Bowral atc |
Bellefonte, Pa., August 12. 1898.
A CHILD'S EVENING THOUGHTS.
All day the happy butterflies
Have flown about in play,
The bees have sung their drowsy song
Among the poppies gay,
The trees were filled with birds, but now
So still is all around,
I cannot see a bird or hee—
I cannot hear a sound.
To fly and sing the whole day long
Must make them tired, I know ;
So they have gone to sleep in trees
And in the green hedgerow.
The sun is growing weary, too,
For he has had to run
So fast from daybreak until eve,
To get his day's work done!
And now he’s going to his rest,
Upon his crimson bed,
With fleecy curtains hung around,
And pillows gold and red,
He's sinking fast, and pretty stars
Are coming out to play ;
They love to frolic in the night,
And sleep through all the day!
And they are looking down at me,
So friendly and so bright,
I wish I could sit up to watch
Their merry game to-night,
But nurse says I must go to bed,
Tis time to shut my eyes.
Perhaps I'll wake before the sun,
And then I'll see him rise!
—Julia Zitella Cook.
i ————
A WELL KEPT SECRET.
‘Oh, she’s got money somewheres, mark
my word, and she’d ought to have the doc-
tor right away. But there she lays on the
settle in the kitchen, jest as she was took
down in the midst of her housework—she
was setting there shellin’ pease when the
spell come on—in that old caliker wrapper
that she al’ays wears around the house,
an’, all they can do, they can’t coax
her to let ’em take it off an’ get her to bed.
She ain’t sick, she says, an’ she ain’t goin’
to have no doctor fussin’ over her. But
the cur’ous thing about it is’’—the news-
teller lowered ber voice to a whisper—
‘‘that she keeps a clutch on her pocket, as
if she was afraid somebody was goin’ to
rob her, an’ Nancy Potter thinks that’s the
reason she won’t let ’em undress her. But
if she don’t get better purty soon, they’ll
have to, whether she wants ’em to or not.’’
And straightening her sun-bonnet. the
neighbor who had called to give this bit of
village news hurried away, saying that
she’d ‘got to stop an’ tell Phrony Rogers
about it.”
‘Mis’ Bland’s a leetle given to gossip,”
remarked my hostess, ‘an I al’ays try to
make allowance for it. But I do feel kind
o’ worried ’hout Seliny, an’ soon as I fin-
ish my bakin’ I’m goin’ to run down there
myself an’ see howshe is. I declare ! there
comes Dr. Hurd now, an’ I'm goin’ to stop
him on my own responsibleness an’ ask
him if he won’t step in an’ see Seliny.
’Tain’t Christian to leta body lay there an’
die jes’ cause she’s so sot ’bout havin’ a
doctor. You jes keep an eye on them pies,
will you?” And giving her floury hands
a hasty wipe on the crash towel that hung
on the roller behind the kitchen door, she
caught up her knitting and hurried out to
the gate to hail the doctor.
I was her summer boarder, and the
morning being somewhat damp and chilly,
I had very gladly availed myself of her per-
mission to sit awhile by the kitchen fire.
Hardacre had been recommended to me as
a place where one tired of the turmoil of
the city could find absolute quiet for body
and mind, and thus far—I had been there
three weeks—my experience had amply
justified my expectations.
The little hamlet—it could hardly be
called a village—was so remote from the
centre of civilization that the people still
adhered to the frugal style of living that
their New England ancestors had inaugu-
rated. Even in the households of those
who had snug sums deposited in the sav-
ings-bank at ‘‘the Harbor’ rigid economy
prevailed, and these practical souls were as
careful of time as of money. Mine host—
a thrifty farmer, and one that wanted to
keep his accounts square with the Lord as
well as with the world—would hurry in to
dinner, and spreading his hands over the
table, ask ‘‘the blessing’’ while the ‘hired
men’’ were finishing their toilets on the
back porch. Taking time by the forelock
in this way, he was ready to serve the food
the instant the men were seated ; and
though he served them generously, he ex-
pected them to eat expeditiously and with
no waste of words.
His wife, in her household affairs,
showed the same economical fore-thought.
There was always either a bunch of carpet
rags or a piece of knitting to be picked up
while waiting for the kettle to boil or the
flat-irons to heat, and the amount of work
she accomplished in these ‘‘odd minutes’
made me heartily ashamed of my own im-
providence. I had been idle all the morn-
ing, and as I stood at the window and
watched her plying her needles while she
waited, the doctor having been stopped by
some one up the street, I resolved to keep
at least a book on hand thereafter for the
saving of the minutes. But an odor of
scorching pastry made me fly to the oven.
