——— "Bellefonte, Pa., January 4, 1807. KNOWING HOW. I've sometimes heard my grandpa tell That folks who know just how to smell Can get the summer from one rose, Or from a little breeze that blows, And father says, no matter where You live, if you will just take care And make the best of rour two eyes You'll see so much you'll grow real wise, And then my mother's often heard One litile pleasant-spoken word That's made somebody smile and smile, And fee! cheered up for quite a while, They say it doesn’t matter much Whether a child has such and such; It's how she'll learn to “make things do’; And p'r'aps it's so with grown folks, too. — Elizabeth Lincoln Gould, In The Congregation alist. MOIRA. One day when her aunt was specially busy, Moira went to she Riding Academy. Is was at luncheon that Auns Laura said : “This is my afternoon to visit the ball- organs classes in manual training.” oira asked : ‘‘Are the whole-orphans trained differently, Aunt Laura ?”’ And her aunt explained quite seriously thas the new assistant rector had some ex- cellent ideas of helping the hall-orphans, that they might be of assistance to the re- maining parent, and might become sell- su ng at the earliest possible moment. **You see,” she elaborated in ambiguous plurals, “if they have mothers, they aren’ often able to support thew, let alone bav- ing them taught anything ; aod if they have fathers they almost always marry again, and the first wile’s children are usually negieoted. It is a most worthy ob- jeot, aud one I am glad to add to my list. Nothing, my dear Moira, is so pathetic and helpless as an orphan.” “That is quite true,”’ assented Moira. Then Aunt Laura remembered that she really would have done much better not to bave made that remark, for the small, pale niece sitting opposite her had been a balf- orphan and was now bereft of both mother aud father. Out of the West had come Moira, ous of the Golden State that she loved with all ber heart ; saddened, bewildered by her fath- er’s death, straight across the broad, aod it seemed to her endless, continent, the train had borne her to the Eastern Gate,and here in New York she was beatiug the wings of her soul against the padded prison bars of her aunt's ugly, comfortable home. vision ; developed and fixed as he rode along ; his oopleasant reflec- tions would not leave . He shook his bead impatiently as if to rid himself of something that prevented bim from returning to his thooghts; thoughts tbat weren't pleasant ones, bus which Baubsed, threatened, tempted and m. Finally ke wheeled his horse and gallop- ed up the drive. The three girls bad tarn- ed alse and were cantering hack, the two grooms the right number of lengths in the rear. Moira’s face had brightened a little. The hija and the exercise even if inalleyuste nD unsym company, given NY mpuihaic vou un But she was lonely, desperately lonely. Conversation with the Talbots was a dispiriting affair, carried on across the high fence of incom- patibility. Was this what ber life with Aunt Laura was going to be always ? Half- orphans, Talbot girls, calls from the as- sistant rector, as shut-up bhrougham with wide green backs to | at, and a miles- away aunt beside her! It was a horrible Ife, an uonastaral, suffocating life, and tears of hopelessness rose to Moira’s eyes. She looked away from the Talbot girls wondering bow she could ges her hand- kerchief to remove the tears without as- tracting attention, and she found herself looking straight into the face of the man who bad ridden the way she liked to ride, bat who had pulled his horse into a canter and was looking straight at her. The teats shook themselves from her eyes just as she discovered the face before her, avd in a second they had each other. ‘Poor listle obild,’”’ the man heard him- sell saying. “‘I wish I koew him !"’ cried Moira, with heart, and then she blushed all over her face nt what ber heart bad said. ‘‘Had you an enjoyable ride ?”’ asked Aunt Laura at dinner. Moira said yes, and her aunt praised the ‘Talbot girls. She said it was nice for Moira to bave them to ride with. Then she told her niece all about the manual classes and what the assistant rector had said and done, and how he had called it his pet work, the child of his heart and brain. And Moira gathered that Aunt Laura was proud and happy to he the stepmother of the charity that called the assistant rector flasher. As Moira took her soup she saw quite distinctly the figure of a man sitting tight to his saddle and riding rather faster than the law permits down the gravelly path by the river. Then she listened to Aunt Laura, and after a while, as she ate her salad, she saw the head and shoulders of someone be- fore her, but blarred a little and indistinct. Then when she sipped her coffee she found, in place of Anut Laora’s countenance op- posite her, a man’s face ; a stern mouth, shat tight as if to keep its own counsel, and two marvelonsly dark eyes that melted from inquiry to a tender sympathy. And Moira marmared, ‘It wounid be nice,” and shen caoght hersell in fright. ‘I wonder," she said timidly, ‘‘il there's any way I could ride this afternoon? I think I would like—"’ “The very thiug,’”’ bioke in her aunt, cordially ; “Gertrude Talbot's girls go every Thursday and I'll drive you to the Academy. You can get a horse there, and if you care to go often, your guardian can select a nice gentle animal tor you. Why, the very thing, Moira ! I’m giad you spoke of is.” Moira was sorry. The keen longing in her heart had been fur plenty of space, a road, a long road, aud a something of springy muscle, steady stride, and obedient intelligence under her ; something called a horse, not those mindless creatures the Talbot girls rode. Moira had met the Tal- bot g'rls and she judged their horses ac- cordingly. She went to her room and put on her habit, crowding back the memories which leaped from its folds, leaped from the gaunt- leted gloves, leaped from the gold-knobbed crop with ‘““Moira’’ seratchied on it in ber father’s hand. She looked very calm and sweet as she met Aunt Laura in the ball below. And her aunt put up a lorgnette and said in pleased surprise : “‘A really well-cat gar- mens, my dear. And not made in New York? Well, really !"’ Then they got into the brongham with only the top of one window down ; not any air must come in on the side where Aunt Laura's nenralgia was, and they drove off behind the fat horses and the fat backs of Thoms aod Burns. Aunt Laara looked out and howed to passing friends, hat Moira looked straight abead at the broad green coat of Thomas. Aont Leura didn’t say much, for she was thinking of the new assistant rector and the manual classes for the poor children, and what a noble work it was, and how glad she was that the Lord bad chosen hr to help, and how well it was that the assistant rector had concurred with the Lord’s choice, because Gertrude Talbst would have given her very eyes to have been the chairman of the committee bersell. So they came to the Ridiog Academy. The Talbot girls were there waiting for them, and their horses were tamed, trained creatures, correct in every appointments, as were their young mistresses, who expressed their pleasure in polite, well-chosen terms, at seeing Moira. They cantered out of the street and to- ward the Park, in charge of two grooms. Aunt Laura watched them ous of sight and with a sigh of relief re-entered the ham The Talbos girls and Moira rode side 4 side. Jig, jig, jig. Jig, jig, jig. Th wasn't riding. Is was ng along on a borse—she hated it. She wished she hadn’s come. She made polite replies to the Tal- bot girls’ inquiries as to how she liked New York, and she responded as gratefully as possible to their hope and belief that when the days of her mourning should be ended, she could go forth in radiant garments into that wonderful, fascinating land called So- ciety, where one danced and dined and re- ceived attention—here they glanced at Moira doubtfually. The elder of the Talbots told her sister afterwards that she didn’t think Moira would make much of a hit with the men (the elder sister was apt to be a trifle care- less in her expressions when off the younger reminded her thas Moira’s for- tune was of mavy figures, and she added honestly : “She bas quite a way when she smiles or speaks.” W the elder recalled with unpleasant distinctness a speech of one man she knew,a moss eligible man. It was after he bad talked to Moira : “Gad, what eyes ! You ean’s forget em.” Aunt Laura beamed upon her across the table. ‘“‘I was afraid yon'd say no, dear eld. I will take you next Thursday. | Dear Dr. Stone will be so pleased.” And i she found she had committed hersell to | visit the manual training class. Ax the weeks went hy Moira adjosted heiself to conditions. She soon realized that Aoot Laora’s philanthropy was chronic, not just