Demonic Wald
Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. 23, 1900.
O HEART, GIVE THANKS,
O heart, give thanks for strength to-day,
To walk, to run, to werk to play !
For feasts of eye ; melodious sound;
Thy pulse’s easy rhythmic bound ;
Thy servants that they will obey.
A mind clear as the sun’s ownJyay:
A life which has not passed its May;
That all thy being thus is erowned,
O heart, give thanks.
Feet helpless lie that once were gay;
Eyes know but night's eternal sway;
Soul's dwell in silence, dread, profound ;
Minds live with clouds encireling round;
In face of these, thy blessings weigh!
O heart, give thanks.
AUNT NABBY’S THANKSGIVING.
It was ‘‘in war time.”” November had
come; with it good Governor Andrews’s
Thanksgiving Proclamation, and before
their comfortable fireside sat farmer Allen
and his kind old wife.
He was enjoying his evening pipe; she.
in ber split-bottom rocker, was busy with
her knitting.
He had just laid down his daily paper
with some word of praise for the honored
governor, and his wife, picking up the
thread of a conversation dropped shortly
before, said earnestly, ‘‘It lies heavy on
my conscience, Timothy; It can’t sleep
nights for worrrying of it. A Thanks-
giving without a big dinner—think of it!”
Uncle Timothy took the pipe from his
mouth and looked into the fire.
‘It does make a gloomy enough picture,
you're right,*’ he said; ‘‘but I den’t know
how you’re going to make it brighter with-
out a sight of work, Nabby.”’
“Work !”’ exclaimed the little old lady.
shaking her cap strings energetically,
“Who minds a bit of work when it will
be rewarded hy the sound of merry voices
and the satisfaction of knewing that those
children have had enough te eat for once.
Why, father, if you could have been there
yesterday, you'd be as downright worked
up as I am.
‘When I looked into Emily's cottage
and took that poor, puny baby in my
arms, the tears rolled right down my
cheeks; I couldn’t help it; and Emily,
she cried too. Timothy Allen, I made
up my mind then and there it was our
Christian duty to have ’em all here for
Thanksgiving; seeing, too, that Emily’s
man is off to the war a-fighting for his
country.’’
Uncle Timothy wiped the sympathetic
tears from his eves and brought his fist
down emphatically en the bread arm of
his oaken chair.
‘‘Yon’re right, mether, and we'll do it,”’
be said. ‘‘We ain’t had a big Thanks-
giving dinner in this room for these ten
years, and it’ll be right nice to bring the
old times back again. Now, let me see,”’
he added slowly, “that biggest turkey is
the one. The dueks arein prime condi-
tion, and the pumpkins are the largest
I've raised for twenty years.”’
“I'd better begin on my pies to-morrow,
don’t you think so?’ put in his wife;
‘‘we must have a powerful lot of ’em. I
shall see to all that, but Dinah can take
the poultry right off my hands. I must
be sure and make some cymbals for the
boys and—mercy!—I nearly forgot the
plum pudding 1”
Aunt. Nabby started se .at having for-
gotten such an important part of the feast
that she actually awoke the gray cat that
had been lying peacefully asleep on the
hearth.
“This is the plaee for ‘blind man’s buff,”’
said the old man, whe in fancy was a boy
again, enjoying his Thanksgiving evening.
“I must have Ben bring up some nuts
from the wood-house to-morrow,’’ he
added, ‘“‘and be sure you have plenty of
raisins, Nabby; ehildren arealways fond of
‘Tem.”?
Next day—what a busy day it was'!—
Aunt Nabby’s eap strings weren’t still for
five minutes at a time, and Dinah’s face
wore a perpetual smile.
‘Law, missus,” she exclaimed as she
looked at the pantry shelves that evening,
“‘them pumpkin pies looks .as sweet .an’
yaller as a sun flower; an’ my fingers is
jus’ itehing to pull the feathers off that
proud turkey im the barn-yard, yander.”’
“They do loek geod,”’ said Aunt Nabby,
clasping her dear old hands with satisfac-
tion. ‘*‘Now, I am going te clap on my
cloak and hood and run overto Emily’s
with oue of ’em, and let her know she
needn’t bother about her Thanksgiving
dinner. No, I don’t mind the walk. You
tell father where I am when be comes in.”
Dear old soul! She hurried along be-
neath the darkening sky, humming a lit-
tle song to herself, she was so happy.
How quickly her knock was answered
at the door of the eottage! Aud there she
found the young mether with her chil-
dren gathered about her, warming them-.
selves before the scanty fire. ;
With what joy the old lady’s invitation
was received! How she comforted and.
cheered and helped where it wasso hard
to help, for they were of the proud and,
silent poor—those whe suffer and say
nothing.
