In furnace-heated houses, moths are occasionally found in mid-winter; but they are only the advance guard of the main army, and do little harm, save by the annoying reminder of what one has cause to fear in spring.
In April they will begin to show themselves very much in earnest, and are seen too often for your comfort, particularly after the gas or lamp is lighted. If an expert, you may destroy many, as, attracted by the bright light which lures them to destruction, they fly around you; yet enough remain to keep you constantly on the lookout. We know of no remedy, when moths have once gained entrance to a house, but ceaseless watchfulness. They often deposit their eggs in the fret-work and open spaces in cornices, as well as in woollens and furs, and therefore all such hiding-places should be carefully searched. In high-studded rooms it is difficult to reach these sheltered nooks, and therefore in them moths too often find a secure retreat. But although difficult, it is not impossible to dislodge them, even from these high places. A tall step-ladder, with a little care and some one to steady it at the base, can easily be mounted, and from this height you readily gain access to your enemies. If the carving is deep and intricate, take a quill, and with the feather-end brush out these holes into a dust-pan; follow this brushing with a wet cloth wrapped round a pointed stick. It takes time, care, and patience, but is very necessary. In houses that are not often painted, you will probably find large quantities of dust and lint that have accumulated and settled, from sweeping, in the cornices. In this the moths deposit their eggs; and, when hatched, the worm which eats your garments may be found here, snugly rolled in its thin covering, or perhaps just ready to fly through your house, depositing its eggs for the next generation of moths.
A new house, left for months unoccupied, or an old house long untenanted, it is said, will surely be overrun with moths. For this we do not vouch, but are quite inclined to credit it. Our first experience of the plague of moths was on taking possession of a house, almost new, that had stood empty some months,—a dearly bought experience, the debt for which is not fully cancelled after more than fourteen years. In all the cornice ornaments we found large quantities of the eggs and worms snugly laid to sleep, till the warm spring sun should rouse them to begin their mischievous expeditions among our furs, blankets, and garments. Many were fully developed, and flying about in search of some choice place to deposit their eggs.
The spring and summer are their busiest time; and as soon as it is warm enough to dispense with furs, heavy shawls, and woollen garments, these should be well shaken and brushed, then hung on the clothes-line and beaten with the furniture whip, every spot or stain cleansed, and repairs attended to before being done up and put away for the summer. Each housekeeper has probably her own theory as to the best way for packing up such articles as moths injure. Some put pepper, camphor, cedar-chips, sandal-wood, or moth-powder among the articles to be stored away, and then sew them up closely in old linen, or cover them with two or three thicknesses of paper, lapping one over the other, leaving no holes, and then seal the paper up with mucilage. We prefer the paper wrappings, but feel a little safer if we sprinkle Poole’s moth-powder over the articles before sealing.
We have been told that strips of cloth dipped in kerosene, rolled up and placed among flannels, furs, etc., which should then be shut tight in a cedar trunk or close drawer, will surely prevent moths from injuring them, destroying the eggs or such moth worms as are already in possession.
This appears sensible, inasmuch as moths are said to be repelled by any pungent, disagreeable smell. And surely, if that be so, kerosene would be most deadly.
In carpets, moths generally seek the corners and secluded places. For that reason it is essential that in sweeping, at all seasons of the year, one should see that great attention is paid to the corners and edges of carpets. Never attempt to sweep there with a common broom. You cannot get at the corners. Take a whisk-broom or a round, pointed brush, such as is used to clean buttoned furniture, called a furniture button-brush, and with it clean out the corners where the carpet is turned in. Have close at hand a pointed stick, which, with a cloth wrapped about it, will enable you to pry into every nook thoroughly. Every few weeks it is well to draw the tacks in the corners a little way, and, turning back the carpet on to a thick paper or old cloth, give the edges a faithful brushing. It is under and near these corners that moths love to secrete their eggs.
IV.
SUNSHINE AND FRESH AIR.
FEW realize how dependent we are on sunshine and fresh air for good health and pleasant, cheerful homes. When shown into a dark and dismal parlor,—blinds all closed and heavy curtains dropped to exclude light,—and creeping forward in search of a seat, fearing, each step, to stumble over a chair or upset a table loaded with small wares on exhibition, we always feel suffocated, as if in a vault among dead men’s bones. And when the servant, after calling her mistress, returns and opens the shutters just far enough to allow one small ray of “light divine” to struggle through, what a relief it is! How we long to spring forward, throw back the curtains, swing the blinds wide open, and give admittance to the full glory of the free, glad sunbeams. But no! Health and comfort must be sacrificed rather than expose the costly carpet and rich curtains. Only so much light as will enable our friend to recognize us may be allowed to enter, and after a few moments’ conversation, as cold and spiritless as the room itself, how glorious seem the clear sky and pure air as we leave the house! We are so chilled and benumbed by our short tarry in those prison-like parlors, that it has penetrated to the heart, and we are not quite sure that we feel any great affection for the friend from whom we have just parted, until, having walked a few moments, we regain life and freshness by a full bath in the fresh breezes and invigorating sunshine.
Strange that any will deprive themselves of blessings so rich, so free, and health-giving for a mere fancy,—particularly when we find that the richest and most beautiful fabrics are generally those which will bear exposure to open windows and pure light.