ifiiii
HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher
NILi DESPERANDI3M.
Two Dollars per Annum.
VOL. XI.
HLDGWAY, ELK COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 17, 1881.
NO. 4.
t
r
1
4
1
Sauce,
i.
What is life without its sauce?
Bailee for gander, sauce for gooso 1
Little gain and much of loss
Chicken pie without its price
II.
Marriage is a royal dish,
Than which there is nono above;
Yet to taste of it who'd wish
If 't has not the sauce of love ?
in.
Hope is good to feed upon;
On life's menu it ranks high;
Yet its flavor soon is gone
If its sauce grow s hard and dry.
IV.
Tid-bits in the world's cuisine
Womnn's words are pleasant things
If the sauce in the turrcen
Is not made of bitter stings.
v.
Life a struggle is all through,
Yet we'll have more gain than loss,
If, no matter what we do,
We secure our share of sauce.
Cakb Vnnn.
A RACE FOR A WIFE.
A STOIIY FHOM THE FRKNCH.
Mv futhcr used to live at Bethel, in
the high street, in a house I can still
see before my eyes with its shite roof
nnil projecting benms, a hospitable house
if ever there was one. Poor folks knew
the way to it. They entered with their
wallet empty and went away with it
full. We were all seated one night nt
the fireside; hit father was smoking his
pipe and watching the tire burn, my
mother was ironing, and I was reading,
when we heard a noiso at the door, and
saw enter a boy with frightened looks.
"What is the matter V"
"It is a soldier very tired who has
just fallen exhausted before the door."
My father loved soldiers. He rose
brusquely, rnu out, and there he was,
before I had taken a step, coming in
again with a young soldier leaning upon
him, or rather my father hod taken him
up and was carrying him like a sack of
corn.
My mother hastened to draw the big
armchair up to the tire. The soldier
was m ida to sit, or rather to recline in
it, and my father said, looking at the
poor fellow :
" Is it possible ! Walking in that
ktate V "
The fact is that the soldier was very
thin and pale, his hair flattened on his
forehead, the veins of his temples big as
your littie finger, his face black with
dost. We were then in the month ol
October and the weather was beginning
to grow fresh, but the poor fellow was
nevertheless sweating big drops, as if i;
had been dog days. He must have had
a long tram;). His shoes were iu shreds;
you could see where the stones had
torn the leather; the. left foot was bleed
ing. Ths soldier did not move but re
mained in the annehuir with his head
thrown back, his eyes half open and
white as a sheet.
My mot her had already put some soup
on tlie fire.
"Hah!" said my father; "the first
thin--' to be looked after is the feet."
And kneeling down he began to tear
and cut away the shreds of leather. The
soldii r'd feet, all swollen and full of blis
ters, looked like the feet of the martyrs,
swollen with pain and wealed by hard
cords, which we see in the pictures of
the Spanish painters.
My lather dipped his handkerchief in
vinegar and washed the wounds.
" You," he said to me, " make some
lint."
And I began to tear up some old linen
that my mother had taken out of the
big cupboard.
Meanwhili) the soldier had come to
himself. He looked at us at my father,
my mother and myself and the two or
three neighbors who had come in one
after the other. His wandering eyes
seemed to interrogate everything. It
was no longer the road, the stones, the
great deserted woods that he saw before
him, but a gay room with a ceiling of
shining oak, a cloth on the table, a knife
ami fork laid and a brown earthenware
soup-bowl emitting a savory smell of
cabbage soup.
Then he laised himself up, leaning on
the arms of the chair, and said to my
father, with confused emotion:
"Ah! monsieur. But you do not
know me."
"Ah! well that does not matter; we
will become acquainted at table,"
We had already dined, but my father
wished to bear the soldier company.
Ho sat down to table opposite him, as it
were brooding over him, and looking at
the regimental buttons that shone on
his cloak. The soldier ate, and ate
heartily; my mother served him.
"Well," said my father, suddenly,
pointing to the tin bos that the soldier
carried slung on a cord, "you have fin
ished your time, for there is your conge.
Then why do you kill yourself by toiling
. along the highway ? I see how the mat
ter stands. You have no money to pay
for the diligence."
"I'i" replied the soldier. "I have
received my pay and bounty, and my
mother has sent ino enough to pay for a
place in the coupe, if I liked. But I
could not."
" I understand," said toy father, who
did not understand at all.
When the meal was over the soldier
tried to walk. He tottered, uttered a
smothered cry, and fell back into the
chair. I then saw a tear into his eye.
Ho was a young man, rather thin, but
nervous, dark, and with an energetic
look. He was not a man to shed a tear
for a little, and that tear puzzled me.
" Ah," he said, with a movement in
which there was little unger and a good
deal of grief; " I shall not be able to
walk until to-morrow morning."
