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1869. VOL. XIII. NO. 51. SNOW HILL. WORCESTER COUNTY, MARYLAND, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21. 1881. #I.OO PER ANNUM. 1 Tlie Democratic .Messenger, Published Every Saturday by LITTLETON DENNIS. Proprietor AT SNOW HIU. WORCESTER CO., MD. Subscript ton. SI Year in Advance. j Liberal arrangement.- tnnde with clubs. Correspondence solicited from all parts of the county. ADVERTISING RATES. One dollar for one ineh space will be charged i for the first insertion, and fifty cents for each subsequent insertion. A liberal discount will be made on quarterly J six months, or yearly advertisetaents. Local notices will be iu-erted at 20 cents par line. Marriage and death notices inserted tree. Obituary notices inserted at half advertising rates. All advertising bills are due after the first Insertion, unless otherwise agreed upon. LITTLETON DENNIS, Snow Hill. Md | PROFESSIONAL CARDS. A DIAL P. BARNES, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office opposite Court House, Bnow Hill. Md. Will visit Pocomokc GMy every Saturday. Strict attention given to the collection of claims. | r< LAYTON J. PURNELL, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office opposite Court House, Bnow H;"l, Md. Strict attention given to the collection of claims. Will vi-it Berlin on the second Satur day of every month. 17DWARD D. MARTIN, Ei ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office opposite Town Hall. Berlir, Md. Special attention given to the collection of e'atms. 17 DWARD B. BATES, (Late of Baltimore Bar.) ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOB-AT-LAW, Snow Hill. Md. Office opposite Court House, adjoining the Post Offiee. pEORGE M. UPSHUR, 'J ATTORN EY-AT-LAW. Office, Court House Square. Suow dill. Md. Pu mpt attention given to the collection of claims. ! pEORGE W. PURNELL, V* ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office, opposite Comt House. Suow Hill. Md. Claims promptly collected. Will visit Poco moke City on the second Saturday of eaeh j month. j George w. covington, ATTORNEV-AT-LAW. I Office, Court House Squat?, Snow Hill, Md. Piou.pt attention given to the collection of 1 claims. SAMUEL n. TOW NS EN D, ATTORNEV-AT-LAW. Office, opposite Court House, Snow Hill, Md. Prompt attention given to the collection of claims. YVM. SIDNEY WILSON, * * A TTORNEY-A r-LAW, Office on Washington Street three door* i above Post Office, Snow Hill, Md. Immediate attention given to the collection ; of claims. Dr. e. e. dashiell. DENTIST. Office, oppo.-ite Franklin Ilou-e, Snow Hill. Will visit Berlin on Thursday, Frida) and Saturday of each week. AH operations on the teeth performed in the most skillful nian n#r; — -J HOTELS. | NATIONAL HOTEL, (Late Cor. Dymocx’s,) Cj nosite Court House. Snow Hill Md. Large A y Rooms. Excellent Table, Home Comforts j Permanent and transient gticsts kindly re- ; ceived and hospitably entertained. Terror. $1.50 |? r day. Hacks a*, the It. R. Depot to meet all trains ■ J. S. PRICE, Proprietor. SALISBURY HOTEL, ULMAN & BEO., Proprietors. Divistitin Street, |)postit Court Ilotiste, SALISBURY, MD. Restaurant, Billiard Parlor. Bar, and Livery Stable attached. Free H> cks at Depot fo meet all trains. Passemtcrs conveyed to any part of tbl Peninsula upon the most favorable terms. TERMS. $1.50 PER DAY. First-class accommodations and home com forts. CLARKE HOUSE, POCOMOKE CITY, MD, 11. C. POWELL, Proprietor. Accommodations Unsurpassed FIRST CLASS BAR ATTACHED. Twilley <fc Bros.’ Livery Stable connectc' 1 wits this House. ATLANTIC HOTEL, (Late English's,) G’HINCOTEAGUE ISLAND. VA. W. J MATTHEWS * CO., Proprietors. Tue uudensiimed beg leave to inform their friend? and the general public that they have lease i a- d refurnished the above eleg.tnt and r nniuodiou? house, and are now prepared to accommodate permuncut and traneienl guests in lir?i-cla s style. Large, airy room*. Home comforts. Fine 6- a and Bay Fishing, Gunning and li.it t.it- tr, etc. The table is provided with Wild Fo O. Tertupi'i, Pish, o)Btei, Crabs, and all 1 1 - luxuries of the season. Pleasure boats f all kinds, guides, fishing lines, decoys, ponies, etc., always ready for j tl* use of guests. Fust-class Bar attached. Choice wines, Iquors, nles, beer- and cigars. Passengers f-,r Cbincuteasrue connsct with st -.atiter for th? Islmd ut Franklin City, the tenninns of the Wo ccster Railtnad, morning and ev ping. Connection may also be made d d!y a* Na hville. All ho visit the Atlantic m iy rest r-ssiir* d that thev will receive cour teous trcatm< nt and excellent fare. Your patroDuge is respectfully solielted. I W J. MATTHEWS <t 00. I TWO LITTLE HERDERS. A CHMSTMAB BALLAD OF THE MOUNTIASR. j Two little herders came