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AGRICULTLURAL NOTES. fcACTICAL » INFORMATION i FOR 7* THE .. FARMER AND THE ORCHARDIST. 77 (TUB Department Ia prepared for the Sacramento i_sooai>-U;-ioN by i_ Agricultural Editor. All matter routing to tbe agricultural interest will be . found andei this bead.] - 7V* ""'.-"'-V - : Stone-Fruit Orchards. , In the early days of California, before the debris from the mines had raised the beds of the principal rivers, the lands immediately 7 on the river banks were considered '; the best orchard lands in the State. Thus the Briggs orchard, near Marysviile on the Yuba, the Smith orchard, near Sacramento -on I the American, were among the finest and most ; prolific orchards, not only in the State,' but 7in the United States. '.; Later the Reed or chard, opposite Sacramento on the Sac ra nento river, and the Mott orchard, on the . name river in Sutter county, were examples of the great value of the river bottom-bands for orchard purposes. And going still lower down the Sacramento and on both sides oi the river, there were found some of the finest ■orchards and most prosperous and profitable fruit farms in the world. Indeed, beginning ten miles below Sacramento city ten years ago, there was on the Sacrameato ' side •of this river an almost continuous orchard for twenty-five miles in extent, further down. In all these orchards the peach, the apricot, the nectarine, the - plum and • the cherry trees grew vigorously, were healthy, and produced magnificent fruit, and in great abundance. The markets of Sacramento and San Francisco were then supplied with all these stone , fruits principally from this sec tion, and from these river orchards. At that time the stone • fruit trees were planted ■on all these river bottoms with confident expec tations by the owners that they might con tinue to gather fruit from them of the same .rare qna'ity and in the same great abundance for generations, and perhaps for an unlimited ■ period in the future. These river ! bottom lands were then considered of great value, and were actually sold at from .00 to $200 per acre, and fruit culture was the main con sideration that gave them this great value. j For the last tea years the mining debris has been gradually filling up the river bed, and the water level in the river and the adjoin ing lands has been gradually rising aid approaching nearer and nearer to the surface. .- As it has reached the roots of peach and other stone-fruit trees, these trees have each year shown unmistakable marks of its deleterious effects upon tbem and their Annual crop, of fruit. Yellow leaf, curled leaf, and an annually increasing number of dead limbs, have been the indications of ap proaching disease and decay of the trees, while the fruit has steadily decreased in •quantity and » : _, and has gradually lost its high flavor and other former distinguishing good qualities. During the past summer large numbers of trees that started good crops of fruit, and some of which mere or lees perfectly matured their crops, have since died. Year by year orchardists have been convinced of the futility of trying to keep up their orchards, and have reluctantly aban doned their former favorite and profitable business ; and at this time stone-fruit tree planting in all the section that ten years since was the lest in the State for this class of fruit has been _m_t entirely abandoned. The fact that good peaches, .good nectarines aad good apricots hive almost entirely disappeared from our markets during the season for euch fruit, and that the poor -specimens that are to be found command such high prices tbat people cannot afford to buy them, shows th it with the _cay of the busi -ness in the sections named it has not been re viewed to any extent in any other. - F. im this fact we are inclined to the belief that a false impression is obtaining in regard to tie adaptability if oar State to the production of this class of fruit. We fear that orchard ists have not sufficiently studied the causes tf "the deterioration of the peach and the other fruits named. And right here we would point out the fact that while a local cause has fallen where it was callable of j doing a great local damage, it cannot reach any other locality and should not be allowed to operate against the planting of stone-fruit orchards anywhere in the State. Some of the' great - est successes in peach culture that have been . known in the State have been achieved in the foothills of the Sierras. The largest and beet , peaches ever raised in the State were pro . duced in the foothills, and with very little - care as to varieties or cultivation. Our cli mate is certainly among the best in the world : for stone-fruit culture, and there are to be found soils in great abundance just as favor . table .as those on the liver banks. Alight, t sandy, warm loam, in a locality that can be i well drained, is all that is required for such a fruit orchard. : Then good trees of good vari eties, well planted and cultivated and care fully pruned, will bring successful crops and large profits. our opinion there is no other enterprise in the State at the present that holds out better inducements" than the plant ing in 'Central and northern California of orchards of the stone fruits, with the view of producing fruit for eale, either in fresh, pre - served or dried form. 77.'.' --■-..-. .. ...--..- .'■ .The Rinds of Trapes to Plant, and Where and How to Plant lhem. In consequence of the favorable turn in the commercial value of California wine and the consequent rise ill th. . price paid for grapes, there is a prospect that a larger num ber of acres will be planted this year in vines than ever before were planted in a single , season in the State. Grapes for wine have become the most profitable crop in tie State, and the pruspret. no* are favorable for their .continuing so for an indefinite time in the - future. This situation of things causes a great many inquiries as to the be . varieties of grapes for wine, as to the best locality and soil _ plant them in and as to the best mode of planting the vine. In an early day the men who planted out vineyards in California seemed 1 1 think they were * doing a very : praiseworthy, if not a very wise thing finan *.' cially, by planting a great number of varie ties. Hence our earliest cultivators of the vine and our earliest exhibitors of grapes at our fairs frequently, cultivated from 100 to ISO varieties. , While this practice did not prove profitable to those who adopted it, it . proved a . valuable lesson or guide for those who. to-day are proposing to plant vineyards. It led to a knowledge of the characteristics and practical value of all, and helped in the ' selection of the really valuable kinds. Those who plant vines now have no reason to resort to expensive and time-wasting experiments. The best table.' the beat raisin and the beat wine grapes have already to a great extent been ascertained,' and her.ee the business of entering upon grape culture, for either branch 7 of the business, is no longer an . experiment. V It is' now. pretty well settled that the best grape for raisins in California is the White Muscat of Alexandria ; the . best for ; table use the Black Hamburg, the Alexandria and 7 the flame-colored Tokay. * For wine purposes tbe list is longer, and is varied ! more ,by lo cality and other circumstances. The Mission was the first grape of the State, and is prob ably produce . now in greater quantities than any other: variety. 