Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 41, Decatur, Adams County, 25 July 1895 — Page 3

i * I?.' Ft ‘a

CHAPTER XXV. When Bertie Carlyon left him Paul | Fulton stood lost and bewildered in a ' storm of feeling and thought. He knew not whether to be pleased, or curse his fate. \\ hat a source of pride and joy for him, his daughter, his own child—one of the loveliest and fairest women in England—gifted with grace and dignity fitting for a queen—married to a nobleman high In rank, position and wealth; one with whom it was an honor to associate. To be known as Lady Bayneham's father would be to secure at once position and standing. M hat a proud moment for him when he could speak of my son-in-law the earl, my daughter the countess! He had been longing for the prestige of rank; here it was, almost thrust upon him. And yet cooler reflection told him that his own folly stood an impassable barrier between his child and himslf. In claiming her he would lose far more than he could gain. He must proclaim himself to be the ex-convict, Stephen Hurst; no spurious Statement would hold good in a matter so Important. He must destroy the new reputation so proudly built on the wretched past. He must acknowledge to Lady Grahame that, in telling her he had never been married, he had been guilty of a deliberate lie, and so lose all chance of making her his wife. It maddened Paul Fulton to ace so many and such great advantages in his grasp, yet not to be able to reach them. His daughter, who could reflect such honor and distinction upon him, was as far from him as though she were dead. He did not dare to claim her. Cairn reflection told him such a step would bring nothing but disgrace upon him, for it would entail the revelation of his past life. Paul Fulton resolved to fly. He had met and conquered ail his enemies; but one stole upon him unawares; and that was, love for the fair and gentle lady who was his only child. When the election was ended he determined to leave, and not come near Bayncham for some time. The election did end at last, and Albert Carlyon, Esq., was returned by a triumphant majority, thanks to the untiring energy of laird Bayneham and Mr. Fulton. Then the guests who had been together began to speak of leaving. BerI tie had duties—he must go; Mr. Fulton declared that he had imperative business, but he yielded to his host's entreaties, and promised to remain for four days longer. That promise altered Paul Fulton's life, and brought years of sorrow and I misery to his innocent daughter. He began to love her; men may be blind, foolish, or cruel, but nature must speak; I there were times when the strong, false man longed for one word from his daughter's lips; longed to clasp her in his arms and tell her she was his own, only child. ! He raved at himself for the thought. Should he wreck the reputation he had so carefully and assiduously won, by one i moment s weakness’/ No. he would leave ' danger and Bayneham far behind him. That very afternoon Lord Bayneham I and Bertie Carlyon had gone out for a ramble together, and Mr. Fulton had been assisting Miss Earle in transplanting gome very choice slips given her. By some unknown accident, he contrived to I Inflict a pretty severe wound upon one of ’ his fingers whilst Lady Hilda was standing near. The wound, slight though it was, bled profusely. Mr. Fulton, like many other people, conld bear pain, but the sight of blood unnerved him. He turned sick and faint, and leaned against the wall for •upport. “I have some adhesive plaster,” said Barbara Earle. “I will fetch it in a ; moment.” And she disappeared as she spoke. Lady Hilda gazed pityingly at the handsome face blanched with fear. “Let me bind it up for you,” she said, ; “until Miss Earle returns.” She went up to him and took the ! wounded hand in her own. As she stoop- ■ ed to fasten the handkerchief round it, her golden hair touched him, and the con--1 tact was like an electric shock to him; the warm, soft fingers held his own so ? gently, the fair face was so sweet with its pitying 100k —and she was his own. only child. He forgot all danger and everything else in the world, save that ? she was the !i*tle child whom he had held Ju his arms; he bent down and kissed the i golden head drooping near him. Then I his heart died within him when he found - what he had done. I Lady Hilda started up. her face glow- ’ ing with a burning biush, her eyes full of indignant fire; but it was no look of love that met hers. Mr. Fulton's face was unutterably sad. She was about to exclaim, when he said, "Hush, my dear; as you value your own happiness be silent, I—l knew your mother years ago, and you looked like her then.” Miss Earle returned before Lady Hilda had time to speak. She looked with amazement at the strange expression of that fair young face, but made no remark; she bandaged the wound carefully, and then both ladies withdrew, leaving the perplexed Mr. Fulton to find away out of his difficulties. “That I should have been so mad!” he exclaimed; “but how could I help it? She looked so fair and winning, so like poor Magdalen; and after all she is my own child. But what shall I do? I must explain all to her, or she will tell Bayneham, and we shall have a scene. Lady Hilda was dismayed; the secret her mother had kept so well was then known to this handsome stranger, who had made himself universally liked. But she had no time to collect her thoughts; there was a grand dinner party that evening, and she had much to arrange. Mr. Fulton wished a thousand times over that he had gone away as he intended; he saw but one way out of his trouble;

