Victorian Recipes, Clip Art, Thanksgiving Traditions

News of “The Great Flu Shot Shortage of 2004” sent me deep into the chaos of my archives, gathering close at hand an assortment of questionable, if not dubious, manuals of medical advice.

While perusing such titles as The Ladies' New Medical Guide (1893) and Vitalogy (1904), I discovered many curious illustrations amidst the cures for Catarrh, Chilblains, La Grippe and the like; and so, being Miss Mary, I set about scanning and restoring these images for my latest clip art title:

Miss Mary's Bad Medicine

201 images from vintage books and newspapers...see them here

And while were are on the subject of Bad Medicine, here are a few medical gems from the 19th and early 20th century.

Hygiene and Household Recipes & Hints for the Toilet

Source: The Ladies' New Medical Guide, 1890

To Wash Greasy Tin and Iron: Pour a few drops of ammonia into every greasy roasting-pan, after half filling the pan with warm water. A bottle of ammonia should always be kept on hand near the sink for such uses; never allow the pans to stand and dry, for it doubles the labor of washing, but pour in water and use the ammonia, and the work is half done.

To Clean Picture Frames: Black walnut frames will become dull and rusty looking. They may be renewed by first brushing thoroughly with a stiff brush to remove dust, and then apply pure linseed oil with a proper brush, or with a piece of new bleached muslin.

To Clean Gilt Frames: When the gilt frames of pictures or looking-glasses, or the gilt mouldings of rooms have specks of dirt upon them, from flies or other causes, they can be cleaned with the white of an egg gently rubbed on with a camel-hair pencil.

Perfume and a Preventative against Moths: Take one ounce of Tonquin beans, caraway seed, cloves, mace, nutmeg, cinnamon, well ground; add six ounces of Florentine orris root; mix well, and put in bags among your clothes.

Painting and Papering: Painting and papering are best done in cold weather, especially the former, for the wood absorbs the oil of paint much more in warm weather, while in cold weather the oil hardens on the outside, making a coat which will protect the wood instead of soaking into it.

Milk Paint: Mix water lime with skim-milk to proper consistency to apply with brush, and it is ready for use; it will adhere well to wood, smooth or rough, to brick, mortar, or stone, where oil has not been used, and it forms a very hard substance as durable as the best of paint; any color which is desirable may be had by using colors dissolved in whiskey.

To Clean Bricks: To remove the green that gathers on bricks, pour over them boiling water in which any vegetables, not greasy, have been boiled; repeat for a few days and the green will disappear. For the red wash, melt one ounce of glue in one gallon of water; while hot, add alum the size of an egg, one-half pound Venetian red, one pound Spanish brown; if too light, add more red and brown; if too dark, water. By experimenting, the color desired may be had.

Oil of Roses for the Hair: Attar of roses one drachm; oil of rosemary, one drachm; olive oil, one quart, mixed together. It may be colored red by steeping a little alkanet root in the oil (with heat) before scenting it.

Milk of Roses: Put into a small bottle two ounces of rose water, one teaspoonful of oil of sweet almonds, ten drops of oil of tar. Shake the bottle until the whole is combined; it makes a nice and perfectly harmless cosmetic to apply to the skin after washing.

Marrow Pomade for the Hair: Marrow, a quarter pound; lard, a quarter pound; castor oil, six ounces; salad oil, six ounces; palm oil, half ounce; scent with oil of bergamot; melt the lard and palm oil together; then strain it, and strain the marrow; mix all well together, until nearly cold and put in pots.

Perfume for Linen: Lavender flowers, half pound (free from stalk); dried thyme and mint, of each, half ounce; ground cloves and carroway, of each, a quarter ounce; common salt dried, one ounce; mix well together, and put into cambric or silk bags.

Chapped Hands: Unsalted lard, a quarter pound; yolks of two new-laid eggs, rose water to mix well; add a large spoonful of honey, and enough of fine oatmeal or almond flour to work it into a paste.

Care of the Sick

Source: Cookery & House-Keeping, 1886

It should be the desire of the mistress of every household to be a good nurse. Some appear to have no natural skills or sympathy with this part of woman work. While others seem instinctively to understand just what is required of them, but all may attain sufficient knowledge of the principles of good nursing to enable them to care for the sick who may be under their charge. Many things must be borne in mind by those who undertake to nurse the sick.

