CHRISTMAS DANGERS AND CHRISTMAS HINTS.
BY HELEN CAMPBELL.
Not that involved in the old saying, “A green Yule makes a fat churchyard,” nor even a hint at what Christmas cramming for both children and their elders may include. The physical results of either case are but a small portion of the evil that year by year has grown, so silently, so unsuspected, that to name evil in connection with the day seems both a misnomer and an outrage.
Is it climate or temperament, or simple inherited tendency that makes a golden mean impossible to the average American? A combination probably, combinations being the one thing to be taken for granted in any analysis of causes in man or nature. Life for Americans began in a reaction. Form and ceremony had hampered thought and hindered growth, and the earnest Puritan swept both aside once for all. A comfortable certainty was his that the question had but one side. His doxy was the only orthodoxy, and his doxy rejected Christmas as popish and owning the mark of the scarlet woman. We all know the joylessness, the somberness of those early days, in which human struggle was the only aim; never human delight or human pleasure in anything God had made. And we know as well, beyond any need of outline here, the sharp reaction from such numbing relief, and the conviction coming more and more surely to the surface, that enjoyment is as much our destiny as struggle, and that strength for the one comes in full acceptance of all legitimate forms of the other. But when enjoyment becomes a struggle, and we find distracted men and exhausted women crying as the holidays end, “Thank fortune Christmas is over with!” it seems high time to inquire why the friend whose entrance was hailed with acclamation suddenly appears in the character of the old man of the sea.
Is it that this is true, or that we have made him such by our own election, refusing him his rightful place, and forcing him ourselves to the shoulders that need have borne no such burden? We stagger under the responsibilities of this time that should mean only the purest pleasure. We grow feverish and anxious in paying a debt when free will offering alone has any part in the real Christmas. Children count their presents and are sad or sulky if tree or stocking hold one less than those of the child across the way. Boys and girls value the gift for the money it cost, and have learned such valuation from fathers and mothers who have discussed their own gifts from this standpoint. The spirit of bargaining possesses all; to get the most for the least outlay; to make the sum expended bring the utmost possible show. The counters are piled with flaunting bric-a-brac—cheap imitation of articles beyond the purse of the average buyer, and the woman whose supply of dish-towels is renewed from old sheets and who has not dared to buy book or photograph for a year, gives and receives some senseless plaque or staring vase, and might even resent a dozen dish-towels as quite out of harmony with the spirit of Christmas. The children share the same feeling, and if they make anything with their own hands, seek something so flimsy and useless, that as quickly as may be it is quietly tucked out of sight. And even where common sense has larger play, the amount of what must be done has gained such proportions that feverish hurry fills the days of preparation, and utter exhaustion the days that follow.
“I don’t think much of Christmas,” a small and cynical boy remarked not long ago. “It’s just a regular grab game, that’s what it is. I know fellows that join three or four Sunday-schools just for what they’ll get on the tree; and I know one fellow that hired other fellows, because you see, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and when his name was called off they just went up and got his things for him. What do you think of that?”
“I think it’s pretty bad, but that isn’t the sort of Christmas you have at home, Horace?”
“Yes, it is. Ours is just the same, only not so many of us. Gussie is mad if I don’t spend a lot, and says I’m mean, and mamma says so too if papa’s present doesn’t suit her. I’m sick of it. Why didn’t you give me anything last Christmas? You always did before.”
The answer would make an article of itself, for as I listened my soul burned within me, and when the child ended, with his calculating little face turned up to mine, I spake with my tongue, and in the end brought a new look into the grave, blue eyes. To him as to too many of us, it had come to be the gift and not the giver, the symbol, and not the fact behind it. This is a one-sided presentation you will say, an arraignment undeserved by many; and even if deserved, the saying which does duty in so many directions, once more comes up: “What are you going to do about it?”
What we must all do, if the day is not to be permanently despoiled of all real significance and beauty, is at once to settle absolutely into simpler lines. The same passive acceptance of custom, that has doubled our work in all home directions and made the multiplication of labor-saving machinery merely a reason for an always increasing ratio of labor, operates here also. A sensible writer in the Christian Union not long ago remarked that in the days of our grandmothers it was ten children to one ruffle, whereas now it was ten ruffles to one child. So it has been with gifts, and the child of the last generation who rejoiced in two or three, considers the child of this defrauded with less than a dozen. Cheap toys, soon destroyed; cheap books, cleaving from their binding in a week; cheap candy, fair to see but slow poison to the eater—fill the stockings and crowd the tree, when the same money would have secured one well-made, perfect gift, worth the keeping for a lifetime. Art in its new adaptations is beginning to teach us the value of honest work, yet with an education which has known flimsiness and tawdriness as the chief characteristic of a child’s possessions, how hard is the transition to simplicity and strength. That we have made such strides away from old conditions is only another proof of the enormous recuperative power, part of the birthright of every American, who, born, it may be, in a log cabin, ends his days as an authorized and accepted art critic. It is safe then to believe that the mass of common sense people need only to consider the bearings of the Christmas craze in its present workings to decide that a change must come, and to take active measures toward such change.
Necessarily, only women can bring about such change, for it is on them that the chief burden of Christmas work has fallen and will continue to fall. For each woman there must be a pause and a well-considered determination as to both amount and degree of effort and expenditure. Where there is little money personal effort is the only substitute.
The numberless fashion magazines are filled at this season with hints for Christmas gifts, some practical and helpful, but more quite useless to limited purses. A few suggestions as to home-made gifts are given here, the reader’s own fancy and memory being trusted to fill out the list, which must necessarily be a limited one.
A most useful present is a sofa pillow, covered with one of those large, bright silk handkerchiefs which are found in gentlemen’s furnishing stores. It may be of cardinal, old gold, blue or olive green, to match the furniture, and must have a darker border. If the corners are plain, a figure of a dog’s head, an owl, or a spray may be outlined in one, with silk of some contrasting hue. Stretch the handkerchief smoothly over the silesia-covered pillow made of a suitable size, turn the ornamented corner back and fasten around its edge, and fit a piece of black velvet neatly in its place. The edge is finished with a silk cord of the same color, and a bow to match is placed on the velvet. The whole can be made in a day, and is both effective and inexpensive. Pine needles or hops may be used for filling the pillow, which may thus be more welcome to an invalid friend.
In place of the handkerchief, some tastes might prefer the crazy patch-work now so much in vogue. If so, the pieces must be very small, and most of them of vivid colors. They will bear any amount of embroidery in quaint designs; flowers, fans and oddities, all on a small scale. Seams are joined with feather-stitching in shaded silk.
As a companion-piece, a head rest goes very nicely. A strip of wool in any desired color may be crocheted in the Afghan stitch, and then dotted irregularly with the conventional palm-leaf, in shaded silk, worked in cross-stitch. If made of linen, the word “Rest” may be outlined in fancy letters—first traced with a pencil—in crewel. A poppy with its leaves falling apart, in place of a period after the word, is suggestive and pretty.
For a literary friend, or to stand by papa’s desk, a waste paper basket may be made in a variety of ways. A lard pail of large size may be covered with plush and lined with silk over pasteboard, fitted separately to the sides and to the circular bottom. If of olive tint, conceal the joining at the top by narrow gilt lace, old gold cord or ribbon ruching, often decorating one side with a spray of large crimson and buff roses, hollyhock blossoms, daisies or sunflowers. These may be procured in appliqué at any fancy store for from a half dollar to three times that sum. It is much preferable, of course, to embroider any fanciful pattern, or to paint a running vine, beginning near the bottom and ending at the top after having encircled the pail. Allowance in decoration must be made for two hoops of old gold satin ribbon, one and a half inches wide, tied in snug bows. Sunflowers are sometimes made with dark brown French knots of silk for the center, and petals of narrow yellow ribbon of several shades. These, cut a proper length, are turned in and fastened with invisible stitches to the plush, making an excellent similitude of this showy flower. These blossoms admit of great skill in arranging and grouping.
