Perhaps someone who reads the title of this paper may be inclined to inquire, "Why do you write the baby, as if there were but one baby instead of millions in the world?"
Ah! Every mother knows why; and every loving-hearted young nurse knows why. "My baby," says the young mother, "is the baby of all the world." And "our baby" is the same to the members of the household, if they are of the right sort.
Knowing, as I do, how many mothers of all ages, as well as their daughters, come to the pages of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER, or apply to its editor, for information on all sorts of domestic subjects, I am most anxious to be of use both to them and their young folk. I feel especial sympathy for those who, until they became mothers, never had anything to do with the practical management of little children. Members of large families pick up their experience quite naturally amongst the little brothers and sisters, and the children of the elder ones furnish in turn a baby school for girl aunts. But where a girl is placed as I was (the latest-born and only survivor of a small family, whose only opportunity of nursing was with a borrowed baby, if there happened to be one in a neighbour's house) she is not likely to be very skilful in the management of a first arrival, at any rate, when she becomes a wife and mother.
Shall I ever forget my own awkwardness under such circumstances; my utter ignorance of the thousand little ways of making a baby comfortable; my yearning love towards the pink-faced girlie, and matronly pride in the possession of this living treasure, which an empire's wealth would not have sufficed to purchase?
Mingled with such thoughts was a lamentable sense of my own insufficiency and inability to discharge fitly the sacred trust which the possession of the helpless babe entailed upon me. And, as I lay in weakness, and saw skilful hands occupied about my little one and knew my deficiencies, even as regarded the care of its tender frame, other solemn thoughts crossed my mind about the living immortal soul of which that was the only covering.
"Lo! Children are an heritage of the Lord," says the inspired Psalmist, and this baby girl was, then, the first instalment which He had given to me. How comforting was the sweet thought that followed; "He who has bestowed will also teach me to treasure His gift and to nurse this child for Him!" I felt then, as I do still after many years, that if there is one human being who, more than another, needs to be instant in prayer, it is surely the mother to whom such a sacred charge is entrusted.
I smile sometimes when I look at the tall girls who call me mother, and who now, in the way of stature, look down on me, yet who run with willing feet in my service, and to save mine a needless step. I smile because I think of the time when I was their willing slave by night and by day, and far more frightened of the first, in her baby years, than all my children put together have ever been of me. But love is a good teacher – especially maternal love – and it is often said that babies bring that into the world with them, or they would never be cared for as they are.
I am not going to write directions suitable for the first few weeks of an infant's life. During that early period it is usually under the care of an experienced or professional nurse. Even in the poorest of homes, when the parents' means are so small the mother cannot afford to pay for the constant attendance of such a person, there is always some kindly neighbour who, without fee or reward, undertakes to wash and dress the baby.
My first advice shall be as to the preparation of the nurse for her work. Take to it in yourself a cleanly person and a good temper, which latter finds its outward reflection in a bright, cheerful countenance. Even the few weeks' old baby shows a marvellous susceptibility to externals, and it would be difficult to say how soon it begins to imitate, or to manifest pleasure at what it sees, if that be pleasant.
On the contrary, who has not noticed the shock which a baby receives from the sound of a harsh voice, or the sight of a sullen, angry face? I have seen a little creature gaze searchingly at its mother's countenance and, if there were no answering smile, the dear eyes have seemed to lose their dancing light, the sorrowful "pet lip," and perhaps a burst of crying has followed. The more intelligent the infant the more sensitive it is to what some would call trifles.
So, dear nurses, go to your care of the baby as to a real labour of love, and let the love shine in your faces, be heard in the ring of your voices, and be manifested by the absence of all impatience or hastiness of temper, even if you should have a very cross baby to deal with. Poor wee things! They cannot tell their troubles, and depend on it, if the baby is "fractious" it has some good reason for it, though you may not be able to find it out. So let your bright face, your endearing words, your cheery song, coax away the puckers from the face of your little charge if all these will do it. But in no case let its cross face be a reflection of your own.
Have nothing about you that can possibly hurt the little one. Rings, brooches, watch-chains, floating ribbons, and ornaments of all kinds are needless and out of place when you are busy with baby. Let your hair be smooth and tidy. Examine your dress to see that no stray pin has been stuck on the belt or waist, and that your sleeves are tucked up and fastened so that you neither get them wet nor have them loose and flapping about in baby's face.
Put on a wide flannel apron, of which every nurse should have two – "one to wash the other" – then you will always have a clean one for present use.
Be calm and patient about your work, neither hurrying nor occupying too much time over the washing and dressing business. Handle the little one very tenderly. Even if your work be one of necessity rather than of inclination, let the infant's helplessness pl with you; for member, a little impatience, a sudden jerk of those delicate limbs, might cause injury to your charge, and to yourself life-long repentance.
Inexperienced nurses are apt to become frightened and flurried if a baby cries, kicks, and screams. But, if the little one is in a passion, there is all the more need for the nurse to be calm, and to oppose patience and firmness to its struggle and clamour. Keep thoroughly master of yourself, dear young nurse, and you will manage baby all the more easily.
Have every requisite ready to your hands before you begin, and let each article of clothing be so placed as to come in its proper turn; so that there may be no rummaging amongst garments, or running about to seek something that ought to be close at your side when wanted. Such neglect tries baby's patience, exposes him to the risk of cold, and you to blame for your want of system and forethought.
Mind that baby, when undressed or in the bath, is not exposed to a draught of cold air. You may guard against this by extemporising a screen in the shape of a clothes'-horse with a sheet or quilt thrown over it.
Here I would say a few words about the clothing of infants. It, as well as the bedding, should combine lightness with warmth. It is of far more importance that it should be plentiful in quantity, and good in quality, so as to secure cleanliness by frequent changes and comfort in the use, than very elaborate in workmanship, or much ornamented.
If much trimming is used, by all means let it be in the shape of soft cambric frills or narrow torchon lace.
Muslin work – especially if a laundress is so ill-advised as to stiffen it in order to make it set well – is a great cause of irritation to an infant's tender neck and arms.
A good nurse will pass her finger round the bands and along the seams of all clothing that is likely to come in contact with the child's skin. If she finds any roughness or sharp points, she rubs them before putting on the garment.
This is not the place to enumerate the articles which compose an infant's wardrobe; but I should like to mention one. The little lawn or cambric shirts worn during the first few weeks are usually made open in the front, from top to bottom. I have always used and recommended a shirt made of one width of the linen, with a single seam at the side, but open on the shoulders, on each of which it fastens with a small linen button and loop. It is slipped over the head so easily; there is no twisting of arms to get them into sleeves; it is quickly fastened, and, when on, it keeps its place and looks pretty, which is more than can be said of the old-fashioned open article, with its useless laps and generally untidy effect.
As a baby should not only be washed, but have a bath every morning, the vessel used should be large enough to hold it comfortably, but rather shallow. The temperature of the water should be about 90 deg., but, as young nurses have not always a thermometer at hand, they should try it with the back of the hand, or, as I have seen some old nurses do, with the tip of the tongue. The whole hand is not a safe test, especially if it be one accustomed to work, s the skin becomes hardened and can bear much greater heat or cold than it would be safe to use for an infant's bath.
I have read some terrible cases of suffering, and even loss of life, which have been caused by the carelessness of young nurses in not ascertaining the water was of a proper temperature before putting in the child.
Soap of a non-irritating quality and a soft sponge must be used. If the infant is quite young, the left hand must be placed below its neck so as to support the head above water. The whole body, including the head, should be well soaped and then gently sponged, care being taken to rinse well all the little folds and creases, so that nothing impure or irritating be retained there. Soft, half-worn towels of nursery diaper are the best to dry with, and this should be tenderly done with due consideration for the delicate skin. The moisture should be absorbed from all bends and creases by gentle pressure – never by rubbing; though the back had limbs will be all the better for a little friction with the hand. Baby likes this when he is first undressed and after washing, and enjoys stretching his round limbs on his nurse's knee whilst she gives them a gentle chafing within reach of the warmth of a fire.
All the creases below the arms, knees, in the dimpled neck, behind the ears, between the thighs and body should be well powdered to prevent the chafing of the skin, and this ought to be done after every change of clothing or sponging, by night or day. A very able and experienced medical man, who has written a valuable work, within a very small compass, on sick and other nursing, advises the use of powdered starch for what we call puffing the baby.
Considering how much we have heard of the introduction of deleterious ingredients into what are called "violet powders," we must recognise the wisdom of this advice. It is of no consequence whether the powder is perfumed or not, but it is of the greatest importance that it should be pure and harmless. The powdering must never be neglected if baby's skin has been damped, so whenever sponging is requisite, the puff is also absolutely necessary.
One occasionally sees the scalp of an infant covered or patched with an unsightly crust. This is usually the result of insufficient or careless washing. At the first sign of it, the spot should be anointed with a bit of pure lard or a little olive oil. This will soften the crust, and it will generally come off during washing; but great care must be taken not to use any degree of violence to remove it. The simple application named and persistent cleanliness are the proper remedies both to take it away and prevent its recurrence.
A quite young baby needs, as I have already said, the supporting hand of the nurse to keep the head above water. An older infant that can sit up strongly and has learned to kick about in and enjoy the water, equally needs the watchful eye of the nurse, and should never be left in the bath for a moment.
A very little water and a very short time have proved sufficient to drown an infant before now, during the momentary absence of the nurse.
In fastening the clothes, use as few pins as possible, and let the pins be well-made safety pins. Wherever strings, buttons, and loops, or a stitch can be used instead, by all means substitute one of these. Always have a needle and thread beside you during the dressing process.
A second bath at night is not necessary, only light sponging o nurse's knee. The head should not be wetted I' evening, and after the morning bath the hair should be gently but thoroughly dried, and brushed with a very soft brush. Warm or tepid water is necessary during the first two or three years of a child's life, perhaps even longer in the cases of delicate children.
It is astonishing how very soon infants may be taught habits of cleanliness and regularly in taking food and rest. These things depend almost wholly on the care and attention bestowed by those who have the charge of them. Remember, dear mothers and young nurses, that it is from you, who are always about it, the little one receives its first and most durable impressions, whether for good or evil, and as regards both mind and body. Can you, then, e too careful with respect to what you do for it; or too prayerful and watchful over yourself in order that from you it may receive nothing but what is good?
After the bath a baby is generally ready for its food, and the meal is pretty certain to be followed by its morning sleep. If the mother nurses her infant herself and a young helper has washed and dressed it, the latter should put away the articles that are done with, empty and dry the bath, and expose night clothes and towels, if possible, to the open air. Never be in a hurry to wrap up clothing or cover up beds. Let them have plenty of fresh air, or at least as much as you can possibly give them. I ought to have said the moment baby is taken out of his cot, the bed should be shaken up and all the bedding spread out and thus exposed. It is an excellent plan to have two sets of sheets in use, one for nights and the other for days; then this airing can be well carried out.
Often, when travelling in Switzerland, I have been struck with the carefulness of the people in airing their beds. As you pass through a village in the early morning, if you look from the windows of the diligence, you will see the beds, which are small, light and much more portable than ours, hanging from every casement. They are turned over and exposed for hours to the fresh air and light, a process which must tend greatly to their purification and to the health of those who use them.
By all means imitate as far as possible this excellent example, and though our cumbrous beds cannot be hung out in like manner, we may give them the benefit of frequent exposure to air and light.
Baby's little bed or mattress, from its small size, has a better chance than any other, so let him have the full advantage of this.
In my next chapter I shall try to give simple instructions on "How to Nurse the Baby."
Showing posts with label ruth lamb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ruth lamb. Show all posts
Thursday, 9 February 2017
Sunday, 27 November 2016
23 April 1881 'How to Wash and Dress the Baby' by Ruth Lamb - Chapter 1 'About Little Nurses'
Before I enter upon the main subject of these chapters I should like to devote a portion of them to a very large class of helpful-handed little people. I mean young nurses. This class includes both boys and girls. Had it not been for this fact, I might perhaps call these youngsters "Little Mothers." But I see, almost daily, such pleasant pictures of small boy-nurses in the exercise of their vocation, that the class must be understood to include them also, if fairly treated.
Perhaps there is no place in which the genus "little nurse" can be studied in all its varieties and to greater advantage than in our public parks. On every fine morning especially, it is to be met with at almost every turn, and of nearly all ages above that of the actual baby in charge.
In the houses of well-to-do people, where there are experienced nurses to assist mothers in the care of their children, or sometimes – alas that it should be so! – to take the entire charge of them during infancy, the elder little people of the family generally have to beg to be allowed to "take baby."
The little lassie of eight or nine who is, perhaps, a baby worshipper, and whose ambition it is to be called a good nurse, is sometimes quite indignant at the amount of supervision to which she is subjected all the while baby is on her knee. She chafes at the continual charges, "Mind you don't hurt him, Miss Annie!" "He'll be off your knee if you're not more careful!" "Put your arm behind his back!" and so on, *ad libitum.
At the same time the vigilant eyes of nurse are so perpetually turned in the direction of her amateur assistant, that any sense of responsibility in that quarter is utterly destroyed, and Miss Annie herself waxes indignant under this persistent and irritating espionage.
True, the elder child's young arms lack the strength and dexterity of nurse's practised ones; but baby, if well, does not object to Annie's rather awkward mode of handling him. He likes to see her young, fresh laughing face close to his, and sister Annie's hair is delightful to pull and to bury his small fists in. He seizes it and tugs with all his might, and so retaliates on his little nurse for having so poked and tickled him into a fit of laughter, in which she joins as heartily. His real nurse's head-gear is much less attractive, her prim cap being carefully and necessarily kept out of baby's clutches, and her hair, tidily tucked beneath it, offers no such temptation to baby's roving fingers as to Miss Annie's soft flowing curls.
But nurse has perhaps just tidied Miss Annie for dinner, and the ruffled hair is an additional grievance. "You should not let baby pull your hair so," she says, in a tone of reproof. "I shall have it all to curl up again before you go downstairs."
It seems a pity to disturb such a delightful game, when baby brother and little sister are so innocently happy. But Annie is tired of such constant looking after, tired of the continual nagging and cautioning, and she would not hurt the chubby darling for all the world. So she sighs in a weary fashion, gives baby a hearty kiss on his dear little distended mouth, evading another grab at her curls as she does so, and resigns herself anew into the hands of nurse, who grumbles a good deal at having to put her right a second time.
Annie's mind is considerably exercised on the subject of nursing and of her assumed helplessness in comparison with the scores of little nurses whom she sees in sole charge of babies. None of the tiny creatures appear to come to any harm in consequence of the trust reposed in mere children by poor mothers who have no choice but to do this, if their household work is to be completed in anything like a reasonable time. She wonders why poor people's children may be trusted to do all sorts of things for and with babies; whereas she is looked after, watched and cautioned at every turn, just as if her little brother was made of egg-shell china, and she had made up her mind to break him with a touch.
Miss Annie looks at her round strong arms, very different from those of some little nurses she sees out of doors; she knows that her limbs are stronger, because she has good health, and is better fed and looked after than they are; she has the will to be useful, and she loves, with all the warmth of her young heart, the helpless darling in the nursery at home.
She feels half-angry, half-humiliated, and says to herself, "I wish I lived in a cottage where there are no nurses to bother and fidget, then mamma would be glad to let me have baby and take him out whenever I liked."
There are plenty of children like our "miss Annie," who grow up comparatively helpless, but who are only so because they are neither taught how to make themselves useful, nor trusted. As a hint both to mothers and children, let me point out a few of the valuable qualities which I have seen developed in little nurses. These have come under my notice as I have watched them in the streets and parks, far beyond the overseeing eye of the mother who was often toiling for their bread at the wash-tub or in the mill.
Carefulness, patience, unselfishness, endurance, good temper, tender love for the little one, and trustworthiness. Perhaps I should notice the last mentioned quality before all the rest. The mother must believe in its existence when she trusts her infant to the care of a nine year old girl or boy. How seldom does the child fail her! How carefully is the baby held, just as a mother holds it! How watchful are those young eyes over the one, two, or three other children who play round the doorstep or near a eat in the park on which the little nurse sits with her sleeping charge.
As to patience, I do not know whether to yield the palm for this virtue to the boy or the girl nurse. Only a few mornings ago I noticed a boy patting, petting, kissing, and comforting a baby whose tearful eyes and pouting lips told of some little trouble. How he persevered in his efforts to pacify the child! He walked up and down, made droll faces and droller noises, until at last he won back a smile to the bonny round face, while his own looked the picture of happiness. The sound of a hearty kiss was the last thing I heard as I turned out of the park.
If you want to know whether these little nurses are interested in their charges, seat yourself near a couple of them and listen to their conversation. You can have a book in your hand, which will put them quite at their ease, though you need not read it.
One will perhaps tell, with anxious face, of some narrow escape that her baby had had through getting cold when he had measles. The other will speak with exultation of a new frock which mother is making for hers. They will compare ages, count and exhibit the wee ivories just peeping, and tenderly rub the little gums to help the next one through. And is not that small nurse a proud individual if her baby, being the same age as the other, or perhaps a little younger, has actually cut a tooth or two more, or has a less bald pate under its woollen hood.
Then what beauty they see in their baby's face! You and I might think it a poor skinny elfish-looking creature, but the little nurse does not. Love gives beauty, and the helpless thing is perfectly lovely in the eyes of its young guardian. You will hear all sorts of admiring epithets showered upon it if you listen.
You know the little nurse's arms ache, and you wonder how she goes on holding it, hour after hour, without a word of complaint. Many a mother would think she had done a great thing had she held her child for half the time.
I write especially in the hope of attracting the thoughtful attention of the girls who will be the mothers of the next generation.
If you, dear girls who read this paper will look around you, you will see many an exhibition of those fine qualities of patience and uncomplaining endurance amongst the little nurses in whom I feel a deep interest. Conscience will, perhaps, tell you that untaught, ignorant, as many of them are, you might yet learn many a lesson from them as you pass along the highways in town or country.
The little nurses are unselfish and brave. Often I Have seen one take off the little woollen shawl, which was doing duty as a bonnet on her own person as well as being her only out-door covering, and wind it round the baby lest the cold wind should reach him.
Fancy, too, the temptations that have to be resisted. Do you not think those two bright lads would like a game at marbles, as well as their neighbours who are unfettered by baby or perambulator? Of course they would, and, depend on it, the faithful nurses, whether girls or boys, fight and bravely win a hard battle when they turn from ball, skipping-rope, hoop, or marbles, and remain the spectators of games in which they long to join, because they will not neglect the helpless infants entrusted to their care.
They have their pleasures as well as trials. In the warm, summer weather, when the grass is dry and the sun shining, the little ones will kick about and sprawl on the ground, enjoying the bustle that is going on around them. But often, when the day we glorious for active play, and the sky is bright and clear, there is a cold wind and the grass is damp. Baby could not be laid down safely, and then the courage and self-denial of the little nurse are called into operation. Then great victories are won of which the world knows nothing.
