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^pnMwn ^ ,.,,,,-# lt«rtved m«< as Ifement; '^*1W«5Ks!ELi •••$ battel WiarUl appl»-«i*» '" ;«i«airMtt "if' . . sal aweeiest >..# s: •WUed, <wna iwuitltere Biadiraew ^,., >i-jNrtli«a»pM^«nc*d i*M'i • -&M Tb*r ftimtw dwsed merriir. •. %*{; * -~i tad «M«1btlr very best ••{;.. "' % tfnmfl aoooch npon the *-»«». ' , JkMl Wit and ttrcfn before me: ; <»« T *•?£«* ttn*»lf, with sh HIOW» oooi, > k esws lac liirtit drew o'er m ?. • Jy t. if ,.» Buthtlto* bi« merry, an my head . ;' *' wfc*uTtM**ed him for my bill. " fl:- * - © togpykowl 0 bird* sad 4o»aw* •* 1 Forcvwr hi* bnuMhw fill I , tlhland. iShu A BBOKEN REVGlO, ; Mvi- ... .̂ . tlxriver's hr»vin«brea«4* lnt«bM»tmpslled ~ " ' "MS- . "Tig HBWWIW. ii helpless thin* Adrift without a chart. Or tike » *w»n witii brok» wing And ebbing heart. The Duilt hands th*t oooe defied „_The storm kind's anery breath With pliant oar <«, arc 'neathtUo tide And still in death. BT wind and ware a boat is tW)D; Where cruel waters roll sj£s£saM""~*: ,hb^' ?&&• "Sr. rotator, aintyon offyonr tore, <; Taint me you're talUn? with, Bat that oid akiff iron see oat then V' >' Btfanw to Billy Smith. "He's been to town end sold his ataJfe« And every cent he's sank b whiakr atmght, and snre enough I••>•. He's drank, you know--dead drunk; **He had a slew of flah to-day * His regular market pack. And now hi* boat has skipped away ̂ • Hell have to hoof it back." • r Jeroms Burnett in Washington Star. ' ' ' j5 •M * J?«!»« _ knar. ' r" Story of a Year. ' BT GKOBGE KYLE. "Economy House. Booms 25 cents a For gentlemen only. Clean beds." Such was the inscription that stared at me from over a bare-looking doorway as I tramped wearily up one of the great thoroughfares of the metrop­ olis. The very word "bed" sounded luxuri­ ously as I read it, for I had had a hard day, climbing up high door steps with my "book that sells on sight," and then «atlly climbing down again, without having sold it; and I was utterly worn out. I felt in my pockets, I had no need to feel there; I knew well enough what they contained--just a quarter of a dollar, not another cent. Should I sleep and go without a break­ fast, or breakfast and go without sleep? My heavy eyes and weary body won the battle, and a few moments later I was stretched out upon a little iron bed in a little whitewashed room, very much like a cell in a prison. The mattress was rather hard, I remember, and the coverings not over warm; but they were infinitely preferable to a cold bench, with the night fog for a blanket. Yes, it had come to this! How strange it was to realize that I, whose prosperous business enterprises had made my name so well known through­ out the country that it was familiar to every child in every little village in the land, and whose equipage and house­ hold luxuries had formed the subject of many a newspaper paragraph in the "flush" times gone by should now be sleeping in a cheap lodging house, without a cent in my pocket, and no hope of a meal next morning. But so it was, and so accustomed had I be­ come to poverty of late that it scarcely troubled me to realize it; not enough at all events, to drive sleep away; for in a very few moments I had dropped into that delightfully democratic state which, like death, puts us all "p*m | .level I had a strange dream that night. I thought I was being carried throngh the air by a great bird, a soft, downy kind of bird, that made a great rustling with its wings; and I thought it was such a pleasant, kindly creature, and carried me so gently, that I would just let it have its own way with me, and finally it dropped me softly upon some­ thing as soft as itself, when I fell into a still deeper sleep that was altogether dreamless. The little lodging-house room seemed *o have expanded when I awoke next morning, and, what was strangely still, •ome one had come in the night and covered the ceiling with beautiful fres­ coes. And the bed, too, how wide and •oft it was! I was willing to swear that when I got into it last night I had to lie •ery straight, or my poor sore feet were in the cold air; while now I might scramble about at my sweet will, and lie crosswise, even if I saw fit to do so. Then again the room was filled with beautiful furniture and objects of alL kinds, prominent among which wad" a highly idealized portrait of myself, bulging over the carved wooden man­ tel. But the prettiest thing of all in the worn was a pretty little lady; not agirl oxactly, but about the age my wife would have been if I had ever had one. Thero she sat, as placidly as though it was all right and real, working at a Eiece of embroidery in a oosy armchair y my bedside. This was another dream, of course, but such a pleasant one that I feared to speak, lest I should awaken And lose it all. So I lay there, turning matters over in my mind, and wonder­ ing if this were the way with most dreams, and if the distinctness faded oat of them when we awoke, and left only a blurred imression behind. "Would you like your breakfast now? The doctor says you may eat anything you like that is nice and digestible," said the pretty little voice that seemed turned to utter only kind and cheerful words. "Madam," I asked with as much re ' •spectfnl dignity as my position permit- •ted, "would you kindly inform me who I am, and what I am doing here? how I got here, who you are yourself, and any other facteof a personal nature that •occur to you? I admit that at present I feel a little bewildered." "YowJ|me is Richard Rollins," said '. the littfp'Jpn', in a sort of a reproving tone, saHttt she might have used in speaking to * Wayward