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if!.,' « i ^ V*l>', ^ -. , , <;,» n*V" W*"V. V«,AV',W i Im'/v'^. .fc^ '¥%">* A :"* \'..N| .."* "-i*Xa . :i. •% , * H?Vl_%f. 1*. &!*> \ V . '•*»... .t. „..aii>*Lu.i!kjf •*.*.>« I, A.'... .... J . . .v. .... ..t 4k.,: ... r.*». .. .. *, . .... . -*-V..' m- v is **•-•,1- , i > • .«A4..r 4.t A rutg fHatudcaler I. VAN SLYKE. E«HriN Plrt)li»h#r. JfdbENRY, ILLINOIS , -X: ::t: fl *?« i,i V !:•; " » 9 A. IRE AMOKL SLEEP. "When the day Is done and the phadlawsfall ? Over the earth like it dusky pall . ] Then from t he mystic, t he silent deep i Rige thtfweautitul An^el r^leep. O'er field and for st he spreads his win^n, Where the cricket chirps and t lie wood bird slags And the murmur of voices <11ei away, Stilled by the Angel oa m and gay. Human passions ih>t surge and swell Ate s.lenced under the mystic spell, And tired hearts . hat are n-^ed to wtp Yi^ld to the power of the Angel Bleep. Soft he broods t'll the morning gray. Then as n ii8;lessly glides avay. And the spell is lifted and hearts again Take up their burden of care and pain. We cull h:m death! 'Tis the Ancel Sleep That cometh at last from the silent deep, And smootiis iore%cr the brow o'cae, And calms the lever ot passion there. So we sleep nnd rest, till the m »rning gra#: • y'¥ Breaks once m >re of an endless day. And into the mystic, the unknown deep, . :;, Flies forever the Ancel Sl«ep. • -•'• • *-Arthur Wentworth Kar^-n. TUG ORIGINAL "IHXIK." m The New Orleans Times-Democrat gives the following as the correct original of the famous "Dixie:" • *1 wish I was in de land of cottofc» ' Old times da- nm not forgotten; , v In Dixie land whar I wa-< bawn in; •; Barly on a frosty inawnln". • • ' "Ole n»'f^us marry Will d? weaber; "Will h*» was i: gay de.e iber: When ho put his arm around her He looked as tierce as a forty-pounder. *H s face was sharp as a butcher's clearer, But dat didn't seem a bit to grleb 'er; Will run away, nifsas took a decline. Her face was de color ob de b con rine. "While misses libbed she iibb d in clober, When she died she died all ober; Bow could she act the foolish part All' marry a man to broke her heart? "Buckwheat cake an' cawn-meal batter Makes you iat, or little fatter; Here's a health to de nex' ole missus. An' all de gals d.it wants to kiss us, **Kow if you want to dribe away sorrow : Come an' hear dis song to-morrow; tn hoe it down an' scratch d • drabble, Dixie land I'm bound to trabbcL" CHORUS. "I wish I was In D.xie, hooray, hooray! « t / In Dixie's land We'll take our stand. \rp> live an' die in Dixie; J^-.ljway, away, away down Souf in Dixie: Wv.*®way, away, away down'Souf in Dixie!" MY FIRST EDITOR. ~It's the natural result of a severe course of Swinburne!" I snatched up the manuscript, and was leaving the room, flushed with shame, trembling with rape and indig­ nation, when the editor's voice arrested my attention. I turned around and looked at him scornfully, for I felt I could have withered him at a glance; but he did not seem to feel it much. ' "You're a most impetuous young lady," he said, in a slow, low, musical voice. "I have not half finished my criticim of the very remarkable produc­ tion," and he took the manuscript quietly but resolutely from my tremb- Sup fingers. "Now, Miss M Clones," I said shortly. "No, not Jones; but the name will serve." And I felt his keen gray eyes on my face and observed an amused smile hovering around the corners of bis mouth, which was half hidden by a long, fair, drooping mustache. "Now, Miss Jones, pray sit down"--he indi­ cated a high, leather-covered chair just opposite him--"and let us talk this matter ovar. If you had been content, like other aspiring young authors, to sent your contribution in the ordinary ••'Way, through the medium of the post­ man and a newspaper wrapper, it would have been declined, doubtless, and re­ turned with or without the customary though not very con-oling thanks; but, since you have4>eardod the lion in his dea, you must listen to me for a few minutes." 1 bowed and sat down. He had got out his scalpel and was going to scarify me mercilessly, but as I had brought it on myself I felt I must heroically en­ dure it, though I glanced surrepti­ tiously round the "den" in search of some means of escape. He "fixed me -with his glittering eye,"' and I waited, wondering why I had been so mad and misguided as to enter an editorial of­ fice at all. • Slowly, deliberately, with a sort of fiendish satisfaction, lie smoothed out the crumpled manuscript, glancing at me with amused interest. "Why do you write poetry, Miss Jones ?" f "I don't know; because I like to, I 'suppose." "A woman's reason--therefore valid. Bat do you honestly and really think it is necessary for people, even in poetry, and supposing they are very much in love with each other--which no one is nowadays--is it necessary for them to be 'bitten' and 'smitten,' and that sort of thing. Is it really desirable in the interests of common humanity for hearts to be 'melted' and 'smelted' ?"-- and placed his finger under a certain stanza. "This sentiment, for instance, is simply ferocious." "Don't." I cried, angrily. "It's very cruel and unkind of you! "if you don't -want my poetry, you can say so, and have done with it!" " 'My passion flowed forth in a tor- Wnt'--which of course rhymes with 'abhorrent'" ' Stop, please -and I thrust my 1 fingers into my ears in the most undig­ nified misery; but I conld not shut out the sound of the clear quick, mocking voice. I shut my eyes; Lut still there was the horrid, gloating, good-looking editor, watching me closelv, his hand Testing on my beautifully written poem --I thought then and think to this day that it was and is beautiful. When I looked at him again, he was laughing at my distress, smiling to himself, like A ghoul or a harpy, or something equal­ ly horrid, but that he was exasperating- \ jly good-looking. 1 "Now, Mis* Jones, what else have you : 'written beside _ this very remarkable production?" with another suppressed wuile. 4 " 'Some blank verse and blanker prose. And more of both than anyl.odv knows,' " a little bitterly. "Will you please give me my manuscript? I'm fserv sorry to have troubled you; I •hall never do so again!" "Oh, yes, you will; and I shall be Tery glad to cpnsider some of the blank prose you speak'feo despairingly of. If you will let me see a nice matter-of- fact commonplace little story, or a short article on some useful domestic sub- feet, such as 'The Average Servant,' or 'Occupation for Girls'--anything of that •Ort--can you suggest anything?"-- and he looks at me gravely and ques- 'ttoningly--" ome hing novel and at­ tractive, that might be treated briefly and brightly--made 'a feature' of, in abort--I shall be very pleased to con- aider anything of that sort you will fa­ vor me with, Miss Jones." whether to be angry or to laugh out­ right as I stain niered a feeble "thank you." "And yon really should cut Swin­ burne." he added, with a meaning glance at the manuscript. "I don't know Mr. Swinburne--that is, I met him only once, and. then he said something to me in Greek," I re* plied. "He might have said something mnch worse. Cut I merely mean you shonld not devote so much of your time to his poetry--the 'Poems and Ballads,' for instance, and the 'Songs before Sun­ rise." "How do you know I do?" "Internal evidence," and he touohed my manuscript. "This betrays a severe course. You must alter your style, Miss Jones. Time enough for yon to come to the cynical-sensual-metaphysical-in­ comprehensible in ten years, say. You M ill be educated up to the point of not l>elieving a word of it by that t me. Kindly leave me your address, and the manuscript shall be returned in the usual way." "No. 17 Brown street, Bloomsbury, W. C.," I replied, my face crimson, "care of Mrs. Kent." He wrote it down, and then stood np to indicate that tho interview was over, bowed formally, and then touched a little bell. Suddenly a small boy ap­ peared, -who conducted me down dark, break-neck stairs, through several mouldy, dusty labyrinthine passages and out through a book-seller's shop. I felt more thoroughly small, mean, miserable, and disgusted than I ever had ever felt in my whole life as I emerged from the shady by-street con­ taining the office into the light and bustle of Piccadilly, and, as I got into a 'bus, I vowed never agaiif to come to a personal encounter with an editor. Hitherto I had been content to diop my littlo contribution modestly into the letter-boxes of certain weekly publica­ tions that delight in small stories, or I send theu by post and await the result with what patience I could. Some­ times my stories and verses were ac­ cepted, sometimes not, and I fancied that, if an editor only knew how exceed­ ingly industrious I was, how very much in earnest, how very much attached to my calling--for I had married the Muse of Literature for better or for worse --there was no choice between doing that and being a governess--he would have a far better opinion of me and give me an important permanent posi­ tion on his paper immediately. Then I heard so micli about the editor of the Arlington, all the girls at the reading- room of the British Museum were con­ tinually talking of him; ami in an evil hour, armed with my most elaborate political production, I made my way to the office and requested, and strange-to say, Mas granted (for London editors are difficult of access) an interview. The result was pain, sliame, confusion, discomfiture, and, worst of all, failure. Heaven and earth, how I hated that man as I sat in the most remote corner of the 'bus on my homeward journey-- how I vowed to be revenged and let him know some day whom he had sneered and jeered at! I would put him in a novel, in a comedy, in a bur­ lesque. I M'ould caricature him with pen and pencil; I would become famous merely to spite him, and refuse --oh, the joy of that thought!--I would refuse to write a serial for his hateful magazine. I believe I became almost eloquent in my internal denunciations of him; and as an immediate practical, disdainful defiance of him, 1 got ont at OxforJ streeet and went into Mudie's for another volume of Swinburne. In one way or another the editor of the Arlington M-as a good deal in my thoughts during the next M'eek, and the more I considered his conduct the more I detested him; my cheeks burned and my ears tingled as I recalled his low, mocking tones and quiet, annihilating glances. As for submitting story, es­ say or articles to his tender mercies-- never! A fortnight passed, and my manu­ script did not come back. My name Mas not Jones; but I did really live with Mrs. Kent, in BroM-n street; and I told her all about it; so I should have received it had it been sent. Of course he had tossed it in a conspicu­ ous M-aste-basket that I had noticed un­ der his table, a.id that ivas the end of it. as, indeed, I suppose he had in a way; for Jeff surely must have mentioned me to him. After asking all j^rts of Questions about my brother, <3 stood up to go, and desired me not vo forget the story; but then more than ever I resolved not to write, as no doubt he would accejSt it from mere pity. Three months passed away, and I was on terms of almost civility with my hated editor, but I had written noth­ ing for the Arlington--on that point I was obstinate--nor had I told Mr Casli- el ton very much about myself or my own affairs beyond the