Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 49, Decatur, Adams County, 19 September 1895 — Page 7

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CHAPTER XXXVIII. On tae following morning the reserved, tnelancholy Lord Hajneham spent more than an hour in one of the finest toyshops in Lmdon, and selected a parcel of toys that would gladden the heart of any child. He was punctual to his appointment, and found Captain Massev ready for him. "The weather is fine; we shall have a glorious <lrjve,” said the Captain; "but what is this enormous parcel? It came some hours since, to be left here for you.” "It contains nothing but toys for |JoIjel,” said Lord bh siting like a school-girl as tie spoktt It was a glorious drive; the sweet Slav evening was full of beauty; earth and S’ri-Jg’l to smile. Tl.. hawthorn and chestnut were in bloom, the fragrance of spring blossoms piled the air. They said but little. Captain Massey seemed lost in thought, and Lord Bayneham was dreaming of the May morning years ago when he had first met the fair young girl who seemed lost to him forever. It was a sad face upon which Mrs. Massey gazed when she welcomed her old favorite to the house. "My son told me how altered you were,” she said, holding out both hands to Lord Bayneham. "Life has not been a path of roses for me," he replied. "Nor for any of us," interrupted the Indy. "I hare gathered more thorns than flowers.” Mrs. Massey was a stately gentlewoman, one of the old school, kind and charitable, yet dignified and reserved, and a firm believer in etiquette. If she had a fault, her son declared it was in being too frigidly correct and proper. She was dressed as Lord Bayneham remembered always to have seen her, in the stiffest of brocades and the most costly of lace caps. She made many inquiries about Lady Bayneham and Miss Earle, yet her visitor thought there was something unusual in her manner. She talked more than he had ever heard her, and seemed afraid of a moment's silence. It was a relief when the child came in and ran straight up to Lord Bayneham. Ah, what was it? Why did his eyes fill with tears as the tender arms clung to him? Why did the sweet childish voice seem to reach the depths of his heart, and stir fountains that had long been scaled and dry? "My son tells me you have taken a wonderful fancy to this little boy,” said Mrs. Massey. “He is a noble little fellow, and we are all fond of him." "I have never toyed n child before." said Lord Bayneham, and his lips tr-'-iu-' bled as he spoke; "and, in my solitary life I do not think I shall ever care so much ‘or one again.” “Would you like to live with this gentieman. Lipnel?” asked Mrs. Massey. "Yes." said the.chilil, "but I raifliot, he; cause I cannot Itavu mamma.’> "I am to be inirodaced in proper form to-uar,” said Lord llaynoltam: "what :S my little friend’s name? I shall ask permission to take him down to Bayneham with me.” Captain Massey smiled a strange smile that the Earl could not understand. "Would y >n like to see Lionel's tianl- | ma and ask her permission?” said Mrs. Massey. ••Yes,” replied Lord Bayneham; if it would not be an intrusion.” "I can answer that it would not," said the lady. Iler face was strangely pale, and Lord Bayneham wondered at the emotion he read there. "She is in the boudoir here,’ said Mrs. Massey; "go and make your request, my : '< " «••■>•' "Will vou Introduce me?—tile indy is a strancer: I shall need an introduction,” said Lord Bayneham. "Go alone,” said Captain Massey; and even as he spoke Lord Bayneham noticed the change in his voice—the nervous, agi--tated expression of his face. "Go alone,” continued the Captain; "Lionel will introduce you.' . \ strange tremor seized Lord Bayneham' a strange, vague hope came-so him M he looked in those pale, agitated faces. H. tried to speak and a.-R another question. but his lips seemed unmb and dU “Lionel,” said Captain Massey, “go w qh the gentleman, and take him to your mamma.” , . , ■ The child gently laid his little hand on Lord Bayneham's and led him through th,, long drawing-mom. A door at the Other end of the apartment led to the b„udoir. He turned the handle and opened it, slowly moving, as one whose nses nre wrapped iu a dream. He saw » small pretty room, where fragrant , v. rs were blooming, and golden sunbeams came in through clouds of white He saw—was this a dream?-a golden head raised as he entered, a beautiful face sweet and pure and tender: he w violet eves full of tears, quivering u„ s that tried in vain to utter his name; he saw two little white hands clasped as "L, g pnp them clasped years ago, and . thick mist swam before him, a noise ' f rushing waters filled his cars. A “.’tie voice aroused him; the child ran from him to the lady. "This is mamma, he said, proudly turning to Lord Bayneham. q was no dream—it was his own wife clinging to him. her tender arms clasped him her beautiful face wet with his own, the golden head LLdng on his breast. 1t was no fancy, dream but a real, glorious truth. he had wept like a child-t " vain 6n the e 'strength of his manhood Deemed to desert him. and the warm ' «rs fell upon the golden head. •Claude" whispered a gentle voice. I. cn „ vou ever forgive me for doubting you. and leaving you? I can nP .The Pa Lult w-my own," he replied;

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voice, and a little face lo -ked up in wonder; then Lord Bayneham remembered the boy—he had called Hilda mamma, lie looked once into her face. Who is it! ’ he whispered—‘‘this little one who calls you mother?” For all answer she placed the child in his arms. It is your son,” she said, “your son and mine.” “Do not scold me,” she said, when that trance of happiness was broken, “do not scold me, Claude. When I left you I did hot Know that heaven would give me this priceless gift. My baby was born here, six months after I left your house. I meant to send him to you when he was old enough to leave me.” “Hush! ’ said Lord Bayneham; “<Io not "’ords as those, Hilda, darting. 1 his is a golden hour —we will not spoil it.” 1 hen Lady Hilda, taking the little one, said: “Lionel, you must love this gentleman. You remember all I have told you of yoqr own papa, whom you had neve? seen—how kind, and brqye, and good he was. This is papa, and you mdst love hilm’V, < .. “I do love him,” said the child, quietly; "I loved him yesterday, without knowing I why,” I “1 have been too bewildered to ask how you came here,” said Lord BayncI ham to his wife. “Let others tell that story for me ” she said, quietly; “first let me explain why I left you, Claude. It was all a terrible mistake; we <*an speak freely--my oath binds me no longer, for Captain .dasses' toid me yesterday iny father is dead.” “I was with him,” said Lord Bayneham, “and his last words were for you.” “I cannot tell how this Secret weighed upon me,” she continued. “My poor mother sought me at Bayneham: she came there to look at hie and die. The : poor sick woman who died at Firs cottage and lies in the little graveyard—she was my mother, Claude.” “How could you ever dream that I should love you less for that?” he said, kissing the beautiful face raised to his. “From the day she told me her story and mine,” concluded Lady Hilda, “my life was one long sorrow; I was wretched at keeping a secret from you, yet I dared not break my oath. Once, you know, ( iaude, 1 asked you what you should do if after marriage you found you had been mistaken in your wife, and had taken some one tainted with disgrace to your home; you said such a one must re- , turn to her friends.” “But how could I suppose those words applied to yourself?” said Lord Bayne- . I ham. “You could not,” she replied. “My . father came, and my miserable secret weighed upon me with double force. I was bewildered. He has told you all, i Claude? Ah, then, you know of the | notes he wrote to me, of the interview I was compelled to have with him in the Lady’s Walk. When you came that morning into my room and said that you 1 knew ail, I believed you had discovered my secret, and that your anger arose from that cause.” “I saw it afterward,” said Lord Bayneham. “I only meant that 1 knew all the secret of your night walk. What a mistake it was, Hilda! What years of misery it .has caused us! If you had but trust'd mo, darling, instead of going away!” k I “If there is any excuse,” said Lady Hilda, “it lies in the fact that I was half mad. Three days after I left home I was taken ill with a severe attack of brain fever, and lhe.snow lay on the ground before 1 was myself again.” “And yoti have seen nothing of all my advertisements?” said Lord Bayneham.

