Still, we cannot but think that too much time and strength are expended in private families on some parts of this labor. Since this kind of work is done on a large scale, and these luxuries so cheaply procured in the many excellent establishments arranged expressly for the business, and which have reduced the various operations to the simplest and easiest forms, we feel confident that housekeepers might relieve themselves of this part of their cares, and be none the poorer for it; certainly this is true as far as canned fruits and preserves are concerned. It is but reasonable to suppose that in these large manufactories, with every appliance and convenience to secure the most perfect and expeditious work, in many articles they can equal, if not surpass, the most expert cook or housekeeper.
The regular, old-fashioned preserve, with “a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit,” is much less used since the system of canning fruit, and thus retaining the natural flavor, has been introduced. This is certainly more healthful, and to most tastes more palatable, than the rich preserves. The person must be fastidious indeed who could ask for any sweetmeat more delicious than the pears, peaches, cherries, and plums that now fill our markets and groceries, and there can be no doubt that for those who must buy the fruit, and take the labor and risk of canning it, it is far more economical to buy it from the factories or grocers ready canned. Even when one has the privilege of raising one’s own fruit, if it can be sold with reasonable profit we think it questionable if there is anything saved—any real economy—in canning the fruit at home, instead of buying it. For those who have leisure, and do not find it important to be very exact in economizing strength or money, it is all very well to do everything of this kind at home. To many whose time hangs heavily on their hands,—and, mythical as it seems, we suppose there are such,—preserving as much as they can of every variety of fruit, even to the absurdity of using watermelon-rinds and cucumbers, is, perhaps, a real pleasure. Though, while books are to be obtained, and fine flowers and beautiful scenery to be seen, we cannot comprehend how one can spend time in this work, simply for the enjoyment of it. But it is all well enough if it gives pleasure; and doubtless articles prepared with one’s own hands have a flavor more acceptable than when they are bought ready for use. But to all housekeepers whose minutes are precious, these labor-saving manufactories are a great blessing, and the slight difference that may be recognized in the excellence of the article, when compared with the home-made, is not to be noticed when we remember the additional time and ease, to say nothing of health, one secures by buying preserves and canned fruit from reliable establishments.
Whether these ideas hold good with regard to pickles, may be somewhat doubtful. We cannot but think that the large amount of spices, now so much used in making pickles, is injurious to the health; even the simplest kind, we are inclined to believe, should be used with moderation; and as the imported pickles, and those prepared in the manufactories in this country, are often compounded with articles known to be injurious, it is safer to make whatever is required in the way of pickles, whether mixed or plain, at home, under your own eyes. Some of the various kinds of vinegar now in use, and largely employed in the factories for pickles, is very injurious. The process of “greening” pickles is carried on with most reckless disregard of health. A bottle of small, delicately-greened pickles is very attractive to those who do not know the poison hidden in them.
Cider vinegar of the purest quality is the best. But in the process of making, if pickles are soaked or boiled in a brass kettle, they are poisoned by the verdigris, or acetate of copper, which is formed by the action of the vinegar on the brass. Acid dissolves the lead that there is in the tinning of saucepans, and corrodes copper and brass, and if it remains in such vessels any length of time the vinegar becomes very injurious. For these reasons metal kettles should be discarded in making pickles. When necessary to boil vinegar, use a stone jar on the stove, and also use wooden spoons and forks. Most suppose that the delicate green cannot be obtained without the use of alum in the brine, and in this brine they must be soaked, boiled, and allowed to cool in a brass kettle half a day. They claim that by thus soaking, the skin is acted upon by the metal, or acetate of copper, and by soaking afterward in hot water this poison can be so far removed as to be no longer injurious. It is said that if soaked long enough in the brass to bring out the full green, pickles would be dangerously poisoned; and that one can tell if this has been done by the clear, light green color; but if, after soaking in the alum and brine, in brass, half a day, and then being removed and soaked in hot water, the action of the heat turns them a dark grass green, the poison is destroyed. This may be so, but we prefer pickles made green without the help of brass, or not green at all. There are ways by which all adulterations may be discovered. The chemist would find no difficulty in ascertaining; but very few of those most interested—our housekeepers—are competent, even if they have time or inclination, to examine these things scientifically, and therefore it is well to insure against harm in domestic manufacture by having it fully understood that metal kettles of every kind should be discarded.
The many kinds of sweet pickles that have become common within a few years are, we imagine, less liable to derange the stomach than such as are spiced highly, and prepared mainly with vinegar. The mixed pickles—piccalilli, Indian pickle, Bengal pickle or chutney, and the Chow Chow—are all fiery, and must require an uncommonly strong digestion to be eaten without injury.
But each one must judge for himself. Pickles of all kinds will always be in use, no doubt, and it is well for every housekeeper to know how they are made. Pickles should be always kept covered with vinegar, and if at any time there are indications of their becoming moldy, boil up the vinegar again, adding more spice. Have the jar two thirds full of pickles, and one third full of vinegar. Keep the jar closely stopped, as exposure to the air will make them soft.
In greening pickles (for they can be greened enough without brass) keep them closely covered while the hot vinegar is on them, so that none of the steam may evaporate. Boil them only four or five minutes, or it will take away their strength, and they will soon become soft.
LXIX.
WHAT HAS BECOME OF ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS?
WE look in vain into many pleasant homes, or into the streets, cars, or steamers, for what was once a common sight, and was then, and ever must be, the sweetest object in nature,—a simple, artless little girl with all the pretty, unaffected ways and manners of unsophisticated childhood, fresh and beautiful, about her. There is no lack of small beings, dressed in such a marvelous style that Darwin himself would be puzzled to make out the class to which they belong; but we find nothing to remind us of the little girls we used to know, either in dress or manners.
In former times a pretty muslin bonnet or a simple close-fitting cottage straw was thought the most appropriate covering for a little head, protecting the bright eyes from too intense light, and shielding the rosy cheeks from the sun’s too fervid kisses; but now, leaving eyes and cheeks entirely unprotected, we see something placed on the sunny curls, which is elaborately trimmed with bows, feathers, a flower-garden, or perhaps a mingling of both; for, although it is too small for even a good-sized doll, the milliner, with an ingenuity which would have been praiseworthy if exercised in a more sensible manner, has contrived to pile up trimming enough to hide even the faintest suspicion of a bonnet. But, what is sadder than the lack of true taste and good common-sense in this stylish affair, we see no semblance of childlike simplicity in the wearer. And the bonnet is but the beginning of this unfortunate change which we mourn; the pretty baby waist, the plain white dress, the neat muslin or merino, so appropriate, which little girls used to wear, are supplanted by incomprehensible garments, the fac-simile of the grand dame’s attire; flounces, fringes, bows, and double skirts looped and festooned in an astounding manner; the child’s—no, we mean the young lady’s—height (there are no children in these days) is less than her circumference. This dress is put on over a hoop, and the “mite” who is made to carry such an incongruous burden totters about on high-heeled boots. This tiny specimen of womanhood, hardly weaned from her mother’s breast, or, more probably, a wet-nurse’s, shakes out her redundant robes, bending and twisting her small body in grotesque imitation of the women spoken of by the Prophet Isaiah, “with haughty mien, walking and mincing as they go.” See how the little ape looks over her shoulders as she tottles about, to be sure that her hoops give her dress and figure the correct wiggle her sharp eyes have observed in the stylish mother and her fashionable friends. It is lamentable that all the simplicity and beauty of babyhood and childhood should be destroyed by fashion.