=D.
“of
-’ .
ea Foam’
handle
tan?
a
Egypt and Rome and Tyre, 2
~All in that mythical place
‘Ww + Nigiiste dos
He will pass no more this way —
de ty eae ws Sas Sightipens,
a stir of banners and cu
the beat of friendly drums:
RS. TUCKER cet
4 down the milking-
JB pail with an em-
i phasis that made
the pearly fluid
‘Thére, said
she. «Didn't. I
slways tell you
so?’
Gideon Tucker
® went stolidly on
+ jf plucking a fine, fat
=. duck for market.
“You're most
ve x0 ee ig come true.”
'couldn’t help happening,”
4 said Mrs. Tucker, **with that old sunken
ht in the middle. of the medder.
d your best cow lamed there the
we bought the place, and Dr.
1 ired man liked to broke his.
pe ge had no business short-cut-
1t across my pasture lots. But there,
tain’t no use your scoldin’. I
| calculated ‘to fill up that well
v got time. And I'm sorry as you
be Bob the schoolma’am sprained her
] there. . She's a nice girl, and she
support. | that old aunt'o’ hern
| a West, an'—-"!
“It was all my own fault, Mr. Tuck-
er,” broke in a sweet, cheery voice.
Tie just as you said about Dr. Du-
- pont's hired man. I hadn't any business
zrossing’ your lot, but I was in such a.
hurry, and it’s an eighth of a mile
shorter than to go around by the main
- road.”
Miss Ritchie, the village schoolmistress,
: stood ‘there in the doorway, ledning on
a roughly-improvised
.crutch which
Harry ‘Wait, the carpenter, had made
Jes Ge
* Her cheeks were pale, and there was
aliock. of suffering on her brow, even
though a Bort of forced smile had been
summoned to her lips for the occasion.
*‘La, me, Miss Kitty!” said the far-
imer’s wife, hastening to bring a rush bot-
tomed kitchen chair. “You do look
clean peaked out. Gideon, go down sul-
ler an’ bring up a glass o’ cold root: beer
cight away.” :
#41 can’t. do it, Mrs. Tucker,” said
Kitty, sigking into the chair. ies no
use Sing”
an’t do © what, Miss Kitty? ”
HL ‘walked to the schoolhouse this
morning,” Mss Ritchie answered, ‘‘lean~
ing on my crutch and resting by turns,
And I've walked i so far on my way back.
++ But I feel sick and faint, and I can go no
further.”
_ “There! ” said Mrs, Fucker,’ tragically. i
apostrophizing her husband as he stood
at the head of the cellar stairs withy a
stone bottle of home-brewed root beer in
bis hand, '‘6ep, whit you've done!”
*“Twarn’t mel” a poor Gideon.
tMigs Kitty ’1l hev to give up her
school,” added his wife, “and all through
youl
Kitty conld not but smile, even through
the pain of her stinging limb at, Gideon
Tucket’s rueful face.
“Oh, it i8a't 86 bad as: that!” waid she.
“Or at least I hope not. I mean to keep
my school if I possibly can; - And Ill tell
you wha ans are. You know he
old house under the locusts?
“What!” cried Mrs. Tucker. - “The
Ritchie Rain®'l - noinor vias
Kitty winced a little. -
“Ya,” said she, ‘1 suppose it is ‘a
ruin, The is growing up through
the kitchen floor, and the shingles have
all rotted away on the north side, and I
don’t suppose there's a pane of glass left
in any of the windows. = But the doors
, and the roof dosn't leak to
| Henry Wait says it could be
mfortable with a Tow pine
ropted Kitty Ritchie.
| “Why, bow came she here!
ler her into.
_cabbages there; but of course if
| you've took & notion to the nn
~ “I was born there, Mr. er,” said
Kitty, ina low voice. “Long before
father and mother were obliged fo sell
the old place. Long before poor old
Aunt Ruhimah wandered away afd went
to her relations out West.”
ly scratching his head ; ‘and until I get
deeds, they won't be wuth more’n so
much waste paper. Atleast so Lawyer:
= { Goodrich says. For she had some sort
’] of a share in the property, sane or crazy.”
- Miss Ritchie colored.
‘Father sold the farm to you, Mr.
| Tucker,” said she, *‘and it’s my business
to see that the transaction is legal. Aunt
{ Ruey is coming back.”
“Eh!” cried the farmer and his wife,
tin chorus.
