Mary at the Farm and Book of Recipes Compiled during Her Visit written by Edith M. Thomas

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MARY AT THE FARM AND BOOK OF RECIPES COMPILED DURING HER VISIT AMONG THE
"PENNSYLVANIA GERMANS"

by

EDITH M. THOMAS

With Illustrations

1915

We love our Pennsylvania, grand old Keystone State;
Land of far famed rivers, and rock-ribbed mountains great.
With her wealth of "Dusky Diamonds" and historic valleys fair,
Proud to claim her as our birthplace; land of varied treasures rare.

PREFACE

The incidents narrated in this book are based on fact, and, while not
absolutely true in every particular, the characters are all drawn from
real life. The photographs are true likenesses of the people they are
supposed to represent, and while in some instances the correct names
are not given (for reasons which the reader will readily understand),
the various scenes, relics, etc., are true historically and
geographically. The places described can be easily recognized by any
one who has ever visited the section of Pennsylvania in which the plot
(if it can really be called a plot) of the story is laid. Many of the
recipes given Mary by Pennsylvania German housewives, noted for the
excellence of their cooking, have never appeared in print.

THE AUTHOR.

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY FRIENDS WITH GRATITUDE FOR THEIR MANY
HELPFUL KINDNESSES.

[Illustration]

"HE WHO HAS A THOUSAND FRIENDS, HAS NEVER A ONE TO SPARE."

THE HOUSEKEEPER'S SYMPHONY

"To do the best that I can, from morn till night.
And pray for added strength with coming light;
To make the family income reach alway,
With some left over for a rainy day;
To do distasteful things with happy face,
To try and keep the odds and ends in place.
To smile instead of frown at Fate,
Which placed me in a family always late
For meals; to do the sewing, mending and
The thousand small things always near at hand,
And do them always with a cheerful heart,
Because in life they seem to be my part;
To know the place of everything and keep
It there, to think, to plan, to cook, to sweep,
To brew, to bake, to answer questions,
To be the mainspring of the family clock.
(Or that effect) and see that no tick, tock
Is out of time or tune, or soon or late,
This is the only symphony which I
Can ever hope to operate."

MARION WILEY.

CONTENTS

I Mary's Letter Received at Clear Spring Farm

II Mary's Arrival at the Farm

III Schuggenhaus Township

IV John Landis

V The Old Farm-House and Garden

VI Mary Confides in "Aunt Sarah" and Gives Her Views on Suffrage
for Women

VII Professor Schmidt

VIII Uses of An Old-Fashioned Wardrobe

IX Poetry and Pie

X Sibylla Linsabigler

XI New Colonial Rag Rugs

XII Mary Imitates Navajo Blankets

XIII "The Girls' Camp Fire" Organized by Mary

XIV Mary Makes "Violet and Rose Leaf" Beads

XV Mary and Elizabeth Visit Sadie Singmaster

XVI The Old Parlor Made Beautiful (Modernized)

XVII An Old Song Evening

XVIII A Visit to the "Pennsylvania Palisades"

XIX Mary Is Taught to Make Pastry, Patties and Rosenkuchcen

XX Old Potteries and Decorated Dishes

XXI The Value of Wholesome, Nutritious Food

XXII A Variety of Cakes Evolved From One Recipe

XXIII The Old "Taufschien"

XXIV The Old Store on the Ridge Road

XXV An Elbadritchel Hunt

XXVI The Old Shanghai Rooster

XXVII A "Potato Pretzel"

XXVIII Faithful Service

XXIX Mary, Ralph, Jake and Sibylla Visit the Allentown Fair

XXX Fritz Schmidt Explores Durham Cave

XXXI Mary's Marriage

ILLUSTRATIONS

Mary
Aunt Sarah
The Old Spring House
The Old Mill Wheel
The Old Mill
Old Corn Crib
The New Red Barn
The Old Farm-House
Ralph Jackson
Rocky Valley
Professor Schmidt
Frau Schmidt
Old Time Patch-Work Quilts
Old Time Patch-Work
Home-Made Rag Carpet
A Hit-and-Miss Rug
A Brown and Tan Rug
A Circular Rug
Imitation of Navajo Blankets
Rug With Design
Rug With Swastika in Centre
Home Manufactured Silk Prayer Rug
Elizabeth Schmidt--"Laughing Water"
Articles in the Old Parlor Before It Was Modernized
Other Articles in the Old Parlor Before It Was Modernized
Palisades, or Narrows of Nockamixon
The Canal at the Narrows
The Narrows, or Pennsylvania Palisades
Top Rock
Ringing Rocks of Bucks County, Pennsylvania
High Falls
Big Rock at Rocky Dale
The Old Towpath at the Narrows
Old Earthenware Dish
Igraffito Plate
Old Plates Fund in Aunt Sarah's Corner Cupboard
Old Style Lamps
Old Taufschien
The Old Store on Ridge Road
Catching Elbadritchels
Old Egg Basket at the Farm
A Potato Pretzel
Loaf of Rye Bread
A "Brod Corvel," or Bread Basket
Church Which Sheltered Liberty Bell in 1777-78
Liberty Bell Tablet
Durham Cave
The Woodland Stream
Polly Schmidt
An Old-Fashioned Bucks County Bake-Oven

[Illustration: MARY]

CHAPTER I.

MARY'S LETTERS RECEIVED AT CLEAR SPRING FARM.

One morning in early spring, John Landis, a Pennsylvania German farmer
living in Schuggenhaus Township, Bucks County, on opening his mail
box, fastened to a tree at the crossroads (for the convenience of
rural mail carriers) found one letter for his wife Sarah, the envelope
addressed in the well-known handwriting of her favorite niece, Mary
Midleton, of Philadelphia.

[Illustration]

A letter being quite an event at "Clear Spring" farm, he hastened with
it to the house, finding "Aunt Sarah," as she was called by every one
(Great Aunt to Mary), in the cheery farm house kitchen busily engaged
kneading sponge for a loaf of rye bread, which she carefully deposited
on a well-floured linen cloth, in a large bowl for the final raising.

Carefully adjusting her glasses more securely over the bridge of her
nose, she turned at the sound of her husband's footsteps. Seeing the
letter in his hand she inquired: "What news, John?" Quickly opening
the letter handed her, she, after a hasty perusal, gave one of the
whimsical smiles peculiar to her and remarked decisively, with a
characteristic nod of her head: "John, Mary Midleton intends to marry,
else why, pray tell me, would she write of giving up teaching her
kindergarten class in the city, to spend the summer with us on the
farm learning, she writes, to keep house, cook, economize and to learn
how to get the most joy and profit from life?"

"Well, well! Mary is a dear girl, why should she not think of
marrying?" replied her husband; "she is nineteen. Quite time, I think,
she should learn housekeeping--something every young girl should know.
We should hear of fewer divorces and a less number of failures of men
in business, had their wives been trained before marriage to be good,
thrifty, economical housekeepers and, still more important, good
homemakers. To be a helpmate in every sense of the word is every
woman's duty, I think, when her husband works early and late to
procure the means to provide for her comforts and luxuries and a
competency for old age. Write Mary to come at once, and under your
teaching she may, in time, become as capable a housekeeper and as good
a cook as her Aunt Sarah; and, to my way of thinking, there is none
better, my dear."

Praise from her usually reticent husband never failed to deepen the
tint of pink on Aunt Sarah's still smooth, unwrinkled, youthful
looking face, made more charming by being framed in waves of silvery
gray hair, on which the "Hand of Time," in passing, had sprinkled some
of the dust from the road of life.

In size, Sarah Landis was a little below medium height, rather stout,
or should I say comfortable, and matronly looking; very erect for a
woman of her age. Her bright, expressive, gray eyes twinkled
humorously when she talked. She had developed a fine character by her
years of unselfish devotion to family and friends. Her splendid sense
of humor helped her to overcome difficulties, and her ability to rise
above her environment, however discouraging their conditions,
prevented her from being unhappy or depressed by the small annoyances
met daily. She never failed to find joy and pleasure in the faithful
performance of daily tasks, however small or insignificant. Aunt Sarah
attributed her remarkably fine, clear complexion, seldom equalled in a
woman of her years, to good digestion and excellent health; her love
of fresh air, fruit and clear spring water. She usually drank from
four to five tumblerfuls of water a day. She never ate to excess, and
frequently remarked: "I think more people suffer from over-eating than
from insufficient food." An advocate of deep breathing, she spent as
much of her time as she could spare from household duties in the open
air.

[Illustration: AUNT SARAH]

Sarah Landis was not what one would call beautiful, but good and
whole-souled looking. To quote her husband: "To me Sarah never looks
so sweet and homelike when all 'fussed up' in her best black dress on
special occasions, as she does when engaged in daily household tasks
around home, in her plain, neat, gray calico dress."

This dress was always covered with a large, spotlessly clean, blue
gingham apron of small broken check, and she was very particular about
having a certain-sized check. The apron had a patch pocket, which
usually contained small twists or little wads of cord, which, like
"The Old Ladies in Cranford," she picked up and saved for a possible
emergency.

