St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 14, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 22 October 1892 — Page 7

। TWANSINFLUENCE

Z * CHAPTER XI ll—Continued. “Poor Brian. What a state to be in. Don't shudder any more. The places I go, and the people I meet, only hurt my heart. A very effective hurt, too; for it teaches me to appreciate my own good fortune, and it makes me feel very regretlul to sit here amid so much comfort and luxury, and remember the many victims of the world’s injustice. You •could never imagine, Brian, what passionatz delight that poor little crippled <girl took in the few flowers I carried tier; and, while I watched her, I could rot help thinking what a reve'ation a sight of Elmwood would be to her. I 'have been thinking of it ever since. So many p ans have filled my heart, I but they are all impossible. I feel so । helpless aud —rebellious. Doctor, you are smiling. I don’t think you quite enter into my feelings. Can you imag ne a woman living on the pro•ceeds of button holes, at a cent and a half apiece? Agnes’ mother supports herself so. She is satisfied, she told me, when button holes arc pknty. But now they are not. Hooks and eyes have taken their place. I told Nanny the other day that I liked hooks and ■eyes. Now I hate them, because I know they have taken bread from at least one woman’s mouth. And she is mot alone. I feel that I have been living in a small corner of the earth up "to this time, and I am only just awaking to real actual life, It is a sad revelation for me. I cannot tell you 3iow many women I saw to-day, and 3aow many others I heard of, who sing the Song of the Shirt from daylight to midnight—to whom its heart-break and want are a living reality. How can we talk of the demoralization of the lower classes? How can we preach to them? Shall we imitate the example of the man who gave a Bible when the starving woman asked for •bread? We forget our souls when the tody is hungry; at least, I should. JBut, if I were one of those women, wearing out my life for a pittance, I ■should not forget that the man for whom I starved lived in a palace, and •enjoyed the luxuries purchased with my life-blood. The world admires «ueh men, and calls them fortunate and •successful, because they have made so anuch wealth in a few years; but I am very much afraid that, if I were in their place, I should see a wan, hungry face on every dollar.” “Isn’t that rather severe, Mrs. Leigh?” Margaret did not meet Wilson’s eye answered this question. things' a f fa W always obse^^^’t go ■ It IS not ^..xosophy vut cue dark side of life. This is not | home, and you cannot be sure into what sort of places your wanderings may take you, or what kind of characters you may meet” Margaret was thoughtful a moment. “Ido not chance upon much refinement and elegance,’’ she said presently; “but that does not affect me in any way. T feel tf?at I could take the hand of the worst creature on earth and not be lowered. You know I have a prejud ee -against those people whose excessive ■goodness shrinks from contact with o’hers—not always so much worse, on’y more unfortunate than themselves. They are the Pharisees, who thank God they are not as thou neighbors arc. Suppose we should instate them. I like to see the picture of the voman cling- i ing to the cross, and I confess I find it | inspiring; but at the same time, I can- I not help thinking that the woman who holds out her hand to an unfortunate sister is more helpful and more noble. If the world thinks otherwise I disagree with it. Don’t draw down your lips in that pathetic way, Brian. This kn’t a sermon. I sha’n t say another word. Margaret settled back in her chair, with an air of determination that rather -amused Wilson. “I am on your side of the question,” lie replied, with a smile. “So is Brian, :if he chooses to admit as much.” “I’m incapable of any admission just now,” put in Brian. lam wholly lost in admiration of Margaret’s facility for disposing of all opinions not h r own, and marching on to victory. She has a way of bringing cut her closing remarks, •which says quite decidedly ‘There, that’s final. Dispute if you dare!’ It is useless to say ‘Oh, Brian!’ Margaret. The fact is true. You have a most .astonishing tenacity for your own ideas. You can out-argue the greatest logician •on earth. Out-talk him, I should say,” “Thanks for the correction. Your distinction is delicate, but obvious. It would be too much, I am sure, for any .man to give a woman credit for an ability to^ argue. I wonder what poor men will ua, when they are forced to recognize woman’s men al equality. Perhaps even then they will continue to indulge in witty satire, at her expense. We forgive them. To lecture us affords 'them innocent amusement, and they really haven’t the grace to echo Charlotte Bronte’s prayer: ‘When I have nothing to say, mav the Lord give me •grace to be silent.’ ” “You have us quite defense’ess, Mrs. Leigh. Brian has not a word to say, .and lam but little better. How are we to find consolation for your unflattering opinion?” “You would not be a true man, DocTor, if you did not find it within your.self. 1 have often thought that you are the natural follower of Descartes. Theoretically and practically jou find the ego all sufficient.” “Worse and worse,” laughed Wilson, “And Brian rejoices in my discomfiture. Shall I regret being a man?” “By no means,” returned Margaret. “It is the next best thing to being a woman. You have the easier side of life, too. We have the harder. The lion’s share of suffering falls on us, and we must sec our duty under the most painful circumstances. A man may be