41. “I had a letter from. her yesterday,”
said Kitty. ‘That's one reason I am
older and more eccentric every day, and
they say—what is quite true—that it is
my business to care for her. And the
poor thing e
old Ritchie farmhouse just as if she had
left it yesterday! So if Mrs. Tucker
will lend me a few articles of furniture,
FIL try to make ‘the place habitable
for her.”
_ And you're kindly welcome to ‘em,
'{ my dear,” said thefarmer’s wife. *‘There’s
| plenty of solid old furniture’ up in ‘the
| garret, that we can rub up with a little .
oil and make decent. And it’s our.
‘busimess to help you all we can, seein’
it’s Gideon's fault—"
«It's nobody's fault!” quickly inter-
‘sAnd if the
trustees raite my salary, as they talk of
doing, if that extra class in mathematics
|| is started, I shall soon be able to pay a
little rent fdr the place.”
«I guess we. shan't dun you much for.
no rent, Miss Ritchié,” chuckled Tucker.
‘An’ you're welcome to the milk of the
red cow if you an’ the old aunty want
it. “A cow's a dreadful help in house-
keepin’.
Miss Ritchie thanked them and went
on her way, limping slowly along.
. “I'd a’ hitched up old Jack and took
her the rest of the way home,” observed
Tucker, as he stretched his neck to look
after the departing figure, ‘if I hadn't
a’ séen Harry Wait 3 Saree Wagon
comin’ down the road. " An’ I guess I
ain’t one to spoil sport.”
*'Twon’t never Pe a match if Kitty:
Ritchie shoulders the burden o’ that old
crazy aunt o' her'n,” said Mrs. Tucker.
‘A man can’t be ‘expected to marry a
whole madhouse!”
“iT guess Kitty's worth it!” declared
Tucker.
~ “She is a good girl” said his wife.
‘And there was one time folks s’posed
she was goin’ to be an heiress—when the
old sea captain uncle came home with
the prize money that he gained in the
war.’
“I don’t believe there ever ‘was any
prize money!” said Mr. Tucker, resum-
ing his task of denuding the plump duck
of its feathers. ¢Therel” -
‘I know there was!’ nodded his wife,
“Mrs. Ritchie showed it to me herself.
All gold eagles; ‘tied up in a shammy
bag, with a leather shoe string. The old
captain give 1t to her for nussin’ him
through that fever.”
«What's the reason you never said
nothin’ about it before?” questioned
Tucker.:
‘Mrs, Ritchie made me promise not to
tell. She was afeared o’ bein’ robbed.”
¢tAnd what ever came of it?”
“That's what nobody knows. Jest's
like’s not old Eben Ritchie put it into
‘that iron-mining’ consarn that honey-:
combed Blue Mountain and never done
no good. = Or p'r'aps he invested it ins
Totory tickets. He never had no judg-
ment, Now, don’t you go to chatterin’
about this, Gid Tucker. Mind, I'm un.
der a promise to the poor old creetur
that’s dead and buried,”
‘Some promises is better broken than
kept, said Gideon.
But Mrs. Tucker knew. that the secret
was safe with her uncommunicafive
spouse.
Meanwhile, the builder's wagon had
stopped before the old, one-storied ruin
of the Ritchie house, strongly silhouetted
by the red smoulder of the September
sunset.
“Kitty,” said young Wait, stealing
his aim coaxingly | around her waist, ‘you
can't live in an old shell like this] Give
up your false pride, love! Let me make
‘a home for you.’
Kitty bit her lip.
ssAnd have it said,” said she, ¢‘that
Henry Wait was the only one of the
Wait family that made a bad match!”
#¢] don’t care what people say.”
+I do.”
“Kitty, let’ 5. go to the parson to-
a‘i‘night! Let's be married!”
. Kitty shook her head.
. ‘Not until I've saved up enough to
buy a decent outfit,” said she, ‘Not
until I've paid the last debt that poor
father owed.”
Tl pay "em, Kitty.”
No, Harry, you won't. I can be as
unselfish as you are!’ cried the girl.
«Oh, hush! Who is that?”
A board in the old floor had creaked
softly, a shadowy little figure had come
forward with a sidling motion, into the
light.
Be you Kitty?” asked a soft, high-
‘pitched little voice. ‘Is this home! ve
‘come a. good ways, and I'm sort o’ turned
round.”
“4It's Aunt Ruhamah!” cried Kitty.
