St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 1, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 23 July 1892 — Page 2

HER WEDDING STOCKINGS. Fine woven as from milkweed down, And soft and dim as meadow mist. With many a dainty circling crown Like dew-strung cobwebs blown at wist, With mystic odors in their fold Os roses fifty su miners old— These are her wedding stockings, worn Upon that ancient bridal morn. She leaned, -with pink, delicious face, Her full heart t hrobbing ’gainst her knee. Shaking with swift, deep thrills the lace, So flushed, so glad, sho bent to see, While trembling fingers drew them on The slim feet whiter than a swan — Her wedding stocking, never worn Save on that merry bridal morn I She felt as if her girlish feet Were walking into fairyland, They glowed so apple-blossom sweet Beneath the pearly-netted strand. Poor, wayward child she lived to know It was from joy to life-long woe. Ah, wedding stockings, only worn Upon that fatal bridal morn I And thorn-beset and rough and steep She ever foun I life’s road since then. She laid them in a rose-leaf sleep, And never drew them on again ; Yet sometimes sho would look, I guess. And smile in patientbitte ness, To see thore wedd ng stockings, worn So lightly on her bridal morn. They found them in her old brown chest Hid low, among her precious things. When she was gone away to rest Between t' e angel's balmy wings ; And heavenly garments pure ar.d sweet, More softly lapped h r weary feet Than e’en those wedding stockings, worn Upon that olden bridal morn. —Good Housekeeping. DRIVEN TO RUIN. “Is it to be an engagement?” Etta Boyd looked up from the elaborate motto she was working with bright-colored floss. The pink tinge of her cheek had deepened. “What do you mean?” she asked hastily, almost haughtily. “I mean Edwin Holbrook,” said the lady, significantly; at which an older lady languidly raised her eyes from the book she was reading. “Sister Jenny!” was the indignant ejaculation of the latter. “Aunt Jenny, you are too bad!” the little beauty said, blushing rose-red now. She was a little beauty, this Etta Boyd, a royal little creature in outward appearing. Ido not know by what particular style her loveliness might be designated. She was winsome to look at: not statuesque, not marble white, not cther.il, but simply so arch-looking, and dimpled, and changeful, and merry, that few could withstand her wiles. She had always lived in an atmosphere of luxury—the pretty girl; she had been indulged from her infancy' by over-fond parents, who imagined j their one pearl peerless. Her two brothers, men grown, idolized her, and as she grew older, loaded her with gifts. So accustomed to admiration did she become, that she : began to feel at last that life was not ‘ enduraole without it, and she began i at last to try her power on those out- i side her immediate circle. One of i these was the young gentleman of whom her aunt spoke, and the mention ' of whose name caused a general out- i cry. “I’m sure, sister, I’m astonished at i you,” said Etta’s mamma, a very weak i and foolish woman, who consumed confectionery by the pound, and read : ^novels by the thousand. “I don't know why you should be,” was the quiet reply. “Etta! —a mere child, just out of school!” “Etta is seventeen,” said her sister. “She is no longer a school- 1 girl, though very young I’ll acknowl-I edge,—too young to begin flirtation.” j “Aunt Jenny, you know nothing' about it!” exclaimed Etta, flushed to the temples. “I know becomes here very often.” I “He is an old friend of the family,” said Mrs. Bovd.

“I know he is 25, and in some things a brilliant and promising character,” continued Aunt Jenny. “I know he is alone in the world, and has no sisters.” “And that’s the reason he likes to , come here,” said Etta. “But my dear, you certainly accompany him toplaces of amusement, and receive presents from him.” “Just nothing at all.” she said. “I don’t know,” continued matter-of-fact Aunt Jenny. “Bouquets cost i money. I can’t buv such ones as j that, for instance, under three or, tour dollars,” she added, pointing to a beautiful vase, over which hung; fragrant lilies, hot-house tea roses, fuchsia.-, heliotrope, and other dainty blossoms. And then, a diamond ring isn’t bought for nothing, even if the diamond be no bigger than the head of a pn. Then there are pictures, trifles.” “Aunt Jenny,” cried Etta, now pale with passion. “I don’t think anyone has a right to say what I shall and shall not receive from one I have known all my life. 1 think it’s—it’s ” j ••Impertinent my dear; that’s the j word you were thinking of; and per-1 haps it would be in any one who had i your good less at heart. But, my dear, I'm afraid you are doing harm, indeed I am. I don’t think poor Ed ’ looks upon himself as merely a, friend.” i “He has no right to think otherwise,” s lid Etta with trembling lips. “Edwin Holbrook has neither father : nor mother, sister nor brother,” con-, cinued Amm Jenny. “I loved his mother she was my dearest friend when we were girls together; and her life was shadowed by the intemperance other husband, who, but for his one fault, would have been a model of all the virtues. He was handsome, brave, disiaterested, and worshipped his wife and child, but he would not give up that terrible habit. On her dvi g led, the dear woman told me that she had educated Elwin carefully in reference to his tastes and indulgencies in that respect, ‘but he is so singularly sensitive,’ she added, ‘so dependent upon his friendships, so devoted where once he gives his h< art. so keenly alive to any fancied slight or disgrace, that I tremble for his future. I can only pray for him, and leave him in the hands of God.’ ”

Etta bent her head lower over the frame. Naturally unwilling to give pain, yet quite as unwilling to practice self-denial, opp -.site emotions were contending for the mastery in her young heart. The picture of the dying mother had touched her, but then, Edwin’s attentions were very delightful. She was sure some of the girls envied her, and with her ideas it was pleasant to be envied. “Besides,” said Aunt Jenny, “Edwin has to work hard to make his way in the world. With proper encourgement, and a reward in prospect, I believe he will turn out one of the foremost young men of the day, while, if he is disappointed where he stakes all. I dare not think of the consequences.” “Jenny, you are very foolish. We shall not certainly forbid him the house,” said Mrs. Boyd, suppressing a yawn. “And I’in sure I don’t want to do him an harm,” said Etta, “but if he shows me attentions and brings me presents, what am I to do? refuse them?” “Yes,” said Aunt Jenny uncompromisingly; “be honest,” “But I couldn’t do that: besides I like him; he's the oldest friend I'have, and I don’t believe he thinks—of anything else but friendship.” “I know better,” said Aunt Jenny. “Child, I love you dearly, but rather than know that you were the means of causing the ruin of a human soul,l would follow you to your grave.” “There now, you’ve set her to crying. I hope you're satisfied! ami company this evening too! I declare, I wish you would stay at home, Jane, if you can’t bring up some pleasant subject of conversatson. You know how sensitive my darling is. Etta. Etta, don’t cry. You will look like a fright this evening.” But Etta only threw her motto into a chair, and still weeping, hurried out of the room.

“Now, you see,” exclaimed Mrs. Boyd,with a tragical gesture, “you've spoiled the child’s happiness for the day! You know that the mention of death is distasteful to her, and you ought to have some judgment by this time. For my part I say Edwin shall come here as he has been coming. There’s nobody I could trust Etta with with so clear a conscience. I’m sure if it wasn’t for him, the girl would lead a nun’s life, for her father i and I never go out, save when we I absolutely can not help ourselves.” “I have nothing more to say,” murmured Aunt Jenny, helplessly. “I don t suppose I’ve done any good: but I’ve cleared my skirts, and Ido hope, set Etta thinking. I believe, if the child were left to her own good sense—” “Now blame me! Don't you suppose I know Etta better than you do? - Why, Ed himself wouldn't be such an idiot as to think of Etta—a man with scarcely a dollar in the world, and' she brought up in luxury.” “There it is!” sighed Aunt Jonny. “Os course, there it is! and Etta would be crazy to think of it. In , deca, if A wuau’L. an old and a safe frlonU, <io ; he could have the run of the house? ■ No, indeed!” “I see how it is,” sighed Aunt Jenny. “Well, well. There's no use । saying anything further on the subject;” and with a sad heart she left the house.

Etta did think. Etta made several very heroic resolves. Etta knew in her heaG of hearts that it was time ; to think. But, alas, the chains of habit were forged—the longing for attentions exclusive to herself, for admiration. was too insatiable; the pleasure of being petted and admired, of causing envy, too deeply ingrained in the sei dish little heart. Month after month passed, until one year from the time of Aunt Jenny’s warn- . ing visit Edwin Holbrook left the ' doors that had been like the entrance to Paradise to him. a broken-hearted man, never to enter them again. “Holbrook, is that paper ready yet?” The young man lifted a pair of : blood-shot eyes, and threw back his * disorered locks as he made a confused ; reply in accents that betrayed the influence that was still upon him. I “Holbrook, you will lose that case, i Dodd won’t wait another hour. What is the matter with you? You used to lie punctuality itself.” The young man smiled, but the smile was sadder than tears. “I’m sorry about the paper. I'll go to work at it. Fact, is, I haven’t been well the last week, and my head is strangely confused of Lite. It won’t take me long. I think.” “No use; Dodd is one of those iron j men who never bend. I'll take the documents —he made me promise I ' would I’m sorry, but —but you’ve ' only yourself to blame, I fear,” he added, more kindly, and shaking his ! head.

“Perhaps.” was the brief re pl £ as । with shaking hand, he turned over I the papers, and handed him the required packet. “Going just as his father did,” the ; man muttered as he left the office. “Strange how these things run in families; and there's no use in talking ; to them. Blood will have its way.”. “That’s the second case I've lost,” ( said Edwin as he watched the man । walk hurriedly down the long street. “Well, I don’t care much if I never do win; all 1 want now is forgetfulness,” and he sprang to his feet, opened a cupboard, lifted a bottle and । drank directly from it. Ihen his ■ eye brightened, he dashed in among i his papiers, tied and sealed here, and I wrote rapidly there, till the force of the wn tebed liquor was spent. Then he took up his hat to find an eating house; for now he slept in his office and dined where he could. “I saw Edwin Holbrook to-day,” said Aunt Jenny, over whose plainspeaking tongue even the rigid laws of fashionable etiauette had no wn.

i trol. They were all dining at Mr. 1 Boyd’s princely table. “What a rascal he has become,” 1 said the latter with a disgusted air. “I’m really ashamed that I ever allowed him to come to the house.” “Bid you call at his office?” asked Mrs. Boyd, with what she considered the proper amount of ladylike sarcasm. “No, indeed! There’s the place he isn’t often to be found. He was in the grasp of two policemen. You can t tell how it shocked me—he, with his sensitive high-bred face, and i still handsome figure, in such a position!” “1 suppose you spoke to him?” said Mrs. Boyd. “He had sense enough not to allow that, by feigning not to know me,” was the reply; “but if ever my heart ached it did then. Even in his degradation, he looked so like his beautiful mother!” At the first mention of his name, Etta had crimsoned. Now she idled with her fork, and the color had all gone out of her cheeks. “I’ve often heard him deprecate the use of intoxicants,’’said Mr. Boyd, who, like most wealthy merchants, knew but little of the outgoings and incomings of his own family; “but ‘like father, like son.’ What can you expect?” “I expected a great deal from Edwin Holbrook,” said Aunt Jenny, hei voice trembling. “Why don't you try to save him?" “I did once,” was the significant reply. “I'm afraid there’s no heli for him now.” Etta left the table; she often did before the rest, but not with that deadly pallor. Nobody noticed it, however, but Aunt Jenny. It was well that some little remnant of conscience remained. She bad long ago sent back his presents, and his name was never mentioned, but now Aunt Jenny s awful words occurred to her — “the ruin of a human souk” It was only the next day that Aunt Jenny uttered pained exclamation over the morning paper. Then sho put the journal in Etta’s hands, pointing to one brief paragraph: “Last night one of our most promising young citizens was carried to ■ the Insane Hospital, a raving i madman. The strange relapse of tins ■ young man, his downward career for j the last two years, is now probably I explained. It is said by those who I understand the case, that he is in- | curable. All who knew Edwin Holi brook will be grieved to learn of his sad fate.” All who knew! and there was one who knew. that, but for her heartless coquetry and trilling, the tendency io his nature to a downward course might have been averted.—lowa Magazine. Happy Are the Near-.Si K hte<L M. Sarcey, it seems, was at one time very short-sighted, but a successful operation made him longsighted to an extraordinary degree, trie urst time since nis cnildi^d he could see things at a distance. His home, that he thought so Une, was found to be neglected and dirty: his precious china was chipped and cracked: his books were soiled and torn. But the crowning blow came when a grand lui Cheon was given to celebrate the restoration of the critic's sight. “’Women were invited in great number, and came in their very best. The comedie-Francafee, the Vaudeville, the Odeon were represented by their fairest ones, and the table was a sight for the gods"—at ' least Sarcey would have thought so six weeks before. But very soon his countenance fell, and I saw his eye j wandering about in astonishmentaye, in distress. He laughed no more, and looked miserable. After the coffee he made a sign to me, an I I followed him upstairs, believing I him to have been disturbed by the thought, of some work which ought to be done at once. But he threw himself heavily on his sofa, which groaned as if sharing its master's despair, and exclaimed, piteously: “Good heav- , ens! Why, they are all frights! They are all dyed, painted, wrinkled, scraggy-! Oh, mes belles aimes, what lias become, of them?”—Paris Letter to San Francisco Argonaut

