Bloomington Telephone, Volume 8, Number 35, Bloomington, Monroe County, 1 November 1884 — Page 2

THKOSOPHIC MABRIAOK BXBSNBYX W. DAK. She was a theoeophic miss Who sighed for sweet N urvana; She talked of esoterle this And that, In mystic manner. She wore a wide and psychic smile, Used diction transcendental. Two suitors her besieged meanwhile ' Both softly sentimental. The one, he was a drummer bland, Who wore a lofty collar; Be knew not things were hollow, and He chased the nimble dollar. The other was a soulful youth, Who talked of things symbolic; Enamored quite of inner truth And predisposed to colic The one, he talked of common love, In tones that made her shudder; The other soared with her above To misty realms of Buddha. She sent the first upon his way With snns unmitigated Upon the other smiled, and they By Hymen were translated. FOUB TUBS LATKB. Within a lofty Harlem flat She's found her sweet Nirvana; She does not think of this and that As marshy zephyrs fan her; See dreamily wipes Buddha's nose And spankethZoroaster, And mends their transcendental clothes, Torn by occult disas.er. Her adept husband still can solve The mysteries eternal, But for some reason cant evolve A salary diurnal. He still floats on to cycles new, But fills his astral body With not the Cheeiah's milky dew, But Jersey apple toddy. She eloquently mourns her life And objurgates her Latin, To daily see the drummer's wife Drive by her clad in satin. She has been heard, in fact, to say When somewhat discontented, "Thoueh 'osophias" hold social sway. Though 'ologies enjoy their day, I thtxik, in love, the good old way By far the best invented." The Century.

Joe Barrett's Confession. One 17th day of August, not many years ago, a party of four, consisting of Joe Barrett and his wife, their most in timate friend, Philip Somers, and Miss Hand Mortimer, a young lady they hoped he might be induced to consider the future happiness of his existence, stood quite alone upon a narrow strip of sand on the Long Island coast, not far from the great metropolis. Joe Barrett and his wife had long ago been given by their relatives and friends, and the genial circle of society they adorned, as an old-fashioned couple that prolonged their honeymoon to a most unprecedented and unheard-of period. They had lately celebrated their silver wedding, and for the amuse ment of others and the romance for themselves would have gone through with the original ceremony again had it not been for a serious obstacle. The clergyman was still alive and vigorous for his years, and Phil Somers, Joe's best man at his wedding, was yet his best friend, but the pale, pretty little bridesmaid had vanished long ago off the face of the earth, and become one of that shadowy band to which "we call, and they answer not again." There was a rumor that if she had lived she would have become the wife of Phil Somers, thus making the happiness of the four complete. It was currently believed that because of this tender and romantic episode of his life, Phil Somen had remained a bachelor. In his younger days this apparent halo

of soft regret and unappeasmg longing lent a melancholy grace to his already pleasing exterior, and many a damsel endeavored to console him. But although he waa gentle and even chxvalric to all womankind, he remained, to all matrimonial intents and purposes, unconsolecL And here he was, a bachelor still, 50 years old, getting rather grizzled about the temples and crow-footed about the eyes, bronzed by his partiality for the open air, thin but muscular, tall but straight; while Joe Barrett 'and his wife might pass for "fat, fair and forty," though they were not so many years Phil's juniors. And here they were, plotting as lively as ever for Phil's connubial bliss. The present victim of their, toils, although no longer in her first youth, would have seemed so in any other light but the critical one of sun against sand; and now that thick bands of gray clouds lay heavily across the sky, tempering the brilliancy of the sun's rays, and the young lady had pulled her veil about the outlines of her face, Miss Mortimer seemed at the heyday of her charms. While waiting for dinner, which was in process of preparation in a long, low hostelry a dozen furlongs or so inland, they had strolled down to the water's edge, and, true to the plan in hand, Joe Barrett had pulled his wife's chubby hand through his arm and trotted her away from Phil and the young lady. "Let's leave them alonu together for awhile," said Joa "It seems a propitious time for love-making, and I hope .something will come of to-day's trip, Polly ;Fm getting awfully tired of working like a pack-horse for Phil's happiness. While strolling along they indulged in a spirited conversation about Phil and the matrimonial projects in which they had been engaged on his account. lAt last Joe remarked, looking fondly at his wife: "I'd be the happiest fellow in the world if Phil could be happy too. His wife shook his arm impatiently. "See here Joe," she said, "I think you ase absurd about Phil Somers, and you may as well understand, once for all, that if this thing falls through Fm not going to bother about his marrying at alL If s none of your business or mine. I don't believe he wants to marry, anyway. Some natures are so constituted that they can only love once, and I believe all the love Phil had to give any one was squandered long ago on our dear little bridesmaid. After all, there's aomething very sweet and touching in Jus remaining faithful to the one memory all these years." Joe shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He picked up a stone and sent it savagely whirring over the

water. "Polly," he said, "I think 111 take a plunge in the sea. It will tone me up, and give me an appetite for dinner. There's a bathing suit in (me of the little cribs behind us." i "Look at that big black cloud, Joe. ! I won't stay in long, Polly. He gave his wife a tender squeeze, looked down upon her with an expression that seemed to say he'd kiss her if it wouldn't shock Miss Mortimer's sense

of propriety, ran up to the bathinghouse, and, to the surprise of Phil and Miss Mortimer, presently disappeared in a huge green wave that covered them with its spray. "Joe is a regular water-dog," said Phil. Miss Mortimer made no reply. She had not come down to the seashore that day to listen to laudations of Joe Barrett and his wife. Miss Mortimer felt that she had no time to lose, and was resolved to waste no time upon Joe Barrett's maritime proclivities. Phil, however, kept his eyes upon Joe as he swam out to the open sea, and went on talking about him without requiring any special reply. "Joe is a little impulsive and reckless, perhaps," said Phil, "but he's a capital swimmer9 "It is growing cold," said Miss Mortimer, contracting her shoulders in that graceful way that some women have of making even a shiver attractive. Phil remembered with remorse that her wrap was hanging forgotten upon his arm. He hastened to put it about her shoulders, but the wind, which was rising to a gale, made the effort a prolonged one. "Don't you hate the wind?" said Miss Mortimer, coquettishly, "I am never ungrateful," said Phil, capturing the ends of the shawl again, and holding them fast this time about her slender form. A keen look of incipient triumph flashed from Miss Mortimer's eyes. Phil's words always seemed to mean so much more than they said. And she could not, unfortunately, see that his eyes were still looking fixedly over her head upon the water beyond the surf: A shaft or two of wild light flashed down upon the scene. An omnious rumble from the clouds mingled with the roar of the sea. Suddenly the earth and sky were enveloped in a blinding glare. In this spectral light Phil distinctly saw Joe Barrett fling his arms wildly aloft and disappear in the darkness. Phil threw off his shoes and his coat as he ran to the sea, and Miss Mortimer had great difficulty in rescuing his vest, which was nearly carried out by a returning wave. Her costume was drenched with a spray and she nearly lost her footing, but she saved the waistcoat, which contained Phil's watch and other valuables. Then she harried to the shelter of the bathing-house, for the rain now begun to fall heavily. Through the blackness of the storm she saw the white face of a woman. Miss Mortimer knew it was Mrs. Barrett running wildly down to the water, but she attempted no remonstrance. She had made up her mind that of the party of four that went down to the sea that day two would probably never return, perhaps three. If was impossible to say what might happen where such impulsive people were concerned. Some men from the inn were now hurrying to the tioene of peril, and, finding it impossible to induce Mrs. Barrett to seek shelter, had thrown about her a rough tarpaulin, from the harsh folds of which her haggard face and wind-blown hair was a sorry sight to see. The two bodies were now coming in atop of the foaming surf, with no help or hindrance of their own, and, closely locked together, were swept swiftly ashore with other prey of the elements. They were narrowly rescued from the greedy maw of the returning wave, and carried with all speed to the little inn, where everything was in readiness to restore consciousness to the one and foster it in the other. The storm passed, away .as sudden as it came. The pale glow of twilight deepened into night. There was no moon, but the stars shown over the hay and harbor, and the dusky little promontory. To look at the gentle ripple of waves lapping lazily along the soft white sand Phil could hardly believe that so little time ago two men had been done almost to their death. He could scarcely stagger out into the wooden porch of the inn to breathe the cold, sea-scented-air. And as for Joe, God only knew what would befall him. He had been brought back to life, but not to consciousness. Polly had managed to get word to the town physician, but the way was long and the sand was heavy. It must have been about midnight, Phil could not tell the exact time. His watch was in his waistcoat, under Miss Mortimer's head, hi the bed of the landlady. Phil had told them not to awaken Miss Mortimer, under no circumstance; he was so glad that she was asleep and it would be impossible to say how glad he was. The latch of the door clicked behind him. Phil's heart sank. He was afraid Miss Mortimer had, after all, been awakened. But a faltering, uncertain step reached him, and the cold little hand of Polly Barrett clutched his arm. Any one but Phil would never have known her. The last remnant of her soft round comeliness seemed swept away with the storm. All her womanly crimps and fripperies were gone. She wore an ill-fitting gown of the landlady's. Her whole face was of a wan gray pallor, like -he waves under the cold light of the stars. "Is Joe better?" stammered PhiL "Does he know w "He knows everything and perhaps he's better. Oh, Phil! PhiL Polly repressed her sobs and motioned Phil to the door. "He is determined that I

shall try and get some sleep and you shall watch with him for a while. As if I could go to sleep ! But go to him, Phil; don't thwart him go 1" Phil went in to Joe. He will never forget the low-ceiled room, the two wooden chairs, the pine table whereon a mop of ragged wick flared from a saucer of oil, the oottle of liquor within reach, and the coarse green glass, the grim old clock in the corner, ticking off the seconds, and Joe's ghastly face and motionless form upon the camp cot in the corner. Joe tried to stretch out his hand to Phil, but it fell back heavily upon the patchwork quilt of the landlady. You did your best, Phil," he said; "you brought iae ashore, but the trouble was done out there; something seized me, God knows what paralysis, cramps, palsy who can tell ? Anyway I'm done for old man. I can't move a muscle below. It's a mere question of time, Phil, and we can't afford to lose any."

"I hope you're wrong, Joe; we'll know better when the doctor comes. You were right not to tell Polly, But she must come to you, Joe." Phil would have gone at once for Polly, but something in Joe's face held him back. "Hold on a bit, PhiL I didn't send for you and drive Polly away to tell you something that you'll both know soon enough. There's a burden on my conscience, Phil ; it's been lying there like a plummet of lead all these years. Listen to me, and don't interrupt me if you can help ii Give me some of that stuff from, the bottle, and when I grow weaker give me more.'1 Phil lifted Joe's head and put the glass to his lips ; then he sat down upon the edge of the cot, leaving his arm between Joe's neck and the pillow. Joe could feel Phil's pulse now, and the loyal heart of his friend beating close to his own. "It's twenty-five years, Phil," said Joe, "since that night we drove down to the shore here and had that talk together. You remember it Phil?" "Yes, Joe." "Ah ! you've remembered it too well, Phil; I've tried hard enough, God knows, to make you forget. The sun was sinking oyer yonder in the west, and sky and sea were all aflame. Some fleecy clouds dropped low over the old shed where we had ordered some clams. I remember when I saw Polly that night. The dress she wore was like a stab to me; it was of some soft, floating material that reminded me of the woolly clouds over the old shed. You didn't eat the clams, Phil, you dallied with the shells and turned them over with the queer, old fork they had given you. And all at once you put them aside and lighted a cigar, and turned your face to the sea, and began to talk of a woman ycu secretly loved. Now give me some wine, PhiL" Phil put the glass again to Joe's lips. "Don't talk any more, Joe," he said. Let me go for Polly." "Not yet," said Jog. "You were a handsome fellow, Phil, twenty-five years ago. As you went on to talk of the woman you secretly loved, some sort of a light shone upon your face from the splendor in the west that made it like that of an archangel. It seemed to me that no woman could withstand you, My heart grew like a lump of ice. My first thought was to w alk out into the water and strangle myself ; my next was worthy of Judas Iscarioi. It was a resolve to betray you. I must have been tempted by the devil, for, as God is my judge in this awful moment of my life, I never dreamed before that night that you and I were in love with the same woman. I got upon my feet and shouted, 'She is mine!' glaring upon you with a dogged, resolute stare. 'Have you, then, asked her to marry you?' you said, and your face still looked like an archangel's, while mine must have been inflamed with the paaaions that beset a man beyond his strength. As I repeated, 'She is my promised wife,' the words seemed to leap from a throat of fire. It was the first downright, hideous, malicious lie I ever uttered, for I had not asked her I had not yet asked her. But when I did ask her, upon that very night, the nest lie slipped easily from my perjured throat, though it was a worse one by far. For I told Polly, Phil I told her before I asked her to marry me that you had confessed to me your love for her friend, the poor liltle girl that afterward became our bridesmaid. Whether it was my guilty conscience, that makes hell enough for any man, I fancied I saw something in Polly's eyes that told me, had it not been for my treachery, your chances would have been better than mine. Now take your arm away from my neck, Phil, and curse me if you will my story is done." The pulse of Joe's ear leaped and tugged as if it would burst an artery, but Phil's voice had the old tender ring. " Jf on might have spared yourself all this," he said. "I think Polly has proved who it was that she loved." "Ah, after that night, Phil, yes. Polly is not fcfce kind of woman to make the misery of men. But I cheated you of your chance I cheated you of your chance." "Be it so, Joe. I forgive you, and love you all the same. Now, throw off the burden and live for Polly's sake and mine." "Too late, too late," faltered the failing lips. They refused to touch the glass. The limp body fell back almost lifeless in Phil's arms. Then Joe aroused himself once more and called for Polly in a harsh, strained voice, that reached her despite the roar of the sea. She fiew to his side, but was only in time to catch a few indistinct, disjointed sentences. With a last effort the dying man lifted the hands of his wife and his friend, and joined them together, clasped his own about them, and so the three remained till the soul of Joe Barrett fled. "And if there could be such a thing as witchcraft," said Miss Mortimer to some friends the other day, "Joe Barrett's widow would have been burned at the stake long ago, She was pretty well on in years when Joe died, and I'll leave it to anybody if she don't look like a blonde mummy now. Phil Somers has that air of distinction and elegance about him that he might marry almost anybody; Joe Barrett's widow is old and ugly, and sick and poor, but I shouldn't be at all surprised if Phil Somers would marry her yet." Harper's Weekly. A Quick Poison. Jones "Talking about tobacco, I know a man who did not live three years after he began using it." Smith "Great St. Nicotine! You don't say so?" Jones "It is the solemn truth, I knew him well." Smith, (throwing away his cigar) "Mercy! How old was he when he commenced the use of the poisonous weed?" Jones Ninety-one." Philadelphia Call i To LOOK back to antiquity is one thing, to go back to it another If we look back to it, it should, be as those who are running a race, only to press forward the faster and to leave the beatm still further behind. Colioru

