Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 October 1874 — Page 6

Our Xoutig Folks. SHELLING PEAS. Passing by the kitchen, Through an open door, 1 espy throe children Silting on the floor. Through the open window Comes the morning lirecae Fanning them so gently While they *hcll the peas. Little eyes are husy. Little Anger., too. Picking all the pear out Soon a* brought to view. Thcv are free and happy As bird* upon t he trees. Laughing, talking, singing. While they shell the pens; Baby’s dish hits in it Mintght hot pods, 'tis true. But she's j list as busy. And as happy, too.' They must learn to labor; Little ones like these should have some employment; • • Lei them shell tha ppas . 4 , Tp at early morning, By the break of day. All their work done early. They'll have time to play. Children are so happv. When they try to please; Tbev do mne.h to help us. While they shell the peas.

TADDIE’S EXTRA.

BY KATE W. HAMILTON.

“Take good cate of Grandma and Kitty." said papa. “ Be as good a boy as you can, Taddie." said mamma. And those were the very last words, as the carriage drove away from the gate. Taddie went back into the house, feeling considerably older and several inches taller than usual. He had been allowed to sit up an hour later than his accustomed bed-time to see his father and mother start for the depot. And then Grandma and Kitty had been left in his charge. Certainly they needed somebody to take care of them for Grandpa had to be away nearly all day. Taddie walked through the hall with long steps, pushed his hands down into his pockets, whistled, and thought what an important thing it was to be a large boy. As for being good, he would be that, of course. He thought about it the first thing next morning, and while he was waiting for breakfast he drew from his pocket a hit of pencil and a little note-book: — He had paid Bill Jones two marbles and a whip-lash for that book because he admired its red morocco cover and nice white leaves; but he had not known exactly what to do with it after he got it, and so had only drawn a few pictures of very wonderful Indians and some curious horses in it. Now, however, he concluded to keep a journal: and, sharpening his pencil, he wrote, with a great deal of care and effort: “ Rurzolved —to be xtry good to Day." His little sister Kitty, seeing him so busy, came to his side. “Wh at you doing, Taddie? Let me see?" “No.” said Taddie. “I’m busy with my private 'counts. They ain’t for little girls to look at.”

Kitty had caught sight of some of the feathered Indians, and thought they might be interesting; but she was so surprised at Taddie's grand manner that she only opened her blue e ves very wide, and did not say a word when he slipped the book into his pocket. She found Taddie surprising a good many times that day. When she and her whole family of dolls gave a concert in the back jmrlor he was very obliging in the way of scattering handbills, introducing the singers, and furnishing instrumental music on his tin trumpet. But he kept saying so gravely and so often: “ Kitty, put your hair back,"’ “ Kitty, don’t stand on one foot," or “Kitty, don’t lean out the window, ’’ that at last Kitty folded her small hands behind her and looked at him. .“Taddie Nelson, what makes you keep saying ‘Don't, Kitty,’ all the time, ’sif you was my —my grandfather or something’ ’ * * —. —— " ’Cause I'm the biggest, and papa told me to take care of you,’’ said Teddie. " Humph: You needn’t do it any more, then," said Kitty, shaking her, flaxen curls. - I guess, if it had been mamma, she’d h.ivc told me to take care of you.” Taddie frowned a little. He was restless agd. dissatisfied, and began to be afraid lie could not carry out the resolution lu had printed so carefully; for what he meant by being extra good was to be good in some uncommon and extraordinary way. and he did not seem to find any such way. Kitty wanted, 'him for a eood many plays; hut some he would got try at ail and the •tliers he did not take much interest in. Any common boy could play; there was nothing wonderful about that, and it didn’t look much like taking care of anybody. Kitty grew tired of, such poor company by and by. and wandered away by herself, leaving Taddie to gaze out of the window and be as dull as be pleased. His grandmother called to him now and then, asking him to bring in an -armful of wood or a pail of waterfront the well.' 5 He went slowly and not very willingly. He hated such little-boy work. If she should only ask him to do some great thing he should like it better, he said to himself. ' “ ’Dade it’s a dale of trouble to bring all the wather from the out-door clsthern. I'm sorry the kitchen pump’s broke at alb” said Bridget’s voice; Taddie listened. He hadn't heard of that before.

“What’s the matter with the pump. Grandma?” he asked. “ There is nothing wrong with the pump. It is only a hole in the pipe that brings the water up from the cellar cistern,” answered Grandma. “ I meant to have asked your Grandpa to mend it be; fore he went away this morning. He could have soldered it nicely, I know, so that it would have been all right. But I forgot it.” “Sure it's a knowin’ gintleman he is,as can do so many things hisself widout sendln’ for a man at all,” said Bridget, admiringly. “I wonder if ’’began Taddie, and then he stopped. He had almost so id that he wondered if he could not do it; but he was 6ure Grandma would only laugh and say no, so he did not fin sh the sentence. Bridget thougnt it a wonderful thing for a man to do. Waat would she think of a boy that could do it? Taddie’s eyes grew bright as he studied the subiect. “ Taddie,” 6aid Grandma, “ I wish, you would run over to Mrs. Vale’s and get some milk for me. I will put a pitcher here on the table, and you can take it when you are ready. Only go pretty soon.” “ Y-e-s-’m,” answered Taddie, very slowly. - " ■ c He did not wapt to do it at all. Why couldn’t be do some real useful thing, like mending the pipe, t instead? He was certain he could do that, for he had

watched Grandpa heat his iron and melt the solder more than onto, and it looked easy-enough to be just fun. Then he began to wonder how large the hole was and in what part of the pipe; and, when Grandma and Bridget were not looking, he tiptoed down into the cellar to see. Once there, however, he did not examine the hole first ; but hunted up the solder. Then he looked tor the iron Grandpa had used; but that was nowhere to he found. He thought a heated poker would do as well, though, and by this time he had quite decided to do the mending himself. Grandma had asked him to go for the milk; but, of course, she would father have the pipe fixed, and wouldn’t she be surprised '’ He could not heat the poker in the kitchen without some one noticing or asking questions: but there was in one part of the cellar an old stove that Bridget sometimes used on washday.-, and he could make a fire in.that. —•• It's awful hard work, though," he said to himself when lie had shaken out the ashes and got his fuel together. Taddie was not used to making fires, atjd he grew very dusty, sooty and tired before he could make this one buf'h. Just as it began to blaze nicely lie heard Kitty’s voice in the va'rd: “Taddie: Taddie)” He did not want her calling him in thatway and she would be sure to search until she found him. and, besides, it would be pleasant lo have iter help, so he eliinhcd up to one of 1 he small high windo wr amt answered' softly;' “Kitty*" “ Whv! what arc you down there'for?” asked Kitty. “Hush! Don’t say anything to anybody, hut slip down here when they’re not looking," said Taddie. “I want to tell you something." The prospect of a secret brought Kitty very speedily. “ Well?” she said eagerly, when she stood by Taddie’s side. '• You see," explained Taddie, “ Grandma wants this pipe mended, and I’m going to do it all by myself, if you’ll help me. We'll s’prise her.” “Yes, I will,"' said Kitty, nodding her head approvingly. She liked surprises and had great faith in Taddie’s ability to do most things. “Oh! you’ve got a fire!” “ Don’t talk so loud,” whispered Taddie. “ 1 built the fire so I can get this poker real hot to mend with.” showing a Tung iron poker he had picked up. “ I’m going to heat it now. You watch and ihen you'll know, too, Kitty.” But heating the iron took some time because Taddie was so impatient that lie pulled it out every two or three minutes to see if it was beginning to turn red. “Grandma tells when her flat-irons are hot this way,” said Kitty at last.. holding it up near her cheek. “ (.)h! Your hair, Kitty. You’re burning your hair!” cried Taddie. •' Slv! how it frizzles up,” said Kitty, dropping the poker and looking at her curls in dismay. “Now one side will be shorter than the other and I’ll look all crooked. 1 guess your old pokeris hot enough for anything." “Well, I'll go and mend now; only I don’t know where the pipe—ls. broken,” answered Taddie. . Kitty knew. She had been down-stairs in the morning when Bridget tried to pump, and had seen where the water ran out. “ And it’s where the pipe goes through the coal cellar, way up high, where you can't reach it, Taddie.” It proved to be so, indeed. And while they talked and looked tiie iron cooled, am! bail to be placed in the fire once more. “ We can pile up tubs or something for me to stand on,” said Teddie. And the t wo went busily about it. Hard work it was, top, lifting and dragging tubs and boxes into the place they wanted them, and trying to do it so very quietly that no sound of the moving should be heard up-stairs. They arranged an empty uox, with a tub turfted bottom upward upon it, and a small cask on top of that. That would ,Jae. quite high enough, Taddie thought; but lumps of coal did not make a very even floor for the box to stand upon, and it shook and tilted so that he had to climb up very carefully. “ Now bring me the poker, Kitty," he j whispered, eagerly. “ Oh! it's beautiful and red'mnv,” said j Kitty; in delight, bringing the iron with j her handkerchief wrapped about the handle, to keep it from burning her fingers. Taddy took it and melted some of the solder easily enough; but he could not make it stick to the pipe. He could not j think how Grandpa managed it. , “ 1 s’pect maybe you’d better heat the j pipe real hot,” said Kitty. » v , j So Taddie tried that, and held the hot j poker over the spot, until he suddenly j discovered that he was melting the lead j pipe and had made the hole three times as large as it was at first.- “ Oh)dear!” he cried, starting back. And with that movement the box tipped, and away went tub, cask, Taddie and poker, rattling and crashing down upon the coal, while Kitty screamed loudly enough to raise the household. Grandma and Bridget came running down-stairs in great haste, and Grandma certainly was as much surprised as anybody could wish. “ Why, Taddle Nelson! How came you here? *1 thought you had gone for milk long ago.” *■'•; — —r7~ “ I was mending the pipe,’’ said Taddie, faintly.

“ Mending the pipe! I’ll be thankful if all your bones don't need mending notv!” exclaimed Grandma. They did not. Every bone was whole; but he had bruised his"back, cut his forehead on the coal and burned his hand with grasping the hot poker as he fell, and was altogether so sober and forlorn as he lay on the lounge that evening that Kitty’s tender little heart was" verv anxious to comfort him. “ Couldn’t you'muse yourself with vour private ’counts, Taddie’?” she asked,* innocently. Taddie fairly groaned as he remembered what he had written. “ I don't., see why everything need tome out this way when anybody tries to be extra good,” he said. ~ Grandpa dropped his paper and looked over his spectacles. “ There is a verse in a very old book, Taddie, which says: ‘To o’bey is better than sacrifice’; and it means that it is better to do faithfully the small dutips we are told to do than to attempt greater good deeds of our own seeking—better even if it is less glory.” “I don’t care anything about glory now,” answered Taddie, so meekly that Grandma could not help smiling behind her knitting. Taddie made just one more entry in his red note-book, and that was the next morning: “Rurzolved to try to be Just common good awl the Time.’’ After that he stopffpi keeping a journal and the

I.'• ■ ■ ! boojk was given up to more pie lures of Indians arid wild horses.— As; Tv ; ,m „;jb, ,■■ ■■ •• ■ ••

Frank’s Pass.

Frank was a bright little five-year-old fellow, full of fun and anxious to make himself of consequence. Armed with a stick, he would feel as brave as a lion among the hens and chickens; and as they scudded away from this dreadful creature to take shelter wherever they could find it he would say to himself, “I guess they think I’m a giant ;" only he pronounced the word “ zhi-ant.” He would even attack the old cock and walk right up to the big turkey-gobbler. But there was one animal which caused Master Frank to quail with terror, especially when alone and alter dark. Do you want to know what it was? I will tell you. It was a mouse! Yes; a little brown mouse, with his bright eyes and pretty tapering tail, would: make our bold little boy tremble and scream; and if he chanced to light on several of these pretty creatures playing together -you would have supposed that he had run against a herd of buffaloes. Very silly, wasn't it? Now, every night on his way to bed Frank had to pass through a lonely •room where mice and rats would Sometimes peep out of their holes and scamper over the floor, frightening him sadly and causing him to clasp mamma’s hand more tightly and hurry along as fast us -possible. But one night, when it came bedtime, mamma was sick up-stairs, and nurse away, and no one with Frank in the sit-ting-room but papa, who was busy reading his newspaper. So the little^hoy was told to march up-stairs.to bed alone. “ <Bi, papa!” said lie, “ I’m afraid to.” “Afraid of wliaj,?” said papa. “Afraid of the rats and mice, papa, in the big lumber-room.” “ Dh, nonsense!” said papa; “if that's all I’ll soon fix you out." So papa took his writing materials and wrote this: TO ALL THE RATS ANI) MICE IN THIS lIOCSE, t.REETi no ; ton arc hereby ordered to let my little boy Frank pass safe through the tiimber-rooin. and all other rooms, at all times. This order will stand good till countermanded. Any rat or mouse disobeying w ill be dealt with according to law. Witness my hand and seal. Then papa signed the paper, and sealed -it with a —big—red—seal,—and gave it to~ Frank, who thanked papa, kissed him good night, and trudged up-stairs without another word; for he had often seen papa give passes to people who wanted to go somewhere, or do something, and he had a high opinion of his father’s “ passes.” So, when he came to the door of the lumber-room he flung it wide open, and called out, “ Ho! Misses rats and mice, you can’t touch me: here’s my pass.” And every night when he went up to bed he held out his pass to the rats and mice; and none of them ever did him any harm. —The Nursery.

Gold Leaf Manufacture.

The process of gold-beating is exceedingly interesting in its various details, and is one which requires the exercise of judgment, physical force and mechanical skill. The coin is first reduced in thickness by being rolled through what is known as a “ mill,” a machine consisting of iron rollers operated by steam power. It is then annealed by being subjected to intense heat, which softens the metal, and next cut up and placed in jars containing nitro-muriatic acid, which dissolves the gold and reduce"! if to a mass resembling Indian pudding, both in color and in form. This solution is then placed in a jar with copperas, which separates the gold from the other components of the mass. The next process is to properly alloy the now pure gold, after which it is placed in crucibles and melted, from which it is poured into iron molds called" ingots, which measure ten inches in length and one inch in breadth and thickness. When cooled it is taken out in the shape of bars and then rolled into what are called “ ribbons,” usually measuring about eight yards in length, of the thickness of ordinary paper, and retaining their original width. These “ ribbons” are then ctit in pieces one and a quarter inches square, and placed in what is called a “ cutcli,” which consists of a pack of French paper leaves resembling parchment, each three inches square, and the pack measuring from threequarters of an inch to one inch in thickness. They are then beaten for half an hour upon a granite block, with hammers weighing from twelve to fifteen pounds, after which they are taken out and placed in another pack of leaves called a “slioder.” These leaves are four ancka half inches square, and the gold in the “slioder” is beaten for four hours with hammers weighing about nine pounds; after which the gold leaves are taken out of the "shoders” and placed'in what are.called “molds.” These “ molds” consist of packs of leaves similar to theDtlier packs and made of the stomach of an ox. After being made ready in the “ molds” the gold is beaten for four hours more with hammers weighing six or seven pounds each. The thinner the leaf becomes the lighter are the hammers used, and it is also necessary in beating the gold, especially in striking the ” mold,” that the blow should be given with the full flat of the hammer and directly in the center of the " mold.” The leaf after being taken out of the “ mold” is cut into squares of three and three-eighths inches, and placed in “ books” of common paper. Each “book” consists of twenty-five leaves, twenty “books” constituting what is known as a “ pack.”— lron Age. To Do Red Cabbage. —Slice right across perfect ones, .and put into a tray or jar, first a layer of cabbage well salted, then salt, then cabbage salted, layer upon layer. Then, after draining off Hie brine, , beat vinegar enough to cover, adding an ounce of mace to each quart of vinegar and a handful of whole peppier. Just let it beat well —not bpil. Then pour it over the cabbage. When it is cold, tie it up. Use white wine vinegar; about Six quarts of vinegar will be sufficient for eight good-sized cabbages.— Cor. Western Rural. The jiawer of cash in hand was never so near omnipotent in Europe as in the current Season. Tons of silks, laces, shawls and everythifig have thus come into American purchasers’ hands at prices which will prove a great temptation even to those who have not a fortune to spen4 in dress. * - _ <9 Forestville, Cliuatauqua County, N. Y.v- has a sensation in the shape of a child three weeks old, whose heart is located in the middle of its breast and covered only by a thin membrane, so that it is plainly Visible, and eapable of .being lifted by'tlie hand-outside.

RECIPES, ETC.

—Powdered niter is good for removing freckles. Apply with a rag moistened with glycerine. — Indoor growing plants should have the morning sunshine if possible, although the afternoon sun is better than none. —Catskill Apple Pudding—One pint of sweet milk, four eggs beaten to a froth, one. teaspoon of soda, a little salt, flour enough to make a stiff batter, four large apples chopped; stir well; bake in deep tins; serve hot, with butter and sugar.— Cultivator. —A decoction of chestnut leaves is said to be a sovereign remedy for whooping-cough. Steep three or four drachms of the leaves in boiling water, give it either hot or cold, with or without sugar. Carbonate of lime should he put in saucers about the room in which is a sufferer from the disease. It prevents infection.— Household. —Pickled Pears.—Twenty pounds peeled fruit, seven pounds sugar, one quart vinegar. Boil the sugar and vinegar together, stick a couple of cloves into each pear, and put them into the sugar and vinegar, with water enough to nearly cover them. When cooked enough'remove pears to stone jar, and after boiling the pickle for fifteen minutes longer, pour it over them. Examine in a week and if the pickle is not sufficiently concentrated remove and boil down again. —Cheap Soft, Soap.—The best and cheapest soft soap may be made as follows; Take a clean barrel, the size of a kerosene-oil barrel, and in the bottom place ten or fifteen pounds of barrel potash and fifteen pounds 'of rendered fat or tallow. Upon this pour three pailfuls of boiling-hot water (soft water). Let it stand twenty-four hours and add two pailfuls of boiling soft water, and continue to add a like amount once a day until the barrel is full. Stir it often to make it white. Beyond ali comparison this is the best and' cheapest for household purposes of any soap ever made. The potash will cost t welve and one-half cents a pound.— Hfimestead. —The following is a recipe for making hard soap which is excellent and economical: Nearly every family accumu-lates-through the winter drippings from beef and mutton. These can be utilized for the grease by boiling m water, allowing it to cool, then removing from the water and boiling till all the water is expelled. Of course the whiter the grease the nicer the soap. Take six pounds of sal soda, six pounds grease, three and a half pounds new stone-lime! four gallons soft water, half pound borax. Put soda, lime and water into an iron boiler; boil till all is dissolved. When well settled pour off the clear lye, wash out the kettle and put in the lye, grease-and borax; boil till it comes to soap, pour into a tub to cool, and when sufficiently hard cut into bars and put on boards to dry. This is very nice for washing white flannel and calico. —Rural Ne<c Yorker.

Saving Fodder and Husking Corn.

In the East so much value is placed upon the stalks of corn that the greatest -care is taken in cutting and shocking so that the leaves and husks may be saved in the best possible condition. In the South, where hay is always scarce, the leaves are stripped from the stalks, tied in bundles, cured and housed. In this condition they are prized and correctly so, as being fully equal to the best bay. In all the Northern States, where the corn is likely to be injured by frost, no time is lost after the first light frost in immediately cutting and shocking the corn; and the ripening process goes along nearly as well if the corn has passed the milky state as though it were standing on its own roots.' Throughout the great corn-zone of the West it is not unusual when other rough fodder is plenty to cut the corn. It is either taken from the stalk with the husk adhering to be fed to stock thus, or husked directly from the hill and immediately cribbed. When forage is scarce the case is different. Then the stalks are shocked and saved to feed in the winter in place of hay, and, if carefully done, the value of an acre of corn-fodder is about equal to an average acre of grass. For milch cows and fattening cattle there is no doubt that, acre for acre, it is fully as valuable as ordinary hay. The present season lias been deficient in hay, and the Western Mural urged in time that every possible means should be used to supplement this scarcity with other forage, one of these mean! being the saving of as much corn fodder as possible. If not already done no time should be lost in doing it. * It will pay to offer extra inducements to hands during the cutting season to use every exertion not only to put together as much as possible, but also to shock it most carefully and thoroughly. The most easy and secure method we have ever found is to bend and tie four hills together at regular intervals, around which to set the shock; to make the shocks as large as possible, setting the stalks straight and firm, and tie securely and firmly as near the top as it is possible to do and securp all the fodder. Thus made, while there is no danger of the corn being blown down, the most thorough ventilation is secured. There will be a minimum of danger of the fodder being injured by the weather. The brace hills are easily cut when the shocks are moved, and if low-wheeled wagons are employed for hauling to the foddering .yard the shocks are easily loaded by two men with a proper carrying stick. This stick is made from a two-inch hard-wood, planky six feet long, six inches wide at one end and tapering to a point at the other. The shock having been, loosened, the is thrust through at a proper height, turned flatwise, the shock dragged to the wagon and lifted up, the map on the wagon seizing the top, while, the stick being - withdrawn, the men on the ground push the shock to its place. Until the load gets ftigli, no difficulty will be experienced in lifting directly to the place, the tops overlapping each other and the butts outward. If the corn is to be cribbed and the forage fed to stock cattle and milch cows, it is better, if possible, to husk it in the field and pile the fodder securely until Wanted, for the expense of handling such heavy fodder is considerable. When handled, it should be stacked so conconvenient to the feeding place that it may be easily dragged thence by hand or thrown on a wagon and distributed while the team moves slowly oyer the yard. The principal objection to shocking corn in the West is the added expense in husking. A hand will husk fully twice the number of bushels of corn from the hill that he will from the shock. This, first and last, has given rise to,much controversy as to the amount of bushels a

hand could husk in a We have seen 100 bushels of corn (not ears) husked from the hill between sun and sun in October. We have never seen more than forty bushels husked from the shook in the same time. So, in figuring the amount of corn to be shocked for fodder, it would be perfectly safe to gather no more than will be wanted for use. unless the corn must be cut to save it from the frost; for doubling the expense of husking adds very materially to the cost of the corn crop, and the stalks remaining on the field are nowadays but a slight impediment to the subsequent plowing of the land.— Western Rural.

What Makes the Apples Rot?

Our. worst enemies are the smallest. All the ravenous beasts in the world, mad dogs included, probably destroy Tower human lives than are destroyed in this city alone by the ravages of those minute but virulent organisms of the genus micrococcus to which we owe smallpox, diphtheria, and some other malignant diseases. Similarly, the thousand sturdy weeds which annoy the fanner, the caterpillars and grasshoppers which occasionally de%-our his crops, are relatively innocent and harmless compared with the numerous microscopic pests which rust his grain, rot his potatoes and fruit, and otherwise levy their burdensome taxes without making themselves visible. Just at this season, not the least interesting of these individually insignificant, collectively enormous, nuisances are two forms of fungus* growth- which have most to do with the untimely destruction of fruit —mucor miicedo and pencillium ylaucum. Our apples decay, not because it is their nature to, as. "Watts might say, but because it is the nature of something else to seize on them for subsistence, as we do, at the same time making of them a habitat , as we do not. Kept to themselves, apples and other fruit never rot; they simply lose their juicesdry evaporation, shrivel and become dry and hard, or, if kept from drying, remain substantially unchanged, as when securely canned. It is only when invaded by the organisms we have named that they lose color and quality, take on offensive tastes and odors, become covered with white or green mold —in short, develop rottenness and decay. Formerly this process was thought to be no other than a continuation op exaggeration of the natural process of ripening, the chemical changes which produce the odor and flavor of the ripened fruit simply going on to their legitimate though less delightful end. But this theory overlooked the very common and important facts that fruit may rot without ripening and that ripe fruit will not rot if properly protected. It was not until the microscope was brought to bear on the problem and the conditions of,decay were so convincingly demonstrated by Devaine that the real nature of the process became clear. Now we know that, so far fromi being the complement of growth, the antithesis of life, decay is in reality the taking on of a more rapid though specifically different growth. It is synonymous not with death but with intensely active life. In general structure the numerous microscopic fungi are very much alike, consisting mainly of a network of colorless cells and filaments called the mycelium. This: is the vegetable part. There is, besides, .a reproductive part in which -is produced the seed or “ spore,” the structure of which is different in the different genera. In the mucor each reproductive filament bears a globular swelling at its superior extremity in the interior of which the spores are developed. In the pencillium ylaucum the reproductive filament bears a tuft of from four to eight branches, which in turn produce upon their extremities a chaplet of small oval spores. It is called pencillium on account of this pencil-like tuft of its spore-bearing filaments, and ylaucum from their bluish-green tint. The mold so frequently seen in oranges is produced by this fungus. It is comparatively of slow growth and the alteration it produces in the properties of the fruit it lives in and upon is not so marked as that caused by the mucor. When a fruit is invaded by either of these fungi, the vegetative filaments send their branches among and around the fruit cells, and rapidly envelop them in a network of mycelium, absorbing the substance and juice of the fruit, and producing—the—chemical transformation characteristic of decay. All this goes on in the interior of the fruit, the fructification of the fungus taking place only on the surface, in contact with the atmosphere. For this reason fruit covered with a firm, fine «kin, like the apple, may be a mass of what we call corruption within—in other words, thoroughly decomposed by fungus growth—while * no visible mold—the fructifying part —appears on the surface. On the other hand, thin-skinned fruits like the strawberry, which are easily pierced by the reproductive filaments, are often covered with an abundant fructification in a very shprt time, for the fecundity of these microscopic fufigi is sometimes as marvelous as the rapidity of their growth. For example: A single zoospore of the peronspora infestans, which causes the potato rot, will envelop the cellular tissue of a potato leaf with mycelium filaments in twelve hours, and fructification will be completed in eighteen hours longer. One. square line of the under surface of a leaf, where the fructification naturally takes place, may bear as many as three thousand spores! Each spore supplies half a dozen zoospores, individually capable of originating a new mycelium. From one square line, therefore, there may come, in less than two days, nearly twenty thousand reproductive bodies, and a square inch may yield nearly three millions! No wonder the disease spreads rapidly. v In the case of fruit, decay may be originated in two ways, and two only: by direct contagion or by wind-wafted spores. With firm-skinned fruit like apples still another condition is essential, namely, a break in the skin of the fruit to allow the parasite to enter and take possession. In every case of decay in apples the center of disturbance wilt be found at a bruise, scratch, or puncture; and unless such a way be opened the apple may hang until it is dry as leather, or it may lie for weeks in direct Contact with rottenness, and remain perfectly sound. To this it may be objected that the constant presence of the fungus in decay is no proof that it is the cause of that condition; on the contrary, the breaking down of the fruit tissue by violence, and subsequent chemical action owing to access of air, may rather make the growth of the fungus 1 possible by preparing a suitable soil for its development. The objection has been met in the investigations 6T Davaine. The evidence that the

fungus precedes and causes the changes which we call decay is of the same character as that wluch" establishes the connection between a vaccine pustule and inoculation by vaccine virus. When soflnd fruit is' inoculated with the spores of pencillium decay begins at and spreads from the point of Apples similarly wounded, but not inoculated, remain the s&me.—Scientific Ahierican... ... ,

Cellars.

Damp cellars are deep cellars with bad ventilation. To avoid this, the cellar should be mainly above ground, not excavating more than one to two feet at most below the surface. If the walls are made of brick, There should be a hollow space of four inches; and, in that case, the wall need be only four inches on each side ; that is, the whole thickness of the wall, including the hollow space, need be only one foot. The windows should be large, say six lights of ten by twelve glass, with shutters on the outside of these; the cellar will need no other protection in this part of the State, but might farther to the north. To keep such a cellar cool in summer, we close the shutters during the warm part of the day and open them at night. The cool night-air remains in the cellar through the day and at night is replenished with a fresh supply. The flues should go down into the cellar, and, by leaving the stove-pipe-lioles open, a free circulation is created. I have a milk-room eighteen by twenty-four feet in the cellar that is thus ventilated, and the room is always cool in summer and flies are kept out of it. — “Rural" in Chicago Tribune. Dyspepsia arises from a great variety of causes, and different persons are relieved by different remedies, according to the nature of the disease and condition of the stomach. We know of a lady who has derived great benefit from drinking a tumbler of sweet milk —the richer and fresher the better—whenever a burning sensation is experienced in the stomach. An elderly gentleman of our acquaintance, who was afflicted for many years with great distress after eating, has effected a cure by mixing a tablespoonful of wheat bran in half a tumbler of water, and drinking it half an hour after his meals. It is necessary to stir quickly and drink immediately, or the bran will adhere to the glass and become pasty. Coffee and tobacco are probably the worst substances dyspeptics can use. — Inter-Ocean. Probably no one disease is the cause of so much bodily misery and unhappiness (and the disease is almost universal among the American people) as dyspepsia. Its causes are many and various," lying chiefly in the habits of our people. The remedy is simple and effectual. Use Dr. Wisliart’s Great American Dyspepsia Pills. They never fail to cure. Those who like to see a ragged toe and dirty stockin<fwill not care to buy, SILVER TIPPED Shoes. But those Who would rather have a neat Silver Tip should insist that their shoe dealer should always keep them.

SCROFULA! SCROFULOUS HUMORS. If Yegetine will relieve pain, cleanse, purify and cure such diseases, restoring the patient to perfect health after trying different physicians, many remedies, suffering for years, Is it not conclusive proof, if you are a sufferer, you can be cured? Why is this medicine performing such great cures ? It works in the blood, in the circulating fluid. It can truly be called the Great Blood-Purifier. The groat source of disease originates in the blood; and no medicine that does not act directly upon it, to purify and renovate, has any just claim upon public attention. When the blood becomes lifeless aud stagnant, either from change of weather or climate, want of exercise, irregular diet, or from any other cause, the Vboktinb will renew the blood, carry off the putrid humors, cleanse the stomach, regulate the bowels, and impart a tone of vigor to the whole body. The conviction is, in the public mind as well as In the medical profession. that the remedies supplied by the Vegetable Kingdom are more safe, more successful, in the cure of-disease, than mineral medicines. Vegetine is composed of roots, barks and herbs. It is pleasant to take, and perfectly safe to give an infant. In Scrofula the Vegetink has performed wonderful cures, where many other remedies have failed, as will be seen by the following unsolicited testimonial: A Walking Miracle! Mr. H. R. Steven-s: —— ; Dear Sir—Though a stranger I want to inform you what Vegetixe has done forme. Last Christmas Scrofula made its appearance in my system—large, running ulcers appearing on me as follows; One on each of lify arms, one on my thigh, which extended to the seat, one on my head, which eat into the skull bone, one on my left leg. which became so bad that two physicaus came to amputate the limb; though upon consultation concluded not to do so, as my whole body was so full of Scrofula they deemed it advisable to cut the sore, which was painful beyond description, aud there was a quart of matter run. from this one sore. The physicians all gave me up to die. and said they could do no more for me. Both of my legs were drawn un to my seat, and it was thought if 1 did get up again I would be a cripple for life. ... "When in this condition I saw Veoetixe advertised, and commenced taking it in March, and followed on with it until I had used 16 bottles, and this morning I am going to plow corn, a well mail. All my townsmen say It'ls a miracle to see me round walking ana working. . , , In conclusion I will add, when I was enduring such great suffering from that dreadful disease. Scrofula, I prayed tothe Lord above to take me out of this world, but. as Vegetixe lias restored to me the blessings of -health,-1 desire more than ever to live, that I may he of some service to mV fellow-man. and I know' of no better way to ai(l suffering humanity titan to inclose you this statement of my case with an earnest hope that you will publish it, and it will afford me pleasure to reply to aity communication which I may receive therefrom. I am. Sir, ve it _\m"p Ay N T Avery, Berrien Co., Mich., July 10th, 1572. YEGETIKE JS SOLD BT ALL DRUGGISTS. - Wishart’s Pine Tree Tar Cordial! Nature’s Great .a. ; ■ - 1 ' Remedy FOR ALL . Throat and Lung _i .v-—-- - Diseases. ( - ' :* For Sale by All Druggists and Storekeeper >. d 1