THE SONG OF THE SCYTHE.
ANDREW LANG.
————
Mowers, weary and brown and blithe, =
What is the word methink¥ ye know,
Eatliess over-word that the seythe
8ings to the blades of the grass below?
Bcythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something still they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the scythe to the flowers and grass?
“Hush! ah, hush!” the scythes are saying,
“Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep ;
“Hush!” they say to the grasses swaying,
“Hush!” they sing to the elover deep.
“Hush 1” tis the lullaby Time is singing,
“Hush, and heed not, for all things pass,
“Hush! ah, hush!” and the scythes wu
swinging
Over the clover, over the grass.
— Boston Journal.
A Daring Deed.
There had been much talk of hypno
tism, of its phenomena, of its use
under various condtions.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said th
old doctor, who had been chiefly a lis
tener hitherto, and a smile playe
sbout his good-bumoredly cynic:
mouth, “let me tell you of a certai
incident. I premise my recital by the
sta‘e nent that I can vouch for ever
detail. The principal actor in m.
story is personally well known to me.
I will call him, for the sake of a name.
Harkman—Henry Harkman.
¢“At this time Henry Harkman wa
twenty-eight. He stood six feet tw
in his stockings and was broad in pro
portion. He had graduated from the
medical college with brilliant honors.
He was impetuous, hot-headed, im
mensely clever; an embryo great man
in the eyes of his friends—myself in-
cluded. At this juncture—with nex:
to no practice and next to no money-
he saw fit to do what most young me:
do under like conditions. He fell is
love. 1 will grant that the young girl
warranted many a folly, She was a
beanty of beauties, and, withal, modes
as anv little wayside flower Bu
consider, pray, that she was the onl
child of a very rich and very pompou:
father. My young friend's
were nil. Yet he went to the house,
tortured himself by seeing his divinity,
came away each time with death tow-
ard the old Colonel in his heart.
“Thus matters stood when the
Colonel, for lack of anything else to
do, developed a great interest in hyp-
notism. Harkman spoke of certain
tests he had made during a short visit
to the Paris hospitals for neurotic
patients. The old Colonel's curiosity
became aroused. He invited Hark-
man to dine with some of his friends,
and after dinner suggested that hypno-
tic experiments be tried on any mem-
ber of the assemblage who would lenc
himself to the same.
¢ | think that, at the time, Harkman
stood in actual need of medical attend-
ance himself. He told me afterward,
in making a clean breast, that he
doubted whether he had been tempor-
sarily quite sane, His passion, his re-
sentment at the conditions of fate
which kept him away from his object
had worked away within him un til he
was not himself. He said that he felt
a rabid desire to annihilate the Colonel,
with his portly, well-fed frame; the
aard eves and false smiles of these
society women exusperated him; the
blase physiognomies of these clubmen
irked him past words. What right
had they to own, because of the tie of
association and the bond of common
social interests, that flower of girlhood
~his flower? For he felt as though
she belonged to him. Something in
her answered to the cry of his inmost
soul,
“The first subject hypnotized—a
blonde, weak eyed young man—was
quickly disposed of. He did various
more or less interesting things uuder
the control of Harkman. But the “lat-
ter, with his habitual boldness, had
already been seized by a new desire
and determination. He put them into
words at once:
““ Will Miss Zabriski consent to try?
I think she would be the best object in
the room.’
“He said it in tly, impas
sively, as though it wer® a simple and
usual thing. He had, with all the in-
ward fire, wonderful outward control
over himself. To have the pulse of
her whole being under his control; to
see her move, stand still under the
pressure of his volition—it had sent a
thrill through him. In another mo-
ment, disregarding the slow, lifted sur-
prise of the Colonel's missive brows,
he had heid the glittering erystal prism
close to the young ri eyes. Her
lids fluttered. The delicite head bent
a little to one side. In mn incredibly
short space of time hypnetization wa
complete,
There was a little senstion in the
room. The women poisel their fans;
the men leaned forward with an ac
cession of interest. Then it was that
a desperate idea—the idea that made
him afterward confess to me that he
doubted whether he had been quite
sane at the moment—took possession
of Henry Harkman. The thought
eame to him like a flash of lightning.
