Bellefonte, Pa., April 6, 1906.
——————————————
ONE WIFE'S CHARM.
You ask me why I'm happy when so many
wives complain,
And say their husbands only live to give them
endless pain ;
My secret you demand to know, you've seen
my happy look,
And you quiz me not a little, but—remember 1
can cook.
When other wives are envious, and tell my hus-
band dear
My gowns are very out of date, and at my
wardrobe sceer,
I have no fear, I only smile, I care not how I
look !
I know I've but to whisper—*'Dear, remember
1 ean cook !"'
My love has often said to me, “My dear, 1
know you're plain,
But married life with you,
brought me naught but gain ;
Let other women sing and dance, or even write
a book,
Yet you're above them all in eharm—remember,
you can cook I"
And always when I'm begged by girls 10 tell
them by what art
I captured such a handsome man, and won
quite all his heart,
1 merely say, “My dears, I'm sure that all the
pains I took
Was asking him to dinner—for remember I
can cook I"
And all you modern women who are anxious to
be wed,
Be wise, throw up your arts and crafts, aud
learn to bake your bread ;
For be certain that no husband will forget the
vows he took
If his wife will only please him by remember.
ing how to cook.
my sweet, has
— American Queen,
REST,
Oh! Those mysterious shades beyond the tomb,
Sweet shades compared with which earth's
light is gloom :
What wonders may in those great depths
abound
Wrapped in that silence awful and profound ?
The king and beggar resting side by side,
The tyrant and his slave e'en so abide,
Tho eringing coward and the noble brave—
All held in that strange spell beyond the grave.
The shout of anger and the plaint of care :
The woes of all the ages silenced there ;
The tramp of conquering armies hushed and
still ;
They whoswayed the nations bide His will,
No more the excitement of life’s mighty race,
No more the rush for wealth and honored place,
No more the heart's with wild pulsations thrill—
The Eternal has commanded “Peace be still.”
M. V. Tnonas.
THE BORGIA RING.
Be the land at war or at peace, there is
always strife in an army post and a college
town. When the events of this story took
place, we bad not even dreamed of Spanish
wars, Philippine battles or Boxer insurrec-
tions, for, at the time Mallard acquainted
me with the facts, it was only under prom-
ise of a secrecy to be maintained until ten
years after their occurrence. Even now I
am compelled to disguise the names as
best I may, though I fear that a little study
will lay bare the actual scene of the trag-
ely. Quiet then as was the country as
large, Mertin College, one of the best
known of our smaller Western institutions
of learning, was rent asunder by the heroes
of the civil strife. The old president had
long been dead and one evening a month
alter commencement the trustees were in
session iu Hanson Hall for the pur, of
choosing his successor. For that delectable
post shere were but two candidates and,
excepting the absent students, the whole
college community had for weeks heen
bitterly arrayed under the banner of one
or other of these.
The one member of the faculty who did
not appear deeply concerned —at least
about the election—was Bernard Shaw.
who beld the new chair of psychology and
who was the other candidate. At shat
very moment he was standing in the sha-
dow of the driveway hedge holding fast to
the hand of his academic rival's daughter.
As well as he could he was trying to catch
every chavging expression on the piquant
but strong featntes of the lithe, suony-
baired, brown-eyed girl before him. His
own pale face and blue eyes, could she have
seen them, were not a little troubled. There
was indecision even in his tumbled shook
of black bair and the position of his broad,
athletio figure.
*‘I don’t see how Dr. Whitley can blame
me,”’ he was saying. ‘You know, Mar-
garet, that my love for you would not have
permitted me to stand between your father
and his dearest wish which his years now
make this his last chance of obtaining.’
‘Yes, but he’s not himself any more,
aod he would never consent. Youdon's
know him.”
“Rubbish. I'm not to blame. I only
met him once. The one day I spent with
him at Bar Harbor last sammer after I had
learned to love you was the only one I
ever saw anything of him. And this whole
deal was arr withoat my knowledge.
Mallard fixed is all up becanse we were
friends at Harvard. His father being a
trustee and the great benefactor of this
place alone made it possible.’
