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.