I i on on every blade and shea: ture soon in rest will find relief. | Bill iselimbed with trembling, tired fees, is o'er, and going home is sweet, Soon, aged form, thy life will be complete. The gun again triumphant shall appear, Al ature wake to life another year, Then for the soul of man why need we fear? elen Everett Grant, id Chicago Graphic. “HER DESIGNING SISTER. BY MARIE FRANCES UPTON. H,; I'm utterly dis- couraged about Pet, Mrs. Park- hurst. She says she’s engaged again.” 3 And ‘Eloise Murray gave her little A 2, round footrest a vs /s push that sent it spinbing across the music-room. . “s that the way you feel, my dear?” . Mrs. Parkurst iaaghed—a good na- “tured fat person's jolly laugh. She was iss Murray's intimate friend. She sent her two Sons and half-grown daughter to Aliss Eloise for vocal and piano in- struction, and further benefited “her, rignd whenever possible by her immedi- ate presence and advice. If Miss Eloise - Bad not been near thirty, and Mrs. Park- ‘hurst had been seventeen, they would have been called chums. Feel?” Miss Murray = demanded. fy shouldn't I feel so? You don't know Pet Murray as 1 do, or you'd know why I feel so.” “Now, my dear,” Mrs. Parkhurst es- red, comfortingly, *‘Rob isn’t a bad fellow, and his peoplé are nice.” . t+ivisn't that,” Miss Murray inter- posed. | sts this: Pet's always getting gaged. That child has been epgaged mle one or other ever since she was pionfores. Mamma managed i, her as long as she could, and now “I'Ve taken i She says ‘yes,’ just to be » to every dry-goods clerk of a i saip ig gets: a chance to ask her” Miss Murray walked up and down. der pretty eighteen-year-old sister ‘was at that moment out sleighing wiih ob:izing. They had become engaged the night before, and Pet had given her sister an idea of their consuming passion over the toast and coffee that morning. “Well, maybe this is the final engage- ment for Pet,” Mrs. “Parkhurst said. £5he will likely marry some one in the end, and then the other affairs will do to i lauz) over.” “indeed Pet is not going to be mar- Xie short of twenty-five if I can Help 3 * Miss Murray said; ‘‘and I think I 5 ee She won't have sense enough to be married before that, and she shall have sense if I can manage it.” “You don't suppose, “do you,” Miss Muriay went on, ‘that I sent for Pet to . come here because I needed her to help me teach? Not for a .soment. I Simply wanted to get her away from one «of hier idiotic engagements, and I did so ar okt successfully. She hadn’t been here @ month before she was telling me that she didn’t think, after all, that she and Charles were suited to each other.” Mrs. Parkhurst was laughing, fears in -her, eyes, ut Miss Murray's heroics, but she held tp both hands, “Que woulda’ think marriages were anade in heaven, Eloise,” she said, tfto hear you go on, or else you are a most presi imptuons Young woman to meddle so with celestial affairs.” **Celestial fiddle-sticks!” Mrs. Park- burst, you know as well as Ido that matriages in six cases oug of 4 dozen are a wistake and a calamity.’ ©0ae wouldn’t think you had ever been engaged, Eloise,” Mrs. Parkhurst said. with reminiscent mirth. “Well, 1 have; and as mamma says about dancing, I've seen the folly of it. But there it is; mamma no sooner had _ the words out of her mouth than Pet in- sisted, ‘I want to see the folly of it ‘too.’ 5 ° Miss Murray and her sister were at ‘breakfast in the little parlor back of the musi¢ room. aad suuny, and the frost was fast dis- appearing from the window panes. ‘Are you going to have time to drive with us fo the Forest Farm to-day, ! loie?”’ Pet: asked, as she buttered a ulin, g for me at three.” “No; Ihave the little Sampson girls ee, Bloise said; “and you'll have : arty to be back in time for your lass, if you go driving, at'three.” an’ be helped, Sissy,” claved, curiously. “Come to think of Idn’c you teach those little raga- ye buck by four.” Tans you better call them my raga. frankly observed,’ ‘Her vss baby fa cc in her Tends her elbows. on. the ta- I don’ C mind » > ois answered; n't 1t rather defeat the supposed your coming here to: leave me 1l your teaching? Si dof t lecture, gy a tipped over to where her suster sat {froma chance sheet on & ‘But you must,” Mi with such decision her stool, folded her token of submission. “When did you ment’s-hesitation—*‘to be married?” know yet. Some time when there isn’t anything eise to do. I think it's quite sufficient to be engaged for the present.” «:Oh, I understand,” Miss Murray said, with all the gravity so serious a subject could demand. “iHloise Murray, are you poking fun?” Pet demanded, looking doubtfully at her sister. **Not for a minute,” Eloise answered. “But I was thinking that if you