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e .____s_-.._..__ HOUSEHOLD. FOB THANKSGIVING INNER. Selecting and Preparing the Turkey. Comparatively few cooks have anything to do with the line birds, though I have often wished I might give a few hints to those who have, When 'i have seen the care- less, bungling manner in which they are too often dressed for market. ‘ It is far easier to select the best when they are dressed with the head and fee-Z on : the eyes will le. full and bright. and the skin and joints of the fectsoft and yielding, whereas, in poor poultry. the lattcr are always dry and still. The skin should look soft and clean, showing layers of liglrtcolored lesh urnlcrnt-ath. The odor of wood birds is always perfectly sweet and clean; and when one has been drawn and smells other- wise; it should never be used. llcn turkeys are smaller and not of as fine flavor as the Walt; birds; the latter should always be ob- tained for roasting. After every pin feather liasbecn removed. singe oil" the hair by holding over a lighted paper, and then very carefully wipe the skin with a wet cloth; cut oil the head or neck as near the body as possible, pushing the skin down before you do it, so as tolcavc enough of it to cover the place, where the neck was cut off. Cut ofl'thc feet just below the joint : carefully loosen and take out the . crop without breaking or emptying it ; cut away the oil-bag at the back of the tail ; cut around the vent carefully and‘ then 'llp- ward under one leg far enough along the lowercnd of the breast bone to allow of the hand being inserted ;then, with your fingers, carefully loosen all the membranes which attach the entrails to the body and with- draw the latter in a mass, without breaking or tearing them apart. If this operation is neatly done, there will be no need of wash- ing the inside of the bird; only wipe it out with a wet cloth. \Vashing any kind of mutt should be fl.\'()l(t0(l if possible as it de- prives it of both flavor and nutriment by rev moving the natural juices. It is safest to cut oil‘a small piece of the liver .with the gall bludder'iu order to avoid breaking the latter, as it is impossible to \ “ash away the bitter of the gall ii broken. Separate the heart, liver, gizzard. lights and immature eggs from the entrails, and put them aside for giblcts. Put the liver in cold water; carefully cut the gizzard at the wide side, without penetrating through. the inner skin, thus leaving the inside whole to be pulled out entire. Scald and skin the feet. Fill the carcass with force-meat and sew up the cuts. Twist the points of, the wings around rrnder the back and fastcn' them with skewers or tie them, arid push the legs 11p against the side until the lower joints are even with the rump. Pass a skewer through the middle of the thighs to secure them, also fasten the ends of the legs close to the vent, using a large trussing needle and cord heavy enough to be easily removed after the fowl is cooked. Turn the neck skin over to the buck and sew it. \\'e are now ready for roasting, and,’ so far, this is the ordinary, time-honored way in which all good cooks prepare the bird ; but now comes the secret of my friend's suc- cess in always having her turkeys roasted a delicate brown and always juicy. Several long strips of old clean. white cotton cloth, four inches wide, are scw‘cd' together" and rolled up ; their commencing at the neck, it is carefully wound round and round the body, over-lapping it..only enough to prevent» fairy part of the skin: being 'ex'poscd.‘ ‘Scw' in places enough to make it secure. I freely admit that this is rather an awkward and difficult operation to perform Izbut‘oncc successfully tried, you will rrcvc ' again do otherwise, unless you belong to the favored class who possess a modern roaster and baker large. enough to lroldia turkey. These. are made of sheet: iron with a. cover, thus nrorc easily accomplishing the results secured by my more primitive and laborious method alllllllgll‘lulllf‘ lias,thc advantage of being availubfe‘fmll‘. Before putting in the dripping pan, rub tlroroughlyâ€"through the clothâ€"with soft butter. and occasionally bastc, during roasting, with the satire. A turkey of from ten to twelve pounds weight will require from three to founhours‘ roast- ing. When done, remove tliccloth. strings and skewers, pla.c'thc'fo'wl in your hand- :onicst dish, an‘l garnish with a few fried oysters. If the bird was rich in fat, you will need to remove some of it froru the dripping pan before adding the flour to brown for a gravy. Watch the. latter process carefully, lost it burn before vou add the boiling water. . (lru: "Home cooks add these to the gravy; still others use them in making force-rural : but I prefer them cooked as a separate :lis'i. Take the feet. when sealdcd and nicely cleaned. the headand neck. the heart, l'u'l'l‘. gixratd, lights and immature eggs, and boil all together until quite tcrr~ dcr; remove all bones and cartilage. chop the meat, and warm up in butter. moistenâ€" ing with some of the broth in which they vcrc boiled. .i 'l‘ur‘. l~‘oucrz-.\lr;.\r.â€"-Chop about three cupfuls of stale bread, and put in a bowl wit h four ouncesof butter. the juice and half the grated rind of a lemon, a teaspoonful of sal , a small amount of pepper, and twoi tr‘rlcspn-orafuls of any powdered sweet herb, you pn-fcr-~s;ry, parsley and thyme, these; Ewing the kinds most often used : moistenj :v". \ii:l~ ibcyolk-i of lwocggs. Eight or" no .yszcis, chopped, are adcliciousuddi- 1‘. :2. 3:” ore in no wise essential. I .‘. “il‘lvl stuffing is made by cooking the _ drsc: i‘ncd above. and. rifts-risen- so: leg highly with salt, pepper, chopped or panel mini, and some sweet herb. it is' t "l’r‘l';lll_\‘ mixed with three t-upfirls orE i'l‘ ijmwi 2-1 :l-r l'lr'ull. Lll'-.t".~‘ as Jr:r.r.v.â€"-‘.\'ash and boil 1 \‘ ‘3‘ utv :- " lrct'im in u pulp. with just enough \: 9. >‘zuzt‘\rlf‘: Yinirlurruiug. Then} I i: . .. .:iu~. in: ‘lel a colander or a vegetm ;. ‘- .l; :r: it sin-arm to rcmovo the skins? ,1, r‘-;:'.\: .5: auzfzy of granulated >:!;:’rl“. : .~ .i' Ii loll until a little lvc mixes .. ‘ .2: c. l'. ' upon a saucer. Mould‘ a - i“. individual ill-‘llt‘S Ul‘ ill-t i-l".j , lv ll :4 taken. lllt'lill‘1'r.t\£',iui ‘.. \' (ul‘l \let’l‘ [WW-2W». to: r :‘i _ . -â€"'l‘li\'rk<\::ving di .zrcQ . l“ 1 o: ;.s l‘ml'dl!‘ lulli' i. 'u EHI‘. .1Q fl 2 ' _‘.' l'.\‘_'il‘lll'.‘ l and occasional holidays. As such they are a most toothsomc appendage. “'he‘n I once tried to get the recipe of a cook having an enviable reputation for her excellent mince pies. she answered with surprise, “ Why, I never use one." And on being further (pres. tioned as to what ingredients she used, she answered laughingly, "\Vhy, child, I put in every nice thing I can findinthe house.” The. following recipe will rrrakc excellent mince meat, but it will also allow of’ your following my friend‘s plan, aird adding many another nice thing. Chop fine two pounds of tender boilcd‘beef, and one pound of beef- kiducy suet -.pare, core and chop line four pounds of'tart apples :sec-l two pounds of raisins, arid chop them a little : wash thoroughly two pounds of curt-ants :cnt one pound of citron fine : grate the peel of three earous and add the juice of one ; add also three pounds of light brown sugar, one table- spoonful of ground cloves, two of cinnamon, one of nutmeg, one of ginger, and one of salt. l’ut each ingredient, as you prepare it, into a mixing pan ; add one pint of will grape, cranberry or currant jelly, and enough of the uncut broth torrioistcn well. Then slowly but thoroughly cook all together, stirring continually lest it brrrn on the dish and dcs~ troy the delicate flavor. lly putting this in glass frui: cans, or small stoneware jarsâ€"â€" and if in ‘fne latter, covering the top with a half inch éflar'd ormolasscsâ€"â€"it willkeep any length of time. , Curse, FLAKY Prrt-Cut's'râ€"Is only obtain- ed by having both the lard and water very cold, and handling just as little as possible when mixing, never kneading or cndcavOr- ing to make i’t'lOok smooth. 