Thomasville times-enterprise and South Georgia progress. (Thomasville, Ga.) 1904-1905, June 24, 1904, Image 8

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Thomasville times-enterprise and South Georgia progress., June 24, 1904, Image 8

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Newspaper Page TextTIMES ENTERPRISE, THOMASVILLE, GA'., June 17,1904. loldehhUtstTfJal (n7 WALTER BLOOMFIELD t Oopjrtrtt an, br Mmr trnm Sobs. CHAPTER XVI. I BUT TOOLS MX. "Truly, the ways 01 the parent are peculiar! If you wanted your son knocked on the bead, were there not enough people In London able and will ing to execute your commission, but you must needs send lor blm to this place? dome, tell me bow It all bap- ’pmed." I Thus spake the cheery voice of nncle Ram as be entered our drawing room the next morning after the events' nsr- -rated In the last chapter. Though still depressed in spirit (now chiefly be cause of the horrible suspicion which I knew my father entertained), I was fairly well In health, and was dressed to receive our visitor. Hy father's mel ancholy was more apparent than mine, 'and bis serious demeanor contrasted strangely with the buoyant gaiety of his brother. "Ernest bad an awkward fall on the stone floor of the crypt late on Mon day night or on Tuesday morning, and lay there unconscious for some time before he was discovered. That ah,” answered my father, "but he nearly, If not quite, well now." "On the floor of the crypt!” echoed uncle Sam, in a tone of surprise. "What was be doing In the crypt at that un earthly hour? No, no; 1 beg your par. don. Don't tell me, I don’t want to know—I remember my own little es capades when I was about his age. ■Really, the faculty of blushing In young man will delude even the old and experienced more effectually than the moat skilful lying. So, Ernest, you young dog, you are no better than other people, eh? But enough of this. How are Knight and Faulkner getting on with the renovations? I hope they are puablng the work vigorously, would like to tee the place completed and decent before I return to New York. I gavo them carte blanche to do everything necessary, to be done, nnd particularly insisted on despatch.' My father looked Intensely glum a* he listened to this speech, and some moments elapsed before he spoke, ^a for myself, it was a considerable time beforo I could resolve my 'uncle's words; and desiring not to commit my. self, I remained silent : "Tour Judgment or motive Is not so 'good as It might be In this case, 8am, My boy has discovered perfectly reli able evidence that a quarter of a mil lion Venetian sequins ware concealed by old Roger Trueman in tho Abbot's 'Gelt, here, and wishing ip pleoesutl surprise me decided to withhold KG ;Information until he bad- vertfled It This Is why ho visited the place oh Monday night, when he found the place and ten chests as Indicated by Roger Trueman himself; but with this differ ence, that all the chests bad been opened, and every sequin stolen.” - “Stolen I” exclaimed undo Sam. “how do you know that? And If co, how can you tell whether they were stolen a year or a century ego?' : “Very easily. By merely examining tho cell and the chests, and consider Ing the attendant circumstances, any one endowed with common, sense Is bound to conclude that the robbery was committed as recently a* four or five days ago,” 1 "Positively you astound me. Hare you examined your servants and Kntgbt and Faulkner’s men?” t My father shrugged his shoulders and smiled grimly. "There would be nq use In that," he said grimly, j “I think there would be very great uso In it, and that It ought to have been dons before. Really, you astound me. .Tell me tho whole of the circum stances as briefly and clearly as you can. At present, I am not at all sat isfied with the matter.” i "And I still -less so. Ernest, tell your uncle all you know about It," and with these words my father rose from the couch on which wo were all three sitting and walked througb the open Window to the veranda. I With a fluttering heart I begun my task, describing tho manner In which 4 had found and appropriated Roger Trueman's Record (which I read to him iu full, having provided myself with the volume for that purpose), and with my subsequent proceedings. My unde listened with deep attention, only 'occasionally diverting his eyes from ime to look at bis brother, who was restlessly pacing up and down the veranda. In this way an hour or more passed, and I had completed my story. - “Thank you,” said uncle Sam, and pressed hls bond upon his forehead. 'a habit of hls when thinking. After n few moments he started to hls feet and walked to the window. I follow ing him. “Robert,” be cried, “coma here; I have something to say to you.” My father re-entered tbe room. ; “Your son has read that Record to me and explained how he found It, and experienced In convinced that tcently stolen been stolen at all, nothing Improbable quite as lot I have expressed .4!^ lac erate from any man, even my own brother. Yon have plainly Insinuated, here in the presence of your son, that I pretended not to knew the business which called blm to the crypt on Mon day night, and that because of some motive—I think that was your word— of my own; and further, that I have better reason to be satisfied with this matter than you have. If by the latter you mean that a man who has not lost a quarter of a million sequins has better reason for satisfaction than one who has, I am content tbe remark should pasa But the first observation of which I complain admits of no sophistry. Tbe only motive that could animate me In feigning Ignorance of your son’s business In the crypt would be to conceal that I was concerned In some way In tbe stealing, of those se quins. And besides, I do not like your manner towards ma All my successes have been due to a good memory and the power to read the thoughts and moods of men, and the In stincts which have earned me all 1 have would scarcely fail me In dealing with a man of your mental calibre.. No; yon mutt toko my hand and as sure me of your belief that I bare never done you or your son the slight est wrong, and in particular that you are satisfied I know nothing about the treasure you have failed to And further than what you and your son have told ma Do that, and I am still your friend and brother, and will aid you with all the means In my power to solve this mystery. Decline my terms, and I will do my best to forxef ’toui existence.” Quite calmly but with terrible dis tinctness did uncle Sam thus challenge hls brother. He had drawn nlmself up to bis full height, and bis head was set back a little further than was custom ary with him, yet one might reason ably have supposed as he stood wait ing for a reply that he was engaged In nothing or particular import In deed, the expression of hls face was not unlike that which he bore when uttering obe of hls cynical dogmas of which he had such a plentiful store, and be actually smiled as be listened to my father’s reply—words which snapped my most cherished hope like a thread and plunged me to the lowest 'depth of despair I bad as yet sunk to. ’Indeed I will do no such thing. Un asked and from my heart I assure you that tho good will I have ever borne towards you survives thJs affair, ser ious as It is; but I cannot ana will not comply with the terms you dictate, come what may. Surely you might have known that anything here was youm for the asking—that I would have given you anything I had, so long qs I retained a small competency for my son hereafter.” Unde Sam remained motionless and silent for a full minute or more after uty father had finished speaking; then, drawing a deep breath, and uttering a hardly audlblo sigh, be rested bis hands on a table, leaned forward, end fixing hls goxe upon bis brother, ad dressed him with Intense earnestness. “My curse upon you for an unthink ing and cowardly wretch! This Is the second great Injustice I have buffered at your hands. May that moment be my last when I put myBelf In a po sition for you to mete out such treat- ment tor a third time! Twenty years ago, by grace of a miscalculating, self, seeking bind, you married the girl whose love I had won—who had sol emnly pledged herself to me. Yes, you married her knowing that I was her choice, and that her father com pelled her to become your wife on ac count of your broad acres. I com plained not then to you, but went forth Into the world trusting not vainly to Nemesis to avenge the wrong I had sustained. Tbe sweetheart of my boy hood was not your wife for long; and as for your Suffolk acres, what of them now? Tbey will scarce support the slave who plows them. Yes, Ncmotto avenged your first Injustice to me, end she will avengo your second. I had outlived almost the memory of that great wrong, and returned to you after twenty years, rich and Influential, pre pared to benefit you and your son In any way I could, and now, forsooth, a half-hearted, cowardly manner, and without any sort of evidence, you accuse me of having robbed you of a quarter of a million of sequins! By the liowers that be, I swear I never saw sequin in my life, that I am not even sure I am correct In thinking It Is gold coin worth nine shillings and fourpcnce of British money; but my supposition being correct, can you think I would make myself a thief for five hundred and sixty thousand dol lars?—I who on many occasions have profited more in one deal, and made eight times as much out of the Wabash pool alone. No, I am not a thief; or If was, I should not come to Suffolk practice my profession. It Is pos sible you may live to be convinced of tbe cruel blunder you have made; but care not how that may be. for you are already dead to me. Good-bye, Ernest my boy. I am sorry for you. hi a hard fate to be the son of such man, but yon are not without hope. Tbs son of a wise man is generally should be wise, for you are certainly the son of a tool” He turned to go, but I clutched hls arm and prevented him, crying out despairingly— “0 father, father, what have you done? -Unsay your words, and believe with me that unde Sam has done us much kindness and no wrong-” My passionate plea received no an swer. Unde Sam gently disengaged himself from my grasp and moved to wards the door. “If at any time you should need a friend,” be saldi address ing me, “I hope you will think of your uncle. Stay; I had almost forgotten to give you this," and taking a letter from hls pocket he tossed It to me; but I was too daxed to ca^cb It, and It fell on the carpet Then, waving bis band in token of fare well, be hastily quitted tbe room and was gone. I looked at my father. He was sit ting on a low seat, hls elbows resting on hls knees, and hls head burled bis hands. I spoke to blm I forget what It was that I said—but be took no notice of ma when through tbe open window I saw uncle Sam passing out of our gate. As soon ss he was off our premises he stood still and looked Intently at Holdenhurst Hall for a little while, then turned ab ruptly and walked at a great rate down the road which led towards Bury St Edmund’s. This spectacle, In Itself pathetic, and symbolising as It did. the collapse of my fervent hope, enraged me. Being weak .from loss of blood and other consequences of my recent accident, I think my reason must have suc cumbed beneath my accumulated load of disappointments and anxieties, for In a sudden burst of artificial strength I rushed at my father, laid my hands upon hls shoulders, and forced him Into an upright position, while screamed out— It Is false! It Is falsel I will go to my uncle and beg him to pardon you.” My father started to bis feet, and grasping me by tbe wrists, held me at arms’ length. “I would to Heaven It were false,” he exclaimed, “but It Is true—too true. Shall I show you the proofs?” You cannot,” I shouted; "you have no proofs.” Then for tbe first and last time In hls life did my father burst out In unger against me. "Is everybody In conspiracy to madden me?” he asked excitedly. "I tell you, your uncle has stolen those sequins, and that recent ly. Still, I would not have told him so, or complained to anyone, If he had not sought to extort a contrary declar ation from me. Do you think I would denounce my own brother on doubtful or slender evidence? If you can think so badly of me, where then shall I turn for sympathy In my trouble? Must I publish what I would fain conceal In order to Induce you to be lleve your own father? Look at that,” nnd he took from bis pocket a large thin gold coin and placed it In my hand; “that Is one of the sequins you went Into tho crypt to fetch—one of the two hundred and fifty thousand sequins you ought to have found there. Where the others are l don't know; but what I do know la that your uncle found mcana to convey them away from here about a week ago. I will tell you the details, If you want to know them, when you come to your senses and remember that I am your father.” I sat down on a couch and burst Into nn agony of tears. In a moment my father was at my side, holding my bands In hls, and earnestly endeavor ing to comfort me. Presently I grew calmer and got up-that unnatural and piteous product of adverse circum stances, a youth without hope. The kindness of my father was such as none but the parent of an only child can understand. In endeavoring to al levlate my distress he appeared to forget bis own. “This Is a great mis fortune,” he sold,-"the greatest which has befallen me since your dear mother died; but we must try to forget lt. r l care nothing for tho loss of tbe money —I would It had been sunk In tbe sea or that tbe Turks bad had It—but I deplore my brother's conduct, more especially as he has won your good will, and I had hoped and believed that good would come of It” • After a space my father resumed: “When you feel disposed to hear the Btory I will relate all the circum stances of your uncle's recent—” he paused, as If unable to find the pre cise word he wanted—“act, or Adams shall. If he recovers sufficiently to do so; he was an eye-witness of the—tbe act But I have grave fears tbe old man will die, and oven Dr Tburlow admits Buch an event Is uot Improba ble; he Is an old man, and these trou bles are more than be can bear It pained blm keenly to show what he did against my brother, for he woa much attached to Sam as a boy, sod often Inquired of blm after he bad gone away to America.” I don't want to know any more about It now, and perhaps I never shall,” I replied, as I rose from the couch, picked up my letter, and read It was from Constance Marsh and ran as follows'. No. —, Dc Vere Gardens, Kensington, W.. April 22, 18- Dear Mr Trueman:—Many thanks for your kind letter Pray accept my apology for having allowed It to re main unanswered for two days; but news of your having met with an ac cldent followed so closely upon your departure that I have been in doubt whether to write or not, for letters are troublesome things to any one who Is 111. I am so glad to learn from your father’s telegrams that your accident was only slight and shall be pleased to see yon backTn London again—for, of course, you'VrlU return w*th yow uncle. ^.fabtaaiimsu and ® © © © /\dv©nture. GRAND DUKE’S OWN STORY. BAND DUKE CYRIL has Just arrived at Harbin on hls way to St Petersburg. Hls Injuries are not severe, although he is suffering from burns on the neck and ears caused by the tremendous explosion of the Petropavlovsk and from bruises of the back and loins caused, subse quently, by the beating of tbe turbu lent .waves, which, however, quickly subsided. Tbq Grand Duke can walk a little now. He gives the foil owing story of hls escape, which was almost miracu lous: At the moment of'the explosion on the Petropavlovsk the Grand Duko -was on the bridge, at the other end of .which .was Admiral MakaroB . It seemed as if the world, the sides, the waters .Were suddenly rent asunder and from the gnlf arose a devouring cloud and blinding flams, which burst with a deafening roar into acrid suf focating fumes. Scorched, blinded, choked, stunned, Cyril recovered consciousness suf ficiently to recognize that the Petro pavlovsk was settling down by the bead. Tbe bodies of tbe dead sailors were floating off the forecastle deck, which was awash. AO around lay wreckage; fallen top hamper and scald ing steam cut off tbe Grabd Dnke’s es cape by tbe companionway. He faintly remembers that be real ized tbe necessity of making hls way aft, dimly reasoning that there he was more lljtely, with tome way still on the ship, to clear the suotton from her when the sank. He recalls swarming hand over hand down from tbe bridge and making hls way along the deck througb smoke, flame, steam and •till- suffocating fumes among heaps of human debris. He remembers ascending an incline, with the rising water, as it seemed pnrsulng blm into a barbette In which tbe water was already pouring with such force that he required all hls strength he could muster to battle bis way through It However, he reached a gun port and dived througb it He recalls now that while diving tbe thought flashed across hls mind that be must dive deep and swim as far os possible before rising, as that was hls only chance to permanently clear tbe sinkihg ship. So he dived down, down and outward with all the force of an athlete and practised swimmer until hls temples were>bfirstlng with the effort of retaining hls breath. Then be struck out upward. However, he had dived so deep that it seemod to'hlm he .would never reach tbe surface; but at last the light came and he reached the air. While he filled hls lungs be supported,himself on a piece of floating wreckage which he seized, and to which he assisted an other strugoUna swlmnser. Then the Grand Dukoilooked around for the Petropavlovsk. She was not to be seen. The sea was quite calm, and. except for the gentle rise and fall of tbe woodwork to which he was cling ing with hls companion, be was quite motionless. But with each upward swing he swept around hls oyos over the smooth-bosom of the placld'sek for the great ship. There was 1 no sign, no trace of her exdept some floating bodies, a few buoyant articles and still fower bat tling swlnmi-r*. The Grand: Duke, of course, did not know then / how much time had elapsed, but/.he heard afterward that exactly one/mlnute and forty oeconda passed between tbe explosion qnd the ship’s disappearance.—Charles Hands. In the New) York World. .’S- ’AN A^’TARTIO RESCUE. fitted out a relief expedition. Before It eonld tall, however, the energetic Argentine Republic had commissioned Captain Irizar, of the gunboat Uru guay, to sell at once for the south sea and find Dr. Nordenskjold. Accord ingly, early in November—the opening of spring In those latitudes—Captain Irizar lauded on Lonls-PhlUppe Land, and had the good fortune in the oourse of a abort walk to meet two of Dr. NordensJkold’s men, who were hunt ing for penguins for food. Quickly they ted him over the Ice mounds to the camp where Dr. Norden skjold and the others were. Tbey had hardly exchanged greetings, and the leader was Just saying that the Ant- artie had sot been seen, when over the hill on the other tide came Cap tain Larsen, the Argentine lieutenant and five of hls sailors, who crossed on the ice from Paulet Island, seeking their leader or some resauer. The reunion was ss Joyous ss it was dramatic The Argentine lieutenant, bareheaded, roughly clad, unshorn, hailed an an old comrade and superldr tbe commander of the Uruguay, and was delighted that the rescue should have been acUeved by bis own Gov ernment The relief of each party on learning that the othen had come through unharmed-may be imagined. Two days later the rest of the sailors were token on board the Uruguay from Paulet Island, and soon from southern South America newa of their safety was flashed to the world. Besides valuable meteorological and magnetic records, and notes and maps of canoe and Inland explorations of tpe borders of Louls-Phlllppe end Oc- car Second Lands, Dr. Nordenskjold brings back fossils which show that those now frigid regions were once posaessed of a beautiful and bounteous vegetation. . SNAKES IN BED. No matter where he is, or at what ho tel be Is stopping, John L. Carter, a well-known railroad contractor, of Col- oredo, always, before going to bed, re moves the covers and shakes them thoroughly before daring to turn In. That is, he does this In the season when snakes are around. Yesterday afternoon, while talking to a group of friends In tbe lobby of the Savoy Hotel. Mr. Carter told a story that ex plained this unusual habit of bis. It (rss about tbe middle of last July when he was at Tucnmcarl, N. M. with s construction party of tho Rock Island road that tho experience bo re counted befel him. After an unusual ly hard day’s^ work ho entered the quarters of the engineers late at night so worn ont that he did not even strike a light but threw off hls clothes and piled himself Into one of tho beds along-the walk In a few moments be was sound asleep, bnt frequently dur ing the night be was awakened by what seemed to hljn s moving ridge beneath him in the bed. He was too sleepy to get np to Investigate, how ever, end anyway felt that It was only a trick of hls lmaglnstkra. Rising ear ly the next morning, he, ns was the habit of the men in the camp, began the task of folding np and putting away the blankets on th» bed. As he Jerked tbe third one from the bed and gavo it a vigorous shake ho beard a heavy thud on the other side, as of some body striking the ground. Whit confronted hls eyes when he lowered the blanket almost paralysed him with fear. There, oil colled and ready for battle, lay an Immense prairie rattle snake. Later, when, with the aid of some men about tbe camp who bad an swered bis call, he had despatched the reptile, he measured It and found.that It was exactly five teot In length and ds large round as s man’s wrist That’s why Mr. Carter always In spects hls bed In the snake season.- Kansas City Journal. , . - ■t 'As lira malic as the famous meeting ot Dr. Nansbn and Mr. Jackson on the too of Frnna-Jooof Land in the summer of 18901 wan that ot Captain Larsen, of the ^Swedish steamship Antortle, Dr. Otto Nordenskjold, the Swedish ex- qlqror, and-Captain Irlxor, of the Ar gentine gutihoat Uruguay, among the ipy hll|s of' Louls-Fhlltppe Land last November. Tbe Nordenskjold vessel Antortle. which left Sweden In Octo ber, 1901, end had token on board a lieutenant of toe Argentine Navy at Buenos Ayres, had landed Dr. Norden- skjold and h'ls party at Snqw Hill, Loa- is-Phlllppe Land, In January, 1902, is^tb'provisions for two years. The steamer bad’ then, gone to the vicinity of‘t{ie Falkland Islands for an extend ed cruise. According to the plan agreed upon, tho Antortle was to return for the ex ploring party In January, 1903. On th<t fourth of that month, however, whflo passing between two ice fields In Terror BAY. It was suddenly nipped mid hold fast. A hole was made In the quarter, througb which water poured in a torrent. The steam pumps were started, and for more than a month kept <he vessel fairly clear of water while she lay In the ice. Mean while ell on Hoard were ready to aban don ship. At last, on February 12, tbe wart clear of tbe Ice end headed tor land, but began to fill quickly. Oaptain Lar sen ran her against an ice field, and landed the men and stores Just before tho steamer sank. The party succeed ed in reaching Paulet Island, where the crew sintered with great bird- ships. One sailor died. Meanwhile, when bis rescuers failed to arrive, Dr. Nordenskjold wintered tn. Louls-PhlUppe Land, only sixty miles away. When the- summer'qf 1903 went by ' wlthpqt .word from the explorer, the. A JAPANESE HERO. " ' Rear Admiral Inglqs recalls the death of the great Count Salgo as an instructive example of the habit ot mind 61 the Japanese. Tbe Count was In insurrection against bis Emperor in 1873 and was nearly In the toils and he knew it So In hls stronghold be employed hls leisure time In praying chess with hls Immediate friends. Re ports kept coming In from the out posts, each time more disheartening than tbe last But the Count still went on playing chess, while the ut most good humor and pleasant rail lery continued among the whole party. Yet another - message from the out posts came In, which left no doubt as to .tbe situstiou. Still tbe Count and bis companions went on playing. -"Yonr move, sir,” were the words that broke the absorption of the moment Then when there was a pause in the game at which he could rise without being discourteous to bis guests, tbe Count got up and said: “Gentlemen, now It Is time.” He directed some one to send for hls sword bearer. Tbe man advanced and Immediately re ceived hls orders. A few seconds later Count Sslgo’s body and head had been separated at one heavy stroke. 1 How He Carried the Scottish Vote. Representative Martin, ot South Da kota, had as an opponent In the last campaign on aged Scotchman who was anxious to become a statesman. There were a good many Scotchmen In the district, and tor a time Mr. Martin was Worried. “Byt I turned a trick on the old man,” said the South Dakota Repre sentative, "that got me the votes of every one of hls countrymen.” “What did you do?” asked several Interested listeners. “I promised to pnt Scotch highballs on the. free list"—Washington Post CHAFING DISH J5AMP. an make a chafing dish lamp that will spread the flame evenly oyer the 1 bottom of the dish above It bae been: a perplexity evey since the chafing dish came into general use. A new lamp with perforations at the sides of a round tube claims to have settled the difficulty. The tube raises and lowers with a screw, enlarging and diminishing the (tome according os it is nearer or further from the dish. The flame, by an Ingenious device, to spread over a broad area. The lamp holds little more than an ordinary one end barns, when filled, thirty-five minutes. , KITCHEN CONVENIENCES. A towel rack made of bamboo rods Is suspended from my kitchen celling by ropes and pulleys, so that It may; be raised and lowered at will. It econ omizes space besides providing a place where towels, etc., may dry quickly, as the sir to hotter near the ceiling. Another convenience Is s small shelf, waist high, near the dining room door, on which I place dishes when I want to open the door. ; Beside the kitchen table, bnt con siderably higher, Is a slanting shelf about twelve to eighteen inches, with a narrow strip nailed across the bot tom edge, to hold my recipe book.— Woman’s Home Companion. THE STOCKING BASKET. Keeping down the stocking basket la the problem which confronts the wo man wbo has to do the darning for tho family. If there are small boys with a fondness for playing marbles and' climbing fences, she will find her labors much lessened If she gives up darning altogether and takes to mend ing Instead. Tbe tops of balf-wom stockings similar to those In use should be pnt away for this purpose. From these pieces matching In grain may be placed under Incorrigible holes, the edges trimmed away and tbe goring neatly made by wbat Is known as “cashmere” darning. When properly done It Is almost Impossible to detect tbe repaired place. CLEANSING COTTON LACE. To cleanse some of the new cotton laces, a little forethought and care Is required, but tbe results will more than repay tbe effort. Baste upon a piece of flannel the article to be cleaned, following carefully tbe out line of tbe work. Then immerse It in a lather of lukewarm suds, merely, dipping It np and down, never wnna(% I lng or wringing It out Instead, after rinsing, put between two cloths and pat till almost dry. Then hang It up for a few moments and Iron with the back of the flannel exposed to the heat When the basting etltcbes ore removed it will be fomid to look as If It bad come from the establishment of a I’rench laundress, for this Is tho lethod pursued by most of them. _i REcTPES'^T First New Hampshire Rifles. Tbe first rifle company in New . Hampshire into organised in &enni- sMiih Qovcfniacnt took alarm and kef in 1§I8, Beets In Cream Sauce—Wash the beets but do not cat them. Cook In bolJlog water until the skins will slip off when pressed with the fingers. Do not pierce with a fork if the bright color Is to be retained. Cut Into dice and add to a white sauce made after the usual rule. Simmer three or four minutes and serve hot with a dash of pepper over the top. , Scones—Mix and sift together two cupfuls of sifted flour; level teaspoon ful of baking powder;; half a teaspoon ful of salt; rub in the flour with tho tips of the fingers four level table- spoonfuls of buttor; then add two beaten eggs and one-third cup of cream; toss on a floured board; roll three-fourths of an inch thick; cut In squares; brush with white of egfl; sprinkle with sugar and bake In a hot oven fifteen mlnntes. Chocolate Pudding—Soak ono table spoonful of gelatine In half a cup of milk, put four squares of chocolate In a pan over hot water, when the choco late Is melted pour over It one cup of boiling water and two cupfuls of milk; stir this until scalding hot; beat the yolks of two eggs, add to them half a cupful of sugar, stir this Into the chocolate and milk; then add the soaked gelatine and stir until dis solved; remove and when quite cool add the beaten white of the eggs; torn Into a mould, serve with vanilla eanee. j Melton Veal—The materials required are one cup of cold veal minced fine and seasoned with half a teaspoonful of celery salt, one tablespoonful of onion Juice and one of lemon Juice, one tablespoonful of dried crumbs or two tablespoonfuls of fresh crumbs; one-third cup of fine minced haul seasoned with a dash of mnstard, one well beaten egg, one tablespoonful of minced parsley, one toblespoonfnl of butter and two hard boiled eggs; ell these Ingredients to be mixed before beginning, excepting tbe butter and hard boiled eggs. Moisten slightly with weak stock or hot water, using shout a quarter of a cupful; pnt the butter in the chafing dish, and as soon as hot add the mixture, smoothing it over; slice the hard boiled eggs evenly, on top, cover and cook over the J water pan about ten mlnntes. If i stock to rich yon will not need qui 09 much better, v - - ■ < -V’ Si* V