Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-07-26

10 r1pen Irult, ana don WASH the naVor OUT
with overwatering or coarse fertilizers. De-
cayed sods, leaves and grass with ground
bone dust make our berries. Notice the
substance and the weight No watery ber-
ries here. Ours will keep firm day longer
than most others in market"
1t was pretty to hear the girl Dragging
over her berries, and who had better
right? We went strolling down the orchard
to the beehives and the pigeon cote and
hennery, for the girls had picked a bushel
and a half of black raspberries in less than
two hours, which would be ST for the three
when sold, and they could afford to enter
tain visitors. While we watched the pig
cons wheel and firt on the grass-tame,
petted things-the supper bell rang and we
were carried off to home tea.
No Wonder Complexions Were Good.
There was bread and biscuit as you find
in the country once or twice in a life, butter
to match, saucers of berries half an hour
from the bush, relishes and such cake as one
gets hungry for. And strawberry short
cake, with those great Sharpless berries.
For your sakes 1 forbear further descrip-
tion. No wonder the girls had such nice
compilations and the older women looked so
different from the sallow, drawn faces one
sees in working women of the city. The
garden girls were so hungry they insisted
on plate of salad, which they owned was
only an improved version of the cold boiled
vegetables which farmers used to eat. With
watercress garnish and mayonnaise it looked
all that q salad ought. After supper the
fruit was to be sent to the depot and there
was brisk hour for the girls.
1t is pleasing to see women work who are
trained, and in the mind for 1.-THE clean
celerity of movement, the certainty, the abb
sorption, the exhilaration of work in the
open air put new face on the ancient curse.
The lounge in the starlight with dozen or
twenty women in breezy humor was pleas
ant, and as it was anticipated and arranged
I was very glad to stay the night. The
pretty guest chamber, the pride Of the
house, with its cool, pale blue and white,
its bed linen smelling of lavender and rose
leaves, its wax candles and bottles of rose
water on the toilet of marvellous embroider-
les, was enough to tempt sleep away, but
the cool freshness settled on my eyes and
the evening and the morning were the next
day.
The Story of the Home.
''Now tell me- said to my friend over
the toilet, "whence and why this place is?
1t is like nothing of our feverish modern
plans Am / awake or dreaming?,'
Then she told me the story of o woman,
gifted and fair beyond the measure even of
beautiful women, blameless and high
natured, whose was yet one of loss and grief,
too pitiful for telling there. She saw much
of the suffering of woman's lives, and in her
last years she willed all that was left of
handsome woman, whose aim should be to
give each one as much, not as little, as pos
sible, for her work. 1t was not for those
who seek support without effort, or by half
work, but for those who work at q disad-
vantage, or for scant, heartbreaking uncer-
tainty. 1t was beginning only, but the
aim was sweet, generous and just-one of
those seeds which have life in it. There
was enough at first to give home to few
select souls, women glad of sure place for
weary feet, and a welcome for worn hearts
which had no suspicion of charity about it.
1t was only proposed to give them what
they could earn, but in the shape Of the
comfort af living as well as bare existence.
There were plenty to detest living in
house of women, fortunately; they left
place for others who could live with their
own sex. 1t had no place for those who
slighted or despised work, or picked upon
their neighbors. Quiet, friendly hearted,
honest women found in it much that was
best in life. No woman's past was pried
into, her future only concerned those about
her.
The Reserve Of q Convent
All admitted were free to enter, free to
go, to receive friends as in their own home,
but inside those walls was the security, the
peace, the inviolable reserve Of the convent
without Its baroness and restrictions. Of
course not all could enter who desired, for
it was no stepping stone for adyenturesses.
Certain sincerities were Indispensable, but
those who entered, with few exceptions,
stayed because they found no place SO good,
SO safe, so pleasant.
There are women who realize that the
best and the whole of things are not for
every one, and are thankful to get q share
and to help others to theirs. For such the
house was opened. In the morning they
showed me the work done in the house as
well as in the garden
"Why you are doing the old French
work." cried my friend in rsptures over the
great piece of embroidery under skillful
fingers. II thought that was not known
.his side at all"
"The poor little French woman who came
here in such trouble last winter had learned
it at a convent, and when she grew better
taught two or three and we sent over for
patterns. Isn't it graceful-something be-
tween embroidery and lace. Everybody
brings us something fine. We are all useful,
not to say invaluable here" and there was
q ripple of soft laughter round the circle.
Treasures In Store for Winter.
'Even your woman who had never done |
en- ything menial in her life. She is treas
ure She has done our strawberries In q |
miraculous manner so that they have the |
flavor of berries and are not spoiled sugar.
I must show them to you
"'She wants to show off the storeroom,"
said my friend, mischievously, and We were
glad of 1t, Fancy a room IA feet square
lined to the ceiling with shelves and racks /
inside, with rows upon rows of fri: pre-
served and canned to perfection-such fruit,
such canning as you do not see sften outside
French provincial factories.
There was a coquetry ip tn way they
were put up-in clear glass, in crystal, In
fancy pottery, with fligree papers and
crochet covers. One side was room where
the canning was done, with white tables
piled with baskets of berries and fresh herbs,
and row of bright kerosene stoves looking
as if they were polished for show.
Alas that this Is vision as yet, save In
The purpose and bequest Of that sweet spirit
who left her all toward making it reality,
upon whose grave the roses have not yet
bfoomed. One of the silent singers, her
name may yet be sweet to women for the
kindness she planned for them. Its men,
tion brought radiant smile to lips unable
TO speak their gladness In it, and whether
these weak hands are able to carry it out or
not, the sacred picture will be dear to true
hearted women. SHIRLEY DARE