would postpone your other interest a trifle; I should like to send you to Chicago to study a year before you ‘ate married.” And Miss Murray awaited Pet's answer with a feeling of conscious rectitude that far outweighed any designing she may have cherished in her heart, Pet was round-eyed aud serious for a minute. Here was her oft-8xpressed heart's desire laid at her fest. dear old sissy!” she said. “But you need me to help you teach-—and “you can’t afford it—and—" ‘I've concluded not to let these con- siderations stand in your way, since you will have. only a little time left for studying,” Miss Murray answered. Before the weck ‘was out it was ar- ranged that Miss Eloise was to assume, as she had in the past, all the duties of instruction in their little Western town, and that Miss Pet was to study a year in the Chicago conservatory. It was also arranged that Mr. Bob Bowen was to write to Pet every day in the week, and that Pet should answer fully as often. Pet staid at the conservatory a year, and as she was really a bright girl with a sweet voice her musical progress was most satisfactory. Her letters to her sis- ter were full of enthusiasm over her in- structors, her concerts, and of Rob. But as the year waned Miss Eloise fancied that the enthusiasm about that young loyer waned with it. At the end of the year Pet accepted a position as soprano of a new church in a Colorado mining town, where they had an old acquaintance, Eloise hoped the | independent experience would benefit , =r sister. A further reason may have ‘een that she thoughtit just as well Pet and Rob should not waste too much time. renewing old associations. “This. mining town i3 just too lovely, Pet wrote to her sister. $‘Everybody comes to hear me sing, and mysterious, unknown persons send me mysterious, unexplained gifts and tokens. My head is quite turned with admiration, but it’s so general and disguised that I can’t place it. TI don’t know which particular miner in a blue flannel shirt or gambler in diamonds it is who sends me flowers every Sunday. And Idon’t know where my French candy comes from. And all I can be certain of is that when I si the applause comes from all of them.” “That is very good,” Eloise said to hesrelf. “So long as the admiration stays general, Pet is safe, and Mrs. Bain [Mrs. Bain was their old acquaintance] will not let the child suffer any annoyance.” Miss Murray- laughed as she thought, ‘We don’t hear any more of Rob.” But alas! for Miss Murray’s peace of mind, a month had not gone before Pet { wrote: “Dear Erorse—It was the gambler, and he's perfectly splendid. Mr. Bain knows about him. He isn't a real gambler—that is, he hasn't always beennons: He prospected here and struck it awfully’ xich, then be went East and bought everything for all his people, and paid all their debts and mort: old-maid relatives, “Then he went to Europe, and saw every one who is famous, specially’ great sifigers; he adores music, and asked Mr. Bain to ask me to sing Schubert's ‘Jerenadd (that’s ig favorite) “at a concert one night, and I d. *‘But hie spent all his money —a million or so—in a year or so, and now ‘he’s back here and is discouraged, and gambles, and sends me flowers, When I gave that sacred con- cert 1s 9 week he asked Mr. Bain for twenty- five uonars’ worth of sickots, and sold every one of them. He said 1 was a nice little giri, and he liked my grit. The morning was clear ! Pet ~de- = her chair, and oh *P'm sosorry for him. Pm going to try to reclaim him. He told Mr. Bain that I re- mind him of home, *You don’t know how splendid it isto feal ‘ that you are doing good to some one. “As ever, yours, PET? | t‘Great heavensl” Miss Murray said, i with. Western fervor. ‘‘Doing good in- deed! That child will be engaged to that l'wretched gambler in less than month — i to reclaim him—if she "isn’t stopped. ! Doing good!" and Miss Murray Stamiped “sWe are going for ornamental | her little foot. to decorate the church with, Rob’s Then she wrote immediately a long letter of appeal to Mrs. Bain, In it she wrote very plainly about Pet's sentimen- talism, and urged her. friend to hedge the silly child about and® keep her out of ro- mantic foolishness: But another letter from Pet showed that ‘there was no real menace in the affair of the gambler. ' It read: “DEAREST ELOISE] wish vou could see these mountains, 'I'ney are so high thatnoth-. ing grows except afew scraggy pines, ahd they are always covered with snow. In th mornings and evenings there are the Ee glorious colors on ‘the peaks, red and blue and orange, all streaked and clouded: © day last week we drove alniost to the pin A and Mrs. Bain, and a yonng man who is superintendent in one of the mines, His name is Bennett, and his