" Walk ?" cried my mother, terrified,
The soldier shook his head.
"You don't know I must. It was
a vow."
In our Ardennes those primitive souls
have respect and faith. I saw my father
look at the young man in the face with
out astonishment and with mute inter
rotation. ...
"Yes,'' mid the soldier, I will tell
you the whole story. You have, per
haps, saved my life; I ought, at least,
to tell you who I am. My name is Jenn
Chevaucheux, and my father is a wood
splitter at Mezieres. He is an honest
man, like you, monsieur. Seven years
ago, when I drew for the conscription, I
was madly in love with Marguerite Ser
van, a good hearty girl and a pretty one.
I had already asked her in marriage, and
her father had not said no; but, you see,
Pierre Puvioux had asked her in mar
riage at the same time that I did. Pierre
Fuvioux is a man of my ago, who car
ries his heart in his hand, as the saying
is gav and well-looking. I ought to
have detested him, and he has remained
my friend. Well, Father Servan said to
me as he held out his hand:
. " 'You are worthy to' be my son-in-law
my lad, but first of all you must
please my daughter. I will ask her.'
" Marguerite, when asked, said that she
would gladly consent to be my wife.
But she said the same when they 'talked
to her about Puvioux. She loved both
of us, one as much as the other; she
hesitated she did not dure to decide,
But still she could not marry both of
us.
" Time went on. When the time of
the conscription eamo we drew lots,
Puvioux and I, on the same day. I had
number threo and he had number seven,
and so we both of us became soldiers.
For a moment I was in a state of great
fright I confess. People at Mezieres said
that Puvioux "had a rich aunt, and thot
she would buy him oft'. If Puvioux did
not join the army, Puvioux would marry
Marguerite, and I, knowingthat I should
be obliged to go, for 1 was poor, I
thought I already heard the fiddler at
the wedding, rending my ears and my
heart.
" Luckily, Pierre Puvioux was not
bought off. His aunt died leaving debts
instead of a fortune. Ho had not a
sou. We were obliged to shoulder our
guns, and we were expected on our way
bill every moment. One night Father
Servan took us each by the arm and led
us to an inn, and this is what he said to
us:
' ' My boys, you are good and honest
Ardennais, equal in merit. I love you
with all my heart. One of you shali be
my son-in-law ; that is understood. Mar
guerite will wait seven years. She has
no preference either for you, Puvioux,
or for you, Chevaucheux, but she loves
both of you, and she will mako happy
the one whom fortune shall choose.
These are the conditions on which one
of you shall marry my daughter : you
start on the same day it is probable
that you will return the same dav. Well,
the one who first comes aiut shakes
hands with Father Servan, and says :
"Here I am, my time is out; he', I
swear, shall be the husband of Marguer
ite.' "I was astonished; I thought that I
had misunderstood. I looKed at Pierre
Puvioux and he looked at mo, and al
though we were sad enough at heart,
we were certainly ready to burst out
laughing.
"But Father Sena n was not joking.
He had discovered this means of getting
out of the diflicnlty, and he meant to
stick to it. I held out my hand and
swore to act neither by ruse nor vio
lence, and to let Pierre Puvioux marry
Marguerite if he returned to Mezieres
before I did. Pierre stood up and swore
the same, and then wo shook hands,
while Father Servan said:
" 'Now, the rest is your affair. The
only thing is to escape bullets and to
return safe and sound.'
"Before leaving I wished to see Mur-
I guerite. Just as I was arriving under
I her window it was at dusk I saw some
one in the shade coming iu the same
direction. I stopped short. It was
Pierre Puvioux. He seemed vexed to
find me there. I was not particularly
pleased to meet him. We stood there
for a moment like two simpletons look
ing at the toes of our boots. Then,
with a movement of courage, I said to
Puvioux:
" 'Shall we go in together?'
" We entered and took our farewell of
Marguerite. She listened to us with
out saying anything, but there were
tears at the tips of her blonde eyelashes.
Suddenly Pierre, who was talking, stop
ped and began to sob and I to do the
same. Then Marguerite joined in, and
there we were all three shedding tears
and pressing each other's hands.
"When the diligence that took us
away from Mezieres began to rattle on
the pavement the next day I felt inclined
to throw myself down from the imperial
and get crushed under the wheels. The
more so as there was a Lorrainer at my
side who was singing in a melancholy
voice a song of his country, and I said
to myself: It is all over, Jean, you will
never see her again.'
" Well, you see. Time passes. The
seven years are over, and who knows ?
Perhaps I am not only going to see her
again, but to marrv her.
"There are, indeed, strange chances
in life," continued Jean Chevaucheux.