i jfa tl £1 ® SmK*

he must see Lady Hilda, tell her all, and rely upon her fears for observing the secrecy necessary for him. He wrote a note as follows: I. pray you to keep silence over the little incident that occurred this afternoon until I see you. I can explain it The honor of a family -my life almost—depends upon your silence. Will you grant me an interview? I knew your parents, and have much to say to you. Will you meet me in the library after dinner this evening? I will not detain you long.” He wrote the note, never thinking that there would be any difficulty in giving it to her, but he found it impossible. In the drawing room she was surrounded by visitors. Sir Henry Atleigh, of Comble Abbey, took her down to dinner. After dinner she held a little court and there seemed to be no room for him in the group. He never realized, before, the difficulty of doing anything underhand. At last his opportunity came. Sir Henry Atleigh spoke of a photograph he had seen lately from one of Ary Scheffer's finest pictures. "We have one like it, I believe,” said Lady Hilda, rising and moving toward the large table on which books and rare engravings lay scattered. “Let me assist you in looking for it,” said Mr. Fulton, who had long been waiting for this chance. He followed her to the table, and in giving her the photograph she sought, laid his note upon it. Ho read the hesitation in her face as she half threw it from her. “For your own sake,” he whispered, “for your husband's sake,” and her hand closed over it. It was adroitly managed, but it happened unfortunately that the Countess of Bayneham witnessed the little transaction, unseen by them. She was seated in her own favorite chair, at some distance from the large table; but she was watching Mr. Fulton as he rose, and plainly saw him offer the folded note to her son's wife. Her first impulse was to rise and demand to see it; her second was to laugh at her own folly. It might be a memorandum, or a thousand other things; why should she suspect anything wrong? She smiled, and blamed herself for her unjust suspicion and folly. If the countess could have seen the burning indignation on Lady Hilda's face as she read those lew lines she would have judged her more charitably thereafter. No, certainly—a thousand times over she would refuse to meet the stranger, who, a month ago, was unknown to her. Why should she? If he knew anything of her parents, let him tell it to her husband. At least her suspense would be ended then, and she had lived lately with a sword suspended over her head. She tore up the note contemptuously and flung it to the winds. That night Mr. Fulton sat until late in the library, but Lady Hilda did not cotno near, and he grew desperate. “I must see her," he said to himself; “she will betray mo; how madly I have acted! She most see me, and know who I am.” This was more easily said than done. Lady Hilda carefully avoided him the next day. She had not decided what course to pursue. She longed to teli her husband all, but dared not. Then Paul Fulton wrote again. “I must see you,” he said. “Reasons, both sacred and important, compel me to speak to you. I ask you, for your dead mother's sake, to meet me to-night; not in the house, where I cannot, perhaps, speak to you alone. Go after dinner to the Lady's Walk, I pray you, and let me see you there.” ■With this note carefully folded, he haunted the drawing rooms, but no Lady Hilda appeared. Fortune, however, favored him again. Going up the grand staircase he met the countess with her daughter-in-law. He passed them with a deep salutation and some jesting words, placing the note in Lady Hilda’s hand as he did so, unobserved, he believed, but seen again by the watchful eye of Lady I Bayneham. She made no remark, resolving to know soon what this mysterious I correspondence meant. When Lady Hilda read the second note | she was almost in despair. What could i he know of her parents, this strange man j whom she dreaded? Why should he suin- | mon her for her dead mother's sake? She must go; there was no help for it They dined alone that evening, and only Lady Bayneham's watchful eyes saw how worn and anxious was the expression of that young face, on which a new shadow had fallen. Lord Bayneham left the ladies early; ho had been riding all the morning, and was tired. He lingered for a few min- | utes by his wife's side, watching her sleni der fingers busily engaged in a pretty i piece of netting. It seemed like fate tnat : he should notice her bracelet, it was both elegant and costly, one that he had presented her with soon after their marriage delicate pearls in pure pale gold. “That is the prettiest bracelet you wear. Hilda.” said Lord Bayneham. “I flatter myself I am a good judge of pearls; these are fine ones, are they not, mother?" he said, appealing to Lady Bayneham. She came forward and looked at the bracelet. “They are very fine ones,” she said, coldly. Lady Bayneham could never again be cordial with her son's wife, until she knew why she received notes from a gentleman who was almost a stranger to her. Lady Hilda saw the little group disappear with fear and dismay, for she knew she must keep the appointment, made so much against her will. CHAPTER XXVI. It was still early; the fragrant summer evening had given place to a dim, cool night. With a strong distaste for the interview awaiting her, Lady Hilda hastily put on a large dark shawl, which shrouded her figure, and went out to the Lady’s Walk. She could reach it by the staircase which led from her own private suite of rooms. In the distance she saw the tall figure of Mr. Fulton coming quickly toward her. “It is sorely against my will that I am here," she began; "but you asked me to come for my mother's sake. Tell me what yon have to say.” “Much,” he replied, “that cannot be hastily uttered. Lady Hilda, do not fear

me. Look at my face. Have I the ap- ■ pea ranee of a man who sought this interview for any foolish, vain reason of hit own?” She looked at him; there was a faint gleam of light coming from the moonlit sky, and by it she saw that the handsome face, usually so careless and gay, was sad and full of deep emotion. Her calm eyes dwelt upon it, but they read nothing there. "You may trust me,” he said; “Yon might trust me with your life. Let u« walk down the path; you will be cold if you remain standing.” They then went down the broad path together. “My time is very precious,” said Lady Hilda, coldly. “I run great risks by remaining here.” I know it,” he replied. “I asked you to come, for your mother's sake. Do you know who she was, and what was her story?” “I know it all," said the young girl, sadly. “My mother's fate has clouded my life.” "Thank Heaven, I am spared that long explanation.” he replied. "I half feared you might still believe you were Lady Hutton's daughter.” “I never thought that,” she replied; "and one must not ever so lightly blame the dead; but I wish I had been left to share my mother's fate. I should have brightened her life, and have been saved all the sorrow and shame of feeling myself half an impostor.” “It was done for the best,” he said, dreamily. “I suppose so," she replied; “but this is not what you wanted me for. You knew my parents—what have you to say of them to me?” "You speak of your mother,” he continued; "did you never hear of your father? Did no one ever mention him to you?” “Yes,” she replied, bitterly. “My mother, on her deathbed, told me of him.” 'May I ask what she said?” he inquired. “Some people do not possess the art of painting an agreeable portrait.” “That cannot possibly concern you." she replied. “Tell me your business quickly, and let me go. My father's name brings no musie to my ears. Perhaps before now he has met my mother, and rendered her justice.” She raised her pure, calm face to the night skies as she spoke, and Paul Fulton stood abashed and humbled before the serene innocence and dignity of his child. “Hilda,” he said, “has it never struck you who I am?” A cold dread seized her. She had never thought of him until the day he touched her golden head with his lips, and looked so sadly upon her. Now an awful fear came over her; who could he be that knew the secret her mother had kept? She turned and looked at him; coldly and calmly her eyes rested on his agitated face, and by the faint light of the moonbeams she resembled a spirit more than any living being. “Have you never thought of me,” he said, “or wondered who I was?” “Never!” she replied. “Would you not care to see your father, Hilda? With all his faults, he loved you.” “My father broke the sweetest and truest heart that ever beat,” she replied, passionately; “how could I wish to see him?” “Hush, child! hush!” he said, sadly; “your words stab me. Try to care for me, Hilda. lam your father, Stephen Hurst, and I place my life in your hands." Her fair face grew even more deadly pale. “My words of greeting to you, father,” she said, sadly, “are. that I wish I had died when I was a child, before I knew my hopeless, dreary fate.” “Can you say nothing kinder, Hilda?” he asked, and for once there was real dignity and true feeling in his words. “I have not been a saint; but you are my child, and I love you.” She walked on unbendingly, her fair hands clasped passionately; the fate her dying mother had predicted and feared had come to her. “What have I done?” she said, wildly, looking up at the still serene heavens. “Why should this fate have fallen upon me?” “Hush, Hilda!” said Paul Fulton. “I shall do you no wrong, child; we can keep each other’s secret. I do not want to interfere with you. I should not have said one word, but I feared you would tell Lord Bayneham about what occurred the other afternoon; you looked so like your mother when I saw her first, that I could not help it.” At her husband's name a low cry came from Hilda's lips. What a web of sorrow, shame and disgrace was woven around her, and he knew nothing of it. (To be continued.) Didn't Mind the Fire. “The coolest man I ever saw,” said a veteran fireman, “I met at a fire in a dwelling house. We found him in an up-stairs front room dressing to go out. The fire by this time was b'ilin’ up through, the house at a great rate. “ ‘Hello, there!’ we hollered to him when we looked in at the door, ‘the house is afire!’ “ ‘Would it disturb yon if I should remain while you are putting it out?’ he said, lilting the. comb from his hair and looking around at us. He had on a low waistcoat, and his dress coat lay across a chair. “Seeing us staring at him he dropped his comb Into his hair again and went on combing. But as a matter of fact he was about ready. He put down the comb, put on his coat and hat, and picked up his overcoat “ ‘Now I'm ready, gentlemen,’ he said. “We started, but the stairway had now been closed up by fire. We turned to the windows. The boys had got a ladder up on the front of the house. ‘ “ ‘Now then,’ we said to him, when we came to the window. “ ‘After you, gentlemen,’ he said, standing back, and I’m darned if we didn't have to go down the ladder first and let him come last” Major Calhoun managing editor of the Standa. d, the new Boston dally, is the author of “Marching Through Georgia.” He was an officer in Sherman's army and lost a leg in battle. He was captured by the rebels, and suffered for some time the horrors of prison life in the South. The winds and waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators.— Gibbon.

REAL RURAL READING WILL BE FOUND IN THIS DEPARTMENT. New an J Popular Variety of AppleHow to Construct a Windmill —A Tile Drain Outlet—Advantage of a Separator in the Dairy. Securing Power Cheaply. To secure power at little expense, a windmill is easy of construction. To make one for ordinary farm use, build a tower about twenty feet high witli timbers leaning, as shown in cut, having the fans facing northwest. The fans can be hewed out of timber about twelve feet long, leaving each fan six feet long from the axle where they cross each other. The fans are bolted firmly to the wheel of an old mower, the gearing being secured to the top of the tower. On the end of the mow axle, which comes back to the center of f the tower, fasten a sprocket wheel witli i an iron wedge, over this put a chain. ’ and in this way the power is conveyed I down to the pump or machinery below. A belt and pulley will not work on the end of the axle unless covered from the weather. Os course this windmill canLT A HOME-MADE WINDMILL. not revolve to face the wind from different quarters, but as the prevailing winds blow from the northwest, it will fill the bill most of the time, especially in the Northwestern States, where the winds never grow tired of blowing from the west and northwest A rod should project out about twenty inches in the center of the fans and wires may be stretched from point to point over the end of this rod to support the fans in a ; heavy wind. The fans shown in the illustration are arranged to give increased power by adding extra pieces. This windmill furnishes three horse-power and only costs a few dollars. A large pulley behind the fans serves for a brake to act upon.—Farm and Home. The Quality of Honey, Honey is obtained by bees from the nectar of flowers, and its color, taste and character are mainly dependent on the kind of flower which the bees frequent. Every experienced bee keeper soofi learns to recognize the white and excellent honey procured from the white clover blossom. In localities where there are numerous basswood trees, a very choice honey, but darker than that from white clover, is made from their blossoms. It is to many tastes prefer, able to the lighter-colored honey from the white clover. The bees do not visit different kinds of flowers on the same trip, nor are different kinds of honey placed in the same cell. Buckwheat honey is that made last in the season, and it is also the darkest It has a strong flavor, but some prefer it for eating to the more delicately-flavored kinds. But as buckwheat honey does not sell so well on the market, it is usually left for the bees to eat during the winter. The Vitality of Chickens. Chickens hatched in hen houses in hot weather are generally feeble and easily succumb to any disease. As the hens approach the moulting period, their eggs contain germs with weaker vitality and many are unable to hatch. This Is in part due to the rapid evaporation of moisture from the egg in hot weather. The hens that have a run out of doors and make their nests on the ground, sit and hatch full broods. The moisture in the soil checks the evaporation from the egg and thus preserves the vitality of its germ. Hens should be allowed to make nests, sit and hatch their chickens on the ground during the summer months. The Outlet of Hip Tile Drains. The outlet of a tile drain should not be of tile. A more stable ending to a drain is needed to resist the action of frost, washing, etc. It is best io have the outlet constricted of stone or brick, or both, and to have the opening covered with fine wire netting to keep out TILE DRAIN OUTLET. small animals. The stones or brick should be laid in cement. The illustration gives a suggestion of how the work may well be done. In warm climates earthenware gratings attached to a vitrified or glazed tile may be used instead «f iron netting. Blasted Grain. Every year at harvest there will be j some heads of grain that have turned black and not a kernel of grain can be

