r-uw «my â€" Lilli A Milli llMll-l' :thcrcfore. that people so P. was toward the end of the month of January when I first reached Moscow. and the streets were deep in snow. WW in the country a veil of virgin purity wrapped all nature, says a writ- er is quckwood's Magazine. The. drive from the station to the hotel is a plea- sant change from the bondage of proâ€" longed railway travel, and can not fail. moreover, to interest any observer used only to the countries of Western Eu- rope. , A queue of men in rags is slowly dwindling away. as each eager com- ponent part of it reaches a spot where some charitable dole is being dispensed to the needy. The halfâ€"starved mon- grels that skulk about. snarling and quarreling among themselves, suggest an Eastern city. Sturdy peasants in sheepskins, with frozen beards, are re- viling in no measured terms the an- cestors of their tried horses, as they struggle up asharp incline. Wealthy merchants are whirled past by horses that are overheated in spite of the low temperature. Foot passengers, clad in long fur coats, and beggars in the scantiest of clothing, are seen at every turn ; while the shops, with their quaint signs and their announcements in an alphabet that seems to have lost its reason, alternately bewilder and de- light. Huge sturgeon. frozen solid, are solemnly standing on their heads out- side the fishmonger's door, waiting to be chopped into blocks and sold; while above the busy scene of life and com- merce. the golden cupolas of many a quaint and stately church rise high in- to the clear air. The streets and footpaths are crowd- ed; but with all the movement there is but little noise, from the soft carpet of snow that covers the ground. The only sounds that break upon the car are the harmonious murmur of voices, the sharp crunch of the snow under foot, the hard breathing of the over- driven peasants’ horses, the swish of a passing sledge, the tinkle of the ko- lokolchickee, the driver's short encour- aging cry; while clear above all, as a note from another world. breaks in the deep sound of some mighty church bell. After two days of comfortable h‘otel life. I found a family which seemed to answer my requirements and on the third day Itransferred all] my be- longings to a flat in a. crooked street off one of the great thoroughfares. My new quarters were not pretentious, but they were clean. and sufficiently com- fortable. On a floor of polished parque- try. partially covered by a mat or two, stood a bed. a table, a couple of chairs and a washstand; while a wardrobe and my traveling bath. the wonder of the family, which stoodun a corner. com- pleted the modest list. Several tiled stoves ke t the flat at a. high temper- ature. 'I‘ e double windows were not intended to open; but :i. ventilator in each was supposed to be opened for a short time daily, which was conmdered to fulfill the requirements of health. It may be well at the outset to dis- pose of a very common delusion, which is shared even by many educated ople in this country. On arrival in “8318. the. traveler who is ignorant of the lan- guage will find all other tongues of very little use to him. It is a great mistake to suppose that most Rusmans can speak French or German. There are Russians belonging to the Baltic Pro- vinces who speak German better than Rumian; and there are a few in other rts of the empire who. havmg_ been iixiiought up in the constant; seeiety of English or French tutors,_ speak these languages better than their own. But. as a rule, it is Russxan, and Russian only. that will enable a traveler to leave the beaten track With comfort or profit. The reasons for the prevalence of the opinion that Russians are endowed With a polyglot. faculty are two in number. In the first place, as Russmnas not generally spoken in Europe outside the Russian Empire, it follows that those who wish to indulge in the luxury of foreign travel must acquaint themselves with the languages commonly spoken in the countries they intend to Visit. Now, the wealthy classes, to which some persons invariably belong. are fully aware of the uselessness of the Rumian language outside the frontier, and. moreover. they adopt the only really practical method of getting out of the difficulty. In the household of the rich in Miscow and other places are English and French ladies of good family and education, who take entire charge of the children during a term of years. receiving _a liberal salary. Their young charges very naturally learn to speak idiomatically