For an instant it seemed to blind him.
Everything ap in that flash to
lose reality. en he recovered him-
Berm arte Ee a
purpose en te 8 h
“He turned-—the whiteness of a sili
intense excitement on his cheek, but
outwardly as calm as before—I can
a how he looked—to th
little knot of spectators,
“ “There is an Jusorenting ri
he said, “if you
hance
ment that can be tried,’
will retire to the next room and trace
out by common consent, some series of |
actions to be carried out by the hypnot-
laed subject—"
«His one object was to get then
me and all, out of the rosm. Oa
his was accomplished he leanad t
ward the girl, grasping her hands an
throwing all the strength of will L
possessed into his tense, compressed
rapid words, spoke to her in a low
voice commanding, insisting.
“When the Colonel and his guest
returned the percipient seemed, a littl
uriously, to have lost faith in hi
power to cause the subject to g
through the movements that had beer
decided upon. Miss Zabriskie wa
evidently of a very nervous tempera
nent he said. She received impress
ons very strongly, no doubt. In short.
he preferred not to extend the experi-
ments,
“You might have thought of this
before, sir,” said the Colonel, rathe:
stiffly.
‘‘Harkman overlooked the remark.
[is interest in the proceedings seemed
to have wavered. Miss Zabriskie was
brought out of her state of trance look-
ing pale, with a faintly distraught ex-
pression in her eyes. Shortly after
Harkman said good-uight.
“I have remarked that I had a fond:
ness for the young man. I believed
in his capacity for ultimately accom-
plishing much. Therefore when he
came to me the next day and asked
me if I would do bim a favor 1 replied
with a ready enough assent. He did
not care to go into details at the time,
he said, but would I meet him at a
given time and at a given place that
afternoon?
“¢Are you going to be married or
are you going to fight a duel? 1 iun-
quired jocularly.
“I will tell you later,” he replied,
already half out of the door.
“The place of rendezvous he had
mentioned was the well-known gallery
of a certain picture dealer. He met
me there with a face whose pallor and
suppressed agitation struck me as por-
tending something out of the cominon.
“Come,” he said. And I went
with him out of the gallery and up
the steps of a small, quiet Episcopal
church hard by on a side street. A
side door was open, and through this
we penetrated into the dim interior.
“At that instant there came in be
hind us Edwina Zabriskie! She wu
followed by a middle-aged waiting.
woman and both advanced up the aisis
together,
“The truth flashed upon me like s
ray of light flashing into a dark room
Harkman and this voung girl had com:
for a clandestine marriage and 1 hac
been decoyed into becoming a witness
But this was not all. As Edwina Za
briskie drew nearer something totally
abnormal in her gait, her look, her ex.
pression arrested my attention. Hes
eves were set and glassy; she walkec
with automatic movements; she had
in short—1 won't say that 1 saw it
clearly at that moment—the whole
aspect of a person seccomplishing
mechanically a purpose under the ob-
session and possession of an ides in
fluenced by another mind during »
state of hypnotic trance.
“] was about to go up to Harkmanp
and tell him that he had made a mistake,
that much as I cared for him I did not
like the idea of being a witness to 8
clandestine ceremony which would for-
ever cause of breach between daughter
and father, when there was the sound
of carriage wheels drawing up at the
side door, and the next moment the
Colonel himself stood before us!
“Never shall I forget his face. He
drew his daughter's arm within his
own and turned to Harkman.
¢ ¢] will reckon with you later, sir,
he said. To me he did not vouchsafe s
glance,
“When he had disappeared with
Edwina—the clergyman meantime had
come into the chancel in his surplice—
and the sound of the departing carriage
wheels echoed through the death-like
stillness of the little edifice I looked at
Harkman,
“ «What do you propose to do, my
young friend? 1 inquired. ‘As for
me, 1 shall let that worthy man know
that my share in this pretty business
was involuntary.’
“He returned my glance with eyes
that stared straining out of a bloodless
face.
“Go to the devil!” was all he re
plied.
“The next day I looked him up.
« «Just give me your attention a mo-
ment, if you please,” I requested him.
