THE CCTOPUS. What is an Octopus, papa, That crushes people dead? A thing with awful cloven hoofs Aud horns upon its head? Or is it something like fish That has no tail or fin, And full of awful suckers that Just pull the people in? No, no, my son; no, not at all; You see him every day. He rides about in palace ears And goes to church to pray. He always wears the best of clothes And bears an honored name. You're thinking of the Devil Fish, But they are much the same. The man who grinds the people down In heartlessuess and greed: ‘Who eats the bread that others earn And fattens on their need: Who crushes hope from out the poor; Lives off, despising us: This is the modern Devil Fish, The real Octopus. —Town Topics, Marian’s Quick Wit. ude F. Smith Hymer. Bool fe ene 8. 8. 2.0. .8..8..8..0.0 8.08.0 PAT RN TT EN “There's no use, Marian, it's com- ing faster, so we might as well give up,” gasped Mr. Reed, as his daughter passed him with her arms full of stove wood. Marian paused to look toward the rapidly flushing sky. The forest be- hind them was on fire, and the wind was steadily licking it toward them. In a moment it would be feeding on the piled wood with which they were working. And let the fire destroy all this wood?’ she cried. “Oh, we can't we can't!” and desperately she struggled on. For fours they had worked together, rapidly, fiercely, in a brave attempt to outwit the fire. Again and again they had shifted the rows of corded stovewood seasoning for the winter's market, each time a few rods nearer to safety. But they could feel that the fire was ‘gaining headway. The forest back of their little farm was full of smoke and fiying cinders, and the few faint breezes that reached them were growing more and more heated. “Come on, child; after all, it’s only a wdodpile. We must be thankful that the house and buildings are safe,” said Mr. Reed, remonstratingly, as with feverish determination Marian kept at work. “But it isn’t only a woodpile—it's money!” she cried ‘It is more than that, for it means eyesight for mother. We will never be able to pay for the operation from the crops and we hoped so much from this wood. Oh, we must save it!” Her determination inspired the fath- er and for a while they worked on again feverishly. Marian's face was tense and pale, her hair disheveled, her hands torn and bleeding. Her father, too was well nigh spent, his eyes smarting from the smoke. “Just a few rods further. If we could only get it to the edge of this plowed field,” cried Marian, as he paused. “We can't make it, almost here now,” he said, breath fanned his cheek. Marian groaned. ‘“‘Oh, if the horses had only stayed ‘by us! If somehow we could plow a space between the wood and the fire we could save it even yet, couldn't we, father?” “Yes; but God knows where they are .now, for they'll never stop running as long as they smell the fire. If only some of the Teighbors were passing they would ¢ome in and help us.” +. In a spasm of renewed hope Marian scrambled to the top of the woodpile, and shading her eyes with her hand, logked off down .the valley. - A little red speck gleamed faintly in the road a mile or so away. “Where are you going, child?” call- ed her father but Marian was running furiously down the lane toward the house, her hair tossed backward on the wind. . That gleam of red on the road—she had seen it pass going in the direction from which it was now coming just before the fire was discovered. It was an automobile, and instantly a strange plan took root in Marian's brain. It must pass their house soon— if she could only reach the road by . the time it arrived there. She stum- ; bled in her mad" haste, but with a lit- - tle . gasping : cry she sprang up and struggled on again. The plow—the wood! Oh she must save the wood , for hen mother's sake! . Lea. Challis brought his auto to a sharp standstill almost upcn the girl. For a moment a fierce anger scorched ‘hith, Tbr’ she had deliberately thrown herself in his way, and such reckless- ness<was ‘criminal! » Bit before he . could put his anger jnto words she was up ‘and tugging ‘Open the heavy farm- yard gate through which she had come. _ “This way!” she cried. “Please, oh, please come this way!” Challis stared a moment, but her white, eager ‘face appealed to him. With a gesture 6f assent he paused be- side her, reached out a hand to assist- ‘her to the seat beside him. - 3&3 “Tell me about it,” he said, sooth- ingly, steering the machine smoothly up the wide lane. “The fire!” she cried. "I's in the timber, and papa’s cordwood will all be burned!” “But I can’t—"” he began vaguely. « “And the horses are gone, SO Wwe epuldn’t plow around it,” ,she contin- ued. In a flash he understood; the eager purpose in her face had communicated jtself to him. “Where's the plow?” wage all he said, as he pulled the lever Marian. It's as a hot | clearly; *‘g0 | ready.” | and Mr. quainted i they worked, and soon the field { that fiowers close to the | gardeners only. | in the way of green-flowering varie- as a | where each nation must suffer for gen- hard over and sent the ma Aine leap. | ing ahead. : “In the fleid Hust