aridwith a perfect accent. It. is not surprisuig. educated should speak foreign languages well; but. it is ridiculous to regard such as in any way representative of their na- tion. Russian boys of the ordinary wellâ€" to-do middle classes. who have not. the ndvanta e of years of S)CClfl.i tuition in child nod, and who moptthe time- honorcd method of lciirniii languages by attending classes at so iool. speak ludicrously ind English. even when they are in the highest classes. and are bcii awarded full marks. five..re- guliirly or their progress and acouire- merits in this langua :e. . The other remon w y Riissmns have attained such a name with us as lin- uists arises out of the similariivof the Russian and English languages in one important particular. In nine cases out of ten what betray-s a foreigner in Eng- land is his inability to pronounce the English r. [low-ever fluently or grain- maiically he may speak. if a r‘recnb- inan. or a (‘rrrmain be nevcrran get over this difficulty. In iliis~iaii the letter in question is pronounced .as in English so that it does~ no} email the. fecml and thoracic. contortiqgg that it migh’ 1"“ “'1: {his nappy circumstance. :iic combination th, however. forms a groin stumbling block to all l:li>=\lilns, who have only learned langus‘li ~as minim, but this is a purely langlish sound. and its mastery by Russun children does not form any barrier .to their progress in their own long e. With the letter 1' it is different. v or it is very rare, indeed, to find any one who has acquired the correct pronuncia- tion of the French or German r who can at the same time master the Eng- lish sound of the letter. and the conâ€" verse is also true. It will be inferred that English and Italians speak Rus- sian better than any other European nations; that this Lstrue I know on good authority. _ A description of the Russian family with which I spent. some time may not be out of place, as it is in many wer a typical one. Mr. Dobree. the nominal head of the household. was supposed to be a stock broker. but his real profession was one for which no name has yet been found that is at all satisfactory to its followâ€" ers. It consisted in smoking. tea~drink~ ing on a scale unknown in this country. and novel-reading. He was, in fact, a rate of the type familiar to readers of Daudet, and he had contributed nothing to the upkeep of his family for a dozen years or so. He was a tall, dark man of about fife-and-forty, with a. sallow cOï¬plexmn. rs. Dobree was dark. too, but short. and inclined to embonpoint. A pair of kindly and intelligent. e 'es looked out from beneath a forehea , the forward curve of which might denote either mental weakness or an historical mind of rare power. In her case it was for- tunately the latter, as she had the mem- ory of a Macaulay. But she had that which Kingsley justly extols above ta.- lent. She was a good woman. and de- voted to her family. She had a. heart that was kindness itself, a quick tem- per and a charming manner, which made every one feel at home at once. There were two sons. The elder. Mee- sha. was asharp, good-looking lad of 18. He had just finished his course of schooling at the academy, and was serVing a year as a gentleman private, going every day to his barracks. The second, Ivan. was not. so good looking. but he was nevertheless an honest and clever lad, though of less showy parts. He was in. his last year of school. In one thing this family was especial- ly typical of the Russian middle classes â€"all had bad health. Mr. Dobree suf- fered from epileptic fits. Mrs. Dobree had a serious gastric malady. Both the sons were delicate in different ways. The food usually eaten in middle-class Russmn families is quite different from that supplied in hotels and restaurants. and is not; a. petizin to an educated palate. You vs ha your coffee and kalachâ€"a kind of light breadâ€"some hours ago. and the inward monitor prompts'that it is time to sit down to the midday meal. On a cloth, which can scarcely be considered sans tache. several places are laid. The knives and forks are of steel, and beside each is a triangular glass bar on which to rest them when the change of plates is made. Mrs. Dobree, the hostess, having pull- ed. the maid servant’s ears for some trifling neglect of duty, takes her place at. the table, and begins to ladle out the fish soup, so tasty to a; Russian palates ".Only a little for me,†you plead timidly, as the dorsal fin of some monster is flopped on"; into this plate, and your fears begin to be seriously aroused. "Oh.