" Pierre and I started on the same day
and the same hour, and we were placed
in the same regiment. At first I was
vexed. I should have liked to have
known that he was far away. As von
may imagine, I could not love him
much. But I reflected afterward that
if Puvioux was with mo I could at least
talk about her. That consoled me. Well,
I said to myself, I am in for seven years
of it. After all, one gets over it.
"In the regiment I became a fust
friend of Pierre Puvioux. He proved to
bo an excellent good fellow, and at
night, in order to kill time, we used
often to talk of Mezieres, of Father Ser
van and of Marguerite. We used to
write to Mezieres often, but each told
the other the contents of his letters. It
was a struggle, it is true, but it was
loyal. When Marguerite or old Servan
replied, the letter was for both of us.
An equal dose of hope was given to each
of us, and so we went on hoping.
" One day the colonel took it into his
head to appoint me corporal. I was
vexed and proud at the same time. You
see, I was no longer the equal of Pu
vioux. My stripes gave me the right to
command him, and in the eyes of our
Ardennais that was no small advantage.
But I did not glory in my rank; on the
contrary, it made me ill at ease. I did
not dare to talk to Fuvioux any more.
Then I reflected that thero wore more
ways than one of getting rid of my now
rank. I neglected my duty and was
forthwith degraded. But who should
be made corporal in my stead but Pu
vioux. But Puvioux was not to be out
dono ; at tho end of a week he resigned.
After that there was no danger of any
propositions being made to us to make
any change in our uniform. Wo were
condemned to remain common soldiers.
" ' So much tho better, said Puvioux.
' What luck ?' said I.
" When we had served seven years
for I do not mean to tell you our history
day by day I said to Puvioux:
" ' Well, now is the time to start,
ehV
" 'Yes,' ho replied, 'we are expected.'
"You know,' I said, tho 'game will
not be finally won until both of us arrive
at Mezieres, and intil the loser has de
clared that the combat has been loyal.'
" 'Agreed,' said Puvioux.
" And so one morning, with good
shoes on our feet, and stick in hand,
wo set out for Mezieres from Angers,
where we were in garrison. At first we
walked along in company, not saying
much, thinking a good deal and walk
ing above everything The weather
was terribly hot and dusty. Half way
on one of our marches I sat down on
the roadside overwhelmed with fatigue.
" 'Are you going to stay there ?' said
Puvioux to me.
" ' Yes.' '
"'Adieu?' he sHid, continuing his
inarch.
" 'Au revoir.'
"I watched him as ho went on with
a firm step, as if he had only just started.
When I saw him disappear at tho bend
of the road, and when I was once alone,
as it were abandoned, I felt n great
despair. I made an effort. I rose aud
began to walk again. That little halt
had done me good. I walked,
walked aud walked until I had caught
ui) to Puvioux and passed hiin.
" At night, too, I was well ahead, but j
I was worn out. I entered an inn to
sleep a little. I slept all night. In '
the morning 1 woke up. I saw that the
day was getting on; I was furious and !
culled some one. i
" 'You have not seen a soldier pass on !
foot?' j
"'Yes, monsieur la milituire, very late
last night. He asked for a glass of
water.'
"All ! I was outstripped in my turn ! I 1
started hurriedly. At 3 o'clock in ;
the afternoon I had not caught up to j
Puvioux, nor at G o'clock either. At j
night I took my rest while I ate, and
started to wulk again. I walked a good
part of the night, but my strength had
limits. Once more I stopped. I
knocked at an inn. The door opened,
aud there, sitting in a chair, I saw Pu
vioux, pule as death. He made a move
ment of displeasure when he saw me
that was natural. We did not talk
much. What could we say? W were
both tired. The great thing was to
know who should get up first for the
next morning. It was I.
'The next morning was this morning.
Since this morning I have been walking,
taking a rest now and then, but only a
short one. We are getting close. Bethel
is the last stage
between Angievs and
Mezieres. I know my
now. The hibt stage!
if I arrived too late !"
map of France
Good heavens,
And Pierro Puvinux,
asked
father, "has he caught you up?"
"No," replied chevaucheux. "I
inn
ahead. It 1 could start now 1
should
be saved."
"Start? Iu this state? Impossible!"
" I know my feet are swollen mid
cut provided that to-morrow "
" lo-morrow you will
w ill be able to walk."
be rested you
" Do you think so ?" said the soldier,
with a look ardent as lightning.
' I promise you."
My father then advised the soldier to
go to bed. Chevaucheux did not refuse.
The bed was ready. He shook hands
with us and went up to his room. It
was 10 o'clock.
"I will wake you at 5 o'clock," said
my father.
It was not yet daylight on the follow
ing moming when my father, already
up, looked out of the window to see
how the weather was. While he was at
the window he heard some heavy foot
steps on the road below, and in the ob
scure twilight that precedes daybreak
he perceived a soldier who was walking
in the direction of Mezieres.
"Up already?" said my father.
The Boldier stopped.
"Well?" continued mv father, "aroi
you off?" ' !
The soldier looked up and tried to
make out who was speaking to him.
, " You aro Jean Chevaucheux, are you
not ?" asked my father.
"No," said the soldier, "I am Pierre
Puvioux."
And as if that name of Chevaucheux
had been the prick of a spur he resumed
his walk more rapidly, and was soon
lost in the obscurity. When my father
could no longer see him he could hear
the noise of his shoes on the road lead
ing to Mezieres.
"Ah!" said my father to himself,
"Chevaucheux most bo sharp if he
means to catch up that man." And he
went straight to the room where Jean
had slept. Ho was already up and look
ing at his feet by the light of a candle.
" Victory !" he cried when he saw my
father; 'I feel free and strong and I
suffer no more. Fn route !"
"And quickly," replied my father.
"Puvioux has just passed through Be
thel." " Pierre Puvioux ?"
"I have just spoken to him. Ho
passed under our window, going along as
if the devil were after him."
"Ah, mon Dieu!" exclaimed Chevau
cheux as if ho had been struck down.
He repeated onco more: "Ah, mon
Dieu 1" Then he buckled on his knap
sack and cried: "After all, what you
have told me gives me courage. Let me
be off."
In the room below my mother, already
up, was filling a wallet with provisions
for Chevaucheux. But he refused. He
was not hungry. Putting on a pair of
my father's shoes he started, blessing
my mother and leaning on my father's
arm to take the first step.
Three or four years after this we had
heard no news of Chevaucheux. Wc
usotl often to talk of that evening when
the soldier had come into our house
bleeding and weary. What had become
of him ? What had been the end of that
romance of love so strangely begun?
Ono day my father had to go to
Mezieres on business. He took me with
him. At Mezieres ho wished to enter tho
first barber's shop that ho saw to get
shaved. On the doorstep a little child
was sitting with its legs apart and smil
ing at the sun.
"Will you allow ine to pass ?" asked
my father, laughing.
"No, I won't," replied the child with
a little lisp.
At that moment the door opened and
a man iu his shirt sfeeves appeared the
father and took the child up iu his
arms, saying:
" Pierro 1 Pierre ! 1 you want to drive
away the customers? '' .
I recognized the voice and so did my
father. Wo looked at the barber. The
barber looked at us, It was Jean Che
vaueheux. He laid the child down at once and hold
out his hand. His face was all red and
beaming with pleasure.
" What, is it you ? Ah ! and to think
that I have never written to you Ah!
vmi don't know. Tt is T u-lin mnvvi.ul
i her; I arrived first.
And rushing into the back shop:
Mar-
guento ! Marguerite! " he cried. "Come,
rninn ! "
! He was wild with joy. A young
I woman appeared, blonde, pretty," blue
i eyed, with a pensive and gentle air, a
little sad.
"You" do not know?" said Chevau
cheux to her
"It was this gentleman i
who took care of me so well at Bethel
the night beioro I arrived at your
father's house. I have often
and often talked to you about him;
this is the gentleman."
Marguerite fixed her large, calm eyes
upon us, saluted us and thanked ' ns
softly; then, as her husband continued
to evoke the past, she looked at him
tenderly, with a look that supplicated
and was not without reproach. But
Jean saw nothing.
"Ah, it is to you that 1 owe all my
happiness, monsieur! My child, my
little boy, look at him, my little Pierre"!
It was my wife who wished that he
should have that name ! Isn't he a fine
boy, and strongly built? And my shop
is going on first-rate. Mvwife, I adoro
her ! And all this I owe to you !"
"And the other?" asked I, impru
dently. " The other?" said Chevuucheux.
He curled his lower lip, did not see
that Marguerite turned her head away,
and answered:
" Pierre Puvioux ? Poor fellow. He
arrived second, a and that very
evening it made me cry, I can tell yoii
that very evening tt he threw
himself into tho river."
Making bicycles.
1 'escribing the manufacture of 1 ieycles
at Hartford, Conn., the liictde World
says : Here manufacturing may be seen
as distinguished from making; thou
sands of bicycles in their various stages
and different parts may beseeu, sonioof
them in the hands of workmen, others
i in the hands of machinery, if we may
: so fpeak, for the machinery by which
some parts of the bicycle is made, work- j
ing automatically, and with sueu pre- j
eision and ingenuity, seems almost in- j
telligent. Looking through all the de- I
tails, one can understand the reason so
great a delay in bringing out the new i
styles. Here are, for instance, in one j
room, in one chest, 8",000 worth of 1
rubber tires, kept near tho river so that
thev mav be (lung through the window !
! into the water in cuse of fire. Iu au i
adjoining room aro furnaces where tho I
wheels are baked up to a certain degree i
when the tires aro stretched upon the !
riurs.
Passing into aLother room one sees
dies executed in heavy blocks of steel,
some still in tho process of construc
tion. On the way to the forging-ioom
aro to bo seen .'1,000 worth of broken
dies thrown aside, and in the forging
sliop are the heavy trip-hainniers at
work ; here are the dies for forging tho
heads of machines, the cranks, springs,
forks and other parts. Tho rims are
rolled out through accurate-grooved
steel rolleis, and brazed together. The
back-bene is made of strong tubular
steel, to be afterward Bhaped by the use
1 .11 1 . -. I
oi loruis anu oiuer maenmery ; ana
SO
ou through the i!()0 parts making un
bie.yelo. Perhaps the most interesting
room is where tho smaller parts are
made, tho nipples, lock nuts, etc.; these
being made by automatic machinery of
sieei rous oi octagonal circumference.
These rods are placed upon camera
drawn automatically through a machine
which cuts the threads, bores tho inner
holes, shapes tho head, and cuts them
off with surpassing ingenuity and pre
cision. In one room are forty similar
screw-cutting and forming machines,
all in operation, teuded and operated by
inroo ooys, woriung steadily like 60 :
many men, requiring only to bo sup- j
plied with bars of metal, and so they :
continue their tireless work until time I
of shutting down. 1
The factories here are equal to the
turning out of fatty bicycles per dav:
uufa tXLl la uuv uyuo vtllllUUb bttUUIll
labor ; truing the wheels, back wheels,
back-bone and fore wheel together,
making adjustable ball-beaiircs. fittiner
-II ill L .l.;iW.l
j of all parts together, and the fiuishing
up oi tne wuoie machine, are instances
whore the greatest skill is required.
For instance, the rim of the " Special
Columbia " must be finished and. bur
nished before the spokes are put in ;
and the mere burnishing of the rim and
tho preparation for tho nickel-plating
requires the labor of one man and his
machinery for the whole of one day.
Space forbids our going further into
details, but enough has been said to
show that the manufacture of bicycles
in the United States, on a largo scale,
is well established.
Walter Paine, the Fall River mill
treasurer, who embezzled several hun
dred thousand dollars, and is safe from
extradition in Canada, has offered him
self for membership in a Montreal Bap.
tist church. The pastor is inclined to
think thut Paine, if truly repentant,
would voluntarily return to Fall River
for punishment, und therefore hi? appli 1
catio'i luis not yet beet) granted, - ' ' ' '
FOR THE FARM AM) HOME.
Tlie llu.liniiiliiiiiu.
Give fools their gold and knaves their ower,
Let forhine'B bubbles rise aud fall j
Who sows a field or trains a flower
Or plants a treo is more than all.
For ho who blessoa most is blest :
And God and man fhall own bin worth,
Who toils to leave at hi bequest
An added beauty in tho earth.
Aud soon or la to, to all that sow
The time of hurvest shall be given :
The flowora Bhall bloom, tho fruit shall grow,
If not on earth at least in heaven.
Cheap Fodder.
Last August, says a writer in the Hits
landman, inv men sowed a tow pounds
of strap-leaf turnip seed between the
rows of tobacco on a piece of about two
acres. No care was taken to avoid
tramping the young plants in harvesting
the tobacco, and no attention was paid
to them afterward, except to keep off
stock. The result was 300 bushels of
well-grown turnips. These I had piled
iu heaps of about 50 bushels each, and
well covered with earth. The tops make
vveollent. fndibir for vniniar cnttle. and
the roots ore good food for milch cows.
In this season of high-priced fodder my
turnips will prove a good investment.
Horeufter I shall not le without a crop
of turnips for feeding.
Eui-lcbiiiK 1'oor l.ttutU.
There are three principal methods of
rapidlv increasing the supply of plant
food in any soil. By feeding concentra
ted foods upon the hind, as oil-cake,
cottonseed-cake, eto.; by the application
of barnyard manure, and the use of arti
ficial fertilizers. Which of these three
methods is to be adopted in any given
case must bo determined by the many
conditions and circumstances that sur
round it. It may be that the feeding ot
sheep with decorticated cotton-seed ewks
upon a poor pasture may be the quickest 1
and best method of enriching tho land.
In other cases the purchase and applica
tion of barnyard manure may bo the
most profitable. When it comes to tho
artificial fertilizers, it should bo borne
in mind thut their true office is to supply
quickly one or two ingredients that may
bo deficient in the soil when these aro
known their use is to bo recommended.
Di'Ktruclloii of C'tiuitdti Tulstlcn.