“This matter needs investigation. J
have seen the Colonel, and I can as
sure you that confusion and dismay
reign supreme in that house. Miss
Zabriskie was in so pronounced a con-
dition of nervous collapse last night
that old Ventnor, the specialist, was
called in, The young lady has sine
told the Colonel that she acted, in go
ing to that church to meet you yester
day under the impetus of a compelling
fores which she could not explain, bu
which seemed to dominate her. She
says that she had to go; she could no
resist the feeling that drove her. Sh
weeps piteously ; she thinks she is go
ing mad; she does not understand her
self. 1 leave you to judge of the Col
onel’s condition of mind, the more
that old Ventnor, who has hypnotist
on the brain, talks of hypnotic sug:
estion, He learned, it appears, tha
iss Zabriskie was hypnotized by yor
the night before. All this strikes me
a8 a very strange business.
have any explanation to offer you
would do well not to delay it.
“Then he confessed. Thwarted and
convicted he broke down and made s
full acknowledgment of his folly. The
remarkable sensitiveness the girl had ex.
hibited to hypnotic influencé tempt-
vd him fo sepoas with het the ufts ed
experimont mplan a suggestion
to be acted upon rnd He wanted
her—he wanted her for his wife—and
he ired of ever being able to win
hor with her father’s consent. He had
moment's forethought and carried out
all details the next day with the full
persuasion that, constituted as she was,
Edwina would succumb automatically,
at the time he had impressed upon her,
to the command forced upon her brain
tissues in those few moments in which,
alone with him, she had lost all voli-
tional consciousness, But now he saw
that he had been a madman. If she
had ever cared for him she would hate
him now. It was all up with him, he
knew. He would go away—go West.
There were greater openings for am-
bitious young men there. Not that
his ambitions could ever be as they had
been. A mainspring of action was
broken. He could never forget her.
Nothing could be the same now that
he had irrevocably lost her. He raved
on, throwing his effects into satchels
and portmanteaus, while I listened.
When 1 left him I went straight to the
Colonel's house and saw Miss Zabris-
kie alome,
¢ ¢This is the true state of the case,’
f said. And then I repeated all that
Harkman had told me. I spoke of his
love, his temptation, his remorse. She
sat by with pale, motionless features
and averted eves.
¢«] don’t defend him,’ I concluded.
‘But I plead his own excuse—tempor-
ary aberration, Moreover, he loves
vou, and to love-—we have greai
authority for it—much may be for-
given. I have a sneaking weakness
for the fellow myself. 1 should like
him not to go away all uncomforted.
If I could bring him your pardon be-
fore he goes it would be new life to
him.’
“Oh, woman, woman!” B8he had
listened so icily that I rose at last, de-
spairing of a response. As |
the door I heard her give a little
ing in turn. Her lips
those of a child that had been hurt.
“«Oh?' she panted
‘tell him not to go at all!”
ind gentleman. 1 have
ome to the conclusion that
will foraive everything and
long
a
anything
I'he Colonel took another view, of
OUrse,
knowledged her love for my
friend, like a true woman that she was
wld fast to him, and in time thi
Young
ieasure of being present at a cere
mony conducted in all due order and
uot abortive like the first!
“This only proves that the newly
discovered scientific fact of hypnotic
suggestion may be employed not alone
to further criminal ends, which is 1
phase of the subject that has been chief:
Iv considered, but for a great variety
of uses as well. We mav, on the
whole, congratulate ourselves that it 1a
+ force 80 few can handle.
—————
nc A ———
“An Assignment.”
Henry Savior, who was killed last
month in Covinglon, Kentucky, in a
quarrel with Antonio Finch, was
once a reporter on the Cincinnati Com-
mercial, In the vear 1858 a vacant
dwelling on Vine street, in Cincinnati,
became the centre of a
ment becanse of the strange sights and
sounds said to be observed in it nightly.
According to the testimony of many
reputable residents of the vicinity,
: wiz 1 ‘ ta
IORI exXcile-
hypothesis than
haunted.