blind. Indeed, he usually is blind when he wants to be; but it would be quite reprehensible for a woman to pretend defective vision in similar circumstances. So there is some consolation for you Am I driving you away, Doctor?” “By no means,” rejoined Wilson, who had risen at her question, and now stood looking down upon her with a quizzical light in his eyes. “I am only sorry I can not sit longer; but your sweeping accusation against the convenient blindness of men reminds me that I have a patient waiting for me down the street; and as that is a duty to which I c n not be blind. 1 shall have to say good-night. I admit there is much justice in your remark. Nevertheless, I hope that time may improve your opinion of us poor men. Brian, any moments you have to spare, remember and pity my lonely state.” “You don’t deserve pity on that score,” rejoined Brian, promptly. “You know the remedy and refuse to apply it.” Wilson laughed in answer, and saying “Good-nig’t,” he left them. CHAPTER XVIII. A LINK FROM THE OLD LIFE. As Margaret hoped and expected, Bertie put in an appearance two evenings later—the same light-hearted, cheery Bertie, with his never-failing good- [ humor and his almost inexhaustible । store of news and gossip, to carry her j back to her home and let her feel, in J imagination at least, something of its ; old pleasures and interests. Changes in a small place are always more significant and of more general interest than those in a great city, where the identity of the individual is lost in the great labyrinth of humanity, ! and Margaret, whose affection absence j had on’y increased, took a keen delight j in hearing not only of the friends she had lelt but of even the slightest occurrence about Elmwood and its surroundings, and, in return, Bertie wanted to hear about herself. “This city ar has not brought the roses to your cheeks,” he said. “I hope you haven’t developed such a fondness for it that you will be soiry to come back to us.” “Never, Bertie; my mind can never even imagine such a possibility. In the first place, I don’t like New York, I- I actually hate it, though I shouldn’t tell anyone but you; and, in the second place, I love Elmwood dearly. Then there are things I enjoy there which I cannot have here; my rides, for one thing. Occasionally I have a ride in the park, but it isn’t the same as at home. Here one must go at a certain gait, and people ride awkwardly, too, I think. I suppose it is the fashionable way, but it isn’t half so graceful, to see them pounding their saddles, one might say. It really tries me to look at them. The park is beautiful, though. New York may well be proud of it. I have been around a great deal. Brian takes me everywhere, and I usually enjoy the places we visit.” “And Brian?” questioned Bertie, meeting her eye. Her head drooped slightly. Bertie saw the action. He left his chair and came to her. “Tell me, Margaret,” he said, placing his hand upon her shoulder, “it isn’t so hn-yu for y OU answer?” ‘No,” sho replied in a low voice, “it should not be so-Jia rd now. My heart i] - rI '■ despair.ng, because I | was alone-so helplessly alone. Ah, I know what you would say. I have friends. Yes, such true friends. Do you think I ever doubted them, Bertie? But you can understand that there are sorrows which none can share. Lately I have been more encouraged. Ho has left me so little, but last night he was later than usual, and to-night he is—not here —at all.” Her head drooped still lower and his hand fell until it rested on hers with i a gentle, reassuring sympathy in its ] touch. “Ail may be right,” he said with an effort at consolation. “Perhaps,” she answered. “I can only hope, and if it should not be, the disappointment will be so bitter. Last night ihi did not seem perfectly himself. I' | tried to believe I imagined it, but I am I • afraid I showed something in my actions. I tried so hard, too —so hard not to let him see.” “Why should you have tried?” cried Bertie, pressing his lips hard. “Why should you consider him? You have ! feelings, too. Must they always be , outraged?” Margaret raised her eyes at this I strong expression of his thoughts. “I think women can’t consider their feelings, Bertie,” she returned, with a sigh. “It seems to me that, no matter how hard or how bitter it may be, they can never get beyond the range of duty. I think we grow to be hypocrites in a way. We are so often obliged to hide our hearts. 1 know I have often smiled my brightest when my eyes were burning with tears I held back. I suppose the baptism of so row must touch us all, and 1 only hope that it may wash out all that should not be in my life, and make mo braver an i stronger for what is to come. Are you leaving me, Bertie? I’m afraid you find me very doleful.” “I leave you, Margaret, to find him. I cannot bear to sit here and hear you talk and There; I’ll act like a baby next. Margaret, you are a dear, brave girl. Long ago, when ” “Before you thought I should grow into such a sedate young woman,” interrupted Margaret, hastily. “Me used

to tight gloriously in those days, didn't we? Uncle fancied I should always be a tomboy. I wonder if he would recognize me now?” She finished with a sigh, and the light words had held such deep meaning that Bertie found it hard to meet the eyes she raised so bravely to his. , “So long ago?” he said, half absently. “Not quite six years since 1 first saw you. I remember the day so perfectly. You were just home from college, and you had two cats tied together by the tails. I thought you such a cruel Loy. Well, you want to go? I shall see you again, sha’n’t I? You are like a breath from Elmwood, Bertie.” “You will see me again, and soon, Margaret. Now look me in the face and promise me that the day shall never come when you will cease to regard me t as a brother. There; good-night; your ■ tears pain me. God forgive Brian; I , cannot.” [ Once upon the street Bertie walked : along, absorbed in thought. This brief J visit to Margaret had entirely unnerved

him, and he seemed wholly incapable ol any practical decision. ’When he arrived in front of the Hoffman House he ran across Wilson, and feelinsz rather glad of this chance encounter he greeted him warmly. “This is really the first moment I could call my ov\n to-day,” declared Wilson, taking a cigar from the case Bertie offered him. “Where is your destinaton?” “I was just trying to decide,” was Bertie’s answer. “I dropped in to see Margaret, and I haven’t recovered from the shock her appearance gave me yet. I never saw her look more wretched and ill, though I am inclined to think the cause is not entirely physical.” “No. Other influences at work. How die you leave her?” “Alone,” was the sententious reply. “Alone,” repeated Wilson. "Then, Brian ?” “Is off disgracing himself,” responded Bertie with much anger. "He ought to bo thrashed. Wilson’s face grew very grave. “I had hope 1 things might be better," he said, with a sigh. “They will never be better. I believe Brian has lost his last grain of manhood. He is worse than a coward. If he had a heart lets, selfish wife there might be some reason, though never an excuse for his actions. But now there is absolutely nothing that one can say for him. He is simply breaking Margaret’s heart. If you had seen her a year ago you could realize what a change these last months have wrought in her. It is his doing; all his doing. After she has left her home, her friends, and all she .lews, for his sake. My l-.eart swells with indignation at the thought. I know how she loves Elmwood, and d slikes New York. Yet after all this, she’ll continue to talk of duty. Women a.e enigmas; I give them up. I’d like to thrash Brian, though. It might posbly do him good.” “I can’t understand him,” remarked Wilson, half absently. “No, nor can any one e’se. He doesn’t seem worth the undersanding, I’ll have to find him somehow, and send him home. I can’t bear the thought of Margaret waiting in such anxious dread, not knowing whether ho is tumbling about in the gutter or disgracing himself in some other way. Are we at your quarters already? How fast we must have walked! No; I can’t come in tonight. Some other time, old fellow. I’ll have to make the round of the club houses, I dare say. Well, good-night.” Bertie did not find Brian, as he had expected, in any of his probable haunts, though he went to them all, anxiously examined the sea of faces, and even questioned the waters and attendants. Bather disheartened after this vain search, he scarcely knew where to go next. In his dilemma, he was in the act of turning a street corner when the full glare of the street lamps falling upon a figure in front of him revealed something very familiar in its outlines. “Brian,” he said, under his breath. Yes, Brian—walking with the uncertain gait