7lt is a go-id bearer, and : mixed -.with some other varieties, to give it ■ aroma, or to counteract or neutralizs its own v' * peculiar ground taste, ii ' a very pood wine grape. Tho. who ha ye Mission vines will • do y well V. to ■. keep v them, if s they ' have room fl to plant ; . others, as 'it V. would take i some , time V, to '■'.': make '* rip*. _ for | ' the i loss necessarily ' sustained in changing. : The '> Zinfandel ' is", probably to-day ,' the most generally popular wine grape in the St. te. 1 It iB a thrifty grower and a good, strong '■ bearer. It makes ; a good light wine, either ! red or white, and is ] sought for and used ex tensively : in :. making } the ■"■' best V California champagne. The Berger is also quite a pop ular wine-grape. -L. J. Rose, of ; Los An geles, one of the most extensive wine-makers of the State, speaks of this ' grape as follows : "Bunches >. locg„ large-shouldered ; and very compact,; skin thin, greenish "yellow,, with some bloom ; quite acid, and the poorest ta ble-grape yet tried by me of all the foreign grapes. It is a vigorous grower, 'and the leaves are large, with a white cotton down on the .under side. I believe it to be the heaviest bearer of all the grapes, and I think it doubles the production of the Mission. : It is," however," a matter of doubt with me whether it would do in low'; localities, for the bunches being so compact, in wet places it would be almost sure to rot and mildew. It makes, to my mind, the most pleasant light table-wine of any grape in California, being more of the character of Ger man .'- Sauterne than any other wine. This wine is used one-third and two-thirds Zinfandel to make the best of Harasztby's champagne. I believe it ■ especially adapted for this | county (Los Angeles) for our table lands. It was introduced to Anaheim from Germany, and "Berger "is the German name. I am inclined to the belief that it is the same grape 'as tbat known in France as Fcle Blanche, for it is identical with the descrip tion of that grape there. The Fole Blanche is used in France almost entirely as a brandy grape, making the celebrated cognacs. It has too much acidity . there, and makes, as a consequence, inferior,: wine. [ Whereas, with our perpetual sunshine the grape attains a fuller maturity, and makes a wine that, for a light wine for daily drinking, has no equal to my taste. This shows that we can only find by experimenting what grape is best for our locality, for what may be worthless in a wet, cold locality, in our dry and warm climate will give entirely different results." EXPOSURE O. A VINEYARD. In damp and cold countries a southern ex posure is considered by far the best for a vine yard, because in such a climate the j vine needs all the warmth nature can afford it under the most favorable conditions. In most localities in California, however, a northern exposure presents the best condi tion. Something, however, must be thought of in connection with the habits of the grape to be planted. A vigorous, rapid vine will stand a southern exposure, while a timid or slow-grower would do nothing under the same circumstances, but would do well under the north side of the hill. ' Our valley lands are mostly level, and experience has shown that with good soil the question of exposure has but little si_nificanca or bearing. To those who, in the wheat-growing districts of the State, desire to plant vineyards, it is safe to select any good wheat land, while almost any of the lands in the fool hills, with good culti vation, will give good results. HOW TO plaint. . *-■-' -*.-' ;*-a— -.*: ■ Some vine-growers have advocated plant ing rooted vines, but the majority, wo think, have found that cuttings planted where the vine is to stand is the better and cheaper plan to make a vineyard. The soil should be well and thoroughly cultivated and harrowed down, then laid off with the plow both ways from six to eight feet apart, according to the character of the soil — on good, strong soil eight feet ia near enough for the vines. Where th.' furrows cross plant the cutting. The cheapest, quickest and best way to do | this is to make the hole with a crowbar from twelve to fifteen inches deep. Pntthe cutting in, reaching the bottom of the hole and pro- ! jecting above the surface one bud, or say two inches. Holding the catting iv an upright . po. ition, work the soil closely and compactly about it with tho crowbar, by striking it into j the soil in several places near the original j hole and pressing the soil towards the cutting. j Having planted the cuttings in this way, J level the ground with a harrow, being careful not to touch the vines, and the work is done. When to Plant Fruit Trees. The question as to when to plant fruit trees i is one of great importance, not only to those who desire to plant commercial orchards, or orchards for the purpose of growing fruit for j the markets, but to every one who proposes to plant a few trees in his farm or on a town | lot for family use. The common custom in ! countries whore freezing and snowy weather ! prevails in winter is to plant in the spring | after the ground has : been settled and the ! growing weather is returning. Since most j of our people came from a cold climate they brought this custom with them, and have ad hered to it too long in this country. Ex- | perience, however, in this State has convinced I ail practical and observant cnlturist - that the fall or early winter is the better time to plant fruit or any other tress . here. If planted in I the fall or before- the rainy season is far ad- j vanced the soil settles about the roots and becomes fixed, and the spring or . growing weather finds the tree in nearly the same condition that it would have been had it , remained unmoved from the place where it grew. The roots that have been in jured by moving or setting, or that have been cut back, heal up during the winter, and na longer require any special nurs in? by nature, and all the energies and vigor ;of the tree ' are at 7 liberty to be exerted in the ■ direction of natural growth when the warm weather - comes. In > late planted trees the sap moves up slowly and feebly, and hence it is that late