Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XVIII.
Vit tor* a Colonna.
TBOM IjONQFELLOW’S “MICHAEL ANGELO.’*
Parting with friends is temporary death.
As ali death is. We see no more their faces,
Nor hear their voices, save in memory;
Bat messages of love give us assurance
That we are not forgotten. Who shall say
That from the world of spirits oomes no
greeting,
No message of remembrance? It may be
The thoughts that visit us; we know not
whence,
Sudden as inspiration, are the whisp&re
Of disembodied spirits, ieaking to us
As friends, who wait outside a prison way,
~~ Through the bar rod win...<■ ‘ ~♦
within.
As quiet ns the lake that lies beneath me, 1
As quiet as the tranquil sky above me,
As quiet as a heart that beats no more.
This convent seems. Above, below, nil peace!
Silence and solitude, the soul’s best friends.
Are with me here, and the tumultuous world
Makes no more noise than the remotest
planet.
Oh, gentle spirit, unto the third circle
Of heaven among the blessed sonls ascended,
Who, living in the faith and dying for it,
Have gone to their reward, I do not sigh
For thee as being dead, bat for myself
That lam still alivo. Turn those dear eyes,
Once so benignant to me, upon mine,
That open to their tears such uncontrolled
And such continual issue. Still awhile
Have patience, I will come to thee at last.
A few more goings iu and out these doors,
A few more chimings of these convent bells,
A few more prayers, a few more sighs and
tears,
And the long agony of this life will end,
And I shall be with thee. If lam wanting
To thy w ell-being, as thou art to mine,
Have patience; I will come to thee at last.
Ye minds that loiter in these cloister guldens,
Or wander far above the city walls.
Bear unto him this message, that I ever
Or speak or think of him, or weep for him.
By unseen hands uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats with its white apparel blown abroad,
And wafted up to heaven. It fades away
And melts into the air. Ah, would that I
Oould thus be wafted unto thee, Francesco,
A cloud of white, ail incorporeal spirit!
' —Atlantic Monthly .
THE PROFESSOR’S STORY.
* iil '.l ff 1 (-:■ Kli 1 llti’l v \-( ■
an old acquaintance, now professor in
a New England college, the conversa
tion recalled some of the friends of
our vfmnger days, and he surprised me
with this remark : “A woman's sym
pathies lie neater her heart than her
love, unless her love is born of them.”
Hut he surprised me more by the story
he told to prove it.
I guess it was seven years, he said,
that our chair of astronomy remained
vacant. You know of Dr. Merdon.
It was justly that the world Anally
gave him fame. Well, alter his death
the trustees were at a loss to fill his
place. A weak man would have been
insufferable there.
Do yon remember bis family?
■Charming wife and daughter. They
spent severid years abroad, after his
-death, and when they returned, not
withstanding that the widow still
wore mourning, the number of our
little social events was doubled. The
daughter had a string of young mil
lionaires after her constantly. Fe
male society, perhaps you know,
wasn't unlimited, and it was with a
foundation of truth that the fellows
grimly joked about calling on the
girls their fathers had courted before
them. Charlotte Mirdon was as fas
cinating a girl as her mother had been,
so said the old folks, and it was to her
that young Professor Lutz quoted from
Horace. ■■ Oh daughter, more beautiful
than thy beautiful mother I" when he
brought down on himself the ridicule
•of the mountain-day party. Yes, she
could have hail her pick from a dozen
very rich boys, and 1 think -be would
have taken' it, too, if she hadn't dis
covered that her mother was trying to
influence her in their favor.
At the senior party, that year, Char
lotte brid her court, as she did every
where. Site was surrounded, I re
member, by the rich fellows of Charlie
Elliott’s set. Elliott was happy that.'
night. Charlotte had been unusually ;
gracious, and her mother had made
her favor clearer than ever.
Over near the door sat the last man
to be expected at a president’s party,
Brent Hevmour. He was senior the
year before, and taking post-graduate
study at the observatory Merdon had
built shortly before his death, a town
lxiy. who supported bis mother and
worked his way through college not
often seen in society, and his ill-fitting
clothes and embarrassed manner at
tested it. Elliott, looking about the
room for a subject for his next brilliant
remark to Miss Merdon, caught sight
of him.
“ Ed,” said he, turning to his chum,
I tell you what will tie great sport.
Bring Seymour up and formally pre
sent him to Miss Merdon. It will con
fuse him. lie won't know what to do
and there’ll lie a deuce of a scene.”
The < hum complied and in a moment
had the r lucta it Seymour hy the
arm. The scene that followed must
have been a'.l that Elliott and sired. For
a moment the p<x r student stood lie
fore the belle. It was not unlike the
tableau of the begu'ar and the prin
ce, s. Her easy attitude contrasted
strangely with his painful awkward-
ness. Elliott had not miscalculated.
The effect was immediate. All eyes
were turned toward the couple and a
smile went around.
Charli tt i Merdou saw it, and her
cheeks tlamcd. She had divined the
heart!*a joke. To the surprise of
those about her she begge l Seymour
t j be seated —insisted that be should
be seated. Then| sue tried to draw
him into conversation. But it was im
possible. Embarrassment seemed to
hear driven his wits away, Only one
ri* ark he ventured. (1 lancing at a
portrait on the wall he stammered
out, “That’s a good picture of the
president.” The portrait was one
taken thirty years before and was any
thing hut a good likeness of the presi
dent as he then appeared. The un
fortunate remark caused another
smile. Elliott was delighted. His
joke was a splendid success. Poor
Seymour twisted about in hit chair
and hung his head, llis discomfiture
was complete.
Miss Merdon took a deliberate look
at the picture, and did not smile.
“ Yes,” she said, "it is called a very
good likeness of him just after
graduation. Have you seen the presi
dent’s [lowers, Mr. Seymour? Let me
show them to you.”
Rising, and excusing herself, she loti
the young man into the greenhouse, ad
joining tlie parlor.
“ The deuce!” said Elliott. “ I didn’t
look for anything like that.”
Seymour, rescued in this way from
i®s trying ordeal, hardly knew what to
say or do. He felt as if a millstone had
been taken from his neck. The pain
and the manner of relief worked
strangely on Ills sensitive nature. He
felt that He was in great debt to his
companion. He wanted to kiss the
hem of her garment. He wanted to
cry. He knew he was feeling and act
ing like a fool. He expected that he
should make a greater fool of himself
than in the parlor. Hut some way he
didn’t care. He had lost all fear of
the beautiful girl. Her act of mercy
had brought her nearer than years
of acquaintance could. Ho talked
rapidly of the flowers, for he knew
of them, and Charlotte listened—
listened wondering why she cared to
listen, little thinking that her sym
pathy had brought the a wle -dstu-
I had she known him half her lifetTlue
! and never seen him in pain. .So when
he pointed out to her the observatory
where he worked, tiie queerly-sliaped
building ttiat showed its dark outlines
in tlie moonlight, just over the campus
on the bill, she wondered what it was
that prompted her to beg him to take
her there, to exact a promise from him
that, on the very next evening, he
would conduct her through the build
ing that had been built after her
father’s orders. She persuaded herself
that it was a desire to see some manu
scripts of her father’s which Seymour
told her hail been left th( ra. Perhaps
it was.
Notwithstanding her mother's mild
remonstrance, the next evening found
her with Brent Seymour in the tele
scope-room of the observatory Tlie
roof had been let down and she was
watching the stars.
“ I wonder if father often studied
them from this room,” she said.
“ Whenever the sky was clear ”
“ I wonder if he can see them now.”
“No; I think that through someone
of them he is looking at us.”
Far from science and astronomy,
far, very far, from his scholarly stand
point, the man’s childish reply had
taken him, hut it had carried him
nearer the heart of the girl than lie
dreamed.
Mrs. Merdon's disapproval of her
’daughter’s visit to the observatory
with Seymour broadened into anger as
his ( alls were repeated, and repeated
often. An intimacy grew between the
young people that, even to themselves,
they did not undertake to explain. The
girl’s friendship had opened anew
world to the hardworked student. Had
lie known more of life, he would
have knoivn that he was falling in
love. Over the other a secret was
stealing as steadily as comes over us
♦the morning. A month had passed
since the senior party. The two sat
again in the telescope-room. She
seemed to lie studying the stars.
“And do you remember,” she was
asking, “that, that evening, you
thought through someone uf them
father w r as looking at us?”
" Yes.”
“Do you suppose he can see us
now ?”
“ Yes ’’ (in a surprised way).
“Then” (hesitatingly) "do you
think he is glad—is glad to see us to
gether?”
“Won’t you” (the voice was very j
husky)—“ won’t you answer forme?”
“Yes,” she said, in a voice dear as
a harp-chord, “ I know he is.”
Seymour wondered if his senses
were giving way. He hardly knew
what followed. He meant to ask—he
tried to ask if she didn’t think her
father would he glad to see them al
ways,together. Somehow that seemed
long and heavy, and he couldn’t make
the w ords come. He had a choking
sensation in his throat, and his eyes
were blinded with tears. He felt just
as he had iri the greenhouse the night
|of the senior party. He wanted to kiss
the hem of her garment. He felt tha
WASHINGTON, GA., FET JAY, MARCH 2, 1883.
he was in debt to her, and falling
deeper in debt every moment. He
knew he was making a fool of him
self, hut he didn’t euro. He was the
happiest fool that moment in God’s
happy world.
“ You are just as much mine," she
said, at last, her hands resting upon his
head, which some way or other had
found a place i.i her lap,—“ you are
just as much mine as it l had not done
all ihe wooing myself.”
The Merdon mansion had never seen
such a storm as followed Charlotte's
avowal of her betrothal. Her mother
insisted that she would never
never in the world, and the girlVT?
had always honored her wishes above
everything else was in distress.
“ lint you did not marry a rich man
yourself, mother; why should you want
me to?” she urged.
“ I married a man who was great—
whom everybody knew; why, if you
were to marry the man, whoever ho is,
who will till his clnilr, 1 should be
happy forever, hut this fellow," and
her indignation almost overpowering
her she left the room.
It was late in the afternoon when
Charlotte stole upstairs. Passing her
mother’s room stye saw that the door
was partly open. She knew what R
meant. Women, even among them
selves, make their reconciliations
gradually. She pushed the door wide
open, as her mother had intended she
should, and went in. The la ly
sat by her writing-table; her
head rested on her hand, and she was
evidently sleeping. A little pile of
letters lay before Her, a picture beside
them. Tears had dropped upon ihe
letters and the picture showed the
stains of tears. Charlotte looked at
the picture closely. The face was.
familiar. Surely she had seen it t>e
fore. But where? She could not
place it among her acquaintances.
Whose face was it? She started. A
broken, uncertain voice seemed to say,
“That’s a good picture of tlie presi
dent.” Her lover’s awkward remark
at the party, the portrait on tlie wall,
the picture that her mother cried over.
It was all clear, Very clear, and she
didn’t care to real the open letter by
the picture,
“My poor, dear mother,” she
thought, ns, without awakening her.
save one.
It was after midnight when Mrs.
Merdon awoke She had hoped tier
daughter would come in. She wanted
to tell her that she was no longer an
gry. She had been carried back over
parts of her own life and she wanted
to tell Charlotte that after all she must
follow the voice of her heart, that her
own experience had taught her so.
She was almost ready to confess to her
that although she had married a man
who was great, whom e very lx sly knew,
she—no, no, no, she could not tell her
daughter that —she could not tell her
that. Very slowly she put away the
letters and the picture, saying, “ Yes,
1 loved him then, and, God forgive
me, I have loved him ever since."
At noon the next day a servant
brought a note tothepresident’sstuiy:
“Charlotte E. Merdon requests the
pleasure of a few moments’ private
conversation.”
“ I wonder what Addin Mather's
daughter wants of me?” thought the
old bachelor as lie passed down into
the’ reception-room. “ How the girl
brings iier to miml!”
In a dignified way that even sur
prised herself, Charlotte begat. “I
understand that the trustees have
given you appointing power regarding
the professorship which father's (hath
made vacant.”
“Ye?.”
“Have you made any provisions
yet?”
"No.” J
“I have a candidate to present”
“What—you! A candidate! Who
is it?”
“Brent Seymour.”
Charlotte’s intimacy with S • niour
was not unknown to tlie president,
but tliis astounded him.
“It is impossible,” he said; 'T do
not see how you can ask it, bo v you
can think of it.”
“Would you not do much tol 'ingto
you one you loved?” she asked, loldly,
A peculiar light came into tlfe gray
eyes behind the steel-bowed spedacles.
•• Yes.”
“ How much ?”
“ Anything.”
“Would you give a professor hip?”
The peculiar light increasi 1. It
was almost a hlaze.
“ Yes.”
“Will you give me this profes orsliip
if I bring to you one you love?
The gray eyes were now fairly
aflame. She was understoo He
sprang to his feet. Age seemt to fall
lrorn him like a scale.
“Girl, what do you men?” he
shouted.
“ That she loved you all the me.”
There was a baseball mat'* on the
college grounds, but it wasliot the
topic of the afternoon. A rclirt that
Brent Seymour had been lipointeil
to the chair of astronomy lad sent
half the college to his littlmouse to
congratulate him. They Cold not be
gin to get inside, so he stoo'liut in the
yard and shook hands with them one
1 iy one. J
In ho. evening a passing stu
dent aw an umtsnnl visitor go up the
path to the Merdon mansion. It was
tlufl ay-haired president. Mrs. Mer
don p3 id the door herself, and the
stiyjint eoulun’t’help seeing the look
of a o.Ushment on her face, and that
she t tiered as she stepped back into
the l/TT; couldn’t help hearing, in tones
that;he will never forget, two ex
clawidions, “Adtlie!” “Frank!” and
the ylor closed.
Whim Scyinouf(;ijnd Charlotte came
in walk they heard
v.f ‘>JL i tlic sittfihg-room, and Sey
ustonisli-
the president’s
voicepiylng: “I am glad that you re
jected me once, for hay joy Is made
wwiiw-'fui by years of darkness. ’
Cabbing her layer’s hand Charlotte
stepp “and with him into the room.
" A other,” she said, "if you haven’t
got 919 much happiness already”—
Iooki; g a 1 the venerable man who did
not r>jieftso the hand ho was holding—
“ renumber you promised to be happy
forewer if I should marry the man
who j will fill my father's chair. Let
me pi -sent him.”
lly host ceased. Ilia story was evi
dently done. and as he drew ba -kfrom
the: table, ho said: “The only tiling
fictitious about it is the name I have
giv/n the pobr student.”
jjßJt.” I asked, “(111 Charlotte over
Vm" n 1 sof the visit she made
to )Jf chamber when she was asleep at
her writing-desk?"
“[You may ask her,” ho said, smil
ing,) "She sits at tlie head of the
table.”
Airbed in the, story. I had not no
t'cM that iny hostess was concealing
hedblushes behind the tea-urn.—
Springfield Republican,
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL
Kid in rubber is now adulterated with
finish pulverized cork—tlie cork, of
com sc, being that for which no other
use can be found.
A French scientist says that bodies
can lip kept incornipted for an indefi
nite period by being placed in glass
con’.nif, with the air 'pumped out and
reis-royo .vith antiseptic gas.
ITriij” p:Lb(nwing to poor crops w
a series o\V /T-ars, and partly to the
amount of capital invested by Scotch
farmers in America.
A party of Italian scientists just re
turned from an expedition to the
South I’acilio have proved to their
own satisfaction that a race of giants
once existed in Patagonia. In wan
dering over Terra del Fncgo they
found human bones of marvelous large
size.
A spot which appeared in the sun’s
southern hemisphere, on April 13,
oblast year, was measured by Hey. F.
Hewlett and found to have a superfi
cial area of not less than 2,050,000,000
sipiare miles. Even this was sur
passed by one seen in November, which
a correspondent of the London Echo
reported as extending over a space of
2,356,840,000 square miles.
, The removal of the electric lamps
which light the foreign settlement at
.Shanghai lias been ordered by the Chi
nese governor of the district, who says
he has heard of the terrible accidents
which have been caused by electricity,
and he cannot allow bis people to be
expo sed to the frightful risk of hav
ing hundreds of thousands of houses
destroyed, millions of persons killed,
or the walls of the city blown down,
by any irregularity in the working of
the electric machine.
According to foreign journals a Swiss
engineer, named Fedor, at present
employed on railway in Finland, h"s
lately perfected a discovery which, if
ali that is said of it be true, will prove
an immense boon to railway companies.
The invention consists of an indicator,
of easy application to all existing
and locomotives, whereby their
speed, the number of stoppages they
make, the duration of the stoppages,
and the times at which they are made,
are exactly and automatically regis
tered. The apparatus has been tried
and its efficiency proved on a railway
in Finland, and on a part of the line
between Moscow and St. Petersburg.
Olive Oil.
A correspondent of the Philadelphia
Jlulletin, traveling abroad, rays: 1
was much interested in the frutonia,
the place where the olive oil is made,
and had the opportunity to watch the
whole process. Signor Mattcini has
just erected a very line new building
for the purpose, and has introduced
machinery, an innovation most dis
pleasing to the nnprogrerslve conta
dini mind—he would prefer the slow
primitive method, though it consumed j
more than twice or thrice the time and
was infinitely more laborious We j
saw the great hags of olives emptied j
between two large grindstones, which !
crushed them thoroughly; they are,
then put into soft wicker baskets and
placed under heavy presses; from
these the pure oil runs into marble
vats in another room, is left to settle
fur a short time, arid is then bottled.
To us wlio are used to seeing one flask
of olive oil at a time it was quite over
powering to behold hundreds of gal- j
ions produced so quickly.
FASHION NOTES. .
Cheviots will be worn again.
Now ribbbns are in Ottoman reps.
Ottoman sateens come in large flat
reps.
Corsago bouquets grow larger and
larger.
Ball dresses are again trimmed! with
(lowers.
There is a return to demi-trains for
dinner toilets.
Pretty fans are made of soft feathers
in every color.
Brocaded velveteen appears among
spring novelties.
Large cravats or lace bows are no
longer fa-monable.
Silver dog collars ara worn outside
the collar o’ tlie dress.
The newest bonnets are very small,
hut have a pointed brim, extending
over the forehead, and long ears with
square corners.
Box plait skirts are made no wide
that they look like panels, especially
when trimmed with cord foiuages or
buttons and bows.
Dressy slippers of black satin, to be
worn with black silk stockings, have
handsome buckles of cut jet for orna
ments below the instep.
Novelties in dress buttons are in odd
designs, in carved wood, in jet, bronze,
silver, or dea l steel, representing gro
tesque heads of animals.
Padding, wadding and corsets are
avoided by fashionable girls, as it Is
the style now to have the figure look as
natural and supple as possible.
Tlie newest wraps are padded on the
shoulders, or rather on the upper part
of the sleeve. This is done to give tlie
wearer tlie appearance of greater
height. ,
Crocheted slippers in fancy wools for
tlie bedroom arc wrought with long
loops inside, which serve as a lining,
making them much warmer and fit
ting ( loser to-the feet.
Bed cashmere pelisses for little girls
are plaited from the neck down, tied at
the waist with a belt ribbon, and have
a pelerine cape so long that it nearly
conceals the garment under it.
I Evening dresses arc frequently made
gibgljt-poiored velvets, in ■'the."uncer
; i" ;-r%, * '.eaTTfA ;..
blue. Nile green, shrimp pink ami pale
brae, cream and ficelle, with elaborate
trimmings of lace and satin ribbon.
Imitation diamondi uro now so per
fect that the real ones are at a dis
count; no one of wealth is suspected
of wearing any but the real stories, and
many a wealthy woman takes ad
vantage of this notion and wears the
mock jewels without four of detection
or of theft.
HEALTH HINTS.
An orange eaten before breakfast
cures the craving for liquor and im
proves a disordered stomach.
For a scald or burn, apply imme
diately pulverized charcoal and oil;
lamp oil will do, hut linseed is better.
It is stated try a medical writer that
carbolic acid diluted with warm
water, and pouted into the eat, is a
sovere’gn cure for earache.
Dr. Honker, of St. Petersburg, treats
diphtheria by lirst giving the patient a
laxative, and when its operation has
ceased he givoi cold drinks acidulated
with hydrochloric acid, aid then a
gargle of lime water and hot milk in
equal parts every two hours. Ilia
method hai lie. n very successful.
A physician who manages a home
for the cure of the opium habit says
that in every caso excepting one that
has come under his notice, the habit
lias been acquired by using the drug
ror on; painful ailment, usually hy
prescription o' physician. A large
number of physicians bavecome under
his care for the cure of tals habit, and
one remarkable case of a physician
who acquired the use of opium for the
purpose of discovering some antidote.
Failing in this, lie brought up at the
cure. Evidently morphia is a dangei
ous drug toexperiment with and should
not he prescribed when anything else
will serve in its stead.— Dr. Eoot/s
Ihalth Monthly.
Itlril Architects.
Doves, in the construction of their
nests, display a great apparent care
lessness or want of skill. The coarse
sticks that compose their nests are so
loosely thrown together that one would
hardly believe they could hold the eggs.
This is evidently a provision of nature
to secure the young froin vermin, like
the practice of woodpeckers of laying
their eggs on the bare wood. A similar
imperfection of structure marks the
nests of some of the larger birds. Hut
why should certain species be endowed
with this conservative instinct, while
in others it is entirely wanting? By
careful observation wo find a reason
for it The woodpeckers lay their eggs
on the bare wood that vermin may not
fliid a harbor in the material of a nest;
but when a wren or a chickadee takes
possession of oneof these vacated hol
lows it tills it with materials that are
fitted to harbor swarms of vermin, but
each of these birds feeds on the mi
nutest crawling insects, and with its
microscopic vision can easily destroy
all that enter its abode.
NO. 9.
Where There’s a Will There’s a Way.
Though troubles perplex you,
Dishearten and vex you,
Retarding your progress in soinbe- array ;
To shrink with terror
Is surely an error,
For where there’s a will there’s a way.
The task may bo teasing,
The duty unplensing,
But ho who confronts it will soon win the day;
Half the battle iR over
When om we discover
That where there*’a will there’s a way.
Misfortune - uncounted
Are often (cWT^^'ted,
If Only we unit not the fleS-.Sin dismay j
*’ Then once more
Remembering ever
That where there's a will there’s a way.
—Domestic Journal,
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
Gallant tree is known by its boughs.
Sleight-of-hand—Refusing an offer
of marriage.
The deuce of diamonds is their ex
orbitant cost.
The electric incandescent pocket
book istho latest; it is always light.—-
Drummer.
Eva, noticing a flock of noisy, chat
tering blackbirds, said. “Mamma, I
guess they’re having a sewing ’ciety I”
—Home Journal.
A little child of seven or eight said
that when the Bible speaks of “child
ren’s children” it must mean dolls.—
Christian at Home.
A-little girl in Arkansas, according
to dispatches, has been found with
three tongues if that girl ever gets
married—but why dwell on such hor
rible anticipations ?
The increased tendency to play chess
by tejegr.aph suggests < ur intimating
that it wouldn’tjie a had idea to have
prize-fights and cocking mains con
ducted in the same way. —Rome Seriti
nel.
A philosopher says“ln, the econ
omy of nature nothing is lost. The
inside of an orange may refresh one
man, while the outside of the same
fruit nu>y serve as a medium for break
ing another man’s leg.”
human bwi.gsr ?rho author of rb“
work lias declined an offer of SI,OOO
to jump into tlie harbor at Key West
and settle tlie dispute.
Archibald Forbes, the English war
correspondent; is to get $5,001) for his
proposed work on the United States.
Wo had no idea the United States
needed repairs so bad that the work on
them would cost ss,ooo. —Texas Sift
ings.
A miller, who attempted to be witty
at the expense of a youth of weak in
tellect, accosted him with, "John, peo
ple say that you are a fool.” On this
John replied, “1 don’t know that I am,
sir; l know some tilings, sir, and some
things I don’t know, sir.” “Well,
John, what do you know?” “I know
that millers always have fat hogs, sir."
“And what don't you know?” “I
don't know whose corn they eat, sir.’
AY’liile the guards aro being doubled
around the palace of tlie sultan, and
tlie most experienced safe-builders are
employed in constructing a bed cham
ber of chilled iron for the czar that
cannot be opened without a knowledge
of the combination, tho gratifying
news comes that the governor’s guard
of Ohio is to be disbanded. How tran
quil and secure is the life of an
American potentate beside that of
foreign rulers! —Saturday Night.
A Caterer on Meat,
Frosii meat of every description
should lie hung up in a dry, cool place,
and carefully wiped every day. It
ought never to lay long in a dish. Tha
time it should he kept varies with
the weather—in cold, dry weather it
will keep fresh much longer than in
moist, warm weather. Game will keep
longer tliap butcher meat--say, two
weeks—birds being kept with the
feathers on, but not drawn, and veni
son and rabbits paunched but not
skinned. Beef will require from four
to tea days’ keeping, or even longer in
cold weather; and mutton, if well
managed, will sometimes hang a fort
night or three weeks without, spoiling
—the longer the bitter. As young
meat, however—veal, lamb and mut
ton-spoils very quickly, one, two or
three days at the utmost suffices for it.
Fowls will keep for a week aid
turkeys a fortnight, but a goose nob
above nine or ten days. In plucking
birds which have been kept some
time, care should be taken not to
break the akin, which will become
rattier tender.
(There are various ways of keeping
meat sweet and of removing the bad
smell after it has become slightly
tainted. One mode is to rub it over
with coarsely-pounded charcoal, which
has tlie property of absorbing tho
putrescent gases, and thus prevents
the bad smell. The charcoal must, of
course, be washed off before cooking.
Another way is to paint the meat nil
over with a solution of salicylic acid,
or. rubbing the meat with dry a id is
the simplest method, and will do for.
all household purposes.— The Caterer.