RR We shall do so much in the years to come, But what have we done today? We shall give our gold in a princely sum, Bat what did we give today? We shall lift the heart and dry the tear, We shall plant a hope in the place of fear, We shall speak the words of love and cheer, But what did we speak today? We shall be kind in the after while, But what have we been today? We shall bring to each lonely life a smile, But what have we brought today? We shall give to truth a grander birth, And to steadfast faith a deeper worth, We shall feed the hungering souls of earth, But whom have we fed today? We shall reap such joys in the by-and-by, But what have we sown today? We shall build us mansions in the sky, But what have we built today? "Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask, Bat here, and now, do we do our task? Yes, this Is the thing oursouls must ask, “What have we done today? ~Nixon Waterman, THE ELEMENTAL. Billings sat in the snow and watched the freight train disappear around the bend. “Hell of a game,” be mustered, as he sorambled to his feet. ‘‘To take a man's last four cents and then call him off. I wonder where I am.” When discovered by the trainmen, Billings was asleep in an empty ; bis offer of four cents was acoept- ed, then he was bounced. The day was bitingly cold, and every snarling gust of wind searched a fresh hole in his clothing ; the snow chilled his feet ; his teeth ed against each other. Night was falling, and he bad no resting: place. “‘Got to get somewhere,”” he muttered. “Wish I bad some of that coin I blowed. Well, bere goes for luck.” He struck away down the railroad track, intent to find a farm-houee, the snow per- colating through she rents of his shoes up- on the dirty toes, and his feet slipping on she ties. Drawing the dilapidations of his garmeuts tight around him, he shuddered in their insufficiency, as his desponding figure sloucbed along. The jeering wind out in hetween the abortive collar and his neck, and Billings indulged in commensu- rate profanity. After a little he stopped and gazed around. The distance was hazy with hoar for it was too cold to snow. A thin ripple of smoke filtered up to the dismal skies. For a while he stood, then plunged into the snow toward it. A sunken fence wire caught his toe and pitched him headlong ; the barb lengthened the rip in his right shoe, and more chilly flakes insinoated themselves. He arose and struggled for- ward, falling into ditches and staggering wildly over stubble. Ouce, as he trod on deceptive ice, it broke and let bim down ; when he sorambled out, he was wet to mid- thigh, and the splintered ice had plowed a jagged furrow in his leg ; he bound his neckerchief around it, the blood staining bis dirty fingers. He whimpered as he dragged himsell along, cold and hungry, almost frozen; but the bouse was looming closer, and with it food and shelter. His feet were void of feeling, and Lis bands namb, as he rattled with his elbow on the door. A woman, thin and faded, of a colorless individuality, opened it. She carried a obild, about fifteen months old, in her arms, and Billivgs could see she was very near her trouble. **Well,”" she barshly queried, ‘‘what do you want ?"’ “I’m a honest man, lady,’ he answered, with bis professional whine, “ont of work; and cold and hungry. Could you belp we a bite to eat and let me sit by your fire to warm myself ?'’ ‘‘No,” replied the woman. “‘We don’t want no tramps around here.’”’ She said it more with indifference than animosity. “I ain’t got nothing for you,” and shat the door. Billings’ experience was catholic, and be should have been prepared, but the woman impressed him with sach a terrible forlorn- ness, that he had expected better things. When be beard the lock click as she torn- ed the key, despair obtained the mastery, and he sat on the steps, his head in his bands. He was aroused by a tapping on the win- dow and, with hope 1eawakened, raised his head. The woman was motioning to him, and he went close to understand. ‘‘Lady,” said he, “I'm starving, and I'll work for what you give me. Help a poor man to a little food, misais.”’ “Goaway,” she ordered. “I'll do the work,” said he desperately. “Christ, madam, do you want to murder me?’ ‘If you don’t leave, I'll set the dog on you,” was her avswer. The man gave up ; such flinty indiffer- ence staggered him, some way it assorted 80 ill with the decorous gravidity of the | Woman. With weighted footsteps he stood a mo- ment pondering, then directed bis course toward the barn. A dog came and looked wonderingly at bim as be examined the door; it was locked. The dog came closer and licked the bloody cloth around his leg; then, as the man bent for a stone to smash the staple, bit him. Billings cursed with horrible profanity avd forced his frozen limbs stumblingly away. The legs of his trousers were stiff with ice where the water had frozen upon them, and below the knees he had no feeling, save for a little tingle back of his wound. Some- times he would stagger runniogly, then, if his foot strnck an inequality, he stumbled; occasionally he fell. Automatically he biasphemed ; when he discovered himself, he intentionally continued. Presently, he knew not how, he found himself close to some snow-laden pines ; he crawled beneath in the hope of shelter, sit- ting honohed together in a bundle, his frozen bande within the ragged coat. Then he siried upright for some one bad laugh- ed. Exocitedly, he hunted ; no one was near. Then, in wild su he beard it again and koew it for himself. Was he going mad? He thought be would if he stayed there, so he got up and wandered away. It wasdark hy now, and he knew little of his direction, or whither he went ; times be hit against things, once he bum into a tree, twice fell over fences, and the barbs tore deeper gashes in his rags. Then he found ft ttle jenu<ta, ne Side 4 pad a roof upheld by posts, undern a heap of snow. Unthinkingly ke disturbed is, and below was straw. In this he huddled for a space, but the chill caught his marrow,and he felt himself nodding. With a jerk it | { { evtered his mind that this meant death, and he arose and recommenced his stumb- lings. His stomach was fains, and be reached and swallowed a handful of snow ; the deadly cold within im grew terrible. He was stumbling over a field, the cornetalks soratohing his weary when he suddenly stumbled down a and saw the tracks of wheels. Something dark was close to him upon the road, and he seemed to hear the wail- ing of an infant ; looking close, he saw it was a woman carrying a ohild, without head-dress or cloak or decent outside cover- ing. Madam,” said his chattering voice, “for God's sake, tell me where I can get a piece of bread.” The woman pushed by with the orying baby. The tramp stood a moment, vague- ly wondering, then followed, just as he had done many times with prosperous men in cities. “Lady,” be continued, ‘‘I am a starving man. Tell me where I can get some shel- ”" The woman did not answer, and sudden: ly it was borne to Billings that is was she and pot the infant who was orying. A cn- rions feeling shook his faculties, a strange commotion seemed to stir some life within his frame ; here was one more helpless than even be, beoanse she was a woman. He marveled slightly at the odd emotion. “Lady,” said he, stumbling close, ‘‘kin I do anything for you ?”’ The woman turned a startled, swollen face, dimly discernible in the gloom, and Billings saw it was the woman who had re- fused him earlier in the evening. She stood and tried ¥o spent but succeeded only in producing ing sobs ; suddenly she let her arms drop, avd Billings, he knew not bow, caught the baby and saved it from a fall. “‘My husband,’’ said she at last, ‘came home drunk and tarved me and my oild cut of doors.” “The hell you say,’’ said the man. He felt he could guage her sufferings by hie own, ‘‘He didn’t mean to doit, eh?” ‘“Yes. Hestrock me, aud pitched me through the door.” “And he a man. Well, I carry the kid a bit. Where do you want to go ?”’ “I ain’t got nowhere to go.” ‘‘Let’s go back and see if he'll let us in.’ ‘‘He might. P’raps he ain't so drunk now." The woman walked in strange, contorted attitudes, and every now and then would interropt the silence with a plaintive moan. They reached the farm-house in a little while and bammered long before re- ceiving a response. Then a window open- ed, a man ieaut forth ; there was a flash, a detonating report, and Billings heard the charge of a shot scatter along the poroh. With a wild ery be whipped around the house ; be wondered that he still held the baby. A few seconds, and the woman joined him ; Billings thought about her trouble so near, and his heart filled to a strange pity. ‘‘Say,’’ he said, ‘‘ain’t you cold 2" “I am chilled clean through.” She was tant with the cold. The man heaved a deep sigh and, remem- bering her condition, discovered a strange humavity. ‘‘My coat ain’t much good,” said he, “‘but you better take it.”’ “Wrap it aronnd the child,” sbe an- swered. ‘‘The kid’s all right; put it on your- sell.” The cold night wind searched fearsome: ly through his wretched undercoat and vest,—he had no shirt,—and the little spurt of life the coming of the woman bad aronsed was flickering out. “We got to get somewhere,” he said presently, ‘‘We can’t stand here; you’ll freeze, and the kid’ll freeze and I'll freeze, aod that crazy brute inside may come out and blow off some more lead. We just got to get somewhere.” ‘‘Let’s go down to the barn,” she re- plied. “Yon bet. Got a key?" ‘1 can open it,”’ she answered, preceding him with a decorous propriety. As they orossed the yard, the dog came and smelt bis legs, bat though it growled, assumed no farther hostilities. The wo- fuan produced a key and opened the pad: ook. They groped an entrance within avd climbed to the haymow, where, witha deep #igh of content, Billings passed the child to the woman and dropped to the straw. Warmth, warmth, he would soon be warm. He threw it over him, burrow- ed in ¢i, and buried himself, all but his face. Then, with the re. turn of heat, came frightful pains, aud he groaned and thrashed around in agony. The woman took no notice. As be tom- bled about, his band struck something and smashed it; he felt as well as he could, with his frozen fingers, and discovered shat it was an A With horrible avidity be licked his band, sucked the straw, felt around and found a dozen more. Thinking voshing of good or rotten, he crushed them in bis mouth, smashed them in hie teeth, and swallowed shells and all. Six or eight he served thus, then told the woman. “What!” she said, ‘‘yon ain't eating them, and eggs so high? They’s wine ; thew are what I bave for my own.” ‘But, Lord, I'm starving. ain't eat today, avd I'm cold and hungry.” “Well, you ain’t got vo right to them ; they're mine, I tell you.” ‘All right,” said Billings, * I'll quit.” Even he, tramp and hobo, shuddered at the elemental selfishness of the woman. For a time there was quiet, broken now and then by a short moan from the woman, Billings felt that the eggs had done him good;avd dozed as much as his pains would allow, but feeling was returning to his limbs, and the gash in bis leg paived terri- bly. The frozen trousers were thawing and had become a sop of wet. Then the child began to cry, and the woman to cry, and the woman began a patient mo- notonous crooning ; the sound seemed to irritate instead of soothe, and the infant broke forth into wild shrieks of terror. ‘“‘Can’t you do nothing for the kid?" asked Billings, ‘‘He wants his bottle, and it’s in the house,” she answered ; then, continuing, *‘I wonder if Joe would let me in.” hear a, Jayhow, he replied, and ey rw own the and LT gee var Gove ts me The wind blew chill to the man, and his feet buroed like fire when the snow bit them ; he winced with agony as they shaf- fled to the house. The woman knooked at the door, bat they received no answer, and alter bammerings she pushed it open and tremblingly entered. After a space she returned. “He is asleep,” she said. ‘‘Here is your coat, give me the child,’”’ and then, with- out a word of re-entered the house aod shut the door in his face, He gazed upon it vacantly, then, with a jeering laugh, put on bis coat and limped away toward the barn. “Well, I'll be damned,’ said he, as he doorway, Bigh pio be S 40D fable le a date- stone, on w 0 -time one reads ‘‘1788." s b avon, This building is the old Eagle Sobool. Bo secluded is it that many summer vis- itors in the vicinity never find it in their search for the historic and picturesque, and yet it is well worth seeing. In the rear of the building is an old graveyard, separated from the schoolyard, the highway and adjoining fields by a stove wall and private hedge. Near the west side, facing the road, a granite bounld- er has been erected, on which a tablet has been fastened bearing this inscription: In Unmarked Graves. Within this Ancient Burial Ground Were Laid the Bodys of Many Soldiers of the American Revolution, Whose Names so far as known Are Ineribed upon this Boulder, In Grateful Remembrance of The Common Debt Due These Humble Patriots, This Memorial Was Dedicated Anno Domini M C M V, on the one Hundred and Twenty-ninth Anniversary Of The Declaration of Independence, Carved in the top of the stone are the words: NOT FAMOUS, BUT FAITHFUL, The early history of the place is envelop ed in mystery, its origin bein accounted for by a number of traditions. According to one, the place was founded by Arcadian refugees, but this fact is not well establis b- ed. The moss likely theory is that a few years prior to the Revolution some philan- shropist deeded two acres of land to trus- tees and dedicated it for ‘‘the general use and good of she neighborhood for religious, educational and burial purposes.’ A log building was erected on the land which stood about 20 fees north of the pres- ent stone building, It is believed there was some connection between this place and the old Lutberan oburoh at the Trappe, in Montgomery county. Many clergymen famous in that day preached here and there is a tradition that it wae occasionally visis- ed by the Revolutionary patriot Muahlen he date of the erection of the main part of the stone building is definitely fix- ed as 1788, whioh was built by several pub lic-spirited men of the vicinity. The log churob remained standing until 1805, when it wastorn down aud the logs used in building the old Huzzard house, about balf a mile north of the Eagle School. The original building was about hall as large as it is now, the cellar door then be- ing olcse to the southeast corner. The school house faced westward toward the road, which at that time ed much closer to the building. A large double door gave entrance to the schoolroom, while a small door at the southeast corner opeved into the cellar, where firewood was stored. The first schoolmaster was Brinton Evans, who was followed by Andrew Gar- den, a filer in the Revolutionary war. The school was supported by circulating a sab- scription throughout the neighborhood to induce parents to send their children to school at the rate of two dollars per quar- ter. This rate did not include books, slate, ink or goose-quills. However, the master agreed to sharpen quills for all comers. When the new school hoard system was introduced into the State this body grad. ually took the place of the trustees in the management of the old Eagle School. To this fact is due, no doubt, that in 1835 the building was enlarged, renovated and the old stone Jointing covered with a coat of plaster. e double doorway was walled up and an entrance made in the southeast end. This addition about doubled the capacity of the building, and so was con: tinued in use as a school house until 1872, when tbe old place was abandoned fora new one erected at Pechin’s Corners. The following year a negro squatter took forcible possession of the place, and for two years lived there in spite of legal pro- ceedings against him. Atthe end of this time he voluntarily left the place, after which it fell into almost absolute ruin. Julius F. Sachse, the historian, in writing about the Eagle Sohool in 1888, quoted as an apt desoription of the place Whittier’s poem : “Still sits the schoolhouse by the road, A ragged beggar sleeping ; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry vines are creeping.” Matters took a turn for the better in 1895, when, after years of litigation, the original trust was re-established by a de- cree of Court of Chester county. Tey were appointed by whom the property was restored. It is now used as a museum for historic relies and an historical and refer- ence library. — Record. Words Frequently Misnamed. Following Mr. Henry James, Mr. John D. Barry is now endeavoring to help Har- per’s Bazar to reform the careless speech of American women. Mr. Barry's suggestions are eminently simple and practicable. He says, among other things in the August Bazar : “We constantly hear such mispronoun- ciations in the street, on the stage, and even in the pulpit, as w'en, w’at, w’ich, w'ite, w’ether, all creating an effect of commoness, as well as of slovenliness. In the case of words ending in tle, on the other band, the tendency is not to suppress, but to add a vowel ; we hear, for example, gentul, littal, brittaol, settul, nessal, wres- sul, in the place of the more delicate gen- tle, little, brittle, sestle, nestle, wrestle. The final ness tends to become nuss, and we hear darknuss, sicknuse, dullnuss, sup- plenuss. As for the final ings, not ding 9 the g olipped, with the loss of the sylla- ble’s resonance, beautiful in sound sud useful in carrying-power, but when it is preceded by a syllable ending with a vowel the two syllables are merged oko a mong- rel fipisyrong. Being es beeng ; eay-ing, saing ; lying, lyng jorv-iog, oryng; sigh-ing, syng. No less unpleasant is the tendenoy to shorten vowel sounds that ought to be distinctly prolonged, the fault that make ott, of ought nott of naught, dotter of daughter, watter of water, boot of boat, cott of coat.” The Book-keepers, The ist shonld keep a sorap-book. The lar—an iS ir. The balance-book. The motorist—a cheok-book. The husband—a blank-book. Science Notes. It is that McCaullogh , the pad mountain which was pk, and red in the Scientific American of r 26th last, has practically vavished. Thrown ap to a height of more than 3,000 feet by v ic activity, it has now sunk until is barely rises above water. It is be- lieved that the subsidence wasa sudden one, due to an earthquake. Archaeologists have long believed that if Heroalaneum could be uncovered, it would yield treasures more perfect and more valu- shle than those of Pompeii. Bat the cost of excavation, which would be much heavier than that of uncovering Pompeii, has al- ways been a deterrent. Public interest in Europe bas recently been directed to the suggestion, and as a result Signor Rava, the Minister of Public