One of Aunt Sarah's special economies was the saving of twine and
paper bags. The latter were always neatly folded, when emptied, and
placed in a cretonne bag made for that purpose, hanging in a
convenient corner of the kitchen.

Aunt Sarah's gingham apron was replaced afternoons by one made from
fine, Lonsdale cambric, of ample proportions, and on special occasions
she donned a hemstitched linen apron, inset at upper edge of hem with
crocheted lace insertion, the work of her own deft fingers. Aunt
Sarah's aprons, cut straight, on generous lines, were a part of her
individuality.

Sarah Landis declared: "Happiness consists in giving and in serving
others," and she lived up to the principles she advocated. She
frequently quoted from the "Sons of Martha," by Kipling:

"Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood, to make a path more fair or flat,
Not as a ladder from earth to heaven, not as an altar to any creed,
But simple service, simply given, to his own kind in their human need."

"I think this so fine," said Aunt Sarah, "and so true a sentiment that
I am almost compelled to forgive Kipling for saying 'The female of the
species is more deadly than the male.'"

Aunt Sarah's goodness was reflected in her face and in the tones of
her voice, which were soft and low, yet very decided. She possessed a
clear, sweet tone, unlike the slow, peculiar drawl often aiding with
the rising inflection peculiar to many country folk among the
"Pennsylvania Germans."

The secret of Aunt Sarah's charm lay in her goodness. Being always
surrounded by a cheery atmosphere, she benefited all with whom she
came in contact. She took delight in simple pleasures. She had the
power of extracting happiness from the common, little every-day tasks
and frequently remarked, "Don't strive to live without work, but to
find more joy in your work." Her opinions were highly respected by
every one in the neighborhood, and, being possessed of an unselfish
disposition, she thought and saw good in every one; brought out the
best in one, and made one long to do better, just to gain her
approval, if for no higher reward. Sarah Landis was a loyal friend and
one would think the following, by Mrs. Craik, applied to her:

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort, of feeling safe with a
person--having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but
pouring them all right out, just as they are--chaff and grain
together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep
what is worth keeping and then with the breath of kindness blow the
rest away."

She was never so happy as when doing an act of kindness for some poor
unfortunate, and often said. "If 'twere not for God and good people,
what would become of the unfortunate?" and thought like George
McDonald, "If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of any
man or woman (I should add child) I shall feel that I have worked with
God."

Aunt Sarah's sweet, lovable face was the first beheld by many a
little, new-born infant; her voice, the first to hush its wailing
cries as she cuddled it up to her motherly breast, and oft, with
loving hands, softly closed the lids over eyes no longer able to see;
whom the Gracious Master had taken into His keeping.

One day I overheard Aunt Sarah quote to a sorrowing friend these fine,
true lines from Longfellow's "Resignation": "Let us be patient, these
severe afflictions not from the ground arise, but celestial
benedictions assume the dark disguise."

[Illustration: THE OLD SPRING HOUSE]

CHAPTER II.

MARY'S ARRIVAL AT THE FARM.

The day preceding that of Mary's arrival at the farm was a busy one
for Aunt Sarah, who, since early morning, had been preparing the
dishes she knew Mary enjoyed. Pans of the whitest, flakiest rolls, a
large loaf of sweetest nut-brown, freshly-baked "graham bread," of
which Mary was especially fond; an array of crumb-cakes and pies of
every description covered the well-scrubbed table in the summer
kitchen, situated a short distance from the house. A large, yellow
earthenware bowl on the table contained a roll of rich, creamy "smier
kase" just as it had been turned from the muslin bag, from which the
"whey" had dripped over night; ready to be mixed with cream for the
supper table. Pats of sweet, freshly-churned butter, buried in clover
blossoms, were cooling in the old spring-house near by.

The farm house was guiltless of dust from cellar to attic. Aunt Sarah
was a model housekeeper; she accomplished wonders, yet never appeared
tired or flurried as less systematic housekeepers often do, who, with
greater expenditure of energy, often accomplish less work. She took no
unnecessary steps; made each one count, yet never appeared in haste to
finish her work.

Said Aunt Sarah, "The lack of system in housework is what makes it
drudgery. If young housekeepers would sit down and plan their work,
then do it, they would save time and labor. When using the fire in the
range for ironing or other purposes, use the oven for preparing dishes
of food which require long, slow cooking, like baked beans, for
instance. Bake a cake or a pudding, or a pan of quickly-made corn pone
to serve with baked beans, for a hearty meal on a cold winter day. A
dish of rice pudding placed in the oven requires very little
attention, and when baked may be placed on ice until served. If this
rule be followed, the young housewife will be surprised to find how
much easier will be the task of preparing a meal later in the day,
especially in hot weather."