And sll by
herself!”
woman, shifting her flat gaveling
ket; ¢‘and I'm sort o’ turned roun
I followed sister Sarah all the way. oo
went before, an’ she beckoned. I fol-
lowed her bere, And she’s gone out to
the old well, "sort ol feared to fol-
4 high, wet grass, but
she ‘keeps a-beckonin’, and I guess I'll
have to go!”
“Yes,” observed Mr. Tucker, zervous-
your Aunt Ruey’s signature to my title
1 wants me.
here to-day. The cousins in Ohio won’t:
.bave ‘her any longer. - 8he is- getting 4
xpects to come back to the,
“It'sa good ways,” repeated ha ak oi
“8he started for the door, passing her{
used fashion over her fore
8 Jd fee her a-beckonin’t"
piped the little old woman—*‘just there
by the old well? : We néver could get
Ebento put up a curb there, and sister
Sarah was ‘always afeard somethin’ would
ha
“9 see the tall grass waving,” said
} Kitty, sand a cloud coming over the
surface of of the rising moon, and that is
all,
“It's sister Sarah,” said Aunt Ruey,
pushing resolutely ‘ahead ; ‘and she
Why, Kitty, do you mean to
tell me that you don’t know your own
mother?”
Kitty sent for Harry Wait the next
day.
‘ “Harry,” said she, ‘‘do you want to
do something for me?”
HT ant to do everything for you,
Kitty.”
‘That's nonsense!” (But she laughed
and colored nevertheless.) ¢I want you
to put a curb around that old sunken
well. Aunt Ruey keeps wandering out
there. She declares that mother stands
in. ' And 1's as near to bring out water
from there as to go to Hemlock
Springs.”
“I thought the old well was dried up
long ago,” said young Wait. -
‘There's water there. Isee it shine
and sparkle. And Mr." Tucker says he
| will dig 1t out anew and stone it up it
you'll build a curb, It will be handy for
the cattle, too.” ’
Very . well,” nodded Wait. ¢Any
time Gid Tucker’ se ready, I am.” :
Mrs. 'I'ucker came a few days later fo
the first busking bee of the season, full
of excitement.
¢Hev yo heard?” said she.
And Mrs, Bradley, the buxom hostess,
made answer:
“¥Wé ain't heard nothin’ new!”
‘Jf I hadn’t heerd it with my own
esrs an’ seen it with my own eyes,” said
Mrs, Tucker, ¢‘I never should ha’ be.
lieved it. But it’s true!”
¢* What's true?’ breathlessly demanded
Mrs. Bradley.
¢* Miss Ritchie’s come into her fortune,”
said Mrs. Tucker.
¢What!” cried all the. company.
“In gold,” said Mre. Tucker. The
old captain's prize money. I knowed it
must be somewhere. And it was there
all the time!”
*“Where?” questioned the company,
with one accord.
“+: Wedged behind the big half-way
stone in the old sunken well, where they
used to lower the cream-pail to keep if
cool,” eagerly spoke Mrs. Tucker. ‘In
an old tin box rusted clean through, and
tied upin ‘the same identical shammy
bag that Mrs; Ritchie : onee showed ‘me
‘years an’ years ago. She must a’ put it
there herself, to keep it out of her hus
band’s hands, that time he had sucha
she had a chance to tell anybody where
it was. Gideon he discovered i fixin'
up the new stun wall,”
Mrs, Bradley gave a start.
¢Don't ye know,” said she, “poor old
Aunt Ruey always stood to it that her
sister Sarah was standin’ thers by the
well, beckonin’ to her? She declared
that sister Sarah went afore her all the
way from Ohio.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Tucker, i in a low
voice. "And when Gideon got. to the
house, there was Aunt Ruhamah gettin’
by the fire, with her knittin® work in her
hands, jest for all the, world like she was
asleep, but stone dead. And wasn't it:
lucky she signed them title papers o’
Gideon’s last week? Ahd Kitty's cry-
ing fit to break her heart.
be married now whenever she pleases.
There ain't nothin’ more to wait for.
And who knews,’” she added, looking:
timidly over her. shoulder at the
shadows of the gloaming, ‘‘but that
Aunt Ruhamah saw clearer than we do,
and sister Sarah, Kitty’s mother, was
really beckoning on the edge of the old
well?
oi stwho
said Mrs. Bradley, '
: knows{"—Saturday Ni ight.