‘‘He thinks you schemed for it. He is
ball mad with the idea and none of us bave
been able to ges it ont of his bead. Be-
iden, Jou know how conservative he is.
He didn’t approve of establishing the new
chair at all,and your book on ‘The Psychol-
Joy or Faith’ was a terrible shock to
Shaw smiled. That volume had made its
author talked about and praised wherever
learning reigned. He was about to pro-
test, however, when there was a hasty step
on the gravel close at hand and, with a
Jrelussiory congh of warning, Mallard
imsell appeared upon the scene, radiant
as ever,
“Good evening, Miss Whitley. Hello,
Shaw!" he cried. ‘I kaow what you're
telking about yon two. But don’t worry.
! got you into this and I'll pull you
trough. In fact. I've done so already.
Just came from the doctor.”
Margaret grasped.
“You raped. she .
“Well, no,” smiled the newcomer,
ob quite sins But Te ives him some-
thing will make him regardless
eT ame
n w was that si
chapter in the volume on ry .
The critics nailed him there about the ring.
trick—Said his theory wouldn't apply.
Remembers"
knowledge of a poison which post mortem
Shaw reflected.
*‘I recollect,” he said, ‘“‘that the doctor
undertook to show thas tradition was cor-
rect, that Alexander VI and his son and
ter, Caesar and Lucretia bad
investigation ocouldn’t detect, yet which
Ty oNeally Vatuagautun. Wut
‘Why, youn know, hesaid they used it
in a ring. The wearer shook hands with
his enemy, a needle-poins thereupon enter-
ed the viotim's flesh and pop!—off he
went.’
“Yes,” said ute} TL Yoo eines
challenged father to ormu-
la. Ever since mother’s Jeath Bes bien
experimenting night and day only
month he said be’d almost given up.
Then this other excitement came—'"
“Right!” interrupted Mallard. *‘Well,
I’ve fixed him. I eaved the gift until the
psychological moment. While I was
abroad, I came across an old, obscure
second-hand shop in Rome. Buried ina
dust pile I got hold of a ring of that de-
scription and on the inside of the gold band
were traced some odd characters. I've
just shown it to the doctor and he swears
it’s the lost formula. Oh, he won't mind
the small matter of a presidency now!”
“You don’t know him, Mr. Mallard,”
‘‘Well, I may not be elected, anyhow,”
said Shaw. “Don’t let's cross the bridge
before we come to it.”
Almost as he spoke the door of Hanson
Hall opened and the next moment a
messenger - boy moved to the Whitley
house. Then one of Shaw's partisans, hur-
rying across the campus, met the trio on
the walk and held out his hand.
‘‘Mr. Shaw,” he said, ‘‘I congratulate
you on your election as President of Mar-
tin College.”
After stammered thanks and the man’s
de re, there was an awkward pause.
en Shaw turned to Margaret.
“Well, dear,” he said, ‘‘you wereon
your way to the Harmers. lard will
walk with yon and return here to meet
me. I'm going in to see your father.”
He turned hurriedly aod, running up
The eainby steps, rang the bell.
The slight stooping figure of the speaker
was dimly silhouetted against a low light
Bebiod Bim, hu Shaw haa difiounlty in
recognizing in the gentle, blue-eyed face
with its riarchal white beard, the
famous toxicologist who was the father of
the girl he loved.
Dr. Whitley was indeed the Spal ool-
lege professor who was grown old among
his books and whose life outside of them
has for years and years—except for
the briefest of vacations—been bounded
by academic precincts. Once a man of
medinm height, the weight of eighty yeurs
of study bad rounded his shoulders and
bowed his form until he seemed almost a
dwarf. This conception, moreover, was
strengthened in the mind of the casual
observer by the old man's silvery voice,
uncolloguial conversation, and the almost
childish benignity of expression which
frequently made him the butt of a good-
natured, though thoughtless, classroom.
At present, Shaw observed at a glance that
the news of the defeat had aged the doctor
even more than the last ten years of his
labors and the young visitor accordingly
hastened to the attempt to put him at his
ease.
*'Good evening, Dr. Whitley,” he hur-
ried tosay. “I am Bernard Shaw. We
met at Bar Harbor when you were there
for a week last summer, you remember. I
bave come to make an explavation to yon
aod to ask a serious favor.”
There was just a moment's unpleasant
hesitation during which Shaw tried in vain
to see the play of emotion on the toxicol-
ogist’s face. Then the latter held outa
thin and trembling band stained black to
She Wiiey by daily contact with countless
acids.
‘Mr. Shaw,” said the gentle, childlike-
voice. “‘I am glad to see youn. I congrasul-
ate you on your election and shongh I am
at a loss to know whas—what farther you
can want of me, I bid yon weicome. Come
in."
“That is one of the things—that election
-=which I want to explain,” said Shaw as
he passed the door-way.
Ire. Whitley did not seem to hear him.
He stood on the threshold for a moment,
looking up and down the drive, and then
closing the door with that quietness which
characterized all his movements, he said:
*“Du you object to coming into my labor-
ator)? I have heen working there all even-
ing—all my life, in fact—so that it has be-
come about the only place in which, out-
side of the college workshop, I am at
home.”
Shaw readily acquiesced and [followed
the hesitating steps of the professor to the
large, airy room at the back of the house
which bad been perfectly fisted out, with
its shelv.s of numberless bottles, test tubes
and retorts, to meet its owner's every need.
Down the centre of the room, undera
bright gas-jet, ran a long table filled with
crucibles, scales, opened bottles and other
parapberualia of the shop which bad evi-
dently hut just been in use. A Bunsen
burner flared blue at one end; a miniature
chemist’s furnace was built in the wall by
the empty Breplate. The windows were
open, but were built ten fees from the floor
to shut away the disturbances of the out-
side world.
Dr. Whitley lit a green-shaded stu:
dent's lamp at one corner of the table,
moved toward it two arm chairs, banded
Shaw a box of cigars and, when he had lit
one of these, motioned to him to begin.
The youug fellow stated his case simply.
He dwelt with some earnestness upon the
fact that the office to which he had jost
been elected bad
and, varrating the story
Margaret, asked her hand while impress-
ing it upon her father that a
would,in the circumstances, be by no means
depriving Dr. Whitley of that assistance
from Margaret as the manager of his house | Please,
which bad become indispensable to the old
professor.
The toxicologist heard him through
Yitbous interruption. Then he said gniet-
ly:
“My dear sir, I have no reason to doubt
you. As yeu know, your election has been
a great disappointment to me, since it
meant what was the defeat of my second
dearest wish. Nor do I wholly approve of
the methods which you represent in the
intellectual world. But we will let that
pass. I have said thas the residency was
my second dearest wish. My fitst, as per-
haps you know, wus the perfecting of my
theories by proof that tradition was cor-
rect in regard to poison
medixval poison in particular. My young
friend, Mr. Mallard, has just put into my
hands what I believe will prove my point.
If, so, I shall nothing else that I
have missed. I 1 know the truth with-
in two weeks. If my experiments are sue-
cessful; if I can find by post-mortem ex- | King
amination
no traces of poison in the hodies
of animrls killed through the formula Mr.
Mallard has hrought me, I shall have suc-
ceeded. You will understand me then,
will you not, when I say shat at that time
1 will give you my answer?"’
The reply was odd, peshaps, bus it was
quite as hopeful as Shaw expected,
aod baving said as much, he asked politely
about the new d .
At ounce Dr. Whitlev passed from per-
sonal interest to scientific enthusiasm. His
figure lost immediately all feebleness. The
years fell from bim asa cloak and, with
flashing eye, Lie ran to the table.
“I bave always contended,” he said, as
be hurried about among bis instruments,
“that legend was right in ascribing to
certain chemists of the Renaissance knowl-
edge of a poison whish slew either slowly
or immediately and left no trace. The
answer was that medical science being then
an infant could not discover it. That is
true, but I hold that we could not dis-
cover is today. I have tried in vain, how-
ever, for many vears to find the formula.
Now luck and Mr. Mallard bave putit
into my hands.”
As he spoke he held up adall, heavy
ring. Shaw took it in his band and beld
it close under the lamp. A great garnet
glowered maiignantly in is, but a glance
sufficed to show that this stone only served
to conceal a small reservoir connected by a
bollow needle of small length and capacity
which would, upon pressure, spring out-
ward from the band opposite the stone.
“You see,” cried the toxicologists, stoop-
ing eagerly over his shoulder. ‘‘they wore
them on the indexfinger or even the thumb
in those days and so the needle would
plese the skin easily enough and the pain
attributed to a mere scratch.”
‘“'Tis enough; ’twill serve,” quoted
Shaw smilingly.
“Is will, indeed,” replied Whitley.
“And now see here on the inside of the
band.”
He pointed to the worn sarface where
certain characters once scratched were still
visible.
“I bave deciphered them with the mioros-
cope. The basal poison and its effects on
the body are of course hidden by the other
ingredients. TI shall not tell you how
until next week. But the fundamental
thing is hydric oyavide. ie him-
self says thas, injecting it into the jugular
vein of a dog, the animal died instantly ns
it struck by a cannon-ball. There are ex-
ceptions, of course, but generally there is
almost instant giddiness, a stifled ory for
help, a fall, convulsions, death—belore any
help comes. The post-mortem reveals the
truth to me alone, because no other living
man save myself has possession of the Bor-
gia’s secret. Of course, they bad the slow
ison, too, which is also here indicated,
ut I have reason to believe that it was
with thie very ring that Alexander himself
Pope, this very ring which served so well
his children Caesar and Lucretia. It is
absurd tosay the ancients know nothing of
the subtler poisons. What but a cyanide
or prussic acid conld bave killed Britan-
nicus ? Baptista Porta treats blindly of the
latter in his ‘‘Natural Magic’ and of nox
vomiea, aconite, veratrnm and mezereon,
But here, here in my hand [ hold, after all,
the proof! In one short week, perba
sooner—who can tell ?—and I shall have
demonstrated, beyond dou"t, the truth of
my theory.”
As the old man talked, his whole frame
trembled with excitement; his face flamed
with the passion of the devotee and when
he came to the prophecy of his success, the
keen eye of the psychologist read in his
glance the height of emotional frenzy.
*‘It is so simple,” he prattied, ‘‘so hean-
tifally simple ! See,I fill the reservoir with
this barmless lignid.”” He hurriedly in-
serted a dropper and squeezed into the gold
receptacle a spray of some clear solution.
“Then I put it on my thumb, thus,’ he
continued, suiting the action to the word.
“Now, imagine I was Borgia and you an
undesirable cardinal I’ And he held ous
his stained, emaciated hand.
There was a moment's panse in which
Shaw’s brain was working like lightning.
The face of the old man on which the fall
glare of the gas now fell was again that of
the genial, placid, harmless professor, but
in the watery blue eyes the psychologist
thought he could detect a trace—justa
trace—of the cunning of the madman. Was
it absurd fancy or horrible faci? He re-
membered Margaret's strange warning; the
mounomaniacal ambition of the man and he
reflected that, so far as Whitley knew, vo
one—as proved hy that hasty glance from
the door—had seen him enter this empty
house and pass into the midst of these
strange forces of dissolution whereon the
outside world could look not even from a
window. For one instant he hesitated.
Then his long training in dealing with
somewhat similar cases asserted ‘tsell with
all the force of an instinet.
*'No,’” he corrected, laughing, ‘suppose
I were the Borgia—I'm the younger man’
——And quick as a flash he had put ont both
bands hut only to seize the dootor’s wrist
in the firm grip of the one, while with the
other he dexteronsly plucked the ring from
the toxicologist’s thumb and placing it on
his own.
For a moment the latter blinked blankly
at him. Than a spasm of white rage shook
him and instantly with a strange smile:
**Very good! he cried.
And before Shaw could prevent him
had clasped the half-extended hand.
The grip relaxed quickly—tightenea,
loosened —and with a contorted face and a
low ery Dr. Whitley fell crashing to the
laboratory floor.
Shaw leaped to hinside. There was one
quick convulsion and then silence,
Immediately, it seemed, Mallard burst
into the room.
“The door was opened.’’ he explained,
‘and I heard a ery. Had we hetter have
a dootor?"’
Bat, except for form's sake, it was al-
ready far too late for that and Shaw hor-
riedlv told the story.
‘Bont do you suppose——'"hegan Mal-
‘We shall suppose nothing, if yon
'" said Shaw grimly, “This man has
died from natural causes. Remember that
his davghter is to'be my wife.” —By Regi-
nald Wright Kauffman in The Pilgrim.
The “Important Comma,
A man thinks he bas an exceedingly
bright office boy. A short time ago be
posted in his shop window a notice : *‘Boy
Wanted Sout Joarseen years”! A lad of
that age, wit e that was prepossessin
in his a rance, came into the office
stated he had read the notice. ‘Well,
do you think you wonld like to have the
place, my hoy ?" asked the merchant, gaz.
ing patroniziugly over the rims of his
spectacles at the youth.
“Yes,” came the prompt answer. “I
want the job, but I don’t know that I can
promise to keep it for the fall fourteen
years.
Then the merchant remembered that he
bad left out a comma on his , but he
told the boy he might have the place— The
*s Chon.
—Ba, seed corn on the ear, when it can
be obtained in that way.
How Did Bryan Know 1 |
. |
William Jennings Bryan is a great friend |
of Dr. Jobn H. Girdner, of New York, aud |
veually stays at Dootor Gitduer's house | ©1d-—J. M. Barrie.
when he goes to New York.
Girduer gave a breakfast in honor of Mr, |
Bryan some time ago. He invited all the
——
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
A DAILY THOUGHT.
Behind every gray beard there is the face of a
Io millivery a new shade of red, or pink
(nobody seems to kuow which ), bas devel-
leading New York Democrats of the Bryan oped from the exquisite old rose which bas
way of thinking and bad a pleasant party. | heen so popular this winter. Raspberry,
Grapefruits were served, each with a spoon. |
ful of brandy spilled in the cavity in the |
centre, {
Mr. Bryan is a teetotaler. He did not |
touch his grapefrait. After the breakfass |
Mrs. Girdner went to the ancient cook of |
the household and said :
‘‘Bridget, you made a terrible mistake |
this morning.”
“Indeed, mam ?"’ said Bridger.
what was it?”
“Why, you put brandy on Mr. Bryan's
grapeftnit and he never drinks. He |
doesn't know the taste of lig or. He!
didn’t eat his frait.”’ i
An’ he never drinks, mam, an’ doen't
kuow th’ taste of it 2"? {
“Certainly not.” i
“Then, mam,’ «aid Bridget, “plaz- teli |
me how he knew it was brandy, mn 2"
An |
i
Simplon Tunnel Open to Traflic. i
The first passenger train, carrying nota-
bilities and officials, pas<ed through the
Simplon tunnel on January 25th, 1906,
amid artillery salutes,
Undertaken jointly hv the Italian and
Swiss governments in 1898, the Simplon
tnnnel was completed at a cost of more than
$15,000,000 It is twelve miles long, ex-
Yeoling from Brigue, Switzerland, to Isella,
taly.
Difficulties that at tines seemed insaper-
able were met by the engineers. In Sep-
tember, 1904, came the most serions trou.
ble; springs of hot water were enconntersd
and the tunnel was flooded. The tempera-
tore rose to 131 deg. F. Earlier still the
laborers from the Italian end struck soft
material, through which it took six months
to drive 150 feet of tunnel; and the cost of
this stretch was $100,000,
The tnnnel was opened last April. Two
trains met in the middie, one being in
charge of M. Brandan, the engineer who
had conducted the work from the Italian
side, and the other in charge of M. Rose-
mund, who bad conducted the work in the
oppozite direction.
~——A washerwoman applied for help to
a gentleman, who gave her a note to the
manager of a certain club. It read as fol.
lows :
“Dear Mr. X.—This woman wants wash-
ing"!
Very shortly the answer came back :
“Dear Sir—I dare sav she does, hor |
don’t fancy the job." — London Tit Bits.
——Little Bess—* ‘What is a family
tree?"
Little Harold—"It’s a tree people climb
when they want to get into society.”
——Elmer—"Papa gave me a bushel
basket fall of candy la<t night.”
Tommy —** Whats did yon do with it?"
Elmer—*"Nothing. [| fell ont of hed
and woke up.”
CARDINALS’ HATS.
They Are Never Worn and Are Not
Intended to Be Worn.
The most famous hat in the world is
never worn and is not intended to be
worn. Yet it is not a freak hat or
merely a hat turned out to show what
a certain factory can do. It is the car-
dinal's hat, the symbol of a cardinal's
dignity in the Catholic church, and so
completely is it the mark of that dig-
nity that “to receive the hat” is every-
where used as meaning that a person
has been advanced to the cardinalate
of the Roman church.
The cardinal’s hat is of scarlet cloth
lined with scarlet silk. It is round and
very flat, with practically no depth
and no place to fit on the crown of the
head. On each side of what serves as
a crown are red silk cords, holding fif-
teen red bell shaped tassels. These
hang down on either side of where the
cardinal’s cheeks would be if he could
wear his hat and are arranged in five
rows, the first row having one ball, the
second row two balls, the others three,
four and five réspectively.
To confer this hat calls for a stately
ceremony. If the newly chosen cardi-
nal lives out of Italy a papal ablegate
is sent to him to confer the red berretta
and the pall, but he does not receive
the hat except from the pope himself.
When the new cardinal reaches Rome,
which he must do within a year after
be receives the berretta, the pope ap-
funeral and entombment are
red hat is hung up over the place of
interment in the cathedral church.—
Hat Review,
No man can enjoy life or feel that he
is really living who has no work to do.
Ew
they eall it, and is 19 a shade which lends
itself pdmirably to the wonderful two and
three toned effects so charming in the new
straws,
And next to raspberry red for early
| “pring, probably only to supersede it for
late «priog and summer, pale blue (which
showed adaptability and great possibilities
for “extra’ hats last summer) bids fair to
rule,
Sanflower rosettes trim some of the
pretuies: of fhe plainer bats, with perhaps
a shaded quill—the two shades of the
rosettes represented in it—stnek through.
The 10settes are made of ribbon pulled ont
in long. petal-like affairs—not loops, bus
the ribbon deftly shaped and set around a
great centre,
Instead of the matehing of other Reasons,
| we are threatened with a season of bate
which contrast, yet which are as evidently
a part of the general color scheme as were
ever those hats that matched.
What seems strange in the use of shaded
quills is the absence of shaded plumes.
Lots of black and white {and white and
| black) hats are to he worn—more than
ever, milliners say.
The woman who grows old gracefully
and lets her bair grow white looks many
years younger than she who resorts to vio-
lent and crude measures to impart to it
artificial and nonpatoral tones.
The former can adops in hair dressing a
style of her own, and if the white bair be
well arranged, aod the face delicately
tinted, she can nearly always look well, no
matter what the occasion.
Rowe pink goes beautifully with white
hair, though it is a color which can rarely
he sucessfully vsed by ordinary people.
Louis blue is another lovely accompani-
ment to white bair; and when we think of
the shades worn at the French Court b
the beauties of those days, with their white
wigs and patches, we realize that there is
much heauty left for white hair. And
how hecoming here is black velvet or bril-
linnt bilge !
There are rumors that jet fringes will he
worn on rome of the new veils, but their
weight renders them somewhat unsuitable
as a trimming in this connection. Pearl
and silver embroideries are now introduced
on gloves, Chenille and old-fashioned ball
fringes alternating with silk gimps,in every
color and iv large and small designs, are
used for trimming serge boleros and cloth
jackets. Bot fringes are bound to come
with the revival of early Victorian modes.
Plaid dimities are to the fore for shirt
waiste and dresses and every sort of thing.
There is a remarkable variety in them,
when you realize that the largest plaid is
something less than two inches equare.
Between that size and the tiniest of all
(which is made of cords as closely set as
possible) are plaids of every width, some
made by single cords crossing others of a
dozen cords that form a band. And the
plain spaces veem sheerer than ever by con-
trast.
Even madras bas taken aipou itsell the
style of plaids, although in it stripes are as
popular.
For shirt waists that keep fresh, madras
is one of the best materials, for 1t takes
starch perfectly and, somehow, doesn’t
crumple nearly as badly as the others.
Those new embroideries show the prettiest
developments of last year's hints. That
trick of embroidering dots and wee flowers
upon the lace insertion which was intro-
duced last year, for instance, has hecome a
veritable hit of art, introduced in a thous-
und ways,
Dame Fashion says that there are to be
lots of those colored blouses worn with the
white in profusion. That touch of color
showing through suits, which are already
being made up in such as the open trim-
mings of the coat is very pretty.
Until yon have eaten a coddled egg yon
dou’t know just how delicious a soft boiled
egg can be. Have your water hoiling, and
bave ready an earthen bow! or jar of some
thickoes:, which youn have previously made
hot. Place your eggs in the howl and pour
on the boiling water. Then cover the bowl
with a tight cover and put over it alto a
cozy or a folded napkin.
Io five orsix minutes the ezgs will be
done, soft boiled to a cousistency that it is
impossible to gain in the ordinary way.
One beauty of this plan is thas the eggs are
placed on the table together with the fruit,
cereal and coffee, and by the time one
course is finished, the eggs are ready, with-
out the necessity of watching over a stove
or of getting up from the sable to go after
them iu the absence of a maid.
The Game of Queries.—This little game
may be made instructive, or 18 may be
played merely as a funmaker.
Each player is furnished with a pencil
and a sheet of paper, and is asked to write
as the top of the sheet a question of some
kind—it may he on a historical or some
other serious sahject,or sinsiply nonsensical.
At the bottom of the sheet he is to write
the auswer, and shen tuin ap a fold of the
paver 20 that the answer may not be seen.
The different papersare then passed, each
to the player at the left of the writer, who
writes his or her answer to the question,
folding up the paper so as to hide the an-
swer, jost as was done by the first writer.
The papers are thos passed to the left
until each player has written an answer on
all of them, and they are shen ocollested
and read alond, the question first and then
all the answers in order.
If the game hegins with the understand:
ing that all the questions must he historical,
all the players must conform to the rule in
answering ; but if it is “just for fun” any
nonsensical answer may be written, only
the query must he kept in view, aod the
answer mast relate to it,
Among slippers some of the plainest,
primmest of styles prevail. A quaint pair
of pale blue kid ones have eyelets, through
which a broad how of inch-wide ribbon is
tied.
Lots of gaiters are being made to match
spring suits, worn, in nine cases out of ten,
over shoes.
—8ee that the seed corn is all germ-
inable.
—While the mows are fall of hay itisa
good time to fix the pulleys in the roof of
the barn for using the horse fork next year.
Noe so much danger of falling and getting
njured.
—When it gets so that we can dig a bis
of horseradish with the pick or crowbar, it
in a sure sign that spring is coming. Keep
op your spirits ; horseradish is the sore
forerunner of spring. — Farm Journal,
—According to the London Daily Mail,
there are several dairies for the production
of asses” milk in thas city, the milk heing
sent all over the country in sealed hotiles,
the price being sixfshillings (about $1.44)
a gnart. Is ix considered valuable for in-
valids or sickly children.
—Ou the island of Jersey, the home of
Jersey cattle, nu attention whatever is
paid to color, the great aim of the best
breeders being a graceful! form and grand
milking qualities. There are many colors
there, from the silver gray down to the
common red and white, avd a few, very
few, black.
—It i*a fact that small fruits can be
purchased in the larger cities during the
shipping season cheaper than in towns lo-
cated in the sections from whence the fruit
is sent away. Last season one town was
the point from which hundreds of crates of
strawberries were shipped, yet the people
of that town paid more for strawberries
than the prices obtained in the cities.
—When av apple orchard is cut up with
the saw and batchet, as is Jone every fall
by those who have too mauy limbs on the
trees, it indicates that no attention was
given to trimming the trees when they
were young. The proper time to shape a
tree is during the first year of its growth.
It is not profitable to compel trees to grow
large branches, only to remove them later.
The pruning knife can be of more service
at the start.
—The management of a garden does not
necessarily cause neglect of field crops on
the farm. No work paysso well as that
given the garden, as a larger amount of
prodnce, and of various kinds, can be se-
cared from the garden than from the culti-
vation of a large area. Every farmer who
gives a garden his attention usually is
Y | more careful of his other crops. Every
portion of the farm is kept clean and in
good condition,
—The time to form an opinion of a far-
mer and his methods is in the winter. If
he gives the manure heap much attention
it is a sure indication that he is progress
ive and keeps his land well supplied with
plant food. He may be careful of his stock
and have his farm attrective in many re-
spects, hut if he neglects the care and pres-
ervation of the wenuore be will be lacking
in proper knowledge of deriving the most
profit from farming.
—The use of commeicial fertilizers is in-
creasing, and as farmers become better ac-
guainted with the demands of their soile
and crops they will be able more wisely to
select the fertilizer best suited to their
needs. Neither the farmer nor the chem-
ist alove can always tell what brand of
fertilizer wiil best meet the case. This
wust be discovered by the farmer's mak-
ing carefal tects under the light given by
the teachings of the chemists.
—Polecats—a dozen of them—sare the
tenants of a curious farm maintained by
Walter Daniels and Joe Brown near Wash-
ington, O., two youths who say tbat in the
evil scented animals lies the nuclens of a
fortune. They bave a market for the pelts
of the cats at $3.50 apiece, and in addition
to this extract an amount of oil from each
which will raises the individual value of
the animals to over $4. Their farm is five
flores in extent, inciosed by a tight wire
ence. :
—By means of the drainage of land the
various chemical actions which take place
through the action of the atmosphere on
the surface soil are carried down to a great.
er or less extent into the subsoil, for as the
water level is lowered the air enters from
above to fill the cavities in the soil. By
drainage also, the depth to which roots
will penetrate is increased, for roots will
not grow in the absence of oxygen, and
they rot as scon as they reach a permanent
water level,
—There is uo more loss in storing pota-
toes than in storing any other crop. Bar-
ring all wastes from rot, there is a heavy
shrinkage, both in quantity and weight.
A bin holding 100 husbels will shrink in
size nearly one-tenth, besides a greater loss
in weight. A bushel basket full that will
weigh fully 60 povsde in October, when
taken from the soil, will not weigh so
much after being stored in the cellar
through the winter. The shrinkage in
weight is much less when potatoes are kept
in pits closely covered with earth, for there
is then less chance for evaporation.
—Ground millet seed is excellent feed
for hoge. Is bas a notritive ratio of 1—5.4;
that is, 1 of albuwminoids and 5.4 of car-
bobydrates. This isa good fattenivg ra-
tio, and is will depend upon the relative
price of corn whether the two should be
ground together. Hall millet and half
corn, ground fine, will make a more suita-
bie proportion than corn alone. The pork
will have a better p jon of lean, and
the pigs will be healthier while fattening.
Ground millet will be found a very appro-
Prine food for young pigs, giving them a
aud more muscular frame.
—Que of the most surprising facts con-
nected with farm ex iu the United
States today is the little attention farmers
are paying to oat smut, which is rapidly
increasing in many localities and is greatly
reducing the oat crop. The wonder is
greater oat smut can be quite
laigely prevented by treating the seed oats
to a bath of formaldabyde. This material
costs but 50 cents a pound, says the Fra.
mers’ Review, and t is enough for 50
lous of water. This makes a solution
which the oats may bedipped and which
will destroy most of the smnt spores, All
farmers that grow oats should take steps at
Suge to prevent the forther spread of this
ungus.
—Organic matter in manure seems to be
chiefly to make the land work better, and
in absorbing and retaining moisture. So
many are disposed to attach a mysterious
Yalue iv sae exciements of animals, “od to
n some special properties are im-
patted to these in the traseformation of
ood through the body of the ansmal, that
they will nos readily accept the idea that
the manuring properties of dung are con-
fined to the chemical salts which it con-
tairs. It must be borne in mind that ex-
perimental fields receive wo manure, nor
does any animal enter them, except the
horses which ouitivate them and carry off
the crop. Unless, therefore, the plants can
thrive on chemical salts, they could not be
there.
A