It is of the utmost importance that the sick-room be well aired of course; draughts or currents should not be allowed to inconvenience a patient, but fresh air should be freely admitted, and sunshine—heaven's best blessing—should never be excluded. Never fatigue a sick person by taking up at stated times to make the bed, but watch the opportunity for the most suitable time. Great care is necessary in changing the bed. Sheets should be hung in the hot sun so as to be thoroughly dried. Light blankets are best for covering, as they are light, and yet sufficiently warm. All arrangements should be made as promptly as possible, so as not to fatigue the patient.

Never arouse an invalid from sleep even to administer medicine, unless it is absolutely necessary, and remember, a sick-room should be kept very quiet. Whispering tones, creaking shoes or rustling dresses are all painful to the sick and frequently cause needless suffering. Watchfulness and the exercise of good judgment will soon teach a nurse what particular mode of treatment is needed; if bathing by sponging the face, hands and body seems to increase comfort, do it gently and noiselessly. In almost all affections, the functions of the skin is more or less disturbed, an in many important diseases, nature relieves herself almost entirely through the skin. The poisonous materials are merely thrown out by the skin, not carried away from the body by it. Nothing but bathing can do that.

Colonel Mavers on the Days of Autumn

Text.—O, there's a charm in mild autumnal days!
Though Nature droops and silently decays;
Yet, Christian-like, she calmly yields her bloom.
And smiles before the universal tomb.

My Dear Friends: when I preach metaphorically, figuratively or parabollically, you mustn't take me just as I say, but just as I mean. Don't pervert my meaning ever, and get things wrong end about, as an old rum-drinker did once, when he wanted to say over a resolution to drink nothing but wine, ‘the flesh is willing, but the SPIRIT IS WEAK.' So pull the cotton out of your ears, and hearken to my words.

We all know, my friends, that the silk worm lays its eggs and dies; and so it is with Nature—she, also drops her ovaries upon the ground, and crawls into her annual sepulcher. She is now expiring upon her autumnal couch, and her faded wardrobe lies scattered about in every room, closet and corner of the universe. Her summer glories are fading fast away, but she goes smiling down to the grave, and blushes at the approach of the bridegroom, Death, as a young and beautiful bride blushes before the hymenial altar, and over the tomb of her past virgin delights. Ere she breathes her last, the pine, the hemlock, the mountain fir, and the laurel, shall twine together, and crown her withered brow with an evergreen wreath, which shall flourish through the long gloom of winter, like the bays of faith, which the Christian wears, untouched and untouchable by the hoar frosts of time.

Not long ago the infant flowers sucked at the breast of Spring and quietly snoozed in their mossy cradles, fanned by the balmiest of breezes; then Summer comes—dresses them in frocks of deeper green—nurtures them, like a kind mother, beneath her fostering care, and sees them arrive at maturity: but where are they now? They are dying of age and the yellow jaundice—they have lived their appointed time, which is, in common with that of the human tribe, just long enough to propagate their species. Yes my friends, the rose has cohabitated with the rose—the male and female pumpkin blossoms have slept together beneath the same leaf—yea, every little flower has accomplished the great aim of its existence, and is now going the way of all vegetables. There is a moral to this, and I want you to reflect upon it, for you are a reasoning, if not a reasonable, set, and can pick out the few grains of wheat from the chaff of my discourse, just as well as to have me do it for you; but don't be TOO smart. I detest egotism and vanity as a cat does a wet floor. I know there are some vain fools in this world, who, after a long incubation, will hatch out from the hotbed of pride a sickly brood of furzy ideas, and then go strutting along, in the path of pomposity, with all the self-importance of a speckled hen with a black chicken. I have an antipathy to such people—and my antipathies are bound together with iron hoops—they can't be broken. Oh! that July thunder would loan me its lungs in order that I might proclaim to the world how I despise a man whose boiler is so overstrained with the seam of self conceit that his superiors in mind and intellect must give way before the everlasting clangor of his wordy trip-hammer! Oh! that I had the wizard power to straddle a broom-stick, and ride from Patagonia to the butt-end of Time, to blast the fair prospects of his posterity, and—stop! I'll take that back before you swallow it—it's a little too savage: at any rate, I don't like such a man—enough said. But I find I am running off the tract of my text.

My dear friends: there is a charm in the mild days of autumn that tranquillizes my old soul and mellows the heart down to the substance of a fall pippin! These days are fast gathering round us. Soon the glorious Indian summer shall come, with breathless silence, to set the house of Nature in order, for she shall die and not live. Then, angels of mildness shall wave their blue handkerchiefs from the lower balconies of heaven, while the versi-colored mountains, like dying dolphins, are mingling their crimson, yellow and purple with the russet of the rocks. Then the partridge shall drum for joy upon his favorite log—the rabbit skip and dance upon the faded carpet of the grove—the little squirrel shell his nuts in contentment upon the hickory bough, and every creature rejoice that Providence designs to favor it with a few glorious days of grace to prepare it for the long gloom of winter. Oh! the mildest day of autumn seems to coax heaven itself down to implant a rapturous kiss on the blushing cheek of earth, and send a thrill of ecstasy through the very heart of the universe! My friends—Pomona has brought apronsful of her choicest apples and emptied them upon the old women's fruit tables at the corners of the streets; the more crabby ones she grinds up to make hard cider for the whigs; the sickle of Ceres has been put to the golden grain; bottle-nosed Bacchus sits loafing by the way-side, feasting on grapes and wine, and Nature's table is loaded down with the rarest of luxuries. To-morrow the festival will be over; the leaves, stems and scattered fragments will be strewn over the fields in the wildest confusion—but they won't lie there long. No, Boreas, with his zephyr broom, will sweep them all into the corners of the fences, and keep on sweeping till the white napkin of winter is spread for the season.

My friends: when you see the verdure of the trees all fading, just think how soon your cabbage-heads will wilt and decay beneath the autumnal frosts of age. Look at my flaxen capsule and calculate accordingly. When you see the leaves falling to the ground, one after another, dead as a door-latch, think, I beseech you, upon the frailty of human life, and live as though you expected Death to knock at the door of your miserable hovels every moment.—When you behold the peace, the loveliness and the glory with which autumn expires, just say to yourselves: This is the last hour of the good man encircled with the iris of hope, while the golden rays of happiness shine through the windows of eternity, and a sweet voice whispers, in his soul's ear, that the morning of immortality has dawned, and breakfast is ready. So mote it be!

Source: Dow's Short Patent Sermons, Second Series

Menu for Thanksgiving Day

A peanut doll dressed in blue and white crepe paper in Puritan costume, holding a few heads of wheat, makes an appropriate and dainty Thanksgiving favor.

Decorate the table with autumn leaves. Corn, husked and tied together, is most effective, suspended here and there from the walls and between the doors. As Thanksgiving is the one day of the year when all America gives praise for prosperity and freedom, an unusually well-filled board is not only in good taste, but it expected.

Breakfast: Grapes :: Oatmeal :: Country Sausages
Scrambled Eggs :: Browned Potatoes
Entire Wheat Griddle Cakes :: Maple Syrup :: Coffee

Dinner: Oysters on Half Shell :: Mutton Broth :: Celery
Turkey, stuffed with oysters :: Cranberry Sauce
Mashed Potatoes :: Baked Squash
Boiled Onions, with cream sauce
Peach Pickles :: Waldorf Salad :: Cheese Wafer
Mince Pie :: Pudding, Puritan style
Nuts :: Fruit :: Coffee

Supper: Cold Roast Turkey :: Tea Biscuits
Cottage Cheese :: Sweet Tomato Pickles
Thanksgiving Cake :: Fruit Glace :: Tea

As this is a day of general rejoicing, see that the poor are not forgotten. Don't forget the adage, "Love thy neighbor as thyself."

A Vegetarian Menu for a
Thanksgiving Morning Breakfast

"Let us be thankful, not only that we are alive, but that everything else is alive," said Dr. Kellogg*, in announcing that there would be no turkey, no animal food of any kind, at a recent Thanksgiving dinner of the Battle Creek sanitarium.

Fresh Fruit: Malaga Grapes, Apples

Cereals: Cal. Breakfast Food, Rolled Oats

Dextrinized Grains: Granola Zwieback :: Granut Granose Flakes
Crystal Wheat :: Toasted Granose Biscuits
Granola Porridge :: Peaches

Entrees: Sliced Protose or Nuttolene--Jelly :: Broiled Protose
Cottage Cheese :: Poached Eggs

Vegetables: Baked Potatoes & Cream Sauce :: Stewed Tomatoes
Protose Hash

Toasts: Toasted Whole-wheat Wafers :: Strawberry :: Tomato
Snowflake :: Cream

Unfermented Breads: Sticks :: Passover Bread :: Oatmeal Crackers
White Crackers :: Graham Crackers :: Breakfast Rolls
Currant Puffs :: Cocoanut Crisps

Fermented Breads: White Bread :: Fine Graham Bread
Coarse Graham Bread

Cooked Fruits: Baked Apples :: Pears :: Plums :: Prunes

Liquid Foods for Invalids: Sterilized Dairy Milk :: Dairy Milk
Caramel-Cereal :: Dairy Cream :: Fruit Coco
Gluten Gruel :: Almond Cream

* The Road to Wellville is an entertaining fictionalized account of life at the Battle Creek sanitarium.

Folding Dinner Napkins

Source: Inquire Within for Anything You Want to Know, or, Over Three Thousand Seven Hundred Facts Worth Knowing, 1858

Dinner napkins should be about twenty-eight inches broad, and thirty inches long. They may be folded in a variety of ways, which imparts a style to a table, without adding much to the expense, and may be readily accomplished with a little practice and attention to the following directions and diagrams.

[ A larger version of this image available here ]

The Mitre ( Fig . 1).—Fold the napkin into three parts long ways, then turn down the right hand corner, and turn up the left-hand one, as in Fig . 2, a and b. Turn back the point a towards the right, so that it shall lie behind c; and b to the left, so as to be behind d. Double the napkin back at the line e, then turn up f from before and g from behind, when they will appear as in Fig. 3. Bend the corner h towards the right, and tuck it behind i, and turn back the corner k towards the left, at the dotted line, and tuck it into a corresponding part at the back. The bread is placed under the mitre, or in the centre at the top.

The Exquisite (Fig. 4).—Fold the napkin into three parts long-ways, then fold down two-fifths of the length from each side, as in Fig. 5, at a; roll up the part b towards the back, repeat on the other side, then turn up the corner towards the corner a, and it will appear as d. The centre part e is now to be turned up at the bottom, and down at the top, and the two rolls brought under the centre piece, as in Fig. 4. The bread is placed under the centre band, k, Fig. 4

The Collegian (Fig. 6).—Fold the napkin into three parts long ways, then turn down the two sides towards you, so that they shall appear as in Fig. 7; then roll up the part a underneath until it looks like b, Fig. 8. Now take the corner b and turn it up towards c, so that the edge of the rolled part shall be even with the central line; repeat the same on the other side, and turn the whole over, when it will appear as in Fig. 6. The bread is placed underneath the part k.

The Cinderella (Fig. 9).—Fold the napkin into three parts longways, then turn down the two sides as in Fig. 7; turn the napkin over, and roll up the lower part as in Fig. 10, a, b. Now turn the corner b upwards towards c, so that it shall appear as in d; repeat on the other side, and then bring the two parts e together so that they shall bend at the dotted line; and the appearance will now be as in Fig. 9. The bread is placed under the apron part k, Fig. 9.

The Flirt (Fig. 11.)—Fold the napkin into three parts longways, then fold across the breadth, commencing at one extremity, and continuing to fold from and to yourself in folds about two inches broad, until the whole is done; then place in a tumbler, and it will appear as in the illustration.

The Young American (Fig. 12)—Fold the napkin into three parts longways, then fold one of the upper parts upon itself from you; turn over the cloth with the part having four folds from you, and fold down the two sides so as to appear as in Fig. 7; then roll up the part a underneath, until it appears as in the dotted lines in Fig. 15, at b. Now turn up the corner b towards c, so that the edge of the rolled part shall be even with the central line; repeat the same upon the opposite side, and turn the whole over, when it will appear as in Fig. 14; the bread being placed underneath the part k, as represented in the illustration.