“No,” she replied; “when I left you I left all the world; when shelter was offered to me here, I accepted it ou the condition that no one should see or hoar of me, and that the news of the outer world should not be told to me. I thought I would soon die. It seemed to me then I had no right to Lady Hutton’s money —nb claim urfon her fortune. I wanted tq be dead to everything, since I could ho longer live to yon.” “Poor child!” said her husband, gently; “but why, at least, did y,in not tell hie of Lionel’s birth?” “I meant to send him to you,” site replied. “I did not forget that, although my son, he is your heir. I would have sent him in two more years. Remember, it has all been a mistake. Clau.de. I ■'thought yon would never show me to return to Bayneham when you knew my secret.” A knock at the door interrupted Lady Hilda. “Come in,” she said, and Mrs. Massey entered, her face glowing with smiles. "Did you know the lady?” she asked Lord Bayneham, who met her with a torrent of thanks. “My son is anxious to know if he may enter.” “Since we o'we our happiness in n great measure to him,” replied Lord Bayneham, “his request is very reasonable. Ab, Massey!” he cried, as the master of the house entered, “how atn I to thank you for your great kindness. Now explain to me why and how 1 find my lost treasure here.” "It is a very long story,” said Captain Massey, “but you shall bear every detail. “It is more than three years since I received orders to go to India on an especial and confidential mission. The day before starting I went to Euston Square to inquire about some luggage sent for me. There was great confusion at the station, owing to the arrival of several trains. I was standing on the platform watching the scene with some amusement, when my attention was attracted by a lady leaving a first-class carriage. She wore a cloak and a thick veil; she seemed uncertain where to go—lost and bewildered. I saw her go to one of the seats and place herself there. For one whole hour she rested there, and I watched her. She did not appear to bo waiting for any one, and no one took any heed of her. Then she rase, and stood for a few minutes ns though uncertain what to do. ‘She seems bewildered with trouble,’ I snid to myself; ’I wonder if I could help her?’ “I went very respectfully up to her, and raising my hat, asked if I could be of any service to her. She did not seem to understand me. When I repeated the ques-

tion she threw back her vei), and looked at me with wild, woful eyes. Imagine my horror at recognizing in this grieving, bewildered lady no other than the young Countess of Bayneham, Lady Hutton’s ward. “ ‘Lady Bayneham.’ I said, ‘do you not know me? I am Captain Massey, your husband’s friend.’ “‘Y’es. I know you.’ she replied; then she laid her hand on my arm. ‘Will you help me. Captain Massey,’ she said, humbly; ‘I have left home and my husband forever. I feel very ill; my brain is on fire, I believe. Can you take me somewhere, where I can lie down to die?’ “I looked at her in utter amaze; the lovely, brilliant Lady of Bayneham, here in this deplorable state? “ ‘Does Lord Bayneham know?’ I began, but she interrupted me. “ ‘lf you cannot take my word on trust,’ she said, ‘leave me; I can bear no questions—l cannot endure the sound of his name. If you will befriend me, take me from here.’ “Iler face was deadly pale, and her eyes burned with a wild, strange light; she trembled violently. My only fear was I<‘ST she should fail; she looked like a bruised, broken lily. “ ‘I will befriend you, Lady Bayneham,’ I said; ‘try and walk a few steps with me. I will take you to my mother’s and leave you in her charge.’ As I have told you. on the morning following I was to start for India; time, therefore, was very precious. We walked out of the station yard, and then I took a cab. It was a long drive to mv mother’s house here at Jy?w. Lady Bayneharp never once spoke. She sat white and cold and still as a marble statue. “My dear mother was amazed to see me return so accompanied, and her amazement was Increased when she knew it was Lady Bayneham whom I had brought to find refuge under her roof, “lhat night Lady Bayneham told us part of her story. She laid no blame upon you, but much upon herself. She said she had left home because you knew the story of her parentage and were displeased; she would not wait until you sent her away; and she seemed so fearfully agitated at the mention of return .that we agreed it was bettvr to defer it tintjl she should have regained health and •strength. “Lady Hilda made a compact with us; " e promised entire and perfect secrecy as to her place of concealment—we prom ised that under the shlter of our roof she should be hidden from that outer world she dreaded so much, and that no new s of it should be told to her. She was to be as one dead in life. We promised all she asked. My mother dared not oppose one word, so critical was her state. In the event of her death, you, Lord Bayneham. were to be sent for. She begged us to call her by her mother’s name of Hurst, and we did so. “I never saw her from that night until a few days ago. I set sail for India, and the news came to me that the unhappy lady was lying ill of brain fever, and the doctors despaired of her life. . I* or many long weeks she lay unconscious of all around her. Then I heard that under the shelter of our roof the heir of Bayneham was born. I returned a few days since, and found him a beautiful, noble little fellow. I would not remain in my mother’s house. Bayneham; it has been sacred to your wife. I shall always believe Providence led mo to the gardens yesterday. But for that, the mistake would never have been explained. \\ hen I reached home and told your wife your story, I knew how much she loved you.” “God bless you, Massey!” exclaimed Lord Bayneham; “you are the truest friend man ever had. Thank you, and you, niadame,” he continued, turning to Mrs. Massey; “thank you for your care and love of my dear wife.” “She has been like a beloved daughter to me,” said the old lady; “having lived with her, I am at a loss how to live without her. I often fancied that the advertisements I read so constantly applied to her. but I dared not mention them. I wished her to grow quite strong and well before again discussing the subject of her return.”

iTo be continued.) ANOTHER MYTH EXPLODED. The Story of Jackson’s Cotton Bale Breastworks a Merc Fiction. There are few of the school boys of several generations preceding tire present who do not remember being taught that Gen. Jackson won the battle of New Orleans by throwing up a breastwork of cotton bales and meeting the British assault behind them. A dramatic account of this was in all the school histories and several others, and the novelty of the affair appealed vividly to the imagination. The cold facts of later history prove this all to have been fiction. Henry Adams, in his history of’Madison’s administration, describes the battle of New Orleans and mentions no such feature. McMaster,;ln his latest volume, refers to the story- in a note only to sny that there were two or three cotton bales used in one place, and they were either set on fire or knocked out at once. Jackson'S line of breastworks was ot earth irregularly thrown up and of varying height along its length. The trained sharpshooters of the West did great work as marksmen behind it, and so galled the heavily laden British troops that they had po alternative but to be shot or retreat “before the American line. The school book story used to be that the Americans lost six killed and seven wounded. McMasters places the figures of killed and wounded at seventy. The British, it seems, were not all repulsed according to the popular story. The right line of the American troops was driven in, and the British left advanced a mile in the rear of Jackson on the way to New Orleans. He was really flanked by this success, but the terrific slaughter he inflict"'! upon the British in the center, involving the death of the first and second generals in command, completely dispirited them and induced the return of that wiug of their army that was on thu way to the city.—Boston Herald. Italy has a greater number of orders of nobility than any other European country. Auy foreigner who has the money to pay for it can secure an ItaL lan order to wear on his coat, and thus be in fashion when he goes to a reception in an European city.

TIMELY FARM TOPICS. MANAGEMENT OF THE FARM, GARDEN AND STABLE. Hints on Cutting the Corn Crop-In-genious Fountain for Poultry — Home-Made Tile Ditching Implements—Good Support for Sweet Pea*. Home-Made Drainage Toole. Much more tile draining could be done if the farmer was only convinced that it is not a very difficult job and beyond his ability. We have laid all our tile for years and have been very successful. Good tools are of course absolutely necessary, but not expenR t I a- I / HOME-MADE DITCHING IMPLEMENTS. sive. Buy a good IS-inch spade. I prefer one with square corners. The remainder of our tools are home-made. A sod cutter shown at a is desirable. Ours was made from an old pointed shovel, as was also the scoop b, for cleaning the bottom of the ditch. By the aid of a blacksmith these were easily converted into very useful implements. To make the cutter, heat and hammer the shovel perfectly flat, then with a cold chisel cut out the desired shape. Sharpen the edge, insert the handle and it is complete. For the cleaner, turn up the edges and cut off the corners, making it about five Inches wide. Rivet two quarter-inch rods to the sides. Weld the outer ends and drive them into the handle.—W. I. Moyle in Farm and Home. Cutting the Corn Crop. After the cutters are well sharpened, strike into the corn fields, each man taking two rows. When properly planted, each hill should have three or four plants. The stalks being of even height, the tops of a hill may be grasped in the left hand and the plants cut as near the ground as possible with the corn cutter in the right hand. When the first hill is cut move the corn to the new hill, grasping the tops of the eight plants in the left hand and cutting. These may then be dropped between the rows and six hills more cut in the same way and dropped with the first handful, butts together. After cutting through a row and returning, each man may take a bundle of dampened straw and tie the bundles he cut. This done, every sixteenth bundle in the eighth and ninth rows is set up against the other nearly erect, one to the north, the other to the south. The two nearest bundles are then placed against these two already set, one to the east, the other to the west. The nucleus of a stook is now made. The bundles are. then set evenly around the stook and the tops tightly tied with strong, thick bands of straw. ■ After the stalks are well seasoned the bands may be removed. the corn husked, the stalks stored in the barn and the corn dumped in the; bins. When husking it is an economical plan to dump each basket of corn as husked into a wagon which should be emptied each night into the corn crib. Support for Sweet Peas. The ordinary method of using bushes for this purpose is unsightly, while the sharp sticks wound the hands when gathering the blossoms. Light posts can be used for the. support figured, l [ /i ... . • i SWEET PEA TRELLIS. inch square being about enough, while light wires only are needed to string It With such a support the plants will do their best, as they will be held up from the ground, where they can have air and sunlight. Easy to Raise Bees. It is a matter of wonderment to me why so few farmers keep bees, when the facility with which they may be handled and freedom from danger ot stings (which no doubt used to deter many from keeping bees) is now done away with, since the invention of the bee veil or face protector, rubber gloves, etc., which go to make up the outfit of one engaged in the raising of bees. It is advisable to buy colonies of bees in the spring, says Mrs. McPherson in the Ohio Farmer, especially for a novice, although they are generally cheaper in the fall. But one not accustomed to them would not know whether they were in good trim to winter successfully, or would not know what to do in case they were not. Perfect wintering has very seldom been accomplished, yet our best beekeepers assert that it is no more difficult to winter fifty colonies of bees than a corresponding number of sheep. We would advise getting the Italians, as they are not so vindictive as the

blacks or hybrids. If yon are fearless, get any strain that your purse will allow. although very high prices are asked for some strains. I think, though, that the honey which is gathered and stored by the blacks or hybrids is as sweet and the quantity as great as that made by the high-priced kind. But all beekeepers of note allow that “no bee builds such delicate comb or caps the honey with such virgin whiteness as the poor, despised black bee.” Buy bees as near home as possible, as they cannot be shipped as freight, but only by express. Buy full, strong colonies, and if in the spring, have them come when the apple trees are in bloom; never move them until warm weather and the blossoms are out The “Chaff” or “Simplicity” hive is recommended. Forcing Apple Trees to Bear Yearly. The question with myself and neighbors is why I hqve forty or more apple tre'ss in full bearing and they have none to speak of. I do not prelend to be entitled to any special favors, says Z. Breed, In the NCiv England Farmer, but I have “been thinking.” I have been in the practice, more or less, of fertilizing and mulching trees that were in bearing. Suddenly I was getting a crop of odd years, especially of fall and early winter apples. One or two Baldwin trees followed suit, and I conclude that the treatment I gave the trees enabled them to grow the crop and grow blossom buds for another year. I have also practiced thinning my fruit. Am doing it at the present time. I have fertilized and mulched a couple of trees that are in full bearing now to see If it will affect the crop another year. I hope others will try the same experiment and report results. A Unique Fountain. Instead of placing open earthenware pans in the yard and filling them with water for the fowls to drink, suppose you try the arrangement here illustrated. Against the fence or a wall fasten in a suitable manner a champagne bottle filled with water and turned upside down. Let the neck of the bottle come within, say, half an inch of touching the bottom of an earthenware platter, or, better still, let it reach half way from the rim of the platter to the bottom. Os course, some of the water will run out of the bottle, which is what you desire, but when the surface of the water reaches the neck of the bottle the flow will stop. As the fowls drink, the surface of the water is lowered, of course, but fresh air enters the bottle and more water comes down, thus keeping the water In the platter at a uniform depth. Fix one or more of these fountains in POT-T.TP.Y FOVXTAIX. the shade at convenient places, and you will add very much to the comfort of your fowls. Rival of the Silkworm. A new kind of caterpillar appeared in Bismarck, N. !>., and the region thereabout recefltly, and began to denude, the shade trees of foliage, after the manner of the pests that have lately afflicted this city and vicinity. Some one noticed that the worm spun a cocoon of unusually strong texture and a citizen sent a cocoon to a friend in the East, who owns a silk-weaving mill. The silk weaver reported to the Bisinatck man that the thread in the cocoon was almost as strong as silk and of similar texture, and that if he had a handful of cocoons, he would weave ■ handkerchief from them. Specimens <ii the worms and of the cocoons have been sent to Washington for the report of the Government experts, and the North Dakotans are thinking that perhaps what they took to be a pest is a valuable gift from nature.—San Francisco Bulletin. Yarding Cows at Night. It is one of the disadvantages of pasturing that it necessitates getting the cows at night in a yard for milking where they are usually left until morning without feed. If cows could have their way they would do most of their grazing at night, while the air is cool, only lying down when they bad filled themselves. It will pay to cut some grass for the cows put up in the yard, and when this is done the effect of increased yield will induce the farmer to stable his cows during the heat of the day, and provide green food for them. At night the cows might be allowed to run in some pasture near the barn, putting them up in the morning. Only a feed at noon and night would then be required. Root Pruning Fruit Trees. There is a wide difference in the effect of cutting the roots of trees by plowing or cultivating. It varies with the time of year and the condition of growth above ground. While the tree is dormant, plowing or digging so as to destroy the tree roots does comparatively little injury, and roots put out in time to furnish sap f or the buds and growth is uninterrupted; but the check to growth while the tree is in full leaf is much more serious. That if not severe enough kill the tree will almost always set it to forming fruit buds, and a good crop next season will be the result 1 About two thousand soldiers nre discharged yearly from the English army for bad conduct.

Washing:. A pneumatic clothes washer is shown herewith, which is being put on the market. The washer is referred to as working on an entirely new principle, and that instead of friction it operates by compressed air and suction, forcing hot suds through the goods with sufficient force to remove the dirt from a tub full of clothes, cleansing them in from two to five minutes. It is said for the washer that it will cleanse the finest and most delicate lace or the heaviest bedspreads, quilts or blankets, as well as any small wearing apparel, In onei NEW CLOTHES WASHER. fourth the time it can be done by hand, besides making the work easy, with comparatively no hard labor. Homely Suggestions. To make delicious corn bread, take one-half pint of flour, one gill of cornmeal, one-half pint of milk, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, om> generous tablespoonful of butter, one and a half teaspoonfuls of baking powder, one-third teaspoonful of salt, two tablespoonfuls of boiling water and one egg. Mix all the dry ingredients together and rub through a sieve. Beat the egg till light and add milk to it, then pour this mixture on the dry ingredients, which should be beaten well. Now add the butter, first melting it in the hot water. Pour the batter into a well-buttered pan and bake for half an hour in a moderately hot oven. Quite a lot of little packets and bottles have to be taken away this summer for shoes only. There is pipe clay for the white shoes, russet polish for th, ans, and black lacquer for the patent leathers. For a company breakfast or the usual family luncheon.hominy boiled and sweetened, molded in medium-sized cups, and served very cool with whipped cream, makes aver; acceptable course for essert A new fashon in needlework called the “Piazzi” shows white linen laid over white net; floral designs are traced on the linen and worked in soft-colored silks. The spaces between the flowers and leaves are then cut away, leaving the linen design upon the net ground. Women who have only very bard water in which to wash their faces and hands will find that such wafer is much improved for toilet uses if it is boiled and stood in the sun for three or four days. The water is softennd'by the action of the air and sun. A large pitcherful or a larger quantity may be made ready at one time. Apple Marmalade. Wash your apples, quarter them and cut the cores out. Put on to cook with water to cover them. Cook till soft, and pour into a cheese cloth bag. Let drain throughout, but do not squeeze. To every quart of juice use one pint of granulated sugar: boil fifteen minutes. The pulp of the apples may be used by pressing through a sieve. Add one cup of sugar and the juice of a lemon to each quart of pulp; if it is too thick to cook, add a little water. Boil for thirty minutes, stirring constantly. Put in small crocks or bowls. It makes a nice spread for the little ones’ bread. How to Make a Mustard Plaster. A mustard plaster made according to the following directions will not blister the most sensitive skin: Two teaspoonfuls mustard, two teaspoonfuls flour, two teaspoonfuls ground ginger. Do not mix too dry. Place between wo pieces of old muslin and apply. If It burns too much at first lay an extra piece of muslin between it and the skin; as the skin becomes accustomed to the heat take the extra piece of muslin away.—Ladies’ Home Journal. Lemonade Cups. Some charming lemonade cups are shown in the new Prussian ware of eggshell china having dainty scrolls and arabesque of lily green designed upon them. The low, flat style Is most in favor. Those of cut glass are exceedingly rich and fearfully expensive. A beautiful set in the Venetian tinted ware, in the palest opal-green, all crackled over with gilt, is especially suited to a summer table. Ripe Grape Catsup. Five pounds of grapes, one pound of sugar, one pint of vinegar, one tablespoon of pepper, one-half tablespoon of salt, one teaspoon each of allspice, cloves, cinnamon. Cover the grapes with water, cook ten minutes, then rub through a sieve so as to remove skin and seeds. Add the ingredients and boil twenty minutes, or till a little thicket than cream, bottle.—Womankind.