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pspt?^ ' v i - - . , v C ' V ? • ' " V * ' • • • " ' ; ' ' , ; , : ; • • * • * * . % v ^ ^ ^ - l , . , , ? ' , ' 5 r " " ] 5 ' * n ' 1-^' ""'L... ..LIj::., ^.,-1 j.J;,W-»<.W.* ..>.: • >. •.*., : '• • •• . • * ' • . ; i • • • * . • ' • > . . « ' « * * * . , ' * , X / *1 ^fgicuti! gtainflcabf I. VAN SLYKE. Editor and Publish*. MdHENRY, I I ILLINOIS SACRIUCUK. ^tuf* Watked In the clover-hsnnte<t fhSMs* Aweary worldling ard dwiriiy chiid; He pa1 erl :> n <! worn with tbe love of self, J Bhr frcHh as the dew on tup n pi and wild. He stole the blu^h fromth,' sweet wiltl ron«n 4114 proved tha the niorntt'g* *rew lef>* lair; ThH a ifiint of poison lnrk'd in the bloom. And hnnir on th> breath or the summer air; That life in not as good us it seems; Tha fath an 1 vir ue rnr~r srrow; That the woim i« hid ne with greedy month At ike ht firt ol nil that we love or know, And a shade tell over the summer fields. And the snn in its b'-'ghtiios* seemed to wint. Her h'*> i'-' song fal'ere I--a'a*! for her. nit donbis crept infci t». e perfect strain. - ITf/f In £roicn in Harper's Magaiincn i» >,• I F.MR ' • DREAMING. • ' X1 1 ^ 1 1 1 1 1 {dreamed we two were friends attiftfr . \ A* in the day* Oi vore. * ^ , ; " Jnd aii life h Id of blioaor pala r i *•* . jCiimc b ok to me one* more: '"•* J**: flfo"<r lanchter, tinsririg clear and sweet, . .I ' ^Yonr dark eyes' ten<l r beam, * . •* Th- echo of yon" footfalls fl et, 7 • y V ^ # . W e t e I n t h a t h a p p y d r e a m . Ithere wss a snmmar in love's land, ' - W-'Phe j-kies were sk'esof June. • • "ifflFhile i-o««« blushed on either hand, yt»Heneath the trolden moon; " • ' ' ' ' Jnd ali the sadness of the yea-V v T 1̂. The frowns no smiles ccnld blolfci ' *i: *J:1 r'HfN> bitter doubts, i he crnel featsj. I': , V Were in that dream forgot. ','X v" t dreamed we two were friends again, •Z, ? , "*1 And net mv rtr*i\in to song. f • r V* r.^tlo *<*• might listen to the strain;-' - • 'That. s nchtyou'mid the throng; \Vir If hat yon might 1 tst. perelianoe might sigh, 'Whilst t«il" tf a R wonM s art, /Sfi To feel it with the last, cood-bje .... < •$£'.'^3; «B® ^oor faithful heart ®dream«d we two were friends again-- ' Ala*!'iwas hut a drc<im, - >•; i ' ̂ |bat fled when o'er my window-pane " < ' Awoke th» first red sunbeam. 7 Oh! aslt brlpht^ned on my sight; And trembled o'er the floor, •Si: Jrwhls: tied: "Vanish, happy light, : For J won'd dream onoe more." & Itiller in the Courier-Journal. THE WITCH'S RING. •i-'. t A very curious, straggling, sleepy old Tillage is Adingtune. Half a century behind the rost of the world, it still sits between the green hills of an Eastern State, with its,elbows on ife knees and its chin in its hands, mnsing on bygone days, when old King George held the land under sway and when, as its old folks sagely remark, things were not as they are now. There are a great many old people in Addingtune--in fact, very few die yonng there. The atmosphere is so dreamy and peaceful that excite­ ment cannot exist, and the wear and tear of the busy world is unknown, or at most only hums faintly over the hills like the buzzing of a fly on a sunny pane on a summer day. And so they still sit in their chimney-corners from year to year, and muse and doze, and dream, until they dream their lives away and take their final sleep. It was to an old crone of this description that I was indebted for my adventure. In the course of my idle ramblings about the village I chanced one day to peer over a crumbling wall and dis­ cover an old disused burial ground. The brown slabs were broken, pros­ trate. and scattered, with only here and there a forlorn, unsteady stone stand­ ing wearily, and waiting for the time to come when it, too, might fall down an rest with the sleepers beneath. Scrambling over the low wall I stooped about nmong the grass, pushing away the tangled masses of vines and leaves from t.lie faces of slabs that I might read the inscriptions there But the suns and storms of over 100 years had oblit­ erated nearly all the letters, so that only portions of names and dates re­ mained. Finally, down in a deep cor­ ner of the inclosure, where the weeds grew densest and the shade was dark est, I f<?nnd an old stone, which, iean- ing forward, had protected its face from the stores, and on fliis stone I read the words: BARBARA CONWAIL, BORN 1871), DIED 1730. AGED 60 TKAB3. Having been lawfully executed for the pract'co of witchcraft My curiosity was at once aroused. I inquired of several persons as to the liistory of this woman, but without .success for a time. Finally, however, I found an old woman, who told me the liistory of Barbara Con wail, as it has l>een handed down by her auceatons: Living in an old stone house at the edge of the village, she was rarely seen --for np one ever crossed her thres­ hold--save when she was occasionally met by a frightened party of children idling away a summer afternoon's holi­ day in the woods, when she would •cowl and pass away, stooping along over the fields, gathering herbs with which to brew her mighty postions. No one ever interfered with her, however, vntil a sad year came to Adlingtune. An epidemic broke out and raged nrith a fury that nothing could with­ stand. People began to mutter that Barbara the Witch was the cause of it. Passing along the road she was stoned a party of boys, to who she turned, and shaking her bony hand, shrieked •that the cur^e was upon them. Two of the lads sickened and died in a few dajfe, and though scores were carried away in a like manner, no espec­ ial import was attached to their death. Barbara began to be watched. They looked thvough her windows at mid­ night and found her bending over a seething cauldron, throwing in herbs, mattering cabalistic words, and stir­ ring the mixture with what they re­ ported to be a human bone. Old*Bar­ bara