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Some One’s Servant Girl. She stood there leaning wearily Against the window frame. Her face was patient, sad, and sweet, Her garments coarse and plain; “ Who is she, pray ? ” I asked a friend, The red lip gave a curl— “ Really! Ido not know her name She’s some one’s servant girl.” Again I saw her on the street, With bnrden trudge along: Her face was sweet and patient still, Amid the jostling throng; Slowly but cheerfully she'moved, Guarding with watchful care A market basket much too large For her slight hands to bear. A man I’d thought a gentleman, Went pushing rudelv by. Sweeping the basket from her hands, Yet tnrning not his eye; For there was no necessity Amid the busy whir], For him to be a gentleman To some one’s servant girl. Ah! well it is that God above Look’s in upon the heart, And never judges any one By just the outer part; For if the soul be pure and good, He will not mind the rest, Is'or question what the gaiments were In which the form was dressed. And many a man and woman, fair, By fortune reared and fed Who will not mingle here below With those who earn their bread, When they have passed awayfrom life. Beyond the gates of pearl, Will meet before their father’s throne With many a servant girl. FOILING A RIVAL. “The critter loves me ! I know she loves me!” said Jonathan Doublikins, as he sat on the cornfield fence, med itation on the course- of true love, that was running just as Shakespeare always said it did—rather roughly. “If Suite Peabody has taken a shine to that gawky, long-shanked, stam- merin’, shy critter, Gussett, just ’cause he is a city feller, she ain't the gal I took her to he, that’s sartin. IN o, its the old folks, darn their ugly picture. Old Mrs. Peabody was al ters a dreadful high fallutin critter full of big notions, and the old man's soft head is driven about by our cantan kerous Dorkin hen. But if I don’t spile his fun, then my name ain’t Jon athan. I’m going down to the city by the railroad next week, and when toSaeffi t'to Vfipl^WA?rr!•” j ed majorities. 1 in I village where the speaker reeMed. Jonathan Doublikins was a young farmer, well-to-do in the world, and looking out for a wife, and had been paying his address to Miss Susan Pea body, of that ike, with a fair pros pect of success, when a city acquain tance of the Peabody’s, one Mr. Cor nelius Gussett, who kept a retail dry goods store in Hanover street, Bos ton, had suddenly made his appear- ance in the lield, and commenced the cutting out game. Dazzled with the prospect of becoming a gentle man’s wife, pestered by the importu nities of her mamma, the village beauty had begun to waver, when her old lover had determined on a last bold stroke to foil his rival. He went to the city and returned; of his business there he said nothing, not even to the pumping maiden aunt who kept house for him. He went not near the Peabody’s, but la bored in his corn held and his gar den, patiently awaiting the results of his machinations. The next day Mr. Gussett was sit ting with the old folks and their daughter, in the best room of the Peabody mansion, chatting as pleas antly as may be, when the door opened, and in rushed ajurious Irish woman. “Is it here ye are, Mr. Cornelius,” she exclaimed, addressing the aston ished GuSfcett. “Come out of that before I fetch ye, ye spalpeen! is that what ye promised me before the praist, ye haythen naygur ? Commin’ away from me and the childer, for sakin your lawful and wedded wife, and runniii’ after Yankee girls, ye infidel 1” “Woman, there must be some mistake here, stammered Gussett, taken all back by the charge. Divil a bit of a mistake, ye sar pent. Oh! warra! was it lor the likes of ye I sacked Denni McCar thy, who loved the ground I trod on, and all bekase ye promised to make a lady of me, ye dirrty thafe of the wurruld ? Will ye come along to the railroad station, where I left the lit tle Patrick, bekase he was too sick with the small-pox to come any fur der, or will ye wait till I drag ye ?” “Go-go— along,” gasped Gussett, “go and I’ll follow you.” He thought it best to temporize. * “I give you ten minits,” said r the virago. “If ye ain't there thin, it is me cousin Mr. Thuddy Tulgrud ery, will he. after ye, ye thafe!” And away went this unbidden guest. Mr. Gussett was yet engaged in stammering out a denial of all know ledge of the virago, when the parlor door opened and a little black eyed hatchet-faced, woman, in a flashy silk gown, and a cap with many ribbons perched on the top of her head, in vaded the sanctity of the parlor. “Is he here, she cried in a decided accent. Then she added with a scream, “ah—dien! la volia! here he is. Traitre, monstre ! Yat you run away from me ? Pis two or tree year. I never see you and my heart broke very bad entirely.” “Who are you ?” cried Gussett, his eyes starting back in his head and shivering from head to foot. “lie asks who I am ! O ladies ! O you respectable gentlehomme ! Hear you what he ask! Who am I! Petri fied ! I am your wife.” “Never saw you before in my life, so help me God,” cried Gussett, ener getically. “Don’t you swear!” said the Dea con Peabody. “If you do I'll kick you into fits, by golly. I won’t have no profane nor vulgar language in my house.” “O bless you respectable old man, dell him he must come vis me. Dell him I hev spoke to ze constable— Dell hint—!” Sobs interrupted her utterance. “It's a pretty hard business,” said the Deacon, chafing with unwonted ire. “Gussett, you are a rascal.” “Take care, Peabody, take care!” said the uncomfortable store-keeper.” “I remarked you were a rascal, Gussett, you have gone and married two wives and that ere is a flat burg lary, if I know anything about the revised statutes.” “Two vivies ?” shrieked the French woman. “Now you clear out of my house, go to the railroad station, and clear out for Boston. I won’t have noth in’ more to do with you.” trim . ON THECUtTOTEMBMANIJ.-ACiaaE SORSO AN3 Elff-SEyri ; gESj| his ears with his hands. two wives and cornin’ courtin’ a third! Go 'long! Leave this house ! Even Mrs. Peabody, who was in clined to put in a word in the cul prit’s favor, was silenced. Susan turned away in horror, and in utter dispah- he fled to the railway station, hotly pursued by the clamorous and indignant Frenchwoman. That same afternoon, as Miss Su san Peabody was walking towards the village, she was overtaken by Mr. Jonatlian Doublikins, dressed in his best and driving his fast horse before hrs Sunday-go-to-meeting chaise. lie reined up and accosted her: “Hallo Suke, get in and take a ride.” “Don’t care if I do Jonathan,'’ re plied the young lady, accepting the proffered seat. “I say you,” said Jonathan grin ning. “that ere city feller has turned out a pretty purp, ain’t he ? “It’s dreadful, if it is true,” replied the lady. “You had a narrow escape didn’t ye ?” pursued the old lover. “Indeed,” she answered. “But he wam’t never any account, any how- What do the old folks think about it ?” “They hain't said one word since the hour he cleared out.” “Forgot that night I drove you home from singing school ?” asked Jonathan, suddenly branching ofl’. S “No,‘l haven’t,” replied the young lady, blushing and smiling at the same time.” “Remember them'] apples I gin ye?” ‘ “Oh, yes.” “Got a whole orchard of them sort of fruit, Suke,” said Jonathan* sug gestively. Susan was silent. “Go along,” said Jonathan, putting the braid on his horse. “Have you any idea where you are going to Suke.” “I am going to the village.” “No you ain’t, you .are going along with me,” “Where to ?” “Providence.” “And you don’t come hack till you are Mrs. Susan Doublikins, no how THE FLORUDA AGRICULTURIST. you can fix it—Susan.” “How you talk Jonathan.” tho old folks !” cried Jona than, putting on the strings again. “Ef I was to leave you with them much longer they’d trade you off to some feller th jt has got half a dozen wives already.” The next say as Mr. and Mrs. Doublikins were returning home in the chaise, Jonathan said confiden tially : “May as well tell you: That Gus sett never seed them women afore the day they came stowpin’ into your house and bowed him out. Cost me ten dollars, by thunder ? I told them what to say and they did it well, I expect. Old Gussett may be a sharp store keeper, l}ut if he expects to get ahead of Jonathan Doublikins, he must get up a plaguey sight earlier of mornings.” A FANCY FARMER, I had an engagement not long ago to meet a friend at the Battery. I was on hand half an hour too soon having been misled by a clock which was considerably fast. Not know ing a better way to pass the time until my friend should arrive, I sat down on one of the settees, threw my head hack, inhaled the briny breezes, and was enjoying a sort of dolce far niente circus generally, when a stranger walked up and took a seat beside me. “ lie wore a soft hat and a pleasant smile, together with the usual habili ments. His coat was buttoned tip to the neck in a manner to indicate either that he was suffering from bronchitis or had no shirt. He had a sort of Yellow Jack look about him and I thought it advisable to get out of his way. Before I could do this he said : • * “Lovely weather this, eh ?” “Yes, rather,” I replied indiffer ently. “O what weather this is for farm ing!” “I know nothing whatever of farm ing-” u W tee v" Bi'ml ean"Dl?6 your Me I uncUfrAJ beginning to end. Yes, I used to be boss on farming. Why, I used to get up ideas that almost set the world deranged.” There was something so marvelous about the man’s manner of making simple statements, that, although he looked as though he might have the yellow fever in his clothes, as I re marked before, I determined to risk my life to hear his story. “You see,” he went on, “when I was quite young there was consider able rivalry in the milk business around the place where I was brought up, and, as there was quite a crowd of rich city people spending the Summer in our neighborhood, there was a good chance to make money on cow juice. “Somehow or other there was a re port circulated that all the milk and butter purchased in the place was strongly flavored with wild onions. Says I, ‘l’ll make my mark now so I put my little idea into execution. I was successful, you bet. I got all sorts of puffs, ads, enconiums, etc., till I couldn’t rest. You just ought to have tasted one of those milk punches—you talk about your boss elixirs. Whoa, .Timmy!.’ . Seeing that he was completely car ried away with himself, I assured him that I believed every word that he said (which was a lie,) and I should only be too happy to listen to any other reminiscences he might have to relate. This refreshed him so much that he completely forgot the cows, and branched off as follows: “I once thought that I could make an independent fortune if I could on ly get tip a little racket to raise fresh vegetables of all kinds in midwinter. I .knew that rich people would pay big prices for anything of the kind, so I set to work in good earnest to ascertain if I could bring my hopes into blossom. His metaphor was amusing. “You see I selected a good sized patch behind the house, and about two feet beneath the surface I laid large iron pipes about a foot apart. A short distance away I erected a huge furnace, and hired a fireman to keep it in full blast all the time. “The steam from this furnace pass ed the pipes and produced the neces sary amount of heat to counteract the cold; and the beauty of the thing was that it made the things grow so quick. You could see the seeds burst like precussiou caps. “Why, I used fo raise several crops in one Winter. As soon as I’d get the thing to going the maple trees began to give syrup, and buds would start all around. I tell you I just made things howl, and don’t you for get it!” said the vegetables develop ed very rapidly.” “Rapidly!” he responded with a contcmptous chuckle, “well I think they did; why the carrots and tur nips grew so fast under the influence of that steam, that after they made their appearance above ground I us ed to be compelled to lay planks with weights on them over the rows to keep them from jumping into the air.” “ Remarkable! ” “Ope day,” lie continued, without noticing my interruption, “my grand mother Avent out to look at things, and through her clumsiness she kick ed a plank ofl the last turnip in the row, and before she knew what was the matter, it flew up and almost knocked the brains out of her.” I thought it about time to get away from this amateur Ananias, but he an ticipated me, and said: _ “Those were only boyish frivoli ties ; just wait till I tell you about the time I grafted wings into pigs, and had them flying around the house like pigeons!” “W-h-a-t?” I shouted, utterly over come by his serenity of countenance, for he appeared to be in dead earnest. “Never mind then,” he went on; “I’ll leave the pigs until the last and tell you how I found perpetual mo tion. You see old Dobbin died; and we din’t know what to do, because we were greatly in need of horseflesh to drag stone. We were completely puzzled at first but I soon fixed things. “I got a piece ot loadstone heavier than the wagon and fixed it on the pole; then I screwed a huge bar of steel on the axle-tree, I no more J r&&, (TOmiSSt Wvttc-keaV ier than the wagon, and the steel wouldn’t give, of course it hauled it right along. “The day I tried the experiment the wagon was empty, with the ex ception] of myself. It increased in speed every moment, and went so fast that I was afraid to jump off. Finally it went with such volocity that I couldn’t see the trees. I don’t know how far I went or how many persons I ran over, but after I had been traveling about five minutes the old thing ran into a stone church and almost killed me. I was three hun dred miles from home.” At just this moment my friend ar rived, and I left the agriculturist. He seemed disconsolate as I bade him adieu ; but I felt happy at being de livered from the ordeal of the pig story which he had promised to tell, and only regretted that when he col lided with the stone church he was not summarily mangled beyond re pair. —An English vicar on a Monday morning was standing at his gate, when one of his parishioners arrived with a basket of potatoes. “ What’s this ? ” said the vicar. “Please, sir,” replied the man, “ it’s some of our very best taturs—a very rare kind. My wife said you should have some of them, as she heard you sav in your sermon, that the common taturs did not agree with you. —A man whose dram had been too much tor him, in saddling his horse, got the saddle wrong end fore most. J ust as he was about to mount, a neighbor came up and called his attention to the mistake. The horse man gazed for a moment at the in truder, as if in deep thought, and then said: “ You let that saddle alone.— How do you know which way I am going ?” 3 If you would be elear and forci ble, don’t use foreign words. Be na tural. A man never stops to hunt up a foreign word when he is stung by a hornet. RECIPES. Omelets. —Take one egg for each person, beat two minutes, add salt the size of a pea and one tablespoon ful of milk for each egg ; beat one minute and turn into a hot, well but tered frying pan ; cover it and cook slowly till nearly all is thick; raise the edge and put under a little but ter or lard to prevent sticking, and turn one-half over on to the other half, and serve immediately. Or you can bake it in the oven in a pie dish and serve it in the same. Use about two spoonfuls of melted grease, set it on the stove to heat and fill; bake till all is thick, which will be from five to ten minutes. Do not turn if baked. Coffee Custard. —For six cups, measure out four cupfuls of boiled milk, put it in a basin with one cup ful of very strong coffee, add five yolks of eggs and one ounce and a half sugar, mix well and strain, fill the cups with the mixture, skim off carefully all froth from the surface, put them in a flat stewpan with boil ing water to] half the height of the cups, put the stew pan with live coals on its cover over a slow fire for fif teen minutes. The water should only bubble slightly. When set let the custards cool in the water, wipe the cups off and serve. Orange Flummery. —Boil four large calves’ feet in three quarts of water. The best feet for this purpose are those that are scalded and scraped, but not skinned. After they have boiled slowly about four hours, put in the yellow rind of four large or anges, pared very thin and cut small, and several sticks of cinnamon brok en up, and a dozen bitter almonds slightly pounded. Then let it boil an hour longer, till the meat all drops from the bones and is reduced to shreds, and till the liquid is little more than a quarts Strain it through "a*‘sieVe lilto a pan, and set’iil a' cold place till next -morning, when it ought to be a solid cake. Scrape off the fat and sediment carefully, or it will not be clear when melted. Cut the cake into pieces, put it in a por celain kettle, -with half a pound of double-refined loaf-sugar, broken up, and melt it over the fire, adding, when it has entirely dissolved, the juice of six large oranges. Next stir in gradually, the yolks of six eggs, well beaten and continue stiring till it has boiled five minutes; then take it oft* the fire, transfer it to a broad pan, and set it on ice or in cold water. Continue stirring until it is quite cold, but not set. Wet some molds with cold water, put the mixture into them, and set in a cool place or on ice to congeal. To be eaten with whipped cream, or a rich boiled custard. Leopard Cake. —For the dark part take one oup of molasses, two cups of brown sugar, two thirds of a cup of milk, yolk of seven eggs, two table spoonfuls of cinnamon, one table spoonful of cloves, one tablespoonful allspice, one teaspoonful of black pepper, five cups of flour, one and a half teaspoonfuls of yeast powder; for the light part, two cups of white sugar, one cup of butter, two-thirds of a cup of milk, whites of seven eggs, three cups of flour, one and a half teaspoonfuls of yeast powder. Oatmeal. —lt is said that oatmeal moistened in water and applied to the face once or twice a day will im prove the complexion and make the skin smooth and rosy. Oat meal, when taken internally, at breakfast, is also excellent. To Destroy Cockroaches. —Where borax and insect powder fail to work on cockroaches, use red wafers, scat tering abundantly where they run—a sure cure. A quarter of a pound will clean the largest house ; they eat and die.