first sudden burst of confidence, which seemed in­ evitable. What I M'rote and how I suc­ ceeded I never ' Mould talk about, in spite of several very insinuating ques- tions. But about Jeff I would talk for hours, and he did not seem to weary of the subject, either. Sometimes I accompanied him to an afternoon concert at St James' Hall or a matinee at the Lyceum, and he was always very kind and attentive; but I never could get over the fact that he had laughed at my poetry. Had he laughed only at myself I should have forgiven and forgotten it. One evening lie called after having absented himself for a fortnight, and I was wondering in spite of myself what could have happened to him. I was about to call Mrs. Kent to light the gas, though it was really quite bright, when he stopped me. "Don't ring for lights," he said, in his lazy way; "I want to talk to yon. I have something very particular to say, Madeline, and I want to say it to you alone. Madeline"'--and somehow he got pessession of both my hands--"I love you; I want you for my wiie; I want to take care of yon, dear, if you will let me." "I can't help it," I returned, feebly and vaguely. "No, of course not, and I don't want you to. Darling, you must have seen that I love you, and you must, you surely must care for me a little in re­ turn !" "1 don't know," I said, more feebly still; and the golden opportunity for revenge, and retaliation was gone by forever. I might have been cool and proud, haughty and defiant, laughed in his face and told him I scorned his love as he had scorned my peotry; instead of which I stood trembling and blush­ ing in his arms, while he kissed my face and called me all sorts ot pretty names; and, in spite of myse)f, I confess I liked it. It is humiliating, it is horrid, but it is true--I did love the handsome, hateful editor. "Darling," he cried, holding me from him at arm's length, "you're » vixen-- you're too fond of that vagrant poet-- you detest me cordially; still Madeline, I love you, and I believe I have loved you from that day when your presence made a spot of sunshine in my very shady editorial den. Some day perhaps you will learn to care a little about me." * * * * * » Six months afterward we were mar­ ried at St. George's, Bloomsbury; and, when Jeff came homo and heard all about it I thought he would have gone out of his mind with joy. Now I write what I please for the Arlington; and, though the editor goes over it, he does not dare alter a syllable, so that in that respect I have gained my point. I have conquered my first editor. He always paused most provokingly titer the "Miss," and I hardly knew Qne day, quite a month after mv en­ counter M-ith the Arlington, Mrs. Kent announced a visitor, a gentleman, to see me, and in a moment there entered the editor, more cool, calm, self-pos­ sessed, and smiling than ever. "The verses have not come back in quite the usual way," he said, sinking unasked into the only easy chair--I was at my W riting table, and meant to stay there. "However, here they are, with a few marginal notes, You do really leave beautifully broad, clean margins --they are quite tempting! By the way, why haven't you sent mo that story ?" "I haven'-t written it yet," I replied --I longed to add, ' and I never mean to;" but somehow I could not. "Well, you must; prosji pave best. What other editors have you been in­ terviewing lately ?" ' ^ "None! I never want to see another in all my life." He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily; then, with mock gravity: "I'm glad to hear that, for you're really quite--dangerous. By the way, why did you say your name was Jones? You might have known I should find you out. Editors do find out every­ thing in time. You are Miss Madeline Meredith, of Garth, and your bi other Jeff and I were chums at Eton and Ox­ ford." "Oh," I said, somewhat surprised, ' I didn't know !*' "Of course not. How could you ?" "And I'm not Miss Meredith, of Garth, any longer," I said with an effort at proud composure. "Papa lost all his money, and our house was sold; then papa died, and Jeff is with his ship at the Cape, and aunt Adelaide didn't want me any longer; so I come to Lon­ don to Mrs. Kent--she's my old nur^e --and I earn my bread by my pen." I could not help telling him all that --he seemed to make me, in spite of myself, but I uttered the last words proudly, and did not smile at all, but looked very grav& "I wonder, Miss Meredith, if you ever heard Jeff speak of Harold. Cash- elton ?" "Oh, yes, often!"--and then I paused in confusion. Mr. Harold Cashelton had been my brother's "guide, philoso­ pher, and friend," and in one May and another I had heard more than enough of him all my life, though, through my having no mother, I had never been at Garth when Jeff's friends visited him. In fact, I had worshipped him secretly and afar off--from Jeff 's description-- and made him the hero of more than one romance; and now there he Mas sitting in my easy chair and chatting to me as if he had known me all my life-- Something About >h!ns. Sailing vessels carry their square- sails or fore-aiul-alt sails. A square- sail is one the head of which is "bent" or made fast to the jack-stay--an iron rod on a yard. Fore-and-aft sails, in­ stead of being bent to yards, are most­ ly supplied, M'ith a boom or a gaft, or both. The lower corners of square- sails are called clews. The foresail and mainsail are often called the courses. Sail is seldom carried on the cross-jack (pronounced krojik) yard, the lowest yard on the mizzenmast. The courses, when "set" are kept down by means of ropes leading from the clews fore and aft, called tacks and sheets. Above the course come the topsails; above the topsails, the top­ gallant sails; and next above, the roy­ als. Some very large ships carry still loftier sails, called sky-sails. Most merchant ships carry double topsails, one above the other, for great­ er ease in handling; but on men-of-Mar, having large crews, single topsails are the rule. The head-sails are those which the bowsprit and the booms it supports carry forward. These are the foretop- mast stay-sail, the jib, and flying-jib. Large vessels carry even more head- sails. The spanker, or driver, as our merchantmen sometimes call it, is a fore-and-aft sail, and is the aftersail of a ship or bark. A compass being divided into thirty- tM o points, sailors consider the horizon at sea as having an equal number of divisions, and speak of a ship as sailing within five or six points of the direction the wind is blowing from. When the sails of a ship are filled with wind, they are said to be drawing or full. A good sailor is never so hap­ py as when with a whole-sail breeze he sees all his canvas spread and drawing, and feels himself "off before it".--Har­ per's Young People. Yondooism in Alabama. We. have before us something of a curiosity in the shape of a voudoo or conjur bag. Negroes in this section, even in their most enlightened circles, haver never got rid of the loM-est order of superstition common to the race since the birth of their most ancient fore­ fathers, which is a firm belief in and practice of what has been called vou dooism. The little bag M'e have before us Mas picked up on Broad street, in front of the Helm a furniture store a few days since. It contains a rabbit's foot, a piece of dried coon root, a bulbous plant that grows spontaneously in southern forests, also some other herbs and roots dug from the woods, and some small particles of )>arched tobacco. The rabbit's foot, perhaps, possesses more powers of sorcery than any other in­ strument in use among the black magi cians of the south. Numbers of ne­ groes in the south carry a rabbit's foot in their pockets or concealed about their persons, as constantly as the plow boy carries his knife. There is not one negro out of every hundred that will allow another person, white or black, to approach them with the enchanted foot. They will almost go into spasms of terror and will fight, as for dear life, rather than come in contact M-ith a rab­ bit foot in the hand of another person. What there is about the foot of an or­ dinary rabbit, or more propejdy speak­ ing, hare, that sways such a powerful influence for the negro juggler, is some­ thing we can't understand, but that it does is a settlad fact --Selma {Ala.) T imes. THB reason the Wyoming women ob­ ject to suffrage is said to be their aver­ sion to stating their ages to be over 21. They would, rather be 18 than vot«. AGRICULTURAL. ROT IN POTATOES.--It is claimed that lime is a preventative of rot ia potatoes in the cellar. Dust the decaying po- ta oes with air-slaked lime. COMMENCING- TO UNDEBDRAIN.--The agricultural editor of the New York Times says that no doubt many farm­ ers who are intending to underdrain their farms would save money by em­ ploying an expert at the first to lay out the whole system and make a good be­ ginning, and so avoid any possible mis­ take, which might cost $10 for every one paid for skilled advice. SHADE-TREES.--The importance of shade-trees should under no circum­ stances be overlooked by the farmers, and where there is a vacant spot where these gifts of nature can be given a lo­ cation it should be done. Now is the time to prepare for spring planting, and this should be accomplished the moment the frosc is out of the ground and before tho buds of the spring trees to be transplanted begin to swell. They can be used for both utility and orna­ ment around farm dwellings, and they may be planted near the borders of cattle-yards, thus affording the luxury of shade for domestic animals in very warm weather. In pastures, trees can be set out in groups for the like pur­ pose, especially when the fields are to remain permanently in grass. The cost is so unimportant that there is no excuse for its omission by any farmer. The prettiest country home is the one that is almost hidden from view by foliage.--Chicago Tribune. SQUASHES AMONG POTATOES.--An Ohio farmer says he never had any suc­ cess raising Hubbard squashes until be took to planting them late and* among his potatoes. His method is as follows: In early spring he manures a strip of ground about a rod wide in his garden, in which ho plants his earliest potatoes. About the middle of June he makes a row of hills through the center of this strip and plants his squashes. The po­ tatoes are dug and out of the way of the vines before they run a great deal, and are no hinderance to the proper cultivation of the squash. He does not pretend to know whether the potato vines are distasteful to the striped bugs or not, but he has found that for some reason his Hubbard squashes are not injured by the pests when planted in the manner described. The 25th day of June last he planted a single row of squashes, and they in time covered a strip on which grew eight rows of po­ tatoes. His fine crop of squashes, fully matured, while the potatoes Mere just as large and as many in a hill as though' no squashes had been planted within rods of them. DRAINING--In his new book, "Farm and Garden Topics,'" Peter Henderson says of drainage: "This is one of the most important operations in horticul­ ture. No matter how fertile the nor­ mal condition of the soil; no matter how abundantly it is fertilized; no mat­ ter how carefully and thoroughly it is tilled, if water remains in it at the depth to which the roots penetrate all labor will be in vain; for no satisfacto­ ry result can ever be obtained until the water is drained off. The subject is one of such importance that we cannot give it full attention here. Soils having a gravely or sandy Bubsoil ten or twenty inches below the top soil do not usuall v need draining, but in all soils underlaid by clay or hard-pan draining is '.indispensable, unless in cases where there is a slope of two or three feet in a hundred; and even in such cases drainage is beneficial if the sub-soil is clay. In soils having a clay or hard-pan sub-soil drains Bliould be made three feet deep, and not more than twenty feet apart. If stones are plenty they may be profitably used to fill the drains, say to a depth of twelve or fifteen inches, placed so as to form a "rubble" drain if the stones are round, or built with an orfice at the bottom if the stones are flat In either case care must be taken to cover the stones carefullv with inverted sod or some material that Mill prevent the soil be­ ing washed through the stone and choking up the drain. Of course in draining the greater the fall that can be got the better, though, if the grad­ ing is carefully done by a competent engineei, a very slight fall will suffice. Some of the trunk or main sewers in our cities have a grade of only one foot in a thousand.--Ch icago Tribune. INDIAN CORN--ITS VALUE IN THE BATION.--Corn is so rich in oil that we may say that corn bread is ready but­ tered; it is, however, very digestible, and in cold weather this oiliness is a most valuable factor, as it serves to keep up tlie heat of the body more di­ rectly than starch and similar sub­ stances.--With oats and barley it may form one-third of the grain ration of hard worked draft horses, and will keep their coats glossy and be in every way a benefit, certainly worth more than its weight in oats. Fed along or in large proportion, it has a tendency to make horses sweat easily, and it is said, to be­ come quickly exhausted. It is not safe to feed it as freely as oats or barley, as there is danger of impaction or colic-- just as there would be if wheat were so fen. No doubt it is best fed ground with oats, and the proportions already indicated are probably the most satisfac­ tory, the meal being fed upon cut hay. For COM-S in milk, corn meal may ;orm with bran the exclusive grain ration, and may be fed at the rate of one pint of corn meal to each 100 pounds of the cow's live weight. No doubt it will be found jest as good in Great Britain as here. It gives quality and richness to the milk, color to the butter, and abundance to the flow if the cow is a good one; but if she is in­ clined to lay on fat. such feeding will cause her to fatten, even though in full milk, and if she gets too fat she will go dry. For sheep, corn is excellent, but should be fed whole and a little at jt time. For swine, the universal experi­ ence from Maine to Oregon, and from Canada to Mexico, is that it will make more and better pork than any other food. For poultry, it is in this country the universal grain, but is not always the best. It is admirable for its fatten­ ing properties, but for laying hens, and growing fowls, it is not well to use too much. "Corn fed" fowls, ducks, and geese are firm fleshed and yet ten­ der. They bear transportation alive with little shrinkage. True yellow corn makes yellow butter and yellow fat in fowls. English and French taste de­ mands white fleshed poultry M'ith pale lardy fat, and so they fatten poultry on rice, and their fancy market fowls have about as much flavor as boiled rice. The American market demands yellow-fleshed fowls, with fat as yellow as June butter, and corn is the food to produce this in all poultry. HOUSEKEEPERS' HELPS. COOKIES.--Two teacups of sugar, three-quarters of a cup of butter, one cup of sour milk* sweetened with soda, nutmeg; roll thin; bake brown. BEEF CAKES.-- Chop rare done roast .\ beef very fine; season with salt, pepper, and a little chopped onion; mix, make into small cakes and fry in beef drip­ pings. GINGER COOKIES.--One-half cup each of sugar, butter, water, and molasses, one egg, one teaspoonful of soda stirred in molasses, one tablespoonful of gin­ ger. Mix smooth with flour. CHIPPED BEEF.--One pint of milk, one-half cup of water, two tablespoon- fuls of flour stir in one beaten egg. When it has boiled up once stir in chipped dried beef and cook three minutes. EGG PUDDING.--Make a custard of one quart of milk, four beaten eggs, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, lemon flavoring* one tablespoonful of corn starch. Pour over stale cake and set away to cool. RYE MUFFINS.--One cup of flour, two cups of rye meal, one pint of sweet milk, one teaspoonful of sugar, pinch of salt, one teaspoonful of soda, one and a half teaspoonfuls of cream tartar. Bake in muffin rings. DOUGHNUTS.--One cup of sugar, one cup of sour milk, sweetened with soda, thiee eggs, spice; mix soft. Roll and cut in rings and fry in boiling fat Dip each one in powdered sugar imme­ diately on taking from the fat. ROAST PHEASANT.--Wash thoroughly and quickly in water to which has been added a little soda, rinse, dry, and stuff with bread dressing. Steam until ten­ der, then put in a dripping pan, dredge with flour, season with salt, pepper, and butter; pour on a little water and cook brown. ALMOND DROPS.--Thee-quarters of a pound of fleur, one-half pound of sugar, one-half pound of butter, three tea- spoonfuls of baking powder. Mix and pour into square tin pans, filling them about one half inch. Scald the almonds, sprinkle over the top of the mixture and bake a light brown. ORANGE CAKE.--Two cups of sugar, one-half cup of sweet milk, one-half cup of butter, two and one-half cups of flour, tMo teaspoonfuls of baking pow­ der, yolks of five eggs, and white of two. Bake in shallow tins. Grate one large orange, remove seeds, add whites of three eggs, well beaten, and three- fourths cups of sugar. Spread between the cakes. BAKED BEANS.--Take one quart of beans and soak in cold water all night. Next morning parboil till the skins wrinkle. Then put into the bean pot with a very little mustard, pepper, and molasses. Put on top a half pound piece of lean, salt pork; fill up with warm water and put into the oven. Put in more water as it boils out, letting them get dry toward the last. . MARBLE CAKE.--Light part--One cup of sugar, one-half cup of butter, one-half cup of sweet milk, two and one-quarter cups of flour, whites of four eggs, two teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Dark part--One cup of broM n sugar, one-half cup of molassses, one-half cup of butter, one cup of sweet milk, yolks of four eggs, two and one- half cups of flour, two teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Bake in one pan. HAM TOAST.--Melt in a stew 'pan a small piece of butter until it is brown­ ed; put in as much finely minced ham as will cover your toast; add as much warm water or gravy as will make it moist. When hot, stir in an egg, quick­ ly, with a fork; also red pepper to taste. Place the mixture on the toast, and you will have a nice relish for tea, and M-ill have enjoyed the last remnants of your ham. When "Artejius Ward" Was Charley Brown. It was in I860 that I met an old fel­ low who had known the Brown family, in Maine, from which "Artemus Ward" sprang. His name was Bisbee. Bisbee was a blacksmith, and at one time had a shop in Paris, Oxford County, Maine. Opposite his smithy stood the school- house, and among the scholars attend­ ing were'tCharley" and "Bill" Brown, the first named afterward famous as "Artemus Ward." Said Bisbee, "You kin talk as much a3 you please of bad boys, but if them tliar two boys weren't bad uns, I never Mrant. to see another cent. Darn my boots if they couldn't kick up more monkey shines than any tMo boys I ever met. Bill M-as more active and wiry than the other, but Charley was the most deceiving. If I found the handles of my hammers smeared with axle grease, just as I was pulling the iron from the fire, I knew the long-legged, lantern-jawed, red­ headed Charley had been in. If I was putting shoes on a horse he'd slip in and with a solemn looking face, hail me with'how do, Mister Bisbee!' but that horse would not stand still while that boy was in the shop. He would pull hair out of the animal's tail, and prick him with pins, until losing patience I would throw the hammer at him and shout, 'Git out o' here you land loper!'" He M ould run a little piece up the road, only to return and say in lachrymose tones, 'Ye ain't mad are you, old Bis­ bee?' 'I say, old gruff,'in a bantering tone of voice, 'Van Amburgh's menag­ erie is coming to town and he wants his monkeys shod, don't you want to put shoes on your relations?' With this sally he would disappear. Ah! many is the time I had to complain of that awkM-ai-d boy to his people, who were quiet'and Christian like in their man­ ner."-- The Journalist. ; Last Bugle-Call. Among the illustrations of the strength of the ruling passion even in death there is a touching one told in the records of that devoted Christian nurse, Mrs. Pomeroy. Among the pa­ tients of the hospital were a number of the Eleventh Maine boys. One of them was the bugler of the regiment, who, by wasting away week after week, had been reduced to a skeleton covered by skin. When he knew that he must die in • few hours, he called for Mrs. Pomeroy and said: "Mother, can I have my bugle?" She sent an attendant to bring it in. Brightly burnished, it was given to the dying boy. He was too far gone to hold' it in his emaciated hands. The attend­ ant put it to his lips. Concentrating the little strength re­ maining in the weak body, with a gleam of the old'fire m his eye, he tried to sound the "call." Two or three strains feebly wavered, then his hands fell and he fell back dead, as the last bugle-call died away. Business Honor. Little son of a bill-broker to» his papa: "Papa, what is business honor?" "Business honor? Well, Alphonse, my boy, suppose one of our customers sends a 1,000 francs too much." "Yes, papa." "Well, I give Mr. Ratipeau, my part­ ner, 500 of it." Voila tout. THE Midgets' Marriage-- Although suitably matched, yet it is impossible that they oan live long together!-- Judy. •U From a Hotel Balcony in Biarritz. Far away, bounding the western shore, rose the Lower Pyrenees, the;r dim heights crowning the picture, and contrasting strangely with the wild wa­ ters at their feet. To two of our party this was an unknown country, and to them it seemed as if some dream had taken possession of the land. The splendor and yet the calm of it all made this first day go by like an hour. The sunset came, flooding the whole scene with a marvellous light. Trails of amber and amethyst and opal went sweeping across the sky like colors of some hidden king, trembling with a di­ vine radiance on the waters and the dis­ tant hills, and even when the last gleam of color faded, leaving a curious quali­ ty of light in the grayness filling earth and sky. When night fell, and the moon rose, the whole scene changed. The sea shone under the cold light with a glamour which seemed to influence all the distant country of fading hills. The sky was full of passionate throb­ bing from a million stars. Wo could only look and wonder what now glories this world might contajn. "As for sketching or paintirig this sort of thing," says the voice of the artist, m a minor key, "why, it can't be done. Who could even tell of what we have seen to-day? And this moon­ light!--one reads, you know, of what moonbght can do, but was there ever anything so wonderful as the way in which it glorifies the water?, Ah! there --there is the White Maiden of Biar­ ritz!" We all looked, but could enly see, at the foot of one of the boldest rocks, a tall, thin spray of water which rose and fell on the impassive stone with a Availing sound. >Now one member of our party was particularly fond of the legendary, though he objected strongly to calling it a taste for the supernatnral. He certainly found out the lore of a place almost by instinct • ' "Yes," he continued, "thai Is the White Maiden of Biarrita." • "And what was her story?" "It was a very sad one," said th$ eru­ dite person, thoughtfully. "Her lover --he was a Basque Knight--discover­ ed a rival whom the girl favored, and one moonlight night--so runs the le­ gend--he enticed her to that rock, and there flung her over. This was about --about 1307. Ever since, at every full moon, she rises, moaning and making ineffectual attempts to be free." "To.be free?" says a young person who always enjoys the weird--"to be free? But isn't she dead--drowned-- and in heaven ?" The story-teller smiles calmly. "That's the most singular part of.it," he says. "It's most horrib y fantastic; perhaps I ought not to have told it at all. No; she can never really drown --so they believe; and he is supposed to sit chained to that rock, compelled through all ages to hear her cries. The Basques are a highly organized peo­ ple."--Lucy C. Lillie, in Harper's Magazine. Fences and Country Highways. ( ̂ Said the United States Consul at Zu­ rich, writing of Swiss dairying: "Were the millions and millions of dollars now wasted m fences ' in the United States to be expended in building good roads, not only present profit Mould accrue to cattle-holders, but future generations M'ould call us blessed. • In the West, it is safe to say, land would rise in value 100 per cent in a single decade." Experience has demonstrated again and again that building fences to keep animals out is always expensive, and usually foolishly extravagant; that cat­ tle, sheep, and swine can be more eco­ nomically and profitably kept under what is known as the soiling system than by permitting them to run in pas­ tures which must be fenced at enor­ mous cost. American farmers cannot be justly called conservative M'hen com­ pared with the farmers of other lands; but they certainly seem to have given little study to the subject of fences and highways, or at least to have failed to appreciate the benefits which would certainly follow the construction of good, hard, M-ell-drained highways, over which heavy loads might at. any season be hauled with comparative ease. Barbed wire fences are declared to be the cheapest, most effective and lasting for fences; but they cost from 75 cents to $1 per rod. At the latter price the fences on both sides of a high­ way would cost $640 per mile--a sum which, supplemented by tho road-tax now assessed each year, would do much toward making and keeping in good condition a very fair gravel road. Scarcely a week would pass at any season of the year when a farmer would not receive a direct and most noticea­ ble benefit from having such a highway connecting his farm with the markets, and every day would bring to him some gcod through the freedom he would have from the many losses and annoy­ ance which come from the fenee-row. Venders of patent fence-wire claim that their fences will last twenty years under ordinary circumstances. Free­ dom from noxious weeds and from ver- n which congenial refuge and breeding-ground in fence-rows would last forever if the latter plan was gen­ erally followed; and the gravel road, M'ith proper care, grows* better and more useful year by year. The value of the lands near such a highway M'ould be greatly enhanced by the de­ mand which would come for farmers so fortunately situated, until, as Consul liyers wrote, land would raise 100 per cent in a single decade. \M ? - ;, -- Becoming CiviHaod. f^ The awe-struck respect 'with which sundry newspapers and political mana­ gers are regarding the "dudes" and "doctrinaires" of not so very long ago reminds us of a little incident in a far Western mining camp, where a proud and haughty Caucasian, who had un- undertaken'to jump the claims of a Chinaman, was swiftly and scientifical­ ly shot. His companions inspected the corpse, inspected the location of the wound, which was in the umbilical re­ gion and produced by a big bullet, and then remarked: "Them d--n Mongo- lyuns is becoming civilized!"--lioc/tes­ ter Po&i'Expre8*. • --: I V! , , Financial Item* "This is all nonsense about Russia being behind the times," said a Wall street banker, who was reading a news­ paper to another gentleman. "I don't know, but I don't think there is much civilization in Russia." "You < on't, eh! Well just read this account of a government official having gotten away with 10,000,000 rubles. If that's not a sign of civilization then we Americans are a race of barbarians."-- Texas Si/tings TEACH only such things to those of tender years that they can sustain by reason when their judgment is ripened by age. PITHA3TD roars. ̂- ALTKOUGH Rome had e%ht otroiumft neither of them had a eaMauaed saCTe<| elephant--Oil City Dtrriok. |§ " "A toABY is the oasis of married life. * --New York Journal. O! a sis, is itfr Thought It was a boy.--Philadelphia » "ANOTHER expedition to the polo,̂ " said the man, as he wended his way t<̂ 5'̂ his barber shop.--Cincinnati &atur^^> day Night. • IN THE social circles of the chickeit 'V yard the lines are very distinctly drawn, for eaoh hen has her own sei-- .. Merchant Traveler. "MAN wants but little ear below, notf wants that little long," murmered th<fr dude, as he carefully .cut out places for his aural appendages in his new three- inch collar--Life. YOUNG Grammarian--No; you can* not say "shad has risen." Although it sounds ungrammatical, you will be cor-: rect in saying "the shad has roes."-- New York Jonmal. THE high grade of intelligence seen among junk-sorters is owing to the able - articles they find in sorting the con­ tents of newspaper wastebaskets, inti­ mates the Cambridge Tribune. ^ IT SHOULD be said, in justice to the Father of his Country, that the New • ; Jersey centenarian whom Georg«;: Washington is said to have kissed, dicfe not look then as she does now,--New York Graphic. DON'T put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, espe6ially if it's trying* to make an impression upon some young lady with a large fortune and a hand to bestow upon the right- young man.--Chicago Sun. PEOPLE are not usually particular about the presents they receive, but when it comes to the gifts of Providence each one acts as though he or she were specially commissioned a delegate to find fault--Chicago Sun. LADY MONTAGUE said: "It goes far toward reconciling me to being a wo­ man when 1 reflect that I am in no dan­ ger of marrying one." Now this is sin­ gular. The thing which she feared, is just what reconciles the rest of us to being men.--Burdette. "Were you down to the entertain­ ment the other evening?" asked Mr. Blinker of Mr. Winker. "Yes." "That is funny;" said Blinker, "I didn't see you." "No, of course not," replied Winker, "I saw you first" They pass each other on opposite sides of the street now.--Peck's Sun. "Do THE saints and angels in heaven spend their time reading newspapers and talking politics?" demanded a Michigan preacher from his pulpit No, indeed, they do not, dear brother. Nor' do they spend their time preaching such foolish sermons as people have to hear occasionally in this country.-- Burlington Hawkeye. SHE KNOWS EM. I bate the dudes! I ha'e them so; Perfect bores, 1 wish they'd gro; Namby pamby, white cravatu, Cariyin; gloves Mid opera li»ts. ? But when t hey talk It is so flat. I really wonder what they're at; And when they walk, 1 think of beer; I know 'tis that, they go so queer. --Lowell Courier. LOVE-LORN youth hoping to excite sympathy in the bosom of his adored Arabella--"Do you know, my angel, that I cannot bear the slightest excite­ ment, not even to be spoken harshlv to, for I am subject to heart disease and might drop dead at a moments notice." Adored Arabella--"Oh! dear, dear! Mr. Caramel, please go away, now, right off; go home or out in the street. It M-ould be so inconvenient to have you die here. Do go or I'll be obliged to call ma." Rapid exit of Caramel. "You NEEDN'T be so fly," said the new boarder to the pretty waitress. "Yesterday you poured the soup down my back, and to-night you flipped one of my biscuits up my sleeve, and the other is so small it looks lonesome." "Well, you are partic'Jar," said the pretty waitress, combing out her best bangs with jeM-eled finders. "You'll M-ant butter in your oleomargarine next, and fish-balls twice a M'eek. Beefstew- muttonragoutcornmushandmilkhash !" She had the last M ord.--Free Press. STUBBS was seen going doMn Wis­ consin street carrying a shot-gun, a club, and u revolver. A friend Btopped him and inquired what was the mean­ ing of all the way-like decoration. "Didn't you hear about it?" inquired Stubbs. "No; M'hat Mas it?" further in­ quired the friend. 'Why, I Mas chosen to umpire a game of base-ball between the morning and evening newspaper re­ porters, and I propose to back up every decision I may make. I'm not much on the run, but I can shoot like the mischief in case of emergency." Stubb'a decisions, it is learned, Mere accepted without a murmur by the opposing nines. A Bradford Coloiie.'s Courtship. • Col. J. A. Bge, of Bradford, Penn.> who commanded a brigade at the Wil­ derness before he was 21 years cf age, tells a little story ot his courtship: "I had been shot in several places, and carried an arm in a sling Mrhen I came home to recruit. Of course I was a hero and was lionized. A ball M'as ar­ ranged in my honor, and among tho bright-eyed damsels who attended it was one who seemed to me the ideal of womanhood. It was a case of love at first sight, and was reciprocal. When I came to make her acquaintance, how­ ever, I found that she was a high strung little rebel. She believed with he* people that a darkey was no more than; a stick of wood or § piece of putty. One day I said to her: "See here, I can't stand this; if we are to be mar­ ried you must make a contract with me; you must agree'to be a Repub-t lican.' She was silent for awhile, whil% her cheeks blazed. Then she seemed to soften down, and said quite low, but clear: "I'll do it if you'll join my church.' She was an Episcopalian, and I agreed.. It was the best contract I ever made in my life. She has made the best Republican in all Pennsylva­ nia, and 1 have made--well, the church costs me $'200 a jea.t.n--Elmira Ga­ zette* • ' • Had Heard of It. "I feel it my duty to inform you," ho began, as he met a bank President on the street, "that your cashier is--ah-- that is, he gambles. Yes, sir, he fre­ quents faro rooms, sir." "Just heard a 1 about it half an hour ago." "You did?" "Yes, sir. Cashier camd in and In* formed me that he won 112,000 and' broke a faro bank last night He bnys $10,000 of our stock at par, gets a va­ cation of four weeks, and will hereaf­ ter confine his attentions to draw- poker. Come in and see us when you want a shave!" „ THE best soeiety and conversation is that in which the heart has ft greater share than the head. J - ^