planted trees are more frequently attacked by borers, and have their stems scalded by the eon, than those that are planted eatly in the season," As .a rule, the best time to plant trees in the val leys of this State is just as soon as the soil is sufficiently -dampened by rain to dig them handily. V If we were ; going to plant an or chard or a few trees this winter, we should do it. now just as soon as we could get the holes 1 dug and obtain the trees for planting. A '. tree planted late in : the spring, and not ay ' ing obtained a good hold of the ground by ' the settling processes of the winter's rain, is 1 most sure to be injured, if not ruined, when I ; after it has taken on its new leaves," the north winds of that season strike and beat it abou'. ' For this reason we would say, plant now, the ' sooner the better. V The Peanut Crop. Lovers of peanuts —and the devotees ',' of ■ this delicacy are ; more I numerous j than I the open avowals ' show — will be glad to learn that ISSO has ' b. -a ; another great peanut j year, like its l predecessor. 7. Last year's crop waa nearly two I and j a quarter million bushels, worth ; nearly two and a quarter ; million dollars. 7 ', It is riot every man J who I will I boldly j ac ' knowledge that he eats a bushel of peanuts < a year ; yet the two and | a quarter million I bushels are disposed of somehow. When i the price goes high peanuts ' are imported, . thus showing that : there is a craving that ' must be met. But the full crop of this ' year and last year will crowd out foreign ' competition for American digestion. 77,^7 a-a ' A plot that most of Erin's peasantry | would gladly own to is a plot of land en -1 tirely to himself, f He'd have no other con i - spirit, rs engaged on sa a plot as that.— 1 . [Punch. TITLES. SOM£T:i:N_ ABOUT Tin. IN ' EUROPE ; V | AND THEIR ORIGIN. ; Tlie ', Descend mt of Bine' Beard and His 7 "7 Regal Habits and Surroundings— '.' Expelling - a | Deputy. ■ Paris, November 15, ISSO. , "Distance .'■ lends - enchantment ] to ■■■. the view " may be said of more than ; hills, mountains and trees,' and the " fact ' that in America we are unused to other titles than President, Colonel end such prosaic names, inclines us to believe that because a man is called Baron or Count he must be possessed of superior attributes, and because he wears a crown embroidered on his handkerchief he can be no other than one of the elected of Divine Providence. In Europe, where the article abounds, it is held in no such: high appreciation, and the numerous Counts and Barons themselves are beginning to be lit tle impressed with their I own ' importance. When people become intelligent enough to learn and understand the origin of these escutcheons which have been for so maav centuries ■, thrust before the eyes of the people to dazzle them and command awe and adulation, they entertain for these pre sumptious lords a contempt more ; or less, profound. . It should be remembered that in tho_ -..''' i GOOD OLD DAYS To which the very noble trace their origin, the'' king .was master of everything and everybody, atd if he happened to meet with a clever juggler whom be fancied, he did net hesitate to take somebody's houses and lands and give them to his favorite, along with a title which he often invented for the occasion. When the eldest sou in herited, the title and fortune, the nobles sustained the prestige of power and wealth, but since the revolution the property, has been equally divided between all the children, and centuries of idleness and in activity; of brain and hands, without the faculty of succeeding through their own efforts, have rendered them mentally and morally inferior, and with few exceptions they are now in France a class of poor, worthless creatures. There are some few proprietors of immense estates in the west arid center, such as the Duke de la Roche* foucauld-Bisaccia and the Marquis de Iv houet, who possess considerable revenues in land, and particularly in forests, that they may be compared with the rich laud-owners of England. Everywhere else throughout the country the noble is born poor, with no social position, and the grand monde is the financial, political and artistic world. Many nobles at the present day employ their titles and names at the head of financial societies, such as President of conseil of the administration, Directors and so on ; and. when any new enterprise is started, which is intended to speculate on the credulity of the simple and uneducated, as a recommendation to their confidence a long list of names is given,. the majority of which are Dukes, Counts, Viscounts and Barons, and if perchance the affairs should prove a swindle (as is generally the case) the Dukes and Barons accept the public censure with immoral indifference, pre pared to begin again whenever credulous victims are to be found. The first Napoleon somewhat upset the social scales by CON. ERRING TITLES, Property and other favors on his Generals who bad sprung from the very heart cf the people. This aristocracy infused new life, vigor and origiualty into the governing classes, but they soon became as corrupted as the others through idleness and luxury, and although they more readily make use of their mental faculties to gain a liveli hood when necessary, they seem to have a predilection for all employments wherein rase and cunning may be exercised rather than for legitimate honest work. The most striking type of what the no bility of France was during the last cen tury is to be found in the person of Biudry d'Asson, who Was the cause on last Thurs day of the most fearful scandal which has yet taken place at the Chambers. This j gentleman owns an immense property and extended tracts of land in Brittany, in a part of France which railroads have not yet reached and where the telegraph is unknown. He there reigns almost as in feudal times. His castle sits on the top of I the hill, and looks as proudly and dtliauily | down on more modern constructions, as its j owner is taught to look upon the rest of I mankind. So great is the reverence of j the inhabitants of the country for this j representative of an ancient wee of privi leged lords, that he lives and rules as a monarch, and co government official has been able to combat his authority. Baudry d'Asson is what is called a sportsman — spends bis time principally hunting, and owns ■ -. 7* " a '■■ .."-- THREE HUNDRED DOG 3, " A number of which are at present at the Jardin. d' Acclimation, and can be seen by the public. He organizes at his chateau grand hunting parties, when ho has a whole regiment of servants dressed in the hunt ing livery of royal days, and ladies accom pany the gay cavaliers in costumes of red velvet skirts, long plumes in their bats and gloves and collars such as worn in the days of the Louis. Every thing in fact is performed on a grand and - liberal J scale, and tho magnificence and elegance, and the almost unlimited power of the chate lain over his dominion carry one back a century, or two, and he forgets that the feudal days are past and that humanity is busy treading social barriers under foot. j Baudry d'Asson, like all grand seig- j neurs, refuses, himself nothing,: not even the pretty girls he j accidentally | meets in his equestrian promenades, but not as his ancestors, who rode down from the tower on the mountain to carry off tome peasant's sheep or cow by force, and "as frequently carried off. his wife or daughter, does he 'win tha fairy maids, ; but through ' gentler means, for which so much gratitude is felt that he has been stamped a gallant homme. ' He ' is the direct descendent of the famous " Blue Beard," the hero and horror of { our j infantile days, and ho pos sesses himself a handsome, long, fine, black beard, which adds much towards strength ening j the | rumor. J|He '. is what may be called ] a ban garcon, is neither vindictive nor cruel,' is in fact gentle in his manners, but he does not differ from other members of that society which 'he represents, and is dull and unintelligent, with no taste for anything outside of dogs and hunting, and whenever be does appear at the tribune his speeches are not only absurd and illiterate, I but are spread over great sheets of paper in letters so large that a six-year-old child could read them. 7On a last Tuesday, ,on the J reopening jof the Chambers,'; Baudry d'Asson incurred the penalty of - - >-:.?.-: V -TEMPORARY, EXCLUSION 7. " For having' outraged .. the - Government. This penalty, in : : consequence, prohibited him ' from ' reappearing during ; fifteen ses ' sioris,' not ; only in -. the . room, but .within the legislative palace,-' Heretofore 7 those persona who have , been the object of this disciplinary measure — Messrs. Godelle and Paul de Cassagnac — rigorously observed it, and ',; it was V supposed '{. that i- Baudry d'Asson would 'do . likewise. . The -' most severe orders had been ' given \to -] all * the guardians of the different entrances not to allow him to pass, 7 and the order had ! been rigorously observed," but ! Baudry d'Asson made use of subterfuge in order to enter the palace by stealth.". He pushed through the past and telegraphic office I situated on the Rue de Bourgogne, and which commu nicates with the. interior of- the Chamber," and*, there, thrusting 'the j employes aside who wished to bar his passage, he reached the Chamber jby means of winding halls without I any : one being * aware of i his in-. ten tion. He had quietly reached his seat, and it was some moments before his pres- ence was noted, and it was only when Mr. Gambetta, the President,' cast his one eye in that direction that his face j expressed the most complete consternation to these Deputies who happened to be looking at him. . It was j Mr. Gambetta's privilege to close the seance and have Baudry d'Asson taken out by ' force, ; but : he relied on his good sense not to create A SCANDAL, 7V. '"• And on the good .advice of his friends to persuade him to reason, but like a verita ble Mohammedan, ; he swore by his beard that he would yield only to force. 7. The President then ordered the tribunes to be vacated, * pronounced the seance finished and left the ; room, followed by nearly all the Deputies of the Left, who declined to be present at a scandal so disgraceful to them all. .The members ' of .the Right, that is, a goodly number, the friends of Baudry d'Asson, immediately prepared for defense. At the right of the refractory Deputy sat Mr. Anceland Mr. Bhu de Bourdon, . to the left Messsra. de ! la Ro-' | chette and the Baron Dufonr, behind him Messrs. V Frep pel, de la Rochefoucauld, Tno. de Penauettr, Hamille and de la Billaias, in front of him g Mr. ; Bour geois "cud several other members. First, two of the questors, Messrs. De Mahy and Margate, entered the room ac companied . by two of the palace guards, and going up toßiudry d'Asson summoned him to leave ; on his refusal they returned to confer with the President, While one of the members of the Right endeavored to calm the refractory Deputy ami interceded for him to thus avoid all violence. Arch bishop Freppel urged B.iu dry d'Asson to resistance and himself arranged his differ ent friends around him so as to present a sort of but waik to his enemies. i The questors again entered the room and in the name of the President ordered every one to leave. *• Every member of the Left went out, but those of the Right refused to move, and Liroche Jou be rt, in imitation of Mirabeau,' declared "that he would yield only to THE FORTE Or BAYONETS. Force was then employed, but not the bayonets. Then Colonel Riu, military commander of the palace, dressed in his uniform of grand ceremony and accom panied by the Adjutant and three guard ians'of the Chamber, introduced into the room a detachment of thirty men of the Forty-sixth Regiment and a detachment of fifteen men of the Twenty- fifth , Bat talion of Chasseurs a Pied. All the men were unarmed, but they represented suf ficient force to have the regulations ex ecuted by the strength of fists. They formed a semi-circle, and then moved in or der so -as to gradually reach Baudry d'Asson and. surround his friends on all sides ; these last perceiving that they were to be attacked on every side, formed a square battalion, in the center of whica - they placed the Deputy who was to be expelled. By ordor of Colonel Riu the chasseurs climbed over the desks so as to glide between the Deputies and Baudry ct'Assen and surround him while separating him from the battalion. \ Then began an indescribable and shameful scene for the Royalist and Bonapartist . representatives, who, without the slightest reserve, abused and struck the soldiers, and even threw them down. Some of them jumped on Colonel Riu and tore off his shoulder straps, while others struck him on the head with their fists. This brave old soldier was wounded in August, 1870, at the battle of Tur . ck, when he received a sabre cut on his head, and which wound has rendered him ill since his rough usage at the hands of the dignified members of the Right. The soldiers received blows right and left, and were even thrown down and trod upon by these conservative _ a .... v -.'V * DEFENDERS OF THE THRONE And altar. But noching discouraged the soldiers, without returning the blows or answering the abuses, succeeded in dis persing the belligerent Deputies, in sur rounding Baudry d'Asson and in carrying him to a small room, .where, according to the regulations, he should remain a prisoner three days. It required four men to carry Baudry d'Asson out of the legislative ball, just as though he were an inanimate ob ject, but he offered no resistance, and even excused himself to Colonel Riu by stating that he would never have given him that trouble had it '■ not been that his friends urged him to resistance. The expulsion once effected, the session was again . opened. As to Baudry d'Asson, the room in which be was con fined was transformed into a prison, before which an armed functionary was placed, while others were stationed along the hall and on the stairs. His dinner was brought to him and be remained there all night. The next morning two of his friends gave their word of honor to th. President of the Chambers that if released he would not again appear at the palace until the expira tion of the fifteen sessions, and he was allowed to depart. Still, no one is assured but that the scandalous scene may not be repeated, for Baudry d'Asson : had: al ready given his word of honor to Colonel Riu, the military commander of the palace, that he would not venture to enter ; this he said the day before, just after he had incurred the penalty of expulsion, and since he once broke his word, no one has any longer confidence in its durability. This -or Colonel Riu, before he called in his soldiers, j went up ;to Baudry d'As son, and with tears in his eyes begged him to leave the room, saying that he had had twenty years of service and bad never wit nessed such a scene so shameful. No better portrait can be given of the rich aud influential nobility in France than the picture they presented at the legisla tive chamber -on last Thursday. They seem to possess more the character of chil dren than men, are rebellious and violent, and have so little respect for the laws which govern them that, were it not for their wealth and the prestige of their names, their mental and moral inferiority would place them on a* level with those creatures who now fill the prisons. 7,-77. ■ * -■ ■ . -:-■ .-: Vau ■ [Written for the Record-Vkiok.] LILIES. (BY ANSIS C. WBKKS.] There's » quaint old. le. nd that telleth How the Lord in Get hsemane trod. A' the flowers awoke at his coming, And knew Him, their Maker and God. . The rose, in her stately beauty, Raised proudly her regal head V The daisies and violets trembled, . And hi as they heard His tread. V Ent the lib' too pure to be haughty, • Too loving to hirbor a fear,' , I Just bent their fair heads in compassion, As the Master, in sorrow, drew near. He passed by the rose in her splendor y The daisies still trembled— unknown ; . But he iiau-ed by the beautiful lilies, ', *•''•'•"__... '.'..' And blessed them and called them His own. Still that blessing abides .th the lilies ; . It crowns thtm with radiant light; -.. V' Still ihey shine amid sorrow and darkness, , -* As they sbone through Oetbaiimane's night. . i - Ami often some desolate mother, ' Who mourns for her darling— at rest, ; Plucks sadly the fragrant white blossoms. To lav on the calm baby breast.; '■:..-. ' 7 And the lilies still bend in compassion, ■ -' And the dear Master's blessing they shed. Till its peace fills tbe heart of 'be living, !*iife; i. At they cortr the heart of the dead. Kjßl__M_. .. ■■■iliwiii i i ■ . . "". V ."• The : Eureka , Sentinel states ' that 0. B. Nelson, a young Swede, has fallen heir, by right :of discovery, ato a " $10,000 ' mining claim in Globe * district," Arizona. 1 This is the same I individual, | says the Carson Ap peal, who last June was followed by some Nye county Indians, naught at 1- Thirty mile Springs,: stripped, 1 beaten and turned loose in a nude state 'as a punishment | for having stolen an Indian poay.'-'AI" J'AA^ - — ♦-♦ :>':' Slangy youth, who introduced his cousin to l*a| dancing ; man : \£ Isn't I he ' a} brick,' Angy !''.:_ Army, panting with fatigue and ' pleasure : = " He's a perfect brick' waltzer." BAY GOSSIP. 77y7.''--v- "-":•::-— ~7 ..- ;*7, 7. 7' THE RAINY SEASON— RE OLD LOVE if. ' . ,77 ] LET. ' Street . Scenes and Thoughts in Opening 7 Winter— Some Chat About Women, Dress, Talent and ;' Art 7 7- San Francisco, December 8, ISSO. 7 The first rainy day of the season comes like the breaking up of an old habit pit is refreshing in its newness ; and change ; it washes the dust from time and the cobwebs out of the mind. The second day is a lonesome ' one, the ' third a dull one, and when the days drag on : into a whole, drip ping-wet week they become dreary enough, if one but sits down to think of : them. In romance ; rainy; days ' are : given j over to raking out the ashes of memory, looking at keepsakes and reading old love-letters, but in : reality— and reality is such a bore I— one darns stockings, makes old clothes into new, and longs for something to break monotony. ■ The love-letters of our youth, that seemed then £•> . rilled with thoughts that j burnt and | words thrilled ; through with something strange and sweet, they are like old fires if you read them again to —all dead and quite gone out. , Yet you wouldn't be' half the man or woman you are if those experiences of LOVE LONG AGO Had not been yours, and there should be no regret or shame at memory of those fond and foolish times. Most like they go before to prepare the : heart for riper, deeper, purer .things, and the way leads up from altar to altar till the highest and holy of holies shuts out th 9 stepping-stones that still rise to point the way. Young woman, if it was a fair love, and an honest love, don't be ashamed of j it because it is an old love. It will make of you better wife and mother by and by. I can remember when letters weren't such everday affairs as now, and every one was religiously kept ; bat in these times of postal cards and rapid mails everybody writes to everybody, and few preserve a correspondence. A notable exception to this wholesale destroying, however, I find in the letters of >7»7~ MRS. MARY COLBY, " Of Benieia, whose recent ' death is shortly to be followed by her life, with copious ex tracts from correspondence, in book form. She was a woman of ten thousand, closely, connected with the Grange interests of the State, dear to the church, invaluable to the cause of missions, and the very center of a wide-spread circle of friends. Her col umn in the Pacific ' was read far and near, and her writings on Grange subjects were well-known. V Her letters, recalled for selection, return from all quarters of the globe, one correspondence in particu lar coming from Turkey. A reading of old letters such as hers were well worth a rainy day now and then. In the city here the majority have no time for poring over sentiments penned in the pas'*. We live in the present for the future. . We run a busy race. We are an eager, restless people, for whose street transit nothing less than a cable road is rapid enough, whose gigantic business operations seem all too slow in comparison with the millions of a stock bubble floating just out of reach, who seem our very selves formed on the princi ples of the cable chain, which goes, over .and round, and round and over, and buzz and rush, and hurry and begin again. No one seems to have time for the romance of attics and old letters and ashes of mem ory, and people go out whether it rains or no, and shop and promenade, and have po lice escort across Kearny street. Magnifi cent clothes are on review in spite of ' un derfoot and overhead, and whether it were the rain or no, last week I yet saw some of THE PRETTIEST WOMEN I ever saw in San Francisco. A very vision went laughing by me, bright, brown eyed, bubbling over in a brave andjjuoy aut brilliancy that met me like the sparkle of a diamond laid against tbe sunlight. It was worth the battle with rain and mud just to have seen her, clothed as she was in the softest seal skin a cataract of water could never have j injured. I should just have liked to squeeze her cheeks together because she was so beautiful. She re minded me of Mrs. Milton S. Latham, once the lovely Mis 3 McMullen, than whom San Francisco never held a fairer. When Mrs. Latham looked out from her carriage, . against the background of its dark-red , satin lining her brown eyes wore a peculiarly suit and velvety expression of remarkable beauty of which I have | heard a hundred speak. . The Latham bouse, with its rolling lawn, has ! gone 'to the Newlands now. Mrs. New- j lands was Miss Clara Sharon, sometimes i poetically spoken of as the " Rose of Sharon," and it is here also that Miss Flora Sharon, "youngest daughter of my house and name," does her courting, so they say, with Sir. Thomas Hesketh, of the steam ; yacht Lancashire Witch. ■ With people who have been brought up to any amount of wealth: and station, is the important condition preceding . marriage still:" the courtin'," and just a little matter sweet, oh ! very sweet ! — a smile, a kiss and a blush, or is it a heavy and formal affair, 1 wonder, like their bank accounts, for in stance, their silken trains, or their list of j calls to be made? I remember Miss Sharon as having a pleasant, ' girlish face and piquant bearing, and she was in the make up of a pretty moving picture framed once in a picturesque mass of curtained drapery. Perhaps there isn't a j woman of us (but this, of course, sub rosa) that doesn't envy her the pink and gold glow of her present experience, if : this be indeed a genuine courtship. I saw THE PLAINEST WOMAN Of my acquaintance half an hour after she said " yes "to her first proposal, and the prettiness that had throbbed into her face had not yet faded out. I think she guessed of , the. light in her eyes and tho strange new beauty that I had fallen upon her, tor she turned away on an errand made for the occasion, _ and I j never J saw either, again. But these ; be secrets we half smile and pooh-pooh at, even to ourselves, and surely they are indiscreetly prated of to the pub lic, though a letter, born of a rainy day.'to friends nearer than some known friends, may perhaps be pardoned an indiscretion or two by the same. 7, The ■ most elegant cloaks are worn to-day, made of warm, heavy goods, or perhaps of black silk, and trimmed all about with- fur. Sometimes they are circular cloaks,' but those give the wearer a crouching look and are very un graceful, and the most j are dolmans fitted with loose sleeves. Everybody affects CABLE CORD AND TASSELS,. Using it in various ways, : sometimes ar ranging it as a figure at the left side of the skirt, sometimes as if lacing it across the front of 7a ; parted overskirt, but often knotting it about the waist, allowing the ends to swing. An j odd sort jof costume took my notice,: worn ; by a young woman, who should have f known better than to wear J anything jso conspicuous ) when she was 80 pronouncedly and prodigiously ugly.' It * was "the J pilgrim 'V,. whose g severity curves alone can brave ; angels should turn from it in horror. It was of soft, clinging gray goods, a monk's hood lined with same colored- satin, upon the " shoulders, the waist gathered : in and falling ; over i Gari b ildi- wise, and wouud with a cord ; the skirt, s shirred a little at the | back \ bet*veen the hips, and so falling plainly in a hem to the feet. 7 Another young person went ' by me radiant as a star, yet in a ridiculous drees, which % > only .5 V goes •; Vto . show that a great many folks can wear what the most of . folks ; can't UOn' my word it was the old shiny j kind of . black ' alpaca, with the skirt of th . dress fulled on the skirt of the basque. You'll . say i. 'twas horrid, but that's just how 'twas. Wo have all of us been told , since time was of . how < pretty women j had Ino i brains. Doubtless - they have the brains,' but I never, have necessity to use them, since if .they but Bit and look pretty they 7 have f done 7* one s duty 3by the t world, *-* and *-". one *■ • grand duty ,:, dona in this 7. life '■■".. any woman "■' may 4 con gratulate 'V herself y upon ; _ not l-.i being j- a failure. : But I tell ! you, a > plain * woman is just obliged to better herself and find a talent of some . sort, if she hasn't any nat urally. Now and then one stumbles upon a very Aladdin's; lamp,': and in furtively scouring it up, to her own surprise makes a brilliant shine, and then the world I says, '.' Behold talent and ugliness again I". Dear Sir World, talent didn't rummage around for ugliness ; it was her ugliness that com pelled thia woman; to skirmish around for her i talent. A . very pretty, ; dainty and lady like H" .'LB r * AD '*'r^^^^^^ Very kindly sang at '■■ one of our afternoon concerts the other day. I say kindly, for it was a favor for her to do so. She is Miss Ivy -.Waudesforde what a pretty name ". that : is, too !— who traveled in camaraderie with Mme. Camilla : • Urso several years ago, and better than that, she is the daughter otWandosforde,' the old-time y favorite artist who has led many a troop of pupils on tramps of a day. in hunt of . sketches. I", _ the pleaaantest thing in | the j world to come upon surprises, to turn a leaf, Ito flash a look and unawares to make a discovery. I made a call' with a lady whom I thought I kuew, but I hadn't a suspicion she was given to brush and canvas. -Very well; but she is quite an artist. The lady we called upon I thought idled away her time on a reception day and a poodle-dog. Very well, and she is an artist, too ; once a pupil of Waudesforde's, of whom she speaks with the greatest respect. So it was that 1 stum bled upon the open sesame to her studio, a top room, rich in north . light and oils, but bare of carpet or other beauty or luxury whatever the only ugly j spot, the one sternly unfurnished place in all that gorgeous house. 