child. "Yes, that tallies with my ideas, at 'least." "And," she continued, "you are a •cruel, wicked man, who runs away from Shome end pretends not to know his own •wife whenhe is brought back again: -Then you, I buj)[)OSe, »iO iiijr Wife, A this is me house, and I never was i agent for the 'Universal Instructor,' id Ldid not go to bed without a cent in my pocket last night in the Economy House?" ' Now, dear Pick, you talk in such a nice reasonable way that I can scarcely l»elieve you are not quite well a Do, darling try to remember. You can­ not be very wrong iu your head now Your eyes look so bright and clear, a«d vonr voice sounds so nice and quiet. When you went away you thought the Fenians and the Nihilists had forced a league to murder you, and that I was the member appointed to commit the crime. You have got all over that, you see, and yet, now, you protend not to know me." I began to nee light now, though dimly. I had b?en mistaken for some other man whoso name and appearance were identical with mine and had been brought here in the deep sleep of com plete exhaustion. The big, soft bird of my dream had been produced by the motion of the carriage or whatever means had bfteu used in conveying me. I determined to set myself right at once. "Madam,'"I said, "if you will kindly waive the question of our relationship and allow me to get up and dress, I will be pleased to go down to breakfast and talk the whole matter over with you quietly." "Oh, do you feel well enough to get up?" she said. "Quite, quite. I only desire a little privacy and a little time to make my­ self presentable." "That's a good boy," she said, stoop­ ing over and pressing a pair of soft, cool lips on my forehead. "I will hu­ mor you this time," and she slipped quietly out of the room with a smile of indulgent pity on her face. The garments that lay waiting for :me were certainly not those I had worn the previous night, but they fitted me perfectly, and when I had slipped on the embroidered dressing-gown and soft, warm slippers, I seemed to have gone bade to the old, luxurious days again. A dainty little breakfast awaited me the sweet, warm-looking dining- room, where everything was so fresh and pretty and in such perfect taste, that it looked like some dainty genre picture by Leloir. Only two chairs were placed at the table and in one of them "my wife" sat, looking like the embodiment of domes­ tic sweetness. I let myself forget the truth, and dropped into the pleasura­ ble delusion until I had fini^h^d my breakfast. I felt like a miserable swindler, sitting there in some other man's place, eating his food and chat­ ting with his wife, but the temptation was too great for such a poor devil as I was at the time. • And then I thought, "it is only for an hour or two; after that, poverty, loneliness and fatigue once more,and perhaps worse things,for aught I know." But when we had fin­ ished our meal, I pushed back my chair from the table and plunged boldly into the subject of the strange mistake which brought me there. "Madam," I began, "the truth must be told, and told at once, and I can on­ ly beg that when you know it you will forgive my involuntary intrusion on your kind hospitality. You have made a grave and terrible mistake in having brought me here. I am Richard Rol­ lins, and from your words and actions I presume that I resemble in a marvel­ lous degree another man who bears the same name as myself. Btjt I am not your husband. I am a poor man with­ out a friend or relative in the world. If you will kindly return me the mean garments which I wore yesterday I will leave your house at once. You will ad­ mit that I have treated you with studied respect, and have only presumed so far upon your error a9 to eat a meal at your table, a meal which I confess I should otherwise in all probability have been obliged to forego." "Oh, Dick! Dick!" vnoaned the little lady before me, bursting into tears, "I thought you had entirely recovered, and here yeu are talking more wildly than ever. Oh, my heart will break with this disappointment." How I longed to kiss away the tears from those kindly bright blue eyes, and take the sweet little woman in mv arms and hush her grief to rest upon my bosom. "Take care," I said: "If you tempt me too far you may make your life a torture of Bhame and remorse when you really learn the truth. Listen to reas­ on before it is too late. Once more I say I am not your husband. God knows he is a man that any one in the world might envy. But I am not he. Think, think of some mark by which your hus­ band might be positively identified-- some scar, some boyish mark in tattoo­ ing." She started up at the last words. "Yes," she said, "you have a little blue star upon your arm just above the wrist. Don't you remember how you used to feel ashamed of it, and said naughty words about the big boy who induced you to put it there ?" She had no need to pull up my sleeve and point to the tell-tale mark; my faoe must have been proof enough thrt she would find it there. "Now," she said, "will you give up your foolish delusion? I cannot be­ lieve that you are insane. You are only cruel and hateful, and want to break your poor wife's heart. Your voice sounds jusf; as it used to before you were taken ill, and your eyes do "not wander now. I believe you* have got another wife somewhere, and want to get rid of me by pretending not to know me. What have I ever done that vou should treat me so? All the long time that you were deranged I watched over you and cared for you. When they wanted to take you away, I refused to let you go. And after you wandered off that time and lost yourself, I might have been free if I had wished it. But I did not wish it. I have searched for you, and waited for you, and been as faithful as though you had been well and with me. And this is my return for all." How was I to convince her that she and not I was laboring under a delusion. After cogitating this question for some time, I came to the conclusion that my best and safest plan was to give up the attempt, evidently a hopeless one, of explaining matters, and simply leave the house at once. It was all very well to make the resolution, but when it came to carrying it out I discovered that I was not a free agent. My at tempt to get back my own clothes proved fruitless, so I resigned myself to the necessity of walking through the streets in dressing-gown and slippers. But here again I was thwarted; the lower windows were all barred, the doors locked and the keys hidden from me. Now, what was I to do? Wait until the doctor called and try to get his help? That seemed a feasable plan, oo when, a little later in the morning, the white-haired and benignant medical man made his appearance, I appealed to nun in toa most earnest and straight­ forward manner to relieve mefrom mylhaatUr tore open the envelope, and false and emharr--ring poeitiott. threeletters M1MH upon the table. He blandly agreed wife all I said, and spoke in terms of the highest coalmen dation of my good taste and honorable feeling, but concluded bv saying: think, however, that yon had better re­ main--of course, you understand, un der such conditions as will save your enforced residence here from any ap­ pearance of impropriety. Your wife-- I beg your pardon, this lady--might send for some elderly female relative or friend to act as her companion, and any other Bnch expedient as you approve might be made use of. But I think on the whole you had better remain. Here I caught him glancing meaningly at my pseudo wife, who stood listening intently to every word we uttered. "My God, man!" I shouted, provoked beyond endurance, "do you call your­ self a physician and do not know that I am a perfectly sane man. Look in my eye, feel my pulse! you must see that I am not deranged." "Oh, not at all. Not at all," said the old doctor, in a tone of the deepest earnestness. "I only thought it might relieve the lady's feelings. She i3 little mad you understand," and he touched his forehead with a little twirl­ ing gesture of the finger. It was hopeless. I saw plainly this house was to be my place of residence whether I wished it or not, and until the real head of it was discovered, if he ever was, I should have to occupy his place. 3o, after a few more fruit less attemps, I gave up the struggle, and allowed myself to be carried along by the tide of circumstances. Certain things however, I insisted upon as the only conditions upon which I would remain passive. The doctor's suggestion as to a companion for the lady must be carried out at once, and I must be treated merely as a guest in the house. "You had better humor me,'; I said, "for I might become violent, you know, if I should be thwarted." The doctor opened his eyes at this last remark of mine with an expression of surprise and interest, but he did not alter his manner towards me in the least. I learned that my "case" after­ wards formed the subject of a most interesting article in a medical journal, for which the doctor received great credit in his fraternity. For a whole year I lived in this strange and false position, growing day by day more deeply attached to the dear, affectionate little woman who sat before me at every meal, who sang sweet, simple little songs for me in the evening, with kind, motlierely old Aunt Sarah smiling in her armchair by the fireside. We used to drive out together in the family coach, not in th£ afternoon parade through the park and back again, but out into the country, where we could see nature, not yet made com­ monplace by unsympathetic crowds. In everything our tastes agreed. Every day some new point of sym­ pathy would develop itself. Sometimes, when I thought that all this must end soon, my heart would seem to rise up in my throat and choke me. If the true husband ever returned I could face him with a clear conscience, for not by one action had I wronged him. He might forgive me, but for my part I felt that the day I lost the com­ panionship of this dear and kindred soul would end for me the possibility of happiness in life. Towards the end of the year I saw a singular change come over the manner of my friend and companion. She be­ came a little less familiar and some­ times I discovered a look of doubt and terror in her eyes. At last one day I found her weeping bitterly. Trem­ blingly I asked her to explain the cause of her tears. At first she could only sob, but at last she whispered: "Is it only the old question of your delusion." It was the first time in many months that either of us had alluded to the sub­ ject. Heaven knows how I was tempt­ ed for a moment to lie to her, and deny my identity. But I resisted the unman­ ly suggestion of my own weakness, and said "Do not let us apeak of that." "No," she burst dut, in a tone almost of defiance. "I have not told you the truth. I am beginning to doubt my­ self and not you. Sometimes I seem to see a difference, not in your face" or form, not in any outward thing, but in your souL I never loved you before you left me as I do now. I almost doubt that I love you truly. Then it was merely, now it is something deeper and stronger. Look in my eyes, and tell me truly. Are you my husband ?" If I should live for centuries, I should never forget the anguish of that mo­ ment. But at last I nerved myself, but such an effort as the victim of the in­ quisition must have made when he ac­ knowledged the heresy that condemned him to the torture, and said in a faint and hollow, but distinct tone: "I am not your husband. Farewell!" Sadly I arose, and with downcast head left her presence. I had opened the door, and was about to cross the threshold when I heard the rustle of a woman's timm coming down the stairs, and before I had made another step a pair of Hoft, warm arms were clasped tightly around my neck. "Don't leave me," pleaded the sweet voice that I had loved HO well. "I can­ not bear to part with you. You are mad, you are my husband!" Firmly but gently I unloosened her clinging arms. "Friend of my soul," I said, "I lore yon too much to wrong you. You know that I am not your husband." The red blood of shame rushed into her face, and she sank into a seat and covered her face with her hands. Without another word I rushed into the street, utterly exhausted by the ef­ fort 1 had made, an 1 almost hating myself for the cruelty that honor had demanded of me. I had insulted the woman I loved, and now she would despise me, perhaps. "Well, better so," said my conscience; but "No, no," said my wicked and tortured heart. Fortune seemed to turn in my favor after this time. "Seemed," I say, for it was, in reality, the most wretched period of my life. I ran across an old employee of mine, now a wealthy man, thanks to help I gave him in my days of prosperity, and he proved to be possessed of the rare human virtue of gratitude. He took me into his employ, and placed me in a position of trust and dignity. But was gloomy and*spiritless, for the one being who made life of interest to me seemed separated from me for ever, and I believe I should, indeed, have gone mad/but for a strange circumstance, which suddenly altered the whole com plexion of my life. One morning, just as I was about to leave my lodging for the office, a letter was handed to me. I knew the hand­ writing at once. It was from her. I The ooe that first caught my eye was in thet same hand as the address, and I eagerly seised and read it. It contained only thetwt few words: "DEAR FBIKND.--I received the two letters, here enclosed, and send them to you without comment, as they speak for themselves. "With kindest wishes for your happi nes*, I remain,--Your friend, E. R. The next letter I picked up was in a strange hand and read as follows: OCTOBER 3rd, 18-- > GREEK CO. INSANE ASYMTM. ( *DEAB MADAM,--The enclosed packet Was handed me bv a patient calling himself Alfred Ltndis, just a year ago, with the reqnest that I should keep it for a year, and then send it to its ad dress. "The patient, Landis, had l>een suffer­ ing from acute mania, imagining him self the victim of a conspiracy. A little while before his death, however, he had a lucid interval, as frequently occurs in such cases, and it was in this brief time that he wrote and handed me this packet, with the roquest I mentioned, --Very respectfully. .JAMES BDDD, M. D., "Sup't. Greenville Insane Asylum. "To Mrs'. Eleanor Rollins, New York I opened the other note with a green hend, and read as follows: "DEAR ELEANOR,-- When you receive this I shall have been dead for a year, and beyond the reach of all worldly reproach. I cannot bear to think of the shock this letter must give you un­ til absence has had time to obliterate in some degree your affection for me. "My name is not Rollins. That is the name of an old playmate of mine, whose strong resemblance to myself used to create a great deal of com­ ment. As I grew to manhood I fell into temptation, and disgraced myself and my family. I was ashamed of my nara-o and concluded to change it and leave that section of country where I was known. Richard Rolljfis at that time was growing wealthy, and his name and face was known all over the country. I commenced a system of swindling by passing myself off under his name, imi­ tating the cut of his beard and hair-- and even his freaks of speech. It was a sharp game, and many a time I was on the brink of detection. "When I met you I had already ob­ tained an immense sum of money by this means, and had concluded to live a quiet and steady life if I could do so. You will remember how careful I was to live privately after we were married. was afraid of your hearing the re­ ports about me, and I studiously kept every newspaper from you that con­ tained any illusion to me; for at that time they were full of sneers at "the poor bankrupt, Rollins, who is now liv­ ing in luxury,' etc. The anxiety and strain of those days brought on the brain troubles, which I have never been free from until the present time, when they tell me I must die in a few hours. Try to forgive me for my deception, and forget me as soon as you can. "ALFRED LANDIS." What a flood of light was let in upon my mind by this revelation. I remem­ bered Landis very well now, as a boy who hiwl been very like me in appear­ ance and who had afterward turned out badly and disappeared from our native town. Here too was an explanation of the mysterious paragraphs about me which had puzzled me so much from time to time, and the mysterious tattooed star was a mystery no longer. For Landis and I had taken the freak, as boys often do, of imitating the marks we had seen on sailors, and had used the same star of needle points to do the work with. Need I tell how I flew to the side of her I loved and from whom nothing but death was ever again to part me? All these things happened many years ago, and I am now getting on in life with a sweet and good wife and as fine a pair of boys as any man in the