Figures with something singularls
unfamiliar and uncanny about them
were seen by crowds on the sidewalks
to pass in and ont. No one could say
just where they appeared upon the
door by which they entered, nor at ex-
actly what point they vanished as they
came out; or, rather, while each spec-
tator was positive enough about these
matters, no two agreed. They were all
similarly at variance in their deserip-
tions of the figures themselves, Some
of the bolder of the curious throng
ventured on several evenings to stand
upon the doorsteps to intercept the
ghostly visitors or get a nearer look at
them. These courageous men, it was
said, were unable to force the door by
their united strength, and invariably
were hurled from the steps by some
invisible agency and severely injured;
the door immediately afterward open-
ing, apparently of its own motion, to
admit or free some ghostly guest. The
dwelling was known as the Roscoe
house, a family of that name having
lived there for some years, and then,
ons by one, disappeared, the last to
leave being an old woman, Stories of
foul play and successive murders had al-
ways been rife,but never authenticated.
One day during the prevalence of the
excitement Saylor presented himself at
the office of the Commercial for orders.
He was handed a note from the city
editor which read as follows: “Go and
pass the night alone in the haunted
house on Vine street and make two
columns if anvthing occurs worth
while.” Baylor obeyed his superior he
could not afford to lose his position op
the paper,
Apprising the police of his intention,
he effected an entrance through a rear
window before dark, walked through
the deserted rooms, bare of furniture,
dusty and desolate, and with feelings
which it is perhaps needless to des-
cribe seated himself at last in the par-
lors on an old sofa which he had
dragged in from another room, and
watched the deepening of gloom as
night came on. Before it was alto-
ffother dark the curious crowd had col-
ected in the street, silent, ns a rule,
and expectant, with here and there a
scoffer uttering his incredulity and
courage with scornful remarks or ri-
bald cries.
. None knew of the anxious watcher
inside. He to make a light: the
uncurtained windows would have be-
trayed his presence, subjecting him to
insult, possibly to injury. Moreover,
he wus too conscientious to do any.
thing to enfeeble his Enpressions and
unwilling to alter any of the customary
conditions under which the manifesta-
tions were said to occur. It was now
quite dark, but the lights from the
street faintly illuminated a part of the
room that he was in. He had set open
every door in the whole interior, above
and below, but all the outer ones were
locked and bolted. Sudden exclama~
tions from the crowd caused him to
spring to a window and look out. He
saw the figure of 8 man moving rapid-
ly across'the lawn toward the building
—gaw it ascend the steps; then a pro-
jection of the wall concealed it, There
was a noise as of the opening and clos-
ing of the hall door; he heard quick
heavy footsteps along the puassage—
heard them ascend the stairs—heard
them on the uncarpeted floor of the
chamber immediately overhead,
Saylor drew his pistol and groped
his way up the stairs, entered the
chamber, dimly lighted from the street,
There was no one there. He heard
footsteps in an adjoining room snd
entered that, It was black-dark and
silent, He struck his foot against
some object on the floor, knelt by it
and passed his hand over it, It was a
human head—that of a woman.
Lifting it by the hair, this iron-
nerved man returned to the half-lighted
room below, carried it near the window
and attentively examined it. While so
engaged he was half conscious of the
rapid opening and closing of the outer
door, of footfalls sounding all about
him. He raised his eyes from the
ghastly object of his attention and saw
himself the centre of a crowd of men
and women dimly seen; the room was
thronged with them. He thought the
people had broken in. “Ladies and
gentlemen,” he said, coolly, “you see
me under suspicious circumstances,
His voice was drowned in
peals of laughter—such langhter as is
The people about him pointed at the
object in his hand and their merriment
increased as he dropped it and it went
rolling among their feet. They danced
about it with gestures grotesque and
attitudes and indescribable.
They struck it with their feet, urging
it about the room from wall to wall;
pushed and overthrew another in
their struggles to kick it; cursed and
ribald
bounded
obscene
1
serenaded and sang snatches of
as the battered head
about the room as if terror and try-
At last it shot out of
thu the hall, followed by
them all with tumultuous haste. That
moment the door closed with a sharp
Mr. in
(‘srefally replacir
BONUS
in
door into
concussion. savior was slone
wr his
had held
windows
dead silence,
pistol, which all the
in his hand, he
and looked out.
