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.. ":.)>,...~_;. g - r g _ e t , Line Fence. Miss Euphemia Anderson sat. down upona fallen log and wiped her face with: her blue checked apron. "Jemima 1” she called to a. pink sunâ€" bonnet displayed above the raspberry bushes. , j "Jemima: Hume! Ain’t you ever " inaugurating: 2:; mm-amxr’u maunmxms;z:u~.mmu m_v.u-zmmwwamta 21w..- I set foot in that house the Martinses‘ an’ us ain’t had“ no more to do with each other than-if we ,was both scared the others had smallâ€"pox. Air Mrs. Martin seems a. pleasant spoken body too. Bob was just five then, an' hein’ the youngest he hadn’t much idea of what was goin’ on; and Imind when he started to school his father gave him a reg’lar trimmin’ onenjght, for haulin’ little Maggie Martin home on his sleigh. .And they say Maggie caught' it from her father too when she got home. "Ain’t it just a terrible thought he’d choke me, an‘ we had a good cry together. But, oh; my! Wasn’t my little man mad! shed his little fist an’ he says: ‘ ' .‘"Aunt Euphie, I'll marry little Maggie when I get big, just to spite him, see if I don’t 1" An’ I semetimes think maybe he’s kept that in his mind all his life. It would just be like him.” There was a sympathetic silence be- tween the two old friends for a time. They leaned against the tree trunk 4 Hi3 black eyes were blazin’ and be tight-' To. HOUsnKV EEPERS." and blues in gingha‘ms. ing by alnkali. For a summer picnic a few sweets. “$00.90!... 00: not: in; House.t - i ‘ Q; , O Vinegar will "‘set” dubious greens Vinegar is an antidote for poison- luncheon there should berplenity of relishes and Many people object ‘ " " ‘m‘ammuwnm ‘Eeelffia‘flz’E-TR'I‘LWRKLETsausa‘erufififllulk'lidufifliis'dt'li‘fifiFu-iflfifmxlmmtfirfi wen-(W: 1m,- it until the whole surfaceis clean. Another method is to rub- the soiled surface with the finger wet, in warm water. I If the dirt is" very: hard and old use oil instead of water. Let it most for a few hours so thht the. dirt may be softened, then wash off with a sponge and tepid suds. PAINTED FURNITURE. The painted furniture formerly de- scribed as "cottage sets" passed out off a. thin slice and continue‘t‘ (or -3”, t of.style more than a. score of years 30in, to Stop PiCkin’g My pairs fun to meat sandwiches, and if the party . ' way to live: J‘Pmima in- .. and looked d vn over the tran uil- an Shoo}! d?“'n' and nOt another berry “Dear, Idea”), sighed her friend. val‘ley The 8:; was sinking into Like is to start early in the morning the" ago. It was always looked upon as a would I pick this day, if I had to “Iva a great pity ' ‘ ' bread, biscuit or rolls are better rather economical and modest sub: sympathetically. to hold malice like that. It is indeed, And do the young folks keep it up f” Miss Euphemia’s ' voice dropped to Huron, now a sea of gold, and» sendâ€" ing its resplendent glow over the hills and the treeâ€"tops. The stalwart beech- es on the shore stood black against the stitute for the black walnut carved set, or even 'the more costly rosewood. which was in those days the last word in modish and expansive furniture. .carrrired uncut. The butter should be taken in a tightly covered tin box, which should be wrapped in several Layers of wet cloth, and this puttin- wade in 'em knee deep. Come over here in the shade, and let’s eat our, lunch I” V The pink sunbonnet moved and itsl 1.mm:mmzra;z»:ca¢g£4’o§tfir kt "X'acgu . l L? .: m l l “#9:! .,~ .- . neighbouring farm. . A-ndrew’s wife was livin’, owner came slowly from the woods, her portly form tearing an ample path-way in the bushes. "Well Euphemia Anderson!” she said, as she sank panting in the cool shade of the maples and fanned her rotund countenance, "If you’d lived for the last'twenty years on the prairie, and; in atdwn at that, you’d go on pickin’ raspberries all summer, and ‘winter too for th'at matter, an’ be glad. This here ’s brought back my younger days more than anything. I’ve gone round in areg’lar dream all afternoon, sayin’ to myself “Jemima Hume, you’re home again; you’re in a frightened whisper. “That’s the worst of it. There never was no trouble in that quarter- to speak of, but now I’m clean worried to death. You see, there was just the two Martin children, a boy and a girl. You’ll remember the boy, Jim. 36‘ was just the same . age as. our Archie an’ they fought like two young bears at school. Well, Jim turned out an awful worthless fellow and left home when he was quite young. He went off to Australia or Africa or Greenland or some such out-o-the way place, an’ they ain’t never heard of him for years. Some say old Steve shining water, the woods in the hol- _lows were growing purple. From the farm houses came faint, peaceful sounds of life; a line of lazy battle wandered slowly up the white road, the leader’s bell tinkling softly; the little river caught the radiance of the sun and responded with agay sparkle. But the big line fence followed the stream’s bright course, winding down the hillside dark and sinister like the serpent in the garden of Eden. Miss Euphemia's sharp eyes had been taking in the details of the scene and had copied two figures moving in the deep violet shadows by the spring. to the'centre of a. nruch larger box and paclked tightly with wads of pa- per, so that it will not come in"diâ€" rect outer box. This will prevent the heat from hands or sun reaching it. Brow-n bread is always especially de- licious after a long waldo, and it is well to have loaves ofi botlj it and white bread. _ In making pickles only the best cider vinegar should be used. If a green color is wanted in sour cucumâ€" pberr pickles it can be obtained by put- ting them into cold vinegar in a contact with the sides of the. The "cottage furniture" could be of cheaper wood, becausethe thick rpaint covered up all trace of its quality. Gloomy greys, dull greens and steely blues were the tints most ad- “mired in this oldâ€"fashioned furniture. The backgrounds were relieved by crudely painted bunches of flowers which ornamentedâ€"if anything so in- urimsically hideous could be said to‘ have that effect anywhereâ€"the head and foot of the beds and were applied in more diminutive [form to the bur- eaus and other pieces in the "set." Cottage furniture was always sold in a set. . , , , Martin ain’t never got over it, and . . , porcelain lined [kettle and lettin ' Ontario and you re under a tree pickin’ that“; what mak hi so Suddenly She sprang “l 1101 feat- .. uh, h ‘ ,t .1 l ‘ - l f. g It was very cordially despised, afteri raspbernes fifter twenty years In h H 8.5 . m " Jemima, 0h land of liberty! what’s I am ea 3 0"” y oven 3- 5 0W “‘9 1m“ t t t t d th a ti ue 'ard- ' ‘9 thought the SIN-1 ~ til they are green. Only granite or as e urne‘d owar e n ‘1 "Well, .well," said 'her hostess, ' smiling, "you’ll be easy entertained Jemima, if that’s all you need. I’m sure it makes me young again just to see you round. Somehow Inever felt the same after you an’ Peter went to Manitoba. New helpyourself to that chicken jelly, and try some of the shortâ€"cake. There’s no hurry home, as long as I get there to help Sarah Ellen put away the milk. Thus the women sat and talked for someâ€"time. ‘ ’ "Look now; ain’t that a prettier sight than you’ll ever see in the north west 9” said Miss Euph’emia at length. They were seated at the edge of a little wooded hill, known .as “The Slash,” which overlooked the surround- ing: farms. 'Mrs. Hume looked down across the sunny fields that sloped in gentle undulations down to the blue and silver expanse of Lake Huron. Here and there farm-houses nestled cozily in their orchards, and past them run a picturesque little glen that divided Miss Anderson's home from the A little stream gurgled through its green depths, slipping lazily over the white stones, for the thirsty sun had almost dried it, lingering in the cool hollow called just rose an? set on' that boy an’ his mother just the same. But it’s the girl I started to tell you about. I don’t know what sort of a girl she is, but I tell you she’s mlost awful goiod-lookvin‘. She’s the neatest slip of a thing, as straight as that stick, an’ with fair, curly hair like her mother, an’ the biggest an’ softest eyes. She’s 9. Williams all over, whether She’s like the Martins in her ways or not Idon’t know. Well, what Istarted to tell you about hea‘ was this. I never got wind of it until about a. week ago be- cause everybody is scared to mention the Martinses in our house ; but Sylvia Morrisoncouldn’t keep it. You mind what a gossip Sylvia used to be ? Well, she’s ten times worse now, for she does the sewin" for allthxe folks on this line, and she’s just chuck full 0’ news all the time. Last week I had, her to help make over my black silk, soon as I heard you was-comin’ an’ right in the middle of stitchin’ a piece on the machine, she stops up sudden on” says, as perk as you please. "So Bob’s keepin’ company with Maggie Martin 3” “ Well, I just felt for a minute as if all the breath’ had been knocked' out of my body. I couldn’t say a word. that i” " For the love of goodness, Euphie Anderson,” gasped Mrs. Hume, "Is it a. bear or what 2” “A hear] I wish it was. If?! our Bobl Yes, it is so our Bob 1” she cried climbing upon the fence to get abet- ter view. "Oh, my stars above, it’s truel” Mrs. Hume clutched her frimd’s - trembling form. "Euphemia :Anderson, what’s the matter? Are you gone daft 2” For answer Miss Euphemia pointed through the trees to the little willow grove beneath them,and there, sta \d- ing against the big line fince, as thouth it had been erected for the express purpose of sheltering Ander- sons and Martins, while they mads love to each other, stood the stalwart form of the son of the Anderson household, and very near him shone the golden head of the Martin’s daughter. Miss Anderson seized her friend’s arm and dragged her across the field, over the summerâ€"fallow and into the lane beyond. Neither spoke until the barn-yard was reached and then Miss Euphemia dropped her pail and leaned against the gate. porcelain-lined kettles should be em- ployed in malking pickles. Mold can be avoided by putting nasturtiums or pieces of horseradish root into the pickle jars, which should always stand in a dry and dank place. A cafe frappe, which is always do- lightful as an afternoon or evening refreshment is simply made. To one quath of strong coffee sweetened to taste add the beaten white of one egg and freeze. Serve it in glasses, with Whipped cream. on the top. People who ’move into rented houses aire likely to encounter water bugs and cockroaches, and only vigilant ef- forts will effectually rid .the prem- ises of the pests. Beth .of these war- ieties of bugs are especially fond of brown paper and wet cloths, and it is well to see that their tastes are not gratified. Cucumbers are a ranlk poison 'to the insects, and the pan‘ilrhg's from them, scattered about, will thin 1 their ranks perceptibly. Borax, which: is a clean] powder, is al- so poisonous to them, and this, with a trace of sugar added to it, sprinkled in'the iron closets about the range and other haunts will have a desir- able effect. There is a great variety wooden furniture, brass beds and all the similar improvements that came during the past score of years. The cottage sets were relegated to coun- try residences, servant’s rooms and other inconspicuous places. Since that time painted furniture has not been seen until the white enamelled chests of drawers and other wooden pieces began to be seen. Now there are signs that the days of painted furniture may return, although it is not likely that the taste for it will ever be 'strong enough to recover the slightest favor for the cottage set. Painted furniture of the day is very much more artistic and elaborate than its predecessor ever was. It- is as expensive, too, as nearly any other kind, and would never be bought for economy. White is :the most popular colorfor a background. It is decor-‘ uted ivi'th sprays of flowers, very art- istically and charmingly disposed and painted, indeed, with all the excel- lences that the most modern and ‘best drained artists can give them. There is as much difference between them ' and the old painted pieces as there is between a crude- chromo and a deli- cute Water color. ' - Probably this same degree of dif- ..The spring," where the willOws ,were ,, J . H ,t t 1 _ _ _ ‘ _ reflected (in its clear peols, rolling out She pretended to be most awful sur- .emflma gme’ don '61 me that of manufacturel powders, all of which fere-nce exrsts between all articles a little swuth under the bridge, prised because I didnit know_ She he kissed her! She Co‘mmanfded- are good if applied to corners and popular for household decoration BUt Mrs' Hume was qulte beyond edges of floors and wall with one of thirty years ago and to-day. The where the white dusty road crossed it, and; finally flinging its joyous self into the waters of Lake Huron, as they came rushing up in welcome, all blue and white and smiling. It was indeed .a beautiful picture, with the warm afternoon sunlight flooding all; but the visitor’s attention had been caught by a huge board fence that ran parallel to the little itream’. It was remark- ably high arid was tOpped with iron spikes [worthy of the wall of -a mediaevnl castle. “Deary me, Euph'emia” she said, re- adjusting her spectacles, “What on earth possessed your brother to put upl a barricade like that betyveen you and the »Martinses i” ' ' A shadow passed-over Miss Euphe- mia’s wrinkled face. ' ' ‘ “You may well ask, Jemima. ' ’rhat fence is the disgrace of the country- sides. I s’pose there weren’t two bet- ter friends in Ontario than Steve Martin and our Andrew, when you folks moved away. But they got into a row about fencin’ the farms off, ,nothin' much to begin with, but it ended up awful bad. I never quite got the rights of the story, because it started before my time, avhen but there was a good deal of trouble about pay- in’ for afence, and foralong spell there was no fence at all, both 0’ them bein’ that stubborn. An’ Steve’s cattle used to get into -Andrew’s grain; some said he kept that field for pasture on purpose even after it was all wore out. I never liked to ask Andrew about it because he's got a temper, even if he is my brother, an’ the name of Martin to him, is just like showin’ a. red rag to a mad bull ; but as far as I can make out they went on rowin’ an’ rowin' for a whole year, till it came to Steve havin’ the law on Andrew, an’ that’s a thing he couldn’t never for- give; none of our family ,ever bein’ in slaw-court in their lives before. I don’t blame Andrew much butI do say it’s an awful way to live with your neighbors. It’s just eighteen years, come next Thanksgiving, since poor Maria died, an’ I came to keep house for, Andrew; and thfatrbig fence had just been finished. 'An’ since the day ished a. tear until I took him into my ,put his arms around mm neck till I said it had been goin’ on all last win- ter and she'd seen them herself comin' home from the pic-nic on the Queen’s Birthday, arm-in-arm, walkin’ dread- ful slow. I’ve been that worried ever since thinkin’ what his pa would do to that boy if he was to find out, that I can‘t sleep nights. I know An- drew ain’t got wind of it yet, for him an’ Bob is just the biggest chums, Bob bein’ the baby you know, an’ the only one at home now, besides havin’ his mother’s black eyes. But I can’t bear to think what he’s do if he was to find out.” 1 " Well, well I” said her friend, soot-h- ungry, "I ‘wouldn’t let‘ it wbrry me, now Euphemia. I just Wouldn’t. There muyn’t be anything in it after all: Young folks'change so now. our Tom is just hereaway, thelreaway, with a new girl every week. Boys is like that,” she added, reassuringly. V “Yes, but Bob ain’t," replied Miss Euphemi-a, with mournful conviction. "If he takes a notion for anything he never changes. He’s like Maria’s people that way. Now the Anderson's were all flirts in their day.” “ Yes, and you were one of the worst yourself, Euphie I” laughed her friend. A twinkle came into Miss Euphe- mia’s blue eyes and for a moment her wrinkled face, that still showed signs ofa past beauty, looked almost young. “I’m afraid, I was,” she admitted with quite a coquettish glance. “I’d better have been like you, Jemima, for see what came of it‘ all,” and she sighed. ’ “But Bob’s differentsHe’s such a jolly sort of a fellow you’d think he didn’t care for a thing except to 'be up to some mischief. But my good- ness! he’s that set when he does. take a thinginto his head there’s‘no turn- in’ him. I mind the time his father gave him the thrashin’l was tellin’ you about. I went up to his room after Andrew had gone to the barn, because it just always went through me to see Bobby touched. He never lap, an’ then the poor Little darling mad, Oh, my poor Bobby, my lamb, telling anything. She pointed me- chanically to a figure that was cross- ing the summer fallow quickly, and making straight for the spring. Poor Miss Euphemia upset her berries and trampled them ruthlessly in her eag- etrness to see who it was. "It's Andrew 1” she screamed. " It’s his father! He’s seen Bob goin‘ an’ he's followin’. May the Lord have mercy 1” "Come away in Euphie,” said her friend, soothingly. “ Come now, don’t take on so; don’t cry now. Maybe Andrew won’t mind so much' as you think." . “ Mind! He’d mind murder far less. A Martin, Jemima! It’ll drive him you’ll be driven from your home this night. His fath'er'll never forgive him, never! Oh. dear! Oh, dear! There I am Jemima burdenin’ you with all my troubles and you my visitor. Deary me, what a dreadful thing, and to happen when you’re here, too. Come, we might as well go in; they’ll be home soon an’ we’ll know what’s hap- pened.” - What had happened was soon ap- parent, for it could be read. in the lowering face of the old farmer as he entered the house. The fourth meal of the day was spread in the big, breezy kitchen, for it was the rule in the Anderson household to havs the table set at all hou‘rs. Sara‘hl Ellen was bringing. in the fried chicken from the cook-house, and