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; . *.r, .--■"'•■•■--■ATiTia j | 1 isxt Ipltickg J i.'a Sootl. »» WALTER BLOOMFIELD Coprtlikt UM fcr B«»ut BmkTiv SMC '< CHAPTER XX. t Continued. My cheeks tingled Kith indignation • Trlileh t did not dare' to express, I followed my uncle down the stairs. Thoroughly, Vexed and pained as 1 was to near my dear father so pitiless ly. disparaged by bis brother, I was not at all sutprised at ancle Barn's bitK-rnoss. Circumstances seemed to show that my father and I had both 'alien victims to the clumsy fraiid of an Ignorant old man. But the slum tlon bad now become hopeful. If uncle Bain's theory was correct, as I hoped and believed it might prove to be, reconciliation of the brothers was not (ply possible but highly probable, . iny ancle's recent declaration to the con'.ary notwithstanding. •' .is soon as be entered the brilliant' ly lighted dining room uqcle Bam OS' mimed his airiest manner, in no way indicating the serious thoughts which had occupied bis mind a minute or so before. All the company, except Ur. lioscubcrg, had departed; and my iiuut and' Miss Marsh, who were . dreserd for dinner, appeared very charming In whtto silk robes trimmed Vr'.ik old lace, each lady Wearing a JJirdle from which depended a superb fan omnmented With feathers and diamonds. 1 shall not attempt to describe either the apartment or the decking of the table, being well assured of my In ability to do so. Suffice it to say that both were as. artistic and luxurious ns the best artists in tboso things ut the end of the nineteenth century can provide for men of lavish expenditure. , As soon as dinner was over, we ad , journal to the drawing room, with the exception of uncle Bam, who be- tcok himself to the roof .to emokc, 'baying that he would prefer to be aloue ns he hod a troubled matter to unravel, and could not accomplish his purpocc without consuming three clgan. ‘tit is now," said be, glancing nt bis watch, few minutes past nine, and I may not sec you ngain be- fora,'morning, so good-night and pleas ure' dreams.'' t)cnr old unde Bam! How well I know the subject on which he intended to exercise his thoughts, and how ar dently I hoped a renewal of his friend ship with my father would result from bla deliberations! , Whether her womanly Instincts had perceived the attraction which her sister had for me, and her kludllucss <of heart prompted her to gratify me, or that It ao befell of accident I know not; but to my great eatlsfactlon, on returning to the drawing room my annt nt once entered Into conversation with Mrf Rosenberg, lcavlpg Miss Marsh and me to pass our time as beat we conld. , What an evening was that! Why, 1 waa almost happy and really believe I should have been quite so but for the shadow of the estrangement be tween the two brothers whose lives were bound up with mine. The conversation of lovers, so de lightful to tbe parties Immediately concerned, Is notably uninteresting to everybody else; and it is not my Ipteutlon to bring upou myself tlml ridicule wbich meu past tbe amorous phase of their career so mercilessly and Inconsistently mete out to tlielr fellows engaged in it by recording In this place my conversation with Constance Marsh on that memorable occasion. Suffice It to say that In telling tbe tale of the sequins, which F seised this opportunity to relate, I greatly excited her sympathy. My long silence was forgiven as soon us Its cause was understood and it was dear to me that I had established my self lu her favor more Ornily than aver. m &n "Yea," replied Miss Marsh. “I am going to Tarrytown. Mrs. Van Reus- selaer lias Just returned from Europe, and !s t? give a big reception.” “Where is Tnrrytowu, and who Is Mrs. Van Iteussclaer?’’ I Inquired. "A'arrytown is a beautiful village ou the Hudson, about twenty-five miles from here. Mrs. Van Rensselaer is tbe widow of Martin Van Rensselaer, the ruilrcr.d Utug. Everybody has .beard of old Martin Van Rensselaer, who died two years ago worth fifty million dollars." ‘ “Yes, l think I have read something about him somewhere,” l said. ‘Tell me, Connie dear, will the Rev. Mr. Brice bo there?” “I don’t know. I’iu sure. I ko;ie not,” replied Miss Marsh. •*1 am quite unable to express my re light that your entertain such a hope.* May I beg yon will increase It by tell ing me why you hope be may uot be there?" "Because he is a tease, and mouopo- Uses my time when be nas the oppor tunity to do so,” confessed Miss Marsh. "If the Rev. Mr. Trice were to uik you to become bis wife, what would you say?” •‘The came as I have said before." “What! has he asked you to marry himr "Dear me. yes. :.ot8 of times." •And «ba*. hat been you* answer?