Instroction in Italy, upon whom the work actually depends, has prepared a bill providing for an appropria tion of $100,000, for the purpose of remov- ing the houses forming the modern town of Resina, which is located over Herculaneum and an appropriation of $3,000 a year for actual excavatiou work. This at least in- sores [taly’s practical interest, and brings the excavation appreciably nearer. The famous “Giants’ Canseway’’ in the north of Ireland ix suffering the fate of the New Jersey palisades overlooking the Hud- son, for it is in the bands of stone mer. chants, A consignment of 200 tons of the basaltic columns comprising the Causeway bas recently been shipped to Philadelphia. It will be asked whether there is no power in Ireland to protect the Causeway. Al- though at one time it was sup to he the work of the giants who abounded in Ireland, and to whom a piece of construc tion about a furlong in length would be child's play, 18 is not in a legal sense an ancient monument. The Irish courts de- cided that the stones belonged to a com- pany, and since that time the causeway or pier cannot he seen without payment. It may therefore be assumed that the disposal of the basalt is a legal transaction. America is fast becoming a great museum, and it will be incomplete unless several of the natural as well as the artistic ‘curiosities’ of Europe are to be found here. — Scientific American. Concerning Apples. The reason why apples are so much more wholesome and digestiple when they are roasted, boiled or baked is becanse the beat thus applied breaks down the cells of the apple, and thus the acid and the sugar contained in them are most generally dif- fased through the apples, and the moisture is also dispersed. A Freuch way of cooking apples which we have seldom come across, excepting in the homes of those who bave lived in that country, is as follows: Core and pare your apples and place them in a baking-tin, baving filled with butter and brown sugar the space left by the removal of the core. Sprinkle brown sugar and bits of buster about between the apples in the tin, and then bake. These pommes au beurre are moss delicious, An apple and orange salad is also a very nice and little known way of using apples. Slice the oranges, after removing skin and scraping off the pulp, into a bowl, mix with the slices some apples cut into quar- ters or eights. Put plenty of sugarin be- tween each layer and mix well. Les this be made about an hour before yon need to use it. It is a nice dish, for the oranges give a very delicate flavor to the apples, and hoth go very well together. Apples are considered wholesome even when eaten raw. One taken at breakfast every morniog is supposed to be good for the complexion and those who suffer from liver trouble or gout would do well to use them. Apples are considered to be of high value as brain food, owing to the amount of phosphorus they contain. Dyspeptios are often ordered apples, and, cariously eunongh, they are a preventive of jaundice. When a tickling sensation in your throat warus yon of the coming of a cough, yon would find a tablespoonful of the pulp of a roasted apple taken at night a great re- lief. Stewed apples placed in the center of a rice pudding make a variety in that every- day dish. When the rice bas been cooked on the fire, pour it into a pie-dish, and make a space for the apples in the middle. Small pieces of butter scattered over the top and some brown sugar are a great im- provement. Bake in a slow oven. Dutch Women. The women’s costume is a trifle too com- plex for verbal description, as feminine be- longings usually are ; but the white lace cap which covers the head from eyebrows to nape of neck and from ear to ear, ourv- ing out in rounded wings on each side of her cheeks, is always a conspicuous and in- evitable portion of woman's attire. It may possibly be that on Sunday this cap isa trifle whiter or stiffer or daintier than on weekdays, but the difference is not very apparent. e ladies assure us there is a vast dif- ference in the quality of the nes and the amount of band work employed, but the lens made no special note of that. In shape and outline the camera finds great distinotion between those caps and those of Katwyk or Macken on Bois le Das, but be- tween Sunday and Monday caps in Volen- dam it records none whatever. For the rest of the costume feminine Holland asks above all things, apparently, a very flat, narrow chest surmounting enormous hips, and Volendam is no exception to this fash- ion rule. The invariable black ‘‘best waist”’ of the elder women is usually brightened by a square yoke of lighter col- or and material, and the dark apron or overskirt is topped by six inches or more of gay plaid or