How to Keep Warm I nevbr thoroughly understood the saying that necessity is the mother of invention until it was brought, in a peculiar way, directly under my observation. It was just after a severe cold wave set in. As I was walkingdown street in the cold, snow-laden wind 1 met an old friend who has suffered a good deal of misfortune lately. He was so poorly clad that he visibly shivered under each searching blast. “My heavens, George!” said I,

i “where’s your overcoat?” “Gone with the rest of ’em.” said he, with a mournful smile on his blue ' lip-. I took him up home with me and offered him one of my old overcoats. i To my astonishment (for he had always been a slim fellow) when he tried it on it proved to small for him. ; “It won't do!” said I, indispair. ••Oh, yes it will!” he exclaimed, and ' at once began to draw out newspaper ' after newspaper which had been folded beneath his threadbare coat. In a moment he had divested him- ' self of several pounds of paper, and the coat fitted him to perfection. “Newspapers are pretty warm when properly used in cold weather,” said he, looking at the stack he had taken 1 from his jacket, “but on the whole 1 I prefer wool.” i There is always something to pre- , vent a man from amounting to sonic- ' thing. When heisyoung and strong, and lias no cares to weigh him dowj ■: he falls in love.

HOME AND THE FARM. A DEPARTMENT MADE UP FOR OUR RURAL FRIENDS. People Should Be Cautious About Engaging in the Poultry Business—Device for liaising a Wagon Box—On Curing HayHousehold and Kitchen. A Spring Double-tree. Bolt a piece of broken buggy or spring seat spring, to each end of a double-tree, as shown in cut: clevis pin to go through hole in spring, used in hinging the two springs together. The double-tree should be tapered at each end from front side. Very handy in plowing in stumpy ground; or where horses are liable to receive sudden and severe jerks. To Baise a Wagon Box. With my device, says a Farm and Home correspondent, I can stand at one spot and raise the box up evenly to any desired height. I made two rollers out of 6 inch saplings, one GJ feet long and the other 5 feet long'; put s bolts in ends, then bored holes in cross pieces lor roller end bolts, and then spiked them against joists of wagon house at distance apart to correspond with length of box. Also bored holes 3J feet apart into rollers in which are placed ropes, and with cross slats at ends of ropes to slip over ends of box. Bored holes mid- | J ' ■ i I;nli! ’i way from outer holes for centre rope. Bored hole into end of long roller and passed rope down to 11 feet windlass I rollers inches thick at side of wagon house, into which I bored 4 2-inch holes for 2 hickory sticks 3 feet long. Now I wound centre ropes several times around short roller, also wound windlass ropes several times around end of long roller, then turned the windlass, and up goes the heavy box with perfect ease. When lox was up as high as 1 wished it. left one stick in roller resting against upper cross piece of windlass frame. It is the most useful device 1 have about the farm,

A Movable Fence. Bore a 2-inch hole in the centre of : each of two pieces of wood, 5 feet long and 4 inches in diameter (more or less). Slip them on the ends of a

Ngo »d rail trimmed f to a snug lit. One foot from each end of the rail bore a

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■ VxLal Ah t „a/th3 projection shall length of the uprights: stretch across the number of burl ed wires required and youi fence is complete so far. The height of fence and the timber used is a matter of choice. It is cheap, hardy and serviceable. —A. M. Smith in Practical Farmer. The Poultry Bu-ine-s. A writer in the American Agriculturist says: “People should be just as careful about going into the poultry business as they would be at engaging in any other business. Do not think it is easy enough to raise chickens, and that anybody can do it. There, are, perhaps, more failures • among those trying to raise poultry on a large scale than in any other branch of farming. Before attempting it we would advise all to try and gain their experience at the expense ' of somebody else. Take a position as laborer, or in any capacity, on a poultry farm, or if possible, rent one be-

fore embarking all your own capital. Experiment for a season. You will never regret the experience. If successful you will have learned much and be aide to save money in arrang- , ing the place you buy. If unsuccess- ; ful you want no more of it. Poultry papers publish the successes but seldom the failures. In this they are misleading. Where most people do and can succeed is in keeping a few hens.about the farm for the eggs j alone. They are fed and cared for better, comparatively, than a large flock and give better returns. Ido not say that it is impossible to succeed on a large scale, but Ido say that more fail than succeed. Therefore, I urge all to be careful when engaging in raising chickens on a large i scale, and try to get experience before j investing heavily. To raise poultry I needs considerable capital. You 1 must not expect that the fowls are at once going to return money enough to keep themselves and you, too. If , you rent a farm you will always be spending ycur money on the property of another, and will begrudge the erection of houses and yards that will be essential to your success. That will be an outlay for which you will | get no direct return. Makeshifts in the poultry business are as bad as in any other business. If you buy your farm pay for it outright, and then you will know exactly how you stand. You want everything arranged for economy both of time and labor, for the labor on a chicken farm never ceases from before daylight until after dark. Chickens need constant and zealous care, quite as much as the counting house of a successful business man needs his ever watchful and attentive eye, even in the most minute details. Go slowly and steadily, and always keep enough money on hand to pay every item of expenditure that you may incur on buildings or your own living for at least a year.

Other things that you do not think of 1 will absorb your first small receipts. j and you may see some new breeds i 1 that you will want.” Commercial Quantities. Farmers, as well as dealers, should . understand the significance of commercial terms. In the absence of any I qualification as relates to quality, in speaking of a bushel of potatoes, apples, corn, onions, or any other product measured by that standard, ’ means a measure of a No. 1 article. > There is no farmer but that knows j that there are different grades of i products; but commercially speaking. only the No. 1 is referred to unless it is mentioned as seconds or of third quality; but be- I cause so little regard is paid to put-I ting up farm products, the price is established upon a low grade, and । thus farmers are made to suffer. It i would be much better if there was a closer observance of the principle of ; honest packing on the part of those who are the producers, and then in ! return there might be a more positive ' I demand for similar treatment in re- , turn. But if the farmer takes to the j ■ grocer a lot of produce below the No. । 1 standard, he has less cause for comi plaint if in return he receives gro- ' ceries of a low grade in quality. He : is. however, entitled to a pure quality, ; 'no matter how low the grade, lie i cannot adulterate his potatoes,apples, j or grain, if he does put them up of j poor quality, so neither should he be : compelled to be imposed upon by receiving coffee, tea. spices, etc., in return. —G erman to w n Te leg raph. On Curing; liny. Br. Voelker, the celebrated chemist of the Royal Agricultural Society, in j treating of the chemistry of haymak- I ing. says that where ail the condi- I tions are favorable for prompt curing there is practicallynolossof nutritive । elements in the change from grass to hay. When freshly cut, the relation of the sugar and fermentable matter : to the water is such that at first no | fermentation is induced. As water 1 is lost by evaporation, the percentage .of sugar and fermentable matter gradually increases, and if the process of curing is delayed or arrested, there is likely to be more or less fer-I mentation, followed by a loss of: nutritive matter. If hay is exposed to rains when only partly cured, there , will be some loss in nutritive element-- by the washing out of some of I the soluble matter. It isalwaysbest l to continue and complete if possible । the process of curing without inter- | ruption, as the quality of the resultant hay will be of superior character. I’eaeli Growing. A list of questions addressed to peach-growers in the State of New Jersey by the State Experiment Station elicited answers showing a va-' riety of opinion and practice, but in i the following cases there was a much i nearer approxi mat ion to unanimity; > uh instances the 1 orchard was jvpfflge" tillage | of t’lTe peach orchard is about three I ycuis Ul UUCU ClOp m vwv... season and afterward of clean cul- 1 lure: third, the majority of the orchards were without forest or other protection: fourth, fully seventy-five I varieties are named, of winch Smock, ' Crawford, Late Reeves, Pride of Franklin. Selway. Morris, Rare Ripe, . Old Mixon. President and Mountain 1 । Rose are among those most generally known; fifth, “as a rule the injuryi did not extend beyond the buds, but in some cases the upper ends of the branches suffered; sixth, age did not make constant difference as regards amount of injury. It is said that a large crop of apples may be grown ; when a hive of bees is station in the 1 orchard. The pollen is rubbed from their bodies against the pistils of I thousands of flowers, which thus be-j come fertilized. Many of the strange I freaks of hybridizing varieties are due I to the agency of bees. —Baltimore Sun.

a just uni. Farmers living .apart in a county' have each bought an implement in good faith, unsuspicious of there being the slightest unsatisfied claim upon it. But somebody claims that it is an infringement upon his patent. Whether the claim is just or not, or whether it is established after two, five or ten years of litigation, “agents” of the claimant- go through the country and demand damages from the individual purchasers, and - do it in such away that the purchaser ' pays live, ten, twenty or more dollars , to “settle” the matter. House Bill No. 601, Section 13, is designed to, ' and will, if enacted, stop this swindling and annoyance. It makes the - i very just provision that where a patient is infringed, or alleged to be in- ; I fringed, the patentee or his repre- ! sentative shall seek his remedy by bringing suit not against the inno-! cent and unsuspecting purchaser, if , he have purchased an article m good I faith of a regular dealer in the open market for his own use; but the claimant for damages for infringement shall bring his claim or suit for damages first against the manufacturer or seller. Can anything be more just? It is the manufacturer and seller who make the infringement, il there is one, and ■ it is his business to know what he is I about, and if he has made a mistake, ' to protect t 1 ose who have trustingly 1 purchased his manufactures. — Orange-Judd Farmer, When to Cut Clover. Clover should be cut before it is too mature—say when about half the i heads are turned to brown. Do not : set the ' machine to work until the ’ dew is off; then in an hour or two start the tedder, and if the sun is bright and warm, in two hours more, ; the rake. Some put up in small i cocks; others haul in at once from the

