The Parents' Review

A Monthly Magazine of Home-Training and Culture

Edited by Charlotte Mason.

"Education is an atmosphere, a discipline, a life."
______________________________________
Aunt Mai's Budget.

by Mrs. F. Steinthal.
Volume 5, 1894, pg. 304-311


MY DEAR CHILDREN,--I have very little space this month for a letter. So many more have joined the Sewing Class that your names take up a great deal of room. Our first swallows appeared this morning, May 1st. Is it not wonderful that they know their way and go at once to the nests they left behind last year? Will you each write me a little tale about one swallow’s journey over the sea and over the land until he gets home again?

Your loving
AUNTIE MAI.
Wharfemead, Ilkley.


JUNE.

The "leafy month of June" is now on us, and gardeners will find plenty of employment. Finish planting out your bedding plants, and where one has gone off replace it so that there may be no unsightly gaps in the borders. All bulbs that have finished flowering may be pulled up and harvested until planting time in autumn. Zonal and tricolored geraniums grown only for their foliage should have all flower buds nipped off as they appear. Wall-flowers and pansies that have finished blooming should be pulled up, unless extra fine ones are being saved for seed. Many hardy annuals may now be sown for late blooming, and also perennials, which if sown now, can be pricked out before winter and will bloom early next year.

Mark the various annuals as they bloom, and when you see a blossom particularly fine and well colored, tie a thread loosely around the stem and save it for seed,in this way, you often get good new varieties.

Dahlias will want staking and plenty of watering to bring them on.

Examine your rose trees every morning. Kill all the caterpillars and grubs you can find. Snip off any worm eaten or defective bud as they only spoil the appearance as well as weaken the tree.

Carnations and pinks need to be staked and carefully tied.

In dry weather, watering with liquid manure will do much good. Destroy wire worms with the potato trap, which is an unfailing remedy. Keep your paths and flower beds well weeded.


LITTLE COOKS

Lemon Dumpling. Grate 2 ozs. of bread crumbs very finely, add 2 ozs. of suet chopped fine, 2 ozs. of moist sugar, the juice and rind of half a lemon, and one well-beaten egg. Beat all well together and put into large doll’s teacups, tie over little cloths, and boil for twenty minutes.

Mother's Sandwiches. Boil two eggs hard, take out the yolks and put them into a cup and mix thoroughly with them a teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, a small piece of butter, pepper and salt, chop the white up small, spread the yolks thickly between two slices of thin bread and butter, sprinkle the white over it with finely chopped lettuce and cut into neat sandwiches.


WHAT SHALL WE PLAY?

In all fairly large families there are one or two children not so inventive, and not so full of new ideas as the rest, but with careful training on the part of the parent and teacher, I believe that originality and power of expressing it, can be encouraged while the child is still young. The following game has recently developed, to an astonishing extent, imagination in a boy of seven, who seemed at first to be hopelessly deficient in ideas and expression.

The mother or father, or one of the older children begin an original tale, which he or she relates for about five minutes. The narrator stops suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and the next child on the right hand side continues for the same length of time, and at the end stops with the sentence unfinished, when the next takes up the thread, and so on. After a little practice, we produce at times really excellent tales, and the children thoroughly enjoy the game.


COMPETITIONS.

These classes are open to the children of all parents who take the Parents’ Review, and no charge is made for membership. Mr. Vickers, The Grove, Ilkley, can supply "My Dollie’s Wardrobe (1/-). I regret that owing to the list of names being lost on its way to the printer, I cannot this month put it into the Review, having only kept the names of the prize-winners. Absence from home prevented me making a double-list, as usual. If the children who have sent this month (May) will notify the same when they forward their skirts, they shall be specially mentioned in the July number.

Girls. Maude Spielman, Emmie Wilson, and Hilda Whitfield have each obtained a book.

In June please make the blouse of the sailor dress. In July the cloak will be given, and in August and September there will be no competition, so that the children who did not begin in January can get as far as the others, and those who have steadily worked each month can enjoy a well-earned holiday.

Boys. Sydney Mount has won "Black Beauty" for a very good model in cardboard sloyd of a portfolio.

In June a book is offered for the best cardboard sloyd work.


AMOREL AMONG THE ELVES.

By the Author of "One Springtime."

Once upon a time, in a country over the seam the name of which I need not tell you, because it has long since been changed, there lived an old king, with one young daughter, the Princess Amorel.