'A pic having two crusts looks more (erupting, if a tablespoonful‘of powdered, sugar is sifted over the top of it before baking. Axon-nan (')r.n-1“.\snroxi:n 1)rsu~Usually found at the 'J‘hanksgiving dinner, and, in fact, at-most others during cool weather, is “fried cakes." Succcss in making these depends as nurch on the manner of com- porrnding as on having the right. propor- tions of the ingredients. Put the various articles together and stir" precisely as you would in ordinary cakcvmaking, only making it stiller; then take out. a small amount at once aird'mix justasvlittlc as pos- sible that you may roll it out and handle it. Use one cup of sugar, one-fourthqofa cup of butterfoiic cup of milk, one egg, two tea- spoorifuls of baking powder, and whatever seasoning you prefer. ' _ . , . I ’. ‘ . ‘. ‘- " . »'~‘ Dilutmg Milk for'Oream Raising. A cur-respondent is very sanguine in the belief that the item of'icc expense Will be wholly eliminated from the cost of future butter-making. He says it is pretty clearly proven‘ that by no process, not even the' separator, cam-we so nearly remove 'all butter fats from the milk, as by adding 33 per cent; of water at. (50 degrees and then settin" the mm or can-in water at the‘ same temperature. By this method it was found that all the - :ailable fats are forced to the surface in 'u'om three to five hours, and in each and cver instance'thc"fats. recovered, water free, were by weight in excess of any other system, and as compared with the ordinary process of open pan setting, tucrc was a gain in marketable butter of from a half to a pound and a halfcf butter to each 100 pounds of trn'ilk,."aecortling to conditions. The Vermont station has made most ex- haustive tests in this matter, and finds “ that. as effectual creaming can he obtained at .35 degrees as at- 40 degrees, provided the uiilk in the first case is diluted with orie- third its bulk of water at 13.3 degrees and is set'at 58 degrees.” \Vitli 375 pounds of milk set undiluted, and a like quantity of the same milking diluted, the ‘lattcr made lif'pomids of butter in excess over the un- diluted rrrilk. The use of water causes the milk to throw. up a m‘uch more dense cream, and in nearly every case the cream from diluted rrnlk, when water at 130 degrees was used for dilution, was sufficiently ripened to churn in eight hours aft ‘1' setting the milk. ‘ The later investigations go to show that cold water at 58 degrees is as effective in promoting cream rising as w iter at 130 de- grees, and the objectionul feature of rapid ripening of cream is avoided. At tl :3 but- ter schools of New York State this dillutcd cream raising is a feature of the instruction, and it was found in some instances that where fresh drawn milk from cows in the fourth month of milking was used that the cream was all up in sixty minutes when this milk was dillitcd 3.3 per cent. with cold well water, and that setting the pairs or ems in water only hastened the cream raising bv a slight. degree, and “ hardly paid” for the trouble. .____+â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€" i The Panama Canal. Very little has of late been heard cancer- ing the unlucky Panama Canal scheme. It is tructhat recently the report was circul- ated that the works were to be purchased and the scheme taken over by a syndicate, but this improbable tory,as might be expect- ed, has not been confirmed. There is being made. however, a seriousattcmpt to connect the Atlantic. and Pacific oceans by a canal through Nicaragua. The works have been commenced by an American company which promises to complete operations by 139?. The capital required is between two and three hundred rnilli.n dollars, a vast sum to raise even in the United States, espc:iull_v as the promoters of the scheme only count upon paying a 5 per cent. dividend. The waterway contemplated would be about 270 miles from ocean t') ocean. More their 100 miles will require neither dredging nor ex- cavation. while 4("Iinilcs will require borings v e below the sufacc of the water, and about ill miles will be canal proper through cuts of earth and trivk. The \\'ashirr_cton (luv- 1 crriuicnt have granted a ch trier to tin pro- moters of the d :sign. which, if successfully ‘complishcd, will stand upon the record one of the most notable engineering ;.