AnsLra'ti.l ' 1 ft!ill sending '"old to j this eottntrv in of lion tr.pli> balance?. Mr. Gladstone U a refreshing assur anco that tho tumult and nervous ' strain of a political car oar do not nec essarily shorten life. r It is estimated that there are over 250,000 "knights of the grip" in America, who spend daily over $2,000,- 000, and whose shipments amount an nually to 300,000,000 of the 400,000.- 000 tons of freight sent over our rail roans. An Arizona paper asserts that the most oavago of Indians, the Apache, ' is conquered by civilization. The main tribe of Apaches, about live thousand individuals, is clustered about San Carlos. In the last live years this tribe has furnished only one serious criminal, a murderer. The cashier of the Chemical Na tional Bank, of New York, who worked j his way up from the position of office boy, after thirty-six years of faithful 1 service loaned nearly 3400,030 on bad security and is now heart-broken, pocket-broken and jobless. The way of the transgressor is no harder than the wake of the confidence man, phil osophizes tho Atlanta Journal. Truly tho goat is climbing the social scale, exclaims the Louisville Courier- Journal. That humble animal, which has long moved chiefly in the circles of Tintowu and the cheap wits, was tho "piece de insistence" at a cotillon of the swell set in New York the other evening, being assigned the honor of drawing a wagon load of favors into the ball-room. And when we say "swell' set it is with the express warning to j the compositor that he is not to get "w'a" and "m's" mixed up. Thero is woe on the banks aud braes o* bonnie Boon. The pipes give forth a dolorous tone and gloom has settled in large, black clouds upon the brow of every loyal Scot. And all because American golf clubs have been found superior to those made in Scotland and SOOO of them have been ordered for use in that country. That Scot land, the home of golf, should have to send to America for the implements of ! the game is verily a queer circum stance, but it proves that the canny clansmen not only know good clubs, but also where to get to them. The Medical Record states that Br. Sclienk, of Vienna, who was reported as saying that ho bad discovered the secret of sex, declares that he has bean misreported. That he simply made an assertion in tlio course of a lecture that it was possible to a certain ex tent to correct nature in the case of a woman who has become tho mother of five or six girls in succession. More over, that he did not even announce it as a discovery. The whole exagger ated account of tho matter, the Record says, arose from the report of a corre spondent of a sensational newspaper, to whom one of the students men tioned the subject. It is estimated that the steam-'iower of Great Britain is equal to the united strength of 1,000,003,000 men. The number of persons employed in her coal mines is but 200,000, and oftheso fully two-thirds dig coal for other uses than for engines, leaving C 0,666 meu to mine the coal necessary to do the work of 1,000,003,000. The engines are made by 60,000 men, so that 120,666 men furnish the means of doing the work of 1,000,003,000, tho strength of each being thus multiplied nearly eight thousand times. This give 3to each man, woniau aud child of a population of 35,000,000, some thirty willing slaves, born fully grown, ex empt from sickness, needing no clothes, eating only tire and water, and costing merely the work of one man in 8000. How much have we spent for these battle-ships, asks the New York World, against which such grave charges of uu wieldines3, unseaworthiness and use lessness are brought? The first cost of our six sea-going battle-ships wa3 as follows: Indiana... $3,000,010 Oregon. . $3,1*0.000 lowa 3,010,000 ! Texas.... 2,500,000 Maine..., 2,000,000 . Mass....;, 3,020,000 i Total $17,230,000 Then wo are now building five battle ships which will cost at least tli9 fol lowing sums; Koarsar'o $3,150,003 Illinois... $3,750,000 Ivy 3.150,000 Wis 3,750,000 Alabama., 3,750,000 Total $17,550,000 Thus, adds the World, there has been expended or is in process of expendi ture $34,780,000 for ships of a type that is, to say the lea9t of it, under great suspicion, and that certainly is not so valuable for our purposes as coast-defenders or fast-flying cruisers like the beautiful and formidable Co lumbia. WHEN THE WIND WAS IN THE WOODLAND. Tho wind was in the woodland and tbo quail was in the corn In the Southern sunny land of happy childhood long ago, An<l the perfume of ten thousand flowers floated on the morn, While the niock-hir4 shoutedjloudly high above tho bayou's flow. The sun shone softly,t*rlghtly, and the cloud-ships sailed along An ever-blending, radiant, quiet wondrous sea"of blue, And the negro's vibrant voice rang out in happy-hearted song In the fairy, airy days, Sweetheart, far gone from mo and you. We