that only < onfirmed his fears. He thought of Margaret, and angry indignation overpowered him; but this same thought brought another, and under its impulse he managed to control himself. With a few hasty strides he was by Brian’s side, and, placing his hand rather heavily upon his shoulder, he asked, roughly: “Where are you going? Come home?” “Home?” repeated Brian, startled into understanding and shrinking under Beitie’s glance. “Home to face her? Never. A few days ago I promised her I would not t uch another drop. Yes, promised. You seo me to-night. Go home, you say. Go home to see her shrink from me! To see her blush for me! To see Ah, heavens, no!" These wo. ds made ro ia.pression on Bertie. “Don’t add villainy to cowardice,” he said, witii flashing eyes. “Come, I say. If you have no self-respect, remember her, and have at least the decency to hide your disgrace under your own roof. You shall not break her heart; you shall not ruin her life. I’ll shoot you first.” “Buln her life,” echoed Brian, burying his face in his hands. “My Cod, I did not intend to min her life.” Bertie said no more. Perhaps even he felt some pity for Brian’s evident agony, or perhaps he feared that wor is now would express too much of the anger which burnt d within him. There are men who can never understand Hie depths to which others can fall. Quite silent he walked by Brian, and only left him when the door had closed upon him. From her own room Margaret heard the faltering step, and knew that Brian had come, but even the great relief of f : s knowledge did not bring her sleep. Ali night she tossed restlessly, her mind a prey to miserable doubts and hopeless longings, and when morning came her face told its own story. [TO BH CONUXUED.] A True Story. One evening an old couple came over to spend a part of the evening with us, and as we were seated around the fire the old lady told us of a celebrated murder that had happened in the town where she had lived for years, and as she had been personally acquainted with the parties concerned, was able to relate to i us oven the most minute details. After she had finished and we had spoken of the many strange points of the case, the old man straightened himself out and slowly said. “Well, I will now tell you a true story. ” The feelings of the lady can better be imagined than described—

The New York Tribune observes that cargoes aggregating 42,000 tons are on their way to San Francisco by sea; but it discovers nothing more in the fact than a poetical interest in a | revival of the romance which used to be associated with a trip around the Horn. Under the circumstances Ihe prosaic Pacific coaster will concede the poetry or anything else as long as it will keep the cost of transportation down to something like a decent figure. A dangerous plot has been “nipped in the financial arena of Chicago.” This, it is believed, will prove to be an improvement on the old custom ' of nipping such things in the bud. If women were to get into politics generally it would be fun in the middle of a lively canvass to see them tryii to nail campaign lies.

REAL RURAL READING WILL BE FOUND IN THIS DEPARTMENT. How to Get High Prices for Fruit—Lumpy Jaw Can Be Cured—A Double PoultryHouse—Souio Truck Farming Figures, Etc. To Cure Quarter-Crack. Quarter-crack in a horse’s hoof, according to Farm and Home, can be cured. Have the blacksmith cut a groove in the hoof along the line where the hoof and the hair join at the coronet, and from either end of the groove cut another, these two meeting one another at a point on a line of the crack one and one-half inches or thereabout from the lower edge of the first groove. So cut the grooves should enclose an equilatQXil^ triangle with the upper, part of the