1 found on them. It is possible that accidental injury to the straw from hail or heavy rain may cause this blasting of the heads. It is more common on rich land, but that is probably because there the grain grows most rapidly, is most tender and most susceptible to injury. The neighboring heads are not affected. This shows that no bacterial disease causes the injury, and that confirms the belief that it is due only to accidental injuries, which cannot always be prevented. Clover and Poultry, The cows and pigs are allowed on the clover field with profit, and if one will estimate the space thus given over to such stock it will be found that, in comparison with weight, the poultry will give better returns, with the same privileges, as the larger stock. We know of no place more appropriate for poultry than a clover field, says Mirror and Farmer. The fowls will not only find the best kind of green food, but i also insects. Then, again, clover i. i rich in the mineral elements, and con- i i tains many times more lime than does I grain. If not too fat, the hens that are I privileged to pick the leaves of clover will never lay eggs that have soft shells. They will cost nothing for food, and will give as good returns in proportion as any stock, and with less outlay for labor, doing no damage whatever to the clover, and being less liable to disease. Clover is excellent food also for geese, ducks, turkeys and guineas, and provides an abundance of food at a low cost Killing Canada Thistles. The first thing to be done to get rid of these pests, says the Rural New Yorker, is to plow the land just after tlie crop is off, with a good set of gang plows, turning it about three inches deep; then in three or four days dig or harrow it with a harrow like the Thomas. Leave It alone for a week or so and plow it over with an ordinary plow, about five or six inches deep, as it had formerly been plowed. Then harrow | well, and prepare for fail wheat and . seed down to clover aud timothy, and you will find very few thistles. If the land is in good shape for wheat, or if you intend to sow a spring crop, do not give the second plowing until late in the fall, aud where spring plowing will answer, it is a good plan to cultivate or harrow the land, then plow and harrow and prepare the ground as usual for whatever crop you wish to sow. The Banana Apple. At the recent annual meeting of the New Jersey State Horticultural Society, an apple called by the exhibitor the banana apple was shown. This variety is a seedling, originating on the farm of C. E. Blackwell, of Titusville, Mercer County, N. J., about twenty years ago, and it has in the meantime become ! quite w'ell known in that section. It is thus described: Large, roundish conical with a deep calyx basin, which is somewhat irregular, calyx closed, some russet patches in basin. In color when ripe it is a yellowish green, a pale copperish blush on sunny side and fainter splashings of the same color, and sparsely marked over the surface with minute dots. Stem a half inch, somei) _ __ _ THE BANANA APPLE. times a little more in length, in a basin of average size, rather deep and a little irregular. Sweet, good for family or market, season January to March. The trees are said to be excellent bearers. Tying Ep Early Cabbage. The heading of early cabbage may be hastened by binding a string around tlie head so as to press the outer leaves together. It will make a difference of ten days to two weeks over cabbage not so treated, and this increased earliness secures a much better and higher market. Where the cabbage leaves are tied up there are fewer of the outer leaves to be thrown away in preparing for cooking. A Good Butter Herd, The man who has a specially good butter herd cannot afford to furnish milk to’a cheese factory, nor to ship his product to a city to be sold with low grade milk from all sources. Find out what you want to do before you begin to build your herd, and then follow that purpose steadily, and you will be apt to come out all right. What Separators Would Save. The Cornell, N. Y., experiment station has discovered that butter fat can be extracted from whey by running it through a separator. The general adoption of the process, It is estimated, would save the dairy interest in New i’ork $1,000,000 a year. The entire expense of cheesemaking would be saved from this waste product. Orchard Grass for Permanent Pasture Orchard grass is excellent for permanent pasture. Timothy lasts but a few years, and clover less. A good mixture is five pounds red clover, four pounds timothy, fourteen pounds Kentucky blue grass and five pounds orchard grass. The first two make the good pasture in the start Preventive for Potato Scab. Potato scab can be largely prevented by treating the seed planted for three hours in a solution of two ounces of corrosive sublimate iu sixteen gallons of water.

