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i hi n
.mill. rat (i.n
jftrt at Hi wrilor. .did
1' tri ui 1110 wruor. .Ti ltfonlv tn mi Mile of thr
(r. If trfli-ulf1)r rnri'f.il In r'vlnir nfnp.rnl ilntr-i
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A SONG OF VACATION.
TW.t'K r1UUn e ot rm,iiuialn, wlilto innrUlo of
Anrt u sonji In tlio winds, ..mid infii.le n1
Ovit nut fl ll nnd r'p flfilU rlppl of ki,
And fvi-rvwheiu tn n -!, in riitu or in Mhfnu:
l.lud volenti ot eliUdrun. wL't wurblti of
And word to funra wcddftt, and tuno with
ITniThh for Vim ntlnn ' VArtitlnn In hpr!
Tlic hope imd the crown of the bountiful year.
Atrncotn doclcntlfinn, a rent from tli verb,
Tbttt puf.zlvof iiuz.ie Intoiuriier wlitch hi
A bchk Ii ov r lillltoim and vale for tlio hrli
Culled ' II. hiu mhc," bright, blooming and
vpMnulcd with dew.
(ood-hy m the schoolrooms, the bioki and
Anu AM iiy to tlio ocoan. the xtroainfl nnd the
JfniT.ih lor va-utlnii ! mention horn,
1 he Joyous rewurd of the diligent yuur.
A puiiM to pinull flnirorinrHmbing th noftlo;
for lionr ot unit'llre tuk hour tit eu-o,
Till the roNo tintu the ehottk where the Uly wui
And the limbs fuirly long for a race with the
And oh for thi bmokslflel nnd oh for thr hay 1
And oh fur the orchard thin blithe summer
Ifnrt'ttli for vacation! vacation In bore,
llic merriest time in the fiMt-llitting year.
Turn, ft her, h while from the ledger and tool.
And, mother, put by the torn Jacket una
Tou, too, need ft play-spell in life's bony
A rpce-( fiom labor in rmnntrv or town.
Ther arr mou, U to be filled ubd wee feet to
Yet jrnt her your strength by t stop on the
And dtke your vacation ! Jut onoe In the vear
)te glad with the biiinu that vucution in here.
From the sbiH.owv nooks in fortst and wold,
ironi tuMlgm thick wit Villi the berry and
From mornings of pearl, and from evening of
' A solt Invitation tisoonds, "Come up blghor,
Shakn off the world's dust, and forgot the
To the house of your Tather, in peace enter
And thnnkn for var-ntionl varallon is bere,
The cliium and the fcnut of the bountiful yenr.
Maryaret K. Songster, in loath $ Vompankm.
THE FATAL FOURTH.
my wife, tone
of a dying martyr, " do you really mean
to let our children have firework on the
I do, my dear."
"Then I know something dreadful
will happen. Think of Tom?'
" Tom is eleven years old. He must
take hie chances like other young scampi
of his ilk."
" But, Frederic, there are Frank, and
Bertie, and Jenny, and. Lil, and the
baby. Oh dearl I know something will
happen." And my wife shook her head
prophetically and sighed.
Here my sister-in-law, Wilhelniina,
" Never foar ; your children will all
be spared to grow up, Mary. Naughty
children always live. For my part, I
think fire-works are im,"she adds.
Now, Mina was a very emphatic young
lady, with the most positive and un
changeable views on the conduct of life.
Miss I talics, I used to call her, because
she was all for emphasis, and yet she
was such a Bmall type of a girl.
" Mina, your tastes are entirely too
loud," my wife said.
The young person tossed her saucy
head, arched a pair of delicate eyebrows,
then bounced up and went to the win
dow, looking down an avenue that leads
up to our country house. Now Mina
never bounced up without jerking down
the skirts of a small jaoket she was fond
of wearing. ' it was a sort of cut-away
coat arrangement, with buttons behind,
a bit of vest in front, a dash of white
linen bosom, and a stand-up collar.
To-day the rig was brown silk, with bits
of gold-oolor peeping from mysterious
linings, and eordings. Mina wore her
fair nair short, She shook it out of
cold water every morning, parted it on
one side with masculine freedom ; then
putting in a pair of turquoise ear-rings,
bought, with feminine coquetry, to
match her eyes, she considered, in
her own concise language, " that top
piece fixed." Now Mina was a girl for
which the days of good Walter Scott,
that maker of heroines, would have
furnished no model. Cooper's young
hunters never bore such a maiden as
Mina safely to the arms of her faruily.
Hannah More would have used my sister-in-law
simply as a frightful example.
A French novelist would ascribe to her
more wickedness than poor Mina would
even know how to name, and then make
a dazzling study. - In short, Mink's con
tradictions in character would have
bothered Shakspeare himself, and ex
hausted 'his subtle involutions of lan
guage in painting a oreature at once So
rude and so gentle, so bold and so shy,
such a jolly fellow and such a very
woman. She was the outgrowth of an
unsettled social state, of a day when
women, having struggled out of their
old places, have not yet quite
jostled comfortably into their new
ones, and bo, feeling a little inse
cure, they incline to be defiant.
Mina belonged to a woman's club,
where, in the daintiest ot silks and the
sweetest thing in lace, she talked of fem
inine ability in every department of se
vere labor and scientific research. On
returning home she always went to bed
with a headache, but was. none the less
ready to declare herself lit for marine
service, or any other work commonly
held proper fur men only.
"If McAllister oomea to spend the
Fourth, he'll bring all sorts of fire
works," remarked this enthusiastic
young woman, not disguising that she
was looking out for McAllister down the
" Mina," said my wife, "don't speak
of men without a decent prefix to their
names; it isn't pretty."
"I don't want to be pretty," answers
Mina; "I want to be clever and inde
pendent and strong." Here she shook
all her bangles, and examined a pearl
ring on her slender forefinger. .
" You want to be mannish, don't
youP" said 1 teasingly,
" Quite the contrary I want to be
tensibte." The, with a careless yawn,
as rt site had said a m at ler-of -course
thing, she added,. "I think I shall take
np goology.'l . i i t '
'"Ifoa'd better' M sloe womanly
girl, and take up a husband," quoth her
" Jhkt m, you mean," I suggest, by
way of revenge."
" Not at all," answers the ready little
minx; " she means take up. Menoan't
arrive at any elevated position unless we
do take 'em up."
"Oh, Aunt Billy," screamed Tom,
rushing into the room, followed by Muff,
our old terrier, a sleepy, superannuated
pet, of which the children were very
"Tom, don't call your aunt Billy,"
says my wife.
" Yes,, ha shall. My name is Wil
helmina,' or William, aid Billy is good
tat short. Go on, Tom."
"Aunt Billy, McAllister is coming
from the station, and he's got his arms
mil 01 nre-work Human candles, and
roi-keU, and pln-whiwln, and tvery
thing," says the excited Tom.
" Bravo I" crlns Mina.
"And Mr. Worth is with him, and
a' n't gut so much a a cracker," adda
Tom, with proper disgust.
"Humph I I nevor rfW llks Mr.
Worth," says Mina, sympathetlrally.
" He likes you, 1 bet. Aunt Hilly; but
yon won't marry him, will you, Anirt
Hilly P" ask Tom, who was at that ten
der ago when the small boy is quite
jealous of the affections of a protty
"Marry I Nonsense, child, I wouldn't
marry am man," answers Mina, with
very marked italics. " I have to make
" What's thatP" says Tom.
" Why, it's a a it's writing a great
book, or painting a picture, or going on
the stage, or Well, it's showing a
woman is just as clover as a man."
" But a woman ain't," says the un
" You think so because you're only a
child, and ignorant."
"I ain't ignorant neither," answers
my oldest hope, whose grammar weak
ens as his zeal strengthens. " I say a
woman can't lift a barrel of flour, and a
man oan. So."
" Like your father, Master Tom, you
confound muscle with brains. A wom
an can do much better than lift a barrel
"Ho! women git scared," says Tom.
"But never mind ; you're a brick, Aunt
Billy, nnd you sha'n't marry any body
not McAllister noither."
" Ah, now, Tom, I might marry Mc
Allister." "(Jus McAllister is a fortune-hunter,"
I remarked, gravely.
" He's very handsome," says my per
verse sister-in-law, "and has very ju
dicious views on the Woman Question
hasn't he, Muff p" At this she pulls old
Muff's car, but having gone to sleep, he
makes no sign.
" Humbug!" I exclaim. "He's try
ing to please you by humoring your fol
lies. Now Worth is a man that "
" That undertakes to make all the
world accept bis opinions."
. " He is very moderate and reasona
ble," I say, warmly.
He isnV," Miss Italics contradicts,
flatly ; "he stares a solemn disapproval
of what he doosn't like."
" That was when you remarked yon'd
like to put on boys' clothes and run
away to sea, wasn't it?"
"Never mind when it was;" and
Mina flushes slightly, for Worth did
subdue her that time by looking gravely
straight into her blue eyes. " But I
wouldn't marry a man who hasn't prop
er views on the Woman Question a
mBn like John Worth if if "
" If he gave you the chance," I sug
" How do you know he hasn't given
me the chance?"
'Because he's a man of sense," 1
answer, knowing Mina will retort, and
I shall get at the truth.
" Then the 'man of sense' has conde
scended to nonsense," Bays Mina, in
"NonsenseP Oh, that's yourself, I
She noticed the slur by a look of in
effable contempt, and went on, helping
her speech by a dramatic shake of ban
gles and bare arm : " And nonsense
"Mina," exolaims her sister, "you
ought to love a man like Worth. Ile'd
make a sensible girl of you."
" Thanks for the implied compliment
to the present state of my wits, Mrs.
Mary. As to love, Arthur Helps lays
down, as the first rule of advancing a
career of distinguished publio useful
ness, 'Avoid engrossing affections.' "
" McAllister's brought lots o' pin
wheels," screams Tom from the win
dow, and calls out through the glass,
Muff barks, then goes to sleep within
the same second. Mina jerks down the
brown jacket snugly over her trim
shoulders and waist, feels the little up
right collar to make sure it's not askew,
then lets her hand wander lightly over
the ear-rings and the short fair curls,
and, satisfied she is all right, turns to
In comes McAllister ahead. "Oh,
Mr. McAllister, I'm to glad to see you!"
cries Miss Italics, with effusion ; "and
bow good you are to bring fire-works !
I love to hold a Uoman candle while it
"A woman's dress is hardly safe near
Roman candles," remarks Worth, as
he bows and puts out his hand.
"Oh, are you hereP" says Mina, by
way of welcome; and in a minute she is
lost in the embrasure of a window, un
packing endless varieties of rockets and
'pieces." McAllister stoops ovr her
shoulder, and the excited children, with
Tom at their head, orowd about, poking
little fingers into paper convolutions, to
find out, as Bertie says, 'whereabouts
the bang-bang is w'apped up in 'em."
