Newspaper Page Text
tHE SCOTT COOMEWSBO?.
leinu jL li AFNEB, Publisher.
ttKNToiir. . i missoubL
A LITTLE POST. GIRL,
a Love Letter Made
for Her. ;
, One ratny Saturday morning in the
early spring two wagons drew tip, al
most at the same time, before the povt
office at Denvllle, and out of each
clambered a little girl. The ground
Was "breaking up' after a long, severe
Winter, and as a warm rain had been
falling for several days, the roads
were almost impassable, so that the
two children had to wade through the
deep mad before they met at the door,
the younger entered first, and, run
ning forward, exclaimed: .
"There's a letter in Miss Dorian's
box!" . ,
.''Yes; out you know very well, May
"West, that she doesn't, want us to get
her mail Saturdays," answered the
"Wen, I'm going to take it this Sat
urday; for it's so bad out, teacher will
never come down to-day, and I'll give
it to her the first thing Monday," May
"Very well! You'll see if she likes
it," her friend retorted, flushing a lit
tle. The truth is that Anna Dent, the
older girl, really thought it a good op
portunity to do the teacher a favor,
but was a little jealous because May
had seen the letter first.
Her feelings may be better under
stood when it is explained that these
two girls took turns on school days in
going for Miss Dorian's mail. At the
beginning of the fall term there had
been some rivalry in the district school
as to who should go to the post office
at noon recess for the new teacher,
who seemed eager to get her letters.
The honor had at last, by common con
Bent, been yielded to May and Anna,
and these two girls had fairly earned
the right by their devotion and zeal,
which took them on their errand in
the face of bitter cold or driving rain,
and despite any game, however de
lightful, the other children might be
enjoying in the playground.
Had the post office not been quite
out of her way as, tired with the day's
teaching, Miss Dorian walked up the
long hill to her boarding place, she
would doubtless have called for her
own mail, for she felt that neither of
her young messengers could know how
precious to her were many of the let
ters they brought. What all the chil
dren did know was that their teacher
was going to marry Mr. Allen, the
young man who came out from New
York to see her and who sometimes
came to the school, and Anna at least
was old enough to guess that the hand
writing she saw so frequently on Miss
Dorian's envelope was his. Seven-year-old
May only knew that she would
rather suffer almost any misfortune
than lose one of. the teacher's letters,
and was more proud of her trust than
anyone could imagine. Yet Anna,
who was several years older, often said
that Miss Dorian would be sorry some
day she had permitted such a baby to
fetch her mail.
Until the morning that Anna and
May met in the post office, however, all
went well. Then it did not occur to
either of the girls that Miss Dorian
might be expecting the very letter
they were discussing, and they did not
know that in a letter May had handed
her teacher a few days before Mr.
Allen had written:
"If you don't hear Irom mc Friday, go to the
post office Saturday morning roady to take the
10:40 train. You will ana a note mere tening
you where to meet me."
That is why, half an hour after May
had put the letter in her pocket and
started home, Miss Dorian entered the
post office, and then came out, looking
puzzled and disappointed.
"1 suppose he isn't going, Alice," she
t.aid to the friend who had driven her
down; "If he were he surely would have
written me;" but as she took her seat
in the buggy, and the horse splashed
away throwing little mud balls over
both ladies, Miss Dorian's face was
troubled. That day and Sunday passed
slowly for the teacher. The man she
asked to stop for her mail Saturday
evening brought word there was noth
ing in her box, and the more she
thought of it the less she could under
Mr. Allen had expected to leave New
York Saturday to be gone several
weeks on business which had called
him to Chicago, and Miss Dorian had
arranged to go to the city to see him
off. As you know, the letter May in
sisted upon taking told when and
where to meet him. If the little girl
could only have known this! But how
So Miss Dorian, who knew Mr. Allen
was very sure to do whatever he said
he would do, had prepared herself to
go to the city that rainy Saturday and
stopped at the post office without a
doubt but she would find a letter
awaiting her; and little May drove
home, feeling sure she had done some
thing which would please her teacher.
Monday morning May came very
near being late to school. On the way
one of her overshoes came off in the
mud, and it was hard to get on again.
Sa it was only by running until she
was out of breath that she managed to
slip into her seat just before Miss Do
rian tapped her bell and began to call
the roll. May felt of the letter in her
pocket and longed to give it to her
teacher, but thought she would wait
until the names were finished.
Just then Miss Dorian said: "Anna
Dent," and Anna, holding up her hand,
answered: "Present, and please, May
West has a letter of yours."
May's heart gave a frightened, indig
nant throb. Her teacher flushed and
looked at her in a way that made.the
littB rlrl dron her eyes guiltily. Then
Miss Dorian said. Quite sharply: lIs
that any affair of yours. Anna?" and
went on wit H the roll call.
May's name was last, and after a low
"present" was spoken,, there was a
pause. The little girl sat still, her eyes
bent on ber desk. She could not make
up her mind to go forward with the let
ter. "What would the teacher and all
the scholars think?" she asked herself.
"It was too mean of Anna too meant
Just as though she had forgotten!"
Hkji flt nut moment as though she had
. dona something wrong, deceitful, and
the next she told herself she had not.
Hiss Dorian looked at her inquiringly.
. Tom here. May." she said. May came
slowly forward, and held out the let
tar. Not one word could she utter.
Prlirhtened and engry, ber lot 1m
Jiet .ijeiichefr and Ji'ef prjdc .ybiinded,
the feelings whtcKjag'edih May's heart
choked her voice, end made her limbs
preinuio, i,, iiuuuinj ( 10. inc CJoaK-
room,'. Miss Iktrian said.. Perhaps the
teacher was glad of an excuse to read
her letter out of sight of all those curi
ous eyes, and perhaps she could not help
leeiing provoked at the child who had
caused her so much trouble. At all
events she followed May into the ante
room and said to her, in a voice which
sounded unlike her own: "You may
leave my mall alone after this. You
should have known better than to take
it on Saturday." Then relenting as
she looked at the pale, grieved face,
she added, more gently! "You are tod
young, anyway, 1 know you didn't
mean any harm, but it made Bitch a
Miss Dorian opened the letter, ilhd
as she read tei fs came into her eyes
end dropped on Its pages, Ittoidheri
pi course, win n and where Mr. Allen
had wished her to meet him on Saturday-
. "He's gone, and he'll wonder, why I
didn't corte,'; she said to herself. May
watched bet in silence. When the
teacher, told her that she could not get
the mail any more she felt that liothr
ing worse could happen the pride of
her life was gone; but the words:
"You are too young, anyway," added a
sting which was sharper at the
thought of Anna. And now Miss
Dorian was crying! It was more than
May could bear to see. Quietly she
went back to the schoolroom and sat
down in her place. The children
looked at her and whispered to each
other. And Anna I shall not try to
give words to the passion of resent
ment against Anna which added to
poor May's misery. But she did not
cry. The teacher's tears seemed to
have awed hers awav. Somethirg
dreadful must have happened be
cause she took the letter if she
Could only run away somewhere, was
Miss Dorian came back to ihe
school-room, and the hours dragged
heavily on toward noon. May failed
In her reading and did not seem to
care. She would never care for any
thing again, she said to herself. But
she was blinded by tears as she stum
bled back to her desk.
Just as the clock struck the noon
hour there was a step outside the door
and some one entered. Miss Dorian
started and gave a little cry as Mr.
Allen walked quickly through the room
and came to her. May heard the
teacher say: "I never got the letter
until this morning;" but she did not
hear Mr. Allen answer: "It is just as
well, for you would have had your trip
for nothing." If she had heard it
might have made no difference; for
when May saw Mr. Allen come in. an
unreasoning fright took possession of
her. He seemed to have appeared as
an awful judge coming to avenge some
dreadful thing which she had done, and
her only thought was flight. Miss
Dorian's words, "1 never got the letter
until this morning," Confirmed her
fears that they were talking about her.
As some of the children were going
out to play May left the room unob
served. If she had glanced back she
would have seen that the teacher and
her friend were laughing together and
seemed very happy, or if they had no
ticed the little girl going away Miss
Dorian would certainly have called her
back to make sure she grieved no more
over the letter. Indeed, It was hardly
five minutes after May had disappeared
that Miss Dorian said: "The poor lit
tle thing felt badly, and I fear I was
harsh with her because felt so badly.
I shall ask her to forgive me and to go
for my mail now, to show her 1 do
trust her as much as ever." But May
could not be found, and when Anna
came up and said, very pleasantly: "I
am going for your letters now, Miss
Dorian," the teacher answered: "No.
Anna, please do not trouble yourself,"
so coldly that Mr. Allen looked at her
hen May cua not return to school
for the afternoon session the teacher
felt somewhat uneasy, and wished to
send to the child's home to see if she
was there; but Mr. Allen said: "Oh,
don't worry. She just ran home be
cause she didn't like to sec me after I
got her into trouble. We'll call on
her after school and make friends."
But when Miss Dorian and Mr. Allen
went to May's house they found that
the little girl had not been there since
she started for school in the tnorning.
Then the teacher went in to stay with
the now distracted mother, while Mr.
Allen hurried away to tell Mr. West,
who was plowing In a field near the
house, of his daughter's disappearance.
Half an hour later a dozen people were
doing all they could think of to find
May, while Mrs. est and Miss Dorian
sat together, waiting with heavy
hearts, and starting up eagerly, If any
one of the searchers came in to In
quire, before starting out again,
whether the wanderer had returned.