* •‘Dear Connie! And If I were to ask you that question, what would your reply be?” ' "The same.” "Do you like me no better than Mr. Price?” "O yes; ever so much better.” "Then who Is It you prefer to either of us?” "Myself.” "Connie/* I said, taking one of her little bands and holding it tightly in both of mine, "I don't mind confess ing to you that I was vain enough to hope your decision might be different. I would not ask you to marry me while I am poor; but all the world know and no place furnishes more examples that this city— that wealth Is a thing which passes from hand to hand and la as often gained as lost. What If I were rich enough to keep my wife in the manner In which you have lived your life?" "I was not thinking of money; my father left me more of that than can possibly require in any circum stances. I don't think I'm much in* dined to marry anybody/* You may change your mind. Some young ladles who hhre talked as you talk now have afterwards become ad mirable wives. If that should be your case, what sort of man could you toler ate as your husband?’* "Not Mr. Price." "Dear Connie! And me—could you tolerate me?” "I think perhaps I could If 1 tried." "May I rest assured that, should you ever marry, It Is my wlfo you will be* come? That provisional promise would make me happy.” Take it then and be happy, you silly boy.” Dearest Connie, I must seal this compact with a kiss.” 'Not now. Earnest dear,, not now. Hush! Leave gq of my hand; here edmes my sister and Mr. Rosenberg." CHAPTER XXI. ANNIN WOLSHT FOUND. Though Constance Marsh had not promised to bo my wlfo (indeed that could hardly have been, for I had not asked'her for nuy such promise), her undertaking to accept me for her hus band should she n/arry filled me with satisfaction. Her professed Indispo sition for marriage 1 regarded as a pro fession and nothing more—the banter ing playfulucss of u high-spirited, noble-minded girl. I had not lacked opportunities to observe that the am bition of every woman is marriage; and that the few, the very few wom en who deny this assertion with words, Illustrate its truth lu the failure of their lives. The girl of my choice was Intensely feminine, her nature tiu- warped by nuy of tbe pernicious hum bug of woman's so-called rights, con cerning which a shrieking sisterhood of the malformed, tho neglected, anil the deluded spoil much good paper and rend the all* lu many lecture halls; and I did not at all doubt that I bad now merely to raise my fortune to tho level of hers Uf enable mo to claim her hand and find my claim allowed. Love will lightly attempt tasks from which reason would shirk, nud the difficulty of effecting the necessary change in my condition had no terrors for me, or I was too dazzled by the prospective prize to perceive them. With an unquestioning faith In my uncle’s perceptive powers, I wna now more than ever disposed to unreserv edly accept his theory of the robbery of t)io sequins, ni^l I resolved to neg lect nothing that might tend toward their recovery. Filled with this idea, I arose early the Doxt morning, re solved to discuss with him ways aud means expedient for me, and was our- i understand you will be from honu^ prised to learn that he had atlsen bc- to-niorrow," 1 observed. fore me a and was onguged in bis study. My mental conditlou was such that it appeared to me Impossible that an other man could have affairs com parable for Importance with tbe mat ter upon which the possession of my dear Constance more or less depended, and I did not in the least scruple to Interrupt my uncle. I found him seated at his desk, writing with mar vellous rapidity. "You come early," he said, looking tip, but without for a moment ceasing to write. "Take a chair. I will talk to you presently.” Seeing that he was busy, I did uot auswer, but sat down as requested and listened to the industrious scratch ing of my uncle’s pen. Presently the writer ceased, folded his papers, placed them in an envelope, on which he bestowed a vigorous blow at the sealing place, then threw himself back in bis chair and folded bis arms. He appeared to know perfectly why I had disturbed him at that early hour, though I had not yet spoken to him; and with his accustomed bluntness he at once grappled with the business be conceived 1 bad come upon. ‘With regard to thoae sequins." said uncle 8am. "I find no’cause to revise the remark I made about them last night. Adams, the butler, or what ever you call him, stole them; of that I don’t entertain the smallest doubt. He may have been assisted by another of the Holdenhurst servants, or by om of Knight & Faulkner’s men; but it were making tho alterations In tbe Hall, the treasure was accidentally revealed to Adams?