Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 20, Decatur, Adams County, 28 February 1895 — Page 3

■ ~ AJO CHAPTER XVII Continued. The result was, that granny had gone off to bed. worn and weary with sympathizing first on the one side a .d then on the other—for it must not be supposed she had no feeling for her one and only grandson, nor that she could contemplate the probable family Droil to follow without genuine dis tress and vexation, so that she and Geraldine hal nat rally agreed to say no more to each other alout it that night, but to leave till the morrow all future considerations. Little did either think that the day's work was not over yet. “Yon are alone?” said Bellenden, glancing round quickly. “Is Mrs. Campbell ” “Gone upstairs. We—we have not returned long, and she sne did not expect anyone.” Here the speaker’s eye tell on the wet handkerchief, and she stooped to pick it up and hid it in her hand. “And yot>—you did not expect me either 1 '” inquired he, his voice sinking at once, as he took a chair near her. No answer: a slight retrograde movement on her part. “Did you think I could wait another day.” proceeded the speaker, in the Same significant tone, “not knowing where you had been, nor with whom, nor whether whether you had ever missed me. nor looked tor me?” “Oh, yes.’ Mid Geraldine, suddenly facing him “Wait? Oh. yes: very well, 1 should think very well, indeed. Why not?” she continued, with p hard little laugh, reminding him on instant o'the mocking fiend who gilied and taunted him that bright morning in Bond street. "Oh, Sir Frederick, I think you could ha.e waited. You are a patient man. You can wait much longer than that for tidings of your friends, we all know.” “Angry, by love! The best sign in the world/’er.ed Bellenden, exulting to himself. Aloud: Are you “twitting me with my stupidity in not finding you yesterday? i'ou do not know how dearly I paid for it. Where were you? Where could you have been? I give you my word that I hunted up and down, in and out ail Over the place, for hours and hours, and all in vain. I only gave up when nearly every one had left the place.” “I did not mean that,” almost whispered Geraldine, for now she was beginning to shake all over. “I 1 why do you-ay such things?” she burst forth with sudden passion. "What right have you to say them? How do you dare to presume that it’s anything to me whether you seek me or not? You —you I never told you to look for me: I never gave you leave. Y'ou must not you shall not do it. Understand, sir. that I will not have any more of this. I forbid it I- 1—” ■ Do you forbid this, Geraldine?” said he. very gently, taking her hand in his. “Do you forbid my asking for this hand, and offering in exchange only my poor heart, which is already yours? 1 sought you, dear, because I loved you. I think you know I love you, and 1 think I know that you ” “That I love you?” cried Geraldine, wildly; “is it that which you would say? You know that? Y'ou would tell me that? But you—you are mistaken. Bir Frederick Bellenden, 1 am not quite the child, the fool 1 once was. I —I Oh. how can you—bow can you ?” and, unable to articulate more, she could only wrench from his the hand he still held, and let loose the bri r.ming Hoods which would no longer be restrained. “vVho has done this?” he cried aghast. “Who? What do you mean? Who?” “This is not your own doing. This is not yourself speaking.” proceeded Bellenden. in much agitation. "Some Smooth-tongued whisperer has been “Never mind that —never mind that. Jle did but tell me true, if it has been so; you have chosen to take it for granted that 1 care for you —” “And you do not love —? But co, you would not play me false?” “How am I playing you false?” “Look back upon the past few weeks,” he said. “What am I to think? Have you not given me reason to suppose Could 1 thing otherwise than that you saw. understood, and returned mv feelings for you? Had you meant to reject me—Geraldine, you cannot, you cannot mean it,” he continued, with increased emotion. “You cannot nave been trilling with me ” but the word awoke a fatal echo in her heart. “Trilling?’ siie cried, scornfully, “and why not ‘trifling,’ if it suited mo to trifle.