The street was deserted
the
fine In
went to the
and silent;
lamps were extinguished | the roofs
and of the houses
sharply outlined against the
light in the east. He Jeft the
the door vielding easily to his hand,
and walked to the Commercial office.
The city editor was still in his office
Savior waked him and said,
quietly: “1 passed the night in the
haunted house.” The editor stared
blankly as if not wholly awake. “Good
God!” he said, “Are you Saylor?”
«“Yes—why not?” The editor made
no answer; the reporter's face was
seamed with lines like those of age;
his hair and beard were snow white,
chimneys were
3
asieep.
the editor, trifling with a paper-weight
anything occur?’ “Nothing what.
cs I
My Neighbor's Chickens,
Of afl the nuisances that make
A rural life accursed,
My neighbor's chickens take the cake
For being just the worst.
I rise betimes to plant a bed —
As soon as I'm away
Those hens, by the big roost er lad,
March in and spend the day.
And when | hasten home at night
To see my labors crowned,
Those chickens, with a cyclone's might,
Have scratched my pretty ground.
a wife the baby leaves alone
0 shoo those hens away.
But as she cannot throw a stone
They laugh at her and »tay.
Around my house is little seen
But dusty holes and dirt;
They eat my grass before it's green
And all my flowers hurt,
Mr neighbor has a garden, 100,
And keeps It looking fine,
Flor te has trained his pirate crew
To fly right into mine,
In case of shoot the feathered plagues
pit they “i
n my ya rop some eg
My neighbor ante them i
Beneath my window ere the dawn
His rooster comes to crow,
Till J, haif crazy, seek the lawn,
And chase it with a hoe.
AT LAST.
BY JOHN ORERNLEAF WHITTIER,
When on my day of life the night is falling,
And, in the winds from unsunned spaces
blown,
I hear far voices out of darkness ealling
My feet to paths unknown,
Thou hast made my home of life 30 pleasant,
Leave not ita tenant when its walls decay;
© Love divine, O Heber ever present,
Be Thou my strength and stay!
Be near me when all alse Is from me drifting,
Barth, sky, home's pleture, days of shade and
shine,
And kindly faces to my own uplifing
The love which answers mine,
deve but Thee, 0 Father! Let Thy Spirit
IE Je Auta o Seniors and uphold ;
tf attof pearl, no branch of palm, | meri
Nor street of shining gold. = h,
Cl cif, my good and 11 unreckoned,
And both forgiven through Thy abounding
race,
na’ yoo! by hands familiar beckoned
nto my fitting place.
Bome humble door among Thy many mansions,
Home sheltering shade where sinand striving
Suse
And flows forever through heaven's green ox.
pans s
The river of Thy peace,
from the masie round me stealing,
of healing,
about
and
Ra Jrouid le on the ne
gone shia boner
BOUSEROLD NOTES,
Our old friend, the plaid [shawl],
which has for years kept up its square
form, is to be transforured into a long
scarf,
‘
{
can be made of cheesecloth worke
with heavy rope silk, which comes in
all colors and will wash.
case may be made of pale blue liberty
silk buttoned at the back and tied like
the mouth of a sack at both ends.
edged with white lace. The silk comb
and brush bag matches the night-dress
case.
A pleture frame which wil
oe odd, cheap and pretty can be made
by taking a common whitewood frame,
First put on a coat of glue; while still
wet, sprinkle with tapioca (the ball
tapioca) and long pieces of maccaroni;
when dry, gild over, and you have a
frame fitted for any parlor.
A lamp mat or mat for a gas drop
may be made of wallflower brown
plush. A band of wide tinsel braid is
placed diagonally across each corner,
The embroidery is worked with pale
blue stitches. The plush should be
placed over a square of cardboard,
which is lined with thin silk or glazed
lining. The edge should be finished
with narrow fringe.
Many stores are showing some very
pleasing novelties in hammock pillows,
and the stamped materials are offered
for sale. These are merely a round
cut-work design on gray or
linen, to be button-holed in a darker
shade of gray or brown silk,
|
round pillow covered in plain
OF
harmonizing or contrasting color, and
pufled around the edge. The back
cut round also, of a plain piece
linen, and the front and back
laced together with a silk cord over tin
puff.
The ever-needed waste basket, o
wicker, can be purchased at any store
for a trifle. Drape with rich silk, em-
broidered with clematis and foliage,
edged with a handsome chenille and
tassel fringe. The silk is cut in the
thape of a half circle, pleated at the top
corners, Handsome tassels ornameut
each handle Line the basket with
A less expensive one
is
8
pongee silk.
running satin ribbons of
of
to the
rubber
fron!
to its beaut
bunch
wehed
A large
»f the basket a nuch
be made rooms of
of
heavy up-
Parlors can 1
had pleasure
which no of
furniture found a place.
won the polished floor and heavy
ge mats were laid rattan rockers and
d chairs. One rattan was painted
white, with ph
ribbon in
cushion, on was painted
water lilies; rocker
painted black, with gold trimmings,
gold ribbon bows, a gold plush cush
ion; a three-cornered chair gilded
with an upholstered seat of brocade
The table scarf was
blue plush, with raised pink roses o
one end and on the other golden rod
embroidered with chenille. The man
tel drapery was of vellow India silk
with painted apple blossoms and cangl:
up on one side with large loops «
pink ribbon.
A game that does not call for so mu
exertion as tennis has been found i
“lawn bagatelie.”
The piece of ground ahould be lon
and narrow, and resemble a bagatel
board in shape; a large canvas scre«
of semi-circular form takes the plac
of the cushion of a bagatelle boar
The holes are formed of cups made
the purpose, sunk into the ground, a
there are nine balls, as at bagatelle Ti
game is played with long mallets, a
the scores are made in the same w:
as at ordinary bagatelle. At the co
clusion of the game the cups can |
covered with small lids made to pu
vent the soil or rain spoiling them.
will be found that this game of law
bagutelle has the recommendation ti
it can be played in a shady part of t
garden, which, for our climate, mak
it a pleasant addition to the oud.
amusements of this summer.
RUECIH RS,
OW
thes siting
the visiting
in
holstered
wet
k
profi
wh
the
trimmings,
pink
10, B
i
other
Ol
Lemons sould be hang in bags of 1+
ting.
In buying game and poultry in su
mer, draw it at once, thoroughly wa:
wipe, dev, and hang it in a cool, d
3
your starched goods. It prevents the
iron from sticking and makes a glogsv
surface,
When molasses is used in cooking it
is a great improvement to boil and
skim it before using. The raw, rath-
er unpleasant tastg of the poor qual
ities of molasses is much improved by
this process,
Kisses and Cream.—Beat in all the
powdered sugar the white of one egg
beaten stiff will take. Bake in ¥
pans in a slow oven. When cold, in-
vert, scoop out the inside and fill with
whipped cream,
Ham and Egge.—Soak ham over-
night in milk. In the morni fry
until brown, then remove to a platter.
Fry eggs by dipping gravy over them
until done, instead of turning, then
take ap carefully snd lay upon the
#lices of ham.
Panniking Warm minced ham or
topgue or veal in a thick cream saves,
5
and pile it In the centre of a plat'sff
Heat and butter some earthen cups
breek an egg in each, and bake till he
egg is firm. Turn them out, and ape
If you sre obliged to buy mest some
sprinkle it
thickly with pepper: it can easily be
removed wvefore cooking. Powdered
charcoal is excellent to preserve mncsd
from becoming tainted. Wash the
meat as soon az it comes from the
buteher’s and thoroughly dry it.
Three quarters of a cake of Baker's
chocolate, one quart of cold water, one
quart of sweet, rich milk, sugar te
taste. Grate op scrape the chocolate,
aud mix we the water, thoroughly
and smoothly; then sweeten, and al
low “0 boil until it is quite a thick
paste. Boil the milk separately, and
stir it into the chocolate mixture, and
sook a few minutes longer.
Baked Irish Potatoes.—Slice [Irish
potatoes very thin, butter an earthers
pudding dish and put in a layer, cover
with bits of butter, pepper and salt,
Continue this until the dish is about
two-thirds full; have plenty of butter
on the top. Then fill up the dish with
sweet milk and cover close; bake twe
hours in a slow oven; eat hot.