—who would be quite safe, he would think, ih conclude Ing that its existence was unknown to your father or any other member of our family from the mere fact of ft being where it was. Many people who can look with equanimity on piles of bank notes are strangely moved at sight of a heap of gold coins, and find the infernal stuff quite irresistible. This I believe was the case with Adams; and I base my opinion on bis going so much in and out of the crypt about the time tbe robbery is sup- posed to have taken place, his strange finding of you there, his illness Imme diately afterwards, his lies to incrimi nate me, and bis gift to you of fifty pounds. This lost move of the old man was to salve his conscience rather than to benefit you. That conscience is a vile thing and troubles a great many people, 1 know well; for I bad a conscience myself some years ago. It was a great nuisance. However, I take only a remote interest In all these things, and but for your sake, don’t care two straws what became of tho sequins. Your father has treated me too badly for friendship between us even to be renewed; but I confess I should be gratified to learn that his frightful blunder has been demon* strated to him. This is my position; and If you intend to try to recover tbe treasure—good; I will help you with advice and money. Or if you don’t think the amount worth the trouble, good again; and we will agree not to speak or tblnk any more of tbe mat* ter." At another time my uncle's declara* tfon wonld have depressed me, for cer tainly there was but one thing I more ardently desired than his reconciliation with my father. But J was not now disposed to be easily depressed. On the contrary, to ray eyes all things had put on a rosy hue, and I not oniy looked for the speedy possession of a quarter of a million sequins, and of Constance Marsh as my wife, but also for the patching up of the miserable feud of which uncle Sam bad just spoken. Lovers’ thoughts are so ex travagantly fantastical that*I was oblivious of the fact tbnt the sequins might never be recovered, or if recov ered were not mine; tlmt Constance Marsh had not promised to marry me; and that my uucle bud just declared the Impossibility of renewing bis for mer friendship with my father. In this cheerful mood I answered that 1 hud fully determined to followup the clue he had suggested, and was pre pared to accept any assistance ho uilftht think necessary uud was pre pared to offer. Very good," said unde 8am. "Tho case Is n simple one. You have not to deal with an accomplished thief, but an Ignorant old miser, who was over come by a large temptation aud has already manifested u symptom of re morse, Tbe world knows uothlng of its, greatest thieves; their success pre vents that. Your object, as T under stand it, is to get a grip on those se quins; aud raiue merely to establish tho fact that 1 had no baud in ab stracting them. Am I right?" "Quite right, uncle.’’ "Well, you have but to follow mj directions, and 1 venture, to predict that you will recover every sequin be fore three weeks are over your head. Return nt ouce to Holdenhhrst, and for a few days closely observe every net of Adams; but be extremely cautious that the old man doesn't become con scious you are watching him. Tuik to him freely, but make no attempt to sound him ou any point which bears, however remotely, on the matter in hand. It Is not unlikely your vlgilauco will be rewarded by valuable knowl edge. About a week after your re turn send (be old man ou tome errand which will keep him away from Hold enhurst for an entire day, and during his absence thoroughly examine his room and everything that Is his. Don’t scruple to turn out his drawers nud boxes—his suspicious conduct fully Jus tifies the act. Should you full to find the sequins, when tbe old roan returns, seize him by tbe throat and, forcing him against the wall thus”—here uncle Sam suddenly aroso and, grasping me tightly around the neck with his left hnnd^ pushed me backwards agaiust n large cabinet with such vigor that I was almost strangled, aud my white tie, which I had spent twenty minutes in adjusting, hopelessly spoiled—"tell him you possess the clearest possible evidence that he has stolen the con tents of ten chests belonging to your father; that if he immediately restores what he has stolen he shall be for given, but that If he dare refuse or even demur you will at once hand him over to the police and charge him with robbery. Be intensely earnest in your mapner, and let your subsequent acts accord with your words. If you defa’t find the sequins while Adams is away; your accusation on his return will throw him into a deadly terror; he will fall on his kuees like a penitent vil lain in a melodrama and give you in formation worth $500,000. If you find the sequins, you can afford to deal less harshly with the old man." "Yes,” I gasped, as soon as my un cle relaxed his grasp ou my throat. To be continued. Softly (who fell overboard and was dramatically rescued)—"Did—you—a w —faint, when you heard them yell ‘Mau overboard?*'* Ilelcu (sobbing)- •*No—uo. Choll.v. I net'-** rpoe sus pected they could menu you.'