wandered hand and hand across tho moadows cloverod deep With blossoms white and blossoms red and leaves of darkest Wo watched the bumble-bee's sweet quest, the dragon-fly's long leap, And listened to the yellow-breasted Hold lark's carol keen. And now and then the wood dove's mellow, dreamy chastened note— Gray-coated mourners for a love whose chains were mado of sand- Told of the lonelv life she lived in some wood aisle remote. And we two pitied her, Sweetheart, for children understand. Sometimes we crept along tho bank to watch tho black bass flash His meteor way above the pebbles in the river cool, Or saw the tlshhawk's clrclings cease before his down ward dash, Or heard the bittern's boom roll out above the glassy pool. The red-bird was a gout of blood splashed on the branches high. The yellow-hammer's iron bill sore smote the moaning pine, Tho king-bird, warring always, was a knight of valor high. For you wero only eight, Sweotheart, and I was only nine. You loved me well; I loved you well; wo vowed our vows in truth, * And all your tender little soul went out to in, I know! I have not found in latter days (these sorry days forsooth!) The true-eved faith, the comradeship, the heart of long ago. Amid the city's clash and clang, the meannesses of men, I often seem to hear an echo—falutlv, faintly borne— Of childish song that rippled on tho old lair mornings when The wind was in the woodland and the quail was in the corn. —II.S. Canlleld, in Chicago Times-lloralJ. | A STROKE OF LUCK % '§ <£> Ely EBEN E. REXFORD. <Z) T* \ /*\ .♦ 'WW '\+ ' w ■ EACON WADE | U j the garden, close j r\ ( . „) 1 by the road, on j wnd&V; 3 |K|f the morni 11 g 1 jjKSvjjjC. came to him that it would be im" " good plan for him to get married again. The way in which the idea came to him rvas this: Just as ho reached the end of the row nearest the road, some one said, "Good morning, Deacon Wade," in a voice that made him think of blackbirds and bobolinks, and he looked up, to see Rhoda Mason j smiling over the fence at him. "Good morning, good morning," rc- j eponded the deacon, delightedly. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?" "Charming," answered Rhoda. "How's Mrs. Wheelock? Well, I sup pose?" "She's gone over to her son's again," answered the deacon. "She went yesterday—some of the children sick, X believe—so Bob and I are keep ing house alone. I'm getting about tired of it, and so's Bob. He was tell ing me, this morning, that he thought it would be a good idea for one of us to hunt up a new housekeeper; and I don't know but he was about right." Pretty Ehoda's face got as rosy as the blossoms on the Damask rose bush by the gate. The deacon won dered why he had never noticed how pretty she was before. "X see you'vo got a fine crop of strawberries," said Rhoda, pretend ing to be greatly interested in the long rows of ripening fruit. "Ours r.re a failure this year. Mother said she didn't believe we'd have enough for a shortcake." "I want to know!" exclaimed the deacon. "That's too bad, I declare. We'll have more than we can use, and I'll bring you over some just as soon as they re ripe enough to pick." "Thank you, ever so much," re sponded Rhoda. "X know mother'll be glad to get them. But I must be going, or I won't get back by dinner time," and she went her way, leaving rie deacon with u new idea in his ead. "I s'pose folks wo-tld say it was foolish for an old fellow like me to marry a young girl like Rhoda," ho said to himself, as he turned back on the next row of sweet-corn. "But other men, older than I am, marry young wives; so why shouldn't I? We need a good housekeeper here. It's getting so wo can't depend on Mrs. Wheelock. She's gono half the time, and we're likely to lose her altogether, almost any time. Oi course, folks'U say that Bob ought to get married in stead of me; but he don't seem to have any idea of it, and I cau't put the idea in his head. Rhoda's a great deal younger than I am; but she's a sensible girl, and I'm sure sho'd make a good wife. I wonder why I never thought of it before?" The more the deacon thought of it the more in earnest he got. On Satur day he picked a basket of luscious strawberries, aud that afternoon he took them over to the Mason home stead. "I declare, if I ain't rather excited," said the deacon, as ho neared Rhoda's home, and felt his heart beating quick and hard. "I thought I'd got over that yenr3 ago. If I feel this way now, how'U I feel when I get there? Of course, I'm not going to propose to her right away. I'll just kind o' hint at matters aud things, enough to set her to thinking. 'Taiu't best to be in too great a hurry about such | things." Rhoda was sitting on the front porch, shelling peas. Pretty as she had looked that morning in the road side, she looked far prettier to-day, the deacon thought. "Oh, you'vo brought those berries you promised us, haven't you?" cried Rhoda. "It's so kind of you. Mother wa3 delighted when I told her what you were going to do. I'm so sorry , she isn't at homo this afternoon. She went to call on Mrs. Perkins—she's sick, you know. But come in and sit down, and maybe she'll be back before you go. I hope she will, for I kuow she'll be reoi disappointed to miss your visit." j "Oh, that's nothing," said the - deacon. "I—l cau come over again, you know." j "I wish you would," said P.hoda. I "Mother was saying that you weren't very neighborly. She didn't remem ber when you'd been here." "Well, now that I've got to coming, maybe I'll come often," said the deacon. Then ho made a few remarks about the weather, and the prospect of a good hay crop, and tho condition of tho markets for farm produce, and gradually, by what ho considered very diplomatic management, he worked oi'ourd to the subject of housekeepers. "Yes, Mrs. Whceloek's back," he said, in answer to Rhoda's question, "but there's no telling how long she'll stay. What wo need now is a house keeper wo cau depeud on. Ono that belongs there, and has an interest in the work, you see." "Yes, I suppose so," answered Rhoda, with a most bewitching rosi ness. "I—l want to see your mother and have a good, long talk with her about —about an idea I've got," said the deacon, by-and-by. "She knows how much we need a house-keeper, and I always thought her a very sensible woman, aud I'm sure she'd think just as I do about it —about this idea of mine. At least I hope so. I sujipose she'd feel able to carry on the house work on a place like this alone, wouldn't she? She seems strong and healthy as ever." "Oh, yes, mot'aer'd manage that all right," answered Rhoda. "She often tells me she don't need any of my help." "She's got the idea, plain enough," thought tho deacon, in great delight, as Rhoda said that. "I'm getting along splendidly. She's the most sensible girl I ever saw. I wonder how muckji'arther I better go now? Maybe I'd better wait, just as I'd made up my mind to, an' give her time to talk it over with hor mother before I come right out with the question. I will," and it was well that he came to this decision, and adhered to it, as ho congratulated himself a few days later. Tho deacon might have stayed until Mrs. Mason's return, but a young girl friend of Rhoda's came, and that put an end to his visit. "You cau talk with your mother and see what she thinks about what I've been saying," he said, as ho took his departure. "Let mo know the first chance yon have." The next Wednesday evening, Robert Wade was away from home. About one o'clock his father hoard him come in. "I wouldn't wonder if Bob' 3 got an idea of sparking somebody," thought the deacon. "Maybe it's like the measels—when it gets into tho fami ly, they all have it," and he chuckled to think his son might have caught tho disease from him. "Well, Rob's a good boy, and I hope he'll do as well in getting a wife as I shall, if I get Rhoda Mason." Tho next morning Rob looked very wise, as ho sat down to breakfast, opposite to his father. "I've got a messago for you," he said, by-and-by, when, the housekeep er had left the room. "I was over to the Mason place, and when I came away, Rhoda told me to tell you that if you wanted to kuow what her mother thought about your house keeping idoa, you'd better come over and talk with her about it. I was quito surprised to find out you'd got matrimonial ideas in your head, but I want to say that I think the plan a most sensibly one. Mrs. Muson would mako you a tip-top housekeep er, and—if you'll take the mother, I'll take tho daughter. Indeed, I've made an arrangement to that effect. Rhoda and I came to a satisfactory understanding last night." Rob's face was quite red when he got through with his speech, but his father's was redder. He opened his mouth, once or twice, as if trying to say something, but words would not come. It wa3 well for him that the housekeeper camo in just at this junc ture. Rob went out, and b - 'mtook himsolf to his room to colic.- -..1 be wildered senses. "Well—l declare!" Tho poor dea con dropped into the first chair he came to, and sat aud staved at the bed post for as much as half an hour, be fore he began to get things straight ened out. ■ "I begin to untlefstand it," he told himself, by-and-by. "I've come dreadfully near making a fool of my self. I guess I did make a fool of ! myself, all right enough; but what I mean is, I came dreadfully near gev ting caught at it. But by the greatest stroke of luck that ever happened to me, I haven't been caught. I see how it is. Bob's going to marry Rlioda, aud he's been sparking her along, and the girl thought I knew it, and she thinks it was her mother I had in view for a housekeeper. And, as luck would have it, I didn't say anything that'll give itie away, if—if I carry out the deception and marry Bhoda's mother. If