father owns the mine, Mr. Bennett is from Yale, and he sings tenor beautifally. We: sang duets—college ee ) up the slope, and the others said it was ay Bain asked Mr. Panett to ‘She says he is one of the few young men re one can consent to know. She umade Mr. Bain “put a'stop to the flowers, Vm sorry we found out who seat th ‘of course I couldn’t refuse them as long as’ I didwe know iy they came. “Mr. pn] may take the tenor in our, ould he Joven for our. voices’ loves, RT, down the corners of her rosy mouth in’ tell me you and Rob arc” —witha mo- | ++Oh, impossible to say that. We don’t | 0h, you gages, and bought millinery stores for sll his 1% was so romantic, and | some edible. nn “Last night Mr, Bennett said, as were home; that it would make him aw. Td let him call me Pet with- I said Af it would pe il ; worth. online me %o if it. didn’t mean any- he talked so lovely, and cugagel. That is, if you dont mind: ©. 1 a aon’ Lay sper died etn't be called an en- gagement till we heard from son but she has a very for Bennett, Don’t you thin as is a pretty name? “Now, you dear old sissy you wouldnt mind, T know, if you knew how nice and handsome Paul is. “His eyes are blue. “Bye Per.” s¢Alas for the enevitable!” sighed Miss Murray, as she laid the letter down. ‘*Another Charles-Rob-gambler affair.” But she wrote to Pet that she had only a wish for her happiness. But just at present she wanted Pet to listen to a plan that she had cherished for some time. It was that Petshould spend the following season with her in foreign travel, She thought it inadvisable that a young girl should be married with ab- solutely no knowledge of the world. She wanted to start in a few weeks, and wrote careful directions to Pet about the journey. They would meet, she said, in Chicage, and Pet was to ‘answer by telegraph. It was her last card; but Pet tele- graphed, ¢*Yes.” Pet awaited her sister, according to their arrangement, in the hotel drawing. room on Wednesday of the following week. ‘When Miss Murray arrived, the stretched arms, ignoring all the other | people in the room. “¢You're just lovely, Eloise,” Pet warmly annsunced. ‘‘Paul said—T had to tell him, you know, about that silly Charles and Rob—that you were a lovely sister, but he’s afraid you are a design- ing person—and—here he is.” She produced from somewhere in the room a tall young man with a frank sort of face, anda laugh in his eyes. *‘He’s going with us to Europe,” she said. *‘We were married this morning. '—Har- per’s Weekly. re i——. | Where Mud is Important. There is nothing to make one realize the importance of mud, indeed, like a. journey up the Nile when the inundation is just over. You lounge on the deck of your dahabieh and dink in geography almost without gnowig | it. The voyage forms a perfect introdnction to the study of mudology, and suggests to the ob- servant mind (meaning you and mej the real nature of mud 8s nothing else on earth that T know of can suggest. For in Egypt you get your phenomenon isolated, as it were, from all Sistarbing elements. You have no rainfall t> bother you,no local streams, no complex denudation; the Nile does it all, and the Nile does everything. On either hand stretches away the bare desert, rising up in gray, rocky Hills, Down the midst runs the one long line of alluvial soil—in other words, Nile mud-—which alone allows cultivation and life in that rainless dis- trict. The, country bases itself abso- | lutely on mud. The crops are raised on it, the houses and villages are built of it, the land is manured with it, the very air is full of it. The crude brick build- ings that dissolve in dust are Nile mud solidified; the red pottery of Assiout is Nile mud baked hard, the village mosques and minarets are Nile mud whitewashed. I have even seen a ship’s bulwarks neatly repaired with mud. It pervades the whole land, when wet, as mud undisguised; when dry, as dust storm. Egypt, says Herodotus, 'is a gift of the Nile. A truer word was never spoken. Of course it is just equally true,in a way, that Bengal is a gift of the Ganges, and that Louisiana and Arkansas are a gift of the Mississippi; but with this difference, that in the case of the Nile the depend- ence is far more obvious, far freer from disturbing or distracting details. For that reason, and also because the Nile is so much more familiar to most English. speaking folk than the American rivers, I choose Egypt first as my type of a reg- ular mud-land. But.in order to understand it fully you mustn't stop all your time ‘in Cairo and the Delta; you mustn’t view it only from the terrace of Shepheard’s Hotel or the rocky plattorm of the Great Pyramid at Gizeh; you must push up country early, under Mr. Cook’s care, to Luxor and the