beyond, Mr. Reed, thinking Marian: had de- spaired of saving the wocd, had 1 { self given it up and started, disconso. | lately toward the house. ti father,” back: and get “Go back, called" Marian, the plow ached it about the same timé Reed was quickly made ac- with their plan. I _Swiitly : plow was attached to the rear of ie motor " They. re car. Then was illistrated the most pro- gressive idea in plowing up ‘to date. Mr. Reed, guiding the plow. handles. followed the plow, which cut through the unbroken wood sod as easily as a knife cuts cheese. Challis at the lev- er held the machine down to accomme- date the plow, but even at the slowest possible pace Mr. Reed had almost to run to follow it. At last it was over, and the ‘machine stopped with a final mighty throb, while Mr. Reed stag- gered to the ground exhausted. But:ithey won in the race with fire. The corded wood was protected by a space of freshly turned sod, and the little company on the opposite side watched the sheet of fire sweep toward them threateningly, only to fall back in impotent wrath as it encountered the freshly turned sod. = Now that it was over, Challis had time to observe the girl, who, from her loving task of bathing her father’s heated face, smiled up at him wanly. The dark hair, though tumbled, was picturesque, the face pale, but sweetly attractive, and Challis thanked the luck that brought him to the farm just in the nick of time. “You saved the wood for us. We are ever so grateful, Mr. -* she began, then paused in embarrassment. “My name is Challis,” he said, quiet- ly. “I am only too glad to be of ser- vice to you, but it was really you who saved the wood. I should never have thought of so clever a plan.” “But. ideas don’t count without the wherewithal ‘to. carry them out, so with all my planning we couldn't have saved the wood without you. ‘And it isn't altogether the wood, you know.” she broke off, impulsively. “It means so much for mother. She is ‘almost blind now, and the doctors think an operation will save her sight; but operations cost money, and that is what you have saved for us,” she fin- ished, the expressive face alive with feeling. Challis’ heart quickened its beating. “Not I, for I alone could have done lit- tle. It is the auto which deserves our gratitude. And it has paid for itself a thousand times this afternoon.” “I never liked the noisy things be- fore, but I shall always love them hereafter,” she said, impulsively; then at the expression in his eyes, for some reason she blushed. This was the first time I.eo Challis ever drove an automobile to drag a plow, but it was not the last time his machine found its way te the gateway of the Reed farm; and when he and Marian were married a year later, the same machine carried them away on their wedding journey. Mr. Reed, who is fond of telling the story of Marian's motor-plow, invari- ably adds:. “That was the liveliest span of horses I ever held a plow for.” —Farm and, Fireside. A Green Primrose. 4 The green rose is a very old and rather ugly “novelty” that crops ‘up afresh from time to time as a catch- penny attraction, and there are ene or two other plants with green flow- ers that are usually more curious than attractive. - ; flowered Lenten rose, Helleborus, witi- dis multifidus, is really rather good, but the ordinary form, H. v. dumefor- um, is unattractive. The prettiest green- flowered rock plant is perhaps Tacquetia epipactis, a little alpine ground, the green- pétaled blossoms, with gold ‘centrés, being about tlie bright,” pretty size of pfimrdse blooms, and producéd’ { with us .early int spring before the strawberry-like - .leaves. Bupleurum ranunculoides is another alpine that the curious in green-flowered rockery subjects might try, alpine, its culture will be for careful The latest invention ties, says Ladies’ Field, of London, is an addition to that familiar family, our own vellow primroses. It is called Novelty, and is described as a large and truly green-flowered form of the beautiful old wild primrose, a free bloomer and strong grower. The Woesome Side of War. . In our interest in what may be call- ed the chessboard aspect of the Russo- Japanese war, Henry Norman, M. P., in the World's Work, says we are but too apt to overlook its terrible char- ter: Tens of thousands of brave slaughtered, great their crews sent to the bottom .in a minute, homes desolated, commerce paralyzed, treasure squandered, debt piled up. savage passions deified—and all for what? In a war that might have been avoidéd, in a where each side has what it regarded national necessity at stake, men erations to come, and where neither can hope to reap any fruits of victory worthy of their cost. The modern world, Mr. Norman holds, has seen no more deplorable spectacle. The government of Queensland of- fers a prize of $25,000 for a method of exterminating the opuntia, a species of cactus imported from America. There's father now,” she cried, gat ching gight | of the bent.form. § A somewhat - rare green-. but, as itis a high; ‘battleships and. struggle- A DEMAND FOR GROOMS, A COMPETENT MAN GETS His ‘OWN TERMS FROM BREEDERS. There Is Room