~..iie\‘c:rreiits of the age. W-‘- _._ 9... -w" u ‘ ' I. “ TLri King Does. The youthful King of Spain has not been or: of the cradle long, but he appears to have a full appreciation of his position in life. (hie day recently he was served for lunch with tlrel‘urcast o! a chicken cut into frr'all pieces. He at once began to help hiirself without the aid of either spoon or :olk. "Fire," said his attendant gravely, “as never eat with their fingers." “ This _ ‘ reslmndcd his majesty, continu- i:._; iris meal. x. idea. and devoted my energies to the makingI of palatable ones, instead of the soggy, inâ€" ‘ digestible messes they too often are. Like â€"‘ many another good thing, mince pies should Baby Ashreas Thgnksuifinc, be used sparingly, only for Sunday dinners ' i '7 a a. an instant. While Mrs. Dobbins was greet- . , .ing her fat-her and friends, the train pulled Oh, you should have seen the Dobbins from 9 fly at the depot! They were all going to grandpa‘s' for Tiranksgiviugâ€"«such a lot of them. There was Mrs. Dobbins and her seven children and Mr. Dobbins. who was there to see them off, but could not go until the next morning on acct mi; of business. Tire children were so afraid of being left. tlrattlicyu'cre all at the depot anhour before- hand. They scrambled over seats, tumbled over Satchels and watched for: the train. They lived at. Jackson, about forty miles from Cherry Creek, the home of Mrs. Dob- v Bin’s father.“ " ‘ At last, they heard the train. And such a rushing for the door you never saw. There was Johnny. aged fourteen ; Maudie; i ten : Harry and Don, and worse than all, the twins, aged three years; and the bubv. ' aged one. He was Ashley “g ‘andpa's darl- ing.” It seemed a miracle how Mrs. Dob- bins evcrngor. her family seated quietly in the cars, brit she. did : and the train with a snort, started off toward graudpa‘s. The little ones kept climbing to the windows, and running to the. doors, while Jolrrruy a:d Maudie brought them back and set them down every five minutes. The twins were the. worst of all. How they did act! They were bound to stay in the aisle, and the brakcman. rushing through the car, stumbled over them and tirade some remarks not very complimentary to “ brats.” Harry and Don chased ‘the conductor through the ears to ask him if they were not pretty near to graudpa’s. He told them he “hoped so.” livery other minute. one of them would ask mamma, “ Ain’t \vc most there ‘1” The. baby was the only woll behaved one among them. He went to sleep and Mrs. Dobbins laid him in a seat behind her and devoted her attention to the rest of them. Calling them all around her, she said : I “ Now children. we are almost to grand- l l pa's and as papa is not here to help us, If will tell you what we must do. I must take Jet and Jenny, as they can not get off from the t-rainulonc. Johnny will take the baby and carry him, and Maudie must rnind the others. Then the whistle blc‘v for Cherry Creek, . nd Mrs. Dobbins got her children in a line, and with a twin on each side of her, started for the door, saying, “Now, children, follow me.” Through the window Johnny had seen his Uncle \Vill holding the horses, and, forgetting the baby, be rushed out the other door and was on the seat with Uncle \lel in out of the station and out of sight withlittle baby Ashley fast asleep in the seat. As grandpa‘s carriage could not hold them all, Mrs. Dobbins took the twins with her and the little boys and sent Maudie to Uncle “'ill’s team with Johnny. Maudie was so excited at seeing Uncle \\'ill and hearing1 Johnny‘s tongue run about the apples and nutsund other things they had, that she uevcroncc thought of the baby. It was dark when they left the train and all were l anxious for grandma’s supper. A short. drive brought them to the gate and grandma‘s light was in sight. She was watching for them and such hugging ands ki. ing us went on when the children gath- ered around grandma and the uncles and aunts ! They laughed and talked and kissed each other until grandpa suddenly asked : “\Vhere’s little Ashley, graudpa’s darl- ing ‘3” ' . . AI rs. Dobbins opened her mouth and eyes and screamed: “Why, Johnny, where’s the baby ‘5” and she grasped him by the neck ‘of his jacket and shook him. “Jingo ! Baby? Hain‘t seen him.” “011, my goodness? Johnny, didn't I tell you to bring him off the cars?” Johnny snatched his hat. and started for the station, while Mrs. Dobbins sat down in a chair and began to cry. Jolnmyran with all his might to the station and, going to the ticket agent, said: “011! stop the train quick for our baby‘s on it E" 1 But the agent replied: “\Vhy, my boy, the train has been gone nearly air hour.” “\Ycll, stop her anyway l"- Johnny cried. He then started for home, crying at every step. The ticket agent telegraphed to have the train stop and look for the baby. Meanwhile, shortly after they left the car, the little fellow awoke and sat up. Not a face did. he know. He stared around a :.-..'nncnt and then began to cry. “Bless me.” said anold woman just behind,_ “ If they didn’t forget the baby somehow; but no wonderâ€"such a lot of them, uvins = and all.” She took the little one in her lap and quieted him and sent for the conductor. The car full of people grew excited as the 1 little fellow cried for mamma. Atthc next station a drummer with more l heart than usual offered to take the next train back with him, to where the. family had stopped; but it was. a through express i which did not stop at Cherry Creek, but sped on to Jackson House, where leinet Mr. Dobbins. “\Vell.” said Dobbins, ‘what have you got there '2” “()h, I am in a Dickens ofa scrape. Somc- ’ body left a cr'iufoundedhabv in the cars and : l prmnised to take him home. aml now I what to do with the little don't know squirming thing. Something about its clothes struck Mr. D-ibbins as familiar. “ \Vhy, bless your soul Jack, that's my baby E" “ \Vcll, then. take the animal quick, for I never was sosiek of anything in my life," and he handed over the crying infant. Mr. Dobbins had just closed his store for the night, and he walked rapidly home. wondering how he could keep the baby alive until morning. He warmed some milk for it over the lamp and rocked it to sleep, and their sat down to wait for the morning train. which left at three o‘clock. “I guess I’ll have to have my children checked, if my wife takes them all off again with her," he said to himself. “I expect those twins made a rumpus as usual. I r ought to have gone with her.‘ All night long grandpa watched the telc. graph office. but nothing came. Mrs. I)ob~ l bins cried and then scolded Johnny and 3 then cried,and the house was in confusion, ’ until grand started on the two-thirty ‘ train f0 finduthc babv. \Vlicn he reached Jackson, he found that Mr. Dobbins had‘ l V gene on the train which he had fussed Corn. ing up. Nothing was heard of the baby. It was so early in the morning that no one had noticed Mr. Dobbins take the min. (irandâ€" pa telegraphed and imprired but .could hear a nothing. and sick at heart and discouraged, 2 he took the nine o'clock r in for Cherry , Creek again. His jolly face was extremely long and he kept a. kin ' himself what had become of “ grundpa's darling." He walked from the station to his house. thinking what a sad Thanksgiving dinner it would be with all that trouble on their hearts. As he opened the front door he heard their all laughingund talking, wliilc :a smell of roast turkcv floated out on the cool air. There, in the middle of the sitting morn, stood Mr. Dobbins tossing baby to the 'cciliug. whilethc wlrolc party laughed as they watclrrd him. never satdown to a Thanksgiving.dinucr, and as‘g ‘andpa said grace they all re‘turncd thanks that baby Ashley had been found all sifc again. and every two minutes the twins shouted: "l’a 1a bringcd ‘drandpa's darling" back adin, diilu‘t he, mammal" Henry Ward Beecher's Advice to His Son. The following letter from the late llev. Henry \Vard llcechcr to his son is declared on good authority never to have. been pub- lished. It is rcuriuis.