Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 November 1879 — Page 4

MAJOR BITTERS <* SON, PiMUMert <nd Proprietor. RENSSELAER, * : INDIANA.

MISSING. . Miswixg. no more; * dumb, (tend wall Of Bllenoe and darknew stands Between u» and they who left us here. In the golden morning of the year. With hope and promise and parting cheer. Wet eyes and waving hands. Never omen told our hearts How fate lurked, grim and dark; Fresh and sweet smiled the April day. And the trvachenms waves in sunlight lay. Kissing the sands of the sheltering bay. And laughing around the bark. Like molten silver shone her saite. As she glided from our gaae; And we turned us back to our homes again. To let custom grow o'er the yearning pain. And to count by the hearth—ah, labor vain!— The lonely, lingering days. Never a letter from loving hands, Never a message came; We knew long since should the port be won; We knew what the fierce north gales had done; And slowly crept over every one A terror we.would not name. Ah, me! those weary mornings. When out on the great pier-head ‘ We strained our sight o'er the tossing seas. And studied each change in the fitful breeze. And strove to answer, tn tones of ease. Light question coldly said. Ah. me! those weary midnights. Hearing thA breakers roar; Starting from dreams of storm and death. With beating pulses and catching breath. To hear the White surf ••call" beneath, _ Along the hollow shore. Never a flash down the wires, -■ Never a word from the East, From the port she sailed for—how long ago! Why, even a spur one .would weep'to know, ToSaoi on the wild waves' ebb and flow, Were something real at last. Missing, missing, and silence. Thi- great tides rise and fall; The sea lies dimpling out in the light. Or dances, all living, gleaming white; Day’follows day..night rolls on night; - Missing, and that is all. The bark crosso 1 out in the k>g-l>ook, • The names dropped out of the 1 prayers; In many a household a vacant place; In many a life a vanished grace. We know our cast in.the long life race, , But only God'knows theirs. —Tinttcif* Magazine.

LOCKED IN A CLOSET.

* Aint Clackett h:ul invited company to tea. 1 • Aunt Clackett lived all alone in a little, gable-ended cottage, with Tur-key-red curtains to all the windows, a velvety mass of fine geraniums in the • casements, and odd little three-cor- , nered cupboanls, with glass fronts, whose shelves were piled With old china, curious specimens of japanned ware and pieces of brocade and satin which belonged to a century gone by. Aunt Clackctt was one of these odd, original old ladies who, having contrived to wreck their matrimonial bark early in life, are continually steering off in all sorts of Unexpected directions. She had espoused the cause of woman’s independence with great vehemence, joined a debating club, and quarreled with the Vice-President at. the' second meeting. , “ A tig for woman’s rights!” said Miss. Clackett; *■ They’ve more rights than they know what to do .with already.” Then she devoted herself to philanthropy, turned her house into a miniature orphan asylum, and went prowling about the limes and glitters in search of proteges. But after she hail been robbed twice she abandoned the whole thing and went for the natural sciences. “Nature can’t disappoint one,” said Miss Clackctt. But Nature did. TJie little fishes in her aquarium died, thef stuffed animals .fell to pieces, ami the rare specimens of plants in her (herbarium turned out to be. poison ivy, and had nearly been the death of her. So.then Miss Clackett took to litera- * ture. “ Shakespeare is eternally divine,” said Miss Clackett.' “Ami the creations of one’s Own brain are penietually new.”

So that how she went about with inky, fingers,, a portfolio under her arm. and a rhyming dictionary always in - reach, while her niece Dorothea did the housework. Or at least the girl whom she called her niece, for Dorothea Dodd was no actual relation to the eccentric little ■ old lady in the snuff-colored front ami twinkling spectacles. She was tfie last lingering relic of the p.hilambropic scheme, a dark skinned, sdtemn-eved little orphan, whom Miss Clackett hail fished up out of a rag-and-bottle cellar somewhere, ami had hid in the outhouse and refused to go when the other orphans were banished, en masse, to the care of the public charities and fiorrections. , “ Please, ma’am, can’t I stay?” said Dorothea. “ I won’t be no trouble, and I’m a good ’un to work.’” “ Bless my soul!” said Miss Clackett-. “ Where have you been all this while?” “Please, ma'am, in the shed,” answered Dorothea, promptly. “Well, then, I suppose you'll have to stay,” said Miss Clackett.' Ami so Dorothea stayed. ” Dorothea,” said Miss Clackett, on this particular afternoon, “is everything ready?” ? J And the Dorothea who responded to Ker summons was as unlike the weirdlooking little creature who had hid as was the crimson cinnamon rose at the ' window from the leafless stem which had tapped against the casement at the . rude touch of the February blast. For Dorothea, like the rose, -had blossomed out a fair, slight maiden, with a faint flow on her olive cheeks, very black air, growing low on a sweet forehead, and the softest and most appealing of » ejes. Which, were neither black nor brown, but melted into the deepest , wine-lights at even emotion of her heart.

“Everything is ready, Aunt Clackett/’ said Dorothea. “Cold boiled tongue, lobster salad, buttermilk biscuit, preserved phmis and currant jelly-” “ Yest very nice, very nice!” said Miss Clackett, absentlv. “What do you think, Dorothea? Would vou call the heroine of my new story ‘ Dulalia’ or * Lucetta?’ ” “I don’t know—Lucetta, I think,” said Dorothea, assuming the air of a critic. “It is to be published in the Sun.” said Miss Clackett, triumphantly. “ I am to pay all expenses, and reserve the right of dramatization!” “But I thought,” said Dorothea, “that people made money out of such things. But you are ‘ spending'money, “Money!” repeated the ‘old lady, loftily. “ But who wants to make 11 13 fame that I sigh after. “But you've got to change vour dress and do your hair yet, aunt,” suggested Dorothea, gently. “So I have—so I have!” said Aunt Clackett, “ I do declare to you, child, I had, nearly forgotten about the tea party. Let me see—whom have we invited?” “ Your cousin, Mr. Folkstone, and his wife,” said Dorothea. < “Oh, yes, I remember now. ’ said Aunt Clackett. “Fanny Folkstone, who is always sending me jelly and embroidered slippers, and* writes" me such loving letters every birthday.” “And Mr. Mole, the clergyman” “Such a pious, delightful young man!” said Miss Clackett. “And the Misses Walker, who enjoy hearing the portions of my new serial so much, and my cousin, Theodore Test, and old Mrs Rapida&knd Seringa Pole. Yes. yes, I remember now!”

And Miss Clackett trotted up stain to put on her black silk dress and gold mosaic set. to do honor to the guests she had completely forgotten. In the middle of her toilet, however, a literary ide* occurred to her, and sitting down to commit it to paper, she lost all count of time, until the Hum of voices below warned her that her guests had at last arrived. She then jumped up hastily, wiped her pen and flung the foolscap sheets this way and that. /‘I must make haste,” she said. Hurrying down the stairs, she bethought her of a certain little garnet clasp which she liked to wear, sewed on a velvet ribbon, across the parting of the snuff-colored “ front” on her forehead. And squeezing herself into one of the odd little octagon closets between the parlor and the dining-room, she unluckily contrived to lock herself in by some patent arrangement as complete as it was terrible. “ That self-locking latch I had put on last week,” said Miss Clackett to herself. ‘‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! Here I am, just exactly like the bride in the ‘ Mistletoe Bough’ song.” She was about to call to Dorothea to come and liberate her. when the sound of her own name, pronounced in the mild accents of Mr. Mole, the clergyman, arrested the words upon her lips. I. . > “ Where is our dear Miss Clackett?” demanded that honey-voiced divine. “ She must have fallen into a tit of abstraction up stairs,” said the eldest Miss Walker. “ Tea is quite ready,” said Dorothea. “ I have rung thb bell twice. Perhaps I had better go up stairs and see what has become of her.” “ Do, my dear,” said old Mrs. Rapidan, who spoke in a slow, comfortable way. “ for I’m quite perishing for my tea!” Away tripped Dorothea, and presentI ly she came back with something of a seared face.

“ I can’t find her anywhere,” said she. “I’ve called and called—and I’ve looked in every room, and she isn’t there!” “ Depend upon it,” said Mr. Folkstone, smiting the table with his hand, “ she’s been and gone and done it at last!” “ Done what?” said mild Mr. Mole. “ Committed suicide, 1 ’ said Mr. Folkstone. “ She always was three-quar-ters mad!” “ Nonsense!” said Mrs. Rapidan, with a spice of quiet malice in her voice. “ It was nothing on earth but temper.” “ I’ve always thought she ought to be £ut in an asylum,” said the youngest liss Walker. “ And have an administrator appointed over her affairs,” added Mr. Theodore Test, abstractedly helping himself to a slice of cold boiled tongue and another of York ham. Miss Clackett, who was not without a sense of humor, chuckled to herself as she listened to their remarkably free and uncomplimentary -expressions of opinion. “ Well,” said Mrs. Rapidan, “ dead or alive, I suppose we had better have our tea!” “ I think,” viciously announced Miss Seringa Pole, “ that she’s as mad as a March hare! And I think her money should be equally divided between her relations.” “So do I,” said Mr. Folkstonc u And if she has hanged or drowned herself “It’s all tHose horrid literary habits of hers,” said Mr. Mole, with his mouth full of lobster salad. ‘ ‘ Enough to undermine the strongest person’s equiliorium!” • “I knew it all along,” said Mrs. Folkstone. *“ I could see she was losing her mind—what little there was of j it to lose—poor, silly old woman!” “ Perhaps it might be as well to look ’ around the premises a little, after supper!” said Mr. Mole, with a hungry glance in the direction of the cold meat. “And if you will be good enough to pour out the tea —” “ I won't!" said Dorothea, with bitting cheeks and a stamp of her little foot. “Eh?” said Mr. Test. '“What?” ejaculated old Mrs. Rapidan. “Go out of the house, every one of you,” cried Dorothea. “To ‘dare to talk so of aunt, who is so good and generous! To sit quietly down to eating and drinking when she is not here! To call her a lunatic—a—a—” “Young woman,” §aid Mr. Mole, “you are taking too much upon your-

“ I should think so,” said Mrs. Folkstone, “fora pauper foundling picked out of the workhouse!”* “ Well, I never!” cried the Misses Walker in chorus. “Leave the house, Lsay,” reiterated Dorothea. “It is' Aunt. Clackett’s house. You have no business to sit here and talk so about her!” “jfunZ Clackett, indeed!” said Seringa Pole. “As if she were any relation of yours, miss! I, for one, shall say what I please about her. She is a crazy old lunatic, and—’.’ But just here was the sound of a vigorous pair of knuckles on the door w hich connects the parlor closet with the dining-room. “ What's that?” said Mr. Mole, starting up in alarm. “A ghost!” said Miss Walker, nervously. “ Rats!” said Mr. Folkstone. “ No, it Isn’t, said Miss Clackett, “ it is I! Locked in here by mistake. Don> thea, you will find the patent key on the parlor mantel-shelf. Be so good as to get it and let me out.” And the next moment Miss Clackett walked smilingly out into the astonished hand of her relations and fnends, took the head of the table,' and began to pour out the tea. “A—hem!” coughed Mr. Mole. “We were really beginning to be ?uite alarmed about you,” said Mrs. blkstone, moving uncomfortably in her chair. “Sb I should think,'’ said Miss Clackett, cheerily. But she was as pleasant and cordial as ever, and when her guests took leave they really did not seem to know whether they had been overheard or not. After they were gone, however, Miss Clackett held out her hand to Dorothea. “ Come here and kiss me, my dear,” said she. “ I see that I have one friend left in the world, at least.” And she made her will next day in favor of Dorothea Dodd. “Not that I mean to die at present,” said she; “ but it’s always well to be prepared for any emergency.” And she never invited that particular party of guests to tea again as long as she lived. *

"A Lurid Tale.”

There is a very’ tender and touching legend about these falls. I knew there must be. If there had been none I should have made up one—something I hate to do most awfully, because I like all my romances to have a dash of truth in them. There was, on a time within the memory of the oldest inhabitant, trouble among the Indians. The Mohawks, if it was the Mohawks, and the Milicetes, if that is the way you spell it, fell in love with each other, and each begged the other for a lock of his hair to remember him by. And, at the same time, the ardent suitor begged the poor boon of being allowed to cut off the lock himself. Moreover, to show that he meant business, he ground his little thomashawk and honed up his persua-

■ive little scalping-knife, and announced that he was in the hair business, no trouble to show goods, a new crate just opened to-day, orde* from the country promptly attended to. Well, customers came right along from the day the sign was hung out on either side, and both establishments bad all they could do. The supplyseemed to equal the demand, and the demand was steady and constant, with a rising tendency. But after awhile it was evident that the Mohawks had the most and the best men out on the road, and had got the dead wood on the country trade, and vast quantities of Milicete hair was worked up at prices to suit the times. Things run on thia way until at last the Milicete Indians were forced out of the lobbing trade entirely, buying in small lots and manufacturing only home orders, all sales •at thirty days, on a margin of about two and one-half per cent. But the greedy Mohawks put up a few branch stores to‘kill off this stand, and the Milicetes were at last driven to little puttering side-street business, hardly getting enough hair to run the headingmachine. t Meanwhile, the demand in the Mohawk market for Milicete hair continued unabated, and runners for the house were untiring in their efforts to secure the new crops and whatever there was already in the stack or bins. And when they * brought in word one day that the rival firm had skipped out of thfi country, taking all the Milicete hair there was along with them, on their heads, the Mohawks got up, put on their war-paint, piled into their canoes, and started down the river in fierce pursuit. Night closed in alike on the pursued and the pursuers, but it didn’t stop the circus a minute. The Milicetes paddled till their backs ached/ and the Mohawks made the ripples fly right behind them. At length tne roar of the falls sounded in the ears of the flying Milicetes, and they turned to the shore, beached their light barks, and struck for tall timber.

All but one. A woman, as usual, was the last one in the train. A squaw whose aboriginal name I either forgot or never knew—Mary Jane Johnson, maybe —was sculling along at the tail end of the procession. For two or three miles before reaching the falls she had made up her womanly, or squawly, mind that she would save her tribe,-and at the same time avenge them. So she lighted a kerosene lamp, or it may have been a pine knot, and set it in the stem of her canoe. The pursuing Mohawks saw it, thought it was the last act of sullen, hopeless defiance, and they howled till their coms ached, trying to reach it. When the fugitives landed above the falls, Mary Jane Johnson landed, too, but she did not strike for She picked up her kerosene lamp and trotted around the falls on the rocks. From rock to rock she nimbly sprang and lightly scrambled until she reached a point far beyond them, where her flaming signal just lined the pursuing canoes with the “split rock,” just midway in the cataract. On came the Mohawks, their fierce eyes fastened on the flame that danced before them, their fiercer cries drowning the roar of the cataract, until suddenly the angry white foam leaps into their faces from the swirls and eddying rapids that catch their fragile barks, and, before their savage yells of hate can be changed to the notes of their death-song, the mad plunge is taken, and the gorge is so full of drowned Indians that the Coroner’s office is worth $2,500 a year for the next six weeks. It used the Mohawks up completely; they went out of business. The Millicetes also, what was left of them, reformed, went out of politics entirely, and the tribe is now settled in an Indian village down below here a little ways, at the mouth of the Aroostook, where thoy live oh the interest of their taxes. Mary Jane Johnson was highly honored by her tribe. They married her to the chief, and granted her the free privilege of cutting wood and hoeing com, and cooking for her husband and fifteen children all the rest of her life.—Burdette, in Burlington Hawk-Eye.

Fashionable Furs.

The Siberian silver gray fox, which has been the most fashionable fur, as well as the highest-priced in the market, is this season the best standard fur for trimming dress cloaks and making sets. The prices have advanced, inasmuch as all kinds of fashionable fur is at a premium this fall. The skins are about the size of our American foxes, ami cost from sixty to one hundred dollars each, according to the age of the animal and the shade of gray in dark parts of the fur. It is unnecessary to add, perhaps, that this fur is tipped with a beautiful silver tint, as those familiar with the fur are aware of this fact. The sets cost all the way from fifty to ninety dollars, according to the shade arid softness of the fur. The trimmings for outside garments are cut from the back, and muffs and collars from the flanks, as in the lynx skin. Grebe collars and muffs are to be worn for evening dress to opera and theater. These are made from the breast of the birds, the center of which is pure white, and shaded off in tintings of golden brown and gray, the latter being much more costly and.desirable than the former shadings. The best and most expensive grebes come from Geneva, and the more common grades from the southern portions of California. These sets arc very much worn in Paris and London, with evening dress of black satin and velvet, to theater and opera, but seldom ever seen for carriage or street wear. Alaska sable or black martin is again included in the list of fashionable trimming furs. It is much used for trimming seal-skin sacques, and is cut in widths from four to six inches.

The skins of wildcats found in mountainous regions and forests of Northern Germany are employed to considerable extent in lining garments for carriages and traveling purposes. The color of the fur is a deep, rich brown, and is too short to be sufficiently ornamental as a trimming fur or for making sets, although the hairs are very tine and soft and the skin quite tough, probably like our domestic cats, which are said to possess nine lives. No doubt these felines many times elude the snares set by German hunters in their native mountains by the same dexterity with which our domestic cat escapes the boot-jack thrown by the exasperated listeners to their midnight howls. Chinchilla fur is considered very appropriate for sets and trimmings upon garments worn by misses and very young lailies. This animal is much smaller than most people imagine, being about the size of our gray squirrels, and shaped very much like a rat. The best skins of this kind come from Peru. There are two distinct colors, shaded from the ground to the hips. The pure gray grounds, very dark upon the back, are by far the best and softest in quality. The inferior grades are a sort of reddish brown upon the back, and shaded on to something of the suggestion of ecru tint. The set ranges from fifteen to forty dollars, according to color and fineness of the fur. The African tigers have this year succeeded in developing their spotted skins into fashionable nirs for sets and trimmings. So those of our ladies who do not aspire to assuming the lion’s skin can, with the sanction of the supreme goddess, wander about in tiger skins, like gentle lambs in wolves’ clothing. Some of these skins are spotted gray and white, and others in tan color, silver gray and white, according

to the different species to which they belong. The sealskin garments are destined to be more in vogue than for many yean. They are made both in sacques and dolmans, and also in the new garment, first produced in silk fur-lmeu goods, called the Mercedes. This is a sort of surplice dolman, circular in form, and is made very ample and long. The Alaska and Shetland seals are both used, but the Alaska is considered much the better wearing fur, and retains the dye longer than the Shetland. There m less difference in the price of the two qualities than in the wear. Pincked South Sea otter and plain and pointed beaver furs are extensively used for the trimming of sealskin garments and making muffs to match. These furs are also much used in trimming silk, fur-lined circulars. The pointed beaver is made so by a process of tying white hairs upon the roots of the fur upon the skin. It is all executed by hand, and is a very delicate and intricate piece of work. The difference in the price of pointed and plain beaver amounts to about five dollars in one skin. The Hudson Bay beaver is the principal kind used in the trimming of sealskins. The long seal dolmans, beaver trimmed, range in price from two dollars and seventy-five cents to four dollars each, and the sacones from one dollar and seventy-five cents to two dollars and fifty cents. There are some novelties in fur trimmings which are worth mentioning in this detailed account of fashionable furs. One kind was trimmed upon a long carriage garment of heavy plushfinished beaver cloth. The fur is called marmaluke, and grows, upon an animal known as the Australian sheep. It is a kind or a cross between wool and fur. It comes in mixed colors of black, dark gray, and silver, and is used just as imported, in its natural colors. It is about medium in regard toprice, and will evidently obtain great favor for ordinary wear. The French fox, which is a deep chestnut brown, after being prepared in France by a process of indelible dyeing, and tipped with silver about the depth of halt an inch, is another novelty in fur. The are effected bv an electric process, and when completed the fur would never be known from the natural skins, so artistically is it performed. The hair is very long and soft, and retains the beautiful luster given it by the dye. In its natural state it would be ignored, on account of the dingy, grizzly color, which seems out of place in shch fine, soft quality of fur. The animal is about the size of the Siberian silver fox, and the quality of the fur is very similar. Siberian squirrel in its natural color, gray and white, and real ermine, are the principal lining furs for dolmans and circulars. They come all the way from S2O to SSO for a whole lining. Russian sable is one of the old and also the new furs. It may be properly called a standard quality, and is next in price to the Siberian silver fox. In style of make the sets are considerably changed in shape of neck mufflers. This season they are cut with a flat, round, or pointed collar, and round boa ends. The muffs are very small and trimmed in fancy and colored ribbons. —N. Y. Star.

Tackled by a Wild Cat.

Mr. Tom Short, a well-known cattle man of Ruby Valley, who, for a number of years has furnished fine beeves to Eureka butchers, the, fore part of last week had an encounter with a large wild-cat which came near resulting fatally to Tom. It appears that Mr. Short had set out early in the morning on the trail and hunt of a couple of strayed steers, and was alone, with the exception of his two dogs. He was leisurely riding along a rough mountain road, his dogs a little in advance, and as they came to an abrupt turn in the trail, the dogs were lost to sight. In a few minutes Tom heard them yelping and barking, and atonce knew they had attacked a wild animal. Putting spur to his horse, he was only a few seconds in turning the break in the path and coming to the scene of action. The two dogs had attacked a wild-cat, one of the largest of its species, and were getting terribly worsted. Mr. Short saw how the fight was going, and not caring to lose his valued dogs, drew his revolver and rushed to the aid of his canines. He had not much more than left the saddle, and was watching for a chance to shoot without hitting the dogs, when the wild-cat saw him, settled on his haunches, and then made a spring, striking Tom in the breast, knocking the pistol out of his hand and carrying him to the ground. This would undoubtedly have been the end of Mr Short had not fortune favored him. Just before the attack he had also drawn a knife, and while losing his revolver he clung to this, and as the fiat bore him to the ground he made a desperate thrust, and most fortunately the blade touched a vital spot and the brute rolled over dead. Tom lay in an exhausted and almost senseless condition, but only for a short time, and as a couple of men happened along, seeing the horse without a rider, Immediately sought the cause, found Mr. Short and conveyed him to a" ranch, and. dispatched a messenger to Elko for a doctor. Mr. Short was terribly cut up about the face, neck and arms, and has been able to be about but little. We are pleased to say, however, that no Permanent injury will be sustained. 'he wild-cat was one of the largest ai u most ferocious of its kind, weighing nearly two hundred pounds. It is supposed to be the same one that, only a few days ago, killed a horse belonging to a neighbor and intimate friend of Mr. Short’s—a Mr. Harrison. Tom may well congratulate himself that he got off as well as he did.— Eureka (Nev.) Leader.

English Manners.

English people impress you first of all .by a sense of the genuineness of their actions and of their speech. Warm or cold they may be, gracious or ungracious, arrogant or considerate, but you feel that they are real. Englishmen adulterate their goods, but not their conduct. If an Englishman makes you welcome, you feel at home; and you know that, within reason, and often out of reason, he will look after your comfort—that for your well-being while Jou are under his roof he considers imself responsible. And yet he does not thrust himself upon you, and you may do almost what you choose, and go almost whither you will. If he wants you to come to him, he will take more trouble to bring you than you will to go, and yet make no fuss about it any more than he does about the sun’s rising, without which he would be in darkness. If he meets you and gives you two fingers, it means only two fingers; if his whole hand grasps yours, you have his hand, and you have it most warmly at your parting.. His speech is like his action. His social word is his social bond; you may trust him for all that it promises, and commonly for more. If you do not understand him well, you may suppose at first that he is indifferent and careless, until something is done for you, or suggested to you, that shows you that his friend’s welfare has been upon his mind.— Richard Grant White, in December Atlantic. —This free education is getting played out when dinner is made late by the cook’s stopping work to discuss the principles of evolution with a book agent.— Boaton Post.

USEFUL AND SUGGESTIVE.

It may not be generally known that apple wed, sown in the fall where a hedge is desired, in four or five yean form an impregnable hedge. They should be clipped back two or three times with a knife or hedge shears, to grow low and stocky.— Potato Roses.—Pare carefully with a thin penknife some peeled potatoes round and round until all of each potato is pared to the center. Do not try to cut the slices too thin or they will break. Place in a wire basket and dip in boiling lard. They are a handsome garnish. Salt or beefs gall in the water helps to set black. A tablespoonful of spirits of turpentine to a gallon of water sets most blues, and alum is very efficacious insetting green. Black or’very dark calicoes should be stiffened with gumarabic—five cents’ worth is enough for a dress. If, however, starch is used, the garment should be turned wrong r ide out. A balky driver makes a balky horse. In breaking in colts the trainer should never lose his temper. A firm hand and gentle manner will bring any colt however spirited it may be into subservience to the driver. The animal must be made to rely entirely upon its master. It cannot be made to do so by brute force. The same means should be used as with a child.— lowa Slate Register. Saratoga Onions.—Skin and sJ'ce the onions thin, and lay them in cold water and salt for an hour or more. Dry them thoroughly. Separate the layers into rings, throw them into smoking hot fat, and fry them brown. Take them out of the fat with a skimmer, and put them into a collender. Scatter over them a teaspoonful of salt, shake them well about, and put them on a platter. Scotch Short Bread.—Four pounds flour, two pounds shortening (half lard and half butter), one egg, and as much milk as would fill an egg-shell; beat well together, and add to the flour and butter, one pound fine sugar; then with your hands work the whole until it is soft enough to roll out on your bakingboard about half an inch thick; cut into any form you may wish; pinch the edge with your finger and thumb and bake. To Make Caramel.—One ounce of brown sugar. Put one ounce of brown sugar over the fire in a frying-pan and stir it until it turns very dark brown, but do not let it burn. When it is the proper color pour into the pan half a pint of boiling Water, and stir it until the sugar is thoroughly dissolved. Let the caramel cool, and then strain and bottle it. It is a good and harmless coloring for soups, sauces and stews of various kinds.

Home Pudding.—One quart mill four eggs beaten separately; eight tablespoonfuls flour, wet with milk; little salt, four teaspoonfuls baking-powder, one-half cupful sugar. Bake in greased !>an thirty-five minutes. Sauce for mme pudding: One-half pint milk, three tablespoonfuls sugar, one tablespoonful butter, one small tablespoonful flour; heat milk boiling hot and mix sugar, butter and flour, previously well beaten together, into it. Flavor with vanilla. Quince Jelly.—Quarter and core, but do not peel the fruit; cover with cold water and let cook till “ mushy;” let drip through fine hair sieve, then put in a flannel bag, and allow to drip all night into an earthen bowl; boil hard twenty minutes, (be careful to skim,) add white granulated sugar, almost pound for pound, then boil gently for ten minutes longer. Have tumblers standing on wet cloth to prevent cracking. After putting the jelly in tumblers, let stand in sun till it jellies; then dip writing-paper in white of egg and cover jelly. Liver and lemon sauce for fowls. —Wash the liver of the fowl quite cican, and boil it for five minutes; -then pound it in a mortar with a spoonful of the liquor in which it has been boiled, and rub it through a sieve. Take the thin outer rind oi a lemon and mince half a teaspoonful very fine; remove the white inner skin of the lemon; cut into thin slices; take out the seeds, and then cut up the whole into small squares; mix the lemon, the rind and the pounded liver into half a pint of good melted butter, of white sauce, and serve with the fowl.

Care and Feed of Horses.

The following embrace extracts from a lecture by J. Stores, V. S., before an English farmers’ club: How must horses be treated that they may be able to perform a certain amount of work without injury to their system? In the first place they must have food; in the second plaic they must have grooming, and in the third place they must have good stabling. In regard to food, of all animals the horse, in comparison to its size, has the smallest stomach; it is, therefore, of great importance that his food should contain as much nutriment as possible in the smallest bulk; more especially when undergoing hard work. Hay and oats have this qualification to a greater degree than any other of the feeding stuns in general use, and that they should form the staple food has been proved by long experience. Bruised oats are very suitable for old horses and those that bolt their com, but beyond this they have nothing specially to recommend them. The average quantity of oats required to keep a horse undergoing hard work in good condition is about twenty pounds per day. Of course some horses would eat more. Others can not be induced to consume more than fourteen pounds. Drivers of contractors’ horses are practically aware of the fact that the more they can get their horses to eat the more work they will do. But the result of overworking is the premature death of many valuable animals.

Indian com may be advantageously used in the proportion of one to six; the only objection to it is that it causes toipidity of the bowels. This must be counteracted by giving an equal proEortion of bran. Beans, but for their eating tendency, would form a very suitable adjunct to oats, as they contain a large proportion of nutritive material. They may be safely given to animals that are hard wrought and upward of seven years. A horse cannot be maintained in health on grain alone; the stomach requires a certain amount of mechanical distension to keep it acting properly. Hay or straw serves this purpose. The ordinary allowance should be about twenty pounds per day; something like five pounds in the morning, five pounds at midday, and ten pounds at night. A few years ago chopped hay came greatly into vogue; but the principal argument in its favor was that the bad hay was eaten along with the good. This tells seriously against the plan, as a horse is certainly better without bad hay in its stomach than with it. All kinds of straw are inferior to hay, oats being the only variety that should be used; it does well when horses are idle, as they are not so liable to get into too high condition on it. Green foliage is well suited to horses in its season; then the work is light, and they appear to thrive on it. It must be given in moderation, especially at first, as horses are so fond of it that they soon eat more than is good for them. Carrots, turnips and potatoes require to be given with equal discrimination; indeed, I am inclined to condemn the use of potatoes entirely, although I have known instances where horses were allowed as many as they could eat with-

out bad results, but such cases are the exception and not the rule. Cooked food is used by many horse-owners with more or less advantage, the great objection to it being that it fattens without giving strength and firmness to the muscles. It is also apt to be bolted without proper mastication, which is a common cause of colic and indigestion. For a horse recovering from any debilitating disease, or for one coming off a long jom-nep, it is of great benefit if given judiciously. To make a regular Eractice of feeding with it every day, owever, is unnatural, and, I believe, highly injurious. It is a common practice to give a feed of it every Saturday night for the purpose of keeping the bowels in order. Three-fourths of a pailful of mashed bran would serve the purpose better without the risk of deranging the bowels. This is a most necessary adjunct in horse feeding, and should be given regularly once a week. It acts mechanically on the lining membrane of the stomach, increases the secretion, and thereby averts constipation. As already stated, the stomach or receptacle for solid food is very small; the caecum or receptacle for water is quite the opposite. It is not uncommon to see a horse drink two or three pailsful of water at a time. It is, therefore, probable that he does not require it often. Three times a -day is sufficient, provided the horse is allowed as much as he will drink. In cases where he is excessively hot or exhausted, or where he has been kept without water for an undue length ot time, it should be given in smaller quantities, and more frequently. It is a great and very common error to allow horses water after being fed. •In its passage through the stomach it is sure to carry with it some of the undigested food, which ought never to reach the intestines, and will probably cause colic or indigestion. Grooming, or cleanliness of the skin, is not a mere matter of glossy or staring coat; it is essential to the health of domesticated animals. When it is borne in mind that the skin is one of the principal organs by which refuse matter is thrown off from the body, the necessity of keeping the pores or little drains clear will oe apparent. When they become silted up. the lungs and kidneys are overtasked, and hence diseases of both these organs. Washing the legs is the cause of much harm to all horses. It ehecks circulation and causes greater evils than the mud and sand which it is intended to remove.

The Polyphemus.

The Polyphemus, now being completed for commission at Chatham, England, promises to be a complete novelty among offensive ironclads. She is to be built entirely of steel, and her deck is to be covered over with threeinch plating of a convex shape. This convex curvature is continued round her sides some distance below the water line, after which her sides converge toward her keel, or rather to where her keel should be in a V shape. Her midship section will thus appear the shape of a kite, the convex deck only rising four feet six inches above her water line. She is two hundred and forty feet between perpendiculars, the extreme breadth is forty feet, and she will have a load draught of twenty feet. The engines are estimated to work up to five thousand five hundred horse power, and to give her a speed of seventeen knots. What a dangerous enemy she will prove is evident from her speed alone, as her principal means of offense are a ram or steel spur and Whitehead torpedoes. Her form of construction is evidently intended to enable her to escape notice, and, even when observed, to escape damage by the deflection of shot rather than by absolute resistance to such impact. There is much of interest and importance in this experiment, for such indeed it is, the vessel being constructed after the idea of Sir George Sartorius, a well-known veteran of the navy. We consider the Polyphemus as one of the first attempts in construction to foil the impact of heavy shot by diversion rhther than by the probably futile resistance of of a heavy armor plating. Another imEortant modification has been made in er construction to enable her to benefit to the full extent by the principle of subdivision into water-tight compartments, which is particularly carried out in her design, and on w’hich she must very largely rely for safety. The modification is that an enormous mass of

cast-iron ballast is carried outside the vessel in a rectangular groove one foot eight inches wide and three feet deep, situated where her keel should be. This mass of ballast amounts to three hundred tons; her total displacement being two thousand six hundred and forty tons, and represents in weight a volume of rather more than ten thousand cubic feet. This ballast is so arranged that it can be released from the vessel at will, so that should one or more of her water-tight compartments be pierced, the loose ballast may be dropped from the part of the vessel corresponding to the flooded compartment. The position or power of flotation may thus be retained undisturbed, even after several compartments may have been pierced. She carries no masts, except for signal purposes, and her guns are a few light shell and Gatling guns on her upper deck.— Marine Engineer.

Do It Well.

Whatever you do, do it well. A job slighted, because it is apparently unimportant, leads to habitual neglect, so that men degenerate, insensibly, into bad workmen. “That is a good rough job,” said a foreman in our hearing recently, and he meant that it was a piece of work not elegant in itself, but strongly made and well put together. Training the hand and eye to do work well leads individuals to form correct habits in other respects, and a good workman is, in most cases, a good citizen. No one need hope to nse above his present situation who suffers small things to pass by unimproved, or who neglects, mataphorically speaking, to pick up a cent because it is not a dollar. Some of the wisest law-makers, the best statesmen, the most gifted artists, the most merciful judges, the most ingenious mechanics, rose from the greaq mass. A rival of a certain lawyer sought to humiliate him publicly by saying: “You blacked my father’s boots once. ” “Yes, ” replied the lawyer, unabashed, ‘ 1 and I did it well.” And because of his habit of doing even mean things well, he rose to greater. Take heart, all who toil! all youths in humble situations, all in adverse circumstances, and those who labor unappreciated. If it be but to drive the plow, strive to do it well; if it be but to wax thread, wax it well; if only to cut bolts, make good ones; or to blow the bellows, keep the iron hot. It is attention to business that lifts the feet higher up on the ladder. Says the good Book: “Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men.”— Scientific American.

—S. L. Harvey, of Greenville, Pa., met with a singular accident a few days ago. He had boiled some chestnuts. After taking them from the pot he poured cold water on them and immediately placed one in his mouth for the purpose of breaking the shell. The hot water had filled the nut with steam, and when the shell burst the steam escaped, burning the gentleman’s mouth so badly that -he was unable to partake of food fo'r two daj s.

Religions. A THANKSGIVING ANTHEM. Praisb ye the Lord! For it is good to sing praise unto our God; For it is pleasant and praise is comely. We will go into His tabernacles: We will worship at His foot stool. Let us mention the loving kindness of the Lord, And the praises of the Lord, According to all that the Lord hath bestowed on us. And the great goodness which He hath bestowed on them; According to His mercies and according to the multitude of His loving kindness. The Lord is good to all. And His tender mercies are over all His works. ; ■ Sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving; Let the saints be joyful in glory. He maketh grass to grow upon the mountain; He fil'.eth thee with the choicest of the wheat. Thou, Lord, hast made us glad through Thy work; We will triumph in the works of Thy han<j. Thou openest Thy hand And satisfiest the desire of ever yliving creature. He giveth food to the hungry; He satisfieth the hungry soul. The pastures are clothed with flocks; The valleys also are covered over with com. O that men would praise the Lord for His goodness. For His wonderful works to the children of men. Let us come before His presence wita tnanksariving, And make a joyful noise unto Him with psalms, For He maketh peace in our borders; Sure dwellings and quiet resting-places. The Lord is our defense, L And the Holy One of Israel is our king. We will both lay us down in peace and sleep. For Thou, Lord, only makest us to dwell in safety. O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. For His mercy endureth forever. Offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. And proclaim and publish the free offerings. Blessed is He that considereth the poor; The Lord will deliver Him in time of trouble. Make it a day of feasting and joy; And of sending portions one to another, And gifts to the poor. So all Nations shall call you blessed; And ye shall be a delightsome land. Who can utter the mighty acts of the Lord? Who can show forth all His praise? Thou crownest the year with Thy goodness; Thy paths drop fatness. Blessed be the Lord from everlasting to everlasting, And let all the people say Amen! —N. Y. Independent.

Sunday-School Lessons. FOUBXH QUABXXB. Nov. 23—The Message to the Churches Rev. 3:1-13 Nov. 30—The Glorified Savior.... Rev. 1:10-20 Dec. 7—The Heavenly Song Rev. 5: 1-14 Dec. 14—The Heavenly City...... Rev. 21:21-29 Dec. 21—The Last Words Rev. 22:10-21 Doc. 28—Review, or Lessons selected by the School.

Justice.

Our mission, whatever may be its precise character, should be permeated with the spirit of religion. The secular and the sacred should never be separated, for the one should be sanctified by the other. Content, justice and charity should be as prominent in our daily business life as in our more formal devotions. These are the graces .that ennoble the humblest calling. We can never do our duty in the station to which we have been assigned by God’s providence so long as we are fretful, dissatisfied and envious. Contentment, singularly lightens the burden of toil and sweetens the bread we eat. But justice is even more important than contentment; yea, I will venture the thought, is even higher than charity. You are in business, and your earnings are large, and out of them you give liberally to the poor. So far, so good. That is charity. But how came you by your earnings? To win them have you ground the faces of the poor, have you oppressed the hireling in his wages? Have you given less than the sendee deserved? Have you taken advantage of the poor seamstress, that you might decorate more finely the costliest of your investments—your wife? Have you wrung cries, groans and curses from the wretched sewing-woman that you might economically fill your pala tial home with songs, laughter and benedictions? Have you deliberately planned the ruin of others? Have you tried to murder your neighbor’s reputation, and trampled on all rights, that you might rise in affluence and influence? God help you ffnd be merciful to you! Unjust in your dealings, all your benefactions, liberalities and charities are but “ as sounding brass and as tinkling cymbals,” the decorations of a sepulcher, the flowers on a corpse. Give the world more justice and it can .dispense with much of your charity. No wonder, when you empty your lifework of the former, that it appears contemptible and infinitely beneath the greatness of your nature. Justice dignifies any and every avocation. When it distinguishes the judge on the bench, the soldier on the field, the merchant in his counting-room, and even the mechanic in his labor, so that he puts honest muscle in every blow he strikes and good conscience in every brick he lays, their varied callings partake of a com-, mon character, and each is as morally sublime as the other.— From a Recent Sermon by Rev. Dr. Lorimer, of Chicago.

A Waldensian Pastor.

Desiring to visit the Valley of Angrogna, the great retreat during the invasion of the land, and the scene of the most terrible battles, I was commended to the pastor of the village, who has the care of the scattered population of the large parish. Itwas a long, hard walk up the valley, and a hot one. A very plain little Protestant “temple” and a few poor houses constitute* the village. A child directed me to the pastor’s door—a great solid wooden door in a fortress-like stone wall. Entering, I was pleasantly greeted by the cheerful mother of the house, who ushered me into a scantily-furnished parlor, clean and sunny. Presently the pastor appeared, who ~ received me with the greatest cordiality, and lent himself at once to my desire for guidance and information. I have rarely been more impressed in any interview. He told me with the greatest frankness of the difficulties with which he has to contend in eking out a support for his large family in a parish where all are poor, and where many can give nothing to the support of the church beyond cordial good wishes and the scantiest contributions of food. A little money is given him by the General Synod, but it is very little, and this man’s incessant pastoral duties make it impossible for him to ameliorate his condition by any form of profitable work. It is to gratify no curiosity that I repeat what he told me of his circumstances, but rather to illustrate by a striking and extreme example the life in these valleys generally. I was regaled in the most hospitable manner with the best the house afforded—a thin, simple wine, bread, a hard sort of cheese and boiled chestnuts, of which I was urged to take my fill, as I would fina no other opportunity to eat during the day’s journey. What was given me is the best of their diet, and, except for potatoes and salad, it covers the limit of its variety for all the secular days of the week. On Sundays they usually but not always have meat/ There was no suggestion that the diet was not sufficient and satisfactory, and the family seemed to be in robust’and hearty health. The physical labor of the pastor himself must be very severe. His parish reaches for miles back on the mountains and far up into steep and rugged valleys. He has three separate churches and schools under bis charge, and his sick and poor are scattered far and wide on every hand. Foot-paths and bridlepaths offer the only means of communication anti he is liable, day and night, winter and summer, in good weather and in bad, to be summoned forth for a long, hard tramp to the house of a sick

or dying parishioner. All this he described as merely incidental to a life of necessary and useful service in which he is content and happy. A friend had recently presented him with a young donkey, which is already able to give nim a short lift on his journeys, and which, as it matures, and as he grows old, will carry him to Pra del Tor and back. He was happy over this acquisition, but anxious as to his ability to nourish the beast. Regarded in a certain light there is nothing remarkable about this tale of a robust man’s life and circumstances,but viewed with reference to the stock to which he belongs and to the history of the wonderful struggle of his race it seems to me not far removed from heroism. The world is full of well-paid positions, seeking for the education, intelligence, executive ability and fortitude which mark the character of this cheerful and zealous pastor of Angrogna; but the old call of the Spirit rings in his ears and stirs his blood as it stirred that of the martyrs of old, and he stays and finds his happiness and his delight in answering its behests.— George E. Waring, in Atlantic Monthly.

Robbed by Masked Burglars.

The usually quiet village of Unionville, Orange County, N. Y., was on Monday startled by the report that the residence of a farmer named Hough, near the village, but in Sussex County, N. J., had been visited the previous night by a gang of masked burglars. There were four in the party, all young men apparently, all dressed in dark clothes, and all wearing masks of white cloth,-which entirely concealed their features. Mr. Hough and his family retired early Sunday evening, as was their custom, and were aroused soon after nine o’clock by the entrance of the robbers. Mr. Hough, who was the first to awake, was astonished by the sight of one of the masked men, who was sitting on the foot of the bed pointing a revolver at him, while anotner stood beside the bed with a pistol pointed at Mrs. Hough. On the same floor slept Mrs. Hough’s sister, familiarly known as Aunt Sarah. Into her room one of the robbers thrust his head, saying: “‘You keep quiet. Aunt Sarah; we don’t mean to do you any harm.’.’ This was heard by the servant-girl, who slept at the otlier end of the hall, and she at once run to the room of the hired man and aroused him. H’e seized a revolver and ran to Mr. Hpugh’s room and leveled his weapon at the man who had covered Mr. Hough, but the robber paid no attention to him beyond quietly remarking: “ Put up that pistol or I will shoot the old man.” Mrs. Hough, alarmed for her husband’s life, besought the hired man not to fire, and he dropped his weapon. He was immediately seized from behind by the other two robbers, who hurried him back to his room, where they bound him, and also the servant-girl, with halters procured from the barn. In the meantime the two men inMr. and Mrs. Hough’s room had securely bound them, and the door of Aunt Sarah’s room being fastened, the entire household was completely at the mercy of the robbers. They then leisurely ransacked the house, devoting two hours to their wbrk. They succeeded in finding two hundred and seventy-five dollars in money, but evidently expected to find more, and in their anger at being disappointed they destroyed a large quantity of clothing which they did not consider valuable enough to carry away. Thdy also found a quantity of jewelry and some silverware, which they added to their plunder. They then visited the . kitchen, where they made a hearty lunch, after which they droVe off, leaving their victims bound.. t

About an hour after their departure, the hired man succeeded in freeing himself from his bonds, and he at once relieved the girl and Mr. and Mrs. Hough and Aunt Sarah. Mr. Hough and his man at once proceeded to tne stable with the intention of driving to Unionville to give information to the authorities,, but, to their dismay, they found that the burglars had destroyed every piece of harness that there was in the place. When they finally got a harness patched up from the pieces, the robbers had a good two-hours’ start. It is supposed that the robbers came from Port Jervis, to which place information was sent, and also to Sergeant Jacob Wilson, of the Jersey City.police, who is a son-in-law of Mr. Hough, with a request that a lookout be kept in that direction for the thieves. — N. Y. Times.

From a curious statistical statement of the trade of Canada, just published, it appears that the traffic between the Dominion and United States has increased in imports all around. Purchases of hardware from Great Britain were in 1874, $2,478,827. In 1878 they fell in value to $757,573. In the same period purchases of hardware from the United States fell only from $2,797,741 to $2,386,587. In the case of cotton and woolen goods the import from England has fallen off, while that from the United States has positively increased, and in regard to a great many other articles the same may be said. In a word, Canada has during the past five years increased her imports from the United States by nearly forty per cent., while she has decreased her imports from Great Britain by twelve per cent. —A singular coincidence recently occurred at Lafayette, Ga. An elderly lady,, while out at her cow-pen, by some mishap fell over a rail and broke the cap of her thigh bone. She sent for her sister, who went out next morning to perform the same work, and had the misfortune to fall over the same rail, breaking a bone just as her sister had done. They both now lie in beds in the same room, without much hope of ever being able to walk.

THE MARKETS.

1 ' New Yokk, November 22,1879. LIVESTOCK— Cattle..../.... $6 50 @slo 00 Hogs ..: 4(0 (in 4 00 FLOUR—Good to Choice. .... 5>5 @ 775 WHEAT—No. 2 Ctficago 133 @ 134 CORN—Western Mixed....... 59J4@ 60 OATS—Western Mixed....... 44!4@ 47 RYE-Western '... 88 @ 89 PORK—Mess..., 11 05 @ll 10 LARD—Steam..; 725 @ 730 CHEESE ... (18 @l3 WOOL—Domestic Fleece.... 36 @ 53 CHICAGO. BEEVES—Extra f 4 70 @s4 90 Choice 435 @ 460 G00d........... 315 fa, 425 Butchers' Stock 225 @ 300 Stock Cattle z 30 300 HOGS—Live —Good *0 Choice 340 @ 410 SHEEP—Common to Choice.. 250 6n 450 BUTTER—Creamery , l 32 © 37 Good to Choice Dairy.) 27 fa 31 EGGS—Fresh . .j. 20 @ 21 FLOUR— Winters... 600 @ 700 Springs. 500 @ 650 Patents,.-. 600 fa; «75 GRAlN—Wheat, No. 2 Spring 1 16%@ 116% ..K.W.’ifel Wi ® “ Red-Tipped Hurl 4%@ 5 Fine Green.. 5%© 6 Inferior....!. 4 @ 4% Crooked....; 2%@ 3% PORK-Mess..J 10 25 @ 10 30 LARD 665 & 670 LUMBER- 1 Common Dressed Siding.. 916 00 ©617 50 Flooring....i 22 00 @ 30 Qo_ Common Boards 12 50 @l4 00 Fencing 11 00 @ISOO Lath 235 @ 260 - A Shingles 260 & 275 BALTIMORE. CATTLE—Best...... .'.*.*4 25 @65 00 Medium 800 @ 350 SHEEP,... 300 @ 450 EAST LIBERTY. CA '^£P®-® est ; 94 *5 00 Philadeiphias *2O @ 430 SHEEP—Beet... 400 @ 450 Common..., 975 @ 3qq