A contemporary notices two modes of
destroying this weed, says the Country
Furmiu; one of which is to bu a tuble
spooni'iil of salt on each stalk or stub,
cansiug the plant to wilt, become dry
and disappear by October. This i's
recommended as better than the other
mode, which is to cut off' each plant with
a knife just below tho surface of the
i ground, as ono does asparagus. These
modes may answer tor very small patches
in gardens, but any one may easily
contrast its economy in labor on a large
scale on a fann, with the rapid work of
tinning the plants under with n plow.
We have destroyed many acres in this
way, so tliat not a plant ever reappeared.
A strongpairof horses will turn over a sod
eight inches deep, and much lower than
the knife in the hand will go; and if the
work is thoroughly done and no stalks
left, tho plants will stay under tho
inverted soil for threo or four weeks,
unless in very porous or light soil, which
must bo plowed oftener. Tho only
failures which we have known with this
treatment was where the plowing was so
imperfectly done, or so long intermitted,
that stragglers found their way to the
light and furnished a feeding to the
roots below.
New l'olatoi'.
Among tho new potatoes offered by
seedsmen are live varieties named and
described as follows.
Queen of the Valley. A verv large,
long, flattened variety, deep pink at tho
seed end, shading to neorlv wliite at the
base. Tho immense yield of this vari
ety, of nearly all large sized tubers,
rn'ust seciu'o a large demand for it.
j Lxtra Larry Peachblow. cry early,
j round, with white pink eyes, similar in
i appearance, but smoother and not as
deep-eved as the peachblow, which it
na smooth. Flesh fine-grained, white
I nn.l i.l fmnri nnuiiir A iwnhictive nml
valuable winter varietv,
Adirondack Late, round, dark copper
red. In general character similar to
the old Peachblow, but harder and
more prolific. Said to suffer less from
drougth than other varieties.
White Star. A cross between Excel
sior and Peachblow. Medium late, cyl
indrical, of good uniform size, white, of
excellent quality, keeps well and yields
profusely.
Rrclpe.
OrsoEB Snaps. One cup each of
lard and butter, two cups of molasses,
one cup of brown sugar, one tablespoon
i ful of Ha, one pinch of salt,
u ,1 w.n thin
Mix very
;"',"""-"
Bkstos Tea Cakes. Take ono pound
of flour, four ounces of butter and milk
sulliciently to make a paste; roll out very
thin and cut it into shapes, and bake on
a hot hearth or slow oven plate.
Tbe Japanese Language.
The Japanese language is a complete 1
hieroglyphic system and the caligraphy
a system of drawing or painting. Every
schoolboy has to learn at leant 1,000 dif
ferent characters; in the elementary
schools of the government 3,000 have to
bo taught. A man with pretensions to
scholarship must be acquainted with
about 10,000; and a very learned man
with that number multiplied many times.
A Japanese must devote at least ten years'
persistent and earnest study to the ac
quisition of his own language if he de
sires to possess a knowledge of it suM
cient for the purposes of au educated
man. Tho mechanical art of handling
the brush so as to paint the characters
w ith skill aud rapidity occupies no small
part of a lear ner's time.
A great deal of type-setting jn BeJ
gitra is d(lie lv machuiery,
I uei'iJ-tieu us llie lieuciiiuuM , wnjcu il l i l i , i v , -u - '
resembles iu all its good qualities, with . " I" ' K B' w , j W(,ntk.,. if thpv thillk wt,
tho additional ..dvnutm,.) of m : whwi1' each ono the work of a master ilw lo , ,nt fol.
r"'f. '. .. i !XZtZtZ ! two W, jHt to hoo' tho thing out V
White Eleohaiit. Late, loner, rvlin-I "V" Thev went out and saw tho t cket man
a ' dried, with He.s..,! sh , u-l,it ! tntl' .uut " TOO goous bindings , . ... c,,,,,,,,,,,
( TRIOUS FACTS.
It is estimated that the ravages of
wolves iu France cause an annual damage i
of 50,000,000 francs, or about $10,000,- j
000. I
The French make n wino from pen- j
pods, and it is mingled often with grape j
wine, especially in champagne, which j
rarely reaches this country pure. j
In the L'-ma temples at Cashmere, j
India, the prayer-wheels aro still in use, '
and by operating which tho poor ;
devotees fancy that they sufficiently '
propitiate their god.
F.very shell fired by an army during
siege operations costs, with the powder ,
with which the mortar is charged, the ,
sum of 8 enough to support a poor ,
fan.ily for a fortnight.
Chambers' Journal describes a factory
whore the hammering of fifty copper- ;
smiths was scarcely audible in the room ,
below, their benches having uuder each ;
log a rubber cushion. '
Professor Bouchardat attributes to the
vino powerful sanitary properties. He
asserts that wherever it is cultivated to
any considerable extent there is a very
sensible diminution of intermittent.
The virtue is attributed to the action of j
the vine on the ellluvia which cause ;
fevers.