- Why should T not have my turn? Y’ou thought little enough once of trifling with me.” “I? With you?” “Y'ou thought I was but a little girl, a child to be taken up. and petted, and petted, and played with, and dropped. You thought you might say what you chose, do what you chose, kiss me if you choso,” and she struck her face Uf>on the spot his lips had burned, “and then and then- no more. I was to forget alt as you did. I was to think nothing of it. to laugh at it. to know that others jested about it: I was only a child, you know. What have vou to say now. if 1 have, as you call it. trifled’ with you?” He was rilent—too much amazed for word®. “Good Heavens' Why, Geraldine,” he exclaimed at length after a mute pause during which each had involuntarily drawn ba k a pace, and stood quickly breathing in each other's faces. “Why. Geraldine.what strange delusion is this? I ” he passed his hand over his brow, “I cannot yet understand. Os course, I ought to have written, to have Pshaw! that is not what you can so deeply have re-

sented: there must be more. Is it [XMsible. then, that I —that you—that anything ever passed between you and me in the old days which could have been taken in so ill a part that it must needs rise as a barrier between us for evermore?” “What did pass between us? Stop where you are.”—for he had made a movement towards her. “What did pass'?” "Why. we were companions, friends -we liked to be together. I was fond of you. and you—by Heavens! if I had ever thought ever imagined But you cannot mean it ” "I do mean it.” “You cared for me?” his voice faltered. "I did card.” |w. “Y’ou? A mere child?” “I was no ‘mere child’ ” “But you could not have known-it. is not possible you could have known ■ what love meant. You could never have tell ” ' “Not have felt? Not known? Oh I how little, how little, can you know 1 ?” ■ cried she, weeping afresh. “Not have ' ! known, when you yourself had taught ■ me! Not have felt oh. I think 1 shall j never feel again can never feel again ‘ as I did then You ask me now for my . heart? Y'ou stole it then. How dia I , get it back? Only through your neglect and utter indifference. But 1 ha eit now fast: never, never to part with it more. No! not now—not again” j —as he one e more endeavored to speak and to be heard. “Not again. Once 'iin a lifetime is enough. Oh. you had ( j it that once”—here her voice was al- (| most lost in convulsive sobs—"that | once.” she whispered, “but—but a | second —time—never!" and with a sud- ’ | den rush, sbo flew past and vanished ,' from his sight, leaving him dumb, motionless, and alone. l-||.U*TEK XVIII. COMT.I sloN — GRANNY TO Till: FRONT. Haa she then all this time been but , I revenging hers If? ' I Bellenden asked himself the bumil- ; iating question a thousand times, smarting with shame, disappointment, . ( and. worse still, disenchantment. , | Had the girl to whom he had given such a high place in his imagination ( as well as in his heart, been playing ( towards him a part so unworthy? Had ( she. whom he had all unwittingly , sinned against -for it had been unwit- , tingly, when all was said and aone—- , ha l this bright, beautiful creature, ' with her noble bearing, and her proud . s orn of all that was false and mean, , stooped on his ac< ount to a vengeance j so far beneath herself? , He could hardly believe it. Bad an [ angel descended to soil its wings he emit not have felt his faith in goo l- , ness, purity, and truth more cruelly j shaken. j Gould this have been Geraldine who I had just fled from him. as though his touch were contamination? Gould it j have been she who had poured forth 3 such derisive taunts, and anuoun -e-.l such a petty, base, and degrading scheme as her own? Could it have been hersweet face,so many atinv-and ’ oft turncd towards him. shj as a blushf ing rosebud, which had now beenever- " spread by the angry glow, ami whose 1 features bad been, alas! distort d 1 with a fury which he had been the ’ object? 1 He felt as if a rough touch haa lieen r laid on his shoulder, an 1 arougn voice 1 in his ear had bidden him awake from a fair drcam an I face a hash 1 reality. His idol ha l been shattered, , and lay in pieces at his feet. She, for her part, spent the night in 1 tear-. Why make a mystery of it? '' Os course the whole had been Co H’s 3 work. He had contriveu. goodness f knows how! to draw his cousin apart, and got her to himself at last, on the 3 second day of the festival: and he had then first pleaded his own cause, and • pleaded, as we know, in vain: and sule ■ sequently, and doubtless with more 1 acrimony than might otherwise have • been vented, turned his attention to- [■ wards blasting the hopes of his pre1 sumably more successful rial. 1 He had meant to order his plan of 3 action on this wise. It was to have 5 been thus; Clear the course ol Bel--1 lentlen, then walk the course, Ray--3 mond. But lovers seldom keep to their pro 1 grams on such occasions, and Cecil at the critical moment had come to grief. ’ His own wreckage had been a cers tainty almost from the outset: but lie i hud domjfchimself none the less damage ' in that he had sought to involve Bel- ’ lenden in his ruin. It must be supposed that finally this i had been apparent to him. But there ■ is, as every one knows, a certain fierce consolation in hitting back, even , though each blow recoils on the head of the striker: and Geraldine’s suitor, beholding his suit hopelessly re ectcd, ' may be pardoned if, not being a man > of line character, he had not taken the i downfall of his hopes quite so well as - he should have done. . He had been as unable to bridle his 1 tongue as a woman, and sore from his • own wounds, had recklessly delivered ‘ as manj’ as he could in return. Nothing he knew would heart the i proud-spirited girl more than any re--1 verting to the old childish folly, and accordingly wo arc sorry to sav it—it had been to this that the defeated ’ candidate had turned at once. ’ A very indifferent tale it had been > to hearken to. He had been watching his cousin, he had allowed, and had been very much afraid, very apnrehen- . sive and anxio :s on her account. He I had hoped against hope that he had been mistaken. Not less on her i account than on his own on his cwn f he would now say nothing that was s past—and, therefore, and only since it was past, was he now free to raise a i note of warning: but. on her account, > he thought ho really ought now to > speak. He must speak as a relation, i as a brother, since sne would allow him i no nearer and dearer title. A certain I slightly friend of bis—she must know to whom he alluded—was now, he ' feared, playing the t-arne game that ho had tried on with Geraldine before. 1 All had known this, and had noticed i this. It did not become him to judge . whether or not he would this time I meet with a like success: but Geraldine Knew. Geraldine must remember i how her lancy had once been caught i by Bellenaen's foolish and unmeaning . gallantry —he had got no further. i So far he had t een heard out. since, i in her bewilderment and consterna- . tion, she had no words wherewith to

stop him but all at once she had realized that her childhood's romantic dream which had cost her sodear, but which she had deemed all her own, had been, and still was, the sport and scoff of others. Cecil had exaggerated, perhaps naturality. in saying that "all” had known and noticed, but he had certainly, in furtherance of his end, been happy in the hint: it had been caught up at once by the sensitive ear on which it had fallen, and had been construed into something yet further from the truth than was actually the case. She had been gossiped about, giggled over, smirked at—oh! how terrible. Never, never could she hold up her head again among those who had made her their je-t: never again couid she meet Bellenden in their presence, nor hear them pronoun e his name without a shiver. As for quietly going on her way, having daily inter ourse with the relations in Grosvenor Square, meeting Cecil going in and out he haa begged that there might be no alteration in the usual routine it was not to be thought of. The earth hail shaken under her feet. She had do ibted everyone, dis- [ trusted everyone, almost hated everyl one that cruel summer day. A little wisdom, and a little common sense, : even a few hours' repose and time to think the matter over, might have put a new face upon past and future; but Bellenden had been too precipitate: be had appeared when the storm had I been yet at ite bight, and had come in ■ smiling, happy, con .dent—far, far too j confident, to her mind and he had I even a worse time of it than Cecil Haymond. So now. what was to be done? Imagine grann