bright-colored band, worn over an underskirs of dull-blue striped or black material and uncountable petticoats. About the throat a collar formed of many rows of heavy, dark-red coral beads is fas- tened by huge silver clasps, and the num- ber of rows, and size and quality of the beads, are matters for feminine pride. hair is not the glory of woman in Holland, save, perhaps, at Marken. Is is usually hidden, and at Volendam is cut uite close and entirely covered by a tight- tting thick black silk cap concealed be- neath the snowy white lace. The younger girls, from the tiniest toddler to the young meisje old enough to wed, wear dresses and caps the exact counterpart of their grave mothers, no less full of skirt or narrow of chess, but much gayer in color. A group of tiny maidens in a stiff breeze on the dike resembles nothing more than a swarm of butterflies. —Seribner’s Magazine. ——Mrs. Crimsonbeak — “Don’t you think a man ought to tell his wife every- thing ?’ Mr. Crimsonbeak—‘‘No ; only as much as he thinks the neighbots ought to know.”’ ~The Visitor—‘'yes, my ’usband is very andy. ’'E mended the cuckoo clock the other day, but it ain’t right yet. It oos before it oncks !”’ FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN, DAILY THOUGHT. He is rich who cones and goes Where the pathway of the rose Leads to toil at break of light And to love at fall of night. «Baltimore Sun, It is not always an easy thing, as every mother knows, to fiod employment for active little brains and fiogers thas will insnre for the equally active little body the dae amount of rest during stormy days or when it is too cold to play out of doors. It is a great relief to everybody conoern- ed when sutue occupation bas been hit upon that is congenial enough to make a resting tiwe pass happily and gaickly. With quite tiny folk an appeal to the imitative faculty #0 marked iu very yooog children often answers the purpose better than any other expedient. To make believe $0 sew has fascinations thas will last for a good hall- hour of quiet, and this desirable condition may be brought about hy the simple agency of a stout piece of cardboard, punched with good, large holes and haviug a bright. colored mohair stay-lace attacued, or, for want of anything better, a long shoestring. The tag of the lace does satisfactory duty for a vecdle, that has the merit of never coming unthreaded, and all sorts of stitches and patterns may be wade, and she in- genuity and inventiveness of the swall worker called into play in quite entertain- ing fashion. This is, of course, the earliest stage of all in learning to handle a needle, but the plan is an excellent one for the purpose. A little later on coarse canvas may be hrougibt into requisition, and the child may be encouraged to work with an ohject on rome such piece as that capital | kettle or iron holder which consists of a | piece of coarse brown canvas, jus: darned with two bright contrasting colers in wool, The lining and binding with ribhon would make easy work for a youthful elder sister. Then there arte the animal aud figure outlines on cardboard, to be first pricked out with a coarse needle and afterward worked in wool or coarse cotton, not a novelty hy any means, bat ove of the kin- dergarten employments that seem to have a perennial charm ; while, to go a step far- ther, there are delightful bits of work to be bad in the form of squares of linen, with ontline designs of all kinds of familiar ob- jeots—farmyard studies, and so on. These may be worked out in their actual coloring with more or less elaboration, according to the capahility of the worker, or even (de- | int | light of delights to the possessor of a box) may he painted in and just outlined and touched up with needlework. Is would be a good idea, when a party of children bas to be provided for, to start a sort of juvenile “friendshipjquils’’ madeol squares, each child working one, with her (or even his) iuitial in the corner. The whole thing would vot in this way take long to make, and then the squares would be joined to- gether with coarse lace insertion and fin- —When a fowl sneezes, waters slightly at eyes and nostrils and damps is has a common cold, not regarded as a germ dis- ease. —Geese cannot be profitably hatched and reared artificially, while bators and brooders have revolutionized she duck business. —A new remedy for worms in sheep and Sen is tobavea supply of salty tobacco eaves (waste leaves), where the animals can eat them. ~—American turkeys are preferred by the British market, as it is claimed they have a whiter flesh and it is sweeter and more highly flavored. —Keep healthy cows. Promptly remove suspected animals. In particular, add no cows to the herd unless itis certain thas they are free from tuberculosis. —If the barness is thoroughly cleaned and oiled once a month is will lass for 10 or 15 years, bat if aliowed to be dirty and sweat soaked it will rot out in three or four years. — Foul in the foot in cattle is cansed by standing in mud, and may become serious. To oure, cleanse the space between the toes by drawing a small rope through, then apply sulphate of zine, one drachm in half pint of water. —If you have a soratching room in which to drive the flock, fomigate with sulphur their lodging room. If you have no suita- ble place for them to go burn oil of tar or resin in their presence. —The manufacture of oleomargarine is steadily increasing, as illustrated by the output in’ April of 7,409,721 s, as against 4 338,155 pounds for the corres- ponding month in 1906. ~The poualiry house is better to have t00 few birds shan too many in it during tbe winter. Crowding means disease, im- Jovian: ventilation, lack of exercise, aneven istribution of feed, feather eating, broken eggs and other losses. —In some parts of Earope farmers are conducting profitable dairies on land worth $400 to $1,000 per acre. They retain only cows thar will yield 300 pounds of butter anuually, while American dairy berds average ahout 140 pounds per cow. —An old fruit-grower says that the pick is the best tool he ever used around apple trees when the ground has become too bard. He sinks the pick eight or ten inches into the soil and merely pries the ain loose, without distarbing the roows at all. —The farmer who places the best apples at the top of the barrel, or sends any ar- ticle to market that is not uniform through. out the barrel or box, has no right to com- plain when he is imposed on by fruit ped- ished with a border of the same, and she | Glers or other parties who take advantage children would have a piece of work to Of him. show of which shey might justly be proud. Those of them who have a turn for design: ing might even draw their own patterns for the squares, which would increase the interest. Very amasing employment for obildren of, say, seven to ten years old is the hraid- ing and making of paper school or hand bags. Crepe paper is usualiy employed for this, and the plait may either be the simple one of three strips of paper or a fancy weav- ing of fonr or five. hen a sufficient length has heen braided it is quite easy to sew it together into a bag of the shape in- dicated, which should then be lined with sateen or some similar material. ticolar example reproduced was of dark blue paper and had a lining of cherry col- ored sateen, and a very pretty as well as useful article it was. For many ohildren anything iu the form of modeling has the strongest attraction. The "Duck made of Modeling Clay’’ shows bow this fascinating occupation may be made 80 easy that even quite small ohil- dren may be amused hy it. Little wooden molds are to be had with the form that is to be modeled out of shew. The mold is laid on a flat modeling board and the cut-out part is filled with modeling clay. When the shape is quite filled a modeling tool is ran round the edge of the design and again between the two boards, #0 that the rough model comes easily out of its frame. Then comes the enjoyable work of molding the design with the fin- rs into a more perfect shape, and finish- vg it off with the tool. II the resuls is satisfactory the model can be put in a cool place to harden, and can be thus preserv- ed ; otherwise the clay can be rolled n and used over again. Children who wor intelligently will very soon give up the use of the mold and take to making their own models, thus developing the sense of form and the power of observation in a very easy and pleasant way. Endless is the amusement that may be provided by this ingenious device, which is also of spe- cial valae in giving interesting occupation to those less fortunate little ones whom ill- ness or delicacy debars from the more act. ive games and amusements of healthy, boisterous childhood. A child in good health amuses itself with every toy, every serap of paper or morsel of wood, but when illness comes, it loses all initiative, and gradually as it re- covers the natural love of action returns, and quiet amunsewent must be restraived to things that catch the eye and occupy the mind and fingers. Very valuable to the mother of a sick child is a talent for cutting out in paper chains of dancers, band in band, sheep, dogs, horses, anything that can be on the bed or on a table in long lines. Bas. kets of flowers are also hailed with delight, and fans, boats and three-cornered hats, made of paper, give a great deal of pleas- ure. A child can amuse itself for hours by cutting pictures from old magazines and