'AR e MERRCEANT | ouy (W . Wen W. Y L 3 i @s‘? ©

U VI VilV quarter-era c k extending through its middle. The ^grooves, espePcially the top one, should be cut almost

through the hoof, the idea being to entirely separate the cracked part of the hoof from the coronet so that as the new hoof grows down the crack shall not extend upward and into the new-formed hoof. Where the hoof rests on the shoe the horn shomd be cut away so as to prevent it bearing on the shoe for about one inch on either side of the crack. The hoof prepared in this way the crack should be drawn together and held by means of nails driven across it and clinched, as shown in cut. Veterinarians sometimes use clamps j in place of nails for holding the crack; but unless the voter narian can see the horse frequently the nails are preferable as the clamps are liable to become loosened and so need tightening, a work for which a special tool is needed. The horse should be shod with a bar shoe unless there are special indications to the contrary, in which case the shoe should meet requirements. The horse may be driven during treatment. The time required for growing a new hoof from I coronet to shoe varies from nine to ! twelve months; the ordinary rate of the hoof being about a quaitcr of an inch per month. The growth may be hastened somewhat by rubbing the region of the coronet with a mild stimulating liniment like the following: Camphorated soap liniment 7 ozs., water of ammonia 1 oz. Spanish fly blisters are used for the same purpose.—Farm and Home. Double Pou’.ti j -House. This house says Farm and Fireside, should not cost more than S3O, and is intended for two flocks of a dozen hens each, but it may be lengthened if desired. It is sixteen feet long, eleven feet wide, eight feet high in front and four feet at the rear. It is Jn) ■ liiiiii rOVLTRY HOVSE. made of inch boards, battened on the j outside and lined with tarred felt ini side. The roof is of felt, covered with coal-tar or cement paint. A ventilator is in the center. The sashes arc four feet square. A passage way runs along the north side, three feet wide, and a lath fence divides the house into two apartments! The door may be in the center, in front, for two apartments, but for a long house it should be at the end. Ih i'f'v nx 4 JR® * — INTERIOR VIEW.

Fig. 2 shows the interior. A being the box to hold the droppings, twelve inches wide and six inches high. B i is the board for collecting the droppings when the fowls are on the roost. D is the box containing the nests, the fowls entering at the opening shown at C, and Eis the roost. The interior plan is intended for a long house, but may also be applied to one of only two apartments. Apples lor Stock-Good. Apples are not strong food for live stock, and the lack of “strength” may be shown by a short table of comparisons. The leading compounds for which a fodder is valued are the albuminoids and carbohydrates. The former contains the substance for the ■ making of the vital juices, muscle, i etc., while the latter are to do the 1 work of the animal machines, thel 1 fuel for the engine, so to speak. Os I 1 these groups of food elements the ; following familiar food stuffs contain , the averages as given after each: ■ Albuminoids, Carbohydrates j Potatoes 8.54% ....84.22% Turnips 9.40"$ 69.54% Pumpkin 17.32?$ 56.02% Beets (iield) 8.91% 45 78% Apples (fresh) 1.43% 91.61% , Pomace ....4.30?$ 76.39% Thus far we have said nothing as to the relative values of the albuminoids and carbohydrates, but when it is un- > derstood that the former are the much more important, therefore exi pensive, it follows that fresh apples are a weak food. The pomace is much

