Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 May 1891 — Page 5

CHUB.

A Romance of West Virgioia,

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER VIII. CHUB’B RUSE. Chub talked the most. She seemed to regain her spirits sitting there with the people who prized the companionship of Dan Bash. “Was ,Dan like himself —just as he always was, Mrs. Bigger?” “Just the same, more’n ho was a bit livelier. Natrally. Seem’ as how it was his ” “Did he say anything about any one—meeting anyone on the road?” “Why, no. Leastways, not as I heerd.” Hank Dawson looked meaningly at his daughter. Chub did not notice the glance. “Did Dan ever say he had any particular enemy in school?” “Why, no, child. The folks as didn’t like Dan Bash didn’t go to school, an’ they didn’t send their children.” “Then there are folks that didn’t like him?” “Bless you, don’t everybody know them Monks can't bear the sight of him? And he hadn’t not a mite of love for the Monks. The hull parsell was agin him, and he was hot on the hull hassell.” “So?” said Hank Dawson. “Well, mind; what he said to us he wouldn't blurt out afore everybody. ” “He wasn't afraid of them, then?” “I know what’s in your mind, Chub. No! He didn’t care a mite for the hull gang o’ them, and they knew it, like as not, cos he was outspoken that way.” “I know that. ” “Course you do. Everybody knows Dan Bash speaks what's in his mind if he don’t like a thing.” “Did he ever say he met any of the Monks crowd?” “Often. ” “Well —what more?” “Why, he laughed, and said they gave him a clear track. ” “Well?” “That’s about the heft of it. ’Less it be the time he caught Bob Squatty peekin’ round the road somewhere near the failin’ rock.” “The falling rock,” said Hank Dawson. “Why, that ain’t on the road.” “Course not. Dan was out hunting. ” “Oh!” “And Squatty came round there, too, an’ something passed atween ’em. I never could just make out what ’twas. I suspect—just because, somehow —that Dan had some words with Squatty. ” “He always did laugh so when any one mentioned Squatty after that time.” “How long ago was that, Mrs. Bigger?” “Well, two weeks or more, I reckon.” Chub looked intently at her father, who returned her look meaningly. He was beginning to understand the drift of the inquiry Chub was making, for that was the practical result of her prolonged talk with the Diggers “Is your dog good?” was Chub's next query. Her father looked at her curious'y. Mrs. Bigger whispered to one of her sons: “Seems to me Chub’s gettin’ kinder out of her head. ” The son turned to Chub quickly: “Yes. I'd not swap my dog for any around these part 3.” “Is he Quick on the scent?” “None quicker. ” “Well, dad”—here Chub looked at her father smilingly—“l reckon we'll go home now. ” “Home? Home this time o’ night!” said Mrs. Bicger. “I thought you cal’lated on sleepin’ hyer,” said the oldest Bigger boy “I’ve changed my mind, ” said Chub. “Dad. let’s get our horses and go. ” “No hurry yet a while, Chub. ” “None in the least,” said Mfs. Bigger, in a friendly tone. “If so be you mustgo home, you can take a good rest afore you start'agin. ” “I’m willin’ any time.” Hank marveled much at Chub’s notion, but they sat talking at least half an hour longer, and then Chub rose. l B»n Bigger prepared to accompany them. The horses were brought around very quietly at Chub’s special request, and when they were ready to go she requested Tom to instruct his dog to keep quiet. “He will mind you, Tom. ” “He’ll do just as 1 say, that dog will.” “Well, then, keep him near you, so that you can make him obey you no matter what happens. ” Tom Bigger spoke to his dog, and then the three rode out into the darkness. Tom Bigger and his dog were in advance. Hank rode behind his daughter. “What is it, Chub?” said Hank Dawson. “Can’t you guess, dad?” “No. You know, I reckon.” “Why, I wanted the rest to go away first, and it would get out that we d stopped at the Biggers'. ” “Well?” “Then if anybody is on the lookout—anybody who knows anything about Dan, or who may be looking for him on their account, like the Monks, we may come on them unawares if we ride along quietly. ” “That’s the reason you brought the dog along. ” “To strike any fresh scent I feel pretty 6ure we’ll find somebody.” As if to verify her prediction, Tom Bigger cautioned his dog at that moment “Quiet there. Here, Hero. ” “You heard that dad?” “I’m wide awake, Chub, you bet.” They were near Tom Bigger now. “There’s something up there atween us and the rock. ” said Tom Bigger. “Dad,” said Chub in a low tone, “you go ahead; Tom, you make right after whatever it is, and I’ll stay right where 1 am. Then we’ll find out what Hero’s smelled. ” This seemed a wise course to pursue. “Dad, ” said Chub, as he left her side, “mind your shootin’ irons. ” handy,” said Hank Dawson, as he moved on. It was as much as Tom Bigger could do now. to restrain his dog. Hero wanted to rush up the mountain side. “Now, then,” said Chub, when her father had ridden out of her sight “you let the dog go, Tom. ” Tom made a sound that the dog longed to Lear, and then Hero leaped through the heavy undergrowth, crashing his

way toward the rock that rose like a wall to the right of the little party on the road. Thero was another sound heard—a sound of crackling twigs, and leaps rather than steps, as of a man or large animal brushing its way through the undergrowth. ) This was succeeded by a single sharp cry, as of one In mortal terror. Then Hero gave tongue freely. Ho howled rather than barked. Chub was all eyes and ears. She had her rifle in her hand, ready to use it She had held it ready for use during the entire search for Dan Bash. Suddenly a form leaped across the road below her. She could just distinguish the outlines of a man—then the figure disappeared in the darkness. “This way, Tom! Dad! It’s a man!” cried Chub. They both rode to her side quickly. “Where’s the dog?” “I can’t mako it out,” said Tom Bigger. “Didn't you fee Hero?” “No! But it won’t do to let the man escape. Everything depends on catching him, dad.” They sat like statues there in the darkness, listening intently. “Where can the dog be?” said Tom Bigger angrily. “That’s the first time I ever knew Hero to ” A yell, a growl, and a howl of pain startled them. Hero was proving the stuff he was made of. He had found his game.

CHAPTER IX. HUN DOWS. “Now, then. Let us be quick, dad!” | As she spoke, Chub turned her horse’s head to the left, and made her way as rapidly as the forest trees would admit of in the direction of the sound made by the man and the dog. It was plain, now, that a combat was waged between the two. The dog yoiped; the man shouted and swore. Hank Dawson was unwieldy on horseback, but he reached the dog’s side almost as soon as Tom Bigger and Chub. In an instant both were off their horses, and Tom Bigger was speaking sternly to his dog. “Hero! Quiet there. Behave yourself. Who is that? If you answer, I’ll pull the dog off. ” “My God! lie’s eating me up. Take him off. ” Bigger pulled Hero back by main strength, while Hank Dawson struck a light. “ Humph ! Thought I knew that voice. ” “It’s you, Bob Squatty.” Chub looked down on aim scornfully. Hank Dawson held a freshly lit blazing pine knot near Squatty s face. Squatty was trembling like an aspen. Tom Bigger held Hero back with his right hand. Hero licked his chops, and opened his jaws. Squatty recoiled suddenly. “What are you doing here?” demanded Hank Dawson. “Yes, that’s what I’d like to know,” said Tom Bigger. “Take the dog away, will you’” whined Squatty. “Not till you tell me what you were doing on the road this time of night,” said Bigger. Poor Squatty was quaking with fear. “A nice specimen you are.” said Tom Biggers. “The dog won’t touch you now,” said Chub. “W'e are here. You know wo won’t permit the dog to hurt you. But tell us what you did to Hero. He is mad to get at you for v, hat you have done. ” Tom Bigger looked closely at his dog. “You mean skunk! You’ve cut him, so you have. ” “He did. did he?” Hank Dawson glared at the trembling wretch. “Anybody’d done what I did. He was coming at me with his teeth when I slashed him. ” “That’s why he howled,” said Bigger. “And I howled, too, didn’t I?” “Yes—you are a pooty one,” said Bigger, contemptuously. “Let’s take him to Diggers’,” said Chub, suddenly. “Then lie’ll tell us what we want to find out,” “No. no! don’t! Don't!” said Squatty, shivering with terror. “Well, then, tell us what you are doing on the road at this hour,” said Hank Dawson, “He seems tongue-tied,” said Bigger as Squatty continued silent, looking from one to the other. “Who was with you? Were you alone,” demanded Chub. “Yes. ” “All alone! I scarce thought it,” said Hank. “Well, I was.” “And what were you doing? “I was walking along the road just.” “Just taking a little stroll,” said Tom Bigger. “Probably he was thinking of turnin’ over a new leaf,” said Hank. “Speak out, you poor coward! Who sent you up here? And what were you sent for? Now, tell the truth, or maybe you’ll wish you had. You know I never said one thing and did another. I mean to get at the truth. Did you know where you were going?” “Y-y yes. Yes, I did.” “Oh! you did. Where were you goiug?” “J-j-just along p-p-past your p-p-lace, Mr. Dawson, to the Corners. ” “Oh! and who sent you? Who were you going to meet? Did you expect to see anybody at my house? You knew nobody was there, didn’t you?” “ I'e-yes. ” “You thought dad and mo wouldn’t be home; isn’t that it, Bob Squatty?” said Chub. He looked at her fearfully. Hank gave the pine knot a shake,.and as it played up brightly they could see now quite plainly the marks Hero’s teeth had made in bquatty's bleeding arm. “Yes—we thought you was to at Biggers’. ” “Wet Wet” Hank Dawson laughed a grating laugh. It was not like any laugh Squatty had ever heard before. He shivered with apprehension. “I —I —l guess I’d best tell all I know.” “I reckon that will save a heap of trouble,“ said Hank Dawson, dryly; “a heap of trouble. ” “Just begin at the beginnin’, Bob; an’ if you happen to forget anything, we'U try to remind you of it. so ato help yon out. Dad, you'd best get another pine knot. ” “Y-y-you’U not hnrt me—promise you won’t ” 1 “Shut up, you dog!” said Hank Dawson, sternly. “Tell us ali you know, and be quick, for I’m in a bad humor, and gettin’ no better fast ” “Then I’ll own up,” said Squatty. “That’s right Make a clean breast of the hull business,” said Tom Biggers. “I will,” said Squatty. “But mind the dog—keep the dog off me!”

■" CHAPTER X. SQUATTY'S SraPHIBINQ STATSUOBST. “I was going over to spy ’round your place, Mr. Dawson." “Just to see everything was all right —kind of you, Bob," said Hank Dawson, as he lit a fresh pine-knot “Go ahead, I’ll not spoil your story, cos it must be interestin’." “I didn’t mean to touch a thing. I was just going oyer to look around. And then I was going to the tavern. That was all. Just to look around." Squatty gulped down a big lump in his throat Nobody replied. A single night bird screamed. Squatty started, then settled down again, and glanced from one to the other. They wore not a friendly, group. Chub’s lips expressed scorn and aversion. Hank Dawson looked as he never looked before. There was a gleam in his eyes that frightened poor Squatty. Tom Biggers was as hard-looking as fate. There was a relentless stare in his big black eyes that chilled Squatty. He cleared his throat twice, and resumed his story. “I wasn’t doin’ all myself. Of course not. ” Still no response. “’Twasn’t my idea at all. ” Still that chilling silence. Squatty grew frantic with fear. “My God, folks! If I split on ’em they’ll kill me. They’re sworn to do it sure. ” “They? They? Who’s they?” demanded Chub quickly. “You know. Of course you know. ” “I know nothing,” said Chub. “Tell me." “Why Ned and Bill and Peto and all the rest of the Monks, and the crowd.” “Oh. ” “You do know, Chub. You saw everything that day. ” “What day. ” “The day at the spring. ” “What spring? Speak out plain.” Of course Chub knew very well what ho referred to; but she had an object in view. She wanted a witnoss. Hank Dawson and his daughter were good enough—it would be still better if their statements were corroborated by a third party. This was why she compelled the poor wretch to be explicit. “I mean the day you seen Ned Monk tryin’ to shoot Dan Bash. ” “You mean the same day you tried to club him while Bill Monk rushed on him with a knife —and I shot his arm, and then came between you and all?” “I never heard of that,” said Tom Biggers “You hear it fiom Squatty, now,” said Chub meaningly. “O! I’m wake-awake, you bet.” “Yes well that was the folks I meant,” said Squatty. “That was the same day the whole crowd jumped on Dan, and I threatened to put a bullet in the first man that touched him,” said Chub. “Yes. The same day. Ned and Bill sent me along ahead to-night, because ” “Stop. How did you know we wer’n’t at home?” “Why, we knew. ” “How did you know?” Hank Dawson’s look was so threatening that Squatty recoiled. “Don’t hit me ” “Hit you! Hit you, you poor devil. If I touchod you with my boot, I’d burn it. Go on.” “Why, they’ve been on the watch.” “Where?” “Everywhere.” “Be more explicit, ” said Chub. “Where were the Monks to-night‘>” “At the forks of the road. ” “Where were they?” “In the trees —up high.” “How did they learn we were not going home’” “They overheard your folks talking as they rode home. ” “Humph!” “It’s God’s truth. ” “What do you know about God’s truth, you wretch?” “Well, I ain’t lying now.” “That come 9 nearer it. Now, then, Squatty. ” Bob bounced as ho was addressed sternly. “You've spun a nice yarn to us.” “’Deed, Mr. Dawson, I—l ” “Shut up! I’d not believe you if you swore on as many bibles as you could pile up all over the county,” “Nor I,” said Tom Diggers. “Nor I either, Squatty,” said Chub, quietly. “I happen to know that part of what you say is the truth. Now to begin with. What do you know about Dan Bash? Where is he?” “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know nothin’ about him.” “Very well,” said Chub, coolly. “Now, who was in the business? Which of the Monks besides you? Or were you all in the scrape?” “Before God, Chub ” “See here,” said Hank Dawson, roughly, “I thought I told you once afore not to mention somebody as don’tjknow you, an’ ain’t likely to have you for a tenant.” “I won’t say God again. ” “Best not. You’d best talk about the devil. He’s your company, Squatty.” “Well, I swear I don’t know nothin’ about Dan Bash ” “You lie!" said Tom Biggers. “If I die for’t, I don’t, ” said Squatty. Chub looked at him earnestly. “No use in lying now, Squatty.” “I ain’t lyin’.” “And you’ll swear you don’t know who has waylaid Dan Bash?” “I’ll swear it I don’t b'lieve he was waylaid by nobody. ” “You’ll Swear Ned and Bill Monk haven't got him hid somewhere?” “I know they haven't. ” “How do you know? They don’t tell you everything. They make a tool of you." “I know it But I know they didn’t do nothin’ to Dan Bash, too. If they know'd where he was, what d they keep me trottin' roun' trying everywhere to get track of where he is afore your folks iound him for?” “See here, Squatty,” said Hank Dawson, suddenly, “if you say that again—if you pretend they don’t know where he is at this moment, I’ll smash yon.” The blacksmith drew his arm back. His tremendous fist was clenched. At that moment Chub grasped his arm. “Don't, don’t, dad ! Squatty's telling the truth I see it in his face. ” Hank Dawson’s arm fell at his side, and Squatty breathed free for the first time since he fell into their hands. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

A pupil defined crow-bar as “a bar from a musical rooster’s crow." /

HOME AND THE FARM.

A DEPARTMENT MADE UP FOR OUR RURAL FRIENDS. Earn* Mov Appliances for the FarmerWell Selected Suggestions lor the Housewife. the Stockman, the Dairyman, the Poulterer, and the Horticulturist—Motes. THE FARM. Corn-l,tating.

an inverted V-trough attached as shown in the illustration herewith. To make it. take a 2x4 inch scantling six feet long, chamfer off one edge on each side until the boards lit snug, leaving about six Inches of the scantling unehamfored

LISTER CULTIVATOR DEVICE.

by which to hitch it to the cultivator. Through the end of this bore a hole and fasten, crossways, by. bolt, 2xlß Inch piece of wood as Indicated so the Vtrough will stay in the ditch and not bob out. A small hole is bored in each end of the cross stick, through which wires, ropes or small chains are secured and left long enough to fasten to the insido shanks of the cultivator; thus holding the trough in the ditch, and the trough in turn keeping the shovels out of the ditch. Lengthen or shorten the wires, ropes or chains used, according to size of the corn and the amount ol dirt you want in the ditch. \Ve hold the shovels in the ground their full depth and throw dirt all over the trough, covering up as much or as little of the corn as desired; all weeds not extirpated by the shovels are buried under the overthrow. By this method the work is not hard; in fact, it is easier than plowing, planting, etc., by “old style;” and, it is much faster, for you can go pn the run if desired. Mako the trough strong but light. The second time through we use shields and four big shovels, for third time the same as for regularly planted corn—Orange Judd Farmer. Farm Gate Latch, A home-made latch for farm gates, ono that will never get out of order, is easily made and can be added to most gates now being used is worth having, especially if its construction takes but a few minutes and its operation is automatic and sure. About 1 ft. from the end of the gate nail K cleat on each side, so the latch can slide between these and on the upper edge of a board. Next cut off a ft. piece of furring and slide it in for a

latch. Drive a light staple in its upper edge and another in the top board and connect the two by a waste piece of bale wire, raising the inner end of the .latch an inch or two. The upper staple must be placed at least 1 ft. nearer the end of the gate than its mate in the latch. Then when the latch is forced toward the gate's hinges its inner end is lifted and its own weight forces it back into position. A smooth slot of sufficient size must be cut in the post to receive the latch. —Farm and Horne.

About Stock. Do not force the cows to stand in filth or to lie in.it. Keep the stable clean. The horse needs succulent food as well as the cow. A few roots do the horses great good. The man who breaks his colts and the politicians as they ought to be broken, is in th» right way. The time has come when there is scarcely an excuse for using scrub sires. Male animals of all kinds can be purchased cheap. Do not use a scrub stallion, if you can halp it, and remember that every horse that is represented as a thoroughbred is not one by a long shot. When the weather is pleasant, the horse Is better outside than inside the stable. Let him out to get the benefit of the sunshine, the pure air and exercise. A correspondent asks us why a certain brand of bacon is always quoted higher than other kinds. The answer to all such questions, as a rule, is because it is a better article. A han was pretty nearly kicked to deatb the other day by a vicious horse. He had bought the horse for $25 knowing it was vicious. Now the account stands about thus: Horse, $25; doctor’s bill, $165, loss of time, at least S6O; making a total of $2lO. That would buy a pretty good horse, eh?

THE POULTRY-YARD.

Femttng for Egga, There is much to learn In feeding fowls for egg production in the season when eggs are in demand, for then and only then does the profit justify the extra attention necessary to accomplish this. A good hen should average 120

k E list the corn in rows threo feet npartr hills one foot apart; one kernel to the hill. This isquite thick, but some will get covered up in cull tivating, which Is I begun when the I corn gets woody. We use a common shoveled cultivator, somet im e s taking the inside shovels off and at other times using them. To keep from covering up the corn first tlmo through, wo use

eggs per year. Some I will admit have laid from 150 to 170, but I am only calculating the average, so as not to scare the inexperienced poultry man, it being nearer the average production. Did you ever stop to consider that 120 eggs represent an aggregate weight of 16ft) of nutriment in its most condensed form, and and 150 eggs an aggregate of 20 lb? Onetenth of this, or perhaps a trifle more, is fat. A surplus of matorial as well as energy in the secretive organs is necessary, so it is a fact that the mere feeding of extra foods will not be sufficient. It should be borne in mind that vitalized productive eggs are one thing and those used for food another. If it were possible to control the production of the hens, the policy to pursue would cause the breeding stock to produce but one or two chickens. They would be more apt to be fertile and the chicks constitutionally more healthy and vigorous. Usually a fowl starts laying at 8 or 10 months old. Nho does not lay as constantly and as well at first as she will the second year, but she will demand more food for development the first season and during the period of molting, say from August until November, she will not lay at all. If the winter is excessively cold, unless very warm and comfortable quarters arc provided as well as good food, she will seldom favor you with an egg. In feeding for eggs we must use proper judgment and not gravitate to either extremes. Wo all know or should know that a hen overfed will not lay well. The fat accumulates about the ovaries, which moans a loss of action in the egg organs. Feed well, avoiding such foods as produco fat. Corn is one food of this kind, aud sometimes warm cooked food without exercise means the building up of a fatty element foreign to the make-up of a good layer. Do not understand that I mean that corn should never bo fed, nor warm feed, but only sparingly. Wheat and bran are egg-producing foods when used in moderation. Rice is also good, as is meat chopped up finely. It matters but little whether the meat contains much fat or not Ground bone and milk in the morning and evening are excellent for old fowls that lay. Egg shells broken up line can bo fed to them and also lime in the form of old mortar. An excellent, mixture for shell material for general digestive properties is mado up of 10 parts of ground new oyster shells, 2 of cayenne pepper and 1 of powdered sulphur. Place two full tablespoonsful in soft feed three times a week, which is sufficient for a dozen hens. J. W. Caugiiky.

JVVhcn Is a Hen Too Tat 7 A hen is too fat whon she is apparently very heavy behind, when she Is lazy and cares nothing for work, seeking only to havo the owner feed her. She cannot easily fly, soon becomes tired from exertion when chased, does not lay, though in good health, and is very heavy when hold in the hands. We do not state that any one of the above causes indicates a fat lien, but to observe her in all of them. Of course, the surest method Is to lift her and the weight will bo there. Examination of the rear of the body will also show tho fat under the skin by its color. As to what should bo the character and quantity of tho food required to keep them in a healthy condition, cannot bo correctly stated, as no two hens are alike. Leghorns and Brahmas (or other largo breeds) should not be kept together. If hens are in good condition, tho best food is chopped clover hay (chopped half an inch in length and scalded), all they will eat, in the morning, a tablespoonful of uround meat mixed with mashed potatoei; and scatter wheat for them to pick up before going to roost.

THE HOUSEHOLD.

Bints to HoUNekoeper*> To phkvknt layer cake from sticking, grease the tins and dust In n little flour. Hartshorn usually restorescojors that have been taken out by acids of any kind. Sai.t sprinkled on any substance that Is burning on the stove will stop the smoke and smell. A i,itti,e turpentine mixed with the starch will give a liner gloss to shirt bosoms, collars and cuffs. Hot milk Is a simple means of comfort, and is most reviving to one who is fatigued by overexertion. By rubbing with a flannel dipped In whiting, the brown discoloration may be taken off cups which have been used for baking. Disinfectants are useful posessions In all households. Even the most sanitary plumbing may need the occasional purification of disinfectants. • It Is said that to drink sweet milk after eating onions will purify the breath so that no odor will remain. A cupful of strong coffee is also recommended. A german prescription for preventing cold-sores and bolls from coming to a head is to paint them five or ton times daily with equal parts of boracic acid and water. Huonge carpets occasionally with hot water in which either common salt or powdered alum has been dissolved. This not only brightens the carpet but prevents moths. Lay a piece of thick Canton flannel under your tablecloth. Even coarse napery will look a much better quality with a sub-cover than if spread directly over the bare tabic top. By applying a little of the best carriage oil varnish carefully with a camel’s hair brush to the edges of broken china, the parts being neatly Joined together, the fracture will, when thoroughly dry, be hardly perceptible, and the china will stand fire and water.

THE KITCHEN.

Practical Keel pen. Eoa Soup.—Boll four eggs for twenty minutes, let them cool, open them, and grate the yolks, and chop the whites. Put two tablespoonfuls of butter and two tablespoonfuls of flour in a saucepan, and stir over the fire until they are thoroughly incorporated: then add one quart each of hot water and milk. Season with pepper, salt and a little nutmeg; add the whites and serve. Fisk with Cheese.—Cut up together a few mushrooms, some parsley and a small onion, and fry them in butter; season highly with salt and pepper. Butter a baking dish and put the fried vegetables on the bottom; then put in, a layer of cold cooked flounder or any other fish with large flaky meat. Sprinkle bread crumbs on top. moisten with stock and bake. Serve slices of lemon with this dish. Larded Liver. —Lard a calf’s liver with slices of fat bacon. Prepare some vinegar as follows: Take sufficient vinegar to cover the meat, and add thereto a slice of onioiq some sage, pepper and /

salt. Put tho liver In this and lot Itlie for twenty-four hours; then take from the vinegar and roast it, with a little water in the pan. Baste often and serve, with brown gravy. Fkif.d Onions and Potatoes.—Put two large tablospoonfuls of butter over the fire, and when very hot add two small sliced onions; sprinkle with salt and put a cover over them; when they have cooked ten minutes put in six goodsized potatoes that have been peeled and cut into dice. Stir all together, then add salt and pepper; cover tho pan again and let them cook until brown ou tho bottom, shaking the pan occasionally, but not mixing the potatoes and onions. Chocolate Cop Custard. —To a quart of milk add the beaten yolks of five or six eggs and two heaping tablespoonfuls of chocolate, vanilla, sugar to taste, and a very little salt. Melt the chocolate in a little hot milk before adding to the other ingredients. Fill cups with this, and set them in a pan of water to bake; they will need about fifteen minutes. Servo cold. Cocoa nut Cakes. —One cup powdered! sugar, two cupfuls desiccated coeoanut, two tablespoonfuls flour, whites of twoeggs. Mix well, roll into a sheet, cut into small cakes, and bake a light brown.

THE APIARY.

Some kinds of very thick honey wi not granulate. It looks now as though alfalfa honey Is to lead the world. Mick will eat bees and pollen and when they get Into a hive they usually keep tho colony in an uproar and may even eventually cause their death. The Convention of tho Eastern lowa Bee-Keepers, will be held in tho Dobson Town Clock Building, Maquokota, lowa, Fob. li, 12. Frank Coverdale, Sec., Welton, lowa. In painting hives do not use dark colors for In extreme hot weather the combsin dark colored hives will molt down, while in a hive which is painted white, no damage will be done.

Do not be alarmed if you find a number of dead bees about tho entrance of tho hive. In summer time you do not notice so many because the colony carry their dead away in their daily flight. The bees will take earo of the empty brood combs in the summer season better than you can do it. In winter they should bo boxed up tightly, after being thoroughly fumigated with sulphur, if they have any moth-germs in them. In all largo apiaries a record of each colony should be kept in a book, as well as ou the piece of section undor the hivo, cover. The book may be studied evenings or whon It rains and tho neeossary work systematically planned. It seems as If a successful boo keeper must be a very careful, thoughtful man. Ills constant attention to little things must discipline his mind aud make him auseful member of society. It seems also as if his experiences should lead him to communicate with the papers frequently in a generous manner, feeling that ho would have others learn at little expense what has cost himself so much effort. Temperature or Bee Cell lira. It is Important that tho temperature or the cellars should bo looked after carefully. Tho temperaturo of the bee cellars bears such an important relation to the health of tho bees that it must bo* kept in mind constantly. In the Journals the advice )s continually given to beware of the moisture in the cellars. This has been counted as one of tho most fatal conditions of such a cellar. Tho moisture of tho air bears an Important, relation to tho temperature, and if thelatter Is kept right no danger may bo expected from the former. Moisture, of course, is continually passing off from the bees, the same as from humAn bodies, and this must bo absorbed by the air. Should the air be saturated with moisture, so that it can contain no more, then this avenue of escape of moisture from the bees will be closed. Tho air of a beo cellar that is warm and damp would be* just as injurious as a moist air without, the warmth. A warm air does not thusanswer the purpose. The degree of moisture in the air should be ascertained, and a complete record of It kept every day. A wet bulb thermometer can be obtained for a small sum, and one should be kept In the bee collar all of the time.. It Is not so much, then, the temperature of the cellar as It Is tho degree of saturation. A large colony, well protected and in good condition, can stand*-, more moisture than a small, sickly ones. Mold In the cellar Is a pretty sure Indication of a moisture-laden atmosphere. Its presence may not be Injurious to the bees, but It Indicates tho beginning of' conditions which may result unfavorably.. But damp cellars need not be the rule,, for there are easy methods to preventsucitcondltlons. One bushel of unslaked lime wfUabsorb twenty-eight pounds of watef \fiNjtjc'process of slaking. If a quantity of unslaked lime Is thus kept, in the cellar continually. It will absorb’ the moisture and create a dry atmosphere.—Annie V. Webster, in American. CultlvaUir.

Mr. Richard A. Proctor, the wellknown lecturer on astronomy, oncotried the experiment of wearing a corset, and thus describes the result:: “When the subject of corset-wearing" was under discussion in the pages of the Enylink Mechanic, I was struck,* he says, “with the apparent weight of evidence in favor of tight lacing. I was in particular struck by the evidence of some as to its use in reducing corpulence. I was corpulent.’ I also wa® disposed, as I am still, to take an interest in scientific experiment. I thought I would give this matter a fair trial. I read all the instructions, carefully followed them, and varied thglime of applying pressure with that ‘ perfectly stiff busk ’ about which correspondent* were so enthusiastic. I was foolish enough to try the thing for a matter of four weeks. Then I laughed at myself as a hopeless idiot, and determined to give up the attempt to reduce by articial means that superabundance of fat on which only starvation and much exercise, or the air of America, has ever had any real reducing influence. BntT was reckoning without my host. As tbo Chinese lady suffers, I am told, when her feet-bin dings are taken off, and a* the fiat-headed baby howls when his head-boards are removed, so for a while was it with me. I found myself manifestly better in stays. I laughed at myself no longer. I was too angry with myself to laugh. I would as soon have condemned myself to using crutches all the time as to wearing always a busk. But for my one month of folly I had to endure three months of discomfort. At the end of about time I was my own mac again.”