Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 16, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 26 September 1885 — Page 2

SiSISS prs y"-r

.-V

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TKRRE HAUTE, 8EPT. 26,1885.

ONLY A WOMAN'S WAY.

Young man with the Strang* ty troubled look And the footstep Had ana slow, Bo not ca*t down by a Kirllli frown

Ands slowly wli bpered "No!" Her sweet blush tell ine a different tale There is hope for you to day. In yonr hour of bilks remember {lite:

It Is only a woman's way.

8h«

must not be too easily won, Mbe thinks, In her maiden pride: Sauhe lift* her eyes quite in surprise

When your arms are open wide And when you offer your heait and hand, Then »he befs for more dclny In her lover's need she would have bia» plead

It is only a woman's way.

If a maiden ever adores a pwaln, In this vale of smiles and lean?, "Whoher heart hath stirred by lovlDg word,

Tis the man that preserves. She hates a coward whose heart is faint As the zephyr in odorous May Who will drop bis linceatamaiden'sglance

It Is only a woman's way.

Tls all the same throughout the land, In the palace and the cot, That maids are shy, and men must try

For the blessings they have not. For the helpmeet heaven doth mean for all, To cheer till the head grows gray With the soft caresses, and the power to bless

That is only a woman's way.

[Mary E. Wilklns in Harper's Bazar.]

Robins and Hammers.

It was Monday morning Lois had her washing all done and her kitchen cleaned up, and it was yet not ten o'clock the dew had not dried off the grass, and the BUT prise of the morning had not worn off in her heart. Lois was a girl who felt such things. After she had finished her kitchen work, she came with her broom into the front entry, with its un pain ted, uneven floor she was going to sweep thai out then her work in the lower part of the house was done, and she bad nothing more to do before dinner exoppt to put her own room upstairs in order.

She opened the front door after she had come the length of the narrow entry then she could not help standing there and staring out, leaning on her broom a little while. It was beautiful outside, and, aside from that, the outdoors gave her

Bomehow

a sweet sense

of companionship. The soft wind and the sunshine and the sweet spring smells came in by the open door like people. Lois felt it, though she did not get so far as thinking it. She had been lonesome, without knowing she was so till Chen. She was always alone in the house all day while her father was at work. Her mother was dead, and Bbe had no brothers or siBters.

The house faced southeast, and there was a weeping-willow tree in front of it. Its long boughs, which were more like tender green garlands than branches, swayed gently in the wind, and the sun shone through them. Lois looked at it radiantly. The spring birds were singing very shrill and sweet. There were bluebirds and orioles, and, more than anything else, robins. Lois always seemed to hear the robin the plainest, may be because she loved them best. She baa always liked robins ever since she was a child. But now there was something else she liked to listen to better thau the robins, and that was the sound of tbe carpenters' hammers on a house over the way. She could see Its pinky unpalnted pine walls through the trees. That was to be her house, where she and John Elliot were to live when they should be married In the autumn. Tbe taps of the hammers seemed to Lois to harmonize Bweetly with the calls of the bluebirds and the robins they were of the same kind to her both sounds be longed to love and hope and tbe spring

Lois was small and compHCt in tigure her light brown hair crinkled closely around her forehead and hung In tight curls on hor neck. She had a pretty thin face, with bright eyes, sensitive lips, and clear skin. She was neat in her poor calico dress. There was no money In tbe Arms family, though once they had been comfortably off. Hiram Arms had been a prosperous farmer on bis own account up in Rowe now he was rentiug this great, unpaint ed, weather-beaten old house In Pawlet, and letting himself out to other farmers for low hire. A good many causes had brought it about tiro nud mortgages and sicknesH. It had not happened until alter Ha rail

Alms's death—that was al­

ways a comfort to her daughter Lois. Sarah Arms had been a higti-rpirited woman there were people who said that hor ambition and extravagance had brought about her husband's failure. There had been a bay-window and new plaxr.* on that snug farm house in Rowe, which the old neighbors spoke of now dubiously. "Hiram Arms never ought to have put on them additions," said they "but Mis' Arms would hev 'em, poor woman."

So now the father and daughter grub bed along Iti Pawlet, the daughter un cotnplalntngly, the father complainingly. He was naturally a nervous man, and trouble had shaken him. But at last, since Lois's engagement to John Elliot, their affairs began to look brighter. John bad not much money he would have to mortgage his new bouse but he had steady work and good pay, and a prospect of better.' Hiram Arms waa to give up the desolate old bouse which he rented, on his daughter's mar rtage, and go to live with her in her new one. Be was very proud and happy about it, and talked it over a good deal among the neighbors he bad always been almost foolishly fond of his daughter, and he was growiug garrulous.

Finally Lois took her broom and went about her work. She bad been brought up on tbe rigid New England plan, and had a guilty feeling that it wa* a wa«te of time if she stopped a minute to be happy. There waa very little furniture in these large, square, low-walled rooms, but everything was scrupulously dean. After her sweeping waa done and her own room put in oraer, Lois had a little time to ait down and sew before she got dinner after dinner, when the dishes were put away and her father gone back to hla work, she had a long quiet spell the whole afternoon till six o'clock.

There Lois sat in the one of the two square front apartments which they used for a sitting-room, sewing. Sbe was making a kind of coaree cotton edging. 8be could not think of such things as boughten trimming for her poor littie wedding outfit bat it was no matter, for she thought tots wss beautiful. Battle Smith had taught her how to do it. She was the nearest girl neighbor, and she lived a quarter of a mite away, with no houses between. Lois wished Hattie would come over that afternoon as she sat there, and by three o'clock she did come in si«ht a stoat, girlish figure, in an ugly tight brown woollen dress fitting tightly over her earring shoulders. She had her plaid

shawl over her arm, the afternoon was so warm. 'Ob, Hattie," cried Lois, running to the door and opening it,-"I'm so glad you've come! I was awful lonesome." "Well, I thought I'd oomeover two or three minutes. Mother an' I got our washin' out of the way real early to-day, and there wasn't anything to do at home an' I thought I'd bring my sewing over here."

The two girls sat peacefully down st their work in tbe sitting-room. Hattie was running up some breadths of a dress and Lois kept on with her edging. "You get along real fast with that edging, don't yon?" said Hattie. "Well. I don't know. I haven't worked on it steady." "I think it's real pretty." "So do I beautiful."

Hattie dropped her sewing after a little, and starea at Lois, with an odd expression on her large face, half of concealed pleasure, half of doubt and commiseration. "Lois," said she, "I heard something to-day/an' I don't know whether to tell you of it or not. I told mother I was half a mind to, for I thought you ought to know it. It made me real mad." "What is it, Hattie?" "Why. I don't know as I onght to tell. I'm afraid it'll make you feel bad." "No, it won't." "Well, if you're sure it won't. I wouldn't mind it a bit if I was yon. It made me real mad. I think she was just as mean as she could be. Yon see, old Mis' Elliot run over to borrow some soap this morning, an' she sat down a minute, an' we got to talkin' about John an' his new house an' you. I don't believe I'd better tell you, Lois." "Yes I won't mind. Go on." "Well, mother said something about what a pretty girl you was, an' Mis' Elliot ssid, yes, you was pretty enough, but sbe couldn't help wishing sometimes that you had something to help John along with a little. She always thought the woman ought to furnish the house—she did when she was married— an' it was a dreadful hlnderance to a young man to have to do everything. John worked terrible hard, and she was afraid he'd get sick. And then sbe said sbe always though* a girl ought to have at least two silk dresses when sbe wss married, a black one and a colored one, and a good stock of clothes, so her husband wouldn't have to buy anything for her for two years certain. Now, Lois, you won't feel bad Why, Lois, don't cry!"

Lois's poor little cotton edging lay unnoticed in her lap, and

Bhe

was sobbing

pitifully in her little coarse handkerchief, "Now, Lois, I wouldn't have told you if I'd thought you'd felt so bad

Lois wiped her eyes, and raised her head bravely. "I don't feel bad," said she "only 1 wouldn't have believed that Mis' Elliot would have spoken so when sbe knew I was doing tbe best I could." "Well I wouldn't I think she was awful mean. I wouldn't mind it a bit, Lois "I don't," said Lois, and she took up the cotton edging again and went to working, trying to look pleasant and un concerned with her red eyes. Sbe would talk no more on the subject, however, though Hattie kept alluding to it.'

Hattie went home a little before tea time, saying to herself she didn't know what to make of Lois Arms. Lois felt nothing but honest distress no anger toward any one—none against Hattie, nor even against Mrs. Elliot. Her mother, before she died, had told her a good many times tnac she had not enough spirit, and would have a hard time going through the world, and she would have told her that now had she been alive.

After Hattie went sbe sat there listening to the carpenters' hammers and tbe birds, but they no longer sounded to her as they bad done. She kept saying it over to herself in a discordant refrain that drowned everything else, and took away the sweetness of it, with a bitter after-taste. "Two silk dresses, a black one and a colored one and I ought to furnish the house, and it's going to be a burden to John if I don't.

She bad her father's supper all ready for him when he came from bis work, though, in spite of her trouble, and they ill", barn-like kitchen, which stretched

it peacefully together in tbe great n-llke kitchen, which stretched the width of the house behind tbe other rooms.

It was odd enough that her father should broach the subject of her anxiety of his own accord that night but he did, after supper, In the sitting-room "Lois," said lie, "don't you want something to buy you some clothos with 'Ain't you got to make some new things before fall

Lois choked a little before she answered. "I guess you've got about ways enough for your money, father." "Well, I could let you hev a leetle. 'ain't got much jest now. Ef two or three dollars would do you any good "I really don't need it now, fatl I've got plenty." "Well, you know best. I got thin kin' 'bout it this afternoon—I don't kuow what put it into my head—when I was plougbin'. Ef things were as they was once, you'd hev enough. When I look back I wish your mother hadn't been 'quite so set 'bout hevin them bay-winders and piazzas." "Oh, father, don't." "No, I won't. I don't mean to find fault. Your mother was a good woman and a smart one, and sbe meant all right. Sometimes I can't help thinkin it over that's all."

Lois kept thinking it all over, and over, asd over. Sunday night John Elliot came that was his regular courting night. He came early, long before dusk everything, down to love*makin was prompt and earnest and day-Hgbte with John Ellit. He looked just as he was. His tall, stout figure bore his illfitting Sunday clothes so sturdily that it made up for their want of grace bis large face, with firm brown cheeks, and heavy but strong mouth and chin, fronted Lois and km father and life squarely.

Tbe three sat solemnly in the front room for a little while after be came. Then Mr. Arms went out Into the kitchen, and sat down patiently in his old arm-chair, drawn into the back doorway, and listened to tbe frogs, and tbe low hum of voices in the next room. Both sounds seemed to belong to a spring be had left behind. He generally went to bed. in his little room which opened oat of the kitchen, long before John left, though this sober young man n*r*r k»pt his love ap late. But tonight he still sat there in his chair, though half asleep, when tbe front door closed. He wondered dreamily why John went so soon—an hoar earlier than usoal. Then he beard Lois go up the front stairs to her room, and then he locked tbe door and went to bed himself.

Next morning be looked curiously at Lois a good many times when sbe was going about getting tosakfast for him in the early light, tie thought sbe looked very sober. Once he asked her if sbe dirt not feel well, and sbe said yes. After breakfast, however, she said more. He was jsat patting on his hat to go to hi* work when she stopped hits. "Father," said aba, "I s'pose yon

.v

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

ought to know it 'John and I ain't going to get married in the fall.' "You don't mean you've broke it off 7 "No* I haven't broke it off, father. I hope sometime it'll be all right, and that's all I can say about it. father. Don't talk any more about it, father, tell you this, for I think you onght to know.9'

It was not so ea*y to stop her nervous, distressed father in bia wonderment and conjecturing, however. He lingered and talked and questioned, but Lois would say no more than she had said, and he went off to work in an anxious bewilderment.

He had been very confidential about bis daughter's prospects with the farmer whom he was helping. He had said a good deal about the new house, and bow likely the young man wss. To-day he said nothing. When he came home he looked very old and dejected.

Lois saw it, with an awful sinking at her heart, but she never faltered in her purpose. A corner of her resolute mother's mantle seemed to have fallen upon her gontlo, bunblo little d®o jntcr. She never would marry John Elliot until she could go to him well enough provided with womanly gear

not

to be a

burden to him at the outset. There was no anger in her determination, and no pride deserving the name.

She had got It fixed in her mind that she could not warry the young man now without injury him, and she loved him too well.to do this that was all.

Sbe had asked him the night before to defer their marriage a year. She gave him no reason she thought she could not, without perhaps having his mother's remarks traced bsck ana trouble being made then, too, she knew he would not consent to the plan.