in the Business; | for All Grades of Are Great and Sure. That good grooms are scarce may be discovered quickly if a search 18 made. That they can command gags pay is equally a fact. It then that the supply is not equal to the demand. There was a time per- haps when there was somewhat of derogation ‘attaching to the groom’s position, but nowadays nothing | of: the sort Obtains, providing that” the mark himself is of good class ahd corrducts himself as such. For ihe last few years men capable of feeding and fitting show sheep and swine have been turned out in fairly large numbers by the experiment stations, but we do not know of one individual who has come from such a school with any exten- sive knowledge of feeding and com- ditioning horses for show or work. There is surely something wrong here, for however valuable the cattle, sheep and swine may be the horses are still more valuable and require a higher grade of care. It'is a far harder mat- ter to put a big draft stallion or ‘a Hackney in the show ring just right than it is to do the same thing with a bull, boar or ram. Why then have our agricultural educators left this important matter almost altogether on one side? A great many different qualifications are included under the general head groom. The man who may be an ex- pert in the care of one sort of horse may know very little about the car of other ; are competent to condition properly light and heavy horses are scarce in- deed. There is no reason why this should be as the same general prin- ciples apply in the care of all horses. It is primarily the lack of education that is to blame. Few men keep both light and heavy horses. One sort at a time seems to be enough and hence the men who graduate from the hard school of experience know only about the one sort with which they have been connectal. The benign light of education would soon alter this condition and fit men to accept the Sorts; confidence. This comes is considered that a man must be in- telligent to make a good groom. The duffers never graduate bevond the stage of cleaning out the stalls, carry- ing water and the like. From the po- sition ‘of groom to that of foreman is not a long step; from that of fore- man to manager is no longer, but to be a really good manager, the man must thoroughly understand how the work should be done and to do that he must be able on a pinch to perform the tasks himself. It is not a hard ap- prenticeship however and the man who brings brains and willing hands does not spend much time before he graduates into some position of trust. There is only just the one way, as stated, and that is to begin at the bot- necessity for the ranks of importers who has set his eldest son to learn the business from the ground up. a string of eight horses and it will not be long before he will. be. ad- vanced. He takes his turn in thes showing like the rest of the men, up at cockerow to give his charges their exercise, handles the comb and brush like an old® hand and in general’ is serving his novitiate. tentidn to take veferinary course at college in a year or two and when he has obtained his of life. could attend an agricultural college horses are taught as are the feeding to direct him to an establishment? where such equal advantages are in offer. for competent grooms will remain ac- tive from this time forward. room for all high grades of gence. reach bevond the grade of foreman. Some are not born to reach even as high, but the young man of average’ inteili-§ ples required. This is not an argu- much in the care of horses, is, but there is no sleight of hand nor _hecus pocus about the business. It merely straightforward work, must be learned somewhere, somehow. enumerate all the which a groom may succeed. of these branches will suffice. There stable, the head man in the trotting stable, the feeder hackneys, of coach horses, the man who can show horses well in the ring, excellent wages and are in constant demand. our knowledge that a sustained search to find a man competent to educate and show coach and hackney horses in the ring has borne no fruit during the last three months or more. Wages have not been considered. A compe- tent man might name his own terms, but he has not been found. We are aware also of an unsuccessful attempt that has been made to obtain g feeder of draft horses competent to do a lit- tle rush work on some rather hack- cattle, education be- | all the more apparent when it | : . | that the modern society tom. We know. of one man high in’ The boy is caring for. ‘gets | It is his in-§ degree lie - will be if. admirably equipped to fight the battle : It would be better still if he where the feeding and management off and management of meat:imaking ani- mals, but at present it would *be hard § There is no doubt that the demand Some men are not born tod mind can readily -master the princi- ment to prove that there is nothing if. for there | which} Turning now to the ramificaticns of: the business it is not necessary to? various lines in- A few’ is the head man in the thoroughbred ! of draft horses, of} ment the place is still { oo | indeed the men who | There