v's consternation when, the next morning, the headstrong girl, neither calmer nor wiser than on the night before, announced her next decision, which was that back the two must hie -and that without a moment's breathing spa e—to the wilds of Inchmarew. It was the first week in -July, and some of the pleasantest part of London season was yet to come: there were the garden parties, the suburban fetes, the river ex ursions, the little, frolics hither and thither for which no time could be found earlier must all these be sacrificed? And for what? lor Inchmarew in .July? Tn July, when grim St. Swithin hoids his cheerless rule in the west country, when the crisp freshness of the summer is past, and the mellow warmth of aui tumn is not yet begun? When the young vegetables are over, and the fruit is barely ripe. When no one actually no one not the veriest waif or stray is yet to be found along the coast of Argyll - Boor Mrs. Campbell grew almost tearful over the -ub eet. and flushed h r prettiest pink demonstrating and protesting. She bad little anticipated such extreme measures. She ad thought the Raymond affair might be patched up without any great difficulty. It might, it probably would, have its disagreeable side it might I produce awkward mo nents and un- . comfortable rest aint; bu surely it ; was not of sub 'cient importance to break up their whole tenor of life for the time be ng She had taken the house for ancther month, and tv one was expecting them back at Inchmarew. The rooms would not lie ready, the repairs not finished, the painters and paterers not of the premises. Nothing would be pre ared, and it did seem a pity to let such a—she did not exactly say "a trifle.” but the tone in which she said “a thing as this" implied it —"it uid seem a pity to let such a thing as this put out so many people, and disarrange so mueh. ” Os course, granny vowed and protested. of course her darling should not be tormented by Cecil, nor by any of his family Geraldine might tru.-t her for that. Os course if Geraldine wished it. she would forbid her grandson the house although that aid-eem unnecessary, since it was not likely that he would really care to come about, in spite of his bravado in begging that no difference might be ma le. That had been Cecil allover. His first thought had been to eva.le the comments of the world. But even if he did wish to carry this too far. he should not be allowed to disturb his cousin's peace by doing so. [TO BE CONTINUED.] A Deadly Enemy. Even common house flies have a (loudly enemy a parasite that fastens upon their bodies. Their favorite location is around the wings and the shoulders. These tiny creatures grow rapidly, and soon become so full of blood as to be perceptible to the naked eye. They soon exhaust the source of supply and leave the wretched victim little more than a shell, when it crawls away to die. Any one may discover this condition of affairs by observing that flies become dull and semi-stupid. They seem to fly heavily, and soon alight and begin brushing and scraping their bodies with their wings and feet. But to no purpose are all their efforts; for the leech never lets go. These parasites are very much worse in some seasons than in others. Occasionally there is a summer when they are very few, and one may look a long time without finding any. At other times, in certain localities, they almost sweep the flies out of existence. Such a condition is thought to be fraught with danger to the human family. Be Ou Your Guard. One of the most perilous experiences of a young convert is in dealing with the suggestion that he is not converted. To make the suggestion is one of the favorite modes of attack used by the adversary. If he can succeed in getting a young Christian to listen to it, and to go into an analysis of the case, he is very sure of cooling that converts zeal, if not of bringing his Christian life to an end. Be on your guard against his whisperings. Instead of looking at yourselves, look at Jesus. Meet the approaches of Satan as Luther did. When the devil said to him: “You are no Christian.” he replied: “Well, that’s none of your business.”—Michigan Advocate. It was anything but Palm Sunday to the little boy whose mother, for the first time, substituted a slipper for her own soft and tender palm.

FARM AND GARDEN. BRIEF HINTS AS TO THEIR SUCCESSFUL MANAGEMENT. The Progressive Farmer Will Keep Himself Well Informed and Take Advantage of Every Opportunity—Device for Removing Stumps and Kocks. The Wide-Awake Farmer. As the wants of the people increase there is not only a greater consumption. but more variety is sought, if the world has changed and electricity is beginning to supplant horses and men, the farm is not exempt from the influence of progress. The articles used as food, and the dishes prepared, are very different from those of a century ago. Many fruits and vegetables nowin general use were unknown at the beginning of the present century. If the farmer is -to keep pace with those engaged in other industries, lie must change his methods and his crops, to correspond with conditions not of his own choosing, and meet the consumers of his products with commodities of a kind better adapted to their wants, and not such as he may prefer to grow for hitnself. Every year witnesses something new in the field of agriculture, and no farmer should be content to follow a beaten path, but should branch out and endeavor to take advantage of every opportunity for producing something on the farm that w ill afford liiui a larger profit than he secured tile previous year. The fact is conceded that the low prices for grain are caused by the cheapening of the cost by the use of improved labor-saving implements and machinery on the farm, and the day when a crop must be cultivated because it requires less labor than some other Ims passed. The crops that paybest now are those that are tbe most costly to produce, because they are grown less abundantly titan the cheaper kinds. Corn, wheat and outs are grown at one-fourth the cost of former times, and the old prices will never return unless the misfortune of a famine should occur, which is hardly possible in a country with strtli diversity of climate as ours. There are crops grown in this country which apparently are very large, but which do not supply our home markets, and among them are potatoes and onions, and this is due to the fact that they require more labor than coru or wheat. Beans, peas, apples, cherries, quinces aud some of the garden crops are often below the amount required for the supply of tlie home markets. It is not supposed that fanners will suddenly revolutionize their methods, but it will be an advantage for them to study the markets and statistics, and endeavor to learn what may be required. Labor should always be considered in growing a special crop, for it enters into the prices and the remuneration. for such expense is never overlooked. It is labor that makes the value, and, while it is well to cheapen the labor, yet tbe amount of labor required should never deter one from growing a crop. A crop that pays well one year may not be profitable the next, as there is an inducement, by higher prices, for the fanners to seek the crop that pays best, but there are too many farmers who adhere closely to certain crops and thereby fail to secure the highest prices or largest profit. The progressive farmer will keep himself well informed, and be always prepared to avail himself of the advantages open by growing a variety of crops in order to satisfy the demands of all classes.—Philadelphia Record. To Remove Obstructions, That farmers may have the plow run smoothly the Philadelphia Farm Journal sugests the contrivance here shown to break down or to lift obstructions out of their beds. It consists of three strong poles bound together at the top, a hooked chained fastened to their top to suspend a heavy iron bar to be used BATTERING BAM AND LEVER. as a battering ram or as a lever. It is not conducive to a peaceful stale of mind to run up against a rock or stump and be suddenly elevated over the plow handle or have the handles strike one violently in the ribs. Straightening Crooked Streams. All natural streams over land are more or less crooked, as they bend first one way then another to avoid obstructions. In making artificial open ditches there is at first an almost irresistible tendency to follow the natural course and simply deepen it. But after the ditch is cut, if it is a cultivated field the crooked places in it make serious difficulties for the plow, the harrow, cultivator and the mowing machine. Only for a pasture lot is the winding rivulet running through a field allowable. provided it can easily be remedied. By straightening an open drain and putting sewer pipe in it the ditch may be filled and plowed over, making a rich, cultivable field of what was originally only fit for growing coarse and inferior grasses.—Ex. Importing Green Peas. A vessel recently arrived at I’hila delphia with a large crop of canned “French” peas, grown in England.

That we should import green p-nlx, canned, from Europe, when such a crop can be grown in every section of the United Stat<>s, is not very creditable. They are always readily salable in winter, which is demonstrated by the fact that we send abroad for them, and they bring good prices. Here is an opening for some of our farmers to combine, build a canning factory and grow green peas. They will prove more profitable than cereal crops. Winter Farm and Market Hied. Why shouldn't the farmer take some comfort in his work? Let him put a cloth top upon his wagon and go to market warm and protected from the wind. It is an easy matter to make a light but strong frame-work and cover COVERED MARKET SLED. it with duck, or heavy cotton cloth. The illustration shows how to make it convenient both to get into and to get produce out of. It is especially handy when hauling potatoes, apples, etc., in freezing weather. An oil stove can be fastened securely behind the seat on the floor, and in the coldest weather the most perishable of articles can be carried safely and with comfort.— American Agriculturist. Demand for Heavy Draft Horse*. Too often the farmer breeds for his own use. but expects to sell the geldings. and the class of light grades that suit the fancy of some farmers do not suit the horse buyers; thus it is we have bred millions of small to medium horses for our own use. but we still want to sell them all the same. The buyers can not use them.and there is a veritable scarcity of big heavy draft horses or large stylish coachers, yet many wonder why horses are so cheap. They refuse to breed what tbe market wanfs, and the market refuses to pay a decent price for the common horses that are presented for sale. The whole world wants the big. heavy draft horses. American farmers can raise them, and they will raise them of the right kind when they come to understand the market requirements.—Live Stock Journal. A Novel Flower Pot. Among the trees about one's home, there is often one with a great hole near its base. A twin trunk has been

removed, or a low branch lopped off, and the wound has rotted away and left the unsightly cavity. Just the thing for a flower pot! The rich soil put into it will keep moist in its shady resting place Plant vines, and almost before you

NOVEL FLOWER POT.

know it they will be winding about the old tree, and making it tlie most beautiful of the lawn. Hardy vines that will winter well are to be chosen, the beautiful woodbine coming in for first choice perhaps, on account of its autumn glories and perfect hardiness. Management with Weeds. One cause of weeds flourishing on some soils is that they thrive on plant foods left over by tlie grain crop, a condition which renders the soil impoverished for other grain crops, yet very fertile for weeds because the weeds are able to get a good start, make rapid growth, secure abundant moisture below the surface, and deprive the land of that which was not utilized by the crops, the result being that the soil is still further impoverished. This may be prevented by growing root crops after corn, to be followed by clover or some grass crop. Farm Notes. Green peas may be planted just as soon as the ground permits. They are hardy and thrive best when planted early in the season. Clover rootlets will penetrate aud loosen the subsoil, while they are furnishing a large quantity of valuable material for forage and for fertilizer. If it is desired to subsoil a field at the least possible expense, get it to producing a good crop of clover. Prof. Bailey, of Cornell experiment station, recommends from 500 to 700 pounds of muriate of potash and 300 to 500 pounds of plain superphosphates per acre as annual top dressing for manure orchards. Nitrogen is seldom needed, he says, and is to apt to force a growth of too much wood. What to do with the bones from fresh meat is a problem to those who have no mode of reducing them to a line condition for the land. If th,- bones are placed in the stove and heated, so as to become brittle, they can be easily pounded, which converts them into excellent food for all kinds of poultry. The San Jose scale insect has been found as far East as Ohio, and it is claimed that it had already put in an appearance in some of the New Jersey nurseries last year, but which may be a mistake. It attacks peach, apple, pear, cherry and plum trees, and also rose bushes. The kerosene emulsion is used as a remedy. The average farm prices of various agricultural products, per unit measure, compared with those of 1893, are as follows: Corn, per bushel. 1894. 45.7 c, against 3G.5; wheat, 49.1, against 53.8; rye, 50.1, against 51.3; oats, 32.4, against 29.4; barley, 44.2, against 41.1; buckwheat, 55.6, against 58.3; potatoes, per bushel, 53.6, against 59; hay, per ton, $854. against $8.68; cotton, per pound. 4.6, against 6.99; leaf tobacco, 6-8, against 8.1 - I