The new-fashioned paper water pails are also used as waste paper baskets, and are desirable on account of their lightness and durability. Even a novice can decorate them most effectively. Paint entire surface with dark shaded yellows and browns, or pink deepening to crimson, and when dry trace on this background a conventional trailing vine and a few loose flowers, or red Christmas berries like the holly. They may be copied from any pattern which strikes the fancy, color being desired rather than minuteness of finish. The handle, if not removed, must be wound with ribbon.
Presents of catch-alls or receptacles for the sewing room can be similarly fashioned. A new way is as follows: Take a crimson or parti-colored Japanese fan, remove the rivet holding the sticks together and run a stout cord in its place; the fan is then to be fastened over a pasteboard funnel of just the right size and lined with solid colored paper of some pleasing tint. Ribbon to match, an inch wide, must be woven in and out the sticks close enough to cover the pasteboard, and just above the bottom, in front, secure a drooping bow of two-inch satin ribbon. A few dried oats and grass stitched into the bow, making a tiny bouquet, take off the stiffness of the ornament.
Another receptacle for letters or manuscripts can be made from a couple of plain palm-leaf fans. Cut off the handles even with the edge of the fan and cover one side of each with silk, fastened to the top and sides, and pleated or gathered at the handle. They are lined with silesia, and sewed together at the tips. The tops—where the handles were—are flared apart for a distance of six or eight inches, and then are to be joined two-thirds of the way from the bottom by bright-hued taffeta ribbons, narrow enough to cross easily in small diamonds. Finish with a cockade of the same ribbon where the silk is pleated at the handles. Or the ribbon may be quilled in a V-shaped way down the middle far enough to give the receptacle a heart-shape. A smaller heart of velvet, crossed with a straw-colored arrow in embroidery silk, is a pretty finish for the left-hand corner, with a spray crossing diagonally behind and above. This may be varied by having a diagonal piece of velvet cross the front, or a band of the same near one side, on which is painted, embroidered or appliquéd any favorite design. The colors and arrangement admit of the greatest latitude, and challenge the fancy of the worker.
But this is not the beginning of what may be made of fans, for fanciful or useful presents. Here is a pretty design for a wall pocket: Attach one, nearly open, to a piece of pasteboard not quite its size; from another remove the rivet, insert a cord in its place and tie tightly. Line with paper and thin silk outside of that, and fasten the edges by invisible stitches to that attached to the pasteboard, allowing it to curve outwardly sufficiently to answer the purposes of a receptacle. Finish with a bow.
A series of a dozen bright paper covered bamboo fans, arranged to overlap each other, light up the dark corner of a room on Christmas day, with a play of color of which the eye never tires. These, or the ribbed fans, may be arranged with their handles grouped together and fans diverging from the corner of the ceiling on the sides and top, making an ornament both brilliant and unique. In the same manner they may be employed about the center-piece of a plain ceiling, or in devices on the side walls from which to hang Christmas banners, wreaths or mottoes. On a long side wall small fans may be so grouped as to simulate an eagle, from the talons of which depends a favorite motto.
In dressing a room for Christmas it is important to have all the accessories bright and harmonious. If all the decorations are Japanese, there are a thousand ways of using paper mats, screens and pictures which will suggest themselves with a little experimenting, and these are now everywhere easy to obtain. The entire ceiling may be bordered with a frieze made from a couple of Japanese picture books, which are merely folded pictures several yards in length, when outstretched like a panorama. A dollar’s worth of books will thus impart a brilliancy which nothing else emulates, while the pendant Christmas greens seem the richer by contrast. A few large Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling, wreathed with simple vines, like princess pine, about the bottom, in addition, will convert the plainest room into a kind of bower, peculiarly fitting it for the festivities of the season. The uttermost parts of the earth must yield up a tithe of all their glory, to aid in illuminating the natal day of the Prince of Peace.
For all parts of the dwelling, a thousand dainty devices are easily made, suitable for presentation on that day. For the dressing bureau, butcher’s cuffs of plaited grass are coarsely embroidered in crewel, with design of rushes, grass, daisies or poppies, springing from the bottom, which is filled in with a circular piece of pasteboard covered with linen. Line with crimson cloth. Scent bottles may be covered with painted ribbon bags, or merely tied with satin ribbon, the ends of which have each the favorite flower of the recipient, or a flower on one and an initial on the other.
