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THE TRODDEN VIOLET.
A violet in the morning dew,
With sunshine melting in its spheres,
Whose honey all the wild bees knew,
And birds and breezes, happy crew—
A violet in the morning dew
Was like her in her early years.'
A violet trodden under foot,
Its breath with piercing perfume rife,
The birds and bees and breezes mute,
And only tears about the root—
A violet trodden under foot
Was like kerin her later life.
Sweetness past telling did she shed,
When day by day brought darker dole;
And sorrows with a heavy tread
Crushed her and bruised the lovely head—
Sweetness past telling did she shed
As the bruised violet sheds its soul.
She was the spikenard bruised and crushed,
And so the precious ointment filled
With odor that about it gushed
As if, within, whole gardens blushed—
So was the spikenard bruised and crushed
That over the Lord’s feet was spilled.
Harriet Pbescott Spoffoud.
Her Story.
BY ELLA WHEELER.
June 5.—We have been sitting in the
moonlight 1 the sweet, beautiful .June
moonlight, Robin and I, talking about
. the future. That is, 1 have been talking,
and Robin has been listening. He pos¬
fection. sesses that I have rare art been of telling listening to per¬
him what
my ideal was like. It came about in
this way : I said now that I had finished
school, I intend to devote ipy leisure
hours to music and housekeeping.
“Housekeeping?” laughed Robin,
“that is a new accomplishment for a
young lady just home from boarding
school to be anxious to acquire.”
“A very necessary one, though,” I
made answer; and after a moment he
said:
“Yes, if you ever intend to marry.”
When instead of simpering like most
school-girls, “Oh, no 1 I expect to be an
old maid,” I replied:
“Weil I do intend to marry, when 1
find my ideal,”
“■What is he like, I wonder?” queried
Robin. And I proceeded to tell him :
“Tall, broad-shouldered, full-chested,
with large dark brilliant eyes, and a mag¬
netic presence that sways people if he
but looks at them. He will be an orator,
too, I think, or a statesman; nnd I
shall know him the moment I see him.”
“Possibly you have seen him already,”
Robin ventured very quickly, and 1
made haste to answer :
“Oh, no ! I have seen one or two who
possessed some ideal—not of his attributes, but not
the complete the prince him¬
self—and I do not want to meet him yet,
not for two or three years. I want to
make myself worthy of him in every
way; for a man like my ideal will require
much of his wife. I want to be accom¬
plished, well read, I and a thorough house¬
keeper, that may please his pride, he
a companion for him, and be able to
look after his temporal wants.”
“You are very considerate,” Robin
said, “to think of all these things. I
only hope you will find one who is
worthy of all that you are now, to say
nothing of all you intend to be.”
“I am sure to find him, Robin," I
said. “He will come to me at the right
time, and I shall know him the moment
I see him. We shall know each other.
It will be like a ray of light piercing my
heart, when he looks into my eyes.”
“Love is sometimes said to be a plant
of slow growth,” believe Robin interposed.
“But yon do not in that, evi¬
dently. Yon think if- a night-blooming
cerens rather.”
“No, not that; because it blooms for¬
ever after it once does bloom. But I
think it does not grow slowly and silent¬
ly, as many think or believe; but rather
bursts into life and beauty suddenly—at
a look, a word, a touch—when the affini¬
ties meet.”
Then Robin was silent for a time, and
soon said he must go home. He is such
a dear, good boy. this Ho has grown almost
handsome, too, iast year while I
have been away. Still, I think there is
something almost effeminate about him,
he is so gentle and tender always in his
ways. Yet there is great force in his
character, or he would never have taken
it upon himself to lift the mortgage from
his dead brother’s homestead for the
sake of the childless widow. Few young
men who are left alone in the world with
a comfortable income, and with elegant
tastes and a love of pleasure like Robin,
would deny themselves luxuries, and
work hard to be able to save a home¬
stead for a brother’s widow, who will
be very likely to marry again in a little
while.
Yes, Robin is a noble fellow; but, ah !
pr> unlike my ideal. 1 could not help
thinking of if as he sat in the moonlight
there; so pale and handsome, with his
calm, earnest gray eyes, and his restful
smile, and bis firm cool hand holding
mine. Robin always rests me, and
calms me so. My ideal will electrify me
with a touch of his hand, and all my
soul will be in commotion when he looks
into my eyes. Robin is my dear friend;
he will be my princely lover.
July 10.—I have a letter from my
sweet friend Dora Jane. She is coming
to make me a long visit. I have just
been telling Robin about her. She is
such a bright, dashing bewildering girl
—I would not wonder if he fell in love
with her, and she with him. They are
just opposites—she dark, he fair, she so
full of vivacity and spirits, he so quiet
and composed. I am quite wild with
delight at the idea ! if Dora could only
be my near neighbor, how pleasant it
would be. I do hope my plans will suc¬
ceed. I was too wise to tell them openly
to Robin—I just told him I wanted him
to make it as pleasant for Dora as pos¬
sible
July 30.—Dora has arrived, and she Is
as bright and beautiful as ever, Robin
has been here this evening, I could not
help noticing what a line-looking couple
they made, as he leaned over the piano
while she played and sang. They seem
to like each other.
August 10.—I think my plans almost are
working finely. Robin is here
daily, and he is so kind and attentive to
Dora, ana admires her greatly as every
oneremaks. le says he thinks she is
very beantifnl. Somehow I do not think
her so— she is very bright,of course, bal
I looked closely at her after Rohm spoke
and unbeantfful. I thought I had never seen her look
so But of course if he is in
love with her as I have no doubt he is.
he can see nothing bat beauty in her.
Men are such blind creatures when they
are in love
August 15.—Robin has just been here
and also a gentleman who has recently is
arrived in the neighborhood, and
loarding aXkefching at the hotel, and trout fishing
tea few weeks. It seems
Dora has met him somewhere before,
btotoU? limit HiiSSk.Mv brilliant black
’ erect is vritel^ge promising
Ijai, He * very young
Hamilton Journal.
VOL. XII. NO. 24.
lawyer I hear, and bis maiden speech |
ma de him quite famous for his power as
an orator. Dora induced him delivered to give ns
a recitation to-night, and he a
portion of Hamlet with splendid effect,
But somehow I was glad when he was
gone. 18.—Mr. Walton has been
August and
here every day since I last wrote, he
and Robin and Dora and I have been ofl
on a long picnio excursion. Dora says it
was a grand time, and I suppose it was.
But I do not know what ails me. I do
not seem to enjoy anything any more. 1
think I must have malaria, and a little
quinine will set me into a healthier state
of body and mind. Well, have the
August 20.— I taken
quinine, hut I find no change in myself.
I am so morbid. It seems to me I have
outlived all my youthful feelings, and all
my buoyant spirits are gone. Mr. Wal¬
ton seems vory solicitous and kind, and
he is certainly very pleasant, hut some¬
how he tires me exoessively. Robinstoed
near me to-night for a moment, and Mr.
Walton had just left my side to obey
Borne request of Dora’s.
Robin said, looking down at me: than
“Well, he has come sooner yon
expected “Who?” ?” queried without looking
I up,
“Your ideal,” was his response.
“Where is he?” I questioned, as 1
played with the fringe of a light shawl
which was over my shou-lder.
“Why, is holding he not a’skein yonder?” of silk Robin for
said, “just least
Miss Dora ? At he answers to youi
description given me in this very room a
few short months ago.”
A few months ago 1 yes, but it seemed
night." to me years had elapsed since that June
I was a young girl then, now I
feel like an old woman. myself Why is this ?
I cannot understand ?
As Robin spoke I glanced up at Mr.
Walton, and sure enough he answered
to my description exactly, and he is just
the brilliant young orator too of whom I
hud dreamed. And yet he had no more
effect upon me, by glance or touch of
hand, than John our coachman. And I
olten found his society very wearisome.
Often when he is calling I wish he
would go home. Yet I did not tell this
to Robin of course. I said nothing at
all. I am perfectly willing he should
think I have found my ideal if he
chooses. I think I have as good a right
to my ideal as he has to his. He con¬
ducts himself like a school-boy I must
confess, in his attentions to Dora. I
am absolutely they would weary of and them leave all, and with I
wish go me
myself. It has been such a horrid
summer.
August 31. —Well, the summer dies
to-night, and I am very glad. I hate it
—and I imagined I should have such a
happy time with Dora here. She went
away this afternoon, and I am so glad.
But I don’t know what she thinks of me.
Before she went, she came to me and
said, “Darling, I have a secret to tell
you. Perhaps you have already guessed
it—but I-" and when she had gone
so far, I threw her arm off my shoulder
and cried out, “Don’t, don’t 1 I know
all about it—but I do not want to hear
it,” and I put both hands over my ears.
She looked at me in a dazed sort of way,
and then said, “Very well, dear, just again as
yon like;” and we scarcely spoke
until she went away. I am sure I do
not know what possessed me, bnt I felt
I could not endure it, if she spoke out
I feel so dazed and strange to-night.
September 4. —Four whole days, and
Robin never came near the house until
this afternoon. I suppose he oould not
bear to come and find Dora gone. And
yet he used to be content to come before
he knew her. Ho was so constrained
to-day. He said he foolish supposed I was very
lonely, and I was enough to say •
“Why?” both friends
“Why? away,” because he answered. your “You
have gone
must miss them.”
“Oh, yes,” I answered; “and I sup¬
pose that is why you called—misery
loves company." good-bye,” he
“I called to say re¬
plied. “I am going away for a few
weeks also.”
“So soon I” I exclaimed. “I did not
Ihink you would go quite so soon,” and
l laughed a laugh that sounded strangely
b my own ears.
He omy said, “Yes, I go in the morn¬
ing, so good-bye,” and rose and was
gone. I knew he had gone to Dora—
tmt it seems so boyish and foolish for
him to hurry after her in this fashion.
My head seems bursting, and my heart
too. I wonder what is the matter.
September 5.—I know I am going to
be ill. I have a high fever, and my
head aches so terribly. I wonder it
Rubin is with Dora to-night. I heard
my little sister Clara singing “Robin
Adair,” a few moments ago, and I spoke
very harshly to her. “Don’t sing that,’
I said.
‘‘I thought yon liked the song,” the
child answered, with a quivering “but I lip. •’« ■
“I used to,” I replied, r
now.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, •
unless—” and then it all car
w bv—all the unanswered “why.
whole weary, terrible, tragio s
came to me, and the reply to the ther
I love Robin. As I write .
every nerve in my body I respon might
them. I love him, and
won his love in return if I had not 1
so blind and foolish. I myself am a
to blame for what has occurred. ^
^ t makes the truth all the mo.
Robin has gone out of my Lu
foreV er. and with him has gone youth,
j ]0 p C| -md love. I feel like a weary
,__, . j,
old woman, __ an . »
' rag^ been
,. 0c * f f ^ er ^ nn t c have h though ttoo^ghTy verv ven
j fiie a forest. \
am better now—aide now able to to sit propped P PI up V
in bed, and write in my diary. Ah me
i cannot yet feel grateful for the return
tlTet 0 f life ! I cannot feel yet that life n
I hear that Robin is at home,
^ an ,; that he has sent me fruit and flowers
day for a week or more. I wonder
how’l can live and be obliged to meet
a'&“ d c Sh B “ ,Irappo “
C 'octok» 15.-I ». Be
came into the room where I sat m the
HAMILTON, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 11, 1884.
great chair, all surrounded by pillows,
and just dropped on one knee and laid a
bunch of beautiful autumn flowers in my
lap. Then with just a word of con
gratulation on my recovery, he went out
again. He looks very pale, but, oh, so
handsome 1 flow handsome he and
Dcua will look when they stand at the
altar I
October 20.—I wonder what it enn
mean I To-day I received by post Walton! the
wedding cards of Dora aud Mr.
They are to be married to-morrow. I
cannot understand it.
October 22.—Robin has just gone. 1
asked him if he was not surprised ai ..-a
receipt of the cards, and he said, “Yes,
very much surprised indeed.” Then wa
both looked at each other.
“It must have been hard for you,” I
said. “Not for me, but for you," h«
replied. flashed angrily at this. “Foi
I out
me ? no, indeed ! I hope you do not
imagine I cared for that great hulking
fellow,” I cried; “he always wearied me
to dentil.”
“But I thought he was your ideal!”
“You thought so because you were
blind witli your insane love for Dora,” I
cried, almost sobbing,
Robin came closer.
“I never cared for Dora, “You only In a
friendly way,” he said, asked me
to be attentive to her, and I did; though
my heart was breaking with love for yon,
dear, with hope hopeless June love; night for you when had I
slain all one
came here to tell you how I loved you,
and that I wanted you for my wife.
Then Mr. Walton came, so like your
Ideal that I supposed of course you
loved him, and were to wed him—until
these cards came. ”
“But you went to see Dora the very
week of her departure. ”
"Oh, no I I ordeal went away to gather
strength for the of seeing you be¬
come another man’s wife. I never
thought of Dora while I was mistake,” gone."
“It has all been a terrible I
sobbed, and hid my head on Robin’s
breast. “Love came so silently and
softly that I never knew «he was near
till he had full possession of my heart,
Robin.” And so it was. And now 1
close this happy, happy record with a
little song which tells the whole strange
story. I shall read it to Robin to-mor¬
row night. I call it:
love's coming.
[ had looked for liis coming as warriorB come,
With the clash of arms and the tingle’s call.
Bnt he came instead with a stealthy tread,
Which I did not hear at all.
I had thought how his armor would blaze in
the sun,
By As he rode dim like a light prince of tho to claim (ailing his night bride,
the sweet
I found him at my side,
t had dreamed how the gaze of his strange hold
eve
Would wako my heart to a sudden glow,
t found in his faco the familiar grace
Of a friend I used to know.
I had dreamed how his coming would stir my
As soul, is stirred by the wild storm’s
the ocean
strife.
Me brought me the balm of a heavenly oalm,
And a peace which crowned my life.
I have written a long letter to Dora,
telling her all about it, and why I acted
30 strangely when she undertook to tell
mo of her engagement. How she and
her husband will laugh over the expla¬
nation of my queer conduct 1 But I can
afford to be laughed at now, I am so per¬
fectly, perfectly hnppv. So happy,
though I shall not marry my ideal at all,
and though Love came so gradually and
silently, I never knew till he was there.
But I think it is the truest of all loves,
lor it is built on the solid foundation of
’riendship.— Demoreal’« Monthly.
Senator Fair and his Divorced Wife,
A Washington letter says: There is
corroboration for the story that Senator
Fair, of Nevada, is to re-marry the wife
from whom he was divorced last May.
She brought the suit and he mado no
contest, but gave her the minor children
and $4,000,000 in money. Weeks ago
he started suddenly for San Francisco,
where Mrs. Fair is residing. Before
leaving her he intimated in rather an in¬
direct manner that something of the
sort was about to happen, but very little
attention was paid to it, as he had shown
the greatest indifference to the scandal
which his matrimonial difficulty caused,
and has never alluded to the matter. He
went to Europe as soon as the divorce
was granted, and remained until De¬
cember, when he came to Washington
and has gone into society a great deal.
The chief feature of his life here is the
frequency and elegance of the dinner
parties he gives, to which he invariably
invites the most aristocratic ladies and
gentlemen. At these dinners there have
invariably been a number of unmarried
belles, and it has been suspected that if
he married again he would seek a wife
among the bon to"
The lady fro’ 78° -B'vorced
was the co
” ed with
. Mjf
j. I.
The Hotel Dieu, *
• brick building, was lifted up six leet
from the ground recently, with all .ten
mates undisturbed xnthm it. Th® p o
c f KS is described Ml
the walls were ptaeed750 screws^ which
rested on the timber cnb-work, their
upper points being in the aB edifioe "cm cap, rested, on
winch the weight of
At a Bign al given by the blowing of a
whistle the workmen commenced to
turn the screws each having from
eight srMajrAi'T’^a3*2 to twelve to handle. Every man
i„,b. >'ine!y.|i™ men mte enpge. »
. the work.”
A SAD VIRGINIA ROMANCE.
A FAMILY FECII ANIJ SOME OF ITS
RESULTS.
A True Siory ol an UuloruIvliiK Father
nnd n l'roud Son.
While visiting an old friend in a Vir¬
ginia village, says a correspondent, 1
attended worship one Sunday at the
parish church, and was very muoh at¬
tracted by an aged and handsome couple
who sat ‘in the pew opposite me. The
pastor preached Prodigal’s a very Return, affecting which, sermon I
on the
noticed, affected the old lady to tears
and had a marked effect on the gentle
man. I mentioned the circumstauces
that evening to my friend, when she re¬
lated the following sad, true story.
The old couple were Mr. aud Mrs.
0ol. D_. They were both of the
most aristocratic, wealthy families of
Virginia. Col. D-was an honorable,
upright gentleman, but very proud and
passionate, He had one son, “Gus,”
his heir, a warm-hearted, generous,
pleasing young man, just turning his
twenty-first year. He was well known
throughout the country and was loved
by all who knew him. He inherited his
father’s pride, but not his violent nature.
About a mile from Col. D-’s residence
lived a gentleman between whose family
and the Colonel’s a feud of long standing
existed. Col. D- bad frequently
warned his son not under any circum¬
stances to visit any member of the gen¬
tleman’s family. A daughter of the
hated house on her eighteenth birthday
gave a large party, to which all tne
young people were invited, including
the venerable Colonel’s son Gus. On
hearing of the party and his son’s invita¬
tion to it, he sent to him and most posi¬
tively forbid him to attend. The son
promised ho would not. The invitations
were at four o’clock, os a supper on the
lawn was part of the programme. About
three o’clock on that day Gus called for
his team, a splendid pair of handsome
grays, and ordered the coachman to
drive him. Some time after his de¬
parture Colonel D--, who had been
away since morning, returned, and, on
asking for his son, was informed by one
of the servants that he had driven out
two hours ago. The Colonel flow into a
passion, called for his hunting whip,
mounted his horse and rode swiftly to¬
ward his neighbor’s mansion. As he
dashed past he saw his son’s team undei
the trees and cared for by his own coach
man. He kept on to a small shady lane
leading in an opposite direction from the
house, when ho suddenly came upon his
son walking with a young lady, and,
without a word, he rode up, seized him
and cut him several times over the face
and back with his riding whip. “You
ungrateful scoundrel,” he said, “nevoi
cross my path again.” The Colonel’s
face was white with passion as he rode
away. This happened over fifteen years
ago, and although thousands of dollars
have been spent and every effort made
to find some traces of the missing son
Gus, they have been ineffectual, and not
one person who knew him before has
ever seen him since that day. The sad
truth was that the Colonel’s son, it was
found afterward, had not gone to the
party, but loaned his team to a young
friend to whom both his father and him¬
self were warmly attached, and who
drove Gus as far as the lane, where his
father had met him and chastised him
in tho presence of her he loved and
whom he had aooidentally met.
The Postage on Newspapers.
JOSEPH MEDILL IN FAVOR OF A REDUC¬
TION OF THE PKRSBNT POUND KATES.
Joseph Medill, editor ol the Chicago
Tribune, made an argument before the
United States Senate Committee on Post
Offices and Post Ronds in favor of tho re¬
duction of the present pound rates of
postage on newspapers issued from the
office of publication. Tho present law
was, he said, the occasion of tlio laying It
of an oppressive tax upon publishers. is¬
fixed the rate of postage on papers
sued from the office of publication made at two
cents per pound, which rate it pre¬
payable at the office of publication. Be¬
fore the enactment of this law the post¬ col¬
age on this class of mail matter was
lected at the office of delivery from the
subscriber, the news agent, or whoever
received the papers, the tax falling upon
the purchaser, as it ought. But it was
said that a good many papers were not
taken out of tlie poat-olfieo, and in order
to stop this loss of revenue, the law to
jniring prepayment was enacted. The
result has been that the publishers compelled of the
United States have been to pay
this tax, amounting to about $1,500,000
per anr tori"
the
D"
gfc> ...» i,u«.
^ and me La Plata. It is ns
for light draught vessels for full
The ^ expedition was unde,
U ent. Schwatka. The ,
, oration wa8 made on a very f tal i ra
but it navigated ^ over a thousand mi
o( a dan on8 river. Some rich day Ala
^ ^ a usd a verv one
^
A.v enterprising Indian ajent sends
the State Departmen t tl e folte wing
happy solntion of the
mwW'-e l««®
«“*■
HE HAI) NO FAITII IN BANES.
But Kept 9100,000 In his House to Tempt
Visits from I!uf*lar».
Isaac Steele, an aged farmer living
near Petrolia, Pa., made $100,000 from
oil that was found on his farm a few
years ago. Having no faith in banks it
has been bis persistent custom to keep
from $80,000 to $100,000 in bank notes
stowed away in different places about
his house. Five or six years ago he had
$100,000 locked up in a number of boxes.
One day he was examining his treasure
and found it damp, mildewed and
mouldy. Ho took the notes from the
boxes in and the spread them This out in a field noised to
dry the sun. neighborhood, heoame and people
about
flocked from all directions to see the
novel spectacle of a fortune scattered
about. For two days the money was
thus exposed, guarded by the old farm¬
er, his wife, daughter, aud hired mail.
It was then returned to its hiding place
in the house.
Three nights aftorward Steele woke
up and found three men in his room.
They were all masked. They seized
the old man and his wife and bound and
gagged them. While searching for
money about the house they were Steele’s fright¬
ened by the appearance absent of in Pe¬
hired man, who had been
trolia. The robbers fled, having secured
$1,000. This experience failed to induoe
Steele to trust liis money out of his
house. One night in April, 1881, about
midnight., three masked men broke into
Steele’s house again. Mrs. Steele was
knocked unconscious by a blow from
one of the robbers, who drove tho hired
man into a bedroom at the point of a
pistol. Both Steele and liis daughter
were soon overcome, hut not before the
masks bad been torn from the faces of
two of the men, who proved to be Jim
Janies and William Macdonald, well
known residents of tho neighborhood.
The noise made at Steele’s house during
tho struggle aroused a neighboring fam¬
ily, and tlio robbers fled. The third was
not recognized. James and Macdonald
were arrested next day, and were sen¬
tenced to State prison for five years.
Every one supposed that Steele would
put his wealth in a place of safety after
the second warning lie had received, do
hut he stubbornly refused to so.
Only a few days ago a neighbor Steele sitting who
called at the house found
in tho kitchen while the floor, table, and
chairs wore covered with hank notes,
wliioli the old farmer was once more
drying. There were $45,000 in tho lot.
Au oil operator from tho lower country
brought the news that Steele’s hoiiBe
had again been visited by masked burg¬
lars, aud they succeeded in getting away
with $5,000 before they were forced to
fly from the house by the approaching family
neighbors. They bound the as
usual, and escaped detection. It is said
that Steele has at last decided to put liis
noney where it v-i” bo safe.
Stopping a Stampede.
“One of the slickest things I saw in
my travols," said a passenger from tho
West, "was a cowboy stopping a cattle
stampede. A herd of about six or eight
hundred had got frightened at some¬
thing and broke away pell-mell with
their tails in tho air aud the bulls at the
head of the procession. But Mr. Cow¬
boy didn’t get excited at all when he
saw the herd was going straight certainly for a
high bluff, whero I hey would
tumble down into tho canyon and be
killed.
“Yon know that when a herd like that
gets to going they can't stop, no matter
whether they rush to death or not.
Those in the rear crowd those ahead,
and away they go. I wouldn’t have
given a dollar a head for that herd, but
made the cowboy little spurred detour, up his in mustang, right in
a come
front of the herd, cut across their paths
at a right angle, and then galloped halted
leisurely on the edge of that bluff,
and looked around at the wild mass of
beef coming right toward him. He was
as cool as a cucumber,’though I expected
to see him killed, and was so excited I
could not speak.
“Well, sir, when tho leaders got with¬
in about a quarter of a mile of him, I
saw them try to slack up, though they
could not do it very quick. But the
whole herd seemed to want to stop,
and when the cows and steers in
the rear got about where the cowboy
had cut across their path, and I was sur¬
prised to see them Btop commence
to nibble ot the grass. Then the whole
herd stopped, wheeled, straggled back,
nnd went to fighting for a chance to eat
where the rear guard was.
“You see, that cowboy had brought had opened from a
big bag of salt he out
the ranch to give the cattle, galloped
across the herd’s course and emptied the
'-I;, Every critter snuffed “'at line ot
of course, that
I tell yo
CUSF
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A Fas
X- a lid
nu
$1.00 A YEAR.
THE HOUSEKEEPER.
A Few Hints that will be Found Useful In
the Kitchen.
Excellent soft gingerbread is made of
oue cup of sugar, one cup of butter, one
cup of sour cream, oue cup of New Or¬
leans molasses, four cups of sifted
flour, one tableBpoonful of soda dissolved
in a little hot water, one tablespoonful tho
of ginger, three well-beaten eggs,
rind grated of one lemon, Raisins may
be added if you please. cake which Is to
When making layer fruit, of
have a filling of fresh or one
any kind which ought not. to be put in
until it is time to serve it, it should be
taken from the tins in which it is baked
and be placed ou the tins turned upside
down. Take the precaution to heat these
tins if they have oooled, in order to pro
vent the cake’s falling. pieces of
Supposo that you have some
oold roast beef that you do not know
how to use to good advantage, also some
bits of cold ham; try this way of dis¬
posing of them : Chop them very fino,
removing all gristlo or anything that is
not appetizing; to one cup and a half of
this chopped meat add a teaspoonfu! half of
salt, a quarter of a small onion, a
teaspoonful of black pepper, a pinch rubbed of
sago, and a little dried parsley
flue. Beat one egg, and add to bind tho
bits together; add also a little soup
stock to moisten thorn; roll in shape of
flat cakes, dip in egg and very fine
cracker or broad crumbs, and fry in hot
lard. Have tho lard boiling when tho
croquettes are dropped into it, then bo
they will keep their shape, as they
cowo crisp on the outside at onoo.
To make old Dutch tea cakes, put a
pound and a half of flour near the lire
and stir it until it is warm; heat a pint
of milk lukewarm, and mix with it half
a cupful of mild yeast and the yelks of
two raw eggs; strain this mixture into
tho flour, stir them together, cover the
mixing bowl with a folded towel and
place it near tho fire to raise for about
half an hour or until it is light. Then
mold tho dough in flat cakes the Bize of
a saucer, using flour enough to work
them easily; as they are formed lay
them on a floured baking-pan; Bet them
near the fire until they are risen nearly
double their height, and then bake them
for half an hour in a moderate oven.
Serve plenty of fresh blitter with them.
To use pieces of oold boiled ham that
are too small for tho table, lottuco chop them
flno, lino a salad dish with leaves,
season the ohopped ham with pepper, a
little mustard, aud then make a tomato
dressing; take one pint of tomato-juice,
strain it, thicken by adding ono table
spoonful little of the of oold nrrowroot, juice; then mixing stir with it into a
the other and let it boil for two or threo
minutes; add a little butter and pepper,
and pour over the ham. Serve hot or
cold.
Many people who liko tho various
dishes mado of dried cod-Hsh do not
have them as often they object as they strongly otherwise to
would because
the odor given out by tho fish when kept
in the store-room. This objection may this
he done away with by pursuing cod-fish,
eourso : Buy tho very best tho
Eugllsh-ourod is preferred by many
cooks; remove all Ji skin and bones from
it. Then put the pieoes of fish into
glass fruit-jars, sorew the oovers on, and
no odor will be perceptible. The fish
will not absorb undue moisture, and
will be in convenient form to use at any
time.
When fruit must be soalded to pre¬
vent fermentation it should be boiled for
several minutes, or it will do no manner
of good, and you will have yonr trouble
for nothing. This applies to chopped
pickle as well.
A strange Infatuation.
Coup, the circus man, tells this story:
“Years ago a well-known circus man
was in the high-tide of prosperity, retinue of
among the attractions in the
side-shows following his tout there was
a freak known as Walter Stewart. This
human monstrosity was without legs or
hands, but he hud short, stubby arms,
and it was considered an iritcroating
sight to see him shave himself Although by the
use of these half*formed limb.s.
repulsive in other respects, it is said
that. Stewart possessed average intelli¬
gence. One season the manager was
accompanied on his tour by a charming
and beautiful young daughter. v, Hy
was her name, and she was th
her amusement-loving parent, that *
worth at least $250,090 at
ho lavished every attention up
loved child. Kitty had her o
almost everything. c ”
with the
Stowari
titiou
len<
NOTES BY THE WAY.
Gen. Brisbin says the English cattle capi¬
talists are fast controlling the
herds oi the Yellowstone Valley.
Lowell, Mass., has the oldest Odd
Fellow living in America. He is over 80
years of age, and has belonged to the
Order 61 years.
Gen. J. B. Gordon, of the Confed¬
erate army, said recently: “There is no
more feeling now between a Southerner
and a Northerner than there is between
a Scotchman and an Englishman.”
George Ehret is the wealthiest brew¬
er in New York, his property $2,000,000 being va¬
riously estimated at from to
$3,000,000, all made since he landed on
these shores from Germany, twenty-five
years ago.
As Joaquin Milder views it, there
ore only two cities in the world that
trade and commerce have not built.
These two are Jerusalem and Salt Lake
City, which were founded and are sup¬
ported as theocracies.
The 25,000 owners of bicycles in the
United States expect the May meet to be
especially successful this year, as it is to
be held in Washington, the chief city of
wheelmen in this country. arrived. Twenty yean
ago the bioycle had not
Experiments in the English effective army
show that a soldier can do more
shooting by keeping both eyes open and
looking along tho gun-barrel at the ob¬
ject aimed at. Thirty-eight per cent, of
the dummies thus aimed at by a bat¬
talion were hit.
Mrs. Helen Jackson writos in the
May Century of “The Women of the
Bee-Hive,” meaning the Mormon wo¬
men, with whom she feels great sym¬
pathy, regarding them as a conscientious
and suffering class, whose religions posi¬
tion bus beon misunderstood.
Among the presents received by the
Emperor William on his birthday porcelain was a
superb service of Sevres bear¬
ing tho inscription “From France,” The
German Emperor has been greatly
touched by it, and never wearied
of showing this particular present to his
visitors.
JonN B. Gough’s first appearance upon
tho lecture platform in commemorated New York, forty in
years ago, is to be
May, and as it was in New York that he
reformed, the anniversary will be cele¬
brated by nil the temperance poople of
theoity. Mr. Gough will be sixty-seven
years of ago in August.
Mr. T. Painter Allen has published wife’s
in England a book on tho deoeased
sister question. It contains the Greek opinions and
of seventy of tho foremost
Hebrew scholars of tho universities of
Europe and America on the Biblioal as¬
pect of tho question. Of the whole
seventy, only one opinion is unequivocal¬ the
ly adverse to tho proposed change in
law.
The new edition of the American
Newspaper Directory says that the peri¬
odicals of all kinds issued in the United
States and Canada roach a total of 13,402.
This is a gain of 1,600 during the last
twelve meutlis, and an increase of 5,618
over the total number published past the ten
years ago. During the year
dailies hvvo increased from 1,138 to 1,264; and
the weeklies from 9,062 to 10,028;
the monthlies from 1,091 to 1,499.
Forty years ago Mary Poythros, then
the handsomest young woman in 8yl
vania county, Ga., was engaged and to Jonn
Gross, who went to Texas was away
a year. Ou his return they were missing re-en¬
gaged. Then John Gross was
till lie came home recently to celebrate
his sixtieth birthday, finding the
waiting Mary still unmarried. In the
intervening years she had refused
several good offers, but this time she
pinned John Gross and the two were
wedded.
He Had lllm.
I have come to tho conclusion that the
street car is an admirable sohool in which
to study human nature in all of its
phases. On one oooasion I saw a neat
return lesson in politeness administered
which was extremely amusing. The oar
was full of passengers and side by side
sat a negro and a nervous, rather cross
looking white man. Presently a lady
entered and stood for a half minute or
more, when the white man turned to the
nogro and asked:
“Why don’t you offer that lady your
seat?” sartainly,” replied the
“Snrtainly, sah, politely
negro, as he at once rose up,
offered her the seat and to the
front part of the car. Soon after a negro
woman entered the car and not a motion
was made to give her a seat. The negro
waited for a minute or two, and then
stopping to where his late instructor in
courtesy was sitting, took ofl nis hat
nd said:
“H’cnse me, sah, but why don’t you
offer dis lady yo’ seat ?”
The man looked as if two or three
bolts ol lightning had -* hesi
tateil a moment and
“I will I" left f
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Learn to
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