‘ but you eat nothing." says madam, givmg you another ladleâ€" full; bhen cutting off a. large piece of butter, she puts it into our plate. gives it a'few turns, and t 'en Whisks the melting delicacy into tibe tureen, ‘u‘pon which all eyes are now fixed. ith some care you avoid being choked, and manage to get the servant to remove your plate, though it. is not empty. 'Ilhen comes the next course, peerojoc . At a first glance this dainty might be taken for a Ihitick girdle cake; but when the knife is applied, it. seems to be composed of two pasty layers half an inch thick, separated by a solid inch of chopped toad-stools, which. gather- ed in the summer time in the woods. have been hanging on a. string for many months above the servant‘s bed. Your entreaties for a small helping are mere- ly regarded as the outcome of national modesty. and you are soon face to face With a. formidable hunk of the dread compound; But your troubles are not over yet. Your next course may be some tough old bull; and when you are nearly horsde combat, a cauliflow- er .18 brought in and put before you. This might‘have been acceptable at an earlier eriod of the feast, but now you are rdly equal to the effort. “Ob. do have some,†says Mrs. Dobree coax- ingly. "Invent to the market myself this morning, and paid a. rouble for it; no one else will have anyâ€"we do not care for vegetables." This is true, so you resume your knife and fork, and do battle with the last arrival. while your struggles are witnessed by an appreciative circle. Perhaps you man be asked to give a good ac- count 0 eight or _ten blinneeâ€"a thick pancake eaten at certain seasons of the year With sour creamâ€"and you are sure to be offered plenty of acid black bread. You are not. sorry when the meal is over. and probably no one has had any idea of your sufferings, which are in- creased by the evident desire of your hostess to please, and the consequent necessuy of concealing them. Some private matters of importance necessitated my return to England for a few weeks at Easter. \Vhen I return- ed to Russia it was the beginning of May; the long .winter was gone, and the slush of spring dried up. The town would soon be unbearably hot. peopled only by the. poor, business men, shop- keepers and the ubiquitous American. Scattered round Moscow, on the dif- ferent arteries leading from the city, there are many little villages of pretâ€" ty wooden houses, empty in winter, but occupied in summer by middle-class ' Russian families. Mrs. Dobree had rented a country house or datcha. from 8. Gen. Khrabree, whose estate was not far from the little town of Klopgorod. The house was in a w0od, op osite to a large summer camp. so. as was par- ticularly anxious to see something of the Russian army in time of peace. the arangcmcnt made by Mrs. Dobree promâ€" ised to suit admirably. It was near- lv 100 versts from Moscow. and thither the family intended to move about the 10th of the month; I say about. for our days were somewhat restricted in choice. I did not care to move on Sun- day. Mrs. Dobree objected to both Mon- day and Friday. " as they were such unluckv days." so the start was event- uallv fixed for a Tuesday. “'e were all glad when we found our- seives standing on the platform at Rio!)- gorod. The taraniasscs. or springless carriages. drawn by two horses. were not ready, so that a wait of thru- bours in the refreshment room. was necessary. It was :in (Ml-Of-lhi‘-\v'z_‘. station. and Lin- presence of an ling- ;lishman would create surprise. if not suspicion. so lwas cautioned by Mr. Dobree to ive‘no indication of my me tionslity. some baggage had besnsent on earlier. and was. we hoped. by this ï¬lms] at thieldatcha. tenniiles off. After e on e ay‘ our equips. a drew up, and, fol owed by the supplsightions of a crowd of beggars. we set off at agood pace for the house. Our way lay through the lawn. acress the undulat- ing fields. and at the pace we were traveling. separated only from the wooden flooring of the carts by a heap of hay. the jolting and vibration were uncomfortable and even alarming. Out- side one of the first cabarets of the little town we came upon our baggage! The wagoners were dragged out indig- nantly. and with scant ceremony put again upon the road. After passing through the townâ€"an agglomeration of wooden huts and white stone buildings. above which rose the green cupolas of several churchesâ€"â€"we left the rough cobbleâ€"stones behind, and. emerging inâ€" to the open country, began to thread our way across great rolling corn fields. without visible boundary savethe dark edging of primeval forest. The drivers, notwithstanding the roughness and narrowness of the track, seemed disposed to make a race of it, in spite of the sufferings and protests of their fares. The second pair of horses turned out to be the speedier. and their continued efforts ltO. pass the leaders resulted only in lbringing them within striking distance, so that their noses were brou hit up sharp by the backs of those o the party who were in the first tarantam. After some futile efforts the chase iwas given up, arid “Little Elias" and “Desi 'sed Little Daniel," so they were icalled', bad to be content to follow at .a. safe distance. Toward nightfall we passed ‘the large Russian camp, and then, crossing a. stream, neared a young wood, inside the border of which stood our datcha. Our baggage could not arrive for at least two hours, so, improwsm some. beds out of deal 'chairs and tab es, we lay down tired and hungry, to get what rest we could. In the morning we were able to take stock of our new house. It. was a. square log but with a veranda outside the entrance. A central ball separated four rooms of nearly equal size. We were not however, the first occupints, for a colony of young jac'kdaws were estab- lished in the chimney, and we had to evict the unbidden guests lbefore there could be any prospect uif dinner. The morning after our arrival in the country the cook came to pay her re- spects to her mistress and to offer her opinion on the datcha. The Rusman peasantry are extraordinarily supersti- tious, and our domestics Were not differ- ent from the rest of their kind. One of the ideas which is received by them al- most as an article of belief is that every house is inhabited by a. domovoy, or spirit, who expresses his approval or otherwise of the inmates soon after they come into occupation. The cook, ithen, having examined her pers in, “and hav- ing found no traces of pinching or other Violence on the part of the presiding genius of the place, gave it as her opin- ion that we should pass a. very pleas- ant time. Na datche, though she her- self would have much preferred to have had c public house within reasonable distance; not that she ever took any- thingâ€"that, of course, goesiwithout say- ing. It was a. pleasant enough. place to spend a‘few summer months in, but in winter it must have been a desolate spot, and all our neighbors told us that all their large watch dogs had been eat- en by wolves; ntohing but the bones remaining. Surrounding the house was a young wood of saplings and silver birch trees just in the freshness of spring foliage. Across a. strip of turf and the river was reached; Above it rose a. bluff, on which Ithe soldiers' great open dining sheds and many other huts belonging to the camp clustered thick- _ly. Before and after every meal grace is sung, and the harmony of the men’s voices, unaccompanied by any musical instrument, is not to 'bo despised. It. was refreshing after the dust and turmoil of the town at this season of the year to sit on the veranda and read the humor of Gogol, the graphic descrip- tions of Tolstoi and Tugcney, or to re- vel in the matchless poetry of Pushkin and Lermontoy, undisturbed save Hy the gentle shimmer of the hspen leaves and the occasional i'espons eof a company of soldiers to the stereotyped morning greeting of the commander on first; see- ing his men, “Zdorovo irebyata." ("Hail my childrenâ€) The men’s answer is given in a mechanical way: “Glad to do our best, your honor,†or "exml- lency," or “highness†according 'to the rank of the officer. The Russian soldier is about middle height, very deep-chested and thick-set, With sallow complexion, Square jaw, and broad fame, and an appearance of great strength and determination. He does not look quick-witted and, in fact, is not; but he is intrepid and well disciplined. In the short. hot summer his dark-green tunic is replaced by a white shirt, which is gathered in at the waist with a black leather belt, while the dark cloth pantâ€" iiloons are tucked into long boots. He is cheerful and uncomplaining. and though badly paid, according to our ideas, he is not ill fed, getting three pounds of black bread a day and plenty of potatoes and of his favorite cabbage soup: with meat occasionally. After the. day's work was over many would come down to the stream to fiin or bathc.andotliers wouldwhile away the long summer's evening. with Selections on their favorite instrument. the con- certina, some comrades forming a ring round an expert step-dancer, giving an exhibition of his skill, and keeping time to the lively air of the musician. Though in an out-of-ihe-way part of the country. there were yet some neigh- bors. and one at least of these deserves more than passing notice. On some rising ground half a mile to the right of our house stood a couple of (latches. In one of these lived several senior offi- cers belon ing to the camp opposite. whilst in t e other dwelt a being. the descri tion of whom I attempt with some iffidence. Though intended by na- ture to be a woman. this eccentric per- son lived in astate of revolt against her destiny, and wore, not mereï¬y in private, but unblushingly on public 0c- casions, men's clothing of the most pronounced character. She affected the costume of a country gentleman. and was habitually to bescen in riding- breecbes and boots. 3 short jacket and a peaked cap. \‘v'hen the description of this Cady began to be whispered about for the ecu-tunic was regarded as a lit- tle unusual even in Russia. lconfess that I was somewhat incredulous; but [soon lemme convinced of the fact fzcin personaâ€. olservation. 1",)... (“ML Ln the country was of s more “'estern nature than what. we had had during the winter-Lime in town. Stnnetimes’ a chicken 'fprovided us‘wiih a Welcomeichange; sometimes dishes of beautiful wood strawberries, .. with abundance of cream. added a very ac- ceptable relish to our meals, and DflGll.‘ after a course of the perennial old hull with garlic sauce, we would bet..- the rattle of wheels. a confused sound of voices. and two rive; vendors of ices, who had disposed of aid their cool de- lights in camp. would cross the stream and race up the incline to the datcha for our custom. Near at hand were .many pleasant walks in the quiet woodland gladcs,but. however desirable it might be to stroll out in the evening and enggy the fra- grant erfume of the orchi ‘ and other beauii ul wildflowers, and listen to the. thrilling notes of the nightingale, it was yet a pleasure which had frequently a certain element. of risk in it. Round the villages and outside the towns in Russia there is an invisible fringe made up of the outcasts of society and the de- speratc. These llazboyn'iks, as they are called, are a serious menace 'to the weak and defenseless. Peter, our fail hful man servant had an encounter with some of them which might have had un- pleasant consequcnces, not. merely for himself, but also forime. He had been to fecth my washing from Pokrovka, and was returning rather late across the fields, when he heard footsteps be- hind him and saw two dark forms ap- proaching quickly. He made off at a good pace for the plank bridge across the stream on the other side of which lay the datcba. Suddenly he came upon a soldier to whom be appealed for help and the figures. which were close upon him, disappeared in the darkness. He pushed on again quickly for the bridge, but soon became conscious that he was still pursued. He {kept his lead, how- ever, till he neared the river, and once across it he would‘be within hail of the house. Just as he was about to set- foot -on the plank, two other figures jumped out from beneath it and‘the way was cut. off. \Vit‘ihoul; a. moment’s lit-Sitation he plunged into the river, holding up the precious bundle of clean shirts and calling out loudly for help. 'l‘he.Razboyniks gave up the chase and more than satisfied with a trouble in reâ€" co nition of his fidelity. I nfortunatsly, all of Peter's compa- triots are not of the same lnidney as himself, and there is a trait of charact- er very common in Russia which soon- er or later obtrudes itself. The average native has some considerable difficulty in discriminating between meum and tuum, and it is so far as the posses- sions of others are concerned, a com- munist. A writer has put; it some- what crudely by declaring that every Russian is more or less of a chief. \Vit’hout going quite so far as this, it may safely be affirmed that there is dishonesty in Russia. where the reverse might reasonably be expected. In a. work, written by one who only began to learn the Russian alphabet when on his outward journey, it is stated that "the drosky driver who bows so polite- ly to the passers-by, and crosses himself as he passes almost every church, will generally contrive to rob you of someâ€" thing if it is only to the value of a piece of string." That the writer's conâ€" clusions are not far from the truth the following incident; will serve to show. I was driving once to a. railway sta- tion, before I had been two months in the country. The driver was communi- cative, and turned around frequently to give me the benefit of his opinion, so far as the rattling of the cranky drosky over the stones rendered this possible. When in the train shortly afterward, my eyes strayed to the rack where my Gladstone bag was deposited. I sudden- ly became conscious of something un- usual iin its appearance, Ifhad done it up carefully before. starting, but now a. curious white stripe ran down one of its well-worn sides; one strap was mis- sing! The artfufl ishvostcbik, while keeping me in conversation and lookâ€" ing me straight in the face, had, with one hand, managed to loosen the strap and transfer it to his pocket. _â€"â€"_â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" LEATHER REMNANTS. sâ€"uâ€" A Material of‘Vhicli No l’ni'l ls I'crmlltcd to ISO to Waste. Leather remnants are a regular or- ticle of trade. In manufactures of lcai liâ€" er there are remnants, just as there are remnants in the manufacture of cloth, of tin, of. wood, and of very -ni.-iny other materials. There are wholesalers who deal in lcatlici‘ ri-nmiinls exclusâ€" ively, who will buy any leather rein- mints whatever, and who find a sure sale for everything they buy. For many purposes the remnants are as good as pieces cut from whole sides would be, and they cost very much less. A manufacture-r of fine shoes. who buys \vlinlr- skins, cuts out the best and uses that only und sells the rust :is remnants. The remnants are sold in manufacturers who make it cheaper gram. of shoes; the shoes made. from such remnants may be bo-lIc-r :inil chcapcr than shoes made from cheap whble stuck. . Harness makers and saddlch who buy “‘imlc skins have. inorebr less remnants, little pieces, and odds and nude ibzii they have no use for, but which may be Iiiiide useful for one purposi- and :in- otlie-r. From any whole sllx‘k lili'l‘l‘ mu>i be remnants. and li'u- l'i'lllllllllli‘i' are all good for soiiii-tliing‘ I‘l'lllllillllfl of belting. for iiisuince. are sold to make boot heels of. and insoles. The smallest remnants of some kinds of leather arc. used for the. filling of balls; [wither remnants .‘lrf' llsvtl for making suspendvr tips; for il'lllilf'r trimmings; for legging straps; for tho making of (iilf'flp pwki-tlmoks, “lid for covering eyeglass and spectacle vast-H, and various kinds of fancy giiflfi‘i', for book binding; for making children's shims; for the straps used on hobby horses; for leather buttons and “ash- ers; for corners on books. Remnants of French calf are used for fine cobbling; and remnants generally are sold fora very great variety of purposes. “'AEN'T ONE 01" THEM. A Scotch clergymen and one of his elderly parisliuno-rs were walking home from church one. frosty day, when ibe old gentleman slipped and foil flat {in his brick. The minister looked at him a moman and, bring lbfluri‘fl that he was not hurt. said to him: "Friend, sinners stand on slippery places. The old germ? man looked up {Hi if lti ill-'sutt‘ hiiitscll of ll;‘ fact. and said: i see they do; but lcan't. y _. _.._-â€"â€"_ ...._.___. _. . __.__ .._..-_ .- -4_......-_..____.. _.-_-- -..__.._..__.__.â€".__..~_.â€"â€"vâ€"â€"I ï¬lGUBATUBS FUR BABES INGENIOUS simian TO mourns THE POPULATIoN or FRANGR nude on the Same ‘l'i-luclple as the Appar ants for-Inc .trllï¬clal unlchlnx 0r W ~- Thirty to Slur-Four Per Cent. or the Little Ones Saved. The alarmingly small birth-rate in France and the resultant fact that the population of that country is almost iii a numerical standstill. while that of all her near neighbors rapidly in- creasing. has awakened a new interest in all that bearsupon the preservation of infant life. French babies, in oth- er words, are at a premium, and the social Scientists are aroused to the im~ parlance of using every effort to pre- vent a diminution of the stock on I Dr. Rousselle, of the French Senate, has been so energetic in this field that. he might, very well be called a. second father to thousands of French little ones whose feeble lives have been saved by the operation of measures he ori- ginated and succeeded in having enact- ed into lawsâ€"laws which have stood as a barrier bctwccu the lives of the helpless and the negligence and cupi- dity of those on whom fell the delicate task of rearing them. Next. to Dr. Roussclle. comes Dr. Farnier with his ingeniously contriv- ed incubators. in which the faint glow of life. in baby \vciiklings is carefully screened and gently fanned with an enduring flame. As far back as 1857 Dr. Deunce, of Bordeaux, invested AN JNCUBATUR CRADLE. in which the baby was kept shielded from the outer :iii' in an nntificizilly warmed case. Dr. lleiince's invention. hnwever, had the objection that the child breathed through direct intro- duction the‘ colder outer air, with disâ€" astrous results to its lungs. Dr. Farnier made three improvements on the Deuncc incubator, with the reâ€" sult that he has at. last succeeded in meeting all the necessary conditions and warding off, as far as possible, all dangers to the frail little lives. llis improvement upon this contrivzuicc folâ€" lowed some time afterwards and was adopted in the saline institution. Now comes his improvement. upon the ini- irovcnicnl with the. result. that the ’ar-is Maternity prides itself on having" the most perfect mechanical conserva- tor of baby life in existence. . The Ii‘arnicr incubator is made on the same principle as the. apparatus for the artificial batching of eggs. ll conâ€" sists of a largo oblong box of thick wood divided into two compiirtnicnts. The lower contains a reservoir of hot water. The woo-ilcn plank whch isthe ceiling for this compartment serves me the floor of the lintlc baby bedrouin above. it. This lilipiitian apartment is furnished Willh A DAIN’J‘Y LITTLE CRIB and may be Very prettily decorated. Among the other articles of furniture is a. ‘bcrmomctei' with large, plain figures, so that. when an observer looks in through the glass in the ceiling to so:, how the youngster is coming on he may also make a mole, of the exact. temperature. Ample provisiini is iiixmlc for the free iiiliiiissioai to the little room of pure, outside air. but it has to pass first in close conlaill. with the. reser- voir of hot water, so limit} when it is delivered for (‘ll'n's‘lllllpliull to the. baby dclivcrcd for consumpliontollie baby's lungs in: is warmed to the. some loin- pcraturc :is the liltlc. room itself. Very delicate and ingenious devices arc. list-(l to insure as even icinpciiliii'c as pos- sible. About every two hours the baby is taken out. of his little. den. and for :i la \viiionieails, while he is taking inoii’rishincnt, is exposed 10 the a'lil'.Ui‘ the large room, an (lllf'rllUOH to which be generally raises as vociferous an objection as the :41 ri-nglh of his lungs will permit. . The success of this baby iiiculxiting' princess sufficiently attests the value. of Ur. li‘ni‘njcr's invention. ()ul. of In group of infants born under ('l‘l‘iflln conditions wilt-re. fiii'iiicrly none. were. linmvn to survive now fully 5t) per mm. are saved. In another group of wcnklings only Ell per cent. l'm'ini-rly survived. The lll'lllfll-‘illg process has rui~cd this pci‘ccnlugu of life to (34. t AN EMBARRASSED MOTHER. "'"' l. 'l'liln ltoy Should llin'i- llccii Tiikcii Home and Well spiinlu-Il. A pi‘iuil. many things occur on llm sli'w-t cur simply lNH'dllS" ii. is :1 public t'OllH'}‘.’ll)('l' and line. privacy of home is iiIIido- impossible. 'l'liis H‘Ulll' occurred U“ a Fil'l'f'l cur in .I cm'luin Izily nn| lulu! Hilll‘t': ".\l:iiiiiii:i. hilllull'fi llii- guldcn-lmin-tl infunl in kiiii-kvi'bix-ko-i‘s, " “but are you \tt'lll‘llll! :iuntic's sculskiu suck for! "llur-li, Willie," quickly urged lilf inollio-r with a vivid blush, ivliilc (be llli‘ll tried to look iiiii'uusvious and Ilic. \Hlllll'll smiled dcliglilcdly. " Aren't you glad uu'n- going in MM- grandma!" ‘ “Yep. liil I'll lml Hui! she'll :i~.k him: will come In b:va :iunlic’s suck on." “ [in keep quiet, dear. Get up bum and look Ulll. the window. Just sm- llic ï¬ll'igih :inil lill‘ pvt:in horse's. “ Wluzw, don't flu-y go it, though! Hut. sunmw auntie wants to go nut, will she IN“ on tlrii old wipe. you huh-fur And my pmulm-MJ What do you ili'nk. Mumnm llilsmi, you'ri- wearing melt-r .lo-iinic's but? \Von'i ~b0 just «mm. and lmr I" " Sm. here, my young man, you lllllsl (‘iiill‘r k011i qiiu-t 01' I'll punish you :w- vurvlv when w.- gel to grandma's. l llll'lln- it mm. How oflrn have I told you that liltli: buys should be sum and not heard f" {out a million illllws, llul. I my, nmnini'i, I can think about what {I row Ilia-rc'il be ulu-n .lc-nnic finds out that you \Vf'fl: her illl. can't if 'i'lixil liain't bein’ lw‘if‘tl. is if f" ' 'l in- liiilc unmrm held up l'wr finger. and wbvn S-lu: led “'illio- off in, the may: corn-‘1‘ his feet «lid no! 'o-rgli the flour twicr. i'i the whole l- ng‘li of the. Our.