The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1900-11-26
THE TIN CAN ERA.
Kate Masterson Comments on Flats
and the Decline of Preserving.


Kate Masterson Comments on Flats
and the Decline of Preserving.
With November, the five-o'clock-tea
season and the football season set in
simultaneously. The Introduction of
that popular American institution, the
high ball, at the afternoon tea promises
to make it more popular with men
than it has been. 1t always seems
somewhat uncanny to me to sit down
two hours before dinner and consume
hot tea and brown bread sandwiches
and the sweet little cakes that go with
the meal that is more popular in Eng
land than dinner. And yet there is no
denying that the afternoon tea table
is one of the most artistic accompani-
ments for call. The steam of the
samovar seems to add warmth to the
atmosphere, and where the tea kettle
bubbles over the alcohol lamp there is
also good fellowship and a pleasant
''homy'' air.
Georgia Cayvan always served excel
lent tea afternoons at her delightful
home far up in Harlem, and Lulu Glas-
err, who has moved into town and be-
come a fatter, is also addicted to the
beverage. She is making fad of
housekeeping now, along with opera,
rare prints and book plates, and I dis
covered her the other day seriously
overseeing the putting up of ounce
preserves. Girls may make a bluff at
housekeeping, but when they get to the
preserving stage it is the real thing. L
suppose I will be laughed at If I say
that I regard the preserving kettle as
the last link in the chain that once
bound women to the angels, but L mean
it.
I read the other day that Bishop Pot
ter went to a luncheon where every
thing had come in cans in jars-even
the brown bread. He spoke mournfully
of the decline of the household arts, and
it Is a fact that we live in what might
be described as the tin-can era. ] am
always glad to discover a student in
domestic science among the girls of the
stage. And there are ever so many of
them, bless their hearts. They come in
from the road and begin to juggle with
the gas range, and enjoy the dishes
they concoct far more than the gilt
edged porcetain-lined meals that are to
be obtained at the big hotels along the
route.
l wish Bishop Potter would take the
tin-can era as text for one of his dis
courses. The decline of the old-fash
toned domestic arts has more to do
with the wrecks of homes and wrecks
of banks and the shoals of divorces that
1T seems to have at first view. But the
further away we get from the old fash
ions the more we build up the false,
artificial apartment-hotel life where
extravaganza display is the one thing
aimed at / believe Mrs. Phoebe Hirst
is building a college somewhere in the
west, which is to have a department of
the 'lost arts Here all sorts of learn
ed professors and teachers will incul-
cate the household sciences, that of late
years have been relegated to the kitch- |
en-.
When we women higher-educate our |
selves to a point where we disdain a |
knowledge of these things and serve |
the bishops who come to luncheon with |
us with timed bread, why, we are turn
ing the intricate scheme of the universe
upside down, and something comes
back and hits us a sharp shock That
is the servant girl question. And the
only way in which it will be solved is
when we have learned the answer to
the riddle by actual knowledge of the
subject. Therefore, when I accidentally
stumble on a girl who is putting up
preserves in this year of our Lord
1900. I shake hands with her and say,
you're on the right track, old girl
Keep it up Let those who will be clev-
er. You keep on allowing a pound of
sugar to a pound of fruit. 1t may seem
like a meek inglorious task to the girl
who prides herself on being able to
drive a four in hand or play Q smash
ing game of golf, but it's movement
toward the adjustment of the badly
dsordered social scheme"
Preserving time used to be a verita-
Bile occasion in the old-fashioned home.
But in these days real homes are as
rare as antiques. We no longer observe
the canning season. The modern fiat,
one of the most immoral institutions
ever imported from France, has done
away with the home. 1t is an age of
imperialism, and the janitor is our
king. Sometimes in the windows of
tiny f1at-house kitchens, across fire es-
cape vistas, one gets glimpse of per
haps a half dozen poor little jars-a
sight pathetic enough to make the
theme for o Riley poem. Here is some