* * * * *

The day following, John Landis drove to the railroad station, several
miles distant, to meet his niece. As Mary stepped from the train into
the outstretched arms of her waiting Uncle, many admiring glances
followed the fair, young girl. Her tan-gold naturally wavy, masses of
hair rivaled ripened grain. The sheen of it resembled corn silk before
it has been browned and crinkled by the sun. Her eyes matched in color
the exquisite, violet-blue blossoms of the chicory weed. She possessed
a rather large mouth, with upturned corners, which seemed made for
smiles, and when once you had been charmed with them, she had made an
easy conquest of you forever. There was a sweet, winning personality
about Mary which was as impossible to describe as to resist. One
wondered how so much adorable sweetness could be embodied in one small
maid. But Mary's sweetness of expression and charming manner covered a
strong will and tenacity of purpose one would scarcely have believed
possible, did they not have an intimate knowledge of the young girl's
disposition. Her laugh, infectious, full of the joy of living, the
vitality of youth and perfect health and happiness, reminded one of
the lines: "A laugh is just like music for making living sweet."

Seated beside her Uncle in the carriage, Mary was borne swiftly
through the town out into the country. It was one of those
preternaturally quiet, sultry days when the whole universe appears
lifeless and inert, free from loud noise, or sound of any description,
days which we occasionally have in early Spring or Summer, when the
stillness is oppressive.

Frequently at such times there is borne to the nostrils the faint,
stifling scent of burning brush, indicating that land is being cleared
by the forehanded, thrifty farmer for early planting. Often at such
times, before a shower, may be distinctly heard the faintest twitter
and "peep, peep" of young sparrows, the harsh "caw, caw" of the crow,
and the song of the bobolink, poised on the swaying branch of a tall
tree, the happiest bird of Spring; the dozy, drowsy hum of bees; the
answering call of lusty young chanticleers, and the satisfied cackle
of laying hens and motherly old biddies, surrounded by broods of
downy, greedy little newly-hatched chicks. The shrill whistle of a
distant locomotive startles one with its clear, resonant intonation,
which on a less quiet day would pass unnoticed. Mary, with the zest of
youth, enjoyed to the full the change from the past months of
confinement in a city school, and missed nothing of the beauty of the
country and the smell of the good brown earth, as her Uncle drove
swiftly homeward.

"Uncle John," said Mary, "'tis easy to believe God made the country."

"Yes," rejoined her Uncle, "the country is good enough for me."

"With the exception of the one day in the month, when you attend the
'Shriners' meeting' in the city," mischievously supplemented Mary, who
knew her Uncle's liking for the Masonic Lodge of which he was a
member, "and," she continued, "I brought you a picture for your
birthday, which we shall celebrate tomorrow. The picture will please
you, I know. It is entitled, 'I Love to Love a Mason, 'Cause a Mason
Never Tells.'"

They passed cultivated farms. Inside many of the rail fences,
inclosing fields of grain or clover, were planted numberless sour
cherry trees, snowy with bloom, the ground underneath white with
fallen petals. The air was sweet with the perfume of the half-opened
buds on the apple trees in the near-by orchards and rose-like pink
blossoms of the "flowering" crab-apple, in the door yards. Swiftly
they drove through cool, green, leafy woods, crossing a wooden bridge
spanning a small stream, so shallow that the stones at the bottom were
plainly to be seen. A loud splash, as the sound of carriage wheels
broke the uninterrupted silence, and a commotion in the water gave
evidence of the sudden disappearance of several green-backed frogs,
sunning themselves on a large, moss-grown rock, projecting above the
water's edge; from shady nooks and crevices peeped clusters of early
white violets; graceful maidenhair ferns, and hardier members of the
fern family, called "Brake," uncurled their graceful, sturdy fronds
from the carpet of green moss and lichen at the base of tree trunks,
growing along the water's edge. Partly hidden by rocks along the bank
of the stream, nestled a few belated cup-shaped anemones or "Wind
Flowers," from which most of the petals had blown, they being one of
the earliest messengers of Spring. Through the undergrowth in the
woods, in passing, could be seen the small buds of the azalea or wild
honeysuckle, "Sheep's Laurel," the deep pink buds on the American
Judas tree, trailing vines of "Tea Berry," and beneath dead leaves one
caught an occasional glimpse of fragrant, pink arbutus. In marshy
places beside the creek, swaying in the wind from slender stems, grew
straw-colored, bell-shaped blossoms of "Adder's Tongue" or "Dog Tooth
Violet," with their mottled green, spike-shaped leaves. In the shadow
of a large rock grew dwarf huckleberry bushes, wild strawberry vines,
and among grasses of many varieties grew patches of white and
pink-tinted Alsatian clover.

