Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 25, Decatur, Adams County, 4 April 1895 — Page 7

VENGEANCE BY VERB ROSEBERY. • A Story of a Briton in American Society. Written for This Paper by A. Oakey Hall.

CHAPTER I. “And so, yonder lies ‘the home of the exile, downtrodden and free’!” These words, muttered rather than outspoken. were addressed by one passenger to another on board of the steamship Gallia, as a tow years ago she was steaming about sunset time along the southern coast of I/ong Island, ami making for Sandy Hook. Both were John Bulls to their very phlegmatic cores. The speaker was a handsome young man of athletic form, of refined features and aristocratic presence, on whose face rested shadows of ennui ill-assorting with his ago The addre&s<sl passenger was a thiek•et, pudgy man, with Hebraic cast of countenance, whose looks bore an impress of cynicism. They had struck acquaintanceship in St. George’s Channel, and, lx>tli being good sailors, had been in every respect “fellows” during the passage. “Yes, those are outlying shores of the Empire State. Home of the exile, it has been, as the shades of Emmet, Louis rhillif>pe, Ixmis Napoleon ami Garibaldi could bear witness; home, too, of the downtrodden; but how much longer America will continue to be such a home depends upon politicians and labor socialists who have already begun to exclude nationalities and artisans. But yonder is not what may be called a homo of the -*r<*v. The mob and the press have reduced Americans to a sort of servitude/* The pudgy passenger spoke hesitatingly, as if weighing his words, as a coinmonger would weigh half sovereigns or quarter eagles of gold The youngster seemingly half listoneil only as if weighing his own thoughts instead of his companion’s words. Yet he responded: “And yet it is to be the home of my exile, and where 1 shall be freed at least of suggestive misfortune.” The pudgy passenger was a keen observer. He had not been a Wall street broker for fifteen years without acquiring a detective faculty, a judgment of men. and becoming an assayerof motives. He had. without attracting much attention. studied the youngster, and had molded much of the hitter’s observations into a fancied story as to his past. , “We shall soon go our various ways. You already have my card. X>o not fail to call a.id sec me as soon as you find it practicable. I may be usefol io you, an exile, and perhaps save you from being downtrodden in this land of the ‘free and >asy/ ” The other slightly shrugged his shoulders, perhaps from habit, but he accepted the guerdon of courtesy with a pleasant smile, and turned toward the cabin. Reaching his state-room, he eneountert f*d in the passageway tfs body servant. | still pale and weak from ma Ide mer. yet I wearing a self-satisfied grin as he found ( the vessel nearing port. “Is your lordship ready to be va<*cing nted? I hear we are soon to be in quar- | ant inp. where the doctors get fees for | plugging your arm with ” “Hush, Mivins, you forget. There is “ to bo ii • lordshiping over here. You 4 stowed that stuff all the voyage—nova % itou! on board knows who I am. and no one in America shall ever know. To you and everybody I am plain Mr. Carson, an old name in our family, and the moment you offend we part company ami you return home for all your seven years of excellent service in our knockings about the world.” The ImmJv servant touched his forelock, and admitted that in the joy of coming near land he had “slipped his memory.” It was plain to see by the dialogue which fillowed as to directions and acceptances of orders that master and servant had been on terms of intimate understanding for a long time. There were few points in Europe. Asia and Africa accessible to tourists that they had not visited. Milord held a courtesy title as the younger son of a deceased duke, ami ' brother of the living successor whose two sons seemed to be a perpetual bar against any hopes of the younger brother succeeding to the family honors. These were impressed at present upon impecuniosity. There were historic titles, domains mortgaged to the last rookerie. ami there was a husbanding of every shilling beyond the law of waste. Milord, who at Cambridge had been crack oarsman, unrivaled cricketer, well up on the list as a wrangler aml the best boxer, fencer and athlete of his college, had for some time enjoved a goodly income. But. although no gambler nor a bookmaker at races, nor given to gross vices, hi* had been no saver of money; and when the family crash came he found himself with a world-wide experience of men, languages, climes and manners, hut the possessor of only a small annuity—the legacy of a dowager aunt, and of amount just sufficient to keep him on the living list for necessities. and with the onlj real luxury left him in the aid of a faithful servitor who blended the faculties of friend and body servant. Caring not to he prodded by social bajonets in the “battle of life” on English soil, he had preferred emigration to America rather than to Australia, whene English gossip w as busily rampant as in Mayfair or Scarborough. In a few days Carson had accepted the post of private secretary to the banker. ami found himself installed at a fair salary in an occupation which gave him all his hours after 4 o'clock of each day. His <visy manners, his imperturbability and curipus patience made him in only a few weeks a great favorite with his employer, who treated him more as a friend than us a subordinate. Carson also won u|>on the habitues of the office. In a few months he became well known on ’change, i«nd was often invited to dinners and evening entertainments. At the former he seldom ate or drank. His soup spoon (and fish knife became mere toys then, but his conversation was frequent and attractive. He knew the art of the talker in sinking self and starting topics that interested the self-love or sympathy of listeners. He took conversation as a game ot rhetorical battledore and shuttlecock. neatly returning with interested stroke a delivered topic. But he never betrayed deep interest. His throws were cynical, but never offensively nor drearily so. Tht re seemed to be a subtle mystery about him that wis implied only. He bad a personal magnetism which especial--I*]y attracted women. He baffled the curiosity of matrons in the most teasingly indiffuent manner. The chatty American girl would often be piqued at his