I don't they'll mistrust something. It seems as if fate had something to do with it. I never I thought of such a thing, but I'm forced 1 right into it, so to speak. I can't help myself. And, come to think of, it's the proper thing to do. It would have been a foolish thing for an old man like me to marry a young girl like Khoda. Ain't it lucky, now, that I didn't say any more that day? 1 stopped just at the right time and place. It seems she's told her mother what I said, and—l'm to come over and talk with her about it. I will." When Deacon Wade made up his miud to anything, ho was prompt to act. Saturday afternoon saw him setting out for the Mason homestead with another basket of strawberries. The widow was at home this time, aud she welcomed him with a blush that made her look almost as pretty as her daughter. "Take a seat out on the porch, dea con, where it's cool," said the widow. "And I'll sit here and hull the berries while we visit. Rob's coming over, by-and-by, Bhoda said, and both oi you must stay to tea. I remember how fond you used to be of shortcake, and we'll have one that'll make you think of old times." "Robert," said the deacon, as his son came up the path, about 5 o'clock, "I want to exchauge congratulations with you. You've got the promise of the daughter, and I've got the promise of the mother. I think both of us do serve congratulations. We're in luck, boy." "That's about the way I look at it," said Robert, giving the blushing Mrs. Mason a rousing kiss. Just then llhoda appeared on the scene to an nounce that tea was waiting, and the deacon stejiped up to her aud kissed her in a most fatherly manner, and thou put her hand in Robert's, and said, "Bless you, my children," in most approved stage fashion. "But wasn't I lucky, though, to got off so easy," lie said to himself, more tliau once, after that, as he thought over his narrow escape. "It makes hie shiver to think how near I came to being found out for an old fool. But, by the greatest stroke of luck I ever had, I come out of the scrape all right, and got just the kind of a wife that I ought to have. I shall always believe in luck after this."—The Led ger. Riiuiw-31en In Alaska. ' At Lake Lebarge wo met an Eng lishman who was taking his wife aud three children for a trip to Five Finger Rapids. His wife was a squaw, and her face was painted black, as were also those of the children. I never did find out the real reason these squaws have for painting their faces black. Some say it is because they think it makes them more beautiful, aud still others claim that it is a pre ventive from the mosquitoes. We be came quite friendly with this English man. He was taking his family to visit some of his wife's people. He had just received news from England that the death of three persons had made him heir to a noble title and quite an inheritance, but to enjoy its possession, etc., of course he would have to return* to Eugland. "Of course," said I, "you are going at once." Ho looked around at his iani ily and said, "Weil, I could hardly take them with me, and I'm too fond of them to leave them here; so I think I'll stay here myself and let the other fellow enjoy my property over there." This was all said with a degree of pathos which was almost sublime, and yet I could not help picturing to my self the sensation that that squaw wife would make at some reception held among his titled friends if she were to enter au natural, as we were lookiug at her then. I think something of the same thought must have passed through our friend's mind, for, hastily murmuring "What might have been," etc., he looked suspiciously like shed ding a few tears, bade us a hurried farewell, and gathered his small fam ily and belongings together and pro ceeded on his way, There are many white men in Alaska married to the Indians. They call them squaw-men. —Leslie's Magazine. lllce at Weddings. A clergyman in the Eastern colonies has issued a request to his people not to throw rice at weddings, on the ground that the practice means a great deal of extra cleaning up from the church aud churoh yard. "If you must shower something symbolic of blessings on their heads," he says, "let it be outside." If, when a bride groom bimself, he had had rice thrown in his eyes he would have taken a more serious view of the matter. I have known the best part—that is, the first part—of a honeymoon passed with an oculist instead of the bride in con sequence of this oustom. If the rice must be thrown, let it be boiled first. —lllustrated London News. Insect Horses and Their Kiders. At a recent meeting of the Ento mological Society of Washington some specimens of chrysopa, a species of goldeu-eyed fly, which had been col lected in the White mountains, were exhibited as curiosities, because each carried on its back one or more minute cecidomyiid flies. The opinion was expressed that thiy war a *rue case of a smaller species of insect using a larger species for the purposes of locomotion from place to place. Clover For Toultry. Some sort of green food is absolute ly necessary for confined fowls, and clover seems to be more to their taste than any other vegetation. During the Biiiumer chopped clover should be kept in the yard at all times, and in the winter a commercial food, known as clover meal, should be fed. Clover, either green or in mead form, is a sort of balancing ration between grain and meat, and will take the place of any other vegetable food. It is rich in lime, much more so than either bar ley or wheat, and provides a necessity not only for egg-production but for the proper and healthy growth of frame.—Atlanta Journal. Iye us Feil. P.ye is nearly or quite atf nutritious as wheat, its greater amount of husk or bran being partly compensated by its lessened amount of starchy Hour and greater proportion of nitrogenous matter, which helps to make muscle. Bye is not so much used as stock feed as it would be if the grain wore not often affected with ergot, which causes abortion iu breeding stock. As in winter a large proportion of the stock kept on farms is with young, it would be unsafe to feed it very extensively. But for working liorses, not pregnant mares, we bave found rye an excellent and most strengthening feed. It may be given whole, provided it is fed with caution, or after it is boiled. A still better way is to grind the rye without boltiug, and applying some of the rye lucal to wet, cut hay or straw. To Cure llama. Take the hams and shoulders and cheeks, rub them well with salt on both sides, lay 011 a declining board so as to have drainage, and cover the flesh side well with salt. Take a lot of line saltpeter and work in at end and around the centre bone. Let them bo three or four days. Have a clean barrel ready, cleau off all the bloody salt from the meat, pack iu the barrel, rind downward and out ward, pour and cover with a brine of pure salt and water that will bear up an egg. Hams from hogs weighing 250 to 280 pounds dressed weight should remain in this fourteen days only. Take them out, let drain and dry two or three days, then smoke them. Soon after smoking cover and sew up in any kind of clean cotton cloth, and have a barrel of dry, clean wood ashes ready. Cover the bottom with three or four inches of ashes, lay in 0110 layer the best you can and cover again with ashes, so the meat comes in direct contact with other pieces, until all are packed and cov ered. Keep the barrel in some out house from the influence of moisture. Ours are kept iu the smokehouse, and the other day our city cousins and the doctor ate dinner with us. and we had ham from December, 1895, and they all declared it tirst-class. —Texas Stock and Farm Journal. Quickly Uliirio Crato For Shipping: Foultrj. Whether one desires to ship pure bred poultry for breeding purposes, or live poultry to market, the crate figured herewith will serve most ad vantageously, while it is so very easily made that one need spend but little time in preparing his fowl 3 for ship ment. Select an empty grocery box of CRATE FOR POULTRY. the desired size, using one that is made of thin boards—three-eighths of an inch preferably. Saw it through from side to side in three or more places, as suggested by the dotted lines in the cut. Spread the sections apart and nail inch-square pieces iu the corners, as shown, and the crato is complete. It will be well, however, to tack a piece of cotton cloth or burlap about the sides, to keep out drafts. In such a crate fowls will go at single express rates and the crate will bo very light. —Orange Judd Farmer. The Farm II or as. The farm horse deserves as much feed, care and general attention as the city horse. We do not appreciate what an active factor in farm industry the horse actually is until deprived of his services for a soasoa. Then tka indispeusabilitv of the animal is im pressed upon us. Certainly for reasons both humane and economic wo should take all reasonable care of a beast of so great importance, aiming to preserve him in the best of health, strength and spirits for a3 long a period of profitable service as pos sible. The farm horse usually does not receive the quantity of grain feed, the grooming and the winter blanketing that the city horse is favored with, aud suffers accordingly. Any horso at hard work requires a reasonable amount of grain. Hay will not take the place of grain. Furthermore, for the last few years grain has been far cheaper, considering its nutrients, than hay. So it is double folly to feed hay entirely to the exclusion of graiu. Of course a little hay, say eight or ton pounds a day, is necessary, but let the rest of the ration be grain. Feed from six to twelve quarts per- day <sf a mixture of oats and cracked corn, ac cording as the horse works, lightly or heavily. The farm horse is at a disadvantage too often from! not having his coat properly eleaued and looked after. There can be no question that regu lar grooming, rubbing and general cleaning of a horse makes him feel better, puts him iu better spirits and renders him in every way a better and steadier worker. A good cleaning produces an equal effect with a couple of quarts of grain, and therefore is a very necessary and economical opera tion. So do not deem time spent in grooming time thrown away. Rub down the farm horse, make him shine like the animals employed upon city trucks, express and livery teams. It pays to do it.—M. Sumner Perkins, in Farm, Field and Fireside. Cutting Clover For Fow!s. Cut clover has come to be recog nized as one of the best of bulky win ter foods for poultry. A clover cut ter is exceedingly convenient, but where such a machine is not at hand, a home-made cutter can be devised. Take a stout block of wood, with smooth top, aud build a box about it, using the block for the bottom of the box, as shown iu the cut. The cutter Jig A cLOvsr. cuTTrn. — _ is a pestle-shaped aft'iir, square at the lower end. To this are attached three sharpened steel plates, as suggested. Set them in the wood and bolt secure ly. Any blacksmith can make plates, and they can be sharpened on the grindstone. With this, one can cut up clover as the housewife chops meat in her tray, but a few moments being required to cut sufficient for a large 'flock. —American Agriculturist. Deep or Shnllow Culture For Corn? Shallow culture, for the following reasons; 1. In the average season a larger yield will be obtained. 2. The plants aro able to withstand a drouth with less damage. 3. Cutting the roots of the corn plaut is avoided. In a large number of experiments made at the Missouri, New York aud Illinois stations, it has beeu clearly shown that tho cutting or pruning of the roots is iu every in stance iujurious to tho corn plant. The extent of tho injury will be largely governed by the amount of moisture there is in tho soil at the time the roots are grown. In very dry weather tho injury is serious. Iu wet weather it is of littlo conse quence. 4. An neve of corn can be kept free from weeds and properly crushed oa the surface by surface tillage for less money aud with loss effort than by deep tillage. 5. The land is left in a condition to be better protected from washing aud more easily handled the next season, or cau be sown to grass, wheat or oats very much more conveniently than if ridged, as will be the case in deep tillage. Experiments at the Mis souri station show that by shallow til lage the moisture within the first foot of soil is larger in dry seasons than in similar deep tilled plots. This is pre sumably due to the fact that the mulch formed by a shallow tillage implement is more evenly distributed over the surface, more uniform iu depth, more perfect, aud thereby more effective than from the ordinary deep tilling cultivators. When these deep tillage implements are used, the flue earth that should be spread evenly over the surface i 3 instead thrown iu ridges, and the furrows are left bare to eva porate the moisture. In the best corn growing sections of Missouri, sorno form of shallow til lage is almost universally practiced now, whereas ten years ago this sys tem was ridiculed by tho most experi enced corn growers. It should not be forgotten, however, that the weeds must be kept down. If, owing to long continued wet weather, the weeds get the start of the farmer, he must use that system of tillage which will most effectually aud most promptly destroy these pests. Often times deep tillage at this juncture is necessary. As soon as the woeds have beeu completely killed, however, the laud should be made as nearly level as possible aud kept in that condition throughout the romainder of the sea son. Tho old theory that in dry times deep tillage was necessary iu order to "plow the moisture up to the surface," is radically wrong. Any moisture brought to the surface at this time will be quickly evaporated. Any roots that are cut iu the process will; prove very injurious to the plants, and deep tillage at such a time is the worst thing that could be done.—Professor H. J. Waters, in Farm, Field and Fireside. The counterfeit silver dollar dated 1804 has run against the fact that it contains too much silver, and also with notics from the mint that no sil ver dollars were coined that year. HOUSEHOLD MATTERS. Pressing Embroidery. When a piece of embroidery is finished it should be placed, face downward, upon a piece of fine lawn ' placed on top of three or four tliick , nesses of flannel. A dampened piece of t lawn should be placed above it, and a hot iron should be deftly used until it jis quite dry. The steaming engen dered by this process makes the linen smooth and the embroidery even and 1 shining. Washing Dnlicute Goods. Flannels—Soak in cold borax water; if very soiled, make a slight lather; souse up and down and rinse well. Must never be rubbed. Red Table Damask—Never use hot water; hang evenly; snap well; never iron. Corsets—Remove steels in front and sides; put corsets on board and scrub with tepid lather of castile soap. : Rinse under faucet, pull until straight, and dry in cool place, pulling when partly dry. Silk Stockings—Wash in lather of castile soap, rinse very thoroughly in ' clear water, turn wrong side out, wring dry in a cloth; when nearly dry | stretch and rub in hands to shape I them; do not iron. j Silk Underwear—Make lather of white soap; water hot, not scalding; squeeze in hands, rinse through two waters, shake, snap, and pull into shape. Pull into shape when nearly dry ; do not iron. Bluing—A good test for discovering tho presence of the dangerous Prus sian blue is to dissolve a little washing soda in water, add bluing, and heat over lire. Pour into a glass; when cold a brown deposit of iron shows presence of prussiau blue. Care of Ilnrrtvroori Floors. An autlidHty on tho cave of hard wood floors says that water is the worst possiblo thing to use upon them. Any liquid spilled on a polished floor, unless wiped up at once, loaves a dark, ugly spot; and if there is a scratch, discolors it permanently. Sweep daily, and dust with a piece of ingrain car pet, under the foot, or wrapped about a broom. ! If there are soiled spots, wipe up with turpentine. Remember, how ever, if tho floor is waxed, this will remove the wax, which must be ap plied again, being careful not to ex tend to waxing beyond the original spot. Melt a little beeswax in a cap over the register, or iu a hot bath, ou the back of the range. Apply with s soft cloth and rtib hard. You cannot put too much strength into waxing; but if you are polishing furniture or woodwork with pumice stone nud ] water, rub evenly with a good many strokes, but do not bear on with much weight. Once a week all floors should be gono over with a weighted brush. These brushes are a great expense to start with, but pay for themselves in the end. They should always be covered when put away, and kept oa the flrst floor. An admirable encaustic used by the French for polishing floors, furniture au'd marble is composed of ono pound of wax and one pint of turpeutiue. Melt tho wax in a water bath ol gentle heat. Wheu quite soft, re move from the firo aud heat iu the turpentine. If it is to be used on furniture, one gill of alcohol should also be well stirred in, unless a soft finish is de sired, when the alcohol may be omitted, and a gill of paraffins oil added instead.—Washington Star. Desserts Without Milk. Dumplings—lnto u kettle partly full of boiling water, drop J cup but ter and dumplings from raised dough, j Serve with molasses sauce: One cup i molasses, I cup vinegar, J cup butter, j dust nutmeg. I Gingerbread Pudding—Two cups of i molasses, one cup sugar, J cup lard or butter, ono cup boiling water, one rounding teaspoon soda, salt, all kinds spice, grated lemon peel. Steam three i hours. Sauce. [ Raisin Pudding—Rub J cup butter : into dough the size of a loaf. Knead ! one pound raisins into the same aud place in a buttered, close-covered ! pudding dish. Steam two hours, or set the dish inkettle hot water and I boil two hours. Cottago Pudding—One-half oupbut ter, two cups sugar, three cups sifted flour, four eggs, one cup cold water, two heaping teaspoons baking powder, or a proportionate amount of soda and cream tartar; salt, spice, non-alcoholio flavoring powder. Bake in moderate oven. j Batter Pudding—One quart flour, three eggs, salt, two heaping spoons I baking powder, flour for still batter. I Raw cranberries, dregged with flour, are a great improvement, hut then two i cups sugar are added. Sauce, of necessity, is very sweet wheu cran berries are used. Bread Pudding—Dry in the oven and roll scraps and crumbs of bread. Half All a three-quart pudding dish | with crumbs; fill with boiling water to which has beeu added one cup sugar, one teaspoon all kinds spice, salt. When cool, stir in four well beaten eggs. Set the dish, covered, ! in another of boiling water and bake | all day. The next forenoon add j raisins, if liked, and a bit of lemon j peel. Eat with or without sugar ; sauce. English Pudding—Two cups sugar, white, brown, or maple, one cup mo lasses, four eggs, pne rounded tea spoon soda, salt, one teaspoon every kind of spice, } cup butter (or drip pings, if liked), 1J cup hot water, one cup each dregged raisins and currants, citron size of ail egg, sliced; flour for stiff batter. Put shortening, melted, in last, and turn in deep, corered,but tered .pudding dish. Sot in another dish of boiling water and bake fonr hours. All puddings are better serred with sauce.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers