Newspaper Page Text
DUST AND ASHES-
She practiced on him all hoi' wiles Till in love's silken net eho caught him, And showered on hini her sweetest smiles When to her feetshe captive brought hi in. But when lie pleaded with the maid To lie regarded as her lover, She niched a little, blushed and said, "Please wait until the summer's over." And then began love's golden dream To every picnic, every dance he Took her, bought her lemon-crcam And other things that maidens fancy. At beach hotels with her he hopped, For (die' was quite an ardent dancer— At length the youth the question popped And waited for the maiden's auswer. It drew the sweetness from his life, It burned andjscorched him liken blister 1Twii8 this: "I cannot be your wife, But I will be to you a sister." Boston Courier. DESERTEO LOVERS. "Our ship! our ship! See, Henry, she is sailing away without us. What can it mean?" The .speaker, Lucy Morril, was a beautiful girl—a dark-eyeil brunette the person whom she addressed was lier lover—Captain Henry Cavendish —a young man of twenty-six. They liad left the vessel in the dingy, only an hour before, to visit one of those isles of the Pacific ocean, near which the ship was then lying "oft"and on." The name of the craft was the Swal low, and she was the joint property of Cavendish andofLucy'sbrother. She •contained a valuable cargo, which the txvo owners expected to dispose of at Sydney, Australia, at aproiit of many thousands. His share would, thecaptain had an ticipated, afford him the means to com merce married life with, and he had already won a promise from the sweet girl, who had accompanied her brother on the voyage, to become his wife as soon as the cargo was sold. Now, at Lucy's exclamation, her lover, who was in a small valley, gath ering (lowers for her, ran to the sum mit of the hill on which shestood. "Aye. what can it mean?" he cried, in surprise and dismay. The ship had madeall said, and, be fore a fair wind, was receding from his gaze at a rapid rate. He gesticulated—waved hat and kerchief in vain. On went the vessel, and at last- her hull was invisible, and -only her upper sails could be seen. Gradually these dipped lower and lower, until every vestige of the craft was lost to view in the distance. The two looked at each other with blanched faces. Here they were, left by themselves on this far away isle of the Pacific, which they knew was out of the track of passing vessels. '•Something is wrong," said the cap tain sadly. "I fear I have lost every thing. twas in a fair way to be hap py and prosperous. Xow I am poorer than a beggar." Tears rose in Lucy's eyes. I advised you not to go into partner ship with my brother," she said, "but I did not believe he was dishonest. I thought he was only wild and reckless. Now I do not know what to think." "It has spoiled our happiness," said Cavendish. "Probably we will never see the craft again, and as I am thus penniless. I cannot think ot' obliging you to fulfil your promise of being my wife." For several moments Lucy's dark eyes were veiled by their long lashes then she. threw herself weeping on hel lover's breast. "Can you believe me to be mercen ary?" she said. "Oh no. Henry I am yours the same as ever." "But," replied Cavendish, "we have no money to live on now, if I should make vou mine." "We hardly need money here," said Lucy, smiling. "That is true but we will want food." "We would want that whether we were married or not,"' said Lucy softly. "And so you are willing to be my bride—to marry me now?" "I—I did not say so." she answered shyly. "P is for you to say." "Who is here to marry us?"' "True enough but—but—I don't know—I have heard that missionaries are sometimes on these far away is lands."' "We,will go and look for one," said Cavendish, offering his arm. They had not proceeded far when they met a native—a dusky, wildly-ciad man, with long, black hair. He show ed surprise on seeing them, and asked thein many questions in broken Eng lish. From him the lovers learned that there was a missionary on the island. Heguided them to that person's house, .a small building, with a thatched roof. The missionary, an aged man. re ceived them kindly and heard their .story. "It is seldom that vessels pass this way," he said. "lam afraid you will liave to stay here for months. You ydll have to Hire principally on fruit and fish." "Can we get plenty of that?" inquir ed Cavendish. If you have a boat, you can go out and catch all the fish you want. As to fruit, it grows wild on some parts of the isle, but to make sure of getting enough, you had better cultivate a plantation of your own." The young man had no difficulty in inducing the missionary to perform the marriage ceremony. Assisted by the good 'man. thecap tain then set out about erecting a hab itation. It was finished in a few days, and the missionary loaned the young couple a few utensils to "commence housekeeping" with. For a pocket knife and a silver tobacco-box, one of the female natives sold to the raptain half-avlozen dresses, which she had ob tained. in exchange for fruit, from the master of an English vessel that had once anchored off the island. These •dresses, Lucy, who was skillful with the needle, soon altered to fit her per son. j\nf now, while Cavendish never •ceased to legret the loss of his vessel and cargo, he nnd