The New Year in Japan.
The Japanese New Year comes at the
same time as ours, but instead of cele-
brating but une day,the Japanese observe
the first three days of January. Indeed,
ys
observed. During the holidays, public
offices are closed, and very little business
is tranfacted, all classes of people devot-
ing ‘themselves to enjoyment, and spend-
ing much time in making and receiving
New Year's calls.
people-go fiom house to house wishing
one another ‘‘Shim new omedetto gozai-
mazy,” which means, ¢*May
happy New Year.” The callers are often
ttended by one or moré servants who
ry bamboo baskets laden with gifts,
for it is the custom to leave presents with
one’s friendly greetings. The presents
are usually inexpensive articles for every-
day use. Itis customary to bestow more
costly gifts upon one's relatives and
intimate friends during the Closing days
of the old year.
During the holidays the streets present
a most festive appearance, for houses are
elaborately decorated and everybody
locks gay and happy. © The decorations
remain for fifteen days, and consist in
‘many cause of evergreen arches over the
doors. Red berries and’ yellow ehrys:
anthemums are interwoven into. these
arches, and purple cabbages are alsq
used. The Japanese think the cabbage
highly ornamental, and use it as a house-
: | plant and at funerals. The cabbages
are said to look like large purple rosettes
in the decorations.
Straw ropes are twisted into fanciful
used in decorating, The flag. of the
Sunrise Kingdom is a large red sun ona
Baskgrous of white. Forward.
‘beckoning her and leaning over to look
Kitty gan, is not a twist, however, but a snarl of
in certain localities even six days are (
Arrayed in gay holiday attire, the
u have a
shapes, and interspersed with ferns, and
lanterns and Japanese flags are also much’
come to a bad end. Quite as often ad
any other ‘girl she learns to whistle g
| cradle song, low and sweet and charm-
ing, to the young voter in the cradle.
Bhe is a girl of spirit, of independence
% J of character, of dash and flavor; and as
| to lips, why, you must have some sort of
| presentable lips to whistle; thin ones
ES will not.
‘Peome to a bad end at all (if marriage is
The whistling girl does not
>| | still considered a good occupation), ex-
THE EERVANT GIRL PROBLEM.
The wife of a celebrated Englishman
is solving her servant girl problem in a
way that has been often recommended
but seldom tried on so large a plan. The
work of her house is done by balf a doz-
en or eight young girls, from twelve to
fitteen years of age. Each in turn learns
the duties of house maid, parlor maid
and cook, and then goes out to find an-
other home, where she may exercise her
skill. Her place is then taken by an-
other ignorant and poor little maid, who
comes under the civilizing influence of
the mictress and eleven other maids.—
New York Post.
THE RUSSIAN LADY.
' The great want: of the Russian lady
seems to be something congenial to oc—
cupy her time. She finds no pleasure in
needlework, nor in walking abroad,
lawn tennis, or any active pursuit what.
ever. Novels and cigarettes and sun-
flower seeds are well-nigh all the logit
mate occupations that come within he
reach, especially at her country ett,
Vanity is not one of the Russian lady’s:
cardinal sins. Though bad complexions
are the rule, as a result of the climate;
bad ventilation, irregular living and want
ot exercise, no well-bred lady paints.
Bmall feet and hands are common, and
if the Russian lady takes pride in’ any
particular BF pact of her person, it would
ft smallness and shapeliness of these
extremities. —8t. Louis Republic.
OLD LACES THE RAGE.
As for laces, never was there such a|
rausackio of old stores. One of the re-
cently. : developed industries of ‘lady
workers at home’ is the mending of fine
old laces, and they have many young
society ladies for pupils. Veils are also
a fad of the season. Not the little affairs
‘that just reach the nose, but generous |
ones, thin as cobwebs, that cover the big
hats and come well under the chins of
the fair wearers. Even the old style veil,
with a deep border, that ‘is fastened to
the bonnet with a ribbon, aud falls
almost to the knee, has been revived as
an adjunct to the Doke | bonnets,
‘The fashion of weari veils to public
entertainments is exc gz bad form.
The friendly gaslight does away with
the necessity for veils, and nothing is so
‘hurtful to the eyes as locking at the
stage and through glasses with a veil on.’
More than all this, it is not good taste,
|and really fashionable women never do
notion o’ puttin’ everything Into. -minin’ | fiur—Nov York Teleg
shares an’ lottery tickets, an’ died afore |
EVENING COIFFURES.