HOW LONDON DIMS.

Specimens of High and Low Living in the Great Metropolis. A correspondent of The Brooklyn Times writes as follows : Being bidden to one of London's civic dinners, I partook inter alia of lark pudding. I do not think it is a shame to put the lark which "at heaven's gate sings" into a pudding, but being in a pudding the lark is exceedingly nice. I am told that lark pudding is quite as expensive and doubly as rare as birds'-nest soup, and certainly the unanimity with which the guests, on the occasion I refer to, called for it bears out the suggestion. Perhaps Delmonico himself could not have suggested a rarer menu than that which the Shipwright's laid before us. The lord mayor as fine and yeomanlike a specimen of Englishmen as one would wish to see occupied the guest's place of honor, and at such times as I dared furtively to raise my eyes in the direction of that dignitary I thought I saw that he enjoyed the repast exceedingly. Certainly it was a gorgeous affair, from the soup to the iced pudding, and afterward to the cigars (great fat fellows of that deliciously loose and crumbly make about the end that domestic workmen cannot imitate). The wines, too; the fragrant hocks and mellow clarets, the dry champagnes, the rare old ports, the nutty sherries, the thimbleful of oily brandy, and the accompanying gulp of coffee ! That is one way in which Londoners the great corporations and city guilds dine. Let us see. At the height of that banquet it must have been 9 o'clock. From the majestic Mansion house, which sees literally hundreds of such dinners during every lord mayor's term, to the New cut, is but a short distance. Here, as indeed in all parts of London, there are served up at 8 o'clock precisely, in the ham and beef shops, liuge dishes of boiled beef, baked pork, and pease pudding. It is not too much to say that 100,000 families in London take their evening (and heartiest) meal from these shops, carrying home thr eaming viands in hot basins, at a cost of from one penny to, say. ninepeiice each family! (Two to 18 cents.) The meat, of course, cannot be obtained for this smaller sum, but a huge platter of pease pudding may, and there is no dish more wholesome and sustaining. To the very poor not to the poorest, poor creatures, for they are unable to obtain even this cheap food frequently the hot joints and hot puddings served from 8 o'clock until midnight, and the savory saveloys that are taken steaming from the boiler, are a great boon. Many of the establishments in which they are served have also a midday hot lunch (none being allowed to consume their food on the premises,) but for the most part the morning is occup:ed by their proprietors in cutting and preparing the meat for the great rush of the evening, in clearing up generally, and in cutting cold meats for such ss want them. I have often crazed with mute admiration upon the deft manner in which these gentlemen ply their long knives. They seem to be able to cut off a pound of meat without diminishing the joint. And to do it again and again. I am positive that I have seen them shave off a piece of ham tli at was no thicker than the paper on which these lines will be printed. Such as cannot muster enough money to indulge in a steak-and-kidney pudding, which costs anywhere from 4 to 10 pence, according to how much steak and kidney there is in it, and of what variety they are, can at all events find a healthy and cheap repast in the fried fish shop. There is a great plenty in England, and at all seasons of the year, of a fish called plaice. It is something like a flounder and something like a sole, but it is neither and has a distinct flavor. The fried-fish shopkeeper cuts this plaice in two, poppers, salts, and flowers him, and pops him into a gigantic vat of boiling grease In ten minutes he is done. Scores of thousands, especially in the winter time, are nightly customers of the fried-fish shop. I have tried plaice so cooked and have liked him very much. The great consideration about him. however, is his cheapness. A satisfying portion of fried plaice, for one, can be obtained for a single penny, while if the purchaser desires to spend more he can get at the same a three-cornered paper full of chipped potatoes for another penny & cents of our mor ey in all. Is it not terrible to think that :in this vast town, this innumerable caravan, there are thousands who can not often approach even this poor luxury ? The poor, however, have certainly more opportunities of obtaining cheap and nourishing food in London than in any other of the large cities certainly far more than in New York or Brooklyn. We will suppose, for example, 'that a man were landed ,in New York with but 25 cents in the world and hungry. How long could he support life on it? Certainly not more than two days that is to my before he began to starve. Twenty-five cents are a shilling and a half-penny of English money, and I think you will gather from what I have written that it would go much further here than there. For a pennv here a man may have a dish of whelks (a toothsome shell-fish) with pepper and vinegar, or two very repulsive-looking oysters, or in the winter time a cup of hot eel soup, or a meat or fruit pie, or a plate of mussels. Comfort of the Woman, to Small Things. Thousands of women drag their weary way through their appointed household toil and feel that life is not what they meant to make it. They say with monotonous intonation that is most depressing. "I get up early in the morning and bake and scrub and wash and iron, and get three meals a day, and mend old clothes and take care of the children and what does it all amount to?" It amounts to a great deal. There is hope, and joy, and comfort in the world for the woman of small things. It is true that a woman of discontented spirit can go through her daily work of sewing, cooking, and washing, in a monotonous, uninterested manner which reduces household work to the plane of an everlasting and slavish drugery. But it is unnecessary. It is safe to contend that there is a jjfenuine pleasure to be derived from any work that has been well done. There are some wo

men who seem naturally to dislike housework, but are nevertheless obliged to do it or let their families suffer from an untidy house ; now, if they do this work conscientiously and with some loving thought of what it is for, there is no drugery about it. A woman may hate to do cooking, but how can she help deriving a deep satisfaction and even pleasure from the row of shapely, light, and perfected loaves which she has baked, and which she considers will be digestible and in. every way healthy for her family? She may hate to wash and iron, but there is something delightful to her in the piles of clean and neatly ironed clothing, when she stops to think how this work of her hands will minister to the health and comfort of her dear ones. She may hate to make beds, sweep and dust rooms, and scrub floors ; but a tidy house can not be anything but a joy to her heart when she realizes how much the purity of the moral character is influenced by the neatness and order of the house one dwells in. Thus all the so-called drugery of the household is far from being ignoble when looked at aright. And as for taking care of the children, which is so important a part in every mother's daily life, what nobler work is there than that ? It is no drugery to wash the little faces and mend the little frocks, and train the little feet to walk in noble paths. Housework, when viewed aright, is the noblest kind of work. The most famous and exalted women of the world have not felt thai they stooped in doing it. Of course, women doing thir own work, especially if they are mothers, get very tired performing the multitude of tasks they have to do, and ought to have as much help as they can afford; but there is a class who are amply able to do a whole or a part of their own work, but who look upon it as a drugery, and feel that if they have to do it life is for them a failure. Despise not the days of little things. Doubtless many of you have heard this simile, and it ii beautifully apiropriate to the woman who feels that her obscure work is of no importance in the world; the world is one vast and noble edifice in which every living being has a part, the strongest and most necessary parts are hidden out of sight in the walls and foundations; the office of each is different, but essential; remove a single brick from the wall and the whole structure is impaired and laid liable to danger; we are each a brick in the wall whether we be placed so as to be seen or unseen ; if we do not faithfully perform our whole duty in our home and in society, so far as our means extend, in so far do we endanger the whole social fabric. It is not work, put thoughtless, aimless, indifferent work that kill the spirit and reduce one to slavish drugery. God pity the woman who can see no meaning in her work. There is some measure of thought and beauty in every thing. Let us open our eyes to see it, and raise life, however humble, above the spiritless routine of monotonous drugery. Minneapolis Tribune, The Peculiarities of Dogs. The fashion which cites the dog as a better species of human being, and depreciates men as if they were dogs gone wrong, is, as an English author calls it, "Unnatural History." Dogs, he says, are no better than men, and but for man would have been much worse than they are. They are very like men in their exhibition of the lower passions, such as anger, jealousy, fear and vanity. A bull-terrier, for instance, used to express its anger in accordance with the human precept. "When the boy hits you, hit the post," If a beggar came to the door, the terrier was frantic. Being restrained from flying at the poor man, he would rush out, as soon as released, and attack the gardner. At other times the gardner and tha terrier were excellent friends, but the dog, when angry, seemed influenced by the same nature as leads the husband to grumble at his wife's cap, because the morning news is disagreeable. A dog was jealous of another pet. In the course of time, the pet died, was stuffed and placed in a glass case. Whenever the dog's attention was drawn to his stuffed rival gazing at him with glassy eyes, he always snarled. A bull-terrier was a whimsical coward. He was ready to fight anything but an Indian-rubber cushion. When that was filled or emptied of air in his presence, he would go into paroxysms of hysterical screaming. The garden-hose filled him with such terror that he could never be coaked into the garden when it was used, nor would he enter the room where it was kept. An old setter once displayed such vanity that it was immediately soized upon to compel him to obedience. He would follow the members of the family, whenever they went out, no matter how troublesome his presence might be. One day the children tied a ribbonbow on the tip of the dog's tail. Everybody laughed at his comical appearance, which so mortified the poor setter that he retired under the sofa, and sulked for an hour. The next day the family were going to a croquet party, and the dog seemed bent on accompanying them. It occurred to one of the young ladies to try the effect of a ribbon-bow. It was tied on his tail, and immediately he rushed into the house, and hid under the sofa. When they returned, he was on the doorstep, sitting on his haunches as if concealing something, and refrained even from wagging his tail, lest the hated bow should be seen. A writer illustrating the fact that the dog is one of man's noblest servants and one of his chiefest triumphs, says : "In the beginning Allah created man, and seeing what a helpless creature he was, He gave him a dog. And He charged the dog that he should be the eyes and the ears, the understanding and the legs, of the man." It is stated that specialism is now carried to such an oxtent in London, as to lower the usefulness of the medical profession. It is, however, a matter of argument. The development of specialism is possibly due to a reaction against the former theory that the physician should know everything thoroughly. Tfte Current

SUGGESTIONS OF VALUE Linen table mats are made a ad linecf with canton flannel. Mantel scarfs are replacing lambrequins in small apartments. Old fruit stains may be rcicoved by putting the article in the sun ana bleaching for several days A comfortable-looking wrap to lay on a couch or sofa, or for uso in the carriage on autumn days, is knit in stripes of nine inches wide of blue and wine colored worsted. Steel knives which are not in daily use may be kept from rusting if they are dipped in a strong solution of soda one part of water to four of soda; then wipe dry, roll in flannel and keep in a dry place. Corn bread without yeast or soda is sometimes desired as an article of food; sift three quarts of meaL add a table spoonful of salt, and mix with just enough of water to make a thin batter. Cover this with a cloth and let it stand until it begins to rise, and little bubbles make their appearance on top. Then pour it into a well buttered tin and bake slowly in a moderate oven. Among other pretty ways to finish, the edge of a silk lounge quilt are these; Put a border of narrow ribbon on in strips, make a point on the end of each piece of ribbon, and under theso allowing it to show a trifle; below them put a ruffle of lace. The other way is to omit the lace and put a .tassel or small ball on each point. To any one so unfortunate as to be obliged to move it may be of value to know that canned fruit may be trans ported without fear of loss if the glass cans are securely packed in sawdust. This must be very firmly pressed down, so that the cans really can not move or be moved by the jarring of tho wagon or car. An entree specially designei to accompany roast pork is ma&o in this way : Peel as many potatoes as will cover the bottom of a deep pie-dish. Sprinkle half a teaspoonfui of dried sage over them. Cut a small onion in thin slices and spread them over this. Add salt and pepper and little lump of butter, according to your tastdw Cover the bottom of the dish with water and .bake in a moderate oven. Never throw away old paper. If yen have no wish to sell it, use at in the house. Some housekeepers prefer it to cloth for cleaning many articles of furniture. For instance, a volume written by a lady says: "After a istove has been blackened it can be kept looking very well for a long time by rubbing it with paper every morning. Eubbiiig with paper is a much nicer way of keeping a tea-kettle, coffee-pot, and tea-pot bright and clean than the old way of washing them in suds. Rubbing with paper is also the best way of polishing knives, tinware, and spoons; they shiie like new silver. "For polishing mirrors, lamp chimneys, etc., paper is better than dry cloth. Preserves and pickles keep much better if brown paper in stead of cloth is tied over the jitr Canned fruit is not so apt to mold if a piece of writing paper, cut to fit the the can, is laid directly on the fruit Paper is much better to put unde:: a carpet than straw. It is warmer, thinner, and makes less noise when one walks over it." Russia. Russia presents no beauties of nature except in the Ural Mountains and on the Caucasus. The country along the great railroad lines is as monotonous as a Western prarie, but less fertile. The cities of St. Petersburg, Moscow, Warsaw, Kief, and Odessa, specially uhe first two, contain all that is interesting to a traveler. St Petersburg represents new Bussia, Moscow old Bosnia. The principal sights in both are palaces and churches. They are filled to overflowing with treasures of silver, and gold, and precious jewels. The Winter Palace rtnd Hermitage at St Petersburg, the Summer Palace at Peterhof, the palaces of the Kremlin in Moscow are bewildering and oppressive by the treasures which unlimited power has accumulated for centuries. The churches, too, are overloaded with precious and glittering gold. The finest churches are St Isaac's in St Petersburg, built by .Nicholas I., the Church of the Lady of Kazan, modeled after St Peter's in Borne, and the Church of the Redeemer in Moscow, built in commemoration of the deliverance from the French in 1812, completed and consecrated in 1883 at enormous cost. The churches are crowded at the time of worship. The Russians are a very religious eople in the observance of outwtard forms. Their religion consists chiefly in lighting candles, blessing holy images, bowing to the floor, and making the ign of the cross over and over again. 'The worship of the Virgin Mary and of the saints, is carried fully as far as and even farther than in the Roman Church. Holy images are found not only in the churches, but in the houses, on public places, in railroad stations and telegraph offices, and no devout Russian passes them without bowing and making the sign of the cross. The chief services is the mass, which is performed with more mystery and dramatic display than in the Church of Borne, The singing is beautiful, but confined to the priests, deacons, and trained choristers; the people listen passively. The ever-repeated response, the Kyrie Eleison, or Lord, liavo mercy upon us, is exceedingly teaching and will long resound in my memory. Dr. ScTwff, in New York Ofr-server

Cutting,

Edwin "These confounded French duffers don't seem to understand their own language, Angy l Angelina "NoLs you speak it, loTa By the way, I would recommend you always to speak French in France when you have anything of a confidents! nature to impart to me before the natives. So many of them understand a little English, you know. London Punch The easiest way to mark table linen: Leave a baby and blackberry pie fclone at the table for three minutes. The man whose rule of life is polio? never knows the glow or the gUy of honest entusiasm.