The Lafayette gazette. [volume], September 23, 1893, Image 1

About The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921

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H LAFAYETTE GAZETTE.
VOLUME I. LAFAYETTE, LA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1893. NUMBER 29.
But,
nec
J Pere
the
 r bcoked~soiitary
'"ho
loth
S lookedsolitary spel
enough, set by pan
itself on the great level prairie. Some- Uni
how, its isolation struck the rider ap- frie
proaching it with a new sense, of the tll
loneliness of these wester- rldis. -he- P°
was a young man, with a anbrowned con
* face, light brown beard, and long wo
wavy hair of_ the same color, tangled gu
his broad-brimmed, gray felt hat. The hea
rest of his costume-a gray belted aug
jacket and breeches, with the revolver a
at his belt-gavehim a sort of guerrilla fate
aspect far from unbecoming. But his agA
features were unmistakably English, A
and the clear brown eyes looked hon- and
est and kindly notwithstanding their see
someWhat despondent expression. and life
some traces of a "hard life." woI
* , ed Carew, in short, was a type of ma
mnany, a young Englishman driven into the
the perilous Influences of a Wild, rough e
life, partly through his own fault, ges
partly through that of others. .Tust Pu
then he was undergoing one of those tal
occasional "spells" of homesickness. of I
generally associated with such days of th
enervating heat, when the great plain
seemed to pant, almost breathless, Pa
" under the sun's untempered glare. des
As he drew near the ranch for which ha4
he was bound, his eye was caught by a the
sight unseen for years-that of a grace- oh
ful figure in an English riding habit- l0o
a .sight associated with some of the ien
pleasantest and most painful memories e
of his life. The lady sat her horse
well, as he could see at a glance. Who s
could she be? On the former occasion m
when he had visited the ranch, on busi- an
ness with its inmates, these were two an
young men, living in a rough bachelor t
way. He had not heard of the mar- bu
riage of either, and he had not dreamed
of meeting a lady now. As he watched t
her ride up to the door his glance
strayed critically over his dusty attire. 1
He even thought of turning away to
seek the nearest village. Put curiosity P0
prevailed over this new-born shyness. co
As he fastened his horse near the id
house, his quick eye noticed that aP
handsome elderly lady, who sat at an be
open window knitting, turned to call ie
to some one one within. At the open door he
he was met by a tall girl, whom he m
recognized at once as a lady, despite the the
linen apron which completely enveloped a
her dress, and the partially rolled-up n
sleeves which betokened some house
hold occupation. She had a dignified
bearing, a finely-proportioned figure
in which he thought he recognized that
of the fair rider, nobly molded at
features, with the combination of dark se
hair and soft blue eyes which suggest- CO
ed an Irish type of beauty. WVith a it
clear complexion, slightly flushed with
exercise, Ned Carew thought she looked vi
like a princess in disguise. 1
Notwithstanding his present rough a
life and associations, Ned Carew had t
not lost the instinctive bearing of an
English gentleman; and this the young
lady seemed in her turn to recognize as 13
she explained that her brother, r. t
Percival, was out on the prairie, but
would soon return, while his former
comrade had left the ranch some time
before. As she spoke, she courteously
showed the way into a little sitting
room, which with its simple extempor
ized furniture, had so homelike and re
fined an air that Carew's Heimweh was
intensified; and he surveyed the little
feminine adornments, the water-color
sketches, the books, and (last but not
least) the elderly lady who gave him so
kind a greeting, with the relish of a
lan whose domestic instincts had gone
through a long course of starvation.
lliss Percival, leaving her mother to
talk to the stranger, quietly went on
with her preparations for the evening
meal, in the course of which she flitted
in and out, setting the tea-table in a
dainty way in which he had not seen a
table set for years. And though the
crockery was of the plainest, the fine
white table-cloth and the gracefully ar
ranged wild flowers would have set off
a less appetizing meal than that pre
pared by Miss Percival's deft fingers.
Very soon young Percival appeared,
with a herarty welcome-for, in these
solitudes, a new acquaintance speedily I
6ecomes a friend. Carew gladly ac
cepted his host's invitation to go to his
room, and explained his business while
getting rid of the dust of his ride.
When he returned he looked more like
his own self than he had done for
months; his forehead-the shaggy locks
brushed out of the way-leaving its
English fairness to contrast with the
embrowned shade below, and his whole
appearance more in keeping with his
mellow English voice and gentlemanly
bearing.
Miss Percival had laid aside her apron
and appeared in a plain but very be
coming dark blue dress of some thin
material set of with a dainty little col
lar that might have come fresh from
Regent street Seated at the hospitable
tea-table, Carew soon found his unusual
shyness disappeartng under the influ
ence of the ladieg gentle courtesy, till
it seemed as if some baleful spell had
been suddenly broken, and he could
think and talk more like his old self of
happier days.
When 'they rose from the table Caraew
strolled over to the book shelves wlere,
among a few favorite books, ere a
volume of Sophocles and one or. .
Percival's old college classics.
mechanically, he took one
riopagid with the sense of g
-.: old kaqmitintamce; and Percival
vi;£ ,. -w -. .v~u 4.: ; g -_, t 9 ".- .
and dons of the college days in whieh PI
they had been so nearly contemporaries.
Then the two young men concluded Dei"
their business whale the" ladies wereDe
busy about their household duties. of H
But, as Carew had of course been in- A
vited to stay all night, the whole party
were by and by assembled outside the quo
Iih
open door to enjoy the coolness oL the
evening as the dusk dropped softly over
the boundless prairie, and the eveniig rea
star gleamed brightly out in crystal S
purity as the sunset MgU' died away asd
above the unbroken horizon"
They sat long talking, chiefly of the
"home" scenes; and even after Mrs. talk
Percival had gonhe in to est, a-onae of tl
nied by her son, Camiew still lingered, -
loth to terminate his conversation with pros
Miss Percival, and unable to resist the visil
spell of this sypapatletle female com- tet
panionship, now so .Lrange in.his life. the
Under the indseucen of it, and in the the
friendly obscurity of the twilight, he ble
taliked as he would not have believed pen,
possible an hour or two before. liis -
Scompanion could read between his has
words something of his present self-dis- the
Sgust and self-despair. On the other revs
- hand, the whole tone of her conversa- one
Stion struck a long-silent chord in his this
e heart, reviving crushed aspirations, and ser
Ssuggesting an unseen strength in which cula
r a man may fight a good tight against and
Sfate, even when everything seems sem
s against him.
As he blay awake that night, the best ing
and holiest influences of his early life "Iii
r seemed to have sprung into renewed ble
d life under the impression made by one stoi
woman's face and gentle words, and in for
f many a lonely hour on the prairie kin
o thereafter he mentally associated nos
h Stella Percival-partly from the sug- bro
gestion of her name-with the bright, tac
Spure stars they bad watched as they -
e talked that evening, and got into away anc
of thinking of her as the "Lone Star of has
Sthe Prairie." his
n But when he next found a reason for der
Spassing that way, the little ranch was tre
' deserted, and the inmates, he was told, vet
h had sold out and gone to live in Can- use
a ada. So the "Lone Star" had set on tea
the prairie, and he must henceforth vol
look to that lode-star of life of which tio
Miss Percival had spoken with such
Searnest feeling. no'
S Some two or three years later, Carew sit
Swas sitting in the cozy library of an the
o English vicarage, talking to a fair young its
Smatron. His carefully trimmed hair wI
Sand beard and strictly conventional at- pnr
Stire somewhat altered his appearance, wi
r but his expression was still more thi
rd changed from the dreary despondency to
written on the face of the wanderer of as
the prairie. fic
S"Yes, it is odd," he said, "that I
Sshould ever have lived to succeed my of
poor Cousin Dick-with allehis home to
comforts! For you haven't the faintest Lc
idea of the life of a cowboy on the sti
a prairie! I was very near going under: lii
in but I had an experience that pulled he
Sme up short. It was only an pr
hour s talk with a young lady I a
h met accidentally. You know, I never i
e thought I could believe in a woman fr,
ed again; but this one made me believe, ki
not only in her but in myself too; and R
p that saved me!" hi
ed _"Your poor boy!" exclaimed his sis- hi
ire te. "But we must hurry now, or we
at shall be late at Mrs. Beaumont's, and
ed she won't forgive me. For you are a
rk sort of star here, now, you know.
st- Come; you needn't look so dismal over n,
Sa it! I dare say you may find some nice I
th people there. And she has two ladies -
ed visiting her who have lived in the west,
I believe; so you may find lots to talk h
about." Ile
S An "afternoon tea" is apt to be a
ad tame affair to a man fresh from the n
n prairies, and Carew was looking-and
as feeling-rather bored when he sudden- a
Ir.ly caught sight of a figure and face 1
ut that made him start with amazement. e,
her d
me o]
sly s r t
ng- 5
®r
va
hne w tise
thg
civo ,wh ner otw hitilh pk
n n a o
one
fnTHEY SAT TALKING OF MOMS..I
ar-No! his eyes did not deceive him! That
surely. was Miss Percival! And there,
only a little way ofE, was the hand
ese some old lady of the ranch! Excusing
iy himself rather abruptly to the lady
ac- with whom he was conversing, he made
his his way across the room to Miss Per
hile cival, who never sawr him till he spoke
-ide. -i a voice somewhat unsteady from
like emotion. There was a moment's look
for of perplexed surprise, and then a frankE
rks expression of unafected pleasure.h Thaen
its followed an eager interchange of ques
the tion and answer, during which their
hole hostess approached, and, addressing the
his young man as "Sir Edward Carew,"
saly asked him to mtake Miss Percival in to
have some tea." And "Sir Edward"
rron could hardly help laughing at the ex
be- Preaston of consternation that came
thin over Miss Percival's expressive face,
col- though he was hardly prepared for the
rom almost freezing dignity that suddenly
able stiffened her manner. He did not
isual know that she had heard the young
ufin- baronet, talked of on all sides as a
till "great catch" till the disgust thereby
had awakened made her now feel mortified
roulfi at the involuntary cordiality with which
if of she had met this "eligible parti," who,
after all, had been the merest acquaint
anew n e.
he But Sir Edward Carew would have
are a been less of a man than he was if he
of had not found ways and means of over
coming this slight impediment to "the
nourse of true love." And so it came
about, before very long, thatthe "Lone
Star of the Prairie" became the light
bnths Enst~ish home.~
PERSONAL AND LITERARY. N1
--The expression, "Vox populi vex -
Dei"-the voice of the people is the lemc
voice of God-was used in the writings py
of William Malmesbury, who was born half
A. D. 1075 and died about 1149. He cool,
quoted the expression as a proverb even let
in his time sufficiently well known. tigh
-Miss Helen M. Winslow, of Boston,
treasurer of the New England Woman's to a
Press association, who is well known fat.
as a writer of short stories,,ketches of a,
and poems, has entered the ranks of lttl
the novelists. Her book, which is much ty-fi
talked about, deals with certain phases ates
of the labor question. Bud
-Honore Mercier, ex-premier of the
province of Quebec, has been paying a choi
visit to Boston, where he has been en- the:
tertained by the Canadian societies of into
the city. He is to lecture throughout a m
the New England stattes on the proba- oho]
ble future of Canada. He thinks inde- wh
pendence or annexation inevitable. this
--Mr. J. WV. llolden, of Otisfield, Me., wit1
has gone down to Boston to convert
thgt town to his belief in the "non- of 1
revolution" of the earth. Be has hired salt
one of the public halls of the city for cloy
this purpose. "Prof." Holden is de- red
scribed as a farmer, proprietor of a cir- coo
culai saw-mill, selectman, town agent till
t and lecturer, and is said strongly to re- I
semble the late Daniel Pratt: eac
-Austin Dobson is described as look- kee
t ing utterly unlike one's idea of a poet.
S"lie is the type of the common, sensi- gill
I ble, middle-class Englishman. He is spo
e stout and of medium height, and has a ly I
Sflorid compexion, a pair of shrewd, foi
e kindly, bluish-gray eyes, an acquiline mil
I nose, a moderate quantity of dark colh
* brown hair, and a thick bushy mus- rin
tache." or
-M. .Tames Darmstetter, orientalist Fal
' and professor in the college of France,
f has been awarded the prize of eight del
hundred pounds in the gift of the Aca- int
r demie des Inscriptions et Belles Let- size
s tres, for the author of any work or in- Le
vention calculated to do credit or be an
- useful to the country within the last roc
a ten years. 3. Darmestetter gained the at
h votes of the aca em- by his transla- fill
h tion of the Avest. bri
h -Marly-le-Roi, where President Car- lig
not intends to spend a short time, is
v situated a few miles west of Paris on do
n the bank of the Seine. It is noted for
its pretty country house, in one of tel
ir which, the chateau "Mes Delices," the on
- president will reside. As a private cre
* wire connects the chateau with Paris ff
e the chief of the republic will be able ste
7 to transact all important business just th
as easily as though he were at his of- be
ficial residence in the French capital. Se
I -Mrs. Ann Longfellow Pierce, sister no
7 of Henry WV. Longfellow, has presented
to to the Maine Historical society the lie
Longfellow homestead on Congress th
te street, in Portland, in which the poet a
r: Ilived during his youth, but not the of
'd house in which he was born. The ax
I I property is valued at twenty-five thou- cr
sand dollars or more, and among Mrs. b
er Pierce's requirments are that the two f
in front rooms shall be forever kept and p
e, known as the "Longfellow Memorial al
id Rooms," and that a suitable library la
hall shall -be begun six months after
is- her death.
re
ad HUMOROUS. °l
a a
v. -A Glossary.--le - "A good joke el
er needs no glossary." She-"That's whyv
ce I insist on your furnishing a glossary." h
-es -Detroit Free Press. P
st, -Alicce-"Oh, dear it is so awfully P
lk hot. I know I look just like a boiled s
lobster, don't I?" Mabel-"Yes." Alice
--"You horrid, mean, old thing!"--in
he neapolis Journal.
-d '-Husband--" think I shall go out a
'n- and catch a few fish for our dinner to
ce morrow." WVife-"No, Edwin. we must
it. economize. Buy them of the regular
dealer."-Detroit Tribune.
.Scribble-"I say, Van, you'll be f,
there the night they produce my play?" e
Van Trump-"Can't promise, old man.
But if I'm not, my grandchildren will
be."-Kate Field's Washington. a
-Dreadful.-A man in Weehawken 1
has a pair of twins that have to have
everything told them when they are
together because they are so much I
alike that they can't be told apart.- 1
Judge.
-Hayseed-"Come out to the barn. 1
Miss Halsted Street, and see the new
Jersey calf." Miss H. S.-"Oh, isn't he 7
lovely. I suppose that's the kind that 1
gives condensed milk." - Arkansaw
Traveler.
-Mr. Oldbeau-"And have you been
having a good time to-day?" Miss
Autograph (of Omaha)-"Lovely. I
went around the buildings and signed
my name in twenty-three registers."
World's Fair Puck.
hat -The Changes of Time.-Maiden
xre, "When Frank first met me and I lived
nd- in a brown-stone house he was very
ing devoted. But now, how different!"
ady Friend-'It seems to have been a case
ade of love at first site."-Truth.
Per- -Farmer-"Well, my son, did you
oke mark the words of the minister to-day
LomI when he said "Leave no stone un
ook turned." Son-"Yes, pop, I don't think
ank he had any reference to the grind
hen stone."-Philadelphia Record.
nes--True Economy.-Frlend-"'Why do
eir you wear those fearfully old-fashioned
the ollars?" Winkers (a man of affairs)
S-"Because, when .ae washer-woman
Sto sends them to anybody else, they send
Sthem back."-Demorest's MIonthly.
ex- -Not Fancy.-New Barber (referring
ame to shaving cup)-"Isn't yours a fancy
acemug, Mr. O'Riely?'! O'Riely-"Say,
SMlister Barber, oi'le break your face if
enl ye get persoonal. Do ye see oaything
Sfancy about my mug? "-Brooklyn
ang Life.
Sa -"W'here is the island of Java situ
fe ated?" asked a school-teacher of a
hich small, sther forlorn-looking boy. "I
h, dunno, sir," "Don't you know where
coffee comes from?" "Yes, sir; we bor
int rows it from the next-door neighbor."
-- Tit-Bits.
have -Young America at it Again.
Teacher-"Now that I have finished
th my diseourse on "Teeth," if there is
Sanyone who wishes to ask a question
[me n I will answer it." Smallest oy in the
Lone Class-"How many teeth are there in
ig the Jaws of death?"-Truth.
HOME. HINTS AND HELPS. OI.
-Lemon Beer: Cut half a dozen
lemons into slices, and put in a jar with
a pound of sugar and a gallon and a ii
half of boiling water. Let stand until It
cool, and add half a cup of fresh yeast; stan
let ferment. Bottle and cork very mak
tight.-Harper'sa Iazar. ent
-Soup for an Invalid: Boil a chicken and
to a jelly, and'when cold skim off the The
fat. Ada to it a pint of cream, theyolk the
of an egg (hard boiled and mashed), a of I
little mace, salt and pepper and twen- kno
ty-five o3 sters. Boil slowly fiftebn min- nun
utes, and when done strain.-Boston the
Budget. - am
-Salad of Anchovies: Wash the an- plat
chovies well, clean and soak them, and hor
then cut into fillets and drain and put eral
into a relish boat. Arrange over them ger
a melange of hard egg 'olk and white or
chopped separately, wits parsley and tioc
whole capers. Moisten perfectly under hi
this garniture-but not so as to run
with oil and vinegar.-Boston Globe. of t
-Tomato Catsaup: One-half a bushel
of tomatoes, three tablespoonfuls of sub
salt, one tablespoonful each of allspice, the
cloves and sugar, one teaspoonful of tior
red pepper. Chop the tomatoes and tiol
cook till tender Sift, and boil down vel
till thick, putting in the spices first.
If vinegar is wished, add a little to
each bottle before sealing. - House
keeper.
-Baked Omelet: Heat very hot three
gills of rich, sweet milk,with one table
t spoonful of butter in it; beat thorough
ly five eggs; wet one tablespoonful of
flour and a pinch of salt in a little cold
milk. Mix the eggs with the flour and
C cold milk, then add the hot milk stir
ring fast. Bake in a quick oven fifteen
or twenty minutes. Serve hot.--Ohio
t Farmer.
-Hot Fish Coquilles: Take remain
- ders of cold fish, cut with a silver knife
into little "thimbles," that is, thimble
sized, and moisten with white sauce.
' Let it simmer and reduce. Then add
e an equal volume of cold cooked mush
Srooms hashed and a little nutmeg, salt,
e white pepper and a squeeze of lemon;
` fill oys er or clam shells and put grated
bread and butter over the top, and bake
light brown.-Boston Globe.
is -Corn Soup: Split the grains of one
n dozen ears of corn and scrape. Boil the
r cobs in enough water to cover them for
A ten minutes. Strain this water and use pr
e one quart. Add to it slowly one quart pr
.e cream, then the corn. Season and cook ar
is fifteen minutes. Milk can be used in- in
Le stead of cream, if desired; it can be wi
tthickened with one tablespoonful each m:
butter and flour rubbed together. at
Serve it at once.-People's Home Jour
r natl p
.d -Creamed Salmon: Drain all the w]
e liquid from a can of salmon and chop cc
ss the salmon fine. Grease the bottom of w,
et a small baking dish and put in a layer m
he of bread crumbs, then a layer of fish, ac
le and so on until you have used a pint of of
u- crumbs and the fish. For the dressing, cc
s. boil a pint of milk, add two tablespoon- in
ro fuls of butter. salt and pepper to taste. at
id Pour this over the salmon and crumbs
al and bake until brown. Have the top at
ry layer of bread crumbs. - Prairie al
er Farmer. ni
-Wafer Biscuits: Rub a teaspoonful di
of butter into a pint of sifted flour: add T
a little salt, and with the white of an fc
ke egg and warm milk, mix a stiff. smooth fi
hv paste. Beat with a rolling-pin for one- g:
P." half an hour, the longer the better;
form into little round balls, size of a iF
l pigeon's egg, and roll till the size of a' v
led saucer. Sprinkle the baking pani,
ice with a little flour, and bake with care. si
in- These may be made of oatmeal, or dif-.
ferent grains, cut in any pretty shape I
and served with tea, or nourishing "a
liquids.-Housekeepr.
Last Setting Doubtful Colors* e
lar It is not always possible to tell what a
will set all colors, but a trial of did
be ferent things with samples of the vari
?" ous goods will usually settle the mat
an. ter. Black and white cotton goods are n
gill generally successfully fixed by adding z
about a cup of salt to every two gal- t
en lons of water used in the last rinsing. e
eve A delicate lavender or pale blue had c
are better be set by soaking it for two r
ich hours in a pail of strong salt aqd water
t- before it is washed. Wash- it as usual. r
after this, being careful to use no soap i
rn. that has soda or any strong alkali in t
Lew its composition. As a rule it is best to
She avoid any brown soap in washing flan- ,
,hat nels or colored goods, but use a good 1
taw white soap. Wring all calico goods as ]
dry as possible, and hang them in the ]
een house to dry. This is better than to I
iss dry them in the strong light outdoors,
I where delicate colors are liable to fade. 4
ned Another important matter is to sprin- I
kle calicos and colored cottons just be
fore they are ironed.-N. Y. Tribune. 1
W- Vear a Red Gown. |
ived When a woman is sick and tired and
ery has to make a good appearance she can
nt!" belie her feelings by putting on a red
Case dress. If that charitable, warm-tinted
toilet is not at hand, get a crimson,
you claret or cardinal scarf or a yard of
day silk and fashion a kerchief, bretelles
un- or chemisette against the face. Red is
link the flag of health, the banner of love,
ind- the color of life; it is the rouge with
wich nature makes up the palms, lips,
Sdo ears, cheeks and fingernails of her
ned children; it is the heart of more than
sirs) half the flowers; it lines the sea shells
man and tints the priceless pearl, and it is
send the best anti-freckle cure and skin
brightener in the trade. No woman
ring suspicious of her beauty should at
ancy tempt to dress well without a red
Say, gown.-N. Y. Recorder.
ce iModish Tea Gowns for aSummer.
hing Tea gowns for the summer are made
klyn of beautiful crepons of light ground
strewn with flowers, also of flowered
situ- dotted Swiss muslin, tamboured organ
f a die and soft, undressed India mulls.
oI ~ast of the new gowns have blouse
'here vests lightly girdled, Eton fronts be
bor- eyond, and a rather narrowly plaited
bor." Watteau back. The popular Queen
Anne sleeve, with fullness dropping to
in.-a la~eg frill at the elbow, is used for
shed these dresses. On other gownsp p ictur
r is esque bretelles of wide, beautiful lace
ation extend over the shoulders from belt to
a the belt, with a falling rufle of the same
re around the slightly opena neck.-N, Y.
Post.
SOME SANITARY ASPECTS OF
BREAD MAKING.
BY CYRUS EDBON, M. D.,
Health Commissioner. Ne'w York City.
It is necessary, if one would under
stand the sanitary aspects of bread
making, to fully comprehend the pres
ent theory held by scientists of germs
and the part played by them in disease.
The theory of disease germs is merely
the name given to the knowledge had
of those germs by medical men, a
knowledge which is the result of in
numerable experiments. Being this,
the old term of a "theory" has become
a misnomer. A germ of a disease is a
plant, so small that 1 do not know
how to express intelligibly to the gen
eral reader its lack of size. When this
germ is introduced into the blood
or tissues of the body, its ac
tion appears to be analogous to that
which takes place when yeast is added
to dough. It attacks certain elements
of the blood or tissues, and destroys
them, at the same time producing new
substances.
But the germs of the greater part of
the germ diseases, that is, of the infec
tious and contagious diseases, will de
velop or increase in number without
being in the body of a human being,
W·sAZAW -.· -~ ---
d .
e · DIS~EAI P . GE BMB rOUR iD T hEIR WAYL L KTO Tl KE Y 1~AST DI JBEAD. "·
provided always you give them the of
proper conditions. These conditions th
are to be found in dough which is be- nu
ing raised with yeast. They are fei
warmth, moisture and the organic ga
matter of the flour on which the germs, ev
after certain changes, feed. wl
It is necessary to remember at this pu
point that yeast is germ growth, and to
when introduced into a mixture of glun- ca
cose or starch, in the presence of
warmth and moisture sets up a fer- is,
mentation. If the mixture be a starchy me
dough the yeast first changesa portion be
of the starch into glucose and then de- fu
composes the glucose by changing it th
into two new substances, viz.. carbcnic ca
acid gas and alcohol. br
NI ow the gluten, which is also a con- as
stituent of dough and moist starch, ju
affords, with the latter, an excellent fr
nidus for the development of germs of th
I disease as well as for the yeast germs. of
I The germs of cholera, as of typhoid If
fever, would, if introduced into dough, a
find very favorable conditions for their at
growth. Pr
I do not wish to "pose" as an alarm- gE
a ist, nor am I willing to say there is
very much chance of the germs of
typhus and of cholera reaching the
stomachs of the people who eat bread
which has been raised with yeast.
"e lut while I am not afraid that cholera
yeast-raised bread, I have not the
slightest cause to doubt that other dis
eases have been and will be carried
t about in the bread.
I have met journeymen bakers, suf
- fering from cutaneous diseases, work
ing the dough in the bread trough with
e naked hands and arms. I suppose I
g need scarcely say this Was put a stop
1- to in very short order. I have no rea
son to suppose bakers are less liable to
d cutaneous diseases than are other
men, and I know, as every house
Swife knows, yeast-raised bread
1I. must be worked a long time. This
up is an exceedingly objectionable
ithing from the standpoint of a physi
to cian, and for the reasons that the
n-, germs of disease which are in the air
xi and dust and on stairways and straps
as in street cars, are most often collected
1e on the hands. So well do physicians I
to know this that there is no ablution e
*s, practical equal to that which they un
.e. dergo before they perform any kind of C
n- surgical operation. Any person who
.e- has ever kneaded dough understands i
Le. the way in which the dough cleans the
hands. In other words, this means 1
that any germs which may have found
a lodging place on the hands of the
e baker before he makes up his batch of
ed bread are sure to find their way into
the dough, and once there, to find all
n,' the conditions necessary for subdi
01 vision and growth. This is equivalent
to saying that we must rely on heat to
is kill these germs, because it is almost
re, certain that they will be there. Now,
uth underdone or doughy bread is a form
Ps' which every man and woman has seen.
Ler It is a belief as old as the hills that
an underdone bread is unhealthful. This
Ile reputation has been earned for it by
the experience of countless genera
tions, and no careful mother will wish
an her children to eat bread that has not
at- been thoroughly cooked. The reason
-ed given for this recognized unhealthful
ness has been that the uncooked yeast
dough is very difficult to digest, and
Lde this reason has value. No one but a
nd physician would be apt to think of dis
red ease germs which have not been killed
Ln- during the process of baking as a
Ils. cause of the waikness following the
use use of uncooked yeast bread. Yet this
be- result from this cause is more than
,ed probable. I have not the slightest
-en doubt that could we trace back some
to of the eases of illness which we meet
for in our practice we would find that
ur- germs collected by the baker have
ace found their way into the yeast bread,
t to that the heat has not been sufficient to
,me destroy them, that the uncooked yeast
y, bread has been eaten-and with it the
oolonies at germs, that t**IF lI
found their way into the blood and
that the call for our services which
followed, has rounded off this sequence
of events.
I have already pointed out that the
germs of disease are to be found in
the air and dust. The longer any sub
stance to be eaten is exposed to the
air, the greater the chance that germs
will be deposited on it. Bread raised
with yeast is worked down or kneaded
twice before being baked and this pro
cess may take anywhere from four
hours to ten. It has, then, the chance
of collecting disease germs during this
process of raising and it has two peri
ods of working down or kneading dur
ing each of which it may gather the
dirt containing the germs from the
baker's hands. As no bread save that
raised with yeast, goes through this
long process of raising and kneading
so no bread save that raised with yeast
has so 'good a chance of gathering
germs.
What is meant by "raising" bread is
worth a few words. The introduction
of the yeast into the moist dough and
the addition of heat when the pan is
placed near the fire produces an enor
mous growth of the yeast fungi-the
yeast "germ." in other words. These
fungi effect a destructive fermentation
of a portion of the starchy matter of 1
the flour-one of the most valuable t
nutrient elements in the flour. The
fermentation produces carbonic acid ,
gas, and this, having its origin in 1
every little par -ile of the starch a
which is itself everyt.vherc in the flour.
pushes aside the pqlticlesof the dough f
to give itself roo. This is what is r
called raising the bread. r
It needs but a glance to see that it t
is, in its effects on 'the dough, purely t
mechanical. The dough, which wa: r
before a close-grained mass, is now
full of little holes, and when cooked in I
this condition is what we ordinarily
call light. This porous quality of 1
bread enables the stomach to rapidly
and easily digest it. for the gastric 1
juices quickly soak into and attack it I
I from all sides. The fermentation of
E the dough, however, uses up a portioe
of the nutrient elements of the loaf.
i If it be possible, therefore, to produce
a light porous loaf without this de
r struction and without the "'kneading"
process, which fills the dough with
- germs and filth, and -without the lont
germs uag ntLn, ana uu onous Wwa vas a L - - -u-
r BeAD WITHOUT YEAST-" THLE MOST PERFECT OF ALL CONCEIVABLE WAYS Ol
SRAISING IT."
period during which the raising process n
goes on, the gain in food and the gain I
in the avoidance of the germs is ex- I
ceedingly plain.
But while we can easily see the dan
gers which attend the use of yeast it is 1
certain that the vesiculating effect
produced by it on the dough is to the
last degree perfect. By this I mean
that every particle of glute produccs
its little bubble of gas and that there
fore the bread is properly raised - that
is, it is raised everywhere. It is ap
parent that if we are to substitute any
other system of bread making we must
have one which will give us, first, me
chanical results equally as good, that
is, that will produce minute bubbles of
carbonic acid gas throughout the mass
of dough. Now it is in no way diffi
cult to produce carbonic acid gas chem
ically, .but when we are working at
bread we must use such chemicals as
are perfectly healthful. Fortunately
these are not hard to find.
The evils which attend the yeast
made bread are obviated by the use of
a properly made, pure and wholesome
baking powder in lieu of yeast. Bak
i ing powders are composed of an acid
and an alkali which, if properly com
- bined, should when they unite at once
I destroy themselves and produce car
L bonic acid gas. A good baking powder
s does its work while the loaf is in the
a oven, and having done it, disappears.
I But care is imperative in selecting
t the brand of baking powder to be cer
a tain that it is composed of non-injuri
t ous chemicals. Powders containing
t alum or those which are com
a pounded from impure, sngredients,
I, or ;those which are sot com
o bined in proper proportion or care
it fully mixedsnd which will leave either
e an acid or an alikaU in th bread, must
* aUOe (a .4
It is well to sound a note of warnimg
in this direction or the change frogn
the objectionable yeast to an impre -
baking powder will be a case of JumpL.
ing from the frying pan into these.
The best baking powder made is, as
-shown by analysis, the "Royal." It
• contains absolutely nothing but eretin -
of tartar and soda, refined to s eemn
L ical purity, which when combine&unr
1 der the influence of heat and mols.irga .
produce carbonic acid gas, and having"'
r done this, disappear. Its leaveninig
o strength has been found superior to
s other baking powders, and as far as I
- know, it is the only powder which. will
raise large bread perfectly. Itafuse"
e avoids the long period during which
e the yeast made dough must stand in
t order that the starch may ferment and
s there is also no kneading necessary.
g The two materials used inthe Royal,
t cream of tartar and soda, are perfectly
g harmless even when eaten. But they
are combined in exact compensating
s weights, so that when chemical action
n begins between them they practically
d disappear, the substance of both hav
1s ing been taken up to form the carbonio
- cid gas. More than this, the proper
e method of using the powder insures
e i'e most thorough mixing with the
n flour. The proper quantity being
taken, it is mixed with the flour and
stirred around in it. The mixture is
then sifted several times and this in
sures that in every part of the flour
there shall be a few particles of the
powder. The salt and milk or water -
being added, the douah is made up as
quickly as possible and moulded into
the loaves.
These are placed in the oven and
baked. But the very moment the
warmth and moisture attack the mix
ture of cream of tartar and soda, these
two ingredients chemically combine
and carbonic acid or leavening gas is
evolved. The consequence may be
seen at a glance, the bread is raised
during the time it is baking in the
oven, and this is the most perfect of
all conceivable methods of raising it.
Here, then, there is no chance for
germs of disease to get into the dough
and thence into the stomach, more
than that the bread is necessarily as
sweet as possible, there having been
no time during which it could sour.
This involves the fact that the bread
so made will keep longer, as it is less
of likely to be contaminated by the germs
)le that affect the souring process.
he It will be strange if the crowds of
:id visitors to the world's fair do not great
in ly increase the number of contagious
ch disease, which we will have to treat.
ir. Under these circumstances is it not
5h folly of follies to open 6 single chan
is nel through which these germs may
reach us? Is it not the part of wisdom
it to watch with the greatest care all
,ly that we eat and drink, and to see that
a:; none but the safest and best methods
w are employed in the preparation of our
in food? To me it seems as though there
ily could be but one answer to questions
of like these.
ly I have shown the danger of using
ric the yeast raised bread, and with this I
it have shown how that danger may be
of avoided. The ounce of prevention
sii which in this case is neither dif
af. ticult nor expensive is certain
ace ly worth many pounds of cure,
de- and the best thing about it is
ig" that it may be relied on almost abso
ith lutely. Those who during the coming
,n.I summer eatbread or biscuits or rolls
made at home with Royal bakin?
powder may be sure they have abso
lutely stopped one channel through
which disease may reach them.
NOTE.-Housekeepers desiring informa
tion in regard to the preparation of the
bread which Dr. Edson for sanitary reasons
so strongly urges for general use, should
write to the Royal Baking Powder Com
pany, New York.
He Had Seen the Scareerew.
One Somerville young man, who has
just been spending a fortnight in the
co-- atry, lost all chance of making a
favorable impression on the farmer's
pretty daughter the very first day he
came. Her father came by the front of
the house where the young man was
trying to make himself agreeable, and
the girl introduced him, saying:
"This is my father, Mr. Smythe."
"Oh, yes," responded the young man,
t turning toward the old man, andslowly
B holding out his hand, "I sawyonstea-d
V ing over in the cornfield a little while
ago, when I came up the road."-So
erville Journal
e Mr. Chimpanzee- "That ostrich . te
e enough for two birds. What do .a
d suppose makes him so greedy, rm. "
S hMrs. Chimpanzee-"I heard the keeper i
e say he swallowed a pair of strong alia e
- glasses yesterday and they msgniat.
r his appetite."--VgCe.
e -"Do you goato school, TommSy?" ,
"Yes'm." "Does your teacher like
S Tommy?" "You bet she does.
evening most she hates to has
leave and keeps me in."
Traveler.
s, -"I met Jack Stageloon last
a- He tells me he is going oat vwith ai
e- pany next season which wilt
3r 'Fireman Fred. "Indeed
at he play?" 'oSh Wpa" "
E~ga la.