Democratic Press, Volume 2, Number 57, Decatur, Adams County, 14 November 1895 — Page 7

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j| ’f' • ' » ” CHAPTER XV. Colonel Prinm-p wa« paying one of hit turns! visits round the regimental institntions on th* following morning when looking in at the library, he aaw n mini stretched on one of the benches fast asleep. Stepping forward, ho saw, as he shook him somewhat roughly by the arm. the triple chevron upon his sleeve; and as the man thus suddenly roused stumbled clumsily on to his feet, the Colonel identified him as Sergeant Lynn. His whole appearance showed without doubt that he was recovering from a fit of drunkenness, perhaps of some duration. The Colonel gnzisl at him sternly, ns, having recognized his commanding offi cer, he saluted, and stood shamefacedly before him. "Sergeant Lynn, it seems that the reports of your intemperance which reached me were not unfounded. Hud you been wanted for duty last night you would have been found incapable.” The Sergeant's head dropped still lower. "Yes, sir, I did take more than I ought. I can't help it. Things have been against me lately, anil I am driven to drink at times." “What do you mean? I'p to now I have promoted you as far us was in my power.” “Promotion!" repented Lynn, with nn Imbecile laugh. "What good is promotion to me unless you could give me a commission'.' Ami even then I dare say she would not have me." “I should say not, if she snw you in your present condition. You don't mean to say that a woman is the cause of your drinking?" asked the Colonel, contemptuously. • “Cause enough.” he answered, doggedly. “Only three days ago she repeated her promise to marry me: ami last night I at the sergeants' mess it was common talk that the Adjutant was always at her house, and was said to be engaged to her." “You talk like a fool. Sergeant Lynn. I would advise yon to follow n steadier, more manly course, and not offer such childish reasons as a cause for ruining your whole career, ami for the present. Sergeant Lynn. 1 withhold my permission for you to marry.” he added, sharply. “Ah. sir, I thought it would come to that when you knew whom I was asking for!" said the Sergeant, with a rebellious look. “I don’t know whom you want to marry, nor do I care." And the Colonel, now seriously displeased, turned to leave the library. “I beg your pardon, sir. It is the Quartermaster’s daughter.” “What Quartermaster's daughter?” cried the Colonel, in a voice of thunder. “Jane Knox, sir.” At this familiar mention of the name borne by the girl he loved, Stephen Prinsep only refrained by an effort from revenging the insult with a blow. The recollection that he was Colonel and this braggart a sergeant in his regiment kept the impulse in subjection. He was close to his own gates now; and before he turned into the carriagedrive he heard a noise behind him, and turning mechanically, he saw it was the Quartermaster riding after him. “I wanted to speak to you, sir,” he announced a little breathlessly, as he trotted up. The Colonel started. Could it be that he was to hear tin solution of this mystery now? Not urgent—not on a military matter, or what should prevent its being discussed in the orderly-room? Only one conclusion remained—it must be on some private affair, and just then all private affairs seemed to the Colonel to point to Jane. “Come in and have a peg,” he said, somewhat shortly, and cantered on toward the bungalow. After a hasty draught of iced water, Colonel Prinsep had thrown himself back in an easy chair, and sat waiting for the Quartermaster to speak again. He wanted to hear what he had to say, yet, afraid of appearing inconsistent, hesitated to ask outright. “What is this affair of which you wished to speak to me, Knox?” the Colonel asked abruptly. “It is nothing of actual importance, sir, yet I think you ought to bear it first from us. Jenny thought so " “Miss Knox thought I ought to know?” “Yes; she said you would have reason to be offended if Sergeant Lynn spoke to you on the subject first.” “Out with it, man. What is this mighty matter?” cried the Colonel, sharply, as he leaned forward in his chair as though to forestall the answer. This suspense was horrible. Yet the denouement might be worse. “You s<“ she is engaged to him.” “Then it it U?lf ?" "Yes, it is “Good heavens, t is sacrilege!” ejaculated Colonel Prinsep, fiercely. The Quartermaster passed his fingers through his hair in lonvi bewilderment. His eyes followed the Colonel as he Impatiently paced the room, and he was still pondering a reply when bis commanding officer spoke agin. “You must stop it Knox; you must stop It on any plea," he declare], earnestly. A new discovery broke Suddenly upon the Quartermaster. This agitation of the Colonel, coupled with the indisposition he had pleaded a short time before, could only point to the one conclusion, and he would not have been human had he not felt gratified at the knowledge that his daughter had won the love of » ich a man as Stephen Prinsep, independi nt of his rank and station. For a moinetC he even regretted that she had already btund herself, and then felt a little shatyj) at the worldliness of his ideas, which gave a certain stiffness to his reply. “1 have already given my consent, and

I honor my daughter for her faithfulnesa." “And,” continued the Colonel, “la Sergeant Lynn -mind. I «»y nothing against him; you are probably a better judge of his character than I—but, 1 repeat, is lie the sort of husband you would have chosen for your daughter?” “I have promised,” stammered the Quartermaster, after a few momenta' retion. The Colonel then shook hands with his visitor ns he Warted to go, nnd even accompanied him to the door of the bungalow; but bo heaved an audible sigh of relief as he was lost to sight. Ho went back into his sitting-room, and laying his arms upon the table, rested his head upon them. All his plans for the future were frustrah-d—all his hopes quenched, and in such a manner thatfeeling no doubt as to the issue—a keener pang was added to his sufferings. CHAPTER XVI. The Quartermaster went home at a smart trot, full of the discovery that he had made. Directly he entered the room where Mrs. Knox was seated, as usual, before her sewing machine, she divined that ho had something to tell her, and attacked him at once with a question as to where ho had been. I le hesitated for a moment, feeling the full importance of the revelation he had I to make. “I have been to see the Colonel,” he answered, slowly. "What about?" "I went,” continued her husband, in ! the same slow, impressive tones—“l went to tell the Colonel of Jane's engagement to Jacob I.yan.” “What on earth possessed you, John, ! to take such a senseless step?" she exclaimed, in her astonishment, forgetting to be angry. And then, as he remained | silent, she went on: "Besides, I am by no means certain that that engagement , still holds good. Jane fans never even I mentioned his name since her return from Cawnpore, and I think there is ' every reason to hope she repents her first I thoughtless promise.” "No, no, wife, you are quite mistaken,” he answered, kindly, feeling sorry for her ; disappointment, and understanding how ! it would vex her the more when she heard all the truth. “Jenny has seen the Sergeant again and renewed her promise; it i was by her request I went and told the Colonel.” “Without consulting me?” she gasped out, when she had recovered herself sufficiently to speak. But when the Quartermaster once asserted himself he was not easily put down, even by his wife. “I had made up my mind to do as the child wished me, wife, and so it would have been a useless discussion. You would have contested the point, of course, but I bad made up my mind.” “And now the whole affair will become public,” she complained, bitterly. “Not necessarily. The Colonel himself advised that we should keep it quiet as long as possible.” “Was he against it?” she asked quickly, in a voice that agitation had made more than unusually sharp. “Yes, he was decidedly against it.” “Why—tell me why, John?” “I don’t think you will believe me when I do tell you." “Why—why?” she repeated. “Because he is himself in love with our Jane.” Had a thunderbolt fallen at her feet she could not have been more surprised. “Does she know?" was her first question. “I don’t suppose she does,” answered the simple-minded Quartermaster, “for I think, if he had anything to say to her, he would have told me when we were on the subject.” “You ought to insist upon her being sensible in so important a matter,” said Mrs. Knox, eagerly. "If you can't manage her, Mary, how should I?” smiling. “Besides, I think she is right to hold to her word, though I know she might do better.” “Better! Why, it would be a brilliant match, John." “You go too fast, wife—too fast. It is not to be supposed that, because the Colonel is in love with Jane, he is therefore prepared to ask her hand in marriage. No, no; he’ll go away for a few months, and when he comes back will have forgotten all about it. Even had she been free I don't suppose he would have contemplated such an act. A man like our Colonel is justified in looking high for his wife.” “He would never get a lovelier wife than Jane, nor one truer or sweeter.” “How inconsistent women are! Just now you were complaining of her truth, and now you praise her for it.” “It is possible to carry a thing to excess; then truth becomes obstinacy,” returned Mrs. Knox. When, a little after five o’clock, she saw Colonel Prinsep coming up the drive, she resolved to do her best to persuade him to range himself actively upon her side. “My husband was with you this morning,” she began. “Yes, he came to see me, and talked over some affairs.” "And I wish to speak to you also, Colonel Prinsep.” “I shall be very glad to hear what you have to say, and to help you if I can.” “You can help if you will,” meaningly. "I would rather you doubted my power than my anxiety to oblige,” he returned, smiling. “It is about my daughter. Colonel.” , "About Miss Knox?” he repeated, as she hesitated. Then she went on, with emotion. “You know all I said to you the other day about Sergeant Lynn. Well, I say it all still, but with greater warmth and with more hope of a favorable reply, for now I can confess what you already know —that I am pleading for my daughter.” “I wonder I did not guess it then,” he remarked, gravely. “But you know it now, and mu will

llstee to r mother's prnyer; you wifi ssn her frotisthis horrible fate?" "I save her I?" "Who else? It Is only you who bars the power. In the rogln®iit you are a king, nnd no one will question what >•<•>« eoiiiniiiiid. You have only to wild him to Englnud—anywhere out of Janc'i way." "You give me credit for a despotic sway, nnd tlint Ido not hold. She would niiswcr, with jinnee, that I had M right to Interfere. However,” he added, quickly, as Mrs. Knox's countenance fell. "I will do what I can. Khali 1 go to het now?" She led the wny to the house and Into the drawing-room, where, In the center of the room, Jane stood, ns though expecting his arrival. Her bend wns erect; but the little hands were tightly cfenebed; nnd there was an expression of deflanct In her whole attitude that augured badly for the success of his mission. "Jane, Colonel Prinsep has come to speak to you, at my express wish nnd with my permission. 1 hope you will givs every attention to what lie has to any," said Mrs. Knox in her most didactic manner. nnd left the two together. He looked at her sadly, gravely: nnd for nwhllc she returned his gaze with one ot | equal power-then gradually un over- | whelming sense of shame caused her to turn away her face, blushing. "What ia it you wish me to do?" ahs asked. "I wish you to break that unconsidcred j promise," he replied, firmly. She turned on him fiercely, her pretty ' figure drawn to its full height, and the golden light in her hazel eyes, which always came there from excitement. "And that is your advice? I wonder women are ever honorable ami true, for ; everything seems to combine to make I them neither. A woman's promise is ' made to be broken. A man's honor is in- ! violnlde. “Granted—all granted," he returned, his quietness contrasting strangely with the force of her indignation. “Yet I re- I peat my request. It is easier to regret a ( broken promise than a ruined life.” "And if his—Jacob Lynn's—life should be ruined, his trust in all things shaken by my unfaithfulness, is it nothing?” “We, your friends, naturally think first of you.” "The greater reason that I should think of him, to whom I owe loyalty and truth," she said, with dignity. "And you will not think of us—of your : father—of your mother, who is distressed at your decision; of—of me?" “Pardon me,” she returned, proudly, i “In this case only two are concerned, | myself and my betrothed. There is only ! one point under discussion: whether I keep my word or break it.” He leaned forward eagerly, and would ■ have taken her hands, only she held them stiffly beyond his reach. “And —and ?” he questioned, his usually sweet tones sharpened by suspense. “I will keep it,” she decided, firmly. Moving a little further away at once, he accepted her decision. (To be continued.) He Got It. A graphic incident In the life of a spoiled child is well told by a writer In an exchange: Among the passengers on the St. Louis train recently was a woman accompanied by a nurse girl and a boy ' of about 3 years. The boy aroused the Indignation of the passengers by his continued shrieks and kicks and screams and viciousness toward the patient nurse. Whenever the nurse manifested any sharpness the mother chided her lyFinally the mother composed herself for a nap, and about the time the boy had slapped the nurse for the fiftieth time a wasp came sailing and flew on the window of the nurse’s seat The boy at once tried to catch It. The nurse caught his hand and said, coaxlngly, “Harry musn't touch. Bug will bite Harry." Harry screamed savagely, and began to kick and pound the nurse. The mother, without opening her eyes or lifting her head, cned out sharply: “Why will you tease that child so, Mary? Let him have what he wants at once.” “But. ma'am, it's a—” “Let him have it, I say.” Thus encouraged. Harry clutched at the wasp-and caught It. The yell that followed brought tears of joy to the passengers. The mother awoke again. “Mary!” she cried, "let him have It!” Mary turned In her seat and said demurely, “He’s got it, ma’am!” Accustomed to Snakes. “A curious thing about snake stories," said a gentleman who had Just returned from his vacation, “Is that people with whom the reptiles are a common sight take very little stock In them.” “I have just returned from Massachusetts, where I put In a week on a farm situated near tho Berkshire hills. The next farm to us was right on a mountain side, where there were dozens of huge rattlesnakes that had a habit of sunning themselves tn the roadway—big fellows, too, they were. “The old fellow that owned that farm would read snake stories about marvelous reptiles in Georgia and Pennsylvania, and say ‘Gosh! them was hummers!’ Then he would go out to mow on the mountain side and kill two or three big rattlesnakes before he had gotten half way over the field. I saw him kill one on one occasion that had six rattles and a button, and he had a very narrow escape from being bitten. I congratulated him on his escape, nnd he answered: 'Mister, I have been killing rattlers ever since I was a boy, but this Is a poor place for snakes. They never do the tricks here they do In Texas and out West.’ “He didn’t mind the snakes, he said, Mit I did, and I cut my visit short on their account. I prefer to see my snakes at the Zoo."—Philadelphia Call. Hns Exported tho Guillotine. France has exported the guillotine. In the French settlement of Chandernagore In India an execution has been performed with a guillotine sent from Paris. The east has traditional horrors of its own, but the guillotine Is a for mldable rival.

TIMELY FAM TOPICS. MANAGEMENT OF THE FARM, GARDEN AMD STABLE. A Combined Granary and Corn Crib— Hoarding Furin Help Annoy* the Wife To Prepare Next Year's Gorden A Fence for Know Drift*. An Iniportunt Farm lliiildinit. A lining the buildings needful to the former mid yet of which there are comIMratlvely few lu existence are those for storing grain. The chief reason why more of these are not Unlit seems to be that frequently the amount of grain raised Is not sufficient to Justify much of mi outlay for this purjiose, ns the corn crop can be stored In cheaper cribs. A building which can be used both as a corn crib and for the storage of small grain should do away with this objection. In our Illustration wo present a substantial etruetttro which, if properly erected, will answer n number j of purposes. The unusual irise of the IK»S corn cr<q> means that something | must be done for its shelter and the almvo plan Is aubmlttisl to the careful | consideration of corn growers, it may j be enlarged or elongated as needed. The building consists of two long crllis or blns with a wide driveway beI A GBAXABY AXI* COBN CRIB. tween them. The width is ’Jt’> feet, I which Is very convenient, as It allows a wMth of 8 feet for each bln and 10 , feet for the driveway. The length, of course, may vary according to the means ami needs of the builder, the one shown In the Illustration being 32 feet long. The height of the corner posts should be from 10 to 12 feet, depending 1 somewhat upon whether it is desired I to use the space above the blns and ‘ driveway for storing implements, etc. In order that the building may be I used for storing wheat mid oats as well as coni. It Is sided as tightly as mny tie with ordinary 12-inch siding. However, the sides of the bins next to the driveway instead of being made tight are simply fixed for holding ear corn, being sided with 4-lnch strips nailed on the outside of the studding. The strips are placed several Inches apart. Several narrow doorways lead from each bln to the driveway. The driveway is closed with large double sliding-doors. Good strong bridges lead up to the doors so that a loaded wagon can be drawn In without difficulty. The building Is roofed with shingles.—Farm and Home. Hoarder* on the Farm. I was reading an article not long I Since U|mhi "Farmers should provide separate cottages for their hired men,” which, I think, deserves more than a passing thought. The writer said: "Do merchants generally board their clerks? Do manufacturers usually impose upon their wives and daughters tlie necessity of furnishing meals and beds for their begrimed and sweaty laborers from forge and loom, of serving them at table with their food and sharing their company at the fireside? Why should the wives and daughters jf farmers be expected to do this? And so long as such a burden is laid upon them, is It strange that farmers’ sons rebel against their lot and seek the city, and formers' daughters set their caps for clerks, mechanics, tailors, speculators—anybody but their schoolmates? The Introduction of hired men into the household destroys the family relation. The farmhouse liecomes a boarding house, in which the husband is steward, the wife cook and the workmen boarders. The employed become the served, and the employers servants. No well-bred woman can tolerate such a condition of things unless her ambition is crushed.” Water for the Stock. If possible, there should be a plentiful supply of water for winter. The nearer to the barn this can be located the better it will be. Whether it shall be In the stables will best be determined by the owner. Since the tuberculosis, It Is thought by many to be safer and better to have It outside the stables. But, If out of doors, it should be well protected from the weather. The stock should have as comfortable a place iu which to drink in inclement weather as it Is possible to furnish. Whether water shall be warmed artificially will depend on circumstances. If there is a good stream of water that does not freeze, there will be little necessity for warming, but if the supply is so small that it cannot otherwise be kept from freezing in ordinarily cold weather, then it will be found profitable to warm It. Filling in Ditches and Holes. Deep ditches and holes caused by grading and excavating for other purposes are common on both sides of many country roads. Years ago deep ditches were necessary to carry off surplus water. With the common use of tile these are now superfluous, and should be leveled ns much ns possible, so that the roadside can be mowed readily with a machine. In n few Instances It mny be best to leave a shallow ditch, but have its sides slope gradually. Seed all the roadsides to grass. They will they have to be cut but once each season, and will yield considerable hay, Instead of being a hotbed for weed seed production. Buckwheat to Clean Land. There are several reasons why the buckwheat crop is a good one to destroy weeds. It requires plowing and fitting the land N* midsummer, when weeds

ar<> most easily killed by plowing. It grows so rapidly that It very quickly covers the surface soil, shading It so that few weeds can start under Its broad leaves. It is equally good to rid hind of Insis-t enemies. Wire nnd cut worms find Its roots distasteful to them, nnd for land that Is filled with tho wire worm two crops of buckwheat will rid It of most of them. Yet for nil this buck wheat Is not it popular crop with neat formers. Its habit of seeding tho ground with buckwheat, which will tip|H*nr In the next grain crop, innkos It n troublesome weed, though as It Is only an annual one year suffices to got rid of It. Danger* of Inbreeding. There are some poultry keepers who Inbreed their flocks from year to year, nnd say It Is not Injurious. Why should it not be dangerous In fowls when It Is In the human nice and In stock of nil kinds? Why Is it that a new breed generally claims that It Is unusually hardy? Is It not from the fact that new blood has been Infused to make it ? Are not new breeds the results of experiments In crossing? And Is not crossing the uniting of two distinct bloods? All these matter need serious consideration, says Fann Poultry. Ami when wo are told by men who have made the matter a study that inbreeding Is n constitutional danger, Is it not time to be on the lookout? If we breed from strictly hardy parents, nnd If we change blood In the males every year or two, we can get up a strain of fowls that will replace the stock we so often get from the yards of the noted fanciers. We are becoming better acquainted with this fact each season. Next Year's Garden. It doos not pay to wait until spring to begin the garden. The manuring and much of the fitting of the soil can Is* beat done In the fall. If coarse manure is used plow the garden and apply the manure after plowing on the surface. If warm weather follows heavy rains plow the garden a second time and turn the manure under. Thia will Insure a more thorough pulverization of the soil by frost, the coarse manure at the bottom of the furrow holding the soil up so that the frost can get Into it more effectively. Towards spring an application of commercial fertilizers mixed with the surface soil will tit it for producing any garden crop. Ground Wheat for Cows. Ground wheat for cows Is not a judicious ration. The ex;>erlenee of the best feeders in the central West, confirmed by tests at the Illinois experiment station. shows that better results are obtained from feeding bran and middlings than from the pure wheat. Even with the most careful of feeders, the animal Is very apt to be overfed and turned against the pure wheat feed. Appetite for a pure wheat ration varies to such an extent that it is almost impossible to fix a stated amount of feed that an animal will eat and relish every day. If it must lie fed. give the cow ouly what she will eat up clean. Fence* that Cause Snowdrifts. Many of the snowdrifts that give trouble in winter are caused by fences whose presence Is necessary at other seasons of the year, laying a short section of such fences down lu winter Is possible by using some such construction as Is shown In the accompanying illustration. A prop on either side of such a fence, tacki-d to the upright, will hold the piece of fence In position durj "/ly --- — CAN BE LAID FLAT. Ing the summer. When the snow conies these props can be taken away and the fence laid fiat on the ground. Hundreds of dollars are spent every winter cutting roads through drifts that are caused solely by a few rods of fence that catches and holds the drifting snow, while many paths about the form house and yard require much extra labor In winter because of some piece of fence that might be thus laid flat. Sour Apple* and Corn. Hogs that are fattem-d should not have sour apples, unless they have first been cooked. This is especially true of hogs that are fed corn in the ear. The acid In the fruit makes the hogs’ mouths tender, and biting off the corn maki>s them sore, so that they eat with difficulty. We have seen hogs fed tiius that actually grew poorer with food before them all the time. Sour apples are not easily digestible, and they with corn help to produce add stomachs, which Increases the trouble with the hogs’ mouths. Save the Small Potatoes. Although potatoi-s are now nnd are likely to be very chi-ap, It will pay to save the small ones to cook and feed to pigs in the winter mixed with other roots and some grain meal. This will make a more rapid and healthful growth than will n diet of grain alone, (looked potatoes are also a good food for poultry In winter, though it will need wheat or cut bone to make a ration for egg production. Tlnf potato has Its nutritive value chiefly In making heat and fat, as It is mainly composed of carbon. Feeding Stecru. Tlie Ohio station says that, the same amount of dry matter fed to steers hqs produced about three times as much live weight ss it produced butter fat when fed to cows in tlie same quantity and kind. Thus, when a pound of butter fat is worth three times ns much as a pound of live meat, the profits are about equal, not counting the cost of butt'L

< /' Cream Fuff*. Put one cup of water In a snu<'<-|>au over the tire. When It bolls, add to It one-half of n cup of butter nnd stir until it illssolves. Then stir In <>n« ami one-half cups of pastry flour, atlrring constantly while cooking, until It In smooth and forms a bull, leaving tho sides of the pan. Take from tho fire ami put away to cool. When cool, add one* half teasiioonful of salt and six eggs, unbeaten, one at a time. Add an egg, beat It Into the paste until It diaap* pears, then add another, and so on. until the six are In. Drop by the tables spoonful <>n a button'd baklng-pan, forming little cakes some distance apart Bake twenty minutes In a quick oven, or until they have puffed, are a delicate brown, and are light when picked up. To test the puffs, lift one from the i«n. and If it is very light, it Is done; jf heavy, even though it la browmsl, it is still unbaked. The lightneos Is given by the boating in of tho eggs thoroughly, nnd also by tho niceHess of the baking. When done and coob make nn opening In the side will* a sharp knife and fill. A Ventilating LidHere Is one of the best and moat convenient little inventions that we have seen In a long rime, it Is a ventilating lid for jugs, milk pans and other vessels, and while It allows the contents of . the vessel to have all the needed air. It effectually keeps out files and other Insects. Flies, particularly, should be kept away from all food. They have Ixs-n Zo/ i ---J, 'v THE VENTILATING LII>. known to carry germs of disease on their feet, and no one is safe from tho possible barm that they may do. This lid will bar their entrance effectually. For greater convenience in using tho device a smaller lid Is provid<*d in tho center, by raising which milk or any other fluid may be poured into the vessei. Bread as a Keuntitlcr. Bread as the staff of life Is a familiar enough Idea, but bread as a means of beauty has never received enough consideration. It is a subject which the persistent and consistent seeker after good looks will study. Observation and physiological research will show her fine wheat bread means a pasty or even a rough complexion, that pimples follow In the wake of hot bread, and tpat smooth, rosy skins belong to those who eat a coarse, whole-grained cold bread. For the latter are best for the digestion, and good complexions accompany only good digestions. Potato Ris«ote«. Nicely boil some mealy potatoes, drain the water from them, and set them by the tire to dry. Mash them tine with a silver fork tn a clean stew pan with a. seasoning of salt, pepper and a piece of fresh butter, stir the mash over the tire for a few minutes, and then turn It out on a dish. When eis»l roll it out Into small balls, egg and bread crumb them, and fry a light brown in hot lard or beef dripping. Drain and serve on a napkin. Steak Stewed in a Plain Way. Fry the steaks In bntter a good brown, then put them into a stewpan with half a pint of water, one onion sliced, a tablcspoonful of walnut catsup, a little caper liquor, pepper and salt. Cover the pan close and let them stew slowly. Thicken the gravy with a piece of butter rolled In flour, and serve them on a hot dish. Brief Hints. Bathe your eyes frequently in weak alum water If they are weakened by close work, such ns painting, embroidery or reading. Cook a peeltsl white onion in tho game pot with your mushrooms, nnd If they do not turn black you may eat them with a feeling of tolerable security. Vinegar and yeast should never tx» kept In stone Jars, for there is an add in them which attacks the glazing, nnd mixing with It has a poisoning property. In cleaning Japanned goods never use hot water. Wet a cloth slightly In warm water and rub the article to be donned. Should any smear appear, sprinkle with flour and wipe dry. In roasting, the time allowed In cook books, usually a quarter of an hour to a pound, must be reckoned from the moment the meat begins to cook, and not from the time It is put into the oven, and even with this precaution a little extra time should be allowed unless the meat is required underdone. Do not use Jelly glasses with tin covers. for tho Jelly will be almost sure to spoil, altough occasionally some one uses them with success. The old-fash-ioned way of placing a piece of tissue paper over with jelly, cut tho size of the receptacle, then scaling with letter or wrappino-aper* will prevent spoiling.