~ “Yes,”” she said as she arose to go,
‘‘we’ll have a real jolly time; and, by the
way, here’s one of my pies. Dinah and I
finished ’em to-day, and I brought this for
you to try. Now, father will drive over
for you real early Thursday morning, so
we can have a long day of it. 1 brought
you the paper, too, Emily; thought you
might like to see the war news. And now
I really must be off.”
* % 0% * EE
The sun arose on Thanksgiving Day,
wearing his very bappiest smile,and called
out all the tiny diamonds to sparkle on’
the scanty coverlet of snow that had fallen
over the earth the night before.
Dinah was up with the sun and had that
fat turkey dressed and ready for the oven
not to mention the two ducks. Aunt
Nabby was trotting briskly here and there
all the morning, and there was entirely
too much bustle ahout the kitchen to suit
the gray cat, so she went off and staid till
dinner time in the woodshed.
And what a dinner it was! The long
table stretched out before the great fire-
place did literally groan beneath its weight
of good things, for, as Uncle Timothy
said, it was ‘‘rather weak in the legs and
you must be careful and not ran against
it hard.”
But, nevertheless, how many things it
held! The turkey—never was there a
larger or better one, and just done to a
turn, too—‘‘a regular buster!” as Billy
delightedly exclaimed. It would be im-
possible to deseribe the ducks, and as for
the vegetables—the potatoes, the squash,
the onions, the parsnips, and all the rest—
my ! it just makes me hungry to think of
them.
And there behind the turkey sat Uncle
Timothy,. his face running over with
smiles; and right opposite was Aunt Nabby
in her best cap and lavender ribbons, look-
ing quite as happy as he. Then, to man-
age the ducks, there was their son Andrew
with his rosy-cheeked boys on either side
of him, and his bright-eyed wife to help to
the potatoes and parsnips; and along the
other side of the table sat Emily’s two lit-
tle girls, and the baby in his high chair
(one that Aunt Nabby had brought down
from the attic). and there was Emily her-
self looking pretty and bappy.
Behind Aunt Nabby stood Dinah, ready
to put on the children’s bibs, and near
Uncle Timothy was Ben—Dinah’s ‘‘ole
man’’—waiting to pass the turkey around;
and, bless me! the gray cat was there,
too, going from chair to chair and sniffing
the odorous things as eagerly asany of
them. .
But before they began this feast even
the smallest head was bowed, and Uncle
Timothy, his honest, hard. old bands
clasped before him, asking a blessing for
them and thanked the dear Lord for his
goodness.
After that they were all helped. And
how thev did eat! Uncle Timothy looked
down the long table, a smile of satisfac-
tion brightening his face.
“Now, if Harry was only here we would
be complete,’’ he said.
‘‘Yes, if Harry was only here,”” maur-
mured Aunt Nabby, but as she spoke she
saw the sunshine vanish from Emily's face
and two hig tears appear in her eyes, so
the old lady made haste tochange the sub-
ject by asking her if the dressing of the
turkey was seasoned as her mother used to
season dressing.
Well, after those good things were
stowed away, the splendid plum pudding
and the toothsome pies were brought™ on
and oh, such lots of nuts and raisins.
It took a long time, that dinner did,and
when it really was over the children were
glad to gather quietly about the fire and
roast chestnuts while Uncle Timothy and
Aunt Nabby told about the long-ago
Thanksgivings and of the good times they
used to have.
So the afternoon wore away, and the
sun smiled good-night and went to bed
behind the hills, and the soft twilight
shadows crept in at the windows.
Then the children wandered away to
find Dinah and beg a piece of pie or some
of Aunt Nabby’s ‘‘eymbals,’’ as she called
her tempting doughnuts; and when dark-
ness had fairly come, Ben brought in two
heavy logs that made the fire leap and
dance so merrily it kept them all busy
running away from the sparks.
‘Now for blindman’s bluff,”’ exclaimed
the little ones. So Dolly was blindfolded
and away they all went, dodging here and
there, tumbling over chairs and table, till
the little girl grew tired chasing them,
and, darting over to the fire-place, clasped
her arms about Uncle Timothy’s neck and
cried merrily, ‘‘I’ve caught unele; I feel
the shiny spot on his head !”’
How uncle did laugh!
“Why bless yon, pet,”” he said, ‘‘I
haven’t played blindman’s buff for full
twenty years;'’ but, nevertheless, he took |
off his spectacles and laid down his pipe
and let Dolly bind the handkerchief about
his eyes.