Little nurses, as a rule, have their reward in the growth, progress, and increasing strength of their babies. What joy and exultation do the first tottering steps cause to their guardians! How proud are they when the wee thing can run alone!
And far beyond even these rewards are the approving smile and word, the whispered blessing, the loving kiss of a good mother, with whose cares and anxieties their children sympathise, and whose toil their young hands have lightened.
There are such animals as crabby, impatient little nurses. I have seen such that could scold and even strike the help.ess and unfortunate babies with which they had to do. But, thank god! There are few instances of this kind and so many of the opposite.
There are mothers, too, who are apt, probably because they do not think about it, to speak lightly or not at all of their children's services. They take their loving labours as a matter of course, and hardly care to cheer and encourage them on the path of duty. So the children gradually become indifferent, and look upon that as an irksome task which should be a pleasure. But it is not with such as these that I am specially dealing in this paper. I wish to picture, as I o often see them manifested, those high and noble qualities which are drawn out in the characters of children by the very fact of trusting them.
We cannot help contrasting the helpful children of the cottage and the streets with those who do nothing, simply because they have so many people to care for them that they are neither called on to think for themselves, nor for others. Watched, waited on, thought for in everything, they grow up helpless, because they have never been exercised in self-reliance; and selfish, because they have not been taught the blessedness of giving, or giving up anything for the sake of others.
There is one sad drawback in the case of little nurses who are trusted too much and too early. They seem almost weighed down with family cares whilst they are but children. Theirs is the growing "old too soon." But in the homes of well-to-do parents, there is little fear of the children being overburdened, whilst it would surely be worth their while to draw out such qualities in their young people as are daily exercised in the houses of their poorer neighbours.
Children who never have to do with babies are often, I was going to say amusingly, awkward in handling an infant. Better, however, say pitiably awkward; because it is a pity that the "future mothers" of our race should have no training in this most important part of woman's work. Boys of this class usually consider it *infra dig to notice babies in public. If they condescend to kiss them they manifest a strong objection to open-mouthed salutes, and touch the little velvet cheek with their lips much as they might approach a red-hot poker. It is a touch-and-go process, which makes mothers and grown-up nurses smile pityingly at the urchin who does not know how delightful is a genuine baby kiss.
Happily, there are lots of little mothers "to the manner born" in every station f life. I fancy I see one of these as I write. From her very infancy she loves her doll as a true mother loves her child, and should an accident befall her wooden or waxen darling, she grieves and moans over it, not as a broken toy, but a wounded baby. Its eruptions – of sawdust – cause her all the anxiety incident to measles. Her tears are real tears, and it is of no use to intimate that the broken arm, over which she is weeping causes Dolly no pain.
A matter-of-fact child laughs contemptuously at the idea of a doll being able to feel, and points to the wooden fragments as proof of her being in the right. She means well, doubtless, but her calm indifference only adds to the grief of the loving-hearted little mite, who presses her injured darling to her breast and loses hours of sleep in weeping.
There is neither rest nor comfort for her until somebody sets to work and restores the limb as far as possible, and then she sleeps; but even then she sobs at intervals as if the trouble could not be forgotten.
As the little mother grows older she wins everybody's admiration by the "handy" way in which she nurses a real baby, and when she has shot up into a slender slip of a lass, as tall as her own mother, she is a greater infant-worshipper than ever. She bestows a perfect wealth of love on the wee things, and the younger they are the better she likes them; because they want the most care and nursing.
If the little mother is missing from her own home circle, her mamma sends a message of inquiry to the nearest friend's house, where she is made free of the nursery, or perhaps to some cottage in the neighbourhood, where a nice clean baby is to be found. Perhaps her attentions are least acceptable to children beyond babyhood. She plagues them a little by wanting to wash and tidy them more frequently than they like, because she is so fond of the work and delights in making them look nice. But she generally coaxes them to submit by offering bribes in the shape of wonderfully got-up dolls, of which she always has a store ready, dressed by her nimble young fingers.
Bless the loving little woman! She is not without a reasonable liking for school work, and loves reading as well as most. But her great charm is her delightful motherliness, even as a child, a quality which is, I fear, insufficiently cultivated at home, and never thought of at all in schools, or supposed to have any place in the so-called "Higher Education of Women."
Yet when I see these sweet feminine qualities in the lassie, I often think to myself that if I were a youth - a good one, mind – I should watch the growing into womanhood of such a "little mother" as I have described. I should value the development of these heaven-bestowed womanly instincts as something more precious than any amount of certificates won for Latin or advanced mathematical knowledge. And though I might have a choice between such a little damsel as I have described and a feminine senior wrangler, I would do my best to win the little mother as the mistress of my future home.
Just another picture of little nurses and I will finish. Some years ago I was in the Peel Park Museum, Salford, and was much edified at the sight of a number of these small people standing before the cases of gaily-plumaged, stuffed birds. They were spelling out the names and repeating them to such of their companions as were above baby age, thus doing their best to improve their minds as well as care for their bodies. I felt rather put out when a policeman conducted them to the door and told them, not unkindly, to "Go play in the park," probably for fear the clatter of their clogs should offend the ears of some well-dressed grown-up folk in the museum The longing, lingering looks they cast behind them quite spoiled my enjoyment, and I felt sorry that in this "People's Museum" well-behaved poor children should have been sent out, because their feet were clogged instead of shod, and necessarily made a clatter on the floors.
I went out almost immediately, and as I drew near the entrance gates I met a picnic party coming into the park – a little girl nurse with a disproportionately large baby in her arms, and quite a train of attendant youngsters, who were evidently going to have "a day out." They were nearly all barefoot, and their clothing was poor and scanty, though the baby was well bundled up in all sorts of odds and ends of garments.
There was a provision basket, containing a bottle of blueish-tinted milk, thick lunches of bread and dripping, a few green apples, and some indescribable scraps of other food. The party did not live in the immediate neighbourhood, as was evident, for the young leader glanced around in some bewilderment and then said to me, "Please will you tell me the way to the swings?"
I directed her to the girls' playground adding, "There were plenty of swings at liberty a few minutes since."
This information gave new vigour to the youngsters. The little nurse thanked me, hitched the baby a little higher on her shoulder, gave her free hand to the toddler next in size, saying, "Come on, Georgie. The lady says there's plenty of swings ready for us."
Away went the bare feet pattering over the hard gravel path, and this humble picnic party was soon lost to my view. With all my heart I wished them a happy day, a safe return, and a good rest for the little nurse in charge when the evening shadows should begin to fall.
Many a time since then, when I have seen over-indulged, helpless girls satiated with too many pleasures, almost wishing they had a want, and not knowing how to spend their time and use their strong limbs, I have thought of that half-clad, barefooted group, and of the almost awful responsibility of the mere child who was charged with the safe conduct of the rest.
When I began this chapter I did not intend to let little nurses occupy so much space, but they came before my mind's eye in such crowds, and I have long felt such a deep motherly interest in them as a class, that I have permitted them to push the baby itself out of sight for a time.
Yet I am truly anxious to interest both mothers and girls in this most important subject – namely, whatever concerns the care of the comfort and well-being of the baby. I am going to write out some simple instructions for its management, which I hope may be of use to young nurses who are willing but unskilful, and who are therefore afraid to offer help in washing, dressing, or nursing the baby.
Perhaps there is no place in which the genus "little nurse" can be studied in all its varieties and to greater advantage than in our public parks. On every fine morning especially, it is to be met with at almost every turn, and of nearly all ages above that of the actual baby in charge.
In the houses of well-to-do people, where there are experienced nurses to assist mothers in the care of their children, or sometimes – alas that it should be so! – to take the entire charge of them during infancy, the elder little people of the family generally have to beg to be allowed to "take baby."
The little lassie of eight or nine who is, perhaps, a baby worshipper, and whose ambition it is to be called a good nurse, is sometimes quite indignant at the amount of supervision to which she is subjected all the while baby is on her knee. She chafes at the continual charges, "Mind you don't hurt him, Miss Annie!" "He'll be off your knee if you're not more careful!" "Put your arm behind his back!" and so on, *ad libitum.
At the same time the vigilant eyes of nurse are so perpetually turned in the direction of her amateur assistant, that any sense of responsibility in that quarter is utterly destroyed, and Miss Annie herself waxes indignant under this persistent and irritating espionage.
True, the elder child's young arms lack the strength and dexterity of nurse's practised ones; but baby, if well, does not object to Annie's rather awkward mode of handling him. He likes to see her young, fresh laughing face close to his, and sister Annie's hair is delightful to pull and to bury his small fists in. He seizes it and tugs with all his might, and so retaliates on his little nurse for having so poked and tickled him into a fit of laughter, in which she joins as heartily. His real nurse's head-gear is much less attractive, her prim cap being carefully and necessarily kept out of baby's clutches, and her hair, tidily tucked beneath it, offers no such temptation to baby's roving fingers as to Miss Annie's soft flowing curls.
But nurse has perhaps just tidied Miss Annie for dinner, and the ruffled hair is an additional grievance. "You should not let baby pull your hair so," she says, in a tone of reproof. "I shall have it all to curl up again before you go downstairs."
It seems a pity to disturb such a delightful game, when baby brother and little sister are so innocently happy. But Annie is tired of such constant looking after, tired of the continual nagging and cautioning, and she would not hurt the chubby darling for all the world. So she sighs in a weary fashion, gives baby a hearty kiss on his dear little distended mouth, evading another grab at her curls as she does so, and resigns herself anew into the hands of nurse, who grumbles a good deal at having to put her right a second time.
Annie's mind is considerably exercised on the subject of nursing and of her assumed helplessness in comparison with the scores of little nurses whom she sees in sole charge of babies. None of the tiny creatures appear to come to any harm in consequence of the trust reposed in mere children by poor mothers who have no choice but to do this, if their household work is to be completed in anything like a reasonable time. She wonders why poor people's children may be trusted to do all sorts of things for and with babies; whereas she is looked after, watched and cautioned at every turn, just as if her little brother was made of egg-shell china, and she had made up her mind to break him with a touch.
Miss Annie looks at her round strong arms, very different from those of some little nurses she sees out of doors; she knows that her limbs are stronger, because she has good health, and is better fed and looked after than they are; she has the will to be useful, and she loves, with all the warmth of her young heart, the helpless darling in the nursery at home.
She feels half-angry, half-humiliated, and says to herself, "I wish I lived in a cottage where there are no nurses to bother and fidget, then mamma would be glad to let me have baby and take him out whenever I liked."
There are plenty of children like our "miss Annie," who grow up comparatively helpless, but who are only so because they are neither taught how to make themselves useful, nor trusted. As a hint both to mothers and children, let me point out a few of the valuable qualities which I have seen developed in little nurses. These have come under my notice as I have watched them in the streets and parks, far beyond the overseeing eye of the mother who was often toiling for their bread at the wash-tub or in the mill.
Carefulness, patience, unselfishness, endurance, good temper, tender love for the little one, and trustworthiness. Perhaps I should notice the last mentioned quality before all the rest. The mother must believe in its existence when she trusts her infant to the care of a nine year old girl or boy. How seldom does the child fail her! How carefully is the baby held, just as a mother holds it! How watchful are those young eyes over the one, two, or three other children who play round the doorstep or near a eat in the park on which the little nurse sits with her sleeping charge.
As to patience, I do not know whether to yield the palm for this virtue to the boy or the girl nurse. Only a few mornings ago I noticed a boy patting, petting, kissing, and comforting a baby whose tearful eyes and pouting lips told of some little trouble. How he persevered in his efforts to pacify the child! He walked up and down, made droll faces and droller noises, until at last he won back a smile to the bonny round face, while his own looked the picture of happiness. The sound of a hearty kiss was the last thing I heard as I turned out of the park.
If you want to know whether these little nurses are interested in their charges, seat yourself near a couple of them and listen to their conversation. You can have a book in your hand, which will put them quite at their ease, though you need not read it.
One will perhaps tell, with anxious face, of some narrow escape that her baby had had through getting cold when he had measles. The other will speak with exultation of a new frock which mother is making for hers. They will compare ages, count and exhibit the wee ivories just peeping, and tenderly rub the little gums to help the next one through. And is not that small nurse a proud individual if her baby, being the same age as the other, or perhaps a little younger, has actually cut a tooth or two more, or has a less bald pate under its woollen hood.
Then what beauty they see in their baby's face! You and I might think it a poor skinny elfish-looking creature, but the little nurse does not. Love gives beauty, and the helpless thing is perfectly lovely in the eyes of its young guardian. You will hear all sorts of admiring epithets showered upon it if you listen.
You know the little nurse's arms ache, and you wonder how she goes on holding it, hour after hour, without a word of complaint. Many a mother would think she had done a great thing had she held her child for half the time.
I write especially in the hope of attracting the thoughtful attention of the girls who will be the mothers of the next generation.
If you, dear girls who read this paper will look around you, you will see many an exhibition of those fine qualities of patience and uncomplaining endurance amongst the little nurses in whom I feel a deep interest. Conscience will, perhaps, tell you that untaught, ignorant, as many of them are, you might yet learn many a lesson from them as you pass along the highways in town or country.
The little nurses are unselfish and brave. Often I Have seen one take off the little woollen shawl, which was doing duty as a bonnet on her own person as well as being her only out-door covering, and wind it round the baby lest the cold wind should reach him.
Fancy, too, the temptations that have to be resisted. Do you not think those two bright lads would like a game at marbles, as well as their neighbours who are unfettered by baby or perambulator? Of course they would, and, depend on it, the faithful nurses, whether girls or boys, fight and bravely win a hard battle when they turn from ball, skipping-rope, hoop, or marbles, and remain the spectators of games in which they long to join, because they will not neglect the helpless infants entrusted to their care.
They have their pleasures as well as trials. In the warm, summer weather, when the grass is dry and the sun shining, the little ones will kick about and sprawl on the ground, enjoying the bustle that is going on around them. But often, when the day we glorious for active play, and the sky is bright and clear, there is a cold wind and the grass is damp. Baby could not be laid down safely, and then the courage and self-denial of the little nurse are called into operation. Then great victories are won of which the world knows nothing.
Little nurses, as a rule, have their reward in the growth, progress, and increasing strength of their babies. What joy and exultation do the first tottering steps cause to their guardians! How proud are they when the wee thing can run alone!
And far beyond even these rewards are the approving smile and word, the whispered blessing, the loving kiss of a good mother, with whose cares and anxieties their children sympathise, and whose toil their young hands have lightened.
There are such animals as crabby, impatient little nurses. I have seen such that could scold and even strike the help.ess and unfortunate babies with which they had to do. But, thank god! There are few instances of this kind and so many of the opposite.
There are mothers, too, who are apt, probably because they do not think about it, to speak lightly or not at all of their children's services. They take their loving labours as a matter of course, and hardly care to cheer and encourage them on the path of duty. So the children gradually become indifferent, and look upon that as an irksome task which should be a pleasure. But it is not with such as these that I am specially dealing in this paper. I wish to picture, as I o often see them manifested, those high and noble qualities which are drawn out in the characters of children by the very fact of trusting them.
We cannot help contrasting the helpful children of the cottage and the streets with those who do nothing, simply because they have so many people to care for them that they are neither called on to think for themselves, nor for others. Watched, waited on, thought for in everything, they grow up helpless, because they have never been exercised in self-reliance; and selfish, because they have not been taught the blessedness of giving, or giving up anything for the sake of others.
There is one sad drawback in the case of little nurses who are trusted too much and too early. They seem almost weighed down with family cares whilst they are but children. Theirs is the growing "old too soon." But in the homes of well-to-do parents, there is little fear of the children being overburdened, whilst it would surely be worth their while to draw out such qualities in their young people as are daily exercised in the houses of their poorer neighbours.
Children who never have to do with babies are often, I was going to say amusingly, awkward in handling an infant. Better, however, say pitiably awkward; because it is a pity that the "future mothers" of our race should have no training in this most important part of woman's work. Boys of this class usually consider it *infra dig to notice babies in public. If they condescend to kiss them they manifest a strong objection to open-mouthed salutes, and touch the little velvet cheek with their lips much as they might approach a red-hot poker. It is a touch-and-go process, which makes mothers and grown-up nurses smile pityingly at the urchin who does not know how delightful is a genuine baby kiss.
Happily, there are lots of little mothers "to the manner born" in every station f life. I fancy I see one of these as I write. From her very infancy she loves her doll as a true mother loves her child, and should an accident befall her wooden or waxen darling, she grieves and moans over it, not as a broken toy, but a wounded baby. Its eruptions – of sawdust – cause her all the anxiety incident to measles. Her tears are real tears, and it is of no use to intimate that the broken arm, over which she is weeping causes Dolly no pain.
A matter-of-fact child laughs contemptuously at the idea of a doll being able to feel, and points to the wooden fragments as proof of her being in the right. She means well, doubtless, but her calm indifference only adds to the grief of the loving-hearted little mite, who presses her injured darling to her breast and loses hours of sleep in weeping.
There is neither rest nor comfort for her until somebody sets to work and restores the limb as far as possible, and then she sleeps; but even then she sobs at intervals as if the trouble could not be forgotten.
As the little mother grows older she wins everybody's admiration by the "handy" way in which she nurses a real baby, and when she has shot up into a slender slip of a lass, as tall as her own mother, she is a greater infant-worshipper than ever. She bestows a perfect wealth of love on the wee things, and the younger they are the better she likes them; because they want the most care and nursing.
If the little mother is missing from her own home circle, her mamma sends a message of inquiry to the nearest friend's house, where she is made free of the nursery, or perhaps to some cottage in the neighbourhood, where a nice clean baby is to be found. Perhaps her attentions are least acceptable to children beyond babyhood. She plagues them a little by wanting to wash and tidy them more frequently than they like, because she is so fond of the work and delights in making them look nice. But she generally coaxes them to submit by offering bribes in the shape of wonderfully got-up dolls, of which she always has a store ready, dressed by her nimble young fingers.
Bless the loving little woman! She is not without a reasonable liking for school work, and loves reading as well as most. But her great charm is her delightful motherliness, even as a child, a quality which is, I fear, insufficiently cultivated at home, and never thought of at all in schools, or supposed to have any place in the so-called "Higher Education of Women."
Yet when I see these sweet feminine qualities in the lassie, I often think to myself that if I were a youth - a good one, mind – I should watch the growing into womanhood of such a "little mother" as I have described. I should value the development of these heaven-bestowed womanly instincts as something more precious than any amount of certificates won for Latin or advanced mathematical knowledge. And though I might have a choice between such a little damsel as I have described and a feminine senior wrangler, I would do my best to win the little mother as the mistress of my future home.