Modern warfare, in spite of all its ,
terrible paraphernalia, does not do- '
stroy nearly so many lives as did the
sword, bow and spear of tho ancients
whose loss in battle compared with that '
of armies that fight nowadays is com- '
puted to have been thirty-three per
cent, aiiainst onlv eight to eleven per
cent. - ' !
F.arly in Febiuaiy two German '
women, Fruu Schmidt and Fruu '
Feustel, living at Zeitz, in Prussian '
Saxony, and iu addition living iu the
same house aud u the same floor, were ,
each, on the same dav, delivered of I
three children, and thev were all bovs.
1 robubly such
a singular coincidence ,
never before occurred.
Few persons are aware that the furo
foot of the horse is tho counterpart of
Die hand, and the hind foot that of the
toe of the human foot, the heel compar
ing with the hock of the hind leg of the
horse. To got a proper idea of this try
to widk on tho tips of your toes; you
will then see how closely allied are the
extremities ol tho horse and ot mon.
Ono of the. oldest churches
on the '
macaco '
American continent is the Tumaeaco
church, near Tubae, Arizona. It was
built by tho Franciscans in 1554, and
has consequently reached the ago of 327
years. Fifty-six years ago Indians mur
dered seven priests within its walls, and
twenty-five years ago several priests
came from Homo and dug from a sepul
chre on the right side of the altar 80,
00(1 in coin and jewels.
Itookhniditiu
The bookbinders' craft Was at its ze
, nith just before the invention of print-
ing ; it has waned since, because nobody
would cure nowadays to give such prices
as were cheerfully paid for books in the
diiNs when it took twenty-five months of
a patient scribe's work to produce one
copy of the Bible. The bindings of
j such costly books were works of art.
I Milan first, we are told, acquired a repu
I tutioii for its bindings of Spanish leather,
arubesqued and gilt, which superseded
j the old-fashioned bindings of wood,
metal, or ivory ; but until tho close of
j the fifteenth century the bindings of
! presentation volumes und of tho church
j iiooks used on the high altars of catho
i dials were mostly of solid gold or silver,
i Bruges has produced some beautiful
i works of this description, likewise bind
I ings in cloth of gold wrought with silk
j of many colors. At Vypres, the
' great cloth mart of North Europe, wvro
! first made plain bindings of cloth, em
! broidered more or less ; but those were
used only for sniull volumes of jests and
i ballads, and for the horn-hooks out of
which the children in noble, families
learned their letters. Venice had a
niime for its bindings iu ivory and woods
, from tho Fast; Florence, like Ghent in
1 landers, abounded in brass artificers,
of all that wero made belore tho mven
; tion of printing came from Rome. Here
i tho guild of Italian goldsmiths had its
chief hall ; and there was always a sure
unit t'ltv ri.h liinliiifri iif wrriiirrlit fynhl
I seeing that tho kings and potentates who
came to visit the X'apaJ
ne to visit the Papal Sec invariably
gave and received presents of splendid
books.
A Variegated Dog.
An English paper 6avs: There
is a ,
dog at Brighton a remarkable dog a j
large maltesc. Sometimes that dog has I
a purple body, with a yellow head and n
green tail; sometimes he is scarlet and !
puce. He is a kind of rainbow dog. The
fact is he belongs to a dver in the town,
j Rn'l hcing naturally white he takes any
j other color easily, and now he gets a dip !
. in one vat, and now in another, and lie
' forms a sort of canine advertisement. It
j is fnn to see this dog, who is quite un
j conscious of his distinguished condition, '
, come up to other dogs wagging his yel-
low head and green tail, and tho way
. that those dogs, after regarding him out
j of the corner of their ryes for a minute,
tuck their tails between their legs and
"scoot is a caution, hoinetimo since a
friend of ours, who had been occasionally
a victim of the "old complaint," was
going down to Brighton for the raco in
groat health and spirits. When driving
I from tho station ho sv.ddenly came fin
this dog. "Hullo, hey? What's that?
Hey! hey! what! a purple dog with a
green tail! Oh, lor'! got 'em again?" and
ho turned round and went back to Lon
dm, firmly persuaded that he was
again a victim of D. T.
Rev. Samuel Ireuajus Prime, D. 1).,
iu recently referring to his editorial
connection with tho New York Obserrer,
said : "I have written on an average more
than five columns each week for fortv
- : years, or 10,000 in all at least 100
volumes of 400 mges each,".
Hon't Stay Lnte To-Night.
Tho hearth of home I beaming
With rays of ropy light;
And lovely eyes are gleaming,
As falls the shade of night;
And whilo thy stops aro leaving
Tho circles pure and bright,
A. lender voice half grieving
Says, "Don't stay late to-night."
Tho world in which thou movest
Is biiBV, brave aud wide;
The world of her thou lovest
Iii at tho ingle side;
Hhe waits for thy warm greeting:
Thy Rinile in hor delight;
Her gentlo voice entreating,
Bays, "Don't stay late to-night."
Tho woild, so cold, inhuman.
Will spurn thee if thou fall;
Tho love of ono poor woman
Outlasts and shames them nil:
Thy children will cling 'round thee,
Let fate be dark or bright;
At homo no shaft will wound thee,
Then "Don't stay Into to-night."
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
The Boston Jivlfatin notes tho fact
that Cain was the first man who went
out slaying.
Tho New Orleans Pkaytute says that
a man should bo the boss of himself.
But suppose the poor fellow is married?
I'hiUuMjjhia Bulletin.
We don't just see why a woman
should like her mirror better than n
man, for the man will flatter her and
tho mirror won't. Huston Post.
A printer from Leavenworth, Kansas,
has been robbed of o or $1,300 in Chi
cago. If ono printer from Kansas is
worth $1,300, what's Leavenworth ?
A French chemist claims to bo able to
create thunder-storms at pleasure, each
one having an area of six square miles.
He can raise a bin sensation next picnic
season.
Scene at a stable Funnv Freshman
, (to a hostler, who is nibbing down his
I horse): "Pat, I am afraid you aro curry-
ing favor with that horse." Hostler:
j " Faith, no ! I'm merely scrnpiu an ac-
quiiintance."
Keep that world's fair as far away
1 from here ns possible. There are about
14,000,1)00 out-of-town relatives waiting
! to sock it to us for the time we have
"l''" m '10 country for the past twenty
years. j.N';'c York Dispatch.
A Chicago society offered last year a
pri.o of one hundred dollars for the best
treatise on tho question: " How best to
destroy rats," The prize has just been
awarded to Doctor Burnett, of Philadel-.
phin, who answered: " Increase the
number of cats."
Montreal has a haunted house, in
' which "the stove lids are lifted off the
stoves und sent flying through, the oir."
If the owner of tho haunted house takes
our advice he will buy his wife a new
: dress. He may think he cau always
; dodge them, but sometime one of those
! lids will take hiin on top of the head
I and scalp hiin. J'nch'n .San.
, "Duel or," said one of our best young
: men iu society "doctor there is soine-
tiling the matter with mv brain; 1 know
j there is. H'hut shall I do about it?"
! And the doctor calmly but firmly said
I he guessed it needed n little exercise as
, much as anything rise. And now the
; best young man goes around saying the
i doctor is a fool. (orAvif.
! A New York firm sends us a doublc
i column "ad." of a new stenographic
pen, for tho insertion of which in tho
daily for three weeks, the linn agrees to
Send us a pen. No, thank you. We had
one autographic pen. Just sold it to a
druggist for u soda fountain. If she
lets down soda as fast, as f he did tho
ink, some man w ill be drowned at that
fountain before tho middle of June, and
don't you forget it. ioicAwc.
It was iu the opera house. Tho two
gentlemen wero from tho country. After
tho curtain fell on the first act, ono of
them who hud been reading the pro
gramme, said, in an excited manner :
' It's a blame swindle, just got up to
tako in strangers." "What's a swin-
lle ?" " Hero it savs tho next act is two
"Ah, dear," sighed Miss Fitzoy, as she
yawned wearily, "there isn't anything
to occupy one's mind now. I've made
toilet cushions and tidies and embroid-
eri:. slippers and painted majolica jugs
i
1
1 m weary oi ine x ueueve in
go down into tne kitchen and watch
Jane make bread. I suppose I ought to
know how many pints of yeast it takes
to a loaf." And she penetrated tho
business part of the house only to find
out that bread was "raised" from the
baker's cart. AVw Harm liffiser.
Katlroad Ties.
The importance oi these two items as
blanches of tho lumber trade is not
generally understood. We have iu the
Uuitcd States about 80,000 miles of
railway. Each mile requires the use of
about 3,000 tics ; so that the enormous
number of 140,000,000 ties are in con
stant use. Ono tenth of this number
of '240,000,000 are annually consumed
in the United States for repairs alone,
aside from those necessary to tbe con
stroetion of new liuos. The amount of
railway construction for tho present
year, which will aggregate 7.000 miles,
with tho annual number of ties required
I for repairs, will give a consumption in
1 the United States for 1881 of the vast
i total of 45,000,000. Of this immense
i number, Chicago will alone furnish ono
! ninth, or 5,000,000 ties.
The Biggist Hog.
A Galveston man has just returned
from a visit to tho interior, aud tells
about a conversation he overheard in a
small town. There was a big fair, and
thero was considerable rivalry rbont tho
biggest houfl Ono lady asked another
after the awards had been made:
"Did your husband or mine get tho
prize for the biggest hog?"
"Neither of them got it. A strange
j hog from the country got it" Xeirt,
1