Democratic Press, Volume 2, Number 80, Decatur, Adams County, 23 April 1896 — Page 7

TUMBLE-DOWN FARM

chapter xii. Th, mniiu' t Jay *•« drawing to * de25 «• "«y “»• •«»* wh,,r " **• j v.., '»• h»J *" often met. ,n ! ',i g ht ut him Vanity bounded *_! a look of delight crowd her / lib' <>n<' ut "f rou »•••• floating over a landscape •X- 'cloud, fly f«-t in • bright sky. W.Uiedrv* ‘■” ,, My b«' k - Vanity, whvae -hole nature waa quickened into the utturned aa pab aa 4e»U>. “Something baa happened." ahe gasped. wrong aomvthing dreadful. T,'l me what it i». In her pallor and overpowering agita- . Yt'iilie read guilt. That momentary warmth of feeling which her aweetmaa and furpaaaing >*auty had arouaed in his hJart died out like ineffectual fire. • You are not far aatray." he aaid, in a rauatic way: “something wrong haa h.qiwß.d By the way."—thia waa said w ith oark' .l aignitieanee- "am 1 to address you an Jli»« Hardware or not?" Vanity responded to the ating of the naation aa ohnrply a* her accuser could harr h 'prd: "he shot a look of uudiaguiMd alarm at him. and grew paler than before. “I arc." continued Willie. “Hardware knot your name. What it may be ia now no particular concern of mine. You niuat have known that under your circum•tanco. whatever the particular, may be. the very notion of marriage with mt was wicked." “Love me still. Willie," ahe aaid. »ol>bing. "Don't give me up. It will be drsth to me if you give me up." "Let ut now part," he aaid, wishing to ea<l the acene. “Part!" exclaimed Vanity. She uttered the word in a half acreum. “I cannot marry a woman with a secret which she will not or cannot explain." Wille- sp oe thia with perfect dignity. "Is this generoua?” cried Vanity: “ia it just Did you not press me to marry you—slid you not press me again and again in tie face of my own warnings on this very matter? Did I not tell you of shame and disgrace hanging over me? You persisted in your course until you won my lore. Now you cast me off for the misfortunes you knew before—casting me off to die broken-hearted—for I shall die if you leave me." “Wl. ar y i say true.” he answered; “I did persist in loving you in spite of your warning, but I had no idea then of the obstacle that lies in your way. I believed it to be something embarrassing, not dishonorable; at least I —l meant not—not so dishonorable as—aa ” “As what?" Vanity asked; “what have you discovered ?" “You know yonr own secret; don't ask me to describe it.” “What can you know?” cried Vanity, with symptoms of alarmed curiosity. "My secret—my real secret —you cannot possibly know." The words were ill-cho«en. Willie detected defiance or audacity in what she said, and grew irritated. "Your secret is," aaid he. pointing as he spoke in the direction of the farm, “that your father is not your only companion in that house. A man comes there by night. Yon sit alone with him. You sing together. You kiss him. And you promised your love to mel Who is that man? He is your secret—your disgrace—your tormentor, I daresay; and you were going to escape from him and bestow the treasure of your love on me. and we were to fly to a foreign country that we might not be pursued by—this Ban.” Vanity stood like a statue listening to him. but as he proceeded surprise, not unmixed with relief, took the place of grief and fear in her face. “You have discovered my secret, Willie,” she said. "But you don’t understand it I know how all this reached yonr ears. That wretched tipsy fellow who watched us through the window told you. But I assure you solemnly that all the suspicions you have founded on it are imaginary. Remember the promise I askad you to give me—that in spite of all appearances of evil you would trust me. Trust me as you promised to trust me. Your reward shall be the devotion of my life. But don't cast me off because you suspect me of deceit and selfishness.” "Then explain who your friend is. Tell me his name—tell me his relations with yourself—say how he can be so intimate with you, if you are' free —and blameless." "All that,” replied Vanity slowly, “is tny secret” "And you will not disclose it?" “I cannot; I am bound.” “Then we part; we part forever." Vanity looked at him as a wounded deer might look at a huntsman, her eyes big with an agony ahe had no speech to explain. "You will not trust tne?" she said. “I will not!” cried Willie furiously. “I thall never speak to you again, I will see your face no more.” Without another word he turned away and left her. but stole a backward glance just ns he waa leaving the field. She put out her nrma imploringly, beseeching him in this silent way to return to her. He answered by a cold shake of the head, and then vanished out of her sight. CHAPTER XIII. The morning but one after his interview With Vanity he received the following letter; "Dearest Willie: I am grieved—cut to the heart— by what you said to me yesterday, but not angry with you. I know you have reason on your side. M hat was told you might very well make me seem black in your eyes, and the difficulty even now is that I cannot explain anything. I atn bound by the most solemn promise to keep ♦he explanation of the acene which ap-

peartd so wicked to you a •octet—even from you. The day will come—lt ia not indeed far off when you shall know all. In the meantime, will you not accept my solemn assurance that the evil you saw in it la not really there? Meet me thia evening nt the old place. I can say what f cannot write. Wlien we have tnlk.sl things over calmly you will »-e all in a different light. Ib an at Will. 1 know how I love you, and I believe your heart ia aa deep as mine. Ever your loving. "B. II.” I here ia no need to spin a little incident into a long story. Willie did not go; he spent that evening with Nancy Steele. Three days later he received a second letter, beseeching him to grant another meeting. He made no reply of any sort, and after that nothing more came from Miss Vanity Hardware. Everybody knew tliat Willie and Nancy were engaged; the ceremony took place in a month's time. The wedding was about as cheerful as a well-conducted funeral. The morning waa drizzly; the church struck one with damp chill; Willie was depressed. He glanced nervously over his shoulder two or th ns. times, aa if fearing an unwelcome hand laid there. The bride alone bore herself spiritedly. The happy couple took a full measure honeymoon of four weeks. During their absence 1 heard certain report* bruited in the village aliout the Hardwares. One story said that on a particular evening a stranger passing by was startled by loud cries coming from the farm house. When he went to the door to listen he heard a man shouting and swearing furiously, and a woman sobbing and crying out as if site were struck. Concluding that it was only an ordinary case of wife-beating, the stranger pursued his way. Another report declared that old Hardware found the climate of the village disagree with his asthma, and that he had bought a house at Burnham. It was soon ascertained to be a fact that they were leaving Hamilton. and, indeed, I learned the very day of their intended departure. By an odd coincidence the same day was fixed for Willie's return. The day before Willie returned from his wedding trip a strange man walked into my shop. This personage was tall avl stout, shabbily dressed, and, indeed, he looked the picture of a bagman. He bought sixpennyworth of black currant lozenges, and putting half a dozen in his mouth at once, seated himself before the counter. "You don't mind iny resting awhile," he said, “while I take this little refreshment ?” “Certainly not,” I replied. “As long as you please.” He was an agreeable man. with plenty of well-informed talk. At last—how Ido not now remember —he got to Tumbledown Fann, when, turning to me with a smile, said he: “I have been told that an old oddity named Hardware lives there." “Tliat is the name,” I replied. "And a young woman. I believe, with him—handsome sort of girl?" “So people call her." “Let me tell you," continued the stranger, in an idle kind of tone, “I hear a third party lives in that house—a middleaged man. rather good looking, tall, with black hair and dark eyes, very piercing. He has a scar, too—a small one—over the left eye.” "You describe him as if he waa your twin brother," I answered. The stranger laughed, and soon rose ami wished me good morning. That night, while Gracious Me was sitting with a couple of companion* over his gin at the Lion, this same stranger stepped in with a friend, and called for two glasses of whisky-and-water. He joined the conversation, and contrived in five minutes’ time to mention Tumbledown Farm. "Any of you know that house?” he inquired. Gracious, who was pretty far gone, gurgled out a drunken laugh, and encouraged by the strangers, rambled through the whole narrative of his adventures at the farm. The evening after his return, Willie called to see me. He seemed contented, and spoke of his wife with great admiration. “Your friends up hill have gone away,” I said, after awhile. “What a relief!” cried Willie. “What a wonderful relief!" Now, this little bit of talk had a singular result. Willie, hearing that the Hardwares had gone away, was seized with a fancy of seeing the old house again. It turned out. however, that the departure had been postponed for two days; and it thus came about that ns Willie strolled up the road near to Tumbledown Farm, a bend of the way brought him face to face with Vanity, who was walking slowly in the opposite direction. At the sight of her Willie wns thunderstruck. She looked pale and hopeless. At first he made a movement to raise his hat. but changing his mind, prepared to walk past her without any sign of recognition. "Stop!” cried Vanity. Her voice was calm nnd authoritative. Willie, looking round with a haughty air, replied: "You must excuse me. “1 shall not excuse you,” answered Vanitv boldly. “You shall stop. You have to hear something from me." “Vanity." he said, stammering, and looking everywhere except nt her, "I—l -am sorry—but -you see—' “Listen to me," whe wiid, putting ni» commencing apologies aside with a slow gesture expressive of disdain. You nskmi me to marry you. 1 refused You pressed voursplf upon me again. Then I told you L-I need not have told you. remetuberthat there wns a blot upon my life which could be endured only by one who loved me more than name or fame or the good opinion of the world. Bull you declared you would marry me, if I would have you.

Still you persisted In asking me to !•• your wife, is this true?” "<>f conn* it Is.” said Willie, in a tons half sulky and half petiilmit. "You broke your promise!" cried Van. Ity. "Have the courage to say so. You are brave enough to be perfidious, but not brave enough to admit that you are *o. Admit that you hud uot the courage to marry me, And let me tell you this: had you met me the second time when I asked you, I would have satisfied all your doubts. I shall not give you any explanations now. Your good or bad opinion is nothing to tne. Go lack to your wife, and be as happy aa you can: the happier you are the less you are worthy of happiness. You have blackened my life. Go, ami make what yon can of your own!" Willie listened to her fiery outburst witl a stricken look. He felt that ahe had just lee In some shape on her side. Instead of making atty reply, he looked up at Vanity, with eyes full of tears. "Willie-my dear Willie," she sale brokenly, "I have ban wild and wrong, but only because under all my agony nn>l anger love for you is burning still I didn't mean all I said. I forgive you. J will pray for your happiness.” Perhaps hiul events run what aeanted their ordinary course before the second hand of Willie’s watch had described another half circle, he might have forgotten for the time there was such a lady as Mrs. Snow. And what prevented? It was my black currant lozenge friend, who, stealing up unseen, came between th* two. "Miss," said he, "you have got some ono hid in yonder bouse who is wanted." "Wanted? For what?” Erect, haughty, brushing her tears off, but no more afraid than if he had been a beggar asking for a penny. "Burglary, miss.” Not the quiver of an eyelash, not a change of color from red to white or from white to rod. not the slightest tremor in her voice; only a kind of interest, as if the man, in doing his duty, had made ar amusing mistake. "Anything besides burglary, sir?” “Murder.” Miss Hardware became serious in a moment, but not the least sign of agitation appeared. “You are making a great mistake." shs said; “but you had better come in and see for yourself. I nin sorry you hav* been misinformed. This way.” “Thank ye. Miss Barnitt.” “1 see," she said, with the most easy air, "you are altogether mistaken. My name ia Hardware." "It was Barnitt, however.” retorted th< detective coolly, “and is so entered in th* books of Mrs. Luck, dressmaker, Carlisle, Bilk frock* and trimmings, ten poundt ten; discount for cash. No. Miss Barnitt this won't do. VP is the word. I tell you AU I'P!” “Come, come,” Vanity said haughtily “you must do what you consider yout duty. This way.” And actually, with an air at once composed and indignant, ami with rapid steps, she led the way to the old farm. (To be continued.) Charlotte Corday. A memorable woman stands upon the scaffold, not this time in white, but in the red smock of the murderess. It is Charlotte Corday, born d'Armans; and she has killed Marat. If ever murder were justifiable, it was this assassination. The sternest moralist cannot refrain from admiring this higb-souled, undaunted girl; for the murder that she committed is elevated far above an ordinary crime. She was impelled neither by lust of gain, nor by jealousy, nor by ordinary hate; and she only slew a monster in order to save unhappy France from wholesale slaughter. Shortly before his end, Marat had screeched a demand for 2,500 victims at Lyons, for 3,000 ut Marseilles, for 28,000 at Paris, and for even 300.000 in Brittany and in Calvados. No wonder that Danton, Camille Desmoulins. and Roliespierre went to see this extraordinary and most resolute young woman, whose motive had drugged her conscience, and who neither denied her act nor sought to es<xipe its consequences. She was beheaded at 7:30 in the July summer evening. Calm- i eyed and composed she went to death, | but she turned pale for a moment when first she caught sight of the guillotine. "I killed one man to save a hundred thousand, a villain to eave innocents, a savage wild beast to give repose to my country." Never has murder found so noble an excuse; and she was only 25. After the execution, the manhood of the Jaeobln tyrants caused the headsman and his valets “de rechercher sur les restes encore chauds de Charlotte les traces de vice, dont les calomnlateurs voulalent la fletrir. On ne constata que la purete de son corps dans cette profanation de la beaute et de 1» mort.”—The Quarterly Review. Beauties of Colonial Architecture. Ralph Adams Cram, in the Ladles’ Home Journal, contributes plans and details for a Colonial house that can be constructed for $5,000. Exterior and Interior views are presented, and in referring to Colonial architecture Mr. Cram says: “Nothing Is much better as a model for American domestic work than Colonial architecture of the early part of the century; nothing Is worse than “modern Colonial,” for to the popular architect a house may b*> made Colonial by covering a confused plan and a charotlc exterior with details unlntelllgently copied from old Colonial furniture. He is serenely ignorant of the fact that what is good in an old Colonial house is its superb frankness, straightforwardness and simplicity. From a purist's standpoint much Colonial detail evidences a debased taste, and is merely the result of an uneducated builder’s attempt to call to mind the work with which he himself was familiar in England. But against the plan and general mass of ancient Colonial houses no criticism whatever can be brought” In Cupid's Scrap Book. Probably a woman would Im? a bride to her husband longer if she would continue making company of him. Most women begin to save their jam for vlaltors when they have been married three months.—Somerville "■»urnal

FACTS FOR FARMERS. HELPFUL SUGGESTIONS FOR THE AGRICULTURISTS. A Prolific Breed of Shctp-New Pruning Hheara Having a Hilding Hinde - How to Helcct I'otatoen for Heed — Dehorning Young t'ulvea. Hhropnhlre Hheep. The Shropshire braneb of th* Down family partake* of Hie general chargeleriatic* of the Southdown, any* the Drauge Judd Farmer, although much heavier both in fleece and body, and I Iso more robust. It is said to be tlio tnoat prolific of all bread* «f sheep, the tverage rate of Increase in some flocks »f pure Shropshire often lielng 150 per jent.. while the product from the cross >f the Hhropalilro ram on half-bred long-wool ewes frequently reaches 200 jer cent. The prolific tendency of the Shropshire I* n point of great importince with the breeder, ns It materially increase* the profit* In furnishing early lambs for the market. They are also z<hhl mothers, nnd generally have an ibundance of milk for their young, in :hls respect differing from many of the -.Wil SHROPSRIRg LAMB. large breeds. The Shropshire has a longer face, of uniform dark tint, than the Southdown, a full and spirited eye, spreading ears of good size, and a forehead rather flat and well wooled. Their Seece weight is generally from five to jeven pounds. The meat Is like the Southdowns in fineness of texture, the presence of fat in the tissues, and richness of color. These sheep are hardy In moist climates, ami will endure a wide range of soil and feeding. The illustration herewith shows a blue ribbon ram lamb belonging to W. 11. Beatlie, of Canada. Potatoes for t*eed. There need* to be greater care taken in selecting potatoes. Not only the right form and size are important, but ft is quite as much so that the see<l Should be grown from plants that have iiept their vigor until the tubers were *fully ripened, and tliat had not suffered from attacks of the potato bug. says the Orange County Farmer. The only way to be absolutely sure about having good potato seed is to mark the strongest hills while they were growing, and select the best potatoes from these hills. Such seed should easily be worth five times as much jier bushel for planting as seed selected at random from a pit or bln. If a fanner can once get started with seed of this character, It will require much les* labor to fight the potato bug. It Is a good plan, also, to try the new varieties as quickly as they come into market. Most varieties grown from seed will yield much heavier crops for two or three years after their introduction than they ever will again. Dishorning Calves. Dishorning calves, when two to three lay* old. with the chemical dishorners (which. I believe, are simply dissolved potash!, is in my ease a complete success. says a contributor to the Country Gentleman. I have found a better way for me, yet 1 will describe the chemical way: Before the horn has come through the skin—on the second day after birth, If possible—cut the hair away from the place where the horn would come—you can feel the bump—and moisten a place as large as a silver quarter dollar thoroughly with the dishorning fluid, nibbing it in with a small swab. Do not drop any on clothes, flesh, or on the calf's eyes. In ten minutes rub more on. Then let alone, and have no more uneasiness on the horn question In the case of that calf. A brown crust form*, which Is the skin killed by the dishorner. Let this alone and it will come off in due time. To make the chemical distiorner. dissolve a little potash in as little water as will do; keep in a glass♦toppered bottle. Fresh Water for Hogs. No animal suffers more frequently from thirst than does the hog. especially when It is fattening. If it is fed milk and swill, the latter made salty by the addition of the brine made from salt pork while it is being freshened, its case is so much the worse. Milk contains some water, but it is so mixed witli fat and casein tliat it cannot serve as a substitute for water, as any one may see by placing fresh water where the hogs can get it at will. They will not drink large amounts. The hog's stomach is not large enough to •hold a great bulk either of food or drink. But the hogs that have fresh 'water will have better digestion, and ;lf fattening will be more free from ."ever for having pure water. On many Yarms so much salt meat is freshened, nnd the water used In doing this is saved for the swill barrel, tliat the hogs fed swill are constantly suffering intense thirst, making them unhealthy nnd dlmlYilsblng their ability to make 'he best use of the food they eat. I rand Amnnz Milk Dealers. The report of the Massachusetts Bate Dairy Bureau calls attention to » now fraud practiced by milk dealers . vhicb cannot be reached under the ex- i

loting *tntute*. It appear* that eer* ’ tain milk, when tested, hu th* required amount of tnilk aollda. but the percentage of f«t I* very low. It bn* I been found that tbi* State of nffnlrs i» due to the addition of a condenned skimmed milk after the cream lias beeu , removed by the dealer. The , «ny« that the dealer practicing thia fraud rannot Im> aucceaafully prosceut. ed, because It cannot l»e proved that the cream has been removed, nnd the addition of the condemud skimmed milk is not an addition of "a foreign aubatance," prohibited by statute. It i nppenra that a concern In New York ! Im doing a thriving business furnishing dealer* with the conden*ed skimmed , milk. The number of can* of milk , received by dealer* In Boston In 18li5 ! wns it.N.'Ml.Mo. of which there were . sold 8,040.732, each can containing 8% ( quart*. Thia quantity supplied nlamt I thrcc-fourtlis of the "greater Boston” , district.—Ameri<-nn Cultivator. rotate** for Cow., Potatoes have been found In many . trials to lie an excellent feed for meat , production, und the general estimate , of their value for this purpose is that , four pound* of tuber* are aWut equal , to one pound of meal. Borne rate them . even higher than thia. Their value, according to the Orange County Farmer, however, doee not depend u|xm the nutrition they contain solely, but upon the fact that as part of (he ration they tend to keep stock heatthy ami are au aid to digestion. No very accurate data exists as to their value In milk production, although they used to lie regarded as a good milk feed In a general way. Borne experiments confirm the old-time view, witti the qualification. however, that when fed largely they lower the quality of the product > i to some extent, but a small ration of, say, five to six pounda a day pnslucos no effect upon quality, and Is valuable | from a aanitary point of view, and for • the sake of variety, answering in this respect to the office performed by roots in mixed feeding. While pigs do not readily eat raw potatoes, or at least prefer them cooked, cows eat them 1 with avidity In their raw state. The “Grain** of Butter* When the butter has “come." and ap- ' pears in little irregular masses, from a pin's head to a large pea in *ize, is the time to draw off the butter in the churn. This removes most of the buttermilk, says the Massachusetts Ploughman. After being then gathered and removed from the churn, worked, washed and snlted on the butter-worker at the proper temperature, we find upon breaking it that it has a granular look. The mass seems to b* made of little ; particles with a slightly glistening ap- . pearance. This is called the “grain.” These small particles are partially kept apart by films of water (after salting , I this water become* brine), and the pe- . culiar texture thus imparted to the butter is a test of proper manufacture. , Over-churn or overwork it, churn or work it at the wrong temperature, and the grain is gone, never to be restored, and with it is gone a large percentage of the selling value of butter. Enough , water (brine! must be gathered to pro- , duce this appearance, which distini guishes "butter” from "grease." Consequently, the most perfect grain is ob- . tained by washing It In the churn before the butter is "gathered." | New Trunina Hhear*. Here are a pair of garden shears, which are constructed on a principle quite different from ordinary shears. The latter will, no matter bow sharp, never cut twigs and branches very easy. The way they shut pushes the twig away from the cutting edge, awd much force is uselessly spent. The shears shown in our cut are quite different in tliat respect; the upper blade while closing slides toward the hand SHEAItH HAVE A SLIDIITO BLADE. by a simple, yet very Ingenious contrivance, which is fully explained in the illustration. The sliding upper blade does not allow the twig to slip away from the grasp of the shears, Dut will even draw It into its cutting edg*. The inventor of these garden shears is now constructing other scissors upon the same principle, and claims that cutting of several layers of clot* is performed with much less use of force and with better results than with the old-time scissors. Odd* and Endw. Clover tea Is excellent for purifying the blood, clearing the complexion and removing pimples. Dried Clover may be used for the tea. If castor oil is applied to a wart once a day for a month the wart will entirely disappear. In ninny cases it will not require so long a time. Water carrying a little salt In solution Is said to be an excellent wasli for tired or inflamed eyes when stronger solutions may prove injurious. Tlie discovery tliat cold coffee Is nn excellent tonic for growing plants should do away with the last remnants of the custom of warming over cold coffee. To prevent a bruise from discoloring apply Immediately hot watef, or, if that is not at hand, moisten some dry starch with cold water and cover the bruised place. It is said that If parsley Is eaten with onions or a salad containing onions the odor of the onion will not nffect the breath. The sprigs or parsley should i be entw» as you would celery.

Tin* on Cali* .Making. BucccHMful cake making depend* <>* ulstut twenty thing*; Proper material*. A correct recipe. Following direction* explicitly. Accurate weights nnd neosuromenta. ('ompoundlug the Ingredient* in their proper order. Having everything In readinc** liefore commencing to mix the Ingredient*. Regulating the temperature of the oven according to the kind of caks made. Having all the ingredient* at the right temperature. Not susiM-ndlng the mixing until the cake Is randy for the oven. Beating much or little, according to the kind of cake, and alway* in one direction. Whipping the white* of the egg to a coarae, moderately* st iff froth rather than a tine, stiff one. Sifting the baking powder and flour together two or three time*. Folding the flour In carefully instead of by strong circular strokes. Placing in the oven ns soon nn the baking powder is added. Greasing the tin with *weet in rd rather than butter and sifting a little dry flour over. Opening and shutting the oven door very gently during the process of linking. Not turning while in the oven if it ,nn be avoided. Keeping fruit over night in n warm room, dredging it thoroughly with flour, and stirring it in lightly the last thing. Lining tins for loaf enke with oiled paper. Making the paper or paste lining of a tin for fruit cake or n large loaf cako nn inch higher at the sides to support a paper cover and prevent its baking too hard. In baking loaf cake remember tliat unless you place a piece of paper over for protection nt first, a top erust will tie formed at once that prevents rising When cake is well raised remove tl* paper for browning on top. To Clean Window*. Choose a dull day, or at least a tinn» when the sun is not shining on tlio window; when the sun shines on tho window it causes it to be dry streaked, no matter how much it is rubbed. Take a painter's brush and dust them inside and out, washing all the woodwork inside before touching the glass. The latter must lie washed simply in warm water diluted with ammonia. Do not use soap. I'se a small cloth with a pointed stick to get the dust out of tlio corners; wipe dry witli a soft piece of cotton cloth. Do not use linen, as It makes the glass linty when dry. Polish with tissue paper or old newspapers. This can be done in half tlio time taken where soap is used, and tho result will be brighter windows. How to Cook Codfish. A new and most excellent dish of codfish, invented or discovered by Miss Bedford, of the New York School of Cookery, is prepared in the following way. As I have not the exact formula, I can only give It to you ns it camo to me: Take a good-sized piece of the fish, freshen and soften it by soaking in cold water and take out the bones. Parboil the fish in milk and season it with white pepper and a dash of paprika. Take from the milk, break into flake* and put into a saucepan with the juico of one onion and a large piece of butter, and heat until a light brown at the edges. Add to the fish a cupful of the meats of boiled walnuts, thicken tho flour in which it was boiled slightly and brown in the oven. Philadelphia Broil. Take twenty-five large oysters, drain them and place on a baking board. Season them with salt and cayenne. Put one cup of liquor on to boil; as soon ns it isiils skim it nnd add one tablespoonful of butter, with salt and cayenne to taste. Grease an oyster broiler and broil them over a clear fire until brown on one side, then turn and brown the other. Now throw them Into the hot liquor. Serve immediately on a plat* of buttered toast. Hint*. Clothes will be whitened by putting a teaspoonful of borax in the rinsing water. For plain paste Mrs. Rorer gave the following recipe: Cut one cup (half a pound) of butter into three cups of flour, add one teaspoonful of salt and sufficient ice water to moisten and roil; fold and roll from you four times, and it is ready to use. To cleanse glass bottles tliat have held oil, place ashes in encl) bottle nnd Immerse in cold water, and then heat the water gradually until it boils; after boiling an hour, let them remain till cold. Then wasli the bottles In soapsuds and rinse in cold water. A little starch water added to cows’ milk often acts well, it Is said, in holding the casein In a finely divided state, and tints preventing large, tough curds. It mechanically honeycombs the curd, ns it were, thereby rendering It more Accessible to the gastric juice. A teaspoonful of borax put in the last water in which clothes are rinsed will whiten them surprisingly. Pound tlio borax so that it will dissolve easily. Tills is especially good to remove tho yellow that time gives to white garments that have been laid aside tor two or three years.