want of enthusiasm. His expensive tastes in carriage a ire, change of dress, books, and in menus that rather gratified the ey * than impressed the palate, all kept his purse thin, but he hud learned how to marry thrift to desires. He suffered only one extravagance- the hire of the faithful Mivins. Time hung heavy around the latter s neck. He could not. like Mark Tapley, become jolly under adverse circumstances He missed his music ball of the evening. By day, his old nook in a “pub” was exchanged for the noisy tipple amid a crowd of strugglers at a$ American “bar.” These shocked hi.; traditions. He missed his lounge anion;' the railings of Rotten row in Hydi* Park. “Everybody is so busy here,” he would remark to his incognito lordship; “I have been through Central Pirk this afternoon, and the carriage folk and equestrians seem from their look to be doing the park only under medical advice.” Thus suffering ennui that ns often visits “high life below” as above “stairs,” there came one day to Mivins a curious inc ident. Several months after the exiles had exchanged Astor House* comforts for apartments, one of the newspapers that originate rumors for other papers to deny contained an article of which the following is an extract: “There also recently arrived an eccentric nobleman, who intends to “do” our country without divulging his identity. He affects the disguise of a valet and courier, ami it is said plays his part with a perfection of acting that would do honor to any theater,” etc. This extract fell under the not? s* of Mrs. Mortimer Merton, a widow cf fortune and social cleverness, wlys was known in New York society as its Mrs. Ix*o Hunter. Celebrities especially from “foreign parts”—formed an element of her so ial craze whenever luncheons, dinners or receptions were to occrjr at her hospitable menage in “Upper Cendom.” She read the reference over and over with sparkling eyes, and called her daughter—in her tenth season of bellehoftd—in consultation. They conversed of how to obtain a clew. “Yet tin* masked nobleman must come into evidence somewhere.” So for at least a fortnight Mme. Mortimer Merton converted herself into a <|ete< tivc at all social gatherings, asking pertinaciously. “Have you, my <kyr, heard anything about an eccentric nobleman who ” etc., etc. Soon chance threw into her way a clew that diligent search had failed to evolve. CHAPTER 11. Mivins was cooling his ennui by violating an ordinan -e of Central Park in exploring its thickets and treading its verdure with all the quietude and stealthiness of a poacher, when hr heard a half stitle<l shriek proceeding from the neighiMiring bridle path. Gaining its skirts, he saw a young girl clinging to her saddle i»oni’nel. while her h rse—sjU'te a docile looking animal—was running away with a jMirtion of the bridle unbuckled. Meanwhile a dazed looking groom was coming up liehind. Mivins, who, in halcyon days gone by. had in many seasons ridden to hounds in attendance on his master, ami was himself a cool hand with restive horses, instantly ran onward until the excited steed reached him. While the animal was still running he seized tin* curb rein and soon had the animal in check. He then disengaged the affrighted lady and laid her upon the aide of the bank as the stupid groom came up. to whom the rescuer dealt a few sarcastic remarks with allusions to the groom’s better horse and his want of presence of mind. Tues found that the young girl soon recovered from the shock. Taking Mivins’ hand she began to pour out her heart in thankful words. She asked for his card, and the groom shyly added something about her father, “who would be happy to know who had been so heroic.” Mivin« merely said: ”1 have been something of groom myself, ami am now only a body Eer» ant. Wherefore, my name can be of up service, and I am only glad to have accidentally proved of aid.” Thus saying he touched his hat —Mivins had caught graces and such magnetic assistances as residence amid good breeding inspires—and disappeared in the bushes. But nut until he had unknowingly dropped from his pocket an used envelope postmarko<l from England and bearing his address. The young girl's sharp eyes saw it. while the dull visiop of the groom missed it, and in a moment it was in the pocket of her riding dressNaturally the incident soon became a family topic, and the sto’y was duly told the next evening at one of Mrs. Mortimer Merton’s stereotype receptions, to the great delight of that ludy. “What luck!” she exclaimed, “ami an ex-groom? And ho claimed to be a body servant? Have you not read about the disguised and eccentric English noblemen? What luck indeed.' It must be he. Rut,” she added under her newly bridged teeth, "I shall be the first to take advantage of the lucky discovery.” Before the “lights had tied or the garlands were dead” the scheming hostess had duly written to the address copied from the truant envelope her compliments. Her R. S. V. P. card requested the pleasure of the company, etc., etc., on Wednesday evening fortnight to dinner. She sealed it with her crest, as befitted the destiny of the missive—the motto being, “Fortuna Juvat Audaces.” Meanwhile “Mr. < ’arson.” solely to oblige his employer, had compromised with his dislike of society, ami accepted an invitation to a large evening party, and while the Central Park incident was actually in progress, had been gossiping with one of his fellow banking clerks who eagerly coached the “Britisher” on the methods ami characteristics of New York society. In the evening after his little coaching he made bis debut at the reception of Mrs. Judge Stevens, a friend and banking client of his employer. Her exactions as hostess were few ami simple, but rigid, talkers ami dancers must be fine-looking and graceful, with morals not 100 plainly stained with naughtiness, and they must wear unexceptionable evening dress. Mrs. Judge Stevens as a hostess knew the value of tasteful toilets in the background when differentiated against a background of black coats and white linen. Iler husband, who had died of gout, induced by the prime old Sercial that has us utterly disappeared from the