While her friends were thus looking
for her and distressing themselves be
yond measure with vague fears of harm
and danger, foolish, frightened May
was finding out what the world was
like away from home. When, without
being noticed by anyone, she had
slipped out of the yard at recess and
run down the road a fear lest some one
in the village should detain or take her
home had turned her aside Into a path
which wound through woods and fields
and led out at last Into a lonely, unfa
miliar road. Hardly noticing her sur
roundings May trudged on, often near
ly mired in some muddy places, often
stopping to rest, until, after two or
three hours' wandering, she found her
self at a railroad track. A little fur
ther on was a small station with a few
houses clustered around, and May, be
ginning to feel lonely, perhaps, went
on toward- the - little depot. A train
was just drawing in as she reached the
platform, and several people came out
of the waiting-room. Here was just
what was needed a train to take her
far, far away,.. . With the other passen
gers she mounted the steps and took a
seat; and as she sped into an unknown
country the heart of our little traveler
gave a leap of mingled exultation and
fright, then sank down, down, with a
weight of loneliness. She turned her
face to the window and watched the
fast flying field until her spirits rose
and she felt almost brave again. Thus
May sat quite still until some one
touched her shoulder and a voice said;
"Give me your ticket, little girl." Her
ticket! She remembered now. Con
ductors made every one on trains give
them tickets. May turned two wide,
scared-looking eyes on the good-natured
face which bent over ber.
f'l I haven't any ticket, sir," she
faltered. Then . bracing herself to
meet the emergency she added, grave
ly: "There's a dollar in my bank at
home, Mr. Conductor. .Hi glfe, it ta
you"rrhcre she hesitKted. and Jookeq
puzzled.. The bnnk was on the i?ionte
over, her bed; ler. cosy little jjed. Jntp
which mamma tuckod jifr every.nigbt
low cnuld she get the dollar out of It
when she was running away? ,
"Where are you going, my dear?",
the conductor asked, when these
thoughts had silenced her. May no
ticed that some passengers who sat
near were looking at her curiously,
and with a decided air she answered:
"To Fairtown," It was the only name
she oould think of at the moment; her
father had driven her there one day
Whert he Went on btlstridrnj.
It was not hard now for tilt! eWndufr
tor to guess that his ydiing passeng'ef
was a runaway, lirid, sifting ddwti be:
side May, he leaned hear and said
conxlngly; "This train does not go td
Fairtown., I have a little girl at home
myself; teil roe where you live and
what your name Is, my, dear." Hut
aiay only shooK her head ana wouia
not answer him. Her first impulse had
been to tell her kind questioner all
about it, but the sudden thought: ''He'll
send me home if I do," closed her lips.
She was not ready to go home yet,
though she began to long sadly for her
mother. The conductor had no triore
time to spare, and he was anxious to
leave the child as near her home as pos
sible, so he decided quickly what to do.
Rising to leave her he said, in a low
voice: "The station mastor at our next
stopping place is a friend of mine.
He's a very nice man. lie has some
little girls, too. I'll iust leave you with
him until vott Cftn decide about youf
train;" then he went on to finish col
lecting his fares.
When the train drew into the next
station May felt glad to leave the peo
pie on the car who seemed td be look5
ing at her and talking about net. She
heard an old lady just opposite say to a
companion; "I'm going over to talk to1
that poor little girl." But just theri
the conductor came up and held dut
his hand, so May took it willingly and
followed him almost at a run, as he
hastily led her out of the car and
through the station into a little room
where the ticket man sat. "It's a run
away girl." the conductor whispered to
his friend. "Got on next station down.
Find out name and address and tel6;
graph her people it'll be all right."
"Well, I declare!" the ticket man ex
claimed, shutting his mouth suddenly.
May felt sorry for him and a little em
"It's only just me," she remarked,
"Oh, it is, is it?" he said, drawing h
comical sigh of relief. "And who arij
May looked at him appeaiingly. "1
can't tell you that," she answered.
"Well, where ore yoii bound for, lit
The ticket man seemed to feel more
at home with her now and. after a
moment's thought, May said, sedately:
"Oh, I'm just traveling a little!"
Her new friend looked at het
thoughtfully, and his next question
was quite unexpected: "Where's your
The little girl's eyes dropped and
her lips quivered as she said: "She's
she's at home.-'
"She'll miss you, I guess," the ticket
man suggested. May was quite silent,
but big drops were gathering under her
lashes and splashed down on her
clasped hands quick and fast as he
went on remorselessly: "When It is
time for you to go to bed this even
ing and your mamma goes up to your
room and looks at your bed and won
ders where you are, and begins to
But May interrupted him. "I want
my mamma I want my mamma," she
The station master looked very much
relieved. "There, there," he said, "to
be sure you do, and you'll have her in
a jiffy, too. Just tell me your name
now, and where you live."
"My name is May West, and I live in
Denville," the little girl answered be
tween her sobs. What a relief it was
to tell him, and to give up running
away! She did not know how the tick
et man would get her mamma, but she
was sure he would. She watched him
play with his fingers on a little ma
chine which made queer noises like a
great clock ticking very loud. Then
she felt so tired and sleepy that when
the station master laid his folded
overcoat on the floor, and put a chair
cushion at one end for a pillow, she
gladly lay down and was soon fast
About an hour later she was awak
ened by a sound of voices, and one,
which she seemed to know, was say
ing: "Yes, when 1 got your telegram
there was just time to catch the next
train." She opened her eyes and saw
her father. He was talking to the
ticket man. but was leaning over her
with a look in his eyes which made the
little runaway stretch out her arms
without a thought of fear, although
she had given all this trouble.
Her papa lifted her up and pressed
her so tight against him she could
hardly breathe. He put her down at
last and shook the ticket man by the
hand a long time, it seemed to May,
Then they talked together until a
train rumbled in and May started
home with her father.
While May was being borne back to
her friends. Miss Dorian and Mr. Allen
were with Mrs. West waiting to wel
come bacic the mtie gin ior wnom
they had suffered such terrible anxiety
that day. '"I feel as though it were
all my fault," the teacher was saying,
as the three sat talking together, paus
ing to listen every minute as the time
they expected Mr. West and May
drew near. "JCo, no," Mr. Allen cried,
"it was all because she was afraid of
me!" Ashe said this the sound of
wheels was heard, and Mrs. West
jumped up and ran to the door, while
May nearly fell out of the wagon in
her eagerness to get to her mother
A few minutes later May, quite un
afraid, was sitting upon Mr. Allen's
knee, while he told her how it made
no difference about the letter because
he was not goiug away after all. But
one doubt still troubled the little' girl.
Slipping down from Mr. Allen's knee
she went over to her teacher. "What
is it, dear?" asked Miss Dorian, as May
whispered her name.
"Can I ever get your letter again,
"You can always get them, if yon
like, was the answer, given with
kiss. May thought a moment,, and
then, lifting her face with a happy
smile, said: "I'm afraid Anna would
feel bad. We'll just take turns the
way we used to." And so they did.
Victoria Y. Berunlts, in N. Y, Indepen
dent , .
"-Portugal exports Winn, olive o&,
figs', oranges a&f onions.".
The. Pa races . taugh t tllat .hern
were two Izeds,, male find female,' who
presided over marriage.' ... , , .,
Brown "Tell me truly,' do yqn
really admire Wagner's music?' Grey
"My dear boy, 1 haven't the moral
courage to do otherwise."
Bilks "My wife thinks there is no
one in the world like me." Oilks "Of
course. The human race is not as bad
as soma would make out." Detroit
Amiable Visitor "And this is the
baby, is it? WhVf it's tlii) Very lmag.1
f Its fiitiit1.' iynieal fnete "Well.
It needn't mind that t(3 . long as H has
good health." Chicago Tribune'.
. --MFs. Kiic'y-f "How is your husband
this rri iruing?!'! Mrs!. Doyle "Sure an'
he's awful sick the doctor says he's got
brown gaiters iri his chlst. an' I don't
know what He m'aiiss a'tall a'tall."
Newport Daily News.
It was In the New York World"? re
port of a political meeting that the
word "shouts" was so ludicrously mis
printed as to make the blunder famous.
"Thesriouts of tCfl tKmsand democrats
rent the air," read the report.
, Miss Oldhill ; Yes. lore is a lottery.
I always say every woman has rt ticket
in that great lottery, the world, and is
drawn by the man whom she is to
wed." Mr. Youngman "Alas. Miss
Oldhill, your ticket must have been a
blank." Harvard Lampoon.
"Mamma," said Jamie mysteriousl r,
"did I ever have a little brother that
fell into the well?" "No," said his
mamma!1' "Why?" "Why. I looked
Intd the well this rrtrnmnf, and there
was a little! fellow down there tune
looked just like me:"
A domestic', newly engaged, pi'&
sented to his niiistcr one morning U
pair of boots, the leg of one of which was
much longer than the other. "How
comes it that these boots are not the
same length?''. "I really don't know,
sir; bur what bothers me the most is
that the pair downstairs lire Iri the same
Pastor (to peasant girl) "Why do
ou weep so much?" Peasant Girl
'Because my lover has gone to the army
for three years." Pastor "But those
will Soori tie dv'e'r; then he will return.''
Peasant Girl "Yes, but I anl afraid
In the meantime another man will
iriarry me;" FHegcride Blatter.
-An Italian photographer has taken
a portrait of Queen Victoria, which has
recalled a story of Mr. Downey when he
first secured the queen as a sitter.
What did you sav?"' and "What did
she sav?" asked friends. "Well," said
Mr: Downey. "I took her majesty just
as I wad anny ither pearson: and. when
I'd Settled her. I said: 'Wad it please
her majesty tae put on a more favora
ble Countenance? And she said: 'hair-
tairily, Mr; Dooney."' Christian World.
FUNCTIONSOFTHE HOG'S LEGS.
They Serve as a Vent for the Esenpr ol
The hog's lags performs a function
not known to any other animal, and
that is an escape pipe or pipes for the
discharge of waste water or sweat not
used in the economy of the body. These
escape pipes are situated upon the in
side of the legs above and below the
knees in the forelegs and above the
gambrel joints in the hind legs, but lu
the latter they are very small anil
fnnctions light: upon the inside of the
foreleg they are in the healthy hog al
ways active, so that moisture is always
there irom about and below these ori
fices or ducts in the healthy hog. The
holes in the leg and breathing in the
hog are his principal and only means of
ejecting an access of heat above nor
mal, and when very warm the hog will
open the mouth and breathe through
that channel as well as the nostrils.
The horse can perspire through all
the pores of its body, much as a man,
and cattle do the same to a limited ex
tent, but the hog never. Bis escape
valves are oon fined to the orifices upon
the inside of his legs.
People often wonder why it is that
the hog dies so suddenly when he runs
rapidly or takes quick and violent exer
cise by fighting, but when you consider
the few escape pipes, their small eapa
city and remoteness irom the cavity
where the heat is generated, the won
der is not that he dies quickly when
overheated, but that he lives as long as
ho does when heated up. Swine
DRESS OF THE PARSEES.
It I Symbolic-ill of the Mysteries of Theli
The entire costume of the Parsee
symbolizes the mysteries of religion.
The gauze shirt, bound with the sac-red
cord of Kusti. must be woven with
seventy-two threads to represent the
chapters of the "Izashni," and the
twelve knots of the heavy tassel signify
the twelve months of the year and rep
resent the perpetual obligation of sacred
duties. The embroidery of the sloping
black hats carries out a further doc
trinal signification, and in the white
head-bands of the women warp and
woof form an elaborate cryptograph of
Zoroastrlan theology. Even the mode
of wearing the silken saris of pink,
primrose, azure and green is prescribed
by ritual law, though the linen head
band gets pushed further back, and the
floating folds of tho brilliant veil occa
sionally combine coquetry with ortho
doxy. A solitary instance recurs ta
memory of a fuzzy fringe fromed by
head-band and sari, and contrasting
strangely with the Asiatic face and
beautiful historic dress of the wearer;
but the Parsee beauty rarely ventures
on such a decided protest against tho
tyranny of custom and creed.
The possession of unlimited wealth
enables the Parsees of Bombay to exer
cise Important control over the fortunes
of the city, and rows of splendid man
sions in the suburb of Parel show the
status of the colony which identifies
itself with western progress while re
taining original character and ancient
faith. All the Year Kound.
Slamming the Dour.
"I don't know of any household in
junction that is so persistently disre
garded," said Mrs. Hilltops, "as 'Don't
slam the door.' I think I must speak
to the children about slamming tho
door at least forty times a day, but
they pay uo attention to it whatever
Thev don't disregard it intentionally
but it appears to be one of those things
that people are not able to rememlier;
It makes no impression upon them.
They m ly perhaps remember it the
first 'Ume oi!r they are spoken to, but
as lately ua not, they will slam the
door att oud as ever with the sound of
the injunction yet in their ears. Even
Mr. Hilltops always slams the doors.
About mobt thing he is very thought
ful, but about thi i ).i U worse than any
I tt toe cildi-cB ?L V,. wu.
graham faiilf. tW fspoon Imklng
powder, three eggs tiHd Wiltf, W watr
e'rfunpK to make o' thin batter'. Fat'rtl,
Field and Firerid; . .
r Good Oralmm CooW Two cups
rt Rugar, one Oup'butter, one cup rnf
cream, oiie tnspobn' soda, flavor with
nutmeg, sufficient grShfw flour to' roll.
Bake In a quick oven. Country Ontle
Indian rHrtdinp-. Suet. One pint of
corn meal, one pint of trol'ing milk,
one-half pint of cold milk, one-quarter
pound of suet, two teaspoonfuls each
of ginger and cinnamon, one-half cup
ful of molusse?. and one-half teaspoon
fill of salt. Mi. the- fttenl with the
iK.id milk, then odd the boiling milk.
Mix well and itdd the. other ingredi
ents. Ootid Housekeeping".
Mock Terrapin. Make ft eroatil
catice ot one tablespoonful each of but
ter and flour, aiid orif cup of cream or
good milk. Season with salt utm! pep
per. To this sauce add one pint of coul
chJekt'l' of veal cut into dice, the yolks
of two hard-lioiiVd f t?fjs, chopped fine,
and the whites cut into luvg'r dice
Boil two minutes. Christian Inquiref.
Tomato Omelet. Beat well three
eggs, n ffiiWl ni wilt and a tablespoon
of flour or .o tertspxem trf cornstarch.
Add two-thirds of H . etip' of strained
canned tomatoes. Stir well aifd pour
Into a well buttered spider. Cover wiitj
a tin cover and set a hot griddle on this.
Place where it will brown, but not burn.
When the mixture 115.? thickened, slip a
pancake turner under it, fold (A-eT.- slip
on a hot platter and serve at once.
-lii'own Bread. Three pints of
t ml bin meal. lhivt pints of rye meal
(both measured after sifting), one tea-
spoonful of salt. Mi them well to
gether. Add one cupful of molasses.
half rt teaspoonfu'- of soda and hff
a cup of yeast. Then mix the whole
together with lukewarm watef. Ponf
it into an if .m kettle, and let it stand
until it begins to crack oii the top'. . Put
it into a moderate oven, and let it bU
live or six hours. I'se uubolted Indian
meal. The secret of this brown bread
lies in having the raeai ctCr?. Boston
Coeoanut Pudding. Make the
above cornstarch pudding, leaving out
the epgHi AvlitHl It- f.t done, stir in the
white's of tiie egg's beilteri to B Btlfl
frothj and let It remain oil tiie r$re a
few minutes to cook the eggs, gently
stirring it the while. Then add half
of a grated coeoanut. Pot H into a
round mold to cool. Make a boiled
custard of the yellows of the eggs, and
flavor with extract of rose; sei it away
to become perfectly cold. Put the pud
ding into a pretty dish when you are
ready to serve it. arid carefully pout1 tho
custard all around it. Woman's Work.
--Russian Cream of Strawberries.
This is a favorite dish late in the sea
son when the fruit becomes very ripe:
"Soak two tablespoonfuls of gelatine
in one-quarter of a cup of cold water.
Mash one quart strawberries to a pulp
with one and one-half cups sugar: let
this stand half an hour. Pour over the
gelatine three-quarters of a cup hot
water, stir until dissolved, and add to
the berries and press them through
a sieve. Mix with one pint of cream
whipped to a stiff froth. Turn into a
freezer and freeze until it begins to
thicken. Then remove the dasher and
stir with a spoon. Pot the mass into
molds and set them in lee and salt for
two hours. Detroit Free Press.
Ia the Fumily Exchequer ami in the Camera
of Social Life.
Small change is indispensable in go
ing about a city, l'o have only a five
dollar bill in one's purse when riding in
an omnibus or ear is almost as bad as to
have no money. One requires small
change, and the thoughtful husband
supplies his wife with bright ten-cent
pieces and shining quarters just as reg
ularly as with fresh greenbacks. A wo
man prefers new anil fresh money to
that which ia greasy and soiled, if she
can have her choice, ami a certain good
man. known and loved in a large circle,
always makes a point of bringing home
to his family the wherewithal for do
mestic expenses in a very dainty shape.
He is deservedly a favorite.
Small change is as valuable in the
commerce of life in other departments
as in that of the exchequer. There are
people who can talk extremely well on
learned and serious subjects, but they
have no small change. The quick jest
and easy repartee of the drawing-room
arc not for them. Helplessly and hope
lessly, with gloom settling over their
faces, and despair in their souls, they
sit by while less gifted people chat and
laugh and have good times. The trou
ble is they are dest itute of small change.
This puts them at a disadvantage in
society where there is not time for
homilies and treatises, but where every
thing is froth and foam. The airy but
terfly flight of their neighbor confuses
and disturbs them. Their forces must,
so to speak, be drawn up in order, and
prepared to charge on the enemy,
horse, fxt and tlragoons. All this takes
time and thought, and the enemy is up
and awav, skirmishing triumphantly
elsewhere, before the unlucky opponent
has arranged his line of battle. By all
means let those who would succeed in
society carry about the small change of
ivitty conversation. Harpers Bazar.
HE WANTED TOO MUCH.
Juvenile Flower Veniler Woutflu't "Glv
Away" His Soure of Supply.
"Ll-locks? Apple blossoms? Want
some H-locKs, mister; uve cents a
It's a new industry that the North
Side urchin has developed. It flourishes
at the big barns where the limits cable
cars turn and the horse car begins its
weary pilgrimage. Any pleasant day
from six to two dozen lads can be seen
at the barns each boy corrying tempt
ing bunches of lilacs and apple blos
soms. The urchins hawk their wares
with the energy of the thrifty Yankee
who has popcorn, doughnuts and molas
ses candy to sell at the cross-roads sta
tions in New England.
"Say, mister, buy a bunch of ll-locks?"
said one bright-eyed youngster who
boarded the grip car before the train
turned into the barn.
"I'll buy a bunch," said the passen
rer, "if you'll tell me where you get
The boy hesitated and to gain time
"I'll buy a bunch," the passenger re
peated, "if you'll tell me where yon got
the lilacs ana apple uiossoms."
"Aw, you want too much for a nickel'
tried the bid saucily, as he jumped from
the train to call "Li-locks" to a man
w 10 hadn't missed any flowers (row Ma
front j wd,Cfticf o Tribune.
PLANS FOR A 8ILO.
A Chase Tet DeilmbU fitmctore-!!
ftfteelflcatleBf rornUhed by en Ohio Dsl-fylfM-
WU-Mnsed Stock Farm
Ahfttfld" ila Or
The nil here dewrrlberfl l iOM fet la
diameter', rhsideV a!nd Sffjf ? dp;
SH feet of st-obe atod Cement fa the
ground, and f6r the ffther" Sfa feet it pair
of perpendicular board wall1" with
girts, shown Fig". 2, between. There
are no studding; thcgffts (and sill) are
powerful wooden hoops m'4d by cut
ting 2sMnch Joists to the lengths fld
angles shown in Fig. 2, and spiking
them together in two layers. The
lower pieces make the silo an octagon
outside, while the Inner edges of both
the upper and lower pieces make It
sixteen-square inside. I cut the pieces
for the lower course of such length
thftt a 14-foot joist made three pieces
Without waste, 4 feet 9 inches (nearly);
fhe same joist cats four top pieces
fc'vefy fourth piece being shorter at one
end for ihe dowrways at O O. For a
riO. J. ELEVATION- OJ" SII.O.
largef enlrt 13 or 14-foot joists may be
cut to make lengths instead of
three- thus: 6 foot bttrm pieces make
s 15-foot silo, and so on. Norway pine
ikes nails bettef than hard wood.
The te'tfe-box for sawing girt pieces
with a cross-eilt sw will be described
in next paper. The mode "f drawing the
patV-rns for any diameter of silo Is in
dicated by h lines and angles A B C,
Fig. 2, the circles dfen from the com
mon renter servintr as Thi
patterns were only used to fit 1 top
Against otic end nnd the saw against
the other. In the bottom of mitre-box,
and Until hard wood guides were
fastened to hold the snw in position.
Ko furthef marking is required: the
mitre"-bi "lays out the stuff." Two
men with a sa' iti good order can saw
the girt stuff for a silo Id half a day.
Tne angles of the bottom pieces sbould
be exactly right, but the pattern for
the top pieces may be a little short, as
the inside edge Is faced.
The sill. Fig. 3, should be made true
to circle before the top pieces ore
spiked too solid. A strip of lumber as
lonir As the diameter, reaching froni
face to face inside, will show where to
strike with the sledge to tnie np.
We dug the pit about three Inches
larger than the sill, all round, gradu
ally changing. to a Circle at the bot
tom. A couple of joists laid across the
pit, and blocked up to the proper level,
supported the sill which was then
staylathed to the barn and a couple of
For wall-guide studs, we used the
girt stuff, not yet sawed, one for each
inside corner half way round, and
when the wall was done that side we
moved all but the end ones to the
other side. These stui were set up
on eod against lV-inch blocks at O.
not shown, tacked to each corner, nnd
the studs held to the sill by strips E,
tacked (nails not driven home) to the
top of the sill and the side of the stud.
Section of the stud at F, fhows the
position. After they are set up. one
man on the sill with a plumb line and
another in the pit with a heavy ham
mer soon bring the studs to a perpen
dicular. An iron pin driven in the clay holds
the bottom from slipping inwards.
I'se green lumber, surfaced, for the
boards behind the studs. 10 or 12 inches
wide; the ends should not quite meet
where they lap behind the edge of the
studs, so they can be raised as the con
crete and stone are tilled in behind.
More about the wall, tile and cement
floor in next paper.
nhen the wall Is buiK up to the sill.
rest the sill, level, on (1 or 8-inch r.qnare
strips of wood laid across. To build
the girths, lay the corresponding pieces
exactly above those of the sill and nail
them together. We saweii props
(pieces of old rails) to space the g'rts.
the lower ones 18, the next ubove 20
inches, and ho on to 8 feet at tho top.
For staylath we set up fence boards 10
feet long and securely staynailed the
girt both sides, faces and corners
plumb above those of sill. The sec
ond girt was nailed together upon the
other, raised upon next set oi props,
nailed to staylath, as before, and so
on to the top. Dirts were so spaced
as to bring the center of lower pieces
of one lust 18 fee, above bottom of
ceiling. The spaces in this lap-girt, in
dicated by the dotted lines at a, l lg.
8, were filled by triangular ph.ce.s.
sawed in the miter box, so as to join
the two courses of ceiling, 10 feet and 0,
in one straight line around. The stay
ing poles were set np in pairs against
each corner, but staylathed together
and to the barn so as to stand indepen
dent; and platforms pnt on as the
height of work required.
The pine celling, thoroughly sea
soned, was all cut by measure to two
lengths, M and 4 feet for the two
courses, faprtner 39 feet high; no pleeJ
ing. The mefcleg and applying of thet
"fat paint" to the ceiling, both sides;
tongue, (rroores and ends before lay
ing, will be rsplained at another tlmeJ
Parallel plumb lines were drawn
fronl O across all the girts to the top.
The tonglltf f the first KVfoot ceiling
being shaved aft end the edge beveled
and joint ?d tl fit the aole at P O, wae
nailed on the plumb line. This formed;
the Jamb casing to the doors', and when
the opposite one was fitted to Its llnej
all the doors were marked, beveled!
and Jointed to the same width. J
The grooved edge of the celling!
faces to the right; two men on the,
staging outside, and part of the time
astride the girts, drive the tongue of
the next piece home with a jointed;
hardwood block a foot long, and a
heavy hammer, keeping the top end to
the line before nailing fast. If it will
not go, it is forced with the block and
key. seen In Fig. 4 from the inside.
The block Is nailed to the girt with,
short, heavy wire nails, then alternate
blows on the key and the (other) block
soon make a joint. The block la
knocked off, the nails driven back, and
it is ready for next time. :
The corners should be turned on tirt
Joints; If the turn is all made on one,
in the corner, the tongue ooes noi en
ter the groove enough. If the ceiling
is made of different widths, 8, 4 and S
inches, we can select in advance such
widths as to bring the middle of a
ceiling over the corner. The idea is
given in Fig. 8, where the edges of M M
are equi-distant from the corner.
They are shown wider than the others,
but they should be as narrow as prac
ticable, as only the edges rest on the
girts. We supported them toward the
bottom with wedges riveted from 2-inch
lengths of ceiling.
Fig. 5 shows how to make an air
tight joint where the ceiling meets the
concrete. It will not do to "bed the
sill in mortar" when it is first laid; the
after-hammering breaks it up. The
sill rests on the inch-square strips, and
to fill the space B, between F. E, we
pushed the concrete in. from the out
side, with the end of a short board and
flushed it against the ceiling C, tamp
ing It solid to the outside. We filled
the cavity, A, under the top piece, D,
from the inside, after the ceiling was
partly laid across it. by throwing con
crete behind it with a "spoon trowel.".
The after two coats of cement at O.
make the joist sure. Will give fur
ther account of drain, tile, floor, doors
and painting in another paper. J. W.
Pike, in Ohio Farmer.
Skin Diseases of I-lve Stock.
Sulphur and salt, used in modera
tion, are valuable adjuncts to the
treatment of skin diseases, but with
out the simultaneous use of external
remedies they cannot be considered
sufficient for the cure of scab in sheep.
We have often spoken of the pernicious
habit indulged in by stock owners of
indiscriminately drugging healthy ani
mals with a view of warding off dis
ease; because, by thus interfering
with the normal conditions of the body,
healthy animals are often rendered
more iiable to disease, which is then
more likely to result fatally than If
the animals had not previously been
subjected to injurious medication.
Salt and sulphur, given without limit
in quantity or length of time, are cer
tainly objectionable, because they have
a tendency to cause intestinal irrita
tion of a serious nature.
Abuse Sn Sheep Washing.
It is time now that humanity should
lift Its voice in thunder tones against
the barbarous practice of washing
sheep, for it is certainly cruel to drive
sheep severs! miles on a hot day
and plunge them intoa stream and
then return carrying a heavy load of
wet wool on their backs. The proper
value of wool can as well be determined
without the so-called wash, and it
would seem even more easy to give a
proper estimate of the value, for the
writer has seen wool in a worse condi
tion after the ablution than before.
If the practice was abandoned sheep
could be shorn as soon as the weather
would permit and do away with the
discomfort to the sheep carrying their
fleeces until dry enough to be shorn.
Sheep will do much better with fleece
off in hot weather. R. O. Logan, bee-
retary Merino National Sheep Associa
tion. Bee Transfer the Pollen.
United States Consul Germain, at
Zurich, has transmitted to the depart
ment of state a report of experiments
made in Switzerland to demonstrate
that the bee has other uses than as a
honey producer. To ascertain whether
the bees injured fruit and vegetable
flowers by extracting their honey, the
experimenters covered part of the.
branches of cherry and pear trees and
fruit bushes with tine netting to ex
clude the bees. Nearly all of the flow
ers dropped off the protected branches
and there was no fruit on them, while
the uncovered branches bore lux
uriantly. The 'deduction is that the
bees' visits are ne?cssa,.-y to fertilise
the blossoms by transferring pollen.
K bmmIT isr Otsioa Mateo. '
Half a pint ot kerosene Is well mixed
with a pailful of some dry materials
preferably wood ashes, but send, saw
dust, or even dry soil will do fairly
well, and after the plants are well vp
and the trouble la at hand a sprinkling
of this mixture along the rows eboirt
twice a week during the time tis X
doea it work will be found a - '