Points on Cake Malting. I'se a small brush for buttering pans, but when it begins to shed bristles throw ft away, as there is no economy in trying to use it longer. Use a palette knife for scraping the cake bowl, because it is so pliable as to take out every ■ atom of the mixture. When putting a cake mixture in the pan be sure to spread it well into the corners, even if there is a depression in the center, as this will keep the loaf from rising too much in the center. If the cake bakes too rapidly on the bottom slip an asbestos plate under. The plan of setting a cup of water in tlie oven to lessen the heat is not to bo commended. It would be even better to set the oven door slightly ajar. When a cake is taken out of the pan do not put it on to a wire cooler or rack, which will leave marks on it, but j turn it on to an old linen cloth. Loosen the cake from the pan around the edges, but do not let the pan stand arouud before the cake is taken out If the cake does not come out readily i lay a wet cloth over the top of the pan. Sift powdered sugar before using. A trifle more flour is needed in a cake | if made in summer than winter. If eggs are chilled they will beat ■ easier. Be careful not to use too much baking powder in a cake, as It will make ; it porous and dry. It makes little difference whether a cake is warm or cold when tlie frosting is put on.—Grange Homes. Bread. Writing of bread in the Household News Mrs. Rorer says: “1 have been for a number of years experimenting on the yeast question, and I have arrived fully at the conclusion that the ' yeast-bread-eating community succumb quickly to disease, aud that bread as we get it is to blame for our ; reputation as a dyspeptic nation. Throughout the country and to the masses bread is served in a light, puffedup condition, absolutely tasteless and ■ deficient in nutritive qualities. The 1 bread of France is made and baked in sueh condition that it is almost a crust, tbe starch has been partially converted into dextrose by the heat oven, and, as tlie crust requires thorough mastica- ' tiou. it is quite impossible for a per- | son to stiffer from indigestion from such French bread, While our soft American ' bread, tlie more it is masticated the heavier it becomes, and, by the time , one is ready to swallow it, it is in most j perfect dough pills; moreover, it is ! lightly orslaekly baked; the yeast plant in many cases not being killed, it enters the stomach, and in a little time the bread eater has yeasty fermentation, which produces in the intestines serious ' trouble. Odds and Ends. For nausea scorch some rice, pour boiling water over it and drink as hot as possible. A little flour dredged over a cake before icing it will keep the icing from spreading and running off. To remove ordinary wall paper soak the paper by applying hot water with an old brush and then scraping with hand or pole scraper. For a weak person when bathing, a i gill of ammonia in a small tub of water, or some rock salt, is a wonderful invigorator, almost as good as a sea bath. When you buttonhole scallops in your embroidery, says an expert needlewoman, hold the concave edge toward you, and instead of knotting your thread, which may cause trouble later, take a | few running stitches to start the j thread. I A picture should not be hirng from one nail; the* diagonal lines formed by th« i cord have a very discordant effect. I Two nails and two vertical cords, or, I what is far more safe, pieces of wire cordage, should be used instead of the single cord. Cut glass washed in warm soapsuds in hot, but not boiling, water, and stood in a pan of dry sawdust till dry, then brushed with a soft brush and rubbed with a piece of chamois, will have every bit of its brilliant beauty dazzingly brought out. Onions are an excellent remedy for catarrhs and coughs; for this purpose they are chosen very large, cut in four and stewed in a covered pot wita a little sugar candy; they should be left to stew very slowly and for a long time; strain and bottle the juice, cork the bottles tightly, nnd keep them in a temI perate and dry room. A teaspoonful of the juice every two hours will be found very efficacious for bad colds. Hints to Housekeepers. Always appear at table with smooth hair and neat apparel. Bread should never be hurried; givt plenty of time both in rising and baking. Drive ants out of your cupboards by sprinkling pulverized borax on the shelves. To remove ink stains from the hands rub the spots with the wet head of a common parlor match. Cake, after it becomes stale, makes an excellent steamed pudding, eaten with a sauce of sweet gravy. YVhen you wish to cook anything quickly in an open vessel do not leave the spoon in. as it carries off some heat. Use soapy water when making starch. The clothes will have a glossier appealauce, aud the irons be less likely j to stick.