fare of the earth as has the had left her a large fortune and tbs knowh dge of how to nurse and use it to advantage. Childless, she became a social mother-in-law to her guests of young women and young men. She had lived in many lands, and had skimmed the creme of the best societies abroad. She was a typical hostess in knowing how’ to drown her self-consciousness in the industrious streams of caring for and promoting the comfort and joys of her friends. No one sent other than a sternly m*«essary regret for invitations to her dinners and entertainments. “You are very fortunate, Mr. Carson.” said a sparkling young beauty to him on an introduction, “in being as a stranger so soon invited to Mrs. Judge Stevens’ house. Now, if these were Mrs. Mortimer Merton’s drawing rooms. I might say you were a nobleman. She is as fond of celebrities as is your Loudon World newspaper.” Carson’s face flushed slightly at the unconscious hit. as he retorted: “Are noblemen, then, so much sought after as our Welsh saddles of mutton?” “Yea, we have a craze on noblemen, ror instance, look at that group under the Millet picture yonder. Matrons and daughters are clustered around that recently arrived baronet. Sir Frederic Murray.” Carson looked in the direction, and his imperturbability slightly faltered in look and tone, for the personage in process of being adored was not that baronet,whom he well knew. “Rich, I presume, and marriageable?” he interrogatively answered. “Oh. yes, and he brought splendid letters. Besides the baronetage tells al! about him.” “And do letters and a printed book constitute all that American families accept as social vouchers?” The tete a tete was interrupted by the polite “beg pardon” and an introduction to the chaitv b auty, while Carson passed over to the group around the baronet and soon obtained an introduction. “Shall I roast, or roost ami play the detective,” he thought to himself. “Y’ou also. I hear, are from England; are you much acquainted there?” said the “baronet,” with a faintly suspicious falter in his tone. “No, indeed, for I am only of the middle class—a banker's clerk—and. of course, go little into such society as yours, Sir Frederie.” The latter put his glass to his eyes, gave a haughty stare, and seemingly relieved stonily said: “Quite so. 1 fancied as much. Os course—of course.” and turneil away to j»ose before a matron and two daughters garlanded fur any chance matrimonial sacrifice. Carson soon took occasion to rejoin another young chatty American to whom he had been presented, and whom he had graciously asked to point out a few of the noted guests. “Well, yonder stands a veteran ex-dip-lomatist and historian, who was many years in Paris. Note his tall form, his Romanesque profile and pose. You see I commence at American beginning, for his great-grandfather was a veritable aboriginal chieftain of the Mohawk tribe, near Albany. See, he yet show’s the skull and high cheek-bones of the Indian. How courtly his bc**\ engendered of European atmospheres, to the lady he pauses before.” “And she—why, she seems a veritable shop window of jewels as she sits.” “The wife of a millionaire by inheritance, and of German ancestry. His