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â€"â€" "SALADA" k k & O We y you can‘t fully unders vou are doing :11 <f ns pleâ€" Lord Gaunt bimself He wae off before she . THE PERFECT SHOE FOR SUMMER SPORTS ASK YOUR DEALER. q do. And didn Dee an., "f ; ,«! Want you for some work at once. In half an hour, you. understand; and bring two or three other men with you. Yes, I‘m awfally busy," he went on to Decima. "Lord Gaunt‘s sudden return bas brought a rush of work upon meâ€" quite a rush. There‘s such a tremendous lot to do, and in such a short time. He talke of coming down at the end of the week. and not only talks of it, but means it. I‘m to get as much of the Hall put straight in the time as I can, and the remainder afterward. Been engaging serâ€". yante all the morning, and wiring up to London for those I can‘t get here, and . other things. The workmen will set to | work toâ€"day, or tomorrow at latest. Lord Gaunt has given me carte blanche." He laughed with satisfaction, and nop:od his forehead again. "It was, ‘Do what you like, but don‘t bother me with more than you can help.‘ Just like him. A strange man you‘ll think him, Miss Deane, but with all his abruptnese :ndi @ccentricity. one of the hase ... q INTC M EET :oOT mMA, sth L i.) VUH #oing this way, and may I come with you for a minute or two* Thank you, thank you! The fact is, I wanted to tell youâ€"one moment. Hi, Robine!" He called to a man, who lumbered across the atreet to him. "Robins, come up to the Nall I want you for some wark 1« ubl Did ee .ms colored. 1? Oh, butâ€"* Ir. Bright put h h timid carnest 1 was aftaid ange. But you vyou knew Lord It‘s his way to "Oh, Miss Deane, goodâ€"morning! How do you do?" he said in cheery accents, and mopping his brow as he raized his hat. ~"I am very glad to see you. Hot, len‘t it" But I‘ve been rushing aboutâ€"â€" fearfully buey. Never had a more deâ€" l‘l:h:!ul morning‘s work, though, never! Iced Tea with a slice of lemon in it. It will refresh you wonderfully and besides it‘s invigorating and absolutely pure. WHEN YOU‘RE THIRSTY TRY As @iraid _ you would think ltl But you wouldn‘t fee} offended knew Lord Gaunt as well as I _his way to take things ceriously. 1 promised, you know, you promâ€" CHAPTER X.â€"(Cont‘d) O Allow the tea to steep for five minutes and then pour off into another vessel to cool gradually. Never use artificial means e Tetniits "vieplh, .i meitetintits.) Wltsisint *Â¥ "iaininellits sdrnnictvesns d c 2202 of cooling until ready to serve; then add sugar, ice and lemon. Her Great Love; she cou!d say a word & down at the end of the only talks of it, but means as much of the Hall put * time as I can, and the rward. Bean engaging serâ€" worning, and wiring up to se I can‘t get here, and The workmen will set to tomorrow at latest. Lord n me carte blanche." He °"" stables ready. And, »+â€"Iâ€"reallyâ€"scarcely like m afraid you‘ll think it of _ his lordashipâ€"well, tuous, butâ€"but strange." Mr. grlcht?i“ asked Deâ€" her eyes « hand upon her arm Or, A Struggle For a Heart roaperity to the The excitement in the village increased the unemployed, | as the days went on and the work at himself > the Hall progressed. Great packingâ€"cases then very pale.| were continually arriving from London; he stammered.| sometimes accompanied by gentlemanly away. But it‘s) looking men, who exchanged their emart You will eave| clothes for ‘ white blouees when they only consent to | reached the Hall, which they proceeded to L put it at its | renovate and beautify with a skill and iso, it‘s as likely | rapidity which, to quote Bobby, "knockâ€" tired, disgcsted, ) ed the sawdust out of the Stretton workâ€" fus«, and rush . men." th a faintly Mr. Bright got Decima down te nearly every day, and asked } upon every chanr that wan ewiftly wrought there; and De so engrozeed that min_ad quite eeuapetierBiv® ns 28 1A 5c / 0 21 fact that "the representative of the oldâ€" est aud moet honored family in the