‘~cnt of the worldly good sense of the advice given to Laertesby . Polonius, but it is also permeated by the lcaven of Christian experience. The pre- cepts in it are those which if followed would produce a good man as well as a gen~ tlcmun. Brooklyn, N. Y., Oct. IS, 1878. My Dear Ilerbert. You are now for the first time really launched into life for yourself. You go from your father’s house, and from all family connections, to make your own way in the world. It is a good time to makea new start, to cast: out faults of whose evil you have had an experience, and to take on habits the want of which you have found to be '60 damaging. (1.) You must not go into debt. Avoid debt as you would the Devil. Make it a frrndarnciital rule : No debt â€" cash or noth- ’ ing. (2.) Make few promises. observe even the smallest promise. who means to keep his promise cannot afford to make many. (3.) Be scrupulously careful in all state- mcnts. Accuracy and perfect frankness, no guesswork. Either nothing or accu 'atc truth. (4.) \Vlicn working for others sink your- self out of sight, seek their interest. Make yourself necessary to those who employ you, by industry, fidelity and scrupulous integ- rity, "Solfisliness is fatal. _ (5.) Hold yourself responsible for a high- er standard than anybody else expects of you. Demand ruore of yourself than any- body else expects of you. Keep your per- Sonal standard high. Never pity yourself. Be a hard master to, yourself, but lenient to everybody else. ' (6.) Concentrate your force on your ovm proper business ; do not turn off. stunt, steadfast, per-severing. (7.) The art of making ouc's fortune is to spend nothing ; in this country any intelli- gent and industrious young man may be- come rich if he stops all leaks and is not iii a lmrrry. (8.) Do not speculate or gamble. to aland where everybme is excited and strives to make money, suddenly, largely and without working for it. soap-bubbles. both the surest and the safest way, Hrccd- iness and Haste are two devils that destroy thousands every year. (9.) In regard to Mr. llâ€"â€"â€"‘” lrcisa South- ern gentleman ; he is receiving you as a favor to me ; do not let him regret it.‘ (10.) I beseech you to correct one faultâ€"â€" severe speech of others ; never speak evil of any man, no matter what the facts may be. Hasty fault~finding, and severe speech of absent people, is not honorable, is apt to be unjust and cruel, makes enemies to yourself, and is wicked. (11.) You must remember that you go to Mr. Ilâ€"â€"~ not to learn to muuugea farru like his. One or two hundred acres, not forty thousand, is to be your future horne- stead ; but you can learn the care of cattle, sheep, the culture of wheat, the climate, c:c..u'y, manners and customs, and a hun- dred things that will be noedful. (12.) If by integrity, industry and well- eurncd success you deserve well of your fel- low-citizens, they may in years to come. ask you to accept honors. Do not seek them Religioust llc con- . do not receive them while you are young-â€" \ 'ait ; liutwlicrr you are established you may nuke your father's name known with honor in Halls of Le 'islution. Lastly, do riot for- ; get your father's and your mother's (Rod. Be- cause you will be largely deprived of church privileges, you need all the nerve to keep your heart before (lod. lut-do not despise small churchcsand humblepreachers. “Mind not high things, but condesccnd to men of low estate.” lead often the Proverbs, the prompts and duties enjoined in the New 'l‘r-suiment. Mav your father's (find go with you and protecz, l llrzxrtv