grandfather explored Alaska as a furrier long before Behring straits became a, crooked element of diplomatic combat. There are other ‘r ices to right of them, races to left us them' all types of blood crossings in American residents. Perhaps every civilized country of the world is represented in the guests present. For instance, at the end of the room, by the crystal mirror, is an ex-mayor of this city whose paternal grandfather was of your country and the grandmother was once a hat weaver in Wales, whose maternal grandfather was a Hollander and the grandmother a French woman. He married the daughter of a lady who w as Manx, and who married a Canadian." “Fancy!” languidly responded Mr. Carson, “you positively reckon an -estry here by multiplication; we Britons only by the algebraic quantities of an ‘X’ among tht Druid? and the imkuuwn quantity of a ‘Y” among Normans.” ,r While this reception is somewhat remarkable for wealth, it is more notable for ‘brains.’ Brain power here, as in London, does not accumulate wealth, but here, as in London, wealth, in its hospitality, renders homage to the brains that guide pen and pencil. Yes. the brunette gentleman leaning on the chair lined with tapestry is a literary man. and not a millionaire. He is a journalist of skill and power; not so much ai present a writer as a suggester to other writers. The conversation was here interrupted by a tap on Carson's back from the fan of the first piquant beauty w hom he had met on his entrance, and us whom he had been in search. “What an automaton in our society a Briton is,” she began as gaily and as confidentially ax if she had known him for ages. “I have been observing you. You have reminded me of images I saw in your Mme. Toussaud’s exhibition, or in our own Eden Musee. Do you Britons ever show animation ur exhibit a sentiment even, when talking it? Is every Briton ‘used up at at. well, let us say, !W?” And slightly blushed. as did he, for he had been only that moment impressed with the beauty of her eyes, and with ths elastic stamp of enthusiasm upon her features. Enthusiasm and volubility in a woman were rare qualities to him. He became conscious of positively feeling a new sensation. Instinctively his hand went to his pulse. It was actually beating fast, and fvr a moment this wearied scholar of the mundane was embarrassed. This feeling increased when hi* seini-awkwardly added: “I am frightfully forgetful, don’t you know, and I really cannot recall the name by which you were introduced.” She laughed reproachfully, but rallying repeated, “Dontcherknow; and, indeed. I don’t know whether you are a forgetful person. But pardon me. It was not I wln» was introduced, for I ‘fancy’— that is the proper English word. I think that you were introduced to me. My name was then mentioned as Vera Rosebery.” “I could not have heard it, or I never would have forgotten it—truth, flowers ami fruit aptly conjured in a name that is evidently appropriate.” “Am I a conjurer to have suddenly awakened you from a state of social syncope to this one of trite compliments,” “Not trite, but heartfelt, surely,” he responded, as his face for a moment lost its habitual stolidity. (To be continued.)

TIMELY FARM TOPICS. MANAGEMENT OF THE FARM, GARDEN AND STABLE. Home - Made Contrivances for tlie Farm — Wheat Growing in the North* west Unprofitable Marketing Fruit —Clean Water for Poultry—Notes. Anti-Kicking Devices. The accompanying sketches illustrate devices for breaking kicking cows and y oung heifers. A farmer can make the first in an

hour, and it will often save him many hours of time and many pails of milk, to say nothing of ebullitions of temper. With one

< FIG. 1. FIG. 2.

of these, the American Agriculturist says, Bossy cannot kick. Take a strip of hard wood 114 inches thick, 1% inches broad, and 20 inches in length. Dress it smooth with a plane and bore a hole in each end the narrow way of the board. Pass though the hole a small rope or stout cord and tie a hard knot in the end. Put the other end through the other hole and draw up the rope until it is just long enough to go over the hock joint when in position, and then put a knot in that end also. Sew or rivet on a strap on the middle of the rope, as shown iu the illustration. In the middle of the board on the flat outside put in a common wood screw and have a hole in the leather strap large enough to slip over the head of the screw. This completes the device, which is shown in figure 1, and

figure 2 shows it applied to the animal. Another plan is to place a strap, as shown in the last picture. Buckle it a little tight, and it she kick then make

f?

it a little tighter the strap. and you will find she will not bother you any more. Formic Acid for Foul Brood. Gleanings in Bee Culture recommends the use of formic acid as an antiseptic in the beehive. This acid is an excellent antiseptic. Thanks to It, honey preserves itself for a long time. There has been found in Dresden honey under the eaves of a house that is supposed to date back to the fifteenth century. This age Is only guess work, and is undoubtedly a mistake. Mice or other vermin would destroy honey long before that time. The slangy word “Rats!” appears to apply to such a statement. But formic acid diluted with water and placed in the hives is used in Europe to prevent the growth of foul brood. This formic acid is not taken from fruits or flowers, but is a natural product generated in the bee. It is also found still more plentifully in ants, and the word derives its name from them. It is the odor of formic acid which is given off when either bees or ants artcrushed. It is said to make bees cross to crush any of their number, which is natural enough, without supposing that the odor of formic acid has anything > do with it. Clean Water for Poultry. Every poultry owner has realized bow difficult it is to keep the drinking water clean where the fowls can stand on the edge of the vessel or roost above it An ingenious plan for avoiding this difficulty is shown in the accompanying engraving from a sketch in the Orange Judd Farmer. A board bracket Is nailed to a post or to one of the studding timbers, and on the under side of it is horizontally fastened i square piece of broad board which serves as a shelf to keep the droppings from falling into the drinking vessel below. The vessel should be of such a height that the fowl cannot get between it and the shelf so as to roost on the edge of the vessel. Blocks may be placed below it for this purpose. At the same time the shelf should be sufficiently high that the fowl ae-d only - — DEVICE Foil ICF.EPIXG W ATEIi < I.EAX. to stoop very slightly to driuk. This simple contrivance will be found of great service in protecting the drinking water which must be given to the Cowls in their houses on stormy or verycold days. Early Fattening of Hogs. It costs much less to make a pound of pork early than it does late, though if corn alone be fed, too much of it while the weather is warm is apt to injure digestion. The great advantage of early fattening is that it is done while there is usually plenty of waste vegetables, small potatoes, beets and small apples, more or less of which go to the pig pen and vary the diet of the fattening hogs. After these are all stored in the cellar it is very rare that any are taken out, and tjien fattening hogs soon cloy on their ration of corn wit.iout anything to make it more easy if digestion. A Good Cow. A cow whose milk will make a pound of butter a day. or 350 pounds in a year, is a very good cow, and would yield a profit after paving for liberal feeding. One which yields 300 pounds a year is a good cow and probably a