counâ€" try had decided to take his piace amongat us once again, and so set flowine «Wa. o o y io. d "Gazette"â€"Roborough â€" was marketâ€"townâ€"came out witl graph announcing Lord G and an especial leader in joiced, in a eolumn and a fact that "the renresants+i ‘‘Never see a better lot, mies," hbe re marked, knowingly. "His lordship‘s a judge of borses, whatever else he be You‘ll have to hurry up with them «tables, Mr. Cobbet." The interest and excitement _ were not confined to the village. The Roboraneh "Like the old times, wiss," said Mr. Cobbet, the builder, with a satisfied jerk of the head toward the long procession, and the hostler at the Gaunt Arms ex. pressed his approval in characteristic fashion. One mornivg Decimz, on her _ way through the village, met a string of horâ€" see and carriages in charge of a couple of smart grooms and a stately coachman; and she stood for a moment nesr the adâ€" miring group of villagers who had colâ€" lected to stare at them. uw e e s ot [ F20 . Miteâ€"@Tapping of the whitewaeh . R>asnées. "Butâ€"but will not all this cost a great deal of money?" said Decima. The gentleman smiled. "Weâ€"ll, rather a large eum, perhaps," he admitted; "but a mere nothing to his rlordahip; eh, Mr. Bright?" Mr. Bright nodded cheerfully. ‘ ‘"Money‘s no object," he said. ‘"Don‘t be in the least alarmed, Miss Deane." Decima got away at last and went home. She had a little headache, and felt bewildered and uncertain. gh bobby, don‘t!" and her voice quayâ€" ered. "You goose! I‘m only chaffing. . Lord Gaunt will be no end grateful, and he ought to be; for, from what I saw, I should say you have a good deal of taste as the man remarked of the bad oysâ€" ter. Don‘t you worry, or you‘ll «poil those eyes of yours, and they‘re not bad lookingâ€"when you‘re asleep." "You goose! I‘r Gaunt will be no ought to be; for, should say vyou ha C272 DEwidered and uncertain. "If Lord Gaunt should be displeased," she eaid to Bobby, "I should die withâ€" with shame!" "Not you," he remarked. "Nobody dies of that complaint, especially young woâ€" men. Now, if it had been I who had had the ineffable cheek to pull a man‘s house to pieces and spend a fortune in sticking it together againâ€"‘ ‘"Oh, Bobby, don‘t!" and her voiee ansv. | comfort," said Bright. "He is used to | sleeping under a tent in the desert, or ; without a tent, for that matter. Beiter leave the room alone, perhaps." Decima looked round rather pensively. "Couldn‘t there be an easyâ€"chair?>" she eaid, timidly. "Certainly," said the gentleman, makâ€" 'lng a rapid note. "I know the kind of | thing you‘d like. A elubâ€"chair; a really. easy chair; most of them are uneasy,. And some new curtaing. This is the kind‘ of thing. Yâ€"es." _ _Bo it went on for hours, anidst â€" the vlnttcir k«)! ‘th: ”v;orkryfl‘,i, wadrrters and the click of chisg)~."the tearin of paper, and â€" the _@ygâ€"0 i °t °UV tedting of pap -‘ "Lord Gaunt cares nothing comfort," said Bright. "He sleeping under a tent in t} "Admirable, madame," he said. ‘"You could not have done better. This room will be as perfect as it could be. And now for the library‘"â€"be looked round the room with a compaszionate air. "Not much comfort here," he said, "if I may say so. i L2l k C OsRO LC 202 UECINCT NC MUst help me." said Decima; and she hurried | on. There seemed no escaping this strange | responsgibility. She realized this more fully the next morning when Mr. Bright |came up for her. The man from the famâ€" \ ous decorators in London had come down. iflho went with Bobby, who had a mornâ€" in{ off, to the Hall. [ ET Bope L an doins sant Hanke * ohs # _ She turned back, with bent head, and just ontside the village met Mr. Bright. "I‘ve seen Mr. Deans," be said, with a rather bewildered and puzzled airâ€"most persons came from an interview with Mr. Deane puzzled and bewildered. "An extraordinary man, your father, my dear young _ ladyâ€"extraordinary! _ Erâ€"erâ€"be says, yes; I‘m sure he said that you should do as you pleased. And you will help ue. will you not?" _ "I will speak to my brotherâ€"he must and she walked on, not a little troubled and uncertain. She could ecarcely realâ€" ize the significance of the thing she had promised. A few days ago she was juet Aunt Pauline‘s "little girl," and now she was responsible for the welfare of a whole villageâ€"and the salvation of a man! Bhe came to the churchâ€"the tiny church half choked with ivyâ€"and leaning on the #ate, gazed at it. Like the cottages, the whole place, it had a neglected air. The living was smaill, the vicar an old man and poor. The man who ought to have kept it for God‘s house had forgotten it. And she could help him to remember it, and induce him to care for it! t CHAPTER XI down to the Hall asked har _ul,:ko Cmeri were not The Roborough is the nearest ith a l()n‘ paraâ€" Gaunt‘s return; in which it re. n hlll.‘ over the the whi t;';v.xâ€"i;‘h, for his own ‘‘Well, George and QGladys are to be married next week and we‘ll have to give them a present. _ What will it be and how much shall we spend!?" ‘"I don‘t know, T‘ll go as deep as you.‘"‘ "Let‘s send them something ‘that will make a big show for our money.‘‘ vfl?&-ight{ How about a load of hay 1" ~.". _ : This loss in traffic has been felt rather seriously by the steamship lines running to the South Seas. Last year there was a tremendous demand for passages to Australia and New Zealand, and to meet this trade the stcamship companies inâ€" creased the accommodations on each vessel and also put on new steamers. Toâ€"day the ships are running very light, even on reâ€" duced schedules. | Remarkable Decline in Immigration From Great Britain, There has been a remarkable fallâ€" ing off in emigration from (Great ,‘Brimin to the Australian colonies ’during the present year, according to the steamship companies conâ€" cerned in this traffic. _ It is put down to the present high level of wages and the continued trade boom which give men employment. in England. Despite this, however, Canada continues to get a very large number of emigrants from England and Scotland, so there aro probably other causes for the deâ€" crease in the Australian figures. Wr. Mershon gave his arm to Decima, and they went into the diningâ€"room. Decima‘s first impression of the room was that it was like a jeweler‘s shop. ‘There was the usual oakâ€"modern oakâ€"furniâ€" ture, from which the huge buffet etood out conspicuously, as it was simply loadâ€" ed with silver. There were beautiful flowâ€" ers on the table, but the profusion of plate overweighed and seemed to cruch themâ€"it and the three footmen; and as they moved to and fro, their gaudy livâ€" eries oppressed Decima. AUSARAiLi x LOSING SETTLERS very well, Miss Deane?" she added in a quieter voice, but a restrained one, as if she were trying to master her nervousâ€" ness. The effort made her tone curiously impassive and expressionless. It was like the voice from behind a mask. "Oh, no," said Decima. "I have only met Mr. Mershon once or twice." Mre. Sherborne smothered a gigh. ‘"You are very young," she eaid, as if to hereelf. Decima looked at her with some surprise, and Mrs. Sherborne colored and bit her lip. ‘"Are you ready? We will go down," she said, confusedly. } Mr. Mershon gave his arm to Decima. CHILDâ€"LIFE IX ‘"Youâ€"you did not expect to see a lady here?" said Mrs. Sherborne. "Iâ€"I only came a few days ago." She scanned the lovely girlish face covertly, then turned her eyes away, and so reminded Decima of Mr. Mershon. "You know my brother Ned uin o Tintvinnt 0 diauc lt c s 96. 2 cPd k t h c s doed with gold and lined with new and garish pictures, and Mre. Sherborne helpâ€" ed her off with her cloak, though a maid stood ready to do o. 1 | _ And, indeed, she looked like a dainty | flower in the dimly lighted hall. She wore one of the dinnerâ€"dresses Lady Paulâ€" | ine had had made for the vieit to Lonâ€" |don; a soft gray, as usual, but fitting the slim, graceful figure exquisitely. It was | open a very little at the neck, and it had | an air of soft splendor which struck even | Bobby. . € + "Kindly mention to the admiring crowds, as we go along, that you are my sister, will you?" he remarked. "I feel rather proud of you." "Look sharp," he eaid in a tone scarceâ€" ly lowered, for Mr. Deane never heard any remark unless it was addressed diâ€" rectly to him, and not always them, "or he‘ll reduce himself to the likeness of a ragâ€"bag before we get him there. I say, what a ewell you are!" he added, taking her by the whoulders and regarding her with reluctant fraternal admiration. ear, and he had ruined his shirtâ€"front irretrievably by clutching the roll of drawings against it. Bobby glanced up at Decima despairingly as she came down the staire. Bobby "dug him out" at seven, and by a quarter to cight brought him into the hall dressed in his grotesque eveningâ€"suit. His neckâ€"tie, notwithstarding Bobby‘s care, had already worked under the left "Dinnerâ€"Fireâ€"Mr. Mershon? Ah, yesâ€" yes. Yes, I remember. Of course, of course! I am to show him those drawâ€" ings of the electric storage. Where are theyâ€"where? I put them somewhere for safetyâ€"where?" alr "I‘ll ask h laboratory. Mr. Deane ‘"I wonder whether the governor means {oinc with us toâ€"night? If eo, I shall n:: to order a fiy; otherwise we could walk." "Oh, I had forgotten it," said Decima. ;‘.I"_lfll_‘n.{k__him;" and she ran into the (To be continued.) gazed ONTARIO ARCHIVES . TORoNTO GERMAXyY. at her with an absent "Is he clever t‘ ‘‘Well, he can hang his own wall paper, and paint his own, kitchen ‘"‘Looks to me as if the modern child has a pretty good grip on the situation, and isn‘t inclined to let go his advantage." ‘"And Johnny, ninetyâ€"nine times in a hundred, opens his mouth and doesn‘t give me a bit of troubleâ€" until his mother comes back into the room. t ‘Ji)hnniy,' I say again, ‘open your mouth,‘ ‘‘Mother hesitates, looks uneasy, then goes. I close the door. Then 1 plant myself in front of Johnny and eve him. ‘ ‘Madame,‘ says I, ‘Would you mind stepping into the next room until I finish with Johnny ?‘ she tells me "‘Johnny,‘ I say, ‘open your mouth and let me see your tongue.‘ ‘‘‘I don‘t wanna,‘ says Johnny. Mother sighs and looks helpless. "‘I just can‘t make him mind,‘ ‘"For instance â€" mother brings Johnuy in. Modern Child Has Pretty Good Grip on Situation, "I‘d like to prescribe for some mothers that bring their youngsters here,"" says a â€" physician. _ "The modern youngster that isn‘t spoiled is the conspicuous exception. Because for a peck. Why are chickens an economical proposition to the farmer? What is the difference between men and women at a tiresome lecâ€" ture ? Men go to close their eyes men to eye their clothes. Why are you, when you have a cold on your chest, not a child? Because you are a little hoarse. Why do suitcases resemble hand cuffs? Because both are made for tour ists (two wrists). fish ? _ araa*® tw 0o CA *Because it isn‘t often seen after lent. Because there is so often an evenâ€" ing mist. How is it quietly ? Why is a fly. taller than most men ? If a boy saw his sister fall why cou!d he not help her? _ Because he could not bo ‘a broâ€" ther andâ€"G§Met ber (AGister) too. Why is a comprehensive action affectionate ome } ty o.3 &0 . t What is that which is invisible yet never out of sight ? The letter 8. Many persons can move their ears a trifle, many can move their scalps, and there is an abundance of hair scattered about our arms and legs, now useless, but still the remains of the abundant coating of hair that once kept our anthropoid ancestors warm. Most people believe this swinging of the arms as they walk is merely a natural swaying motion, caused by the movement of the body just as the tassel of an umbrella will swing when one is walking with it, but this is by no means the reason. The swinging of the arms is natural enough, but the nature of it dates away back to those unknown days when man was a quadruped. Of course, when man was a fourâ€" footed animal he walked with his "‘urms" as well as his legs, and even toâ€"day after the thousands upon thousands of gencrations that have passed since he assumed an upright position, every time he takes a step his arm moves a trifie, involuntarily, as though desirous of taking a step in its turn just as it did when a man, then fourâ€"footed, pranced up and down tho earth. Why is Because he stands over six feet Because it embraces everything MAKING JOHNXNY OBEY. T PS mo Repoo en on ietty o ode will note that nearly all of them move their arms. If they walk slowly the movement of their arms is scarcely perceptible ; if they W.&lk rapidly their arms gencrally swing vigorously, Habit Still Clings, Which Is Why We Swing Them. If you watch people walk you will note that nearly all of them The Governorâ€"General of South Africa, where the race problem has become acute. WALKED OX OUR ARMS. What Is the Answer? Clever. that summer passes so every grain they give Lord Gladstone, umbrella like dried use Some people have a way of sayâ€" ing things to hurt the feelings of others just as if they were getting pay for it. I was on deck attending to my duty with the gun, when all of a su«iden there was a most infernal rowâ€"and then the nurse says, ‘Sit up and take this,‘" Nice Old Lady. She was a charitable old lady, of a somewhat inquisitive turn of mind, and she was paying a visit to a naval hospital. Presontly she came up to the bedside of a poor fellow who was one of the victims of a gun explosion. ‘‘My poor felâ€" low," she said, depositing a bunch of grapes within his reach, "Your sensations and sufferings at the time of the accident must have been terrible. Can youâ€"will you. describe them to me?‘ "‘Well, mum,‘"‘ he said stolidly, "I don’t‘ know as I can; but I can tell you In the casé of ailments of the mind, for instance,>it is first of all the nerves governing the sensibilâ€" ’ity that an effort must be made to touch. Music is at once a means of exciting the body, which has beâ€" come diseased, and a diversion for the mind. To those minds which are no longer conscious of the ordiâ€" nary life of the world of music can still speak. It seoms even as if it could put into the brains of the inâ€" sane a gleam of life. It ought to be able to gather up from afar ideas which have been Tost and bring them back to reason. If music can. not cure, it can sometimes soothe. him from a state of torpor, it is noâ€" cessary to play him a lively march, one of those which are so effective in rousing up soldiers who are tired with marching, giving them new vigor. â€" In this case it is on the locoâ€" motor nerves that it is necessary to act, but one must influence first of all the nerves governing the senâ€" sibility. If a convalescent l'Bmlrlrl‘lder treatâ€" ment and it is desirable to rouse ’ The music chosen must touch the patient without, however, the effect being too strong. It is also desirâ€" able that it should be ‘"en rapport‘‘ with the troubles of which the paâ€" tient complains. If his circulation is bad, music of a somewhat violent character will have an excellent efâ€" feet on him. If, on the other hand, he is suffering from a stomach ailâ€" ment it will increase the pain by causing contractions of the organ which is already painful. ‘ For a long time past musicotherâ€" any has been employed in a rationâ€" al manner. It has been used in the treatment of madmen. _ Esquirel organized concerts at Chareaton, but he was not very well satisfied with the results obtained. In 1840 Leurcet, at Bicetre, renewed the same attempt, but also without much success. Rince this period atâ€" tempts have often been made to diâ€" vert madmen in this way. It would appear that in the treatment of madness music has not given the good results expected. But if the experiment has not been a success it may be because music is felt in a different manner by every human being and the more so must that be the case with those who are disâ€" eased. It is especially in the treatment of nervous diseases that music has given the best results. Cases of hysteria and epilepsy seem someâ€" times to have been cured by conâ€" certs. The attack, treated at the start, ceased and subsequently ocâ€" curred more rarely and ended by not appearing any more. ; | . It is difficult to take these pretty legends literally; it is perhaps more rational to believe Old Homer | when he says that when Ulysses had | been wounded by a wild boar, muâ€" |sic made him forget the pain. That }is the first case on record in which a remedy is sought in this art. | The Grecks claimed that Esculaâ€" pius was a son of Apollo. Though it is no longer pnssible to believe, in accordance with this legend, that Medicine is the daughter of Music, at least it is permissible to think, says M. Nitello, that they are two sisters, the elder of which sometimes gives aid to the other. Reacts on Lunacy, But to leave this distant period and come down to Celsi, it is seen that this doctor recognizes already the action of music on the minds of lunatiecs. Then this same art is inâ€" dicated by various authors as a remedy for the most diverse ailâ€" ments. Galien recommends it for snake bites; Athenea, Theophrasâ€" tus and Aulu Gele believo in its happy influence on sciatica and gout; Theocritus and Thales see in it a means of contending against|â€" pest. , The oldest legends of antiquity tell us what a mysterious power the men of those days sometimes attributed to music. The songs of Orpheus and the sound of his lyre even, it is said, attracted wild beasts, which came crawling up to listen at his feet, vanquished. The allâ€"powerful beauty of the song of this hero even softened the hearts of the pitiless divinitics of Hades. M. Nitello, in an article on this subject published in Medicina, reâ€" calls how, to the sound of Amâ€" phion‘s lyre, the stones became animated and came to place themâ€" selves one upon another to build the City of Thebes. ; ‘MUSC Will REAL DisEASE Doctors Recogaize the Action of Harmonics on Minds of Maniacs. sCIEXTISTS CANNOT DENY ITS INFLUZNCE. Must Touch Patient, hss 2 atope ) Aetiecalatri ie NeWe us .0 oi c lt ragh _ _A _ New Rule For Raspberry Shortcake.â€"The ordinary raspberry shortcake is inferior to strawberry shortcake principally because raspâ€" berries do not give enough juice, even if a great many are used. To overcome this dificulty, make the shortcake in the usual way, and for the filling use a box of raspâ€" berries and a box of currants. Put the currants through a sieve with a cup of sugar, and add the juice thus obtained to the rupberrien.“ and another cup of sugar, mashin the berries very slightly. The ilfl E 1: I Bo n aricss . £ 4 +XCC0G,0I0E _ 1O Scalloped Asparagus.â€"Carefully the old tale, a convent stood on wash two small bunches of aspara. this wooded heath some centuries gus, and stand them upright in a 389 and one night this building kettle of water, allowing the tips to | was suddenly swallowed up in a be above the water. As the waterf“"bs'de“c"‘. which was followed by boils, it steams the soft tips, while | th* formation of a lake, to which the thick stocks are boiled. Drain w88 8!v@h the name of the Holy the asparagus, and cut it into‘L‘ko' Gradually the waters dried pieces, discarding the toughest por.| P A"d finally disappeared, â€" but tions. To each two cupfuls of ns-‘e,‘ enl when the l“‘!‘_'“ no longor exâ€" paragus use an equal amount of 'h(hothe ground siil] h:src the name breadâ€"crumbs, one cupful of milk,;.’ the Holy Lake. Now the lake two tablespoonfuls of butter, one.: "** "®@APP¢aroed. half teaspoonful of salt, and a lit-' ~gs« tle pepper. Butter a bakingâ€"dish.§ _ "Have you heard from â€" Mabel and put the breadâ€"crumbs and asâ€"| fince ber elopement ? Do you know paragus in alternate layers, the if hber mother is going to forgive last layer being one of crumbs.