a pow-and-then occurrence; her absences from home were frequent, her tune and attention practically absorbed in the new project. Moira called on the Talbot girls, reported them well and full of social engagements. She drove up the Park, through Seventy- second streets to the Drive, around Clare- mont, down the Drive, across Seventy- second street, down the West Side, across and out at Fifty-ninth street and home. She reported having had a pleasant drive ; that the Smythes and the West-Jones were driving also, and had stopped their car- ringes aud bad epoken to her. She ob- tained from ber guardian a goodly check for the ball-orphaus, and presented it, via Aunt Laura, to the assistant rector. Aunt Laura told her friend, Mrs. Tal- bot, that she conldn’t wish fora sweeter niece, or one more in sympathy with her charities. Bat there were hours, many of them, when Moira was not calling on the Talbots, nor getting checks for the charities, nor watching dreamily the broad green backs of Thomas and Burns. And these hours, strangely enoagh, were seldom alluded to by Aunt Laura, and grew to be Moira’s lile, her very own. Her guardian had selected for her a horse, a gentle creature of the Talbot va- riety. Moira bad accepted it with a quiz- zi-al look and, ‘‘It's very nice I'm sure.” She rode that horse Thursday with her two companions, But one day a tlender gray figure dash- ed up to the tridle path, with a color in its cheek and a light in its eyes that brought an answering giow to someone who saw it. And the horse that hore the s'ender figure was a real Jive horse, an ani- mal thas cocked its ears as bits of paper and made believe it was going to fly to pieces as the *‘chuzging’’ of a motor-car. Someone saw the two fly by, someone i tarned and folicwed. Someone sas very | straight and nnuoticiog as he rode hy the gray little figure on the beautiful Llack horse, but he caught the turn of a proud head and knew that the gray eyes that had haaoted him bad looked straight at hin. The next minute the black horse had bolted. Like an arrow Le was off. Past the man he flew, the small hands of bis rider tuggiog gallantly at the reius. Moria had been off ber guard. It was no easy job to pull in Bold Billy, when she bad bim fair- y well in band. Now he bad caught her napping aod was showing he: a thing or two. th was clear. Morin settled to her The SI Ari but wondering how long she would have the road wo emt; was hind her. Bold Billy heard it, too, and wagged his ears wickedly, and increased bis stride & bit. And Moira laughed a lit- tle, for she knew someone was going to reach her before the mix-up took place. And she knew who the someone was. Not name, of course, hut that didn’t mat- knew bim, bad koown him since y in the Park when she turned her filled eyes straighs on two that koew knew her instantly. t close behind her, e girl, steady !"’ and 8 around, there was a brown muzzle Billy’s flank aud then the brown mare’s head came alongside, and then a gloved hand reached ous for Bold Billy's It was all over, aad Bold Billy, not a bit ashamed, walked baughtily by the brown was her fault, that she had been inattentive, that she knew Billy was apt to bolt, bus he never did it if you kept him remembering that you knew about it. : 55 SEES £8 in a voice that shook just a bis, “Yoar freaple shonldn’t give you a horse like Moira said, and her voice shook a little, too, that she didn’t have any people exorpt an aunt and a guardian, and thas they had bought her a little sheep called Maud, and it was because she had to ride this other animal on Thursday that she had been oh- liged to bay Bold Billy. The man nodded as il he understood Moira’s incoherent statement. Then Moira said quite holdly, ‘I have not told my aunt ahont Billy, and I'm not going tn.” She spoke as she need to speak to her lath. er sometimes, throwing herself on his meroy. Then she added, ‘It would only worry her.” “It would only worry her,” the man who had stopped Bold Billy echoed, but he also said, *‘Do be very careful.” Moira raised grateful eyes. “I will he very carefal,’’ she said, softly. Then be turned abruptly and she rode towards home. He swore ronndly at himself, alter he had left her, that he had not said more, and as she rode alone she felt newly herefs, as if some heauntifol thing had touched her with gentle fingers and then, just as sne was asking what is was, had vamshed. So one rode north and one