forth at mom— The sun peeped on r the mountain crest, I the white moon tore with her silver horn ! edge of the tempest, low down the west; Tlie edge of the snow wrack, climbing higher, And cawling over the summits sheer, I That seemed to bar with a gate of fire The path of the daring mountaiueer. ! But the trail crept over, and down, and down The wrinkled cheek of the precipice ; ! The sky grew black with a sullen frown, And the snow whirled up from the white abyss! ! The mother looked out of the cabin door— Thro’ gloom and tempest her sad eyes strain— And ever she whispered, o’er and o’er; “God guide my pretty cues homeagain 1” But Max and Marty are strong and bold, The winds that swoop from the icy peaks Tumble their locks to a lleeee of gold. And fan the scarlet of lips and cheeks Caliiug the cattle, with—“Coe! Ball, coo ! j Come up, Briudie, and Dapple, and Don !’’ Over tfco trail in the pelting snow The two little herders trudged cheerily on Cheerily on, till the noon is past. And the mountain shadows begin to grow— And out of the snow-cloud, dim and vast, The wild peaks break with a wrathful glow; Seeking the lost kine near and far, With—*' Coe, then, Brindle ! and hie there, Black! Come up, Dapple, and Don, and Star!” The two little herders turn wearily back. ***** The gaunt pines rock on the ghostly steep— A dreamful murmur is in the air— And the beautiful, silent angel, Sleep, Is spreading her pi lows so soft and fair! And Marty, lifting his drowsy head— “ Max, do \ou think will the Christ-child come When mother opens tho door’’—no said; “And lead ns out of the darkness—home?" ***** The rude walls shine with the mistletoe. The yule logs blaze on the hearth-stone wide, And the anxious moth> r flits to and fro, In the mellow warmth of the Christmas tide ; Alone with God. and the driving storm. Her thoughts go back to thut maugcr-bed: “ My pretty ones He will keep from barnt. Who once was a little child!’’ she said. Oh, tenderly wrapt from the cruel cold— From earthly trouble, and c ire, and pain— lie hath gathered her lost lambs to His fold Never to wander, a-weary, again ! Safely sheltered forevermore, Beyond the p.riis of Death and Sin, The Uhrist-cbild opened a heavenly door And led the little ones softly iu ! The Deacon’s Son. “I am going away, mother,” Frauk Raymond said, looking furtively iDto bis mother’s face. A sad, troubled face his mother turned toward him for an instant, but she said nothing. 81ie stood at the table in Ihe broad, low, old-fashioned kitchen, busy with some household task, and Frank of sixteen—was sitting on the lonDge iu Ihe corner of the room, with his cap slouched over his eyes and a half-defi ant look upon his face as he watched his mother. “It’s no nse," he said ; “father won’t give me a chance to know anything. I must work from morning till night. Ho ; says I don’t need to study to be a far mer. 1 had a book hid at the barn that I have been studying when I had time ; ; he found it just now, and he boxed my , ears with it, then tore it up and threw iit away. He said he guessed he’d stop that nonsense. Father is a rich man, j and lam the only boy. Why can’t he | give me a chance to know something, j mother?” “My boy,” Mrs. Raymond said, in a gentle tone, “yonr father had only a common education, and he has been i I successful in business. He thinks j others can do as he has done. Perhaps ! yon had better wait a little longer. Try ; to lie pat'ent.” Mrs. Raymond sometimes had more than she could do to smooth the ruffled tempter of her impulsive hoy. Her hus band, Deacon Raymond, believed iu walking in the lieatin track of bis fathers, and auy innovation that caused the slightest deviation from the old way was looked upon with pious horror. He was one of the deacons of au ortho- ! dox church, strict and upright in his ! dealing with other men, hut he was pn- j ritanical iu liis views and rigid in his family relations. There were no fond words or caresses , in his family circle ; home was simply the place where ho took his meals. His broad acres yielded fine crops. Every year he deposited a large sum in the hank. He paid liis proportion of church expenses ; he gave liberally to j charitable entei prises and to foreign missions, while in his own house a hoy i —his son—was growing up almost a heathen in point of knowledge. Was it strange that, with a hoy’s keen perception, Frank Raymond was dis contented ? Mrs. Raymond did all that lay in her power to make the rough places' smooth for her son, but it was comparatively little that she could do. The deacon did not believe that wo men were good financiers ; so he held the purse-strings, handing out to his wife iu homoeopathic measure an allow ance that he deemed sufficient for wo man’s need. Mrs. Raymond was