The blushing bud wears her tresses
parted straight down the centre, slightly
waved, and coiled or braided low in the
neck. The fringe is light and wavy, cut
round rather than pointed, and the short
locks are curled loosely and carelessly all
the way down to the ears. The old
fashion of ‘wearing a single rose in the
hair has been revived. only that now the
rose is sometimes of enamel, with dia—
mond-dewed petals.
flower is occasionally made to do duty
with pleasing effect.
Young women: one or two seasons out’
affect the Psyche knot, which has re-
turned, to the delight of the Madonna-
faced woman and the despair of those
with more plebelan features, The knot
soft little curls fastened on only heaven
and. the hairdresser know how. A nar-
row ribbon is sometimes tied about the
head for evening, with stiff little loops
and an aigrette of bird of paradise feath-
ers strung with diamonds rising from the
bow.
affected, too, with this style of coiffure.
The young matron wears a mere elabo-
rate arrangement, which consists of a
softly twisted figure eight, held in place
with diamond pins and finished in the
neck with little curls. The hair is waved
back to meet the coiffure, only a few
locks falling carclessly on the fore-
head. 3
‘Matrons of more dignified presence
one would scarcely presume to call them
plder)fancy the Josephine arrangement,
hich 18 a twist coiled very high on the
ead, half covered with a flutter of curls
and secured with an ‘imposing comb’ or
loin of gold and jewels. —New York Sun.
FAD OF COLLECTING JEWELS.
The expense of collecting precious
stones is great,” and yet fashionable
women have developed a fashion for
‘this sort of thing, and are said to make
heroic sacrifices in order to gratify the
new whim. Their fancy for turquoises
‘has increased the former market value of
‘thoae pretty blue stones, while no diminu-
tion in the price of pearls and brilliants
seems possible until the present craze is
abated. :
Nor infrequently the idea is to possess
diamonds of a particular tone, to the ex:
clusion of all other colors—blue, rose,
straw or pure white——and when that is
‘the case the jewel box is emptied of
every treasure to gratify this taste. One
woman of most luxurious habits, whose
heart has been ensnared by the rare
beauty of yellow pearls, not only *‘put
by her maid”, as the English say, but
“denied herself tailor suits gd imported
“bonnets for two seasons for the sake of
these favorite gems.’
A gtring of perfect pearls is the desire
of most women's hearts, and the prettiest:
gift a godmother can. bestow is a nucleus
“of such a necklet for her baptismal
daughter. It is easy to add a jewel for
| every birthday and Christmas, so when
lady baby is grown no one is the worse
off for the spherical bijoux encircling
her throat. ~—Jowelers’ Circular,
Still the natural |
The Grecian fillet of gold is much |
4d { cept a cloud may be thrown upon her ex-
uberant young life by this rascally
proverb. Even if she walks the lonely
road of life, she has this advantage, that
she can whistle to keep her courage up
But in a larger sense, one that this
practical age can understand, it is not
true that the whistling girl comes to a
bad. end. Whistling pays. It has
brought her money; it has blown her
name about the listening world. Scarcely
has a non-whistling woman ‘been more
famous. She has set aside the adage.
She has done so much toward the eman-
cipation of her sex from the prejudice
created by an ill-natured proverb which
never had root in fact.
But has the whistling woman come to
stay? Is it well for women to whistle?
Are the majority of women likely fo be
whistlers? These are serious questions,
not to be taken up in a light manner at
the end of a grave paper. Will women
ever learn to throw astone? Thereit is.
The tuture is inscrutable. We only
know that whereas they did not whistle
with approval, now they do; the preju-
dice of generations gradually melts away.
And woman's destiny is not linked with
that of the hen, nor to be controlled by
a proverb—perhaps not by anything, —
Harper 8 Magazine.
FASHION NOTES.
Pink and black is a very stylish com’
bination.
pinned on the bodice like a real flower.
The nearer we get. to midwinter the
ote lace is worn on felt and velvet bon-
Bells for fringing belt ribbons are
‘sixty cents for silver and double that for
geld."
A pretty bangle spells the wearer's
name on the top of the arm in precious
stones.
Finger bowls ant plates of glass are
covered with ornamentations of gold and
colors.
Antique snuffboxes and artistic bon.
bonnieres are used on writing. tables to
hold pens.
