Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 43, Decatur, Adams County, 8 August 1895 — Page 3

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CHAPTER XXVIII. When Lady Hilda opened her eyes and tan her husband bending over her. a cry of fear and terror escaped her lips. The face that she had never seen stern or angry before, was both now; there was no smile on his lips, such as he was wont to greet her with. Anxiety and sor row, mingled with impatience, darkened h:s brow. Her illness alarmed him; he could not understand it. Did I frighten you, Hilda?” he whis-p-red. gently. “How your hands tremble! Surely, you are not afraid of me. I have never been angry with you, love; only—l don't understand.” She tried to answer him, but her overwrought nerves gave way, and she wept passionately, bitterly, ns one who had no hope. He soothed her with gentle words, such as one uses to a grieved child. Lady Bayneham quitted the room; tears and caresses were not in her line. "lou shall not be teased any more, just now,” cried Lord Bayneham. “You gave not strength to tell me anything. (Lie down again, and try to sleep; it grieves ine sorely to see that face.” Her passionate weeping was abated: ahe lay passive and still, listening to his Voice with a sick feeling of despair. Lord Bayneham gave Pauline strict injunctions that her lady was not to be disturbed; he then left her. Loping she would Bleep. His mother anxiously awaited him. and •sked. hastily, “What is it, Claude? Why was Hilda so frightened?” “She is very ill,” be replied, sadly, “and nervous, not frightened, mother. What can she have to fear? I was too abrupt.” “Did she tell you how the bracelet came to be lying in the Lady's Walk?” asked the countess. "No,” replied her son; “she seemed so ill and unlike herself that I did not mention it. I am sure it is all right, mother,” he continued, seeing the expression of her face; "we shall find it no mvs'erv after all. My wife can make all clear in a few words.” Despite his assertion, the morning wore On heavily for Lord Bayneham. He tried to make himself feel sure that Hilda would clear away all the unpleasant mystery by a few simple words. Twice he went to the door of her room, and hoard with half impatient satisfaction •that she still slept; and it was long after midday when Pauline told him her lady was awake, but seemed very ill. He looked with unutterable astonishment upon the change in the fair young face, wrought in these few hours. Could it be mere illness or fatigue that had blanched ■even the lips, and darkened the violet eyes with so deep a shadow? Was it illness ■that caused her to clasp her hands when she saw him. as one does who prays in nortai agony? “Hilda," he said, “you look as though you suffered terribly. What is it? No trouble can have com." to you without my knowing it. What makes you ill? Why do you look so strangely at me? V» hat has come between us?” 11., waited, but she spoke not a word. “You would never keep a secret from me, I know.” he continued, “or I should fancy that something terrible weighed ■upon your mind. Do not look so sad. Raise your eyes to mine, love, and if aught troubles you tell me—let me share it.” He clasped one arm round her and drew her golden head close to him. “Has any one insulted or annoyed you?” he asked gently. “No.” she replied—“what could make you think of such a thing ? “Are you sure, Hilda,” he asked, “that you have not been subject to annoyance from any of our guests ?” “No,” she said again, but he saw her face flush with pain. “Why do you ask me so strange a question. Claude?" “My mother thought that on two occasions’ Mr. Fulton had annoyed you by slipping nonsensical little notes into your hand.” he repeated. “Is it true, Hilda?” He saw her pause before replying to his question. , „ “It is true he gave me two little notes, she said, in a faltering voice, “but they did not cause me any aunoyaiiee, Claude. “May I see them?” he asked. “They are destroyed,” she answered, m the same low, constrained voice. “Will you tell me their contents." he asked again. “I cannot!” she gasped. He knew not what to say; never once had the eyes wherein truth and love .hone so brightly been raised to his. The Ion" dark lashes drooped on the white cheek, and she spoke as one under com- ■ Pl Lord Bayneham sat for some minutes in silence, gazing wistfully at the beautiful trembling girl by his side He was sadlv grieved. His young wife had ever seemed to him pure, gentle and truthful < as a child. Now, with a woman's sorrow on her brew, with her averted eyes and trembling words, she was like a stran »-’" ‘ to him; and it was with a deep sigh at the unpleasant task before him tnat he recommenced his inquiries. “We wiil dismiss that subject, then, Hilda—the first secret ever kept between ' ns ” said he. “Now explain for me this mystery-how came your bracelet the one - you should have valued for my sake, to be . lying in the Lady s M alk Then the calm of that sorrowful young < face was broken; a quiver of pain passed over each feature; a look of dps P a,r skad ‘ owed the violet eyes: but Lady Hilda allowed the anxious, eager man to repeat his question before she seemed to under- . Bt “Spa’re me. Claude.” she said, holding out her hands to him ♦ “Spare you. Hilda’’ he cried What . can you mean?—spare you! M hat have 1 . ever done that you should speak so to me i Would I not spare you every sorrow it 1 could? f only ask to shield you from all 1

Lwc’n 0 mak . e , y " U hSl ’ Py - ° nd mak « 1011 IXe youV’ 1 ' OTeyOU - What am 1 t 0 bitttriv q T tion3 ’” She replied ’ weepi ”K oitterly. I cannot aU9wer anJ they torture me.” I m ”L|' , Can "? t ,I !. ipk .' hey arp Pliant for : with n” 8d k ■ T Hllda - mother was I "Uh me when I found that bracelet I I read a doubt of you in her eves; it made I me indignant. I cannot explain it. Plain--1 er,s could Bppak - hers said to me 1, , * r " '' as something wrong. I brought i | her w Itli me to see how mistaken she was j and you fainted with fear ar the question , i which should have cleared away all silly j mystery. That was how you cleared her j doubt; can you satisfy my love in no , better manner? Am I not quite right in ! | saying that you wore that bracelet on . your arm when I hade you good night last pvp ".' n S- It was there, was it not?” les,’ she replied, despairingly, “it , *was there.” ' "And the first thing this morning 1 found it in the Lady’s Walk,” he continued; “yet you have never left your room. < an you not explain how it came to be there ?” “I might tell you a falsehood,” she cried — I might invent false stories that would satisfy you-but I will not do so; let Fate do her worst. No untrue words shall stain my lips.. I cannot tell you the truth, and I scorn all evasion.” r.ord Bayneham’s face grew dark as he listened. (i “More mysteries!” he said, bitterly. \ou acknowledge, then, you could explain it if you would, but you will not” Lady Hilda bowed her head, and he turned from the sight of that white, despairing face. “Are you trying to shield one who has robbed you?” he asked, his eyes growing bright at the thought. "No,” she replied, “no one has tried to rob me.” “Did you drop the bracelet yourself?” he inquired. “Do not ask me, Claude!” she cried, with clasped hands, her face streaming with tears. “I will ask,” he repeated, angrily—“and I will know. What nonsense!—what folly! One might fancy I was a husband in a French play trying to fathom an intrigue. Did you drop the bracelet yourself, Hilda?—you force me to speak angrily—answer me.” “I have told you I cannot answer you,” she replied, with a tone of keen, sharp pain in her voice, that changed its music. “1 scorn to speak untruly. I cannot answer you. Fate must do its worst.” There was despair in her face and voice —despair so deep, so hopeless, that Lord Bayneham knew not what to say or think. "Darling." he said, gently, “he candid with me. Even supposing you have done some little action not quite prudent, I could not be angry. I know how sweet, and gentle, and pure my little wife is. Do not make me so unhappy, love. Tell me what it is.” His gentle tone and kind face touched her more than anger could have done, and she laid her head on his breast, like a wearied child who has cried itself to sleep. “Claude,” she said, gently, “I cannot tell you: I wash I could die here on your arm. while your face looks kind and you smile on me. It wouid be easier for me to die than answer your questions.” “1 say it in sorrow, not in anger, Hilda,” he replied, kissing her pale brow, “that the secret you own exists, but which you refuse to tell me, I shall find out for myself.” He unclasped her arms as he spoke, and rising from her side, he slowly quitted the room. CHAPTER XXIX. When her husband left her. Lady Hilda sat, incapable of connected thought, conscious only of deep, unutterable anguish, that dulled her brain and seemed to paralyze her mind. She never remembered in after years how the hours passed alter her husband left her. It was like a dream of pain, full of sad and miserable Pictures. The long night brought her no rest and no calm. She tried to pray, but her restless heart and restless lips could not be controlled. She tried to think, but thought was impossible. All around her, in letteis of fire, she read that she was an impostor, a convict’s daughter, who had no business there. Xo great or grievous sin marred or stained the course of that fair, tranquil life. She had done her duty as far as she knew it, both to God and man. She had never wronged another, and the poor and sorrowing rose up to bless her. Why was she punished so heavily?—all her sorrows came from the sins and follies of others. The weight fell upon her, crushing the brightness from her life, bending the golden head low in humble shame. "Why was it?” Reason gave no answer. She remembered her mother's words, that all would be clear in another world—she would know and understand | why she had suffered in this. Then over , the' fair, sad face there stole a look of j sweet, humble resignation. The wild tempest of sorrow became calm, and the beating. rebellious heart grew still. "I must bear it,” said Lady Hilda to herself: and many others, by the bare utterance of these words, have learned to endure heavy sorrows in silence. Lord Bayneham was ill at ease. He loved his beautiful young wife with a devotion that knew no limits. He could not, in his wildest dreams, imagine her capable of even an imprudence; and he wondered, until wonder became pain, what she was keeping from him. He did not see how it was possible for Lady Hilda to have any secrets; the simple story of her life was an open book in which he had read every charming, innocent page. As for any love nonsense, he would sooner have suspected a brightwinged angel of mercy than his pure, loving, gentle wife. He would have dismissed the whole affair as nonsense but for her own words —her own admission that she had a secret which she could not share with him. Ho stood in the library; a mass of papers lay in a confused heap upon the table, all awaiting his attention, but he bad none to spare for them. It was seldom the young Lord of Bayneham bore so disturbed an expression on his comely face.

He wbb at a standstill, and knew not what to do. If for a moment be felt angry with his young wife, the remembrance of her word*—her pale, wistful face lying on his breast—came over him, and’ all anger melted away. As he was pondering uver what to do, and perplexed by maay thoughts, Barbara Earle entered tne room—Barbara, whose noble, soul-lit face looked serene and calm. For a moment Lord Bayneham s whole heart seemed to go out to meet her. There was no mystery, no concealment here, nothing but clear, glorious truth in the dark eyes raised to his face. “What is the matter, Claude?” she asked, gayly; “you look as uninteresting as possible—almost cross, in fact. Surely 'ou are not thinking of this nonsense about Hilda’s bracelet? Lady Bayneham has ju>t been telling me where you found it.” Aikl how do you imagine it came there?” asked the earl of his cousin. “I should never try to discover,” replied Barbara. “Perhaps Hilda’s maid took it to be cleaned or repaired, or something else, and dropped it; or. perhaps Hilda walked hi her sleep. I tell you what. Claude: I should imagine every combination of strange and singular circumstances before I dared to think even the slightest wrong of one so pure and gentle as your wife.” “But it seems strange,” said Lord Bayneham. “The thing that puzzles me most is, that she seems so frightened—she trembles at the very mention of the word.” “Is she frightened?” asked Barbara, earnestly. “Then my idea is a correct one. Rely upon it, Claude, there is some little mystery, and Hilda is shielding some one else from blame.” “She ought at least confide in me,” said Lord Bayneham. "Perhaps she fears your anger for the real culprit,” said Miss Earle. "I do not think so,” replied her cousin; “she talk? so tragically to me, poor child, that I am afraid there is something not quite straightforward. She tells me she cannot explain.” "Then.” replied Barbara, with generous spirit, “if she says so. Claude, never seek to know the rest. When a pure, guileless woman, like Hilda, wishes to keep a secret, be noble, and allow her to do so. Rely upon it, her motive justifies her.” "You love my wife, Barbara.” said Lord Bayneham. “That I do,” replied Barbara, “truly and warmly. I have implicit faith in her. Why, Claude, remember that sweet face. What could it hide?—no sin, no error, no wrong. I am sure. Depend upon it, this little iffair of the bracelet, so perversely magnified, is nothing after all. Most probably Pauline has been careless, and Hilda shields her from blame.” Lord Bayneham kissed his cousin’s hand, loving her better in that moment than he had ever done before. She smiled as she quitted the library, leaving the sunshine of her brave, generous words behind her. No one loved or believed in Lady Hilda more strongly than her husband. He wanted to make his mother share that faith. For himself, Barbara’s words almost satisfied him. If he could but convince Lady Bayneham! lie resolved to see the maid herself, and question her. He did so, and she looked very pretty and smiling as she stood before him. “I am thinking of ordering a jewel case for Lady Bayneham,” he said. “I wish to surprise her with it. Give me the size of the one she uses.” With smiling, coquettish grace the maid complied; and there was nothing like even a shadow of fear on her face. “I am afraid the case in use is not a secure one.” continued Lord Bayneham; “and I have some reasons for believing her ladyship’s jewels are not well kept.” Pauline ventured respectfully to deny the assertion, asking, as was natural, what the reason was. "I found a bracelet in the park this morning.” said Ix>rd Bayneham, “winch had evidently been dropped yesterday.” “If a bracelet was dropped there.” said Pauline, who did not seem dismayed, “my lady must have dropped it. I believe she walked out for a few minutes last night; she has done so once or twice before.” Lord Bayneham made no comment, and Pauline, proud of the young earl’s attention to her words, chatted on gayly. “I believe my lady walked in the garden a few minutes.” she continued; “she sent me away early, and I saw her afterwards going down the north staircase. Perhaps she dropped it there.” “Perhaps so,” said Lord Bayneham, with well-acted indifference; “but do not mention it, as I intend the jewel case for a surprise.” Pauline promised obedience and tripped away, thinking what a handsome, devoted husband Lord Bayneham was, and how happy her lady must be. (To be continued.) A Snake-Haunted Tract —lndia. In spots of jeopardy and awkward angles, attack from behind is the main thing to guard against. Walking on thus I communed with myself of snakes and beasts, duly considering what terrible bugbears they are to stay-at-homes. An old poet has told us not to whistle till we are well clear of the wood; "but whistle ye merrily to