—Tit-Bltp 0 A KANGAROO MESSENGER. tO 14,. T seems to be a law of na ture that tbe inevoerlenced J should suffer ridicule. All _ y the world over & begiiiner W is* considered "fair game/* Tbe new boy finds this out before h# has been many hours at school, and tbe "tenderfoot" In America or the "new chum" in Australia is not a whit bet ter off than the urchin whose compan ions do their best to make him realize his own insignificance and their im Meuse superiority. It happened not long ago that ft young matt went to Australia with the Intention of settling in that country. The station he purchased was a con siderable distauce from Sydney, and part of the Journey was taken by coach. The young man secured tbe box seat, and, finding the driver, an intelligent, talkative person, be thought it a good opportunity for gain ing information about the country. Tho driver was quite willing to oblige him, and in tho course of the next hour or two related many things which astonished him much. He won- dered how it was that the statements so seriously made *by tbe driver seemed to afford vast amusements to the other passengers. But this did not trouble him. No doubt these facts were an old story to them, while to him they were new and deeply inter esting. He began to nsk about the wild an imals of the country, especially about kangaroos—were they dangerous. "Not at oil," replied the driver, with a wink at a grinning friend in the rear. "It is the easiest thing in the. world to tame kangaroos; in fact, tbe squat ters herenbonts train them to be use ful In various ways.” But the "new chum” had caught n sly twinkle in his companion’s eyes and begnu to suspect. ‘You think me rather green, I dare say?” he remarked, with an air of cau tion, "but I'm not going to believe that tale. It Is a little too absurd." "Well, sir. I’m only telling you," pro. tested the mischievous driver. "I nev- or tamed a kangaroo myself, certain ly; but a friend of mine who lives not far from here has some very intelli gent kungaroos. He sends one down to meet the conch most days. I just pitch off tho mailbag, amt tho kan garoo picks it up, pops it into her pouch and carries it back to her mas ter." At this moment the coach rounded ft”b*nd In the road, and behold, in front of them and not tlireo yards from tho roadside was a large kangaroo seated up on his hind legs nud watching the approaching coach exactly as If he were,there on purpose. Curiosity must be n strong point in knugcroo nature, for, timid us they are. those animals seem easily attract ed by any unusual sound, and will sit up motionless, ns if fascinated, until, with a sudden start, they awake to n sense of danger and arc off like the wind. - - Needless to say, the merry driver was*quick to see Ids opportunity. He drove ns near the animal as he con sidered prudent, and then, waving U!s long whip, he shouted: "I’ve nothing for you to-day, sir; nothing for you to-day!” And, us he expected, the kangaroo wheeled suddenly about, sprang over the bushes and disappeared. Tho "new chum” was delighted. "Bless my heart!" he cried. "What a wonderfully Intelligent creature! t never would have believed it If I had not seen it myself. I should like to have a kangaroo like that; 2 must lenrn how to train them." Among the many things ho learned during the next year of his lifo kan garoo training was not Included.—New York Weekly. SQUTH AFRICAN GHOST YARN. B. Fletcher Robinson tells the story of an army captain—n "quiet, tbick-set level-headed man, with a clear eye, a strong will and enough common sense in a morning paper”—who went to dine with some lady friends at au old Dutch mauor house at Stellenbosch. First of all, on his arrival he was startled by the nppenrauce on the veranda of a huddled-up old woman, "with a lai'g yellow face and thin lips,” and later on in the evening when, after some music in the draw ing-room. lie returned to the dining room for something he noticed that a half-length portrait hanging ou the wall was swaying from side to side witli a slow, deliberate swing, and that the eyes of the man It represented were watching him enviously. Then It seemed to the captain that a fog or mist was rising in the room. It crept tip and up till it reached Ills chin, and then, with a shiver of wild terror, he felt two hands fasten on his throat —hands with thin yet muscular fingers that clutched even tighter, as if grow ing in strength ns they materialized. And tho man of the portrait, hanging clear of the gathering mist, still watched him with an evil leer. With an effort he managed to get away, but again, as be hurried from the house, he was startled by tbe vision of the old, yellow-faced woman. On the following morning he heard that his friends had left the house, and that one of them stated that she had been nearly strangled In the night. Afterward the captain discovered that the house had for some time been used as a temporary hospital, and that two of the sick who had been placed in the dining-room had screamed for heio during the night, imploring their at-1 tnidthti la tike them away, aa aonw ok had td choka them. Lastly, from local inquiries, ho learned that the amiable gentleman whose portrait had brought Mffl •<* strange an experience had hanged him self, about 1810, after strangling his youngest daughter ih the dining-room. Von Holt* was his name, and the legend of the tragedy is still whispered in the district It U a story to which the captain rarely refers. But if you ask him whether he believes in ghosts he says “Year* quite simply.—Johannesburg SNAKES IN BED, No matter where he is, or at what hotel he is stopping, John L. Carter, a Well known railroad character of Col* orado, always, before going to bed, removes the covers and shakes them thoroughly before daring to turn In. That is, lie does this in tbe season when snakes are around.^ While talk ing to a group of friends in tbe lobby of the Savoy Hotel, Mr. barter told a story that explained this unusual habit of his. It was about the middle of one July when he was at Ttlcumcarl, N. M* with a construction party of tbe Rock Island road that the experience he re counted befel him. After an unusually hard day’s work be entered the quar ters of the engineers late nt night, so worn out that be did not even strike a light, but threw off his clothes and piled himself into one of the beds along tho wall. In a few moments he was sound asleep, but frequently dur ing tbe night be was awakened by what seemed to him a moving ridge beneath him In the bed. He was too sleepy to get tip and investigate, how ever, and anyway felt that it was only a trick of bis imagination. Rising early the next morning, he, as was the habit of the men in the camp, began the tpsk of folding up and putting away the blnukets on tbe bed. As he jerked the third one from the bed anil gave it a vigorous shake he heard a heavy thnd on tbe other side, ns of some body striking the ground. What J confronted his eyes when he lowered the blanket almost paralyzed him with fear. There, nil coiled and ready foi battle, lay an Immense prairie rattle snake. Later, when with the aid of some of the men about the camp who lmd answered his call, be bad dis patched the reptile, he measured it and found tbnt it was exactly five feet in length and us large around ns a man’s wrist. That’s why Mr. Carter always inspects his bed in tbe snake season.—Kansas City Journal. FIGHT WITH A LION.* Details of a terrible encounter with a lion iu Mashonnlnnd are to hand by the lastjnail from South Africa. An Englishman named Nicholson, accom panied by bis Zulu servant, sighted the animal lying ou top of a stony ridge. With a view to testing the theory that a lion will, If boldly approAched, turn tail and run, Mr. Nicholson advanced until he was about ten yards from the ridge, while his Zulu made a flank movement. As the lion was about to spring Mr. Nicholson sent a bullet from bis Snider rifle Into the lion’s shoulder, and right through Its body. With on angry roar or pain, the beast sprang and a blow front tbe pad of his pnw sent Mr. Nicholson rolling down the slope for some twenty feet. On rising be witnessed a display of r.ti n ordinary pluck on tbe part of Job, Ills Zjtlu servant. Without tho least hesitation the nntlre, carrying'a' shield and two assegais, made straight for the great brute, and when it sprang at him received it ou the shield and thrust an assegai into its chest. But Job fell, though fortunately under bis shield. Mr. Nicholson then jumped to the rescue. Drawing out his clasp knife, he severed tbe tendons of one of tbe (least’s hind legs and once more the lion attacked him and threw him clean over its .head. Then it turned on tho Zulu, but Mr. Nicholson succeeded in cuttiug the ten dons of tbe other hind leg. This com pletely disabled the brute, which'raved and roared until Job, who had been roughly mauled and was covered with blood, gave it the coup de grace with two thrusts of his assegai. The plucky Zulu bad Ao undergo repairs. Mr. Nicholson was only slightly damaged. —London Globe. SAILORS FIGHT TARANTULAS. The Italian bark Anita Menottl re cently arrived at Philadelphia from Buenos Ayres. Under her hatches she bad 1000 tons of bones. When the hatches were lifted and the crew went below they found that a horde of ta rantulas, centipedes and nameless bugs were prepared to give battle. When the sailors began the work of unloading the pests fought them. The seamen Armed themselves with long, strong bones, and with these they sought to bent off the tarantulas and centipedes. As fast as one tarantula was killed another took its place. Several of the seamen were nipped in the legs, but saved from severe bites by their sea boots. The sailors In the . hold soon became exhausted, and j others of the crew took their places, but they could not put down their te nacious foes. At last the sailors j clambered out of the hold, leaving the tarantulas and their allies victors. It was decided to kill the tarantulas and centipedes by fumigating the hold. This was done by burning sulphur. HUNG BY ROOT ABOVE CHASM. At Mt. Carmel, Pa., George Kolosky, a fireman, at u colliery, on the way to work, fell Into a mine breach 300 feet deep. His fall was stayed nftef drop ping ten feet by the root of a tree, to which he hung until a number of men formed a human chain and rescue/ TO REMOVE SPOTS. To remove spot, tram dotb mike » haste ol tuner’s earth and carefully cover the spot; when quite *1“** oil For light face cloth, dry French chalh should be *» far. ■ S '* V' TO MAKE SILK PORTIERES. ^ A lady la Inquiring about silk por tieres. To make a nice pair of por- llerea, one and one-half yards wide/ three yards long, good and heavy, it reqnlres about six and a half to seven Dounds medium fin#. ; CLEANING THE SINK. A true housewife should take the greatest pride In her kitchen sink and keep It spotlessly clean. The easiest and best way to clean a galvanised Iron sink which has been more or less neglected is to rub strong soap powder Into every corner pnd over every in«J* of surface. Let it remain on for ten or fifteen minntes, then with a stout brush go over the .whole, dipping the brush into boiling water. When the sink Is thoroughly scrubbed, polish It with kerosene, rubbing the oil into tho iron and leaving no rcsldpe of grease behind. The kerosene prevents it from rusting after the strong soap powder and boiling water are used. Caro must be taken that the painted wood work around the sink does not comes into contact with tbe powder, as it may eat off the paint. The kitchen sink should be cleaned as thoroughly as this twice a week, and every day carefully rinsed out .with hot ^soap suils. moil ART WITH EGG3. To properly boll eggs for table n*e is 0 high art. Many rules have been given as to the time required to prop erly boil an egg, but the cook cannot be looking at the clock all the time, and It Is a very poor rule, anyhow. Nearly nil cooks put the egg in boiling water. It is a very bad habit and a bungling way to cook an egg. Soused into boil ing water, one of two things ia sure to occur. Either tho shell will l)urst. permitting part of the egg to escape, and water to enter the shell, or the silk on the inside of the shell, and the wh5(o of the egg, will be made tough and un-* palatable. The result Is that when an attempt Is made to break the egg at the table the silk comes off with the shell. Cooks have often complained wliAn, trying to take the shell from hard boiled eggs that pieces of tbo egg slicks to the shell. Of course they will. If tbe egg has been Immersed in boiling water. Every kitchen ought to be provided with an egg testers They are easily made, but very efficient ones can be # purchased at a small cost. Tbe eggs should be tested before being put In the water. When ready, put your eggs In cold water, place upou tbe stove, and as soon at tbo water comes to n boll they are ready to serve. If soft boiled are desired. If medium or bard boiled are preferred, let them boll a minute or two. Eggs thus pre pared are palatable and nutritious, and yon will always know when to take them off without having to look at the clock all the time. . , RECl^J, English Pudding—One cup molasset, half a cup butter, one cup sweet milk, one teaspoonful soda, one teaspoon ful different spices, one cup chopped raisins, three and a half cups flour. Steam two or three hours and serve with whipped cream. Fish Chowder—Six large potatoes sliced thin in two quarts water; boll fifteen minutes; cut three slices fat pork In small pieces and fry out; when done put In one large onion and a little water; cook three minutes; then put with tho potatoes, pepper and salt to taste; when the potatoes are most ready add three pounds fish; let boil five minutes; then add one pint sweet mlik and let come to a boil; last of all drop In a few common crackers. Baked Bean Soup—Two cups cold baked beans, one large onion sliced, tops and trimmings of one bunch of celery. Add one and a half quarts cold water and simmer gently three hours; strain; stew one quart can tomatoes thirty minutes and strain It into the other mixture; add one large spoonful sugar and salt to taste; rub one large spoonful butter and one of flour to a paste; add a little of the hot soup to paste and when dissolved add to rest of soup and boil up till thickened and serve with croutons. Very nice and ecconoraical. For Making Bread in Day Time- In the morning dissolve in three pints of warm water two cakes compressed yeast; add to same two tablespoonfuls salt, three of sugar, a little shortening if wanted and enough flour to mako a smooth dough; knead well for ten minutes; let rise in a warm place for three hours; knead again for five min utes; let rise for one hour and fifteen minutes; form Into loaves and let rise until about twice its size, usually one and a half hours, then bake in a moderate oven. Careful attention to these directions will enable anyone to make with ease that rarest of all table luxuries, perfect bread. «• C«»t of Maintaining Children. In the children’s homes of Ohio are 1903 children, which are maintained St % cost of $138 each per ann^yn,