For the whisk-brush at the side of the bureau make a tight, straight cover of crash or linen, embroidered or painted, edged with scallops bound with silk. This is drawn close about the handle and tied with a narrow ribbon at the top, and is long enough to come within two inches of the tip. Such a cover will prove far more acceptable than the brush-holder which has been so much used.
For splashers take fine, stiff linen, fitted to the space above the washstand, and hemmed at the ends and sides. Trace lightly with a lead pencil, lengthwise, any suitable pattern. It may be made of irregular, horizontal lines, for water, on which are outlined a duck floating or diving; large water lilies with their graceful leaves and rushes at the edge. Then dissolve India ink in a shallow dish of water, and with a new steel pen go over the outline carefully, repeating where the shade deepens till it is sufficiently heavy. The etching may be made very handsome and striking with a little care; or, a conventional morning-glory vine may obliquely cross the splasher. It is fastened to the wall with minute tacks and a bow at the left-hand upper corner.
Do we wish a table-scarf for a friend? It can be made of felt, of one of the many shades of olive, on which decorations are so well brought out. Line with silesia, and border the ends with a broad band of plush. Finish with outline stitch of contrasting colors, or with transfer-work of fine cretonne or appliqué flowers, made of machine embroidery, to which reference has been made. It is not generally known that felt may be hand-painted in oil with a stiff brush, by the merest novice. Have a large figured embroidery pattern stamped on the felt to give a strong outline. Mix the colors thick and put on with a bold touch. Large flowers or fruit, like blackberries, are showy and effective here and resemble the softest crewel-work at a little distance.
If the square covers are preferred, those hiding the entire table, they are fringed by simply cutting the edges in strips a quarter of an inch wide and six inches deep. Another fringe made precisely the same way, of old gold felt with a narrow heading, is merely tacked under the first, when the hue is olive or wine color. Canton flannel table spreads can be finished and decorated in a similar manner.
Mantel and window lambrequins are made according to the same general plan, of felt, canton flannel, plush, or linen. If the latter, they are embroidered with long stitches in patterns of grass or sedge, daisies or crimson berries, or painted in trailing figures of wild roses.
For a gentleman an umbrella case is always an acceptable present. From a yard of strong, twilled linen, measure a lengthwise strip ten inches wide at the top; taper it on each side to six inches wide at the bottom. On this strip fit another piece of the same linen, shorter and fuller, to give room for two umbrellas. About the right size will make it three-quarters of a yard long, fourteen inches wide at the top, and eight inches at the bottom. Crease the latter lengthwise down the middle; on one side of this crease, outline in black silk the shape of a closed umbrella, ribs, handle and folds, and on the other a smaller sun umbrella. On the upper section of the foundation copy in the same manner figures taken from the Greenaway books. A pleasing device is a couple of children, merrily trudging along in the rain, each under an open umbrella. Then stitch the center of the embroidered strip to the center of the foundation, after laying two pleats in the tip of the shorter and wider strip, so as to make them of the same width. Run the sides and bottoms together, after lining the foundation, and bind the whole with black braid. Attach two strong loops to the top to suspend from hooks.
For the little ones naught can come amiss. Stockings of coarse white lace, with slipper tips of blue or pink, and a dainty knot of ribbon in front; all sorts of fancy ornaments made of stiff paper and covered with gold and silver paper; cornucopias, boxes and toys without end—their variety and name are legion. A pretty bon-bon receptacle is made in this way: Take a square of silk measuring from eighteen to twenty-seven inches, of any color desired—a bright handkerchief will do—and mark within it a perfect circle small enough to be three inches from the middle of the sides. Make a shirr at this mark, in which draw two ribbons in such a manner as to pull together like a work-bag. Trim the edge with black or white lace, and you have a beautiful bag, after the bon-bons are gone. If you choose to give a unique finish it is easily done. Soak your own photograph in water long enough to remove the picture from the back; dry carefully, and gum to one corner.