Warn» llrzrzcnrzu. The Little-’llâ€"e-l-illpplc Tree. The Little-llcd-Applc Tree 3 ()h, the Little- (ed-Apple Tree 3 \thu I was the little-est bit of a boy, And you were a boy with me 3 ' Thcblucbird'sflight from flu-topmost boughs, And the boys up there so high A That we rockC-l over the roof of the house, And \vhooped as the wind went by ! IIo ' Littlc-fled-Apple Tree 3 With the garden beds below, And the old grape-arlun' so ivelcomcly lIiding the rake and the hoc â€"- Hiding, too, as the sun dripped through In spatter of wasted gold, you. 3 Frank and Aiin array from vou And me, in the days of old. Ah 2 the Little-Iled-.-\pple Tree ! In the edge of the garden-spot, \thre the apples fell so lavishly Into the neighbor's lot ;A- So do I think of y u, lrotlier of mine, as the tree,â€" (living the ripest. wealth of your love To the world as well as to me. Oh. the Little-Redakpple Tree! Sweet as its juciest fruit Spanged on the palate spicily, And rolled o'er tongue to boot, Is the memory still and the joy Of the Little-lle:l-.â€"\pple Tree, When I was the little-cs) hit of a boy, And you were a boy rith inc ! When the Honeymoon Waited. Mr. Paddock Field-“I{ernenrberth:it you took me for better or for iron . ’ Mrs. I’ir-ld â€"â€"“(), Paddock! I know that I took you it.) a good deal better than you are.” A happier fauiily~ A man , Do not make haste : be patient. . You go - > They blow, Steady, patient industry is, ..A. ... I How His Mother M . . j “You see how it is, my dear," he. said> taking her 3an hand which has never done ) very hard work. and putting it reassuring- :ly: “ I‘m poorwouly a thousand a year. dearâ€"«and we shall have to struggle to get along at firstw'y "I don't mind that in the least.” she iri- terrupted. stoutly. rubbing her cheek soft‘y . against his hand. “ And," he pursued, graciously having 'ullowcd her interruptionâ€" “ we shall ham (to come down to strict economy. llut if lyou can only manage as my. mother docs, l we shall pull through nicely." " And how does your mother manage, dear ‘3" she asked. suiiliug~butvery happy â€"ut the notion of the motherin-linv crop- ping out already. ' “ I don‘t know." replied the. lover, 1 radiantly: " but she always manages to (have. everything neat and chccrml. and fsomcthirig delicious to cutâ€"and she docs ‘ it all herself, you know ‘. So that we always .get along beautifully, and make both ends grnect, and father and 1 still have plenty of 'Spendlng money. You see, when a woman , is always hiring her laundry work done. and . her gowns and bonncts made. and her fscrubbing and stove blacking done, and all ithat sort of thingâ€"why, it just walks into a man‘s income and takes his breath away." The young woman looked fora moment as if her breath was also inclined for a vuca- tion but she wisely concealed hcr dismay, and being one of the stouthcarlcd of flu earth she determined to learn a few things of John‘s mother, so went to her hr at long visit the. next day. Upon the termination of this visit, one fincmorning John received, to his blank arriuzcmeul, a little package con- ‘laining his engagement ring, accompanied I by the following letter: | I have learned how your mother “uran- agcs,” and I am going to explain it to you, since you lll\'c confessed you didn't know. 1 find that she is a wife, amothcr. a house- kccpcr, a business mauagcr,a hired girl, a laundrcss, a seamstress, a mcnder and patch- ' er, a dairy maid. a cook, a nurse, a kitchen gardener and a general Slave for a family of five. She works from five in the morning un- til ten at night : and I almost wept when I. kissed her handwit was so hard mid wrink- lled and corded and unkisscd. \thn I saw her polishing the stove, carrying big buckets of water and irruifuls of wood, I cfteu splitting the latter, 1 usde her why John didn’t do srrch things for her. “John!” she repeated, ‘ ‘John l"-â€" and she sat down with a perfectly dazed look, as if 1 had asked her why the angels I didn’t come down and scrub for her. “Why â€"â€".lohn,” she said in a trcmbling.bcwildcred way. “worksiu the office from 9 until -l o’- clock, you know, and when he comes home i he is very tired. or clscmor elscw-hc. goes ' down town.” Now, I have become strongly I imbued with the notion thatl do not care to be so good a manager as your mother. If the wife must do all sorts of drudgery. so must the husband ; if she must cook, he I must carry the wood ; if she must- scrub he. l-must carry the water ; ifshc mustmukebut- for, he must milk the cows. You have allowed your mother to do everything, and 3 all that you have to say of hcris that. she is. ’ an “cchllenf manager." I do not care for such a reputation, unless my husband carn- ed the numculso, and judging from your ' luck of consideration for your mother, I am I quite sure that you aronot the man I thought you were, or one whom I would care to marry. As the. son is the husband is, is a safe and happy rule to follow.” {\‘othc letter closed, and John pondered and he is pondering yet. â€"â€"oâ€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"- Politeness at Horne. An old proverb says “ lr'umiliarity breeth .contcmpt." It would seem as if this was ‘someiimcs thought to apply to home life. At least, in the freedom of the family, courtesy is too often forgotten. Yet home lis the best place in the World to cultivate 'politeness. There it may be put into cori- stant practice, so that the young folk may not be awkward in its use when they go into circles where it is demanded. It has been well said that “ The lad who is rude to his sister, impertincnt to his mother, and vulgar in the house will prove a bad busi- band and a cruel father." Politeness begins at home. A boy who is polite to his father and mother is likely to be polite to every one else. A boy lacking politeness to his parents may have the semblanceofcourtesy I in society. but is never truly polite in sp'rit, l and is in danger, as he becomes fairiiliur, of l betriying his real want of courtesy. livery i buy and girl should cultivate habits of courtesy and propriety at ho norâ€"in the j sitting room and kitchen, as Well as in the E parlonrwand they will be sure. in other I places to deport themselves in a lweoiuiug and attractive manner. \Vhen mu: fruzin , pleasant smile and graceful dcmmuour it is la satisfaction to know that these are hot ' int on, but that. they belong to the charac- ‘11“{ll all times and under all (ill‘L‘llllMliUr l C(‘S. ..___. _. .... _... - . Canadian 0.1‘.t‘e in firz'a'rl. - It is (:Xttcedingly fortunate, but not, at all surprising, that the seizure of (Inmdiau cattle at Dundee on the theory that they were suffering from pleuro-pm-umoiiii should ' have turned out to bc a mistake. (‘uuada l: entirely fl‘ll: from the disease whth lhr | English ltllllllll‘ltll‘s take such palm to e\- Icimli'. If unyf'auadian cattle should l‘l'd’fll the llrilish Isles suffering fl'-rlll the complaint illu-y will have caught it on the way. It i.“ altogetherdiflcreut on the other hllll' of the l line. In the l'nitcd States plcuropiicu ’ riionia is: Very prevalent. Last year ununibcr ofdiscased cattle were detected at Livripoo and killed. It is inij‘iortant that the i't-giila tions requiring the destruction of with r. fhriug fromthe disease and prohibition the tvportation of such cattle to England be strictly enforced. A relaxation would result in the scheduling of (.‘anada and (lit destruction ofour trade. The lulllllfibl'rlr of live cattle from ('anada to all the iritinl; markets. and thcexclusion of Ariirricai.‘ from all but the seaj‘mrtn, is the only dim crimination any colony receives in England. and this. is only to be continued duringng behavior. ..._â€"___â€".â€" | The Guileless Farmer. Grocer vl)on’t buy any more barrel» of apple»: from that farmer. Clerk-«Very well, sir. Why? D'mun't be put the large apples on top and the little ones at the bottom? ' Hroeer» Neil; but he forgets to indicau which in the top, and that’s three times I've opt-Led the bottom}! of barrels to show curs terriers.