Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 December 1890 — Page 5

THE NEW CITY. BY MRS. XAPOLBOM B. MOKAMGE. They talked cf a magic town; I heard nor believed it true That a giant of such renown Should spring from the dwarf I knew; Still, as I pondered thereon, I yearned for the old home-place; ■ I must see was it. too. gone; Surely that they would not efface. I went to the magic city. Approached it almost by stealth. I Its progress I viewed with pity, I hated this influx of wealth; Why had it come to take And change the familiar ways? It made my worn heart ache For the memory of boyhood days. Where are the sparkling fountains. Thought I, in bitter regret. Well, they cannot remove the mountains! They are constant to greet me yet. The bud had blown to a flower, I wandered its strange streets through, Wandered, wandered an hour, Without meeting a face I knew. The whir, the buzz, the rattle, Pierced even my hearing dead; I thought I was in a battle, With missiles flying overhead. And this is Progress, it seems, This riot of burly strife That murders an old man’s dreams And at odds with life. No Pantheon is there to-day For the past in this new regime; No shrine for a pilgrim gray, No nook where an old man may dream. Changed were the haunts I sought. The landmarks long overgrown; The village and I were forgot In the triumph of mortar and stone. New York City.

Dr. Elfenstein's Mission

S Remarkable Romance.

BY EMILY THORNTON.

CHAPTER IX. WHAT CAME OF SIR REGINALD’S RIDE. Wc left Sir Reginald Glendenning dashing in a wild and furious way, while in a fit of vexation, down the ramble or carriage way leading from the Hall. The horsq he sat upon was almost a colt, very wild and fiery, and, as he had not been ridden for several days, was particularly spirited on this memorable morning in the latter part of May. The pathway over which they almost flew was very beautiful, surrounded on either side by grand old trees, whose soft boughs meeting, as we have before described, made a perfect canopy of green above, through which flecks of bright blue sky might be seen, and through which, also, rare slants of sunshine glinted, falling on drops of dew that lay upon the nodding grasses, or upon little clumps of flowers, whose cups lay open, ever turning skyward for a fresh supply of light or moisture. Oh, it was a glorious morning! Glorious in being a perfect contrast to the drear, damp, foggy ones that had immediately preceded it, with the fitful sunshine of the day before, that had ended in a wild storm. But Sir Reginald saw not and cared not for the beauty that lay so ravishingly around him. He had received an unwelcome letter, one presenting to him a duty, which he meant not to fulfill, and now he was sullen, morose, and angry. In order to gratify his whim, he was riding at a break-neck speed a wild young horse, going he cared not whither, nor how, so that his movements kept pace with the turmoil within. On, on they flew, past fountain, statuary, groves, and hedges, until they dashed into the open road away, away. Suddenly a large dog, roused from a drowsy morning nap by the heedless clatter of the horse’s hoofs, sprang from a doorway almost to the flanks of the startled animal, barking savagely as he did so. The suddenness of his appearing proved too much for the nervous organization of young Tempest, who, at the sight and sound, gave such a sharp, quick, sideward jump that bedashed his rider from the saddle and pitched him over his head, exactly upon a pile of stones that had been left by the roadside for removal, where he lay in a moaning heap, while he scampered carelessly on, all unmindful of the agony inflicted or the extent of the accident. But while he paused not in his mad course, human eyes saw the misfortune, and kind human hands went to the assistance of the wounded baronet. The slightest touch created the deepest agony; but that he must be carried hornet was evident to all, therefore a litter was easily constructed, and with as much tenderness as possible the sufferer was softly raised, placed upon it, and so taken to the Hall, to which a messenger had been sent ahead with the news, while another had rushed off for the Doctor. By the time the sad procession had reached the grounds of the mansion, Dr. Elfenstein was on hand, ready to superintend their entrance, and to manage their progress up the stairs to his bed chamber. It was the sight of this mournful cortege that had called the startled household to the hall, and the news of their coming that was suddenly imparted to her ladyship, as she emerged from her room on hearing the scream given by Belle, as she also heard for the first of the accident. Very tenderly he was borne along, yet with all their care the slight jars that it was impossible to prevent drew forth groans of agony, causing frequent rests to be made, so that their progress was necessarily slow and very tedious. But under Dr. Elfenstein’s quiet and calm directions the last stair was reached in safety, and after one more turn in the hall he was placed upon his own bed in a large and airy room, and his sympathetic, bearers wiped their heated brows, and drew a long breath of unspeakable relief. For a few moments a breathless silence reigned, then the sufferer turned his pallid face to the Doctor, and begged him to see at once what was the full and exact extent of his injuries. After a thorough and careful investigation, which caused great anguish, made evident by groans, mingled, I am sorry to say, with cqrses, the Doctor hastened to reply to his impatient demand to .know the exact truth. I M I am nappy to, inform your lordship that the injuries, while severe, are not necessarily fatal,” was the honest reply. •Shall I soon be over them?” was the

next question that issued anxiously from the pale lips of the sufferer. •You will not, I am grieved to inform you. Your hip is so injured that you will be helpless for weeks, nay, months, while your spine also has received a terrible wrench." “Doctor, I cannot lie here a single night; I must get up, and go around my house," returned the patient, throwing off the clothes in great excitement, and striving to raise himself in vain, while great drops of perspiration gathered upon his pale brow, brought there by the effort. •You see yourself that it is impossible. You must obey orders and lie perfectly quiet, if you ever expect to walk again." “I tell you I cannot lie here," shouted the sufferer, in the greatest agony of mind. “You don’t know what you say when you demand it. I must, I will be around by night. It is of vital importance." “I cannot help it. The dealings of Providence are mysterious, but also are inevitable. Your hip is broken, your spine is injured, and you are a prisoner for months," was the Doctor’s serious but firm reply. “My God! what on earth then is to become of my poor ” His lordship paused, wiped the great drops of agony from his brow, and concluded the sentence in a feeble wall, “my poor plans, my business. ” “Do not worry over your earthly affairs. You surely can give orders to some person to attend to all and everything. Y’our chief duty now is to bear up, while I do what I can for your relief, so that you may at least have a comfortable night, if there is comfort to be had after so dreadful an accident,” returned the physician. “Doctor, answer me one question, and, at your peril, answer truly. Is there danger of delirium? Will my mind give way under this awful pain?” “I think not. Your constitution is a good one, and your nervous system not at all shattered; but of course I do not say for a certainty, as these things are beyond a physician’s knowledge.” “If there is the least danger of that within twenty-four hours I must know it, as I have business of vital importance to transact. ” There is no danger within that time, rest assured; so try and calm yourself, for the sake of your friends,” returned the Doctor. Sir Reginald was silent for a moment; then his eyes rested half-inquiringly upon his weeping wife and niece, then fixed themselves, as if in deep study, upon the face of his nephew, while bitter sighs escaped his white, trembling lips. “Drink this, my dear sir, and it will, I hope, relieve you,” said the Doctor at last, advancing to his side with some liquid medicine in a glass. “Answer first, will it deaden thought? If it will, I cannot swallow it, as I have a terrible problem to be solved before my mind can have a rest,” was the strange reply. “Drink it. It may soothe pain, but, I assure you, notpfeverft reflection.” So the trembling baronet swallowed the potion, and then became silent and thoughtful. Dr Elfenstein waited until he saw his patient calmed and more pliable, then proceeded to replace the bone of the broken hip and arrange the sufferer in the position most important for the success of his sutgery. After giving explicit directions to Lady Constance and Mrs. Fredon, an old family nurse, for his further treatment, he withdrew, promising to return by evening to see how his remedies were working, and to bring other needed articles for his comfort and relief. No sooner had the door closed upon his retiring form than Sir Reginald ordered every soul to leave the room except Lady Constance, merely explaining to the wondering ones that he must consult his wife upon a matter of importance. “Constance,” said he, when he saw that his order had been obeyed and that they were alone, “go to my library and get me from the locked drawer of my bookcase, a letter which lies upon the very top. The key you will find in my pocket.” Lady Constance instantly did as he directed, and the letter from his dead sister was once more in his hand. This time he read it in a different mood.

Instead of anger, one could see intense satisfaction in his eager eyes. “Now, I will tell you the request made of me in this letter, ” and he repeated to her the words we read over the shoulders of his niece and nephew, as they stealthily possessed themselves of its contents. “This girl needs a home for a few months. I need some private assistance, and you need some person to aid you and the nurse in taking, care of me, or at least in amusing me. If this Ethel is willing to do as I wish, I will pay her for her services well, and thus my sister's desires will be carried out. What say you to the arrangment?” . “I am perfectly willing to acquiesce in what you think best,” was the meek reply of the wife. “Then give me a paper and pencil while I write a telegraphic dispatch. “There,” said he, handing her the following message, addressed to the person alluded to: “Sir Glendenning is ill. You can be useful here if you wish, so come instantly. Answer; Will be met at station. ” “Call the coachman; tell him to take Jerry and go with all speed to the office and see that this is sent at once. Have him wait for an answer.” A short time elapsed only, when Matthew returned with this message: “I will come to you on the 4 o’clock train.” A few word? concisely written, but onthem hung a long train of terribleevents that the movements of the dread future could alone unfold. CHAPTER X. MRS. NEVERGAIL. We will now return to look a litt’c into the welfare of Mrs. Nevergail and her sorrowful niec£, after they had reached the home of their relative, Mr. Charles Rogers, in Charles street, Liverpool, and bidden the handsome young physician farewell, who had cared for them both so tenderly during their passage across the Atlantic. It need only be said, in reference to that farewell, that the tears rushed to the hazel eyes of Ethel as she saw him disappear in the distance, and a great and lonely void seemed suddenly to have dropped into her heart. She knew not why she had taken such a deep interest in this grave and often preoccupied stranger, but from the first’ word of kindness spoken to her, the first glance into his earnest eyes, she had felt toward him as she had never done toward any person of the opposite sex before. Then he had been so tender and kind

toward her suffering charge, had looked so gently after the welfare of each, that she had learned to trust him implicitly, to look to him for advice, and .to lean upon him as a sister would upon a brother while thrown so much together upon the deep. But now it was all over. He had gone, and henceforward she could but learn to do without him. For a day or so it had almost seemed an impossibility, but with the rapid failure of her aunt’s strength her thoughts were forced into another channel, and her own lonely feelings had to be pushed aside for the more momentous and important one of their impending separation. The third week was drawing to a close, and the young girl had thrown herself upon her knees by the bedside of the invalid to catch the last words that she had to speak in her ear. At* her request, she had been left alone with her child, and now, with her hand in hers, she murmured: “Ethel, darling, I feel that I have but a few hours more to be with you, as my strength is fast waning; but while I may, I wish to tell you what I thought might be. kept from your ears until your twenty-first birthday; but as I shall not be with you then, I must impart to you now an important secret, and give into your charge some documents not to be opened until that day. My dear, will you take those papers, and promise me that you will not break their seal until that time arrives?” “I will, dearest aunt; rest assured I will do exactly as you wish.” “The papers I speak of, then, are in my trunk, inside a small wallet. Take charge of them immediately, and be sure to attend to them at the time I mention. Now, I must tell you a fact that I have withheld from your knowledge for the best of reasons, and in order to keep a solemn pledge of secrecy given to your father when a babe. I took you, as you are aware, when a child of a few weeks old, as my own had died, as well as my husband’s sister, who was your own dear mother. “You were so young, and to be so entirely ours until your twenty-first birthday, that all thought it best to call you by our own name. I now tell you, for the first time, what has been kept secret. Your father still lives, but for various reasons did not wish to claim you or be known to you until that time. I have informed him of my husband’s death, my failing health, and of my Return to England. I have also given him Cousin Rogers’ address, who will also tell him where you can be found when that date arrives. “I will only.add that there is nothing to be ashamed of in your birth. You are a true gentlewoman, and when twenty-one will come into property sufficient for your support; but this fact is not to be generally known. Four months will elapse before that time comes, and I can leave only enough to bury me and purchase suitable mourning apparel for yourself. “I dare not leave you without a protector and guardian, and as our present host is poor and has a struggle to provide for his own six children anti wife, I have written to my brother, Sir Reginald Glendenning, asking him to take charge of you. I told him unless he did you would be obliged to earn your own living, and I hated to send you out into the world alone for such a purpose. 1 asked him if you could not be of use in some to him, until the fifth of October, when you would be otherwise provided for.’ This letter must be sent after my intorment. Let him be notified of my death and invited to my funeral; then, after all is over and your mourning garments are made, send him the letter. “Now, my love, I wish you to promise me that you will go to him if he sends for you, and assist him in whatever capacity he offers, even though it may be distasteful. Will you do this for your dying aunt, Ethel, my child?” “I surely will,” was the low reply, sobbed out almost with a wail, “but I cannot think of your dying. O, auntie! I have loved you so, how can I live without you?” “ ‘As thy day, so shall thy strength be,’ is all I can say. God will comfort you, and in a few more months your father will claim and protect you.” “Thank God for that. >Dear aunt, I shall rejoice in that father’s love, I trust. ”

“You will, my darling. But what is this? I cannot see! lam growing numb —cold, Ethel —Ethel—l am dying!” She spoke no more, and as Mr. and Mrs. Rogers hastened back to the room at Ethel’s hurried call, they saw that she was indeed breathing her last. Ethel mourned, as one with such a loving heart would naturally do over her great loss, but amid all her grief she remembered distinctly every direction she had received from those loved, dying lips. The package spoken of was hidden instantly amid her own possessions, and a message dispatched to the baronet, notifying him of his sister’s death and the hour of her funeral. To this no answer was vouchsafed. The day came and passed without his presence, and in a little less than a week after all was over, the letter to be delivered after death was forwarded to Glendenning Hall. The next day a telegraphic dispatch summoned the young girl immediately to the presence of the baronet, saying “that he was ill, and needed her at once.” An hour later saw her seated in a railway train that passed through shire, on her way to the Hall. Poor girl; she little knew what awaited her there. [to be continued.]

A Premature Discussion.

Miss Flighty—Have you decided to take any part in the discussion, “What shall we do in heaven ?” Good minister—No, miss. I am at present much more interested in the question, “What shall we do to get therq Sparta, the capital of Laconia or Lacedsemon, was the most considerable republic of the Peloponnesus and the rival of Athens. Though without walls, it resisted the attacks of its enemies by the valor of its citizens for eight centuries. Lelex is supposed to have been the first king. From Lacedaemon, the fourth king, and his wife, Sparta, who are also spoken of as the founders of the city, it obtained names. The Lacedaemonians were a nation of soldiers, and cultivated neither the arts, sciences, commerce nor agriculture. The early history is traditional. Ages may come, and ages may go, but the man who talks altogether too much about himself will be likely to linger among us for some time yet.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE FARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. Some Valuable Information for the Plowman, Stockman. Poulterer, Nurseryman, and Everybody Connected with the Farm. THE HOUSEHOLD. About Pork.

dreadfully tired of it.” “No, it seems the natural and accepted breakfast. When we first came to the States I did occasionally vary it with steak, or chops, and hot bread, but John would look around the table and say, ‘Have you got such a thing as a rasher of bacon in the house, Kate?’ and, ‘l’d like my egg, you know, when she brings in the toast-rack.’ So I ceased making innovations on that meal.” Though of my “opinion still” that a stereotyped meal must pall sooner or later that was a very clever breakfast. A small, well-cooked portion of salt or smoked meat is very appetizing; eggs, as we all know, offer the greatest amount of nourishment in the smallest bulk; toasted bread is very discouraging to dyspepsia, and orange marmalade, with its piquant mingling of sweet and bitter, is a most excellent stomachic. If its valuable properties were better known, it woujjl find a place on many more breakfast tables. One little word about my Canadian friends’ toast. It was served either thin, crisp, and dry in a silver toast rack, or the bread cut in slices an inch thick, the crust pared away, browned evenly, beaten with a flat, wooden butter-pad-dle (the broad handle of a knife will answer),until soft, but not broken, buttered on both sides to lubricate, not to soak it, and set in the oven between hot plates for two minutes before sending to the table. The improvement to be suggested on that breakfast would be the substitution of our American salt pork for the smoke cured English or Irish bacon, served at a table, the former being much mor< 'palatable because it does not possess the smoky flavor. It is curious what a difference the cutting wi'l make in the taste of a rasher of ham or pork that is to be broiled or frfbd; and the latter, if properly done, is quite as good as the former and more economical, since the fat is not wasted. The rind of either should be pared away with a sharp knife. If the pork is a rib-piece the bones should be removed, cutting them out as clean as possible, These may bo used to flavor sour, or stews of kidney, veal, chicken, or any dish in which a pork flavor is required, and spheres of fat upon the surface are superfluous. The ham or pork should be cut as thin as a sharp knife will cut it, put into a very hot frying-pan, which has been rubbed with a bit bf salt pork. The meat will quickly curl from the heat; it must then be turned every moment till delicately brown and crisp, when it should be served upon a hot dish. Cooked in this way its juices arc preserved, while it is free from clinging fat or grease. It requires but a very few minutes, yet not one servant in fifty will cook it properly. Fried pork with cream gravy, as served in a Jersey farm-house, may well rank among breakfast delicacies. The pork is to be fried thin and crisp and set in the oven, the superfluous fat poured from the pan and the remaining gravy diluted with a cupful of rich cream, stirred and allowed to come to a boil, then poured over the pork. Ham may be cooked In the same way, and the buckwheat cakes accompanying cither of these dishes are served in a great bowl of hot cream. A very good cream gravy may be made by diluting what is reserved of the pork gravy in the pan with a cupful of milk, or half milk and half water; let it boil, season, and add a teaspoonful of corn-starch blended in cold milk; mix smooth to the consistency of cream, pour over the pork, and serve. Scrapple is another delicious dish that deserves to be more widely known, for, while head-cheese is to be found in any pork market, scrapple is seldom seen outside of Philadelphia and South Jersey.—Good Housekeeping.

Hint* to Housekeeper*. For stains on the hands nothing is better than salt, with enough lemon juice to moisten it, rubbed on the spot and then rinsed off with clean water. Chloride of lime is an infallible preventive for rats, as they flee from its odor as from a pestilence. It should be thrown down their holes and spread about wherever they are likely to come, and should be used once a fortnight. For biliousness the juice of a lime or small lemon into half a glass of cold water, stir in a little baking soda; drink while it foams. To be taken when rising in the morning. This will also relieve the sick headache, if taken in the beginning. Salmon or other canned goods should not be allowed to remain in the can in hot weather after they have been opened. A prominent dealer says that he never knew bad results to occur from sound stuff when the contents of cans were at once transferred to earthen vessels. Newspapers are the best thing for cleaning lamp chimneys. Put the least bit of kerosene on a piece when filling the lamps; then rub the chimneys until they shine. It is more easily and quickly done than washing them in soap suds, they look as well, and are much less liable to crack.

THE FARM.

Telephone lor Farmer*. To make a good and serviceable telephone, good from one farm house to another, only requires enohgh wire and two cigar boxes. First select your boxes and make a hole about an inch in diameter in the center of the bottom of each, and then place one in each of the houses you wish to connect; then get five pounds of common iron stove-pipe wire, make a loop in one end and put it through the hole in your cigar box and fasten it with a nail, .then draw it tight to the other box, supporting it, when necessary,-with

CONSIDER ATION of breakfast never troubles me; we have porridge, a rasher of bacon, a soft-boiled egg, toast and marmalade the year ' round.” “1 should think you would get

stoptcord, Yon can easily run your line into the house by boring a hole through the glass. Support-your boxes at the ends with slats nailed aefoss the window, and your telephone is complete. The writer has one that is 300 yards long and cost 45 cents, that will carry music when the organ is played thirty feet away in another room. For Caked Udder. Take one-half pint of aqua ammonia, one pint of soft water, one or two teaspoons spirits of turpentine, one and onehalf teaspoons of fluid extract of belladonna, one one-half teaspoons of fluid extract of hyptolacca, one and one-half teaspoons of saturated tincture of camphor. Shake well and apply with all the elbow-grease and patience you can muster. Take about a teaspoon at a time in the hollow of the hand, and gently, but with sufficient pressure, rub it into the skin of the udder until the latter gets dry and quite hot; support yourself by putting the other hand, with an occasional patting, across the patient's spine. After having treated both sides, in front and rear (the latter as high up as the udder reaches) two doses of liniment, get down under your cow and gently commence kneading the bag, taking the whole and afterwards part of the udder between the open hands, rolling the former till the formed lumps are crushed, and occasionally milking bag empty. Stop use of liniment as soon as coagulation disappears, but keep rubbing and milk often. By all means avoid graining, feed hay only very sparingly, give plenty of water, and keep the animal from getting cold.— Jersey Bulletin. Boys Stay on the Farm. The disposition of so many young men to leave the farm and go to the cities is not creditable to their intelligence, for every city in the country is overcrowded with this class of helpless young men; they grow up on the farm with no idea of the trials and temptation that beset their class in the largo cities. They think they can live in the cities without toil and drudgery that they say is a part of farm life. There are many ways of living in a city, but there Is but one way, and that has as many trials and hardships as earning one's living on the farm, and that is to earn it honestly. A young man without a trade will find he has to work harder to make both ends meet in the city than on the farm. The young man who thinks the world owes him a living, and expects to find it in the cities without labor, will be sadly disappointed. It must be admitted that trade tries character more severely than any other pursuit in life, and puts to the severest tests honesty, self-ff'enial, justice, and truthfulness, and many young men of business who pass through such trials unstained, are perhaps worthy of as great honor as soldiers who have proved their courage amidst the fire and peril of battle. We once read of a merchant, who on his death bed, divided his hard earnings between his sons, saying, “it is little enough boys, but there is not a dirty shilling in it." Washington and Jefferson were farmers, and two greater statesmen never lived. Cicero was a great admirer of the farmer. He declared that the rearing and feeding of stock was the most important part of agriculture. Washington’s and Jefferson’s experience corroborates the same facts. Labor is the best test of the energies of men, and furnish an admirable training for practical wisdom; for industry, wisely and vigorously applied, never fails of success, as It carries a man onward and upward, and powerfully stimulates actions of others. —Cor. Home and Farm.

THE STOCK RANCH.

Hheltern for Sheep. Shelter from fall, winter and spring storms, is of the utmost Importance. The flock during these portions of the year, is carrying quite heavy coats, which, when once soaked with water, take a long time to dry out, during which time the animal must suffer much discomfort. If you doubt this, step out into one of these storms, get a good wetting, and remain outside until dry. Strong, cold winds of these seasons, also are very uncomfortable for the flock as well as for their owner. To avoid the losses coming from exposure to such storms, substantial plain shelters will pay large interest on the money invested in them. They may be built of poles and straw, boards, stone or brick; but of whatever material, there are a few points the flock-master must keep in view in their construction. They must be on sufficient high ground so that the flock will be always dry under foot, and so roofed as to always insure dryness on the back. Ventilated, so as to be free from all foul air and from all drafts, with plenty of light and never too warm. There is not much fear of cold injuring the flock If they can be kept dry and protected from wind. A frame structure is probably the best and cheapest in most localities. We have found a stone basement eight to nine feet high, built above the ground, with a number of windows and wide doors that can be kept open in pleasant weather, to be very good; especially when dur lambs were being dropped in early spring, before the cold weather is past. The great danger in the stone basement is in keeping the flock too warm, which is much more liable to injure them than cold. Overcrowding in the shed should be avoided. Live Stock Note*. Have the team well shod, or not at all. Always breed from a stallion that will improve your stock. Hard work is not so apt to injure a horse as the failure to receive proper attention after the work. The colt raised in a stall or close lot is apt to be more awkward and soft than one given plenty of room. If there are burrs In your corn field or pasture it won’t pay tp turn the sheep in there to pick. It will pick the price of the wool at shearing time. The three leading beef breeds are summed up by a good judge and careful feeder of cattle in this way: “Polled Angus and Shorthorns are fine, but for gain on grass the Hereford loads.” Be sure there are no pitfalls for the stock to get into. If you have open wells in the pasture, fence them strongly; have good posts well set and good boards or wires well stretched. If the wells are of use no longer, fill them up; that is by far the safer plan. Even the loss of a calf is more than the worth of time to make these places safe. A successful feeder of steers, when coming from the Illinois State Fair, held last October, remarked, “Judging from the class of stock of all breeds shown at Peoria there should be some good steers in this Section of the country, and there

is.” Good steers follow in the wake of good sires. Grade up vour stock by the use of good bulls.— Farm, Field and Stockman.

THE POULTRY-YARD.

Poultry In Orchards. In several localities observations have been made of orchards in which poultry have been yarded, and the conclusion is that fruit-growing and poultry-raising are joint occupations. A cherry tree in a poultry-yard that has yielded no fruit for years, the American Poultry Journal says, was this season literally loaded down with fruit, and of such quality and freedom from Injury as to surprise the owner. No insects seemed to have appeared, and the tree also gave signs of renewed vigor and health. Nor is this applicable to cherry trees alone, but to other kinds of fruit. The fowls did not roam over extended areas, but were kept in a yard of limited dimensions, which compelled them to busy themselves in the earth near the tree, their presence apparently preventing the depredations of insects. But how the fowls managed to keep off the insects that fly from point to point can only be accounted for by supposing that iustinct prompts the parents not to deposit eggs on trees that are within the limits of danger. The visits of insects are for the purpose of propagation, and nature has ordained that they use caution in order to’protect their young, which often descend to the earth. This is a theory, but it is a fact that poultry are a protection to orchards, whatever the cause. Feeding NhellH for Lime. As the hens will not eat oyster shells when ground as fine as meal, and prefer the large, coarse pieces, it Is doubtful, says an exchange, if oyster shells assist in supplying lime for the egg shells, and are rather eaten because of being sharp and assisting to grind their food in the gizzard. Oyster shells are as Insoluble as limestone, or any other carbonate of lime, and cannot therefore be utilized as food. If lime Is to be given to fowls it can best be done in the drinking water, as the freshly burned lime (hydrate, when slaked) is the best form for the purpose. The lime of the egg shell can be secured from the food very easHy if the hens are supplied with plenty of grass and a variety of food. The grains are deficient in limo, and when the hens are confined and fed entirely on grain, the eggs will have soft shells, no matter how well the hens may bo supplied with pounded oyster shells. In some sections of the country, oyster shells are seldom seen, yet there is no difficulty in regard to the hardness of the egg shells. Tho oyster shells promote digestion, by assisting to grind the food, and in that respect are very serviceable, and aid in promoting tho secretion of Hine for tho shells of the eggs.— Farm, Field and Stockman. »

THE APIARY.

Point* for Beginner*. •, / Do not take too much honey from yd'ur bees. Remember .that it Is their surplus that you should take and nothing else. When you open a hive of bees, If you see any robber-bees flying about, you may be sure there is no honey in the fields, and you must avoid leaving the hives open, or exposing honey in their reach. ; A robber-bee is easily recognized by Its quick motions and sneaking ways. Ail bees become robbers, if tempted with exposed sweets In time? of scarcity. Decrease the size of the entrance of your hives when the honey crop is over, but be sure and have it very largo during the honey crop. Bees will not work on fruit juice when there is honey in the fields, and they cannot hurt sound fruit at any time. If any of you doubt this statement, put a bunch of sounif grapes or a sound peach in a hive of bees, and note the result twentyfour hours afterwards. It is birds and hornets that damage sound fruit; bees only gather the lost juices. In seasons of scarcity your bees should be fed. You will have such a season once in ten, and the busy little things will repay you fully the following year. Honey-dew and fruit-juice are bad winter food, and should be extracted from the combs. When you have to feed, if you cannot get good honey, use good sugar syrup. If bees have to be fed for winter, the food should be given them all before the opening of cold weather. Do not watch for bee-moths, but keep your colonies strong and healthy, and they will take care of the moths. A good bee-smoker and a bee veil are indispensable to an apiarist. Some people do not use veils, but they occasionally get stung on the face, and this is not very pleasant Smoke the bees at the entrance a little before opening a hive. Do not handle your bees early or late, or in the night. On the contrary, select the warmest part of the day, as the old bees are then In the field. When you are stung, do not lose a second, but scrape the sting off. Do not pinch it off, as you are more than likely to drive more poison into the wound. A sting instantly removed gives but little pain comparatively. There is more profit with less labor In 300 hives of bees than in 160 acres of land, but you should know what to do and do it in time. There arc about 5,000 bees in a pound. A gallon of honey weighs eleven to twelve pounds, according to its density. —Langntroth on the Honey-Bee.

THE KITCHEN.

Steamed Pudding. Two eggs, one cup of sugar, one cup of sour milk, one teaspoonful of soda; one-half teaspoonful of salt; add flour to make a stiff batter, one cup of entrants or raisins. Steam in a buttered pudding dish hours. Celery Soup. Wash and cut into small pieces celery in sufficient quantity; blanch it, and then boil it with water, salt and nutmeg; pass it through a sieve, and thin it with meat or chicken broth; cream can be added. Nice Doughnut*. One egg, one cup of sugar, a large cup of milk, a piece of butter not quite the size of an egg, one teaspoonful of soda, two teaspoonfuls cream tartar, a little salt and ginger, sufficient to mold and roll out. Fry in hot lard. & Scrambled Kggn. Break six eggs into a bowl and season with salt and pepper. Pour into a heated skillet containing one tablespoonful of melted butter and as the eggs cook, turn them up constantly fi»om the bottom. Serve when slightly dried. The eggs should never be stirred, only the yolks broken, as they will present a better appearance than when broken.