7 It was given * over to work, and the rest comfort and pleasure, and that made the difference. I was dumb, as became me, during all that art talk, but somehow I seemed to lie looking through a chink. THIS WOMAN, Rich, with all pleasure at command, so loves pictures and the art of making them that, with no noise about it, she voluntarily devotes herself to study. Since that day other chinks have opened up, and other women have been discovered at the brush, at . the voice, at , anything and everything/and I want to know* what is the use of it all when bushel baskets are piled high above these talents ? What good to have a glorious voice save as a very revel of selfishness and never give it to the world? What can it elevate to cook , and cook and eat it all yourself ' Give, give to the hungry, the impoverished, the starving, and so. increase your store. I am reminded of Mrs. Dr. Tolaud, the elder, who can write poetry, and who, being able, does give of her best, greeting her friends again this holiday time with the product ot her labor, made into one of the very prettiest of books to place on the library shelf with their companions by the same hand. A-A:: . Kate Heath. i--- ■•* - -.--a. ... ..,...-. LITERARY NOTES. The libraries in Edinburgh contain to gether 7C0.C00 volumes. Tho collection of John Buskin's scattered letters, shortly to appear, will bear the ex- I tremely characteristic title of "Arrows of the Chase.". The Cobden Club: stands sponsor for George C. Brod rick's "English Lands and English Landlords," an inquiry into the origin, character and reform of the English land system. Mr. Pitkin's "Invalid Cooking" has re ceived the practically unanimous indorse ment of tbe medical profession. One of its virtues is that it can be readily understood and easily put in use. . The number of copies of the Bible in circulation at the beginning of the present century ia estimated at 5,C00,000. It is believed that the circulation has since in creased to 148.000 copies. Judge Tuurgee's new novel, "Bricks without Straw," is rapidly "ve-^e^w-g the still active "Fool's Errand." ._3EgR ap peared seven weeks ago, and iatiaW in its forty-fifth thousand. It is said that the professional English novelists of name and fame are being in jured in the "emoluments of literature" by the large number of amateur writers who are springing up, and who desire no pay for their writings. Barthelemy Saint Hilaire, the French Minister of Foreicn Affairs, is the happy possessor of the library left by the cele ! brated Cousion. It was his reward for j several years of faithful service as private i secretary. Sir Richard Temple's new book on " In dia in 1880 "covers nearly every subject ' connected with the English occupation oi | the country. The final chapter will be de : voted to the discussion oi the effects and ' prospects of British rule. . It is proposed to rule out a largo class t that cumbers the reading-room of the Brit ! ish Museum, to the inconvenience of stu i dents, by cutting off the supply of new | fiction. The suggestion is to withhold ! Works of fiction until three years after publication. l .The London Standard makes the curious statement that " the London press has an ; immense influence abroad," but does not ! represent the . opinions of the people an home; a certain limited class is influenced, this piper thinks, but the working classes remain absolutely uutouched by* it. "To recur again to Edwards's so-called '"observations' on the Trinity," says the Boston y Transcript, "we seriously regard | that essay as of doubtful authenticity. It is confessedly not an autograph. And the ' internal evidences of its having been either . drawn up or worked over by some other I person than Jonathan Edwards seems tons | considerable. It sounds much more like : Samuel Hopkins than like Edwards." 7 ■'. A ■ melancholy , interest is given *to the '. last novel : of : Elsa L-nbordt, the distin ; guished German authoress, by : the - state-' | ineot of her sister that it contains the key j to her domestic troubles, which drove her to cast herself into the sea a Civita Vec chia about three years ago. "The title of the novel is "Zweimal Vermalt" , (twice married). " " 7 7 V 7 7 Prince Napoleon is preparing to place an extra | thorn |in - the j side of ;. the hostile j Bonapartists Who > believe the tradition of j Empire | reposes I on "'. the | head of his. son, I Prince Victor. He intends to publish a i newspaper, the title of which some reports i^rive as Le. Najioleoti. S It will represent his ! policy, ' and ought to be well edited, for I friends and foes alike give the Prince full I credit for brains and the talents of a prac ! tical publicist. .7 V V The title of . Gustave Flaubert's novel | which will be published posthumously in [ January, is" Bouvard et Pecuchet." y The j painstaking ■■ author is ■ said to have given ten years ;of thought to his -.*• Madame : Bovary." This last work, which is philo sophical in tone, was as many years on his writing-table, and death alone stayed , the hand ; of V revision. '%■■ The > Paris : : publisher who obtained the ! manuscript from I Flau bert's niece I and literary executor had to agree to publish a complete edition of the ! author's works within two years. .■■„: -77 if. General James A. Brisbin, who wielded a felicitous i pen * in :• hi* ' reminiscences of sturdy Ben Wade, has chosen an economic subject for anew book. ': V It is called "The Beef Bonanza ; or, How to Get Rich on the Plains." 7 He is a believer in the '" Ameri can ; Desert," that, in ( the : geographies of ' twenty years ago, occupied the region be-' tween the | Missouri j river arid"; the , Rocky mountains. Some pains have : since been taken to prove 1 it a myth. ? Bat (General | Brisbin'cUima that 'this region can never ' be j used for any better 3 purpose than , the raising of vast herds of cattle, which cer tainly makes it oat a desert of much value and fertility.* j" 777*. . - v "- , ,7. . s THE HOUSEHOLD. HOME ADORNMENT AND EOKSiITIC ECON- r : a OMY—ALL AROUND THE EOU3E. [Correspondonta of this department will pot lie lim. m i'ed m their epistles, but conciseo. ..-. is prefer . able, and but. one Hide- of a page moat be written ■ upon, y Questions pertinent to tbis department ' will be answered iv this column.! .'•'■* - 77. - ; Recipes for • Cooking Venison. Escallops de Venaison.— Take a piece of lean venison which -is not stringy," either from the neck," loin or shoulder; place it in a deep dish, with carrot, turnip, onion (one of each), a few cloves and.pepper corns ; pour a little vinegar anil salad oil ; put some parsley aud thyme and salt ; put this marinade all over, the venison, and leave it for three days, turning the venison each day. placing the vegetables always on top. The third 'day cut tho venison in nice pieces about three quarters of an inch thick ; lard them nicely ; cut up afresh' carrot, turnip and onion, sprig of thyme . and sweet bay-leaves. 7 Place them in a pan ;;put your, escallops •on the top ; let the vegetables fry a little ; then put a lit •ie common stock to 1 them, ana braise them until /tender, which will' perhaps take two ! hours and a halt*. r When ' done,, take them out, gbse them, and salamander them to crisp the bacon. Strain off the stock they have been cooked iv ; skim the fat off, and reduce the stock by boiling it quickly on the stove. - Have ready a little well-finished brown sauce in astewpan, which has had a tab'espoonful of red currant jelly mixed with it, and a glass of port wine. Put the reduced stock in the Bauce, mix all well together, and let it boil up. Dish up tbe escallops; pour the boiling sauce over them, fill the middle with French beans, and serve. Breast :of Venison Braised —Take a breast, of venison ; bone it from tie side the neck has been out off, leaving the bones froni the front of the breast four inches long ; take the skin of the breast, taking care not to cut any of the fat off. Cat in slices j carrot, turnip, onion, celery, two sweet, bay-leaves and thyme, one dozen cloves and about a tablespoonful of corn peppers ; put ail in a braising-pan. Fry the vegetables a nice brown ; lay the veni son on tho vegetables with seme common stock, not quite so much as will cover the venison ; sprinkle some salt over it and braiso it slowly for four hours ; but that will depend oa too venison — it mu3t be bruised until tender, * but not to let the goodness out of it When done take tho venison out, and strain the stock it has been braised in, and put the stock on to reduce quickly, taking care to have all the fat skimmed off the stock. Have ready some well-finished brown sauce, in which two tablespoonfuls of cur* rant jelly and two glasses of port wino have _ea mixed; then put in the reduced Block ; mix well, and let it boil up ; pour the sauce over the venison, and Serve with French beans round. All venison that is braised ought to be fresh. Stags-head Sou;). — Take two heads, also the nicks ; soak the heads in water far one night ; keep them on in a stock-pot with water. When the scum rises to the top skim it off nicely ; then put in carrots, turnips am. onions, celery, thyme and bay leaves (three). Boil all tha goodness out of the heads ; take a piece of the check and press it ; strain off the soup and put it away to got cold ; then take off the fat, clarify the soup, and reduce i* to the quan tity you require. Cut up the pressed cheek in nice small pieces, and place them in tha tureen with some cut-up French beans just before you take the soap. Pour a glass of port wine in it; let it boil up; pour the consomme in tho tureen, and serve. I Roast Neck of Venison. Cut the bones out of a neck of venison from t.e fat side, leaving the bones four inches long, leaving all the fat oa' tie neck where the bones have been taken out ; then cover the neck with a battered paper ; then make some flour anti-water paste, mixed with as little water aa possible ; roll it out to the thick ness of an inch ; lay the venison, with the buijT ered paper on it ; wrap the paste round it. fad then _ strong piper ; aid tie it tightly up frith strong String. Roast it be fore a sharp fire ; let it lie roasted quickly,' or it will get steamy, and look as if it had been boiled, ami the s earn inside makes the venison hard. Wh> done, serve with plain gravy and red currant jelly in a sauce-boat. Roast a haunch of venison in the puma manner. Venison Pastry. — Cut some shoulder of venison up in small pieces with the fat; fill a pie-dish with the pieces of venison ; sprinkle with pepper, salt, chopped thy inc. or parsley ; cover with good paste, and bake three hours. When done, take the top off the pastry, and till up the dish with good venison gravy, in which a glass of port wine has been mixed. Serve red cur rent jelly in a sauce-boat. Fried Stag's Feet for Breakfast— Boil the feet six hours; strain the stock from them; put the stock away to make jelly. of ; take all the bones out of the feet while they are hot ; hot them with chopped parsley, pepper and salt, aad lemon juice to taste ; let stand until cold ; then cut them out in nice small piece-; eg^-and bread-crumb them, and fry in hot fat. Stag's feet make .-. nice jelly, using them as calves' feet are used. Hot Sauce for Roast Venison. — Make some stock from venison bones, skim it, and reduce the stock down to glaze ; mix with it some red currant jelly and a fc "ia.s3 of port wine. Servo hot. House Notes. Crocstades OF PARTRIDGE. — Bill a quantity of rice in salted water till done. Strain off the water, put the rice in a sauce pan, and keep moistening with as much milk' or stock as it will . absorb ; add a handful of Parmesan cheese and. a little pepper." When the rice is thoroughly done, or rather overdone, spread it out evenly to the thickness of about t*"o incheß on a slab or dish. -When quite cold, cut at with a two-inch patty cutter is many "rounds" as the layer of rice will admit Boat op an egg, roll each " round " or " crou_tade" in ; it, and then cover it well with bread crumbs, repeating the operation it neces sary..-Make au impression with a smaller patty cutter on the top of each cioustade, dispose them carefully in the frying basket and plunge it into very hot lard. When the croustades have taken a good color, drain them, and lifting' the cover (formed by the impression of the smaller cutter), scoop ont the rice from the inside of each croustade with va " teaspoon. Fill them quickly with the following puree, ami serve : .' ,."■* • Purrs.— Take the remnants of some par tridges, cat them in pieces, and put them into a saucep.n with half an onion, a car rot, a bay lf-af, a small piece of celery if obtainable, a couple of cloves, a little piece of mace, eotno whole pepper, a large pinch of salt ; | press tbe whole down tight, mil pour just enough comm<-n stock or water to cover the contents. L t the whole boil for a couple of hours, strain the liquor and put it by. Take half a pound of lean boef, chop it up, and "pound it in a mortar with all the flesh that can be picked out of the pieces of partridge ; | then proceed to pass the whole through a risve, moistening now and then with some of the above liquor. Lastly, heat the purer, correct the flavoring if requisite,' and it is ready. 1 i Brow.h'Racout of Veal— Take two pounds of j the breast, y cut it into rather small pieces, about the sise of : an egg, roll them' well in flour, put some fat in the fry ing pan, fry the meat until a nice brown, take it j out,; then . fry four onions, two turnips cut in large - dice, and one carrot the same ; when brown take them out, put the veal and vegetables into the pan, sea son with two teaspoonfuls of , : salt and one, of pepper,' add a ' pint : of water, put into oven for one hour, i skim the fat," shake the pan, and serve. A few herbs and: a little ham or bacon are an improvement. Beef, mutton,' lamb and pork may be done the same way. : A tea«poonful of sugar is an improvement -~ -