St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 11, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 5 October 1895 — Page 6

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CHAPTER IV. ((’-mtinued.) "Ah!" exclaimed Aube, raising tier face «( this revelation, and looking wondering ly in the old lady's face. "Lt was this necessity which kept her from coining to see you again and again. If she had done so, she says, she could not have kept you here.” “My mother!" sighed Aube, with her eyes dilating; and the Superior u cut on in the smile low, sweet viht: "She says now. Vube. that you are a woman grown, ami that site can bear the aeparation m> longer that her heart yearns for yon that she cannot rest until she clnsps to tier breast all that is left to her of that dear husband win was to her as a god I give you her own words, my child; and I ought to utter words of reproof on (he vamt.v the wickedness of a woman giving herself up so wholly to such a love but but but. my darling, 1 enunot sty them now. For it touches me to tiie heart. Aube, and 1 can only HOC (he sweet, loving widowed mother there, ail those thousands of miles away — stretching out her trembling hands, my darling, her longing eyes strained yearningly to me. as she says. ‘I have done my duty, I have worked, and watched, and waited Iha v'doueall that he would have had me do. and now tiiat my long pen mice is fultilled. givi me back my child.' " Pile solemn silence was broken now by Luce's solhs, m s' e sank into a chair, and laid her hem! upon its arm. ’Acs. my dearest one." continued the Superior. "we poor Women hef'. devoted as we me, have never known a m ither's love; but as I read that h♦. r, Aube, 1 seemed to realize it all. Betwe< n its lines there stand forth in burning words ail that yon poor, patient woman tried to ex- 1 press, and suffer as 1 may at having to part from you, I know it is your duty to go to her to go. as -he says, at once, for life is short, and I can send you to her. glad in my heart, with the blessingsi.f al! here, and say we now st nd yon ba< !« the infant you confided to us. a woman now, and as siv<t( ami true ami pure as ever knelt before (iod." "Sister Elise! Mojher!" sobbed Aube "My child!" I here was another long paus<>, and then smiling on her pupil the Superior took the letter, and placed it in Aube's hands ‘Take it .'iml read it. dear," she said calmly now “it is the letter of a mother. ‘ sMßfeii 3 ' 'ha heaven. ./y 5 1 ' terrible , Xce, . -r it is a long voyage, mid to a land of which til) now I have heard naught but evil. Now I know that there is one there whom I should bo glad to I call sister, and now there will be une whim I am glad to call my spiritual I daughter. Hayti ranuot be all bad. Aube, so now wipe away tlmse tears, forth • Jiangs are past, and it is a day of joy the day on which the tit st steps are taken t<> rejoin two sw h h< arts ,i- y ours " "But, mother, am i to a > soon " "in a day or two at most. The Consul brought me the letter. He had received one as well, and his orders were i • find some good family returning c the island in whose charge you could make the voy - age. This might ha ve been m nt! >. Aube, but heaven smiles upon the project, and the Consul tells me of a widow lady w ho has been in Paris a y ear with her daugh ter about your age. She. t< >, hst her husband, it seems, in tlie war w hen your father died. This Madmiu- Saintom w ill bo glad to be your chaperon, my -'IT 1, her daughter your companion. but "But, what, mother'.'" whispered Aube, who seemed half stunned. "The mail steamer lea x.s Ha vt e w ithin u day or two. 1 hear, and our j.attmg will be very s.x n." Aube gazed at In r wildly. "No, no.” my darling, no more tears." ' whispered the Superior, kissing her. "(Io to your room now, and rest and pray. ; Then read your letter as I would have you read it. Go, my child. Your true, loving mother, who must have passed through a martyrdom for your sake, w aits to press you to her heart. Luce, my child." Lm ■ started from the chair, to run forward with her face swollen and convulsed ; with weeping, to lead Iter companion to । the room they shared. As the door closed Aube (lung her arms about her friend and sobbed out: “Luce! Luce! is it all true?" Luce was silent, only gazed at her wildly as \ube rnts-'d the folded letter to her lips and kiss 'd it passionately. "Yes. mother," she said, gazing before her, with a w ild, far-off look, "yes. moth er. 1 come!" "Aube!” rang out in a wild cry. "Luce, darling, wli.it arcy a th.nking?" cried Aube, startled by the agony in her i friend's eyes. “I was thinking yo i must not. shall not go." Aube shrank from her with the letter pressed to her lips owe more, and she stood blanched, hard and stvange-looking as if she had been turned to -tone. "Aube, darling, what will poor Paul CHAPTER V. "You're a fool, Jules Defirm'd.” “You’re a gentleman, Etienne Saintone." "There, I beg your pardon, man, but you make me angry. Have you no ambition ?" “()f coure 1 have; to become your broth-er-in-law. What day will the steamer arrive?” “How should I know? I'm in no hurry; place has been right enough without the old lady.” “Dull enough without Antoinette.” “Rubbish! What a sentimental lover you are,” cried the first speaker, as he lazily tilted back the cane chair in which he balanced himself so as to reach a cigar from a little table, placing one in his lipe and throwing another to bis vis-a-vis. They were two well enough looking young men —dark, sallow, and well-dress-ed, after the fashion of the creole of the

South. They were seated in the broad veranda of a good house, slightly elevated and overlooking the town of Port au Prince, and over it. away to sea, with its waters of deep and dazzling blue. “Now, then, light up. 1 want to talk • to you. Havc some Tack?” 1 "No; had enough. Talk away." “Well, look here, then.” said Saintone, lowering his voice, after a glance round 1 to see that they were not likely to lie overheard. "I've unite made up my mind to join the Vaudoux.” "Ami I've made up my mind not to." replied Detfrard. tilting back his chair; I “I’m going to be very good now, and ! marry your sister.” j "Tehah!” “Ah. you may talk and sneer, but what I would she say ?" " I hat you are, as I say, a fool. Who’s I going to tell hi f what we do. Supjio.se I । should go ami tell my moi her ns soon as , i she gets back?” "But what do you want to join them ! lor to go to their feasts and dance-.? Pali! 1 fancy I can smell the nigger* here." ”lo go t,. their feasts, man? Where ; are ymir brains?" cried Saintone. ber.d ing toward his friend. "Can't you ov. boy, that I mean to take n big place in the <Sovernment?” "Yes; you are always talking nltout it." "M ell, to get there. 1 must have votes." “t »f course." "Black votes are as good as colored. j man." 'A on'!] get your*elf mi\ed m» w it h — >m • i political rising, and bo shot as your father j xx as.” “Well, that's my business. N -w, b«>k here; if I belonged to the \ audoux scef, ! and •ame »nf pretty liberally to the Pa | pnhd "Papaloi?" int< rrujited Dvffrnrd "II >w i did they get that Word?" "Papa, rd, stupid, Father King.’ sad Saintone, impatiently. "Ah' I sec; their way of- binding th' 1 r n>i loi.” "’1 hose priests will intlm-m e the pt-siidc | on my behalf, and I am safe to l„ ; elected." 'AN ell. yes. I sUp|H»so So; but "Hang your buts! Don't hesitate so Look here. Duff, you want to marry An | toinette.” "t >f course." "NN ell. then, I expect my brother o> - up j port me in everything, so you’ll have to । join once for all with me." "What, the Vaudoux?" "Yes. and I mean to be initiated nt I once." "And yon want me to be initiated, too?" “< ts course.” "< th. very well that is. if you wiil ba k me up with your sister and nmthi r." "Trust me for that; you shall have her." "I’m ready, then: but 1 don’t like it Hang it all. one hears nil kinds of hor rors about them." ' < »!d women's tales. Thore, I’m z zg tlir-' ;g!i the town. You can walk with me j .1 rt of the way." "<b .1 g over to the priest to sec ahem!” "Mind your own business I'm going to ’ake the first steps toward our initia th m -o le ready to go any night I warn ""But ” "No hanging bn k; von base m- m •sed." "Yes. mid SO have you." said th • young man. getting up languidly ; “but I -ay xx ill there be anything to pay. L;i'i t something like the tore.go, r-.’ fr- en'., -a ry?" "Nothing to j>ay. but - .me battles f rum. tied I'l see to them. Now along.” rhvx -trolled off together doxx n the shaded road leading to the town, p-m-ii g plenty of suiky. detiaut-looking mulatt- s :in<i heavy-jawed, independent, full blooded negroes, who generally fav..r. d them with a brand grin; but no -..oner had they reached the far side of the town, and D-ffrard had taken off his straw ha! to wij>e his streaming brow, than Saintone said in a laughing, contemptuous way: i "There! Go home ami cool yourself. Be । a good boy and the steamer xvill soon be here and you can go courting to your i heart’s content." "I don't like this N attdoux business," grumbled Deffrartl to himself, as he went "I can make tin- so .I useful." said Sain tone, xx it!’, a sneering laugh, and he went in the ot her dir.- t ion, a wax toxx ard where . tia- sl ivenly plantations and the country began xx Ph its luxuriant growth, among x< hieh hidden here and there peej>ed out the cottages of the blacks, with their ; overgrown gardens full of melons running xvild. yams, and broad llap-leaved bananas, looking like gigantic hart's tongue ferns. Etienne Saintone was so devoted to the object he had in view that he jiaid no heed to a gigantic-looking black whom he had encountered in the narrow track or , lane running in and out among squalid cottages, in front of which nearly nude : black children basked in the sunshine. But the black turned and looked after him curiously, and taking uj> an old ami battered straw hat, frowned, and slowly ■ followed in the young man’s steps as he ( went on for quite a quarter of a mile, the cottages growing less frequent and superior in aspect, more hidden, too, among the trees. All at once Saintone looked sharply round, as if to see whether he was obi served; but as if expecting this, the black i had thrown himself down beneath a i rough fence, and if in his hasty glance । Saintone saw anything, it was that com- • mon object of the country, a black bask- ; ing in the sun. His glance round satisfied him, ami he : turned off sharply to the left; and, as he | disajxpeared among the trees, the black S rolled over three or four times, by this I means crossing the track and reaching I the shelter of the over-hanging foliage,

among which he, too, plunged ant appeared. idlst At. the end of about a hundred Saintone stepped over the rongli fei a solitary cottage, at whose door t latto girl was seated, idly twistin get her some thin shavings of can , t 0" iorm a plnit. She had seen the i '■ jacket of the young man appron^ m 1 ’ 10 and had uttered a slight laugh, eyes closed till only a glimpse ojj ^ ,er dark pnpiln could be seen, as she wi ed the track in a sidelong way, and to hum over a xvild, weird ditty, omF'*’’ I .'? known among the Haytian blacks, i " . probably brought by some of theii 11 1,11 from their native Africa. , ' ra, '° "Ah, Genie, dear,” cried Sainto) he caught sight of the woman i dark, shadowy interior. ".Mass' Saintone?” she replied, w ~ affected start and look of wonder. 11 an "Yes,” he said, laying his hand her shoulder. “Hoxv pretty you Iq day. Didn't you see me coming?"! "No, sah. I was busy here. Wl ( you xvant?” 1 “What do 1 want? Why, I' v e"J nit> <o see you, dear.” J "Oh,” said the girl, coldly. KmuhV Saintone could have come kfaf " c w! -two weeks three weeks ago—lih^^h^never came. Thought you never eoiimßfcain,” "Oli, nonsense! I've been too ' Anth’ s!«|<i Samtone's always <came every day." 'Acs. and I’m coining every d^r again, dear,” he said, as he threw arm round hor and tried to draxv he®» hiui. As he did so there was a faint >Mind as of a hissing breath at the bnelSif the place, ami Saintone lookisl sharpljw'ouud. \\ hat s that?" he said. Snake or little lizard,” said the xfotnan, e<<ldly, freeing herself from his grip. ’ ’h. come, don’t do that,” said Snintone, laughing, an he tried again to catch i her in his arms; but she eludeil him. ami ' her eyes opened wildly now. "No; go ami make love to tin* new hl<lx .” she said, sjiitefuliy. "What mxx lady?" he cried. “Why, xou silly, jeahm- girl. I never loves] any i one but you." "Lies!” said the xxoman. vindictively. "It s irue!" he cried angrily. “Come, Genie, don't 1« so foolish." "It is not foolish. That is all owr. Go to her." AN hy, you silly thing. 1 tel] you I have been too busy to minp.” Ac-, too busy to send a l»oy to say । ma--' can't. All lies." "1 know. 1 .an not a fool." she said, । s<i»rnfnlly. "St doxx n, silly girl." berried. “There, I «i!) not try to touch you; I'll smoke a : cigar. Look here," he continmsl, ns lie , lit the little roll of tobacco. "I'll noxv prove to you bow true I am. Dn yon know why 1 came to day?" "Because you -aid Genie is * fool, and will believe all I mv." "No." h«- *.iid in a low voice, ns he leaned toxx nnl Io r. "I came up because I xx.inm I x .j t Iwlp me, dear. I want to b» mote ns if I xx ere otic of you.” The woman *htw.k her head, and half ■ ; < I 'S'-J hor eyes, but he hnd moved her. I ami she xvatched him intently, as she ; i stood shaking her hen«l J*'' 'A ou utiderwtaml in*-." he x«psper<sl ; rim N nudoux, I want to join Jb b« one , of you. There, do you twhexi iiovo you u»w?" d “No," slic said, panting. know whnt you vneatu” “W "You <l<»." he wl»ts|»erx d. is.- i not try and hohl me oft. I knovayou are । ' one of them." "One of the N nudoux you?” A• s. N ci *an take iic to one of your pr ■ »■». and let me j i.i at the first meetj ing." "The N sudoi.x? she said, opening her ' eyes xx !• ?. ~x Ah. X < I know wb.lt you tuean <th. no; yim could not join ( them They -ay it is ail very dreadful , and secret No one know- xx ho they are ; or xvhnt they do." 'A < he -aid, laughing, "you do for one, for y u < ould take me to join them.” "Dh. no." she cried, with nn eager move- j ment ‘ f her hum!-, us if she disclaimed nil such ktiowb-dge "It is cnly the blacks who know <<f that.’ "Y"ii ur*' trifling with me." ho said. "You are offended bxwausc I have been away - hmg. Now I hare oime ami x' ant to lie nearer to yon than ever, you refuse.*’ "What cm I do?” " Take me to one of their meetings to- > night.” "I?” .Tied tlte xvoman, shaking her head. "You j lay me with now. Hoxv could I know?” 'A on tm tn you will not,” be said, fuming. "Eugenie will not do xvhnt she cannot." rx’plied the woman, cohlly. “All xer. well.” he said in a cavalier way. "I dares.ly 1 can find someone else who xvill taki' me to a me ting; or, I i don't know! it docs >i >t matter. I daresay I shall give it up. Well, I must be ; off back." "Going?" said the woman, coldly. "Y«'s. I am going now. A bi' 'H~. pointed, of course, but it does not r c- । Good-by.” (To be continued.) The Farmer anti th'- *sport, al, ‘ A g' mb man. : ami a t^thu--m- i<- -i- rt-mmn. having piAchased a country residence, began (to the astonishim nr of his neighbors! to devote his time io his gun and hounds, instead of the culture of his land. After a time an old farmer took a favorable opporiunity to make some remarks upon his course, that was. in his view, not only profitless, but devoid of interest. “If you will for one day go with me,” said the sportsman. “I think I can convince you that it is intensely interesting and exciting.” The farmer consented to do so: and the next morning, before daybreak, they wended their way to their hunting ground. The dogs soon scented a fox. and were off, and the two worthies followed, through woods and meadows, ami over hills, for two or three hours. At last the sportsman heard the dogs driving the game in their direction; and soon the pack, in full cry, came over a hill that had jxreviously shut out the sound. “There! my friend,” said the sportsman, “there! did you ever hear such heavenly music as that?” The farmer stopped in an attitude of intense attention for some moments, and then said. “NVell, the fact is, those confounded dogs make such a noise I can’t hear the music!” Do not nurse good intentions, but give them immediate exercise.

' Farm and garden. f — ; BRIEF HINTS AS TO THEIR SUC- > CESSFUL MANAGEMENT. ', A Comfortable Scat Ibesicncd to Be Attached to A K ricultural Implements— Convenient Crates for Handling Fruits and Veuetables. , < rates for Fruits and Vegetables. Crates that are indispensable are each i ) ear coming more ami more In demand i for either handling, storing or shipping. Barrels cause harsh treatment, 1 and are not convenient f<u rapid work where a delicate touch is required. While crates present a more shallow depth and larger open surface. As they FIO. 1. “NESTING ” X HATES. can be piled on each other, quantities of crates occujiy no moi'o space than barrels and frequently not as much. A crate is easily handled by two persons, and allows air to circulate freely between its contents (doing away with the need of bins, barrels, etc., through which air cannot readily pass), and the 1 essential requirement of sweating is, obtained. The crates may be piled oiU‘ above another in the cellar or storehouse and the fruit moved from one place to another with gn at ease. Make i crates to lit into the wagon box, and • J an astonishing quantity of stuff can be handled at a load. But these reetangu- ■ — i i FIG. 2. iItAT! Will! HXXtH.rc. lar crates will not “nest" into each oth- 1 tr s > well as when made in the shajxe i suggested in Fig. 1. which is a decided advantage. These can be made larger i | ami with handles, or handles put on the ! usual form (Fig. 2>. fur quick carrying short distances Handles may be rigged with hooks so as j<> lie instantly removI abk' instead of being attached to the ‘ crate.- American Agriculturist. Bursting of Cabbage. 1 lm bursting o: groxx ing cabbage may 1 very easily be prevented by selecting the heads which show signs of burst- j Ing. and starting the roots by pulling or cutting off some of the root with a hoe. Ihe pulling process is preferable. i Putting both bands under the head, . says the National Stmkinan, pull until ’ many of the n-ots are loosened ami the i plant Is pushed over to one side. This trxntim”..! efi<'< t>m!lx- stops the burst- ‘ Ing. ami hot only that, but the cabbage • - in liitii-- o> gi'.-xv 10-, lix ; but I lia i i'iii' gratiticatlou of seeing beads thus treat ’ exl grow to double the former size and j weight, ami all due to this starting the j l oots, u hlch i hecked the groxx th < n tig i io prx vent bursting. ! it not enough to । hinder furti er dev lapmcnt There is I m excuse for allowing cabbage to burs! xx liim so eff- I'ttml means are at band to prevent h. A swing in u Sent. The Seii :: di. American illustrates the s<-at here described. It Is intended toren ow the discomfort to the rider j that comes from the motion of the ma- ; chine aid the inequalities of the ground. It may be adjusted to suit j riders of different weights. The cut -ho\\ s h -x\ the d.-x e ■ is arranged. A h'ioj» or bow spring s mounted on eith- ' er the front or the rear axle, and •lir.-ugh it ; --es a beam supporting, ■he >"at "ii i .-ring hank at its rear end. The forward end of the beam j pas- - through a sleeve on the tongue • r ’he reai h. By ncans of a set screw or pin th ■ s’ -ve is .i ’justed to suit the I weight of ti.- iid> :-. The arrangement of tie parts giv, s p’. zty of elasticity '.A / Z x o-e™ on even rough ground, the sear remain 1 ing level and e .. .ira t i vely uimifected . by the motion oi the m.o hine. Got Rid of Wild Oats. Wild oats are a great nuisance in i many sections. To get rid of them on : stubble fields, plow the land as soon as ! the small grains have been removed. \ The seed already su. ! will germinate, and the young plants can be killed by a ! second jdowiug, or by running over the : field with a corn cultivator or disk hari row. If the oats occur on sod land. break the ground in June or July, and prevent any maturing of seed by stirring the soil. The weather so far this season has been moist, thus causing the i seeds to germinate quickly, and making ; it possible to get rid of them soon. A Piasrustins Practice. Any one who uses a stale egg for a nest-i'gg takes a very great risk compared with the advantage gained, it any advantage is known, for the reputation of a very careful person may be oamaged for a slight mistake. To sacrifice [ U reputation for the sake of using a stale egg for the nest, insteid of an arti- I iieial egg, is mistaken economy. Stale eggs have done more to keep down prices of eggs than all ether causes, as they xvill turn up when L ast expected In the lot. Lime on Grass Land. Ume may be applied advantageously on grass land in the fall, says the Country Gentleman If the land Is already full of vegetable matter, It is Drobable