land. But I shall never forget how for one year of my life I was an impostor in spite of myself. : , •• - I Fish and Graham Bread. f%&f. F. H. Storer is an iebnoclost. He has "been and gone" and destroyed two pet ideas which have hitherto given much comfort to a great many excel­ lent peopla He calls them popular delusions, and "goes for them" savage­ ly, battering them out of recognition by means of this scientific investigation club. He says that nothing can be more absurd than to suppose that a fish diet is especially adapted for feeding the brain. He says that fish is not especially rich iu phosphorous, and that, if it were, neither fish nor phos­ phorous has a tendency to go to the brain. The professor does not appear to be interested in the sale of some other food to take the place of fish as a brain renovator and restorer; neither does he seem to have been moved by compassion for Democratic editors who have been gorging themselves so long with fish--under the delusion that it had a tendency to promote brains-- that they have absolutely become scaly. He evidently means just what he says; he has studied the subject, and fish must go. Then he commits assault and battery upon another article of food-- Graham bread--which has so long held its place as a health-giving and longev­ ity promoting substance. He says that the current opinion that white bread is less nutritious than brown bread is an odd fancy, entirely without foundation. As a matter of fact, white bread is preferable as an article of food because of its comparatively easy digestion. Graham bread, the professor explains, is preferoble for people afflicted in va- rioua ways, but not for healthy people-- it is precisely because of the difficulty of digesting bran that unbolted flour possesses the qualities which render it suitable for some people/ but white is far less likely to cause distress to most people than brown brown bread. So far, then, as healthy people are concerned, Graham bread must go. Thus far has Mr. Storer en­ lightened the world to date. But thero is still wofk for him to do. When he will have discovered and proved that it is not conducive to their health to send children to l>ed early, that it is shock­ ingly bad for any constitution to get np early on a cold morning, that tight lace- ing is higllly conducive of health and longevity, that labor is surelv produc­ tive of indigestion, and unlimited quan­ tities of turkey and pudding ought to be taken just before bed-time, he will have made life worth living, and he will have endeared himself to millions of his at present unhappy race.--Minne­ sota Tribune. TRY to be happy in this very pleasant moment; and put not off being so to s time to coma; as though that time should be of another make frotft this, which is alafeady come, and ift ours.-- Fuller. AGRICULTURAL. ICNTING MILK OF DIFFKRENT HEBDS.-- Last fall I added to the number of my cows two high-grade Jerseys. I toon found, on weighing my butter product, that the addition made no per oeptible increase over the previous quantity of butter. I concluded at once that my Jerseys were at fault, f next set the milk of each of the sus­ pected Jerseys by itself, and found that one made twelve pounds of butter and the other a little less; also that the original herd yielded as before. --A. G. The Indiana Farmer says that if turnips are designed for the table, or for the market, they should be kept un­ der earth. No other method has yet been discovered by which the peculiar flavor of the turnip can be retained. They may be placed in conical piles of not more than one hundred bushels each, over which a thin coat of straw may be spread, this oovered with six or eight inches of earth. The tops and roots should be carefully cut off from turnips before they are stored. WORKING BUTTER.--I get butter of a uniform color and good grain by work­ ing it slowly until the salt is thoroughly and evenly absorbed. I discovered long ago that when I worked it hard and fast I have butter that is salvy and hard like, and let it remain after the first slow working in the tray for several hours. Then I work it enough to remove the buttermilk and mould into rolls and set these away until they become hard and firm. If it is for market, I then cover with cloths cut in pieces of exact size and wet with brine.--Mrs. C. B., Orange County, N. J. THE Massachusetts Ploughman, among other things, talks suggestively about the compost heap, saying that it is a good plan to have one for the bene­ fit of the farm. The compost heap may be made of road scrapings, the scour- ings of ditches, the oleaning of ponds, clippings from banks and hedgerows, scrapings and sweepings of farmyards, §aradn refuse, house refuse, and, tn-eed, all sorts of rubbish may be add­ ed to the compost heap. The heap should,necessarily, be covered over with layer of lime, and a layer of salt is also a good addition. These materials are beneficial in themselves, and keep weeds from seeding on the top of the heap. The compost should be turned over from time to time, and when well mixed the land may be well dressed with it, either in spring or autumn. "AGIN" CARROTS.--Connecticut has stringent statute against suffering wild carrots to grow along the high­ ways running through farms, and we hear with great satisfaction that some transgressors in this matter have been prosecuted this year for tolerating the Nuisance. What is the use of having daws against any nuisance unless they are enforced ? The object of the law is to eradicate the pestilential weed, one of the worst the farmer has to contend with, and to protect the careful hus­ bandman who keeps his own fields 'clear of the pest. He needs protection. His careless neighbor may put him to large expense and damage hisliay crop, and increase the'cost of every hoed crop simply by neglect. If he leaves to mature its seed, the dried umbels are carried away by the winds, thus spreading the pest. The water along the roadside washes the Beeds through the culvert, mixed with road dust, into adjacent fields. The grass in the high­ ways belong to the adjacent land hold­ er, and the law very properly holds |iim responsible for what he grows with his grass. The careless farmer may not freely damage hi® "*fcighl>or.-- American Agriculturist. SENDING EGGS TO MARKET. --- There {s always a demand for fresh eggs, and *t profitable figures to the* producer. It is, therefore practicable to make a flock of hens a source of considerable profit. The first aim is to stock the poultry-yard with breeds that are naturally good layers. The second thing to be done is to provide suitable shelter and runs for the fowls, and feed them with a view to egg production, not to an increase of flesh. Corn suita­ ble for fattening purposes must be fed [>nly in moderate quantities, while wheat screenings, barley and green vegetable will be found excellent. The eggs should be gathered from the nest often--at least twice a week--and packed immediately. Great care ought to be exercised in the selection of pack­ ing material. When practicable, the patent egg cases or boxes divided into compartments just large enough to hold an egg, with stout pasteboard, are safest and most convenient. Different markets give preference to different packages. Philadelphia and New York dealers, as a rule, perfer barrels, while Boston, Chicago and some other markets give the choice to cases. Good packing materials are clean, fine-cut rye fctraw or wheat straw. Clean oats or rye are also good, but the grain should be old. Never pack eggs in sawdust or mustv hay, for eggs readily absorb, through their porous shells, all odors and gases. The eggs should be packed uniform; that is, the same number of dozens in each barrel. What is termed a thirty-inch barrel is largely patronized by Ohio shippers and holds eighty dozen eggs. For long shipment it is not usually considered safe, how­ ever, to try to pack more than seventy- five dozen eggs in a thirty-iuch barrel, and many give the preference to a twenty-eight-incli barrel, which accom­ modates but seventy dozen.--N. Y. Worl . EVERGREEN MILLET.--This plant is attracting much attention in the southwest, especially in Missouri and California. A paper in the latter state gives an illustration of the plant, showing th^growth of the stock in a prolific state, and also the growth pf roots. It says much interest has been manifested m the introduction of millet on that coast, and that it is claimed to be the most valuable forage plant known--adapted to all Soils and especially for the dry plains or mesas (table lands) of California, where there is little rainfall, as it will grow luxuri­ antly for months without moisture, and does not require a rich soil, like other grasses, to produce a heavy crop. Says Mr. Arthur Taylor, of Missouri: "I have grown this grass on land too poor to produce timothy orolover, andfonnd it to yield heavy crops. As a striking proof that it does not draw its nourish­ ment from the soil is, that I have grown it for several consecutive years on the same land, whioli is rather poor np and saudy loam, with larger crops each suc­ ceeding year--the land seeming to im­ prove rather than to exhaust. I have cut eight tons at the first cutting and about four tons at the second. I have tested its grazing qualities and find it excels any grass I have ever experiment­ ed with, as it is of rapid growth, and af­ fords a constant green, fresh pasture j when other glasses fail--thus render­ ing it most valuable for miloh cows. [ Another important consideration is the crop of roots IwiiTi 'm li^ m the flnger^wU^p^&f Not only are the root* extraordinary in quantity, but they are superior toaar otber root crop th«t can be grown. bein» relished by all kinds of s&k^IuthS fall of 18781 gathered three thowand bushels per aore, andl mn satisfied it will yield even more than that The root is of a pulpy nature, resembling somewhat the calamus, with a slight taste of Peruvian bark." » HOUSHLTKEPELTYHILP^ I, {DELICATE CAKE.--One cup of white sugar, half-cup of butter, half-cup of sweet milk, whites of two eggs, one- and-a-half cups of flour, a teaspoonful of yeast-powder. Whip whites of eggs to a stiff froth; cream the sugar and butter; add other ingredients; bake in a greased mould, in a moderate oven three-quarters of an hour. MARBLE CAKE --White part.--Three cups sugar, half-cup of butter, one of milk, whites of eight eggs, half tea- spoonful of soda, one of cream tartar, essence of lemon or almond to taste, flour to make thin batter; beat the eggs until light, cream the sugar and butter, add other ingredients, the soda and creahi tartar rlisolved in the milk. SPICE CAKE.--Dark part.--Two cups of brown sugar, one of butter, one of molasses, one of milk, yolks of eight eggs and one whole one, one teaspoon­ ful each of cloves, nutfneg and cinna­ mon, one of cream tartar, half one of soda; beat the yolks light, cream butter and sugar, add eggs, molasses and other ingredients, flour enough to make a rather stiff batter; put in the pan alternately a layer of dark and white, beginning and ending with the dark. Bake one-and-a-half-hours. CREAM SPONGE CAKE.--Ten eggs, one pound of pulverized sugar, half a pound of sifted flour, the grated rind of and juice of one lemon. Whip the whites of the eggs to a froth, beat the yolks and sugar until perfectly light, add the lemon, stir in lightly the whites and flour. Bake on jelly pans. The Cream,--One pint of milk, tWo tablespoon fuls of cornstarch, two eggs, one cup of white sugar; wet the corn* starch with milk enough to make a smooth paste; boil the rest of the milk; to this add the other ingredients; flavor to taBte; boil and stir until smooth; set the cream aside to cool; then spread the cakes the same as jelly cakes. SCALLOPED OYSTERS.--This is a style of cooking oysters by which you may retain most of their fine native per­ fume and make a most savory and sat­ isfying dish. Take your scallop shell or dish and butter and bread it, using only the sweetest of bread crumbs and butter. _ On this place a layer of salt of extra primes. Season with pepper and salt. Add another layer of oysters. Bread crumb, butter and season again. Add a third layer of oysters, also a lit­ tle butter and a dash of cayenne pep­ per and the liquor of the oysters. Place in the oven and allow to remain twenty minutes. Have in readiness a very hot shovel. Hold this over the top until it is deepened to the rich brown of good toast or a cup pound cake. Add a dish of home-made wine. For small patty pan scallops prepare as directed above, and instead of placing in one large scal­ lop shell or dish, bake in the cunning little patty pans. For oyster shell scallops prepare in the same way, and instead of placing in one large dish, bake in the shells of the oysters them­ selves, using for that purpose the round half. We like this plan the best of all the scallops, because it serves to impart to the oyster the equisite taste of the oyster shell.--The Caterer. Rivers, Railroads anl Mines. The coal area of the world is distrib­ uted as follows, according to a late es­ timate made by the geologist Le Conte: SqdareMIe* 1 Sfrore Jflifea. United States... .192,080 Germany 1,800 British America.. 18,000 Melgiam S18 G eat Britain.... 12,ooo Restof Europe..100,000 Spain 4,000| China 2,000 France 2,000|Japan 6,000 The estimated production of gold and silver from 1800 to 1880 is, according to "The West in 1880," as follows: U. a... » ..11,980,000,0001 Spanish A... #900,000^00 Australia... l,2f>o,ooo,oo();Ofr Count's. 330,000,00 The railroads of the world were dis­ tributed thnsin 1880: Mile*. itaiv fcoas Belgium and Hol'd.3,918 Turkey, etc .M?0 Switzerland...... .1,660 South America 6.8*0 Africa.... 5.897 Australia 4,350 India .8t6lt Best ot Asia l,*>3 MUe*. United States. <.. .93,000 Canada 6,145 Rest of N. Amer.. L.7H8 Germany 31,376 Great Britain 17,69c. France 15.37S Rusnift 14,098 Anetiia .13,100 Spain and P'rtng'i 6,2fi0 Scandinavia....... 6,167 We have not within reach the number of miles of river navigation, except by the tedious process of adding the navi­ gable waters of all the rivers and streams of the world. It may be said, however, that the corps of United States civil en­ gineers has estimated that there are 20,- 000 miles of navigable waters, or waters that can easily be rendered navigable in the Mississippi system, and in the St. Lawrence system there are about 15,000 miles more, under the control of the United States alone and with Can- ada.-r-CAioafiro Inter-Ocean. Italian Servants. Italian servants are models of polite­ ness. The wildest mistake made in their language by a foreigner, when given an order, does not cause even the shadow of a smile to fiit across the ser­ vant's faoe. The words "coachman" and "spoon" are so much alike in Ital­ ian, as are also "cabbage" and "horse,'* "hair" and "hats." "I have seen," says a lady, writing to the Century, "a servant, when told to order the spoon to harness the horse,* receive his instructions as if spoons har­ nessing horses was a sight he had been accustomed to from childhood." Tell your coachman to harness the cabbage, or your valet to hang up your hair, and they wonld bo>w and retire to carry out your absurd orders--whioli they perfectly understand, however-- with most decorous solemnity. Though they never presume to disa­ gree with their employers, yet these polite servants are yery firm in carry­ ing out their own ideas. The lady re­ ferred to once had a man cook, whose aversion to cats waa aa great as hia mis­ tress' fondness for them. Yet in the lady's presence lie always spoke of cats as most charming animals to have about the house. But no cat could be kept in the house longer than a week. It always mysteriously disap­ peared ; had been run over, or strayed away, or killed by a dog, and the cook was thrown thereby into the depths of grief.i-- Youth's Companion. A WRITER of a mathematical turn of mind finds from the census returns that there are about 17,500 dentists in the United States, who, he estimates, pack into the teeth of the Amerioan people a ton of pure gold annually. Continu­ ing his speculfttionRj he predicts that in the twenty-first century, all the gold in the country will be buried in AMI graveyards. hi iMPmt: ImriltrttE--paregoric. A TTE-'EM lock--wedlock. A VEIN undertaking--digging eoti.* Tim first poker party was theOtnlea \ of Eden, for it held the first pair. BRASS band music goes by Hie pound, but church music by the choir.-- Texas S,fling*. THE City of Wagon Wheel, Colorado^ f| ought to be a good place for tired fel- lows to go to. * , CRAZY quilts have a square exactly in Si the center bearing the name of the lun- ..3, atic maker.--Philadelphia Call. WHEN a man has his summer suit j;5 f dyed and tries to palm it of for a new ^ winter attire, you call ten him it's too thin. . T,h.e ^j°i? m*y see what is going on m this world, and it is very fortunate B for some that.he won't tell.