I profitable one, and one that yields 250 i pounds a year may pay for her keeping and care, but one that does not yield over 200 pounds a year is a poor cow. and does not do any more than pay for her feed at the average prices of butter and of feed. Those who fall below that amount are very poor cows and unprofitable to the owner. Even if he can sell the milk for more than the feed costs, he had better replace her with a more productive animal. There is no excuse for keeping those who do not pay for the labor of caring for them as well as for their food. No Profit in Wheat Growing. The Commissioner of Agriculture of North Dakota has compiled some interesting matter in regard to wheat growing in that State. His figures show that a net profit was realized in 1891 of $10.98% per acre and in 1892 the profits fell to $2.13%, while in 1893 the loss per acre was 43% cents. The prices for the different years at the railroad stations were respectively 74.4 cents, 56.6 cents and 50.2 cents per bushel. The estimates for 1894 are not given, but at the lower prices which prevailed the loss must have been greater than the preceding year. The liberal profit for 1891 was of course due to the heavy yield per acre that year, but with au average yield there would nave been a margin in the business for the producer. North Dakota may be taken as a fairly representative district of the great wheat growing country oi the Northwest If wheat Is grown at a loss In that State there Is no place in this country that it can be grown at a profit. It would be only natural to suppose that lands suited to the cultivation of other crops would be utilized in other directions when wheat growing lias ceased to be profitable. In this there may be a possibility of removing to a certain extent the competition in our markets of the cheap wheat of the Northwest—Farmer and Stockman. Profit in Ensilage. A writer in Farmer's Home says: “The profit in ensilage is chiefly In the greater economy of handling the corn crop in that way. Well-cured fodder is just as nutritious, and is eaten nearly as well; but it costs much more to save and feed the crop in that way. It requires, in addition to the handling for the silo, husking and grinding the corn and stacking the fodder. If dry corn is fed without griding, it is not so completely digested; and if the fodder is left in the shock until needed, half Its value is lost. I would not advise building a silo for a herd of less than twelve or fifteen cows, or where the grain crops produced on the farm afford abundant rough feed for the stock. But If you have annually five acres or more of corn to be fed wholly to stock, whether cows or steers, a silo te much the cheapest and most satisfactory way to secure it and feed it” A Farm Gallows. Ou most farms there is more or less call for a gallows on which to raise carcasses. For ordinary use, where it is employed but once or twice a year, it is doubtful if anything is cheaper or better than the old-fashioned contrivTHE FAKM GALLOWS. ance. A six-inch pole that is sound is placed in the crotches of two heavy poles well set, or in the branches of two near by trees. To these the gambrels are fastened by chains, and this improvised cylinder is made to revolve and lift the pork by rolling it by means of a crowbar or strong stick which fits into holes bored into the pole at right angles. This is prevented from unwinding by a pin thrust into a hole bored in the post. Os course, pulleys and ropes are better, but these .h.re not always owned.—Farm Journal. Agricultural Atoms. Give the hen-house a good cleaning up and white-washing. Wool-growing is one specialty, and mutton-growing is another. Wheat mixed with corn and oats makes a better feed than either alone. Beekeeping is an important adjunct to horticulture and floriculture; much more so than is generally realized. Don't think because you have been in the dairy business for a number of years you cannot learn anything new. It. would be well if farmers would eat more eggs and less of the fat meats. It would promote digestion and health. Dry earth is the best deodorizer known. It is also the best absorbent to preserve the manure in the least offensive way. The good that sheep will do in keeping down the weeds in the pastures and meadows is not as fully understood as it should be. After a long experience it is found that American varieties of fruit are. in general, better adapted to American culture than foreign varieties. The benefit resulting from the pruning of trees and vines, and the pinching back of melons and tomatoes, has led to experiments with potatoes. It is said that pruning them to two stalks in each hill has produced larger tubers and a greater yield. It is known that ripening fruit absorbs greater or lesser quantities of oxygen and give off carbonic acid; that a certain portion of the fiber is converted into sugar and another portion into water, aud tiiat the coloring process depends much on the supply of sunshine while the chemical action is taking place.

OV' 'V' -. How to Use Left-Overs. “Economy will always pay; The man who saves is wise; He who is content with mush to-day Will some day eat mince pies.” Every housewife should look in the bread jar every morning. The whole and half slices of stale bread may be used for toast, the smaller pieces to be toasted with care on a pancake griddle; then put them into a vegetable dish and pour boiling water over three or four spoonfuls of butter. When ready to use, pour this over the toasted bread. Or if you prefer milk toast, set the milk over the fire, and when hot braid together one tablespoonful of flour with four of butter, and stir the milk gradually into this until it thickens, then pour it over the toasted bread. The small pieces and crumbs can be used for dressing to stuff fowls with, or they may be placed ox a tin in a warm oven and d;ku until a beautiful brown toiled on a board until fine, and then kept in a box or glass jar to use in place of cracker crumbs for fry ing oysters and making croquettes. Be sure to roll them until fine, and do not use the pastry board for this purpose, as the crumbs will make it rough. Soft bread crumbs are good soaked in milk for griddle cakes, stale bread can be utilized for a pudding. Care should be taken not to use a particle of bread which is moldy or from a loaf which has molded.—The Household. Convenience in the Kitchen. A handy contrivance for the kitchen sink may easily be arranged that will prove indispensable to the housekeeper who has once tested its merits. Not every kitchen can be supplied with all modern improvements aud not every housekeeper has the means to possess them, but anyone can procure this, and it will pay for its slight cost in a short time. Almost all sinks are too small for convenience, anil their proportions can be increased by placing at one end a board of the width of the sink and about two and one-half feet in length, letting one end rest upon the sink and the other on a bracket in the wall, or other arrangement that may be convenient. Have the end farthest from the sink slightly raised so that all water will quickly drain oft into the sink. Then have a narrow rim of board fastened around the edges of three sides, and two or three shallow grooves cut into the shelf so that the water will drain where It is desired instead of running off at various angles and wetting the floor. As the disnes are washed place them on this shelf, and when they are done the hot water maybe quickly poured over them and immediately drained off If the sink is near the range this shelf may be allowed to extend nearly- or quite to the edge of the range, and it will be found convenient for many uses besides the dish washing. Sauce with Cold Meat. An excellent sauce to serve with cold meat is made from grated horseradish, the yelk of an egg and whipped cream. Squeeze every particle of vinegar from three tablespoonfuls of the horseradish, and mix thoroughly with the yelk of an egg and a half teaspoonful of aalt. Add six tablespoonfuls of whipped cream and mix again. Serve In a small dish by itself or put on a platter with cold meat or poultry, arranging the slices about it with a border of parsley. Crisp Slices of Bacon. The crisp, delicious slices of baeon that are a feature of so many appetizing dishes may be had by turning each slice every minute over a hot fire in a pan large enough so that the slices shall not touch, and then as soon as the slices are delicately browned on both sides lift them from the pan on a sheet of butcher's coarse wrapping paper and allow the baeon to drain upon it in the oven for another minute. Hints to Housekeepers. Children should be taught to drink as little as possible while eating. Fruit is not to be bitten. It shouldbe peeled and eat with a fruit knife. Neverdrutn with the fingers upon the table or with the feet upon the floor. "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is tliau a stalled ox and hatred therewith." Iced oysters or clams are to be eaten with lemon juice dropped over —never with salt and pepper. No gentleman will ever place his arms upon the table either before, during, or after a meal. Meats are to be cut with a single gliding movement of the knife, not by converting it into a saw. Never hurry the dinner. Let everything come along promptly on time, and move steadily thereafter. Be punctual. To keep a dinner party waiting under any circumstances is the greatest social indecorum. Keep the elbows always close to the side, no matter how ample may be the room between the guests. Take soup only from the side of the spoon—unless wearing a mustache. Never sip it with an audible sound. If an accident of any kind should occur during the dinner do not seem to notice it—unless help may be quietly given. Do not forget that cheerfulness “suggests good health, a clear conscience and a soul at peace with all human nature.”