By-and by we all go to dinner, and,
as usual, Mina drags the conversation
toward what she calls the Woman Ques
tion. Her style of argument is not logi
cal, and the sequence of her remarks is
leculiar. She throws down the gaunt
et in this fashion ;
Women as lawyers are cleverer
than men, and I'm glad of it."
"They are, indeed," McAllister
agrees. "Miss Brief, of Nevada, won a
oa.se for a man who, without doubt,
murdered his wife."
" She ought to be ashamed of her
self," says Mina, snubbing McAllister,
and hurting her own oause.
The young fellow strokes his blonde
mustache, laughs, and tries not to look
"But women do suooeed in all pro
fessions," Mina goes on, aggressively.
Then she looks at Worth, aiming to
draw him into a discussion. He guards
a grave silence.
McAllister says, " Of oourse."
" The President of our club has writ
ten a book," she says, looking directly
at Worth.. 8 '
" And an excellent one," he answers.
"Indeed! So yon concede as much
as that?" This with the utmost sar
casm. ' An excellent work," he oontlnues.
" It's ou cookery." .
"Oh!" Mina says, a little chagrined,
" I didn't hear what the subject was."
Then, without any provocation, she as
serts, defiantly, " Well, Oeorge Kliot is
a woman, and she writes better than
" Oh, far better," McAllister agrees,
"Nobody disputes George Eliot's
ability, nor the ability of many other fe
male writers," Worth says.
" Oh, indeed!" again with sarcasm;
"and what is it you, do dispute, Mr.
" Nothing. I hate dispute."
"But you despise the Intellect of
" Please say women," Worth requests.
" The sort of rhetorio that gives woman
In the singular " reminds me of the
stupid public speakers who, or lack of
wit ana power, keep pounding on some
new fangli'd phrase that catches the
Alter a moment's panne, Mina dim at
his eyes with a new assertion : "A wom
an ought to do every thing she knows
how to do."
" When a woman, a man, or any
other creature doc4 what she, hn, or it
knows how to do, the work Is worthy of
respect," Worth says.
" Well, sir, and iln't women do what
they know how to doP"
" Some of them. A woman who is
willing to learn an art or trade by tlie
plodding processes that Insure thorough
ness is to be rmpeoted and encouraged.
But too many women try to Jump at re
sults, and are impatient of discipline in
work, then feel agrieved because their
unskilled labor commands no reward.
'There's a large class, too, who only talk
talk eternally of their so-called Infe
rior place In society, but really make no
patient, continued exertion toward fill
ing any of the positions that are occu
pied by men."
" Do you mean me?" asks Mina.
" How can I? During the past year
you have studied Gorman one month,
book-keeping two weeks, porcelain-
fiainting six weeks, botany about as long,
ogio under my tuition one hour.
You have begun to write a story,
"That will do," Mina says. " You
moan I am too stuyid to sucoeod with
" No, but like many young persons,
you haven't the power of steady and
"I've known boys as bad," Mina re
" But boys are liable to be thrown
upon the world and taught by privations
and hard knocks."
" Perhaps ought to be thrown upon
the world, and taught by privations and
hard knocks," Mina laughs, nervously,
and tries to look careless.
For once Worth answers inconsist
ently. " Womon make a grand blunder in
depreciating their own value in strain
ing after what they csn't have, instead
of cultivating what they have."
" And, in your opinion, have they
any thingV asks the sharp young lady.
" Yes ; so fnuch charm and so much
power as women that a man wonders
why she" here Worth grew inaccurate
in his numbers, and looking full at Mina,
went on "why she should be eternally
trying to make an anomaly of herself by
aping manners that are against her na
ture, and that' she only keeps up in a
spirit of bravado." Worth helped him
self quietly to green peas ; there was a
little awkward silence. I felt Worth's
chances were over, and Mina smiled
sweetly on McAllister, who was flatter
ing nor most transparently.
At four o'clock the next morning
the Fourth of July my son Frank,
with a red soldier cap on his head, ex
ploded a torpedo by my bedside, yelled,
"I soy, papa, it's Fourth o' July!" then
danced out of the room like a wild In
dian, poor old Muff barking madly at
his heels. Bertie, aged five, and Jenny,
a wise little woman of eight, I heard in
a loud quarrel about fire-crackers on the
" Oh dear!" sighed my wife, "some
thing dreadful is sure to happen."
By breakfast-time Tom had become
an ungovernable young brute, and could
talk nothing but "soldiers," and "can
non," and ''crackers in a barrel," and
"rockets to-night." He had a face all
powder-smeared, and very dirty hands.
The younger imps followed his lead,
and little Lil's pinafore was burned
through in three places; Muff caught
the spirit of the day, and jumped and
barked as well as his infirmities permit
ted, retiring at intervals under the pi
azza steps and into shady corners to en
joy his frequent naps.
At the height of noonday heat the
children formed -a grand parade. Mina
encouraged them from the midst of a
heap of colored paper, which she cut
into caps and belts and warlike rigging
of all sorts. An express wagon brought
Worth's contributions, in the shape of
wooden swords, drums, fifes and endless
" We thought you wasn't goln' to
bring us nothin', Mr. Worth," says my
eldest son, with that charming frankness
and in that pure English peculiar to the
" Aunt Billy said you were too dis
gustingly prudont,' " says Jenny, who
can spell long words.
"And Aunt Billy thald," screams
Master Bertie, with all his curls in bis
eyes "Aunt Billy thaid you wath an
' You see,'0 answered Mr. Worth,
placidly, and handing out the play
things, " how foolish and mistaken chil
dren can be."
Mina winced under his calm good
nature, then retired to a shady corner
of the piazza, pinned a rose in McAllis
ter's button-hoie, and asked him to fan
her. This appearing to have no effect
on Worth, she called for tire-crackers,
and with several bunches open in her
lap, she held a fuse over them, and
nonchalantly lighted single ones in hor
" You'll set fire to your dress," said
" I'll take care of her," answered Mo
"If that dress should catch," contin
ued Worth, " it would 'I be easy to put
it out." She wore a white muslin jacket
to-day, with a sky-blue vest. Mina, by
way of response, fired a cracker from
"Brava!" exclaimed McAllister.
Worth turned away to answer Bertie,
who whined, "When is we doin1 to fire
all the tings off?"
" When you take off all that paper
stuff, you may come down to the foot of
the garden, and I'll put some crackers
in a oarrel for you."
" There's a hogshead down there,"
shouted Tom "a big dry hogshead
lyin' on its side. Let's put lots in it."
" As many as you like," said Worth ;
"but take off those paper enps. They're
"Nonsense," Mina interfered; "let
the poor things wear their caps."
"l'oor fings wear their caps!" echoes
Bortie, looking aggrieved.
"Children," I ordered, "take off
every bit of that paper immediately ;
and, Mina, yon ought to be ashamed of
teaching them to be fool-hardy and
Miss Italics laughed, threw up a rose
bud, and caught it skillfully, while the
whole troop of young imps tore down
the garden path at Worth's heels.
Passing near Mina and McAllister a
few minutes later I overheard her say,
archly, "I should be a very hard wife to
" You shall have your own way in
every thing," the young fellow an
swered. Id desperation, I called Mina away.
Taking her aside, I said, "Mina, Mina,
take cart what you do."
She laughed again in my very face,
and answered, "I shall marry the man
I like best in spite of every body." Then
she Jorked down that jacket with de
termination, felt the ear-rings and curls,
and marched straight bock to McAllis
Mr wife Nhd tears t if rfxatlnn. anil
declared : " Mina will make us all
wretched if ain marries that man. lie
wants her money."
I could only call thr girl a psrverse
and silly creature, who deserved Iwn
fntfl. Khs had chosen a position where
Worth, from the fruit of the garden,
could see her side f voe as she coquetted
openly with McAIM-ter.
Altera little, Tern came tearing at
full speed toward !ht house. Out ot
breath, he bound ml np the piazza steps,
crying, hoarsely, "He's killed, he'i
dead. Where's the Ice-watorP" then
rushed for the dining-room.
"It's Hurtle," screamed my wife;
"its my darling. Oh, I knew some
thing would happen." With the word
Mary raced down the garden path. 1
was scared enough to run too, but Mina
caught up with and passed ns both. Al
a glance I saw the children were safe,
though Mary still called wildlv for hor
Hertio, who was roaring lustily under
horveryeyes, "Ho'th dead, he'thdoad."
Jenny explained through her sobs,
" He's dead inside the hogshead."
Thon, for the first, 1 noticed the old
empty hogshead lying on its side, and
from the open end protruded the foet ot
Mr. Worth, while sinoke and the smell
of powder poured out all around them.
Mina rushed to too fatal spot, and
helped roe to lay hold of Worth and
drag him out. She had turned pale aj
death, and cried out, with delightful
femine logic: "You're dead, dear. For
give me." Then: "Don't die, John
dear, don't die. I love you."
I was stooping over the body from
tho other side; the head was just
emorging from the hogshead, and the
fiute was turned toward me. It was un
commonly radiant for a corpse, and I
heard the dead man whisper, "Hush!
it's a blunder. I'm not hurt. Don't wanl
to mortify her. Put me to bed," and
John became rigid again.
McAllister drawing near, Mina cried
out, savagely: "Don't touch him. A'o
body but me shall touch him. John,
dear John!" Then, sobbing, she bathed
his face in the ice-water that Tom had
Bertie all this time never stopped
howling, "He'th dead, ho'th dead:''
and Jenny heaving a profound but de
corous sigh, said, " Yes, papa, our pool
Muff is dead."
"MuffP" I questioned; "where!
" In the hogshead," answered Tom.
" We put crackers in it, and didn't
know Muff had crawled inside for
nap. Mr. Worth went in to get him
"Oh!" sobbed Mina, "and killed
himself with the powder smoke. Why
don't you send that man for the doc
tor?" This last was to me, and indi
The suggestion cleared the situation
for me, and, aftor drawing'out the wooly
heap that represented our deceased
Muff, I politely requested McAllister to
run for a doctor. He did so, but with s
very bad grace.
Under the scare of seeing Worth ly
ing still and speechless, the children
were awe-struck. Only Bertie grieved
aloud over Muff's lifeless body.
Covering John's face, I called Dennis,
the gardener, who was safely stupid,
and we carried the dead-weight to a
couch iu an upper room. Then John
whispered, "Send hor away," for Mins
had followed close, all pale and grief,
stricken. I told Mina to wait outside,
and let me use means to restore him to
consciousness; but she doulared, with
all her emphasis turned to a new ufo:
"I won't leave him; I won't. I'll die
too. Oh, I know he's dead. I knoie
" You go away," whispered Worth.
I went, and listened from outside.
There were sobs and moans for a while:
then came a great cry of joy, followed
by a silence. Soon Mina appeared, all
rosy and glad. "He's come to con
sciousness," she said, "and, and "
" We are going to be married," ad
ded John, in a voice too strong for a
man who had just escaped death.
The doctor arriving, of course found
all the symptom! of recent asphyxia,
while John cast queer glances at me
over the leaned head.
McAllister caught a pleasure-train,
and returned to the city with other tir
ed-out and disgusted excursionists.
Later John felt able to sit on the pi
azza in the moonlight, depending on a
firm grip of Minn's hand to keep him
from a relapse.
My wife said, "I knew something was
going to happen if the children had fire
works." " But it's nothing dreadful," says
Mina, in the softest of voices. " 1
told you I'd marry the man I liked best,
and all the time I liked best the one who
told me the truth, and d.dn't make a
fool of me."
"But you refused bim," I reminded
' Pshaw! that's nothing. I quarreled
with him too, but I didu't mean it."
On the spot 1 gve up ever trying to
understand the real feelings or real mo
tives of any creature of Mini's sex.
They were married last week, and
Mina has just been told that it was hei
own hasty outburst of affection that led
to the dreadful asphyxia and its happy
consequences. She says she wouldn't
have married if she had known it. Ar
guing from precedents, of course she
doesn't mean that.
The children knew nothing but the
apparent facts. To insure prudence
and obedience on festive occasions we
have only to say, " Remember poor Un
cle Worth and the Fourth of July."
Like little Ctuaars at mention of the
tides of March, they all become sod
and thoughtful, and consequently tract
able. Ua)-per' Bazar.
The Novelist's Secret.
A novel In which the characters are
carefully drawn, in which they act upon
one another as tbey might do in familiar
social life, is felt to be tame the stim
ulus is wanting. The more contrasts we
get between appearances and realities,
prosperity and adversity, virtues and
vices, happiness and misery, wealth and
poverty, joy and despair, between yes
terday and to-day, the more the tale
answers to a demand ; for whereas the
happiness of real life consists in the few
ness and moderation of these contrasts,
the harmony of circumstances, the fit
ness of the man for his work and place,
the gentle sequence of events, the novel
pleases by showing life in a directly op
posite aspect by crowding it with
startling transitions, setting every con
dition cheek by jowl with its opposite,
vulgarity with high place; virtuous
seeming with Inward depravity; by
caricaturing the instability of earthly
things, reducing the most assured posi
tion to a mere house of cards ; by the
constant contrast between what teems
and what is. Of course contrasts, aj
stock in trade, cost the Inferior artist
very little. He regards them as self
acting ; they are to impress by their own
force and weight ; but they are not the
less a supreme test of power. The
writer who oan apprehend and portray
all ' the features of a strong contrast ol
passion ana (eeuug is master of bis craft.
HOME AND FARM.
Vnrrnr.u Wai.i.s arnclenned by being
wiped down with a flannel cloth tied
over a broom or bruih. Then cut off a
thick piece of stale bread with the orust
on and rub them down with this. Begin
at the top and go straight down.
Tai-ioca Ca;v Pi hiuko. This Is
very lilit and delicate for invalids. An
even tahlicpoonful of tapioca, soaked
for two hours in nearly a cup of new
milk ; stir into this the yolk of a fresh
egg, a little sugar, a grain of salt, and
bake it In a cup for 11 minutes. A little
jolly maybe eaten with it, or a few fresh
Coc'oahct CrsTARD. To one pound
of grated cocoanut allow one pint of
milk nnd six ounces of ssgar; beat well
the yelks of six orgs, and stir them
alternately in the milk with the cocoa
nut and sugar. Put into a pail or pitcher,
set it into boiling water and stir all the
time till very smooth and thick: as soon
as it comes to a hard boil take it off and
serve in cups or tumbler.
Mrat Kissoi.es. Chop any kind of
cold meat quite fine; crumb the same
quantity of bread as you have meat;
put a little of the fat of the meat in ;
season with salt and pepper and sum
mer savory to taste ; beat up one r two
eggs, according as you need, and form
your meat and bread into a thick paste
with the eggs, then mold it into balls,
and fry a bght brown color.
Ice Creams. To make lemon ice
cream take one quart of cream, two
lemons (the juice of one and the grated
peel of one and a half) and two cups of
sugar. Sweeten the cream, beat the
lemon gradually into it, and put it at
once into the freezer. The freezer
should be the best patent one you can
procure, there being several, we believe,
and all very nearly alike in merit.
Freeze rapidly, or the acid will turn the
milk. I' Be rock-salt, not common salt.
Orange ice-cream may be mule in the
same way. For pineapple ice-cream,
take one quart of cream, one largo, ripe
pineapple, and one pound of powdered
sugar. Slice the pineapple thin, and
scatter the sugar between the slices;
cover it and let the fruit steep three
hours. Then cut, or chop it up in the
sugar, and strain it through a hair-sieve,
or bag of double, coarse lace. Heat
gradually into the cream, and freeze as
rapidly as possible. Peach ice-cream
may be made in the same way, with
two or three handfuls of freshly-cut bits
of the fruit stirred iu when the cream is
A starved tree, like a starved man,
must be fed a little at a time. All the
functions are weak in such a condition,
and must be strengthened by exercise.
By degrees the old wood should be re
placed with new growth. Large limbs
must not lie removed until there Is a re
turn of vigor. It is like amputating a
human limb, and can only be done safely
when there is strength enough to bear
the shock. It will take several seasons
to bring about the process of renewal,
but mean time the old trees will bear
more fruit; until they will astonish the
owner wijh the crops they yield. Long
before a new orchard can become re
munerative, an old one may be made to
renew its youth and pay handsomely for
the outlay of time and trouble ex
pended on it. A person who has never
tried this process can hardly believe
how effectually and successfully it can
be accomplished. Trees of fifty or sixty
years' standing may be thoroughly re
juvenated by proper treatment, and
however aged it may be, a tree will sel
dom fail to respond to careful attention.
Sprained Pastern. To compel a
lame animal to stand on the affected
limb, is both cruel and unreasonable,
and is apt to retard recovery and cause
serioui complications. If tho animal
is shod, remove the shoes of both hind
foet. Apply some coarse woolen rags
around the pastern, and keep these
constantly wet with cold water, during
two or three days. Then apply some
fctiniulant, such as heartshorn liniment,
twice daily, during a week, after which
give the horse liberty on pasturage dur
ing a month. During treatment, the
horse should not be removed from the
stable for any purpose ; and ho should
be allowed to stand on his legs as he
pleases, the advice of quacks and ofli
cious blacksmiths notwithstanding.
Severe sprains of the pastern, if not al
lowed ample time for recovery, are very
apt to result in the formation of ring
bone. Gapes in Chickens. Chickens kept
in cleanly places and fed on proper food
will never be troubled with gapes. The
cause of the disease is a worm that af
fixes itself to the windpipe, whioh causes
the chicken to moke the poculiar motion
that gives the disease the name. The
cryst of this worm is to be found on the
gross or moist ground where fowls have
been kept, without due regard to clean
liness and proper food and drink. The
disease is usually prevalent in midsum
mer, as the hot weather is conducive to
the spoiling of food and the un
cleanliness of coops. Various remedies
are recommended. Some remove the
worm by holding the chick with its
mouth open, and with a bit of feather
or a fine horse hair, or a fine wire put,
down its throat and twisted about, de-'
tach it from its place. The feather
should be dipped in turpentine. A little
alum dissolved in their drinking water
often effects a cure. Some pour tur
pentine on pine shavings, and put them,
with the chicks, in a box where the
fumes prove too much for the worm.
The coops should be removed to a clean
place and sulphur and ashes dusted
where the disease has been, fh order to
destroy the cryst or germ of the worm.
Feeding Land with Clover.
There is no crop so valuable for the
renovation of partly exhausted grain
lands as clover. I say partly exhausted,
for if lands are exhausted beyond a de
gree of fertility, the clover plant can
not be grown. There is a question that
often arises in the minds of many farm
ers as to how they . may best utilize the
crop to increase fertility. One asks
whether it is best for the land to plow
in the last crop grown after seeding, or
to let it go over to a second year's
growth. Having no regard for the use
of land, there might be benefit to the
soil by the rest of a second year, but the
clover plant being a biennial (for at
least it is so classed and is largely so in
habit, as but few plants in ordinary soils
will survive the second season), it is
evident that the first crop is best to plow
in as a fertilizer and renovator. If it is
the chief object of the farmer to enrich
his land, and that by the growing of
clover to turn in, the greatest good will
be gained by plowing in the first crop
when it is in full bloom and near matu
rity ; but if profit to the farm is the ob
ject, it is best to mow the first crop for
hay, feed it on the farm and apply the
manure made to the farm. A second
growth of elover plowed in, with the
roots of the strong-growing plant, will
afford nearly as much fertility to the
soil as would the first, and the hay crop
and manure gained. Cor. N. . Tribune.
OH, BRIGHT ARE THE GATES.
On, brlt-M aro tho s ilos of tho M lloaiitirul
Oh f sir l Ihit fsr-w f h'ir,
Wnt.-r- wori'l-wsrjr tn-arts nisjr flai comfort
Wbero mtrr.,w mnr m'"-t us no more;
Wnw Mir"l. In irlory
U'-iK-Ht ih" s-liH sl..rT
Of J'-'is, wiio ilit-'l for lri-tri-kn wortil.
Oh. "thero" w. irnjr Isrrr forever snl ever,
A n1 M an- th- onif wn may h'-ar;
Tho volcn tit lovisl on l'?onl tha dark
like rmi'lc mif fall on Ih far.
An I l tin nurht n"v-r falls
In Oc- KUtt'-rlnir walls
Of tho irt.mJi.Tf ill city of silver and fYiM.
Wocp not for Iho world, but look upward In
Nor ht"hi l-i this dark val1 b-low;
Ther- r-l f'ir tho bi.-art that In burdened
And balm fir all trotihl and wo.
1 lio' frtN. frli-ii'N msy B-rlovens,
in" l-orq win not o-nvi- u,
lie loreth lb.- lowiv; lie to.-. -l- tn tln-lr nrnvor.
J. Hull, in Cviuity TrUmtf,.
International Sunday-School Lessons.
Abrara, :3I, IE;12
Am-. S Abra-n snd fxrt Gen. is, us
Aug. 1-1 Aoram and f elcfcizo-
dek Geo. 14: 12-34
Aug. The (Vivenant wilb
A brain Oon. :-H
Aug. ZtlAhruhaip s Intorcoa-
slon Oon. IS: la-OT
Sept. B fail's Escape from
Hodorn Geo. 1: 12-U!
Copt. US-Trial of Abraham
. . , l-'ai'h ... lea. Si 1-14
ept. 10-Hi-vlow of Iho l.on.
bt-pcZ5 Loaaon selected Uv Uie School.
"The Ups and Downs of Life."
It is a very common idea that the
discipline of life consists of its paiuful
or rouh exp -riences. Suffering and
sorrow, disappointment and opposi
tion, are the trials. The man whose
course is all smooth we regard as hav
ing no trials, lint this is a mistaken
and very narrow view. The whole of
life is a training-school. The tests of
life are not all painful by any means,
and the severest tests are not always
those which press tho hardest. The
whole of life leaves its impress upon
us. Its light and shade aro equally
needful to mature us, and we may
f erven the light as well as the shade,
t requires summer as well as winter,
sunshine .vs well as frost, to mature the
harvest. Some men are wrecked in
prosperity, and some in adversity.
It is very rare to find that perfect
poise of character which Paul described
when he said bo "knew how to abound,
and how to be in want." He had
learned to bear the contrasts of life,
its winter and its summer, with entire
evenness of temper. He could bear
the heat and the cold of human expe
rience without being made feverish by
the one or being chilled by the other.
A healthy body maintains the same
temperature in the hottest rays of sum
mer and the coldest blasts of wiuter.
A healthy spirit will maintain a corre
But very few are thus balanced.
Very few can bear sudden elevation
without being made dizzy and giddy.
What we call good fortune is often the
greatest misfortune that could happen.
We read of fortunes fulling to poor
girls or hard-working men, and call
them the favored ones; but we know
that in nine cases out of ten this was
the most unlucky event of their lives.
Hut if a man can bo thus suddenly lift
ed into a different condition and bear
it neither be pulled up by it nor lose
his balance; neither break out iuto ex
travagance nor be betrayed into vice
there is the mating of a King in him.
Bettor than roval blood flows in his
And there is equal peril in coming
down. The peril is different, but none
the less. It is no uncommon thing for
a man to fall from atlluence to poverty.
There is a great deal to bear in such a
change, more than one would thiuk. It
is not merely less money, smaller
rooms, cheaper clothes and coarser
food. This couid be easily borne. But
there is tho entire change of one's con
dition and associations. Privileges are
cut off, influence is lessened, friends
fall away. It is hard fur a man to see
why his judgment is not as good now
he is poor as wheu he was rich. Vet he
finds it does not have the same weight.
His word used to be listened to with
such deference, and now it is heard with
impatience, if at all. If a man could
move in the same circle, enjoy the
6ame regard and exert the same influ
ence in Tiis poverty as he did in his
wealth, the change would not be so
great; but we find
The friends, who tn our sunshine live.
When winter comes huve down.
It is hard to bear all this. There are
thousands of beaten men who are
beaten altogether, bankrupt in life as
well as fortune, in spirit as well as
purse. Some are broken in courage,
and never take hold of life again; some
are made sour and fault-finding, very
Ishmaelites, with their band against
every man, and fancying every man's
hand against thorn; some are made
sensitive, suspicious and jealous, driv
ing away the friends who would love
to remain true.
But when a man can come down and
bear all the results of it, and still be
true to himself, still be a man, there is
nobility in such a character of liner
grain than sits in castle or hall. When
a man can accept all the consequences
of his change, and yet bear himself
like a man, the grace of Ood reigns in
that heart. I do not mean a man who
goes about with defiance in his look, as
if he would say, " I am as good as any
of you yet:" nor a man who is broken
by his niisioruinos, and moves about
with a meek, submissive air, as if he
would ask pardon for being alive: but
a man who calmly and resolutelv moets
the changed coniiitious of his lot, and
does the best he can, " with malice
toward none and charity toward all."
There is a grandeur in snch a charac
ter which surpasses brave exploits or
daring deeds. It is the ruling of the
spirit, which Is bettor than taking a
city. Hichard Cordley.
At the eighty-sixth annual meeting
of the London Missionary Society' the
Kev. Dr. Allon said:
I know that figures are the least elo
quent part of the most prosaic speech
that is delivered, and yet I wish to put
before you just a fow eloquent figures
which I met with the other day in a
very interesting little book on missions
by my friend l)r. Christlieb, of Bonn.
Eighty-six years ago there were in ex
istence seven Protestant Missionary So
cieties, three of which had been work
ing for nearly a century, two of these
three being the Society for the Propa
gation of the Gospel and the Moravian
At the present there are 70 Protest
ant Missionary Societies; 27 of these
belong to England, 18 belong to Ameri
ca, nine belong to Germany, nine be
long to Holland and nine to Scandina
via. There are also Missionary Socie
ties in our colonies, Australia, the
Capo, the South Seas and elsewhere,
which are working in hearty co-opera-lion
with the Protestant Missionary So
cieties of Europe or America. Kitrht
six years a?o 170 main misiliiuarii-
were employed in connection with
these Protestant missions, 100 of whom
helnngeii to the Moravian Missionary
Soclely; to-day there are 2, Its) Kuro
pean and American missionaries, besides
hundreds of native pastors; l.biK) in
India alone, and l,l)oOln tho South Seas.
There are 2:1,000 native catochisU, and
many thousands of Sunday-school
teachers. Eighty-six years ago 60,(W
heathen converts were reckoned; at the
present time l.oiin.ODO converts from
heathenism are computed in connection
with our Christian missions. In the
jMar IHiMalnnn, filVKM) were added to
the converts of our Christian societies.
F.ighiy-six years ajo JtoO.OOO were con
tributed for Protestant missions; at the
present moment Jtl,2.i),(li)0 are con
tributedfive limes as much as tho en
tire amount contributed by tho Koman
Propaganda. England contributes
70U,W), and America contributes
iMOU.OOO, Germany and Switzerland
from jM)0,0i)U to i, 1M), MI. Eighty,
six years ao seventy mi.-sionary
schools were in existence. At the
present time there are V2,W1 mission
ary schools in existence, with 4')0,oiH)
scholars, many of them high schools.
grammar schools, giving instruction
also to theological students. In India
alone there aro !,) missionary
schools. In Malaaicar our own soci
ety alone has 7N day-schools with -41,-7!i4
scholars. Eiglitv-six years ago,
there were fifty translations of the Holy
Scriptures, and about five millions of
copies had been circulated; at the
present moment there are :iJo transla-
tions of the Holy Scriptures into vari
ous muiuajfes aim uiaiccis, ana J-i,-UOO.UOtj
copies of the Scriptures have
Why, scarcely forty years ao that
is, in 18to all the English and meri
can missionaries in China assembled in
Hong-Kong, and they numbered
twelve. In Hong-Kong they had six
converts. At the present moment
there are in China 24') Protestant mis
sionaries, 90 principal missionary sta
tions, &00 out stations and some 12,(X)
or 14,000 Chinese communicants, in
India alone there are 6') European
missionaries and 4:V) central stations.
In 18o2 the converts in India were l-'H,-OoO;
at the present moment there are
iwi.iwi. lne increase from lHOl to
11111 was 03 per cent.; the increase
from lM to ltii'l was 61 per cent., and
uunng the last ten years the ratio ol
increase has been greater still. The
last two vears, especially, have wit
nessed an Increase almost unparalleled,
partly through the benevolent services
that were rendered in connection with
the famine. At this rate of progrss
alone, supposing it to be maintained,
by the close of this century there will be
1,000,000 of Protestant converts in India.
Xo Christian grace is likely to be
called into play more frequently than
that of mutual forbearance. If we re
sent every apparent injustice, demand
the righting of every little wrong, and
if all the other parties in the circle
claim the same privilege, what misera
ble beings we shall all be, and how
wretched life will become! We need to
guard against a critical spirit. Some
people carry microscopes fine enough to
reveal a million animaicuhc in a drop of
water, and with ttieje they can find
countless blemishes in the character
and conduct even of the most saintly
dwellers on tho earth. There are others
who are always watching forslightsand
grievances. They are suspicious of the
motives and intentions of others. They
are always imagining otfenses, even
where none were most remotely intend
ed. This habit is directly at variance
with the law of love, which thinketh no
evil. H'eek-Day Iteliiion.
Three Strata of Cities.
It is well known by all students of
geology that our earth has been grow
ing thicker by the gradual deposit of
mineral and other matter in the bottom
of oceans and great inland lakes. Some
of these deposits in past ages, called
the Silurian and red sand stone, are
many thousand feet in thickness. The
highest mountains are the youngest in
the world's history, because they lifted
up with them this greater thickness of
earth, which did not exist when the
older mountains were forced upward.
Prof. Schliemann. in his explorations
on the site of old Troy, dug through
three tiers of cities. Tho upjier one
was evidently modern, and its relics be
long to a recent civilization. The sec
ond. Prof. Schliemann believes to be
the Troy of Homer, for it is full of rel
ics of weapons described by Homer, and
of household vessels mentioned in the
Iliad. The third city belongs to pre
historic times, when barbarism pre
vailed, and stone weapons and utensils
were in use, like those found in aucient
caverns and in the suuken villages of
We con understand how strata are
formed at the bottom of the ocean, or
how Pompeii was buried by the erup
tion of Vesuvius. But it is not so easy
to explain how cities are buried over &
hundred feet deep by the slow working
of natural laws. Youth' m Companion.
How to Ventilate a Room.
We are still idiotic house builders in
the matter ot securing constant renew
al of fresh air, so much needed in sum
mer. What proportion of rooms can
be swept through aud through by an
air current? Not more than one in ten.
The majority of our apartments are
closets. Rooms with doors or windows
all on one side become receptacles for
Blagnant air. If a stream is dammed
up, the result is stagnant water. If
any portion of a lake is walled up from
the action of the winds, the result is
the same. The ocean of air in which
we live is subject to the same law.
Constant agitation purities air as well
as water. Air is food as well as bread,
and when it becomes stale, as it now
is in thousands of New York houses,
disease and debility are the result.
A queer will, recently admitted to
probate in Pittsburgh, contains a be
quest of $700 to Sl Peter's Lutheran
Church, to be used for the following
purposes: The sum of 8500 for the pur
chase of a bell which shall ring at the
hour of six p. ru. ot each and every
day, and alto about the, hour of twelve
o'clock m. of each and every Sunday,
until the reverend pastor of the church
has repeated the Lord s Prayer, aud the
sum of t-tX) for the support and wants
of the widows, at the discretion of the
pastor of the church.
Geokoe Beamont, an Englishman,
has lately taken from the Cape to
Buenos Ayies one hundred and tivo Af
rican ostriches of the most beautiful
species, with the intentiou to start an
ostrich farm in the Argentine Republic.
From studies made previous to carrying
his ideas iuto effect, the importer en
tertains no doubt of their thriving in
the climate of South Amerioaas well a
they do in Southern Africa.