is x and a dozen others, all of whom earn whose services’ It is within * { who will tafe a yproper Inteiligengesntge a. : Hard Apprenticeship—The Rewards | nines, ‘of the red men something after vad animals and despite the proffer | anapols Breeders of horses are continually on the lookout for geod men, men whom they beiieve they can trust to go ahead and do the work aright aid interest. their charges: When such a man is foul He has. a pe rmanent place and his w agés increased. A hundred hands. are ri ight now reached ‘oft: to grasp such help. Therefore would it | not seem wise for some of the young | farm-bred boys to turn their attention is strange to the horse business instead of to some other line? if a young man has not in him that which is required-to rise high in his chofen line he may rest assured that if he will do what he can as a groom he, will: always be certain of a good living’ abd z chance to save something. Then there is perhaps the. Toit im- portant line of all—the care of breced- ing horses in competence and honesty of the groom much of the success of any stallion depends. If his caretaker will not do for him that which should be done for him the percentage of foals begoiten’ will be lessened, and the owner’s re- ceipts correspondingly decreased. Every spring there is a demand from the entire country for good stallion men, and the answer is feeble indeed. It is doubtful if there is one good man for every ten stallions in the country. There are plenty of men whe allege and perhaps believe that they can take proper care of stallions in the breeding season, but the good ones are all too few. Here is a line of education where the experiment sta. tions might do a mighty work.. In short the young man on the farm seeking to'learn in the various lines of animal husbandry will find the cquine branch of that work much less e | CTOW ded than the, others and the re- muneration areater once he has mas- tered the requisite measure of knowl- edge.—Breeder's Gazette. : INDIANS FOND OF DANCING. Woman Generally Takes LeadiMuch Amusement in Sign Language. To white. persons the dance of the Indian signifies a grim ceremonial pre- liminary to a bloody slaughter, or at- tendant on the torture of prisoners. Of course, those occasions call for dances, according to the Indian cus- tom, but apart from serious occasions, the aborigines, men and women, love care of any breed of horse with equal | to dance for pleasure. It will probably be-a surprise to the present generation and many of the older ones, for that matter, to learn “german’’ or “cotillion” of the whites is stolen ab- solutely from the red men of the plains. There is hardly a night in an Indian encampment that there is not dancing among the bucks and squaws. Little preparation is necessary for these af- fairs, and formal invitations are not considered esential, the call of the “tom-tom™ being the only notice giv- en those who may desire to attend. There is no difference. in social grade among the Indians, no social ostracism, no “four hundred.” All meet at the dance on an absolute equality. The dances are usually held in tepees, two of them being pitched facing each other. In one of them half a dozen Indian bucks are squat-’ ‘ted around a drum, each furnished with a stick for the purpose of mak: ding “music,” and this is the ‘entire | orchestra. Each man has a particuizg place on the drum’to beat. - Very soon after the first tap on the ‘drum those who desire to participate “in the dance begin to appear. Even at the grandest dances therc is no cer- “emony, and although there appears to be no particular sentiment, against if, it is’ Very rarély the case thatTa ‘man accompanies his wife to or from the festivities, yet a married woman who ould aécept such attention from an- ther man would commit a breach of propriety. » men find their way to the tepee where the drum is beating and ithe women scuat around the teyee that “has becn ar 2d for dancing, the crowd would-be dancers’ is tho ught sufficicntly large, the womeit intimate what they would like to dance and the drummers begin their ‘monotonous beating. is curious: but it is also a fact at all of the: ¢ Indian dances the ader is always a woman, The wom- ‘en all souat around the tepee until sufficiently inspired to take the cen- Pker of the floor; the woman that does this first is the leader for that hone, She will dance around all alone for mome or two and then up to some sbuc Ik whem she chooses for a partner; then they dance around for a while grave and each takes. a partner of the op- posite gex. This continues until there is room for no more couples. This is coatinued for perhaps 20 when the music ceases, the tners separate and each returns to his or her former place. There are any number of very pretty “figures” danced in this way. One that I re- ¢éall is the ‘‘sign dance.” After danc- Ling around for a few minutes a woman -will take a man, lead him into a circle, Jacing him opposite her, both in the peantime dancing hard. Then she Will talk to him in the sign language : this manner: “What do you think of me, my buck: I am ready for you to make love to me.” His answer is in the sign language and he is at liberty to respond as he desires without giving the least of- fense. Frecuently these sign conver- sations during the dance are out- bursts of wit and sarcasm, which are received by the onlookers with great shouts of laughter and applause as the little thrusts are sent home.