So much for gifts and home decorations, the list of which might be indefinitely extended. The Christmas dinner is always a matter of study—to the young housekeeper sometimes despair. Let it be remembered that on that day everyone from the children to the grandmother has nibbled at candies and nuts, and all tempting Christmas sweets, and that, even if the richest of mince pies and plum puddings seem none too good for the occasion, a simpler dessert of delicate blanc-manges or jellies will leave the eater a clearer head than the heavier mixtures. Two menus are given, one under protest and elaborate enough for the most persistent believer in many courses; the other far simpler, and quite possible for even the young housekeeper, who is ambitious to show what she can do. So many admirable cook-books are now before the public that it seems invidious to mention any special one. But the writer, who some years ago had occasion to examine carefully one hundred and forty-three, finds that where many have done excellently, one recent one embodies most perfectly their best features. It is the Boston Cooking School and its director, Mrs. Lincoln, to whom we owe this most admirably planned book, in which every receipt has been personally tested. Mrs. Ewing may be depended upon also as an authority, and there is a compact little manual known as “The Easiest Way in Housekeeping and Cooking,” which has brought to its author scores of letters from the housekeepers who have found it a friend. In any of these books accurate rules will be found for the dishes given in both menus.
I.
Oysters on Half-shell.
Amber Soup.
Roast Turkey, Made Gravy.
Boiled Tongue, Sauce Piquante.
Sweet Potatoes; White Potato Mashed.
Macaroni, with Cheese.
Cranberry Sauce.
Celery Salad and Wafers.
Mince Pie, Plum Pudding, with Cream Sauce, Lemon Jelly,
Fruit, Nuts, Raisins, Ices, Black Coffee.
II.
Oyster Soup.
Roast Turkey, Made Gravy.
Mashed Potato; Sweet Potato; Squash.
Macaroni, with Cheese.
Cranberry Sauce; Celery.
Plum Pudding, Cream Sauce.
Fruit, Nuts and Raisins.
Black Coffee.
For a family where the mistress must do all with her own hands, omit the soup and at least one vegetable in the second menu. It would be wisdom also to substitute for the rich pudding a mould of blanc-mange or lemon jelly, but these are matters of personal decision.
The home dinner decided upon, every woman will remember the poorer homes where festivity can never be possible, save as the means for it come from others. It is easy to find ways of adding some unaccustomed luxury—a little fruit, some nuts and raisins, or perhaps even the turkey itself to the table of some hard-working, self-respecting head of a family, who finds the dollars always too few, yet asks favors of no man. Often a little coöperation would secure a good Christmas dinner to many who alone would be unable to buy it. By settling upon how much can be spent, and giving the sum to some authorized buyer, wholesale prices may often be had. To accomplish this for half a dozen poor families in a given neighborhood, would often be truer charity than any giving, and pave the way to coöperation in other ways. On no other day of the three hundred and sixty-five can we answer as readily the question, “Who is my neighbor?” as on this one sacred to love, both human and divine, and demanding love as its highest expression. There may be no time for any elaborate church service, to which a morning must be given, but evening if not morning should hold some assembling together, and in a neighborhood where many poor, or workers in factories or mills are to be found, a simple entertainment—play, charade, light concert, or stereopticon might well have its opening word, thoughtful and tender, of the Christ-child; his love for every weary and toiling child of earth, and his joy in their joy. Where there is no such population there is no less need of a general as well as a special assembling. In short, by judicious planning, it will be possible not only to cover all necessary ground of home pleasure in the day, but to make part also of such evening entertainment as may seem good. A church dinner has been given, made up of prepared food sent in by various members, all that remained being taken home by the eaters. Each year has had its suggestions for Christmas pleasure for the poor always with us, and at such a season denominational differences slip out of sight, and counsel can satisfactorily be taken together by the working members of all churches. Union festivals have already proved successful, and may be perfected still more in detail, the warmth of this joint action for a common good lasting long beyond the day of its accomplishment. If the day has its dangers it holds also its delights, and may be more and more the occasion for the sweetest and tenderest thought and labor that we have to give—a never-failing spring of pleasure to every soul who knows its real meaning and works toward a fulfillment of that meaning.