0 faso® IW* Delicious Tuscan Pudding. Make a boiled custard with one pint of milk, sweetened with half a cup of sugar, boiled and poured on three beaten eggs, writes Elizabeth Robinson Scovil in a timely article on “The Summer Luncheon Table.” in the Ladies' Home Journal. Return the mixture to the saucepan and stir until it thickens, but do not let it curdle as It will if it boils for more than a second. When cool add one pint of cream, half a cup of sugar, a quarter of a box of gelatine, dissolved and strained, half a teaspoonful of vanilla, a quarter of a teaspoonful of essence of lemon, twenty drops of extract of bitter almond. I’ut in a mould with smooth sides and pack in ice and salt. Tlie proportions is two quarts of broken ice to one of coarse salt, well mixed. In an hour remove the mould, and after wiping it carefully uncover it. and with a knife scrape the frozen cream from tlie sides. Beat it thoroughly, as this makes the texture fine and smooth. If it is nearly frozen add half a pound of sweet almonds, blanched and chopped fine, half a pound of candled ginger, cut In small pieces, and half a pound of citron prepared in the same way. Cherries. Delicious littie cherry pies are made by lining rather large aud deep pattypan tins with a good pie-crust, filling them with stoned cherries in abundance, mixed with enough tine, fresh cracker-crumbs to absorb the juice. Spread the top with well-beaten white of egg. Small cherry puddings made I from a biscuit dough like a batter dropped in deep cups and steamed are very nice. Drop in the cup a tablespoonful of the dough, then a deep layer of cherries, then a layer of the dough, etc. » not fill the cups more than two-thir full. When cooked, Invert the cups o„ pie-plates. With the puddings serve a thin sauce made of cherry juice thickened with arrowroot. Lemon Peel. Nowadays when we make pies, puddings, custards and desserts under every name from the orange, the “orange peel” which accumulate- is wonderful, and it seems a pity to let it waste. Some soak and prepare it in a form called “candied” peel and use it like citron in pies or cakes, but it is easier to grate off tlie yellow part ami put this in a glass can or bot and cover with alcohol. Let stand a couple of weeks and then strain. A fine extract is secured in this way. A word as to proportions—for tlie skin of ten oranges carefully grated, a quart of alcohol will be needed. Be very careful that only tlie yellow part of tlie rind is grated off, as the inner skin is worse than useless. —Womankind. Ironing Tables. 's* Several of the combination ironing tables that can be changed into a seat, | with a receptacle for various articles underneath, have lately been made into excellent seats for halls and piazzas. One lias been stained a deep olive green and had the seat upholstered with olive corduroy fastened with white nails. Another seat stained an oak color had a pattern on the back picked out with fancy headed wrought iron nails. This one was covered with figured burlap in oak color, fastened in place with the same kind of nails used on the back. A seat of the kind in a bedroom is painted with white enamel and has the seat cov< ered with scarlet Coffee, Tea, and Wine Stains. If these stains on the table linen ara of long standing, and have been washed with soap, it is rather difficult to gel rid of them. But javelle water -which can be made at home or bought of a druggist—is generally most successful. Put about half a pint of javelle water and a quart of clean water in an earthen bowl; let the stained article soak in this for several hours. Then rinso thoroughly in three waters. It Is only white goods that can be treated in this manner, as the javelle water bleacher out the color. Salmon Steaks. A pan broil is an excellent way of cooking salmon steaks. To broil in a pan the bottom should first be covered with a piece of white paper well brush, cd uii'ii biiil--r. Brush th" steak also on both sides with butter, season with salt aud pepper, put a teaspoonful of butter on the center of each steak, and cover with another piece of heavy pa. l>er thoroughly buttered. Bake half an hour in a moderate oven. If a sauce is liked, serve with it sauce Hollandaise. Treatment of Flannels. Before putting flannels in the suds shake and brush them thoroughly to get all tlie dust out of them, and they will be less liable to harden in the wash. Always remember that the water you use on flannels should be kept as nearly at one temperature as possible; that only a little hotter than blood heal Lt really best, because you can't dry them under greater heat than that Bread Sauce. Put one pint of milk on to boil, slice one onion in the milk, leave in ten minutes, then strain and add two tablespoons of bread crumbs, butter size of walnut, one dessert spoon of granulated sugar, pepper and salt to taste. I’ut all in a steamer over hot water for an hour and a half at least, longer if you have time. A self-made man always spoils th* job somewhere