The “Favourite,” or Our Own (Fig. 14)—Fold the napkin into three parts longways, then turn down the two sides as in Fig. 7, and roll up the part b on both sides, until as represented on the right hand side in Fig. 14; then turn it backwards (as a b) on both sides; now fold down the point c towards you, turn over the napkin, and fold the two other parts from you so that they shall appear as in Fig. 15. Turn the napkin over, thus folded, and raising the centre part with the two thumbs, draw the two ends (a and b) together, and pull out the parts (c and d) until they appear as in Fig. 13. The bread is to be placed as represented in k, Fig. 13.

Free Antique Postcards

Click for free Thanksgiving Postcards, a gift to you from Miss Mary.

The Story of Grace Darling

By Mrs. Alice H. Putnam, The Young American Annual, 1891

One September night long ago, a steamer was sailing off the coast of Northumberland on her way to Dundee. The pilot had steered her safely until they were as far north as the Farne Islands. But here, the high winds and heavy seas, which the autumn weather often brings the sailor, drove the vessel onto a dangerous ledge of rocks, and she was broken almost in two. There were a good many passengers on the boat, and the captain, with his wife, and many others, were washed off the deck and dashed onto the rocks.

On one of these islands stood a tall light-house called the “Folkstone Light.” I suppose it was built of stone, bolted and riveted firmly to the solid rock, for that is the way most of the light-houses on the coast were made. Often the angry waves would beat against it as they rolled over the whole island, but the keeper was faithful, and from sunset to sunrise the bright light would shine far over the water, and was sometimes a comfort and sometimes a warning to the sailors.

The keeper, Mr. Darling, had a daughter who had grown to be a strong, brave girl—as much at home on the water as on the land. She could row and sail a boat as well as any man about there. It was a part of her work to help her father care for the lamps.

On this stormy night it must have carried hope to the poor half-drowned men to know that some one was near who would help them if possible.

When Grace Darling saw the danger the crew were in, she at once begged her father to get out the boats and go to the aid of the drowning men.

But Mr. Darling said “No, we dare not try it. The sea is too heavy; no boat could live in it. Wait until morning.” So hour after hour passed and Grace watched the dreadful storm with a sad heart, for she knew the men would soon grow too weak to cling to the rocks.

At last, towards morning, she said, “Father, I am going. I must at least try to do something for them; don't say no.”

The father could not hold his brave child back, and she went alone in the little boat that was tossed like an egg-shell on the heavy sea, now up, up, on the top of a giant wave, and then down deep in the trough made between the waves. It was well, then, that Grace had gained a man's strength by her rowing and swimming, or she never could have guided her boat so surely to the island, and steered safely around its dangerous, sharp rocks to the place where the steamer (or what was left of it) was wedged.

She was thankful to be able to save the lives of the nine sailors who, moment by moment, were growing weaker and less able to hold on to a place of safety. Grace carried them all back to the light-house in safety.

It was not long before people in other parts of England heard of the brave deed, and many letters and beautiful medals, in remembrance of her courage, were sent her. But she received them very quietly, saying that she had only done what she ought to do, and what any one with her strength ought to have done.

She lived some years after this, but though she has gone from her now, I think folks will always love to think of Grace Darling, the brave girl who risked her own to save other lives.

See the Archive for Past Issues

Remedies from Cookery and House-Keeping, 1886

Receipts and Remedies, 1908

Cookery for the Sick-Room

Chit Chat

Hygiene and Household Recipes & Hints for the Toilet

Care of the Sick

Colonel Mavers on the Days of Autumn

Menu for Thanksgiving Day

A Vegetarian Menu for a
Thanksgiving Morning Breakfast

Folding Dinner Napkins

Free Antique Postcards

The Story of Grace Darling

Update your preferences or sign up

See the Archive for Past Issues

Remedies from Cookery and House-Keeping, 1886

Receipts and Remedies, 1908

Cookery for the Sick-Room

Chit Chat

Hygiene and Household Recipes & Hints for the Toilet

Care of the Sick

Colonel Mavers on the Days of Autumn

Menu for Thanksgiving Day

A Vegetarian Menu for a Thanksgiving Morning Breakfast

Folding Dinner Napkins

Free Antique Postcards

The Story of Grace Darling

Update your preferences or sign up

A Vegetarian Menu for a
Thanksgiving Morning Breakfast