Tbe result was inevitable with a young man of John Elliot's turn of mind. He broke the engagement squarely and went home. Next day the carpenters stopped working on the new house. The silence of tbe hammers smote Lois with a dreadful sense of loneliness all day. Her father did not notice it till Tuesday night then he asked Lois, abruptly, "Have they stopped work on tbe bouse? "Yes," said Lois, with a great sob. Then sbe ran upstairs, threw herself on her bed, and cried bitterly. She could not help it. StUl, strangely enough, she was very far from giving up all hope. She had never believed more firmly in her life that the new house would be finished and she and John live in it some day. She was going to work and earn some pretty dresses and. some furniture then John would come back, and it would be all right. In spite of her yielding nature, there was in her a capability of fine concentration or pur pose, which she might not use more than once in her life, perhaps, but which would work wonders then. Whether it would work wonders with a practical, unimaginative, evenly resolute nature like John's, remained to be seen. Some might liave questioned if her subtle fineness of strength was in a near enough plane to admit of any struggle.

Sbe had not a doubt about it.

JODD

loved her, and by-and-by, when she had earned euough money, and had her clothes and her furniture, they would be married, and tbe carpenters would finish the new house.

Her great present distress was her father's dejection and her not seeing John Sunday nights, and she made the best of that. It was odd that she did not worry much over poor John's possible unhappiness but sbe was so engaged in acting against her own heart for his happiness that she did not tbinkjofthat consideration.

So she got the district school to teach and passed the summer that way, in stead of making edging and listening to the carpenters' hammers. The school was half a mile from her home, and she had to keep tbe bouse tidy and get meals for her father, besides teaching, so she had to work hard. Back and forth she went, passing first the wild roses and then the golden rod on the country road morning noon and night, never taltering. Her pretty face got a strained, earnest look on it, but never a hopeless one. If John bad only known! but he worked on in the shop over in Pawlet village, and never came near Lois. If sbe was in bis thoughts, be kept her there so secretly that nobody knew. He went to work on week-days and to meeting on Sundays steadily and just as usual. He never alluded to Lois, or bis broken engagement, or his unfinished house, to anybody, and silenced his mother with. "I don't want to bear •a word about this, mother you may as well understand it first as last."

She never mentioned the matter to him afterward, though she got a good deal of comfort from talkiug it over amongst her neighbors. Sbe was not sorry, on the whole, she said, that the match was broken off. She bad nothing against Lois Arms she was a real pretty little thing, and a good girl too, she guessed but she always thought John might do a little better.

Then sbe was to have been left alone in her neat cottage house, which her husband bad bequeathed ber, on John's marriage and although she bad not wantel to live with the young couple and sell ber house, or have tbe young couple live with her, she did not altogether wish to be left alone. If abe had told the whole truth, she would have said that sbe was jealous of ber son, and did not really want him to get married at all.

Lois used to meet John's mother sometimes, and would return her stiff bow wistfully. She never thought of being angry with her. John sbe never met. She used to glance tlpildly across the church of a Sunday sometimes, and see him upright and grave in his pew but be never turned his bead ber way, and never seemed to see her.

Lois taught all that year till the next spring then ahe bad two hundred dollars in money. She bad not spent one cent of ber salanr, but had saved it jealously. She baa not given any to ber father that troubled ber most. To see him coming home from bis hard, pitiful jobs of wood-cutting snd hauling through the winter, his shoulders bent, bis thin, nervous face with its white beard growing thinner and more anxious and sbe with her little bosrd, worried ber. But she kept thinking it would be right soon. She knew his disappointment was wearing on him bat soon it woald be over, and this precious money would bring it about.

Lois bad it ail planned jast what sbe should do with ner money. Seventyfive dollars woald bay ber dresses, sbe thought, and one hundred and twentyfive ner furniture. She anticipated a sumptuous housekeeping outfit from that. Sbe waa as innocent as a child about the oust of things. Then John would come bsck to ber, and tbe taps of tbe hammers on the new bouse would chime in with the songs of tbe robins again.

Lois was thinking what day she should go over to the village to buy ber dresses, and how she should send a little note to John, when one day, shortly after her school dosed, ber father was brought home with a brakes arm. That settled tbe matter. The dresses were not bought, the note was not written, and tbe carpenters'hammers remained silent when the robins began to sing. Lois's school money paid the rent and tbe

doctor's bill, and bought food for herself and father. Sbe uureed her father till be was about again, and tben ahe took up' her school-work and began anew. Sbe went without everything. Sbe wore her poor little shoes out at the toes in tbe winter she wrapped her shawl around her little red fiugere and went without gloves. Sbe went past the wild roses agaiu, then tbe golden rod and asters, then (he red maple boughs, then the snow-drifts, back and forth between home and the school-house, with her pretty, enduring, eager face, till spring came* again.

A few week8 after her school closed, John Elliot, coming home from the shop at dusk one rainy Saturday night, meta girl on the covored bridge just before he got to his home. She bad been standing motionless at tbe farther entrance till she bad seen him enter at the other then she had walked forward toward him rapidly. Sbe extended her hand, with something white in it, when she reached him. "Mr. Elliot," said she, trembling, "here's a note for yon, if you'll please read it when you get home."

Then ho saw it was Lois. v, A13 "How do you do?" said he, stiffly, and took the note and went on.

When be got homa be opened it and read it, holding it under tbe light ou the kitchen shelf, when his mother was out of the room. It did not take long to read it. It was only: "DEAR JOHN,—Will you please come over to my house a little while to-mor-row night? I want to see yon about something. Lois."

He folded the note tben, put it in his pocket, and asked his mother if sup'per was ready.

The next evening he was so long about getting ready for meeting, and brushed his coat and clacked his ooots so punctiliously, that his mother noticed it and wondered. Wss he going to see Lois Arms? But he did not go. He only went to meeting aud straight home afterward.

If he had only known how Lois wa9 watching for him, though tben it was doubtful if he could have gone at once. The limitations of his convictions would always be stronger than his own inclination with him. He could not slacken bis own command. He bad made up his mind never to go near Lois again, and he could not break his resolve. He tried, though. Many an evening in the following weeks he dressed himself iu his Sunday suit, and even started to go aee Lois but he never wont.

Meanwhile it was too much for Lois. It began to be whispered about the neighhood that Lois Arms was very poorlyshe was going into a decline. Jobn beard nothing of it, however not till bis mother told him one evening about tbe first of Jnne. "John," said she—they were sitting at the tea table—"I'm goin' to tell you, for I think you'd ought to know it. I've been over to see Lois Arms this afterternoon. I heard she wa'n't well, an' I thought I'd ought to an' I think she's goin' tbe way your sister Mary did."

Jobn sat perfectly still, staring at his mother. "Sbe looks awfully. She was lyin' on tbe settee in the sittln'-room when I went in. She was all alone. An' that ain't all, John: I know she's a frettin' over you. I sat down there side of ber, you know, au' she looked up at me so kind of wishful. I can't help cryin' uow when I rhink of it. 'You ain't feeling very well, Lois?' says I. *No,' says she, and tried to smilo But she couldn't she buret right out cry in'. How sbe did cry! She sobbed an' nobbed till I thought she'd kill herself. She shook all over, and there ain't anything to her. I put my face down close to her.

What is the matter, you poor child?' said I. 'Oh, Mis' Elliot!' says she, snd she put up ber poor little thin arms round my neck an' cried harder. "'Lois,' says I, 'is it anything about John "'Oh,' says she—'oh, Mis' Elliot!' again.

Do you want to see him says I. "She didn't say anything, only jest held me tighter and cried harder but 1 knew as well's I wanted to. I wish you'd go over there, John I think you'd ought to. It's accord!n' to what you profess. I'll own I wa'n't jeet pleased with tbe idea of it at first but she's a real good girl, an' she's seemed real smart lately 'bout teacbin' school. An' she did make me think so much of your sister Mary, the way she looked. Mary didn't hev anything of that kind on her mind, poor child, I'm thankful to say but sbe looked jest like ber. I declare I can't bear to think of it."

Mrs. Elliot broke down and cried. Jobn said nothing, but rose and went away from tbe table, leaving bis supper untasted. Even then he could not bring bimself to go and see Lois that night, he had to waft til! the next, but be went tben.

It was hardly dark. Lois was lying on tbe settee in tbe sitting-room when he went in without knocking. "Loisl" "Oh, John!" "How do yon do to-night. Lois? I didn't know you were eick till mother told me last night." "I'm better. Oh, Jobn!"

He pnlled a chsir up beside her then, and sat down. "See here, Lois, I read your note you gave me, yon know but —I couldn't bring myself to come, after all that had happened, to tell tbe trutb. I'm sorry enough I couldn't now." "It's all right, John never mind." "Now, Lois, what has all the trouble been sboot?" "What trouble "Tbe whole of it from the first. What made yon do the way yon did, an' put off gettin' marriea "Don't make me tell yon, John.*'*' "Yes, I'm going to nudes you. I know yoa're sick, an' it seems cruel to bother you but it's tbe only way. It ain't in me to go on an' pretend everydo to' to save your life. You've got to be open with me new an* tell me." "Jobn. if I do, yon will promise me, solemn, that you won't ever tell anybody else T" •Yes, I'll promise."

thing's all right when it ain't. rything else for you but that, ato' I 't do that if it's

evei can

drees, and I couldn't do anything toward furnishing tbe hoase. I thought if I should earn some money, it woald make it easier for you. I didn't want to begin to be a burden to yon right off, Jobn." 'Bat— Wby, I don't know what to make of you, Lois. What put such thing into yonr bead all of a sadden 'I onght to have thought of it before."

Wby didn't you tell me?" 'I couldn't. You wouldn't have let f*|A jtAflA it "Lois, I never ssw girl like von. Hera you've been working hard these two years, an' 'most killed yourself, an' never letting me know, an' me not knowing what to think.'' "Jobn. I've got a beautiful black silk dress, and a bine one, and lots of other things. Tben I've got more'n a hundred dollars saved to boy furniture.'?

"What do do you think I care about the dresses and the furniture I wish they were in Gibraltar!" "Don't scold me, John." "Scold you? There! I guess I won't. Poor Lois! poor girl! Yon meant all right, but it was all wrong. You've 'most killed yonrseif. But it'll be all right now. Shall I set the carpenters to work to-morrow, darlin' *. & "Oh, John!" t^'Jl "I'll speak to 'em bright and early, an' you must hurry an' get well. You worryln' about being a burden! Ob, my Lord Lois, I'll never get over it. You silly, blessed little girl! There's your father coming."

The next morning Lois did not wake very early, she had slept so soundly but when she did she heard, incredulously at first, then in a rapture of conviction, the carpenters' hammers. The robins were singing too.

Tben ber father called up tbe stairs: "Lois! Lois! John's begun work on the new house again!"

THE KITCHEN

VALUABLE COOKING RECIPES.

Tbe following have been tested and used in the family of the editor of Tbe Mail, and we commend them to our readers:

SWKBT PICKLES.

Pare and slice 7 pounds cucumbers, scald in 4 quarts of vinegar. Throw that vinegar away. Put to boll 4 quarts vinegar, 4 pounds sugar, 2 ounces cinnamon bark and 5 cloves, whole. Let this boil to syrup, then drop in cucumbers, only letting it come to a boil.

CHICKEN SALAD.

Three' chickens well boiled. When cold season with salt, and chop fine. Add 12 haid boiled eggs chopped, 1)4 teacups butter. Make Btrong with pepper and mustard, 1 bunch of celery. Mix all together with strong cold vinegar-

FRENCH EGOS.

Boil eggs until hard. Slice in halves, 8enarate yolks, and mix with pepper, salt, mustard and vinegar to taste. Place the yolks neatly back into the whites.

COFFEE CAKE

Five cups of flour, dried and sifted, 1 cup butter, 2 cups sugar, 1 cup molasses, 1 cup of black coffee, 1 pound ra9ins,

XA

pound currents, pound citron, chopped tine, 3 eggs, 14 teaspoonful cinnamon, )4 teaspoon mace,

XA

teaspoon

cloves and 1 teaspoonful soda. Cream' the butter and sugar, warm tbe molasses, beat these with tbe spices, next tbe yolks and coffee, tben tbe flour and whites, last the soda and fruit.

CREAM PIE.

Four tablespoonful sugar, 2 tablespoous flour, yolks of 4 eggs, 1 pint milk. Boil to a custard and when cool, flavor with vanilla. Use tbe whites of the eggs, beaten to a stiff froth and cup pulverized sugar for tbe top. Bake tbe crust. Tben add tbe custard with the whites on top aud set in the oven long enough to thoroughly cook tbe eggs.

