Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 6, Number 24, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 11 September 1884 — Page 3

Uapnntt HBttMg Itcita WAPPANEE, i x INDIANA. VIRTUE ITS OWN REWARD. The Kins of Somewhere loved the Queen Os Somewherelse moat dearly. And in hia oourtler Gobetween Confided he ainoerely. The Courtier waa a pleasant man. Os readiest invention. And always had tome clever plan To hold the Kins'a attention. The Queen waa coy and hard to please, As beat beseemed her station; The Kins upon hia bended knees She kept in explication. • No favorins answer would she give, ~ No smile of kind consenting; And while the Kins was fain to live. Yet life waa all lamenting. At last he prayed his Courtier wise To aid in bis proceeding; The Courtier's ready wits devise Plans worthy of his breeding. He hastened to the haughty Queen, i And praised hia Royal Highness; So wily wm this Gobetween. ■e ohuoaled o'er his slyness. ~ * pg ■; .■ -.1 x* '< The Queen was softener by his art, And when her suitor tendered His royal kingdom (and his heart), , She graciously surrendered. The King and Queen lived happily. In hand and heart were wedded; As tor the Courtier—let me see— Oh, yea—he was beheaded. -Stanley Wood, in Century.

MRS. TOM HARDING. One of the Season's Nantucket Idyls. < The out-bound steamer from New Bedford, stopping at Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, swept gayly out of the .harbor. Two young women in simple traveling costume sat on the deck and looked down on the many-shadod green waters below—Miss Morgan and Miss Ford. The latter was tall, dignitied and blonde, and three years the senior of the petite, dark-eyed friend at her aide. It was she who spoke, with just a trifle of annoyance in her voice: ■ "It’s too aosurd, Amy. You can never carry out suo’u a- plan; you will tget into all kinds of scrapes and tell so unanv fibs.” -. Miss Morgan, eooliy—‘‘What W ftt ana good cause, my dear? You will see 'it will be tho simplest thing in the world, and I do so want to see life from '*a married stand-point.” * Miss Ford—"Then why didn't yon , marry? I'm sure there was Harry *!Thorndvke—” , Miss Morgan, with fierceness—“ Bel, If you ever allude to that again—” “I won’t, dear,” said her friend, soothingly, "but since you didn't marry I can’t see why—” “That’s just it,” answered Miss Morgan, eagerly; "if I had married I should wish to appear single. Come, Bel, I’ll chaperone you beautifully. Let me have my own way, worst you, dear?” y Miss Ford, with resignation—" When do you not have your own way. Amy? But you'll repent’ifc and I'shan’t have one moment’s peace.” "Repent it ? Never! Now for a name. Mrs—Mrs— What wmy husband's name, Bel?” "I decline all acquaintance with myths.” •> Miss Morgan, after some thought — “I have it now. Bel. dear, le.t me present you to Mrs. Harding, Mrs. Tom Harding, of Nashville. Nashville is a good far-off place, you know.” Miss Ford tried to frown, but laughed instead and bowed. “,Now, Mi's. Harding,” she said, “perhaps you will find time to look at this charming scenery,” and they fell to talking of the beauty of the waves and the whitesaiied vessels outlined against the distant horizon. 4. They sat slightly apart from the crowd of fellow-passengers, and, absorbed in their talk, did not note a single listener, who stole guiltily away as ■tne steamer neared the Vineyard. The listener was a young man, tall and comely, with laughing blue eyes and I fine, clear-cut features. He wore a ■suit of well-fitting gray, and carried in his hand a traveling satchel neatly lettered “T. H.” His face betokoned a little perplexity and much amusement, ahe sauntered to another part of the deck, and devoted himself to the pages •of a Nantucket guide. He glanced now and. then at the young women [who had so unwittingly bestowed upon him their confidence, and, as he did so, •he smiled. They talked on In desultory fashion till the summer twilight fell, and the picturesque old town of Nantucket rose in sight Miss Morgan sprang up, from her chair, and, gathering her wrap around her in a careless though iWot ungraceful way, oalled her friend: .“Come, Bel. I’m longing to begin my inew life,” and they threaded their way deftly through the crowd to the „ landing - place below. There they quickly got into a carriage and rolled away through the cobbled-paved streets, with the hoarse notes of the jtown-crier ringing in their ears. They ’looked about them eagerly, noting the quaint old houses, and the charming grass-grown streets. “Oh, Bel,” cried Amy, “I’m half sorry we came.” I “Why, dear?” asked her friend. | “ Because I shall never want to go away again.” They breakfasted gayly the next morning, bestowing but slight attention on their fellow-boarders. They had a map of tho island spread out before them, and occasionally invoked the aid of the Nantucket waitress in making their plans for the day. "There’s the old mill, the old bouse, Surf-side and ’Soonset,” said the young woman, conscientiously cheeking oft the spots of interest on her fingers as she spoke, “and Wauwinet, ana—” j ‘‘Oh, don’t,, please,” interrupted Amy, “don’t tell any more. 1 am bewildered now. Bel, what do you say to a walk along shore this morning, and 'the old mill this afternoon?” Her friend assented, and they rose from the table and went out in the hall. “How delightfully free I feel,” said Amy, as she stopped at the desk and began to turn over the pages of the register. “1 told everybody not to write to me, and 1 shall write to no one.” She scanned page after page without comment till her eyes rested on the one where she had inscribed her friend’s name and her own the night before. “Bel,” she gasped, “look here!” and she turned to her friend a face of horri-

ficd surprise. There were the names she had registered there the previous evening: Mrs. Tom Hardingr. Nashville, Tenn. Miss Isabel Ford, New York. But beneath them was another in a bold, and manly hand: Tom Hardlnx. Nashville, Tenn. “How perfectly shocking! What shall I do?” It was quite late in the afternoon when they climbed the stairs of the old mill, and they found the miller alone. He was an old sailor, brown and weather-beaten, with kindly dark eyes and queer little gold rings, sailor fashion, id his ears. He was a Portuguese, he told them, was born in the Azores, and had spent many years of hra life upon the sea. •T>o you like America?” asked Bel. “Yes, yes, I like it here, it’s a big country, but I like better go home to the Azo’. My woman, she have her brother here, and so I stay.” “I hope you will go home some day,” cried A toy, impulsively, putting out 'her hand. “Oh, yea, I tink so, write yon name' fin my book before you go?* and be proudly produced a register, the gift of aome former visitor. “Vou write. Anyy,” spid Bel, and the

old miller bent over her ohalr, aa she entered: Mr*. Tom Harding. Mis* Isabel Ford. He looked at the names curiously a moment and said: “You husband here little while ago. You to meet him when you come?” and turning back to the page before, pointed out: Tom-Hardlutf. Nashville, Tenn. Amy crimsoned but said nothing. “It is no you husband?” he persisted. • “Yefc-no—l don’t know," stammered Amy. “Oome, Bel, wo must g°” “I tink you oatoh him if you mako haste,” said the miller placidly. Tney were a little late at supper that evening, and found tho ohair opposite their own, on whose emptiness they had congratulated themselves in the morning, filled. Tha-Qceupant was a tall Young man wuh genial blue eyes and clear-cuf features. Formalities are blown away in sea breezes, and when he had passed tho buttor and the cold meat, and Bel had responded with proffers of jelly, they began to converse quite as a matter of course. He said that he had been at Surfside in the morning and out rowing in the harbor later in the day. It was Bel who answered his remarks; Amy sat in silence, occasionally flashing dark eyes at the stranger, as if wishing to wrest from him his name and habitation. “We were at the old mill this afternoon," she said, with a little abruptness as they were rising from the table. “Indeed,” he answered politely, “it is called an interesting old plaoe, I believe,” and poor Amy felt that her remark had been made in vain. " I’d give anything if I hadn’t begun it,” she admitted to her friend as they mounted the stairs to their own room: “but I’ll carry it out to the end now,” she added, defiantly. “If I only knew who that dreadful Tom Harding was!” Two or three days glided by in uneventful comfort, Mrs. Harding, nee Morgan, and Miss Ford loitered about the queer old streets and whiled away pleasant hours in the bric-a-brac shops. It’was in one of those that they heard of & museum ’kept by a sea-Captain’s widow, and decided to visit it. The afternoon was rainy and they found the little room well filled. . “Come right in, young women,” said a hospitable Voice as they passed in the door. “Young man, hand those women some chairs.” They were seated, and after a moment’s pause the lecture went on. “Barna.'les from a ship’s bottom,” said the lecturer, displaying some specimens as she spoke, 1 of "which they form themselves on tho ship’s bottom and prevent it from sailing, ’ Amy stifled a laugh behind her fan. and looking around to avoid meeting her friend’s eyes, encountered those of the young man who sat opposito them at table. They exchanged a glance of sympathy and amusement “This, M ,said the widow, “is the headdress of a chief's daughter worn at boat-ragng, of which the materials are found in the palm-tree, and a very beautiful head-dress it is. Will thee put dear?” " addressing Amy. After a moment’s nesitahey. Amy complied, and the curious structure proved not unbecoming to her glowing face and dark eyes. . . •‘'beheld tfiy race. *•'** “ And tbinK no disgrace," quoted the lecturer, offering A small hand glass as she spoke. When the exhibition was dVer, Amy and her friend lingered to ask a question or two, and were called upon to register their names. “One would think everybody here kept an intelligence office, grumbled Amy, as she again wrote Her friend’s name and her own baleful title. And she bade good bye to her hostess —a formality carefully observed by all visitors—the old lady detained her. “Where does thee live, my dear?” she asked, looking kindly at the pretty young face.

“I am visiting in New York with my friend Miss Ford,” answered Amy with an attempt to draw Bel into the conversation, but the young lady was intent on some ivory carvings, and turned a deaf ear to the appeal? “Is thee a married woman?’' ‘next inquired the old lady. Poor Amy looked up to find the eyes of the young man fixed upon heir with decided interest. “Fes, I think so,” she said, confusedly, and was fain to get away. “Has thee a good husband, my child?”—but the young man came to her rescue. “Good-bye, madamc,” he said, holding ont his hand. “I have enjoyed the afternoon greatly.” “I am glad thee has, friend, I like thy face. Come again and see me. Wnat is thy name, so that 1 may remember thee?*” He cast a look of mingled deprecation and amusemeut, at Amy's retreating figure and answered distinctly; "Hardmg; Tom Harding, from Tennes r see.” Amy did not appear at supper that night, and MiSs Ford in answer to Mr. Harding’s question said briefly that she was tired. “As they sat in their room that evening, they heard the twang of a guitar io the parlor. below, < and vstifitobes of soug sUBg ift % fi&ai>a£itQflS_Yoice.. - “Oh, 'we had” such * tmrt- Iremight, Mrs. BUrdlig,” laid goo' of UleJadies, meeting hsr on the stairs 1 next- morning, "your Ifusband’s Singing is charming; we were so sorry you were too tiredjto jq\n ns.” “I haven’t any husband,” cried Amy, fiercely. “That is,” she added, lamely, “he isn’t here.” “Oh,”.aiddtfce lady, vtith a certain inflection. ‘.‘We all thought from your having the vsame name, and coming from the same place, and eating at the same table, you know. It is oaa, isn’t it? Quite a coincidence! One of your husband's cousins, I supposo?” she added, insistently,

**My husbahd has no cousins,” said Amy, and thelady passed on to confide to another guest that she thought “young Mrs. Harding was, to speak as mildly as possible, odd.” Amy said nothing to -her -friend of this encounter, but proposed a visit to Wauwinet and Coatue in search of shells. As they glided along over the blue waters iu the yacht Lilian, she forgot for the nonce the troubles of matrimony and Che inconvenient presence of Mr. Tom JHjrding from Tennessee. Coming Home toward evening, they were met.in the hall by the waitress who handecPMiss Ford acasl_ p* “He asked particula*ly if one of you ladies wasn't small, with eyes and ltold him yes, and then if there wasn’t a Mbs MorganwWhjtith Miss Fotd, and I said, no, iaefkgraain't, and he seemed real surprise*} wtfen I said there wasn’t only you -and Mrs. Harding as come together, and he said he’d call this evening, 'and he hoped he’d find you as he was going away tomorrow.”, Having thus delivered her message, the girt went-Away, and left them alone. Bel neld tbe-,fitrd out silently to Amy. She took: it mechanically from Miss Ford’s hand, looked at it helplessly a moment, add theh dropped it on the floor with a little gesture of despair. It bore on its smooth, white surface the inscription—“ Harry Thorndvke, New York.” m They ate supper in a pensive silence, broken now and then by a remark lrom Mr. Harding and a brief reply from Miss Ford. „ The young man glanced now and then at Miss Ford’s compdnioßi 1 hut beheld nothing but downcast lashes for his Waina - - “I shall be sick this evening, Bel,” said Amy, decidedly, as they paused a

moment in the parlor; “and you may tell Harry Thorndyke what you like. ” “But he didn’t come to see tne, Amy,” expostulated Miss Ford. Tne woman who deliberates is lost. A tall figure darkened tho door. “Then you are here, after all. Miss Morgan,” and Harry Thorndyko shook hands rapturously with poor Amy. "I never was so down in my life as when the fgirl * said you weren't hero with Miss Ford. I looked at the register myself, too, and couldn’t find your name anywhere.” “Oh, "Mrs. Harding,” said an exEansivo voice, and a young lady came urriedly into the room. “I beg your pardon," as she saw the young man, “but could you lend me a shawl, if you are not going out? No, don’t come; I can get it myself.” The gladness died out of the young man's face. “What—wliat did she call you?” he stammered. “Mrs. Harding,” said Amy, sharply. •; you are married?” hesaid at last. “Yes,” said Amy. Miss Ford started from her chair, and seemed about to speak. “ And tho Mr. Harding whoso name is in the register is your nusband?” “ Yes,” cried the girl, frantically, and the young man turned to go.” “I—l congratulate you,” ho said slowly, “but! siiouldn’t have come if I had known,” and lie went sadly away. “Oh, Amy. what have you done?” cried Miss Ford. “ I don’t know,” and she turned toward her friend a face of such utter wretchedness that she forebore further speech. ” How could Ido it when I love him so?’’ As they left the dining-room the next morning, Amy turned suddenly and addressed Mr. Harding: [’ • ‘ I want to speak to you alone, pleaso. Will you take me fdr a little walk?” The young man assented, and they walked almost in silence to tho top of the hill that overlooks tho harbor. Once there, Amy turned and faced him. “Mr. Hard.ng, I don’t know what you will think oi me, but I am,tho most wretched girl in the world. When I was coming here I made a little plan—” “ Will it make it any easier if 1 tell you that I know—” “ You know —?” “Yes, 1 couldn’t help hearing you on the boat,” ho explained, hastily, “and when I found you had fixed on my name, 1 was amused, and—” -“Yes, I sec—but last night he came here, and somebody called me Mrs. Harding, and he asked mo if I was married, and I said yes, and he asked if you were any husband, and I said you weret ahd”—hero her voice broke into irrepressible sobs—“no's gone away, aud 1 shall never see him again.” “Shall I go and bring him back?” asked the young man, helplessly, looking down on her bowed head and quivering form. “Oh, yes, do,” she cried, “tell him I didn’t marry you—that*l wouldn’t marry you for anything —” “If you will toll me Lis name,” said the young man, a trifle grimly, “I will try and make that fact clear to his mind.” “His name is Thorndyke, Harry Thorndyke, and he’s going away today —” “Thorndyke, a broad-shouldered young fellow with gray eyes?” “Yes, that’s him,” cried Amy,, with charming disregard of grammar. “Can you wait here a little while?” and before she could answer, he was off, going down the hill with light, springy tread. She stood where he had left her, looking put toward the sea. An hour later a hand was laid caressingly on hers, and she turned to meet Harry Thornayke’s honest eyes. ; < Vsso Jog are not Mrs. Tom Harding after all?” he said.— Mary Lyles, in Svringjield (Mais.) Republican.

The Flist Lightning* Rod. The attention of scientific men in Paris was quickly drawn to the method of defense proposed by Franklin, and M. Dalibara, a mail of some wealth, undertook to erect the apparatus at his country residence at Marly-la-Ville, some eighteen miles from Paris. The situation of the house was considered to be eminently favorable for ttie purpose, as the building stood some four hundred feet above the sea. A lofty wooden scaffold, supporting an iron rod an inch in diameter and eighty feet long, was erected in the garden. The rod was finished at tho top by a sharp point of bronzed steel, and it terminated at the bottom, five feet above the ground, in a small horizontal rod, which ran to a table in a kind of sentry-box, furnished witli electrical apparatus. On May 10th, when M. Dalibard was himself absent in Paris, the apparatus having been left temporarily in the charge of ah old dragoon named Coiffier, a violent storm drifted over the place, and the old dragoon, who was duly instructed tor the emergency, went into the sentry-fcox and presented a metal Jsey, partly covered with silk, to the termination' of the rod, and saw a stream, of fire hurst forth between the rod and- the ke}\ The old man sent for the Prior of Marly, who dwelt close .by, to witness and eohfirrn his observations, and then started on horseback for Paris, to carry to his master the news of what had occurred. Three days afterward, that is on May 13th, 1762, M. Dalibard communicated his own account of the incident to a meeting oi tho Academie dqs Sciences, and announced that Franklin’s views of the identity,qf the .fire of the. storm-cloud with that of the electrical spark had been thus definitely established.—Popular Science Monthly. (food Night. The clock on the mantel tolled one a. m. and a little past, and still the Knight lingered, trying to think of something to say. althongh It was painfully evident that the Baron’s daughter was just too sleepy for anything. , *“I am .flfraid, h he said at last, “that I am like an auger.” “Wherefore, sir Knight?” she asked, yawning with that high-bred courtesy appertaining: to the upper classes. “Because I bore you,” he said, smiling proudly at his good right wit. “Ah no,” she sam, “you remind me of an old flint-lock musket.” “Spoken like a soldier’s daughter,” quoth he, “and as to how?” “Takes you so long to get off,” she said, kindly.” At 1:15 a. m. the portcullis fell with a clang, the draw-bridge was raised, apd the castle slept. Away in the starlit distance a good Knight tramped wearily in the wake of the last car, which had sailed two hours ago, and bitterly reproached himself lor not thinking to tell the haughty Baron’s daughter that her joke was too awfully premature, because muskets weren’t foing to be invented for nearly ono undred years.—if. J. Burdette, in i Brooklyn Eagle. | —lt is curious, says an exchange, • how few people know the benefit of j fruit at breakfast time- A saucer of ; berries, an orange' dr banana, pear or . apple, afcsix in the morning will make , the sky look brighter and fill the world with sunshine even on cloudy days; asd yet many people never think of eating fruit in the morning. —A new thing in window ornaments : is observable up-town in New York in i some of the fashionably houses. Bee- ; hives have taken the place of costly i plants, and the drowsy hum of the in- ! sects about the pretty straw hives is a ; j9veliy.— Jf, Y. Mail,

The Prevention of Forest Fires. The following article opens up a very interesting and important subject. We are glad to call attention to it. We do not quite agree with the writer as to the time required to grow a pino forest. We once sold at auction a pine growth of forty years for one hundred dollars per acre, for the wood standing, without the land. Every now and then we read of a fire in the woods which burns up anywhere from a few thousand to a million dollars’ worth or more of property; but until these ravages wore biought together in one- view, by the map about to be published by the United States Census Bureau, it is probable that no one had an adequate idea of the wide range and the vast amount of the damage done. Without going into particulars, it is safe to say that'the prevention of these fires is one of the most serious economical questions. The direct value destroyed is probably greater than that of all the lumber cut—which is not less than three hundred million dollars a year—and the incidental damage is in many cases far greater than the direct. Cutting trees does not necessarily hinder the land from growing more and better ones; in fact, it often helps to that result. But burning them off frequently destroys not only those largo enough to bo cut. but also a vastly greater number which are not large enough. Worse jet, it not only kil s the seed in the ground, but also burns out the vegetable substance in the soil itself, rendering it for a long time incapable of raising anything but fire-weed or brambles, and then, later on, some of the trees least valuable for fuel or timber. In the case of broad-leaved trees, we may say that not less than fifty years, and, in the case of white pine—for whioh the soil and climate of New England are so peculiarly adapted —not less than one hundred years will generally, under the most favorable circumstances, be necessary before the same tre .s can bo grown again. Where the underlying slopes are steep this denuding and roasting of the soil often results in its being washed away bj T rains; and if the rock beneath is a hard one, such as granite, it may be centuries before heat, frost and the humbler kinds of vegetable lite can so disintegrate and fix it that it will raise trees. Still further, a great, jpdireot damage is done by those frequent conflagrations, because they make owners of land so' uncertain of the future that they are tempted to cut their trees when small and thickly crowded, so as to get as much as possible from them for fuel before fires may destroy them; and of eourso this uncertainty is also a strong argument against that planting which advocates of forestry urge so earnestly. The first and most pressing matter then to be attended to if we are to continue to enjoy a supply of timber, without which we can not long have prosperous civilization, is to make or find a way to prevent, as far as may be, the starting of these fires, and their spread if once they do get under way. For the first we need more stringent legislation, such as making it as much felony to burn woods as houses intentionallj', and a criminal offense to set the tires carelessly. Largo bounties should be offered for the detection of offenders. Owners of woodland should bo compelled to burn or remove all the tops, branches and other debris of logging, and fallen limbs and trees from standing timber. This has been recently urged by a leading lumber journal. Pleasure seekers should not be allowed to enter extensive forests, such as the Adirondacks, without ,a guide licensed by the Sta'e, and he should be held responsible for fires set or left by parties under his charge. Especially railroads should be compelled to put spark consumers upon all locomotives. It is said that three latelj- built for Vanderbilt work to entire satisfaction. To facilitate the fighting of those fires which do get started, there should be maintained, as in the Fieneh forests of maritime pine, frequent roads not less than four rods wide, whi<h should be kept absolutely clear of combustible material. — Congregationalist.

Fashion Notes.

Fans remain very large. Crinolines on the increase. Draperies grow less elaborate. The Figaro is the coming jacket. Small t.reuzo bonnets are in vogue. Jetted braids appear among dres3 trimmings. Skirts are nearly all gathered in at the waist. No heels and full gathered skirts are coming in. Cameo clasps fasten belts to round waisted dresses. Belts and sashes tied on one side are much in favor. Satin corsets are easier to wear than those of coutil. Every woman of fashion has [at least one lace toilet. Braids of all kinds will be much used for dress decorations. Foulards are the favorite wear of children for fall dresses. There is a rage at this moment for excessively small bonnets. Figaro jackets are made of velvet gauze for dressy fall wear. Jackets of ribbed velvet or velveteen are correct for fall wear. Handkerchiefs with fancy colored borders remain in high favor. Stout women look better in gathered skirts than in tight gored ones. A cheering line in a Paris letter announces that bustles are less prominent. Silver braid in rows and rings will be the stylish trimming for black cashmere dresses. It, is gratifying to learn that corsets are undergoing a change; they are made shorter in the waist and allow more 100 m for the hips. When the fall traveling dress is not of gray mohair, it is preferred of biscuit or mushroom colored light wool, and dark green or olive velvet collar, culls, and purements braided with gold. The fan must match the toilet and suit the occasion. There are race fans, regatta fans, ball-room and dinner fans, piazza, parlor, and theater fans, but no church fans. Faus should never be carried to church. The Empress of Austria, whose skill in all physical exercises is well known, has organized a school of fencing for young ladies at Vienna. The a7t is practiced considerably by French ladies, and all French actresses handle the foils with skill. Some of the new colors found in fall velvets are nutria, castor, beaver, Colorado, madura, and Havana cigar browns; also seal and mink fur shades, hazel, a nut shade, and iron rust browns, _ vert de gris, cresson, and bronze shades of greeu, aqd coquecot, or poppy red.*-N. Y. Sun. ' The Earthquake Nowhere. Two fashionable New York ladies met, and the following conversation took place: “Did von feel the shock?” “I did not perceive it at all.” “Were you asleep when it occurred?” “No, I was wide awake.” “I suppose you were outside of the range of the earthquake?” . “O, no, I was in New York. I was at the dinner-table at the Fifth Avenue Hotel when the shock occurred. Everybody else noticed it except mvself.” “Why, how is that possible'?” “There was a - woman from Boston sitting opposite me at the table, eating peas with her knife. The shock 1 experienced at this breach of etiquette, was so much greater than the earthquake that, 1 took no notice of the latter.”—Siftinas,

, HOME, FARM AND HARDEN. —The Cultivator says there is little nutrition in corn fodder before it blossoms. —lt is claimed that one ounce of carbolic acid to twelve quarts of water timelj' syringed will prevent grapo rot. The Massachusetts Ploughman thinks it more economical to stack hay than to build barns expressly tostoro it. —Eastward more flowers aro grown than Westward, but with every year of increased age in the Western States comes an increased demand for flowers. —Scrambled eggs: Heat one cr.p of sweet milk; then rub a tablespoouful of butter with a teaspoonful of flour \ml stir into boiling milk. Into this put six beaten eggs, The Household. —A keg or bag of charcoal kept in milk-rooms or collars where there is milk will bo found advantageous, especially if the cellar is inclined to be at all damp, saj’s the Indiana Farmer. The charcoal will absorb both dampness and odors from the air,- and thus preserve the milk, in great measure, from taint. —The remaining contents of pill-boxes and potion and lotion bottles are dangerous kinds of family supplies to keep about tho house. When the occasion for which they are procured is over it is a good practice to put pill-box contents in the lire and to empty Hie bottles into tho nearest culvert.— N. IT. Times. —Baked Fish: “Clean, wash and wipe the fish; mako the dressing of grated bread-crumbs steeped in swoot milk, butter, pepper, salt, one beaten egg, and herbs. Stuff the fish and sew up. Lay it in a with one and a half cupfuls of water to keen it from sticking. Bake one and a half hours.— Toledo Blade. —Frozen Peaches: Take two quarts of rich milk and two teacupfuls of sugar; mix well together and put into a freezer with ice and salt packed around it. Have ready one quart of peaches mashed and swoetened. When the milk is very cold stir them in and freeze them all together. Strawberries can be used in the same way, but will require more sugar.— N. Y. Times. —To preserve plums whole pierce tho skm of the plum with a large needle; take one pound of sugar to one pound of plums; boil the sugar with a teacupful of water for twenty minutes, put in the plums and let them simmer very gently for twenty minutes or half an hour: put into pots. If in a day or two the sirup looks watery pour oft - , boil again twenty minutes, and pour over tho plums.— Boston Budget. I?—A gardener who was pestered with moles in his flower-beds where ho could not without injuring his “carpet bedding” place traps to catch them, succeeded in getting rid of them by boring small holes over the mole tracts and pouring into them water mixed with kerosene oil, at the rate of a gill to foui gallons of water, after which he had no trouble from the animals.— Troy Times. —A good relish to take with a lunch is made of ham. Pound some pieces of ham in a mortar, just as fine as you can. Season it with pepper and spice, and moisten it with clarified butter. Put this into a mould or earthen bowl and press it in very tightly. Put it into the oven for half an hour. Let it get perfectly cold. It can then be cut into thin slices. It is nice if used for a filling for sandwiches. — N. Y. Post. ■#- • ■ Marketing Honey. \ One might infer by the haste with which some of our friends rush into the market with their honey that it was a perishable article, or that it was a matter of life or death that their honey be disposed of at once. Many, again, have an idea that by getting in a little ahead of their neighbor they will secure better prices and quicker sales. The facts in the case are directly the reverse. But very little honey is consumed until the cool weather comes. Customers will buy a taste of new honey and there they stop, and are satisfied, until the berry, fruit and vegetable crops are out of they way. Then we may expect a good sale for our honey. For the most satisfactory results in disposing of our honey crop, the home market should first be taken into consideration, especially where the crop to be disposed of is not very large. Honey, like all other commodities, loses in price to the producer the farther from' home it goes to find a consumer. Large crops, of course, must seek large markets. At the present we are considering only those who have a few hundred pouuds to dispose of. There is scarcely a family in the land but can be induced to purchase a few pounds of honey, if offered to them in the right manner. Our people are largo consumers of sweets. The adulteration of sirups has been carried to such an extent they have become disgusted, nauseated with them, and are in search of something to till the want, and now is the time for beekeepers to take action and offer to the people the products of our apiaries. Pure honej’ is about the only pure sweet now obtainable. As to just what shape in which the honey shall be oft sered, depends entirely on tho kind of trade you wish to supplj-. To home consumers, extracted honey in fruit jars, tin buckets or cans, holding from three to thirty pounds, seems to give best satisfaction, but for the fancy grocer’s trade, the one-half pound, one and two-pound glass jars suit the best. Each package, let it bo what it may, should bear the producers’ name. People of to-day rely much more on brands and producers’ names than many suppose, or than was formerly the case when adulteration was so little practiced. Comb-honey is marketable only in sections, the one-pound finding preference ia our larger markets. These should be packed in neat shipping cases, holding about twenty pounds each, as such find quicker sales and are less liable to be damaged in handling. —lndiana Farmer. Deep Plowing and Moisture. The question is often asked: “How does deep plowing make the soil moistcr?” 1 believe it is an accepted fact that wherever warm air comes in contact with a body cooler than itself the water in it condenses into drops. On a warm day wo could see it often on the outside of a pitcher of cold water. Fogs and dews are made in that way, and oar rain, most of it coming up from the gulf in those heavy curreuts of warm air that we frequently have.* When we pulverize the soil deep the warm air, which is full of moisture, penetrates down and through it, and the ground, being cooler than the air, condenses the water into drops, which answers in place of rain; so the deeper and more we pulverize it tho more moisture it will collect from the air. Not only that, but as warm air is rich W food for plants it serves in place of manure, too. Thirty years ago there was a terriblo. drought in the East, l’rof. Mapes. a large market-gardener, had had his ground underdrained and sub-soiled, and his crops, where he could, were cultivated with a sub-soil plow. A committee went to see his place after nine weeks of drought, and it found everything as flourishing as if there had been plenty of rain. His corn fit was Septembers) was estimated at-nine.y bushels to the acre, while on iaud cultivated in the usual wav, near by, it was all burned up. While Ido not think deep plowing is everything, still I think deep and thorough pulverizing of our land will lessen tho effects of a drought--Kansas Farmer,

The Outlook for Poultry. Most kinds of farm products are low, and have been so during the past season. The reverse, however, is true of eggs and poultry, Asa eountry increases in wealth and population these articles are certain to advance in price whether other articles of food are high or low. This has been conclusively shown in Great Britain, which now obtains a large proportion of the eggs and fowls consumed from countries on the continent. The like has been shown in the New England and Middle States, which now depend largely on the Western States and Canada for their supply of eggs and poultrj’. Strictly fresh eggs are alwaj’s in demand at high prices. Savory and well-fattened fowls will find purchasers when other kinds of meat sell slowly. Observation shows that the most fowls and eggs are produced by small farmers, who are content to make a living by the product ion of little things. Asa rule the large planters in the South have produced lew eggs and fowls for the general market, though they have kept their own tables well supplied with them. They have relied on cotton and tobacco t.o provide them with money and have regarded poultryraising as very small business. In Keutueky turkey raising lia3 always received considerable attention, partly because the young birds were l'ouni to be useful in devouring tobacco-worms, and partly because turkeys would obtain their living in the beech woods during several months in the j-ear. Before tho introduction of railroads it was easier to market turkeys than almost any farm product, as they could be driven in Hocks very long distances. Observation showed that the losses in driving turkeys to market were less than with cattle, hogs, or sheep. The large farmers in the West at first gave little 'attention to producing more fowls and eggs than were wanted for the supply of their own tables. While game was cheap and plenty the price of fowls was low, and the cost and dittieulty of sending eggs long distances were great. At. present it is comparatively easy to send eggs to market from almost any part of the country. The losses by breakage in egg-carriers and other improved packages are very small. In many places remote from great cities are pt#sons engaged in preserving eggs for the supply of cities during the winter season. Some better arrangement should be employed for marketing live fowls. In Colorado, oars made or fitted up expressly for carrying fowls to market have been introduced. They run a regular train and effect a great saving in freight, while they afford excellent facilities for feeding and watering fowls in transit. In time most rai road companies will find it to their advantage to run cars expressly designed tor carrying live fowls. It is quite time that a distinction should be made by dealers iu the price of large and small eggs, as well as between those that, are fresh and those that are stale or preserved by tho use of chemicals. There is now no inducement for farmers to produce very large eggs. Small eggs bring as much as those that are of extraordinary size. In California eggs, like most other articles of food, are sold by weight and not by number. This method of selling eggs should be introduced in other places. It would encourage farmers to keep the breeds of hens that lay the largest eggs. In Paris they sell eggs by number, but the dealer sorts them and charges according to their size. The improvements iu fowls kept on farms do not keep pace with the improvements in horses, cattle, sheep and pigs. Most farmers are ready to express their contempt for “ chicken fanciers,” as they are for “fancy farms.” It pays as well to improve the breed of turkeys, geese, ducks and chickens as it does to improve any kind of domesticated animals. The cost of keeping poor fowls is as great as for good ones, but the protif and pleasure are much smaller. Tho cost of introducing pure-bred fowls of any kind on a farm is very small in comparison with the profits insured. With the flattering outlook for poultry farmers will do well to improve the character of the fowls they keep.— Cticago Times. - —— Food For Fattening Pigs. Prof. Sanson, of France, lias been experimenting on the relative value of carbonaceous substances for the fattening of pigs. lie selected a Windsor pig, aged ten weeks anti weighing sixteen pounds, aud a Yorkshire, aged eight weeks, weight twenty-four pounds. The first was fed from December 10, 1880, to April 17, 1881, exclusively on barlej’, amounting to two hundred aud one pounds, when it weighed at the end of four months fifty-two pounds, thus representing a net augmentation of twentj--eigfit pounds. The Yorkshire was fed on barley.potato starch and sugar from November 17, 1881. to February 25, 1882, in the total proportions of seventy-five pounds of barley, sixty* of starch and seven of sugar. At the end of the experiment it weighed fifty-four pounds, or an augmentation of thirty pounds. In one hundred andjtwenty eight days the Windsor gained twenty eight; pounds; in one hundred days the Yorkshire had put up thirty pounds of flesh, or, respectivly, an augmentation at the rate of three and one-half to four and threequarters ounces per daj’. The Professor concludes that for young pigs, a highly carbonaceous food is not that which is conducive to their development or even most favorable to the the production of fat, tho,ugh, the latter, he maintains,, be formed from the hydrates of carbon and not from the proteiu compounds, as German scientists maintain. The practical inference is that the pig, being an omnivorous animal, it stands in need, when young, of an alimentatior that will develop the body rather than produce fles.h, and that, during the period of growth, the food ought to cofitain a large proportion of animal matter, as dairy and kitchen refuse, and the cooked debris from slaughter nouses and packers, yards. These adjuncts will supply the protein compounds. — Caiman's llural World. ♦ ♦- The Compass. The compass is supposed to have been invented by the Chinese 2634 B. C., or more than, 1,600 years ago. It was undoubtedly used by the Chinese at a very early period, being mentioned in their aueient books. Its first mention in European history was in the twelfth century A. D., when it was said to have been used iu ships at sea about the year 1100. The magnetic meridian was discovered by accident from the incorrect point itig or variation of the needle, first noticed by Robert Normau in 1680, who found tho variation to be then 11 deg. 16 min. east at London. In 1667 tliqrc was no variation there, and in 1815 it was 24 deg. 27 min. west. Iu 1862 it was explained by Dr. Halley in a paper to the English Royal Philosophical Society. He snouted that the variation was due to the magnetism of the earth, which had what he then called magnetic poles, differing from the terrestrial poles. He also showed that tho variation was not constant and differed in various localities The north magnetic pole is about -0 deg. from the geographical pole. The magnetic needle points to the north on both sides of the equator. — N. Y. Times. —Lieutenant Schwatka, who has recently been exploring Alaska, fou—there, among the Aleutians, a group of islands bathed by the warm Japan current and possessing a perennial verdure. These, it is said, he and a bcotch syndicate propose to “gobble” and convert into great stock ranges.

Temperance Reading. THE DANGERS OF WINE. Never touch the brimming wine Howsoever bright it stiino; Blum Iho clanger—never sup From the tempting purple cup: Ne'er forget the countless number In dishonored graves who slumber — Drought to shame and to destruction lly the sparkling cup’s seduction. Think of all the scenes of woe That from wine’s red goblet flow: Think of all the bitter dole That doth pierce the drunkard's sonl Wheti he feels the degradation Caused by his wild dissipation; When he thinks of peace and gladness lilighted by his drunken madness. Never give the tempting wine Q Cnto any friend of thine; When for him thy goblet flows Thou art one of his worst, toes; For the wine-cup’s red libation Jiringeth grief and degradation; And its victims claim our pity In each hamlet and each city. Ituddt youth and hoary ago Drink the poisoned beverage, With light jest and ring.ng laugh. And with eager thirst they quaff From that cup whose fascination Worketh woo and desolation— From that ettp whose baleful mission Is to lead men to perdition. —SI. Johns' News. A DRUNKEN REPUBLIC. The vice of intemperance is growing bo fast iu Switzerland as to occasion graye anxiety among public men of classes. So palpable and postc-ritous are the evils to which in some districts insobriety is giving rise that people speak of alcohol as “ihe enemy,” and of eau-de-vie, the old term for cognac, as eau-de-mort. ‘‘Even the public is compromised by the excessive drinking of the population,” runs a report on the subject lately addressed by the Associated Mayors of Ajoie (in the Bernese Jura) to the Canonal Government. ‘‘Failures, bankruptcies and forced sales of property are alarmingly on the increase. The official Gazette can hardly contain them. Asa natural consequence land is depreciating in value,and mortgagees, who are compelled to foreclose, can often find neither buyers nor tenants. The evil affects all classes, and is even rife among the other sex. We could name several communes of Ajoie in which the consumption of schnapps is at the frightful rate of eight liters per month per head of population. In one village, with a population of 600, a single aubergiste has sold in one month 1,200 liters of cognac alone, equal to a daily sale of forty liters. It is easy to understand in what a terrible run this drunkenness must end. It is a whirlpool which, swallows up every year thousands and thousands of francs. ’ The Associated Mayors of Ajoie are not alone in their alarm and denunciations. Almost every church synod that meets passes resolut ons condemnatory of intemperance. The Federal Department of the Interior is now engaged at the instance of the National Assembly in making inquiries with a view to combating\“tnc enemy” by restrictive legislation, and no subject more frequently engages' the attention of “Societies of public Utility” and the press than the “war against drunkenness.” The increase of intemperance against which all sober and thoughtful Switzers are up in arms dates only from 1874, when the constitution now in force, by instituting what is called “complete liberty of establishment,” deprived the cantons of the power which they previously possessed of regulating the trallic in drink. Article 31 of the Fedoral Constitution lays it down that every Swiss citizen Las the right to trade without let or hindrance in any of the Confederation, and, according to a decision of the Federal tribunal, this right extends to dealers in alcoholic beverages under whatever denomination they may come. The effect of this decision was to sweep away every local restriction that had previously existed and make the trade in strong drink as free as the trade in bread or meat. Before 1874 the checks imposed by carftons and communes on the venders of alcoholic Leverages were numerous and minute. No public house could be opened without a concession, or in excess of the supposed needs of the population, in some districts publicans had to give security for the proper eonduct of their houses. In all they had to be men of good character. Women were not allowed to keep public houses. Buildings intended to be converted iuto taverns or ea es hail to answer certain requirements as to ventilation, Size of rooms and situation. In Gbwalden, 'Neuchatel, St. Gall—indeed, nearly everywhere—public houses were not permitted in the neigh! orhood of any church, school, orphan-house, poorhouse, or “like institutions.” Licenses Wure only granted lor a limited time. Publicans were forbidden under penalties to furnish young people with drink, or allow them to frequent their houses, which had to be closed a greater part of' Sundays, and at a certain hour in the evening. Asa consequence of the abolition of these restrictions, the number of public houses has increased from 17,807 in 1870 to 21,738 in 1880. In other words, while the population has increased by 6 per cent, the taverns have increased by 22 per cent. The two extremes are Geneva, where there is a public house to every seventy inhabitants, and Tessin, which has one. for every 231. Taking the Confederation throughout, the proportion is one to every 130. Deducting women, children and the sick, that gives one tavern to every thirty persons. But almost a greater evil than actual drunkenness aud the known offenses to which it gives vise are the time lost and the money spent by workingmenin public houses' and the untold suffering thereby nfli :ted on their families. On this pi'> ; rt th t of “Das Wirthshatis” giva some curious information, proem ed from the Sehuldenbucher, of certain iun-keepers whose customers are mostly workmen. Among the instances he gives is that of a wagoner, with a wife and children, Who, in addition to money payments, ran up in February last a drink score of 55 francs; another workman’s “chalk” for the month was 32 francs, a third figured for 31 francs, and one thirsty soul had swallowed at a/single sitting fourteen glasses of beer and four glasses of rum. The daily consumption Ot another guest, who appears to have settled his account quarterly, averaged live glasses of beer and-Ihive glasses of spirits; and still another was in the habit of taking with his dinner five “beers” and four glasses of spirits. Herr Siegfried, the author of the pamphlet in question, has had access to the books of a contractor who kept a public-house, and he was thus enabled to compare the earnings of the workmen With their expenditure drink. One man, whom he calls A, in the week euding January 7, 1881, earned 23 francs, 60 centimes,and spent 20 francs, 5 centimes. He thus took home with him as the fruits of his labor, 3 francs, 55 centimes— not quite 3 shillings. B earned 29 francs and spent 22 francs; O 28 francs and spent 18 francs; D 23 francs and spent 10francs; E2O francs and spent 16 francs; F 21 francs and spent 20 lrancs; and a mason’s laborer, besides spending the whole of his week s wages, left a balance of 4 francs to the bad. One week, when the men .worked less or drank more than usual--perhaps both—the inn-keeper-contractor had no money at all to pay, and every one of them began the following week with a balance against him. Geneva ( Switzerland ) Cor. London Times. Death in the Pot. Another caldron of iniquity is the dram-shop. Surely there is death in the pot. Anacharsis said that the Tine had three grapes—pleasure, drunkenness, misery. Richard 111. drowned his own brother Clarence in a butt of wine—these two incidents quite typical. Every

saloon built above ground or dug under ground is a center of evil. It may be licensed and for some time it may conduct its business in elegant style; but after awhile the cover will fall off, and you will see the iniquity in its right coloring. Plant a grog-shop in the midst of the finest block of houses in your city and the property will depreciate five, ten, twenty, thirty, fifty per cent. Men engaged in the ruinous traffic sometimes say: “You don’t appreciate the fact that the largest revenues paid to the Government are by our business.” Then I remember what Mr. Gladstone, the Prime Minister of England, said to a committee of men engaged in that traffic when they came to him to deplore that they were not treated with more consideration: “Gentlemen, don’t be uneasy about the revenue. Give me thirty million sober people and I will pay all the revenue and have a large surplus.” But, my friends, tho ruin to property is a very small part of the evil. It tajjes everything that is sacred in the family, everything that is holy in religion, every-\ thing that is infinite -in the soul, and tramples it into the mire. The marriage day has come. The happy pair are at the altar. The music sounds. The|gas-lights flash. The feet bound up and down in the drawing-room. Started on a bright voyage of life. Sails all up. The wind is abaft. You prop'tecy everything beautiful. But the scene changes. A dingy garret. No fire. On a broken chair sits a sorrowing woman. Her last hope gone. Poor, disgraced, trodden under foot, she knows the despair of being a drunkard’s wife. The gay bark that danced off on the marriage morning has become a battered hulk, dismasted and shipwrecked. “Oh,” she says, “he was as good a man as ever lived. He was so kind, he was so generous—no one better did God ever create than he; but the drink, the drink did it.” A young man starts from the country home for the city. Through tho agency of metroj*olitan friends he has obtained a place in a store or a bank. That morning in the farm-house the lights are kindled very early and the boy’s trunk is on the wagon. “I put a Bible '• in your trunk,” says the mother as ! she wipes the tears away with her apron-* “My dear, I want you to read jit when you get to town.” “Oh,” he says, “mother, don’t yon be worried ' about me. I know what lam about. I am old enough to take care of myself. Don’t yon be worried about me.” The ' father says: “Bea good boy and write | home often. Your mother Will want to j hear from you.” Crack goes the | whip and away over the hills goes the wagon! The scene changes. Five years after, and there is a hearse coming up the old lane in front of the farra- | house. Killed in a porter house fight, ' that son has come home to disgrace the | sepulcher of h s fathers. When the old : people lift the coffin lid and see the changed facA and see the gash in the temples where the life oozed out they will wring their withered hands and look up to Heaven and cry: “Cursed be rum; cursed be rum!” Lorenzo de Medici was sick, and his friends thought that if they could dissolve in his cup some pearls and then get him to swallow them he would be cured. Aud so these valuable pearls were dissolved in his cup, and he drank them. What an expensive draught! But do you know that drunkenness puts into its cup the pearl of physical health, the pearl of domestic happiness, the pearl of earthly usefulness, the peart of Christian hope, the pearl of an everlasting Heaven, and tlien presses it to i the lips? And, oh, what an expensive draught! The dram-shop is the gate of hell. There are some in the outer circles of this terrible maelptrom, and in the name of God I cry tire alarm.’ Put back now or never. You say you are kind and genial and generous. Ido not doubt it, but so much more the peril. Mean men never drink unless someone else treats them. But the men who are iu the front rank of this destructive habit are those who have a tine education, large hearts, genial natures and splendid prospects. — Dr. Talmage. in a Decent Sermon.

Beer-Drinking anil Heart Disease. 1 The habitual consumption of beer in excessive quantities tends to hypertrophy by the direct actiou of alcohpl upon the heart, by the enormous amount of fluid introduced into the body, and by the easily assimilated nutritive constituents of the beer itself. Furthermore such habits are often associated with great bodily activity and at least relatively luxurious manner of life. The average weight of the normal heart in men is relatively greater in Munich than elsewhere, a fact, without doubt, dependent upon the excessive consumption of beer in that city. The characteristic changes in the form of hypertrophy under consideration consist in the participation of both sides of the heart and in an enormous increase in the volume of the primitive muscular elements, with enlargement of the nuclei. Whether or not* actual numerical increase in the muscular fibres takes place can not be known. Many individuals addicted to such excesses attain an advance ! a<je, notwithstanding cardiac hypertrophy, by reason of constitutional peculiarities, an active open-air life, or an enforced moderation, but the greater number perish after brief illness with symptoms of cardiac failure. At the post-mortem examination are discovered moderate dropsy, pulmorary oedema, brown induration of the lungs, bronchitis, congestion of the lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys and other organs. Fatty degeneration of the muscular wall of the heart is absejkt in most of these cases, and death must, in the absence of adequate anatomical lesions, be looked upon as due to paralysis of the cardiac nerves and ganglia. The condition of such subjects not rarely amounts to a true plethora of the most typical kind, such as is seen among, the drivers of beer wagons and workers in brewer es in this country. The excesses in beer common in some parts of Germany are rare in the New World, but that such excesses are attended by direct and grave danger, hitherto little suspected, should be generally understood. — Phiadelphta Medical News. A Samaritan. A certain man journeyed from the cradle to the grave; he fell among sa-loon-keepers, who took hie money, ruined his name, destroyed his reason and then turned him into the street. A moderate drinker passed by, looked on him and said: “Served him he is a fool to get drunk.” A politician voter also passing, looking on him, said: “The brute! He is not fit to live; he is a disgrace to his family.” But a fanatic,. so-called, seeing him, had compassion, raised him up, assisted him to his home, administered to the wants of himself and family, got him to sign the pledge, pointed him to the “Lamb of God that taketh awav the sin of the world,” and left him in- - comfort and happiness. Who, (think you, was the greater friend of humanity—the saloon-keeper, the moderate drinker, the politician or tho fanatic?— Broadaxe. A correspondent of the New Orleans Southwestern Presbyterian gleefully writes that in one of the wealthiest, most intelligent, moral and prosperous counties in Texas not a drop of ardent spirits has been sold for six years, and the jail is without an enforced tenant. A parent once remarkod that he had eight arguments in favor of a Prohib- ; itory amendment, and when asked what | they were, replied; “My eight chil I dreip”