seems to know w'en our girl's goin' to bake. He wouldn't ast for none. Oh, no! But, my! he's fond of cake.

So I went back an' 'en I got another one for me, Right out the kittle smokin' hot, an' brown as it could be; An' John he got one, too, becuz he give his own to Clare, An' w'en our girl she looked, there wuz 'ist two small doughnuts there.

My! she wuz angry w'en she looked an' saw 'ist them two there, An' says she knew 'at she had cooked a crock full an' to spare; She says it's awful 'scouragin' to bake and fret an' fuss, An' w'en she thinks she's got 'em in the crock, they're all in us.

[Footnote A: The poem "Doughnutting Time," from "Boys and Girls," published by E.P. Dutton, by permission of the author, James W. Foley.]

* * * * * * *

The Professor's wife gave Mary what she called her most useful recipe. She said, "Mary, this recipe was almost invaluable to me when I was a young housekeeper and the strictest economy was necessary. Sift into a bowl, one cup of flour, one even teaspoonful of baking powder (I use other baking powders occasionally, but prefer 'Royal'), then cut through the flour either one tablespoonful of butter or lard, add a pinch of salt, and mix into a soft dough with about one-half cup of sweet milk. Mix dough quickly and lightly, handling as little as possible. Drop large spoonfuls of the batter in muffin pans and bake in a quick oven for tea biscuits; or, sift flour thickly over the bread board, turn out the dough, roll several times in the flour, give one quick turn with the rolling-pin to flatten out dough, and cut out with small cake cutter, (I prefer using a small, empty tin, 1/2 pound baking powder can, to cut out cakes.) Place close together in an agate pan and bake, or bake in one cake in a pie tin and for shortcake; or place spoonfuls of the dough over veal or beef stew and potatoes or stewed chicken, and cook, closely covered, about fifteen minutes. Of course, you will have sufficient water in the stew pan to prevent its boiling away before the pot-pie dumplings are cooked, and, of course, you know, Mary, the meat and potatoes must be almost ready to serve when this dough is added. Then I frequently add one teaspoonful of sugar to the batter and place spoonfuls over either freshly stewed or canned sour cherries, plums, rhubarb or apples. In fact, any tart fruit may be used, and steam, closely covered, or place large tablespoonful of any fruit, either canned or stewed, in small custard cups, place tablespoonfuls of batter on top and steam or bake, and serve with either some of the stewed fruit and fruit juice, sugar and cream, or any sauce preferred."

"The varieties of puddings which may be evolved from this one formula," continued the Professor's wife, "are endless, and, Mary, I should advise you to make a note of it. This quantity of flour will make enough to serve two at a meal, and the proportions may be easily doubled if you wish to serve a large family."

"Then, Mary, I have a recipe taken from the 'Farmers' Bulletin' for dumplings, which I think fine. You must try it some time. Your Aunt Sarah thinks them 'dreadfully extravagant.' They call for four teaspoonfuls of baking powder to two cups of flour, but they are perfect puff balls, and this is such a fast age, why not use more baking powder if an advantage? I am always ready to try anything new I hear about."

"Yes," replied Mary, "I just love to try new recipes, I will experiment with the dumplings one of these days. Aunt Sarah says I will never use half the recipes I have; but so many of them have been given me by excellent and reliable old Bucks County cooks, I intend to copy them all in a book, and keep for reference after I leave the farm."



CHAPTER XX.

OLD POTTERIES AND DECORATED DISHES.

One day, looking through the old corner cupboard, Mary exclaimed, "Aunt Sarah, you certainly possess the finest collection of quaint old china dishes I have ever seen. I just love those small saucers and cups without handles; yes, and you have plates to match decorated with pinkish, lavender peacock feathers, and those dear little cups and saucers, decorated inside with pink and outside with green flowers, are certainly odd; and this queerly-shaped cream jug, sugar bowl and teapot, with pale green figures, and those homely plates, with dabs of bright red and green, they surely must be very old!"



"Yes, dear, they all belonged to either John's mother or mine. All except this one large, blue plate, which is greatly valued by me, as it was given me many years ago by a dear old friend, Mary Butler, a descendant of one of the oldest families in Wyoming Valley, whose, forefathers date back to the time of the 'Wyoming Massacre,' about which so much has been written in song and story.

"The very oddest plates in your collection are those two large earthenware dishes, especially that large circular dish, with sloping sides and flat base, decorated with tulips."



"Yes, Mary, and it is the one I value most highly. It is called sgraffito ware. A tulip decoration surrounds a large red star in the centre of the plate. This belonged to my mother, who said it came from the Headman pottery at Rockhill Township, about the year 1808. I know of only two others in existence at the present time; one is in a museum in the city of Philadelphia and the other one is in the Bucks County Historical Society at Doylestown, Pa. The other earthenware plate you admire, containing marginal inscription in German which when translated is 'This plate is made of earth, when it breaks the potter laughs,' is the very oldest in my collection, the date on it, you see, is 1786. Those curved, shallow earthenware pie plates, or 'Poi Schissel,' as they are frequently called in this part of Bucks County, I value, even if they are quite plain and without decoration, as they were always used by my mother when baking pies, and I never thought pies baked in any other shaped dish tasted equally as good as hers. These pie plates were manufactured at one of the old potteries near her home. All the old potters have passed away, and the buildings have crumbled to the ground. Years ago, your mother and I, when visiting the old farm where the earlier years of our childhood were passed, stopped with one of our old-time friends, who lived directly opposite the old Herstine pottery, which was then in a very dilapidated condition; it had formerly been operated by Cornelius Herstine (we always called him 'Neal' Herstine)."



"Together we crossed the road, forced our way through tangled vines and underbrush, and, peering through windows guiltless of glass, we saw partly-finished work of the old potters crumbling on the ground. The sight was a sad one. We realized the hand of time had crumbled to dust both the potter and his clay. Still nearer my old home was the McEntee pottery. From earliest childhood our families were friends. We all attended the 'Crossroads' School, where years later a more modern brick structure was built, under the hill; not far distant from 'The Narrows' and the 'Ringing Rocks.' Yes, Mary, my memory goes back to the time when the McEntee pottery was a flourishing industry, operated by three brothers, John, Patrick and Michael. When last I visited them but few landmarks remained."

"Was there a pottery on your father's farm, Aunt Sarah?" inquired Mary.

"No. The nearest one was the McEntee pottery, but the grandson of the old man who purchased our old farm at my father's death had a limekiln for the purpose of burning lime, and several miles distant, at the home of my uncle, was found clay suitable for the manufacture of bricks. Only a few years ago this plant was still in operation. My father's farm was situated in the upper part of Bucks County, in what was then known as the Nockamixon Swamp, and at one time there were in that neighborhood no less than seven potteries within two miles of each other."

"Why," exclaimed Mary, "were there so many potteries in that locality?"

"'Twas due, no doubt, to the large deposits of clay found there, well suited to the manufacture of earthenware. The soil is a clayey loam, underlaid with potter's clay. The old German potters, on coming to this country, settled mostly in Eastern Pennsylvania, in the counties of Bucks and Montgomery. The numerous small potteries erected by the early settlers were for the manufacture of earthenware dishes, also pots of graded sizes. These were called nests, and were used principally on the farm for holding milk, cream and apple-butter. Jugs and pie plates were also manufactured. The plates were visually quite plain, but they produced occasionally plates decorated with conventionalized tulips, and some, more elaborate, contained besides figures of animals, birds and flowers. Marginal inscriptions in English and German decorate many of the old plates, from which may be learned many interesting facts concerning the life and habits of the early settlers. I think, judging from the inscriptions I have seen on some old plates, it must have taxed the ingenuity of the old German potters to think up odd, original inscriptions for their plates."

"Aunt Sarah, how was sgraffito ware made? Is it the same as slip-decorated pottery?"

"No, my dear, the two are quite different. The large plate you so greatly admired is called sgraffito or scratched work, sometimes called slip engraving. It usually consists of dark designs on a cream-colored ground. After the plates had been shaped over the mold by the potter, the upper surface was covered by a coating of white slip, and designs were cut through this slip to show the earthenware underneath. This decoration was more commonly used by the old potters than slip decorating, which consisted in mixing white clay and water until the consistency of cream. The liquid clay was then allowed to run slowly through a quill attached to a small cup, over the earthenware (before burning it in a kiln) to produce different designs. The process is similar to that used when icing a cake, when you allow the icing to run slowly from a pastry tube to form fanciful designs. I have watched the old potters at their work many a time when a child. The process employed in the manufacture of earthenware is almost the same today as it was a century ago, but the appliances of the present day workmen are not so primitive as were those of the old German potters. Mary, a new pottery works has been started quite lately in the exact locality where, over one hundred years ago, were situated the Dichl and Headman potteries, where my highly-prized, old sgraffito plate was manufactured. I hear the new pottery has improved machinery for the manufacture of vases, flower pots, tiles, etc. They intend manufacturing principally 'Spanish tiles' from the many acres of fine clay found at that place. The clay, it is said, burns a beautiful dark, creamy red. As you are so much interested in this subject, Mary, we shall visit this new pottery some day in the near future, in company with your Uncle John. It is no great distance from the farm. Quite an interesting story I have heard in connection with a pottery owned by a very worthy Quaker in a near-by town may interest you, as your father was a Philadelphia Quaker and Ralph's parents were Quakers also."



"Yes, indeed, Aunt Sarah! I'd love to hear the story."

"This Quaker sympathized with the colored race, or negroes, in the South. This was, of course, before slavery was abolished. You don't remember that time, Mary, You are too young. It is only history to you, but I lived it, and when the slaves ran away from their owners and came North to Philadelphia they were sent from there, by sympathizers, to this Quaker, who kept an underground station. The slaves were then placed, under his direction, in a high 'pot wagon,' covered with layers or nests of earthenware pots of graduated sizes. I heard the driver of one of these pot wagons remark one time that when going down a steep hill, he put on the brake and always held his breath until the bottom of the hill was reached, fearing the pots might all be broken. The wagon-load containing earthenware and slaves was driven to Stroudsburg, where the pots were delivered to a wholesale customer. Here the runaways were released from their cramped quarters and turned over to sympathizing friends, who assisted them in reaching Canada and safety. I have frequently met the fine-looking, courtly old gentleman who owned the pottery, and old Zacariah Mast, the skilled German potter whom he employed. They were for many years familiar figures in the little Quaker town, not many miles distant. Both passed away many years ago."

Mary, who still continued her explorations of the corner cupboard, exclaimed: "Oh! Aunt Sarah! Here is another odd, old plate, way back on the lop shelf, out of sight."

"Yes, dear, that belonged to your Uncle John's mother. It has never been used and was manufactured over one hundred years ago at an old pottery in Bedminister Township, Bucks County. Some of those other quaint, old-fashioned plates also belonged to John's mother. Your Uncle loves old dishes and especially old furniture; he was so anxious to possess his grandfather's old 'Solliday' clock. In the centre of the face of the clock a hand indicated the day of the month and pictures of two large, round moons on the upper part of the clock's face (resembling nothing so much as large, ripe peaches) represented the different phases of the moon. If new moon, or the first or last quarter, it appeared, then disappeared from sight. It was valued highly, being the last clock made by the old clockmaker; but John never came into possession of it, as it was claimed by an elder sister. I value the old clock which stands in the parlor because 'twas my mother's, although it is very plain. This old cherry, corner cupboard was made for my grandmother by her father, a cabinetmaker, as a wedding gift, and was given me by my mother. Did you notice the strong, substantial manner in which it is made? It resembles mission furniture."

"Do tell me, Aunt, what this small iron boat, on the top shelf, was ever used for? It must be of value, else 'twould not occupy a place in the cupboard with all your pretty dishes."

"Yes, dearie, 'twas my grandmother's lamp, called in old times a 'Schmutz Amschel' which, translated, means a grease robin, or bird. I have two of them. I remember seeing my grandmother many a time, when the 'Amschel' was partly filled with melted lard or liquid fat, light a piece of lamp wick hanging over the little pointed end or snout of the lamp. The lamp was usually suspended from a chain fastened to either side. A spike on the chain was stuck into the wall, which was composed of logs. This light, by the way, was not particularly brilliant, even when one sat close beside it, and could not be compared with the gas and electric lights of our present day and generation. That was a very primitive manner of illumination used by our forefathers.

"Mary, did you notice the gayly-decorated, old-fashioned coffee pot and tea caddy in the corner cupboard? They belonged to my grandmother; also that old-fashioned fluid lamp, used before coal-oil or kerosene came into use; and that old, perforated tin lantern also is very ancient.

"Mary, have you ever read the poem, The Potter and the Clay?' No? Then read it to me, dear, I like it well; 'tis a particular favorite of mine, I do not remember by whom it was written."

THE POTTER AND THE CLAY.

(Jeremiah xviii 2-6.)

The potter wrought a work in clay, upon his wheel; He moulded it and fashioned it, and made it feel, In every part, his forming hand, his magic skill, Until it grew in beauty fair beneath his will.

When lo! through some defect, 'twas marred and broken lay, Its fair proportions spoiled, and it but crumbling clay; Oh, wondrous patience, care and love, what did he do? He stooped and gathered up the parts and formed anew.

He might have chosen then a lump of other clay On which to show his skill and care another day, But no; he formed it o'er again, as seemed him good; And who has yet his purpose scanned, his will withstood?

Learn thou from this a parable of God's great grace Toward the house of Israel, His chosen race; He formed them for His praise; they fell and grieved Him sore, But He will yet restore and bless them evermore.

And what He'll do for Israel, He'll do for thee; Oh soul, so marred and spoiled by sin, thou yet shall see That He has power to restore, He will receive, And thou shall know His saving grace, only believe.

Despair not, He will form anew thy scattered life, And gather up the broken parts, make peace from strife; Only submit thou to His will of perfect love, And thou shall see His fair design in Heaven above.



CHAPTER XXI.

THE VALUE OF WHOLESOME, NUTRITIOUS FOOD.

"Yes, my dear," said Frau Schmidt (continuing a conversation which had occurred several days previously between herself and Mary), "we will have more healthful living when the young housewife of the present day possesses a knowledge of different food values (those food products from which a well-balanced meal may be prepared) for the different members of her household. She should endeavor to buy foods which are most nourishing and wholesome; these need not necessarily consist of the more expensive food products. Cheaper food, if properly cooked, may have as fine a flavor and be equally as nutritious as that of higher price.

"And, Mary, when you marry and have a house to manage, if possible, do your own marketing, and do not make the mistake common to so many young, inexperienced housewives, of buying more expensive food than, your income will allow. Some think economy in purchasing food detrimental to their dignity and to the well-being of their families; often the ones most extravagant in this respect are those least able to afford it. Frequently the cause of this is a lack of knowledge of the value of different foods. The housewife with a large family and limited means should purchase cheaper cuts of meat, which become tender and palatable by long simmering. Combine them with different vegetables, cooked in the broth, and serve as the principal dish at a meal, or occasionally serve dumplings composed of a mixture of flour and milk, cooked in the broth, to extend the meat flavor. Frequently serve a dish of rice, hominy, cornmeal and oatmeal, dried beans and peas. These are all nutritious, nourishing foods when properly cooked and attractively served. And remember, Mary, to always serve food well seasoned. Many a well-cooked meal owes its failure to please to a lack of proper seasoning. This is a lesson a young cook must learn. Neither go to the other extreme and salt food too liberally. Speaking of salt, my dear, have you read the poem, 'The King's Daughters,' by Margaret Vandegrift? If not, read it, and then copy it in your book of recipes."

"THE KING'S DAUGHTERS."

The King's three little daughters, 'neath the palace window straying, Had fallen into earnest talk that put an end to playing; And the weary King smiled once again to hear what they were saying; "It is I who love our father best," the eldest daughter said; "I am the oldest princess," and her pretty face grew red; "What is there none can do without? I love him more than bread." Then said the second princess, with her bright blue eyes aflame; "Than bread, a common thing like bread! Thou hast not any shame! Glad am I, it is I, not thou, called by our mother's name; I love him with a better love than one so tame as thine, More than—Oh! what then shall I say that is both bright and fine? And is not common? Yes, I know. I love him more than wine." Then the little youngest daughter, whose speech would sometimes halt, For her dreamy way of thinking, said, "Nay, you are both in fault. 'Tis I who love our father best, I love him more than salt." Shrill little shrieks of laughter greeted her latest word, As the two joined hands exclaiming. "But this is most absurd!" And the King, no longer smiling, was grieved that he had heard, For the little youngest daughter, with her eyes of steadfast grey, Could always move his tenderness, and charm his care away; "She grows more like her mother dead," he whispered day by day, "But she is very little and I will find no fault, That while her sisters strive to see who most shall me exalt, She holds me nothing dearer than a common thing like salt."

The portly cook was standing in the courtyard by the spring, He winked and nodded to himself, "That little quiet thing Knows more than both the others, as I will show the King." That afternoon, at dinner, there was nothing fit to eat. The King turned angrily away from soup and fish and meat, And he found a cloying sweetness in the dishes that were sweet; "And yet," he muttered, musing, "I cannot find the fault; Not a thing has tasted like itself but this honest cup of malt." Said the youngest princess, shyly: "Dear father, they want salt."

A sudden look of tenderness shone on the King's dark face, As he sat his little daughter in the dead queen's vacant place, And he thought: "She has her mother's heart; Ay, and her mother's grace; Great love through channels will find its surest way. It waits not state occasions, which may not come or may; It comforts and it blesses, hour by hour, and day by day."



CHAPTER XXII.

A VARIETY OF CAKES EVOLVED FROM ONE

"Aunt Sarah," questioned Mary one day, "will you tell me how it is possible to evolve a number of cakes from one recipe?"

"Certainly I will, my dear," said her Aunt. "For instance, take the simple recipe from which I have for years baked layer cake. You may have other recipes given you, equally as good, but I feel positive none better. The cake made from this recipe is not rich enough to be unwholesome, but a good, reliable, inexpensive, easily-made cake, with which I have never had a failure.

"The recipe, as you know, consists of 1-1/4 cups of granulated sugar, 1/2 cup of a mixture of butter and sweet lard (or use all butter), 1/2 cup sweet milk, 2 cups flour and 2 teaspoonfuls baking powder. 3 eggs.

"The simplest manner of baking this cake is in two square cake pans. When baked, take from pans and ice each cake with a boiled chocolate icing and put together as a layer cake, or ice each cake with a plain, boiled white icing and, when this is cold, you may spread over top of each cake unsweetened chocolate, which has been melted over steam after being grated. When cake is to be served, cut in diamonds or squares. Or add to the batter 1 cup of chopped hickory nut meats, bake in 2 layers and cut in squares.

"For a chocolate loaf cake, add two generous tablespoonfuls of unsweetened melted chocolate to the batter just before baking. If you wish a chocolate layer cake, use the same batter as for the chocolate loaf cake, bake in two layer pans and put together with white boiled icing.

"Or, add to this same batter one scant teaspoonful of cinnamon, ginger, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg and cloves, a cup of raisins or dried currants, and you have a small fruit cake.

"Or, add a small quantity of thinly-shaved citron to the original recipe, flavor with lemon, bake in a loaf and spread a white icing flavored with lemon extract over top of cake, and you have a lemon cake.

"Or, add chocolate and spices to one-half the batter (about one-half as much chocolate and spices as were used in batter for fruit cake) and place spoonfuls of the light and dark batter alternately in a cake pan, until all batter has been used, and you will have a cheap, old-fashioned Marble cake.

"Or, bake cake over original recipe, in two-layer pans, placing between layers either tart jelly, a creamy cornstarch filling, grated cocoanut, apple cream filling, or you might even use half the recipe given for the delicious icing or filling for Lady Baltimore cake.

"Lastly, bake small cakes from this same recipe. Mary, you should have small pans for baking these delicious little cakes, similar to those I possess, which I ordered made at the tinsmith's. I took for a pattern one Frau Schmidt loaned me. They are the exact size of one-quarter pound boxes of Royal baking powder. Cut the box in three pieces of equal height, and your cakes will be equally as large in diameter as the baking powder box, but only one-third as high. I think I improved on Frau Schmidt's cake tins, as hers were all separate, I ordered twelve tins, similar to hers, to be fastened to a piece of sheet iron. I had two of these iron sheets made, containing twenty-four little pans. I place a generous tablespoonful of the batter in each of the twenty-four small pans, and cakes rise to the top of pans. Usually I have batter remaining after these are filled. Ice all the cake except the top with a white boiled icing or chocolate icing. These small cakes keep exceedingly well, and are always liked by young folks and are particularly nice for children's parties".

"Speaking of cakes, Aunt Sarah," said Mary, "have you ever used Swansdown cake flour? I have a friend in the city who uses it for making the most delicious Angel cake, and she gave me a piece of Gold cake made over a recipe in 'Cake Secrets,' which comes with the flour, and it was fine. I'll get a package of the flour for you the first time I go to the city. The flour resembles a mixture of ordinary flour and cornstarch. It is not a prepared flour, to be used without baking powder, and you use it principally for baking cakes. I have the recipe for both the Gold and Angel cakes, with the instructions for baking same. They are as follows:"

ANGEL CAKE.

"For the Angel cake, use one even cupful of the whites of egg (whites of either eight large or nine small eggs); a pinch of salt, if added when beating eggs, hastens the work. One and one-quarter cups granulated sugar, 1 cup of Iglehart's Swansdown cake flour. Sift flour once, then measure and sift three times. Beat whites of eggs about half, add 1/2 teaspoonful of cream of tartar then beat whites of eggs until they will stand of their own weight. Add sugar, then flour, not by stirring, but by folding over and over, until thoroughly mixed. Flavor with 1/2 teaspoonful of vanilla or a few drops of almond extract. As much care should be taken in baking an Angel Food cake as in mixing. Bake in an ungreased patent pan. Place the cake in an oven that is just warm enough to know there is a fire inside the range. Let the oven stay just warm through until the batter has raised to the top of the cake pan, then increase the heat gradually until the cake is well browned over. If by pressing the top of the cake with the finger it will spring back without leaving the impression of the finger, the cake is done through. Great care should be taken that the oven is not too hot to begin with, as the cake will rise too fast and settle or fall in the baking. It should bake in from 35 to 40 minutes' time. When done, invert the pan and let stand until cold before removing it. Should you see cake browning before it rises to top of pan, throw your oven door open and let cold air rush in and cool your oven instantly. Be not afraid. The cold air will not hurt the cake. Two minutes will cool any oven. Watch cake closely. Don't be afraid to open oven door every three or four minutes. This is the only way to properly bake this cake. When cake has raised above top of pan, increase your heat and finish baking rapidly. Baking too long dries out the moisture, makes it tough and dry. When cake is done it begins to shrink. Let it shrink back to level of pan. Watch carefully at this stage and take out of oven and invert immediately. Rest on centre tube of pan. Let hang until perfectly cold, then take cake carefully from pan. When baking Angel cake always be sure the oven bakes good brown under bottom of cake. If cake does not crust under bottom it will fall out when inverted and shrink in the fall."

"I never invert my pans of Angel cake on taking them from oven," said Mary's Aunt, "as the cakes are liable to fall out even if the pan is not greased. I think it safer to allow the pans containing the cakes to stand on a rack and cool without inverting the pan.

"Suppose, Mary, we bake a Gold cake over the recipe from 'Cake Secrets,' as eggs are plentiful; but we haven't any Swansdown flour. I think we will wait until we get it from the city."

GOLD CAKE.

Yolks of 8 eggs; 1-1/4 cups granulated sugar, 3/4 cup of butter, 3/4 cup water, 2-1/2 cups of Swansdown cake flour, 2 heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder, 1/2 teaspoonful lemon extract. Sift flour once, then measure. Add baking powder and sift three times. Cream butter and sugar thoroughly; beat yolks to a stiff froth; add this to creamed butter and sugar, and stir thoroughly through. Add flavor, add water, then flour. Stir very hard. Place in a slow oven at once. Will bake in from 30 to 40 minutes. Invert pan immediately it is taken from oven.

Mary, this batter may also be baked in layers with any kind of filling desired. The Angel cake receipt is very similar to an original recipe Frau Schmidt gave me; she uses cornstarch instead of Swansdown flour and she measures the eggs in a cup instead of taking a certain number; she thinks it more exact.

"Aunt Sarah, did you know Frau Schmidt, instead of using flour alone when baking cakes, frequently uses a mixture of flour and cornstarch? She sifts together, several times, six cups of flour and one cup of cornstarch, and uses this instead of using flour alone.

"I dearly love the Professor's wife—she's been so very good to me," exclaimed Mary.

"Yes," replied her Aunt, "she has very many lovable qualities."

Mary's liking for bright, energetic Frau Schmidt was not greater than the affection bestowed on Mary by the Professor's wife, who frequently entertained Mary with tales of her life when a girl in Germany, to all of which Mary never tired listening. One Aunt, a most estimable woman, held the position of valued and respected housekeeper and cook for the Lord Mayor of the city wherein she resided. Another relative, known as "Schone Anna," for many years kept an inn named "The Four Seasons," noted for the excellent fare served by the fair chatelaine to her patrons. The inn was made famous by members of the King's household stopping there while in the town during the Summer months, which was certainly a compliment to her good cooking. One of the things in which she particularly excelled was potato cakes raised with yeast. Frau Schmidt had been given a number of these valuable recipes by her mother, all of which she offered to Mary. One recipe she particularly liked was "Fast Nacht Cakes," which the Professor's wife baked always without fail on Shrove Tuesday (or "Fast Nacht" day), the day before the beginning of Lent. This rule was as "unchangeable as the law of Medes and Persians," and it would have been a very important event, indeed, which would have prevented the baking of these toothsome delicacies on that day.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE OLD "TAUFSCHIEN."



Aunt Sarah had long promised to show Mary her Grandmother's "Taufschien," and she reverently handled the large old family Bible, which contained between its sacred pages the yellowed paper, being the birth and christening certificate of her grandmother, whom we read was born in 1785, in Nockamixon Township, was confirmed in 1802, and was married in 1805 to the man who was later Aunt Sarah's grandfather. The old certificate was signed by a German Reformed minister named Wack, who history tells us was the first young man of that denomination to be ordained to the ministry in America. Folded with this "Taufschien" is another which has never been filled out. This is printed in German. Pictures of women, perhaps they are intended to represent angels, with golden wings, clothed in loose-flowing crimson drapery and holding harps in their hands; birds with gayly-colored plumage of bluish green, crimson and yellow, perched on branches of what presumably represent cherry trees, also decorate the page. Religious hymns printed on the "Taufschiens," encircled with gay stripes of light blue and yellow, dotted with green, further embellish them. On one we read:

"Infinite joy or endless woe, Attend on every breath; And yet, how unconcerned we go Upon the brink of death."

"Mary, this old 'Taufschien' of my grandmother's is one of my most cherished possessions. Would you like to see your Uncle's old deed, which he came into possession of when he inherited the farm from his father?"

Carefully unfolding the stiff old parchment or pigskin deed, yellowed and brown spotted with age, Mary could faintly decipher the writing wherein, beautifully written, old-fashioned penmanship of two hundred years ago stated that a certain piece of land in Bucks County, Beginning at a Chestnut Oak, North to a post; then East to a large rock, and on the South unsettled land, which in later years was conveyed to John Landis.

"This deed," said Mary's Aunt, "was given in 1738, nearly two hundred years ago, by John, Thomas and Richard Penn, sons of William Penn by his second marriage, which occurred in America. His eldest son, John Penn, you have no doubt heard, was called 'The American,' he having been born in this country before William Penn's return to Europe, where he remained fifteen years, as you've no doubt heard."

At the bottom of the deed a blue ribbon has been slipped through cuts in the parchment, forming a diamond which incloses what is supposed to be the signature of Thomas Penn.

"Aunt Sarah, I am not surprised that you value this old deed of the farm and these 'Taufschiens' of your grandmother I should frame them, so they may be preserved by future generations."



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE OLD STORE ON THE RIDGE ROAD.

Aunt Sarah found in Mary a willing listener when talking of the time in years past when her grandfather kept a small "Country Store" on the Ridge Road in Bucks County. She also remembered, when a child of ten, accompanying her grandfather on one of his trips when he drove to Philadelphia to purchase goods for his store.

"They had no trolley cars in those days?" asked Mary.

"No, my dear, neither did they have steam cars between the different towns and cities as we have now."

"At grandfather's store could be bought both groceries and dry goods. The surrounding farmers' wives brought to the store weekly fresh print butter, eggs, pot cheese and hand-case, crocks of apple-butter, dried sweet corn, beans, cherries, peach and apple 'Snitz,' taking in exchange sugar, starch, coffee, molasses, etc. My father tapped his sugar maples and mother cooked down the syrup until thick, and we used that in place of molasses. They also took in exchange shaker flannel, nankeen, indigo blue and 'Simpson' gray calico, which mother considered superior to any other, both for its washing and wearing qualities. The farmers who came occasionally to the store to shop for different members of the family frequently bought whole pieces of calico of one pattern, and," affirmed Aunt Sarah, "I knew of one farmer who bought several whole pieces of one pattern with rather large figures on a dark wine ground, resembling somewhat the gay figures on an old paisley shawl. He said 'twas a good, serviceable color, and more economical to buy it all alike, and remarked: 'What's the difference, anyway? Calico is calico.' From the same piece of calico his wife made dresses, aprons and sunbonnets for herself and daughters, shirts for the farmer and his sons (the boys were young, fortunately), and patchwork quilts and comfortables from the remainder."

"Rather monotonous, I should think," said Mary. "I am surprised his wife did not make him wear coat and trousers made from the same piece of calico."



"The dry goods," continued Aunt Sarah, "retained the scent of coffee, cheese and dried fruits some time after being purchased but no one minded that in those days. I still remember how perfectly wonderful to me when a child appeared the large, wide-mouthed glass jars containing candy. There were red and white striped mint sticks, striped yellow and white lemon sticks and hoarhound and clear, wine-colored sticks striped with lines of white, flavored with anise-seed. One jar contained clear lemon-colored 'Sour Balls,' preferred by us children on account of their lasting qualities, as also were the jujubees, which resembled nothing so much as gutta percha, and possessed equally as fine flavor; also pink and yellow sugar-frosted gumdrops. In a case at one end of the counter were squares of thick white paper covered with rows of small pink, also white, 'peppermint buttons,' small sticks, two inches in length, of chewing gum in waxed paper, a white, tasteless, crystalline substance resembling paraffine. What longing eyes I frequently cast at the small scalloped cakes of maple sugar, prohibitive as regards cost. They sold for a nickel, am I was always inordinately fond of maple sugar, but the price was prohibitive. I seldom possessed more than a penny to spend in those days, and not always that. Father raised a large family, money was never plentiful, and we relished the plain, cheap candies usually sold in those days more than many children of the present day do the finest and most expensive cream chocolates, to many of whom in this extravagant age a dollar is not valued more highly than was a penny by us in years gone by. And 'Candy Secrets!' I don't believe you know what they are like. I've not seen any for years. They were small, square pieces of taffy-like candy, wrapped in squares of gilt or silver paper, inclosing a small strip of paper containing a couple of sentimental lines or jingle. Later came 'French Secrets.' They consisted of a small oblong piece of candy about an inch in length, wrapped in tissue paper of different colors, having fringed ends, twisted together at either end. These also inclosed a tiny strip of paper containing a line or two. Small, white candy hearts contained the words in pink letters, 'Little Sweetheart,' 'I Love You,' 'Name the Day,' etc. These were invariably distributed among the young folks at small parties and created no end of merriment."

"Mary, old as I am, I still remember the delight I experienced when a little, rosy-cheeked urchin surreptitiously passed me around the corner of my desk at the old 'Cross Roads School' a 'Secret,' with the words, 'Do you love me?' My grandmother always kept a supply of hoarhound and peppermint lozenges in her knitting basket to give us children should we complain of hoarseness. My, but 'twas astonishing to hear us all cough until grandmother's supply of mints was exhausted. I think. Mary, I must have had a 'sweet tooth' when a child, as my recollections seem to be principally about the candy kept in my grandfather's store. I suppose in those early days of my childhood candy appealed to me more than anything else, as never having had a surfeit of sweets, candy to me was a rare treat. I remember, Mary, when a little child, my thrifty mother, wishing to encourage me to learn to knit my own stockings, she, when winding the skein of German yarn into a ball, occasionally wound a penny in with the yarn. I was allowed to spend the penny only after I had knitted the yarn and the penny had fallen from the ball. What untold wealth that penny represented! And planning how to spend it was greater pleasure still. Many a pair of long old-fashioned, dark blue and red-striped stockings, were finished more quickly than otherwise would have been done without the promised reward. I became proficient in knitting at an early age," continued Aunt Sarah; "a truly feminine occupation, and as I one time heard a wise old physician remark, 'Soothing to the nerves,' which I know to be true, having knitted many a worry into the heel of a sock. I learned at an early age the value of money, and once having acquired the saving habit, it is not possible to be wasteful in later life."



CHAPTER XXV.

AN ELBADRITCHEL HUNT.

Fritz Schmidt, like many another Bucks County boy, had frequently heard the rural tale of a mythical bird called the "Elbadritchel," supposed to be abroad, particularly on cold, dark, stormy nights, when the wind whistled and blew perfect gales around exposed corners of houses and barns. 'Twas a common saying among "Pennsylvania Germans," at such times, "'Tis a fine night to catch 'Elbadritchels.'"



For the information of those who may not even have heard of this remarkable creature, it is described as being a cross between a swallow, a goose and a lyre bird. Have you ever seen an "Elbadritchel?" No one has to my certain knowledge, so I cannot vouch for the truth of this description of it.

Fritz Schmidt had never taught to question the truth of the tale. So, when one cold, stormy night several boys from neighboring farms drove up to the Schmidt homestead and asked Fritz to join them in a hunt for "Elbadritchels," he unhesitatingly agreed to make one of the number, unaware that he had been selected as the victim of a practical joke, and, as usual, was one of the jolliest of the crowd. They drove through a blinding downpour of rain and dismounted on reaching a lonely hill about three miles distant. They gave Fritz a bag to hold. It was fashioned of burlap and barrel hoops, inside of which they placed a lighted candle, and Fritz was instructed how to hold it in order to attract the "Elbadritchel." They also gave him a club with which to strike the bird when it should appear.

The boys scampered off in different directions, ostensibly to chase up the birds, but in reality they clambered into the waiting wagon and were rapidly driven home, leaving Fritz alone awaiting the coming of the "Elbadritchel." When Fritz realized the trick played on him, his feelings may be better imagined than described. He trudged home, cold and tired, vowing vengeance on the boys, fully resolved to get even with them.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE OLD SHANGHAI ROOSTER.

Much of Aunt Sarah's spare time was devoted to her chickens, which fully repaid her for the care given them. She was not particular about fancy stock, but had quite a variety—White Leghorns, Brown Leghorns, big, fat, motherly old Brahma hens that had raised a brood of as many as thirty-five little chicks at one time, a few snow-white, large Plymouth Rocks and some gray Barred one. The latter she liked particularly because she said they were much, more talkative than any of the others; they certainly did appear to chatter to her when she fed them. She gave them clean, comfortable quarters, warm bran mash on cold winter mornings, alternating with cracked corn and "scratch feed" composed of a mixture of cracked corn, wheat and buckwheat, scattered over a litter of dried leaves on the floor of the chicken house, so they were obliged to work hard for their food.



A plentiful supply of fresh water was always at hand, as well as cracked oyster shell. She also fed the chickens all scraps from the table, cutting all meat scraps fine with an old pair of scissors hung conveniently in the kitchen.

She was very successful with the little chicks hatched out when she "set" a hen and the yield of eggs from her hens was usually greater and the eggs larger in size than those of any of her neighbors. This I attribute to her excellent care of them, generous diet, but principally to the fact of the elimination of all the roosters among the flock during the season between the "first of May and December first," with one exception. "Brigham," an immensely large, old, red Shanghai rooster, a most pompous and dignified old chap. A special pet of Aunt Sarah's, she having raised him from a valuable "setting" of eggs given her, and as the egg from which "Brigham," as he was called, emerged, was the only one of the lot which proved fertile, he was valued accordingly and given a longer lease of life than the other roosters, and was usually either confined or allowed to roam outside the chicken yard during the summer months; in the winter, being a swift runner, he usually gobbled up two shares of food before the hens arrived. That accounted for his great size. The old rooster was also noted for his loud crowing.

One day in early Spring, John Landis came into the house hurriedly, saying, "Sarah, your old Shanghai rooster is sick."

"Yes," answered his wife, "I missed hearing him crow this morning; he is usually as regular as an alarm clock."

She hurried to the barnyard, picked up poor Brigham, wrapped him carefully in a piece of blanket and laid him in a small shed. The next morning she was awakened by the lusty crowing of Brigham, who was apparently as well as ever. The next day the same thing happened. Aunt Sarah found him, as she supposed, in a dying condition, and the following morning he was fully recovered. It was quite puzzling until one day John Landis came into the kitchen laughing heartily and said, "Sarah, I am sorry to inform you of the intemperate habits of your pet, Brigham. He is a most disreputable old fellow, and has a liking for liquor. He has been eating some of the brandied cherries which were thrown into the barnyard when the jug containing them was accidentally broken at house cleaning time.

"Well, Sarah, old Brigham was not sick at all—only 'ingloriously' drunk." In the fall of the same year Aunt Sarah spied Brigham one day on top of one of the cider barrels in the shed busily engaged eating the pummace which issued from the bung-hole of the barrel. John Landis, on hearing of Brigham's last escapade, decided, as the rooster was large as an ordinary-turkey, to serve him roasted at Mary's wedding.

Fritz Schmidt remarked one day in the presence of Sibylla: "Chickens must possess some little intelligence; they know enough to go to bed early. Yes, and without an 'alarm clock,' too, Sibylla, eh?"

She walked away without a word to Fritz. The alarm clock was a sore subject with her, and one about which she had nothing to say. Sibylla had never quite forgiven Fritz for the prank played on her. He, happening to hear John Landis tell Sibylla a certain hour he thought a proper time for Jake Crouthamel to take his departure Sunday evenings, Fritz conceived the brilliant (?) idea of setting the alarm clock to "go off" quite early in the evening. He placed the clock at the head of the stairs, and in the midst of an interesting conversation between the lovers the alarm sounded with a loud, whizzing noise, which naturally made quick-tempered Sibylla very angry. She said on seeing Fritz the next morning: "It was not necessary to set the 'waker' to go off, as I know enough to send 'Chake' home when it's time."

Fritz, happening to tell the story to the editor of a small German Mennonite paper, edited in a near-by town, it was printed in that paper in German, which caused Sibylla, on hearing it, to be still more angry at the Professor's son.



CHAPTER XXVII.

"A POTATO PRETZEL."

In the early part of September Mary's Aunt suggested she try to win the prize offered at the Farmers' Picnic in a near-by town for the best "Raised Potato Cake." Aunt Sarah's rye bread invariably captured first prize, and she proposed sending both bread and cake with Sibylla and Jake, who never missed picnic or fair within a radius of one hundred miles.



Mary set a sponge the evening of the day preceding that of the picnic, using recipe for "Perfection Potato Cake," which Aunt Sarah considered her best recipe for raised cakes, as 'twas one used by her mother for many years.

On the day of the picnic, Mary arose at five o'clock, and while her Aunt was busily engaged setting sponge for her loaf of rye bread, Mary kneaded down the "potato cake" sponge, set to rise the previous evening, now rounded over top of bowl and light as a feather.

She filled a couple of pans with buns, molded from the dough, and set them to rise. She then, under her Aunt's direction, fashioned the "Pretzel" as follows: She placed a piece of the raised dough on a large, well-floured bake board, rolled it over and over with both hands until a long, narrow roll or strip was formed about the width of two fingers in thickness and placed this strip carefully on the baking sheet, which was similar to the one on which Aunt Sarah baked rye bread; shaped the dough to form a figure eight (8) or pretzel, allowing about two inches of space on either side of baking sheet to allow for raising. She then cut a piece of dough into three portions, rolled each as thick as a finger, braided or plaited the three strips together and placed carefully on top of the figure eight, or pretzel, not meeting by a space of about two inches. This braided piece on the top should not be quite as thick as bottom or first piece of the pretzel. She then rolled three small pieces of dough into tiny strips or rolls the size of small lead pencils, wound them round and round and round into small scrolls, moistened the lower side with water to cause them to adhere, and placed them on the dividing line between the two halves of the figure eight. She placed an old china coffee cup without a handle, buttered on outside, in centre of each half of the figure eight, which kept the pretzel from spreading over the pan. With a small, new paint brush she brushed over the top of Pretzel and Buns, a mixture, consisting of one yolk of egg, an equal quantity of cream or milk (which should be lukewarm so as not to chill the raised dough) and one tablespoon of sugar. This causes the cakes, etc., to be a rich brown when baked, a result to be obtained in no other manner.