BROWN BREAD.

Three cups Graham flour, 1)4 cups corn meal, cup molasses, 1)4 pint of sour milk, 1 teaspoonful soda, 1 teaspoonful salt. Steam hours in tight dish. Bake hour. \V

YANKEE PUDDING.

One cup seeded lasins, 1 cup suet chopped very fine, 1 cup molasses, 1 cup sour milk, 3 cups flour, 1 teaspoonful soda. Steam 3 hours in a steamer, and serve with sauce.

A!Bthis fs the'pickling season, we publish the following, contributed to the Indianapolis Times, which have been thoroughly tested and guaranteed as good:

CUCUMBER PICKLK8.

Lay your cucumbers in brine. When ready to pickle them, if they are to salt, freshen them. 'Then place them in a kettle, with a small piece of alum, and cabbage leaves at tbe bottom and top. Cover tbem with water and scald until green. Tben wipe tbem dry and put tbem in a jar. Boil your vinegar with spice, black or red pepper and onions. Pour it while hot over the cucumbers. When they become cool add two tablespoons of mustard.

MANQO PICKLES.

For the purpose of pickling use small green melons but of each melon cut a plug and remove tbe seed and soft part with the handle of a spoon. They must tben be put in brine and allowed to remain at least one week. For stuffing useraddiih pods, very young cucumbers finely chopped, cabbage, onions and anything else you fancy. These ingredients must also be put in brine. They must all be freshened by passing them through three or four waters. When ready to make the pickles, to each melon in addition to the stuffln white and black mustard

over them.

WATERMELON P1CKLS.

Take the white part of tbe rind dis solve one ounce of alum in one-balf galLil it

Ion water scald the rind in this unt becomes yellow take one cup of vinegar to tbe one-half gallon water: scald fn this until it becomes green take out into ice water let stand an hour, changing ones, this makes tbem brittle one pint of vinegsr to one quart of sugar cinnamon, nutmeg and mace. As for other pickles (sweet) cook tbe rind in this very slowly till transparent.

VERY POOR EC0N0M1 Some people make a business ol cheating themselves, either by eating very mean and cheap food, or else by eating too small a quantity of good food. Either way is as bad policy as it would be to buy a coffin instead of a good suit of clothes, just because tbe coffin would cost less. Poor diet means impoverished blood and tbat means misery. Brown's Iron Bitters enriches tbe blood gives it tbe iron it needs, and tones up tbe whole system. Cores dyspepsia, indigestion, weakness, malaria, etc.

Salesmen in Cleveland jewelry stores are armed. Dr. Pierce's "Favorite Prescription" is not extolled as a "cure-all," but admirably fulfills a aingleneim of purpose, Mng a m-st potent «ipecilic in those chronic weaknewse* peculiar to women. Particulars in Dr. Pierce's large treatise on Diseases Peculiar to Women, 160 pages, »«nt for 10 cents in stsmps. Address WCKLD'S DISPENSARY MEDICAL ASSOCIATION, 683 Main Street, Batlalo, N. Y.

ACTED LIKE A CHARM, "'4 My little daughter all her life has been in delicate health. Her blood seemed Uyv be impoverished. She

has

taken various,

rations of iron, cod-liver oil, and'

tonics of many kinds, which were prescribed by tbe best physicians, and while she was benefitted, yet it was only temporary. A member of my congregation, who had tried it, recommended S. S. S. For about a year she has had an indolent but stubborn sore behind ber ears. After she had taken Swift's Specific for a. grev *hi favorable. In a very abort time her ears grew better, and to-day are entirely well. Her appetite is splendid acd regular she is full of life and cheerfulness. The change is evident to the most casual observer. I ascribe it all, under the blessing of God, to Swift's Specific. In view of what it has done for me and mine, I can most confidently and sincerely recommend it to all who need .such a remedy. Let the suffering give it a fair trial, and it will bring hope, health and happiness into everv home. •v BENJ. K. HALL.

short time the sores grew worse and began to discharge. This I regarded as

Pastor M. E. Church, South.

Shelby, N. C., Feb. 2,1885. THE SWIFT SPECIFIC Co., Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga.

General Longetreet is keeping a hotel at Gainesville, Ga.

Keep sweet your breath—if maid or wife, Or old or young, or large or small, If you have any nope in life,—

If you have any friends at all. Keep sweet your breath—and beed the warning,

Use SOZODONT each night and morning!

Like the Perfume Wafted

from beda of flowers is tbe breath that has been rendered agreeably odorous with SOZODONT. which communicatee to the teeth a marble whiteness, and to thegum8 a roseate tint. Use it, and beautify your mouth.

"SPALDING'S GLUE,' house.

useful in every 19 4w.

Imprisonment for debt is still possible iu New York.

A Walking skeleton. Mr. E. Springer, of Mecbanicsburg, Pa., writes: "1 was afflicted with lung fever and abscess on lungs, and reduced to a walking Skeleton. Got a free trial bottle of Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption, which did me so much good that I bought a dollar bottle After using three bottles, found myself once more a man, completely restored to health, with a hearty appetite, and a gain in flesh of 48 lbs." Call at Cook A Bell's Drug Store and get a free trial bottle of this certain cure for all Lung Diseases. Large bottles fl.OO. -3-

Thousands May So.

Mr. T. W. Atkins, Glrard, Kan., writes:

UI

never hesitate to reoomend your Elcctric Bitters to my customers, they give entire satin faction and are rapid sellers." Electrlo bitters are tlio purest and best medicine known and will positively cure Kidney and Liver complaints. Purify the blood and regulate the bowels. No family can afford to be without them. They v/iII pave hundreds of dollars in doctor's bills every year. Sold at 50a a bottlo by Cook A Bell. (8)

Bucklen's Arnica Salve.

The Best Salve in the world for Cuts,Bruises, Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fover Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 25c per box. For sale by Cook & Bell. (tf.)

A.I13D.

To all who are buffering from the errors and Indiscretions of youth, nervous wcukuew. early decay, loss of manhood, Ac., 1 will send a recipe that will cure you, FIIEE OF CHARGE. This great remedy was discovered by a missionary in South America. Send a self-addrei*ed envelope to RKV. JOSKPH T, INMAN. Station I), New York City, jy 18-ljr

9 fl^nE

allow some seed, a few

corns of black pepper, eight or ten spice and about a half dozen cloves. Fill the melons very full of tbe mixture fit tbe plug in and tie it with a coarse, strong string. Put tbem in clear water, with a tablespoon of salt set them over tbe fire and let them remain in a scalding condition for two hours. Then put tbem

GErm'anremedYlloumlgU,Shcnrniticn,Cures

1 a a To

rillrdiil

Fifty CVIJU. At nrxgiliU «n1 DwUrft.

TUB CHAKI.B9 A. TOOKt.KH CO.. lUltlwofT. m.. P. a

A.

REDSTAR

TRADE MARK.

ffilURE

Ab*olutely lea at rpotsons.

JVee from Opiates, Kind

PROMPT.SAFE.SURE

OweftrCncki, C»ld» »«id *tk«r Throat |»i

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rnrrr Pnrn BOTTL*. AT DJOMUTI aito PULKM. TBI

auun A.

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CO.,

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BBltfaBOT*. Mi., 1.8**

Tht BUYERS' GUIDE ft Imud Sept. and March, each year. 99- JIM pages. 8%xll% laebe«,wlth ovei

3.BOO

Illustrations

whole Picture Gallery. GIVES Wliolesale Prices

Mntet to eonmumnrt

on all goods fin

personal or family nie. Telia how ordor, and gives exact cost of everything jron SMf eat, drink, wear, or hmrm flan wlOk These ISVAItABIJC BOOKS contain information gleaned from the nuurfcet* of the world. We will mall eopf FREE to any address a pan receipt of 10 eta. to defray expenae of mailing. Let hear from yon. Himwii Iftilli

MONTGOMERY WARD & CO.

SS7 ft *89 Wafcaeh Aveaae, CkJca*a, UI.

W. 8. Curt. J* H. WliWAMt, J. M.Cturt

CLIFT,WILLIAMS & CO,

j.,.,. untumna o»

Sash, Doors, Blinds, etq amt

DBAUSBS IM

LUMJBEB, LATH* SHIN GLEN.

GLA88, PA1NT8, 0JL8

and BFILDEBS' HABDWAK& 'Molberry Street. Corner Ninth, ^XEK-K E.HACTK, r:

IN