' windrow, the grass not having had । more than four hours’ sun. Clover , loses very much by getting too ripe, and it is a mistake to let it lie too long after cutting.—Baltimore American. Waste in Apple Trees. Only about 10 per cent, of the ap- ■ plc trees planted ever come into bearing. This big waste is ascribed to a combination of causes, the chief one, lack of care the first year. Care of Lambs. Tn the early spring there is nothing better for sheep and young lambs than to get them out to pasturage as soon as there is a fair start of the grass. But it must be remembered that they must not be exposed to storms of lain or snow, for which reason it is best to limit the pasturage to a location near the barn, or some necessary shelter where they may be confined during nights and storms. It is also well to hold farm pasturage until there is a fair stool of grass, as sheep are seldom satisfied with dry fodder after once going to grass in the spring. A grass diet promotes the growth of lambs. Horse Thoughts. Bon’t leave me hitched in my stall at night with a big cob right where I must lie down. I am tired and can't select a smooth place. Bon’t forget to file my teeth when they get jagged and I cannot chew my food. When I get lean, it is a sign my teeth want filing. Bon’t make me drink ice cold water, nor put a frosty bit in my mouth. Warm the bit by holding a half minute against my body. Don't compel me to eat more salt than I want by mixing with my oats. I know better than any other animal how much I need. Bon’t say whoa unless you mean it. Teach me to stop at the word. It may check me if the lines break, and save a runaway and smash-up. Don't trot me up hill, for I have to carry you and the buggy and myself too. Try it yourself sometime. Run up hill with a big load.—Farm and Fireside. Hints to Housekeepers. To polish kitchen stoves nicely, mix a little bicarbonate of soda with the brick dust and rub them together. A tablespoonful of powdered alum sprinkled in a barrel of water will precipitate all impure matter to the bottom.

If feather pillows have an unpleasant smell, place them before a good tire and let them have a good, thorough drying. To sweeten rancid lard, heat the lard, and when melted slice in three or four pared potatoes; continue heating until the slices, which should be quite thin, are well browned. Renew stale crackers by placing l °^ n for a lon ? e * a ? h - crisp than when first baked. A comfortable way to take castor ' wine glass. therr^ur ■ on top, then more lemon juice on top of that, and swallow without stirring. Old feather beds may be freshened and the feathers made lighter and more lively by laying them on a clean I grass plat during a heavy shower. ! Let them be thoroughly wet through, then dried and beaten with rods. A bouquet of pennroyal is often effective in driving away mosquitoes. The odor is disagreeable to the annoying post. If the herb is not at hand use the oil. which may be obtained at any drug store. Should the trouble- ‘ some things succeed in their attempt to feast upon your life blood, apply : diluted ammonia water. Miscellaneous Recipes. Bread Omelet.—One cupful of bread crumbs, one cupful sweet milk ; boiled and poured over the crumbs; let them soak half and hour, then ! add live well-beaten eggs and a little ■ salt; pour into the frying pan, cook slowly, cut in squares, and turn over. A Cream of Tartar Drink.—Put into a large pitcher one ounce of cream of tartar, the rind and juice of two large, fresh lemons, and four ounces of loaf sugar. Pour over these ingredients two quarts of boiling water, stir until the sugar dissolves, leave until quite cold, then stir again; strain and serve. । Rice Pudding with Canned Fruit ' —Another dainty preparation of rice, easily made, is to have the rice cooked as usual. Then alternate in a pudding dish layers of rice with canned peaches or cherries. Bake for twenty minutes and serve with cream. Fresh cherries make a nice pudding after । this method, but i.eed a longer baking. Surprise Pudding.—ls you are ' taken unawares and have stale cake in the house, or can get it from the bakers, this simple arrangement has the advantage of being both elegant in appearance and highly agreeable to the palate. Put a layer of any light, dry cake in a deep dish, and I baste it with sherry wine until well moistened. Spread over it a layer of strawberry or raspberry jam, or you may use fresh fruit, with plenty of sugar, in the season. Cover the whole with whipped cream. Bacon Bits in Batter.—This palatable dish is made of a bit of good bacon and two fresh eggs. Home- । cured salt pork will answer, or a liti tie cold boiled ham. Cut the meat in ; shavings with a sharp knife, and cut > 1 these crosswise into mere bits. Make D i a batter with two eggs, a cupful of j milk, and half a cup of flour. > i Freshen the bacon or pork sufficiently ? i if very salt, then dip a spoonful at a , time in the batter and drop into deep 1 fat. Drain on coarse paper for a min--2 | ute and sdrve very hot.