Coffee.—To make good coffee, allow
a tablespoonful of finely ground coffee
for each person. Add sufficient cold
water to cover well, and place of the
stove until it boils three minutes; then
fill up with boiling water. This coffee
will require no egg to settle it. Before
serving at the breakfast table, pour
out a teacupful of coffee and return to
the coffee-pot.
Cream Biscnit,—One pint of sout
1
solved in alittle warm water; stir into
the cream the white of one egg, well
a little salt; when the cream
foams nicely, stir into it as kly
Qui
jt
|
soft dough; roll out, cut and bake in 3
quick Oven.
Lemon Rice Padding. —To twothirds
of a cup of rice, boiled and cooled, add
the well-beaten yolks of three
salt, a teaspoonful of butter, three
teaspoonfuls of sugar and the grated
rind of two lemons, with milk enough
to make very moist. Bake forty-five
minutes. Use whites of eggs and
juice of lemons for frosting, and
brown.
Twine Holder.— With pale-blue knit-
eing-silk crochet a bag large enough to
hold easily a ball of pink druggist’s
twine. Work the bag in treble crochet,
and draw in at the top with a pink sat.
in ribbon, using a loop of the same
with which to suspend it. Tie to one
of the ribbon loops a small pair of scis-
cors for use in cutting the twine when
wanted.
FPR
CER,
Slice eight bananas very thin, place
them in layers with powdered sugar
between, cover and place on ice several
hours before using, beat the whites of
two or three eggs to a stiff froth with
two tablespoonfuls of sugar, flavor
with one-quarter of a teaspoonful of
vanilla and place on top just before
serving; a delicious desert with a deli-
cate cake.
Baked FEggs.—Take five eggs and
put the volks in a bowl and stir with
a little salt and pepper. I whites
should be beaten to a stiff froth, and
if there are more whites than yolks,
the dish is so much better. After the
whites are stiff as can be, pour the
volks over them and mix lightly with
a spoon, then turn all instantly into a
hot baking-dish with a little melted
! in the bottom and bake imme.
he
Dutior
diately.
Coffee Custard .—Maskes an agreeable
uessert. Put in a saucepan eight egg
volks, with eight ounces of sugar; mix
well, and dilute with six custard cups
full of boiling milk and a good cupful
of concentrated black pass
through a fine strainer; fill the cups
and put them ina vessel of boiling
water 10 half their height: take off the
froth that may have risen to the sure
face, cover the vessel and let sinmer
gently for twenty minutes; see if the
custard is well set; lot in the
water, drain, wipe the cups and serve
cold.—Althea.
Vegetable Soup. —Put a sonp bone
weighing two or three pounds into as
much waler as you want for soup.
When it comes to a boil remove the
scum and salt to taste. Take a bunch
of parsiey and a couple of stalks of
celery with the green left on; chop up
with a knife on a board and put into
the kettle. Add balf a teacup of bar.
ley, two potatoes, a small turnip and
carrot, also chopped up, and lastly a
teacupful of canned tomnatoos, De
not stir itat all. Cook three hours,
The last hour let it boil slowly on top
of the stove.
Fried Tomatoes.—Select medium.
sized, smooth, fleshy tomatoes, and cut
thean in round slices an inch thick, di
them in beaten egg, and then in b
crumbs; then iry In a little hot fat on
both sides and serve with this sauce:
Mix one tablespoonful of flour mrouth.
ly with a pint of milk, adding owe
ounce of butter ereamed, whisking it
well with the milk, one bLeaten 8
little salt, pepper snd mace. Ta
the stew-pan on the range and simmer
until thick. Put the tomatoes in the
middle of a warm dish; pour the
sauce around them, and serve. :
Card Case.-~Take a ploce of myrtle
groen satin nine inches long for
and a half inches wide, and a piece of
bright gold surah silk of the same
dimensions. Between those pieces put
a thin layer of perfumed cotton sud
sew Line pieces { neatly. Fold
up to within a third of the wp, the
chow together th blind stiches. thus
toget with bli : thus
forming a pocket. Turndown the ‘op
third so that it the pocket,
and pross it down so that it will Ue
quite flat. Embroider or paint on this
top third, if liked, » spray of i :
coflee ;
con]
3 0% the mouagrams of tise owns ia i