pasting them in a scrapbook. The Walker Family. —Restless or uneas moods in children yield to the cheerful, stimulating exervise that is a part of the lay of “Walker Family.” It is merely a Beatthy march combined with singing. These words are sung to the musio of ‘‘Yankee Doodle: “The Walker children are in town, They tread an endless journey; Their feet go up, their feet go down, And still they stand before me. “Then walk-a walk-a walk away, Sturdy lad and lassie, Three steps forward, three steps out, And three steps in the back." By carrying ont over and over again the directions given in the last two lines the endless journey is made. Until those lines are ed in the song the Walkers simply march about in a circle; then the three out, and the same number in the will leave the listie pilgrime just at that point in the endless journey at which Spey stood before they began three step: ng. The par- | | —Do not fail to bave your herd examin- ed at least once a year by a skilled veteri- nario to see if taberoulosis has gained an entrance. Promptly remove any that res- pond to the test. Never under any circum- stances add an animal until it has passed a rigid examination. —A high-spirited horse is generally an avimal capable of enduring much os usage, il it is only properly mavaged and contiolled ; hut very often these avimals are made more excitable than they reall are by natare hy the bad judgment an fussiness of the driver. —Never allow a ewe to run with the flock. When this is permitted and swine are horn, the first born wanders away and becomes mixed with the flock hefore the {| mother has a chance to own it, and the chances are that later she will refuse to bave anything to do with it. —The milking must be dove in a quick, quiet manner and the milk removed to a clean, cool place as soon as possible after milking. Itshonld then be thoroughly straived into orocks or immedeiately run through a separator and the skim milk fed to the calves, pigs or poultry. ~It is impossible to say just how soon in ber life a heifer shonld be bred. The distinotive, specialized dairy breeds may be bred earlier than the larger strains. Some heifers at 16 months are as fully de- veloped as others at 24. Therefore the ex- perienced breeder will breed according to development, . The care of milk and making of butter during the hot summer is to many a diffi- cals task and to those who lack some fa- cilties such as good water, ice or implements it is almost impossible to produce a first- class article. Cleanliness in making is one of the most essential acts in the care of milk. The cow's udder sbouid always be wiped clean with a clean, damp cloth. —The cream after separating should be cooled at once. Itshould be ripened from ten to twenty-four hours before churning and churned at a temperature of 52 to 54 degrees, which will insure the butter com- ing with a good grain and body. If the cream is sold to the creamery or shipped to a central point, it should be cooled and aerated to assure its arrival in good condi- tion. —The Agricultural Department at Wash- ington recently tested eggs which had been preserved four years in water glase (sodinm silicate). They were found to have an un- pleasant taste, and the white coagulated in cooking. There was a slight taste of soda and the whiteh.d Nessim pink in solos im very liquid. Eggs kept in water glass for bl tasted — smelled like well- kept eggs a few days old. —Dr. Smead advises the following ocon- dition powder for live stock : Two pounds of ground flaxseed as a base, in which mix five ounces of dowdered gentian, six ounces of ginger, four onnces of powdered sulphate of iron and four ounces of powdered ni- trate of potash. To this add two ounces of powdered oharcoal aod one pound of com- mon salt. Mix all well together. Give at first two tablespoonfuls in feed of grain twice aday. After two weeks give half the quantity. —Milk on which cream failed to rise in a night bas been condemned by a careful housekeeper, but on aoalysis proved to contain as much cream as milk from anoth- er dealer on which a thick layer formed. The former was a specimen of ‘‘homogen- ized milk,” now produced by forcing the liquid at high presufe through fine jets, thus breaking the globules. ilk in essen- tially an emulsion of 2} per cent. of fas in 88} per cent. of water, with casein and oth- er sahstances that have little to do with the separation of the fat as oream. The fat globules vary grestly in size—from 2504 to 15,875 being required to make a row an inch long, and it has been shown that, while the largest rise at a rate ofa little more than balf an inch an hour, the smallest ascend fifty times more slowly.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers