Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 December 1890 — Page 5

A PEN PHOTOGRAPH. BY EMILIE CLARE. be It so; for once, Indeed, to see as I am seen, To laugh and jest, to frown er sigh, and gossip, too, I ween. The picture does not flatter much, nay tresses turning gray, The circling years have registered just three score years to-day. My faithful glasses ever near assist my faded eye To trace the lines where dimples shone in happy days gone by. I may not sigh for -cheek of rose, fcr still my face is fair, And Time has left my teeth of pearl and cheeks a ruby pair. The silent thief has left me, too, a thankful heart and gay For worldly blessing, as I go down life's dusty way. I sometimes think my weight goes on, and yet I am contented, And quite ignore the anti-fat some genius has invented; „ Nor envy in my inmost soul the skeleton or shad That Worth or Butteric resurrect with cunning puff and pad. It does not seem I’m growing old, though little children three Are very fond of grandmama, and cling about my knee. Just as I used to cling to one some fifty years ago— The sweetest face I ever saw, framed in a cap of snow. lit seems, indeed, but yesterday she called me to her side And whispered. -‘Blessings on you. Trot,” the very night she died. “You look as old as I,” she said; “your hair like mine is white; Now, kiss me. <|arling, once again, and then we’ll say good-night.” A last good-night, and I shall hear her gentle voice no more, Till called from earth with all its care to see the other shore; Though well I know her kindly eyes look on my lowly lot. And all those happy sinless days can never be forgot. There’s something else I’d love to learn—in heaven ’twill be explained— The mystery that draped her life, her tender bosom pained. The lonely yeats of widowhood, the tragic tale of woe That robbed her of her joy and pride a hundred years ago. For none grow old and feeble there, but youth and joys return. And all the friends we’ve loved below for .whom our bosoms yearn; As nothing sweet or dear in life can ever be forgot, ' * Then Grandma Goode will be rejoiced to meet with Grandma Trot. Anita. lowa.

Dr. Elfenstein's Mission

ft Remarkable Romance.

BY EMILY THORNTON.

CHAPTER V—Continued. Turning at last in their walk, she said: “I think I must leave you now, Dr. Elfenstein, and again look after the interests of my poor aunt. In doing so, allow me to thank you for a pleasant hour. ” “Not at all; it is I who have been under obligations for your delightful companionship. Whenever you feel timid outside, I would be pleased to attend you. ” “Thank you, I presume I shall be glad often to avail myself of your kind offer.” With a bright parting smile she then passed from his sight. A few daps after the promenade on deck, Dr. Elfenstein was again summoned by Miss Nevergail to attend her aunt, who was very ill, owing to the violence of a storm. Portioning out a sedative, the young physician turned to give it to his companion, and in handing it their fingers met, and at the touch his heart leaped so forcibly into a delightful thrill that it caused an instant feeling of questioning as to its cause. “Why,” he asked himself, “should this state of things exist?” Why was he not able to meet this beautiful girl calmly, as he had heretofore met other beautiful women? Then he resolved to beware of this folly that was gaining such an influence over him, and to remember the solemn work he had to do, the course of life he had lain down as his, which, if followed, would debar him of all fqmale society, except in a professional way, and then once more he determined, if he could not control his feelings, to avoid her presence and by so doing return to duty and' the fulfillment of his vow. Their passage across the Atlantic was an unusually propitious one. It was with relief to both the physician and anxious niece that they saw the termination of the voyage, for, in spite of their united efforts, Mrs. Nevergail’s strength was rapidly departing. Dr. Elfenstein had an unusually tender and sympathizing heart. He could not see so young a girl in such trouble and not, in everything possible, lend a helping hand. Forgetting resolutions almost as soon as formed, he cared for her as a brother, and the eloquent look of gratitude that flashed upon him as, after seeing them both safely in the Liverpool home of their cousin, Mr. Rogers, Ethel placed her hand in his, at parting, and faltered out her thanks, as he bade her farewell, never expecting to see her more, was a reward not soon to be forgotten. After leaving his fellow voyagers, our hero lost no time in pursuing his own journey. Before a week had rolled by his way was made perfectly plain, and a pleasant home was provided. He found by inquiring of Levi Perkins, the landlord of the hotel where he stopped, that the place had just been excited, and almost stunned, by the sudden illness of Dr. Jennings, the only physi- ' cian for miles around. He had been rendered helpless three days before by a paralytic stroke, and, as all feared, would never again be able to attend to his professional duties. Instantly, on hearing this news, the young man had visited the house of the old gentleman, and showing his letters of recommendation, and his written credentials, he had offered to attend to the sick in his place, which offer was accepted, and in a few days the stranger had all the calls for medical advice that he could attend, and the result was that he bought the practice of the old and wornout man, and became his accepted successor. Dr. Jennings lived only two days after

Elfcnstein’s arrival, for a third severe shock laid him at rest from his earthly labors forever. He died lamented by all, having, in truth, been to the inhabitants of the place for years and years a “beloved physician. ” The funeral was a large one, and after the day, with its many excitements, had passed, Dr. Elfenstein again visited the house where the dead had so recently lain, and asking to see the daughter, Mrs. Stewart, he offered to rent the cottage, furnished for a year, provided Mrs. Clum would remain in it, as formerly, in the capacity of housekeeper. This offer relieved Mrs. Stewart of what had been an anxiety, and as Mrs. Clum was delighted to still retain her home, all due arrangements were immediately made, papers drawn up and signed, and one week from the day of his arrival we find “Earle Elfenstein, M. D.,” upon a sign beside the door of the prettiest cottage in the place, and that young disciple of Galen busy night and day attending to the large practice so suddenly thrown upon his hands. CHAPTER VI. SIR REGINALD GLENDENNING. Sir Reginald Glendenning was out of humor one sunny morning in May. The daily mail had been handed him, as usual, just as he had commenced his breakfast, and one letter that he had then received had discomposed and made him surly and cross, which a fearful oath made evident to all. “Jimmy, you young rascal, don’t stand gazing there, but attend to your duties. Lady Constance, just stop gazing in that reproachful way at me, and eat your breakfast! I know what I am saying, though your looks seem to doubt it.” This was by no means an unusual mood for her husband to be in, and Lady Constance Glendenning, whenever she saw the peculiar expression float over his face that it now wore (for it was an ugly look that for years she had been accustomed to meet), knew well that it was best to make no remark, but quietly leave him to himself by vacating the room as quickly as possible, Therefore she, as well as her only brother’s orphan son and daughter, who had been left in their charge, finished their breakfast in silence, and, with as much dispatch as decency would permit, then strolled to their own amusements, leaving the lord and master of the establishment to glower at the unwelcome sheet he still held in his hand, undisturbed by their presence. “Perdition!” he muttered. “What deuced luck is this? After my not going to the funeral of my sister and thus, by my absence, showing that I had not overlooked her plebeian marriage, to think that these people have forwarded such a letter as this to me is absurd! I do not care if it was written by her before her death. They might have known I did not wish it. Take charge of her husband’s niece, forsooth! The girl be hanged! She may go to the alms house for al] me! 1 will not have a thing to do with her. “Suppose my brother-in-law did die, and his wife also, and suppose the girl is left alone, that is no sign that I should be trammeled with her presence and guardianship. No! I will never notice the stuff written there by word or deed!” So saying, Sir Reginald turned to his library, tossed the offensive letter into a drawer of his bookcase, locked it, and, putting the key in his pocket, rang the bell furiously for a waiter, ordering him to have the groom bring to the door a young horse named Tempest at once, as he intended to ride. The baronet stalked to the piazza, where he stood impatiently slashing a lovely trained clematis with his whip, until Michael appeared, leading a fiery young horse by the bridle. . “’Adn’t your lordship better take Jerry this morning? This beast is very wild and skittish like, and I fear ye may ’ave trouble to ’old ’im.” “Bring him hither. If he feels wild so do I. and our moods will suit,” was the sullen reply. Springing upon the back of the handsome creature, Sir Reginald Glendenning dashed away, just as his nephew, Robert, a young man about twenty years of age, appeared upon the deserted piazza. He was in personal appearance very tall, with a magnificent figure, dark complexion, handsome features, and large, speaking black eyes, while his whole air portrayed the pride that he had so richly inherited from his own immediate family. “Belle!” he exclaimed, as his <sister, a beautiful brunette, followed him. “See "our worthy relative dashing down the ’ carriage way at that break-neck speed. Zounds! if I were to ride in that savage way, he would rate me soundly for it for the next three days. I wonder what news that letter could have contained to infuriate him as it did. Do you know, he is always terribly provoked when he rides like that. ” “I do not, neither does Aunt Constance. I should like to read it though, would not you?” “Yes; I wonder where he put it?” “In the drawer of his book-case, where he keeps letters not answered. I wish I could unlock it, but the key has gone down the carriage way in the old gent’s pocket,” replied the unfilial girl. “Well, since you express a wish to see it, perhaps I can aid you. See! this key looks as though it might fit any lock,” returned the young man, readily enough falling into the suggestive mood of his sister. Laughing at the impulsive mood of her brother, the young girl turned quickly with him, and both glided with stealthy steps toward the library and their uncle’s desk. The key fitted; a fact Robert well knew, as it was not the first time it had been tried by the unprincipled nephew, and the following letter, written in a hand evidently feeble from sickness, was eagerly read, then as quickly returned to its hiding place, and the drawer relocked, as they had found it. On the envelope was written, “To be sent to Sir Reginald Glendenning, Bart., after my death. ” Sir Reginald Glendenning: Mr Dear Brother—You will doubtless be surprised to receive this letter from one who has been so many years separated from her family, in consequence of having married, secretly, the man of her choice. Allow me merely to say that when you read this, the sister that you once loved will have passed away, and, therefore, she trusts that all hard feelings that her marriage may have occasioned (a marriage that was a happy one until the bond was severed by the death of the devoted husband) will be burled forever. Brother, I write to you now in order to crave a favor at your hands. My only child died in infancy, and just twenty and a half years ago, I, with the consent of my husband, took charge of a little girl of gentle blood and some pleasant future prospects, and gave her the love of a true mother. On her twenty-first birthday she will be at liberty to open certain documents laid aside for her, and then will come into possession of her own property, for some