his pretty wife could not help enjoying their island life. Thecaptain eventually had a thriving plantation, 011 which he cultivated not only fruit, but also vegetables. In his boat—the Dingy—he would row miles away fromthi island to ob tain fish, and often Lucy :vould ac company him. Happy in eachother's society, the two at last became attached to their snug little island home, which stood, with its thatched roof, perched on arising bit of ground above the beach, where the sea waves came rolling in white and high. One morning, after they had lived there almost a year, Caven dish left his wife to go 011 one of his usual fishing excursions. It was a calm, still day, and the young man, rowing far from the isle, was soon lost to the gaze oi Lucy—who was watching him—in the misty dis tance. An hour later a terrific gale sudden ly came sweeping over the ocean. The wind and the sea together roared with a din that was almost deafening, and it seemed to Lucy that thegreat waves, scattering sheets of spray that liljed the air like whito clouds, were as high as mountains. Terrified and anxious on her hus band's account, she watched in vain for his return. "He is lost! He is lost!" she cried, wringing her hands. "His boat.could not live in a sea like that. Oh,Henry! Henry!" The old missionary made his ap pearance. He strove to console her, but he could give 110 hope, for he, too, could not help thinking the captain was lost. The spray and the rack ofthestorm covered the raging water for miles, so that 110 object could at present be seen through the cloud-like curtain. Straining their eyes to the utmost, the two anxious watchers vainly en deavored to pierce with their gaze rush ing masses of vapor. All at once Lucy fancied she saw something like a black speck tossed and buried along towards the island. "See! What is it?" she gasped. "An overturned boat," said the missionary, when the object had drifted nearer. "It is his boat!" Lucy cried in agony. Such was indeed the case. Broken and battered, the dingy in which Cavendish had left the island, was at length hurled high upon the beach. It seemed as if Lucy would lose her reason. With wild eyes she gazed upon the bout. Not a sound escaped her. She stood liken statue, staringat the broken dingy, as if she could not tear herself away from the spot. "Come, child," said the missionary "come. It is hard, but you must, try to control yourself." "I will stay here. I will watch for his body," she groaned. "It must soon come." But she waited in vain. The waves refused to give her the remains of her husband. She totten to the little house, and, t'nrowing herself down on a rustic lounge there, she gave way to her grief. •'To think that I will never, never see him again!" she cried "Oh I wish that I, too, was dead!" There was a bright, hectic color 011 each cheek, and a restless gleam in her eyes. The words of consolation offered by the missionary fell unheeded on her ears. A delirious fever was fast tak ing possession of her brain. The old missionary went outside of the house, and walked to and fro, his mournful gaze turned seaward. The violence of the gale had now abated and the atmosphere had cleared. Far away the watcher beheld a large ship, apparently heading for the island. "Here conies a vessel!" he called, hoping thus to turn the young wife's mind a Iittlefrom the grief. She was 011 her feet and out of the house in a moment. With eager in terest did she gaze on the approaching craft. "I know that ship," she cried, in a voice of agony. "It is my husband's and niv brother's—the swallow. But it has come too late!—too late! My Henry has gone, and I will never leave the island. I will die here, and when I die I must be buried in the sea, where he lies, and there weshall meet, again." Wildly shone her eyes as she spoke, and the missionary feared that her mind had already begun to wander. Meanwhile on came the ship, until she was within a mile of the beach, when a boat was lowered and pulled shoreward. As it drew nearer, there was a sim ultaneous cry of joy from Lucy and the missionary, for they recognized Captain Cavendish, standing in the bow, waving his hat to them. "He has been picked up and saved!" cried Lucy's companion. "Aye, aye, safe and well!" shouted the cax)tain. hearing the words. Soon after the boat's keel grated on the beach, and Lucy threw herself into her husband's arms. "Have you 110 greeting for me?" said a voice near them. Lucy looked up to see her brother, whom sue had not recognized on ac count of his thick beard. As the captain released her, he em braced and kissed her. "This is, indeed a happy day for me," he said. "Out in the storm, just as it commenced, I fell in with your husband, struggling in his little boat, and I was fortunate enoush to pick him up. The boat however, drifted away from us before we could secure it. Xow I find my sis ter, well and happy, still, I hope, hav ing faith in her wild scamp of a broth er." "Why did you desert us?" inquired Lucy. "Why leave us on this island?" "It was not I who deserted you, but the men. They rose in mutiny, which they had probably been for some time planning, knocked me and the two mates down, tied our hands and feet, thrust us into the hold like pigs, and then, clapping on sail, headed away from the island. "Their object as lafterward learned, was to take the vessel to some South American port, there sell the cargo, pocket the funds, and then make off inland, leaving the craft in our posses sion. They were not good navigators, and, therefore they were many months beating about the Pacific Ocean. "At last they were within some hun dreds of miles of the South American coast, but by this time half the num ber concluded that their plan was not a feasible one. They would, on reach ing port, he boarded by the authori ties, questions would be asked, and detection, it seemed, would be inevita ble. They were unanimous for freeing us and returningto their duty, provid ed we would promise not to punish them severely for what they had al ready done. "Two others did not like this propo sition the two parties quarreled, and the end of it was that they all finally resolved to desert the vessel in a body, and make for an island they saw in tliedistance. They did so, first setting us at liberty. They took the launch —the best boat we had—and many useful things from the ship. With the cook and steward, there now were only live of us to work the ship. A few days later, however, we shipped some Portuguese sailors from the Felix Islands, off which we then lay becalmed. "As these men wanted to go to Syd ney, and would not ship until I had promised them I would make a 'straight wake' for that place, I was obliged to head in that direction, in stead of retracing my course to the distant shore—a thousand miles away —011 which you and Cavendish had been left. "A fair wind favored me, and I final ly arrived at Sydney, when I disposed of our cargo to a much better advan tage than I had even expected. Then I shipped another crew, and headed for this isle, oft' which, it seems, I ar rived just in time to save your hus band's life. I have to add that his share of our profits is with mine, safe under lock and key, aboard ship." A few days later, Captain Cavendish, now the fortunate possessor of many thousands, sailed away with his wife from the island. I11 due time the hap py couple reached London, and 011 the outskirts of that city they erected a comfortable cottage—their future home. THE lJIA i: G1JASSREGIOX. The Citltlvuted People of TIiIh Section anil Their Iluppy 1'ustoriil Life. Letter in the .New York Kvening I'ost. That one may hear the English lan guage spoken here in purity that the best magazines are read that Ameri can authors are discussed and intelli gently liked or disliked that young ladies know good music and are as well dressed as those of Xew York in short, that there is hereaclass ofpeoplewho, in all that goes to make up culture— wealth, travel, manners, morals, speech, etc.—are the equals of the best Americans to be found anywhere, are truths unsuspected by many, and doubtless incredible to many others with whom invincible ignorance or in grained prejudice are obstacles to faith. The pastoral life goes on prosperously and happily year after year in the bluegrass region. It is necessarv that discrimination be made at the outset as to locality. Between the dwellers in this rich rolling plain and the in habitants of the river and mountain counties is all the difference, as re spects cultivation and peacefulness, that one might reasonably expect to find between different races. Undoubt edly by the stranger who should visit this country for the first time, the class of people first to lie met and studied are the more "prosperous and intelligent farmers. He need not go among them armed to the teet h. In the vicinity of the towns he will find that some of them are men of busi ness in town—bank officers, profes sors, lawyers, etc. And so they are men of ideas. They have private li braries. they drive the most beautiful of horses over the most beautiful of level white limestone roads. The grounds and the woodlands around their homes are sometimes worthy of an English park. Of course you will expect to see the herds of Jerseys and Durhanis grazing over their fertile meadows. One of them may show you the stables where famous trotters or racers are being groomed. Anoth er may take you to the aromatic shed where his men are pressing the tobacco which has of late begun to be so largely cultivated in this part of the State. Another may open for you the bonded warehouse, where "old Bourbon" is stored away, barrel above barrel, tier after tier, and,of course, if you have a mind to, you can find out what "old Bourbon"is when you return to the shaded veranda. You walk to some knoll, and from its summit cast your eye over the succession ofniead ow. field nnd forest. The negroes are fol lowing the ploughs down thelong rows of the young Indiancorn. Theshuttle of the reaper is heard in the wheat field 011 the distant hillside, and the faint scream of a locomotive as it rushes along the banks of the winding river. A cool wind, sweet with the odor of wild rose and elder bloom, with the sa lubrious smell of freshly cut clover, or newly ploughed earth, blows from this quarter and from that. Above you is the deep, serene blue, with whiteclouds drifting over. Under you is the deep green of the velvet turf. Around you is an atmosphere the most luminous and crystalline. To you come the coo of building doves, the notes of the speckle breasted lark, the shriek of the i.iritated blue jay, the drowsy tattoo of the woodpecker, driving his bill against the top of a dy'iig walnut. You think of the heat and dust and din and weariness of the great city, and thank your stars that you are in the blue grass region of Kentucky. Chinamen's Wives. From the Philadelphia Times. It has come to be a saying that when a Chinaman arrives in this city with the intention of going into business all he requires is a room, a wash-tub, a stove, two flat-irons and a wife. The wife is considered as much of a necessity as any other articles of the house, and she is generally with more of an eye to business than to love. A Chinaman is particular to get a healthy wife and a woman with a fair knowledge of washing and ironing is preferable, but it is not imperative that she should know all about that business. She can soon be taught it. Health and strength are tlie first requisites. After these the rest will follow. Five years ago prejudice was so strong against Chinamen that they could not get wom en to marry them, but prejudice against them hnsgradually died away, till now a Chinaman can get a wife, as one said recently. "Allee same as a Melican man." In a few instances they have secured young and pretty wives, but more often they have chosen com panions less beautiful than Helen of Troy. With but one exception the Liver pool steamships which were engaged as transports by the British govern ment when the Russian war cloud was most threatening, have been returned to their owners. The vessels chartered as armed cruisers are still in thehands of the government, and will remain until the termination of thesix months for which they were engaged. These vessels, well known on this side of the water, are the Oregon, the Umbria.the America, the Alaska and the Arizona. THE FARM AND FIRESIDE. Household Note*. Milk, in hot weather, should be boil ul before it is put away. A good pinch of salt and a hit of cooking toda, about the size of a pea, will not jnly prevent it from curdling while tioiling, but will give considerable "life" to it. Salt is one of the remedies most fro [Uently employed for keeping weeds nit of garden walks, and the following is said to be the best way of applying it: Boil the salt in water, one pound to the gallon, and pour the mixture boiling hot out of a watering-pot with spreading rose. This will keep weeds tnd worms away for two or three years. Dr. Alice B. Stockton, inthePeople's Health Journal, says that unless a '.voman has tried loose clothing she annot conceive how much she gains or health and strength by a dress that ives perfect freedom to breathe. "Six teen thicknesses of cloth," she says, "is 110 unusual number to be found tightly fastened about a lady's waist." Concerning this matter she once heard a Chinese woman exclaim: "Christian woman squeeze God's life." The etiquette of hand-shaking is sim ple. No man should assume to take a lady'g hand until it is offered. A lady extends her hand and allows the gentleman to take it. On introduction :n a room a married lady generally shakes hands young ladies not often. In the ball-room, where the introduc tion is for dancing, not for friendship, never shake hands. The more public the place of introduction the less hand shaking takes place. In the North Carolina Medical Jour nal, Dr. J. R. Irwin says that one of the best and most pleasant things that can be used to relieve the painful ntate of the dental nerves is chewing cinnamon-bark. It destroys the sen sibility of the nerves, and suspends the pain immediately, if the bark is of good quality. After repeated trials, and in different, cases, lie is convinced that it is generally as efficacious as any of the other remedies suggested for odontalgia, and not at tended with the unpleasant consequences of creosote, carbolic acid, etc., which relieve the pain, but leave the mouth as sore and painful as the tooth was previously though these results are usually due to carelessness in using. Watch tlie IS:irnyi»r«l. During a recent excursion through a rural district which we refrain from lo cating, except to say it was not in the far-famed Genesee Valley, or any oth er part of Western New York, we saw some surprising evidences of neglect about cleaning out barnyards and utilizing the elements of fertility they contained. In one instance the ma nure pile was so large that it reminded us of the old story anent the farmer who was obliged to move his barn be cause access to it was so blockaded by rich fertilizing materials! And we thought it might not be amiss to ask tlie readers of The Rural Home (or at least such of them as borrow the paper!) if they had any trouble with like incumbrances in their barnyards—such valuable material as ought to haw been long ago spread in field, orchard and garden, instead of beingallowi'd-t run to waste by evapo ration or otherwise, thus pulluting the air with disagreeable odors and per haps engenderingdisease. If any have inadvertently overlooked a matter so important, or trom any cause being prevented from doing their duty in the premises, we would suggest that it may not lie too late yet, as some crops would be decidedly benefited by an ap plication of barnyard or other fer tilizers. But the barnyard should be looked to at this season, even if it wa.s cleaned out in the spring or none of its con tents are needed afield. An excerpt in our serapbook truly avers that the barnyard should be watched at this time of the year to see that the juices do not run to waste. If the flow can be turned into a field to soak away over its surface, tlie manure contained in it will settle into the ground and be saved. On the land where this deposit is made 110 other manure will be necessary, as the best materials, the chemical salts, are washed out and flow away with the water. Where there is a eonsiderabledistance for the stream to run these will he deposited unless the flow is too rapid. Where the juice cannot be made to flow over afield it should be dammed up in a barn-vard, and the coarse manure thrown into the pool. This is presup posing that no arrangements were made the year before to manage it to better advantage. To utilize this val uable material there should be hauled into the barnyard in the autumn a lot of muck or earth which should be so placed that it may be able to ab sorb the juice. Where there is a base ment it can be placed therein, and wheeled out any time when it is re quired. Without such convenience it may be piled up across the natural outlet from the barnyard, and so as Hwer the purpose of a dam and ab sorbent.—Rural Home. WitneflMes forth© IfJlnon. Mr. W. A. Brown writes to the Fruit Growers' Journal that of the over 4, 000 acres of strawberries in Berrien county, Mich., "nearly all are Wilson," which has been the favorite for twenty five years: "Could you visit some of our best fields at this time you might look in vain for sign of deterioration in this grand old variety. Many growers in the gulf states send here for plants, and they always order Wilsons. Why the Wil son fails at Cobden (Southern Illinois) is a mystery to northern and southern growers. Perhaps pure Wil sons planted 011 isolated new lands in your vicinity would againgive old time results." Mr. E. T. Ilollister in a letter to the same paper about the culture of this fruit in St. Louis county. Mo., says very few strawberries except Wilson are grown there, and "it always yields a bountiful crop of fine berries which find ready sale at good prices." H'eeil Out the Dairies. When we say weed out the dairies we mean to say that in nearly every dairy there are some cows that are' unprofitable, that do not give enough milk, or make enough butter or cheese (whatever the object of the dairy) to pay cost of keeping and care, or, if they barely pay cost, they displace others that would pay a good profit. A grain growing farmer who should see so many thin or barren wpots in his fields 01 grain as to reduce the average yield below cost of production would not be satisfied, even though some of the acres yielded large enough to pay a good profit. He would try, by heavy manuring, more thorough tillage, or by draining, to bring up the yield of the poorer spots to a profitable standard. A dairyman may easily sink the profits of his herd by keeping a few poor cows. Part of the herd nay give enough milk, or make enough butter or cheese to afford a fair profit over cost,—feed, care, interest and wear, and yet the business be a losing one, because the other portion of the herd do not pay their way. Dairymen should not be content with a knowl edge of what the herd is doing, even though it may be returning a profit, but should know just what every cow is doing. Every cow's nnlk should be set and tested separately at least twice in the season, when in full milk and when she has been in milk six or eight months. If are and found doing less than the average, they should be prepared for the sham bles, and the feed, labor and care bestowed upon them given to those that would yield above the average. By such means the average would be continually increasing. Some dairymen have named 200lbs. a year as the minimum yield of butter that should be tolerated in a dairy cow, but that is pretty low, and 110 dairymen can afford to retain a cow making so small a quant ity, if reason able effort will create a herd, every one of which shall do considerably better. It is because so many farmers are satisfied with doing only tolerably well, do not determine to do the best possible, that so much complaint is made of the unprofitableness of farm ing.—American Rural Home. Smaller Farms Bettor Tilled* Mr. George Kerr, in arccent letter to the Toronto Globe about cultural and commercial aspects of farming, makes asuggestivepointfavorable to smaller surfaces better fertilized and tilled: "The farm connected with the House of Industry, at south Boston contains only thirty acres, but it is so thoroughly cultivated that it has yielded an annual product of $170 per acre. Why should one acre yield $176 of value when another, equally fertile by nature, will yield only $1.0. Why is a garden richer than a. field? We ma nure our gardens well and our fields lightly wedigour gardens twenty inch es deep, plough our fields five inches we cultivate a small patch thoroughly and scratch over a small space super ficially." Further evidence favoring better hus bandry instead of "poverty in land" is afforded in the next excerpt: "I read of an old man (not long ago) who had a large farm and two daugh ters. When the one got married he gave her as a dowry one-third of his farm, yet he discovered that the re maining two-thirds netted him as much as the whole when the other married he gave her a third and found his profits in the succeeding year larger than they had ever been. A practical farmer says, I am confident that fifty acres, if cultivated in the very best style of modern improvement., will yield more profit than many of your 100 acre farms now yield." The philosophy of the matter—"the disadvantage of skini-cnl*ure"—obvi ous upon a little reflection, is illustrat ed bv the case of thecorn crop: "There are many farmers whose yearly pro duct per acre does not exceed an aver age! of twenty-live bushels. There are otherfnrmers who obtain generally not less than sixty bushels per acre, and often eighty to ninety-five—some 150 bushels. Now observe thediffercncein the profits of each—the first 250 bush els off ten acres. I11 doing this he had to plough, harrow, mark out, find seed, plant, cultivate, hoe, and cut up ten acres, besides paying interest 011 ten acres, worth from $500 to $1,500. The other farmer gets 250 bushels fro 111 four acres at the furthest and he only ploughs, plants, cultivates and hoes, to obtain thesame amount, four acres, which, from their fine tilth, and free dom from grass and weeds, is much easier done, even for an equal surface." Infant's Food. In an inportant article on "The Quanity of Food Required in Infancy," in Babyhood for July, Prof. J. Lewis Smith writes: The importance of these tests and observations is appar ent, inasmuch they enable as to de termine approximately how much food should be given at each feeding to in fants"that are unfortunately deprived of the breast-milk. The food then used should, of course, bear the clos est possible resemblance to human milk in consistence and nutritive prop erties. Although many substitutes for human milk have been prepared, and sold in the shops with extrava gant recommendations, it is the opin ion of the most intelligent and ex. perienced physicians that animal milk, and for convenience that of the cow, should be made the basis of the prep aration employed. In my opinion the following is very nearly the proper scale for the dilution of cow's milk, which should, of course, always be .as fresh as possible and of good quality. Under the age of two weeks, one part milk, two parts water at three weeks, two parts milk and three parts water at four to six weeks half-milk and half water at three months, three parts milk, two parts water after four months, three parts milk nnd one part water. This scale of dilution does not give as large a proportion of water as is recommended by some authorities in infant dietetics, but it is sanctioned by the above obsei vat ions. The quantity of milk, prepared as di rected above, which infants require at different ages may be formulated, as follows from the statistics which we have given.. Under the age of three weeks one to one-and-a-half ounces, with the water added after it is meas ured, should be given at each of the twelve daily feedings. The quantity should be gradually increased as the infant grows older until the age of three months, when three ounces should be given at each of the eight feedings. Some infants do not seem to require an increase of this amount, but others who are hearty need more. Thus one infant aged four months took, in the average, four ounces of breast milk at each of the nine nursings in twenty-four hours. The baby after the age of six months should be fed every three hours, and four ounces ot milk may begiven a teach feeding, 111 or der to assure a sufficient quantity. Some require less than this, and oc casionally one needs a little more, say four-and-a-half ounces. Putting np Cucumber* In Picklea. Pack the cucumbers in a jar or tub, then pour a weak brine upon them, and let it remain three days. Pour off the brine, and pour 011 enough hot boiling vinegar to cover the pickles, and let them stand 24 hours. Reboil the vinegar, and pour on as before. Do this three times, letting the pickles stand 24 hours each time. Then throw the pickle away, and add enough fresh vinegar to cover the cucumbers. Add a lump of alum the size of'a marble to a gallon of pickle half pound of sugar and spices to taste. Bring to a boil, skim, and then turn upon the pickles while hot. Let them stand well cov ered for ten days, and they are ready for use. This is one kind of marketable pickles. Another kind, and one that is largely used, is: Soak the cucum bers in a barrel or tub, in salt. When needed take the cucumbers out and throw boiling water on them. When sufficiently freshened (which you will know by the water be coming fresh) put the cucumbers in a porcelain kettle, and cover with cold vinegar. Put, in a little pod or part of a red pepper to each gallon of pickles also apiece of alum about the size of a pea to each gallon. Then let tlieni come to a scald—not boil. When scalding hot take them out and put in a vessel to be used, pouring the same vinegar over them. If to be kept for a long time the vinegar will need chang ing. This gives pickles a natural color, which are now most generally in use. To those who prefer green pickles the following gives the desired color: Dis solve iivegrainsofsaffron in one-fourth ounce of distilled water, and in anoth er vessel dissolve four grains of indigo carmine in half an ounce of distilled water. Shake up and allow to stand 24 hours. Then mix the two and a line solution, not poisonous, is formed. Grant's Missouri Homes. St. Louis Republican.—The history of the different houses connected with Grant's stay in St. Louis is soon told. Some twelve miles south of the city is the old Dent farm, on which White liaven and Hardscrabblc stand. Whitehaven is the old family home of the Dents. The house is over a half century old, and it is yet, despite its age, a handsome structure. It is here that Brevet Second Lieutenant Grant came courting Miss Julia Dent, the sister of his old classmate, riding over from the barracks, only four miles away. It was in Whitehaven that most of Grant's children were born, and the tenderest associations of his life are associated with it. Hardscrabble got its peculiar name from Grant himself. He christened it after he had built it. Not many of our cities can show in their envirous a log house built by the president of the United States. Old Mr. Dent, after Grant had left the army, presented his son-in-law with sixtyaeresofland,and the future General at once went to work to build a home upon it for his family. He was very poor—so poor that Fred Dent had to lend him the money to buy the flooring, window sash and doorways of his house. Ac cording to the good old custom, when the logs were shaped and ready, the neighbors gathered in to help "raise" the house. It is local tradition that General Grant,with his own hands,did all the work upon the southeast cor ner of the house, the one to the left as one looks at the picture. Judge John F. Long also carried up one of the cor ners. The house is a comfortable one —well built and commodious. It lias old-fashioned fireplaces where many a giant log has burned to ashes in the good old times before the war. It is a two-story house, and the arrange ment of the rooms testifies to the fact that Grant was a good architect as well as a good soldier. The house 011 Fifth and Correstreet, 011 the southeast corner, was in its time a fine residence. It still bears traces of the style and fashion of its occupants, but it has fallen from its high estate, and it is now a boarding house which advertises the day board to be found within. The house 011 Seventh and Barton streets was for a time Grant's prop erty. When he moved into St. Louis to go into the real estate business, lie traded Hardscrabble for the Barton street property. There was a flaw in the title, however, and the property was taken away from him. It was not till after the war that he recovered possession ot' Hardscrabble. The house is a frame, full of surprising doorways and unexpected stairs. It is a little bit of a cottage, and in it Grant prob ably passed the most unhappy years of his life. Changes in College Life. New York Evening Post. "I've come down to buy some bil liard tables for the collegegymnasium. Can you tell me the best place for tlieni?" Such was the salution with which an Amherst Professor, a few months ago, startled a New York graduate, who, though not quite twen ty years an alumnus, remembered how ill the billiard player fared with the Faculty when he was a student. An old graduate of Bowdoin Co'lege, in Maine, returning to commencement fifty years after graduation, asked the meaning of a rambling noise which is sued from the gymnasium. "Bowling?" the old man musing re peated after friend had answered his question "they used to expel a boy for bowling in my day." Colby University in the same state is the most sectarian and straight-laced institution any where to be found -a place where the stage used to be regarded with a holy horror. The commencement at Colby occurred a few weeks ago, and among the attractions of the occasion,enjoy ing the official recognition of the au thorities, was the performance of "The Merchant of Venice" by a compa ny of professional actors. These incidents illustrate how revo lutionary has been the change in the attitude of college authorities toward the students within the memory of graduates nowliving. Doubt less there are plenty of old alumni who think it is all a sad mistake, and who shake their heads in dismay over a genera tion which bowls, plays billiards and attends theatrical performances under the patronage of its instructors. Yet there is 110 doubt that this relaxation of the ancient strictness in matters of amusement has accompanied an ad vance in characteer ana manliness no less noteworthy. AMERICAN GIRLS. An Eminent Dlvln* tajri They Are Not Mere Appendage* to Saratoga Trunks. Prof. Swing in Chicago Current. The girl of to-day, with rare excep tions, is industrious p.nd with a breadth of invention and execution. The ironi cal and often mean essays on the wom an of the present often picture her as good for little except for accom panying a Saratoga trunk 011 its wan derings in summer and for tilling fash ionable engagements in winter. Much of this sarcasm is deserved by the few, but when the millions of girls are thought Of as they are ornamenting their mothers' homes in the villager and cities, the honest heart cannot but confess that the word "girl" never meant more than it does to-day. Thi* being, when found in lier best estate, can go gracefully from her silk dress and piano to a plain garb and to work among plants, or to the kitchen, 01- to a mission school class. In the city she can easily walk three miles. Lan guor has ceased to be fashionable sleep in the day tune not to bo en dured. The soul is thought to be action, not repose. All can contradict these words of praise because all who think a mo ment can find exceptions in girls who are always just dead with a headache, or as averse jis a mummy to any kind of conversation or activity girls who who are pleased with nothing and no body. These exceptions are so disa greeable that they seem to mar .the whole world and make the beautiful characters invisible. In matters of this kind one can only offer opinions. One dare not assert with confidence. At a popular summer resort, where quite a number of these 10-year mor tals were met and observed daily, it appeared in evidence and in common fame that to be full of obedience to ward parents, of kindness toward all persons and things, to be industrious, to be full of inquiry and rational talk was not the exception, but the average of condition. Why should a few girls of marked vanity and of giggling tendencies cast into reproach that multitude wliose hearts are as innocent as the June flowers and June birds? Much of the ruin of character comes in the later years of woman, when the im prudence of late dancing, late suppers and the mental anxiety, and, perhaps, sorrows which come from the vain ef forts of the heart to create a paradise 0 pleasure away from duty, make the cheek fade early and the eye lose its luster in the morning, like sun that goes behind clouds, before noon. As for noble girls of 1.6, the Western con tinent is full of them. They are in the cities,in the villages, in the farm houses. We meet tlieni 011 all streets, along all paths in the lone and lovely country. They are ready for all duty and hap piness, and constitute to us older and fading hearts the most beautiful and divine scene on earth. First Confederate Battle Flags. From Mrs. Burton Harrison's "Rec ollections of a VirginiaGirl in the First Year of the War," the following is tak en: "Another incident of note, in per sonal experience during the autumn of '01, was that to two of my cousins and to me wa.s intrust ed the making of the first three battle Hags of thecon federacy, directly after congress had decided upon a design for tlieni. They were jaunty squares of scarlet crossed with dark blue, thecrossbearing stars to indicate the number of the seceding states. We set our best stitches upon them, edged them with golden fringes, and when they were finished, dispatch ed one to Johnston, another to Beau regard, and thethirdtoEarl VanDorn —the latter afterward a dashing cav alry leader, but then commanding in fantry at Manassas. The ban ners were received with all the enthusiasm we could have hoped for were toasted feted, cheered abundantly. After two years, when Van Dorn had been killed in Tennessee, mine came back to me, tattered and smokestained from long and honorable service in the field. But it was only a little while after it had been bestowed that there arrived one day at our lodgings in Cullpeper a huge, bashful Mississippi scout—one ofTthe most daring in the army—with the frame of a Hercules and the face of a child. He was bidden to come there by his general, he said to ask if I would not give him an order to fetch some cherished object from my dear old home—something that would prove to me 'how much they thought of the maker of that flag!' after soma hesitation, I acquiesced, although thinking jt, a jest A week later I was the astonished recipient of a lamented bit of finery left 'within the lines,' a wrap of white and azure brought by Dillon himself, with a beaming face. He had gone through the Union pickets mounted 011 a load of firewood, and, while peddling poultry, had presented himself at our town house, whence ha carried off his tn-ize in triumph, with a letter in its folds, telling us how rel atives left behind longed to be sharing the joys and sorrows of those at large in the confederacy." Development of the Trotter. When Flora Temple trotted a mile in 2:18 3-4, remarks the New York Herald, the achievement astonished the world. This was in 1859. Tin mare was looked upon as a wonder. Few then believed that a mile would ever be trotted in less than 2:15. It took eight years to lower the-record of 185$), and down to 1874 the best time made was 2:17. In that year the record was reduced below 2:15 hy Goldsmith Maid, who scored a mile in 2:14. It was then generally thought that the limit of a trotter's speed would prove to be 2:10. But Maud S. had not yet made her appearance, nor had Jay-Eye-See. The former brought the record down to within a quarter of a second of 2:10 in 188t, and three years later the latter reduced it to 2:10. The prophets of the turf made bold to predict, a mile in 2:00, and even 2:08. Maud S. has rapidly low* ?red the former figure, and now Presi dent Edwards of the Cleveland asso ciation, expresses his conviction that the wonderful mare can trot in 2:07 under favorable circumstances, and Mr. Bonner declares that it will not surprise him to see the prediction veri tied. Dallas, Texas, claims to be the most striking example of growth in th« southern states. In 872-3 it was only a clump of unpretentioup/warehousefc and shanties 011 the Trinity now it ia solidly built over an area extending back two miles from the river, and has a population of over 35,000.