First ‘Cataract. ” It.is up 'coun- try that Egypt unrolls itself visibly be- fore your eyes in the very process of making; it is there that the full import-- ance of good,rich, black mud first forces itself upon you by undeniable evidence —Cornhill Magazine. Nutritive Value of Peeled Almonds. ‘An English physician is till this me.’ ment the sole authority for a statement concerning the nutritive value of peeled | almonds. | 4 seldom go my rounds,” he says, :‘‘without taking a little packet: of almonds with me, and I find I am carried on for hours~without so much as Jfemembering that I. have missed my tea or luncheon.” He does not advocate rectly, but he will doubtless find many ready disciples to his theory. Peeled and browned and salted als monds are a much-prized dainty, hitherto | was alleged to have been vaused by pe sistent almond munching, and the e Jonsty 3 is added to, =New York Times pretty girl rushed towards her with out- ] their wholesome qualitiés except indi- indulged in with caution under the im- | pression that they were most pernicions | in their effects upon the digestive organs. A few seasons ago, in Washington, the serious illness of several society | omen Hn cussion evoked at that time created a ‘| prejudice against the orisp and tooth: If we have been mistaken all these years, the gayety of the future, | 5 oy thar Wer Fi Bh AN] Gaphired by One mi 3 mols Oalvaryman, Near Baoish : Md. "Barly on the morning g after the atte | : of South Mountain, Sept. 15, 1862, the | Farns- 8th Ill. Cav.,under Col."J. olin. F. Farns- worth, was ordered to pursue the re- treating enemy. Capt. E. 8. Kelly with his squadron, composed of Cos.’ B,took the advance, and at a brisk trot passed the infantry, w which ‘were niov- ing out the main pike, cheering us on a trot’ of d. commanded by Gen. Fitz. | | PO You KiNow HER? a8 we flew past them. about three miles we came fc rear-guard high Lee. Mormed in solid ‘column’ in the main street of Boonsboro, Capt. Kelly ordered the ‘cha gallantly led it, and in striking of — second or third platoon of the enem received a shot through his rightlun His men, seeing that he was ‘wounde and about to falling from’ his hoi caught him on either side, and tarning his horse, rode him to the rear. The exasperated ; febels attempted his capture, but his own boys ‘opening ‘and his supporters pass,and closing their ranks their ranks let the Captaip quickly,met the foe with an impregna- ble line of steel. Following this first encounter, successive charges were made, and go impetuous was ‘the onset the ‘enemy “retreat, hotly broke and beat a ‘hast pursued by the entire command. For nearly two miles it Was a running fight | but the result ‘was an overwhelming victory, as several hundred ‘prisoners were captured and four “pieces of artil { After this most exéiting encounter a. detail for picket was made from Co. X, under the charge of Corporal G. H. MeNorth. As we passed out the pike to an eminence, flanked in front and right by a skirt of woods, the Corporal said to me: As 1 was No. 8 in the first set of fours I did not think much of the order, but said nothing and took the place. I hud not been on post:more than eight : minutes when I saw a man in'ci ilian clothes approaching cautiously, beckoned him toward me, and coming up he informed me that five Johnnies had just left his barn, ani if a squad of men were sent they would be easily secured. I saw at once he was a straight Union man, and assured him on the return of the Corporals T would see about it, and dismissed him. Thinking over the matter I resolved to make the attempt by myself, as I had a fine pair of revolvers, and having loaded them within a half hour, I fels sure that every shot was 0. K. Soon the Corporal returned, and I, making a reasonable excuse, asked him to stand my post, and started down the pike. = About a quarter of a mile down the pike I saw the five Johnnies approaching a hill about a: half mile away. Tying the rein. close to my horse's neck, and with a revolver in each hand, I jumped my horse over the ‘fence and proceeded through the woods at the right side of the road, coming ‘out within six or seven rods of them ‘wholly unobserved.” J umping back into the road I gave a shout (and beck- oning to.the rear), here they are. - Surrender!” No sooner said than done, every gun going to the ground. I rode up and commanded them to fall back three paces from the guns, and asked if they were loaded. Receiving a negitive reply, I inquired if thay had any cartridges, to which they replied ‘‘forty rounds in. the box- es.” I commandéd them to unhook them and throw them over: the fence, which was quickly obeyed, A demand to the man on the left to reach me one gun at a time, proyed