little awaits her iwxyority. Until then 1 after asy death, she will be friendless and alone. Now, I ask if you will care for her until that date (October 5) is reached? Can she not in some way be of service to you, and thus compensate for her board and trouble? Do this for me, my dear brother; be kind to and care for my dear Ethel, and my dying gratitude will be yours. Your affectionate sister, Gertrude. “Of all impudent proposals, ihat is the climax!” ejaculated Belle, Indignantly. “Take her into his own family, indeed! I will bet the minx don’t come here, if I can help it She is no earthly relation to him.” “Your opinion will not be asked, sister mine,” returned her companion in evil deeds; “and you must remember that you are supposed to know nothing of the contents of that letter. But do not be alarmed. Our relative looked too much like a thundercloud to be cajoled into receiving her here.” “Yes; that is true, so we need not be anxious," was the girl’s reply, as she hastened from the library. Need we stop now, after relating such a scene, to describe the wholly heartless characters of these relations of Lady Constance Glendenning? Indulged from infancy by their own parents as much as by the Lady Constance, whose whole affections had centered upon them, in consequence of the cold manner of her moody, passionate husband toward herself, it is not to be wondered at that they developed with each year selfish and unamiable disposisitions under her foolishly fond sway, until at last they demanded as a right the indulgence of every whim or caprice, even at the expense of honor or the welfare of those around them. As for Lady Constance, her naturally amiable disposition had grown hardened. Life with her violenGtempered husband had proved anything but pleasant, and as she finally saw his ugly features of character being imitated by these children under her charge, she became morbidly indifferent and cold to such a degree that her nearest relatives could scarcely recognize in the proud Lady Constance Glendenning the once lighthearted and gay young cousin, whose society was so much sought in former years by the three brothers before their father’s death, when life had been so different for each. Ah! little had those brothers dreamed in those gay, glad, youthful days, of the hard and cruel future that lay before two, at least, of their number! This morning Lady Constance felt unusually dispirited. Her apathetic heart had been moved the night before by a singularly vivid dream, in which she had met once more her never forgotten early lover, and the face of Sir Arthur had appeared in that midnight hour with all the realness of life, while she seemed to hear him wail In despair: “Oh, Constance, Constance!” Starting from this dreary sleep, she tossed restlessly until morning, and then, after rising, found that the impression made upon her mind had not in the least vanished. Upon being so roughly addressed at the breakfast hour she had with difficulty restrained her tears, and when once njore alone, in the retirement of her own apartment, she sank upon her knees, and weeping bitterly, moaned: “Oh, Arthur, why was I so unfaithful to thy precious memory? Why did I forget thee so soon, my own, my own? Wretched, guilty woman.that I have been, to wed for a title and inheritance so unfeeling and heartless a man as I, alas! have done! Oh, God! forgive this, my sin, and grant me peace with thyself after my weary life is ended!” Long and bitterly she thus wrestled with her own heart, never stirring from her lowly posture, until she was suddenly aroused by a horrified scream from lips she knew to be Belle’s, while a strange call in tones of anguish for “Aunt Constance” caused her to rise and open the door, where she, too,, was startled to see the whole household assembled in the halls, and then the first knowledge of some awful calamity fell upon her heart. [to be continued. |

“It’s a Shop, Sir!”

I had an experience all my own in Lock & Co.’s hat store, in St. James street. The aged proprietor displays ancient helmets and caps in his window, which is kept scrupulously dusty. Noting this I said, “ This must fep a very old store, indeed?” “ Store ? ” said the man. “ It’s no store at all; it’s a shop, sir. I call a store a place for the sale of a miscellaneous lot of goods, but this is a shop, sir. You ought to be more careful in your use of terms.” If that was rudeness—and I do not know how great he considered his provocation—it was the only rudeness I experienced from any shopkeeper. But I learned from that incident not to say store. And before I left London I had swelled my index expurgatorius to the extent that I seldom used the following words: Guess, yes, sir, glass (for tumbler), railroad, horse car, cents, fix, store, or pad of paper. “Block of paper,” they said, when I at last got them to understand that I wanted a pad. “Guess” and “fix” are pure Americanisms, and are to be used or not as you want to attract curious attention or to avoid it. But the most difficult thing for many Americans in England was to avoid saying “ sir ” to a stranger who addressed them or to an old gentleman. “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” over there are the verbal insignia of a servant.— Julian Ralph, in Harper's Weekly. Were Not Full. A negro woman borrowed a dozen eggs from a neighbor, and instead of returning a dozen, brought back only eleven. “How’s dis ?” the lender asked. ““How’s whut, lady?” “W’y you borrid er dozen aigs from me, but dar ain't but erleben yere. How does you’count fur dat?” “I ’counts fur it might easy. Dem aigs I got frum you wa’n’t right full.” “Wa’n’t right full! Whut you means by dat?” “I means dat da wan’t fall—dat de hens whut laid ’em wa’n’t right honest. Deze aigs dat I have fotched you is full up ter de brim; an’ yo’ kaint ’spect me ter fetch you er dozen full aigs fur er dozen dat wa’n’t right full. Oh, I’s squar’, I is.”— Arkansaw Traveler. By far the oldest newspaper in the world is the Pekin Gazette, which was established in the year 911 of the Christian era, has been regularly published since 1351 A. D., and is at the present time edited by a committee of six members of the Academy of Han Lin

AGRICULTURAL TOPICS.

A FEW SUGGESTIONS FOR OUR RURAL READERS. Some Information of Value to the Farmer, Stock-Breeder, Bee-Keeper, Housewife and Kitchen-Maid. THE HOISEHOLD. , “Those Scraps” Found In “Our House.”

are thrifty and conscientious, know what to do with bits of cold meat or potato; but there are some tilings we do not know what to do with. For instance, meat pie. If there is a good deal left, enough for a meal, the problem is easy enough: but if there is only a ‘’scrap” left, what then? “Such a good meat pie! Such nice crust and gravy! It is a pity to throw it away! I will not do it!” Thus we say, and the next day we put this nice “scrap” into a little dish, with its gravy, cover it so it will not get too dry, and put it into the oven just long enough to heat through—just while we are broiling the bit of ham that is to be the meat (in the main) for lunch. Result: every one wishes the nicely broiled ham, and the meat pie “scrap” remains the same size as before. At least, that is what happens in my house, and when I write upon these housekeeping topics, 1 am very apt to write about what happens in “my” house. Then there is cold mackerel! Who ever knows what to do with cold mackerel? One can souse cold trout, or escallop cold white fish, or do wonderful things with cold picked-up cod-fish; but cold mackerel is too much of a problem. I have tried broiling it, if it was broiled at first; and have tried re-broiling if it was first broiled; have tried the oven and the frying-pan: but everything is a failure, yet who is willing to deliberately throw away a good "scrap” of cold mackerel? Once I had a whole cold mackerel on my hands. It happened in this way: The provider in our house delights in buying things by the kit (like mackerel), dr by the bushel (like navy beans), or by the 60-pound box (like cod-fish), and everything becomes a problem in elimination before we got through. Well, we had a kit of “beautiful,” mackerel, to which theTamily took kindly for “quite a spell.” Then we had to take a long rest. One morning, as we were to have three extra guests for breakfast, 1 had one of those “beautiful” mackerel cooked. I knew I could expect nothing from the family, so centered all my hopes on the guests. Not one of them ever ate mackerel! There lay the majestic, solitary creature untouched upon the platter! What did I do? 1 put on my hat, took the platter just as it was, and ran around the corner to Mrs. Brown, wlp) sometimes does washing for me, and who has a houseful of growing children. The “kit” followed later, for 1 was desperate. Perhaps the reader may think Mrs. Brown might solve my problem about scraps; but she docs not. I can carry her whole mackerel, but I cannot carry her “scraps.” There are plenty of people just like her, are there not? Again, what can a body do with a cold fried egg? “It is such a nice fresh egg and the others tasted so good!” It is conscientiously slipped into a saucer, put in the ice-box and "referred to the committee on ways and means.” And a hard time the “eommittc” has with it, usually putting it on the table just as it is, and urging every one to "please finish up that egg.” No one wishes to, any more than the “committee” docs. Perhaps we are all too dainty! I am very much inclined to think we arc; but every time I conclude that I am, surely, and that it is high time that I disciplined myself, I also find that, when confronted by that piece of meat pie offset by broiled ham, or that cold mackerel or that cold fried egg, I weaken. I claim no singularity in this weakness. I am strengthened in it (if I may use a seemingly contradictory phrase) by most of my equally dainty friends. Well, what shall we do? Shall wo shut our eyes, as it were, and throw all these goon “scraps” into the gjirbagebox? That is too bad, with so many hungry people in the world. For myself, I have found a poor woman living alone with one little girl, who can tiways use such. It is not easy to find just such a person, and it is a good deal of trouble to carry the little “scraps” to her when she is found; but it is quite worth while. If they are bestowed U:e right spirit, they will be accepted, and will be of decided benefit, not only to the poor, half-fed woman and child, but to the doner whose conscience is made easy. “Taking trouble” is not bad for any of ns, if taken rightly, and “gather up the fragments that nothing be lost,” may be our part in solving some of the great social questions of the day concerning the “distribution of property.” This simple service is not romantic, surely: but it will be found “sort o’ satisfyin’ ” if faithfully tried.

Hints to Housekeepers.

Hartshorn will usually restore colors that have been taken put by acid. Many persons prefer almond meal or oatmeal to soap for washing face and hands. To take out ink or iron mould stains from white goods wet with milk and cover with salt. For roughness, caused by exposure to wind, sponge the face with equal parts of brandy and rose water. The rooms of a house need ventilation in the daytime as well as in the night; in the winter as well as in the summer. Castors made of leather are a new invention, sure to prove useful. A sound leather castor will save many a rug or carpet. The easiest way to dry lace curtains after washing them is to take a dry, sunny day, fasten them to the line by one edge with clothespines only a few inches apart, then gently pull and stretch until dry.

THE FARM.

Selecting Trees. There is nothing gained in selecting large trees for transplanting. Young, thrifty trees are easier to transplant, wii< make a better start to goow, and in

MEAN those scraps of food that canfiot be made into the dainty,ap]M*tizing dishes that some of our ingenious writers upon do m o Stic, economy are fond of telling us about, writes Juniata Stafford in Good H ounekccplng. Most of us, who

the end will make a better tree. Many purchasing trees for an orchard make the mistake of selecting three-year old trees, under the impression that they will come into bearing that much sooner. With the same idea in mind, they fail to cut back the tops in proportion to the roots, and the consequence is that the tree is slow in making a start to grow and loses in this way fully as much, if not more time, than a younger tree. It is very important, in selecting trees, to get those that are vigorous and healthy. With the majority of varieties of fruits, two-year-old trees will give more satisfactory results, than older ones. Cut back the top in proportion to the roots; in many eases it will pav to cut off the whole top, leaving the straight stem; then as the branches start out select those that are the most desirable and rub or cut off all others. A bettershaped and a more vigorous tree can be procured in this way. Such trees cost less in the end, are more certain to grow, and are more desirable in many ways than larger, older trees. A good plan in many localities is to purchase what trees are wanted in the fall, and heel them in carefully, then set them out where they are to grow as early in the spring as the condition of the soil will admit. This avoids to a considerable extent the risk of fall setting, and if put out early lessens very materially the risk of spring planting. Missouri. N. J. Shepherd. A Straw Roor tor Farnu Buildings. A Poughkeepsie, N. Y., correspondent of the Farm Journal, gives the following directions for a straw or thatched roof: 1. Good, straight, rye straw & required. Make the butts even by holding it loosely and tapping on the floor, then grasp firmly near the heads, and shako out short, crumpled straws and tie in convenient bundles. 2. Have rafters the same as for shingles. 3. Use poles about two inches in diameter, or sawed- lath one and one-half inches square to tie straw to. Nail lower one to- rafters about a foot from plate, and the others fifteen or eighteen inches apart, depending on the length of the straw. Let them project about six inches over the rafters to nail the eave-board to. Nail on eave-boards. 4. Two men are required to put on straw, one to prepare the handfuls for the other who binds it on. A line is first drawn from eave-board to eave-board, to guide the butts of first course. One man takes straw and makes a band, fastens it to the pole and shoves it against the eave-board. The other man grasps a little more straw than he can close his fingers over and passes It to No. 1, wiio lays it against the band, the butts touching the line, and brings the band over the straw and around the pole; holding all firm and taut. No. 1 now takes a little straw from the head of the bunch and twists it in with the starting band, and is ready for another handful to bind on as before. 'Uhls process is repeated until the opposite side is reached. Tne next course should be tied to the second pole, the butts being laid even with the first pole. In the third and succeeding courses all the straw should be reversed, and the heads pointed down. The peak should be capped with boards. •

THE DAIRY.

Feeding Calvo* Sklm-Mllk. A ycry successful feeder hi Canada uses the following method in raising calves on skim-milk: The calves arc fed by hand all the new milk they will take three times a day, until about a week old. Then skim-milk is added; only a little at first, but th« quantity of skim-milk is so increased and that of the new milk so reduced, that in two weeks from the commencement of this change, skim-milk only will be fed. The skim-milk is fed only when it is sweet, as when sour it produces scours and Injures digestion in other ways. The skim-milk is fed at the temperature of milk just from the cow. In heating, a portion of the milk is put on the stove in a pan or pail, and heated gradually till quite warm. It is then poured into the portions respectively set apart for each calf. The calves got the milk three times a day for, say a month from the beginning of the. change to skim-milk, but a less quantity is given at noon, and if fed regularly they may get all the skim-milk they will take without Injury to them. When the change is being made from new inilk to skim-milk, flax seed is added to the milk. It is prepared as follows: For two calves, take half a teacupful of flax at night, and pour on two quarts of boiling water, allowing it to steep till morning; it is then warmed and added to the milk; thdquantlty of flax may be gradually but slowly increased until threefourths of a teseupful of flax seed, steeped in a proportionate increase of hot water, is given to each animal. The flax for the night meal is put to steep in the same way in the morning. Milk is fed until the calves are seven or eight months old. They should have access to all the clean water they will drink at all times. They get all the meal they will eat up clean twice a day. The mixture consists of one-fourth ground peas, one-fourth ground oats, 4k:id one-half wheat bran; this is mixed with good hay run througli a cutting box. The proportion of the hay to the meal is increased as the calves get older. Where meal of this kind is not to bo had, give your calves oats, which you may feed whole, and you need not mix them with cut hay. Oat sheaves are sometimes cut in the chaffer and the meal mixture added, but not so much of it in quantity as when the cut oat sheaves are not fed. Rutter Flavors. The way to secure good flavored butter is to feed the cows with good flavored food. The delicious aroma and palatable flavors of the butter come from the oils of the food. These oils are unchanged by digestion. Hence the butter is • characterized by the food consumed by the cow. The whilom popularity of June and September butter had something substantial behind it. It was made from the sweet grasses of June and the fresh aftermath of the second growth, and under the favoring temperature peculiar to the early and late summer alike. Edward Burnett, the noted dairyman of Deerfoot Farm, tells of deciding a sharp competition for the honors at a fair, where he afterward learned the young dairyman who won the prize picked bright clover heads each day for his pet Jersey that was giving him the milk. These delicious flavoring oils do not come from bog hay, where they never exist, nor from improper foods whose flavors are not of a standard order. Dairyman seeking a product of high quality will' do well to think of these things when providing fodders for cows in milk.— Maine Farmer.

THE POULTRY-YARD.

Winter Breeding. Winter breeding is as profitable as it is risky, and the risk can be reduced to a minimum by careful forethought. The chick must bo kept warm until it . is six weeks old, or it will reach a point where growth seems to cease. Like a i young pig it becomes stunted very easily in winter, and it is much easier to stop its growth than to increase it. The young chick will always thrive in winter if given plenty of warmth. It was not orginally intended for the chick to eomo into the world in winter, says the Mirror and Farmer, but as it is now a subject of domestication, the domestic methodsmust be resorted to in order to enable it to thrive and accomplish tho purposes sought by its introduction to existence in the winter season. The greatest loss occurs from disease of the bowels. When this appears the cause is attributed to the food, and tiie attempt ismade to save tho chicks by all manner of feeding, but the real cause of the bowel disease Is cold on the bowels, due to lack of sufficient heat. This <’ol<l does not come from prolonged exposure, or from a lack of warmth during the day, but from the failure to supply warmth at night, at which time tho chicks are quiet, and do not have tho aid of exercise. A single' night's exposure (or even an hour), to a temperature that will cause tho chicks to crowd, will bring on tho bowel disease. When the whole brood is attacked by it, the chances of saving tho chicks are very slim, as they seldom fully recover, or, if they pass tiie critical stage of tho difficulty, they seldom amount to anything afterward. In raising early chicks for broilers, therefore, the main condition is warmth, continual warmth, and plenty of it, as 100 degrees is not too much for very young chicks. Poultry Notes. The India Game and Dorking make an excellent cross for table qualities. They produce a Combination of flavors and the development of breast, formation making it both largo and perfect in form and color. It requires no small amount of tact and study to brood chicks up in the nineties, yet when a breeder “gets there” ho has no difficulty to dispose of his surplus stock at prices that are not ofitem realized on other kinds. Whatever breed l yon keep aim at tho highest degree of perfection; you can’t strike fur off the mark you aim for. The ready sale of fine stock pays to got them up high in* quality. Though many improved cresses have been brought before tho people for favor, the Light Brahma has stood Ms owm ground, and to-day they are as much praised and as highly commended to the farmer as was tho case thirty years ago. Any breed that can stand the test of rivalry so long and still continue to satisfy and please the thousands breeding them, must have qualities of u very high order. Tho Light Brahama lias all these. Old hens Invariably make tho best sitters. They are not so fickle as pullets, and attend to maternal duties better. Nine eggs are sufficient under ordinarysized liens in cold weather, and twelve for Asiatic breeds. It is best to have the' proper number under tiie sitter than to l have more than she can possibly giveproper warmth to. Those under her' wings do not receive much heat, and, consequently, tall to hatch well, or hatch at all. The same is true while brooding them.

THE KITCHEN.

Flour Gems. Ono egg, one tablespoonful of sugar, two tablcspoonfuis of butter, IX cupfuls of sweet milk, three tcaspoonfuls of baking powder, 2X cupfuls of flour. Beat well, have your gem pan hot and buttered. I’oui in and bake, quick. Klee Waffles. Boil half a pint of rice and let it got cold, mix witli it one-fourth pound of butter and a little salt; stir in IX pints of flour, beat five eggs separately, add yolks together with one quart of milk, lastly the well-beaten whites. Beat well and bake at once in waffle irons. Steamed Indian Pudding. One cup of sour cream, one cup of sour milk, one egg, two tablcspoonfuis of sugar or molasses, one' cup of flour, twocups of meal, one teaspoonful of soda, one teaspoonful of salt, one-half eap of' raisins or dried fruit. Steam or boll two 1 hours or more. * Serve with sweetened* cream. Cold Lemon Pudding. One-half box of gelatine soaked lu four tablespoonfuls of water for ten minutes? add a pint of boiling water, juice of two 1 lemons, one cup of sugar. Strain and set away to cool. When cold, stir Id the whites of throe well-beaten eggs. A thin boiled custard or thick cream may be used to pour over the pudding.

Stewed Tripe. Cut the boiled tripe into small pieces* and add three or four small onions; pour over the tripe and onions a little warmwater. Let it cook slowly until both are’ tender and the water nearly boiled away.Then add milk sufficient to make a good gravy, a tablespoonful of butter made smooth in an equal quantity of flour, salt and pepper to taste, and boil three minutes. Potato and Corn Muffin*. Two cups of cold mashed cups of corn meal, or enough for a batter. Soften the potato with the milk,working out all the lumps; then- stir to corn meal till the batter is just thickenough to drop easily from the spoon;add the whipped eggs and beat hSSd. Drop into gem pans, oiled and hot, and bake in an oven from twenty to thirty minutes. ' r 1 Potato Omelet. Take six good-sized potatoes, two teaspoonfuls of salt, one tablespoonful of butter and a little pepper. Peel the potatoes and put them into boiling water. When they have boon boiling for fifteen minutes add one teaspoonfui of salt. As soon as cooked drain and inash WelL Add one teaspoonful of salt, a little pepper and butter; then add four well-beaten' yolks, mixing well. Rub through' at cplander. Melt' two tablespoonfuls of butter in a frying-pan. Pht in' the potatoes, smoothing it a)<l' over. Fry it a light-brown color, double and serve likean omelet.

To bender a roughened skin soft and* smooth, wet in warm soft water,then rub thoroughly with oatmeal' flour, and wash off with water contain--ing a teaspoonfui of pure glycerine. Any coward can fight » battle when he’s sure of winning; but give me the man who has pluck to fight when he’ssure of losing.