Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1890 — Page 5

KATZR DOLCI BY SIL COURTLAND. O'er.the tops of purple mountains, Where the Roman twilight falls, Softly smiles the Mater Dolci On the gray old church's walls. Manv years have bloomed and faded, Mtaiy years will bloom again, Stillrsne listens 'mid the stillness Tothe cries of human pain. Mater Dolci! thou hadst tasted Every grief and every ill, When thon watched beside the crosses 'Neath the stars on Calvary Hill. Mater De lei! in the gloaming. When the Roman twilight la'ls. Stoop and gather up the teardrops Strewn within the church’s walls. Pkndlkton, S. C.

BERENICE ST. CYR.

A Story of Love, Intrigue, 7 and Crime.

BY DWIGHT BALDWIN.

A. CHAPTER XVI. ■ J FAILURE. No'seleSsly Cole Winters glided on to the door of'the room where he had overheard the briet conversation between Berenice St. Cyr and her cruel persecutor. Instinctively he flew to the closet. Once there, however, he realized that it was n foolish hiding place, since if detected he would have absolutely no chance for escaping. He was about to withdraw when he remembered the haven of refuge he had found earlier in the night, when the officers were after him. With this thought, hope revived, and he began gropihg about to get an idea of his surround ngS. The closet, which was quite deep, had a clothes-press with swinging doors on one side, while the other was fitted up with shelves. Cole’s plan was instantly formed; he would imitate his former proceeding. In a moment he had climbed up to what he supposed to be the topmost one. As he crept back, to be as secure as possible from observation, what he had supposed to be the ceiling above him moved at his touch. A hasty examination showed him that it was in reality another shelf similar to the one on which he was lying. By a very slight exertion he raised it higher, and was enabled a moment later to creep past it up into an open space above. Marvel ng at this, he returned the board to its former position and raised his hand. At a height of, perhaps, four feet from the floor it came in contact with the roof of the house. He was in a shallow attic between the ceiling of the upper floor and the slates abvve. Satisfied on this point he produced a match, of which he found quite a supply in the pockets of his borrowed disguise. The faint light thus obtained not only verified his prev.ousiy formed judgment, but revealed something that caused him to ut er an exclamation of pleasure. On a line with the open space by which he had made his escape, and only a few feet away, was a similar opening. This, oar hero reasoned, communicated in a similar manner with the closet in the room where Berenice was confined. In an instant he was planning for the future. He could now communicate with her, and a little later would be able to secure her release. Having reached this encouraging conelusion, he bent forward and listened intently. He heard first a confused noise, then the sound of tramping feet, and lastly well-defined voices. In another moment the speakers had entered the room < ole had just left, and he hud no trouble in recognizing them by their voices. “I tell you he’s escaped!” cried Morris. “Don’t see how he could,” replied Scars. “Have we searched every placq?” “This is the very last room, sir," answered the servant, Luke, “and he ain’t here.” “It’s strange!” muttered Morris, with an oath. “He must have slipped out the front door, sir,” suggested L'uke. “He didn’t have time, and besides we’d have heard him.” “He may have stayed in the vestibule, and unlocked the door after you had run up the stair, and before I got there.” “That’s it! That’s the way it was done! Run down; Luke, and see if there’s anything to indicate it." Cole heard the servant leaving the room. “Now, who is this party who comes here dressed in one of your disguises?” “Oh! That never occurred to me. He’s a reporter.” “For what paper?” “I didn’t notice, though I saw his star.” “You’re a chump, Al Sears!” “I don’t see “And I’m another, so I won’t upbraid you. I never once doubted but what I was talking with you. I’m a bigger dolt than you, for I ought to know your voice bettter than you do his." “Why, I never saw him before!” “Where did he get that outfit?" “At my place—that is, if it’s really mine.” “And that’s where we left Mr. Cole Winters.” “Confusion!" “That’s the size of it! He’s bearded us in our den. I begin to feel a little shaky. There’s no telling what that fellow may do.” “He’s afraid to go to the police, and will try to work the case up on his own account. The next time we get him in our power we’ll ” “Well?” urged Morris. “Kill him! Come to the library where we can talk matters over and determine what to do.” When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Cole struck another match, by the light of which he located and entered the other aperture. “Berenice!” called he, in intense though modified tones. He heard a murmured response, but could distinguish no words. By this time he found that the top of the closet, like the one by way of which he had ascended, was not ceiled, but only closed by a loose board. Whether this had been the result of an oversight on t f he part of the builder or design in the scheming Max Morris, our hero did not stop to consider. In a moment he reached the floor and was groping for the fastening of the door. To his joy it yielded to his touch and opened readily. “Merciful heaven!” In affright our heroine cove ed her face with her hands and staggered back. In his excitement, Cole had forgotten all about his disguise.

”It’« I—Cole Winters!" cried he, resr■uringly. As n s words reached her, Berenice St. Cyr sprang forward and threw herself into the arms of her would-be rescuer. No word of love had passed between the twain, yet each knew the heart of the other. Under ordinary circumstances such a demonstration would have been utterly foreign to her nature, but now, bereaved, persecuted, imprisoned, she saw in our hero her only friend, and gave full rein to the natural impulses of her heart. “You—alive and safe!” said she, wondering, rapturously. “It's I. Pm alive, but anything besides safe!" “But how ” “Never mind, now. The present is our opportunity! While they are consulting below, we will make our escape." Cole turned the gas higher and approached the window. He found it carefully secured, a screw having been put above the lower sash to prevent its being pushed up. With a pocket-knife, which with many other conveniences he had found in his pocket, Cole soon removed this, and threw up the window. Then, lowering the gas again, he opened the outside blinds and looked out. The window was on the side of the house and at least twenty feet from the ground. Having ascertained that the coast was clear, he flew to the bed and seized a sheet which he proceeded to tear into strips. This occupied no longer time than is required to tell of it, and in a minute or two he held in his hands an improvised rope strong enough to support the weight of his lair companion or himself, and of a length sufficient to reach the ground. “Now!” said Cole. “Don’t be afraid! You’ll soon be out of this house and beyond the reach of your enemies." As he spoke he passed the rope around her form and knotted it together under her arms. Then he assisted her to the ledge of the open window. With infinite care ho pushed her forward, and, having braced himself for the task, he began lowering her toward the ground. This proved quite laborious but consumed only a little time. Soon the strain ceased, and looking forth Cole saw, to his great joy, that Berenice had reached the ground in safety and was removing the improvised rope. He lost no time in tying it securely to a steam heater which stood ne r the window, and in a moment was ready to make the deScent. At that instant a cry caused him to look downward. To his utter consternation he saw in the rather indistinct light that the young lady was struggling in the grasp of a powerful man. At that instant an exclamation of m’ngled rage and triumph caused him to look upward. At the window, an open knife in his hand, stood his enemy, Almon Sears. The next instant the blade described a circle in the air and descended. Then bur hero felt himself falling rapidly downward.

CHAPTER XVII.

SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. Here! None of that!” With one loot out of the bed. Cole Winters paused and looked curiously at the speaker. He was a man of small stature, his height being apparently something less than five feet. But what he lacked of the “full proportions” of a man in that regard was amplv compensated lor in the breadth and thickness of his body. His arms, too, were large and muscular, his enormous knotted hands extending fully half way down his legs, which were the only portion of his body that appeared dwarfed. This circumstance, however, gave him a grotesque, almost ludicrous appearance, which brought a smile to the pale lips of our hero. But an instant later an awful flood of dark and bitter memories surged in upon him and fairly swept it from his face. “I-I don’t ” In the midst of a question Cole paused and looked searchingly i round. He found himself in a large room which seemed to contain no furniture except a chair, a stove, an old lounge, a rickety table upon which stood a number of bottles, and the bed, where Cole half Bat, half reclined. The floor was uncarpeted, and the light half excluded from the one window by an old blanket which was tacked across its lower portion. "Ain’t much acquainted hereabouts?” queried the man, whose age seemed to be 50 years at least, as hs seated himself on the chair and assumed a hideous look, which Cole subsequently determined was intended for a smile. “I should say not!” responded the astonished and bewildered young man. “Probably you don’t know me?” For the apparent purpose of aiding our heroin identifying him, the man stood up to the extent that his diminutive legs permitted, and turned his huge face full upon his observer. “Reckon you can call me down now," said he. “I must admit that I cannot.” “Propose to repudiate me, do you?” The short man snapped this out, and flung himself back upon the chair. “Certainly not,” returned the now thoroughly myst fied young man. “The fact is that I don’t " “That’s a fact. That's one on you Jerry Moore! You were a leetle too small to remember me, I guess.” Where Cole had wondered before, he marveled now. Once more he looked at the meager appointments of the room, and i eturned his gaze to the face of the man who half way announced his name to be Jerry Moore. “I don’t understand. You’ll have to explain,” replied he, making an effort to rise to his feet. “None of that! You lie down!” In a m inner tiger-like, both as to quickness and ferocity, the man sprang forward and forced Cole back upon the bed. “I’m in the hands of a lunatic,” thought the latter, who, partly as a matter of policy, but principally from a feeling ot weakness, quietly maintained the position into which he had fallen. For a moment only the evil light shone in the man’s large and expressive eyes. This subsided as suddenly as it had flamed up, and be quietly resumed his seat, “.Lie still and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m your L T ncle Jerry.” “No?” replied our hero, thinking to humor his self-announced relatho.” "You can gamble on it and win. But they don’t know it.” “No?” said Cole again. "I should say not. Do you suppose that they are fools enough to think that old Jerry Moore would make way with his own fleih and blood. They think I’m bad, and I’m a leetle grain worse ’n they think, i ut I wouldn't co that.” This was becoming interesting. Cole Winters felt tbit the mystery surround-

ing him was in the way of being cleared up. “What’s your name?" asked Jerry Moore, suddenly. “I — why you know, Uncle Jerry.” “That won’t interfere with your telling me. Out with it!” “My name is Cole Winters." To the utter astonishment of the speaker the other sprang forward and seized him by the wrists in a vise-like grip. A moment more and he had taken from one of the spacious pockets of his coat a pair of band-cuffs. “Don’t iron mo!" cried Cole in consternation. “I must. You’re getting bad again.. I thought you'd got all over that notion." “What notion?" “That you were that young murderer, who killed old man St. Cyr." “How came I here?" asked Cole, when his companion had returned the handcuffs to his pocket and resumed the chair, which he had drawn close up to the bed. “Now your senses are coming back to you. Lie still and I’ll tell you. Just as you fell out of the window I happened along. I have a grant faculty of happening along when I’m wanted. I’d had my eye on Max Morris for better’n a week and ’lowed that he’d want me soon, ’cause I calculated that something was afoot.” “Well?” said the anxious auditor upon the bed, by way of stirring up the speaker, who had paused in his narative. He said you was a nasty reporter who had got into his house and learned some of his secrets.” “And the young lady?” “I didn’t bother about her. You had struck your head on a rock in falling, and I told Max you were dead." “Did you really think so?" “For a fact. And I near gave the thing awav by laughing." “What thing?" “The soft snap I would have. You see I knew just what Max wanted." “And that was?” “Said Max, ‘I hope he is, and I want you to make sure of it’.” “The scoundrel!” cried Cole. “Oh, you can’t blame him. You had found out secrets of his, he said.” “IVhat did you say?” “I said, ’how much?’ He said, ‘fiftv dollars.’ I said, ‘not enough.’ He said, ‘one hundred.’ I said, ‘good’.” “And then?" “Then I carried you back to the alley and went for my wagon—l’m an expressman when I work—and brought you here.” “Did Morris believe that vou woaldkill me?” “Of course, if you weren’t dead already. He knows me. I’ve worked for him before. ” Cole shuddered. He did not doubt that the man was partly insane, but the cool way in which he talked of murder quite startled him. “On the way,” resumed Moore. “I felt your pulse and found you were alive.” “And so brought me here?” “Vo. I was pointing for the lake shore, above the city. What would I want to bring you here for?” “But when you found I was not dead ” • “I prepared to rectify the mistake. I rolled you over in the wagon and clubbed my whip, which is loaded for just such work. ” “Merciful heaven!" gasped Cole. “That was what saved you—that or Providence, whicb I reckon was the same thing—or, rather, s ived me, for I’d never have slept easy again if I’d killed you." “What happened?” “As I was aiming for you I saw something white that had fallen out of your pocket. There it is. ’’ The dwarf took from an inside pocket and handed our hero a white card. It was the one given him by the city editor who had employed him to work up the St. Cyr murder mystery. It stated that the bearer. Milton Moore, was specially engaged in the St.Cyr matter, which would account for any suspicions movements ou his part. “WhsflMltd you do, then?” asked Cole, as hbJHtmed the card over and over. “I"qsf a match to read it, and then came nigh faintin’ away." “ Why so?” “Why so? Haidn’t I come within an ace of doin’ up little Milton Moore, the only son of my only brother? Wasn’t that enough to give me a turn?" “Quite, Uncle Jerry,” answered our hero, as he fully comprehended the coincidence of names that had saved his life. “Then you don’t bear me a grudge." “Not-in the least.” “I was afraid you would, and made up a story for you. but I’d a h<>ap rather tellthe truth. 1 learned to <jf<hat when I was a boy with ybur father. A strange 'combination it seemed—a man who loved to tell the truth, yet hesitated not to take the life of a fellowcreature. • “HoSfs’ can I bear a grudge?” returned Cole. - *lf you hadn’t happened along, Morris would have killed me.” “Of course he would, Milty; that’s the wav to look at it, ” “Have I bsen delirious?” "Crazy as a loon. Kept calling yourself Cole Winters. That’s why I kept them.” Moore po’nted to a pile of newspapers that lay. in one comer of the room, and had escaped the observation of our hero. “What do you mean?"' “I didn’t know but what the fever would have made you crazy, and wanted the papers to knock the delusions out of you by showing that Cole Winters Was running around loose, but that the police kept a sayin’ that they were sure to get him next day.” “And so I couldn’t be he?" “You’ve called the turn. Look at em while I get you something to eit. You ought to be hungry by this time." Jerry Moore tossed the papers-upon the bed, and begun mending the fire in the diminutive cook-stove. With hands trembling with eagerness, our hero caught them up and began s hurried examination of their contents. But he continued this but a moment. Suddenly he uttered a cry of anguish and sank bick upon the pillow in s fainting condition. His eye had fallen upon the following bold headlines: THE CALUMET MYSTERY! EXCITING SCENE AT THE MORGUE. Positive Identification of the Body o BERENICE ST. CYR! [TO BE CONTINUED.!

In one of the leading locomotive shops there is now building an engine with an enormous driving wheel, nine feet in circumference, which will be fixed in the center, in front of the boiler. Instead of ordinary axles the truck wheels will have bicycle spindles. and experts claim that the large driving wheel will carry along the train, at over ninety miles an hour.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

HOUSEHOLD AND AGRICULTURAL TOPICS DISCUSSED. A Budget of Useful Information Relating to the Farm, Orchard, Stable, Parlor and Kitchen. THE FARM. $ Numbered Houses. The new system of numbering country houses, invented by Mr. J. B. Powell, the well-known horse breeder and proprietor of the Shadeland Stock Farm, has much.to recommend it. The plan is to name every road in a county and divide every mile into ten imaginary blocks. Each block has two numbers, one on each side ’of the road. Each house is given the number of its block. There are but few blocks that contain more than one house each, but when such cases occur, the extra houses have letters added to the block number, as 136 A, 1368, and so on. In fact, the principles which have so simplified the matter of finding people in cities are to be applied to the rural districts. Such a plan will greatly help the matter of taking statistics of any sort and will be a great step toward a country postal delivery system such as already exists in England and on the continent. Part of the plan is to have the names of the road ut every corner and the house-number on the fence in front of every farm, When a stranger desires to find a certain farm-house lie is not told to drive three or four miles until he sees a red barn, and then take the second beaten road to the right, follow it until he comes to a rise of ground with a wire fence on the other side of it, turn to the left, go along until he secs a big tree in a pasture and then ask the first man he meets where to go next. All that he has to know is that the house he is after is No. 248 Laurel road. His map tells him where Laurel road is, and as there are two numbers to the block, and ten blocks to the mile, he knows that No. 248 is 12.3 miles from the beginning. The idea has been well received wherever presented before farmers’ organizations and has already been adopted by Contra Costa County, California. The latter county, however, instead of giving the credit of the idea to Mr. Powell, to whom it belongs, ascribes it to a San Francisco newspaper man. It is always the fate of people with ideas to have !hem stolen or counterfeited. Farm Notes. Horses may bo wintered profitably on clover hay and corn meal. Whenever a horse is worked or driven to exhaustion or anywhere near it, the animal is in the yery best possible condition to be attacked with disease. A Delaware County, New York, dairy farmer has a 4-year-old bull which he keeps busy, and so out of mischief, by putting him to work in a horse-power tread mill, and making him do the churning for the establishment. It seems that Yankee farmers get caught sometimes. The following warning tells the story. Several Connecticut farmers have been up against a new game, says the American Cultivator. A man comes around and writes a harmless looking agreement with one end of a double fountain pen and gets his victim to sign with the other end. The ink witli which the agreement is written soon fades away completely. The signature ink holds its color, and comes around by and by at the bottom of a note the sharper has got discounted somewhere. There is an increasing demand for young men to take charge and oversee the farms of wealthy owners. To fit oneself to such a position, which always jtays well, says the Germantown Tele. graph, industry, sobriety and honesty must be first, then a good knowledge of all the points of farming, as such owners are sensible, thinking men, as much scientific knowledge as possible must be at command. Books on farming, gardening, horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, poultry, soils, fertilizers, etc., must be thoroughly studied. Such positions are honorable, profitable and highly respectable. Here is a chance for many a man to get out of his “depression'” Let him obtain a position and sell out his unprofitable farm.

THE PIGGERY.

Tlin Brood Sowa, Disease of pigs can frequently be traced back to the brood sow. Food that may not affect the health of the sow very materially may be the means of killing the young suckling pigs, or at least of implanting into their system germs which in the course of time will develop and injure their health and consequent growth. The brood sow is in such poor health that the suckling pigs soon make such a heavy drain on her system that the milk becomes poor, weak and unwholesome. Lacking nourishment the suuMjngß never attain a strong, vigorous growth. Therefore, the sow should be well rotinded up with good, healthy fat before farrowing time, and this can be done only by a varied diet of nourishing food. , Corn is too heating for anything like an exclusive diet for the brood sow, and a great mistake is made in adopting it. Food that will not produce so much heat and fever must be fed to the sow, and this can be done by giving bran, oats, shorts, and similar food. Corn can come in for its share, for it has its good office to perform, and it is greatly liked by the sows. The after treatment of the sows is almost as important as the young. Her health and strength are essential to the good growth of the young until they have attained an age when they can be separated from the mother. For twelve hours after farrowing, the sow should not receive anything to eat, nor even rich swill to drink. It is safe to give her a drink of water, greasy water preferred, with a handful of light shorts in it. There is more danger in overfeeding than under feeding the sow after farrowing. After the first two weeks, the diet must be regulated according to the appearance of the young pigs. If they are lean the diet of the sow should bo increased, but if they are getting fat the feed should be held back from them and the brood sow. The individual pigs should also be watched. Some will be weaker than others, and they will not get their share of food from the sow. They need special looking after, and by careful watching and helping, they can be made to grow as rapidly as the others. They need a little private help and encouragement. When they are once weaned, there will not be, much trouble In keeping them strong and fat, but up to this period this is an important matter about

their life. Diseases of swine will frequently be averted if the brood sow, and the young during their weaning period, are thus carefully attended to- Their after diet also needs careful atuqition. with some iutolligenee, such as varying it with clover, rye and grass, and not confining them exclusively to corn and swill, but the most important crises of their lives are during their early days. Give them a good strong constitution to start with, and they will almost laugh disease to scorn the remainder of their existence. — E. P. Smith, in American Cultivator.

THE DAIRY.

Raising Cream without Ice. We have always hold that every man is better satisfied with the results of an experiment if lie has found out that result himself than he is when some one else finds it out for him. Also that there is an assurance that makes a man positive that a thing is so if lie has found out himself. In proof of this we hero cite the experience of J. C. Stribling, South Carolina, as given In Hoard’s Dufrgman. He says: It has been about a year since I commenced a series of experiments in my dairy to determine how to obtain all the cream from milk, and the cost of t hings in general, for my own information. I used both the Stoddard and Cooley creamers, and the shallow pans. I used ice witli water at 45 degrees to set milk in, and diluted the milk with water, ranging in temperature from 00 to 130 degrees. Measured the cream lines at first and then weighed the butter. I found that the first cream line —say two or three hours after sotting in deep cans —would shrink about quarter of an inch in twelve hours. That is, it would not measure as much at twelve hours after setting as it would at two or three hours in some instances. So 1 quit the measurements of cream and wont to the butter scales for results. These experiments were alternated several times before final conclusions were set upon, which, when summed up in results to my satisfaction, amount to about this: 1. The only advantage in using Ice is that it keeps Che mil keool and thin longer, and affords a longer period for cream to rise in, before the milk becomes too thick for the cream to rise. 2. The skim-mllk, where ice is used, is better for table use, or feeding purposes: .and (or making skim cheese than dilutee! milk. 3. There Is no advantage in warming milk above the heat of the animal, and sotting in water at. a low temperature, except that it hastens the cream to the top in about from two to four hours. 4. Just, as good results are obtained in twelve hours by diluting the milk witli sixty per cent, of water at 60 degrees and setting in water at sixty degrees. 5. The setting in shallow pans in open air at 60 degrees gave a perceptible gain over deep cans in ice water at 50 degrees, but none over diluted milk in deep cans, water 60 degrees. 6. There is no advantage to mo in raising the cream in one or two hours, as the cows are not ready to be milked before ten or twelve hours. My cows uro all registered Jerseys, and are fed on cotton meal in addition to good pasture in summer and hay and green rye and barley part of the winter.

THE APIARY

Hoe Notos. The scieneific management, of bees, and the use of the honey-extractor, make extracted honey soabundant that all may use it. Honey is one of Nature’s purest sweets, valuable both as food and medicine. It has always been estimated a luxury—the food of kings; eaten in small quantities with other food it is very nourishing, and favors the cure of pulmonary diseases and colds. Honey is very diversified in its color, taste, odor, and disposition to become candied, or granulated, depending mainly on the variety of bloom it Is collected from, and the weather In which it is gathered. Cold weather favors speedy granulation; its becoming granulated is one of the best evidences of its purity, yet some of the best California honey requires two seasons to become candied. — Earm, Field and Stockman. A bee-line is frequently spoken of, and its origin no doubt can be traced to the bees themselves; as they are vbry strong, and can fly very fast and fora long time without taking a rest. Their eyes are made to see a great distance, and when away from their habitations they mount up in the air until they see the place where the hives are situated, and then fly toward it in a straight Hue with great velocity; hence the shortest line between two given points is often referred to as a “bee-line.” — American Bee Journal. Dr. Southard, of Kalamazoo, one of the brightest and most expert bee-keep-ers of the day, used to doubt the utility of honeydew. Several years ago, however, when everybody’s bees all over the country gathered so much "Tidney-dew, and were all going to perdition withit in the winter, the doctor thought he would like to know something positive about it; so he saw to it that five or six colonies had nothing but honey-dew. He winters them,out-doors, and usually loses but one or two out of a hundred, and. sure enough, the five colonies having honey-dew exclusively, wintered as nice as a pin. It has been demonstrated that diarrhea among bees (tiie one only cause of winter losses), is not caused by honey-dew nor eider, nor anything of the kind, but by the consumption of nitrogen from bee-bread or floating pollen. Wellripened buckwheat honey is as good stores for winter as any in the world.— Exchange.

THE POULTRY-YARD.

Poultry No tex. Tine farmer can, by this time, be able to look over his growing flock and see where he stands—whether the majority are good or imperfectly marked. Two classes can be made a few months later, and stock placed upon the market, and their value obtained. It never pays to carry poor stock very long. Black Minorca are away up as ktyers. They lay a large white shelled fruit. With proper care, will average 165 eggs per year, sometimes more than this number. Much depends upon the farmers’ management of them. They stand cold weather as well as Black Spanish or Leghorns. There are few better breeds than the Black Minorca. It is generally thought the legs of chickens as well as adult fowls fade and turn nearly white when kept in a run with no grass; and this is a fact, sometimes the legs fade from the nature of the soil. The ground contains some mineral that causes them to bleach. A bleached yellow leg ip always out in the

show room, but birds would not be qualified for 1L Ducks eat what other fowls require. If only ducks are kept, boiled potatoes and other vegetables mixed with bran, middlings and meal is excellent food. Give no more water than Is necessary to drink. It is best to let hens hatch duck eggs. Ducklings should not have access to pond or brook until several weeks old. It is a trying matter for the old ducks to keep away from the water so long.

THE HOUSEHOLD.

Culinary Counsel. For frying meat it is often better to use fat of its kind, such as beef fat for beef, etc., but for some other purposes it is not only more economical, but more enriching to the substance fried, to use a mixture of fats. In frying doughnuts, for instance, or fritters, for which usually the best of lard is taken, if a of all kinds of nicely kept fats is 'Fed. even including that of mutton, the cakes will bo found much richer, and more savory than when fried in pure lard. Some kinds of fish can also be fried with mixed fats, and the result bo good. On frying oysters at one time, a dearth of lard being discovered, the amateur cook concluded, rather than lose the feast, to try some mixed fat she had on hand, which consisted of odd quantities of beef, mutton, ham fat, and lard. To the surprise of the partakers, the oysters proved to be unusaily good. On the second occasion pure lard was used, as heretofore, witli expectation of an improvement in flavor; but, much to the surprise of the cook, the oysters seemed to lack a certain richness they had before, and a peculiar, attractive flavor. It. was also found that the mixed fats wore best when some time had elapsed before using them. Mutton fat, not generally used for frying, cannot be detected. except by experts, if half lard or other fat is mixed with it. One excellent housekeeper said she saved all her mutton fat for frying doughnuts; but mixed it with other fats without regard to quantities. Her plan was to have a stone jar (as earthen absorbs fat) for each kind of fat Over these were tied thin muslin strainers. As the fat accumulated, each kind was poured into its own receptacle. One large jar was kept for mixed fats. Small quantities, and the mutton fat, were emptied into that, tills being the stock kept on hand for doughnuts; and excellent doughnuts they were. A good deal of fat, such as sausage and ham fat, are wasted In gravies. Both sausage and ham are much better served with what are called water gravies, which are made as follows: After the meat is taken from the pan, all the fat is poured off except a minute quantity. Boiling water is then poured into tiie pun, sufficient in quantity to a little more than cover the bottom of the meat-dish. The water should be made to flow back and forward over the pun to wash off the Juices drawn from the meat, which dry on the pan during the cooking process. If it will not dissolve It should be scraped with a spoon or knife till it mixes well, then give it one boll up, and pour it over the meat, already placed in the dish for the table. If much fat is left after frying meat, or from doughnuts, etc., it may be cleared up by boiling it In water, and straining water and fat together Into a vessel to cool, when it can be used again. Turkey, chicken, and duck fat should be rendered slowly, strained, and put to use for batter cakes, and other cakes in which butter or lard is used. In batter, or ginger cakes, chicken and turkey fat are especially nice. Goose fat is excellent for medicine, being very beneficial for rubbing over bruises, or sprains, or limbs sore from fatigue. It is especially goo*’, if warmed, for bathing the chest; and throat to remove the soreness produced by colds.— Good Housekeeping.

Hint* to Hoiiaekeepem. To obviate the shiny appearance of silk, sponge with unsweetened gin. To banish red ants from the pantries, strew whole cloves around the shelves. The same is also considered a good moth exterminator. To remove spots on velvet, the trimming must be unpicked on one side, and put over hot water to steam; then brush up the nap. When washing fine, white flannels, add a tablespoonful of pulverized borax to a pailful of water. This will keep them soft and white.

THE KITCHEN.

(>ema ot Boiled Oat*. Soak two cups of rolled oats for flvo hours (or over night) In cups of sour milk. Add one teaspoonful (level) of soda, one teaspoonful of salt, one-half teacupful of light-brown sugar, one teacupful of sifted flour, and two wellbeaten eggs, in the order given, the soda dissolved in a little water. Bake In hot, well-greased gem pans, in a hot oven, for twenty-five minutes. Orange Cake. Take two even teacupfuls each ot sugarand flour, half cupful.of water, the yolks of five eggs beaten very light, also the whites of four, the juice and grated rind of one orange, and two teaspoonfuls of baking powder sifted with the flour. Bake in four layers. Take the juice and grated rina of one large or two small oranges, three-fourths of a teacupful of sugar, and the white of one egg beaten stiff. Spread this between layers, adding more sugar to that used for the top. A Broad Omelette. One cup of fine bread crumbs moistened with half a cup of milk, three eggs, white and yolk beaten separately, adding the whites last to the crumbs. . Season with salt and pepper. Put in the skillet or omelette pan a good bit of butter, and when it begins to “sizzle"’ pour in the omelette. Shake the pan all the time, and turn in the frothing and browning edges over into the middle constantly. Fold one-half over, put a hot plate upon the pan, turn this over, and your omelette is dished. Indian Meal Mash. To each teacupful corn meal add a teaspoonful of salt, and a half teacupful of cold water; next, add five teacuptuls of boiling water, stirring steadily. Place over the fire in a smooth iron kettje; stir steadily until it begins to bubble, cover tightly, place on back of stove to\bubble steadily for an hour. This is a great improvement upon the tedious process of sifting the meal through the fillers, forming a few Jumps with the greatest care. Besides, there is no danger of adding too much meal for the quantity of water, which, of course, prevents a full expansion of the granules, rcsultinf Id a raw, unpleasant flavor.