what they haa said. Then I ordered them: “Forward! take arms, about face, by file, march!” A distance of three feet apart wus demanded. We had not gone more than three rods when one Johnny spoke u “Where is the rest of you. all?” received the reply that they were “Right here; and any more chin by any of the rank will demonstrate the fact to a certainty. Proceeding in silence about one-~ fourth of a mile, and passing a barn about 12 or 15 feet from the roadside, out walked a man with a gun on his shoulder and a cavalryman, mounted; in his rear. Covering the mounted Johnny with my left revolver, I said: “Fall in! You are’ just the ones I've ‘been looking for!” which order was promptly obeyed. Placing’ the eav- -alryman in rear of column we nL ed quietly until’ arriving at the post I had left Mc North on, and he remarked in no pleasant manner, “Come and stand your post and I will take the prisoners in.,” I made no reply, but | surely I was not of that opinion, and ; proceeded to the reserve, which was commanded by Capt. J. G.: Sntith; of Jo. B. 8th Ill. Cav., whom I) found ander a. hastily-erected : fly near the “road. I fold the Captain the story. as ibove narrated, and how I had left the Corporal on my post, I received the assurance that I would ‘be fully exon- erated from any charges that would be brought:arainst me, and that I had done my day's work, ‘and proceed to the Provost-Marshal with the: prison- ers, after which I could. remain with my own Captain that’ night, who was lying ‘dangerously wounded in: Mr. George Ordner’s heme in the village of Boonsboro, and join the command in ‘the morning. Thanking him, I pro: Arriving ooposite ‘ceeded on my way, ‘the hotel I called the hostler, and dis: mounting myself and the cavalryman, } ordered the hostler to: take the horses and hitch them under the shed. Tthen | ‘took from the cavalryman a full charged. ‘colt’s revolver. which remains, with a few other urmy menientoes, ‘in my pos- session, and are quite ny prized. Pr hal about | I found ‘the ¥ and The Captain was safely taken to the rear and cared for. five “You take this position,” | “Come on, boys, and an examination ‘He e B hat air 0 j .BENTON Keviay, i in National Tribune van The. Round of Life of the: Commonplace | ‘iMarried Woman. This possible that before the com- ‘monplace woman became a wife, she was entirely conseions of her #isks and desires, and given to holiday making and social pleasures on her own ac- count; but at the altar she drops her individual existence and becomes at once a noun of multitude, Hence- language is in the plural number— such as we, ours, and us. She re- ‘spects th rights of paternity so much as never to permit herself to talk of her children as peculiarly her own. Her individuality “being merged. in her husband and the offspring, she has no private thoughts, no. wish- es, no hopes, no fears ; ‘the concern. . ter for, her t come out well. Hav oy hn his wisdom, she troubles herself Title concerning the matters. itnla, in his province, and thus preserves an 1 troubled mind and a cheerful face good to- look upon. At ‘home, she makes this ‘husband supremely com- fortable. A widower has very little comfort, and a bachelor none at all; | a married man—provided his wife be an everyday married lady—enjoys it In perfection. But he enjoys it un- ously, and therefore .ungrate- fully: it is a thing of course—a ne cessity, a right, of the want of which ly sensible of its presence. ven when it acqiiires sufficient intensity to arrest his attention, when his heart and his features soften, and he looks round with a half smile on his face, and says: “This is comfort!” it never ocears to him to inquire where | it all comes from. His everyday wife is sitting quietly in the corner; she makes a poiné of being at leisure while he is by; and he hardly realizes | that the comfort which enriched the atmosphere, which broods in the shadowy parts of the .room, which | glows in his own full heart, emanates from her, and encircles her like an aureola. The corner’ in. which she sits with her sewing or ‘crocheting, thinking her simple thoughts, or re. sponding with ‘cheerfnl in her their chief ontioat. As the: daughters grow up their ‘affection for her is: almost surprising. “Not that the sentiment is steady and uniform in its expression, far sometime one might suppose mamma to be forgot ten, or at least considered only as a daily necessity not, req uiring any spe: cial ‘notice. But wait till a grief comes, -and mark to what ‘bosom the panting girl flies for refuge and com.- fort; see with what abandon she | throws her arms around that mater nal neck, and with what passionate burst the hitherto repressed tears gush forth. She is sure of loving sympathy here, and words which com- fort however deep they hurt. By and by this simple lady flies, and the | ‘objects 6f her love and care lament | as those who will not be comfored.’ Even common acquaintances look round them when they enter the house, with uneasiness and anxiety, missing her cheerful face and cordial | greeting. < And'so she passes away, this everyday woman, who was never known to do or say anything particn- larly clever, who. lived solely for oth- ers, content to serve as a background, «| and who yet leaves memorials of her commonplace existence évérywhere through the circle in which she | moved and had her being. “a rompus voom. | | “Who is there that has net sung or read or heard the “The Old Oaken.} Bucket? - tions have been set to its lines and it: has heen translated into many lan- guages; it has gone the rounds of the ‘eivilized world for more than two | generations. And how many know the name of the author? ‘Mass., Jan. 13, 1785." and chose the profession of printer, | binding himself to Benjamin Russell, then editor of the Columbian Sentinel, with whom he remained until 1806, and while serving his apprenticeship | he contributed poetry to the different | periodicals then published in Boston, under the ‘signature of ' *:Seline.” The only poem of his which has sur vived is “The Old Oaken Bucket,” which he wrote while editing the | Mirror in New York with George P. ; Morris. —New ‘England Magazine, : 7 Two 4 Customs. : ‘on Christmas. Eve for the chariot and ‘white horses of the “Christ-child” as he comes flying through the air with them with really. consists of he complains without being. distinct. | Many mausieial composi- | “He was | Samuel Woodworth and was born in’ : 1 8cituate, Plymouth County, He came to Boston ohemian children listen anxiousiy i his krippe {full of presents; but the | Italian children gogravely with their | DaIgHiS to churches and cathedrals to | see the Bambin - saint, who pres} their Christmas I be fit to be brought on de ‘Rogst poaivess Shosla alw vent their an wi are thoroughly : forth her life ds collective. Her very | als ‘the bo a, the only song £his rule, as it ‘acquires “when boiled in its. Jack Post, . An impro ved griadietor ) aking - fou ( _griddles are quickly. ti with 4 stroke cakes can be put upon the small gri It is claimed that in this way eigh a mie can be baked, and much m a a cosey of cotton and Se over the pitcher that contains her bat! on cold nights, thus protec ing it chill, Po : more. useful. New York Post. COTTONSEED IN COOKERY. A Pacific Rural Press ‘correspond who has ‘tasted no animal food for ‘thicteen yaars,” declares that “doub! as to the appetizing and nourishing qual: ity of the following *tvegetari I should try them and be co) | flesh ‘stock’ is hot an Indi requisite: : 4 “A good tescuptal of out. up Taw ti matoes, a handful of rice, a large chopp “onion (or two leeks), feur sections of garlic, a half-green pepper shoud be "| boiled in three pints of 'watter, e | two tablespoonfuls of cottonseed of added, in which has been stirred a Spoon. level full of flour, The flour is no ‘much, to thicken the soup as to make the oil mix with it. A httle parsely, and it is done. Potato soup is made by using, a little more onion, and two lar chopped raw potatoes taking the place of rice and tomato. 3 **The cottonseed oil is cleat, of sweet smelling, can be bought at. d stores for $1 to" $1.25 per gallon, am that amount has great:lasting po though the oil is excellent’ for fry doughnuts, potatoes, eggplant, etc.. an make a good gravy for potatoes boiled their jackets, by stewing a. ch: ion in ‘a covered water, “until ? begins to brown, then add a scant sp ful of flour, let that brown a little an add a good teacupful of cold water. Balt well; stir constantly until it bo and finish with parsely.’ me RECIPES. potatoes (prepared ‘as for - potato snow) and add te them one’ pint of cream. rich milk), flour enough to make as stif a batter Yor other fritters; then the yolk of three eggs, then the beaten 1 | salt, and fry in sweet butter, '. Hot Blaw—Cut' the cabbage in half, and . shave it very finely, into a stewpan, with. a p of butter aud salt fo the taste: pout just enough water | to the pan, y, and wh quite tender, add a little neg, and serve at hot. a oh eggs, one: een Joust stiffen. p bal . Drop* from a ‘deep, hob far. == Orange Pudding Peel and slice «large qranges, lay i in your dish; over them one cup of sugar, three yolks only beaten, one- half ct two tahblespoonfuls of corn v quart. of boiling’ milk. Lel oe : and thicken. Then let it cool a: littl before pouring over the ora ; the whites of the eggs, and pour o . Bet in the oven to brown
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers