Democratic Press, Volume 2, Number 75, Decatur, Adams County, 19 March 1896 — Page 7

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I W-'•■' ■ w ,?: w ; -> ■ • W - ■ CHAPTER XLIV. IM ....„, » ~ . i;t< r*’d the anteroom he gay* IM look round, and, apparently K J,- the person he wanted. s«t down K < took up a paper to wait bin arrival. „ .elite twenty minutes Inter that Larron came in and took up In* '"leather with a vengeance." Humbled, a* he rubbed hi* ban. J*. If on f.r another week we shall be K. ear plum puddings and iiiinccKm without feeling the incongruity of Kw' — nd was quite white with frost K. morning.” said Valentine Graeme. K\ young subaltern looked up eagerlj. Kl'e was just out from England, ami hinKe found SO much unlike what he had K! n i.d to expect. W»n to wonder Kether he had also 1 advised wrong ■■ t 0 leave bit skates at home. Kvilentine. reading his unspoken ■thoughts, laughed aloud. ■ ••V. no De Vere. Put that out of ■ t ,.. h.a.i’at once. The iee is not likely Ko bear; though, by Jove, it helps us to | ■bear the hot weather.” 1 ■ -If lt helped us to bear your bad Jokes ■with equanimity, it might be of even m >re ; ■aerrie.-” said Larron. grimly. | "It should help you to take even them ' ■eoolly.” was the quick retort. Colonel ■ prinsep broke into the idle chat. ■ "Will it be taxing yonr memory too ■ ■ wrerelv. Larron," lie said, putting down ■ his paper, "if I ask you to let me know ■ in-, recollection# you may have of the ■ seventh of November? ... H "The seventh of November, cried >rre■pmsible Vai. "Why. that was the day j ■ tssir Lynn wns murdered." ■ “Ah. yes. to be sure I Thank you for | ■ nninding me. Graeme. It was the day lof poor Lynn’s murder. Colonel." H Major Larron spoke carelessly enough, ■ and stroked his dark mustache with a ■ swagger that seemed like consummate ' ease to the admiring subalterns, but not ! to hia interlocutor. “It was a more personal remembrance l I that I wished for,” the Colonel went on. 1 “Do you happen to remember that you and I were on the rifle range that day I from one o'clock till after four i \ “I have the worst memory in the world," was the shy reply; looking, how- , ever, studiously in the opposite direction. [ "I am afraid I must ask you to exert it in this case,” said the Colonel, firmly. "Though the matter in itself is triviak.to me it is of importance; and I think with emphasis—"you can scarcely fail to 1 remember that you were with me, that . I day, acting as umpire in a match with the < Bengal Cavalry.” i “I may have been.” “You were.” emphatically declared t nicotine. “It was I who met you both with the news about Lynn.” Hitherto this fact hnd escaped the memory of all three. Now it recurred to them. "Oh. yes, of course! Now I recollect the circumstance perfectly,” said Larron, quickly. "Then I am sure you will not object to put it down in black and white lest yon should forget again. It is to settle some doubt that ought never to have arisen. Ah, thank you. Valentine,” as the Adjutant handed him a paper on which, unasked, he had jotted down some memoranda. Then he handed it to Major Larron. who hastily scrawled his name in attestation. "Is that all you require?” he asked, rather defiantly. "Yes, that is ail. I had no idea yon had such a bad memory, Larron.” The Colonel spoke with an accent of 1 sympathy thnt deceived all his hearers, except him to whom it was addressed. In his case conscious guilt caused him tn instantly detect the satire. IN hen Colonel Prinsep took up his hat, and, thrusting the paper into an inner pocket, went out, he followed him into the veranda. "Yon don’t think. Colonel, thnt I intentionally suppressed nny knowledge I possessed?” he asked, doggedly. “Qui s'excuse s'accuse. When I tax yon with having behaved dishonorably toward mo, it will be time enough to defend yourself.” Colonel Prinsep left and walked on quickly in the direction of Jha Cutchery. At nny other time he would have felt unmitigated disgust at Major Larron’s perfidy; but now his mind wns so engrossed with other more important matters that he could even smile at the discomfiture which his evident knowledge of the truth hnd caused. When he reached the Cutchery, ho wns told that the "burra sahib” was engaged, but would be nt leisure presently. Then almost immediately a second messenger came to admit him to the Commissioner's presence. When he entered he snw nt once thnt his advent was embarrassing as well ns unwelcome. Mr. Knollys looked flurried and hot, beyond the heat for which the huge lire thnt was burning beside him could account. "I have come," said the Colonel, nfter a eold bow hnd been accorded to him nnd returned with politeness, "to discuss with you some private information I have received from Calcutta. It appears that, in consequence of an inquirv that is to be made again as to Troope. Lynn's death, nil leave in the regiment is stopped. Now this is so grave an aspersion upon myself and brother officers that you will understand thnt I came to you at once to put the matter on a proper footing.” "Excuse me, sir,” broke in the Deputy Commissioner, angrily, “if I decline to receive any communication from you, save in tin official form.” “That you have the power to do so 1 freely admit, but surely in this case, considering the friendship that has always «xiate<’ * >,en yourself and us ’’

•ar. v i “Pardon me ngnln,” returned Mr. Knollys. with a pompous air of regret, not fur removed from real dignity, “if, since certain facts have come to my knowledge, 1 disassociate you in my mind entirely from a regiment thnt In every other ease I have had reason to resiicet ns well us like." “What those facts are 1 have learned from Mias Knox,” mu the quiet reply. The Deputy Commissioner looked ns startled as he felt. A tete-a-tete with a murderer in any case was unpleasant, but w hen, to add to thi , the murderer was aware of hi* companion's suspicions —perhaps, too, that he wns the only person that held them—the position grew positively dangerous. “It is to question you as to those facts 1 am here," continued the Colonel. “It is quite illegal- against all etiquette," stammered the Commissioner, in return. “Granted. Still I don't thiuk you will refuse to let me know whut case you have against me. and allow me to prove myself innocent if 1 can”—with a half smile. “But you cannot!" was the violent retort, the speaker losing his magisterial I demeanor in the exasperation he felt nt the audacious composure of the other, i “Who else had any motive for committing such u crime? You were in love | with Miss Knox; she was first engaged to the deceased, and afterward, when that j eiytagemctit wns broken, she refused to marry you while he lived. Sho complained to you of the persecution to which i she was subjected by him. and almost im- , mediately the fieraeeution ceased; though not—heaven forbid!—a* she intended. All : this I have directly, or indirectly, learned, i nnd more still remains to be proved.” “The merest circumstantial evidence," remarked the Colonel, gently impatient. "Not a ease to bring into court, certainly; nnd it fall* to pieces at once before the defense that I have brought. Will yon oblige me, Mr. Knollys, by reading this?" He handed over the paper containing the statement that Valentine had drawn I out and Major Larron snbsequently signed. A little nervously the Deputy Commissioner fixed his glasses to peruse it. Au uneasy doubt crept into his mind wheth- ; er he had not been premature in his conclusions, or at least expressed them too I frankly. Then, when he had read it through, bis glasses fell, and he stared in speechless, open-mouthed dismay befors . him. “I can hardly credit that you ever really i believed me capable of such an act.” The Deputy Commissioner looked the t picture of contrition nnd confusion. "Forgive me. Colonel Prinsep. I cani not express my regret,” he faltered out “Do not attempt it, please. Let it be forgotten. I shall never revive the mat- ! ter, and you can atone for your mistake 1 by maintaining a similar silence." Then Colonel Prinsep repaired to the 1 Quartermaster's bungalow. He asked to see Mr. Knox himself, and was closeted with him for more than an hour. When he eatne out, Jane was waiting in the veranda. "It is all right. I can see it in your eyes!" she cried, coming eagerly toward him. “Whnt n wise little girl it is! Yes. I think the danger is over now. But there is one thing you may not like. Y’our father is sending in his papers, and will go homo at oboe. It wns impossible that he could remain in the regiment. You see that, don't you?” Jane nodded comprehensively, but her countenance fell. Even when they had been going for a year she felt a dread foreboding that they might never meet again; but now thnt this eternal sepnration wns certain—did he feel not a tinge of regret? She stole n hurried upward glance. He was looking grave, yet not absolutely snd; ns their eyes met he even gave a slow smile. If he felt no sorrow in saying farewell, she must not betray her own. “It is best so, I suppose," she observed. “It was’the only thing that could be done,” he insisted, gently. Then, nfter a slight pause, he added: "I am spending Christmas at the Molnets’ with Mrs. Dene. Have you any message I can take?” “None. I thank you.” The Colonel was looking down at her steadily; and as he gazed, an expression of restrained yearning came into his eyes. Yet he made no sign. Sweet ns it would have been to whisper words in her ear that would have cleared away the sadness from the pretty, pathetic fpee, ho dared not risk anything by a premature eclaircissemcnt. Better far thnt she should sutler something now for awhile than condemn them both to life-long misery. “Good-by, Jenny,” he said, gently. A bright flush suffused her face. She raised her eyes shyly, nnd half laughed, more in tenderness than mirth. Whnt a frail barrier it was between them, nfter all. CHAPTER XLV. Christmas came nnd went. To Jnne the festivities seemed the dreariest that had ever been. They had several invitations—for, whatever people might say or think, they could not be less than civil to them, seeing that both Mrs. Done and Miss Knollys retained their friendship—but these had been declined on the plea of Mr. Knox's illness. But the Quartermaster was more like himself since he hnd spoken with the Colonel. And, during these disntnl days at Christmas, June had fulfilled her promise. She asked her mother to toll the whole story of the intercepted letters, or rather, all of it that was connected with Stephen Prinsep. "He was not to blame nt all!” declared Mrs. Knox, stoutly. "Yet he knew that Jacob Lynn had not really given me up.” "Not until about two days before that fixed for your wedding. 1 hud heard the detachment was to march in, and, afraid that they might arrive too soon, I confessed to him what 1 had done!” "And he let the deceit continue." “Thnt he did so was my fault. His first impulse was to go to you and tell rou *11:

but I Implored him not to betray me and apoll your happiness as well a* hia awn. 1 don't think that even then he would hnvn consented to remain silent-for hs knew how obstinate you wen l , and that you would never listen to reason—only that you yourself rame and called him. Yon lookisl so pretty and loving, Jennyj us you stood outside the window, 1 did not Wonder ho could not give you up." Janu did not answer. Sho was won during whether it was not her own ob> stinney, at first, which sho hnd hitherto dignified by the uuiuv of firmness, tluit hud really Ihh-ii to blamo for ull that hud subsequently occurred. Ah, well, if it were so, she was sufficiently puulshetll There would Ih> no more efforts to try to make her change her mind. Her firmnee* was no longer doubted. <ln tills sho could congratulate herself; but, oh, what a barren honor it was! So the days dragged on those last days which are most difficult to live through, when, all arrangement* having been mud", and nothing left to do to occupy the Im mln at least, if not the mind, it only remains to wait patiently the motneiit of departure. Only four duy* remained when Stepher Prinsep rode up to the Quartermaster's bungalow, and nu-eting Mrs. Knox, was allowed to go in alone to find June. Ho opened the door quietly, and stood upon the threshold. There she was, leaning against the window-frame, her face pre*aed against the glass, a* she looked along the road. Waa sho looking for him? He hud taken another road, so it hapitened that she did not see him come. Tlie light shining through the Window showed dearly the slender outline of her drooping figure, and made her dark-blue serge assume a richer hue for the time. Her hair gleamed like gold in the strong light, but it seemed as though nothing could give brightness to the sweet, pals faro, the tired'eyea, so languidly uprahwd. Nothing? That remained to be seen. He came forward quietly, so quietly that, still as everything wns in the room, she never heard bis footsteps. He had risked his al! on this chance of taking het by surprise— would he fail? Hope, doubt, nnd despair chased each other through his bruin as he stood with arms atretchef forward. “Jenny! My love!” She turned and saw him. A quick gleam came into the hazel eyes, a warm flush made more beautiful the lovely, sorrowful face. She forgot everything save that he loved her, nnd was here, as with a glad low cry she threw herself weeping Into his arms. When, the first happy oblivion over, she tried to draw herself away again, she found it was too late. He held her fust. “Do you think I shall ever let you escape me again?" he asked, with atrium. pliant, tender smile. "I thought you were not even coming to say ‘good-by,’ ” she sobbed, tearfully, a* though to excuse, or at least account sot her emotion. “Nor have I. Please heaven, I shall not say 'good-by' to you again, my daw ling.” She shook her head, yet could not restrain a happy smile at hi* masterful manner. "We start for England on Friday”-, disengaging herself from his embrace. “An unlucky day. Marry me to-mor-row instead!" he suggested, audaciously. “Have you forgotten?" she asked, reproachfully. “How could I marry you, when I should only bring disgrace?" “And happiness complete, and pridq unspeakable in the loveliest wife man ever had! Would all that count for noth ing?" The sweet flattery soothed her momcn, tary indignation. There was no shadow on her face as sho looked up to ask him shyly: "And you have loved meall the time?” The answer was so evidently satisfactory that his offense was condoned, and lie was allowed to unfold his plans iind subject them to her approval. Jane could only smile herjrianks, her feelings were too deep for words; yet th« lovely humid eyes told their own tale of gratitude and love. They could never misunderstand each other again. Presently Stephen Prinsep raised hci two white hands and looked at them critically. "You have the loveliest hands in the world, Jenny, and they certainly need nr adornment; but why is it you never wear a ring? That silver one ” "I lost the best part of that!” wa* ths quick reply. “I wonder if by any chance I found It? It was growing dark, but even through the gloom the golden hoop shone brightly as he drew it from his pocket. She recognized it at once, and bhishing beautifully, stretched out her hand to take it. But he held it high above her head. “Not yet, my love—not yet! It shall bo yours again very soon, never fear; but not now—not to-day—to-morrow!" (The end.) A MOUNTAIN COURTSHIP. Sudden nnd Successful Wooing Described by un Kyc-Witncss. "I was In what's known as the 'flag pond’ district of Unicoi County, Tennessee," said a traveling man to a Washington Star writer, “when a young man rode up in front of the eabin where I was stopping anil tqioke tn a girl who was dipping water from a spring. “ ‘Howdy, Sa!.' “ ‘Howdy. Tom.' “ ‘Come jump on the boss an’ go to Erwin with me.' “ ‘What fur?’ “ ‘Ter git married.’ “ ‘Butyo’ haln't done co’ted me ylt.’ “ ‘I know I haln't, but I’ve done been too postered with work. I alius Intended ter marry yer, though.' “ ‘But I haln't got no clo’s,’ remonstrated the girl. “ ‘Well, we'll Jess ride on yon side o Erwin to Sister Mag's in the cove, an' I'll git yer a dress.' “ ‘Sho'ly, Tom?’ “ ‘Sho'ly, Sal.’ “ ‘What kid' of a dross?' " ‘Best thar is in Lowe’s sto’.' "Not another word was said. Pa! dropped the bucket and Jumped on the horse, shouting to her mother: •• ‘Mam. me an' Tom Is going ter git married at Erwin. We’ll be by here 1:> the mornln'.' “The mother started as if to call her back, but the horse was galloping cown the lane, and she went and carried Io the bucket of water without comment No More Knouts. Punishment by the knout Is to Ik done away with in Kussia.

OUR RUBAL HEADERS. SOMETHING HERE THAT WILL INTEREST THEM. Merit* at the Kieffer l‘c»r—Adding an Incitieiislvo Greenhouse tu the Home—Wurm uml Well Ventilated Htiililca I'rovcnl Toberculoai*. The Kieffer Pear. Prolwldy no one variety of fruit hit* (Iveu risu to it* much discussion us to ts merit*, or wider dlvergcncle* of opinion u* to It* quality, ns the Kieffer jear, May* the Orange Judd Farmer. It ha* lieeu tlie subject of unstinted (raise, as well as the target for gen>rnl nbiiMe. The peur wus originated hy Mr, Peter Kieffer of Roxbury, near Philadelphia, mid Is a seedling of the worthless Chinese Band pear. Down!ug intimate* that it was accidentally crossed with the Anjou n thing within the possibilities. In Its favor, the following may be *ald: It is a most vigorous grower, nnd it lias a foliage thnt In unequnlh-d by any of our standard Varieties. It Im also an early n* well Its n prolific yloider. In a large part of the country the fruit will not grade high a* to quality. The npeclmen from which our illustration wns made was grown in Columbia County. New York. Growers are firmly of the opinion that their Kieffers arc much improved in quality when Bartletts are grown near them, so that the pollen from the Bnrti i II? J J \ / \ / Clloss SECTION. A ■ 1 —o , ietts can reach am! modify the Kieftaro. The fruit is large nnd moderately long, round, full in the middle, and tapering to Isitli ends. The skin is a deep, brilliant yellow, and such speelhiens as secure sunlight have a ruddy cheek. The stalk is stout nnd of moderate length, tlie calyx open in a medium, uneven basin. The flesh is white, n little coarse, and at its best very’ juicy and sprightly, with a decided quince flavor. It must bo carefully ripened in tiie dark to attain its best condition—ripening nt the north the last of October and early in November. Adding a Plant Room. If it were understood how easily, and it how little expense, n plant room enn lie added to an ordinary farm or village house, there would certainly be more of these useful nnd pleasure-glv- | Ing .adjuncts to country nnd suburban homes. The illustration gives a suggestion of a very neat and simple addition that will let in enough sunlight, even though the roof be of shingles instead of glnss, to keep plants growing thriftily all winter nnd to start a large 3| i If '3 frrf r.-' nw I’£ , h-rn- h *tt WJ i 4, i ’r>rf rtf" hm ’ of'! rffr r» ■-r prir INEXPENSIVE GREENHOUSE. assortment of plants for the kitchen garden, which will bring vegetables upon the table at least a month earlier than is now the ease. In cold climates the season for garden growth Is too short to give us the full benefit of fruits and vegetables. A sunny room like that figured here will very materially lengthen tlie season, and with a succession of plantings after the weather becomes warm, will make the garden a Joy throughout the whole summer. An oil stove may be used for heating; or a hot water pipe, or a liot air flue from the furnace or boiler, if one is used for heating the house, may bo carried Into the plant room. Build tight to keep the wind out, nnd heating will be a comparatively easy matter. Tuhercnloßls in Cows. In view of tlie Increasing prevalence of tuberculosis, farmers nnd others need to take f’speeini care that their cows are kept under good sanitary conditions. In this case prevention is, as usual, far better and cheaper thnn cure, says E. E. Koekwocd, In the New York Tribune. While actual Infection may not come from foul stables, they certainly have a tendency to weaken the constitutions of the animals kept tn them, thereby rendering them more Hable to disease. Fresh air and sunshine are two of the best preventives. This does not mean that cows should be turned out of doors every day and all day during winter, but that their stables should be well provided with windows, where, if possible, the sun

will shine directly on the animals for at least a portion of the time. The Mabie* should be warm and free from draughts, yet It is bettor for the haMltii of the cow* that they be turned out of them for a while each pleasant day to give them a chance to breathe the pure outside air. Close, utivelililated stnbl<*s are a motinre to the health of animate kept In them continually from fall to spring, ns Is the practlco of some dairymen with their cows, under the impression that they get more jnllk by so doing. Tills muy be. yet In the end I believe that they will l»e the gainer by giving the cows a moderate amount of exposure to the air, even in winter. Hettlni: the Hen*. The enrly broods of chicken* bring the most money. As the eggs are dully gathered, place them carefully In u basket, lined with soft cotton, and keep them in a moderately warm room, say about the temperature of fifty-five to sixty degrees. With u lead pencil mark the day of the month on them when laid. Eggs over a month old should not be set, though it Is often done. Before setting the liens, clean out the nests, then whitewash with hot wash, adding one pint of coal oil to a bucket of the wash. Have the bottom of nests well saturated with tlie wash. For making nests, sawdust. <>at or wheat chaff are excellent; sprinkle a little sulphur through the chaff first. Be sure the hen wants to set before giving her eggs; when hen is ready to set, place thirteen eggs in nest; if tlie lien is a large one, tlfteen eggs may be given her. Set three to five liens at a time, so tiiat chickens may tie given to two or three hens anil the other liens shut up for a few days, until they forget about their chickens. Then they may lie let out with the other hens; they will soon start Into laying. Mark on tlie Imx of each hen the day she was set and when she will liatcli. After the hen is set, take a l»ox and place It in the setting-room. Tills room should be kept especially for the Betting of hens; place fresh water and feed daily in room, and twice a week let the hens out to get fresii grass and exercise. The attendant must look after this business, if he hopes for suceess.—The American. Fertilizers for Peaches. Fertilizers for peach trees have been experimented with for eleven years on n farm well adapted for fruit, located on the trap-rock soil of Somerset County. New Jersey. The experiment station conclude* that it pays to manure peach orchards, because it extends the profitable bearing period of the trees. Fertilizers or stable manure containing all the elements of plant food—nitrogen, phosphoric acid and potash—were more useful than any one or two of these elements. Chemical fertilizers proved more profitable than barnyard manure. Mohh Ro»ch, Moss roses are very hardy, but few of them flower after June. Still one must have them for the exquisite beauty of the buds, which are at their best for Memorial Day. I confess to a fondness for the sweetbriar, with its unequaled fragrance and dainty pink single flowers. Equally beautiful, but lacking tlie perfume of the sweetbrier, are the wild roses of our Indiana roadsides. Potash nnd Bone for Fruit. Generally, it is safe to say that potash and teinc fertilizers are best adapted to fruits, and they are generally understood to lie more lasting in their effects than most other commercial fertilizers; tlie potash can most readily be procured and applied in tlie form of muriate of potash, says the Country Gentleman. Value of Scales on Farms. Scales <>u tlie farm soon pay for their use, as they enable the farmer to know whether his stock are gaining, and the kinds of food to use to make tlie greatest gain. Scales may be considered an absolute necessity if the system is to be practiced. Furm Notes. Oats nnd peas on tlie same plot together may be seeded early as a source for supplying the cows with green food later on, as the combination lias been tried with excellent results. Young goslings should not be permitted to go on ponds until they are well feathered, ns they are easily chilled when the water is cold. The same applies to ducklings, which are subject to cramps. Professor Roberts, of Cornell University, says there aro three implement* that should lie in every cow stable—tlie scales, the Babcock milk test and the shotgun. Oftentimes the profit of a herd of fifteen cows is being made by six. A clay soil containing lime in abundance is the best for apples, according to the experience of a prominent grower, and the apples from land that lias been limed have a better flavor, better color and better keeping than those grown on unlinied lands. The breed of cows you use should be one from which you can secure 300 pounds of butter per year from each cow. You may suppose such an amount of butter to be too large, but there are cows that have produced 1,000 pounds per year. They are few, it is true, but they nrfl examples of what can be done by the use of butter breeds. An average of 300 pounds of butter per year from each cow in a herd is not extraordinary. Many a dollar can lie saved and mueli hard work avoided by learning wliat ot her men a re doing in other places. The use of good papers, tlie rending of bulletins from experiment stations and the attendance of farmers’ iustltutes is to be recommended; also for young people. a term, or a year, or a course at an agricultural college where both theoretical and practical instruction is received by lectures and actual work uuder the direction of experts.

Hl" 'V'* Hvilahea. For a breakfast relish cut a veal cutlet luto pleees ulsiut two Inches square nnd season with salt and pepper. Dip first Into beaten egg* and then Into choppist mushrooms. I’ut two tablesiMMinfute of butter into u frying |mn, and when hot fry the cutlets until brown. Make a brown sauce, pout over the sijuares and serve. To serve potatoes for breakfast boll six good-sized potatoes and when cold cut them in round slice* of medium thickness. Cut two onions in sllcee nnd put them with four ounces of butter in a frying pan. When the onions are colored very slightly add your potatoes, toss them in the pan until they are a good color, drain them nnd serve with chopped parsley sprinkled over them. Another g<sxi potato dish can be made In form of a croquette. 801 l four potatoes, drain them, prom through a sieve nnd then put them In a saucepan with an ounce of butter, ami a pinch of salt, nutmeg and sugar. Heat well, and add an egg. L»< your mixture become very cold to form into croquettes. Beat up three eggs, Into which dip each ero quette. and when covered entirely with egg then roll them into bread crumbs and fry in oil. When colored a light brown, drain uml serve very bots Mock Soup. There are soups and-soups. This is soup! One quart of tomatoes, either fresh or canned. 801 l till soft in one pint of water, and strain through a sieve, and then return to the fire and add one-half teaspoonful of soda and stir steadily until It ceases to foam. Season well with chopped suet or rich soup stock, the latter always preferable. Rub two tablespoonfuls of flour into one tablespoonful of butter until it “creams," add this to the soup which Is still over the lire, stir it in tiff smooth, and let it l«>il long enough to cook the flour thoroughly. Meanwhile, a pint of sweet milk should have been heated and should be at the boiling point when the soup is ready to serve. It is im]*ortant thnt the milk should l>e poured Iwiling hot into the soup when it is boiling hot, and just Iwfort- serving. Cubes of bread should not only be browned on the outside, but crisped clear through, to serve with this bisque. Baked Indian Pudding. Scald three cupfuls of milk, pour It over three taldespoonfuls of Indian meal, add one-third of a cupful of molasses, one-half cupful of sugar, one beaten egg. one-half teaspoouful each of ginger and cinnamon, a little salt and butter the size of an English walnut. Mix thoroughly, put in a buttered dish, set in tlie oven. In half an hour pour In a cupful of cold milk. Bake two hours and a half. Serve with maple sugar sauce, which is made like hard sauce, using one-half cupful of grated maple sugar, or brown sugar, without flavoring. Lemon Pie. Bnke a crust in a deep pie plate, pricking it in several places to avoid blistering, cook in a double boiler for half an hour, the Juice and grated rind of one large lemon, one and onehalf cupfuls of istiling water, one ami one-fourth cupfuls of sugar, one and one-half tablespoonfuls of corn-starch, tlie yolks of two large eggs, fill the baked crust with the custard. Beat the whites of two largo eggs or three small ones to a stiff froth, spread over tlie custard and brown delicately in a quick oven. Serve cold. '‘ ’ .-I Pound Cuke. ■' One pound of powdered sugar and one pound of good dry butter, rubbed to cream; add slowly, one nt a time, ten eggs, which you beat a little first, and in warm weather keep In ice water; then mix in one pound (good weight) of pastry flour, mace and vanilla, It Is best to add flour by the handful. Bake In cool oven, about two hours; if not sure of its being done, stick a broomstraw in the center to the bottom, nnd if it pulls out clean, without dough on It. tlie cake is done. Tenderloin Steak, Whole. A tenderloin steak an inch and a half thick can be cooked to a nicety in the chafing dish. Flood the dish first with olive oil. and. when hot, put in the steak nnd cover up. Cook three minutes on each side, season to suit, and when removing tlie steak add two tablespoonfuls of water ami pour over it. Household Hints, Always fold a dress skirt right side out for packing, as it will not wrinklt so much. Half a teaspoonful of sugar will nearly always revive a dying tire, ami it In always a sa/e tiling to use for tills purpose. Kerosene oil Is the best of furniture polishes. It cleanses, makes a fine polish and preserves from the ravages of Insects. Fat will not burn If it has something to do. so if it lias to be left idle for a few minutes put a crust of bread or :i slice of raw potato into the kettle. A few drops of tincture of benzoin in a bowl of water is an admirable tonlo for the face. The benzoin v»hitens the skin and prevents it from wrinkling. An excellent cologne may be made with half an ouuee of oil of bergamot, quarter of an ounce of oil of lemon, half an ounce of oil of orange, half an ounce of oil of English lavender, half a drachm of ncroll and one quart of alcohol. Shake the bottle several times a day for four or five days.