“Mercy ! I hope they ain’t burnin’,”’
cried the housekeeper, hurrying in and un-
ceremoniously taking my place. ‘‘If there’s
anything spoils a pie to look at, it’s havin’
the edges all pared off. But I guess these
ain’t hurt,” she added, on closer inspec-
tion. ‘‘Pa al’ays likes a purty good brown
on ’em.”’
‘And how about the doctor?’
as she shut the oven door.
‘‘Oh, he'll go, I guess. He says he don’t
feel called on to go to see folks that don’t
want him, but I guess he thinks the reason
Seliny don’t send for him is because she
can’t afford to pay him, an’ he’ll go
through hail an’ snow to help anybody
that feels like that.”
‘‘Has she no relatives that
her 2’ I inquired.
‘Yes, she’s got a brother livin’ in the
ol’ homeste’d up on the hill. An’ I s’pose
by good rights she’d ought to be livin’
there herself, for they say that her pa in
his will left her everything. But the will
couldn’t he found, an’ soon as the funeral
was over, Seliny set down and wrote to her
brother Dave to come home. She al’ays
thought the sun riz an’set in Dave, he
bein’ the only brother she ever had, an’ it
most broke her heart when he took a no-
tion to go out West. The ol’ man wanted
him to stay an’ help work the farm, but
Dave said the farm prodoose wasn’t more’n
enough for one family to live on, an’ he
wanted to start out for himself. The ol’
man ?idn’t liks it very well, an’ that I
s’pose, was the reason, if he did make a
will, that he left everything to Seliny ; an’
’twouldn’t ben anything but fair, either,
seein’ she’d al’ays staid right there an’
looked after things, when she might jest as
well ’a’ married an’ had a home of her own
if she’d wanted to. An’ prob’ly she would
I asked,
could help
if her ma hadn’t died, ’cause Jim Ba
was courtin’ her for years. But be that as
it may, she sent for Dave the first thing.
He’d ben gone then ’bout six years, an’, lo
an’ behold, he walked in one day with a
wife an’ three children. Seliny hadn’t
counted on anything o’ that sort, but when
Dave said he hadn’t writ home about it for
fear ’twould worry the ol’ man, Seliny
made ’em all welcome. An’ findin’ that
he’d hardly a penny to show for the six
vears he’d heen away, she told him the
farm was his an’ he must stay right there.
Prob’ly she expected to stay too, but
Dave's wife was one o’ them sort 0’ women
that want everything their own way, an’
after a while Seliny told Dave that she
thought she’d better go to housekeepin’ hy
herself. There was a small house down in
the village that belonged to the family, an’
she persuaded Dave that she’d enjoy bein’
there, ’cause ’twas so handy to meetin’.
‘“ ‘For pity sakes, Seliny,’ says I, stop-
pin’ at the gate when she was movin’ in,
why didn’t you send that woman an’ her
children down here an’ stay where you be-
longed ? You know well enough, if what
folks say about your pa’s will 1s true,
you're the only one that’s got any real
right there.’
‘“ “The will I’ says Seliny. ‘You don’t
o know what you’re talkin’ ’hout, Mis’ Ba-
ker. You don’t s’pose my father’d ben so
onfair as to leave it all to me, when Dave
had spent the best part of his life helpin’
to keep things up? Besides he’s got a
family to support now, an’ I’ve nobody but
myself. There’s room enough down here
for me, an’ he’s welcome to the farm. If
there ever was such will, I hope It'll never
be found—not while David’s alive, any-
way.’
“You see how she felt about it. She’d
share her last penny with Dave. An’ she
must have some money laid away some-
wheres, for she’s hen sellin’ butter an’ eggs
an’ wool socks right along year after year,
an’ it can’t cost her much to live.’
The pies, flaky and fragrant, stood in a
row on the white pine table, and Mrs. Ba-
ker, putting her knitting-work in her
pocket and taking her sun-bonnet from its
nail behind the kitchen door, said that she
was going down to see Seliny.
“Why don’t you come along ?’’ she add-
ed hospitably. “The walk’ll do you
good. Course you needn’t see her if you
don’t want to.’
The fog had lifted, showing the breakers
tossing up their white crests between the
sand dunes ; and eager to be out in the
sunshine, I accepted the invitation, think-
ing to go on to the beach after leaving Maus.
ker.
But on coming inside of the house we
saw Dr. Hurd’s old roan standing at the
hitching post, and before we fairly reached
the gate the doctor himself came hurrying
down the narrow path between the prim
rows of box.
“We're too late,” he said, shaking his
grizzled head. ‘‘She’spasthelp. But I'm
glad you’ve come, for some in there is just
bursting with curiosity, and nothing must
be done till her brother comes. I'm going
for him now.” And springing into the
buggy, he gathered up the reins and gavea
lusty chirrup to his horse. ;
Mrs. Baker caught at my sleeve.
“Come,” she whispered. ‘You heard
what he said, and I want you should stand
by me.” And mechanically I followed her
in.
The women grouped about the settle
started back as we entered. ‘‘Poor Seliny’s
gone,’’ murmured one of them. ‘‘Dretful
sudden, wasn’t it?’
There were tears in Mrs. Baker’s kind
eyes.
“Yes,” she responded ; ‘‘a thief that
comes in the daytime seems somehow even
more sudden an’ onexpected than one that
comes in the night. But I guess Seliny
was ready, Nancy.”
‘Oh, I don’t doubt that,’’ said Nancy.
“‘Seliny was a good woman. An’I don’t
b’lieve she was so dretful poor, neither. I
want you to look at the way she’s holdin’
on to that pocket.”
The rigid figure on the narrow settle lay
with the left hand—a thin, work-worn
hand—resting under her chin, but the
right clutched in a vice-like grip a fold of
her scant calico skirt. Brown hair slightly
touched with gray was brushed smoothly
back from a white, peaceful forehead, and
the whole face impressed me as that of a
woman who, whatever the secret she car-
ried, had a pure and loving heart.
“Funny she should do like that, ain’t
it?’ said Nancy. ‘‘Somebody’d ought to
get her hand loose, if they don’t want to
have to bury her that way.”
‘Tain’t to be meddled with till her
brother comes, ’’ said Mrs. Baker quietly.
*“Them’s Dr. Hurd’s orders.”
“Then I s’pose it must wait,”’ said Nan-
cy, with ill-concealed disappointment.
“Well, I guess Dave won’t have no funer-
al expenses to pay. Saliny was al’ays
given to savin’, an’ I shouldn’t wonder 1f
she’d get enough laid up to pay for her
buryin’ twice over.”
‘‘Sh—’sh! Here comes Dave an’ the
doctor now,’’ whispered one of the others.
And all of them drew back from the lounge
as the two men came in.
‘‘Poor Seliny !”’ said the brother, pres-
ently, with a catch in his voice. “I never
wanted her to come down here to live;
but she said, as it was standin’ empty, she
might as well be usin’ it, an’ she al’ays
seemed to take it for granted that father
meant me to have the farm.”
Hehad a kind, honest face, and we all
felt that he had no intention of wronging
his sister.
Meanwhile the doctor had loosened the
stiffened hand that was clutching the pock-
et, and laid it across the other.
‘‘Here’s something that you’d better
take in charge,”’ he said, handing to David
a long thin envelope, much creased and
worn,
I was standing at the window, deep in
thought on the weird mystery of death,
when David crossing the room, without
seeming to see me, laid the wrapper on the
window sill and took out his glasses. I
Started, and involuntarily glancing down,
I saw written, in small stiff characters, the
inscription, ‘‘To be destroyed unopened in
case I die before David.”
Evidently David himself had not seen
the words, and the next moment I heard a
half-stifled exclamation.
‘‘That’s the sort of woman my sister Se-
liny was,’’ he said, brokenly, handing the
paper to the doctor. ‘‘This little place was
all I really owned. Everything else was
hers, and she never told me.’
It was old Luke Martin's will, leaving
all that he possessed, with the exception of
this little three-roomed cottage, to his be-
loved daughter Selina. He bore no ill-will
toward his son David, the testator took
pains to explain, but David was a man,
and able to take care of himself, and as Se-
lina had always staid at home and been a
faithful daughter, it seemed only right that
she should have the property.
There was a‘ profound hush when the
doctor came to a stop. And suddenly the
little room was glorified, and the plain,
pale face on the chintz-covered cushion
seemed crowned with a saint’s halo.— Mary
B. Sleight, in Harper's Bazar.
A Short War.
The war which now is apparently draw-
ing to a close promises to be the shortest in
which the United States has ever engaged
with a foreign foe. Itis just 113 days to-
day from the time when hostilities were
declared on April 21st. Ten days after the
latter date, on May 1st, the Spanish fleet
in Manila bay was destroyed and the fate
of the Philippines settled. Meanwhile the
Cuban ports had been blockaded. On May
11th the first American loss of life occur-
red in the action at Cardenas between the
torpedo boat Winslow and the gunboats
Hudson and Wilmington and the Spanish
shore batteries. June 10th the invasion of
Cuba began by the landing of marines at
Guantanamo, where they were attacked by
the Spaniards the next day, six Americans
being killed. It was not. however, until
June 22nd that the advance of the Ameri-
can army under General Shafter landed at
Baiquiri in Cuba, and the real invasion of
that island was begun. Just two weeks
later, on July 6th, General Toral sent a
flag of truce to General Shafter asking three
days’ grace and cable operators to notify
the Madrid authorities of his desire to sur-
render Santiago. This action had heen
hastened by the destruction three days be-
fore, on July 3rd, of Admiral Cervera’s
fleet, which event had been followed the
same day by a demand for the surrender of
the city. Subsequent to that date there
was no fighting before Santiago, and on
July 14th the city was surrendered and
was occupied by the American troops three
days later, on July 17th. The actual hos-
tile operations of our army in Cuba may be
said to have occupied not more than two
weeks, and the days upon which our naval
forces were compelled to do any fighting in
Cuban waters would not make up a greater
time. The advance of the American army
invaded Porto Rico on July 25th, and has
thus far taken possession of a considerable
portion of the island without having a
single man killed or mortally wounded.
In the Philippines the Americans have not
done any fighting since May 1st, the fleet
maintaining the blockade. The first
American troops were landed in the islands
June 30th, but made no hostile move un-
til two weeksago. Thus far no fighting or
losses by them have been reported.
* *
*
When the short time the American land
and naval forces have been actively en-
gaged in aggressive movements is consider-
ed, their achievements appear marvelous
and far beyond anything accomplished in
previous wars. Two fleets completely des-
troyed, an army of about 22,000 men taken
with a strongly fortified city and other
important points, together with about 6,-
000 miles of tributary territory in Cuba,
the island of Porto Rico practically an-
nexed and the fate of the Philippines
placed in the hands of the United States,
the capture of many Spanish merchant-
men, the killing and wounding of
about 10,000 Spanish soldiers and sailors,
while the American loss has not succeeded
300 killed and about 1,700 wounded—this
is the record of ahout two weeks of actual
fighting, and is one which is unique in
history.
The Revolutionary war began with the
fight at Lexington on April 19th, 1775,
and was actively continued until the sur-
rendered of Cornwallis, October 19th, 1781,
six years and a half later, and hostilities
continued for some time even after that
event. The war of 1812 began in June of
that year, and the last battle was fought
at New Orleans on January 8th, 1815,
nearly two years and seven morths later.
The Mexican war witnessed the first fight
in the latter part of April, 1846, and the
City of Mexico surrendered September 16,
1847. The civil war began April 12th,
1861, and the last Conferederate army sur-
rendered May 26th 1865.
*
Considering the other great wars of the
century, the brief time occupied by our
present conflict and the great results
achieved do not suffer by comparison. Na-
poleon’s famous campaign from Elba to
Waterloo and the day of his final abdica-
tion, on June 28, 1815, occupied just 100
days, but the campaign was really but the
culmination of nearly a quarter of a
century of warfare. The Crimean war be-
gan March 27th, 1854, and terminated
March 30th, 1856. The Italian-French
and Austrian war lasted only from April
26th 1659 to July 11th, 1859, but during it
great battles were fought at Montebello,
Palesuro, Magenta and Solferino, with
much loss of life on both sides. The Ger-
man-Danish war begah December 23rd,
1864. The Prussian-Austrian war com-
menced June 16th, 1866, and ended Aug-
ust 23rd, 1866. During its continuance
the hostile forces were continually close to-
gether and several great battles were fought.
The Franco-German war began July 19th
1870, and the Germans entered Paris
March 1st, 1871. The Russian-Turkish
war commenced April 24th, 1877, and end-
ed January 31st, 1878. The war between
Greece and Turkey began practically on
April 9th, 1897, and the fighting was over
by May 25th, 1897. In none of these wars
was the fate of such large territories and of
so many people decided in so few days of
actual warfare and at such a small cost of
life to the victor, compared with that of
the vanquished, as has been the case in the
present war.
Surrender of Ponce Was Demanded and
Received by Ensign Roland Curtin.
More Honor for Bellefonte Boys—He Gave the Span-
iards Half an Hour to Surrender the City—They
Lit Out After Padding their Backs in View of Possi-
ble Fire in the Rear.—Received With Open Arms
‘According to a dispatch in the Sunday
issue of the New York Sun, Ensign Roland
Curtin, son of Gen. John I. Curtin, of this
place, had the honor of receiving the sur-
render of Ponce, the first city in Porto Rico
in respect of hoth population and com-
mercial importance.
The following extract is taken from the
account in the Sun :
The capture of the city began on Wed-
nesday. Late in the afternoon the Wasp,
Annapolis and Dixie started from Guanica
Bay for Ponce. The Wasp was the first to
arrive and the people were waiting for her.
Nobody had worked since the news was re-
ceived that Miles was coming. The Span-
ish garrison in the city, 350 strong were
paralyzed with fear and wanted to sur-
render or leave. The commander was in a
quandary, but when the Wasp was sighted
there was no quandary among the people.
When the Wasp came into port she saw
a greatcrowd instead of Spanish troops.
Lieut. Ward and Executive Officer Wells
finally sent Ensign Roland Curtin with
four men ashore bearing a flag of truce.
They suspected treachery on the part of
the Spaniards and the gunners of the Wasp
stood ready to fire at a second’s warning.
Ensign Curtin is a little man but he has
plenty of sand. He put for the beach as
though he had no suspicion of treachery.
As the boat approached the shore the
people crowded around down to the water’s
edge, with their hands filled with cigars,
tobacco, cigarettes, bananas and other
articles, which they threw to the Ameri-
cans when the boat came within range.
The ensign’s flag of truce consisted of a
white handkerchief which was fastened to
an oar.
As the ensign stepped out of the boat
upon the beach, the people crowded around
him, those nearest to him forcing cigars
and other things upon him and his men.
Then they gave three rousing cheers.
Eupsign Curtin introduced himself and
said that he had come to demand the sur-
render of the city and port. He asked to
see the civil or military authorities. Some
of the civil authorities were present but
they said they could not surrender the city.
That must be done by the nilitary au-
thorities who they said were in the city.
Ensign Curtin then said that the military
must surrender, and surrender at once. At
this the crowd yelled ‘‘Vive los Amer-
canos.’”
Someone in the crowd told the Ensign
that the commanding officer of the military
was in the city and that he must go and
see him. Ensign Curtin said : ‘We will
not go to the military. -They must. come
to us.’
He asked how long it would take to send
word to the general. The people said
about half an hour, but added that there
was a telephone in the custom house,
Ensign Curtin pulled his watch from his
pocket and said to one of the spokesmen :
“Go to the telephone and tell the general
that I say to him that if he is not here and
does not surrender within a half hour I
will bombard the city of Ponce.”
In the meantime there was great excite-
ment in the city. The Spanish residents
were scared and thesoldiers were uncertain
what to do. This was the state of affairs
when Ensign Curtin’s telephone message
was received. They had no trouble then
in deciding what to do, and a remarkable
scene ensued.
Ensign Curtin after sending his tele-
phone message to the Spanish commander
entered his boat and returned to the Wasp
for instructions.
The Sun account then goes on to say
that in response to the demand made by
Ensign Curtin the city was surrendered to
Commander Davis, and the Americans land- |
ed in triumph.
Roland Curtin, who thus distinguished
himself, was born in Bellefonte, and is 24
years of age. He is a son of Gen. John I.
Curtin, who participated in most of the
big battles of the civil war and is a grand-
nephew of the late war governor, Andrew
G. Curtin. He graduated from Annapolis
Naval Academy in 1896, and after a long
cruise he attended the Queen’s Jubilee as
a cadet on the Brooklyn. After a two
year’s cruise he was promoted to ensign
and transferred to the Wasp.
Will Be Discharged.
It has been announced that such of the
members of the National guard as did not
join the provisional guard will be discharg-
ed as soon asthe provisional guard is in
shape. Those who go into the provisional
guard will be given transfers from their old
commands and will be transferred hack to
them again when the war is over, thus
keeping their service continuous and giv-
ing them full credit. Those receiving dis-
charges will lose the benefit of their con-
tinuous service and will have to enlist
over again if they re-enter their old com-
mands when they return.
The Scarcity of Tin Ore.
The fact that tin, of all the metals in
common use, is only sparingly distributed
throughout the world is again called atten-
tion to by an Australian geologist, Mr. B.
J. Skertchley, who has published a mono-
graph upon thesubject. While the known
gold fields of the world cover more than
1,500,000 square miles, the tin fields have
an area of less than 12,000 square miles.
Thus, for every square mile of tin ground
there are 132 square miles of gold-bearing
country. There are seven tin districts in
Europe, producing ahout 8,300 tons yearly,
of which the Cornish mines yield about
8,000 tons. Asia has two tin areas—Hu-
nan, ‘n China, estimated hy some of the
best authorities to produce 10,000 to 20,000
tons a year, but proved by official figures
to yield less than 2,500 tons, and the
Straits Settlements and adjacent principal-
ities, yielding 58,000 tons yearly, the rich-
est yield in the world. Africa has no
known tin mine ; North America no paya-
ble mine ; South America only one tin area
Bolivia and Peru, yielding less than 4,000
tons a year, and Australaia, the youngest,
contributes about 6,000 tons a year.
Bodies Floating.
Steamship Westernland Reports Sighting the Vie-
tims of the Burgogne.
The steamship Westernland arrived in
New York last week and those on hoard
report that when sixty miles off Sable Isl-
and, and within about one mile of the spot
where La Burgogne went down on July 4th
the bodies of twenty-six men and” two
women were seen floating in the water. It
was a significant fact that almost all of the
men whose hodies were floating with life
belts on were sailors. Passengers seemed
to have no life belts and therefore sunk.
The steamship Hiawatha, sent out from
Halifax to recover and identify the dead of
La Burgogne, was sighted by the Western-
land in" the neighborhood of this human
wreckage and was engaged in the work for
which it was sent out. As the Western-
land passed the crew in one of the boats
from the Hiawatha were removing the life
belts from two hodies.
Making Corn Oil.
Some of the manufacturers of glucose in
Chicago have turned their attention to the
production of corn oil—an article extracted
by pressure from the germ of the grain by
methods similar to that used in the manu-
facture of linseed oil, leaving a residum
not unlike in its character the oil cakes of
commerce. It seems a matter of necessity
first to extract the germ, this, for a long
time, involving a waste. As against this, a
company now turns out some 250 barrels of
corn oil per day. Most of the oil goes to
England for soap making. It is shipped in
second-hand oil barrels, each of a weight
when filled of 400 pounds, rated at the
factory at 3 cents per pound. Some of the
oil is used in this country principally in
mixing cheap paint and for adulterating
linseed oil. It is regarded asa rapid “dry-
ing’’ oil.
——The cost of broken stone for build-
ing roads is not so great as many suppose.
It can be hought at the crushers for 40 cents
per solid yard, and the railroad will freight
it forty miles or less at about 50 cents per
cubic yard, making a total of 90 cents ; but
suppose we call it $1. Then, if the road-
bed is nine feet wide and the stone is piled
on a foot deep, a cubic yard will cover
three feet linear at a cost of $1, making
one mile (1760 yards) cost as many dollars.
But as only about nine inches are necessary,
one-fourth of this amount, or $440, should
be deducted, making the exact amount only
$1320, which is cheap enough for a first-
class road, the material for which must be
brought forty miles by rail.
Peach Lore,
Decorative, Delicious Dishes Composed of Queen
Fruit of Summer.
Never try to use green peaches or those
which plucked green, have come to a faint
ripeness afterward. No market peach can
| ripen on the tree. It would be unmarketa-
ble before it had gone 1,000 miles, says the
Cincinnati Commercial.
It is the worst possible economy to buy
poor peaches. For one thing, the waste is
double—then what is eatable is never satis-
factory.
Another thing, clingstone peaches are
best for cooking, clearstone ones for serving
raw. Somehow, that variety is far and
away the more savory. If they are cooked
on the seed they keep their flavor better.
If that is impracticable cook plenty of seed
with them.
Peach Junket—Bring a quart of rich new
milk to a boil, sweeten it with four table-
spoonfuls of sugar and flavor it to taste.
When blood warm add to it two teaspoons
of prepared rennet. Peel and halve a doz-
en clearstone peaches. Drop brandy on
some lumps of sugar and put one in the
place of each seed. Set the halves together
in the bottom of a cup and fill the cup
three parts with junket. Serve either with
whipped cream or plain cream sweetened
and flavored with peach seed syrup.
Peaches in Jelly—Prepare the fruit as in
junket, but set it in clear glass nappies.
Make a clear lemon jelly, using the fruit
gelatine, and flavor it with ginger and the
juice of two fresh lemons. Just as it be-
gins to set pour enough around the peach-
es to half cover them. Set them on ice
with the rest of the jelly. When it is hard
break it up in pretty small blocks and
heap them over top of the peaches. Serve
with cream or sweet white wine.
Peach Cream—This has but cne draw
back. It must be prepared on the instant
of serving. You need the ripest, juciest
clearstone peaches. Put them on ice until
ready to peel and crush. Have ready
some ice broken the size of small marbles.
| Half fill deep, thin glasses with it and lay
on top three lumps of sugar wet in brandy.
{ Fill with crushed peaches and send to table
with whipped cream on top. Another way
is to leave out the brandy and pour
claret over the fruit. Or a lemon may he
squeezed over it, or it may he flooded with
a creamy custard. In either of the last
cases use powdered sugar plentifully on top
of the peaches.
French Pyramid—Peel and halve ripe
clearstone peaches. Lay enough of them
on a flat dish with the hollows up to form
a square. Putin each hollow a lump of
sugar that has been rubbed on the yellow
rind of a lemon until it is well flavored
then add a small layer of peaches and fill
the hollows likewise. Continue until you
have a pyramid. Squeeze the juice of two
lemons over it, dust thickly with powdered
sugar and keep cold until served.
Compote of Peaches—Make a quart of
strong ginger tea. Add to it 13 pounds of
sugar and the juice and yellow rind of
three lemons. Boil and skim well, then
throw in, a few ata time, ripe clingstone
peaches, peeled, but on the seed. Let
them cook till tender, skim and put in
more peaches, taking care to keep them
{ whole. When they are cooked, heap them
on a handsome glass dish. Skim out the
lemon peel and add to the syrup enough
gelatine, dissolved in cold water, to make a
firm jelly. Pour the jelly in a handsome
dish, and, when hard, cut into shapes.
Lay them over the peaches and put on top
all the curls of lemon peel. Serve very
cold. As good as it is pretty, fora high
tea.
Baked Peaches—Indian peaches are the
best. Peel, but leave them whole, and
stick two cloves in each. Put them in a
cooking dish, letting the sides touch, cover
them with sugar, dot all the top with
lumps of butter, and bake in a steady, but
slow oven until done. Excellent cold or
hot. The finest possible relish for game or
fowl or roast pig, as well asa fine dessert.
* Peach Dumplings—Roll good puff paste
into rounds six inches across. Shape the
rounds into cups by pinching up the edges.
Set the cups in a haking pan and put in
each a big ripe peach on the seed also a
generous quantity of sugar and butter. If
you like things very rich, use sweetcake
dough instead of puff paste. Cook at the
same heat as biscuit. When half done fill
up the cups with butter and sugar. Do
not require sauce, but may be served with
it.
Peach and Tomato Salad—Take half a
dozen firm white peaches and as many firm
red tomatoes. Peel and quarter, now slice
them, and set on ice. Put intoa howl a
heaping teaspoonful of sugar, a salt spoon
of celery salt, one quarter as much white
pepper, a dust of cayenne pepper and five
drops of tobasco. Add to this alternately
a little at a time and all the while stirring,
four tablespoonfuls of salad oil and the
juice of two limes. If properly mixed it
will be the consistency of cream. Line
your salad bowl with leaves of heart let-
tuce. Pile the peaches and tomatoes in
the middle, mixing them agreeably. At
the very last minute pour over them the
dressing. In serving put a spoonful of sal-
ad in the middle of a lettuce leaf.
{
i
|
Cautious Praise.
Mr. Orchardson, the famous English ar-
tist, has lately given the public an insight
into his experiences with golf—that mys-
terious game, so fascinating to the initiated
of which the charm is so incomprehensible
to the outsider.
It is but recently that Mr. Orchardson,
who is past middle life although in the
prime of healthful vigor, has transferred
his affections from hunting and tennis, his
former favorite sports, to the national
game of his country—for he is a Scotch-
man. He played his first game of golf at
St. Andrews.
‘I remember,’ he says, “I had the
queerest, most solemn looking caddie im-
aginable. I made a fearful mess of it at
first, and the little chap looked on without
a word. At last, when I had finished the
round, he looked up at me in the funniest
way and said, ‘It’s nae use playin golf un-
less ye lairn it as a laddie.’
‘But I must tell you that the next day
I had this same caddie, and I got on much
better. I was almost annoyed with him
for not praising me, for he was as silent as
on the day before. But when we finished,
he turned to me and said, as if resuming
our last conversation, ‘Aweel, A’dinna
ken.’
Being a Scot himself, the artist was
therefore satisfied with what he doubtless
interpreted as a handsome apology and
hearty encouragement.
——A Susquehanna woman cured her
husband of staying out nights by going to
the door when he came home and whisper-
ing through the key hole: “Is that you
Willie?” Her husband’s name is John,
and he stays at home every night now and
sleeps with one eye open and a revolver
under the pillow.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Some of the prettiest organdie gowns
have deep yokes of guipure or fine em-
broidery around the hips, and the lower
part of the skirt, turned and hemmed, is
gathered on to this. The bodice for this
variety of skirt has a guimpe neck and
sleeves of the lace or embroidery to match.
As fullness at the top of the sleeve di-
minishes in favor the popularity of the
epaulette (circular, ruffled, pointed or
square) increases. The epaulette cut in
one with the bodice is an odd novelty.
One of the most striking features of the
party gown at the season’s summer resorts
is the absence of the low-cut neck and short
sleeved variety, says the New York Herald.
While there will always be some who ad-
here strictly to the ‘‘full dress’’ par excel-
lence, it is no exaggeration to say that at
least three-quarters of the dresses worn at
the Saturday night hops at the fashionable
hotels, and at private home receptions as
well, have long sleeves and high necks.
The sleeves of these gowns are mostly of
some thin, fluffy material, shirred and full-
ed to the limit, while they extend way.
down over the hand, ending in some pretty
finish of lace or chiffon, while the neck is
finished with a fluffy stock of ribbon, lace
or fluffy material. Even those gowns
which are cut down are more modest than
those worn a few seasons ago by even
the young miss hardly out of her teens,
whose entire vigilance was expended in
keeping her dress from falling off hoth
shoulders at the same time, one being the
number fashion adhered to.
The low-necked gowns of - this season are
tastefully cut, and the shoulders are cov-
ered. It is difficult—almost impossible—
to find reasons for fashion’s caprices.
Whether the athletic woman who now
rules the social world has decreed that it is
not healthy to dance in a decollete gown
and then expose herself to the night air on
open porch and draughty rooms, or wheth-
er it is only one of the changes and chances
of this variable world, who can say ?
Curls have come into style again, and
fashion now decrees that the strictly modest
maid or matron shall wear four curls of
hair. These curls are unique because they
are not very often seen, and one may not
notice them. They are to go alongside of
and just below the psyche knot, the loose
knot of hair that isso much the vogue
now. Whether a girls wears a “high
psyche’ or ‘‘low psyche’ does not matter,
she must appear with those four little curls,
each a trifle over an inch in length, rather
loose and dangling, two on each side of
the head, the higher about half way up,
the lower just touching the neck. It is
just two years since curls came into fash-
ion, and then they went out quickly. This
new style seems likely to stick, however,
for it is becoming and popular already.
The hair nowadays among the very hest
persons is dressed to give ita wavy, loose
appearance in the back, especially with the
younger women of society. Even the
straightest, stiffest, most obdurate locks
stand this treatment well,and the ‘‘psyche,”?
or some variation of it, suits most every
girl. Whether it is worn high or low these
curls look exceedingly well, and add much
to the daintiness of the hair. The girl
whose hair will not curl need not despair.
She can easily keep in the fashion and at
very little cost. These new curls can be
bought for a very small sum. Pinned on
in precisely the proper place they look
natural, and could not be detected from
the real.
The pompadour mode of coiffure is rapidly
disappearing, and short; irregular curls are
creeping down over the forehead. The hat
that tilts well back from the face is re-
sponsible for this change. Evening coiffures
are arranged high on the head, and two
rosette bows, one on each side of the knot,
are more fashionable than any other form
of headdress. Another style of coiffure has
a bunch of curls over the forehead, the
hair about the temples and in the back
drawn up into a high, curly pug, which is
encircled by a black velvet ribbon tied on
one side in a Louis XV. how, passed
through a fancy buckle.
The baby. Dear as he may be, moth-
ers should not forget how delicate in every
way a baby is. The very fact that he
smiles .and looks happy when talked to
shows that he understands, and it is that
which is the strain.
Of course, every mother will occasionally
talk to her baby and play with him ; the
harm is done when the mother, with noth-
ing else to do, talks to her baby every mo-
ment he is awake, tells him the name of
everything, and insists upon him trying to
repeat it. She will take care to feed him
with the greatest exactness, and keep him
daintily and comfortably clothed.
All very right and proper, but she must
not forget that his brains are quite as weak
and undeveloped as his body. If his brain
is to properly develop, his mind must have
rest, and when he is made to take too much
notice, itis a tax on his mentality that is
beyond his strength.
Keep babies as much as possible like I it-
tle animals ; let them sleep and eat. Keep
them in cool, well-ventilated rooms. If a
baby is too much talked to its brain is apt
to be too active, and it will not be able to
sleep as much as is necessary. If this be
continued, by the time the child is five or
six years old it has an old and drawn look
upon its little face, which has no right to
be there. Let the baby grow naturally ;
it is not advisable for him to be too sharp
at an early age. A little dullness now
gives him a better chance of being smart
later on.
About the healthiest and best bed a baby
can have is clean oat chaff. This should
be put into a bag which can be easily
emptied and refilled once a month. It is
cheap, and if kept well aired will be al-
waysclean and sweet.
As it is not desirable that children should
be sat upon the floor, it always becomes
necessary to provide something soft to put
under them, an old shawl or a piece of
quilt. But a nicer thing than this is a rug
for the purpose. To make one upon the
most economical plan, tack two widths of
dark gray Canton flannel, one and a half
yards long, upon an old piece of carpet the
proper size. The carpet must be well
washed before being used for the purpose.
Now cut some figures of animals from
brightly colored pieces of cloth, and stitch
them with gaily-colored cotton or wool all
around the edge so as to form a border.
This will amuse the baby, as well as keep
him from the old floor.
It is advisable to keep a heavy baby ly-
ing as long as possible. The head is apt to
be too heavy a weight for the tiny little
spine. As long as baby is content to keep
a recumbent position do not try to urge
him to sit up. He will gain in strength
more rapidly while lying on his back ; only
see that he has plenty of room to kick his
little legs about.
v&