Oblong stamp boxes of silver Have
slabs of onyx in the top. The combina-
tion is very pretty.
A white polka. dotted enamel bow
rimmed with gold is the most chic fas.
tening imaginable for a watch.
~ There is scarcely an article of wear not
ornamented with astrachan, beaver and
other furs, both smooth and fluffy.
Ear screws, with many stones are a
drug in the market. = Choice from over a
hundred designs can be had for $1.
A desirable manicure tray hasa divis.
ion in the middle. On one side the
larger articles are placed, on the other
the smaller implements.
One of this season’s fashionable hats is
the gathered velvet soft crown and round
‘brim lined with bright velvet, and from
‘the top an osprey or cluster "of ostrich
tips.
Toilet mugs of silver are the latest.
They are tall,
dles. The only ornamentation is at the
base in a repousse band or slight fes-
toons,
One of the curiosities of the present
modes consists in having white satin-
stitch pieces on net or lace, inserted in
cloth, ag if the latter were not a ‘woolen
but a mull fabric.
A silver pocket-flask hasa dead finish,
with three or four swallows in flight on
raised work. Above these is the word
s+Several.” The pertinence of these
facts lies in their interpretation.
Pompadour dressing tables in gilt
with an onyx slab and an oval mirror
above a cabinet-like enclosure of small
squares of bevelled glass might have
been copied from Versailles or Fontain-
blean. :
A set comprising paper knife, envel.
ope opener, pen holder and the rest, of
stained ivory, have for ornament incis-
ions after designs found on old Indian
relics. It ‘was exhibited at the Paris
Exposition.
Roman earrings, reproduced from the
Cesnola collection in the Metropolitan
Art Gallery, are frequently made to order
for New York ladies who affect Greek
house costumes. These oddities cost
| §14 to $80.
Lamp shades made of what appears to
be giant petals of differeat flowers in
sexquisite shades of rose, green and or-
ange are introduced. In flower screens
for lamps the different varieties of orchids
are beautifully copied.
Children, like their elders, are wear-
ing mob-crowned hats, but with soft
brims, and they are ornamented with
yellow lace in the flax and wheat shades,
old gold ribbons aud other ecrn arrange-
ments onrose, straw and mauve.
The silk purse is almost as cheap as
the proverbial sow’s ear. Women who
can afford them won’t carry them. They
are pretty, historic and all that, but a
‘trons to get them when a coin is ‘wanted
in a hurry.
There is no brooch, lace pin or mina.
ture painting too precious, too big or
too unique to be worn in the bonnet
strings. “Even marquis and large solitaire |
rings are being remounted and stuck
under the ears in the velvet ties that are
often the biggest part of an evening bon- |
‘met.
Black tulles ‘brocaded with Pompadour
bouquets are “among the favored materials
for Parisian party gowns. ' White moire
a ped: with satin will be ventured for
1 gowns. , Satin broche of Louis
oe : baskets of flowers, feathers, etc., on
‘de soie
gow
flaring and without han- |
‘real nuisance. One needs to be ambidex- |
und ‘makes a lovdly :
, HOUSEHOLD MATTERS.
CELLARS NOT GOOD FOR APPLES.
Cellars, and especially those under tha.
living rooms of houses, are generally
kept much too warm to preserve apples
in good condition. The growing tem-
dency to heat houses from furnaces
makes the cellar still hotter, so that it is :
impossible to keep apples from =
rapidly. The plan of storing apples 1
out-of-door pits is better.
preserved at a nearly uniform ms
ture, and if the thermometer goes a few 3
hours below the freezing point no
ous injury'is likely to result.
always cover the apples well with hay or
straw, so as to keep them from contact
with the earth. They will keep sound =
but acquire
if covered only with soil,
some of the taste which soil gives teu
what it touches.—Boston Cultivator. .
HOME-MADE WINDOW SHADES.
“We weren’t living exactly ‘sixty
miles from a lemon,’ but we were livi
a good way from any pldce, and when #
came to fitting up a house, we were
amazed at the number of windows whieh. =
required shades, and the small suppiy off ©
material on hand. Indeed, those we
had were either too short or too narrow,
and didn’t seem to answer the purpose 2
all.” At the nearest point where sucky x
things could be purchased, the price, $&
a window, struck us so utterly unreason=
able, that we declined to disburse the
necessary amount of cash, especially ag: J
there was something like twenty-fo
“windows in the building.
out amazingly. She had written us that:
she was coming, and we wrote her the
particulars of our delemma about the:
shades. When she arrived, she brought
among her other luggage a parcel which:
_} was duly turned over to the head of the:
Watches look like owen, and maybe y is
family, with the laughing remark: -/
¢¢ ‘There, my dear, are all the necess
sary supplies for Jour windows, and the
bill is just $3.50
“The parcel contained two Jozen
shade rollers with fixtures, alot of fringes
and some white muslin, the purpose of
which we did not at first understand.
