Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 35, Decatur, Adams County, 13 June 1895 — Page 7

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wk wsjf* fLvMj. /: X7 • V\3'*&jSPs£?t' IN CHAPTER XV. At times, in the midst of his happiness. Lord Bayneham paused to wonder why he was so favored—why heaven and frarth seemed to have poured their choicest gifts upon him. He was completely and thoroughly happy; there was not even i the shadow of a cloud in his sky. Lord Bayneham brought his beautiful young wife back to London. The house belonging to Lady Hutton had been sold. The Countess Dowager of Bayneham and Miss Earle accepted Claude’s invitation to pass what remained of the season with him in Grosvenor Square. Nothing annoyed the still brilliant mother of the young earl more than that title of dowager. Half in deference to her prejudice the fair wife who bad taken her place was known as “Lady Hilda.” During her son's absence Lady Bayneham had arranged all her plans. She intended to reside at Listoff, a small estate that her husband, the late earl, had settled upon her. and Barbara had no thought of leaving her aunt. “I cannot hope to keep you long with me.” said Lady Bayneham tn her niece “You are sure to marry soon.” Miss Earle smiled and made no reply. Protestations were not much in her line; but she knew many years must elapse ere she could forget that lesson which it had taken her a lifetime to learn. Y’et even as she sighed there came to her the memory of Bertie’s handsome, eager face, J telling its own tale of love and d< rotion. • ••••# • The fair and lovely young bride created a marvelous sensation. As Miss Hutton, a simple, beautiful girl, shy and retiring, she had been greatly admired; as Lady Bayneham. a wealthy heire s. wedded to one of the noblest peers in England, she was irresistible. She had lost that halftimid expression that had amused the habitues of the great world. Lady Hilda was as sweet and gracious as she had ever been, but there was with it a quiet, easy dignity that suited her well. Barbara privately believed that in the solitude of the Swiss mountains Claude had given his wife some lessons in world training. Whatever had effected the change, it was for the better; even Lady Bayneham. proud and difficult to please, was charmed by the graceful ease and sweet dignity of her son’s wife. “She has not Barbara’s thorough bred, patrician manner.” said that lady to herself; “but it might have been worse.” The tide of popularity rose strongly in Lady Hilda’s favor. Had not every thought been absorbed in her husband, her little head must have been turned by the homage and flattery offered to her; for no house in London was so popular as Ixird Bayneham’s. His w’ife’s lovely face and superb voice. Barbara’s keen intellect and bright wit, and Lady Bayneham’s serene and pharming manner, were all sources of attraction. Thus the time passed rapidly, like a dream of fairyland. “Claude,” said Barbara, one morniug, as she stood by her cousin’s side watching Hilda carefully arranging some roses, “supposing life to be a hill, you have attained its summit; what are you going to do now? —sit down and rest?” “No,” he replied, with a bright, hopeful smile, “I must help others up also. Why should 1 rest, Barbara? I have done no work yet.” “I do not think either love or pleasure can ever fill a man's life,” said Barbara; “he must have something of deeper interest still.” “I shall find it in polities,” said Lord Bayneham; “we have had some brave warriors in our family, but not many statesmen. 1 shall make statesmanship my aim. Look out for my maiden speech next session. Barbara.” He looked so handsome and so triumphant as he spoke, that Miss Earle gazed at him half in half in Admiration. “I have asked my mother to return with us to Bayneham.’’ he continued, abruptly. “Hilda wouii be sure to feel nervous with a large party of guests, just at present. Is there any need for the ceremony of asking y< u to join us, Barbara?” “Not much,” she ret died, with a smile. “Who goes to Bayneham?” “1 have asked Bertie,” he replied; “he has taken to politics. Only imagine. Bar-bara-two years ago he was the most careless, easy-going man it was possible to meet; now he has taken a kind of fever. He is secretary in some Government office, and if he does get into Parliament I predict that he will make a sensation. Barbara’s face flushed deeply, she hardly knew* why. “Continue your list,” she said, hastily. “My mother has asked Lady Grahame; you know her pretty well. I suppose—fat, fair, happy and forty, with a trood jointure. and possessing what she calls the great advantage of belonging to some of the best families in England. She is popularly supposed to be on the lookout for a successor to the late lamented Sir Wilton Grahame.” “Let us hope she may find one,” said Barbara. “Then we have a rival beauty in the person of Miss Deverney; the number of Graces must be complete, you know.” “What a wretched compliment!” said Miss Earle, quietly. “Y’ou have not studied the delicate art of saying pretty things.” “It is difficult to satisfy you. We have my old friend. Sir Harry Higham. and one or tw'o more eligibles. Y’ou will find the party quite large enough, Barbara.” And so Miss Earle discovered, for great as were the resources of Bayneham Castle, they were stretched to the utmost. Every spare room had an occupant, and It was long since so gay and brilliant a crowd had assembled in those old walls. There was plenty of society at Bayneham; the neighborhood abounded in what the countess called, witk great emphasis,

“really good families;” and the really good families hasten*»d, one and all, to attend the court of the young queen who had come to reign over them. There were times when even the dowager herself could not help being charmed by the winning grace and pure loveliness of her son’s wife. “I have quite come to the conclusion, Barbara,” she said one day to her niece, “that Hilda was a relative of Lady Hutton’s—perhaps the daughter of some poor cousin. One can tell she belongs to a good family. I never saw’ anyone more thoroughly ladylike or better bred.” Miss Earle agreed with her aunt; she was pleased, too, at seeing how thoroughly Bertie admired his friend’s wife. . To Hilda herself life seemed one long, I beautiful dream. She was but a fair, loving, gentle child. She had been nursed in love; she only knew’ care and sorrow by name. The one single grief of her life was softened by the healing hand of Time. The flowers that bloomed brightly beneath the summer sun were not more fair; the birds that sang were not happier than she was. She liked to be alone at times, and think of it—to dream over again every event of her short, happy life. One morning—the first time for many day he found herself free, and without any v t y that required attention. Most of her guests had driven over to Laleham Priory, and she had not been able to join them. Lady Grahame, who also declined the ride, was in close conversation with her maid, and Sir Harry Higham had remained at hoiiie to write letters. Out in the garden the sun was shining brightly; the flowers were at the height of their beauty. The large branches of the tall trees waved as though inviting Hilda to enjoy the shade beneath them. It was all pleasant and fair. She hastily threw I a lace shawl over her pretty morning dress, and placed a coquettish little hai on her bright golden hair, and went through the garden. The gate that led to the park was open, so she passed i through it, and down the broad, shady path that led to the lodge. The lodge was a pretty cottage, picturesque enough in its rich dress of green creepers with their purple flowers. Lady Hilda stopped to speak to one of the children playing near the gate; then, without any definite purpose, looked down the high road that led to the town of Dulston. Suddenly her startled glance fell upon the tigare of a woman who was seated upon the moss-covered stone near the gate, a woman poorly dressed, but with something strange in her attitude. She had been looking eagerly down the broad path, when the first glimmer of the white dress shone through the trees. She asked one of the children, “Who is that lady over there with the white dress and golden hair?” “That,” said the child, “is—is the young Lady Bayneham, my lord’s wife.” Then, not being particularly clean or presentable, the boy ran off, where her ladyship could not see him. The woman seated herself upon the flat moss-covered stone; a strange look, as of deep quiet, came over her face; her eyes seemed to drink in every movement of that tall, slender, white-robed figure. But Lady Hilda never saw her until she looked out of the park gate into the high road. Then she noted with wonder the careworn, beautiful face, the tired look of the large violet eyes, and the drooping despondency of the whole figure. As she drew near the woman rose, when something in her face caused Lady Bayneham to stop and look kindly at her. “My lady,” said the woman, her eyes still fixed on the lovely young face, “pray forgive me. I have been away from England many years. It is so long since I saw an English flower. Will you give me one of those roses that grow there?” With the sweetness that never failed her, Hilda gathered a beautiful rose, and held it out to the woman. “Y’ou look tired,” she said, in her kind, musical voice. “Have you traveled far?” “Yes. many miles,” she replied, taking the flower from the thin white hand. “Can I offer you anything else?” said Lady Bayneham, gently, half drawing out her purse as she spoke. “No. my lady,” cried the strange woman. "I had a longing to holding an English flower in my hand again, and I thank you very much.” As though she could not trust herself to speak another word, she turned away, and was soon hidden by the branching trees. Lady Bayneham looked after her in some surprise. “What a beautiful, sorrowful face!” she said to herself; “there is a whole story written in it.’ ’ CHAPTER XVI. ‘ “We must do something in return for all these invitations, Hilda.” said Lord Bayneham. “It is more than three months now since we returned, and although we have had what one may call parties every day, it is time wc did more. What do you propose?’ “A ball,” she replied, her fair, young face glowing with delight at the thought. “And, Claude, ask Barbara to come down for it, lam sure she will be pleased.” “We shall soon have Christmas here, and my mother promised to spend it at Bayneham,” said Claude. “Suppose we wait until then, and give a ball that all the country will remember. Bertie promised us a week. What do you say?” “It will be best,” she replied, more sedately, for, though longing to see Barbara, and enjoy a ball, Hilda looked forward with more awe than delight to the visit of her stately mother-in-law. Hilda had almost forgotten the little incident that happened in the summer. Once or twice she thought, with wonder and admiration, of that beautiful, sad face, so worn and pale, and then in her heart felt thankful that those mysterious trials and troubles which wreck other lives had not shadowed hers. King Winter did not appear in his usual garb; there was no snow or frost when Christmas came, but, contrary to all natural laws, the weather was even warm and mild. There was an attempt at raim a feeble gleam of sunshine, but none of what English people call “seasonable cold.”

Notwithstanding the absence of snow an«l frost, there was no lack of holly and mistletoe In the Castle. It was many long years since Christinas had been kept in such royal state at Bayneham. nor was there any la«-k of gayety among the guests assembled there. One night was given to charades--Ber-tie being stage manager, and thoroughly well did he* accomplish his task. He had what he called “magnificent materials,” and he knew’ how to use them. “I have a grand idea,” said Bertie one morning to Lord Bayneham; “they spoke of having some tableaux-vivants to-night. I consider that we have amongst us the three moat perfect types of beauty. We could manage a beautiful picture—*The Gift of the Golden Apple.’ You may be Paris, Miss Earle would make a magnificent Minerva, Miss Deverney is a perfect Juno, and Lady Hilda would represent the golden-haired Aphrodite as few others could. What do you think. Claude?” “Let us have a rehearsal at once,” replied Lord Bayneham, charmed with the idea, “if the ladies are w illing.” • • • • • « • W hen the curtain was drawn up it was acknowledged by all that Bertie’s idea was a brilliant success. It would Lave been difficult to have found three women more beautiful, or differing more decidedly in their style of beauty. Miss Deverney—tall and majestic, with a figure and carriage full of dignity, a face of the purest Grecian tyj»e, straight brows and dark hair—was Juno, in all her majestic beauty. Bertie declared the wonderful tissue of her robe must have been “woven moonbeams.” Barbara Earle’s pure, eloquent face, the calm, serenity of eye and brow, the expression so full of intellect and feeling, fitted her well for the part of Minerva, the wise, beautiful, serene daughter of the gods. Between them stood Aphrodite, a fair, lovely face, bright as a morning sunbeam, a profusion of golden hair falling over the white shining robe. Lord Bayneham had refused the part of Paris, so Bertie took it, and he stood before the beautiful Aphrodite, just offering to her the golden apple he held in his hands. It was a beautiful picture, so perfect in its details that there was a universal demand for a second opportunity of seeing it. Bertie had enjoyed the rehearsals, for he made an invariable rule, the moment they were finished, of offering the apple to Barbara, telling her he was a second Paris, with a far better judgment than his predecessor. That evening, when Barbara Earle, tired and exhausted, reached her own room, she saw a small packet addressed to her, lying on the toilet table. She bmke the seal and found a small box. When that was opened, lying in a soft nest of white velvet was a most beautiful little golden apple. It was made with a small loop, so that it could be worn nt the end of a chain, or suspended to a bracelet; there was a slip of paper, and on it these words were written: “Barbara, will you accept this from me in my ow n character of Bertie Carlyon?” Miss Earle, understanding exactly how much that meant, resolved upon taking time for deliberation before she made any reply. On the morning following, Bertie was anxiously waiting for her appearance; but Barbara avoided any tete-a-tete with him. The day after was spent in preparing for the grand ball, which Lord Bayneham declared should excel any given in the county; and its queen was to be his fair young wife. The evening so anxiously looked for came at last. The whole neighborhood round Bayneham seemed alive with the rolling carriages. The Castle was one blaze of light and -mth. The ball was brilliantly and numerously attended. It was something like a dream of fairyland —the rich hangings, the fragrant exotics, the little scented fountains that rippled so musically, the gleaming of jewels, the sweet, soft music, the bright, beautiful faces. It was a brilliant and successful evening, more so, perhaps, to Bertie than anyone else. He secured two waltzes with Barbara, and probably spent the happiest moments of his life in the conservatory with her. “Barbara,” he said, as they stood watching the lamps that glowed like pale moons among the green plants—“ Barbara, do you accept or refuse my little present?” “The goiuen apple?” she said, with a smile; “neither, Mr. Carlyon, I hold it in reserve.” “Is there any hope for me, Barbara?” he said, his handsome face flushed with joy. “I have loved you ever since I knew* how to appreciate what is noble and good. Could you ever care for me?” “It will depend upon yourself,” she replied. “When you come to me with some claim to admiration and respect, you shall have my answer. I shall say more when you have accomplished some of those great deeds we spoke of.” (To be continued.) Napoleon’s Bombastic Dispatches. The farce was continued for some time longer. Bonaparte playing his part with singular ability. He sent to Kollermann in Savoy, without the form of transmitting it through Government channels, a subsidy of 1,200,000 francs. As long as he was unhampered, his dispatches to Paris were soldierly and straightforwad, although after the passage of the Po they began to be somewhat bombastic, ami to abound in his old-fashioned, curious, and sometimes incorrect classical or literary allusions. But if he were crossed in the least, if re-enforcements did not arrive, or if there were any sign of independence in Paris, they became petulant, talking of ill health, threatening resignation, and requesting that numbers of men be sent out to replace him in the multiform functions which in his single person he was performing. Os course these tirades often failed of immediate effect, but at least no effort was made to put an effective check on the writer’s career. Read a century later in a cold and critical light, Bonaparte’s proclamations of the same period seem stilted, jerky and theatrical. In them, however, there may still be found a sort of interstitial sentimentality, and in an age of romantic devotion to ideals the quality of vague suggestiveness passed for genuine coin. Whatever else was lacking in those compositions, they had the one supreme merit of accomplishing their end, for they roused the French soldiers to frenzied enthusiasm.

FARM AND GARDEN. 3RIEF HINTS AS TO THEIR SUCCESSFUL MANAGEMENT. 4 Machine for Pointing Fence Rickets —Combination Farm Bnildins —Sawing Wood by Wind Power Movable Plant Trellis-General Farm Notes. Home-Made Picket Machine. I once had a job of picket fence mak ng that required over 5,0 M) pickets, says a correspondent of Farm and lome. Our stuff was 1% by 1% and a lice i»oint was wanted, as on A shown n the cut Carpenters worked a whole lay marking and trying to cut them with chiseis, drawing knife, pocket ack knife, etc., but those ways were all »o slow. I then made the machine ihown in the cut With this machine :wo men could cut and point over 1,000 pickets a day, true and even. The mathine is made in the form of a wooden niter-box. Take a piece of 2 inch plank I inches wide and about 4Lj feet long ’or the bottom. Take two pieces of 51a nk 18 inches long and 8 inches wide for the sides. Set the bevel at 45 defrees and mark the two side pieces; then saw them, being careful to saw exactly on the line, ns the drawing ~e> TICKET POINTING CUTTER. knife is to worlTagainsUthese ends and they should be cut very smooth and true. The upper corners of the other ends of the side pieces are sawed off for neatness. Spike these side pieces to the bottom, then nail inch boards 5 inches wide for the remainder of the sides where the saw works. For the lever ise plank 18 Inches long and work it »ut as shown in the cut The large end s a 6 inch circle, and should be cut out >r sawed perfectly true and smooth. Hake.a mark one-half inch above the tenter, as shown on the dotted line, and sore a hole. The size of this hole and Jbe holes in the sides depends on the ilze of iron you are going to use for i pin. If your pickets are 1% inches iquare, the holes in the sides must be 1% inches from the bottom of the box. Tack a little block one-half inch thick >n the bottom to butt the picket against, lien measure from this block the length sou want the pickets and saw down through the boards; then fasten the whole thing on to a work bench. One man uses the knife and lever and ansther does the sawing, and turns the pickets when the lever is raised. Four thrusts of the lever and four jerks of he knife point a picket. The saw should always be left in and the picket kept right up against it until the pointing is £pne. The machine can be made for any sized square pickets, or for flat pickets, and can be made for any bevel desired. Sawing Wood bv Wind Power, The accompanying Illustration, taken from the American Agriculturist, preicnts a plan for using windmill power for sawing wood—simply converting the perpendicular motion of the pump rod into a vertical one and using it to propel a drag or crosscut saw. Any good crosscut saw may be used, or a piece of an old logging saw three or four leet long will answer. To give the saw sufficient motion, it Is necessary to attach the short arm of the bent iron to the rod from the windmill crank. At the left is a post a, on which at b b are

'fcpfelb INGENIOUS WOOD-SAWING DEVICE.

two stirrups or rests for the saw—the lower one to prevent the saw from dropping when the stick Is sawed (through, the upper one to hold up the paw when a fresh stick is to be placed an the buck or horse. Level Potato Culture. Almost everybody now agrees that level culture produces the largest and pest crops of potatoes. But it is Impossible to have level culture unless the seed potatoes are planted deep snough for the tubers to form under the soil. The constant tendency of the tubers is to rise as they grow. This, if the seed has been planted only one or two Inches deep, makes It necessary to draw dirt around the hill, making a pound which sheds the water on either side. This also cuts the potato roots in jthe middle of the row. It requires dry and rich ground to make successful deep planting and level culture possible. But soil without stagnant water pear the surface is always necessary for the potato crop. If the sub-soil is jailed with water through winter and spring it is impossible to grow good potato crops on such land the following season by any method. Potted Strawberry Plants. These are obtained In this way. Flower pots of a size three inches in diameter at the top are sunk around the parent plants level with the ground. They are tilled with fairly rich soil. As the runners are made the part bearing the young plant is made to rest on a pot and is kept in place by a small Stone or lump of earth on the stem.

Very soon the pot is full of roots, when It may be severed from the parent plant and set out on its own account. No attention is required while it is rooting in the pot. save, perhaps, watering, if the season be very dry. An Idea in Trellises. The illustration shows how a trellis may be made upon which some tender variety of fruit or flowering vine is to be trained. The difficulty of properly protecting climbers during the winter MOVABLE PLANT TRELLIS. has often led to the abandonment of many tender varieties that, given protection in winter, would have proved highly desirable. With such a swinging trellis as that shown herewith tender grapevines or other tender climbers may be laid upon the ground and carefully covered during the winter, then placed upright again when the cold weather is passed. Grain, Poultry, and Hog House. An arrangement is here shown by which the poultry, grain and hogs can be brought into proximity—an arrangement calculated to lessen the work of caring for both kinds of stock, for both are. to no Inconsiderable extent, fed on grain. The plan calls for a story and a half building with two wings—one of the wings for the accommodation of hens and the other for the hogs, pens for each being arranged along the sunny side, with a walk extending the length of the other side. The central grain building has a chamber where a part of the grain can be stored in binfc, the latter having chutes to convey the grain to the first floor. If this central building can have a cellar, so much the better, for in this can be stored roots and vegetables for the use of the fowls and hogs, the cooking of these being done in a boiler set on the first floor. The building should be so aranged that ( y Tn p - ’ COMBINATION FARM BUILDING. runs and outside pens can be arranged In front of corresponding inside pens in the two wings. The building should be upon well-drained ground.—Orange Judd) Farmer. Shading the Soil. This Is of great advantage in converting ammonia into nitrates, a process which has served to enrich forest lands while they are covered with dense growth. The mulch of leaves added annually is a carpet which prevents Influence by the direct rays of the sun. That a soil which grows forest trees increases in fertility is demonstrated by the larger crops grown upon such “virgin” soil after it has been cleared of Its forest growth. On the same principle the mulching of the soil with a dense crop, or with leaves, is beneficial in certain respects. Fruit for the Family. No matter how far from market a farmer may be, he can grow a patch of strawberries and be sure of a market

at home. It Is astonishing how much fruit of all kinds can be eaten by a small family when the supply is unstinted. There are few neighborhoods where those who begin by growing a supply of strawberries for home use will not find a market springing up around them from neighbors who keep on in the old ruts because they think they haven’t time to attend to such small affairs as the culture of berries. They are small in size, but more bushels of strawberries can be grown per acre than of any kind of grain, and the fruit may be sold cheap and yet bring more than grain profits. Blue Grass. Blue grass forms a very nearly perfect pasturage. The fall rains make It furnish nutritious food until the snow covers it, so that the grazing season is lengthened in the autumn as well as hastened in the spring. It is the least injured by tramping of all the grasses. No words can speak for it as can the fact that it Is the basis for the finest agricultural product grown upon American soil—the Kentucky horse. The Sod of Old Meadows. The sod of old meadows sometimes becomes so matted as to be unproductive, and the impresion prevails among those who don’t know better that such land is worn out, exhausted. Whereas the trouble is the land is too crowded. The remedy is simply to go over it with a sharp tooth harrow, and. while tear ing out about half the plants, admitting air to the rest

JhpWSflSfii TT" Home-Made Soap. In the manufacture of hard soap the utmost care must be taken to properly prepare the ingredients, and have them of special qualities in order to secure the best results. Soap is made by hot and cold processes, the latter being less desirable because there may be impurities, not to be recognized by the eye, but which, nevertheless, exist, perhaps in dangerous quantities. Long and thorough boiling, while it greatly decreases the risks from impure elements, is not to be relied on to cleanse objectionable articles. Cottonseed oil makes a fine soap, but it will not keep. It turns rancid, and has a disagreeable odor. Good toilet soap can be made at home at an infinitely less cost than the purchased sort, and one may be perfectly sure of its purity. All that is necessary is caustic soda lye of specific gravity about 1.15. This is placed in a kettle and heated almost to the boiling point, then selected oil is put in. a very small quantity at a time. The proper proporion is about one pound of oil for three pounds of lye, or, according to the old formula, one pint of oil to three pints of lye. The kettle may be drawn a little from the fire, and the heat kept up slowly but steadily. After a time a heavy froth rises on the surface, and the soap will boil over if the heat is continued. Let It gradually cool until it merely simmers, then keep it in this way until the froth disappears, then add lye until the specific gravity of the whole is brought up to 1.14. This lye must be added in small quantities, and the soap should be kept boiling until it is perfectly smooth and slrupy. Boil until it is transparent, then scatter salt over it and allow it to stand for some hours at a heat just below the boiling point. Let it eool, drain off all the liquor that will run off, put in a little fresh, strong lye and boil again, it may then be made into cakes or put into one large cake and cut up when nearly or quite cold. To Clean Windows. To begin with, have the windows thoroughly dusted every day, when the rest of the room is done—window-sills, ledges, sashes and ail. If this is attended to properly, they will not require to be washed or cleaned nearly so frequently. When the cleansing is inevitable, have ready a muslin bag full of whiting, and two wash-leathers. Dust the glass thickly with the whiting, then rub it off thoroughly with a damp—not wet—leather, and finally polish witli a clean, dry one. This is the method pursued by workmen when cleaning the windows of a new house, and gives a polish unknown to the glass washed in the ordinary way. Another excellent method for giving brilliancy to glass is to damp a rag with spirits of wine, rub the glass well with this, and then polish as before with a clean, dry leather. Newspaper is also said to be an excellent "rubber” for glass on account of the printer’s ink; but whether this is true or not I cannot vouch from personal experience. Taper is certainly capital for cleaning decanters, carafes, etc., so very likely the case is the same with windows. Delicate Dish of Cabbage. Cut a large head of cabbage into foul parts. Cut out the heavy stalks in the center. Plunge the cabbage into a large pot containing abundance of boiling water, into which a handful of salt has been stirred. Let it boil therein steadily for ten minutes after the water begins to bubble. Then remove it with a skimmer into a pan of cold water, and when it has thoroughly cooled draw it from the water, pressing it a little with the hands to extract all the moisture possible, and chop it into coarse pieces. Put it in a clean saucepan. add two large tablespoonfuls of butter, and when the butter is melted a tablespoonful of flour, a teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper, and finally, after these have been added, a cup of milk. Stir the cabbage slowly, and when it boils set it back where it will cook slowly for threequarters of an hour. It should be frequently stirred. Angel Cake. Take the whites of ten or twelve eggs and beat them until they are foamy, add six ounces or seven-eighths of a cupful of sugar and continue beating, using a wire whisk in preference to any other egg beater. Fold in half a cupful of pastry flour and a generous quarter of a cupful of cornstarch mixed together and sifted with a rounding teaspoonful of cream of tartar and a half saltspoonful of salt. Add one teaspoonfnl of vanilla, and bake in an unbuttered pan in a moderate oven from fortyfive to fifty minutes. Wet the pan before the cake is put in. using the regular angel cake pan with the hole in the middle A Dish of Lamb Chops. Trim a dozen lamb chops and brown them lightly on each side in a very little butter in the frying pan. When they are quite dry, for there must be a small quantity of butter, pour over them a little stock, or beef essence reduced in hot water; let them simmer in this, as lamb takes long cooking, turning them from side to side until this also is dried up and the meat quite tender. Put them into a dish and pour around them the contents of a can of button mushrooms that have been quickly heated, and a little butter added. Arthur was a close student and excelled in scholarship. He was fond of athletic sports aud hunting.