rode south, hus their souls called back to each other over the lengthening miles, If anyone could bave told Moira why she went, on every possible opportunity, and had Bold Billy saddled and got heel! into a state of excited expectation, and rode and rode, and why she came home depressed and lonelier than ever, she would have been frightened, shocked perhaps. Bat she bad not put it in words, the whys and wherefores of it, amd when you don’s pus things to yoursell in words, you're likely not to recognize them. So Moira followed the impulse of her heart, and it led her to the places where she bad seen him, And at last one day he could stand is no longer, and hedid the same thing—had his brown mare saddled, and rode over the places where he bad seen her. And right at the first place they met; he raised his hat very soberly, and she howed as sedately as thoogh her heart were not pounding so bard it hare. Then at the place where Bold Billy got the bis in his teeth they met again. This time he looked as her steadily, his mouth quite stern, but she was not afraid, for she saw his eyes. And there, where he had asked her to be very carefal, they met for the third time, for he had wheeled about as he bad done before, and Moira smiled and said, “I don’t believe I even thauked you.” At her words the stern mouth relaxed, and be answered : **Then you will now, won't you ? for I've wanted to hear your voice again.” Moira was not offeuded at all. She fels happier than she bad for a year, and dif- ferently happy from any time in ber life. 80 ashe cantered along beside him, and they talked ahout anything and nothing, and she forgot that it was Tharsday, till the two Talhots and the groom passed them; then Moiia went quite white and the man at her sille remembered that she had been with two nondescript girls on the first day he had seen her, and felt what bad happened. He blamed lumself bitterly, He leaned towards her. “I remember them,’ he said in a low tone. ‘But you have done nothing you shall ever be sorcy for. Tomonow I shall look up someone who knows us hoth, There's got to be someone, and I will heg to be properly presented. Don’t hlame yourself, it was my fanlt.” Moira’s head lifeed. “There has been no fault,” she said quietly. But there was a white line about her mouth, though her eyes met his bravely. The Talbot girls were saying : *‘Well, of all things ! Never even told us she knew bim. Kitty Waring would be pleased,” and, ‘“‘He looked terribly impressed, didn’t he? Oh, that’s off. Kitty aud Jack have made it all ap.” The next day they rode together quite without question, and the next, and the pexi. And be koew that she came from the glorions State of California, that she loved the length and breadsh of it; that her father was dead; that her name was Moira ~her riding crop bad told him that,and he knew that ker eyes were softer and grayer than any be bad ever seen, with a some- thing behind their softness that made him long to look deeper than he dared. And she kvew that his voice, when be Spoke to ber, was tenderness and protection and sympathy, all that father’s voice had been to her aud more—something uoknown, but more. About this time the Talbot gitls called and Aunt Laura received them. “Moira is out,” she said. ‘‘She will be 80 sorry to have wissed you. I think she has gone to order some materials for the manual-treining classes. The dear child is so impulsive aod generons.”’ The elder Miss Talbot smiled sweetly, **We met Moira in the Park as we were driving down.” And the younger added : ‘‘That black Bore Is a beauty, but hardly alady’s horse, 8 it? Aunt Laura slipped into her armor with marvelous swiftness, ‘Moira can manage any horse, I think,” she said pleasantly. *‘I am glad she got throngh in time to ride. It’s abous the only thing she cares for just uow, poor child.” **What horse are they talking about 9” she was asking herself. The younger Miss Talbot smoothed a gloved finger. ‘‘She is fortunate in hav- ing so fine a horseman for au escort,’ she said, and smiled inclusively at Aunt Laara and her sister. Aunt Laura's armor held gould, She smiled back and hoped her face didn’t look as stiff as it felt. “She is fortunate, "she agreed, and then added boldly, ‘‘and so is he.”’ Then she the subject. They bade her adien a little later, and she sat down to think. Her thoughts were not pleasant ones. She had ected Moira, her dead hroth- er's only child ! She went toa window to watch for her uiece, and as she stood there she Blasued many things for Moira. She would earn the ohild’s confidence. It should never be on her conscience again that she bad left her to the mercy of those spiteful creatures, the Talbot girls. And go Aunt Laura stood and waited. Oat on a country road Moira was riding, close beside Billy was the brown mare. The early Spring twilight was clos- ing in. "We must go baock,’’ said Moira. ‘‘We must,” said the man, reluctantly, They turned their horses, : “Moira " “Yes! He leaned over and took ker hand. a day I saw you, little girl, that first J weem— “I remember.’ Sm *“There was, had been, someone who had made me reckless. I could not have what I thought I wanted. Then I saw you and I knew I had never wanted anyone before, Do you believe me 7° “I believe youn." “There will never be anyone bat youn, Moim."? She tarned and looked as bim. “I don’t want there to be,” she said in a whisper. He drew her glove from the hand uvear- est him; the soft little palm turned to his, He took from his fioger a seal, a ring heavy and massive, “With this sing,’’ he said,—*'till I can ges another,” ‘I don’t want another,’ said Moira, and she kissed the stone. “If only is might be now, Moira !"* She started. “Now ” *‘Have you anyone for me to ask #"’ ‘*No one to ask, exaotly. [am free.” He checked the horses. “Shall we turn ? There isa small town a few mils on.” Her clear gray eyes looked into his “Will you always love me 2" To the end of my life and yonie,”’ “I will go.” They eameons of the rectory an hour later. He pur her upon Boid Billy and he mouonted the brown mare. He held her band tight as they rode slowly through the soft evening dark and she asked no ques- tions, They turned at last through a gateway. A big, rambling house lay at the end of a winding drive, *“This ia your home," he said. ‘My home,’ she echoed. ‘Is everything prepared for my wile ?" he asked, as the old housekeeper gave him welcome, ‘Everything, wir.” Through the wide hall and up the broad, shallow stairs he led ber. At a door he paused and opened it. A sitting room, rose scented, a dressing room bevond, and glimpses in the smaller room of silken »tufls, ‘It is ready for yon,” he said. “I will wait below.” With shaking fingers she put off her bahit, brushed ber shining bair and slipped into the soft, trailing gown. She ran down the stairs and across the hall to the hearth where he stood. “You knew I would come ?'’ she asked. Her hands trembled as they clasped his arm, and he took them in his. y hoped yon would come,” he answer- ed. ‘‘Have the rooms been arranged for me long #'* ‘‘Since the day Bold Billy ran.” She drew her s from bis and rested them on his arms again. “You are my husband 2" “Yea.” ‘‘And I am your wile ?"’ “Yes, Moira." ‘And yet I am noi afraid.” He stooped and lifted her from her feet, holding her tight to his heart. He kissed her eyes, her hair, her month. Her arms orept about his neck and she pressed his cheek to hers. *‘Ob,’’ she whispered, so low he conld scarcely catch the words, ‘Oh, I'm glad— I'm glad—I'm not alraid.”—By Anne Story Allen, in the Delineator. Heart's Ballet Verse. Ambrose Bierce Tells Why Written. the Quatrain was About 20 years ago, writes Ambrose Bierce in the Washington Herald, I was living in in Oakland, Cal. One day as I lounged in my lodging there was a gentle, hesitating rapat the door. On opening it I found a young man—the youngest young man, it seemed to me, that 1 had ever seen. His manner and appearance—his attitade —his entire personality soggested extreme timidity. I did not invite him in, instate him in my best chair (I bad two,) aud in- quire how I could have the honor to serve bim. If my recollection is not at fauls! mefsly said ‘Well?’ aod awaited the re- salt. “I am from the San Francisco Examiner," he explained in a voice like the fragrance ol a violet made audible, and backed a little away. “Oh!” I said, ‘““youn come from Mr. Hearss.”’ And then that unearthly child lifted its blue eyes and cooed, *‘I am Mr. Hearst.” His father bad given him a news and he bad come to hire me to write for it. Tweoty Jears of what his newspapers call ‘‘wage slavery’’ evnsaed, and although I have had many a fight with some of hia editors for the right to retain my self -re- spect I cannot say that I ever found Mr. earst’s chains a very heavy burden. In illustration of the man’s generous at- titude toward —well toward me—take this instance: Among the es from Mr. Hearst's papers which Secietary Root quoted as incitements to assassination were these four lives of verse: The ballet shat pierced Goehel’s chess Cannot be found in all the West, Good reason; it is speeding here To stretch McKinley on the hier. Twenty months after bis quatrain ap: peared in the New York Journal McKinley was assassinated. Was that more than a coincidence? Undoubtedly; the crime was the natural consequence of the kind of politics aud the kind of justice against which the verse was intended as a protest and a warning. The author of it had re- peatedly hitterly dencanced the murder of Goebel, and was friendly to McKinley. I ought to know, for I am be. Well, we all remember what happened to Mr Hearst and the Journal immediately after McKinley's death, and has continued to happen ever since, with a special and particular revival by Root, and some of us have good reason tn remember the rascally use made of my indignant propheoy, garbled and perverted to suit the occasion. Doubtless those lines cost Mr. Hearst tens | of thousands of dollars. I have not hitherto cared ‘to mention the matter, and-—this is what I am coming to—Mr. Hearst has never mentioned it to me. I fancy there is a human side to the character of a man like that. —'Tommy,"’ said the hostess, ‘‘you ap- pear to be in deep thought.” ‘‘Yes'm,” replied Tommy, ‘“‘ma "me somethin’ I me to have some cake or anything, an’ I bin here so long now I forgit what it was.” + —Little Boy: My wamma has so much money that she can bay everything she wants to. Listle Girl: That's nothing. M is so rich she can hay all the doesn't want. — Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. ings she a inn FOR AND ABOUT WOmEN. DAILY THOUGHT. When a wise man bestows a favor he immedi. ately forgets it. When a fool receives a favor he does likewise, Boots are higher this season thao they bave been for several years, aod the fad is a very sensible one for cold weather. What is kuown as the “‘seven-inch boot’ is extremely popular. Battous and cloth tops area very import- ant part of moss of the new boots. The cloth tops come, of conse, in the plain col- ors, but the invisible plaids are rather bet- ter when one does not stick to black. Many women are baving boos tops made to watch their tailored gowns. Avother feature of the new boots is the wooden Cabau beel. This makes the shoe much lighter for walking than when the bee! was buils of leather, The up-to date woman will have her hat trimming on the right side instead of on the lefs. If she cares for flowers in winter millinery she is apt to choose roses or, per. haps, fuchias. The latter are decidedly new. « She will also be careful in the selec- tion and adjostment of her veil, for it gives the finishing touch to her bat. Black veils must not be worn with very light hats or gowns unless there is a touch of black somewhere about the costume. Match the hat in the veil whenever is is possible, hut don’s make a fright of your self in doing is. For instance, a blue veil is apt to make a woman with a bright color look purple, especially if the mesh is small. Since many of the winter suits and coats are made with elbow sleeves, long gloves are as much in demand as ever. Some of the very newest are fleece lined, which must add greatly to the wearer's comfort. Separate armlets are still sold, and one dealer is showing a pair built of black suede and ornamented with exquisite em- broidery. The price asked for this novelty is natarally a big one, but even if it were not, it is hardly probable that the notion would meet with wide favor. Brown and green and the smoke tints that were promised such vogue at the be- ginuing cf the season still liold their own, but several new colors are creeping into favor. There is adull mingliog of brown and rose which is called rosewood; there are coppery browns that are almost red, and there are many shades of bronze. Blue is worn a great deal, too. satisfactory color and becoming to so many people. Royal and sapphire blue and what are known as the ecclesiastical shades are among the popular blues. There is also a Nattier blue (which takes its name from the color used in some of Nattier's piotures) that is very much liked. Itis a Check or plaid suits have vests and eol- lars of black moire, braided in soutache braid. Mavoy of the plain colored suiis bave these moire vests and the oollars eith- ler in self-color or in black. Vests are teen on a great many of the new gowns. Ope in a black-and-white striped cloth had a vest of coral chiffon broadcloth. Many black costumes in the handsomer materials are heavy braided, and have just a glimpse of color introduced into them somewhere. A touch of blue is pretty Brown and black are heing combined a great deal this year. Ribbon is being used a great deal. Maoy of the hair ornaments are made of it. So are some of the ever-popular rosettes for slippers. Pompadour ribhous are seen everywhere. Colored umbrellas are coming into favor. They are in brown sand green and their varing shades to match the new winter cos- tomes. Some of the most striking of the umbrellas have a border of a contrasting or harmonizing color. Mofls continue to be big and flat. One of the newest was shaped like a cresent, and bad two fur heads and a claster of tails by way of a finish. Some of the full sleeves are kept in shape by little lawn puffs, which are put in be- tween the lining and the outside material. Sometimes little puffs of iawn or taffeta are used to keep blouse fronts in place. Soak lamp wicks in vinegar, then dry them thoroughly to keep the lamp from smoking. When lighting a ga< stove it will often give a slight explosion and light wrong. thus cansing no heat. Turn the gas off very quickly and on again. It will then light properly without any further ticable. Wheu putting away tea and coffee pots which are not in daily use, lay a little stick across under the cover. This will Jet the air in and prevent the mustiness which is sure to result if the pot be closed before it is absolutely dry. 1t sounds uncharitable to say it, but it's unfortunately true, that a great many e in this world who are extremely well born lack the first principles of good breeding. Perhaps it is because they sist in iguoring she very basis of breeding itself, which is coosideration for other people's fealings. It is well bred to be careful and dainty in your person and dress, because slovenli- ness is au offense to other le’s sight. Isha well bred fo use a [i Ra of your fingers, to take your soup in spoon instead of noisy galps, to em a napkin instead of the back of your , because attention to such minor details insures a certain amount of comfort to your compan- ions at the table. It is well bied to speak in a well modu- lated voice, to use good Eoglish, to bave something interesting to talk about, be- cause things do not jar on your neigh- bor’s ear. Now doesn’t it seem a pity thas illoa- tured gossip, since it destroys other people's characters; skillfally made thrusts at other people's weak points, nnnecessary sarcasms aud frigid, socalled politeness cannot he put upon the tabooed list as ill bred? FARM NOTES. —To have your cows milk long, milk them clean. — Keep the farm separator clean, inside and outside. —Upeven salting and working makes streaky hatter. —Do not keep over small hatches of skim milk: Feed it while it is sweet. —When the butter sticks to the worker, the latter was not scalded properly. Rub it with salt and scald again. ~—Dehorn, and stanch the blood with chloride of iron; better, however, to start with the young calves aod stop growth of n. It don’t pay to keep cows for a side issue. Get the hest and make dairying'a Bunineas jost like any branch of farm work. ~—In the enccessful dairy, kindness to animals, careful attention to cleanliness 30% the comforts of the cow are sure to be ound. —There is no lounger any question that the earlier the calf is taken from its moth- er, the easier it will be to teach it to drink. —Milk regolarly and as quickly and clean ax posible, Some cows will let their milk down better while eating; bumor them. —Some expert gape growers contend that for the first two years the grape vines should he closely praned down in order to secare a good root growth, —In order to make a success of [raising the calf on skim milk, the condition of the milk most be uniformly sweet. Nothing, perhaps, will contribute more to produce scours in calves than to feed sweet milk one day and sour milk the next. — Interest on a vote rane night and day and never stops until the note is paid. Give the dairy cow the right kind of feed and while you sleep she will be turned into butter fas worth four times as much 88 the feed, and have it all ready when youn get up in the morning. ~The fertilizing value of bran is about $11 per ton. After the food properties bave been absorbed, there remains fifty pounds of wvitrogen, worth 16 cents a pound; fifty-three pounds of phosphoric acid avd thirty-two pounds or potash, most of which is available for fertilizer. —I notice an article in this week's issue of the Journal io regard to scours in calves. Now I bave one of the simplest remedies for scours i. any kind of stock; I give it to horses, cows, hogs and all kinds of stock, and it hes never yes failed. It is rosin—a teaspoonful of pulverized rosin in their feed, aud it stops it almost at once. May- be you can use it. —In many localities the English spar- rows have hecome a great nuisance. To poison them is dangerous. To make an effective trap, buy wire screening and make a box cage. Cover the top with thin bomds, make a large, 1ound hole in centie, inseiting a wire fannel just amall enough to pass throogh as lower end. Bait well, The bind bghting on the to of the cage will sew the bait through the tannel and readily pass shiough. —A lady remarked to the 1eprereniative of the Formers’ Review the other day Yhat sweet clover bad been introduced from Europe aud had become a terrible weed. Bat ic is a beneficent weed. It takes pos- session of the waste places and loves them bess where the ground is bardess. It drives its roots deep into the soil and mellows 1b. On its roots feed the bacteria tbat create the tabercles. In their homes these bac- teria munufacture into available nitrates the free nitrogen of the air. They thus plow the ground, fertilize it and make way or other plants. ~—Very maoy horses suffer with thrush, or swollen and cracked feet, often the el- fects of laminities, eto. The remedies giv- en by veterinarians, consisting of standing the feet in sulpbate of copper, eto., are complicated and difficalt to follow. Here is a simple and weve: failing remedy for this olass of ailments, so far as local appli- Sations go Raise the foot and pour on some fine table salt, which should be pressed into all the cracks and ppestiugs of the foot. Over this pour a small quantity of coal oil, holdiug the foot up until it soaks in well. One or two applications will prove effectual. —One of the great ng for rota- tion of crops is the eradication of weeds. Weeds, we will always have, so the pro- blem is to reduce them to the minimum. Some weeds presist in evading the corn cultivator, but succumb to grass crops; other weeds, as the cockle barr, mustard, eto., thrive in grass and grain crops, but are easily votten rid of with a cultivator. Bus with all our careful work, some rapid spreading weeds persist in coming in from neighboring fields. The main problem of getving a stand of alfalfa is a matter of clean land. Alfailu refuses to grow among rank weeds, bus let is get a good start, and weeds have no chance whatever. —The following which is clipped from a bulletin, may be taken for what itis worth: “A dram of iodide of potash is given twice a day for from two weeks to twenty days. For cattle weighing 1200 pounds or more the dose is somewhat increased, and lessened for calves. If pus is present in the lump, it should be let out by incision, In a few refractory cases a second period of treatment may he required after resting for ten days. Ahout eighty per cent of recoveries be expected. Affected animals should be kept away from the healthy aod off the pasture field. inthe case of milk cows, the milk should not be used.” —The Detroit Rural Magazine gives a remedy for a choked cow, which might be available for other choked animals. Itis: “Take fine-cut chewing tobacoo, she strong- er the better, enough to make a ball the size of a hen’s egg, dampen it with molas- of | 9e8 or any sir ilar substance so that it will Where slovely, aise due molmava bead, pull out the tongue tt own the throat as far as A te. In a short time it will cause sickuess and vomiting, which relaxes the muscles so that what- ever is choking the animal will be thrown up. If any person thinks this will not work, just les him try it on himself, es- pecially one who is not used to tobacco, and see how quickly it will work. Istisa simple, sensible and positive remedy.” ~—Forty Jerseyuisn walked uader the North river from Fifteenth street, Jersey City, to Morton street, Manhattan, a few days ago. We sball all be riding onder the North river soon.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers