Newspaper Page Text
Lyon County T mbs
SUPPLEMENT. SILVElt CITY, NEVADA, SUNDAY, JULY 4, 1875. ~ - A Farmer’s Wife I’ll Be. I am a wild and reckless girl Juat turned of awect sixteen, As full of fun ®Ild m'»ch!cf as any you bare seen; And whin I am a woman grown, no city beam for ms, If e’er I marry in my life, a fanner's wife I’ll be. I love a country life; I love a Joyous breexc; ] love In bear the singing birds among the lofty trees The lowing herds, tli* bleating flocks make music sweet for ine, If e’er I marry In my life, a funnel's wife I'll be. Xlove to feed the chickens, I love to feed the cow; I love to hear the Jorrner'i boy whistling utlils plough. And Helds of corn ivud waving grain ar<; pleas, ing slghtefor me; If e'er 1 marry In my life, a farmer’s wife I’ll be. 1 love to see the orchards Where the golden apples grow; 1 love to walk In ineadowa where sparkling streamlets flow. The flowery banks and shady nooks have many rhurms for me— Ife’er Iiuarry in my life, a farmer’s wife I'll be. Let other girls who love It best, enjoy the gloomy town, And dusty streets and dirty walks to ramble up and down; But flowery fields and shady woods, and starry skies for me, If e'er 1 insrry In my life, a farmer’s wife I'll be. —Prairie Farmer. Fifty Yearn Ago. “Oh, yes, w« lmil an elegant time," said Miss Geneva Wilbur, as she settled her ruffles and puffs. “We secured a private room in a palace car, and were just as re tired and as much at casu as though we had been traveling in our own drawing room. It was furnished magnificently, all in scarlet and gold, with panels of polished rosewood and mahogany, and a lovely Wilton carpet. The windows were of French plate glass, with curtains and lamlierquins all complete. Then there were luxurious easy chairs and sofas, great mirrors, an upright piano, and lunch tables, and card tables, and everything oue could devise for comfort. And it all seemed so much like "an Arabian Night's talc, that I fancied I had only to rub one of the silver platod lani]>s which hung from the ceiling, to make a genie appear, who would executo my bidding. Ah, it was suiierb!" “Scorns to me times have changed a little since I was young,” said old L'fielo Kzokiel, taking advan tage of the moment ary pause Miss Geneva made. “Then peo ple couldn’t go scooting about the coun try in a parlor; they had to put up with a good many inconveniences, not to say privations, if they wanted to travel; but then 1 guess they took as much comfort, on the whole, as they do now-a-days. At any rate they looked healthier and wliole somcr than the young folks of this gen eration do with their airs and glares, their folderols and their pinched looking forms and faces. « “Now, when I was rising one and twenty 1 took a notion that I should liko to see a little of the world. You see I had al ways stuck close at home, only now and then going to the nearest village to mus ter. or to trade off some apples or butter. So I spoke to father about it, and be said that after haying and harvesting I might take the three-year old colt I broke in the spring and go up ami visit my relations in Vermont. Well, this idea suited me mightily, and I’ll warrant I set more store by it than boys now a days would by a trip to California. There didn't much grass grow under my feet for the next few weeks, I can tell you, and we got our last load of grain in uncommon early, so that one morning in September I was all reaily to start. “I got up early and fed my pony, and mother baked a shortcake before tiic fire and made a good cup of tea for my break fast; then while I was eating she put a generous allowance of doughnut* and cheeae*ia my bag, and showed me the new cravat and socks she hadgot ready for me. Mother was always thoughtful for us, and besides she wanted mo to make a hand some appearance up country; so she had a tailoress in the liouso for a week, making me a suit of pepper-and-salt homespun which she had just taken from the loom. The sun was rising over the burn when I sprung on my pony and waved a good bye to my mother, anil to the little sister who had crept down in her night-gown to see me start, and stood in the doorway by her side. As I passed through the vil lage I saw quite a number of the young men of my own ngo stepping towards their burns, with their milk-pails on their arms, and they stopped and stared well to see me setting off early in my new clothes; hut I enjoyed their surprise too much to stop and give them any information on the subject. “ ‘Brutus’ seemed to feel as keen as I slid, nnd cantered along briskly for the first few miles. Then he began to take it slower, for the road was getting tolerably hilly, and by the time wc readied Gaincs borough lie was considerably tuckered out. I drew up to the nearest tavern and asked them to bait him. As for mvseif, I sat down under a big elm tree that grew in the yard, and ate mr doughnuts nnd cheese. As I was putting on the saddle the tavern-keeper came out. ** ‘I wouldn’t lie too qniek about start ing, young man,’ said he, ‘it's going to rain.’ > “ ‘Beckon you are mistaken there,’#»aid I. “ ‘Guess not,’ repliod lie, ‘I’ve lived here fivo and forty years, and I never heard the loons seresm over the pond and saw the clouds hang below the mountain the way they do now without our getting rain afore night.’ “However, I was sure that I could get to my cousin's in time, so I started in spite of his warning; but I had not got more than a matter of two or three miles, when it grew so dark that I knew I had better make for shelter, and as I hadn't passed a bouse since I left the tavern, calculated the beat thing I could do was to go right back. The reed was down hill all the way, and 1 wasn’t long in compassing the distance, but Ju*t at I entered the barn, the rain came down powerfully. The tavern-kee|ier laughed when ho saw me, and said he was looking for me hack to supper. “ 'Well, I’ll agree that you arc the best judge of the weather,’ said I, ‘hut when I left home I didn’t lay out to put up at taverns, and if I could do a little some thing to pnymy lodging I should be glad to. “ ‘Oh, don’t you borrow any trouble about that,’said he: ‘I won’t be hard upon you—but now I think of it, 1 have got some grain in my barn that needs thresh ing, and if you arc a mind to try your hand at that a spell we’ll call it square.’ “So I went to tho barn pretty well pleased with my bargain, and, pulling otf my coat, made lively work among the rye that was spread out upon the floor. I prided myself upon being able to thresh with any man in the country, and my flail buzzed up and down the length of the barn till you would have thought there were a dozen flails in the air. I mind how the young fellows who were hanging about the tavern came and stared at me and made remarks; but I laid about me at such a rate that they were glad to stand back out of my way. “I reckon the landlord didn't lose much by liis trade that time. We had fried po tatoes, cold salt beef, and com bread for supper, and it was all proper good, no mistake. “The next morning the sun rose clear as a hell, and I was off again bright and early. I went past Cousin Hezibolc's, for I wus anxious to get through to my uncle's that night. It wasn’t no great disappointment to me; for as I said,she was only a second cousin on my mother’s side, and though I had never seen her I had always heard that she wasn’t tho pleasantest and most even tempered woman in the world. If I could have have had my choice I think I should not have gone there anyway. “I jogged along at a pretty good pace that forenoon, and by twelve o'clock was pretty well up among the mountains. I had more than half my doughnuts and cheese left. Mother wasn't one of that kind that scrimped in putting up lun cheons. and there was plenty <jf good clover by the roadside, so Brutus anil I were not accountable to anybody for our dinner that day. "About sundown 1 reached Holton, l>ut I didn't know in just what direction iny unci* lived, so I stopped before the door of a wo<id-colored house and asked the old woman, who sat knitting by the kitchen fire, if she could tell me where 1 could find Jeremiah Gale's house. “‘Why, lor’ yes, of course 1 will,’ said she; ‘it’s a good mile further on, but the road is as straight as an arrer. The house is a gambrcll roof, with two popple trees standing right afore it—you can’t miss it —but do not be in such a hurry. Stop and rest yourself a spell, can’t ye?' I thanked her but hurried along, pleased enough that I was so near my journey's end. After I lmd rode half a mile I saw a little old man laying stones on a wall near the road. I saw him stop and look at me as though lie meant to speak, but I was tired ami thought 1 wo ill dr It give him a chance, and was passing him upon a trot, wlieu ho just reached out Iris hand and took Brutus by the bridle. “‘You seem to be in a great burry,’said lie. 'Where mought you be from ?’’ “I told Idm Dundurbrook, Massachu setts. ‘“Why, how you talk!’ said he. ‘Did you ever run against a cousin of mine, David Smith, who lives in tho Bay State somewhere? I've lost all track of him lr !v.’ ‘Never hearu of him. “'Ah! what inought he your name, if I ■nought be so bold?’ “ Ezekiel Gale.’ “ ‘Any rulatiuu to Squire Gale's folks?’ H ‘lie is mv uncle.’ “‘Sho! you don't say. Here, don't be in such an everlasting hurry. How would you like to swop off that ere pony of you in for a pair of steers? He seems to he a lively beast.’ “1 replied that I didn't care to trade that day and pushed on although he tried to stop me again by asking bow long I expected to stop iu those parts. “In about ten minutes more I had climbed the bill and stopped at Uncle Jerry’s. I think I should have known the place without any direction, it looked so comfortable and homelike. I fastened my horse by the gate and then went into the house by the kitchen door. I cx Iiected to take Aunt Nancy by surprise, ■ut she wasn't there. No one but a girl sitting in a low chair stringing apples. A great tub of quarters stood by her side, and the table was tilled up with those she had already strung. I felt a kind of awkward like and began to whirl my hat around my hands, for I "was so taken aback that I didn’t know just what to say. “ ‘I)o you wish to see Mr. Gale?' said she, looking up. “ ‘I am his nephew, Ezekiel Gale,’ I stammered out, ‘and I cameupfrom Mas sachusetts to make him a visit.' ‘“Oh, did you?’said she, jumping up and putting down her pan of apples. ‘Why, you must bo very tired. Sit down here by the tire—it’s quite frosty to-night; and let me take your hat. Mr. and Mrs. Gale have gone to Greenough, but they will l>e bark this evening. 1 am Content Sabin.’ “I said 1 would go ont and put up my horse. I was glad of a chance to go out in the open nir and get my breath, for sho was just the neatest girl I bad ever set eyes on; and although I was accounted quite a beau at home, she flustered me so that I hadn't a word to say for myself. When I weut back into the house sho had drawn out a little square table, which was spread with biscuits, cold-boiled bam, apple sauce and a pumpkin pie. She sat down opposite to pour my tea, and I could hardly eat my supper, good as it was, for wateliing her. Sue did just look like a picture, tliat's a fact. ^She had on a lin sey-woolsey pctticout aiidblucshortgown; her brown hair was braided back just as smooth and shiny as could be, and she had blue eyes, plump rosy cheeks and a neck and arms as white as milk. “ ‘I am sorry that Mr. and Mrs. Gale are away,’ said she, for I hadn't had the grace to speak a civil word yet, and she began to be afraid that I was not pleased. But, dear me, although I had come so far to see my relations, I was beginning to wish they would never come back at all, but that I might sit in that warm little room all the rest of my life, with the tea kettle singing, the cat purring on the hearth, and Content pouring tea for me, and I looking at her. I found my tongue after awhile too, so that when Uncle Jerry and Aunt Nancy came home, we sat by the fire as sociable as though we had known each othor all our lives. “Well, I staid and staid there till my folks began to tbink I never was coming homo. I helped Uncle Jerry get in the late crops, and I had a knack with saw and hammer which made me very useful about the house to Aunt Nancy. Then in the evening I sometimes took Content to a husking or an apple-bee. “Finally my father sent for me, and that night, coming home from a husking at Deacon Huniford's—I mind bow the moon shone down through the pine trees that shaded the road—Content promised to go hack to the Hay State with me when I came up in the spring.” Uncle Ezekiel grew thoughtful. lie seemed to be living over again that golden October evening; Geneva clasped her hands together and said in that pretty little affected way she has: "What did she say when you proposed to licri Oh, I should like to know so much.” Uncle Ezekiel roused up: “She gave me asimplc, straightforward answer,” said he, “and didn't ogle or put on airs, as you would have done, in her place, miss.” Wc were familiar with Unde Ezekiel's rough ways, but we all thought lie was too hard upon Geneva, so we changed the sub ject to the last importations by Stewart, and lie fell into a doze iu his easy chair by the grate. v Mrs. Gavett’s Box. There is not a kinder-hearted, more be nevolent woman in Detroit than Mrs. Gavett. Last year she was on the com mittee to canvass for aid for the grass hopper sufferers, and this year she intends to send them a large box of her own get ting up. She had Gavett bring up a box the other day, and when it had been placed in the shanty she put on a calico dress, tied on a check apron, and rambled around the house to pick up enough ar ticles to fill the box and have it sent off the next day. Her greatest anxiety was that the box was too small for onc-lialf the things she wanted to send. Opening a closet door she took down' an old coat, one that her husband threw away two years ago. “I'll send that for one thing," she mused, ns she held it up. “I don't know though—that's a pretty good coat. But a patch on the elbow and Thomas can wear itlialf the summer." She placed it on a chair and took down one of her old dresses. “I’ll make some farmer's wife glad with this,” she said as she shook out the folds and held it up. “Let's see! Why, there isn't a hole in either sleeve—skirt all right—waist almost as good as new. I believe I can sell that dress second hand for enough to buy me a bracelet.” The dress was laid beside the coat, and she hauled out Oavett’s boots. The heel of one was run over, and there was a hole in the toe of the other. "They'll do for some one to plow in,” she soliloquized, as site took them over to the light. "Somefarmer—ah! Why these are good boots! I believe I could get them fixed up for fifty cents so that Thomas could wear them half the winter. I don’t believe in throwing anything away even if we arc well off.” The boots were set aside, and she took down a bundle of children’s clothing. "Ah ! I can send these and make little hearts glad!” she whispered as she untied thu bundle. The children haveoutgrown them, and they will be a prize to some Kansas- Makes alive! but these gar ments are almost as good ns the day they were made up! 1 believe I caff sell them to the washerwoman for at least two dol lars, and as soon as I get two dollars more I cau buy me a new braid.” She tied the bundle up, and stuck her head into the closet and brought out an other dress. "A Hole in cacn cioow—skin corn nan off,” she mused as she turned it over. “I'll send it anyhow. Some mother can take it and get enough cloth out of the skirt to make her little girl a bran new -. Here, what was I thinking of ? Why, this is exactly the stuff I want for the Line stripe in that new rag carpet. If I had known this dress was in the house I'd have cut it up last week." She unlocked another closet, peered in, and hauled outGavett'sold overcoat—ohe worn out and stained and kicked around for a year. “Thnt will do splendidly!” she said as she held it up.. “It isn’t very nice, but some farmer can wear it to chop in. Ah! hold on! I want that lining to make a cushion for my rocking chair, and Jennie will want these buttons for her string, and the rest of the coat will make a beauti ful rug for the front of the lounge. I'd like to send it, but probably it wouldn't be appreciated, or probably Some ouc else will send a better one.” She rummaged around for a full hour, ami when she got through the chamber her floors were piled with old “duds." Those she meant to keep were placed on the right—those she meant to send away on the left. On the left was a wall basket made of hoopskirt wire. She hasn't sent the box yet, but she means to. She knows that all should contribute to the relief of the suffering and distressed.—Detreit Free Preee. Religion is not confined to devotional exercises, but rather consists in doing all wc are qualified to do, witli a single eye to God's glory aud will, from a grateful seuse of his mercy to us. This is the al chemy which turns everything to gold, and stamps a value njion common actions. A little four-year urchin struyed into a neighbor's house the other day. When he got home he told his mother that lie saw shutters in the floor, and when he stood on them lots of hot came out. N ever light your oaadle at both ends. HOUSEHOLD. That “Miserable Bread.’’ Good wheat bread is said to be the staff of life, wfiich is as emphatically true as the saying that poor bread, sour bread, soggy bread, and bread of any other quality in which the element of “good'' does not preponderate is one of death’s surely fatal weapons. Hour and unheal thy bread of any wort sends to premature graves more victims who havo dragged out a miserable existence than war, pesti lence and famine. We can look to the days of boyhood, to the period of youth, curly manhood, and maturity, and call up immense numbers of friends and associ ates who sickeyied from no other cuuse than the slowly operating and fatal influ ence of unwholesome bread, and who died for the want of good bread. Untold numbers of our most estimable citizens scarcely know what good bread is, and a much larger number still, who esteem themselves as makers of good bread, never have known how to make good bread, even when they arc supplied with the best of flour. Wife and the writer once went to visit a distinguished authur and authoress, his wife, who had written a book on domestic economy. Notwithstanding all the ex cellencies of the l>ook it lacked the simple direction to enable one to make good bread. This authoress supervised her own domestic affairs and always made her own bread, which her friends and neighbors averred was always sour. When we paid them It visit the bread was so un wholesome that it was exceedingly difficult to eat a small piece. Soon after we com menced keeping house, a lady cousin, who was noted for making soggy and sour bread, reproved wife for “fussing so much with her dough.” She averred that she “couldn't afford to spend so much time fussing with dough. She worked at her dough only when no other duties re quired her attention.” We were wont to visit them periodically for twenty years, and we were always treated with that same sour, soggy, and unwholesome bread. Those friends were laid in their graves long, long ago. They were built to live a hundred years, and had it not been for this insidious influeuce of bad bread they might have been alive to-day. " II the flour is of prime quality, every thing will depend on manipulation and management. For thirty years past wife has made our own bread, and during all that period not a single loaf of poor bread has been produced. Our servant cook will take flour of the choicest brand and produce bread that will give an alli gator the dyspepsia. Wife will take the same sort of flour, the same domestic ap pliances, and bring out the beautiful, almost snowy white and spongy wlienten loaf which is a delightful luxury. Our kitchen servant will manage the golden cream from the milk of our one thousand dollar cow, and produce butter that ap pears more like lard than any thing else. Wife will manage the cream the next week, and in the same pans, the same churn, butter-bowl and ladle, bring out as gilt-edged butter us cau be found in the market. These facts go to prove that certain stereotyped practices in making bread will spoil flour, of the best quality, for human food. The best recipe for making good bread is to find some person who never makes a poor loaf. Let the learner go to his or her place and take lessons in the peculiar, careful ami discreet manipulations and management of the flour and dough until she can produce bread that is fit to be called the “staff1 of life.” If it requires six months to learn the lesson, let the tusk be completed.—„V. Y. Herald. Appi.e on Prune Puddino.—Crust to be made same as for cream tartar biscuit, to l>c cooked by steam in a covered tin boiler; roll the crust to the required size, and half an inch thick; use first a layer of crust, then sliced apple, and so on, having the top layer a crust, leaving room for the pudding to swell; if prunes are used swell them first by soaking them in warm Water; don’t let them boil as that breaks the skin. Cook the pudding an hour and a half or two hours according to the rize. Make a sauce sameasfor the dumplings. I have made these puddings with peaches, both fresh and dried, and witli dried apple, (always swelling the fruit), with blackberries and with whor tleberries (or huckleberries) and I never kucw of one being made heavy this way. Palatable Graham Flour.—I never have yet found a way to cook it that I really found palatable, except in griddle cakes, to be eaten with maple syrup while hot. It is nice this way, provided the grid dle is not too greasy; I wipe it over with brown paper and use just as little lard as possible, not to have the cakes stick to the frier. To Preserve Lemons Fresh.—Slice them as thin as possible, and put into a nice sweet jar with alternate layers of sugar and lemon; remove all the seeds, have each layer of lemon entirely cov ered with sugar; tic a thick cloth over the jar before putting the cover on, so as to exclude all the air. I have kept them perfectly fresh for a year io this way. Dkouped Eoos.—TIavg ready the skil let half filled with salted water scalding hot, break each egg into a cup, and slip it carefully iuto the hot water, so as not to break the yellow. While the eggs are boiling throw the water over the yellows with a spoon. When the whites look firm take them out with a perforated skim mer. Trim them neatly, place each on a piece of buttered toast, and send to the table hot. To Scramble Eoos.—Break twelve eggs into a bowl, add n tablespoonful of salt, beat them for a minute or so, put a lump of butter as large as an egg into a fariua Itoiler (or put a tin sauce-pan into the skillet partly filled with water, as a substitute for a farina boiler), pour in the eggs and stir constantly until they arc cooked. They should not be too moist, nor too dry. Serve in a hot dish, with or without buttered toast underneath them. • _ ^ ^ Peter Cooper denies a statement that his father was poor. We are glad there is one man left whose parents were not “poor but honest.’’ Scenes in Switzerland. Surrounded by sublimity from their birth, ever drinking in the inspiration of grandeur, and reminded on every hand of the weakness of man and of the omnipo tence of the Creator, is it any wonder that the Swiss should lie as noble, as de vout and as generous as they are? Swit zerland is nearly all mountains and lakes, and chalets, as cottages are called, arc built in narrow passes two or three thou sand feet above the sea. The mountain tops are ever covered with snow. The solid rocks are often jagged and pinnacled. The unceasing ac tion of cold and heat—tiie frost of night and the sun's rays by day—broke piece after piece away until they became irreg ular. The steep sides and the abrupt de scents show where the terrible destructive avalanches come from. The snow collects —ratherit falls—upon the summit catching in the crevices and lodging on the pro jections. The sijn's heat melts the snow until its weight loosens its hold upon the penk, or breaks the restraining rocks, and a tremendous mass of snow and stone goes tumbling and crashing down until it is arrested by broader projections or plunged into the valley below. It is a grand sight to sec an avalanche, and at noontime any day they are fre quent. A faint rumbling noise is heard in the valley, and looking up one sees a white cataract of snow pouring from some dizzy height, bounding over one, two, or more jutting rocks, and finally lodging in some abyss, and, perhaps, it tears its way down to the mountain's base with the speed of the wind, prostrating trees, sweeping a broad path, crushing in dwell ings, and loosening huge bowlders which follow in the wake and make the destruc tion more complete and terrible. ir; _ it __j ___.1 High on the mountain side an avalanche which, unchecked, could bury in ruins a whole village, looks but a narrow band of white, and its awful proportions and power arc not appreciated until its might is demonstrated in the valley. Snow melted by the sun and pressed beneath the weight of the latter accessions forms the glaciers—those immense seas of ice—carrying upon their frozen billows great masses of rock wrenched from bor dering cliffs. The tens of thousands of tuns of snow upon the mountain tops, aided alternately by frost and warmth, thrust, at times, the terminal, or end of the glacier, far down into the green and fertile valley, while from an icy cavern Hows a muddy stream, which is a mere brook or river according to the size of the glacier or the time of day. The smaller glaciers, which rest upon the mountain heights, pour forth clear streams of de lightfully refreshing water. The cities .and villages of Switzerland are located in valleys and by the side of some rivulet fed by mountain streams, or on the shore of some beautiful lake formed by the rivulets, and in these places the inhabitants earn a livelihood by making the watches and jewelry so celebrated the world over, and by manufacturing silk, cloths, luces, etc. But the sturdy Swiss of history, they whose bravery has so often saved their own and even other countries from invaders, they who to-day maintain the distinct characteristics of their noble ancestors and caused their country to shine as a guiding light upon a mountain top to the other nations of the Old World —they the intelligent, upright, conscien tious, just peasants, belong not to the towns but dwell in such homes as have been pictured among the wild, grand mountains and breathe pure invigorating sir, removed from evil associations and influences, their eyes, steps and mind di rected upward.—In-Doors and Out. The Deaeon and His Calf. Last Sunday, just as one of our straight sst deacons was getting ready to shake the lines over his horse’s hacks and say “go lap,” his wife happened to remember that the calf hadn't been fed. The deacon looked at bis Sunday clothes and observed that he did not deem it incumbent upon him to suft'er for the negligence of others; to which tlie deaconess replied that such language in the presence of the children, on a Sunday morning, and from a pillar of the church, was enough to shake one’s belief in the professions that bail been made by some one man she could name. Die deacon handed the reins to his oldest boy and climbed over the wheel without laying a word. He went around to the front door and took the front door key from under the mat, came round to the back door, and as he was trying to put the key iu the hole the key slipped from his hand and slid down into the snow. Finally he got into the kitchen aud started for the barnyard with the milk, lie set the pail down on Hie ground and called to the calf, hut the beast whisked his tail in the air and bellowed at him. Then lie captured the animal and pulled it along by the ears and jammed its bead into the pail, but the calf gave a spring, sending the milk in a cloud .of spray over the deacon's shirt front. In trying to recap ture the beast the deacon dropped bis hymn book out of his pocket, aud before he could rescue it the calf stepped both feet on it and tore the cover off. The deacon got mad. He took a hop polo and belabored the calf. One end of the pole struck the shed, aud, bounding up, knocked the deacon's plug hat off. It rolled directly uuder the calf, who set bis foot through the tile, and then went tearing around tiic yard with his tail in the air and that hat fastened just above the knuckle joint. The deacon went into the house, and as lie unbuckled bis shirt collar, he called out, “Mafia, you go on to church, and if anybody askes after me tell them I staid home to feed the calf!’f —From the Manhall (N. Y.) Stateeman. It is amusing to notice how many for eign words and quotations the newspa per writers, nnd especially the sensational novelists of the day, use in their writings. The venerable Bryant once told a young writer that lie was often tempted himself to use foreign wonls, but that, upon re flection, he always found an Knglish word that expressed the meaning better. Madame Rothschild expressed ade-ire to reach oue hundred years before she died, as it wouldu't do for a Rothschild tt go off under par. It is quite „ natural for * hen to sit as it is to eat or to lay Hence, after a lien ha* produced an indefinite number of eggs, soSmes a few and sometimes many, she will eeasc to lay and her system will assume a proper preparation to pass the period of incubation without impair ing her health. When a hen is in a lay ing habit" it would be ruinous to her health to remain inactive on the nest for twenty-one successive days—the penod of incubation Some liens are so slightly inclined to incubate that the propensity may be cured simply by driving them a few times from the nest, while others, even when they have produced only halt a sitting of eggs, will stick to their nests with pugnacious desperation. _ If it is not desirable that a hen be permitted to in cubate, she must lie treated philosophical ly and understandingiy- When the de sire to incubate comes on the laying habit disappear*. My own practice is to put such hen* as ire iuclined to incubate in a large cage in the hennery/ where they can sec other fowls outside ov their prison and give them a generous suoply of soft food and water. After they have been re leased oneor two days they will commence immediately to “feed up” and to bring the system again to an egg-producing habit. . •« i ___ A great many sensible people, wno ao not understand the correct way to mannge hens at this natural period, take them into a dark apartment and shut them up in a barrel or turn a corn basket over them. Others order a hen to be ducked nine times in water to cure the propensity to sit. Others still hold a hen’a head in a pail of water while one is counting fifty. Others will tie a piece of red flannel to a hen. Numerous other stupid remedies are adopted, all of which are unphilosoph ical and ineffectual. But when secured in a cage, as suggested, if fed generously with soft food, a hen will goon commence laying another sitting of eggs. When I have a valuable hen or turkey whose eggs are desired for rearing stock of that par ticular bird, she is kept laying. As soon as she has produced a brood of eggs and desires to sit she is put in a cage for a day or two and her eggs are placed be neath another fowl. By this system of management a tnrkey will often lay three or four sittings of eggs in one season. Howto Break Colts. A practical stock man gives his expe rience in breaking colts, as follows: “A good and cheap breaking rig is made with two hickory poles, three feet longer than sulky shafts and a little thicker; bolt them to the axle (you need but two wheels), let the poles project three feet to the rear of the axles; have two holes bored in the ends thus projecting, about eight inches apart; fit to these poles two bows, similar to ox bows, and long enough to come within ten inches of the ground when the shafts are in proper po sition for driving; these need only be used when you have a colt that is disposed to rear up. Whenever the colt attempts to rear up, these bows strike t|ie ground aud effectually prevent him from doing so. Always use a kicking rope or strap; put it on after the colt is iu harness; it is two ropes fastened to the check bit; they run over the head same as Kimble Jack son ; check the run through the terret of the saddle and along the back to a point just back of the hips, where two rings, 8 iuches apart, receive the ropes, which are passed down to the shafts, near the cross bar, where they are made fust; when so arranged, every effort to kick throws up his head, so that it is impossible for him to kick, and if he lies down or fulls he cannot break the shafts, they being hick ory ]>oles. The colt must go ahead or backward, and it is almost impossible to upset, the shafts being a little back of the axle, so as to have no weight on the colt’s back.” How Butter is Sometimes Tainted. —Winter aud spring butter is often very much injured in flavor by allowing cows to cat the litter from horse stables. Cows are not unfrequently very fond of this litter, though it is impregnated with liquid manure from the horses, and if al lowed, they eat it greedily; and the effect is that their milk and butter will be taint ed with the taste of this kind of food, in ihe same way that the flavor is injured by eating turnips, but to a more disagreeable degree. If litter is allowed to be eaten, it should only be given to cattle not in milk, and <m no account should milch cows be allowed to consume other than the sweetest and purest food. Very uice butter makers are sometimes at a loss to account for stable taints in butter, espec ially when extraordinary precautions have been taken to have the milking done in the most perfect manner, and so on in all the processes of handling the milk until the butter is packed for market. Still the nutter nas a disagreeable taint, and the cause often comes from allowing the cows, when turned out to water and ex ercise, to feed about the horse stable, where they consume all the littSr which, on iccount of its being soaked with liquid manure, is cast out of the stable.— Rural JV'etc Yorker. A good looking farm will tell quicker and ut a better price than a bad lookiug farm. Ornamental trees, vines, shrubs, aud fence* may uot yield any mouey to the owner while he has them in his pos session, hut they will bring many times their cost when the farm comes into mar ket. In the early days of Chicago a gen tleman planted many thousand evergreens and other ornamental trees on a large tract of land near the city, w hicli lie in tended for his figure home. He never realixed hi* desire of living on it, but the place was sold. It was put on the mar ket at the same time an adjoining place was which was unimproved, and brought over twice as much money. Growing turnips will never become so important a part of American as it is of English farming, but the crop might just as well receive greater attention than it now does. Per*»M| Anecdotes. Talleyrand was born lame, and his limbs are fastened to his trunk by m iron apparatus, on which he strikes ever and nnon ins gigantic cane, to the great dis may of those who see him for the first t'mc—an awe not iliinininished by the ook of his piercing gray eyes, peering through his shaggy eyebrows, ids un earthly face, marked with deep (Urns, covered partly by his shock of extraordi nary hair, partly by his^enormoua muslin cravat, which supports a huge protruding lip drawn over his upper lip, with a cyni cal expression no painting could render; add to this apparatus of terror hisdead si lence, broken occasionally by the mast sepulchral guttural monosyllables. Tal leyrand’s pulse, which rolls a stream of enormous volumes, intermits and i»<nim at oiery sixth beat. This he constantly points out triumphantly as a rest of na ture, giving him at once a superiority over other men. Thus, he says, all the mis ing pulsations arc added to the sum total of those of his own life, and his longevity and strength appear to support this ex traordinary theory. He likewise asserts that it is this which enables him to do without sleep Nature, says he, sleeps and recruits herself at every intermission of my pulse. And indeed you see him time after time rise at three o’clock in the morning from the whist table, then return home and often wake up one of his secre taries to keep him company or to talk of business. TIIE ItUKE OF WELLINGTON. I can remember well the time when the duke returned to England after hie brilliant campaigns, crowned with the battle of Waterloo; at tbat time he was cheered by the people wherever be went, and lauded to the skies. Afterwards, at the period of the Reform Bill, the fickle people forgot all his services and con stantly hooted him in the streets. On one day, coming from the Tower on horse back, the rascally mob attacked him .with so much virulence and malice, that he was exposed to considerable personal dan ger in the street. I was in that year at a ball given by him at Apsley House to King William IV. and his queen, whnn the mob was very unruly and indecent in their conduct at the gates; and on the fol lowing days they proceeded to such ac cesses, that they broke the windows of the Apsley House, and did much injury to his property. It was then that ho caused to he put up those iron blinds to Ins windows, which remain to this day as a record of people's ingratitude. Some time afterwards, when ho bad regained all his popularity, aud began to enjoy that great and high reputation which he now, it is to be hoped, will carry to the grave, he was riding up Constitution Hill, in the Park, followed by an immense mob, who were cheering him in every direc tion: he heard it all with the most stoical indifference, never putting his horse out of a walk, or seeming to regard them, till he leisurly arrived at the Apeley House, when he stopped at the gate, turned round to the rabble, and then pointing with his linger to the iron blinds which still closed the windows, he made them a sarcastic bow, and entered tbe Court without say ing a word. Some years ago It was proposed to him to purchase u farm in the neighborhood of Strathfieldsaye, which lay contiguous to his estate, and was therefore a raluablo acquisition, to which he assented. When the purchase was completed, his steward congratulated him upon having had such a bargain, as the seller was in difficulties, and forced to part with it. “What do you mean by a bargain!" said die Duke; tbe other replied, “It waa valued at £1,100, and we’ve got it for £800.” “In that case,” said the Duke, “you will please carry tbe extra £300 to the late owner and never talk to me of cheap land again.”—Jiric-a-Brae Strict. A Drrri.K Plkaslbe.—How to make country life socially helpful and pleasant in winter, is a timely question now. Nothiug can well show a much wider contrast than the present activities in large towns compared with life as it goes ou in isolated rural places. We think the plan which has been adopted by some of the granges, to organize a little pleas ure in the midst of business, a very sensi ble one. Innocent recreations can hardly have better auspices than these offered, and if something looking toward culture and mental entertainment should be add ed, the result would be still further fruit ful of good. To our mind, there is noth ing equal to a well-arranged debating club or reading circle; aud where a pa per is edited aud read weekly, tlte inter est excited is usually as edifying as it is salutary. There is hardly any country district w hich cauuot be helped in this way, and it only wants one or two ener getic spirits who shatl take the brunt of the battle to make any oue or all of the suggested plaus successful. Christian Couhtksy.—I saw some where the other day, a sentence like ties: “The truest courtesy is the truest Chris tianity.” This is not simply saying 1 take it, that a Christian will be a ge i tleinan; it teaches tint the spirit of se’f deuial, of foregoing personal advantages for the sake of favoring another, is the root and substance of the regenerated life. Now, here is a practical test, brought near to us in all the scenes of our inter course with our fellows, showiug^what manner of spirit we are of. If we are truly, that is, sincerely, courteous and polite, we are serving Christ, showing his example, and exhibiting his spirit, if in the conclusion of personal interest* through the day, we are more careful to favor ourselves, to secure the best, to be served first, to gratify our own wishes and tastes, than to gratify and serve others, I care not what names we hear, or . what professions ws make, or what religious exercises we engage ia, the spirit of the Master is not in us. A Danbury woman lias applied for a divorce on the grounds that her husband brings company home to dinner without telling her. A man's own safety is a god that some times makes very grim demand*.