yourselves” (I soliloquized) “all ye who range the byways of a snake-haunted tract. Sing somewhat loudly, by the way; let there be- melody not in your hearts only, but on your lips. Thus shall ye prove yourselves very lords of creation. From the notes of your hymn shall each lewd beast and unclean reptile flee away, affrighted and amazed!” Would that I had practiced what I mused on in silence; for, even as I mused, the swish of a rattan rang sharp behind, and looking to the earth I saw my boy fell a deadly serpent to the earth. I had stepped clean over him! It was a great escape! My pajamas were tucked up to the knee, and if the brute ' had had time to coil and strike my bare legs lay at the mercy of his merciless fangs. He had been lying at full length in a rut between some logs transversely placed in a boggy bit of way, and I, walking past noiselessly in rubber-soled i shoes, had caught him napping.—Good Words. Comparative Cost of Wars. All the wars of Napoleon Bonaparte cost his country $1,275,000,000, while the wars of Louis Napoleon cost France $2,210,000,000. The former i made the enemy pay most of the ex-» pense: the expense of the wars waged by the latter was borne by France. ’

FACTS FOR FARMERS. HELPFUL SUGGESTIONS FOR THE AGRICULTURISTS. Much False Economy in Facmin? — Hen-House for Summer or WinterPail for Feeding Calves—Simple Device for Pulling Posts —Notes. For Feeding Calves. A trough fastened into a pen is not desirable for feeding calves, as it cannot be as thoroughly scalded out as it should be. Moreover, pouring milk into any receptacle in a pen in which there is a calf is hazardous business, the operation usually resulting in 3li .b Jo, i i' -vdi' i H FEEDING PAIL. spilled milk. An arrangement with a feeding pail is shown in the illustration from the American Agriculturist. The back board is hinged to the front of the on the side marked a. The pail can thus be set Into the holder on the outside of the pen and the bolder swung a quarter of the way round and hooked, thus bringing the pail inside the pen. When removed, a button keeps the calf from getting his head out through the opening. Such a contrivance can easily be made by anyone handy with tools, and will be found a considerable saving of time as well as feed. Tuberculin on Healthy Cows. Careful tests were conducted by Prof. James Law last winter at Cornell Experiment Station. “Taking all in all. there is nothing in the records of temperature that would indicate, either at the time of the test or later, that tuberculin had in any way proved inimical to the general health. The decline in milk production which followed is claimed to have been not more than the natural falling off. No effect of tuberculin was observed on increase or decline of fat in the milk.” Professor Law concludes: “So far as there is evidence before us, everything points to the harmlessness of a single test dose on a sound animal system, even if such dose were repeated several times.” For Pulling Posts. A horse, boy and one man, with the device illustrated herewith, can pull up 250 posts a day. Take a 2-inch oak plank, b, 10 inches wide and 3% feet long, and cut a V-shaped notch in one end. Set this lifting plank against the post, c, as shown in the illustration. Fasten a log chain, a, to the post near Bt-c ifk ,la\‘ A POST-PULLER. the ground, and pass it up over the end by allowing it to rest in the notch d at top. Hitch the horse to the chain, let him pull steadily, and the post comes out without ditflcillty When the ground is very soft, as we often find it in early spring, the operator will experience considerable inconvenience from having the plank driven deeply into the mud by the great pressure. This can be obviated by placing a short, stout plank upon the ground in such a position that the lower end of the upright may rest upon it—A. A. Rieff. Minnesota. False Economy in Farming. A man who understands his business is Farmer Streak, but somehow he never seems to get ahead very fast. He is considered a saving man. too. If a friction match is wasted, Streak will lament the loss, although it does not seem to worry him that wood enough for several cords of matches has been used each year in driving the sap from the green stove wood Which half the time is the only kind he provides. A quarter’s worth of powder for the boys to celebrate the glorious Fourth he considers a sinful waste, but ten times that amount consumed in his pipe is nothing of tlie kind, says the Massachusetts Ploughman. He rakes the hay field as with a comb to secure the last wisp of hay, but he loses dollars in its value by cutting too late in the seasen. Os things bought at the store not so much as a pinch of salt Is wasted, but last year he slowed to decay enough early apples to have paid bis taxes, although the fruit would have sold readily In Boston. Papers, books and church dues he has never felt able to afford, but he has a little mortgage on his farm as the result of endorsing a note. That is Farmer Streak; careful with cents and careless with dollars. Do you know him? Ttie Potato Bug’s Diet. Many people who are not botanists do not imagine that the potato and the tomato are at all related. But the po-

tato beetle is a thorough botanist, at least as far as members of the solanum family are concerned. The egg plant is included in his depredations, and gardeners who grow either tomatoes or egg plants near where the potato is grown must look out for the ravages of the beetle The early potato vines die down early in July, and the horde of beetles from these are obliged to seek other plants on which to feed. Farm House Ventilation. The cellar must be ventilated directly into the base of the chimney. The kitchen chimney is best, for it always has a draft both summer and winter. This is easily arranged by having an opening eight inches square near the bottom, which will also serve as a means by which soot and ashes may be removetl from the chimney. When repairing my house some years ago, I arranged it in this way, with the result that the cellar is entirely purified from the close and unwholesome air that seemed to pervade it before, especially during the winter season. In fact it accomplishes. to some extent, ventilation of the whole house, for by this means the cellar air never ascends to the rooms, but instead the air from the house is drawn downward into the cellar and finally passes out through the chimney. A Summer or Winter Hen-House. Here is a device for converting a summer henhouse into a winter one, and vice versa, which is simple, cheap and effective. The house is built in the usual way, the walls consisting largely of Ix 3 vertical strips 2 inches apart. The device is for closing or opening these 2-inch cracks at pleasure. It is applied to an end wall, for example, as follows: Go inside the house, cut other Ix 3 strips of proper length, set them up against and coinciding with the corresponding strips of the wall, the top end of each being cut to correspond with slope of roof, and lacking about 1 inch of reaching the rafter to which the wall strips are nailed. Fasten 8 or 10 of these strips . i||l I il II i 1 lip h i- lIH ~ JlJuL] i —- rp • //X--. A CONVERTIBLE HEN-HOUSE. securely into a frame or sash (see cut), by nailing the battens bb along their ends at top and bottom. Then nail on the cleats a a at top and bottom to hold the sash in place. The strips of the sash now coinciding with those of the wall, the 2-inch cracks between them are open, but by sliding the sash to the left 1)4 inches the cracks are closed. The sash c in cut is slid back or closed, d is open. The cracks may thus tie closed or opened, entirely or partially, at pleasure, by sliding the sash baek or forth. Have a Few Sheep oil the Farm. Every farmer should have a few sheep In order to save much of the material grown that should be wasted. Sheep will eat a great many plants which cattle reject, and they graze close to the ground. Young and tender weeds are delicacies to sheep, and they therefore assist in ridding the fields of such pests. A small flock of mutton sheep should be kept, if for no better purpose than to supply the family with choice meat. Springs for the Fruit Wagon. In large commercial orchards it is well understood that the jolting of fruit when carried in the solid, springless box wagon causes injury, entailing great loss to the selling value of the fruit The cut from Farm and Home illustrates a simple method of arranging springs with a wagon body sufficiently sensitive for the carrying of the most delicate fruit. The springs may be made of vertical coiled wire, securely fastened to the cross piece which is attached to the underside of the body of the wagon and held In place by uprights at the ends. Fruit J i ' CARRYING FRT’IT WITHOUT BRUISING. may easily be drawn for miles and but little bruising occurs when thus supported and carried. Notes. The stable should be protected from files aud insects with wire screens. If this is done, the animals will secure more rest and afford a larger profit. Oats when cut in the milky stage (before the grain is ripe) make an excellent ration for horses. The nutritious matter is arrested in the stalks, and both straw and grain are relished. It takes twice as much food and labor to produce the same amount of meat, butter or milk from scrubs as from pure breeds, and that is why poor farmers with scrub cattle fail to make the farm pay. A cow will shrink in her milk because of lack of a supply of drinking water sooner than from any other cause, and It may lie safely stated that insufficient water when the cows are in the pasture is a very freauent occurrence on farms.

THEIR MOTHER. My boy sat looking straight into the coals From his stool at my feet, one day, And the fire-iight burnished the curly head And painted the cheeks with a dash of red. And brightened his very eyes, as he said. In his most confidential way: “Mamma. I think when I’m a grown-up man I shall have just two little boys.” I smiled—he was six!—but he did not see, And I said, “Why, yes, how nice that will be! I But if one were h girl, it seems to me. It would add to your household joys.” “Well—yes,” reflectively, “that would be nice, And I’ll tell you just what I’il do; I’ll name one Bobbie, for me, yon know.” Then the bright eyes shone with a deeper glow, “And there’s just the two of us now, and so I’ll name the girl Annie, for yon.” “But how would their mother like that?” I asked. “Do you think that she would agree For us both to have names, while she had none?” With the mystified, puzzled look of one Wholly befogged, said my logical son, “Their mother! Why, who is she!” —The Household. Cold Meats. An attractive and appetizing way in which to dispose of cold meat that cannot be cut into nice slices and served cold, is to make the meat in “Boudins,” which are individual souffles of hot meat highly seasoned. The meat should first be chopped very fine and have every particle of gristle and all fat separated from it For every pint of meat use one ounce of butter, half a cupful of rich milk, a tablespoonful of chopped parsley, and salt and red or white pepper to taste. Melt the butter, mix it with the meat, then add the milk, salt, pepper and parsley. Mash and mix well with the potato masher, beat the whites of three eggs to a froth, and add them. Fill cups, custard cups if you have them, two-thirds full of the mixture ami bake twenty minutes at a moderate heat Stand the cups while baking in a pan half full of hot water. Serve on a hot plate, with a white, brown or mushroom sauce, or a border of French peas. Crystallize Wood Surfaces. Surfaces of wood and paper may be made to produce highly decorative effects by crystallization. Paper must first be sized or it will absorb the crystals, but the process can be applied directly to the surface of the wood. A very concentrated cold solution of common salt and dextrine laid on the surface to'be deeorated with a broad, soft brush, makes a beautiful mother-of-pearl color. Other tints are produced by tlie application of acetate of soda, the sulphate of magnesia and the sulphate of tin. The crystallizations are used upon picture frames, small ornamental panels, colored glass lamp shades and similar articles. Several of these solutions, mingled, produce most pleasing effects. Meat Sandwiches. Chicken sandwiches. Very delicate chicken sandwiches are made from cold roast chicken, thinly sliced, seasoned highly and placed between two thin slices of buttered bread. Minced chicken mixed with mayonnaise is also nice. Chicken and ham, four parts of the former to one of the latter, and chicken and tongue iu equal parts make an agreeable change. The crisp inner leaves of the blanched lettuce may be added, or minced cress as well as sliced or minced hard boiled eggs. A stoned olive or a few capers form an agreeable addition to a sandwich. Let It Cool, A pudding or loaf of brown bread should never be moved while it is steaming; the jar makes it “fail.” By the same token the oven door should be closed very gently if it has to be opened while cake is baking, aud the oven should never be opened until a loaf of cake has been in the oven at least twenty minutes, otherwise the rush of cooler air into the oven will cool it off at such a critical time the cake will either not rise at all or will rise aud then “slump.” Currant Padding. Butter thin slices of bread and line a pudding dish with them. Break a slice of bread into small bits, and put a layer over the bottom of the dish. Fill the dish half full with very ripe stewed and sweetened currants, and place squares of buttered bread over the top. When baked, cover the top with a meringue of the w hite of an egg beaten with two tablespoonfuls of white sugar; brown in the oven. To be served cold. For the Cook. A mixture of bran, salt and vinegar is excellent for brightening copper. Hot water and soap are best for aluminum. New preserve jars have their covers made on the same principle as certain beer bottles; by a wire spring they are opened and shut hermetically. Lids should al ways be put over sau:,epaus when in use. The steam is usually more beneficial to the dish being prepared than to the kitchen w ails. A frying pan has been invented which is lined with a material absolutely unburnable made of asbestos. Electrocopper cooking utensils also are gaining ground.