Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY. JUNE 26, 1875. MARY E. BRYAN, Editress. Our Correspondents. Pressure of work that could not be delayed has hitherto prevented us from giving our cor respondents the attention they deserve. But now that improved health has enabled us in some degree to “get ahead,” and especially since the last page of “Twice Condemned” (which | there*was story was written, page by page, as it was called [ lowed with his friends, and instantly he and his nothing else helps so in managing them. I always keep a jar full in the closet to stop their months when they begin to bawl or to quarrel with each other.” Doctors and philosophers might object to this mode of managing children, but there is a great deal of life goes on independent of the rules of moral philosophy and of hygiene. The great consumers and manufacturers of bon-bons are the French. Fond as they are of change, they stick to their old relish for sugar plums, and at every birth-day or fete occasion, there are presents of bon-bons put up in the pret tiest parcels. The Italians also are great de- vourers of these confections, and in many dis tricts of Italy there is still kept up the old-time custom of throwing sweet-meats to the crowd on a wedding occasion. A traveler gives us this picture of a marriage in the Alps: “ Outside the church, we found the mountain. The mountain had not put on its best clothes for nothing. The people, with their black eyes full of fun, were shrieking, laughing and dancing round the church porch. The bride appeared; merry shout; the bridegroom fol for by the impatient typo) has been sent to the printers, we breathe more freely, and turn with pleasure to respond to the numerous correspond ents whose letters, so full of kindness and en couragement, have solaced many a dull or weary hour. So many of these letters are from ladies—from our noble, large-hearted Southern women. Many of them contain appeals for counsel and for help in the way of obtaining employment, with touch ing accounts of poverty and distress, such as come in these dark days to so many who have been reared in affluence. God and all true men help these struggling daughters of our sad land —these pale, sweet-voiced, modest, yet brave-hearted women—too proud to accept char ity, yet willing to take whatever work their hands may find, and to perform it faithfully and well. True Friends of the Poor. While the press and the public generally have indulged in unlimited croaking over the disas trous times and the fearful prevalence of poverty and distress in our once prosperous country, a few individuals of earnest benevolence, here and there, have quietly and without flourish of trum pets, set to work to mitigate a portion of these evils and to prove their sympathy by helpful deeds, rather than by idle words. Such a band of workers is the Atlanta Benevolent Associa tion. Organized only eighteen months ago, a small society with a slender capital, their record of good works would do honor to a far larger and wealthier institution, and their energetic, eco nomical management, their harmonious move ment and fertility of resource, would reflect credit upon older and more experienced organi- zaticns. As shown by the succinct and interesting re port of Mrs. Mallon, the secretary, they have es tablished a Home for destitute, indigent and invalid persons; they have afforded relief to one hundred and forty-nine suffering families; during the past winter, they established a soup house, which daily supplied nourishing food to many who might else have perished from in anition; they obtained surgical treatment for afflicted persons at the National Institute; they furnished work to many who only desired to be put in the way of helping themselves—their del icacy shrinking from the acceptance of charity; friends began to throw over the bride’s head, among the assembled folk, a storm of comfits. Woe to the bridegroom who is mean on such oc casions and economizes in his dealings with the comfit merchant! No sweet-meats, no acclama tion, for such is the custom of the country. In the days of the old Romans, on occasions like this, the scrambling ceremony was precisely similar.” During the carnival at Rome, the rain of bon bons is immense. Fancifully and richly-attired women shower them from their balconies and carriages upon the surging crowd of maskers and merry-makers below, and the ragged, laugh ing beggars scramble and grab for them like so many school-boys under the shaken limbs of a cherry tree. The sugar plum, as well as every other pro duct of human ingenuity, bears witness to the progress that has been made in civilization. The confections of to-day are made of the same saccharine substance that our ancestors enjoyed, but the many ingenious forms in which they are molded, their delicate tinting and exquisite fla voring evince a higher degree of taste and refine ment. These bon-bons are made into every con ceivable shape—into the likeness of everything on the earth or in the waters, from an elephant to a mouse, from a bird’s nest to a cottage ornee. We have shells and flowers, fish and furniture, rings, thimbles, bracelets, hearts, hands, slip pers; we have dainty, miniature demijohns and decanters, very suggestive to the eye of spark ling wines and brandies, and very likely, still more suggestive of these to the taste; for one of the modern improvements upon the bon-bon is to make it the sly receptacle of liquors, so that a young gentleman of the most straight-laced repu tation, while appearing simply to regale himself on an innocent sugar plum, may take a drink of wine or a “brandy straight ” under the very eye of his lady-love, who is perhaps a Grand Tem plar. It is said that the manufacturers of these highly-flavored comfits are not at all inimical to the temperance societies, and rather encour age them than otherwise, for the reason—but we leave the reason to be guessed, while we say a word or two about the receptacles for sugar plums, which are as various and beautiful as the confections themselves, especially in France, w'here the bon-bon box is a standard ornament, and appears on the boudoir table of the grand dame in the shape of an exquisite inlaid casket, and on the pine table of the grisette in the form they have procured respectable situations for many poor women and girls, who but for their \ of a pretty piece of paste-board with gilt edges timely aid might have added to the number of vagrant paupers, or to the darker list of infamy, the “lost, yet not dead.” Where their slender treasury did not admit of their giving pecuniary aid, they gave sympathy, encouragement and counsel. In this connec tion, Mrs. Mallon, in her report, recalls the pathetic remark of one who, “longing for hu man sympathy,” exclaimed: “Oh, that charity would sometimes forget the pauper and remem ber the woman!” She also bears witness, from her own experience, to the blessedness of giv ing, and the exquisite pleasure that follows act ive exertion for the good of others, and which makes charity its own reward. A Chapter About Sugar l’luuis. We have all heard Sydney Smith’s recipe for happiness,—“a bright fire, a clean hearth, and a box of sugar plums on the mantle-piece.” This last seems a very small thing to be an ingredient of felicity: but then happiness is made up of small things, and dainty bon-bons are' not to be despised as sweeteners of the human mood. I have seen a sour old dame, cross as a caged cat, sit and nibble sugar plums, which she took from a box she always carried in her pocket, until the saccharine particles seemed actually to penetrate her system and neutralize the vinegar of her composition; her frost-bitten lips caught the ghost of a smile, and she deigned, without much scowling, to bestow a slice of bread and butter upon one of those “imps of chil dren,” who were her special abomination— spreading the butter very thin, though, I am bound to confess. And I have seen a woe-begone damsel, whose Lothario had left her to wear the willow, solac ing herself with comfits, lifting them slowly to her month, one by one, with dismal sighs be tween. and tears dropping down her cheeks upon her chin and lips—a most ludicrous sight. It was First a tear and then a bon-bon. Till the salt and sugar mingled. So. I take it, Sydney Smith was right about sugar plums being conducive to happiness in adult as well as juvenile humanity. As to chil dren, we all know that sugar plums are the great soother of their woes, the mollifier of their tem pers. Most mothers have at times felt the force of the indolent philosophy expounded by poor, inert, slip-shod Mrs. Compton in Miss Leslie’s charmingly satirical story of the “Sea Captain's Return.” “Depend upon it, Barclay, there's nothing keeps children quiet like candy; there’s and a colored picture of Nilsson on the lid. In France, the manufacture of bon-bon boxes is a regular business, requiring the services of skilled artisans in the making and decoration of carton or scale-board. There is the artist who is employed to design new pictures for the box covers; the lithographer, who engraves them upon stone; the pretty girls in white aprons, who color them; the neat finisher, who glazes them with pure gelatine, smooth and glass-like as varnish, and then pastes them neatly upon the box lids, gives the whole affair a brushing over with gelatine and edges it with gold paper. And then (we had nearly forgotten him) there is the poet, who writes the bon-bon literature—the kiss verses and rhymed mottoes, that are so pop ular with the young folks who are beginning to con over the old but ever new lore of love. Think of the poor poet in his attic, obliged to ring changes on the stereotyped rhymes of “love” and “dove,” “heart” and “smart,” “eyes” and sighs!” Obliged, too, to restrict the flight of his fancy and tie her down to a string of two or three lines length! But if he is French, he will not mind it; so he can get his bit of bread and cheese, and his pint of wine, and now and then a bon-iion to sweeten his fan cies, he will sit at his attic window and hum a stanza of Beranger, while he strings out his mot toes and sugar-plum couplets, feeling as grand as Tennyson or Longfellow. I'ive la France, rive la bagatelle, vice la bon-bon! The National Copying Company. A visit to the rooms of this company, on Broad street, in this city, at the request of the courte ous superintendent, Mr. Jas. Finley, convinced us that we had done them injustice in our reply to a Texas correspondent. The floating rumors of inefficiency and unreliability, it seems, had reference to a bogus company, which had taken advantage of the reputation of the genuine com pany and palmed off’ inferior work. The speci mens shown ns displayed great efficiency in reproducing and enlarging pictures without de stroying or altering the expression of counte nance, and those wishing such work done would perhaps do well to communicate with Mr. Finley. Window Flo wee Boxes.—Have boxes of suffi cient depth made to fit the widow-sills. Put in rich soil; plant with gay flowers—verbenas, gera niums. petunias: these may be trained over wire frames. At the end of the box plant some climb ers; train on wires, up and around the windows. These are very beautiful, and not troublesome to take care of. Mbs. H. Books and Authors. Morals of Abou Bex Adhem. Edited by D. B. Locke (Petroleum V. Nasbt.) Lee A Shepard, Publishers. Sold by Phillips A Crew, Atlanta. Satire is always acceptable. It is a weakness of poor humanity for each individual member to like to laugh a little cynically over the faults and foibles of the rest. The satire of Petroleum Nasby is not always refined or original, but he has an easy, flowing, somewhat slip-shod style, and all the popular slang phrases of the day at his pen’s end. He very often elicits a genuine laugh by his unexpected comparisons and absurd conclusions. The present book consists of a series of short lectures upon the principal evils and follies of the day. Novelty of plan is given to these by stringing them upon a thread of plot which is itself pretty highly colored with caricature. Some out-of-the-way village of New Jersey is one day invaded by a solemn, owlish-looking stranger, with long, snowy beard and hair, and eccentrically clad in a flowing black robe, con fined by a belt. This sensational personage an nounces himself as Abou Ben Adhem, philoso pher, oriental magician, and transmuter of met als. He is in reality a notable Yankee, Zephania Scudder by name, hiding from the lynx-eyed law under his oriental disguise, and having tried all methods (except honest ones) of making a liv ing. has now set up his crucible and his “dies,” prepared to turn off counterfeit nickles, while he passes himself off for a sage and a Persian magician. As he treats his visitors with lofty contempt, repeats that he is far above them in wisdom, and sets up a stuffed owl, a couple of skulls, cross-bones, etc., in his sanctum, the credulous people accept his statement of him self, and come from far and wide to consult the oracle of wisdom. His satirical replies, inter spersed with anecdote, and with a ludicrous blending of Yankee and oriental “lingo,” con stitute the lectures, of which there are twenty- nine; rather unequal as to merit—some of them being very amusing, and others commonplace and pointless. Here are a few sentences from the advice to the country store-keeper, who fancied that he had a soul above calico and molasses, and yearned for political distinction: “Young man, you see what fame is. In two years, you will forget the name of the present Governor, as you have forgotten the name of the last. It would take five volumes to write the biography of General Grant at the present time; in fifty years, one volume will do for all the generals of that unpleasantness on both sides; and in two hundred, there will be a couple of lines in an encyclopedia, in which Grant’s name will be spelled wrong, and he will be put down as having been born in New York instead of Ohio. My son, take my advice; go home to your calico and molasses, and be con tent. Fame is a delusion. He is happiest who knows the least and is the least known. The wise man despises himself, because he only knows what a consummate donkey he is—which is not cheerful for him. ” Here is his estimate of literary fame: “Bottled moonshine is granite for solidity be side it. Shakspeare was supposed to be entitled to a permanent place in the memory of man; but there are those in each generation who write books to show that it was not Shakspeare, but some other fellow, who wrote his plays and things; and at the Shah’s Theatre, the ‘Black Crook’ fills it, while ‘Julius Caesar’ is played to thin houses. “I pined for immortality, and once methought I had attained it, and would cease my labors and rest on my laurels. For a month I did nothing, and the public promptly forgot that there ever had been such a person. The bill-poster went blithely forth, and over the posters which had my name on them he pasted others, announcing a new name. I was buried alive. What, thought I, is fame, when it is at the mercy of a bill-sticker ? I Even when in the zenith of my T glory, it was gilded misery. I opened letters by the bushel, from the Lord knows who, inviting me to lec- j ture for the benefit of the Lord knows what, and they did not enclose postage stamps to pre pay replies. I spent one-half my time in send ing autographs to my admirers, and the other half and all my money- in sending photographs i to people who have shoved them out of their j albums long since, to make room for the next famous man. And this is fame !” i Of politics, he says: , “I never knew but one man who ever saw any good in it. He remarked that he liked it be cause, next to counterfeiting and bigamy—two things he doted on—there was in it the grandest opportunity for developing dormant rascality.” Of course, he has a laugh at the expense of the “weaker sex.” He tells four or five amusing stories illustrative of their vanity-, faithlessness, and coquetry, and their tyranical proclivities after marriage. In reply to the young man of Cairo, who pro pounded to him the query, “Great Abou, is there any such thing as everlasting constancy- in woman?” the sage, comfortably smoking his chiboque before his tent door, relates to him a story of “real life,” in l’ankee-oriental sty-le— the story- being a burlesque on the emotional novel of the period. Two lovers, being about to part for a time, swear eternal constancy to each other. The youth of manly form and beautifully-parted back hair, thus adjures the fair being of his idolatry; “ ‘Zara, I doubt thee not, but swear it—swear that through good and evil report, for time and eternity, thou art mine! Swear that you love me now. and that with me or away from me, thou wilt love me forever !’ “‘I swear,’ returned Zara; ‘forever and for ever !’ / “And they fell into each other’s arms and wept tears of love and agony down each other’s backs. “ One year elapsed. A gallant soldier was standing at the door of an humble cottage. ’Twas Ynsef. He had returned unscathed by bullet, bayonet or blade. He had been in the commissary department, and had snuffed the battle afar off. “ ‘Mother !’ hissed he, “tell me—Zara ’ “ ‘Was married precisely- eleven months ago, my son, to one of the first gentlemen of Cairo, who made a big thing out of an army contract.’ “ ‘Married !’ hissed he through his clenched teeth, and smiting himself twice upon the fore head. ‘ Married !’ “ ‘Certainly, my son,’ replied the mother, wringing out a shirt calmly; ‘about a month after you were drafted. ’ “ ‘Tell me, did her paternal parent on her father’s side compel her thus to sacrifice her youth and beauty. Were not his notes going to protest, and did not this rich villain offer him the alternative of her father’s ruin or her hand?’ “ ‘Nary. She laid for him until she gobbled him.’ “ ‘Oh ! does she never speak of me ? Has she not grown pale and wan ?’ “ ‘Not a wan. She's as fresh as a peach—the gayest of the gay. She leaves her baby dosed with soothing syrup, and she flaunts at the opera and the fancy balls, while I wash shirts at fifty cents a dozen ! Bismillah ! such is life !’ “ ‘Destruction !' muttered Yusef. ‘I will meet her; I will confront her. I will taunt her with her faithlessness, and then ’ “And uttering a despairing shriek, he flung himself from the house.” [For The Sunuv South.] SKELETON LEAVES. BY MBS. B. MALLON. XO. II. On account of the delay in the appearance of my former article, it is doubtful whether any success may be had during the present season with the leaves of the elm. If any of these leaves are tried, they should be gathered from the stems of this year's growing. SHORTER PROCESSES. There are shorter processes for obtaining leaf skeletons by the use of certain caustic leys; but after a thorough trial, I am satisfied that the chemicals used so affect the fibre of the leaf that however perfectly they may have been bleached, they become yellow much sooner than when pre pared by the use of water alone. THE PREPARATION OF FERNS. In gathering ferns, the same care should be observed in their selection in one respect as in the selection of leaves. The more delicate they are, the more beautiful and the less the risk after being bleached of their turning yellow, and thus marring the beauty of the most perfect bouquet. Reject all that have heavy, woody stems. Re member that they cannot be skeletonized, but bleached only, and therefore they must be as fragile as possible. The delicate and graceful maiden’s-hair must be gathered now. A few others are already suf ficiently matured to gather. Residents in At lanta will find the neighborhood of Ponce De Leon rich in maiden’s-hair and other delicate ferns; and during the month of August, whole days of pleasure and profit may be spent on the Northwestern slope and around the base of Stone Mountain, where ferns in abundance can be found of the most rare and beautiful descrip tion. The choice of ferns suitable for use must be to a great extent a matter of individual experiment. Botanical names will be no guide to a large pro portion of my readers, and verbal description is altogether impossible. When gathered, press them under a heavy weight and lay them aside for bleaching. BLEACHING. When the leaves are fully macerated and are ready to be freed from the decomposed cellular matter, have at hand a basin of warm water and a shallow saucer or plate. Place the leaf in a small quantity of water on the plate and rub the surface gently with the finger. The epidermis of the leaf will readily become ruptured, and the cellular matter will float off, leaving the skeleton exposed. When all the skeletons are prepared, place them in another vessel of water, carefully reject ing those that have been torn or injured in any way. In order to dry the skeletons, float them upon the surface of a basin of water and lift them carefully out upon a piece of porous paper. Absorb the moisture with the folds oi a soft towel, and place them in a book to dry. Ferns, leaves and seed-vessels being prepared, the next and most important process is the bleaching. It is an operation requiring the greatest care, and will tax to the utmost the skill and patience of the operator. Upon the perfect whiteness of the several parts of the bouquet its beauty depends. The least shade of their original yellow must be consid ered a blemish. The first step is to procure the proper bleaching material. Many persons are successful in the use of chloride of lime; others, myself among the number, altogether prefer Labarraque's solution of chloride of soda. This is an imported article, and when perfectly sealed, is wholly reliable. Most American preparations are valueless for this purpose, but residents in or near Atlanta will find a preparation made by Dr. Schumann in every respect equal to Labar raque's in its best condition. When ready to commence the bleaching pro cess, take a glass jar with a wide mouth, such as is used for preserves or pickles, and fill it with the purest tepid water, adding the bleaching so lution in the proportion of half a small tea-cup ful to a pint of water. Select for the first trial a few of the coarsest leaves. The bleaching process can be hastened by first immersing the leaves in pure water for a few hours, thus preparing the fibre to be more readily acted upon by the bleaching solution. This is especially desirable with ferns. Cork the jar tightly and set it in a window in the sun. A jar of leaves will require from six to twelve hours for bleaching. All observations can be made throngh the glass, thus avoiding the necessity for removing the cover. Here, I must leave the operator to herself; ex perience alone in this stage of the process will insure success. But I advise that but a few leaves at a time be bleached, so that if the first attempt shall fail, there may be others left for a second trial. As ferns are so abundant and do not necessi tate loss of time in their preparation, the begin ner can use them for acquiring skill in bleach ing leaves. When the leaves or ferns become pearly white, lift them carefully from the jar and place them in a basin of cold water. A slender ivory cro chet needle will be found very useful in hand ling the leaves from this time until they are dry. _ Remove all the chlorine remaining in the leaves supplications in his behalf by asking the prayers by changing the water several times. Then, as °f a company of Christian ladies, entire strang ers to him. To this day he is unknown to them in name or person. He lived three hundred miles from them. His history was detailed to them and they resolved to concentrate prayer upon him for a time, and see what God would do. They prayed specifically for his moral reform, for the revival of his Christian faith, for his con version as a child of the covenant. They per sisted in prayer, agreeing that each one should bear him on her heart in secret communion with God. “ The result is soon told. At about the time his case was first named to that praying circle, with no knowledge on his part that they were interested in him, he suddenly dropped the use of intoxicating drinks; and from that hour he has been absolutely free from alcoholic craving. Within a week the cavils of the awakened man at the doctrines of religion ceased. Then his prejudices against Christian usages and people gave way. The coat of mail which he had worn for twenty years dropped from him and his heart lay bare to the power of truth and the Holy Spirit. His childhood’s faith returned to him, freighted with the teachings, and the songs, and the prayers of a sainted mother.” [For The Sunny South.J THE WITNESSES. BY FLORENCE HABTLAXD. “Alas! we grope blindly through the Infinite; we cannot fathom His mysteries—we simply wait.” The day was dying royally. There fell From the wide west such floods of burning light, The earth lay glorified—breathless aud still As if the smile of God were resting there. Care for a while folded his weary wings; Crime fled away, the bright heaven seem’d so near, And hid his haggard form; the toil-worn hand Drooped idly; Nature paused. In happy homes, Glad eyes were lifted to the sunset sky, While glad lips murmured, “ It is sweet to live. For life is beautiful!” But other eyes, Hollow and wet with despairing tears, Looked upward at the glory wistfully, And pale lips quivered with the prayer—to die l But over all alike the evening light Fell solemnly. Hark! on the quiet air Soft music trembles,—’tis the vesper chime Calling to prayer. In the deep, holy calm, The bells ring pleadingly, and worldly hearts, Long callous to pure thoughts, melt for a while To dreams of God and heaven. A fair-browed girl Steals from a stately home, and joins the throng Seeking the house of prayer. Her bounding heart Aches with its weight of bliss, for life to her Has been a thing of beauty. Not one grief Has thrown its shadow round her; care and pain Are both unknown—unfeared; and now kind Fate, Into her sparkling, rose-crowned cup, has poured The last exquisite essence—the one drop, Rich with surpassing sweetness, that should give Diviner flavor, more bewildering light, To the brimmed beaker. In its dream of love, The young heart turns to God. The organ’s swell Peals thro’ the gorgeous fane; the sculptured dome Rings with the deep-voiced psalm; and down the aisles, Pillared and arched and dim, the tide of song Floats dreamily. Then sudden silence falls; And in the hush, while the spent day fades fast, And lingering in far echoes, the deep spell Of music haunts them still, the people pray. There walks the streets, at this calm even-tide, A girl once pure—still strangely beautiful; Still beautiful, but wearing on her brow, That should have shone yet with the lingering light Of her first home—O God, that such should be!— The brand of her lost womanhood. There lurks In her dark, long-lashed eyes, a reckless fire; And round her curved red lips a sneering smile Plays mockingly. She saunters slowly on, Not heeding the contemptuous, curious eyes— Unmindful of the pictured western sky— When suddenly the solemn vesper chimes Ring their soft call. The fallen creature turns And listens eagerly. Old memories wake; The reckless fire fades from her brilliant eyes, And in their depths strange moisture gathers. Still The bells ring on, and drawn by unseen hands, She follows the sweet sounds until she stands Before the house of prayer; then she shrinks back, Cowering and trembling. It is not for her— Vile, ruined one—to pass those lofty doors, And hear again the solemn voice of. prayer— The throb of sacred song. Once, long ago, Before her mother died—before she sinned To buy that mother bread—she, too, had knelt In the grand temple, and had thought she heard The song of seraphs as the great choir sang The angelus. But now /—ah! nevermore! Ah! never, nevermore! She stood there still, Pondering the bitter story of her life, When in the gathering gloom the worshippers Throng'd forth to seek their homes; and with them came The favorite of Fate, whom she had crowned So royally. The glad girl’s radiant glance Fell for an instant on the outcast’s face. A frown knit her white brow; a scornful smile Trembled around her lips; and shrinking back, Lest the soft folds of her rich dress should touch The Magdalen, she passed her by. A star Swept to its station in the western sky, And watched this meeting. In the darkening blue, A mighty angel stood with folded wings And looked upon it. But beyond them both Pierced down the eternal eye that never sleeps! The Power of Prayer. Professor Austin Phelps, D. D., writing to the Chicago Advance, says: “A case has recently come to my knowledge which illustrates this latter class of phenomena with such clearness as to deserve record. A cer tain man was of Christian parentage, the son of an exceptionally devoted mother. Twenty years ago he was a professing Christian. Through the heedless advice of a physician in prescribing alcoholic stimulants for him in a lingering dis ease, he acquired the alcoholic appetite, became intemperate, abandoned his Christian hope, gave up his Christian faith, and deliberately set tled down into a prayerless life. To all human judgment, it was a case of utter and hopeless abandonment of God. For twenty years his Christian friends prayed for him against all probabilities and hoped against all evidences. That mother in her grave kept alive enough of faith to forbid despair, and that was all. “At length a heavy affliction befel him, the direct consequence of his intemperate life. He was not yet so obdurate as not to feel it. It awakened in his friends a little, and but a little, new hope that the time of his deliverance might be near. They sought to reinforce their own in the original drying process, float them upon porous paper, taking care to lay every little del icate leaf-point and fern-spray in its proper place with the ivory needle. Do not dry them as before with a towel, but let them lie a few mo ments in order to allow some of the moisture to evaporate before putting them in press. A much heavier weight is necessary for ferns than for leaves. Those who wish to use chloride of lime as a bleaching solution, can prepare it at home in the following manner: To three pints of soft, cold water, add half a pound of strong chloride of lime; stir carefully with an iron spoon, mashing the lumps well against the sides of the vessel. Keep it covered, and allow it to stand in a cool place until the lime is precipitated. Remove all particles that may remain floating on the surface of the water, pour off the clear liquid into a bottle; cork tightly and keep in a cool, dark place. Half the quantity of this solution will be re quired as of chloride of soda. Do not become impatient in the bleaching of ferns, and try to hurry the process: they re quire days, while leaves require only hours for their perfection. If you have been picking or handling acid fruits, and have stained your hands, wash them in clear water; wipe them lightly, and while they are yet moist, strike a match and shut your hand's around it so as to catch the smoke, and the stain will disappear. To Stop Bleeding.—It is said that bleeding from a wound on man or beast may be stopped by a mixture of wheat flour and common salt, in equal parts, bound on with a cloth. If the bleeding be profuse, use a large quantity—say from one to three pints. It may be left on for i hours, or even days, if necessary.