Just another picture of little nurses and I will finish. Some years ago I was in the Peel Park Museum, Salford, and was much edified at the sight of a number of these small people standing before the cases of gaily-plumaged, stuffed birds. They were spelling out the names and repeating them to such of their companions as were above baby age, thus doing their best to improve their minds as well as care for their bodies. I felt rather put out when a policeman conducted them to the door and told them, not unkindly, to "Go play in the park," probably for fear the clatter of their clogs should offend the ears of some well-dressed grown-up folk in the museum The longing, lingering looks they cast behind them quite spoiled my enjoyment, and I felt sorry that in this "People's Museum" well-behaved poor children should have been sent out, because their feet were clogged instead of shod, and necessarily made a clatter on the floors.
I went out almost immediately, and as I drew near the entrance gates I met a picnic party coming into the park – a little girl nurse with a disproportionately large baby in her arms, and quite a train of attendant youngsters, who were evidently going to have "a day out." They were nearly all barefoot, and their clothing was poor and scanty, though the baby was well bundled up in all sorts of odds and ends of garments.
There was a provision basket, containing a bottle of blueish-tinted milk, thick lunches of bread and dripping, a few green apples, and some indescribable scraps of other food. The party did not live in the immediate neighbourhood, as was evident, for the young leader glanced around in some bewilderment and then said to me, "Please will you tell me the way to the swings?"
I directed her to the girls' playground adding, "There were plenty of swings at liberty a few minutes since."
This information gave new vigour to the youngsters. The little nurse thanked me, hitched the baby a little higher on her shoulder, gave her free hand to the toddler next in size, saying, "Come on, Georgie. The lady says there's plenty of swings ready for us."
Away went the bare feet pattering over the hard gravel path, and this humble picnic party was soon lost to my view. With all my heart I wished them a happy day, a safe return, and a good rest for the little nurse in charge when the evening shadows should begin to fall.
Many a time since then, when I have seen over-indulged, helpless girls satiated with too many pleasures, almost wishing they had a want, and not knowing how to spend their time and use their strong limbs, I have thought of that half-clad, barefooted group, and of the almost awful responsibility of the mere child who was charged with the safe conduct of the rest.
When I began this chapter I did not intend to let little nurses occupy so much space, but they came before my mind's eye in such crowds, and I have long felt such a deep motherly interest in them as a class, that I have permitted them to push the baby itself out of sight for a time.
Yet I am truly anxious to interest both mothers and girls in this most important subject – namely, whatever concerns the care of the comfort and well-being of the baby. I am going to write out some simple instructions for its management, which I hope may be of use to young nurses who are willing but unskilful, and who are therefore afraid to offer help in washing, dressing, or nursing the baby.
Thursday, 1 September 2016
1 January 1881 - 'How to Wash and Iron' by Ruth Lamb - Chapter Three
Technology, f**k yeah.
Amateur lace-washers should not stint time or patience on their work. Soaping, soaking, and many changes of water, with gentle pressing and working about, should take all the dirt out. If rubbed at all it ought to be between flannel; or, if necessary, the lace may be stewed in a slow oven, and with abundance of water in a covered jar.
No blue must be used, as it ought always to be dead-white; but it should be passed through the thinnest of cold starch - only a remove from water; say a teaspoonful to half a pint, just to set it. Squeeze out of this and straighten most carefully upon flannel, picking out every little point. Lay another square of flannel over, and pass the lace under the mangle. Afterwards iron it through flannel, taking care that it is well dried, and pausing to examine and adjust any little rumpled point. Done by this process your laces will look only second to those which have passed through the hands of a professional cleaner, and in the wearing will repay the trouble you have taken.
I mentioned that time and patience are needed, and, as I wrote this, I was reminded of a friend's troubles over a beautiful piece of Honiton point. She had seen a recipe for washing lace, and thought she would try it. Having washed the collarette, she found it was to be stiffened in water with a lump of sugar dissolved in it. But how much? I cannot tell what quantity she used, but certainly far too much. The iron was wrong, somehow, and stuck to the lace; another moment and she had scorched it. A hasty pull was followed by a tear, and a beautiful spray was rent from the rest. Then, wherever the iron touched it was stiff as buckram. Vexed at her failure, and too impatient even to see whether the mischief could be repaired, she flung the costly lace on the fire, put away her ironing materials, and vowed never to have any more to do with lace-cleaning. My friend owned to a "good cry" afterwards and a feeling of shame when she thought of her want of patience and the wanton destruction of her collarette - a birthday gift, too, from a distant friend!
Just a little inquiry as to the quantity of stiffening. A rinse to take out what was superfluous, a trial of the iron, a little pains in arranging the lace, and ill temper, wanton waste, and after repentance would all have been spared.
Take warning, dear girls. It is possible to fall into sin and suffer sorrow, even over the washing of a collar.
Now we will suppose the ironing finished. I hope all the strings have been carefully straightened, so the materials may be neatly put away If irons are not likely to be used for a length of time, rub them over, while hot, with a lump of mutton suet. When wanted heat them, to melt the grease; rub it off, then wash with warm soap and water and polish with a little fine brickdust.
I will now say something about those newer mechanical appliances and laundry fittings which are so valuable when the work is done on a large scale. Indeed, I should be glad if every mistress of a cottage could have her washing machine on a scale suitable to the requirements of her home and family.
Nearly all the good domestic machinery for diminishing and lightening the work of the laundress has been invented and brought into use within the recollection of middle-aged housewives. The washing machine, of which there are now so many varieties, was, like the sewing machine, a thing almost unknown in my childish days. Certainly modern inventions have done a great deal for the relief and assistance of girl and women workers in these, their special departments of labour.
I once heard a young girl, who was not very fond of hand sewing, say to her mother, "Mamma, if I were going to be married and were poor, you know, I would save and scrape to get a sewing machine." I say the same about a washing machine, and if I were a girl, with the prospect of living in a little home and having my family washing to do, I would save and scrape beforehand in order to have this valuable help at the commencement of my married life, even if I earned its price in pennies.
But there are machines and machines. Seventeen years ago I was induced to buy one of the wrong sort, and it has been a piece of useless lumber nearly ever since. Labour was increased by its use, the clothes injured, the result unsatisfactory. We found out subsequently that the much-puffed article was an untested invention; that only three beside ours were ever made; and that the thing, which cost a good many pounds, was worthless. I want to save all young housewives and intending purchasers from a similar mistake and disappointment, and I will therefore describe what should be the characteristics of a good washing machine. It should be light in action, and involve little labour in the turning, simple in construction and easily adjusted, as well as not liable to get out of order. It should combine economy in soap, &c., with diminished labour. It ought not to tear or injure the more delicate fabrics which require cleansing. It should combine with it, in a compact and portable form, a wringing and mangling machine, unless you prefer the mangle to be separate.
If you want your combined machine to answer both for wringing and mangling it must have wooden rollers.
The little India-rubber Wringer is only intended for the work implied in its name, which is does admirably.
The machine should also be cleanly in operation, and not involve the disagreeable accompaniment of a sloppy floor whenever it is in use, especially for the wringing.
Let me now suppose that I am advising some dear girl who is preparing for married life, and about to select a washing machine, either for her own use or that of her servants. We must prepare for a little tour of inspection; for we do not mean to choose such an important article in a hurry, or take the first that comes to hand. We will find out the names of the very best makers of domestic machinery; ascertain how long their inventions have been before the public; if they have stood the test of time and public competition; and what position they have taken on such occasions. We will not ignore the medals that may have been awarded at the various great exhibitions. Then we will think over and compare notes as to the merits of two or three machines which, after due examination, we have fixed on as the best, or it may be, the best which our means will permit us to purchase. I shall, however, whisper to my girl companion if she has only a small sum to spend, "Better wait a few weeks and go on saving, than make a hasty purchase which you will afterwards regret. Have a strong, well-made article, however plain in appearance, and be sure it is fit for the purpose you want it, and will do its work thoroughly."
In machines of the same price we must then compare strength, size, economy, cleanliness, amount of work accomplished, b test of time and labour expended; also probable wear and tear of linen and of the machine itself. If possible, we must either obtain permission to test the machines we fix upon before purchasing, or else we must obtain information where we can see them in actual use. After such a careful investigation I think our young housewife can hardly be disappointed when her purchase is put to work in her new home.
Just one more caution. Most good makers improve upon their machines. They find out little defects in the first construction and remedy them by degrees. So we must mind that our machine has the latest improvements which have been tried and found to be really such.
I will briefly describe a couple of machines of undoubted excellence amongst many which possess considerable merit. The "Vowel," made by a firm famous for domestic machinery, and boasting one hundred and seventy prize medals, is in shape an unequal octagon. The bottom is corrugated by means of wooden bars studded with what look like large, smooth wooden buttons, against which the linen rubs as the barrel is turned. It can be had in as many sizes, with movable wringer, or combined wringing and mangling apparatus. The roller pressure is self-adjusting, and adapts itself equally to a stocking or a blanket. The front board, down which water is carried back from the wringers, reverses, and becomes a smooth table for holding the clothes as they are passed u mangle, and a roller at its edge acts as a revolving "carrier" to take them evenly forward. AS they go through at the back they are received on a bracket table, which can be lowered as soon as the mangling is finished, and thus adds nothing to the space occupied by the machine when out of use. The little India-rubber Wringer can be bought separately, and will fasten to any tub.
Machine number two, the invention of another firm, is called the Hexagon Eccentric, and if any young student of geography has been puzzled to understand how the earth moves round upon its axis, and why its poles are alternately elevated and depressed, a glance at this washing machine will instantly make it plain, since it moves round in precisely the same manner as the earth does. The inner surface of this hexagon barrel is perfectly smooth, and I asked the question, "How can clothes be cleaned in this, when there is nothing rough to rub against?"
The exhibitor invited me to come in and hour and I should see. I did so, and found that some warm suds had been prepared, to which a little dry soap was added in my presence. Then some dirty towels and greasy cloths were hunted up from a neighbouring refreshment room, and simply thrown in; the machine was set in motion, and three minutes afterwards the towels were wrung out quite ready for the second water. Then I remembered that when visiting a great industrial school I had seen a larger machine of this kind worked by steam, and doing the washing for four hundred persons admirably and satisfactorily. It has a reversible motion.
In another little and very cheap machine the clothes are worked backwards and forwards between two rollers; others are semi-rotating peggies while one; a comparatively new invention, imitates hand rubbing to perfection; but the arrangement appeared rather complicated. Beside these, there are many other varieties; but leaving the washing machine proper, I will tell you something of sundry modern laundry helps that may be obtained, and in various sizes, prices, and styles.
The "laundry fork" is very useful, a smooth stick, with two blunt prongs of galvanised iron, to turn, stir, or lift clothes out of the hot copper. A double trough, with one partition for rinsing or blue water, and another for starch, with a wringer between, for facilitating this part of the work. Drying cupboards, ironing-stoves, and the old-fashioned box-mangle; but the latter so vastly lightened and improved that it has become a comparatively elegant article with continuous motion.
It is most interesting to see the part which gas is made to play in connection with laundry fittings. Whilst the electric light has been threatening to put out gas in one direction, invention has been busily engaged in turning it to account for cooking and as a motive power of great value. The little gas engines are used for coffee-grinding, book-stitching, silk-winding, braid-making, printing, and only a few days since I saw one working a large washing machine.
There are pretty little gas stoves which can be placed on a table and connected by a few feet of india-rubber tubing with an ordinary gas bracket. A single worker can heat her three irons on this, without any fire in summer. On its perforated centre she can also boil a small kettle or pan of water, toast bread, &c., and all these at a trifling cost in gas.
There are also box-irons, heated by gas; a polishing iron for finishing and glazing collars, cuffs and fronts; egg-irons, shaped alike at both ends for working in and out amongst gathers, narrow trimmings, &c.
Goffering tongs are inexpensive, but comparatively slow to work with. The machines do beautiful work and very rapidly, having been much improved of late.
I must mention one more little article, called "the lady's gas-iron," which any girl would like to possess and use for straightening ties and ironing laces. It is nickel plated, is heated over a gas burner, and if it were not so useful we might almost call it a pretty toy. A young friend of mine was delighted to have one, and constantly turns her iron to account in getting up lace really beautifully.
I think I have now mentioned most of the laundry articles that are likely to be used in private houses, and some that are perhaps better suited for large laundries, schools, and business establishments of various kinds. But then, wherever washing is going on, whether on a large or small scale, girls are sure to be engaged in connection with it, so it is as well to know what articles can be obtained to improve the work done and to lighten the labour of those who perform it.
Glancing backwards at the various materials emmunerated and modern inventions in the way of machinery, we are led to wonder how people managed to purify their clothing in times when even soap was unknown. No doubt, in primitive days, the women used to take their linen to the nearest running stream and there cleanse it by rubbing, stamping, and rinsing in the clear water.
To this day the Hindoos carry their garments and wash them, without soap, in their sacred river, the Ganges; but when the practice was a common one the streams ran unpolluted between grassy banks. Neither garments nor the wearers were exposed to the dirt and smoke-creating agencies of the immense factories which produce so many articles of luxury and comfort, but alas! Foul sadly the fair face of nature, make our streams like rivers of ink, and now only fitted to wash all the white out of our linen.
Paris laundresses first soap and soak the articles, but complete the cleansing in barges on the Seine. Laying the linen on the flat edge of the vessel, they beat it with a wooden utensil, rinsing, rubbing and beating in turns, until it is clean. It does not appear that the fabric is injured by this process, or by a somewhat similar one which prevailed in country districts in Scotland.
Scotch lasses prepared their garments as above, and then beat them on a flat stone with a wooden mallet, rinsing frequently in the brook, and, with bare feet, treading them alternately in a tub of water.
Another mode of preparing white cotton or linen articles for the river process was by means of steam, and this has been most practised in France. The clothes were first soaked in a ley of potash, and then hung in a steam-tight vessel, communicating, by means of a pipe, with a boiler. The steam loosens the dirt in half an hour, and little subsequent labour is needed. This mode may be carried out on a small scale with a copper kettle and a strong cask.
If any girl-reader thinks washing a contemptible and menial employment, let her peep over my shoulder at one of the most charming word-pictures imaginable. It is from grand old Homer's pen and Pope's translation, "Odyssey," Book VI. Read how Pallas is said to have appeared in a dream to fair Nausicaa, daughter of King Alcinous. The goddess bids the princess take all the state robes and wash them in the river, in preparation for her marriage.
The blushing princess goes to her father to ask for the loan of his royal car, in which to convey the robes to the river -
"Say, with my garments shall I bend my way,
Where through the vales the mazy waters stray?
A dignity of dress adorns the great,
And kings draw lustre from the robes of state,
Five sons thou hast; three wait the bridal day;
And spotless robes become the young and gay."
The request is granted. And then we see the collecting of the garments, the packing of viands under the queen's direction, the preparing of the golden cruse for the bathers to -
"Sleek the smooth skin and scent the snowy limbs."
The mules are harnessed; they start -
"Swift fly the mules, nor rode the nymph alone -
Around a bevy of bright damsels shone;
They seek the cisterns where Phaecian dames
Wash their fair garments in the limpid streams."
"Then emulous the royal robes they lave,
And plunge the vestures in the cleansing wave.
(The vestures cleansed, o'erspread the shelly sand;
Their snowy lustre whitens all the strand."
There is a picture of a royal washing day. Read the rest for yourselves, and you will wish you had been there to join in that delightful drive, and the fun that followed after the work was done!
Old Homer, however, says nothing about soap. The first writer by whom it is named is Pliny, who wrote in the last century before Christ. He tells about it as being of two kinds - hard and soft, and made of goat's tallow and the ashes of the beech tree. The famous German soap was not brought into Rome in Pliny's time for washing clothes wish, but - for what, think you, dear girls? For dyeing the hair red, the favourite colour in those ancient days.
But perhaps some young Bible student will ask, "What about that text in the third chapter of Malachi, written nearly four hundred years before Christ, in which it is foretold of Him that 'He is like fullers' sope, and shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, &c.?"
The word translated as "sope," many centuries after Malachi wrote, and when that substance had become common in all civilised lands, simply meant anything that cleanses - a detergent. Probably it referred to some kind of earth used by the fuller in the exercise of his business.
The labour of washing with nothing but water caused researches to be made, and various substances were employed as cleansing agents. The juices of what are called saponaceous plants, soap wort, &c., the gall of animals, still used for carpet cleaning and fixing the colours of stuffs; a ley or infusion of the ashes of burnt wood; infusions of meal or bran, carefully strained; and various kinds of earth, notably what we call "fullers' earth," from the purpose to which it is applied, were amongst the number.
Pliny tells us that in Rome cloth was first washed with Sardinian earth, then exposed to the fumes of sulphur, and lastly rinsed with a solution of another kind of earth.
Partially-cooked potatoes have been found an economical substitute for soap. In India rice-water is commonly employed for cotton and muslin articles.
Until the reign of Henry VIII, all the soap used in this country was imported, and London made none for itself until 1524. At that date the Bristol grey mottled was a penny a pound and black soap a halfpenny.
As a final piece of advice with regard to economy in the use of it; never waste your soap by leaving it in the water, and do not throw away your suds, if you have a garden.
They are a most valuable manure, and your flowers, fruit trees, even your little grass-plot, will be greatly improved by watering with soap-suds.
Starch, invented in Queen Mary's reign, came rapidly into fashion, as all the portraits of Elizabeth's day abundantly prove; but it declined in James the I's time, because a Mrs. Turner, the inventor of a famous yellow starch, wore a ruff stiffened with it at the time of her execution for complicity in the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury. The secret of preparing this died with her; but it was subsequently found that all starch had a tendency to give a yellow tint to linen. Hence the introduction of blue, a kind of salt brought into England in lumps, or as a fine powder. Starch is made from wheat, rice, and potatoes, the latter kinds being, I believe, inferior in quality to the others.
There is a great deal said in the Bible both about the washing of persons and clothing, especially under the law, as a means of purification from ceremonial defilement. And it is in that same blessed book that we learn the need of yet another kind of washing, even the purifying of the soul in that fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness.
May we be led to desire that spiritual cleansing, and to use that prayer, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."
Amateur lace-washers should not stint time or patience on their work. Soaping, soaking, and many changes of water, with gentle pressing and working about, should take all the dirt out. If rubbed at all it ought to be between flannel; or, if necessary, the lace may be stewed in a slow oven, and with abundance of water in a covered jar.
No blue must be used, as it ought always to be dead-white; but it should be passed through the thinnest of cold starch - only a remove from water; say a teaspoonful to half a pint, just to set it. Squeeze out of this and straighten most carefully upon flannel, picking out every little point. Lay another square of flannel over, and pass the lace under the mangle. Afterwards iron it through flannel, taking care that it is well dried, and pausing to examine and adjust any little rumpled point. Done by this process your laces will look only second to those which have passed through the hands of a professional cleaner, and in the wearing will repay the trouble you have taken.
I mentioned that time and patience are needed, and, as I wrote this, I was reminded of a friend's troubles over a beautiful piece of Honiton point. She had seen a recipe for washing lace, and thought she would try it. Having washed the collarette, she found it was to be stiffened in water with a lump of sugar dissolved in it. But how much? I cannot tell what quantity she used, but certainly far too much. The iron was wrong, somehow, and stuck to the lace; another moment and she had scorched it. A hasty pull was followed by a tear, and a beautiful spray was rent from the rest. Then, wherever the iron touched it was stiff as buckram. Vexed at her failure, and too impatient even to see whether the mischief could be repaired, she flung the costly lace on the fire, put away her ironing materials, and vowed never to have any more to do with lace-cleaning. My friend owned to a "good cry" afterwards and a feeling of shame when she thought of her want of patience and the wanton destruction of her collarette - a birthday gift, too, from a distant friend!
Just a little inquiry as to the quantity of stiffening. A rinse to take out what was superfluous, a trial of the iron, a little pains in arranging the lace, and ill temper, wanton waste, and after repentance would all have been spared.
Take warning, dear girls. It is possible to fall into sin and suffer sorrow, even over the washing of a collar.
Now we will suppose the ironing finished. I hope all the strings have been carefully straightened, so the materials may be neatly put away If irons are not likely to be used for a length of time, rub them over, while hot, with a lump of mutton suet. When wanted heat them, to melt the grease; rub it off, then wash with warm soap and water and polish with a little fine brickdust.
I will now say something about those newer mechanical appliances and laundry fittings which are so valuable when the work is done on a large scale. Indeed, I should be glad if every mistress of a cottage could have her washing machine on a scale suitable to the requirements of her home and family.
Nearly all the good domestic machinery for diminishing and lightening the work of the laundress has been invented and brought into use within the recollection of middle-aged housewives. The washing machine, of which there are now so many varieties, was, like the sewing machine, a thing almost unknown in my childish days. Certainly modern inventions have done a great deal for the relief and assistance of girl and women workers in these, their special departments of labour.
I once heard a young girl, who was not very fond of hand sewing, say to her mother, "Mamma, if I were going to be married and were poor, you know, I would save and scrape to get a sewing machine." I say the same about a washing machine, and if I were a girl, with the prospect of living in a little home and having my family washing to do, I would save and scrape beforehand in order to have this valuable help at the commencement of my married life, even if I earned its price in pennies.
But there are machines and machines. Seventeen years ago I was induced to buy one of the wrong sort, and it has been a piece of useless lumber nearly ever since. Labour was increased by its use, the clothes injured, the result unsatisfactory. We found out subsequently that the much-puffed article was an untested invention; that only three beside ours were ever made; and that the thing, which cost a good many pounds, was worthless. I want to save all young housewives and intending purchasers from a similar mistake and disappointment, and I will therefore describe what should be the characteristics of a good washing machine. It should be light in action, and involve little labour in the turning, simple in construction and easily adjusted, as well as not liable to get out of order. It should combine economy in soap, &c., with diminished labour. It ought not to tear or injure the more delicate fabrics which require cleansing. It should combine with it, in a compact and portable form, a wringing and mangling machine, unless you prefer the mangle to be separate.
If you want your combined machine to answer both for wringing and mangling it must have wooden rollers.
The little India-rubber Wringer is only intended for the work implied in its name, which is does admirably.
The machine should also be cleanly in operation, and not involve the disagreeable accompaniment of a sloppy floor whenever it is in use, especially for the wringing.
Let me now suppose that I am advising some dear girl who is preparing for married life, and about to select a washing machine, either for her own use or that of her servants. We must prepare for a little tour of inspection; for we do not mean to choose such an important article in a hurry, or take the first that comes to hand. We will find out the names of the very best makers of domestic machinery; ascertain how long their inventions have been before the public; if they have stood the test of time and public competition; and what position they have taken on such occasions. We will not ignore the medals that may have been awarded at the various great exhibitions. Then we will think over and compare notes as to the merits of two or three machines which, after due examination, we have fixed on as the best, or it may be, the best which our means will permit us to purchase. I shall, however, whisper to my girl companion if she has only a small sum to spend, "Better wait a few weeks and go on saving, than make a hasty purchase which you will afterwards regret. Have a strong, well-made article, however plain in appearance, and be sure it is fit for the purpose you want it, and will do its work thoroughly."
In machines of the same price we must then compare strength, size, economy, cleanliness, amount of work accomplished, b test of time and labour expended; also probable wear and tear of linen and of the machine itself. If possible, we must either obtain permission to test the machines we fix upon before purchasing, or else we must obtain information where we can see them in actual use. After such a careful investigation I think our young housewife can hardly be disappointed when her purchase is put to work in her new home.
Just one more caution. Most good makers improve upon their machines. They find out little defects in the first construction and remedy them by degrees. So we must mind that our machine has the latest improvements which have been tried and found to be really such.
I will briefly describe a couple of machines of undoubted excellence amongst many which possess considerable merit. The "Vowel," made by a firm famous for domestic machinery, and boasting one hundred and seventy prize medals, is in shape an unequal octagon. The bottom is corrugated by means of wooden bars studded with what look like large, smooth wooden buttons, against which the linen rubs as the barrel is turned. It can be had in as many sizes, with movable wringer, or combined wringing and mangling apparatus. The roller pressure is self-adjusting, and adapts itself equally to a stocking or a blanket. The front board, down which water is carried back from the wringers, reverses, and becomes a smooth table for holding the clothes as they are passed u mangle, and a roller at its edge acts as a revolving "carrier" to take them evenly forward. AS they go through at the back they are received on a bracket table, which can be lowered as soon as the mangling is finished, and thus adds nothing to the space occupied by the machine when out of use. The little India-rubber Wringer can be bought separately, and will fasten to any tub.
Machine number two, the invention of another firm, is called the Hexagon Eccentric, and if any young student of geography has been puzzled to understand how the earth moves round upon its axis, and why its poles are alternately elevated and depressed, a glance at this washing machine will instantly make it plain, since it moves round in precisely the same manner as the earth does. The inner surface of this hexagon barrel is perfectly smooth, and I asked the question, "How can clothes be cleaned in this, when there is nothing rough to rub against?"
The exhibitor invited me to come in and hour and I should see. I did so, and found that some warm suds had been prepared, to which a little dry soap was added in my presence. Then some dirty towels and greasy cloths were hunted up from a neighbouring refreshment room, and simply thrown in; the machine was set in motion, and three minutes afterwards the towels were wrung out quite ready for the second water. Then I remembered that when visiting a great industrial school I had seen a larger machine of this kind worked by steam, and doing the washing for four hundred persons admirably and satisfactorily. It has a reversible motion.
In another little and very cheap machine the clothes are worked backwards and forwards between two rollers; others are semi-rotating peggies while one; a comparatively new invention, imitates hand rubbing to perfection; but the arrangement appeared rather complicated. Beside these, there are many other varieties; but leaving the washing machine proper, I will tell you something of sundry modern laundry helps that may be obtained, and in various sizes, prices, and styles.
The "laundry fork" is very useful, a smooth stick, with two blunt prongs of galvanised iron, to turn, stir, or lift clothes out of the hot copper. A double trough, with one partition for rinsing or blue water, and another for starch, with a wringer between, for facilitating this part of the work. Drying cupboards, ironing-stoves, and the old-fashioned box-mangle; but the latter so vastly lightened and improved that it has become a comparatively elegant article with continuous motion.
It is most interesting to see the part which gas is made to play in connection with laundry fittings. Whilst the electric light has been threatening to put out gas in one direction, invention has been busily engaged in turning it to account for cooking and as a motive power of great value. The little gas engines are used for coffee-grinding, book-stitching, silk-winding, braid-making, printing, and only a few days since I saw one working a large washing machine.
There are pretty little gas stoves which can be placed on a table and connected by a few feet of india-rubber tubing with an ordinary gas bracket. A single worker can heat her three irons on this, without any fire in summer. On its perforated centre she can also boil a small kettle or pan of water, toast bread, &c., and all these at a trifling cost in gas.
There are also box-irons, heated by gas; a polishing iron for finishing and glazing collars, cuffs and fronts; egg-irons, shaped alike at both ends for working in and out amongst gathers, narrow trimmings, &c.
Goffering tongs are inexpensive, but comparatively slow to work with. The machines do beautiful work and very rapidly, having been much improved of late.
I must mention one more little article, called "the lady's gas-iron," which any girl would like to possess and use for straightening ties and ironing laces. It is nickel plated, is heated over a gas burner, and if it were not so useful we might almost call it a pretty toy. A young friend of mine was delighted to have one, and constantly turns her iron to account in getting up lace really beautifully.
I think I have now mentioned most of the laundry articles that are likely to be used in private houses, and some that are perhaps better suited for large laundries, schools, and business establishments of various kinds. But then, wherever washing is going on, whether on a large or small scale, girls are sure to be engaged in connection with it, so it is as well to know what articles can be obtained to improve the work done and to lighten the labour of those who perform it.
Glancing backwards at the various materials emmunerated and modern inventions in the way of machinery, we are led to wonder how people managed to purify their clothing in times when even soap was unknown. No doubt, in primitive days, the women used to take their linen to the nearest running stream and there cleanse it by rubbing, stamping, and rinsing in the clear water.
To this day the Hindoos carry their garments and wash them, without soap, in their sacred river, the Ganges; but when the practice was a common one the streams ran unpolluted between grassy banks. Neither garments nor the wearers were exposed to the dirt and smoke-creating agencies of the immense factories which produce so many articles of luxury and comfort, but alas! Foul sadly the fair face of nature, make our streams like rivers of ink, and now only fitted to wash all the white out of our linen.
Paris laundresses first soap and soak the articles, but complete the cleansing in barges on the Seine. Laying the linen on the flat edge of the vessel, they beat it with a wooden utensil, rinsing, rubbing and beating in turns, until it is clean. It does not appear that the fabric is injured by this process, or by a somewhat similar one which prevailed in country districts in Scotland.
Scotch lasses prepared their garments as above, and then beat them on a flat stone with a wooden mallet, rinsing frequently in the brook, and, with bare feet, treading them alternately in a tub of water.
Another mode of preparing white cotton or linen articles for the river process was by means of steam, and this has been most practised in France. The clothes were first soaked in a ley of potash, and then hung in a steam-tight vessel, communicating, by means of a pipe, with a boiler. The steam loosens the dirt in half an hour, and little subsequent labour is needed. This mode may be carried out on a small scale with a copper kettle and a strong cask.
If any girl-reader thinks washing a contemptible and menial employment, let her peep over my shoulder at one of the most charming word-pictures imaginable. It is from grand old Homer's pen and Pope's translation, "Odyssey," Book VI. Read how Pallas is said to have appeared in a dream to fair Nausicaa, daughter of King Alcinous. The goddess bids the princess take all the state robes and wash them in the river, in preparation for her marriage.
The blushing princess goes to her father to ask for the loan of his royal car, in which to convey the robes to the river -
"Say, with my garments shall I bend my way,
Where through the vales the mazy waters stray?
A dignity of dress adorns the great,
And kings draw lustre from the robes of state,
Five sons thou hast; three wait the bridal day;
And spotless robes become the young and gay."
The request is granted. And then we see the collecting of the garments, the packing of viands under the queen's direction, the preparing of the golden cruse for the bathers to -
"Sleek the smooth skin and scent the snowy limbs."
The mules are harnessed; they start -
"Swift fly the mules, nor rode the nymph alone -
Around a bevy of bright damsels shone;
They seek the cisterns where Phaecian dames
Wash their fair garments in the limpid streams."
"Then emulous the royal robes they lave,
And plunge the vestures in the cleansing wave.
(The vestures cleansed, o'erspread the shelly sand;
Their snowy lustre whitens all the strand."
There is a picture of a royal washing day. Read the rest for yourselves, and you will wish you had been there to join in that delightful drive, and the fun that followed after the work was done!
Old Homer, however, says nothing about soap. The first writer by whom it is named is Pliny, who wrote in the last century before Christ. He tells about it as being of two kinds - hard and soft, and made of goat's tallow and the ashes of the beech tree. The famous German soap was not brought into Rome in Pliny's time for washing clothes wish, but - for what, think you, dear girls? For dyeing the hair red, the favourite colour in those ancient days.
But perhaps some young Bible student will ask, "What about that text in the third chapter of Malachi, written nearly four hundred years before Christ, in which it is foretold of Him that 'He is like fullers' sope, and shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, &c.?"
The word translated as "sope," many centuries after Malachi wrote, and when that substance had become common in all civilised lands, simply meant anything that cleanses - a detergent. Probably it referred to some kind of earth used by the fuller in the exercise of his business.
The labour of washing with nothing but water caused researches to be made, and various substances were employed as cleansing agents. The juices of what are called saponaceous plants, soap wort, &c., the gall of animals, still used for carpet cleaning and fixing the colours of stuffs; a ley or infusion of the ashes of burnt wood; infusions of meal or bran, carefully strained; and various kinds of earth, notably what we call "fullers' earth," from the purpose to which it is applied, were amongst the number.
Pliny tells us that in Rome cloth was first washed with Sardinian earth, then exposed to the fumes of sulphur, and lastly rinsed with a solution of another kind of earth.
Partially-cooked potatoes have been found an economical substitute for soap. In India rice-water is commonly employed for cotton and muslin articles.
Until the reign of Henry VIII, all the soap used in this country was imported, and London made none for itself until 1524. At that date the Bristol grey mottled was a penny a pound and black soap a halfpenny.
As a final piece of advice with regard to economy in the use of it; never waste your soap by leaving it in the water, and do not throw away your suds, if you have a garden.
They are a most valuable manure, and your flowers, fruit trees, even your little grass-plot, will be greatly improved by watering with soap-suds.
Starch, invented in Queen Mary's reign, came rapidly into fashion, as all the portraits of Elizabeth's day abundantly prove; but it declined in James the I's time, because a Mrs. Turner, the inventor of a famous yellow starch, wore a ruff stiffened with it at the time of her execution for complicity in the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury. The secret of preparing this died with her; but it was subsequently found that all starch had a tendency to give a yellow tint to linen. Hence the introduction of blue, a kind of salt brought into England in lumps, or as a fine powder. Starch is made from wheat, rice, and potatoes, the latter kinds being, I believe, inferior in quality to the others.
There is a great deal said in the Bible both about the washing of persons and clothing, especially under the law, as a means of purification from ceremonial defilement. And it is in that same blessed book that we learn the need of yet another kind of washing, even the purifying of the soul in that fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness.
May we be led to desire that spiritual cleansing, and to use that prayer, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."
Sunday, 31 July 2016
13 November 1880 - 'How to Wash and Iron' by Ruth Lamb - Part Two
There is a very general impression that the more rapidly a family washing is got out of the way, the more excellent must be the domestic management. Certainly, the having clothes about in an unfinished state, day after day, is a sign of anything but good management in a home. Still, I am to in favour of too great hurry. Laundry work, like everything else, requires a reasonable amount of time and pains, if the result is to be satisfactory.
In a sanitary point of view it is good to give underclothing, table and bed linen as much light and fresh air as we can, colour and purity being both improved thereby. When it is noticed that articles are getting a bad colour, let them go through all the processes with the rest, and then, weather permitting, put them out on the grass to bleach, wetting and turning each from time to time, and finishing when washing day comes round again.
In my former chapter I described the mode in which boiled starch is used. For all delicate fabrics, such as muslins, and for shirts, collars, cuffs, fronts, &c., cold starch is preferable. It is very economical, both as regards time and material, cold-starched articles being almost immediately ready for the iron, whilst those done with boiled starch require to lie some time after being sprinkled and folded. The use of extremely thin, water starch for all white underclothing, makes it easier to wash and to keep a good colour, besides improving the appearance.
For starching collars, cuffs and things which require to be very stiff, the starch is smoothly mixed in the proportion of four ounces to a quart of water. There is an article sold called "starch gloss," and a small quantity of this, well combined with the starch, adds a beautiful sheen to the surface of the linen, and makes it look like new.
The water should be put in slowly and very well stirred, and, if needed, the surface should be skimmed after the mixture has stood for a few moments. When well mixed it should stand for three or four minutes to allow part of the solid starch to settle, and then half the mixture, which will be of the consistency and colour of new milk, should be poured into a clean basin. In this, starch shirt-fronts, collars, &c., but as each article will take a little of the stiffening quality out of the mixture, more must be added from the other vessel to make up for the loss, the solid starch left being again treated as at first directed.
Four ounces of starch will suffice for nine shirts, or smaller articles in proportion; and, when too thin for these, the poured-off mixture can be used for other things which require less stiffening. I say the poured-off mixture because there is always the greater part of the solid starch left behind, and when the cold starching process is over this must by no means be thrown away. On the contrary, though no longer available for the same kind of stiffening, it must be allowed to settle and the water drained off. Kept in a clean, cool place, the sediment again dries and hardens, and on the next washing day can be used up only in the form of boiled starch, for which it is almost if not quite as good as when fresh I prefer the white starch to the blue, and use the ordinary-looking article.
The sprinkling, folding, and ironing of linen is such cleanly and pleasant work that I cannot fancy the most fastidious young lady finding anything to object to in it. The deal ironing-table should be white and clean, and, as each article is taken from the clothes-basket, it should be lightly and evenly sprinkled.
Careless hands sometimes deluge one part and leave the others dry. Fine, even sprinkling is the right thing, and in winter, if the chill is taken off the water, so much the better for the fingers of the workers. When you have sprinkled a goodly pile, put your hands under and over, and turn the clothes topsy-turvy, so that the bottom article may come to the top. Well stretch and straighten each piece, bring corners and seams nicely together, and fold everything for the mangle, as neatly as possible in the same way as when finished ready for wear. Shirts and similarly starched articles are not sent to the mangle; they are sprinkled, cold starched, folded, and singly wrapped for ironing. Collars and such little matters should be nicely straightened after being squeezed through the starch, rolled up, and wrapped in a clean towel. Table-cloths and sheets should be stretched by two pairs of hands, and lengthways. Suppose two girls doing this. Each must take two corners; go back to the full length of the article, and pull it gently but firmly out, gradually gathering up the hemmed ends in your hands until both meet in the middle, but with each fold stretching again. Then let the cloth go gradually, until your hands are back at the corners again, when you must give it a good shake or two and fold it in half, right side inwards. Turn the selvages back to the middle of the wrong side, just as a pocket-handkerchief is folded, meet your companion by bringing your corners neatly to hers, and finish the straightening on the table.
Table linen requires very little starch, only enough to give it consistency. Nothing is more disagreeable than to have stiff, crackling, table napkins, and board-like table-cloths; but they should be very well mangled and ironed on both sides, so that when laid on the table they look almost like brocaded satin. The folding should also be most carefully done, that there may be no folds sticking up, or unsightly creases when the cloth is spread.
There are a few starched articles that require no ironing. Dimity curtains should be most particularly stretched, straightened, and shaken after starching, and pegged out by the loops, or pinned to something else when put on the line to dry. Many laundresses, otherwise experienced, do not know this; and consequently iron all the pattern out of the dimity, and send home, smoothed and glazed, what ought to be in ridges and have a rough surface, as when new.
The cleaner's art is now brought to such perfection that most people, whose means allow them to do so, send their long curtains to be cleaned instead of washing them at home, and they come back made up like new. It is, however, very easy to do them at home, for whether lace, leno, or muslin, they should not be touched with an iron. The cleansing process should be effected by abundant soaking, with a little soda as well as soap, and frequent changes of water. These things would be worn out rapidly if subjected to rough rubbing, so they must be handled tenderly, stewed in a bag, as before directed, or bleached, squeezed through strong cold starch, and very nicely straightened while wet.
The quickest and best way of drying them is to have a frame. It is a mere oblong rim of wood, long enough and wide enough, for the purpose, and with small hooks fixed near the edge, at a distance of two inches from each other. The curtains are simply stretched and hooked on these, and when dry are ready for neatly folding up or hanging at the windows again. The frame is a very inexpensive article, and saves much trouble, as the curtains dry very quickly on it.
As a substitute, a sheet may be spread on a carpet, and the curtains pinned to it, should there be a spare room available. I know a very good house in which they are always dried in this way. If hung on a line, the edges would be nicely straightened, and the curtains gently pulled when about half dry.
Pretty, short curtains for the lower portion of windows are those made of plain book muslin, or leno, and horizontally fluted. Of these the selvages should be at the top and bottom, and through the side-hems brass rods are run, which fasten to hooks on the window frame. These curtains are slipped on the rods, wet from the starch, hooked at once to the window frame, and regulated and fluted with the fingers, when they dry stiff, and keep their appearance. If ironed and put on afterwards they are never fit to be seen.
Starched articles should never lie very long before being ironed, or they will lose the stiffness. In warm weather, if thus left, they mildew in addition. I should also mention that rough Turkish towels should not be mangled. They are better wrung by hand; but if passed through the machine, they require a great deal of shaking to raise the knots to the proper state of roughness.
Starch made of common wheaten flour is sometimes used for stiffening dark prints. This is done with a view to economy, but cannot be recommended, as prints subjected to this process are much less clear-looking than when proper starch is used.
We will now run over a list of articles, required for ironing. There must be our ironing board, or clean deal table, covered first with a suitable blanket and then with a moderately fine sheet; a stand or two for the irons; padded holders to lift them with and preserve our hands from being burnt; a board, sprinkled with bath-brick, on which to rub them; dusters to polish with after the said rub; a basin of clean cold water close by to sprinkle or damp an article that may have become too dry; the clothes-horse to hang the linen on as fast as it is ready; and, if you like, a tray on which collars and cuffs can be placed near the fire for a time before they are put away.
I am supposing the irons are at the fire; but I ought to say a word or two about them, as you require various kinds for the work. If there is no proper stove for heating flat-irons, they will be hung on a bar in front of the fire, which should always be made up beforehand, and allowed to burn clear before they are put down. Never let a fire go low when you are ironing. Bring the hot coals forward from time to time, and keep adding a little fresh at the back, so as not to smoke your irons. There should be at least three flat-irons, or a box-iron with three heaters, for each person at work. Box-irons are less used than they once were, but they are very cleanly articles, and, for delicate ironing, preferable to the others, as being less likely to scorch dainty collars or muslins.
There should be two box-irons, varying in size, and an Italian iron for frills, each with three heaters. Goffering irons and a little crimping machine are also very useful for flounces and frills. In using the latter care should be taken that the little rollers are not too tightly set - otherwise the muslin will be cut in the operation, as I know to my sorrow. A laundress once sent me a whole set of new underclothing home with the frills looking beautifully crimped. But, alas! When next washed my dainty cambric was all in tiny shreds, having been cut to pieces in the crimping, and all the trimming had to be picked off and replaced. Hand crimping, though rather tedious, may be nicely done with a blunt knife. A silver pocket fruit knife answers admirably, and injures nothing.
Wherever there is much delicate ironing to be done, it may be greatly facilitated by the use of three, differently shaped boards, smoothly covered with double flannel. One should be about eighteen inches long and nine broad. This is for slipping below the fronts of shirts, night dresses, and ornamental chemises, &c., the second for putting under white petticoats and the skirts of dresses. It should be narrower at one end than the other, in fact, the shape of a gore; the third, narrow and long enough for shirt and dress sleeves.
And now we will begin by ironing first some collars and cuffs, then a shirt. If you use a box-iron, mind that it is beautifully bright and clean; then put in a red-hot heater with the tongs. Perhaps it will not go in! Never mind. Drop it on the hearth for a minute or two to cool, and then try a second time. Your bit of red iron has given you a lesson on the expansive power of heat, and it will contract again directly by contrast with the cooler air and slip in easily. Place it on the stand to let the iron itself heat through; take out your collar, but roll up the rest as before, that they may not dry; stretch and straighten it nicely wrong side up on the ironing cloth. Try your iron on something of little consequence, then run it quickly over the collar once or twice, and turn it the right side up. Now press the collar firmly, again and again, till it is thoroughly dry and stiff, lifting it occasionally to let the steam escape below. Your irons should be as hot as it is possible to use them, without risk of scorching the linen. If you only half dry the article, it will turn limp and the surface will be blistered and unfit to wear.
I daresay you may have noticed that when you buy new collars there is a little ridge which looks like a cord between the band and the upper part, and you probably wonder why this pretty ridge disappears the first time of washing and is seen no more. There is really no cord, but the appearance is produced by the deft hands of the London laundress, and requires considerable practice to manage it. The collar must not be run over with the iron all at once, but in two parts, as it were, and very few country laundresses produce the effect or perhaps care to try. You may leave your collars and cuffs flat, if the shape be suitable, or give them a turn round in the finishing, if desired. Take care always to place your irons on the stand whilst you adjust the linen, or your sheet and blanket will soon be scorched and spoiled. A flat-iron should be vigorously rubbed on the board with bath-brick, polished with a cloth, and its cleanliness tested before you begin the shirt. And be sure you treat the buttons respectfully. If you stamp the iron on them they will break; if you rush at them violently with the point they will fly off; go tenderly round them and they will seldom want replacing.
The parts of a shirt should be ironed in the following order: - Back lap, saddle, neck-band, or collar, sleeves, cuffs, front - for which use the flannel-covered board number one - front lap, then finished and folded. The final folding of most articles may be very neat or equally clumsy. Look at specimens done by a first-class laundress, study and copy, which will be better than pages of printed instructions.
In ironing skirts and dresses do them in the following order: - Bottom hems, tucks and flounces, sleeves, body or band, lastly, rest of skirt, using shaped board.
After rinsing delicate prints or muslins, let them lie for a few minutes before starching in clean water in which an ounce of Epsom salts has been dissolved. This is a little secret imported from France and has been successfully used by a very superior laundress of any acquaintance, who finds that it fixes and brightens colours, and improves the general appearance of prints.
The many beautiful, printed cotton fabrics now in use should, if possible, be made up in such a manner that they can be ironed on the wrong side. They should not be rubbed with soap, but washed in a lather made with boiled curd soap. Woollen stuffs of very good quality, such as French merinos, will bear washing; but dresses should be taken to pieces and hung out dripping from the rinsing water. It is, however, no economy to wash really good stuffs, and poor an mixed fabrics will not bear it. It is far better to send them to one of the large dyeing and cleaning establishments; the appearance will amply repay the cost, if the articles be worth doing at all. Sateens and prints which are tumbled and creased, can be thoroughly renovated by ironing them through a damp cloth, in the same way as black silk after sponging, or merinos after washing.
In THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER several different recipes for washing lace have already appeared. To any possessor of really valuable lace, who has had no experience in cleaning such a delicate fabric, but who desires to experiment upon it, I would give the same advice as the celebrated Mr. Punch did to persons about to marry - "Don't." By valuable lace, I mean Brussels, the various kinds of points, Honiton, &c., &c., which require very delicate manipulation. Maltese, Cluny, Torchon and others of a comparatively strong kind of thread, are easy enough to do, and I will give you my method of getting them up; but by all means send costly lace to a professional cleaner. It costs very little, comes back exactly like new, and may be done time after time without injury. I have a beautiful piece, only thirty inches long, of rare old point, which cannot be reproduced in these days. It went to Brussels a short time ago, with two little rents in it; it came back so well repaired that the places where they had been were not to be discovered by the naked eye. The mending, cleaning, and postage both ways cost about two shillings; the lace itself is valued at twelve guineas.
A Honiton lace-maker to whom I entrust lace of that description sends hundreds of pieces weekly to be cleaned in Devonshire. I cannot tell the process, but the result is perfection. He says the hand never touches it in the cleaning, and no person could tell it from new unless it has been once washed by an amateur beforehand.
The pretty, frail and so-called "cheap" laces used at present are really very expensive; many will not bear washing, and are not worth the cost of cleaning.
In a sanitary point of view it is good to give underclothing, table and bed linen as much light and fresh air as we can, colour and purity being both improved thereby. When it is noticed that articles are getting a bad colour, let them go through all the processes with the rest, and then, weather permitting, put them out on the grass to bleach, wetting and turning each from time to time, and finishing when washing day comes round again.
In my former chapter I described the mode in which boiled starch is used. For all delicate fabrics, such as muslins, and for shirts, collars, cuffs, fronts, &c., cold starch is preferable. It is very economical, both as regards time and material, cold-starched articles being almost immediately ready for the iron, whilst those done with boiled starch require to lie some time after being sprinkled and folded. The use of extremely thin, water starch for all white underclothing, makes it easier to wash and to keep a good colour, besides improving the appearance.
For starching collars, cuffs and things which require to be very stiff, the starch is smoothly mixed in the proportion of four ounces to a quart of water. There is an article sold called "starch gloss," and a small quantity of this, well combined with the starch, adds a beautiful sheen to the surface of the linen, and makes it look like new.
The water should be put in slowly and very well stirred, and, if needed, the surface should be skimmed after the mixture has stood for a few moments. When well mixed it should stand for three or four minutes to allow part of the solid starch to settle, and then half the mixture, which will be of the consistency and colour of new milk, should be poured into a clean basin. In this, starch shirt-fronts, collars, &c., but as each article will take a little of the stiffening quality out of the mixture, more must be added from the other vessel to make up for the loss, the solid starch left being again treated as at first directed.
Four ounces of starch will suffice for nine shirts, or smaller articles in proportion; and, when too thin for these, the poured-off mixture can be used for other things which require less stiffening. I say the poured-off mixture because there is always the greater part of the solid starch left behind, and when the cold starching process is over this must by no means be thrown away. On the contrary, though no longer available for the same kind of stiffening, it must be allowed to settle and the water drained off. Kept in a clean, cool place, the sediment again dries and hardens, and on the next washing day can be used up only in the form of boiled starch, for which it is almost if not quite as good as when fresh I prefer the white starch to the blue, and use the ordinary-looking article.
The sprinkling, folding, and ironing of linen is such cleanly and pleasant work that I cannot fancy the most fastidious young lady finding anything to object to in it. The deal ironing-table should be white and clean, and, as each article is taken from the clothes-basket, it should be lightly and evenly sprinkled.
Careless hands sometimes deluge one part and leave the others dry. Fine, even sprinkling is the right thing, and in winter, if the chill is taken off the water, so much the better for the fingers of the workers. When you have sprinkled a goodly pile, put your hands under and over, and turn the clothes topsy-turvy, so that the bottom article may come to the top. Well stretch and straighten each piece, bring corners and seams nicely together, and fold everything for the mangle, as neatly as possible in the same way as when finished ready for wear. Shirts and similarly starched articles are not sent to the mangle; they are sprinkled, cold starched, folded, and singly wrapped for ironing. Collars and such little matters should be nicely straightened after being squeezed through the starch, rolled up, and wrapped in a clean towel. Table-cloths and sheets should be stretched by two pairs of hands, and lengthways. Suppose two girls doing this. Each must take two corners; go back to the full length of the article, and pull it gently but firmly out, gradually gathering up the hemmed ends in your hands until both meet in the middle, but with each fold stretching again. Then let the cloth go gradually, until your hands are back at the corners again, when you must give it a good shake or two and fold it in half, right side inwards. Turn the selvages back to the middle of the wrong side, just as a pocket-handkerchief is folded, meet your companion by bringing your corners neatly to hers, and finish the straightening on the table.
Table linen requires very little starch, only enough to give it consistency. Nothing is more disagreeable than to have stiff, crackling, table napkins, and board-like table-cloths; but they should be very well mangled and ironed on both sides, so that when laid on the table they look almost like brocaded satin. The folding should also be most carefully done, that there may be no folds sticking up, or unsightly creases when the cloth is spread.
There are a few starched articles that require no ironing. Dimity curtains should be most particularly stretched, straightened, and shaken after starching, and pegged out by the loops, or pinned to something else when put on the line to dry. Many laundresses, otherwise experienced, do not know this; and consequently iron all the pattern out of the dimity, and send home, smoothed and glazed, what ought to be in ridges and have a rough surface, as when new.
The cleaner's art is now brought to such perfection that most people, whose means allow them to do so, send their long curtains to be cleaned instead of washing them at home, and they come back made up like new. It is, however, very easy to do them at home, for whether lace, leno, or muslin, they should not be touched with an iron. The cleansing process should be effected by abundant soaking, with a little soda as well as soap, and frequent changes of water. These things would be worn out rapidly if subjected to rough rubbing, so they must be handled tenderly, stewed in a bag, as before directed, or bleached, squeezed through strong cold starch, and very nicely straightened while wet.
The quickest and best way of drying them is to have a frame. It is a mere oblong rim of wood, long enough and wide enough, for the purpose, and with small hooks fixed near the edge, at a distance of two inches from each other. The curtains are simply stretched and hooked on these, and when dry are ready for neatly folding up or hanging at the windows again. The frame is a very inexpensive article, and saves much trouble, as the curtains dry very quickly on it.
As a substitute, a sheet may be spread on a carpet, and the curtains pinned to it, should there be a spare room available. I know a very good house in which they are always dried in this way. If hung on a line, the edges would be nicely straightened, and the curtains gently pulled when about half dry.
Pretty, short curtains for the lower portion of windows are those made of plain book muslin, or leno, and horizontally fluted. Of these the selvages should be at the top and bottom, and through the side-hems brass rods are run, which fasten to hooks on the window frame. These curtains are slipped on the rods, wet from the starch, hooked at once to the window frame, and regulated and fluted with the fingers, when they dry stiff, and keep their appearance. If ironed and put on afterwards they are never fit to be seen.
Starched articles should never lie very long before being ironed, or they will lose the stiffness. In warm weather, if thus left, they mildew in addition. I should also mention that rough Turkish towels should not be mangled. They are better wrung by hand; but if passed through the machine, they require a great deal of shaking to raise the knots to the proper state of roughness.
Starch made of common wheaten flour is sometimes used for stiffening dark prints. This is done with a view to economy, but cannot be recommended, as prints subjected to this process are much less clear-looking than when proper starch is used.
We will now run over a list of articles, required for ironing. There must be our ironing board, or clean deal table, covered first with a suitable blanket and then with a moderately fine sheet; a stand or two for the irons; padded holders to lift them with and preserve our hands from being burnt; a board, sprinkled with bath-brick, on which to rub them; dusters to polish with after the said rub; a basin of clean cold water close by to sprinkle or damp an article that may have become too dry; the clothes-horse to hang the linen on as fast as it is ready; and, if you like, a tray on which collars and cuffs can be placed near the fire for a time before they are put away.
I am supposing the irons are at the fire; but I ought to say a word or two about them, as you require various kinds for the work. If there is no proper stove for heating flat-irons, they will be hung on a bar in front of the fire, which should always be made up beforehand, and allowed to burn clear before they are put down. Never let a fire go low when you are ironing. Bring the hot coals forward from time to time, and keep adding a little fresh at the back, so as not to smoke your irons. There should be at least three flat-irons, or a box-iron with three heaters, for each person at work. Box-irons are less used than they once were, but they are very cleanly articles, and, for delicate ironing, preferable to the others, as being less likely to scorch dainty collars or muslins.
There should be two box-irons, varying in size, and an Italian iron for frills, each with three heaters. Goffering irons and a little crimping machine are also very useful for flounces and frills. In using the latter care should be taken that the little rollers are not too tightly set - otherwise the muslin will be cut in the operation, as I know to my sorrow. A laundress once sent me a whole set of new underclothing home with the frills looking beautifully crimped. But, alas! When next washed my dainty cambric was all in tiny shreds, having been cut to pieces in the crimping, and all the trimming had to be picked off and replaced. Hand crimping, though rather tedious, may be nicely done with a blunt knife. A silver pocket fruit knife answers admirably, and injures nothing.
Wherever there is much delicate ironing to be done, it may be greatly facilitated by the use of three, differently shaped boards, smoothly covered with double flannel. One should be about eighteen inches long and nine broad. This is for slipping below the fronts of shirts, night dresses, and ornamental chemises, &c., the second for putting under white petticoats and the skirts of dresses. It should be narrower at one end than the other, in fact, the shape of a gore; the third, narrow and long enough for shirt and dress sleeves.
And now we will begin by ironing first some collars and cuffs, then a shirt. If you use a box-iron, mind that it is beautifully bright and clean; then put in a red-hot heater with the tongs. Perhaps it will not go in! Never mind. Drop it on the hearth for a minute or two to cool, and then try a second time. Your bit of red iron has given you a lesson on the expansive power of heat, and it will contract again directly by contrast with the cooler air and slip in easily. Place it on the stand to let the iron itself heat through; take out your collar, but roll up the rest as before, that they may not dry; stretch and straighten it nicely wrong side up on the ironing cloth. Try your iron on something of little consequence, then run it quickly over the collar once or twice, and turn it the right side up. Now press the collar firmly, again and again, till it is thoroughly dry and stiff, lifting it occasionally to let the steam escape below. Your irons should be as hot as it is possible to use them, without risk of scorching the linen. If you only half dry the article, it will turn limp and the surface will be blistered and unfit to wear.
I daresay you may have noticed that when you buy new collars there is a little ridge which looks like a cord between the band and the upper part, and you probably wonder why this pretty ridge disappears the first time of washing and is seen no more. There is really no cord, but the appearance is produced by the deft hands of the London laundress, and requires considerable practice to manage it. The collar must not be run over with the iron all at once, but in two parts, as it were, and very few country laundresses produce the effect or perhaps care to try. You may leave your collars and cuffs flat, if the shape be suitable, or give them a turn round in the finishing, if desired. Take care always to place your irons on the stand whilst you adjust the linen, or your sheet and blanket will soon be scorched and spoiled. A flat-iron should be vigorously rubbed on the board with bath-brick, polished with a cloth, and its cleanliness tested before you begin the shirt. And be sure you treat the buttons respectfully. If you stamp the iron on them they will break; if you rush at them violently with the point they will fly off; go tenderly round them and they will seldom want replacing.
The parts of a shirt should be ironed in the following order: - Back lap, saddle, neck-band, or collar, sleeves, cuffs, front - for which use the flannel-covered board number one - front lap, then finished and folded. The final folding of most articles may be very neat or equally clumsy. Look at specimens done by a first-class laundress, study and copy, which will be better than pages of printed instructions.
In ironing skirts and dresses do them in the following order: - Bottom hems, tucks and flounces, sleeves, body or band, lastly, rest of skirt, using shaped board.
After rinsing delicate prints or muslins, let them lie for a few minutes before starching in clean water in which an ounce of Epsom salts has been dissolved. This is a little secret imported from France and has been successfully used by a very superior laundress of any acquaintance, who finds that it fixes and brightens colours, and improves the general appearance of prints.
The many beautiful, printed cotton fabrics now in use should, if possible, be made up in such a manner that they can be ironed on the wrong side. They should not be rubbed with soap, but washed in a lather made with boiled curd soap. Woollen stuffs of very good quality, such as French merinos, will bear washing; but dresses should be taken to pieces and hung out dripping from the rinsing water. It is, however, no economy to wash really good stuffs, and poor an mixed fabrics will not bear it. It is far better to send them to one of the large dyeing and cleaning establishments; the appearance will amply repay the cost, if the articles be worth doing at all. Sateens and prints which are tumbled and creased, can be thoroughly renovated by ironing them through a damp cloth, in the same way as black silk after sponging, or merinos after washing.
In THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER several different recipes for washing lace have already appeared. To any possessor of really valuable lace, who has had no experience in cleaning such a delicate fabric, but who desires to experiment upon it, I would give the same advice as the celebrated Mr. Punch did to persons about to marry - "Don't." By valuable lace, I mean Brussels, the various kinds of points, Honiton, &c., &c., which require very delicate manipulation. Maltese, Cluny, Torchon and others of a comparatively strong kind of thread, are easy enough to do, and I will give you my method of getting them up; but by all means send costly lace to a professional cleaner. It costs very little, comes back exactly like new, and may be done time after time without injury. I have a beautiful piece, only thirty inches long, of rare old point, which cannot be reproduced in these days. It went to Brussels a short time ago, with two little rents in it; it came back so well repaired that the places where they had been were not to be discovered by the naked eye. The mending, cleaning, and postage both ways cost about two shillings; the lace itself is valued at twelve guineas.
A Honiton lace-maker to whom I entrust lace of that description sends hundreds of pieces weekly to be cleaned in Devonshire. I cannot tell the process, but the result is perfection. He says the hand never touches it in the cleaning, and no person could tell it from new unless it has been once washed by an amateur beforehand.
The pretty, frail and so-called "cheap" laces used at present are really very expensive; many will not bear washing, and are not worth the cost of cleaning.
Tuesday, 19 July 2016
9 October 1880 - 'How to Wash and Iron' by Ruth Lamb - Part One
"For it's thump, thump; scold, scold; wash, wash away;
There's not a bit of pleasure upon a washing day."
Many a time, in my childish days, have I heard the "Washing Day" verses of which the above two lines form the chorus. The verses themselves have escaped my memory, but I know they were a vivid description of the domestic misery and discomfort which accompanied washing day. There were the scolding wife, the truant husband, crying and neglected children, meals ill prepared, or not prepared at all; the sloppy kitchen, deserted by the cat; and the favourite dog kicked out of doors, and not daring to show his honest muzzle until his instinct told him that the chief business of the day was over.
A certain amount of discomfort is almost inseparable from washing day in a cottage home, and where there are few conveniences; but the mother who directs, and the girls who help, may very materially lessen this if they go about the work in a neat and orderly fashion.
Order is like a fairy helper, and has been represented as such in many a juvenile story. It not only reduces discomfort to the minimum, but actually lightens labour.
In arranging my chapters on washing, I will first take cottage work, where space is small and mechanical appliances are few. I will then tell something about the modern improvements, and the more expensive machinery of various kinds which are used in laundry work on a large scale, and which equally save time and diminish labour.
The materials required for simple laundry work are wooden tubs or earthen pancheons - or both if possible - wicker clothes baskets, pegs, lines, props; a wooden clothes-horse, or "maiden," as some call it; a thin calico bag, to boil clothes in; a long, smooth stick, to turn them in the copper; blue-bag; soap of two kinds, pale yellow and white curd; some soda, starch and blue. Soda softens water, and is valuable for dissolving the grease and cleansing very dirty articles; but it should not be used in water intended for flannels, or it will turn them yellow, and it would also spoil most prints. Many washing powders are advertised, but I cannot recommend or condemn any from actual experience. I have heard ladies complain of the use of strong powders by laundresses, and say that clothes were made tender and rotted by them. A pint of boiling water poured over a quarter of a pound of quick lime, and drained off clear into the copper before clothes are put in to boil, helps to whiten and bleach such as need it. It must be well stirred in. In most old-fashioned cottage homes, and, indeed, in many new ones, the Peggy tub is an important article, and a much-borrowed one amongst neighbourly people. Properly used it is a great help, especially for coarse things and the much-soiled clothing of working people. Old-fashioned as it is, numbers of cottage laundresses prefer it to some of the newer washing-machines. I say some, because there are excellent articles which lighten labour, and there are others so heavy and clumsy that they rather increase than diminish it.
The number of washing utensils, the length of lines, &c., must be regulated by the amount of work to be done, and the space available for drying purposes. The copper in which water is heated and clothes are boiled should be kept scrupulously clean, as, indeed, should every other utensil. Baskets, pegs, and lines ought to be regularly washed and brushed; the lines, when stretched, rubbed with a clean coarse cloth, and the wooden rails carefully dusted before the ironed garments are hung on them to be aired.
Soap goes further when dry. It is more economical to buy it a week, at least, before it is wanted. It should be cut up into squares and hung in a twine net in a dry place. When boiled starch is used, it is advisable to strain it through a muslin bag, which ensures perfect smoothness and no lumps. Solid blue, which I prefer to the powdered article, should be tied up tightly in double flannel, and the bag kept in a clean place when out of use.
These details may seem very trifling, but it is just want of attention to these little things which makes all the difference in the appearance of the linen.
Who has not been annoyed at seeing a dingy patch on the hem of an otherwise clean garment, and manifestly caused by dirty peg or line? Who has not chafed over a shiny patch of starch on the surface of a dainty shirt-front, or cuffs flecked here and there with dark blue, instead of being evenly tinted, as the linen was when new?
Yet all these oft-recurring disfigurements might have been easily prevented by attention to mere trifles such as I have enumerated.
In my early home it was an article of faith that girls ought to learn how to do everything connected with the house, not merely in theory, but practically; from cleaning a saucepan, blacking a grate, and scrubbing a floor, to the concocting of a dainty dish, or the "getting up" or lace as fine almost as cobwebs. I will not say that I attained perfection in all these branches; but I had to try my hand at them, and I have a very vivid recollection of the indignation I once felt when set to do something which I considered infra dig.
My dear, sensible father put his hand lovingly on my shoulder, and said, "My dear child, if, during your future life, you are so favoured by fortune as to have servants to do all these things for you, the knowledge you are gaining will enable you the better to estimate the work of others. You will know both the time and labour that should be bestowed on each, and this will teach you to be reasonable and patient with other workers. If your servants are ignorant you can teach them, and your knowledge will command their respect. If, on the other hand, you have no servants to teach, experience will render the work you have to do far easier to yourself."
The lesson went home. I believe that was my last grumble, and I have known what it is to feel very proud of many a bit of household work which my mother commended, and of the nice appearance of my white muslin frock, "got up" by my own youthful hands.
These lessons in domestic economy were not, however, allowed to interfere with my school duties, which were regularly attended to. Time was found for both, and I remained a daily pupil until I was nearly eighteen My French lessons at school were not less attractive because I could boxpleat a French cambric frill, or my Italian translation less carefully prepared because of my intimate acquaintance with an Italian iron. And now, as I look back, after being many years wife, mother, and mistress of a home, I assure you I value more than ever the lessons which my own mother taught me.
Let us now suppose ourselves preparing for a cottage wash. All articles, except prints and flannels, should be soaped and put in to steep the night before; and this points to Tuesday s the best for washing, because in hot weather especially the water is apt to smell badly if dirty clothes lie in it from Saturday for Monday.
The articles should be carefully sorted, according to texture, &c. Those which are comparatively little soiled should not be mixed with the coarser and dirtier. Fruit and wine stains on table linen should be taken out before they are touched with soap, as follows: Stretch the stained part over a bowl, cover it with salt, and pour quite boiling water over it. Some stains may be removed by dipping in sour buttermilk and drying in a hot sun, afterwards washing in cold water. This process may require repetition. By putting salt on a port-wine stain while it is wet, the mark will not become fixed; or the immediate application of a little sherry will have the same effect. For the removal of iron-moulds, fill a basin with boiling water, cover it with a pewter plate, on which place your linen. Cover the spot with essential salts of lemon, and then slowly pour boiling water from a kettle upon the powder to dissolve it. Then lay a dry portion of the linen lightly over, so as to keep in the steam, but not to touch the stained part. If your salts be good the marks will quickly disappear. The article should then be washed out separately, or the salts will curdle the soap, and make all the water in the wash-tub hard and useless.
Perhaps it may seem out of place to introduce these instructions preparatory to a cottage wash. But it is in cottages that a very large proportion of the laundry work for much larger houses is carried out. This is almost wholly the case in our watering-places and other summer haunts, and very sweet does the linen smell when it has been dried in an old-fashioned cottage garden; very different from the smock colour which country people complain of in town-washed linen.
When the clothes are put in soak, all the most soiled parts should have a special rub after an extra soaping - such as collars and wristbands, grease spots, &c.
Early rising is essential on washing morning. The first thing to be done is to light the boiler fire to get the hot water ready. While this is heating let the kitchen, house, place, or by whatever name you call the apartment in which the fail take their meals, be put into its proper state of cleanliness. In towns washing is mostly done below stairs in the cellars; in country cottages it may be in a little lean-to washhouse, or perhaps, in the one room that serves for parlour, kitchen and every purpose, except sleeping. But even if this last is the case, there is all the more need for order. What makes the old jingle, "There's not a bit of pleasure upon a washing day," a truth?
Is it not the unswept hearth, the unmade beds, the unwashed breakfast crockery, the absence of everything in the shape of a decently-prepared meal?
So let your hearth be bright, if the wash-tub has to stand under the window; and do those little things *which you know must be done at the proper time.
When ready to commence, work the clothes that are in soak about with the hands; pour off the soiled sud, and add fresh hot water to each lot. Begin with the cleanest, lightest articles, and as each is washed through, soap it again and pass it into another vessel with fresh warm water. The articles should follow each other according to fineness and colour, a portion of the dirty water being poured off from time to time and fresh hot added. After a second washing through, all white articles should be scalded. Lay them in the pancheon - the coarsest at the bottom, and so on, till you finish with collars, cuffs, and muslins at the top; cover with a clean towel, to prevent grit or sediment from being mixed with your clothes, and then pour on boiling water till the vessel is full. When cool enough wring out, and rinse through plenty of perfectly clean water, into which enough blue has been squeezed from your flannel blue-bag to give it the necessary tint. Too much blue is a great mistake. It looks ugly by daylight, and, by gaslight, gives, what should be white articles, a grey appearance.
Most articles are dried before being starched, but I remember my mother had such as required only slight stiffening passed through what she used to call "water starch," after being blued. It was a little of the thick, boiled starch strained and immediately diluted, until it seemed scarcely thicker than water. The bodies of shirts were passed through this, and the wristbands, fronts, collars, &c., squeezed through some as thick as jelly afterwards. A little while was scraped into the pan when the starch was boiling, to prevent the sticking of the iron later on.
Fine white articles which require boiling should always be tied up very loosely, in a thin calico bag. Coarse towels and aprons do not need this precaution. Flannels and prints of the common kinds will follow each other very well. They should not be soaped in places but washed in a strong lather, made of white curd soap, boiled and prepared beforehand. These ought also to be *quickly done, and never allowed to lie in a lather, as it would shrink flannels and fade prints. They require twice washing through, but no scalding. Flannels are sometimes wrung out from a clean, light lather; others rinse them in clear water. The following is said to make the flannels keep their colour, and not shrink; "Put them into a pail, and pour boiling water on them, letting them lie till cold the first time of washing." I presume they would be first clean washed, as scalding dirty articles helps to fix the dirt.
Before making up flannels I always soak the lengths for twenty-four hours in cold water, and hang them out dripping in order to do the shrinking in advance.
Prints should be put into plenty of clean, cold water after washing, and a handful of salt dissolved in this will sometimes help to fix the colours. Delicate prints are best washed in a thin solution of bran.
A word about using plenty of rinsing water. I once heard a lady remark, as she cast a discontented glance at the linen which the laundress had sent in, "I do not know how it is that our clothes always have a muddled look. The creases are out, and there are no absolute marks. It seems as though the clothes were well rubbed, but they are grey instead of being white."
No doubt the greyness arose from using too little water. Where it is scarce, or has to be fetched from a distance, there is a strong temptation to stint the clothes; but where water is near and plentiful, there is no excuse for not giving them an abundant supply of it. In any case the improvement in the colour consequent on its use well repays a little extra trouble.
Coarse woollen stockings and other odds and ends in the shape of dusters and household cloths come in last, and require nothing but washing. For all these the Peggy is a valuable help.
A word about wringing clothes. The little inexpensive wringing machines, k press out the moisture, and serve also as mangles, may be found in the possession of most cottage laundresses, especially those who "take in washing." In large cities, a person in a poor neighbourhood will make a living by such a machine, a trifle being paid per dozen for wringing large things, and again for mangling. Articles with many buttons are best wrung by hand. Care should be taken that no part of the garment is tightly strained over the rest. A nightdress, for instance, should be gathered up at the collar and the garment lifted up and down and allowed to drop in loose folds. For want of care in this apparently trifling matter, new material has been cracked into slits, and unsightly patches rendered needful.
Every article should be thoroughly shaken before being pegged to the line. Black and delicate coloured stockings require great care, boiled curd soap or bran water used, and thoroughly rinsing. They should be hung up by the tops and dripping wet.
Apropos of clearing. A laundress, whose linen and prints were noted for whiteness and brilliancy of colour, told me that she used to place her tubs of clothes before using blue water, under a running spring in her garden.
After the actual washing is done, the last business is to scrub and clean all the utensils, clear out the copper, and tidy the cellar or washhouse. Let us hope some thoughtful little girl has the tea ready, so that there may be a refreshing cup for mother.
When writing about utensils, I forgot to mention the shaped tub which seems to me the best and the one always used in my native county, Lincolnshire. It is oblong, and narrower at the bottom than the top, so that the suds do not flow over so readily, but run back down the sloping sides. There is a little triangular shelf at one corner, to hold the soap.
Young laundresses, when learning, are very apt to rub the skin off the wrists. This is owing to the rubbing on the wrist instead of making the portion of the article come in contact with another. Some too wet their own clothes very much in the front. This is both uncomfortable and dangerous, as damp garments must be when near the chest or stomach. To obviate this a washing ad, as it is called, composed of several thicknesses of flannel or a stout material, may be tied on under the large apron.
In very poor homes there are a good many makeshifts on washing days. Clothes have to be boiled and water heated in the pot and kettle, which ton other occasions serve for potato billing and tea water. Or they are stewed in brown earthenware, covered up with a dinner plate, and on the oven shelf.
I was once in a very tidy cottage home at dinner time, when a little lassie brought in a baked rice pudding, cooked in small back kitchen. The mother noticed a peculiar odour, as the steam arose from the dish, and said, "Polly, the pudding has a queer smell." "Yes, mother," replied the child, "the stockings have boiled over on the oven shelf. But nothing went in the pudding for it was on the top, and the stocking pot was at the bottom."
This was reassuring, but the soapy liquid having boiled over on the hot shelf had burned there, and raised sufficient steam and smoke to give the pudding an undoubted flavouring of essence of stewed stockings.
The drying of clothes in close city neighbourhoods is a great difficulty, and, in small streets with little traffic, is often done on lines stretched across the street itself. Sometimes the neat garments, dried under such difficulties, excite one's admiration. At others, the wretched, dingy rags call forth a mixture of disgust and pity.
Not long ago, I was going to pay a visit to a member of my mother's class, when the coachman brought his horse to a dead stand, instead of turning down the street. I soon discerned the reason. There were rows of linens across it, laden with garments, and the appearance of a coach excited a grand flutter. The women rushed out, slackened the lines, and lifted the props to such a height as to allow the coach to proceed. And so we passed through a series of arches, the flapping garments reminding one, in a ludicrous way, of trailing flags on so-called triumphant erections at gala times.
The very queerest mode of drying I ever saw, though, and the strangest collections of duds, were in Edinburgh. It was on a Saturday afternoon, the washing day of the locality - the closest of closes in the auld toun. The pieces of garments - for there was not a whole one amongst them - were fastened to sticks and hung from the windows, story above story.
Our driver said that, in all probability, the adult male owners were in bed whilst the fragments were being washed, and the children ditto, unless the younger mortals were too restless, in which case they were probably careering up and down, let us say, the primeval costume of the Garden of Eden.
With this last sample of laundry work under difficulties I will close this chapter. In my next I hope to describe the cold starching, folding, ironing, and mangling of garments, table and bed linen, and to show my girl friends how very easily they may get up their laces I will also describe some laundry machinery, and, if space permits, tell something about the way in which washing is done in other countries.
There's not a bit of pleasure upon a washing day."
Many a time, in my childish days, have I heard the "Washing Day" verses of which the above two lines form the chorus. The verses themselves have escaped my memory, but I know they were a vivid description of the domestic misery and discomfort which accompanied washing day. There were the scolding wife, the truant husband, crying and neglected children, meals ill prepared, or not prepared at all; the sloppy kitchen, deserted by the cat; and the favourite dog kicked out of doors, and not daring to show his honest muzzle until his instinct told him that the chief business of the day was over.
A certain amount of discomfort is almost inseparable from washing day in a cottage home, and where there are few conveniences; but the mother who directs, and the girls who help, may very materially lessen this if they go about the work in a neat and orderly fashion.
Order is like a fairy helper, and has been represented as such in many a juvenile story. It not only reduces discomfort to the minimum, but actually lightens labour.
In arranging my chapters on washing, I will first take cottage work, where space is small and mechanical appliances are few. I will then tell something about the modern improvements, and the more expensive machinery of various kinds which are used in laundry work on a large scale, and which equally save time and diminish labour.
The materials required for simple laundry work are wooden tubs or earthen pancheons - or both if possible - wicker clothes baskets, pegs, lines, props; a wooden clothes-horse, or "maiden," as some call it; a thin calico bag, to boil clothes in; a long, smooth stick, to turn them in the copper; blue-bag; soap of two kinds, pale yellow and white curd; some soda, starch and blue. Soda softens water, and is valuable for dissolving the grease and cleansing very dirty articles; but it should not be used in water intended for flannels, or it will turn them yellow, and it would also spoil most prints. Many washing powders are advertised, but I cannot recommend or condemn any from actual experience. I have heard ladies complain of the use of strong powders by laundresses, and say that clothes were made tender and rotted by them. A pint of boiling water poured over a quarter of a pound of quick lime, and drained off clear into the copper before clothes are put in to boil, helps to whiten and bleach such as need it. It must be well stirred in. In most old-fashioned cottage homes, and, indeed, in many new ones, the Peggy tub is an important article, and a much-borrowed one amongst neighbourly people. Properly used it is a great help, especially for coarse things and the much-soiled clothing of working people. Old-fashioned as it is, numbers of cottage laundresses prefer it to some of the newer washing-machines. I say some, because there are excellent articles which lighten labour, and there are others so heavy and clumsy that they rather increase than diminish it.
The number of washing utensils, the length of lines, &c., must be regulated by the amount of work to be done, and the space available for drying purposes. The copper in which water is heated and clothes are boiled should be kept scrupulously clean, as, indeed, should every other utensil. Baskets, pegs, and lines ought to be regularly washed and brushed; the lines, when stretched, rubbed with a clean coarse cloth, and the wooden rails carefully dusted before the ironed garments are hung on them to be aired.
Soap goes further when dry. It is more economical to buy it a week, at least, before it is wanted. It should be cut up into squares and hung in a twine net in a dry place. When boiled starch is used, it is advisable to strain it through a muslin bag, which ensures perfect smoothness and no lumps. Solid blue, which I prefer to the powdered article, should be tied up tightly in double flannel, and the bag kept in a clean place when out of use.
These details may seem very trifling, but it is just want of attention to these little things which makes all the difference in the appearance of the linen.
Who has not been annoyed at seeing a dingy patch on the hem of an otherwise clean garment, and manifestly caused by dirty peg or line? Who has not chafed over a shiny patch of starch on the surface of a dainty shirt-front, or cuffs flecked here and there with dark blue, instead of being evenly tinted, as the linen was when new?
Yet all these oft-recurring disfigurements might have been easily prevented by attention to mere trifles such as I have enumerated.
In my early home it was an article of faith that girls ought to learn how to do everything connected with the house, not merely in theory, but practically; from cleaning a saucepan, blacking a grate, and scrubbing a floor, to the concocting of a dainty dish, or the "getting up" or lace as fine almost as cobwebs. I will not say that I attained perfection in all these branches; but I had to try my hand at them, and I have a very vivid recollection of the indignation I once felt when set to do something which I considered infra dig.
My dear, sensible father put his hand lovingly on my shoulder, and said, "My dear child, if, during your future life, you are so favoured by fortune as to have servants to do all these things for you, the knowledge you are gaining will enable you the better to estimate the work of others. You will know both the time and labour that should be bestowed on each, and this will teach you to be reasonable and patient with other workers. If your servants are ignorant you can teach them, and your knowledge will command their respect. If, on the other hand, you have no servants to teach, experience will render the work you have to do far easier to yourself."
The lesson went home. I believe that was my last grumble, and I have known what it is to feel very proud of many a bit of household work which my mother commended, and of the nice appearance of my white muslin frock, "got up" by my own youthful hands.
These lessons in domestic economy were not, however, allowed to interfere with my school duties, which were regularly attended to. Time was found for both, and I remained a daily pupil until I was nearly eighteen My French lessons at school were not less attractive because I could boxpleat a French cambric frill, or my Italian translation less carefully prepared because of my intimate acquaintance with an Italian iron. And now, as I look back, after being many years wife, mother, and mistress of a home, I assure you I value more than ever the lessons which my own mother taught me.
Let us now suppose ourselves preparing for a cottage wash. All articles, except prints and flannels, should be soaped and put in to steep the night before; and this points to Tuesday s the best for washing, because in hot weather especially the water is apt to smell badly if dirty clothes lie in it from Saturday for Monday.
The articles should be carefully sorted, according to texture, &c. Those which are comparatively little soiled should not be mixed with the coarser and dirtier. Fruit and wine stains on table linen should be taken out before they are touched with soap, as follows: Stretch the stained part over a bowl, cover it with salt, and pour quite boiling water over it. Some stains may be removed by dipping in sour buttermilk and drying in a hot sun, afterwards washing in cold water. This process may require repetition. By putting salt on a port-wine stain while it is wet, the mark will not become fixed; or the immediate application of a little sherry will have the same effect. For the removal of iron-moulds, fill a basin with boiling water, cover it with a pewter plate, on which place your linen. Cover the spot with essential salts of lemon, and then slowly pour boiling water from a kettle upon the powder to dissolve it. Then lay a dry portion of the linen lightly over, so as to keep in the steam, but not to touch the stained part. If your salts be good the marks will quickly disappear. The article should then be washed out separately, or the salts will curdle the soap, and make all the water in the wash-tub hard and useless.
Perhaps it may seem out of place to introduce these instructions preparatory to a cottage wash. But it is in cottages that a very large proportion of the laundry work for much larger houses is carried out. This is almost wholly the case in our watering-places and other summer haunts, and very sweet does the linen smell when it has been dried in an old-fashioned cottage garden; very different from the smock colour which country people complain of in town-washed linen.
When the clothes are put in soak, all the most soiled parts should have a special rub after an extra soaping - such as collars and wristbands, grease spots, &c.
Early rising is essential on washing morning. The first thing to be done is to light the boiler fire to get the hot water ready. While this is heating let the kitchen, house, place, or by whatever name you call the apartment in which the fail take their meals, be put into its proper state of cleanliness. In towns washing is mostly done below stairs in the cellars; in country cottages it may be in a little lean-to washhouse, or perhaps, in the one room that serves for parlour, kitchen and every purpose, except sleeping. But even if this last is the case, there is all the more need for order. What makes the old jingle, "There's not a bit of pleasure upon a washing day," a truth?
Is it not the unswept hearth, the unmade beds, the unwashed breakfast crockery, the absence of everything in the shape of a decently-prepared meal?
So let your hearth be bright, if the wash-tub has to stand under the window; and do those little things *which you know must be done at the proper time.
When ready to commence, work the clothes that are in soak about with the hands; pour off the soiled sud, and add fresh hot water to each lot. Begin with the cleanest, lightest articles, and as each is washed through, soap it again and pass it into another vessel with fresh warm water. The articles should follow each other according to fineness and colour, a portion of the dirty water being poured off from time to time and fresh hot added. After a second washing through, all white articles should be scalded. Lay them in the pancheon - the coarsest at the bottom, and so on, till you finish with collars, cuffs, and muslins at the top; cover with a clean towel, to prevent grit or sediment from being mixed with your clothes, and then pour on boiling water till the vessel is full. When cool enough wring out, and rinse through plenty of perfectly clean water, into which enough blue has been squeezed from your flannel blue-bag to give it the necessary tint. Too much blue is a great mistake. It looks ugly by daylight, and, by gaslight, gives, what should be white articles, a grey appearance.
Most articles are dried before being starched, but I remember my mother had such as required only slight stiffening passed through what she used to call "water starch," after being blued. It was a little of the thick, boiled starch strained and immediately diluted, until it seemed scarcely thicker than water. The bodies of shirts were passed through this, and the wristbands, fronts, collars, &c., squeezed through some as thick as jelly afterwards. A little while was scraped into the pan when the starch was boiling, to prevent the sticking of the iron later on.
Fine white articles which require boiling should always be tied up very loosely, in a thin calico bag. Coarse towels and aprons do not need this precaution. Flannels and prints of the common kinds will follow each other very well. They should not be soaped in places but washed in a strong lather, made of white curd soap, boiled and prepared beforehand. These ought also to be *quickly done, and never allowed to lie in a lather, as it would shrink flannels and fade prints. They require twice washing through, but no scalding. Flannels are sometimes wrung out from a clean, light lather; others rinse them in clear water. The following is said to make the flannels keep their colour, and not shrink; "Put them into a pail, and pour boiling water on them, letting them lie till cold the first time of washing." I presume they would be first clean washed, as scalding dirty articles helps to fix the dirt.
Before making up flannels I always soak the lengths for twenty-four hours in cold water, and hang them out dripping in order to do the shrinking in advance.
Prints should be put into plenty of clean, cold water after washing, and a handful of salt dissolved in this will sometimes help to fix the colours. Delicate prints are best washed in a thin solution of bran.
A word about using plenty of rinsing water. I once heard a lady remark, as she cast a discontented glance at the linen which the laundress had sent in, "I do not know how it is that our clothes always have a muddled look. The creases are out, and there are no absolute marks. It seems as though the clothes were well rubbed, but they are grey instead of being white."
No doubt the greyness arose from using too little water. Where it is scarce, or has to be fetched from a distance, there is a strong temptation to stint the clothes; but where water is near and plentiful, there is no excuse for not giving them an abundant supply of it. In any case the improvement in the colour consequent on its use well repays a little extra trouble.
Coarse woollen stockings and other odds and ends in the shape of dusters and household cloths come in last, and require nothing but washing. For all these the Peggy is a valuable help.
A word about wringing clothes. The little inexpensive wringing machines, k press out the moisture, and serve also as mangles, may be found in the possession of most cottage laundresses, especially those who "take in washing." In large cities, a person in a poor neighbourhood will make a living by such a machine, a trifle being paid per dozen for wringing large things, and again for mangling. Articles with many buttons are best wrung by hand. Care should be taken that no part of the garment is tightly strained over the rest. A nightdress, for instance, should be gathered up at the collar and the garment lifted up and down and allowed to drop in loose folds. For want of care in this apparently trifling matter, new material has been cracked into slits, and unsightly patches rendered needful.
Every article should be thoroughly shaken before being pegged to the line. Black and delicate coloured stockings require great care, boiled curd soap or bran water used, and thoroughly rinsing. They should be hung up by the tops and dripping wet.
Apropos of clearing. A laundress, whose linen and prints were noted for whiteness and brilliancy of colour, told me that she used to place her tubs of clothes before using blue water, under a running spring in her garden.
After the actual washing is done, the last business is to scrub and clean all the utensils, clear out the copper, and tidy the cellar or washhouse. Let us hope some thoughtful little girl has the tea ready, so that there may be a refreshing cup for mother.
When writing about utensils, I forgot to mention the shaped tub which seems to me the best and the one always used in my native county, Lincolnshire. It is oblong, and narrower at the bottom than the top, so that the suds do not flow over so readily, but run back down the sloping sides. There is a little triangular shelf at one corner, to hold the soap.
Young laundresses, when learning, are very apt to rub the skin off the wrists. This is owing to the rubbing on the wrist instead of making the portion of the article come in contact with another. Some too wet their own clothes very much in the front. This is both uncomfortable and dangerous, as damp garments must be when near the chest or stomach. To obviate this a washing ad, as it is called, composed of several thicknesses of flannel or a stout material, may be tied on under the large apron.
In very poor homes there are a good many makeshifts on washing days. Clothes have to be boiled and water heated in the pot and kettle, which ton other occasions serve for potato billing and tea water. Or they are stewed in brown earthenware, covered up with a dinner plate, and on the oven shelf.
I was once in a very tidy cottage home at dinner time, when a little lassie brought in a baked rice pudding, cooked in small back kitchen. The mother noticed a peculiar odour, as the steam arose from the dish, and said, "Polly, the pudding has a queer smell." "Yes, mother," replied the child, "the stockings have boiled over on the oven shelf. But nothing went in the pudding for it was on the top, and the stocking pot was at the bottom."
This was reassuring, but the soapy liquid having boiled over on the hot shelf had burned there, and raised sufficient steam and smoke to give the pudding an undoubted flavouring of essence of stewed stockings.
The drying of clothes in close city neighbourhoods is a great difficulty, and, in small streets with little traffic, is often done on lines stretched across the street itself. Sometimes the neat garments, dried under such difficulties, excite one's admiration. At others, the wretched, dingy rags call forth a mixture of disgust and pity.
Not long ago, I was going to pay a visit to a member of my mother's class, when the coachman brought his horse to a dead stand, instead of turning down the street. I soon discerned the reason. There were rows of linens across it, laden with garments, and the appearance of a coach excited a grand flutter. The women rushed out, slackened the lines, and lifted the props to such a height as to allow the coach to proceed. And so we passed through a series of arches, the flapping garments reminding one, in a ludicrous way, of trailing flags on so-called triumphant erections at gala times.
The very queerest mode of drying I ever saw, though, and the strangest collections of duds, were in Edinburgh. It was on a Saturday afternoon, the washing day of the locality - the closest of closes in the auld toun. The pieces of garments - for there was not a whole one amongst them - were fastened to sticks and hung from the windows, story above story.
Our driver said that, in all probability, the adult male owners were in bed whilst the fragments were being washed, and the children ditto, unless the younger mortals were too restless, in which case they were probably careering up and down, let us say, the primeval costume of the Garden of Eden.
With this last sample of laundry work under difficulties I will close this chapter. In my next I hope to describe the cold starching, folding, ironing, and mangling of garments, table and bed linen, and to show my girl friends how very easily they may get up their laces I will also describe some laundry machinery, and, if space permits, tell something about the way in which washing is done in other countries.
Tuesday, 17 May 2016
10 July 1880 - 'Bread and Bread-making' by Ruth Lamb - Chapter Two
Having glanced at the origin and early history of the loaf, and seen what it was and still is when in the shape of unleavened bread, we will trace the next step in its progress - the introduction of leaven. It does not seem difficult to imagine how it came into use. It is only needful to leave a portion of the unleavened dough in a warm place for some days, and you will see that it begins to ferment, as though it contained barm of some kind; but the taste is rather sour and not pleasant.
"A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." These few words tell the story of leavened breadmaking. A small portion of this sour dough is mixed with the large quantity of flour, salt, and water requisite for the batch of bread, and in time the whole lump is leavened. But it retained, though in a less degree, the sour taste of the little piece put into the lump, and the bread requires a longer time to work than when made with yeast.
In remote country districts on the Continent this mode of leavening bread is still in common use, and English travellers find it anything but agreeable. I well remember that, when in Switzerland a dozen years ago, our party crossed the Gemmi Pass two days sooner than we intended because my husband could not endure the taste of this leavened bread, and there was nothing else to be had at Kendersteg just then. In many other hotels in the mountainous districts we found leavened bread, but with this one exception there were always plenty of the delightful little milk rolls, twists, and "cobs," as we call them in Lancashire, in addition to the sour-tasted loaves.
Brewer's yeast is merely the froth which rises on the surface of beer during the process of fermentation. It is skimmed off when thick enough, as cream is taken from the milk.
When I was a girl, we, whether lived in country towns and villages, were wholly dependent on this kind of yeast, or on a home-made article for lightening our bread. On certain days in each week a stream of small customers might be seen, mug or pitcher in hand, wending their way towards the various breweries, at which as small as quantity as a halfpennyworth of yeast could be purchased. Many an injunction did these young messengers receive not to loiter by the way lest all the yeast should be gone - a calamity of no small consequence. The yeast money was always the special perquisite of the brewer's wife.
On the weekly market-day, one of the first errands of the country carrier was to the brewery. He conveyed a whole string of tin cans, with close-fitting lids; earthenware jugs, with bungs, and of many sizes; and in these he took home yeast for the village shops, farmers' wives, and cottagers for many a mile round. Probably the motion of the cart would make the barm obstreperous on the homeward way. In spite of the wet rag put on to make the bung or lid fit more tightly, one would fly out with an explosion, the other be lifted off, and some passenger begin to grumble that the froth was trickling on to her bonnet from one of the shelves below the tilt which held the lesser parcels.
Country people are always neighbourly, and yeast was an article much borrowed and lent, not a thing to be rashly or wastefully treated. A little quantity left over was hoarded to make a bit of cake with, or given to a poor neighbour. Baking day only came once a week in cottage homes, new bread being deemed extravagant, and old bread reckoned to go further.
The difficulty of procuring brewer's yeast as often as was requisite, set invention to work to contrive modes of preservation of substitutes for it.
One way of preserving it was by whisking it well, and spreading a thin layer on a large wooden trencher or board. When this was dry another was added, and so on, until the paste was a couple of inches thick, when it was cut up and placed in air-tight canisters until required. Then it was dissolved in warm water and used like fresh yeast.
Potato yeast is made with mealy potatoes; boiled, pounded and passed through a sieve. To 1lb of this pulp add two tablespoonfuls of treacle and boiling water to make it the thickness of brewer's yeast. When just warm stir in two tablespoonfuls of yeast, and keep it in a warm place to ferment for twenty-four hours, when it will be fit for use. It will keep in a cold place for several weeks.
But almost all the substitutes for brewer's barm require just a little of the genuine article to set them going. I will give one recipe for yeast with which the brewer has nothing to do. It is from a very comprehensive treatise on the "Art of Breadmaking," published three quarters of a century ago. Ingredients, 1/2lb flour, 1/2lb coarse sugar, 3/4 peck of malt, bruised. Boil together in 1/2 gallon of water for fifteen minutes. When cooled to 80 degrees, add 1 pint of any water impregnated with fixed air, such as the artificial seltzer (Schweppe's). This will cause fermentation, and when it ceases the clear liquor can be poured off, and the yeast, fit for use, will be found at the bottom.
Many other recipes might be given for artificial yeasts, but fortunately we are much less likely to require them than we were when I made my first loaf. The introduction of German yeast, which is chiefly obtained from the great Continental distilleries, especially those of Holland and Hamburg, has proved a great boon. This is a cleanly article, which comes to us in the form of a light paste with a fresh and pleasant smell, and without the bitter taste of brewer's yeast. This is drained on cloths and pressed dry before being packed for exportation.
I can well remember the dubious looks we cast on the first lump of German yeast offered as a substitute for the ordinary barm by the baker from whom our flour was purchased, and at a time when brewer's yeast could not be easily obtained. We tried it from necessity; we liked it, and ever after preferred it to anything else. Within a very few years after the introduction of the article, one year's imports up to March 31, 1866, amounted to 5,735 tons! What the quantity has now reached I am unable to tell, but it must be something enormous.
Now having told you about the origin of bread and the various kinds of yeast, we will set about making a batch of household bread such as may be seen all the year round at our table. WE must have 12lbs of fine flour, 3oz German yeast, a good handful of salt, and a jug of warm water. But we need not tuck up our sleeves yet, as we are only going to "set the sponge."
A yellow earthenware pancheon, or, as Lancashire folk call it, a "mug," is the nicest thing to make bread in, and preferable to the large wooden bowl occasionally used.
In winter time the pancheon may be placed near the fire before the flour is put in, as the warmth helps the bread to rise in very cold weather. Dust it carefully with a dry cloth, put in nearly all the flour, into which sprinkle and stir the salt. Dissolve the yeast thoroughly in a pint of warm - *not hot - water, and having made a hole in the middle of the flour, pour it in through a strainer, and stir in with it some of the flour to a paste. Leave it near the fender for half an hour to rise, but do not forget to throw a clean cloth over the top of the pancheon, so that no dust may get in.
So far there has been no need to tuck up your sleeves. But at the half-hour's end mind that hands and nails are thoroughly clean, your cooking apron on, your sleeves secured so that they will not slip down, your large jug of warm water ready, and the small quantity of flour remaining out of the dozen pounds ready to hand in a bowl at the left side of your pancheon, which should stand on a stool. A table is generally too high.
I must mention another matter. Whatever may be your fashion of wearing your hair, have it smoothly and snugly tucked up when engaged in breadmaking or cookery of any kind There is nothing more disgusting or objectionable than to find a hair amongst our eatables; yet nothing more likely to occur if we go about our cooking with our locks hanging loosely about our necks and faces. I have seen a floury hand lifted from amongst the dough to push back a straggling wisp of hair or tuck up a fallen sleeve, and have always registered a mental resolution not to eat home-made bread at that establishment.
Every article used in breadmaking should be of the most spotless cleanliness. Paste-board, rolling-pin, baking-dishes, or tins should be put away clean after use, and carefully rubbed and dusted when taken out again.
Perhaps all these minute details may sound unnecessary, but I am not giving recipes to grown-up people, or merely a history of the origin of bread and a list of its varieties. I want to teach you, dear girls, to make bread as my dear mother taught me when I was a little one many years ago.
Begin to work the dough with the right hand, adding the warm water gradually with your left from the jug which is beside you. Draw the dough from the sides to the middle, using both hands when the ingredients are fairly mixed with the right. It must neither be hard nor soft, but of a sufficient consistency for you to lift it, when very thoroughly worked, in one lump and turn it over. You sprinkle a little flour round to enable you to do this, and if your dough is just what it should be there will be none sticking to the pancheon; it will be clean from everything but a little flour when you lift the dough to turn it.
Now place the pancheon outside the fender, covered as before with a fine white cloth, having sprinkled the flour on the top of the dough to keep it from sticking. It should be ready in less than two hours if the yeast is good. Get your own well-heated, then rub the shelves with a clean, wet dish-cloth; warm and grease your baking-tins or dishes with a little suet, butter, lard, or fresh dripping, held by a little writing paper in the fingers. This is to prevent the bread from sticking to the sides. Then, with clean hands, work a piece of dough on the floured pasteboard; shape it to suit your tin, which should be filled even with the edges. Let it stand on the hearth for a few minutes to rise, and before putting your loaves in the oven, either prick them with a steel fork, or make one or two cuts across the top of each with a sharp knife.
We never use tins for baking in, except for tea cakes. Our baking dishes are of coarse brown earthenware, and stand on four little knobs. With these we rarely have a burnt loaf, however hot the oven may be. A slack oven spoils bread, and the admission of cold air by opening the door should be avoided until the dough has had time to set. To ascertain when the loaf is baked enough, turn it out of the baking-dish and press the side firmly with the point of the finger. If the crust springs back you may judge that it is right; but if the pressure leaves a hollow, the loaf must be returned to the oven. When the dough is first put in, it should be placed on the oven bottom; and when well set and about half baked removed to the top to "soak" as it is technically termed. When sufficiently baked the loaves should be taken out of the dishes or tins, and placed on their sides; when quite cold we put ours in a large pancheon, and cover them with a clean cloth. This preserves the moistness of the bread and conduces to cleanliness also.
Many persons only use 2oz of German yeast to 12lbs of flour, but we prefer the larger quantity, and every one praises our home-made bread as being simply perfect. Our cook prides herself more upon it than upon the most dainty dish she prepares for the dinner-table. One day when she was far from well I suggested that she should suspend her bakings for a little time, and let us buy our bread in order to lighten her work. But this she promptly declined, adding, "It would be of no use, ma'am, for if everybody else in the house could put up with bought bread, *I couldn't."
I should add a word or two with regard to the quality of your ingredients. Buy thoroughly good flour; keep it in a dry place, as damp flour is bad. Never use doubtful yeast. It is poor economy to spoil a batch of bread in order to *use up yeast, or milk which is not perfectly sweet.
The Austrian flour, made from wheat frown on the banks of the Danube, is particularly fine. It goes into a very small compass, and absorbs an immense quantity of water. Some while ago when staying at a delightful farmhouse in summer we had a little difficulty about bread. At length a small shopkeeper, who sold everything, undertook to bake for us; and exquisite bread she made. But she bargained that she should be allowed to use what she called "ostrich flour," though it would be a trifle dearer. She meant Austrian.
Aerated bread is made by a patented process. It is mixed in a sort of iron box, with water charged with fixed air, or carbonic acid gas, which lightens the dough without the aid of yeast. The whole operation is performed by machinery, and the hand does not touch the dough. The bread is very light and digestible, and is said to effect a saving of ten per cent in flour, besides economising time and labour. But I do not find it so satisfying as ordinary bread, and have heard children complain that they soon feel hungry again after eating it.
There is also a self-raising flour, which is a good deal used for making cakes and pastry. It is prepared by Messrs McDougall, of Manchester, and the scones, tea-cakes, etc., made from it are very light and agreeable to eat, but none of these articles, to my mind, make ordinary home bread less enjoyable in comparison.
Delicious brown bread may be made in the same way as the white by using "ground down," or the whole of the powdered grain of wheat without removing any portion.
A mixture of rye with fine wheaten flour makes exquisitely sweet bread, and may be made with equal parts, or with only a third or a fourth portion rye. Rye flour is sticky to the touch, and the dough must be made very stiff. It is much nicer when baked in *thick cakes on the oven shelf than in loaves.
French bread has a pint of new milk, two eggs, and a 1/4lb of butter well mixed in with three quarts of water, or as much as will make 18lbs of flour of the proper consistency. Yeast and salt added in the same proportions as for home-made bread. This liquor is stirred into the flour until all is well mixed. When ready for baking it is made into loaves or bricks, which are turned over when half done, and the crust well browned. When quite cold, the loaves are rasped, or else chipped with a knife. Bran bread is made by adding a basinful of bran to 6lbs of flour, and working in the ordinary way Barley-bread, from the flour of barley carefully freed from the husks and made like rye-bread.
Potato bread is made by mixing mealy potatoes boiled and pounded in the proportion of 3lbs to 9lbs of flour. Make in the ordinary way and bake in a very hot oven. The bread is very light, but less nutritious than the pure wheaten. Were I to enumerate all the kinds of bread I should occupy far too much space. Maize, rice, beans, peas, acorns, chestnuts, turnips, and a variety of roots and barks of trees, have been used in seasons of scarcity and by various nations; so that read, or a substitute for it, however coarse, might not be wholly wanting to the very poorest.
"A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." These few words tell the story of leavened breadmaking. A small portion of this sour dough is mixed with the large quantity of flour, salt, and water requisite for the batch of bread, and in time the whole lump is leavened. But it retained, though in a less degree, the sour taste of the little piece put into the lump, and the bread requires a longer time to work than when made with yeast.
In remote country districts on the Continent this mode of leavening bread is still in common use, and English travellers find it anything but agreeable. I well remember that, when in Switzerland a dozen years ago, our party crossed the Gemmi Pass two days sooner than we intended because my husband could not endure the taste of this leavened bread, and there was nothing else to be had at Kendersteg just then. In many other hotels in the mountainous districts we found leavened bread, but with this one exception there were always plenty of the delightful little milk rolls, twists, and "cobs," as we call them in Lancashire, in addition to the sour-tasted loaves.
Brewer's yeast is merely the froth which rises on the surface of beer during the process of fermentation. It is skimmed off when thick enough, as cream is taken from the milk.
When I was a girl, we, whether lived in country towns and villages, were wholly dependent on this kind of yeast, or on a home-made article for lightening our bread. On certain days in each week a stream of small customers might be seen, mug or pitcher in hand, wending their way towards the various breweries, at which as small as quantity as a halfpennyworth of yeast could be purchased. Many an injunction did these young messengers receive not to loiter by the way lest all the yeast should be gone - a calamity of no small consequence. The yeast money was always the special perquisite of the brewer's wife.
On the weekly market-day, one of the first errands of the country carrier was to the brewery. He conveyed a whole string of tin cans, with close-fitting lids; earthenware jugs, with bungs, and of many sizes; and in these he took home yeast for the village shops, farmers' wives, and cottagers for many a mile round. Probably the motion of the cart would make the barm obstreperous on the homeward way. In spite of the wet rag put on to make the bung or lid fit more tightly, one would fly out with an explosion, the other be lifted off, and some passenger begin to grumble that the froth was trickling on to her bonnet from one of the shelves below the tilt which held the lesser parcels.
Country people are always neighbourly, and yeast was an article much borrowed and lent, not a thing to be rashly or wastefully treated. A little quantity left over was hoarded to make a bit of cake with, or given to a poor neighbour. Baking day only came once a week in cottage homes, new bread being deemed extravagant, and old bread reckoned to go further.
The difficulty of procuring brewer's yeast as often as was requisite, set invention to work to contrive modes of preservation of substitutes for it.
One way of preserving it was by whisking it well, and spreading a thin layer on a large wooden trencher or board. When this was dry another was added, and so on, until the paste was a couple of inches thick, when it was cut up and placed in air-tight canisters until required. Then it was dissolved in warm water and used like fresh yeast.
Potato yeast is made with mealy potatoes; boiled, pounded and passed through a sieve. To 1lb of this pulp add two tablespoonfuls of treacle and boiling water to make it the thickness of brewer's yeast. When just warm stir in two tablespoonfuls of yeast, and keep it in a warm place to ferment for twenty-four hours, when it will be fit for use. It will keep in a cold place for several weeks.
But almost all the substitutes for brewer's barm require just a little of the genuine article to set them going. I will give one recipe for yeast with which the brewer has nothing to do. It is from a very comprehensive treatise on the "Art of Breadmaking," published three quarters of a century ago. Ingredients, 1/2lb flour, 1/2lb coarse sugar, 3/4 peck of malt, bruised. Boil together in 1/2 gallon of water for fifteen minutes. When cooled to 80 degrees, add 1 pint of any water impregnated with fixed air, such as the artificial seltzer (Schweppe's). This will cause fermentation, and when it ceases the clear liquor can be poured off, and the yeast, fit for use, will be found at the bottom.
Many other recipes might be given for artificial yeasts, but fortunately we are much less likely to require them than we were when I made my first loaf. The introduction of German yeast, which is chiefly obtained from the great Continental distilleries, especially those of Holland and Hamburg, has proved a great boon. This is a cleanly article, which comes to us in the form of a light paste with a fresh and pleasant smell, and without the bitter taste of brewer's yeast. This is drained on cloths and pressed dry before being packed for exportation.
I can well remember the dubious looks we cast on the first lump of German yeast offered as a substitute for the ordinary barm by the baker from whom our flour was purchased, and at a time when brewer's yeast could not be easily obtained. We tried it from necessity; we liked it, and ever after preferred it to anything else. Within a very few years after the introduction of the article, one year's imports up to March 31, 1866, amounted to 5,735 tons! What the quantity has now reached I am unable to tell, but it must be something enormous.
Now having told you about the origin of bread and the various kinds of yeast, we will set about making a batch of household bread such as may be seen all the year round at our table. WE must have 12lbs of fine flour, 3oz German yeast, a good handful of salt, and a jug of warm water. But we need not tuck up our sleeves yet, as we are only going to "set the sponge."
A yellow earthenware pancheon, or, as Lancashire folk call it, a "mug," is the nicest thing to make bread in, and preferable to the large wooden bowl occasionally used.
In winter time the pancheon may be placed near the fire before the flour is put in, as the warmth helps the bread to rise in very cold weather. Dust it carefully with a dry cloth, put in nearly all the flour, into which sprinkle and stir the salt. Dissolve the yeast thoroughly in a pint of warm - *not hot - water, and having made a hole in the middle of the flour, pour it in through a strainer, and stir in with it some of the flour to a paste. Leave it near the fender for half an hour to rise, but do not forget to throw a clean cloth over the top of the pancheon, so that no dust may get in.
So far there has been no need to tuck up your sleeves. But at the half-hour's end mind that hands and nails are thoroughly clean, your cooking apron on, your sleeves secured so that they will not slip down, your large jug of warm water ready, and the small quantity of flour remaining out of the dozen pounds ready to hand in a bowl at the left side of your pancheon, which should stand on a stool. A table is generally too high.
I must mention another matter. Whatever may be your fashion of wearing your hair, have it smoothly and snugly tucked up when engaged in breadmaking or cookery of any kind There is nothing more disgusting or objectionable than to find a hair amongst our eatables; yet nothing more likely to occur if we go about our cooking with our locks hanging loosely about our necks and faces. I have seen a floury hand lifted from amongst the dough to push back a straggling wisp of hair or tuck up a fallen sleeve, and have always registered a mental resolution not to eat home-made bread at that establishment.
Every article used in breadmaking should be of the most spotless cleanliness. Paste-board, rolling-pin, baking-dishes, or tins should be put away clean after use, and carefully rubbed and dusted when taken out again.
Perhaps all these minute details may sound unnecessary, but I am not giving recipes to grown-up people, or merely a history of the origin of bread and a list of its varieties. I want to teach you, dear girls, to make bread as my dear mother taught me when I was a little one many years ago.
Begin to work the dough with the right hand, adding the warm water gradually with your left from the jug which is beside you. Draw the dough from the sides to the middle, using both hands when the ingredients are fairly mixed with the right. It must neither be hard nor soft, but of a sufficient consistency for you to lift it, when very thoroughly worked, in one lump and turn it over. You sprinkle a little flour round to enable you to do this, and if your dough is just what it should be there will be none sticking to the pancheon; it will be clean from everything but a little flour when you lift the dough to turn it.
Now place the pancheon outside the fender, covered as before with a fine white cloth, having sprinkled the flour on the top of the dough to keep it from sticking. It should be ready in less than two hours if the yeast is good. Get your own well-heated, then rub the shelves with a clean, wet dish-cloth; warm and grease your baking-tins or dishes with a little suet, butter, lard, or fresh dripping, held by a little writing paper in the fingers. This is to prevent the bread from sticking to the sides. Then, with clean hands, work a piece of dough on the floured pasteboard; shape it to suit your tin, which should be filled even with the edges. Let it stand on the hearth for a few minutes to rise, and before putting your loaves in the oven, either prick them with a steel fork, or make one or two cuts across the top of each with a sharp knife.
We never use tins for baking in, except for tea cakes. Our baking dishes are of coarse brown earthenware, and stand on four little knobs. With these we rarely have a burnt loaf, however hot the oven may be. A slack oven spoils bread, and the admission of cold air by opening the door should be avoided until the dough has had time to set. To ascertain when the loaf is baked enough, turn it out of the baking-dish and press the side firmly with the point of the finger. If the crust springs back you may judge that it is right; but if the pressure leaves a hollow, the loaf must be returned to the oven. When the dough is first put in, it should be placed on the oven bottom; and when well set and about half baked removed to the top to "soak" as it is technically termed. When sufficiently baked the loaves should be taken out of the dishes or tins, and placed on their sides; when quite cold we put ours in a large pancheon, and cover them with a clean cloth. This preserves the moistness of the bread and conduces to cleanliness also.
Many persons only use 2oz of German yeast to 12lbs of flour, but we prefer the larger quantity, and every one praises our home-made bread as being simply perfect. Our cook prides herself more upon it than upon the most dainty dish she prepares for the dinner-table. One day when she was far from well I suggested that she should suspend her bakings for a little time, and let us buy our bread in order to lighten her work. But this she promptly declined, adding, "It would be of no use, ma'am, for if everybody else in the house could put up with bought bread, *I couldn't."
I should add a word or two with regard to the quality of your ingredients. Buy thoroughly good flour; keep it in a dry place, as damp flour is bad. Never use doubtful yeast. It is poor economy to spoil a batch of bread in order to *use up yeast, or milk which is not perfectly sweet.
The Austrian flour, made from wheat frown on the banks of the Danube, is particularly fine. It goes into a very small compass, and absorbs an immense quantity of water. Some while ago when staying at a delightful farmhouse in summer we had a little difficulty about bread. At length a small shopkeeper, who sold everything, undertook to bake for us; and exquisite bread she made. But she bargained that she should be allowed to use what she called "ostrich flour," though it would be a trifle dearer. She meant Austrian.
Aerated bread is made by a patented process. It is mixed in a sort of iron box, with water charged with fixed air, or carbonic acid gas, which lightens the dough without the aid of yeast. The whole operation is performed by machinery, and the hand does not touch the dough. The bread is very light and digestible, and is said to effect a saving of ten per cent in flour, besides economising time and labour. But I do not find it so satisfying as ordinary bread, and have heard children complain that they soon feel hungry again after eating it.
There is also a self-raising flour, which is a good deal used for making cakes and pastry. It is prepared by Messrs McDougall, of Manchester, and the scones, tea-cakes, etc., made from it are very light and agreeable to eat, but none of these articles, to my mind, make ordinary home bread less enjoyable in comparison.
Delicious brown bread may be made in the same way as the white by using "ground down," or the whole of the powdered grain of wheat without removing any portion.
A mixture of rye with fine wheaten flour makes exquisitely sweet bread, and may be made with equal parts, or with only a third or a fourth portion rye. Rye flour is sticky to the touch, and the dough must be made very stiff. It is much nicer when baked in *thick cakes on the oven shelf than in loaves.
French bread has a pint of new milk, two eggs, and a 1/4lb of butter well mixed in with three quarts of water, or as much as will make 18lbs of flour of the proper consistency. Yeast and salt added in the same proportions as for home-made bread. This liquor is stirred into the flour until all is well mixed. When ready for baking it is made into loaves or bricks, which are turned over when half done, and the crust well browned. When quite cold, the loaves are rasped, or else chipped with a knife. Bran bread is made by adding a basinful of bran to 6lbs of flour, and working in the ordinary way Barley-bread, from the flour of barley carefully freed from the husks and made like rye-bread.
Potato bread is made by mixing mealy potatoes boiled and pounded in the proportion of 3lbs to 9lbs of flour. Make in the ordinary way and bake in a very hot oven. The bread is very light, but less nutritious than the pure wheaten. Were I to enumerate all the kinds of bread I should occupy far too much space. Maize, rice, beans, peas, acorns, chestnuts, turnips, and a variety of roots and barks of trees, have been used in seasons of scarcity and by various nations; so that read, or a substitute for it, however coarse, might not be wholly wanting to the very poorest.
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