--Car/ Fret- a zevs Weekly. "How do you know when a cvclone 1 is coming ?" asked a stranger of a west- |r* ern man. Oh, we get wind of them," was the answer. PATEII familias to festive»son: "Re­ member my son, it's not the ooat that makes the man." F. S.; "No, sir, I know it, it's the pants." Too CLOSE 'tention ter bus'ness ain't good fur de system. De rooster what crows all night, crows de weekee'ia da mornin'.-- Uncle Itemus. y FBUCND come thou like a friend. And whether aright thy face, •'• ,< t - Or d m with olouds we cannot comnxahend We 11 hold out patient handfl^ MGti la* Ui place, Ana trust thee to the end. A HOLE on the nose indicates that a man will be a great traveler--probably to get out of the way of peoplo who make personal remarks.--Lowell Citi­ zen. - j AN INDIAN is running a newspaper in the Indian Territory. When he got out of "sorts," he ordered Pequods instead at 1 ' ; itW-"? v v* V sY¥ •' Pequods instead of em-quads from the type foundry^-- Newman Independent <' > - < / * A baptism in Hades'depth : , a* As not aa boiling tar Awaits the man who quits the room And leaves the door ajir. And he whoroftly shuts the door ( ! • iw|T 8halldwell among the blest, „ « Where the wicked cease from trvrabllnip And the weary are at rest - < "WHY don't you come and kiss ft#, Johnny?" said an ancient maiden aunt to^ her youthful nephew. "Because," f( said Johnny, hanging his head, "I'm ?- afraid of powder."-- Newman Ind'e- .i pendent. How PLEASANT is Saturday night when we've tried all the week to be o good," says the poet. Yes, but it isn't a circumstance to the restful peace and holy joy of a Sunday morning when we tried all Saturday night to be good. LADY visitor: "Is your mistress at t > home?" Sorvant (religiously inclined): Yes, mum, but she's too busy to see t> yer." Lady' visitor: "Then she is not + at home?" Servant: "Fact is, mum, I can't lie under $20 a month--and I won't." AN exchange says,: "Eve didn't lose '3 much time because she had no looking- glass to be running to every half hour." • "If we believe tradition, grandma was a rather good-looking lass herself," re­ marks Burdette, as he softly chuckles to himself. - O, AMERIKAW, Amerikaw! How I love you--Fifty cents all around, please. American women are very beautiful-- Fifty cents more all around, please. I have purchased a house in New York, • and shall make this country my home-- Fifty cents more, etc. That is what our ; • European visitors are giving us. A MEMBER of an orchestra in New York grieved so much over the loss of his cornet, that he had to go to bed • utterly prostrated. This is sad, to be „ but not so much so as if he had found his horn, and several of his ' neighbors had been compelled to go to bed utterly prostrated. What is the cornet man's loss, is his neighbor's gain, . by a large majority.--Norristown Her­ ald. NBW YORK society sticks up its nose 1 because Miss Carrie Astor, a member of > an old aristocratic family, has become engaged to young George Gould, the son of a common speculator. As tho ancestors of the girl were nothing but musk rat trappers, it is not plain to the > ordinary reader what she has got to put , OD style about. Her money was mado by skinning rats while Gould's was made skinning suckers and fleecing lambs. It is about an even thing.-- JPeck'e Sun. m m m -- , m m • • • n • i -- -- • < t - , • > * - J " ' I , £ » ( Then Then Was Deep Silence*. ,v, There was a party of southern tlemen talking with a a merchant travel- t er from New York on duelling, and tho traveler was taking it in straight. Well, sah," said Col. B., "wair jdK evah in a duel, sab?" "Yes, I've been there." "Ah, permit me to congratulate' you» sah. It is a noble privilege, sah, to re­ sent at the point of the pistol, sab*. affront to a gentleman's lionah, " ~ "You are right, Colonel'" "And wair you hit, sah?* "Tee, I got it." "Ah, bettah and bettah, Nk did you get it?" "Well, you see, the duel was with a southern man, and he was ae good a shot as the rest of them." * "Yes," said the Colonel, eagerly, "they are all good in that line, sah." "Yes, and when we faced each other I thought it was my last appearaace on any stage." "The Yankees always felt that way, sah, befo' ouah brave men, sah." "Yes, and we stood up there and tak­ ing deadly aim at each* other, polled trigger, and my gun snapped while the Colonel's shot took me square in the back of a hog rooting up potatoes ilk the next field."--Merchant Traveler. The Motion Wasn't Seoended. Some years ago, when the Hon. Hugh Buebanan was judge of the Coweta cir­ cuit, there lived in the ooonty a gentle­ man who had once been a jauliee of tho peace and judge of the inferior court, whom we shall oall Judge S. This gentleman hod just been admitted to the bar. He was in his first ease before Judge Buchanan. Col. A. was his op­ ponent. Col. A. moved to dismiss tho case of Judge S. for some defects in the pleadings. Judge Buchanan asked Judge S. what lie had to say in reply to the motion of CoL A. "Why, if it pleases your honor," said Judge S.» "you can't entertain the motion of CoL A. It has no second." Judge S. loot his case.--Douglasville (On.) Star A FEW years ago cotton-seed was T»- garded as a waato material, to be dis­ posed of with as little expense as possible. Now it is not only emple^ed as a general fertilizer on many jhlanta- tions, but thousands of tons of it are sold at the oil mills, where, after tho oil has beeu expressed, the cake is ̂ tor feeding all kinds of stock. ISosoc 30,000 ohildren canal boats in England. are living > i ^ -rwrifcsk' r&j? * 3r*..r. :