. The next day our friend went to -we
,meastred the windows, sawed ‘the rollers,
‘and put: up the fixtures: She then, with
a very sharp shears, cut the curtains off
exactly the size required, ont of ther
| muslin, and fastened them to the rollexs:
1 with the smallest gimp tacks, whiché
The hems.
were also in the parcel.
‘of the curtains were finished, the
fringe put on, and sticks
in. The curtains were then tacked
to a crossbeam in the garret, ‘this ;
the most convenient place. They were:
fastened by the sticks in the hems, very:
slender nails being driven through ak.
each end and in the middle. - The cloth
was then saturated with starch, in which?
was . dissolved some white glue, and:
weights were attached. to the . rolless.’
They were then allowed to dry without
being touched. Having been cut by the:
thread. and tacked, so that the cloth fell.
in exactly a perpendicular ling, the cur-
tains dried perfectly square, and, whem:
put up, rolled as easily as a> holland.
which they very closely resembled.
«In large cities curtains are. so inexsy
pensive that it is scarcely worth, while to"
take the trouble to make ‘them, %but' in.
country districts or where goodsare very:
high-priced it pays excellently ‘well to:
make the curtains at home. It is really:
very little work, requiring only carefal
attention to cutting of the cloth and
sawing the sticks, aud a mechanical eye
to put the fixtures up straight. Some
home-made curtains have been go neatly:
finished that the casual observer would!
never imagine them other than the worl:
of a professional. Fine heavy sheet:
even cambric, makes extremely pretty”
shades, if carefully managed. Fringe ox:
any other desired finish may be used,and
willadd greatly to the neatness of the. job. /
A fine quality of size may be used tend
of starch and glue, but must be very
carefully applied, and permitted to be-
come perfectly dry before using.”—The:
Ledger.
RECIPES.
Vanilla Taffy—One pound of coffee A
sugar, half a pint of water and half a tea-
spoonful of cream of tartar dissolved im
water; boil until it will harden in cold
water, flavor with vanilla and pouron a
marble slab; when cool enough, pull.
‘Oream Corn-—Open a can of sweet
corn, put in a stewpan on back of stove,
stew slowly, but do not boil; season with
salt and plenty of butter, and add a cup
of sweet cream five minutes betore yom
are ready to use. Serve in. individual
dishes.
Fried Muffins—One cup milk, scalded,
one-half scant teaspoon salt, one table-
spoon sugar, one tablespoon : butter, one
tgg, one-quarter cup yeast, flour to make ©
+ stiff drop batter. Scald the milk, and.
melt in it the salt, ’'s
When cool add the beaten egg and yeast;
then add flour gradually,%beating it im:
until you can beat no longer. Jk Rise over:
night. In the morning, take up a'spoom-
(ul without stirring and drop it into. dees
fat.
Chocolate Caramels—Two ¥ cups’ om
brown sugar, one cup {of y molasses, one
cup of cream or milk, one-half ‘cup of.
butter, one-half pound of grated choco-
late, two tables poonfuls of flour, 5: Boal.
the molasses, butter, sugar and flour fif-
teen minutes; ‘stir the chocolate into the -
cream and pour in the boiling syrup and
boil ill done; dropin a little cold waters
if it ‘piles up and hardens, ¥then: it is
done. Before pouring it out on buttered: .
pans or plates add a teaspoonful of vam
| illa, and as it cools crease it in. ema
squares.
Escalloped Tomatoss=2Open a" can of
tomatoes and pour off almost all the juice
Butter a deep earthen dish and cover tha -
bottom with bread crumbs, then pour on «
a layer of tomatoes, sprinkle over it a lit
tle salt and put bits of butter in sev
places, then another’ layer of crumbs ang
‘80 on antl the dish 1s filled with alternate
Weshould
The timely
arrival of an ingenious friend helped us.
ng, os:
rand ‘butter. :
SE