What a jolly time they had! Unele
Timothy made a capital ‘blind man,” and
Uncle Andrew and Aunt Sally joined in
the game, too; and, bless you, Aunt Nabby
was not going to be left behind; she ran
about with the children and briskly as
any of them.
In fact, the only one who did not join
in the sport was Emily; but she sat by the
fire, with baby in her arms, and laughed
as merrily as any one, while Ben and
Dinah stood in the doorway and enjoyed
the gay scene. The gray cat alone sur-
veyed it from a secluded corner.
But Emily had to join in the game in
spite of herself.
You see, the children were flying here
and there, and Unele Timothy standing in
the middle of the floor, not knowing where
to turn nexs, when Emily started to-cross
the room, and hearing a footstep near him,
the old man sprang forward. Before she
could say a word he had caught her, and
snatching the bandage from his ewn eyes
tried to bind it about hers.
“Oh, but I can’t play,’ pleaded Emily,
endeavoring to take away the bandker-
chief.
‘Nonsense !’’ exclaimed Unele Tim-
othy.tying the knot still harder; ‘I guess,
if I can—an old chap like me—you haven’s
forgotten how. Here, Dinah, take the
baby. Now, children, for a frolie I’
“Oh, I always did make a very poor
‘blindman,’’ she said, laughingly. ‘You
.don’t want me to play with you.” :
‘‘But please, oh, please,” eried the ehil-
dren, while Dinah whispered confidential- |
ly: “Go an’ jine in, honey. I'll take
care ob de baby. Go on!’ So Emily gave
in to their wishes and did her best to enjoy
the sport.
And now it came—the best part of the
whole Thanksgiving Day. .
1t was when Emily was trying in vain
to.catch Uncle Andrew; when Billy was
up on the table and Tommy was under it;
it was just as the gray cat had rushed
down the cellar stairs, and Dolly and Mab
were hiding behind Aunt Nabby’s rocker,
that the door suddenly opened, and there
stood a tall, handsome man in a soldier’s
cloak.
No one saw him but Dinah, and to her
he raised a warning finger. The next min-
ute, as Emily darted across the room, in
pursuit of Uncle Andrew, she ran right
into a pair of strong arms.
Did she have to guess whom she had
eaught—or, more correctly speaking, who
had caught her? _
Ah, there was only one shoulder in the
world that was such a perfect rest for her
weary head; only one pair of lips that her
forehead just reached; one arm alone that
could hold her so perfeetly, and with a cry
of joy and wonder she tore the ‘kerchief
from her eyes. . '
She had left her burden of care in that
game of blindman’s buff, and when the
bandage fell away the anxious look went
with it, and the eyes she raised to her
husband’s, though overflowing with tears,
were as bright as the eyes he had looked
into when he went away.
But it takes so mueh longer to tell than
it did to happen. Long before this Dolly
and Mab and the boys were clinging to his
knees, Aunt Nabby was sobbing on his
shoulder, while Uncle Timothy held his
hand and blessed him, and Aunt Sally was
erying for joy in Uncle Andrew’s arms.
Dinah was weeping over the baby, too,
and Ben was praising the Lord with all his
kind old heart; but how happy they were
in spite of all the tears.
When the first great joy and surprise
was over, they gathered about the fire and
learned how Harry had served his country
ang now had come home to stay with them
all,
“I made up my mind to get here by
Thanksgiving Day,’’ he said, while he sat
with Emily’s hand in his and Dolly on his
knee, ‘‘and as I left the train and was
hurrying towards the cottage I saw the
light streaming out of these windows like
a welcome, and I could not help looking
in. Then I saw you all running ahout
and my dear girl taking part in the game
to help make the evening brighter in spite
of her heavy heart; I could think of no
better way of making myself known than
by joining in the fun.”’
“There couldn’t have been a better
way,’ said Emily,laying her cheek against
his arm. ‘‘Oh, Harry, when I felt your
arm about me, I forgot all the worry and
trouble; I only knew you had come home
to us—and—and—"’
*‘Never mind, dear,”” he whispered,
“I understgnd; but it is all over now.
and here I gm. What a glorious Thanks-
giving Day Jt is!”
His words found a grateful echo in every
heart, and np one spoke until Billy, tired
of solemnity, broke the silence.
‘‘How many men did you shoot, Cousin
Harry ?”’ he asked.
“Not many, I hope, my dear boy,’’ an-
swered Harry, looking into the fire. ‘War
is a very dreadful thing. I can scarcely
see how I am sitting here now all safe and
sound.”’
‘Ob, I think it’s fun,” cried Tommy.
“When we're men we're going to go to
war and kijll lots of those wicked old
things ! Ain’t we, Bill? I guess they’ll be
sorry then.”
‘I guess you'll be sorry, too,’’ said Mab,
with a shudder. ‘‘How could you bear to
hurt ’em?’’ And she hid her face on her
father’s shoulder.
“You need not worry, pet,”” he said,
stroking her hair. *‘It will be some time
before Tommy and Billy are men, and ere
that this cruel war will he over, please
God.”
‘Let us hope so,” said dear Aunt Nabby,
clasping her peaceful hands.
‘‘Massar Harry, might I enquire how
t’ings is goin’ down dar?’ spoke up Ben
from the doorway.
‘Pretty badly. Ben, pretty badly. You
and Dinah do well to be up here. But we
will see happier days before long, I am
sure.”’
*May it please de Lord’s mercy, sar,’”’
replied the old darky, solemnly shaking
his head.
So they sat and talked before the fire til
Ben brought his vielin, and then they all
sang ‘*Home, Sweet Home,”’ even the chil-
dren feeling how much the words con-
tained.
Thus the dav came to a close. Aunt
Sally brought in the boys’ caps and coats
and Papa Harry tied on the little girls’
hoods—it was se leng since he had done it.
Then Uncle Andrew drove around to the
door with his big wagon, and they all got
in somewhere—such a merry crowd.
And when they were fairly off; when
there was a chorus of good-nights, and Ben
stepped aside to let the horses go, and
Dinah stood waving her apron, then it was
that Unele Timothy put his arm about his
dear old wife; and giving her a hearty kiss
said huskily: ‘God bless you, mother!”
So ended Aunt Nabby’s Thanksgiving.
—By Kate Whiting Patch, in the Ledger
Monthly.
The Failing Eyesight.
Qonditions That Give Warning of the Approach
ot Blindness.
The three defects of eyesight which are
healthy persons and which can be more or
less overcome by means of glasses are near
sightedness, far sightedness and astigmatism
These are all important, for, besides the
discomfort and annoyance of imperfect
sight, the involuntary efforts which the
sufferer makes to see better strain the eyes
and not only injure them, but also give
rise, through reflex action, to the head-
aches and various nervous disturbanees.
Near sightedness, short sightedness, or
myopia, as it is variously called, is a con-
dition of the eyeball—usually a lengten-
light are brought to a focus in front of the
retina and so the object is blarred.
This condition may exist from birth,
but is usually the result of too munch and
too early use of the eyes, and in the case
of students, engravers, women who do
fine sewing and so forth. Thus we may
say that putting children at work at some
of the kindergarten exercises, such as per-
forating and drawing, is in a double sense
a short sighted procedure.
Many neat sighted people refuse to wear
glasses, preferring to deprive themselves
of sight for everything beyond the nose
rather than injure their personal appear-
ance, as they think. This is another short
sighted policy, for, besides loosing much
of the joy of existence which comes from
seeing the beautiful things about and
above us, such. persons are very liable to
suffer from inflamamtion of the eyes pro-
| duced by constant strain.
A less common defect is long or far
sighteduness or hypermetropia. This is the
opposite of myopia, the eyeball being flat-
tened or shortened and the rays of light
eonsequently not coming to a focus by the
time they reach the retina.
In this ease the eye often corrects the
defeet more or less successfully by making
the crystalline lens more convex, but it
does this at the expense of the sufferer’s
nerve foree, and so we often find tired and
congested eyes, headaches, indigestion and
even serious nervous affections. The ef-
fort to correet the vision is entirely in-
voluntary, and can be overcome only hy
the fitting of suitable convex glasses.
The third and most commnion defect is
astigmatism. In this condition there is
some irregularity of the surface of the eye
or the lens hy means of which the image
as it reaches the retina is distorted. Un-
treated astigmatism is a frequent cause of
headache and other nervous disturbances.
The only relief is the wearing of glasses, at
least while reading.
A Fine Distinction.
A young downtown drug clerk who had
heard the story of the colored woman who
had asked for flesh colored court plaster
and was given black by the observant
dealer, stored the incident away in his
mental dust box and decided to use it at
the first opportunity. He had not long to
wait, for a few nights ago a comely colored
girl stepped into the store where he was em-
ployed. ‘‘Ah wants some cou’t plaster,’’
she said. :
*“What color 2’ inquired the clerk with
affected nonchalance.
‘“Flesh cullah, sah.”
Trembling in his shoes and keeping
within easy reach of a heavy pestle, the
clerk handed the woman a box of black
court plaster, and he was surprised at the
time that the situation afforded so little
humor. The woman opened the box with
a deliberation that was ominous, but she
was unruffled when she noted the color of
the contents.
“Ah guess you mus’ ’a’ misunderstood
mah ordah. Ah asked foh flesh cullah and
yo’ done give me skin cullah.”’
The drug clerk is still a little dazed
from the encounter, and he has firmly re-
solved to subject every joke to rigid labo-
ratory test hereafter before using.
most commonly encountered in otherwise |
ing—in consequence of which the rays of |
The People of Siberia.
Not Four Per Cent. of Them Convicts or Political
Exiles.
Statistics have their value when given
comparatively. In following up theanalogy
which was always present in my mind in
crossing Siberia, theanalogv between that
country and the United States, it is inter-
esting to compare the area and the popula-
tion of both. Siberia has 5,000,000 square
miles to our 3,000,000, while our population
of 70,000,000 over shadows the 5,750, 000
of Russia’s Asiatic possessions, says Anna
N. Benjamin in dinslee’s. Of this number
65 per cent. are Russians, the rest indige-
nous. Bus this average is brought down by
the low per cent. of Russians in the ex-
treme North, which, as in Northern Canada,
is left almostly entirely to the aboriginal
Eskimo, and to the hardy fur trader, while
in Southern Siberia from 60 to 90 per cent.
are Russians. Not 4 per cent. of all the
Russians are convicts or political exiles.
The number of convicts varies in the differ-
ent sections. In the goverment of Tomsk,
in the West, they only amount to one-sixth
per cent. which necessarily makes a much
higher average in some of the ot¥er provin-
ces. These facts are fatal to the theory
that the Siberian population is composed
mostly of criminals and the sons of crim-
inals.
The Russians find the great northern step-
pes as bleak aud as inhospitable as do the
Canadians. Yet the mineral deposits and
the fur trade attrace a certain population.
It is extraordinary to read of the early cou-
quests of the Russians in this country and
of their first settlements here, though
there were no visions of an El Dorado to
draw men on.
None of the country north of the Amur
ever belonged to China, though that is the
popular idea. It was inhabited by inde-
pendent tribes, some of which were sub-
pect to the Chinese throne in a very round-
about way, paying tribute to a Manchu
Khan, who in return. paid tribute to the
Son of Heaven. In finally obtaining pos-
session of the region, the Russian gover-
ment was urged on by its individual rep-
resentatives there, not by its own avowed
policy, as it is to-day. The chief of these
was Muravieff, whose name will ever he
connected with Siberia as the name of
Washington is with our own country. In
1858, in a treaty drawn up at Aiguu,
where the Russians and Chinese have re-
cently came in conflict, the Chinese relin-
quished all claim to the l«ft bank of the great
river. From that time dates Southern Si-
beria’s mushroom growth. Vladivostok is
one of the fruits of it;Khabaroffsk,at the end
of this eastern section of railroad, is anoth-
er. Each city is less than fifty years old,and
each bears a striking resemblance, as do
all the Siberian cities, to our centres of
quick growth in the West. Only a large
garrison creates a military society, which
element of the population differentiates
these cities from ours Absent, too, is the
atmosphere of nervous enterprise and busi-
ness push, the result of what the Yaukee
terms ‘‘hustling.” The American city
owes its birth and life to the energy of the
individual, the Siberian city owes its
founding and its continued existence to
the government. A site is not selected in
accordance with the economies of business,
but on account of military exigency. The
city’s tenure of life does not depend upon
a hoom, but on the convenience of the gov-
ernment. Private individuals may follow
in the path autocratically blazed, and turn
whatever is possible to their own advan-
tage, but the city is not there for them ,but
for the government. In spite of this fact,
business thrives, and men are making
money, which speaks well for Siberia.
Perhaps the most curious feature of all
Siberian cities and villages is the quiet of
them. The American finds it depressing.
The places seem half dead, yet they are a-
live and thriving. Ourconception of pros-
perity in new cities is so associated with
the elang of the trolley, the smoke of the
factory, the wéird writhings of the steam
siren, and the bustle of the population,
that it is hard for us to realize that pros-
perity may exist in a place of dead calm.
Vladivostok, Khabarovsk, Blagovest-
chensk and Irkutsk all present the same
features. Blagovestchensk in the heart
of Eastern Siberia, on the junction of the
Zeya river with the Amur, is, perhaps, the
most interesting city. On the central
square of the city, where the market is,
| face two large department stores which
for size, beauty of architecture and variety
of stock would do credit to any American
city. The band buildings’ the museum and
other business and government houses are
of briek or stone. Good schools have been
established, so that it is possible for a boy
there, as well in all Siberian cities, to re-
ceive a thorough education. In Vladivostok
a Araining school for Eastern diplomats
turns out graduates accomplished in Orieu-
tal languages to begin their careers as in-
terpreters or secretaries of legations.
Miner's Wonderfal Nerve.
With His Back and Eight Ribs Broken, He Saw Doc-
tors Set the Bones. *
Michael Cinco, a Slav miner, is astonish-
ing the doctors of Uniontown by his re-
markable pluck and nerve. His back is
broken, eight ribs are fractured and he is
cut from head to foot, yet he persists in
getting well, contrary to the hospital state-
ment that he could live only a few hours.
Cinco was caught under o heavy fall of
roof in the Coal Bluff mines a week ago
ane buried under tons of slate. His bones
were protruding through his flesh and he
was bleeding from many wounds while he
lay there and directed the men who were
digging him out. He chatted with the
men who took him to a hospital, and when
ed such remarkable pluck that they oper-
ated on him, while believing it was useless.
He never flinched while they patched him
up, set his broken bones and operated on
his spine, and did not sink after the oper-
ation was over. He began to mend from
the start, and the doctors now think that
he will get well. Such a fracture of the
spine as he had is always considered sure
death, but Cinco’s great vitality and deter-
mination is pulling him through.
And Do It First.
Askit—Whdt is your understanding of
the golden rule? Does it mean : ‘‘Do un-
to others as you would ‘like’ to be done
hy 2”
Bizness—No, my interpretation is : ‘‘Do
unto others as yon would ‘he likely’ to be
done by.”
THAT THROBBING HEADACHE.— Would
quickly leave you, if you used Dr. King’s
New Life Pills. Thousands of sufferers
have proved their matchless merit of Sick
and Nervous Headaches. They make
pure blood and build up your health. On-
ly 25 cents. Money back if not cured.
Sold by F. P. Green druggist.
’
——Suberibe for the WATCHMAN.
the doctors said he could not live he show- |
Home=Made Candies for the Holidays.
Now that Thanksgiving and Christmas
holidays are ap) ing, I venture a few
timely and entirely reliable recipes for de-
‘licious homemade candies.
Before attempting to make large qnanti-
ties of candy, in order to understand the
different stages into which sugar passes,
put over a moderately hot fire a porcelain
or graniteware saucepan containing a little
granulated sugar and a little water and
carefully note the changes, for the success
of candy-making depends chiefly upon the
sugar being boiled to the right degree, and
this is not easily to determine unless the
sugar is watched from the minute it be-
gins to cook. § A
The ‘‘ball’”’ and the “crack” stages are
those most necessary for the amateur candy
maker to quickly distinguish. The former
has been reached when, if a little sirap be
dropped into'a howl of cold water, a ball
can be formed with the fingers, and the
crack stage is reached when the sirup
hardens quickly and snaps asunder when
bitten.
The sirup, over a moderately hot fire,
may be stirred until the sugar is dissolved,
and no longer. When the boiling point is
reached a scant one quarter teaspoonful of
cream of tartar allowed to each pound of
sugar will prevent the sirap from graining
if the small hubbles which form on the
sides of the saucepan are wiped away with
a sponge wrung out in cold water as often
as they form.
In making candy select a clear, bright
day for your work and the candy will
harden quickly and be dry.
FONDANT.
The base of all cream candies is fondant;
it may be kept fresh for weeks by putting
in a covered jar to exclude the air, and it
is always well to make the fondant at
least a day before thytlavers, colors or nuts
used in making the different bonbons are
added.
To make the fondant put into the sauce-
pan a pound of granulated sugar and a
pint of water. Stir until the sugar is all
dissolved, and as the sirup reaches boiling
point add one-quarter teaspoonful of cream
of tartar and carefully free the saucepan of
the little bubbles that form around aud
ahove the sugar. If this is not done as
often as it hecomes necessary the whole
mass will grain. >
The boiling sirup quickly passes from
one stage to another, and when large bab-
bles begin to appear it must be watched
constautly. The ‘ball’ stage only is re-
quired for fondant, and when it is reached
it should be at once poured into a deep
plate or tin lightly brushed over with
sweet oil and allowed to cool until press-
ing with the fingers leaves a dent upon the
surface. It is then ready to ‘work’ with
a wooden spoon and should be stirred con-
stantly until it becomes a fine creamy mass
soft enough toshape with the fingers.
If the sugar hardens or grains it need
not be wasted, but can be removed to the
sauce pan with a little water and boiled
again. Itcan then be used for other candy
bat not again for fondant.
I.—CHOCOLATE CREAM DROPS.
Form the fondant, flavored with a few
drops of vanilla or rose water, into small
balls and put them aside to harden.
Melt an ounce of Baker’s unsweetened
chocolate and add two tablespoonfuls of
cream or milk, the same guantity of sugar
and one-fourth teaspoonful of butter. Stir
until all the ingredients are smooth and
then drop the fondant balls into it, and
when they are quite covered remove them
by slipping a fork under and lay them on
waxed paper. i
II.—CREAM WALNUTS.
Cream walnuts are made by pressing the
two halves of the nut on opposite sides of a
ball of the fondant and flattening it be-
tween them.
I1I.—BONBONS.
Melt a small quantity of fondant ina
bow! by placiug the bowl in hot water and
stirring constantly until the fondant be-
comes soft and creamy. Flavor and color
it as desired, taking care that very little
coloring matter (orange juice, green, car-
mine, chocolate) be used, for the bonbons
must be of a very delicate shade. Have
ready the necessary nuts and drop them in
one at a time. Stir them around until
they are completely covered with the
cream, lift them out with a fork and
place them on waxed paper.
IV. — PEPPERMINT OR
DROPS.
Melt the fondant as above directed and
flavor with a few drops of essence of winter-
green or peppermint. Drop the liquid
fondant off the tip of a spoon upon waxed
WINTERGREEN
paper.
Chocolate-coated peppermints may be
treated to a coat of chocolate prepared as
for chocolate cream drops.
V.—CHOCOLATE CARAMELS.
Put half a cupfal of butter in a sauce-
pan and when melted add one cupful of
sugar, two cupfuls of molasses and one-
half cupful of cream or milk. Stir until
the sugar is all dissolved, and when the
boiling point is reached add three squares
of grated chocolate. Boil till, when tried
in cold water, a firm ball may be formed.
Add a teaspoonful of vanilla after taking
from the fire. Tarn into buttered pans
and when nearly cold mark it in inch
squares and later wrap in waxed paper.
VI .—VANILLA CARAMELS,
Omit thie molasses and chocolate, add a
little more milk or cream and proceed as
above.
fd BF
The following candies require the sugar
boiled to the ‘‘crack:’’
VII.—GLACE NUTS.
Boil a half pound of granulated sugar
and a half cupfal of water to the ‘‘crack.’
Take it off the fire at once. Have ready ’
few warmed blanched almonds, walnuts oa
butternuts, and drop them into the sirup
one at a time. When they are well cover-
ed lift them out on a fork being careful not
to drain the sugar off, and place them on
waxed paper. The work must be done
quickly or the sirup will harden.
Sections of oranges, and single grapes
having short stems attached to each one,
may be treated in a like manner, when
they have been exposed to the air for sev-
eral hours or until their surfaces are very
dry. F
* VIIL.—BUTTERSCOTCH.
Boil one cupful of sugar, one-fourth cup-
ful of molasses, two tablespoonfuls of vin-
egar and the same of boiling water until
the mixture becomes brittle, then turn in-
to well buttered tins. When 300l mark
with a pointed knife into squares.
IX.—VELVET MOLASSES.
Put into a good-sized saucepan three
cupfuls of sugar, one cupful of water and
three-tablespoonfuls of vinegar; when the
boiling - point is reached add one-fourth
teaspoonful of cream of tartar, and when
the mixture is nearly done _ one-half
cupful of melted butter and one-fourth
teaspoonful of baking soda. Stir constant-
ly during the latter part of the cooking.
cheese is made.
mouse which has established itself on the -
When the erack stage has arrived, pour in -
to buttered pans, and when cold enough
to bandle pull and cut into proper lengths.
X.—VINEGAR CANDY.
Put into a saucepan a half cupful of
butter and when it is melted add two cups
of sugar and one-cupful of vinegar. Stir
until the sugar is dissolved and afterward
occasionally until when tried in cold water
it becomes brittle. Turn on buttered plate
or tin to cool. Pull and cut same as
molasses candy — Blanche Gillette in The
American Queen.
Berriolo Hanged.
Has Been Thrice Reprieved but Finally Got His De-
serts.
Isaac Berriolo, who was convicted of
wife murder last December, was hanged at
Wellsboro, Friday. The condemned man
accompanied by Sheriff Johnson and Dep-
uty Lloyd, was taken from his cell to the
scaffold which had been erected in the jail
yard about sixty feet away. He walked
the distance with firm steady step. When
asked by Sheriff Johnson just before the
cap was put over his head if he had any
statement to make Berriolo said : “‘Good-
bye friends, I have nothing to confess.”
Twelve minutes after the drop fell he was
pronounced dead.
The crime for which Berriolo was put to
death was committed in Blossburg,in July,
1899. He was a barber by trade, and after
a quarrel with his wfie he set fire to her
clothing and she was burned to death.
Following his conviction strenuous efforts
were made to secure him a new trial and
he was reprjeved three times by Governor
Stone, until the supreme court finally re-
fused the application for a new trial. The
efforts in Berriolo’s behalf were continued
until last week, when application was
made to the hoard of pardons for a rehear-
ing of his case and which that body re-
fused.
As the trap was sprung at 12:09 o’¢lock
Berriolo’s body shot downward almost
nine feet. His head was almost torn from
his body and blood spurted three feet into
space and then fell in torrents over the
dead man’s bosom and clothes from the
gash cut into bis neck by the rope which
had severed the jugular vein. It was a
horrible sight, one never to be forgotten by
the 200 people within the enclosure.
Tried to Kill His Wife.
Afterwards George M. Harding Blew His Brains
Out.
George M. Harding, a well-known citi-
zen of Reynoldsville, Friday attempted to
kill his wife and then committed suicide
by blowing his brains out. The wife will
probably recover. The couple quarreled
last week and separated, the husband
charging the wife with infidelity. He
took their two small children to the home
of his parents where he also went to live.
Mrs. Harding went to the home of her pa-
rents.
Harding called on his wife at her pa-
rents’ house Friday and when she made
her appearance he threw his arms around
her and fired a bullet into her head. He
then turned the weapon and blew his own
brains out, his body falling beside his
prostrate wife.
Harding and his wife were both highly
respected, they coming from two of the
oldest families in the community. He
was 28 years of age and was employed by
the Reynoldsville and Falls Creek railroad
company. His wife is 20 years old. At
the time of their marriage quite a sensa-
tion was caused by the young couple elop-
ing to New York state. f
Harding early Friday morning wrote a
number of letters, among them being one
to his parents asking them to forgive him
for his deed and saying that he could not
live through the disgrace brought upon
him by his wife. He asked his parents to
care for his two children.
A Natural Error.
A Little Boy Who Was Told the Angels Painted the
Western Skies.
After dinner the guests of the ————
House, in the Adirondacks, used to repair
to the poreh to watch the gorgeous sun-
sets, writes Edgar S. Nash, in the New
Lippincott. Little Ellwood Wilson’s father
bad tried to impress upon the boy, who
was but five years old, the marvelous col-
oring, and as the little fellow sat on his.
father’s knee he would tell him that this.
was the work of the angels, who every
night, while the guests of the hotel were
at supper, would paint with their fairy
brushes the western sky.
Night after night the child grew more
and more interested in the subject, and his
belief in the legend grew stronger and
stronger. But one day a shadow crossed
his young life, his playmate, Johnny, after
a brief illness, had died at the hotel. The:
little fellow’s heart was nearly broken,but
he was comforted with the fact that al-
though Johnny was dead, he was an angel
and could look down on Ellwood and
watch him at play. A few nights after
the little fellow had been laid away, the
sunset was less gorgeous than usual. A
haze in the western sky had dimmed the
colors, and the display was disappointing.
As Ellwood sat on his father’s knee watch-:
ing the sky, he suddenly looked up and
said : ‘‘Papa the sunset isn’t bright to-
night, 1 guess this must be Johnny's.
rst.”’
The Animals That Do Not Grow Thirsty.
How long would you be contented with--
out a drop of water to drink? There are:
many different kinds of animals in the
world that never in all their lives sip so-
much as a drop of water. }
Among these are the llamas of Patagonia.
and the gazelles of the Far East. A parrot.
lived for 52 years in the ‘‘Zoo’’ without
drinking a drop of water, and many natur--
alists believe the only moisture imbihed
by wild rabbits is d.iived from green her-
bage laden with dev. Many reptiles—ser--
pents, lizards and cei taiu Lucrachians—live -
and thrive in places entirely devoid of wa- -
ter, and sloths are said never to drink.
An arid district in France has produced
a race of non-drinking cows and sheep, and
from the milk of the former Roquefort -
There is a species of
waterless plains of Western America, and
which flourishes, notwithstanding the ab- -
sence of moisture.
Love Cosis a Man His Nose.
John Calloway’s love for Minnie Peo-
ples, of Huntingdon, W. Va., cost him his .
nose.
Walter McConnell, but Calloway was per-
sistent in his attentions to her. Recently
McConnell saw Calloway going to the
home of his intended bride.
razor and followed. He slashed Calloway
several times, one stroke of the razor en- -
tirely taking away his nose.
Miss Peoples was engaged to many
He secured a
-——=8ubseribe for the WATCHMAN.