that the Ifme win do great good. Forty bushels Ivas considered a fair dressing i^ former years, but now ten to twelve bushela per acre is considered the most economical application. Buy stone or unsiacked limo, place it la small idles of about live bushels each at regular intervals over the field and cover slightly with earth, allowing the rain and the moisture which rises below to slack it. Small Farms. An interesting experiment in turning aige farms into small holdings, which may help to solve the agricultural probcn> m England, was recently completed n Dorsetshire, according to the English Magazine. Sir Uo ber t Edgeeomb seven years ago bought a farm of three hundred ami forty-three acres, spent money in buihling roads and wells, <ll- - ided it up into twenty-five holdings of from txvo to thirty three acres, and offered them for sale, ]>ayment to be made in ten equal annual instalments Purchasers were readily found O s all tra.les ami classes, eight only being agricultural laborers; ami all the instalments, with light except ions, have already been paid off. Instead of a faimet ami three* laborers, there are now twenty-five families of seventy-five persons on the land, which has increased in value from £l7O to £313 a year. Feeding Hens. It Is not a good jdan to keep food before a flock of hens al! the time. If this is done they will get fat and lazy, and not take enough exercise to keep them in laying condiriim. Ir is the best plan to have a fixed time lor feeding fowls, especially at night, and not feed I them at irregular intervals. If they I are led about the sani" time । very evenI lug they will > on know when to come for ir, and will be content until that 'ime. If feed is thrown to them at all sorts of times they will come rushing around you as s. on as you make your appearance, and a go >d many of them xvill stay close to the house all day ir expectation of being fed. The best way to feed liens in the summer is to feed them in the morning, and again just at night, and not give them anything to eat between times. If kept confined they xvill be fed a: noon, of course. A Melon Carrier. A little device made of wire with a I wooden handle, which some city dealers supply their customers for carrying home melons, is especially convenient. Country people can make one with material at hand which is equally effective and costs next to nothing. The one । shown in the illustration may be taken as a model. It consists simply of a I 0 'J IIANDY MELON CAKRIEII. piece of ordinary w ire, which can be of ! I any medium size, but is better if not ! very large. This is cut the desired | length and run through the pith of a i corncob, which, when the whole is ; completed, forms the handle. After the wire is passed through the cob turn the ends above to form loops as shown in the cut. Slip these over the melon, draw them tight and a very handy melon carrier is the result. To Prevent Rust on Tools. A Canadian recipe for the preservation of tools from rusting is as follows: I ilssolve balf-e.unce of camphor in one pound of melted lard: take off the scum, ami mix in as much black lead (graphite) as will give it an iron color. Smear the tools with this mixture, and after twenty-four hours, rub clean with a soft linen cloth. Another coating is made by mixing slowly six ounces of lard to ten ounces of resin, and stirring till cool. When semi-fluid, it is ready ; for use. Apples that Go to Waste. Professor Maynard says; "Many thousand bushels of apples go to waste which, if taken in time, might be dried with profit, or could be profitably fed to Stock. Analysis shows a food value in apples for cows and horses of from ten to twenty cents per bushel. Aside from this food value, the fact that the insects in such fruit are destroyed in j such using makes it cf great import- ' am e.” Stock Gotes. Hold fast to your mutton sheep. A good sheep is a good friend to the farmer. Do not abuse him. even though ; he is not on top just noxv. No farmer can afford to bo without . hogs, but they should be good '.'nos. If the liog house is kept clean it Is necessary to have a a outside pen for the manure. The Butchers' Journal advises 200 to 2oi) pound hogs, giving hams weighing ; ten to fifteen pounds. Next York farmers estimate leaves highly as bedding material, and the I manorial value alone is placed at a I ton. A writer says that the time wiil most surely come when it will be impossible to sell at remunerative prices an animal having merely the name of sheep, ;rnd no quality. Gne who has been looking up statistics says the exportation of horses for the fiscal year Just ended was far in excess of any previous year in the history of the country.