Leaving behind the spicy, fragrant, "woodsy" smell of wintergreen,
birch and sassafras, and the faint, sweet scent of the creamy,
wax-like blossoms of "Mandrake" or May apple, peeping from beneath
large, umbrella-like, green leaves they emerged at last from the dim,
cool shadows of the woods into the warm, bright sunlight again.

Almost before Mary realized it, the farm house could be seen in the
distance, and her Uncle called her attention to his new, red barn,
which had been built since her last visit to the farm, and which, in
her Uncle's estimation, was of much greater importance than the house.

Mary greeted with pleasure the old landmarks so familiar to her on
former visits. They passed the small, stone school house at the
crossroads, and in a short time the horses turned obediently into the
lane leading to the barn a country lane in very truth, a tangle of
blackberry vines, wild rose bushes, by farmers called "Pasture Roses,"
interwoven with bushes of sumach, wild carrots and golden rod.

Mary insisted that her Uncle drive directly to the barn, as was his
usual custom, while she was warmly welcomed at the farm house gate by
her Aunt. As her Uncle led away the horses, he said, "I will soon join
you, Mary, 'to break of our bread and eat of our salt,' as they say in
the 'Shrine.'"

On their way to the house, Mary remarked: "I am so glad we reached
here before dusk. The country is simply beautiful! Have you ever
noticed, Aunt Sarah, what a symphony in green is the yard? Look at the
buds on the maples and lilacs--a faint yellow green--and the
blue-green pine tree near by; the leaves of the German iris are
another shade; the grass, dotted with yellow dandelions, and blue
violets; the straight, grim, reddish-brown stalks of the peonies
before the leaves have unfolded, all roofed over with the
blossom-covered branches of pear, apple and 'German Prune' trees.
Truly, this must resemble Paradise!"

"Yes," assented her Aunt, "I never knew blossoms to remain on the
pear trees so long a time. We have had no 'blossom shower' as yet to
scatter them, but there will be showers tonight, I think, or I am no
prophet. I feel rain in the atmosphere, and Sibylla said a few moments
ago she heard a 'rain bird' in the mulberry tree."

"Aunt Sarah," inquired Mary, "is the rhubarb large enough to use?"

"Yes, indeed, we have baked rhubarb pies and have had a surfeit of
dandelion salad or 'Salat,' as our neighbors designate it. Your Uncle
calls 'dandelion greens' the farmers' spring tonic; that and
'celadine,' that plant you see growing by the side of the house. Later
in the season it bears small, yellow flowers not unlike a very small
buttercup blossom, and it is said to be an excellent remedy for chills
and fevers, and it tastes almost as bitter as quinine. There are
bushels of dandelion blossoms, some of which we shall pick tomorrow,
and from them make dandelion wine."

"And what use will my thrifty Aunt make of the blue violets?"
mischievously inquired Mary.

"The violets," replied her Aunt, "I shall dig up carefully with some
earth adhering to their roots and place them in a glass bowl for a
centrepiece on the table for my artistic and beauty-loving niece; and
if kept moist, you will be surprised at the length of time they will
remain 'a thing of beauty' if not 'a joy forever.' And later, Mary,
from them I'll teach you to make violet beads."

"Aunt Sarah, notice that large robin endeavoring to pull a worm from
the ground. Do you suppose the same birds return here from the South
every Summer?"

"Certainty, I do."

"That old mulberry tree, from the berries of which you made such
delicious pies and marmalade last Summer, is it dead?"

"No; only late about getting its Spring outfit of leaves."

CHAPTER III.

SCHUGGENHAUS TOWNSHIP.

"Schuggenhaus," said Sarah Landis, speaking to her niece, Mary
Midleton, "is one of the largest and most populous townships in Bucks
County, probably so named by the early German settlers, some of whom,
I think, were my father's ancestors, as they came originally from
Zweibrucken, Germany, and settled in Schuggenhaus Township.
Schuggenhaus is one of the most fertile townships in Bucks County and
one of the best cultivated; farming is our principal occupation, and
the population of the township today is composed principally of the
descendants of well-to-do Germans, frequently called 'Pennsylvania
Dutch.'"

"I have often heard them called by that name," said Mary. "Have you
forgotten, Aunt Sarah, you promised to tell me something interesting
about the first red clover introduced in Bucks County?"

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