—Indi- Sentinel. ° the season. On the. “signs, Givee DESTRUCTION OF CORK FOR- ESTS. It Goes on in Italy at an Alanming Rate and No Check Seems Possible. : The cark industry, which is quite an important one, will receive a fresh impetus, “a .new process having been discovered by which large pieces can e made out of small ones so that cork waste can be utilized in large quantities. This is all the more im- portant as the price of cork increases steadily, both on account of the grow- ing demand and the lessened supply of the raw material. Formerly Italy was a ree! produc- er of cork, but a great part of the splendid cork-oak forests has already been destroyed. In some provinces— as, for instance, in Calabria—the trees have been felled and used for char- coal making; in other provinces taey have been eut down on account of ‘their high botash contents. Larger forests of cork-oak trees are still existing in Spain, Portugal, France, Algeria and Tunis. None are found in Asia Minor and only rarely in Greece and European Turkey, al- though the climates seem to be favor- able for. their growth. The area cov- ered by these forests is estimated at 300,000 hectares (741,300 acres) in Portugal, 250,000 hectares (617,750 acres) -in- Spain, 280,000 heetares (691- 880 acres) in Algeria, and only 80,000 hectares (197,750 acres) remain in Italy. ‘While Spain still tons of cork annually, of Italy has decreased to furnishes 32,800 the production 4000 tons. : The value of the Spanish exports of cork amounts to $6,000,000 per yel,, against less than $250.000 for Italy. Only Sicily and Sardinia are still pro- ducing cork to any considerable ex- tent in Italy, while the former great oak forests of Calabria are almost totally destroyed. It seems incom- prehensible that this destruction has been permitted. The trees easily reach an age of 200 years. They yield cork in their thirteenth year and con- tinue to do so every seven years. Seventy-five years ago the English demand for cork was supnnlied exclus- ively from Italy. The destruction of the remaining forests goes on unin- terruptedly, and nobody seems to try to prevent it or to plant new forests in spite of the fact that Italy possess the most favorable climate and soil for the cork oak. the most favorable conditions for its growth being found in the volcanic soil ef the peninsula. Substitutes for Wit. ‘Chinese school teachers do not strengthen the brains of children with algebra and calculus, but stuff them with Confucian morals, says a> writer in the Chicago Record-Herald. He further declares that in China he found no wit or imaginations but tells the following incidents, which prove that the Chinaman has gcod uncon- scious substitutes for one or the other: One day in Shanghai, when I was feeling sick, I called a Chinaman to me and said, “John, do you have good doctors in China?” “Good doctors!” he exclaimed. “China have best doctors in wo'ld.” “Eudon, over there,” I said, pointing to a house covered with a doctor's “do you call him a good ddetor?” “Eudon goo doctor!” he exclaimed. “He great! He best.doctor in. China. He save my life once!” “You don’t say Sot I said.’ wag it? “Me velly sick,” he sali; confiden- tially. “Me callee Doctor Han Kou. some medicine. Get velly, velly sick! Me call Doctor Sam Sing Givee more - medicine. ‘Me grow worse. Going to die! Blimeby call Doctor, Eudon. He no got time, no come. He savee my life!” In Chefoo my wife engaged a Chi- nese cook. When he came she asked his name. Shaking hands with him- self and smiling, he said, “My namee Yong Hang Ho.” “Oh, that's too long!? said my wife. member all that. “How "he said, smiling. “What Y cc 3 mel said my wife, slowly, i Melville D. Landon.” . “FEL,” cried John. “Too long namee! Can't ‘member all lot. Callee you Charley.” = : : 5H The Shoe Shampoo. | “Willie is a precocious youth of about three summers. ‘He was out with the boys the other evening, and among Lis dissipations was the in- dulgence in a. shoeshine in a real up-to-date shoeblack’s chair. Next he got his hair cut, and when the barber asked him if he wanted a shampoo he replied: ‘“Suttinly, I want all the fixin’s.” "Recently when his father came home Willie had a chair in place and was ready to do business like a pro- fessional shoeblack . He addressed his father as follows: “Say, dad! get into de chair and I'll give your shoes a shampoo.” He got his. words a trifie. mixed, but there was one feature of the busi- ness he had down to the queen's tasic To humor him his father got into the chair and the boy went through the shoe shining operatien in pantomime, wich was so true to nature that every one laughed. The operation over, the youngster called out 1m a brisk tone: “Next! Five cents, please!” at the same time holding out-his hand for the coin. He got it and immediately closed his shop until he could spend the nickel.