was working her charms. So when one morning a man came into town, bruised and covered with mud, and testified that as he rode past old Barbara's house at 12 o'clock the night before, he saw the Arch Fiend And the Witch in conversation upon the house-top, surrounded by flames and laughing fiendishly in the lurid glare as they shook their fists at the plague- etricken village sleeping below, his tale found ready credence. The fact that he was qp iiabi ual drunkard, and had on more than one occasion rolled from his horse in a drunken stupor and passed the night in a ditch, dreaming wild dreams, did not in the least detract from the belief of the villagers in his account of this scene; and when he related how this pair of demons had [>ouuced upon him, and had first tortured and tnen thrown him senseless into a ditch, their • indignation became uncontrollable. Old Barbara was tried,condemned,and hanged, though she protested in her in- nocenee to the last. The little sum of money found in her pos§$taion was used to buy that gravestone--as no one would <r<dare appropriate it--and to this dav if any one were bo d enough to go to her grave at midnight on the same day of the voar on which she was hanged and •ay,'"Barbara, I believe yon were inno­ cent," at the same time stretching out his hand over the grave, she would ap­ pear to him and place in hi3 hand a talisman. * "This talisman would bring good for­ tune a« long as he retaned it, bat at . mome time in his life the witch weald fMtarn to him and claim her own. Tlie old won.*n ended her story in a low, impre-sive monotone, whioh. with her earnestness and sincere beKef in what she said, almost carried convic­ tion to me in spite of reason. ^ As I sauntered away, ridiculing those ignor­ ant and superstitions found myself almost unconsciously wandering back through the old bnrfai (ground to the witch's grave. Carlessly glancing at the inscription, I was snr- lirised to find that very day was the Hi50th anniversary of her death, and still more surprised when the thought oc­ curred to me of watching at her grave that night. I ridiculed and scoffed the idea. Where was my boasted common toense and incredulity ? But, still re­ turning ever, came that wayward thing called fancy--and it conquered. The world was wild and weird that flight, when I stole forth from the vil­ lage. The wind was moaning through the trees, and sobbing piteously; the t>lack clouds were driven in broken patches across the sky, now letting down the moonshine and again shroud­ ing all blackest night, and making the tshidows chase each other about, and Steal around corners upon one in a man- tier that made me wince in spite of my- lielf. Climbing the low stone wall-- father nervouslv, I confess--I stole ftway through tlie old, down-trodden graves, pushing through the weeds and briars as silently as possible, and mak­ ing my way toward that dark, dYeary Corner where the old witch reposed. A (graveyard at noon IB a very different spot from a graveyard at midnight, especially if one is there to seek an in­ terview with a spirit. > I reached the place, and stood by the tomb. It still lacked a few minutes of 12, and as I stood there watching the moonlight flitting over the graves, I longed for a little ray to creep in with me. liut no--approaching and reced­ ing. and wavering all abodt me, it never touched this grave, but fled away as of­ ten as it approached, aa though fright-; ened at the black shadow forever lark­ ing there. Bv-and-by the village clock tolled 12. As the slow, tremenduous tone stole out on Ihe night the wind ceased moan­ ing, the clouds covered the face of the moon, the insects stopped chirping, and when the last stroke was finished the almost unbearable silence was broken only by my own breathing, which I strove in vain to suppress. The dark­ ness was intense, and I could see nothing. A terrible feeling of guilt and terror seized me, that I, a mortal, should be intruding there at such an hour. Melancholy I strove to speak the words I had been told, but my lips re­ fused to form a sound. Stiil I stood in that awful black silence, chilled with fear, until with a miglry effort I reached out my arm over the grave and grasped--a hand. It was only for an instant--not that, for it was jerked away in a twinkling-- but long enough to feel how warm and velvety it was and how small. Not that I lingered there to reflect upon these novel qualrties in the hand of a ghost, and an old witch at that, for you altogether mistake my bravery in sup­ posing it; but k was after I had cleared tlie old wall at a bound and was out on the moonlit road, walking at a rattling good pace toward town, that I recalled it beauty and youth, the touch of her hand when she welcomed her brother's friend would have enslaved me forever. Never had a touch so thrilled me since--since I held the witch's hand in the grave­ yard. The same peculiar shock passed village folk, 11 through me. and the memory of that spectral night came over me like a flash. But I did not start oat to tell a love story. Let me briefly say that I fell in love, hopelessly and ridoulously in love, and that I acted just like all lovers have done sinoe the world began. It dosen't matter much about a man'a age. At 27 he will conduct himself prettv much as he would have dono at 17, and so I wrote verses and f-ighed, and tor­ mented myself with a thousand hopes and fears, and grew hot and cold by turns, and wonderfully timid, and prid ed myself on concealing all, when, as a na tter of fact, the state of my feelings was perfectly apparent to all my ac­ quaintances. Matters were in this interesting state, when one day an opportunity occurred of which I availed myself with a degree of skill and presence of mind that I am proud of to this day. It all came about through my asking the young lady il she believed in ghosts. "I (suppose I should," said she, laugh­ ing, "considering mv experience," Leave a woman alone to make an evasive answer. Of course, I implored an explanation, and she related to me the following story: "It was about two years ago when a party of girls, just home from sohool, were visiting a friend down in the coun­ try. One of the girls had heard a fool­ ish old story about a witch's grave, and some nonsen o about her annual ap­ pearance, and a talisman, and when 1 expressed my incredulity, they braved me to put it to the test. What is the matter? The place? A little town called Adlingtune. "Foolishly I accepted their challenge and received a terrible fright. I carried out the instructions and stretched my arm over tlie grave. It was so dark i could f-ee nothing, but some one seized my hand. I wa; so benumbed with fear that I could not cry out, but could only fly through the lonely graveyard to where my trembling companions were awaiting me in the field. It was a fool­ ish adventure, for I fell ill, and it cost me a valuable ring, which was left to me by poor Aunt Barbara. 'For her little namesake,' she said, when she sent it across the sea to me. You see, the ring was a little laTge for my finger, and was pulled off by--by--"" "By me," I interrupted, taking the lost ring from my pocket. It was time for Barbara (I forgot to say that was her name) to be started now. I hope I may say that I came out strong on that occasion. I told my story in a very impressive way, lingered over the effect of the witch's hand on my heart, spoke of tho good fortune the talisman had brought me, made a very pretty allusion to Barbara tlie Witch re­ claiming her own--for she was aot a witch, after all, as I could testify, hav­ ing felt her charms--and finally not only offered to return the ring, but to give myself into tho bargain. She took both--F. K. II., in San Francisco Arqonaat. . # y • From a state of intense cold I had changed to burning heat. The touch of those soft fingers thrilled me through as with an electric shock, and I walked faster still in my excitement. Gradual­ ly the consciousness forced itself upon me that 1 held something in my clenched hands. There was first a glitter and then a sparkle, as the moonlight fell into the hollow of my upraised hand, and I saw there a glittering ring set with flashing stones. The icicles began slipping down my back again, and I hurried on. Some persons may be inclined to de­ ride my nervousness on this occasion, but I assure such that I am not natural­ ly a timid man. I have a medal hang­ ing in my room at home which asserts that I am not a tiufid man, and above all I had always been particularly void of superstitious fear; but truth compels me to say that I not only lighted ail tlie lights on reaching my room at the little inn that night, but turned them very high into the bargain; and that I made a systematic inspection of all the closets and removed from its peg a long cloak that was hanging in a very suggestive position on the wall. This done, I sat down--with my back against the wall-- and examined the ring. It was a quaint old ring, curiously carved and massive. The setting was composed of several small colored stones set in a circle about a large dia­ mond. My financial circumstances had rendered it unnecessary for me to ac­ quaint myself with precious stones and their values, so that I could only sur­ mise that the ring was somewhat val lia­ ble. Considering the excited condition of my nerves by this time, it was not Btrange that I should «tart when my eyes fell upon the name that was in­ scribed in quaint letters inside the ring "Barbara." = > I sat and mused upon the whole ad­ venture--what the crone had told me-- the graveyard, the ring, and (this was returned to me the oftenest) the thril­ ling touch of that soft hand in the darkness. Perhaps I should say right here that I called myself an old bachelor, and had never been in love--that is, with any mortal. I did not think that I was devoid of sentiment or feeling, for I often dreamed of love and worshipped beautiful things of my own fancy, but my life had been thrown among boys and men, anil woman was far away and a mystery. A motherless home, a stern father, a hard-working student's life at college, a stranger struggling for bread and reputation in a great city--one can perceive how it could be that I had made few acquaintances among women. In reality I was only 25, but much ex­ perience had made me feel older; so, as I said, I called myself a bachelor. I have given this brief history of my­ self in order to prepare the way for an­ other confession. I was falling in love with the owner of that soft, warm hand. It is preposterous, lmt it is true. I be­ gan to doubt my reason. In vain I tried to remember that Barbara, the witch, was an old, ugly woman. The only picture I could call up was that of a beautiful young girl with--but words fail me; only she was far from ghastly, but was as warm and substantial and as full of life as that band had seemed to be. The fire-irons fell with an unearthly clatter, and startled me oat of my dreams. I went to bed to soothe my nerves with sleep, and lay awake most of the night with the lamps lmrning. Fortune smiled upon me frem that night. Two years of busy city life had passed, and old Barbara's talisman was unreclaimed, when one day--do you l>e lieve in love at first sight? Well, if the first appearance of Walter Wvman's sister had not conquered me as she stood under the parlor lamps, ft revelation of The Aristocracy of Brain 4. I am sorry to have ascertained, when I was in London, that a higher estimate is placed on talent in that metropolis than in New York. Here money is the chief idolatry; if r man have money he can have abundant-.social recognition, though he may be ignorant and vulgar, with the morals of a thief and the man­ ners of a boor. In London it is bad enough, but not so