better because there has oeea a con- ’ densation of the albuminoids. But as ! the albuminoids are mostlj’ in the skin and seeds and these are the least digestible, the actual feeding value is not what the table would otherwise represent. Apples are a poor food unless “wormy’’ and the i wish is to destroy these insects by i feeding them. —American Agricultur- j ist ’ To Get High Fricos for Fruit. When fruit is a glut in the mar- : ket, the grower should have some i ' means available for storing it till later in the season when prices , wiil be more remunerative, reaches I and such fruit would be very salable ■ at Christinas time, and early cherries in September. It is easily within the reach of fruit growers to master the market and hold their surplus when prices are too low. It can be done J by cold storage, securing a temperai ture of 40 to 32 degrees. American j experience favors a temperature of 134 degrees, but in Australia 40 de- ' grees gives the best results in the warehouse or during the two months’ voyage to England. Fruit retarding ; hou es can be built and maintained j at less expense in the country than in : the city. A cooperative society of ! fruit growers could readily manage j such an enterprise, sell their stuff to । the best advantage and get all the ; profits of the business instead of havI ing the major part retained by commission merchants and city cold-stor-age companies. * Frames for Tomatoes. Take a piece of joist two by three inches, and four feet long; sharpen ! one end: nail four narrow strips of I board across the joist, about eight { I inches apart. Nail some light pieces across the ends; old Hour barrel hoops, / soaked so as to straighten easily, are : very good for this purpose. This I I makes a frame two feet s pare. With ! an iron bar set the frames in the ’ ground before setting the plants, i leaning them slightly from the sun ! Set the plants on the sunny side, and i tie them to the frames as occasion re-j quires. In the fall remove the frames and house them for use another year. ! These frames are cheap, easily made, j quickly set, and easily housed, and , . answer the purifose better than any- I thing^else we 1 ive tried. —H. Maria ! George, in Practical Farmer. Sheep and Swine. | Never disturb a farrowing sow un- ; less strictly necessary, . Provide a separate place in which to feed the young pigs. are nb detriment to the pig’s growth. A sow must be well c ared for that ' bears two litters of pigs annually. The pig has a small stomach and therefore requires condensed food. Always see that the troughs are cleaned cut before feeding the pigs, i Use a long, low trough for pigs,and i nail slats across it so none can stand • in it. Let the brood sow have her freci dom until within a few days of far- ' rowing. The first six weeks of a pig’s life . ! often determines its value for pork ! ' making. . j In the aggregate better prices can j ! be realized for the wool if it is care- ; fully sorted and graded before send- : I ing to market. j Properly handled, a flock of sheep can spare as many as it will cost to , keep them and yet leaves as many as were first started with. While sheep will not pay the best profit every year, taking one year , with another, they will average fully ■ up with any other class. Yovng lambs should not be. allowed to get wet, at least until the weather becomes warm and settled, and even i then it is better to avoid. j Properly managed sheep will restore the worst of the wornout pasi tnres to more than their original fer-

tility and the renovations will be positive. Hilly lands, not well adapted for cattle, will carry sheep with profit. And upon such lands they aro most apt to be healthy and easily kept in good condition. Cutting and Drawing Corn. When the corn husks have mostly turned yellow, but the lea.ves are still quite green, it is in good order to cut, says a Farm and Home correspondent, and it should be put in shocks containing not less than 100 hills Use a cutter, which is simply a platform fastened on runners, 6 or Sinches high, and wide enough to pass between the corn rows, with knives on ! each side slanting backward, and pro- * jecting far enough to reach out and 1 cut the corn. This is taken by arm- ' fuls, by two men riding on the plati form and placed in the shock, the horse stopping at every 10 hills. I i use a rig that we find convenient to ! draw shock corn on. It consistsof two light poles about oinches in diameter and 16ft long with the forward ends rounded up, sled fashion for runners. Three or four crop pieces sft long are bolted across it and as many fence boards nailed lengthways to them. Fasten the two ends of a chain near the ends of the forward cross piece leaving the middle of the chain slack lor 2ft. Fasten the middle of the doubletree by a clevis to the middle of the chain and it is complete. If

there are hills to come down there will need be a pole to draw and hold back by. One man can load and un- ■ load easily. To Cure Lumpy Jaw. Lumpy jaw or actinomycosis has been a subject of much controversy among stockmen, first, as to whether it was contagious and second, as ‘o I whether it could be cured. PromiI nent veterinarians and many cattleI men hold that it is caused by a germ ' which often finds lodgment in a wound, but not necessirily. M. Nocard of France has found that the ■ form of it’known as “wooden tongue” ; could be quickly and permanently I cured by the-use of iodide of potasium. Jig Dr. Norgaard of the United States ■" bureau of animal industry has tried ■Y the same treatment on a steer affected with “lumpy jaw" and had a com- BsH plete cure. The treatment with iodide of po- w tassium consists in giving full doses I of this medicine once or twice a day until improvement is noticed, when the dose may be reduced or given less I frequently. The size of the dose By’ should depend somewhat upon the I weight of the animal. Dr. Norgaard I gave 11 drams dissolved in water ■ once a day for there days, omitted I the medicine for a day or two and II then continued it according to symp- Era toms. Others have given this amount « $ for a few daysand then decreased it 11 5 to one dram. The animals do well |f.|< under this treatment, showing on>y Ijl the ordinary symptoms which follow lE the use of iodine, the principal ones I being discharge from the nose, weep- I ing of the eye, and peeling off of I । the outer layer of the skin. ’These I ! symptoms need cause no uneasiness, !as they never result in any serious' disturbance of the health. Truck Farming. Some of our most successful truck- I ers work less than twenty acres of I ground, support a large family, and I put money in the savings bank every I year. Let me state what one Ger- | man family raised on eighteen acies: M Four acres were set in timothy, which I gave him hay for his horse and cows, N the two cows being pastured on the roadside in summer. The refuse vegetables fed three pigs, which were killed late in the fall. Fruits, flow- fl ers. celery, and onions were retailed i ’ iby the wife, going to market twice a u j ■ week. The gross sales amounted to ! 5943; allowing for his own work and I that of his family, $400; manure , I bought, $lO ’, and extra expenses, which were less than SIOO, the place ; I gave a net income of over S3O0 —not i counting the vegetables and fruit j eaten from the place, nor the eggs, ' chickens, milk, and butter consumed fl !by the family. This was a better I ^bowing than many a 200-acre farm l could present. Land is only valuable when well worked, constantly cropped, and the crops produced sold at retail direct to the consumers.—Baltimore American. : Hints to Housekeepers. For aphides (grem lice) spray the plants with tobacco tea and soap suds E ^& u!Ten as Once a week. Six or eight drops of turpentine i added to blacking for one stove i brightens it and reduces the labor of ' polishing. Old whisk brooms are excellent for I washing dishes to avoid putting the I hands in water. They are especially ; serviceable in cleaning greasy cooking | dishes when the use of very hot wa- ■ ter is desired. • No old wood or rubbish of any kind should be allowed to cumbzr the cel- • lar. A peek or more of lime left in 1 ' the cellar in an open keg will absorb I the moisture which otherwise might I form in mould on the walls. Nothing । is more dangerous to the health of the i occupants of a bouse than a mouldy I cellar. The severe itching and smarting produced by coming in contact witii ivy or dogwood may be allayed by first washing the parts with a solution of ' soda—two tablespoonfuls to a pint of ' water —and then applying cloths wet • with extract of hamamelia. Give a dose of epsom salts or a double rochelie ! powder. Study the situation; see where there is a space in which you can put a long shelf, or two or three short ones over each other. Iron brackets cost but little, and are adjusted easily. : A shelf six or seven inches wide wiil . hold all the baking powder, spices. : extracts and the like in common use, i and by screwing small hooks to the ; under side, egg beaters, cups, spoons, j etc., can be suspended. Miscellaneous Recipes, Cherry Sherbert. —Stone a quart of cherries and allow them to stand several hours with a quart of sugar mixed through them, then put in the freezer with a quart of water. DeI licious. . Strawberry Sauce.—Beat to a । cream one-half cup of sweet butter , I and two cups of powdered sugar; add ji a heap half-pint of strawberries. ’ , AFash the fruit thoroughly and beat .j it into a sauce. To be used in any ’: pudding. t | Strawberry Sherbert. —Take the . : juice of two quarts of berries mashed [ and strained, equal quantity of . 1 water, two pounds of sugar, . , whites of f our eggs. Mash the . I berries, cover with the sugar, let [' stand one hour or more, then press ,; out the juice, add the water and > i freeze. Add the whites of eggs last. •, Close carefully and freeze again. ; ■ Cherry and Currant Preserve. I —Boil a pound of sugar and a pint of : i red currant juice five minutes. Put j in two pounds of stoned red cherries , and simmer ten minutes. Pour out r and let stand next day, then strain i the syrup from the fruit, add half a i pound of sugar and boil ten minutes, j, Then put in the cherries, boil up ' ' once, and put into small selt-sealing f i cans.