When the pretzel was raised and had doubled in size 'twas baked in a moderately hot oven.

Mary's surprise and delight may easily be imagined when Sibylla, on her return from the picnic, handed her the prize she had won, a two-pound box of chocolates, remarking, "Mary, you and Aunt Sarah both got a prize—her's is in the box what Jake's got."

The box on being opened by Aunt Sarah contained a very pretty, silver-plated soup ladle, the prize offered for the best loaf of rye bread.

"Aunt Sarah," inquired Mary one day, "do you think it pays a housekeeper to bake her own bread?"



"Certainly, it pays, my dear. From a barrel of flour may be baked three hundred or more one-pound loaves of bread; should you pay five cents a loaf, the bread which may be made from one barrel of flour if bought from a bake shop would cost you fifteen dollars. Now, you add to the cost of a barrel of flour a couple of dollars for yeast, salt, etc., which altogether would not possibly be more than ten dollars, and you see the housewife has saved five dollars. It is true it is extra work for the housewife, but good, wholesome bread is such an important item, especially in a large family, I should advise the thrifty housekeeper to bake her own bread and bake less pie and cake, or eliminate less important duties, to be able to find time to bake bread. From the bread sponge may be made such a number of good, plain cakes by the addition of currants or raisins, which are more wholesome and cheaper than richer cakes."

"I think what you say is true, Aunt Sarah," said Mary.

"Frau Schmidt always bakes her own bread, and she tells me she sets a sponge or batter for white bread, and by the addition of Graham flour, cornmeal or oatmeal, always has a variety on her table with a small expenditure of time and money."



CHAPTER XXVIII.

FAITHFUL SERVICE.

The home-making instinct was so strongly developed in Mary that her share in the labor of cooking and baking became a pleasure. Occasionally she had failures—what inexperienced cook has not?—yet they served only to spur her on to fresh efforts. She had several small scars on her wrist caused by her arm coming in contact with the hot oven when baking. She laughingly explained: "One bar on my arm represents that delicious 'Brod Torte' which Frau Schmidt taught me to bake; the other one I acquired when removing the sponge cake from the oven which Uncle John said 'equaled Aunt Sarah's' (which I consider highest praise), and the third bar I received when taking from the oven the 'Lemon Meringue,' Ralph's favorite pie, which he pronounced 'fine, almost too good to eat.'" Mary was as proud of her scars as a young, non-commissioned officer of the chevron on his sleeve, won by deeds of valor.

The lessons Mary learned that summer on the farm while filling her hope chest and preparing her mind for wifehood were of inestimable value to her in later years. She learned not only to bake, brew and keep house, but from constant association with her Aunt she acquired a self-poise, a calm, serene manner, the value of which is beyond price in this swift, restless age.

One day, while having a little heart-to-heart talk with Mary, her Aunt said: "My dear, never allow an opportunity to pass for doing a kind act. If ever so small, it may cheer some sad, lonely heart. Don't wait to do big things. The time may never come. If only a kind word, speak it at once. Kind words cost so little, and we should all be more prodigal with them; and to a tired, sad, discouraged soul, a kind word or act means so very much; and who is there that has not at some time in life known sorrow and felt the need of sympathy? Were our lives all sunshine we could not feel in touch with sorrowing friends. How natural it is for our hearts to go out in sympathy to the one who says 'I have suffered.' Give to your friend the warm hand-clasp and cheery greeting' which cost us nothing in the giving. 'Tis the little lifts which help us over stones in our pathway through life. We think our cross the heaviest when, did we but know the weight of others, we'd not willingly exchange; and remember Mary, 'there are no crown-bearers in Heaven that were not cross-bearers below.' Have you ever read the poem, 'The Changed Cross?' No? Well, I will give it to you to copy in your book of recipes. Should you ever, in future years, feel your cross too heavy to bear, read the poem. How many brave, cheery little women greet us with a smile as they pass. But little do we or any one realize that instead of a song in their hearts the smiles on their lips conceal troubles the world does not suspect, seeking to forget their own sorrows while doing kindly acts for others. They are the real heroes whom the world does not reward with medals for bravery, 'To stand with a smile upon your face against a stake from which you cannot get away, that, no doubt, is heroic; but the true glory is not resignation to the inevitable. To stand unchained, with perfect liberty to go away, held only by the higher claims of duty, and let the fire creep up to the heart, that is heroism.' Ah! how many good women have lived faithful to duty when 'twould have been far easier to have died!"

"FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS."

Matt. xxv: 23.

It may seem to you but a trifle, which you have been called to do; Just some humble household labor, away from the public view, But the question is, are you faithful, and striving to do your best, As in sight of the Blessed Master, while leaving to Him the rest?

It may be but a little corner, which you have been asked to fill; What matters it, if you are in it, doing the Master's will? Doing it well and faithfully, and doing it with your might; Not for the praise it may bring you, but because the thing is right.

In the sight of man you may never win anything like success; And the laurel crown of the victor may never your temples press; If only you have God's approval, 'twill not matter what else you miss, His blessing is Heaven beginning, His reward will be perfect bliss.

Be faithful in every service, obedient to every call; Ever ready to do His bidding, whether in great things or small; You may seem to accomplish little, you may win the praise of none; But be sure you will win His favor, and the Master's great "Well Done."

And when at His blessed coming, you stand at His judgment seat; He'll remember your faithful service and His smile will be Oh! so sweet! He will bid you a loving welcome, He'll make you to reign for aye, Over great things and o'er many, with Him, through eternal day.

"THE CHANGED CROSS."

It was a time of sadness, and my heart, Although it knew and loved the better part, Felt wearied with the conflict and the strife, And all the needful discipline of life.

And while I thought on these as given to me, My trial tests of faith and love to be, It seemed as if I never could be sure That faithful to the end I should endure.

And thus, no longer trusting to His might, Who says, "We walk by faith and not by sight"; Doubting and almost yielding to despair, The thought arose—My cross I cannot bear.

Far heavier its weight must surely be Than those of others which I daily see; Oh! if I might another burden choose, Methinks I should not fear my crown to lose.

A solemn silence reigned on all around, E'en nature's voices uttered not a sound; The evening shadows seemed of peace to tell, And sleep upon my weary spirit fell.

A moment's pause and then a heavenly light Beamed full upon my wondering, raptured sight; Angels on silvery wings seemed everywhere, And angels' music filled the balmy air.

Then One more fair than all the rest to see— One to whom all the others bowed the knee— Came gently to me as I trembling lay, And, "Follow Me!" He said, "I am the Way."