bad as this. Neither money nor rank holds first place; the crown of geuius is higher than any other. In New York a great artist or a fam­ ous anther has all the society he needs or desires, to be sure; but there is a large class of the vulgar rich who do not solicit the honor of knowing him, and feel that they can get along with­ out him. Neither Bryant nor Bavard Taylor was a social attraction in New York until long after they had ceased to do their best work. This was, per­ haps, fortunate for them. Robert Burns was spoiled by being taken up by a nobility, and feted and toasted at Ed­ inburgh. No working writer can af­ ford to be a social lion. In London and Paris men of talent are in the first rank, or at least it is op­ es to them, money or no money. Their society is courted. Barons, dukes, princes call upon them and climb to their libraries or their garrets. Such men are pushed into politics. No pub­ lic dinner can go on without them. The Princess Louise, an intellectual woman, seeks her peers without any care where fhe finds them. At the aharity art ex­ hibitions she puts on an apron and helps hang pictures, and no stranger Bliall know her from a commoner save by hearing her addressed as "Madame," a word applied tono English woman save a princes?. George Elio', spite of the irregularity of her marriage, was a wel­ come guest in the most distinguished homes in England, and to be Dickens, Rosetti, Arnold, Buskin, Tennyson, Jean Ingelow, Morris or Browning has for a generation carried ten times more honor throughout Great Britain than to be a member of the peerage. It is a pity that artists, actors, poets and nov­ elists, the real creators and benefaotor^ of civilized society, should have highetf recognition in England and France, in the midst of feudal institutions, than on this fresh young continent where intrin­ sic qualities ought to prevail.-- W. A Crojfut. His Worst Enemy. There was a little party up town tlio other night, and at one time during tlie evening there was a sort of pause. Nobody could think of anything to say, and if they did, they wouldn't. Finally some one proposed that a song be sung, bnt this seemed to fall flat too. After another long pause Erastus Plunkett got up and said that he knew a song, and would sing it. He did so, and everybody who heard him seemed to be affected with a desire to get mustard plasters and put on their stomachs as quickly as possible. After he was through there was a sigh of relief, and young Woggl< friend of his, took the blushing Plun kett into one corner. "Say, Plunk," said he, "who told yoa you could sing?" "Why--er--my--er--my chum, Ohol mondelv Plug told me I was a pretty fair finger." "Well, you want to lay for him and kill him as soon as you can, that's all. "Kill him! what lor?" "He's the worst enemy yoa ever had. --Evan8ville Argus. AGBICULTPRAL. •HKW horses are oompeHed to re­ main exposed to storms at this se%son the use of a rubbor blanket, with flan­ nel lining, will be of valuable assistance iu the prevention of colds and lung dis­ eases. Ix certain Frenoh beat-raising dis­ tricts it is customary to Bprinkle the young roots with liquid organic man­ ures. In other districts ammonia sul­ phate and nitrate of soda are used. The yield to tho acre is considerably in­ creased by this practice, but at tho ex- penso of the saccharine quality of the roots. GOOD grooming is essential to good digostion. Cleanliness of the skin is as necessary for the health of tho horse as for that of a man. The irritation of the brushing may be too Bevore. There is strong objeotion to the use of a harsh curry-comb. If a good stiff brush is used daily there will be no use for a wire-toothed comb or other harsh im­ plement. The rubbing of the "running gear" of a horse ii as essential as that of an engine. COUI:KSPONI>KNT Orange Oounty Farmer: "We know of no better remedy to destroy Canada thistles than a brood sow. Take the ring out of her nose and leave her to root and work on the field all winter in open weather and tonly sparingly fed and our word for it. l>y spring s!ie will have the job finished, If the seeding is extensive, then qmploy one or more brood sows, and it will be found to be one of the cheapest and most effective remedies for ridding a farm pf this pest that could be desired, for we have tried it to our entire satisfaction on several occasions.. SPEAKING of the excellence of the American merino sheep, Mr. William Hays, of Australia, who spent several mouths in this country on a tour of in­ spection, states that such is their healthiness and strength of constitution that ewes will raise lambs when past the age of sixteen years, and that he saw one twenty-one years old, the fleece of which weighed ten pounds. Diseases common to Australian flooks, such aa fluko, anthrax and foot-rot, are un­ known among the American sheep, which is due to generous feeding and careful housing. Exposure to weet is not allowed, and the best care is given. CLEANLINESS IN THE PIOPEN.--The liog does not perspire to any apprecia­ ble extent, at least excepting through the peculiar orifice back ot and just above the feet. When these are closed up from any cause, the animal soon be­ comes sick. For this reason cleanliness in tho pigpen is essential. The hog in warm weather will wallow in mud, but this will rarely or never close these perspiring apertures,' because it con­ tains enough sand or gravel to work it- keif out. But a hog should never be kept in pens so small that it is obliged to walk through its own excreta. If given half a chance piggie will see to it that its feeding and sleeping places are kept clean. PROFESSOR RICHARDSON states that among our wheats the highest per oent- age of albuminoids is 17.15, while a Rus­ sian wheat, grown in Minnesota, con­ tained 24.56 per cent., twenty-four different specimens averaging 19.48 per cent., the lowest percentage being 10.48. The wheat grown in the East is the poorest, and a regular gradation from East to West i? found until the Pacific coast is reached, where there is a fall­ ing off. The best grain is produced be­ tween the Mississippi River and the mountains. As the albuminoids are re­ garded as the most valuable portions of the grains its deficiency lessens the value of the crop. CERTAIN VARIETIES OF FRUITS.--Such, for instance, as the Concord grape, the Blackcap raspberry, Snyder blackberry, etc., will succeed and give a tolerably fair return of fruit under neglect; and for this reason they have been recom­ mended to farmers to plant. But farm­ ers should not from this understand that they are to be encouraged in neg­ lect. They as a class are too prone to neglect their small fruits; indeed many of them are so careless about them that they even fail to obtain fruit from these iron-clads. They should know that those above named are just like other fruits in one respect--and just like everything else, men and women in­ cluded--are very thankful for kind and generous treatment, and will make re­ turns accordingly. CULTURE OF WHEAT.--The greatest enemy of the wheat crop is too much water. It ,may be said that the wheat root is more susceptible to injury from too much water that many of us believe. Too be sure, there is a general impres­ sion that an overdose of water is bad, but the full force of the impression is seldom felt as it deserves to be. Water lying around roots does not always kill wheat plants, but many of the roots are j injured, and the few that are left are not able to do the work that all were intended to take part in doing. If any one will dig up a wheat plant in the spring which has stood all winter in a wet place he will see exactly how this is. Only living roots close to the sur­ face, and all below this may be injured. The English seem to understand fliis water injury better than we do, and provide against it on wheat lands by numerous furrows; in some cases of flattish land one-twentieth of the whole area may be oounted as surface furrows; and yet with this waste of ground, as some would say, they brat us considera­ bly in tho number of bushels they get per acre. It is supposed by many that whether we have a good wheat season or a bad one depends more on the quantity of grain we get at various seasons, or of the condition of the ground or of the plants at the time the vain falls. If it goes away through the ground rapidly it is good for the plant, though in large quantities; but if it lies long it is an injur v. Thus, if a piece of land is rather flat and the ground is frozen deep and stays frozen after the upper has thawed, and rain or melt­ ed snow is let in, the frozen bottom keeps the water from passing away, and so injury results to the roots. On slop­ ing ground the water passes out on the lower position, and in these cases not so much injury results. There are, no doubt, many causes which conspire to injure crops; but this overdose of wa­ ter is very likely to be one of them, and it will be wise for all tho^e who are in terested in wheat culture to take every precaution to carry off water which may fall on the land. , Open ditohes or plow furrows, as many do; they are very useful to this end. Attend to this carefully, and it will be found that wheat culture will be as productive as it ever was. and will continue to be so.--Oer- maniovm Telegraph. Fio CAKE.--Two crvpfnls of sugat, three eggs, one odpfvlfef milk, half a cup butter, three cupfuls of flour, tine3 teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Bake in four layers. For filling, take one pound of figs fohopped very fine), a cupful and a half of water, and hftlf R cupful of sugar; and cook till soft and smooth. It will keep a long time, it top and sides of cake are iced. PUDDING SACCE.--A sauce, particu­ larly nice with suet pudding, is made by dissolving one teaspoonful of corn starch in a li'tle water; add to it a coffeecupful of boiling water, with nearly a cupful of light brown sugar; let this boil for ten minutes. Take one cup of tart cider, one tableepoonful oi butter, and the yolks of two well-beaten eggs; let them scald, and add to the boiling sauce. CORN CAKE. -- This rule for eorn bread must be carefully followed to pjocure the excellent possible result: Take two tablespoonfuls of Indian meal, two of molasses, one not at all heaping, one of soda, one and a half teacups of buttermilk, a good pinch of salt; thicken this until it is about like a thick paste with rye flour; bake in a moderate oven forthirty-five minutes. CHOCOLATE PUFFS.--Chocolate puffs, that are nice to mix with cake in the basket, are made by beating to a stifl froth the whites of two eggs; stir in with them gradually' two teacupfuls of powdered sugar and two tablespoonfuls of cornstarch; mix two ounces of choco­ late, which you have grated, with the cornstarch. Bake these on buttered tins for fifteen minutes in a moderate oven. They should be dropped on the tins from a large spoon, WHITE CAKB.--One of the most re­ liable recipes for white layer cake is this: One cup of butter beaten to a cream, with two cups of sugar; add one cup of sweet milk, three cups of flour, with two teaspoonfuls of baking powder mixed with it and the well-beaten whites of five eggs. This is also delicious if baked in a loaf, with a large cup of chopped raisins in it ; put.them in last, reserving a little of the flour to sprinkle over them. CREAM FRITTERS.--One pint of milk, the yolks of six and whites of two eggs, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, half a pint of flour, three heaping tablespoonfuls of butter, half a teaspoonful of salt, a slight flavoring of lemon, orange, nut­ meg, or anythiug else you please. Pat half of the milk on in the double boiler and mix the flour to a smooth paste with the other half. When the milk boils stir this into it Cook for five minutes, stirring constantly, then add the butter, sugar, salt, and flavoring. Beat the eggs well, and stir them into the boiling mixture. Cook one minute. Butter a shallow cake pan and pour in the mixture half an inch deep in the pan. Set it away to cool, and when cold cut it into small squares. Dip these in beaten egg and in crumbs, place in the frying basket and plunge into boil­ ing fat until they are of a golden brown. Arrange on a hot dish, sprinkle sagar over them, and serve very hot. Hnntfng Fish with Dogs. Captain Mayne Reid in one of his stories, "The Land of Fire," gives the following interesting description of a peculiar Fuegia manner of fishing: By this, tfoe four canoes have arrived at the entrance to the inlet, and are forming in line across it at equal dis­ tances from one another, as if to bar the way against anything that may attempt to pass outward. Just such is their de­ sign ; the fish being what they purpose enfilading. "Soon the fish-hunters, having com­ pleted their 'cordon' and dropped thef dogs overboard, come on up the cove,' the women plying the paddles, the men with javelins upraised, ready for dart-, ing. The little foxy dogs swim abreast) of and between the canoes, driving thel fish before them, as sheep-dogs drive sheep, one or another diving under at; intervals, to intercept such as attempt) to escape outward. For in tho trans­ lucent water they can see the fish far. ahead, and, trained to the work, theyi keep guard against a break from these; through the inclosing line. Soon the fish are forced up to the inner end of the cove, where it is shoalest; and then the work of slaughter commences. The dusky fishermen, standing in the ca­ noes and bending over, now to this side, now that, plunge down their spears and fizgigs, rarely failing to bring up a fish of one sort or another: the strug­ gling victim shaken off into the bottom of the canoe, there gets its death-blow from the boys. 'For nearly an hoar the carions aquatic chase is carried on; not in ait lence, but amid a chorus of deafening noises--the shouts as the savages and the barking and yelping of their dogs mingling with the shrieks of the sea- birds overhead. And thrice is the cove drawn' by the canoes, whioh are taken back to its mouth, the line reformed, and the process repeated till a good supply of fish best worth catching has been secured." HOUSEKEEPERS' HELPS. A RELIGIOUS exchange asks: "What is the mission of the humorous paper?" Well, one of its missions seems to be to furnish material for non-secular jour­ nals to steal bodily.--Texas Sifitng*. SARATOGA POTATOES.---Take raw po­ tatoes, pare them, and shave as thin*as possible. Put the shavings into a wire basket, and hold it in boiling fat they grow orisp and oarL 1 he First Idea of the Telephone. In a fairy tale written by the Brothers Mayhew, published in London in 1847, and called "The Good Genius that Turned Everything into Gold," occurs this passage: "Let their voices be heard At a dlsta oe n« vote.' oonld reach! And swiftly ns thontrht; I<et the words b« br^nirht And the Lightening e dov ed with|speech( "As the Queen looked up, she saw suspended above her a series of long metallic threads, which ran through the air till they were lost in the distance." 'You wished to speak with your htis- band," said the little Bee. "I shall be pleased to convey any message you please to him; and as I knew your busi­ ness WAS immediate and important, I thought the best plan would be to send it by lightning for yon, so that you might receive an answer by the next flash. What shall I say to him for you?" "Ask him if he needs the fairy dress," eagerly cried the princess. "It is done," said the Bee. And instantly the words went tearing through the atmosphere on the wings of the lightning messenger. And swift as a sunbeam the answer returned. An Impediment. X have a fearful sore throat this even­ ing, Adolphus," said Celeste to her latest masli, who was giving her more taffy than would load an express wag­ on. "But, darling, that has nothing to do with what I have been telling you." "Yes, Adolphus, it has." "In what way, angel ? " "I can't swallow all that stuff; that's how."--Merchant Traveler. THIS world and the next resemble the east and the west; you cann >t draw near to one without turning your back on the other. There cannot be a greater rudeness than to interrupt another in the ear rent of his discourse.--Locke. Love and Friendship. There Beems to be a popular belief in the law of the attraction of opposttes as supplying the matter of love and friendship--a law supposed to be based on induction, according to the true method of scienoe. But is it not simply one of those formulae which is true, when it is true, and no oftener? Does the appeal to experience prove any more here than it does when made use of by Iwlievers in what are called "special providences," who have a way of call­ ing to witness this or that special fact, whioh is held to confirm their theory, while they persistently disregard the more general facts, which lie right be­ side the particular one, and contradict the inferenoe it is desired to draw from it? Opposite natures do attract each other, there is no doubt; a man of phlegmatic temper, sometimes finds an irresistable fascination in a woman whose gay vivacity cheers and stimu­ lates him like sunshine and the birds' song; or, again,it is sanguine, buoyant natured man who is mated happily with a wife whose serious and discreet mind is the balance-wheel, insuring the safe running of the household machine. In­ disputably, there is an attraction, some­ times difficult to account for, between persons of contrasted natures; never­ theless, a nice observation will often 3how, I think, that dissimulations be­ tween husbands and'wives or between intimate friends are superficial, while the strength of the mutual attraction resides in an underlying likeness. A marriage which is truly such, or a seri­ ous friendship, involves a very close in­ tercourse, which to be sustained must rest on certain deep moral aflinitiesr--if there be also intellectual affinities, the union or communion will be stronger still; but such are not necessary, as the former are. Circumstances may play their part, and an important one in the formation of our friendships or the selection of our lifemates; but among persons of any depth of character, hoice as well as chance has to do with the matter, although the choice be often rather instinctive than deliberate. My opinions may agree or disagree with those of my friend; my sentiments may or may not correspond exactly with his; but that he should not he destitute of ideas and sentiments seems indispensa­ ble, if we are to find lasting satisfaction in companionship. The closer the bond, the more it becomes a spiritual or emotional one; the older we grow, the more we find that the stable affec­ tion our friend cherishes for us is pre­ cious above any mere similarity of tastes, pursuits etc., there may be be­ tween us, while at the same time we may perhaps remember that it was the delight of sharing those that drew us together in the beginning. The ready sympathy which springs up between high and noble minds, and draws them into lifelong union has its counterpart, I believe, in the mutual attraction of ' shallower natures. There is a tacit com­ prehension between such; and whatever their external, superficial contrast, their mere negativity of character be­ comes the tie, which is as real in its way as that uniting characters of posi­ tive weight and worth. A further evi­ dence of the truth of this view of the matter seems to be the fact that each of as finds it possible to maintain an in­ timate friendship with persons who differ greatly from each other in many respects. My friend A may be of an emotional nature, while B is reserved and chary of expressions of regard. The former is intellectually quick and fine, the latter of a slow and solid order of mind. Superficially, the two are most nnlike, and yet I, who stand between them--the- friend of both--am aware of that in each of them which is the source of my deepest feeling for them, and which, should opportunity for acquaint­ ance offer, would bind them together, as they are now separately bound to me.--Exchange. Tlnsli Times in California. The priceB of everything ran tre- Jiendously high in the year '49; so high, indeed, tSiat they sound almost incredi­ ble to people nowadays. Everybody in Sacramento lived in tents, most of them with only the bare ground for floors. You can appreciate the reason For this when I tell you that when I bought lumber to make a floor and front to my feent I had to pay $700 in sash for one 1 housand feet, and it wasn't very good lumber at that. A pie or a loaf of bread coet $1, potatoes were SI 1 pound, and onions $2 a pound, and in order to make an egg nog on Christmas lay I paid $10 for a dozen eggs. That was a holiday price, you understand. I turned my hand to building, and pat up the first house in Sacramento, the ma­ terial being adobe bricks. That these Qiinsy buildings were rather expensive, fou can imagine from the fact that I paid my bricklayers--met) who had [>een journeymen masons in the east-- 125 a day, and my hod carriers $16 a lay. I commenced to make real bricks, ind early in '50 Upton and I started the first lime-kiln on the coast, at White Rock springs. Until that got to work­ ing we had to pay $16 a barrel for lime, »11 of which was bought around the liorn. The first fire in Sacramento started in mv tent, just after the big Hood at the close of '49. One of my men was getting the place in order for return from a ship out in the stream, wd managed to set the canvass walls an fire. There were four kegs of pow- ler on the bed, and after that went off I never succeeded in finding a square inch jf anything we'd left in the tent.--San Francisco Call. Honey No Object. - "I am on my wedding tower," said a jountrvman, entering a Chestnut street Iry goods store, "and my wife is wait­ ing for me outside. I want to buy some jocks for myself and she is too bashful to come in." "All right, sir," responded the clerk, 'I will be glad to show yoa oar half aose." ' 'Well, you see," went on the country­ man. "a weddin* tower doesn't occur inly about once in a man's^ lifetime, fou know, and I don't believe in scrimp- <n' on such an occasian. So you needn't show me any half hose. Let me look it vour whole hose.--Philadelphia Calf. ' A t'onsciendons Dealer. 'John," said a merchant to his clerk, 'what are the latest reports from the srops ?" " The peach crop is entirely killed by the last cold snap; cherries badly in­ jured; blackberries and black rasp­ berries killed to the snow-line, and pears touched to some extent." "All right, John; order a lot Of new baskets with the bottoms a half inoh nearer the top than la-»t year. I am de­ termined to keep down prices out of regard to my poor customers."--Texan 8ijtings. Ladies of fashion starve their happi­ ness to feed their vanity, and their lore to feed their pride.--Coffcm. flTH AND POIHT. EATOTO onion makes one's breath strong. This is a hint to com sum 0- tives.--Carl PrcUeV* Weekly . The latest novelty is a line of street cars in Central Asia, drawn by camels. Every member of the Christian ohuroh should not fail to load the "camel liehL" --Paris Beacon. (( --"l am fond Of poetry." Ha 'Are you, indped; they are so distress- »ng. But then 1 am not troubled mtkBli with them, and ma does all the oeok- ing."-- Chicago Herald. A MAN in New York is writing a book entitled, "No Tongue can Tell." We'll bet our last year's socks against a pieoe of goat liver that that man n*4rer was married.--Neicman Independent. A FRENCH philosopher says a woniaa may Jove or hate, but she can never be indifferent. Guess he has never seen the look that comes over a woman's face when her husband a^ks if there is such a thing as a shirt batten in the house. A COUPLE of Vassar girls were found by a professor fencing with broomsticks in a gymnasium. He reminded them that such an accomplishment would not aid them in securing hush aide. "It will help as in keeping them in," re­ plied one of the girls. DOWN in Pennsylvania they have so­ ciables where you can kiss all the girls you want to at 5 oeat apiece. Pennsyl­ vania evidently believes in keeping down the prices on luxuries, even if they have to whoop it up high on dog taxes and other necessaries of life. A MAN down South hired an old darkey to work for him and never pud him. After three years of all work and no pay, the darkey sued his employer. During the trial the lawyer said te him: "Well, Uncle Pete, didn't the defendent pay you anything at all for your servioes ?" "You mean de boss, sah?" "Yes, I mean the boss." "No sah. I wu'ked foil dat man free yeahs, sah, an' all I got wuz fovrty fo' cents, sail, an' fo' de Lawd, I swah, sah, Pd a nebbah got dat, ef I hadn't a bin pow- ahful scheiney."--Merchant Traveler. A PATENT Storm Indicator has been patented. This is a want long felt. Now when a man stays out late all he has to do is to take his storm indicator out of his pocket and take observations before entering the house. If his wife is up waiting to receive him the indica­ tor will make it known by violent agita­ tion, and all the man has to do hi to keep out of the house. If she has retired and is asleep, the idicator makes it known by a soft purring simi­ lar to that of a oat. Then it is safe to go in; no storm brewing. This pocket storm indicator is indeed a great bless­ ing to the husband who visit* thfMBliib or lodge,--Peck's Sun. Josephine Pollard declare#! "The bold and the timid, the hawk and the Aonfe Astonish eicli other bv fallrnir in love. Oh. this falling in loye! This 'alllDp In lorel There's nothing so funny as railing in loref," And then again she says: "Oh, thi« falling in lorel This tailing in lov >1 There's nothing so upsetting a* falling in love!" We doa't know what Josephine's ex­ perience may have been, but we onee saw a man fall down two flights ef stairs with a marble top bureau, and he seemed to be getting al>out as much fun and upsetting out of the seance as ever we saw anybody get out of a breaoh of promise case. However, we may be too prosaic and realistic to appreoiate the true poetry of things.--Bnrdetie. OWED TO MT BOAKDINO H0VS& Air--Thtt Old Oaken ItHcket How dear to my puts; is the bearding-hem racket, Itscour-masb potato, its rra<«t beef so dry; Its dough-nut so hard that a hammer won't crack it; It's flre-proof, l>a-k-number, iWert-nprte pie. Oh, the piecrust sonlammy.so greasy.so flamnyf No pen can do justice to boarding house piel The "tea-dust" Bohen. and cbioeorr Mocha; The fradulent bread ma lnof papier The jrroeery cracker so freckled and nmoky; The burglar-proof butter, so brindled antf K ay Oh, the strong, long-haired bntter--so utterly ntter. Please call in the barber--or take It away! I am taking French lerareof mv present location; But ere I depart--f >r my landlady's eake-- At> k souvenir precious, of lasting duration, I'll have my boots half-soled with boardtn? liou>>e steak. Oh, the hichway is rough; aud the steak, sunt Is touch; It shall tramp while I lire, and then dsnee at my wike. --Texas Siftitfgs. Revenge of the (Ictban Dnde. A dudish young hosband in this city --I have to much pity for him to give his name--returned to his once pleas­ ant home early one evening, and as he entered the door lie was nearly struck dumb at the sight whioh met his gaze. He saw a little love scene going on be­ tween his fair wife and another dudish young man. Whether their boldness was due to the fact that the husband was a craven coward or not I can't say; but, at any rate, the affectionate pair •ontinued to embrace each other. The husband wanted revenge in some way, but he hadn't pluck enough to pitch into tho fellow who was enjoying "stolen sweets." Seeing his rival's silk umbrella in the hat-rack, he seized it spitefully, and, as he broke it across his knee, he exclaimed: "There, now, I hope it will rain real hard to-morrow." --New York Truth. Tie Art of Borrowing; When you want to borrow mone^jr from a man, chocse a time when his friends arc about him. Then walk up to him and say pleasantly: "Oh, I nearly forgot about it--can I depend upon you for a couple of dollars to­ night?" You mustn't wait for him to answer; add before he speaks: "Oh, it will do in a few minutes," as though you were interested in sometuing one of his friends were saying. If that man dosen't search his pockets for the mon­ ey he is a rara avis. Of course, if he hasn't got it, you embarrass him; bat you are less embarrassed yourself than you would have been had you been alone, and that is a great point, though not a lucrative one. But you ought to know your man before you ask him for a loan., Garfield on Insanity. Among the congratulations extended to Judge Paine, of Cleveland, for refus­ ing, in his charge to a jury in a murder trial, to recognize the plea of momen­ tary insanity, was a letter from Gen. Garfield, saying: "The whole oountry owes you a debt of gratitude for brush­ ing away the wicked absurdity which has lately been palmed off on the country as law on the subject of insanity. If the thing had gone much further, all that a man would need to seoure him­ self for murder, would be to tear his hair and rave a little, and then kill hia man. I hope you will print your opin­ ion in pamphlet form, and send it broad­ cast to all the judges of the land." THR century plant, which takes 100 yean to ripen in the North, takes but twelve years to mature in California and taken only five in Mexioo. _