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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Mrs. L
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looking
mending
shape tc
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this mo:
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time.”
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