| them!?‘ ‘"‘No, she is not. She 48 Pour the milk over it, and bn.k.I going to live with them." wbout twenty minutes. en en ie en cimmmmmmememenaus.............__. !s 4 # ald wWaX i Parsnip _ Croquettes.â€"Boil one! little ‘:hi;:or‘?'lgie:lsfiro:l:{he?": pound of parsnips and press them | new idea to most of us, yet one can through a fine sieve, or mash with| see how it â€"would &E;Jt She * Abox a fork until they are smooth. Pour | shape of a fern very much & As oneâ€"half of a cupful of boiling milk | eap nEWeAprout AbpERtS the tdon over oneâ€"half of a pound of breadâ€"| ;,} toward the light until it is well crumbs ; add the parsnip puree, an | up and begins to bend in the right ounce of butter, a teaspoonful of | direction. By the time one is bend. grated cheese, the yolks of tvro'i"g properly it is another‘s turn +o eggs, and a few drops of lemon-; be trained in the same way, and juice. Mix the mass thorough!y, | the result is a beautiful â€"round and form it into balls. Roll eh‘ plant, ® ball into the whiti;]s of the eggs, | Aemarimtocc mt slightly beaten; then roll it in breadâ€"crumbs, plunge into boi]im;" '.l’ Lake Is Refilling. oil, and fry to a light brown. Dt'ain,l A quaint legend attaches to the and serve on a folded napkin. The ,' tract of land about 15 acres in oxâ€" croquettes are excellent with gravy tent which has subsided in Woestâ€" and roast pork. jpl"h" Germany, According to Realloped Asparagus.â€"â€"Carefylly the old tale, a convent stood on wash two small bunches of aspara. this wooded heath some centuries gus, and stand them upright in a 489 and one night this building kettle of water, allowing the tips to | was suddenly swallowed up in a be above the water. As the water SuUbsidence, which was followed by boils, it steams the soft tins. while} the formi@tion of & lake ta whia} Byâ€"% Bealloped _ Squash.â€"Wash â€" and pare two large or three small sumâ€" mer squashes, cut them into pieces about an inch square, put over the fire in a saucepan of boiling water, and cook for twentyâ€"five minutes. Drain in a colander, pressing out all the water, and mash free from lumps. Whip into the squash two beaten eggs, a small cup of milk, and a tablespoon of butter; seaâ€" son with salt and pepper and turn into a greased pudding dish. Strewi crumbs, bits of butter, salt andj pepper over the top and bake. I _ Savory Onions.â€"After you In,vel boiled fib\('_,......‘.Mfid‘]" c ’tender, drain them and pour over them a cupful of good stock and simmer in this for ten minutmrx.l Take out the onions with a split spoon and keep them hot while 3'uul thicken the gravy with a tablespo';vn’ of browned flour rubbed to a paste | with the same amount of butter.| Stir until smooth and thick, add| a teaspoon kitchen bouquet and| one of good catsup, with salt and | pepper to taste and pour over Lhel onions. Custard Onions.â€"Cook the young onions after pceeling them. When tender, lay in a pudding dish, and pour over them a white sauce to which you have added one or two wellâ€"beaten eggs. Season with pepâ€" per and salt before turring on the onions, and bake until the custard sauce is set. _ Baked Young Onions.â€"Peel the onions, cook for ten minutes in boiling salted water, drain and place in a buttered pudding dish. Sprinkle with pepper and salt and pour over them a white sauce made as directed in recipe for creamed carrots. Strew fine crumbs over the top and bake covered for twenâ€" ty minutes. Uncover and brown and serve in the dish in which onâ€" ions were cooked. ‘ ter, pepper and salt on top, cover and bake for half an hour, uncover and brown. Small Peas.â€"Pour one ounce of butter over one quart of small peas. Add a head of lettuce, an onion, a little parsley, and salt or sugar according to taste. Cover the pan and cook over a moderate fire until the peas are tender. Then remove the onion, parsley, and letâ€" tuce. Mix well together the yolks of four eggs, and three tes,spoonâ€"‘1 fuls of cream, and pour the mixâ€" ture on the peas. Serve immedi-l ately. | Salmon _ Bisque.â€"An attractive and palatable soup is made by addâ€" ing three pints of milk to two tablespoonfuls of butter and two of flour. This makes a white sauce. Beason it with salt and pepper, and add a can of the best saimon, which has been rubbed through a sieve to free it from bones and bits of skin. Serve with croutons. { Selected Recipes. Green Corn Balls.â€"Beat a whipâ€" ped egg, two teaspoons melted butâ€" ter and one of white sugar and salt into two cups green corn cut from the cob and put with mixture enough our to enable you to handle it and form it into balls. Rol!l these in raw egg and then in flour and fry in deep fat. *#%, ‘home sard recently that she took | great care of them, because it gave | her pleasure to see them fourish | and wax strong and vigorous. One | little thing she does is rather a | new idea to most of us, yet one can ‘see how it â€"would affect the good shape of a fern very much. As each new. sprout appears she turns it toward the light until it is well up and begins to bend in the right direction. By the time one is bendâ€" ing properly it is another‘s turn to be trained in the same way, and the result is a beautiful _ round plant. | _ When putting down new matting, ,do not cut it to fit corners, but | wet it thoroughly with a soft brush ’or cloth dipped in a pail of hot | water, to which add a cupful of salt. | When the water has thoroughly soaked the matting becomes as piiâ€" able as rubber and can be turned under without breaking, making a | neater finish than cutting. When | you shift the niatting later you find | this is very convehient. Bome women have what their friends call "Juck" with plants, but, as a matter of fact, it is genâ€" erally because they treat their plants with some thought and care and study their needs. A woman who is quite famous for the lovely ferns she always has about her home sand resentle Hhut clim 1x.1L It is well to keep an open box of unslackened lime in the cellar. This Witrâ€"wbsorh much of the dam»â€" ness in the cellar and so be a fact r in keeping this part of the house sweet and dry. The lime will hgrse "~~@ to be renewed from time to Â¥ime. A splendid way of washing Chinâ€" ese crepe is to make a strong lathâ€" er of boiling water and white soap ; when it is nearly cold, wash the crepe quickly and rinse in a strong solution of salt and water. Hang to dry in the open air. Do not throw away any cheese, no matter how small may be the piece. Grate it or run it through the food chopper and use it for seasoning the French dressâ€" ing served with a vegetable salad. Bhould grease be spilled on matâ€" ting apply at once a thin paste of fuller‘s earth. As soon as it dries, cover with a paper and do not reâ€" move for two or three days. Occasionally iodine stains get on bedding or linen. If the spots are covered with ammonia or alcohol and washed the stain will disapâ€" pear. * It is well to wash an embroidered pongee in gasoline. While the water might not injure the pongee, it might the embroidery. A bit of leftâ€"over fish, especially salmon or halibut, will make a deliâ€" cious forcemeat for stufling peppers or tomatoes. Bilver that had been stained with egg is quickly cleaned by rubbing with damp salt or with a cloth dampened with ammonia. If a cloth is dampened with strong tea, it will serve as an excellent cleanser of varnished paint. Keep a few pieces of charcoal in the refrigerator. They will absorbh the odors of food. Grass stains may be removed by soaking them in alcohol, kerosene or molasses. ing may be used either plain or with a little whipped cream added ; cover the top of the cake with whipped cream decorated with raspâ€" berries. The flavor of the raspberâ€" ries is so much stronger than that of the currants that you do not taste the latter at all. 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