one of those wo men who say little, hut resolved if any more I rouble occurred between Frank and his father not to oppose his leaving ! home. Matters reached a crisis a few days later when Deacon Raymond sold a beautiful colt that Frank had been per i mitted to call his own. Frank had petted the beautiful crea ture, and had lavished npon it u wealth of affection that the colt seemed to un ] derstand. It would dash across the pasture to meet him, aud lay its finely-arched neck over the boy’s shoulder in perfect cou . tent men t. When Frank knew that his pet was , sold he went to tho house, and laying bis I foea d down in his mother’s lap he wept I asif he had lost a friend. “’Tis Liberty Alone that Gives the Flower of Fleeting Life its Lustre and Perfume—and We are Weeds Without it.” “Don’t try to keep me any longer, mother,” Frank said, when his grief had exhausted itself. “Father flogged me just now because I told him that the colt was mine. He said he would teach me not to interfere with his affairs. I shall come home some time, mother, to see you,” he said, jumping up and throwing his arms about her neck in a tearful embrace; "but father does not love me. I heard him tell the man that bought Kilty that hoys wero more plague than profit. To morrow father will be away all day. I shall do the work he leaves for me, and then I shall go. To-night I will pack my valise; it will hold all I shall need,” and Frauk Raymond busied himself, while Deacon Raymond was slecpiug the sleep of the just that night, in packing up the few articles that belonged to him. Few they were, too, for Deacon Ray mond did not think a boy’s room needed auy thing ornamental or attractive. No pictures adorned tho walls of Frank Raymond’s room. There was no well fified hook-case to employ and gratify j his leisure hours. No carpet on the floor; “hoys did not 1 need such things,” he told his wife when she ventured a plea for a carpet and a few pictures to make the room more cheerful and homelike. Frank lmd a passionate love for the beautiful in nature and art—a love that had been dwurfed and crushed all his life. Mrs. Raymond was very fond of flowers. A neighbor kindly offered cut tings and roots from her own yard, aud one fine spring morning, when Deacon Raymond had started for town, Frauk set to work in high spirits. Ho spaded aud laid out somo flower beds in the front yard, set out his roots and cuttings ana sowed some seed. At noon liis father returned, and see ing the freshly stirred earth, inquired into the matter; then pulled up the choice roots that had been set and tossed them over the fence, because they would interfere with the growth of the grass. There was really no chance for Frank Raymond in the home that his father made so uncomfortable. The morning dawmed—a clear, crisp morning in October. The trees were throwing down their hrilliaut-hupd leaves over the path. The yard was full of them. Deacon Raymond utilized autumn leaves by having them raked up and mixed with loam for fertilizing his laud. If he had found a spray of those gor geous leaves fastened upon the cheer less wall of his ton’s room ho would have tossed it contemptuously from the window. Frank Raymond hung about his fath ; er’s wagon regretfully that morning. His heart ached ; lie was hungry for a kind woid. If it had only been spoken it would have turned the scale. Rut at last his father noticed his loitering, and in bis imperative way ordered him to go to his work and quit idling. Frank walked off, and Mr. Raymond drove away. After his father had gone, Frauk fin ished the tasks that had been given him, aud then went to the house to bid his mother good-bye. His intention was to go to Weston—a manufacturing town a hundred miles away. Mrs. Raymond had written a letter of introduction to a manufacturer there, whose wife was her friend, briefly ex plaining that her sou wanted work, and asking him, if possible, to give him a chance. A sad afternoon was that to Mrs. Raymond. She had gvien Frauk all the money she possessed—a few dollars —and he had gone, after a tearful part ing aud a promise given to write when he had found work. Frank Raymond walked sadly, hut resolutely down the road. Once ho turned about and looked yearningly toward the house. His mother was standing by tho door. He waved his hand ; then, dashing the : tears from his eyes, walked quickly on ward, and was soon out of sight. If the inflexible laws of justice were tempered by gentleness aud forbearance —if homes wero made as attractive as are tlie gilded haunts of vice and crime —our prisons and reformatory institu tions would he less crowded. Mrs. Raymond dreaded her husband’s j return, for she knew liow angry he j would lie, and though it might he a ! righteous indignation, still he was a j very human deacon after all, and the contingency one that he would not be ; prepared to meet. When Deacon Raymond returned at ; dusk, and called out in his quick, im patient way for Frank to come and take : the horse, Mrs. Riymond responded to tho summons, telling him that Frank | had left homß. The deacon looked unutterable thing?, and uttered a few words that had better been left unsaid. “Ungrateful, good-for nothing boy !” he exclaimed, at last, after lie had ex hausted all the expletivos that a dea con’s vocabulary may lawfully contain, “after all my toiliug and saving to lay up money for him !” If a little of it had been judiciously used instead of being laid up, liis vrife thought the trouble might have been averted, but she considerately left the opinion unexpressed. After that night Deacon Raymond rarely mentioned Frank’s name, hut he grew more morose, if possible, than be fore. When Christmas Day came, and lie and his wife sat down to tluir bountiful meal, tho deacon did not enter into tho enjoyment of those comforts with his accustomed zest. Frauk was not there; he did not give that reason, however, for his poor ap petite, but guessed he was getting dys peptic. Two Christmas seasons had gone by since Frank Raymond left home. His mother had heard from him many times in the interim. i Mrs. Leslie, the wife of Frank’s em ployer, had written several letters, speaking of Frank in high terms oj commendation, and telling how much i confidence her husband reposed in him. t He was working bard, saving hit t i wages to go to school when be bad I earned enough. . Once he wrote : 1 “You might give my love to father, if * j he would care ; but he wouldn’t. I snp- | pose.” | And Mrs. Raymond accidently left j that letter where her husband would be * sure to pick it up, and came back for it l j just in time to see him give it a toss on 1 the table as rlio opened the door, with a muttered t x press ion that sounded like : : i “Poor, foolish boy !” ; October came again. , Two years since Frank Raymond went i from home. ; ■ Deacon Raymond was taken sick. Ho , was not dangerously sick, but a little \ ailing, he said, and he would stop work . for a few days. He would not have a doctor, and Mrs. Raymond fixed various harmless doses for him, but he felt no better. 1 His wife watched his symptoms and ’ was sure the trouble was a mental one. “Mary,” he said, one evening, after lie had hung about the house for a week in nn aimless, dispirited way, “I am afraid I was a little too close with our boy. I was saving for him, but maylie if I’d given him a little more liberty ho j i would have stayed at home. ” Mary Raymond’s heart beat audibly, but she dared not trust her voice. A long pause ensued, then the deacon j asked: “Do you think ho would come homo, Mary, if I should send for him ?” “I feel sure that he would," his wife answered, in a low tone. The deacon brightened up. “I’ll tell yon what we will do, Mary,’, he said, eagerly; “we will fix that south front chamber for him. Use your good taste and make the room as pretty as it ; can be made. You shall have all the money you need and get things that are good. Get pictures, get a book- j j ca'-e full of books, and—well,“you know j what he will like. I'll see if we can’t j have our boy again. It was a mistake. | I see it now. I was too hard with him, but I thought I must hold a tight reiu or ho would go to ruin; the wonder is that he wasn’t ruined from the course I i took with him.” The deacon had found a potent rem i edy for his ailment, and he convalesced rapidly. He was aide to oversee the repairing | of the south chamber. Fresh paint, with delicate paper on the walls; a soft, nwssy-looking carpet, i that harmonized with the paper, then a costly set of furniture with the uphol stering to correspond. Blue and drab were the prevailing j tints—Frank’s favorite colors. Cur ! tains of a delicate drab hung in rich folds from the windows, garnished with i blue lambrequins and inner curtains of ! frosty lace. Fine paintings and engravings w’ere hung upon the walls. A richly carved , walnut book-case in one corner of lue | room showed a carefullv selected col lection of books for study aud recrea | tiou. j There was a violin in another corner • to gratify Frank’s often-repeated wish : for one; and there were brackets, and | hnsts, and various ornaments in pro ; fusion. Mrs. Raymond had transformed the j room into an enchanted chamber. When 1 the south chnml>er was in readiness, the deacon proposed that the parlor aud sitting room should be freshened and refurnished, aud a piano was placed in ' the parlor. The changes made in Deacon Ray mond's house had required an immeuse amount of hard work, but love had light ened the labor and it was a magical transformation. Their preparations were at last com pleted, aud Mrs. Raymond wrote to Frank, inviting him to como home and I spend Christmas. She wrote, too, that his father would be glad to see him. Frank Raymoud was surprised, but thankful that his father had relented, and lost no time in returning home. Deacon Raymond met bis boy on the threshold with outstretched arms, and the patient wife and mother, as she ! looked with tears of joy running down 1 her face, felt that her years of waiting j 1 had received a rich reward. Frank Raymond was speechless with emotion when, at bed time, he was shown to the south chamber prepared for his ' comfort, and he was too happy to sleep, ’ lmt he felt as though he was in dream -1 j land with his eyes open, everything | : seemed so unreal. He slept at last, and was awakened i by his father in the morning to go to , ! the barn, where a fresh surprise awaited " him. Kitty, the chestnut colt, full grown aud well-trained for service, and bought by the deacon for his son’s ’ j especial use. Frnuk Raymond resigned his position in the manufactory at Weston, not without the deep regret of his employer; but at last home and happiness were ■ held out to him, and famished for affec tion as he had been all his life, he would have refused a throne for his father's ! love. ; A Female Nihilist. c j The Emperor of Russia has found i | out who lins placed threatening letters 3 j and proclamations in his prayer book I and pocket handkerchiefs for the last j i few months. He set a watch in liis 9 | room and caught a woman who had . Wen in the service of the Empress for ; the last eight years. She was in the e i act of placing a letter in his prayer book. 1 This letter reminded the Emperor that B i ho had only a few weeks of life before B Imn. The woman wept and declared that she had done this out of gratitude e and with the conviction that sho was . averting a catastrophe to the sovereign _ she loved so well. Rut nevertheless she refused to give the name of the man who „ supplied her with the letters aud pro clamations. y A Michigan man who was pursued by -a bull escaped a probably terrible death '. by spilling tobacco juice in the animal's ’f eyes. On the strength of this the De li troit Free Press advises: “Don’t let i. anybody make you believe that tobacco is unhealthy”--apparently forgetting d that it was very unhealthy for the bull. —Norristown Herald,. A CHRISTMAS FEAST. An Inexpensive Home Dinner as I)e --scribed by Juliet Corson. This bill of fare, with covers for six teen, is inexpensive. It will cost about $6.50 for the whole: Turkey soup. Celery fritters. Baked sweet potatoes. Baked tenderloins with stuff-d apples Boast turlo y with ov ter forcemeat. Cran 1 errv Jelly. Celery salad. Half-pay pudding with cream sauoe. Nuts. R tis'ns. While grapes. Cundy almonds, Ladv apples. Black coffee. ICKKEY SOTTP. Put into a tin-lined or porcelain saucepan three ponuds of soup beef with the bones well cracked, and the carcass of a turkey prepared as directed iu the receipt given iu this article for roast turkey; cover the moat aud bones with five quarts of cold water, and set the saucepau where its contents will come slowly to the boiling point, as fast as any scum rises, take it off the broth | with a skimmer. Meantime, peal one largo turnip, one I medium-sized carrot, and one large onion, aud stick one dozen whole cloves into the onion; tie in a compact little bundle a handful of parsley, one green stalk of celery, a dried bay-leaf, a sprig of any dried sweet herb except sage, a : blade of mace, aud a dozen peppercorns. When the broth is freo from scum, add the above ingredients to it, with a heap ing tablespoonful of salt, and set the saucepan where its contents will boil very slowly for at least four hours. Then strain the broth, season it. to taste, ■ aud serve it w ith riee boiled as folio .vs: BOILED RICE. Pick over and wash a cupful of rice and ; | put it in a Hour-sieve near the fire to I dry. Half ait hour before the soup is j ready to serve, put the rice into a two quart saucepan half full of well-salted, actually boiling water, and boil it fast for twelve minutes; draiu off all the water, cover the saucepan with a clean dry towel, aud set it on the back of the stove where it w.ll steam without burn ing for ten minutes, when it will bo ready to use. rOTATO BALLS. Peel one quart of white potatoes, boil them until quite tender in boiling water aud salt, draiu them, season them pala tably with salt, pepper aud grated nut meg, and mash them with tlie yolk of an egg and a tablespooufnl of butter; wet the hands in cold wuter, take up a tablespoouful of the potato, roll it into a little ball, and either coat it with flour, or dip it iu beaten egg and roll it in cracker dust. When all the potato is made into balls, fry them in smoking hot fat; take them up in a colander, and shake over them a little salt. CKLEItT FRITTERS, Out half a dozen white stalks of cel ery about two inches long; boil them till tender iu boiling water aud salt, dip them in the following batter, and then fry them golden brown in smoking-hot fat : Frying batter. Mix together smoothly the yolk ot a raw egg, a table spoonful of salad oil, a little salt, pep per and nutmeg, quarter of a pound of Hour, aud enough cold water to make a batter stiff enough to hold the drop 3 from a spoon. Just before using the batter, stir into it the whites of the two eggs beaten to a etiff froth. Fry the fritters just before they are required for use. BAKED SWEET POTATOES Peel the potatoes, put them into the drippiDg pan with the tenderloins, bake j them until tender, and serve them with j the tenderloins and stuffed apples. BAKED TENDERLOINS. Wipe the tenderloins with a damp i | cloth, lay them iu a dripping pan with ; the sweet potatoes, and brown them j quickly in a hot oven ; then season them Avith salt, pepper and powdered sage, aud bake them about forty minutes. f STCFFED APPLES. Wipe the apples with a wet towel, cut a thick slice from the stem end of each, scoop ont the core without cutting i j through the apples, fill each one with j au ounce of highly-seasoned sausage- J meat, arrange them on a largo tin pau, ! dust them over with cracker dust, and j bako them until tender. Serve them with the tenderloins. BOAST ITRKKY WITH OYSTER FORCEMEAT. Remove the pin-feathers from the turkey, singe it, wipe it with a wot towel, and cut off the head and feet. Lay the bird ou its breast and cut down the mi idle of the back in a straight iiae; then fiud the joints which unite the wiogs to the body and sever them; cut the flesh from the carcass, leaving in the wing and leg bones, uujoiutiog the latter when they are reached, ami taking care not to cut through the breast-skin. When all the fiesli has been removed from the carcass take out the entrails without breaking them, aud use tlie bones for the turkey soup. Lay the flesh-skin down on the table, season it highly with salt, popper and sweet herbs, place the liver where the crop w’ns, cover the flesh with oyster forcemeat, draw the skiu together at the back and sew it with large stitches; tuke care that enough forcemeat is used to fill the bird out plump. Secure the legs and wings in place so that the 1 ird will re sume its oiigioal form and lay it in a ; diippiug-pan without water. Tie a \ large, thin slice of fat pork over the j , breast, put the turkey into a hot oven, i and brown it quickly. When it is brown j season it with salt, pepper and sweet ; \ herbs, aud roast or bake it twenty min- j utes to each pound. When the turkey j \ i-t done remove the strings and serve it j \ hot with a dish of celery salad. I OYSTER FORCEMEAT. j Strain the liquor from a quart of > oysters and save it; carefully strip them through the fingers to remove all bits of shell, tud put them in a colander to draiu; cut sufficient state bread to till r the turkey, soak it in cold water to ( softeu it, aud squeeze it nearly dry in i a clean towel; and then add to it the oysters and their liquor, season it pal- atably with salt and peper, and use it t as already directed. TnE Mormon question—Will you be a fraction of my wife, darling ? CRANBERRY JELLY. Pick over and wash two quarts of cranberries, put them in a porcelain-lined saucepan with one qhart of c lid water and one' pound of sugar, 6tew them gently until they are tender enongh to rub through a sieve with a potato masher. After the fruit has been thus prepared return it ,to the saucepan; stir into it four tablespoonfulHof corn-starch dissolved in a oupof the fruit juice; put it over the fire and stir it constantly until it has boiled one minute ; then put it to cool in jelly-molds dipped in cold water. CELERY SALAD. Carefully wash and trim the tender stalks of celery, cut them in half inch | lengths, dry them with a clean towel,'and pour over them the following dressing: FRENCH SALAD-DRESSING. Mix together two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, six of salad oil, half a teaspoon ful of salt and half a salt spoonful of pepper. HALF-PAY PCDDISG. Mix together the following ingred ients, adding the baking-powder and milk last, and putting the pudding at once into the butter mold, with a close fitting cover; set the model into a sauce pan containing enough boiling water to reach two-thirds up its sides, and let the puddiDg steam in the boiling water for four or five hours, the longer the better. When it is required for use, turn it out of the mold, and serve it with cream sauce. Ingredients for pudding: Half a pound each of chopped suet, raisius, currants mashed and dried, Hour, and stale bread crumbled fine; six table spoonfuls of molasses, one teaepoouful each of salt and spice, two teaspoon fills of baking powder, aud a pint of milk. CREAM SAUCE. Mix together over the fire, in a tin lined or porcelain saucepan, one table spoonful of butter, two of flour, four of sugar, oue aud a half pints of boiling water, aud n half a pint of milk; stir the sauce until it boils five minutes and is quite smooth, aud use it hot. BLACK COFFEE. Quarter of a pound of good coffee, and quirter of au ounce of ground I chicory, infused in boiling water but not boiled, will muke meiinm strong after-dinner coffee. Boiling coffee makes it very black and bitter. Burns anil Soda. We must agaiu call the attention of our readers to the power of bicirbonate of soda—the common cooking soda—to relievo the pain of burns. This power jis ‘ruly wonderful, and the fact that I soda is always at baud makes it impor j taut for every mother fully to un-der | stand that she has in her cupboard a i sure aud inexpensive remedy for tho | sufferings of her burnt child. | A fiic-nd of ours, one morning not ; long since, burned aod blistered his i wrist. The length of the blister was at ! least two inches, aud the width half an | inch. Moistening the wound, aud ! spreading dry soda thickly over it aud i then dropping just enough water upou I the coda to make it a sort of paste, he i was instantly relieved, nor did he have an unpleasant sensation from the born I afterward. A writer in a St. Petersburg medical journal, speakiug of sixteen persons who were severely burned in efforts to save their property from a fire, all of whom were treated exclusively with soda, says “he considers himself justi fied in pronouncing this remedy the best and most efficient in burns of all kinds and degrees.” j In oue case the burns covered half the body of the sufferer. The whole : face was stripped of the epidemis (scarf j skin). The front of the neck, chest and ' abdomen, and upper part of the foot ; presented burns of the second degree, i Burns of tho third degreo were found on the right mammary gland, and on tbo right forearm, ail the mnscles of which were exposed, as if prepared by dissection. Soda was used and it relieved the pain, and a cure was effected in four weeks, excepting that the healiug of the breast and arm required another month. The scars were insignificant. In burns of the first degree—the slighter—powdered soda will do. In | burns of the second degree, cover with linen rags aud keep them moist with a i solution of soda. In burns of the third j degree, the rags will need frequent changing to wash off the pus which ac cumulates beneath. A Little Transaction. When Dumas the elder brought out his play of “ Monte Cristo ” he made : an engagement with the mauager of I the Theatre de la Porte Saint Martin, ! under which he was to receive 10,000 i francs extra if the first fifty perform ances produced an average of 3,000 francs. On the night of the fiftieth perform- Dumas arrived at the theatre to settle accounts. “Well,” said tho manager, “It is past nine o’clock now, and we are not likely to take in anything more. Here are the books. You see that the total receipts only foot up 149,980 fraucs, so that \here is no extra premium coming to you.” “You are right, I suppose,” replied the author with a sigh, “but it is deuced unfortunate, as I had invited some ■ friends to supper with me, making sure : I would have the money, and I haven’t | a sou about mo.” “My purse is at your disposal,” said the manager ; “how much do you j want ?” “A hundred francs will suffice. Thanks!” said Dumas, pouchiug the . five louis aud walking away. Half au hour later the treasurer brought the manager forty francs a Idi tional receipts. Dumas had slipped out, taken two boxes aud made 10,000 runes by the operation. “Alice” writes to a New York story paper: “ A young man comes to see me six nights a week ; should I cousider it as being engaged ?” If wo were her father aud mother wo should consider that she was “engaged” altogether too mneb, and tell the young man to curtail i ■ his visits at both ends. —Norristown I Herald, CHRISTMAS OFFERINGS l We come not with a costly ttors, O Lord ! like thorn of old, Th>- masters of the starry loie, From Ophir’s shore of goli ; No weepings ot the incense-tree Are with the gifts we brinj ; No odorous myrrh of Arab/ Blends with our offering. But faith and love may bring their beet, A spirit keenly tried By fierce afflictions’ fiery test, And seven times purified; The fragrant gracoi of the mind, Tne virtures that delight To give their perfume oat, will find Acceptance in Thy sight. Ajrox. WIT AND WISDOM. It is quito safe to reason that the backbone of summer is broken. TnE amateur cornet player ought to receive blow for blow. — Boston Courier. An adept at bicycling ought to make a good wheel-right.— New York News. The New Oceans Picayune thinks that food for thought should be well cooked. The deepest insult that can be given in Dead wood is to say: “Yon ain’t worth lynching.” A pillar of the church, to be of any service, should, like any other pillar, have capital.— Boston Transcript. No doubt men could reach the North Pole by means of a balloon. All the doubt is in their being able to get back. Although the hand organs have re tired from business, there are still lota of cranks taming up. —Philadelphia Chronicle. “Why don’t yon dress as well as your clerks ?” was asked the other day of a Wall street man. “I can’t,” was the an swer; “they can get trusted.” Elephants are now quoted at 87,100 each, but most people would rather have a 8150 turkey, even if it won’t last quite as long.— Boston Globe. The worst kind of rheumatism is the spare roomatism. Many an unhappy guest lias crowded in between its icy sheets and died of it. Burlington Hnwkcye. A paper entitled the Plumbers' Jour nal has been started in New York, but it does not fairly represent the guild, for it comes to yon as soon as you send for it.— Philadelphia News. A Wisconsin man stole thirty-mno sheep and a steer, but the warrant charged him with stealing thirty-nino steers and a sheep, and he left the court room with all his reputation restored. No odds how poor tho farmer's roots, No odds bosr damaged are hii fruits— Though rust has spoiled his cherished whoat And though he cin't make both ends meet, His tnrnip crop cannot be beet' A clothier has excited public curiosity by having a large apple painted on his sign. When asked for an ex planation, he replied, “If it hadn't been for an apDle, where would the ready-made clothing stores be to-day ?’ The Atlanta Constitution sees the time npproaobiDg when the demagogue will step to the froDt. If lie demagogue has been anywhere else than at the front for the last fifteen years we’d like to know whore the rear of this thing is.— Detroit Free Press. Algy: “They want £6,000 for the lease, Maria. It runs for eighty-nine years.” Maria: “Oh, don’t buy it, Algy. Only eighty-nine years ! Fancy dear baby being turned out of his house at niuety-one. and possibly infirm into the bargain !”— Punch. Upon a Sunday evening, when the soul is lifted on the wings of faith, and a holy calm broods over all nature, what tender regret comes with the thought that the tubs must be got up from the j cellar, ro that, washing may begin at five o’clock Monday morning.— Hart • ford Times. A banking office was opened at Grafton, Dakota, and a big safe pur chased to put in it. The supposed weight was three tons, but it proved to ; be seven, and the cost of drawing it to Grafton, with horses, oxen, men and j broken wagons was so great that there | was no money left to keep in it, and the banker was bankrupt. Another glorious summer with ita wealth of pleasant memories is stored i away among the archives of our history. ; Another gloomy winter is upon ns. ; These wonderful colors that flame ; across the softened sky of Indian summer like the gory banner of a royal 1 conqueror, come but to warn us that in a few short weeks the water pipe will 1 be burst in the kitchen, and the decorated wash-bowl will be broken. i A man should alwavs keep in his own sphere. Professor King may tell aa i many narratives as he pleases about his : adventures in tho upper air, and no one i can deny or disprove ttiem. But when | he gets down on to solid ground we have > him. The thrill is all taken out of his ; stories about the wolves howling around him in that Wisconsin swamp, by the | affidavits of resident farmers who pas | ture tbeir sheep in the swamp, and know 5 there hasn't been a wolf in that county 5 for twenty-three years. 1 Monsieur X. —" I discovare one , curious gustorn in your countree, madame !”—“ Wliat is that, monsieur ?” 1 X. —“ It ees zis: Ven a young ladee she get—vat yon call it—married, she bag ■ her game/ 1 tink I hear yon say?” M.— } “We sometimes so remark, monsieur.” X.—“ And ven a youug ladee she tell a r young man she no haf heem, you say ■ she geef heem de sack?” M.—“ Quite 1 true, monsieur.” X.—“ Now, madame, • when I read in zo die—in ze dieshun— ze vnt you call eefc ?—I find ze sack and ze bag are ze same ting. So, madame, r I find me dat it is ze gustorn iu zis ) countree ven a young ladee she will t marry she put ze youug man in ze bag; r and ven ze young ladee she will not r marry she make of ze bag a present to i ze young man. Zis is one curious 1 j gustorn I find in yonr oonntree, madame, i j aud it mooch interests me."— Oil City i Derrick. 1880.