the two we- men were seated awaiting the others, when the elder Anderson entered. " Ye needn’t wait for Bob,” he said shortly, throwing his hat into the cor- ner and seating himself. " An’ just go on without me, I don’t want any sup- per toâ€"night.” To be Continued. «a- THROWING SHOES AFTER BRIDES. “ Over Edoan will I cast my shoe,” says the psalmist, the throwing of a shoe being the symbol of new ownerâ€" ship, a testimony in Israel of posâ€" session. In Anglo-Saxon times the faâ€" ther delivered the bride’s shoe to the bridegroom, who touched her with it to show his authority. The custom of throwing an old shoe after the bride in England and Scotland signified that the parents gave up all right or do- minion over the daughter. .with fine salt and rub each piece of the "shotguns" that come for the Dump-080. Wash black lace with rain water, to which a teaspoonful of borax and a tablespoon-ful of alcohol has been added to every pint. Sew!t cotton on a bottle smoothly and wind the lace. over it. Pull out the edge and baste ill: down ‘on the bottle. \Vash white lace with boiling wa- ter and borax soap, after first bast- ing it on a bottle covered with; white cotton. Let the lace dry on the bottle. T0 PRESERVE MEATS. To can meat boil the meat until nearly done, season with salt and pep- peu‘. Out from bones in slices and put at boiling point into glass cans. Fill all spaces with the. broth to the b;ri.m of the can. Screw on covers tightly as pessible. Beef, mutton, veal or chicken can be successfully canned by this method. Keep in a cool, dry place. The bones may be boiled until the meat will slip from them; then can it and the broth for use in making scraps. To sugar-cure pork, thoroughly cool, carefully trim. hams and shoul- ders and split 'sides in two" length- wise. Sprinkle bottom of barrel meat with salt; Pack- in barrel with hams on bottom, shoulders next, and sides on top. After three days cover with following brine;.Water, 8 galâ€" lons; salt, 12 pounds; sugar, 3pounds; sal-tpeiter, 3 ounces; concentrated lye, 3 teaspodnfuls. Boil and skim, then cool and pour over meat. Brine should be strong enough to bear up an egg. ‘ To season sausage, for 40 pohnds of meat use 1 pound salt, 2 ounces sage, 2 ounces pepper. Pack in crooks and cover with ’melted' la'rd. CLEANING OIL PAINTINGS. 1 Artists sometimes use a raw pota- to for this purpose. Cutoff the end of the potato and rubi'the painting very gently with. the). out ~end. .As fast as the potato becomes soiled cut firity. In half old-fashioned furniture seems to have disappeared altogether and'never like- ly to reappear in any form. But its direct descendant, very much! bet- tered and undoubtedly made much more expensive, is offered to-day by the large furniture establishments as one of their latest and smartest styles. -â€"â€"...°._._ A PLEASANT SURPRISE. “ Seeing one’s self is a great sur- prise,” said the amateur philosopher. .” You think you do that every day in your looking glass, but you don’t. What you see there ‘is‘ a conventional image, a symbol. It stands for you just as certain arbitrary ink scratchâ€" es stand for your name, and it is handy in showing you where to part your hair and how, to tie your oravat; but it doesn’t give you any-idea of how. you would look if you were to meet your self here on King street. It is only by the rarest accident, happen- ing maybe twice or thrice in a life- time, that oiie gets a glimpse of one‘s real self. An unsuspected mirror or a chance reflection in a window pane is usually the agency. You see some- body approaching, somebody you know perfectly well you have never seen be- fore in life, yet who stuartles you by a poignant, inexplicable sense of famil- a heart beat the trick discovers itself and the illusion vanishes, but you had a glimpse of the real thing, and the experience is almost always accompanied by asen- sation of pleasure. Ten to one the stranger seemed quite attractive. The first time I ever saw myself was in a. large pier glass at the head of a staircase. I was bewildered, but Ire- membered distinctly that the gentle- man who advanced on me out of space struck me as being rather adistin- guishcd-looking person. I felt proud of him after I discovered his identity and asked him to have a drink on it. [Without exception, everybody Ihave ever spoke to on the subject has adâ€" mitted to me that he was pleased by the appearance of his double. . So there’s a hard metaphysical nut to crackâ€"why is it that we generally look better than we had supposed?" O