—Albany Journal. The rats of southern Italy are not only very cunning, but display good taste. They climb the orange trees. and suck the blood oranges, neagléct: ing the others i call you The old-fashi ned Woy of “ashi ing windows with soapy water followed by clear water. followed by dry- eloths and polishing with newspapers or chamois, is 2o0ing out. tortunatgly for the window washer. The houséWife of today washes her windows withiwater in which a little kercsene has; been poured and finds that she can::polish them at once with soft lintlesg cioth. Or she dips a rag in alcohol and then in whiting, rubs the glass wifh the mixture and polishes with chamois. Washing a Counterpane.’” The simplest, best and most conven- ient way of “doing up” a white coun- terpane is to put it. under a heavy press after washing it. Wash it in plenty of soapsuds, rinse thoroughly and put through bluing water. Hang it outdoors in the sunshine until al- most dry; then while slightly damp fold twice or more. lay on a clean.iron- ing sheet and smooth out with, the kands until fe from any : large wrinkles. Pla under it a - heavy smooth bo wl on which arrange. eight or more large irons or anythinz of heavy weight. Let it remain in this way over night er for twelve or four- teen hours. Remove it frcm this press and hang it on a line or clothes- horse to hecome entirely dry. The re- sult will be a beautifully smooth coun- terpane. For Needles and Pins. A convenience for the girl who is away on her vacation is a pin sheet. A six-inch strip of silk of the ordinary width is first covered with sheet’ wad- ding and then with six-inch sash rib- bon of a contrasting color. The softer silk side is studded with pins, stuck in just as they are when bought in the paper. There are rows of safety pins in various. sizes, pearl-headed pins, smaller pins with various colored heads to match different neckwear, and common black and white pins, all arranged in groups. At one end of the sheet is sewed two ribbons which match the lining silk, and the summer girl can roll up her sheet like a “housewife” ard pack it in her bag when travelling. At the hotel she fastens it up on the wall by means of two stout pins cor fine tacks stuck through the corners. Making Oil Cloth. Oil cloth for fioors is made on stout hemp canvas, which is woven very wide, so as tc have no seams in it. This canvas is first stretched {ight over a frame, then is covered with thin glue, or size, and rubbed down with pumice. This is to fill in the Bpace between the thrtads and make the whole very smooth. Then a coat- ing of thick paint is spread over the surface and rubbed in with a trowel. ‘When this is dry another coat is put on, and after that another and then a coat of thin paint, laid on with a brush. All of these are of one ‘color, and after they have been put om and dried, the pattern of the oil cloth is printed on by means of wooden: blocks. The outline of the design is cut on these blocks and for different “colors different blocks are used. Oil cloth for table covers is made of light, cloth or canvas on. which two coats, or per- haps three, of common paint ‘are laid on, and the design is then printed in the same way that.calico is printed. — M. F. Feurt in the Epitomist. Recipes. : Creamed Onions.—Cook Bermuda onions in water untii tender, rounding teaspoen of sugar w put on to cook and a level tea Of salt a few minutes before — dare. Drain and DOUTr a cream over. For the sauce melt a rQunding blespoconful of butter in aucepan, add a level tables) of flour and cook until froth, add one cup of hot milk and co minutes, beating hard all the tite, add a pinch of pepper ard a salt spocniul of salt. Potato Roscs—To two cunfuls of well-seasdned mashed potatoes, add the yolks cof two eggs and white of one, and beat them well toget ner. Place it in a pastry bag wi baving a star-shaped opening and press it through. As "ithe potatc comes from the tube, guide it in a cir- cle, winding it around unti it comes to a point. The little piles of potato wily resemble roses. Touch- them’ lightly with a brush dropped in egg, and place a bit of butter cn each ones Put them in the oven a moment to ‘brown slightly. The edges touched by the ezz will take a deeper color. Potato roses make ‘a good gatnish fer. meat dishes. > White Bread.—Mix one cup of scald cd milk, one cup of boiling water, one level tablespoon of butter; a level tea spoon of salt, and a level tablespoon of sugar together, and cool until luke warm. Add one-half yeast cake solved in one-half cup of lukewarm water. Mix with Six cups of flour = and stir well, then add enough more to make a dough that can be kmeadeqd. Knead a few minutes, put into & bow] and cover closely; let rise over night, In the morning knead -ten minutes, then cover and let rise again, shape into loaves, put in pans, and let rise again until nearly twice the original size, and bake well. If the weather is warm the second rising may be omit- ted and the bread shaped for the pans after beth kneaded well. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers