Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 October 1879 — Page 4

ts • r >. ——, ■ - genssfoer publican. MAJOR BITTKB3* SON, rtllNlm a»* rnrrtmn. RENSSELAER. T 7 : INDIANA- •

BHTLOCK TO ANTONIO. sSSE|SfH3»r^ v {rws^rsjvat,' Still Save I borne ail tfcoee mlt A pctleot ihnit. For, vac rou call it? nifferaaoe?— Vaa der hatecc* all cm tribe; ll^SSres Like to borrow dree douaaad ducata TUI next Saturday! You Mid ao? Too, dot bas booted me Two, dree, at*, aeveral ttaaea, Und apoxn’d me from roar threshold Like a toss! Monlea is yonr autt dan? By goodness, you has more cheek As a book acent: Should loot aaid: Has a tog mooey? Doaaceor apm Keep a peak around? Didn't it been an Impossibility Dot a cur should lend yon *, Drse dousand ducata? Or, Shall I bend low, and ta a bondsman’s key. MH bated breath and vhlapered humbleness Said this: Mr atr, you spit on me on Vedneeday last, Yon spurn'd me on Thursday, On Friday you told me to tripe off Mine thin off; An udder dime you call me Old atlck-ln-der mud; \ . Und. now, for doee din*» I lend ydu—a fife cent nickel Und took a mortaaffe On you aid paid head! Dob t ttT 11 —B. W. Crlmpefl, in Cincinnati Enquirer. : WOULD TOU BB TOUNO AOAINJ Would you be rouny ayaln? Bo would not I. , One tear to mem’ry ffiven, Onward I hie; Life’s dark flood forded o’er. All but at rest on shore; Bar—would you plunre ooce more, \Ytth home so niffhf If you might, would you now Retrace your way? Wander through thorny path-. Faint and astray? Night's gloomy watches fled— Morning *ll beaming red— Hope's smile around os shed—- . Heavenward —away! t'. ~ Where are they gone, of yore. My beet delight? Dear anu more dear, tho’ now Hidden from sight— Where they rejoice to be. There is the land tor me; Fly. time—fly, speedily: Come life and light 1 —Boston Courier.

ATLANTIS.

Evidence* Showing That It Really DM Eilat—A Lgat Covering a Large Part of the Atlantic Ocean- TMe People, - Rich, Powerful and Ctrl lined, Peno trate Both America and Europe—The Land Saddenly Ingulfed hy the Ben, Inn nighty Convulsion of Nature. Our sturdy worker in the coppermines of Lake Superior, finding both himself and his vein of copper growing poorer day by day, determines to seek more paying clpim in the as yet unexElored portion of the copper country. [e gathers his kit of tools together and starts; and, after many a hard hour's travel over the wild and rugged country, fihds a region with abundant signs of copper, ana where seemingly no human foot has trod since creation's dawn. He strikes a rich vein and goes steadily to work digging and blasting his way to the richer portions, when suddenly, right in the richest part, he finds his lead cut off by what looks to his experienced eye marvelously like a mining shaft. A mazed ly he begins to clear out of the pit the fallen earth and the debris of ages, and the daylight thns let in reveals to bis astonished gaze an immense mass of copper raised some distance from the original bottom of the pit on a platform of logs; while at his feet lie a number of strange stone and copper implements—some thin and sharp like knives and hatchets, others huge and blunt like mauls and hammers—all being left in such a manner as though the Workmen had just gone to dinner and might be expected back at any moment. Bewildered, he ascends to the surface again, and looks about him. He sees mounds that from their positions are evidently formed from the refuse of the pit, but these mounds are covered with gigantic trees, evidently the growth of centuries; and, looking still closer, he sees that these trees are fed from the decayed ruins of trees still older—trees that nave sprung np, flourished, 1 grown old, and died since this pit' was dug or these mounds were raised. The more he thinks of the vast ages that have elapsed since this pit was dug, that mass of copper quarried and raised, the more confused ne becomes; his mind cannot grasp this immensity of time. . .

“Who were these miners? when did they live? and where did they come from?” are the questions he asks himself, but gets no answer. However, one fact is patent to him: that, whoever they were, they will not now trouble his claim; and consoled by this reflection, he goes to work again. ’ The traveler, in wandering through the dense and almost impenetrable forests of Central and South America, suddenly finds himself upon a broad and well-paved road, but a road over which in places there have grown trees centuries old. Curiously following this road, be sees before him, as though brought thither by some Aladdin’s lamp, a vast city, a city built of stone—buildings that look at a distance like our large New England factories—splendid palaces and aqueducts, all constructed with such massiveness and grandeur as to compel a cry of astonishment from the surprised traveler—an immense but •deserted city, whose magnificent palaces and beautiful sculpturing are inhabited and viewed only by the iguana and centipede. The roads and paths to the aqueducts, once so much traveled as to have worn hollows in the hard stone, are now trodden only bv the ign l °. ra ° t mestizo or simple Indian Of this deserted homie of a lost race, the traveler asks the’same question as the miner, and the only answer he gets from the semi-civilized Indian is a laconic “ Quien sabe ? ” And who does know? / *

The curious and scientific world, however, are not so easily answered, and ▼anous are the theories and conjectures as to these diggers of mines and builders of mounds and strange cities. One of the most plausible of these—one beleved by many scientists to be the true theory is this: Ages ago the Americas presented a very different appearance from what they now do. Then an immense peninsula extended itself from Mexico, Central America and New Granada, so far into the Atlantic that Madeira, the Azores and the West India Islands are now fragments of it. This peninsula was a fair and fertile country, inhabited by rich and civilised nations —•people versed in the arts of war and civilisation—a countoy covered with large cities and magnificent palaces—their rulers, according to tradition reigning not only on the Atlantic Continent, but over islands far and near even into Europe and Asia. Suddenly! without warning, this whole fair land ,was ingulfed by the sea, in a mighty convulsion of Nature. ' Now, this catastrophe is not impossible or even improbable. Instances are not, wanting of large tracts of land, several hundred miles in extent, disaoP«*nagin a like manner. The of Ferdmandea suddenly appeared, and after a while- as suddenly disappeared In 1819. during an earthquakTmSdia! an immense tract of land near theßiver Indus sank from view, and a large now occupies its place. °* where Atlantis is said to have been situated, consists extinct volcanoes. Tb«

terrible Lisbon earthquake of 1766, and the later American shock, created a commotion throughout the whole Atlantic area. That Atlantis possessed great facility* for making a sudden exit, cannot be doubted- Its very situation gives good oolor to the narratives of ancient Grecian historians and Toltecian tradition*, that “It (Reappeared by earthquakes inundations." Not only is it within the bounds of possibility that it might have occurred, but, if traditions so clear and distinct as to be almost authentic history are to be believed, then it did occur. Listen to what one of the most cautious of ancient writers, Plato* says; “Among the great deeds of Athens, of which recollection is preserved in our books, there is one thfffahtmld be placed above all others. Our books tells us that the Athenians destroyed an army that came across the Atlantic seas and insolently invaded Europe and Asia, for this sea was then navigable; and beyond the straits where you place the Pillars of the Hercules was an immense island, larger than Asia and Libya combined. From this island one could pass easily to the other islands, and from these to the continent beyond. The sea on this side of the straits resembled a harbor with a narrow entrance, but thebe is a veritable sea, and the land which surrounds it is a veritable continent, On this Island of Atlantis there reigned three Kings with great and marvelous power. They had under their domain the whole of Atlantis, several of the other islands and part of the continent. At one time their power extended into Europe as far as Tyrrhenia, and, uniting their whole force, they sought to destroy our country at a blow; but their defeat stopped the invasion, and gave entire freedom to the countries this side of the Pillars of Hercules. Afterward, in one day and one fatal night, there came mignty earthquakes ana inundations, that ingulfed that warlike peopeople. Atlantis disappeared, and then that* sea became inaccessible, on account of the vast quantities of mud that the ingulfed island left in its place." It is possible that the debris said to have been left by this catastrophe might be identical with or the nuclei of me sargaxo field that, many centuries later, Columbus found almost impenetrable. Again, Plato, in an extract from Proclua, speaks of an island in the Atlantic whose inhabitants preserved knowledge from their ancestors of a large island m the Atlantic, which had dominion over all other islands of this sea.

Plutarch, in his life of the philosopher solon, Herodotus and other ancient writers, speak of this island as a known fact; and it is impossible to believe otherwise than that Seneca thought of Atlantis when he writes in bis tragedy of “ Medea”: “Late centuries will appear when the ocean’s veil will lift to open .’ a vast country. New worlds will Thetsys unveiL Ultima Thule [lceland] will not remain the earth's boundary.” He evidently believed in. the unknown island and continent, and knew it would not remain forever unknown. Diodorus Sicßos says that “ Opposite to Africa lies an island which, on account of its magnitude, is worthy to be mentioned. "It is several days distant from Africa. It has a fertile soil, many mountains, and not a few plains, unexcelled in their beauty. It is watered by many navigable rivers, and there are to be found estates in abundance adorned with fine buildings.” Again he says, “ Indeed, it appears, on account of the abundance of its charms, as though it were the abode of gods, and not of men.” The situation, the description of the country—in fact, every particular—agrees precisely with our idea of Atlantis; and what other land now in existence agrees in any way with this description—what islands or magnitude that contain navigable rivers, large fertile plains and mountain l ? Turning from our well-known ancient writers, we find in all the traditions and books of the ancient Central Americans and Mexicans a continual recurrence to the fact of an awful catastrophe, similar to that mentioned by Plato and others. Now, what are we to believe? This: That either the traditions and narratives of these ancient writers and historians of both lands are but a tissue of fabrications, evolved from their own brains, with perhaps a small thread of fact, or else that they are truths, and truths proving that the Americas, instead of being the youngest habitation of man, are among] the oldest, if not, as De Bourbourg affirms, the oldest. Brasseur de Bourbourg, who, Baldwin says, has studied the monuments, writings and traditions left by this civilization more carefully and thoroughly than any man living, is an advocate of this theory; and to him are we indebted for most of our translations of the traditions and histories of the ancient Americans.

To the imaginative and lovers of the marvelous this theory is peculiarly fascinating; and the fact that there is plausible evidence of its truth, adds to the effect. With their mind’s eye they can see the dreadful events, as recorded by Plato, as in a panorama. They see-the fair and fertile country, filled with people, prosperous and happy; the sound of busy life from uns-n and beast fills the air. Comfort and prosperity abound. The sun shines clear overhead, and the huge mountains look down upon the cities and villages at their feet, like a mother upon her babes; all is a picture of peacefulness. Suddenly, in a second, all is changed. The protecting angels become destroying fiends, vomiting fire and liquid hell upon the devoted cities at their feet, burning, scorching, strangling their wretched inhabitants. The earth rocks horribly—palaces, temples, all crashing down, crushing their human victims, flocked together like so many ants. V ast rents open at their very feet, licking with huge, flaming tongues the terrified people into their yawning mouths. And then the inundations. Mighty waves sweep over the land. The fierce enemies, fire and water, join hands to effect the destruction of a mighty nation. How they hiss and surge, rattle and seethe! How the steam rises, mingled with the black smoke, looking like a mourning-veil, that it is, and. when that veil is lifted, all is still—the quiet of annihilation! Of all that populous land, naught remains save fanning, seething mud. It is not to be supposed that all perished in that calamity. Long before this they had spread over the portion of the Americas contiguous to the Peninsula, building cities, palaces, roads and aqueducts, like those of their native homes; and adventnrous pioneers continually spreading north, east and westward, their oonstant increase of .numbers from their former homes enabling them to over-

come the resistance offered to their progress by both natives and Nature, tul at last they reached and discovered the copper country of Lake Superior. That they appreciated this discovery is evinced by the innumerable evidences of their works, and of their skill in discovering the richest and most promising veins. Wherever our miners of the present day go, they find their ancient fellow-craftsmen have been before them, worked the ricfiest veins and gathered the best copper? and it is supposed that they continued thus till the terrible blotting out of their native country cut short all this, and left this advancing civilisation to wither and die like a vine severed from the parent

Having no further accession to their numbers, and being continually deci-

everv step, as is shown by thair nmneroos defensive works along their path, they to their cities on them from Ohs nnhreriJ* 1 their country, where the tome and aiand where, rednoed by war, pestflesoe sad other causes, to a feeble band, their total extinction was only a matter of time. Such is probably the history of this lost civilization; sad such wonld have been the history of oar civilisation had we in oar infant growth been cut off from receiving the nourishment of the mother countries. —Bernard H. Thompson, *« Popular Science Monthly.

Ceokery in the London Schools.

Th* London School Board have initiated a system of education in oookery. In the first place, it was found necessary that only qualified teachers should be provided, and, accordingly, early in the year 1877 the-Board adopted as an article in the code of regulations a rule to the effect that “ one or more of the mistresses in' every girlschool must be competent to teach cookery,” and all bead and assistant mistresses of girl's schools, who were not already competent to teach oookery, were strongly urged to attend a course of lessons on that subject. These lessons have been given at four cookery centers, situated respectively in the divisions of Greenwich, Marylebone, Hackney and Lambeth, being thus available to teachers in all parts of London. The instruction is both theoretical and practical, and the teachers are not admitted to an examination in the practical department until they have passed a satisfactory examination in theoretical cookery. Certificates have been granted to those mistresses who have successfully passed both classes of examination. The subjects of examination, both theoretical and practical, are confined within the limits in which it is required that instruction shall be given to scholars. This cannot be better illustrated than by quoting some of the questions required to be answered by the teachers before passing their examination in theoretical cookery. These questions illustrate, in a simple and forcible manner, the character of the instruction in cookery which is afterward given by the teachers to the advanced girls in the board schools of London.

“ Name and explain briefly the six commonest ways of cooking meat. Give a full recipe for preparing a piece of meat in any of the ways you mention.” “ Name six of the most valuable fresh vegetables used in this country. Give recipes for boiling old potatoes, for boiling cauliflower and serving it with melted butter.” “What are the general rules to be observed in roasting meet? How long would it take to roast seven pounds of beef, and how would you set about it?” “ How would you make a leg of beef soup?” “What are the different methods of preparing beef tea? Give two of the recipes.’ “How would you make a Siartem of flour into bread?” “Give e recipe for a meat-pie.” “What is the difference between the flesh of white and oily fish? How would you stuff and bake a haddock?” “What is a pot-au-feu? How would you prepare it with six pounds of beef? What beef would you use. and what other ingredients?” “Mention some ways oi recooking old meat.” “What dishes can you prepare with Australian meat? Give the recipe for one.” Give the rules for boiling' meat, and the time allowed.” “How would you prepare an Irish stew?” “How woula you prepare a dish of beef a la mooe?” *“What utensils are necessary for a small kitchen?” We have quoted at considerable length from the questions put at cookery examinations, in order that an accurate idea may be obtained of the character of the instruction given. The matter speaks for itself, and we think there are very few people who will be prepared seriously to argue that instruction of this kind ought not to be given to girls in boarding-schools. The scheme of teaching adopted by the Board is to give to the older girls in certain schools at least twelve lessons on “Food and its preparations,” and twelve lessons in practical cookery. The practice lessons are given to girls upon one-half day in each week. They are given by an instructor appointed by the Board, who is paid a salary of sixty-eight dollars per annum. The Board have resolved to provide kitchens at twenty-one schools throughout London, selected in districts the most convenient for the attendance of the scholars. Of these, five are now in actual operation. These kitchens are fitted up with such appliances as are suitable for an ordinary artisan’s home. A simple cooking apparatus is provided for such schools in outlying districts as are too far removed from the kitchens. The food cooked is generally sold, and therefore no loss accrues from waste. The teaching is at present in its infancy, and only available to a small portion of the girls of London, but the scheme is being gradually developed, and will ultimately place this class of instruction within the reach of the best girls in our schools. —London Echo.

Flowers in Our Dwellings.

Whv do plants not thrive in the windows of our dwellings? is the question of many disappointed housekeepers, having in vain tried year after year the cultivation of flowers, to impart their beauty and fragrance to the drawingroom. Sometimes the florist is charged with improper cultivation; but generally the fault is ascribed to “ abominable gas.” Indeed, many have discontinued using it on account of its imagined injurious effects upon plants, but have found that they do not thrive better with other artificial light. It may be most convenient to dispose of the gas theory of destruction here. In impure gas the element eliminated which might prove injurious to the growth of plants is sulphurous acid gas. If this were eliminated in sufficient quantity to injure pTants, it would also destroy animal life; at least, it would prove highly injurious. The burning of a few sulphur matches would produce more injury than the burning of three bat-wing jets. If our gas were so impure as to injure plant or animal life, it is only necessary to lodge a complaint with the Inspector of Gas, and it would immediately be remedied. There are many greenhouses lighted with gas, which is kept burning for hours. One in New York has seven hundred and twenty burners, and yet no injury has "been perceived hitherto. There is no doubt that gas charged with the noxious sulphurous acid gas .would be injurious to vegetable and animal life.

What, then is the cause of the wither mg of flowers when carefully tended wid watered ? To well answer the question, let us consider the condition of the plant itself and its relation to external atmosphere and the inner air of the house. The plant—whether rose, palargonium, or heliotrope—is brought from the moist, warm air of a greenhouse, and placed in a sunny window. Notwithstanding the utmost care. It soon withers, its leaves decay, and the plant is destroyed. If we examine the pot, we find the inner surface lined with fibers of the .plant, which bind the earth firmly in a mass, as if molded in the pot W hat has effected this change so quickly in the flourishing plant? The home is heated by a furnace, or by steam, or by hot water, pr by a base-burner in the

the procexternafair "In ds entrance by door* or cracks or by flues, and rashes toward or store or tanaee. It then ascends or diffuses itself in the apartment, where it impinges on the ceding and rolls toward the upper parted the eold window. Here it ooob and passes rapidly down over the pots of dowers, drying them up quicker than could the Sahara sandwind. The cool air falls upon the floor and rolls along till it reaches the ascending current, uniting with which it is again carried to the Window, to pfias over the plants again; and so the work of drying goes on aB day and night. The effect upon the leaves is to dry them op and cause a rapid evaporation, to supply which all moisture is drawn from tiie earth; hence the fibers seek the inner surface of the pot for moisture, and this they speedily cover. The porous pot soon withdraws all moisture from the fibers, and they become “ burned” insuring the rapid destruction of the plant. Another effect is the drying of the earth, so that the plant derives no moisture. Such is the condition of the plant. If we examine the external atmosphere, supposing the temperature at ten degrees below, zero, we und that all moisture is frozen out of it, and is deposited as “ frost” on all conductors of heat.

To show the extreme dryness of winter air at a low temperature, the most delicately polished metal exposed outdoors remains untarnished. The frostdried air enters our dwellings, and is further rendered more capable of absorbing moisture by contact with the heatea surf aces, and rashes np to the flower-windows, sucking every trace of moisture out of leaves, earth and pots. Some plants—like the German ana English ivy, the Madeira vine, geraniums, cacti—can withstand the fearful trial to Elant-life; but generally plants cannot ve under such circumstances. Before alluding to the remedy, we will notice its effect upon animal life. While the dry heat is not in itself so destructive to animal as to plant life, yet it renders the condition of the air of dwellings most unwholesome and injurious to health, especially that of children. Man is capable of enduring without suffering a nigh degree of dry heat, as is witnessed in the Turkish bath, where the calidarium often rises to two hundred degrees Fahrenheit; and fire kings have endured four hundred degrees Fahrenheit with little inconvenience. This dry heat produces an electrical condition of the atmosphere which is illustrated in the common experiment of lighting the gas with one’s fingers after shuffling over a carpet. The effects upon the carpet are to set free to float in the air the minute woolen fibers of the carpet, which, though invisible, may be observed by holding a moist microscope slide near the floor, and placing in the instrument. One can easily imagine the effect upon a person with delicate lungs of inhaling all day this dust of carpet fiber. If we could see it, we should find children playing on the carpet surrounded with wool dust which they were inhaling. Passing from the drawing-room, we find the passages filled with another kind of dust, arising from earth and sand brought by feet from the street. This, under the microscope, appears as silica crystals and organic matter. In the sleeping apartment the air is filled with dust resembling feathers or broken hair. This we breathe in sleeping, and only some fortunate current of air prevents us from suffering seriously. “Dust thou art,” can be written upon any part of the dwelling, notwithstanding the utmost diligence of the housekeeper. Not only is this frost and heat-dried air laden with dust highly irritable to the lungs, causing varieties of pulmonary diseases to adults, and coughs and catarrh to children; but it also causes irritation to the skin, chapping of the hands and face. Men, who for the most part are frequently out-of-doors, do not suffer; but women confined to the house suffer in their complexion. Hence the striking contrast in the rosy faces of those who live in the maratime provinces, where the air is always moist, to the pale faces of those who live in the dried atmosphere of Northern houses. It requires a whole summer of seaside and country air to restore the health and bloom lost during the winter in our air-dried houses.— Spectator.

John and Mary.

Thet were husband and wife, and they looked tenderly at each other as they stood side by side: A man may smash the stove and things. And black a fond wife’s eye; And she may pound him with a club, But true love cannot die. “It was all a mistake,” explained Mary, as a beginning. “I can make oath it was,” added John. “It might have been,” said his Honor, “ but the officer says you were having a terrible row.” “Row, your HonorP” said Mary; “ why, we are thepeacefullest two folks on Division street!” “ I want to see the man who says I’d strike me darling!” added John, as he put his arm around her. “Didn’t you, sir, take an ax and smash the stove?” “ I—l did, your Honor, but why did I do it? Because, sir, the stove smoked, and I was giving it ventilation.” “ And you smashed the table and chairs?” “ Yes, I did, but they were old furniture, sir—awful old. I’d been trying to give them away, but nobody woulc have them.” “ Well, how did your wife get that black eye?” “How, sir? Why ” “ A sliver flew and hit me, of course,” she put in. “Yes, sir; a sliver flew and hit her, and I was about to run for the drug store when this policeman came in.” “ Well, I am glad you love each other •o dearly,” continued the Court as he picked up a benumbed house fly on the point of his pen. “ Mary can go home and pick up the chair legs and splinters and broken crockery, and you can go to the Work-House for thirty days.” “ Great guns, sir! but I shall die if I have to leave Mary that long!” “ And I can never, never live thirty days without seeing John!” “ Well, we’ll take the chances,” remarked the Court, and John was towed into the corridor to wait for the wagon. Mary shed a few tears, but after getting out doors she quickly recovered her composure, and said:

“ When I come to think it all over I guess it’s best, for poor John is extravagantly fond of eyes in mourn-isn^iti!<*onkey)-“Bo£ isn t tins very dangerous P” Boy “ Werry dangerous, indeed, marm; there was a lady a ridin’ np here last year, and the donkey fell, and the lady was chucked over the cliff and killed/’ Old lady —“Good gracious; was the donkey killed, tooP ls Boy—“No, marm; tiiat’s the Werry donkey.” London Fun. —A little girl passing the Washington statue lately asked a lady with her if Washington was buried there. “No,” said the lady. “ Where is he buried?” inquired the little girl- “I don’t know,” answered the lady. “Then I guess yon don’t read your Bible much,” said little innooenoe. —Newburypori Herald. —Sir Joshua Reynolds said, “A room hung with picture i* » room bung with thoughts,” 5

USEFUL AND SUGGRSTIVE.

Bct few men axe awa.ro of the fact that hay to hop, hot foojM well as fconeaTcrtile, «r™sl» the braS shorts or middlings, and feed as other food. Han aoon leant to like it, and if eoakedutewOl, as other slop food, ie highly relished by them. In winter, use for the hogs the same hay yon feed to your horses, «td yon wfll find thidi’ while it seres bran, shorts, or other 1 food, it puts on flesh as rapidly as ratrthing that can begiren them.— Nebraska, farmer. Conns are the resttk of a braise of the sensitive parts of the sole of the horse’s foot, and generally occur at the inside bed. They are caused by the shoe. Among the symptoms are redness or discoloration of toe horn at the inner angle of the heel, more or lea* increased local heat, tenderness, and consequent lameness. When standing, the horse is inclined to favor toe foot by slightly raking the heel from toe ground. In some oases, active inflammation and supperation may ensue, evidenced by the escape of matter above the hod, where the lairs Join the same. In ordinary cases, relief may be obtained by proper attention to the shoeing. Such a- horse should be shod regularly every three or four weeks, the diseased parts carefully pared down, but without starting toe olood; and the shoe should be autxed so as not to bear on the inside heel.— National Livestock Journal, Chicago.

Pot aon a la Reike (Soup of chioken and rice). —Dress the chicken: cut off the legs and thighs without separating them, and put It into a saucepan with four quarts of cold water and a teaspoonful of salt; bring it slowly to a boil, skimming until it Is clear; add a carrot, an onion stuck with six cloves, a bouquet of herbs, a tablespoonful of salt, and a quarter of a salt-spoonful each of white pepper and grated nutmeg, and boil until the chicken is tender; then take it up, cut off the white meat from the breast, and free it from fat and skin and use it for the soup, saving the rest of the ohicken for toe salad; strain the soup, return it to the fire with the white meat of the chicken and the rice well washed; boil these ingredients slowly until they are tender enough to be rubbed through a sieve with a wooden spoon. Return the soup to the fire to beat, adding half a pint of boiling milk, and stirring until it is scalding hot, but do not let it boil. It is then ready to serve. If it needs to stand set the sauce-pan containing it in another partly filled with some boiling water to Keep the soup hot. ■ Cantons de Rouen (ducklings made from chicken legs). Lay the legs and thighs of ‘ the chicken, whioh must be cut off without separating them, on the table, with the skin down; remove the thigh bbne and, half the leg bone, outting them away from the flesh with a sharp knifeHo avoid mangling it. Trim off the ends of the leg bone Just below the knee joint, to make them resemble 8 duck’s bill. Stuff the thighs with a little delicately-seasoned forcemeat or sausage, and sew them up, turn them over and pare them into the shape of a bird, securing the leg bone in place for the head with a trussing needle, and tying it securely. Lav the cantons in a pan on some scraps of pork and vegetables, season them lightly with salt and pepper, bake them one hour in a moderate oven. Prepare vegetables as follows: Boil a red beet, pare the turnips and hollow them ont like little cups, slice the carrot half an inch thick and stamp it out in small cylinders with a tin tube; cnt four small white stalks of celery in half-inch lengths; make the following sauce: Stir together over the fire one ounce each of butter and flour until they bubble, gradually add half a pint of boiling water and a gill of milk, season with a level teaspoonful of salt and a quarter saltspoonful each of white pepper and nutmeg. When the cantons are done remove the strings, dash them on a bed made of vegetables and sauce, and serve hot. —Miss Corson.

About Wheat.

Statisticians have been exercising their abilities in trying to arrive at the wants of the countnes in Europe for breadstuff's during the year 1879-80, and find the requirements unprecedentedly large. They do not attempt more than approximate results, and we think they have a pretty arduous task in trying to reach the amount of foreign wheat which will be required. With Great Britain set down for 181,000,000 bushels, France at 80,000,000. Belgium and the German Empire at 28,000,000, Italy and the Mediterranean countries, other than Spain and France, at 87,000,000, and with a total estimate of 295,000,000 bushels as the amount wanted, the question arises, Where is this vast amount of food to come from? They claim 170,000,000 from the United States and Canada, 50,000,000 from Russia. 16,000.000 from the Danubian and Turkish Provinces, and 22,000,000 from India, Australia, Chili, New Zealand and other countries, making a total of 258,000,000. This leaves a deficiency of 87,000,000 of bushels, which cannot be made up except by the use of com or other grains for food. Were the estimates of supply reliable it might possibly be taken as correct, but it is just possible that neither Russia, Australia nor Turkey may be able to furnish the amounts contemplated by some ten or fifteen millions of bushels, and it is certainly putting the surplus of the United States at an extreme figure to call upon her for 160,000,000 and Canada 10,000,000 of bnshels. It is very evident from these figures that we may regard wheat at tne present time as worth nearly twice its present value, and that by next May it will approximate to fully two dollars per bushel. We see that association

of capitalists who purchased so largely of spring wheat No. 2 in Chicago and Milwaukee last year have not been tempted to Bell that wheat yet, though it is good at the present time for fuUy twenty cents more than it cost them per bushel. When this wheat is not sold we may suspect that these stores of wheat are kept because they are sure to afford a larger margin of profit in the future. If these men are thus careful about their purchases why should not the fanners of this State be just as careful about their stocks of the new crop of 1879? We put this question as a conundrum which is well worth think.

ing over. We are pouring out a hundred thousand bushels per aay, as if it were necessary to get rid of the grain. The figures we have given above tell us that au this wheat will be needed far more during the next ten months. The recent advance in wheat is not caused by speculation. It was for the interest of the large exporters and iroKrters to keep prices down, but they ve been forced up both in Liverpool and New York by the known tact that there is not a sufficient production of wheat this year to meet the requirements of consumption. Mostly men have been waiting In the hope that the weather might turn so as to exert a favorable influence on the crops. But the passage of the harvest season has rendered alljiope of that kind nugatory. The plain fact of a deficit in the crop foroes itself upon the markets, ana prices have gone up at this eariv season in spite bf the most determined efforts to keep them at low figures as long as possible. This is the true reason for he advance of the past week, and there wQI be no going back whatever, except

a few local changes that will have DO several years. —Michigan

A Plea for Bacon.

I WAX* to urge upon farmer refers the tos of ettnng their pork into bacon, and keeping some of it for their own tables and making a home market for such as they can spare. If they wfal have it on toeir own tables, people unused to 1* may find out its value as a staple artitte Of meat, and' a little sold ink town, will:prepare the way for more MirffftSrii £*ks£ ft not know anything about bacon, and it is tone they has started in oar> local market at six doflarWper Mi-' died, -and will probably run down within two months to four dollars. What nonsense it is for farmers to force their pigs upon such a market Many of them will do R and get rid of their pigs, and because their families do not like pork (pickled pork) they wffl bay beef fattened in Texas or Colorado. This if a sort of economy which is largely practiced in this vicinity. If thO pigs should be killed when they weigh about one hundred pounds, ana the entire sides, with all of toe lean left an* to made into bacon, thb farmer can have in. store aa nice meat and as pala- , table as any beef he may buy, and for the sdrplus he may realise a prioe which will compensate him for his grain and trouble. With the sides made into baoon a pigoan be turned into good account The hams and shoulders make the best of food, and cost toe possessor no extra profits which he has to pay over and above the cost of the beef, besides the freight In Other words, when a farmer buys beef he pays more than twice the cost of the meat to the producer, and when he cures his own pigs into hams, shoulders, bacon and lam, and sells them to the consumer direct he makes toe profit others make out of him when he sells his pigs at the pork prioe, four dollars per hundred weight. When fie sells his pork and buys beef, he loses both ways, and if the extra price he pays for his beef over his pork was subtracted from the price of his pork, he would really get nothing for it; but when he fits it for food so that it takes the place of the beef and he does not buy it, he really doubles its value and trebles ft, as beef retails at an average of more than twelve cents a pound. Pigs mutt not be extra fat to make the best of bacon, and the spare-rib lean must be left on the ribs, the bone must be cut ont, and the sides cut square and smooth; the trimmings can be made into sausage or go with the fat into lard. The first six months is the most growing age for a pig, and at this age they are suitable for thepuqsose. After that they begin to get too thick and fat. Bacon may be cured the same as hams and shoulders, only it does not require so lofcg salting. Usually the salt is rubbed on the pieces, and they are piled up for a few days to let it strike through. Tnree rubbings are enough. It should never 1 be allowed to freeze during the curing, and if frozen it must be thawed out by soaking in water.’ Bacon will take m salt enough, unless the sides are very thick, in three weeks, when it is ready to be smoked. After smoking it may be hung in a dry, cool place or packed in dry salt or in tight boxes. It is always ready for use, and a rasher of good bacon is a treat for breakfast or any meal. As a side dish it has no superior. It may be broiled in dainty bits or fried in more generous slices. It is excellent to flavor chickens or stews, and for a staple meat is far preferable to pork. The black and red Berkshire pigs makefthe best bacon, as they have more lean meat mixed with the fat, the red being the best of the two, as they retain more than the others the old characteristics of the Berkshire breed, not having been made so fine and thick in the body by the so-called improvements.— Cor. N. T. Tribune.

A Dog's Implacable Hatred.

Among some reminiscences of dogs given by a writer in Forest and Stream the following appears: In my early 3 r onth I recalls dog owned by my grandfather, who afforded an instance of a temper resentful and implacable. Marquis was half hound, half mastiff, as we Relieved, but we only knew his mother, and, she was a fair type of the well-bred Southern hound. He grew larger, heavier and handsomer than the average bound is with \ts, and was so fierce that he had to be chained during the day. Once a cousin and j I were amusing ourselves with our bows and arrows about the yard, both of us about six or seven years old. In fun I proposed to have a shot at Marquis, who was chained about twenty yards off. Cousin John 3vas wiser than L and would not. shoot, but I let fly an arrow, which Only gazed and surely did not hurt him. He flew at me, and breaking loose, would doubtless have handled me roqghly had 1 not darted up the Siazza steps, and thus escaped his rage. [onths elapsed ere I saw this dog again, and tnen’it was at our snmmer house, a seaside village twenty miles away from where I had shot at him. I triqd in vain, to overcome his animosity to me by feeding him twice a day. ft was agreed, in fact, that no one else should feed him while I remained. He would not attempt to molest me till he had done his breakfast ©r dinner, and then only the length of his chain limited his angry spring at me. He seemed te love and respect my grandfather, father, sister and cousin, and the butlar and coachman: the other members Qf the household, white and black; he tolerated but me he hated to the bitter end. Six years after my childish msulfto him he would gladly nave torn me to piece b, if opportunity had offered. When the tidings of Marquis’ death were brought, believe me, I rejoiced that he fiaabeen gathered to his fathers.

—Noodles.—When vermicelli cannot be had, noodles make an excellent substitute. 1. Take two eggs, separate yelks from Khites, only using yelks. 2. Best up yelks thoroughly. 8. Stir eggs into a pound of best sifted flour, making* stiff paste. 4. Flour a board, and roll out the paste into thin pieces, not more than one-eighth of an innh thick. 5. As each piecd is made set it aside to dry; this will take about twenty minutes. 6. Fold over the cakes in one roll, and with a very sharp kirifa cut through the roll -at right angles, making fine shreds. Shake them so as to divide them. They can be used in any clear soup, and should be introduced about twenty minutes before the soup is ready for serving, and all cooked when the sonp is on the boiL If they must be kept, they should be put away in a cool place. They are better when fresh.

—Six hundred New Britain (Conn.) voters have signed a petition protesting against the school committee's proposal to extend the “town sehool ” system to the Roman Catholic convent—allowing the Catholic Church authorities to select the teachers—as illegal, mi) contrary to all precedent. —When yon pick up a paper and peruse, a sublimely sentimental or deeply philosophical essay, the last line of whicVreads: “ Sold by all Dnig;gi*tt,”_y©u Are forcibly struck with the ruth ot 'that conclusive remark.— Toronto Graphic. • - At the recent meeting of a Wesleyan Conference in England it was resolved that candidates for ordination should be asked: “Do you take snuff, i tobacco of dramsF’

V3T3AT JR' i-JLkjyfXJHBLO Depstfragnt. ~ MOTHERR ' V ’‘ Con, ait nrktti with me, nr boy. I’ll Mt«» ToMwm eu sorely do For rve you now tread, and nii, opTtpfilrid alonrrour ntt to klmtod lonce wm young like you, my sbn—my curling And bright blue Ayes andfresh young face were talked of to tIM town; And men and women flattered me and loaded And not a cloud ofstwrow crossed the sunshine . . - But there was one among them all, the lrtndflat and the beet. And often woukl Iwahe toflnAher kneeling Her elasped With the locks that graoed say youthful heart . Wlsau Death came in and we were left with no 81w daily toUw/forbothf and Oh, how lovingly she tried To make our home so pleasant that the vices of Hyi town Would ne’er alhrre her darting son and drag his manhood down. ...b ,a Alas I how could I disregard that mother’s Hrtw her gentle words so ferly In in my ytot # I broke her heart—but when I stood beside her s « 1 ** dying bed I choked my grfef, and kneeling, felt her hand upon my head. “Turn back, my son,” die faintly Mid, “ reMr::,., , gain the narrow way-*-! . You know we Journeyed side by side for many And then me! darting—Oh, retrace your steps and tread The better way"—she spoke no mote—my best of friends was dead. My boy, cling close to mother, ss you value future peace; The day is not tier distant when her oare for you will cease. And when, if you have caused her grief, each relic yoq retain Of her wbo woukl have died for you will only give you pain. Yes, tread the path that mother treads, and when she drops to rest Kaep straight ah had, a pure, stout heart low beating in thy breast: Though wealth should grace thee with her smile and even fame be thine. Be ever strong enough to My, *• My mother's path is mme!” -“ Parmenas Mix,’’ in Detroit Free Pro*.

BEGINNINGS.

Thebe, was a bov once who saved a whole town from death, by finding out the danger when it was only a vefV small one, and stopping it then. Thu was how it happened: the town was the little seaport of Haarlem, on the coast of Holland. Like the other places along this coast, Haarlem lies very Jow, and if it were not protected by strong-ly-made barriers, called dykes, it would be in danger of being altogether overflowed by the sea. As it u, the waves dash themselves against the dyke and fall back harmlessly; but let there be ever so small a hole and the water will find its way through. At first only slowly trickling through drop by drop, but gradually increasing in force until it breaks down the barriers and rushes in a mighty flood over all the land, carrying away property, overthrowing houses, and drowning man and beast.

Once in the history of Haarlem such a flood took place, destroying farms and villages as it rose higher and Higher; and after this you may think how carefully the townspeople would look to their dykes. A man was chosen whose business it was to take care of the dykes and to see that they were always in good order. At the time of which I write, more than two hundred years ago, the dykes were under the charge of a man named Dreken, who lived with his fatherless nephew, a boy of eight years old, close to the seashore. It happened one October evening that little Joseph had been sent by his uncle to the docks to fetch a pailful of pitch. It was late when he started homeward, and the moon was already rising. He had gone some way when he heard a low rushing sound. He listened, and felt sure that it came from the dyke above him; at least he would go and see if anything was wrong. With some difficulty the little barefooted lad climbed up the wet slippery boards and got on to the outer ayke. There the cause of the noise was plainly to be seen in a small round hole, through which a steady stream of water was making its way. Joseph knew enough about dykes to understand fully what would happen if the hole were not quickly stopped up; but what had he to stop it up with? The hole was only a small one, it was true, but the water was already pouring through so violently that he was wet to the skin. AThought struck him —he put in his forefinger and found that it exactly filled up toe hole! But now he durst not withdraw it, for he knew that if he were to do so now the danger would be greater than ever—not to himself alone but to all the town. He stood listening, and caught in the distance the sound of the rising tide, and he knew that soon the waves wonld be beating against this weakest part of the dyke. He shouted and shouted, comforting himself with the hope that before then some one would come to his help, but no one heard him. There he stayed, half dead with cold and wet, and his hand aching so much from the cramped position in which he was obliged to keep it that he hardly knew how to bear the pain. Now ana then he murmured one short prayer, “ Lord, help me to keep this water ont;

save this country and my poor mother;* 1 but by-and-by he became top tired to think of anything, beyond just holding out till help came. And at last, as morning was beginning to dawn, the help came. As tne cleigyman was returning from the house of a sick man with whom he had been spending the night, he heard a faint, moaning sound 1 from the dyke, and clambering up he found little Joseph standing by the hole, so weak and tired that he could hardly ask him to send for his uncle. And now the town was quickly reused; peoSle came running to the dyke, and tuner tee care of Joseph's uncle the hole was properly stopped up and the weak boards strengthened before any harm was done. And so by the bravery of one boy the danger was checked in the very mid a whole city saved from rain. The wise man in tee Book pf Proverbs says that the beginning of a quarrel is like the letting out oi water. One angry word provokes another, till at last they come ponring out in a torrent that is very difficult to stop; and so King Solomon's advice is to “ leave ofl contention before it be meddled with." There is an Eastern fable which tells of a man lying in his hut and seeing a shadow fail across the floor. On looking up he saw a great camel standing at the door, and begging to be allowed to put his head into the shady room. The man refused, but the camel promised to put in nothing but his head, so he let him have his way. By-and-by the man saw that the camel had placed one foot ever the threshold. . He grumbled much at this, but he was too lacy to get up and shut the door, so he lay stiff. Again he looked, and this time the camel was half in the house. '; Then the man was frightened and sprang up and tried to push him back, but it was too late, for now he bad come so far that he copld not drive him out, and thus tee camel got the house for his nurn _ ? ,li . '* *' * *

So it is with temptations and bad habits. They seem very little at first, but if, instead of driving them back, we let them have their, way they get stronger and stronger, until at last they become quite too strong for us. And, therefore, an old writer has said, “ Withstand the beginnings”- struggle against the beginnings of wrong habits, s— Sunday Magazine,

An Afternoon Lesson.

Philip Bkext and his sister Sadie latve,farm-house on toe hill; and when Phn was such a Tittle boy that he oOuld scarcely speak plainly, he used totay toat “Sadie was such a canning little thing.” He, was just three years older than this little sister. He hived her very dearly now; but sometimes he would! feel tliai it was a much finer thing to be; a boy than a girl, and that as he was bo> ach?’** Sadie should be very But the spoiled darling, a dear little: roly-poly thing, with great black eyes, ana toe sauciest little nose, thoughtthat brother Phil was just madeto wait upon her , and humor all her whims; andaome times their views would! clash very unpleasantly. It wah a bright autumn day, and Philip was busily working at a little toyhouse tort had just been given to him for Ids own use. Ho had been hammering for some time inside, and he was now making the door secure. Sadie stood near, in her tittle pink sun-bonnet, looking rather cross; for Phil would Dot ten her what he was doing'all this for, nor would he let her go inside. To all her questions, he replied tfirt it was a secret; and that some day, may-be, he’d tell her. But Wnrt tittle girl of six yearswould be put off in this wayP Sadie coaxed until she was tired; and then she got angry, and stamped her foot; but Phil went on with his hammering, and did not seem to care in the least. The little sister was sure that she saw him take something out of a covered basket, ahd she thought it might be kittens, or perhaps tittle chickens, hat Phil would tell nef nothing, and she stood pouting awhile, and finally walked away. But there was no one at the barn to amuse her, and she did not want to go into the house; and by-and*by she went back again. But Phil was not there now, he had gone to the house to get something; and after peeping all around without being able to see anything inside, Sadie triea toe door. It wasn’t fastened very securely, and two or three pulls got ft bpen. * The little girl screamed, “ Oh!” as two pigeons flew over her head. And just then, Phil, looking very red and angry, ran toward her, calling ont—— “loulittle ‘meddlesomeMattie!’l’ll K've you a shaking that you’ll rememSadie shrieked, and took to her heels; she bad never run so fast in her life before, bnt her brother ran faster; and forgetting all about the pond in the fear of his anger, she stumbled, and rolled down the bank, and into the water. Phil was sobered in an instant, and his red face very quickly turned white. What if his little sister should be drowned? There was no one to get her out, and he could do nothing but scream for help. ’V * ' Fortunately, two of the hired men were coming across a field in the opposite direction; and they soon lifted little Sadie, all dripping, from the water. But she was very still and white; and Phil cried as if his heart would break.

He forgot all about his pigeons, and would have given everything he had to see Sadie smile again. She was carried into the house, and bud on her tittle bed; and Mrs. Brent cried, and every one looked very solemn, and the doctor was sent for. _ They rubbed and worked over the tittle girl for a full hour, without being able to see any signs of life. But suddenly she openedker eyes and said: “ Where’s Phil?” A happier boy never lived than the one who now bounded joyously at the sound of his sister’s voice. And when Sadie asked:

“ Won’t they ever come back again, Phil? Fm sorry; but I didn’t know there was anything there that would fly.” “ Never mind, dear,” replied Phil, choking down a sob at the thought of his pigeons, which had cost him his only half-dollar. *\l ought to have told you. But you see I wanted to surprise you, Sadie. They would have laid eggs, you know; and perhaps, on your birthday, I might have had a beautiful white pigeon for you.” “ Oh!” whispered Sadie, “ how good you are, Phil!” > . But Phil didn’t feel particularly good, a§ helooked at his pale tittle sister; and it was some time before Sadi%*vas able to run about again. Mrs.-Brent talked to her boy very earnestly about his quick temper, which had nearly caused bis little sister's death; and after that sad day Phil seemed .quite changed. Perhaps Sadie did not tease him so much; but the brother and sister were very fond of each other; and the new pigeons which soon came to take the place of the others belonged to them both. —Ella Rodman Church, in Youth's Companion.

—“ Thomas J. Griffith, of Utica, is said to own the first greenback issued bv tee United States Government. He h&srrtfused an offer of S7OO for it.” If it is a SI,OOO greenback he is sensible; but if it is a one dollar bill Thomas has lowered himself in our estimation, — Rome (;N. Y.) Sentinel .>

—A petite, blue-eyed maiden, who was nursing her fifth Christmas doll, and listedUg to her mother and some female fnends talking about domestic broils and divorces, created rather a sensation byremarking: “Well,nut, I'm never going to marry. I’m going to be a widow.” —An Irish newspaper says: “ In the absence of bothe ai tors, the publishers have succeeded in securing the services of a gentleman to edit the paper this week.

THE MARKETS.

NkwYobk, October 27,1879. LIVE STOCK—Cattle sa;s o*lo 60 Bh**P Bto © 475 FlX)tjf[—Ociid t'o’Ctoloe!!6 10 ©7 75 WHEAT-No. 2 Chicago 181 0 185 CORN—Western Mixed <nu© OS OATS—Western Mixed. 41 0 43 BYE—’Western 89 © go fOEK-Mess. M 70 © 10 75 LABD-Sieam 696 0 700 CHEESE 08 © 13 WOOL—Domestic Fleece..... 85 © 46 CHICAGO. BEEVES—Rgjn $4 75 © $5 00 Good..::”::::::::::: i<» % * * Medium. 825 it 875 Butchers’ Stock... ~ *26 It 800 Stock Cattle. *25 li *OO HOGB—Live—Good to Cboioe 800 i t 88S SHEEP—Common to Chotoe~ 260 2 470 BUTTER—Creamery.., 27 ( t 80 FLOUR—Winters....’.".”..'.’.. IQOi I 721 Springs 500 2 700 Patents 800 it 868 0.u,k0 . , s',; m BttSsfe&tl*:":::::--::" ? • ® Red-Tipped Hurt OtKO 05 Fla# Green iIPPM-dlif 8 2« Common Boards.... 11 00 ©'lß 00 Fenrtnf.... M 80 2 18 00 liiSfasssrsz 13 i Si BALTIMORE. CATTLE-Best *£g«So6 _ Medium; 826 © *75 IHteKS::::™:-™ 18 i IS EAST LIBERTY. CATTLE—Best ss** a *5 in Fair to Good. 4 8* Sim HOGE-T0rkera,.......„n.: 860 © are too | \% *OO if 350