Amorel loved all living things, not only human beings, but birds and beasts, and insects, and flowers, and she could talk to them in their own languages.

She would have made a good queen, but when the old king died, her wicked uncle shut her up in a tower, and took the kingdom for himself.

He told her that she was a witch, and that everyone upon whom her eye fell would suffer some hurt, therefore she must be kept in prison all her life.

The poor young Princess wept day and night; first, because she feared that her cruel uncle would oppress her people, whom she loved; and then because it was dreadful to be a witch, and be kept in a dark cell by herself.

The cell was at the top of the Tower, a great height from the ground; the heavy door was barred and bolted; and the window was not a real window, but only a slit in the thick wall, with an iron grating on the outside; so that escape seemed impossible.

One day the Toadflax, growing on the old grey wall outside, saw the Princess leaning sadly against the grating, and crept quietly in to look at her.

"Oh, pretty flower!" cried Amorel, as her eyes fell upon the delicate little face of the visitor, "Don’t come near me! I may do you some harm!"

"What harm?" answered the Toadflax; "Gentle looks hurt nobody, and gentle words are better still. But tell me, why do you live in this dark well? and why does the rain fall from your eyes upon my petals?"

The Princess told her all her sorrows, and the Toadflax waved her head from side to side, and wrung her tendrils with sympathy.

"I shall have to sit here every day, all day through, as long as I live," continued Amorel. "I shall never see the green grass, nor the waving trees, nor the sunshine any more! Oh! if I could only get down on to the ground and run away to the woods!"

"Well , well!" said the Toadflax, "that is not difficult. Come out, and climb down as I do, until you reach the ground. It takes time, to be sure. I began at the top, and I shall be years climbing to the bottom. Had I begun at the bottom, I should have been years getting to the top; but it may be done with patience. I am afraid that you have no patience."

"But what could I get to eat all those years while I was climbing down?" asked the Princess.

"Eat? Anything. Air, dew, mortar. What do you want to eat? People who are particular about their eating make very poor travellers.

"And then," continued Amorel, "I don’t know how to climb."

"It is quite easy. You put your rootlets into a chink, and take firm hold; then send out a shoot to the next chink, and fasten more rootlets in there, and so on."

"But I’m afraid," said the Princess, "that I have no rootlets."

"And you’ve only two tendril, and those rather clumsy," said the Toadflax, eying her up and down with some disfavour. "Of course, then, it cannot be done. Flowers with no climbing stem and no tendrils have got to stay with no climbing stem, and no tendrils have got to stay where they are. But," she continued, after a moment’s thought, "perhaps, though you cannot climb, you might get about like a bird. The birds can tumble down, and they can tumble up again. I will ask the swallow."

So she called to the swallow, who had his nest under a gurgoyle on the tower, where he came year after year, as sure as summer; and she introduced him to the Princess, and bade her tell him her story.

"I like you;" said the swallow, when she had finished. "Your voice is like the sound of running water. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, beautiful bird! tell me how I can get out!"

"Why, fly out, to be sure! Here is an opening."

"But I cannot fly."

"Of course not if you do not spread your wings. You don’t even try!"

"Alas! I have no wings;" said the Princess.

"Well, then," said the Swallow," it’s of no use. Birds whose wings are clipped never get away."

"Never!" cried the Princess, "oh, what would you do, Swallow, if you were shut up here and could never get out?".

"Dash my head against the wall and die," answered the Swallow, promptly.

"That would be very ill-judged," said the Toadflax quietly. "Can you think of nothing better?"

"Well," said the Swallow, "she might of course, wait until her wings grew; but goodness how long that would be!"

"There is nothing like patience," began the Toadflax, when she was interrupted by the Honey Bee, who came and alighted on her lilac petals.

"Why, are you all wet," she cried in dismay, pushing her legs up and down her hairy body to dry them.

"Yes," said the Toadflax, "do excuse it, dear Bee; it is water from the eyes of the poor Princess," and she told the Bee all the story, for she knew it quite well now, having heard it twice.

"She is very nice," murmured the Bee, crawling on to Amorel’s hand. "Quite cool and soft, like the petals of a white rose; and I like her hair, it is the colour of honey; and I should like to know how you get anything to eat, since you cannot get about and gather for yourself, pretty Princess?"

(The Bee always talks in the same tone of voice, with a great many "ands" between her sentences.)

The Princess explained that everyday a warder came, and opened the iron door just far enough to get his hand in and set down a bowl of porridge.

"Well, then," said the Bee, "to-morrow, when he brings the pollen, thrust your sting into his hand and brush past him as fast as you can, and buzz out at the first opening you find--

Amorel had to interrupt her directions to explain that she had no sting, and this scheme was as useless as the others.

The worst of it was that her new friends all seemed vexed with her. "She objects to everything," they said. "She does not really want to get out, or she would find a way."

When they left her she sat down on the floor, feeling more lonely than ever, but presently she caught sight of something that pleased her very much—a spider crawling slowly along the wall towards her.

"Oh, Spider!" she cried, "how pleased I am to see you. I thought that I was alone here."

"And I thought that I was," said the Spider, "or I should not have come out of my parlour, for I avoid strangers as a rule. I have a retiring disposition, but since it seems you want company I will stay with you awhile."

The Princess felt that this was very kind, and she soon confided her troubles to her new friend, and asked what he would do to get away.

"Swing myself down on my rope, like this, until I reached the ground, or wherever I wanted to be," and the Spider swung himself lightly backwards and forwards on his silken thread to show her the way.

"But I have no rope," said Amorel.

"I do not suppose that you have. I had not until I made one. I do not expect to find everything ready to my hand. I have an industrious disposition myself. I fear that you are lazy."

The Princess felt quite abashed. She thought that she was not lazy, but did not know how to prove it. Casting down her eyes, they fell upon a bright-eyed little mouse, who was creeping about her feet, listening to the conversation.

"Allow me, allow me!" he squeaked eagerly. "Let me give you a hint. There is a hole in the wainscot; gnaw it bigger; inside the wall is very good travelling; down you go."

"But I cannot gnaw wainscots!"

"Allow me, allow me! You can. Anybody can. It required no genius; no previous training, I am not a genius, and I do it repeatedly; repeatedly. You lie down on the floor; you begin where I left off; you work until the opening will admit your head, and down you go!"

The Princess sighed, and the spider remarked confidentially to the mouse, that she was certainly shiftless. "Where should I be if I had as little idea?" he continued. "Nevertheless, one can see that she has been accustomed to good society; she does not shriek and run away at sight of a visitor, as some people do. Her manners are quite nice."

"Perfect, perfect!" assented the little Mouse with enthusiasm.

As the days wore on the Princess grew thinner and paler, and looked out more wistfully through her prison bars, and her companions pitied her sincerely, their pity being half blame, like that of other people.

The Bee, at last, touched the heart of the difficulty. "I don’t say much," she remarked, after saying a good deal. "I have no time for talking, but I observe, therefore, I gain experience, and I have always seen that people can only do what they are made for. You may try and try to do a thing, and if you are not made for it you will not manage it exactly, and there area many things that these humans cannot do, in spite of all their pride; for instance, they cannot make honey; they can steal it when other people have made it, oh yes! they area quite clever enough for that, but if they want to take nectar from a flower they pull the flower all to bits with their great clumsy front legs, instead of drawing the sweet drop gently into their mouths as I do. But the fact is that humans are too big, and when you are very big you can only do very little, and that is why the Princess cannot get out; she is quite unwieldly, and the only thing for her is to ask the help of a fairy--

And so the Bee buzzed on and on, for though she is always protesting that she has no time to gossip, she really talks more than anybody. It is useless to try to stop a real talker; interruption only makes her worse. All that you can do is to go to sleep, so the Swallow, the Toadflax, and Amorel dozed off, and the Bee kept murmuring on, on, in the same tone of voice, until she too fell asleep on top of the Toadflax.

When they all opened their eyes again after their nap, Amorel seemed to remember having heard in her dreams that a Fairy was the person to help her out of her trouble, and she asked the Toadflax about it.

"Yes," said the Toadflax, "if you could find a Fairy, and if she were in a good humour, she might give you the power of becoming quite tiny; then you could get out at the grating. You see it is your size which makes you so helpless at getting about. Big things, like oaks and pines, have to stay in one place, and so must you unless you see a Fairy."

"Do you suppose I ever shall see one?" asked Amorel, doubtfully.

"That depends. You must look out when the moon is shining, and remember the rule ‘Believing is seeing.’ You have heard that, surely?"

Amorel thought that she had, but somehow the saying seemed to have turned upside down.

But that wise housewife, the Bee, confirmed the directions of the Toadflax. "Yes, it is quite right," she buzzed, "believe and you will see; that is the recipe."

(To be continued.)


Typed by JoanP., Sep. 2024