Then speaking thus, He led me far above, And there, beneath a canopy of love, Crosses of divers shapes and sizes were seen, Larger and smaller than my own had been.

And one there was, most beauteous to behold, A little one, with jewels set in gold; Ah! this methought, I can with comfort wear, For it will be an easy one to bear.

And so, the little cross I quickly took, But all at once, my frame beneath it shook; The sparkling jewels fair were they to see, But far too heavy was their weight for me.

"This may not be," I cried, and looked again To see if there was any here could ease my pain; But one by one I passed them slowly by, Till on a lovely one I cast my eye.

Fair flowers around its sculptured form entwined, And grace and beauty seemed in it combined; Wondering, I gazed and still I wondered more, To think so many should have passed it o'er.

But Oh! that form so beautiful to see, Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me; Thorns lay beneath those flowers and colors fair; Sorrowing, I said. "This cross I may not bear."

And so it was with each and all around, Not one to suit my need could there be found; Weeping, I laid each heavy burden down, As my guide gently said: "No cross, no crown."

At length to him I raised my saddened heart, He knew its sorrows, bid its doubts depart; "Be not afraid," He said, "but trust in Me, My perfect love shall now be shown to thee."

And then with lightened eyes and willing feet, Again I turned my earthly cross to meet; With forward footsteps, turning not aside For fear some hidden evil might betide.

And there, in the prepared, appointed way, Listening to hear, and ready to obey, A cross I quickly found of plainest form, With only words of love inscribed thereon.

With thankfulness, I raised it from the rest, And joyfully acknowledged it the best; The only one of all the many there That I could feel was good for me to bear.

And while I thus my chosen one confessed, I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest; And as I bent my burden to sustain, I recognized my own old cross again.

But, oh! how different did it seem to be! Now I had learned its preciousness to see; No longer could I unbelievingly say: "Perhaps another is a better way."

Oh, no! henceforth my own desire shall be That He who knows me best should choose for me, And so whate'er His love sees good to send, I'll trust its best, because He knows the end.

And when that happy time shall come Of endless peace and rest, We shall look back upon our path And say: "It was the best."



CHAPTER XXIX.

MARY, RALPH, JAKE AND SIBYLLA VISIT THE ALLENTOWN FAIR.

Late in September Jake and Sibylla drove to the Allentown Fair. It was "Big Thursday" of Fair week. They started quite early, long before Ralph Jackson, who had come from the city the day previous, to take Mary to the Fair, had arisen.



Mary, while appreciating Sibylla's good qualities, never failed to be amused at her broad "Pennsylvania German" dialect.

The morning of the "Fair," Mary arose earlier than usual to allow Sibylla and Jake to get an early start, as it was quite a distance from the farm to the Fair grounds. As they were about to drive away, Sibylla, alighting from the carriage, said, "I forgot my 'Schnupftuch.'" Returning with it in her hand, she called, as she climbed into Jake's buggy, "Gut-by, Mary, it looks fer rain."

"Yes" said Jake, "I think it gives rain before we get back yet. The cornfodder in the barn this morning was damp like it had water on it."

And said Mary, "The fragrance of the flowers was particularly noticeable early this morning." Jake, as it happened, was no false prophet. It did rain before evening.

Later in the day, Mary and Ralph drove to a near-by town, leaving horse and carriage at the hotel until their return in the evening, and boarded a train for Allentown. On arriving there, they decided to walk up Hamilton Street, and later take a car out to the Fair grounds. As they sauntered slowly up the main street, Mary noticed a small church built between two large department stores and stopped to read a tablet on the church, which informed the passerby that "this is to commemorate the concealment of the Liberty Bell during the Revolutionary War. This tablet was erected by the Liberty Bell Chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution."

The First Zion's Reformed Church was founded in 1762. In front of the Church a rough block of granite, erected to the memory of John Jacob Mickley, contained the following inscription: "In commemoration of the saving of the Liberty Bell from the British in 1777. Under cover of darkness and with his farm team, he, John Mickley, hauled the Liberty Bell from Independence Hall, Philadelphia, through the British lines, to Bethlehem, where the wagon broke down. The Bell was transferred to another wagon, brought to Allentown, placed beneath the floor of the Second Church building of Zion's Reformed Church, where it remained secreted nearly a year. This tablet was placed by the order of the Assembly of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, June 2nd, 1907, under the auspices of the Pennsylvania Daughters of the Revolution."

This was all very interesting to a girl who had been born and reared in Philadelphia; one who in earliest childhood had been taught to love and venerate the "old Bell."

Ralph was quite as interested in reading about the old Bell as was Mary, and said; "Did you know that the City of Philadelphia purchased the State House property, which included the Bell, in 1818, in consideration of the sum of seventy thousand dollars? No building is ever to be erected on the ground inside the wall on the south side of the State House, but it is to remain a public green and walk forever?"



"No," replied Mary, "I did not know that. I don't think we will see anything of greater interest than this at the Fair."

"I understand," said Ralph, "this is the third church building built on this site, where the original church stood in which the Bell was secreted."

Mary, possessing a fair share of the curiosity usually attributed to the "female of the species," on noticing the church door standing ajar, asked Ralph to step inside with her, thinking to find the caretaker within; but no one was visible. A deep silence reigned in the cool, dim interior of the House of God.

One could almost feel the silence, 'twas so impressive. Slowly they walked up the wide church aisle and stood before the quaint baptismal font. A stray sunbeam glancing through one of the beautiful, variously-colored memorial windows, lighted up the pictured saint-like faces over the chancel, making them appear as if imbued with life. Mary softly whispered to Ralph, as if loath to profane the sacredness of the place by loud talking, "I seem to hear a voice saying, 'The Lord is in His holy temple.'" Quietly retracing their steps, they, without meeting any one, emerged into the bright sunlight and were soon in the midst of the turmoil and traffic incident to the principal business street of a city.

The young folks boarded a trolley and in a short time reached the Fair grounds, which offered many attractions to Ralph as well as Mary. The latter was interested in the fine display of needlework, fruits, flowers and vegetables of unusual size. Aunt Sarah's bread won a prize. A blue ribbon attached to Frau Schmidt's highly-prized, old-fashioned, patchwork quilt, showed it to be a winner. Ralph, being interested in the pens of fancy chickens, prize cattle, etc., Mary reluctantly left the woman's department of fancy work, and other interesting things, and accompanied him. On their way to the outlying cattle sheds they noticed two lovers sitting on a bench. Upon a second glance they were convinced that it was Jake and Sibylla. Jake, beaming with happiness, said, "Sibylla vos side by me yet?" They were busily engaged eating a lunch consisting of rolls with hot "weiners" between the two halves, or, as Jake called them, "Doggies," munching pretzels and peanuts between sips of strong coffee, both supremely happy. A yearly visit to the Allentown Fair on "Big Thursday," was the event in their dull, prosaic lives.