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Blue and White Table Linen. Blue and white is the fashionable china for the table this season, tnd one of the latest ideas in table decoration is to have doilies, table mats, centerpieces and tray cloths embroidered in a shade o matcli the blue of the china. This is done in the old-fashioned marking cotMned wh ‘ m ' Wt fad " ;nid wben ^m1 his blue and white craze in the table ^•omtuH-uts decrees that the entire e-n-H -r j “ S ’. ,Hble UlatS ' ’ I ” \ ut tl, ° same design, the ' I S . i° b ° Iwo, 1 wo,k ‘‘ t ‘ scallops in blue, instead of being hemstitched. All the - outlining m the pattern is done in blue, and inside of t hls it is in wUh i 1 rench knots and fancy stitches of the a wlute silk. Entire sets stamped with - the same design may be purchased ax i any of the larger fan^y stores, or, if ono has any talent with the pencil, very unique ami original designs may be adapted for this purpose. Surprise Desserts, Surprise desserts are always in demand. They give the correct linishing touch to a little dinner. Here is a receipt which, if followed, will delight one's guests and also reflect credit upon the hostess: Select six firm, good-sized bananas and remove the pulp, being careful to split open the banana so that the skin xvill bo as perfect as possible. Beat the pulp to a cream, measure it and add half the- quantity of sliced peaches, one tablespoonful of lemon juice, three tablespoonfuis of confectioner's sugar and one tablespoonful of sherry wine. Mix this well together and be very careful not to have the pulp too liquid. Thea fill the banana skins and stand them on ice. Before serving tie each banana with ribbon. Ammonia in the Summer Time. Ammonia, ahvays useful to the housekeeper. has especial advantage in the summer time by its power of removing lemon stains. • A housekeeper who has learned this simple household fact by experience, suggests that a little pamphlet be prepared to instruct all housekeepers in tlie different methods of removing spots and stains. Many simple means are not widely known. For removing the stains of strawberries and other fruits from damask hot water is often sufficient. Deep stains may be removed by a solution of chloride of lime. White stains from hot dishes upon a polished table are removed by rnbl bhig the spot with spirits of camphor. Bacon and Liver Stew. ’ Four bulling water over a beef or calf liver, let stand one-half hour, then cut the liver xrith deep gashes, insert thin sliees of bacon in these cuts and fasten in with toothpicks. Have three or four slices of bacon in tlie pot over a hot lire frying- with an onion cut line; when fried to a crisp put the liver in, cover tightly, let cook about ten minutes, turning often, then dredge well with flour, pour boiling water over till tho • liver is covered, put on the top of tho | stove whore it will cook slowly. Cook : three hours; a nice brown gravy will bo | done with the liver.—Womankind. Blackberry Cordial. Blackberry cordial is au invaluable home-made drink for bot-weatlier disorders of the stomach. To make it, squeeze blackberries enough to make a quart of juice, add.to it a pound of loaf sugar and let it dissolve, heating It slowly. Add to it one teaspoouful of cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg. Boil all together twenty minutes. On removing from the tire add a wineglass of brandy. Put in bottles while hot and seal. Use a teaspoonful for a glass of Iced water. I : Stringbeans for Winter Use. i | String the beans and cut them up in ; i as thin pieces as possible. Tn the bottom H of a stone crock put a thick layer of ; ! salt, then a layer of beans, till the crock ’ i is full, taking care that the top is covered with salt. Put the cover on, keep 'in a cool, dark place. I filled a three- ! gallon crock last fall and kept it in the ■ J cellar all xvinter. I used the last only ' a few xveeks ago, and they were just as good as fresh beans. Apple Charlotte. Rub the bottom and sides of the pudding dish well v.ith butter, slice stale bread thin and line the dish with it. Peel tart apples, cut in small pieces enough to nearly till the pan, scatter- ■ Ing bits of butter and sugar well ' through it. Soak slices of bread enough to cover the apples, put a plate over to keep the bread close to tho apples. Bake in a quick oven. —M omankind. Tarts. When piesnre to be made, it is a good plan to make wore crust than needed t\T present use. and bake it up in shells ' for tarts. Bake in the gem pans. These ! shells will keep quite a while in a close tin box, and are handy for emergency to heat a moment-in tlie oven, then fill with some nice jam or jelly. They make a pretty addition to the tea table. —Womankind. Delicious Raised Buns. Use one quart of milk; boil one pint of it. Add to the whole quart a piece of butter tlie size of an egg, two-thirds of a cup of sugar and txvo eggs beaten together, one-half a cup of currants and one-half a cup of yeast. Let the mixture rise over night.—Ladies' Home Journal. In wealth, Pennsylvania ranks next to New York, having an assessed valuation of $1,653,45D.016. owing largely to the enormous manufactures carried on within the limits of til’s commonxvealth.