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oldenhurstg
WALTER BLOOMFIELD
Coarriskt MM fir B**ht awns* Sox.
CHAPTER XX.
. Continued.
* My check* tingled , with Indignation
which I did not dare to express, I
followed mjr uncle down the xtalra.
Thoroughly vexed and pained aa I
was to hear my dear (other so pitiless.
>y disparaged by hla brother, I was
not at all surprised at node ham's
bitterness. Circumstances seemed td
show that tuy father and 1 had both
fallen victims to the clumsy fraud of
an Ignorant old man. But tlio situa
tion had now become hopeful. If
•mule Barn's theory was correct, as I
k.opcd and believed It might prove to
bo, reconclllgtlon of the brothers was
no’t only possible bnt highly probable,
my uncle's recent declaration' to the
contrary notwithstanding.
As soon as bo entered the brilliant
ly lighted dining room uncle Sam as-
burned his airiest manner, In no woy
lr-denting the aerlona thought* which
'anil occupied bls.mlud a minute or so
before. All tbo company,' except Air.
lloaeuberg, had departed; and
umit and Allas Marsh, who were
dressed for- dinner, appeared very
charming In wblto silk robes trimmed
Wtlh old lace, each lady wearing a
'girdle from which depended a superb
fnn ornamented with feathers and
dlamouda,
I 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 wore a* artistic and luxurious
as the best artists In those things at
tho end of the nineteenth century can
provide for men of lavish expenditure.
As soon as dinner was over, we nil-
Jouiqeil to the drawing room, with
the exception of uncle Bam, who be
took hlmeelf to the roof to smoke,
saying that he would prefer to ho
alone at he bad a troubled matter to
UP'.nvcl, and could not accomplish bis
Yuirporc without consuming three
cigars. "It Is now," said he, glapi'lug
at bis watch, “n few minutes past
nine, and I may not seo you again lie-
fora morning, so good-night and pleas
ant dreams.”
Ilear old undo Sami How well I
knew the subject on which he intended
to exerclao his thoughts, and how or-
Viently I hoped n rcuuwal of bis friend
ship with my father would result from
his deliberations!
'Whether her'womanly Instincts had
perceived the attraction which her
slater had for me, nml her kindliness
of heart prompted her to gratify me,
oc thst It so befell of accident I know
not; but to uiy great satisfaction, on
returning to the drawing room lny
aunt at aneo entered Into conversation
with Mr. Rosenberg, leaving Miss
Mnrsh and ma to pass our time Os
best we could.
What an orcnlug was that! Why, I
was almost happy aud really believe
I should have been quite so but for
the shadow of the estrangement bo-
tween the two brotborB whoso lives
worn bouud up with mine.
The conversation of lovers, so de
lightful to the parties Immediately
concerned, Is notably unluterestlug
(o everybody else; and It Is not iny
Intention to bring upon mysolf that
ridicule which men past the amorous
phase of their career so mercilessly
tind Inconsistently mete out to their
fellows engaged In It by recording
la Ibis place my conversation with
tlonstnnco Marsh on that memorable
occasion. Suffice It to soy that In
telling the talc of tho sequins, which
I seised this opportunity to relate. I
greatly excited her sympathy. My
long silence was forgiven us soon us
lla causo'was understood and It was
clear to me that I had established my-
celf In her favor more Orally than
aver.
‘■i understand you will bo from home
ell to-morrow," 1 observed.
"Yes," replied Miss Mittal]. “I an
going to Turrylown. Mrs. Van Rens
selaer has Just returned from Europe,
aud Is to give a big reception."
"Where Is Tarrytown, aud who Is
Mrs. Vuu Rensselaer)" 1 Inquired.
“Ynrrytown is a beautiful village
ou tile Hudson, about twenty-fire mllt-s
trom here. Mrs. Van Rensselaer is
the widow of Martin Van Rensselaer,
the railroad king. Everybody hits
heard of old Martin Vim Rensselaer,
who died two years ago worth fifty
million dollars."
"Yes, l think 1 have read something
about him somewhere," I said. "Tell
mo, Connie dear, will the Rev. Mr.
Price be there!"
"I don’t know. I'm sure. I hope
not." replied Miss Marsh.
"I am quite unable to express my re
light that your entertain such a hope.
May I beg you will Increase It by tell
ing me wby you hope he may not be
there!"
"Because he Is n tease, nail rnouopo-
ilaes my time when he has the oppor
tunity to do so," eoufessed M'.ss
Marsh.
“If the Rev. Mr. Price were to ssk
you to become his wife, what would
you say
"The came as I have said before,"
"What! has he aeked yon to marry
him!"
"Dear me. yes. :.ots of times."
‘And what has been youv answer?"
"No.”
"Dear Connie I And If I were to ask
you that question, what wonld your
reply he?’
“The aamc."
“Do you like me no better tban Mr.
Price?’
“O yes'; ever so much better.”
“Then wbo Is It yon prefer to either
of ns?’
“Alyself.”
“Connie,” I said, taking one of her
little hands and holding It tightly In
both of mine, “I don't mind confess
ing to you that I was rain enough to
hope your decision might bo different.
I would not ask you to marry me while
I am poor; but all the world knows—
and no place furnishes more examples
that this elty— that wealth la a thing
which passes from hand to band and
la aa often gained os lost. What If I
were rich enough to keep my wife In
the manner In which you hare lived
your life!”
“I was not thinking of money; my
father left me more of that than I
can posalbly require In any circum
stances. I don’t tblnk I’m muck In
clined to marry anybody."
“You may change your mind. 8omc
young ludles who hare 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. Trice."
“Dear Connie! And me—could you
tolerate me!”
“I think perhaps I could If I tried."
"May I rest assured that, should yon
ever marry. It Is my wife 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 go of my hand; here
comes my sister and Mr. Rosenberg.”
CHAPTER XXI.
Alt NIK WOLSKT POUND.
Though Constance Mursh hail not
promised to bo my wife (Indeed that
could hardly have been, for I had not
asked her for any such promise), her
undertaking to accept me for her hus
band should she mnrty tilled mo with
satisfaction. Her professed Indispo
sition for marriage I regarded as a pro
fession and nothing more—tho banter
ing playfulness of a high-spirited,
noble-minded girl. I bad not lacked
opportunities to observe that tbc am
bition of every woman Is marriage;
and that the few, the very few wom
en who dcuy this ussertton with words,
Illustrate Its truth in the failure of
their lives. The girl of my choice was
Intensely fominliio, her nature uu-
warped by any of the pernicious hum
bug of woman’s so-called rights, con
cerning which a shrieking sisterhood
of the malformed, tbc neglected, and
the deluded spoil much good paper
aud rend the air In many lecture halls;
and I did dot at all doubt that I hud
now merely to raise my fortuno to
the level of hers to enable me to claim
her hand and find my claim allowed.
Love will lightly attempt tasks from
which reason would shirk, and tho
difficulty of effecting the necessary
change In my coudftlon had no terrors
for me, or I was too dazzled by the
prospective prise to perceive them.
With an unquestioning ralth In my
uncle’s perceptive powers, I was now
more than ever disposed to unreserv
edly accept his theory of the robbery
of the sequins, and I resolved to neg
lect notffiug that might tend toward
their recovery. Filled with tlilB Idea,
I arose early the next morning, re
solved to discuss with him ways and
menus expedient for me, and was sur
prised to learn that he had arisen be
fore me and was engaged In bis study.
My mental condition was such that
It appeared to me Impossible that an
other man could have affairs com
parable for Importance with the mat
ter upon which the possession of my
dear Coustnnco 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 up, 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
uud listened to the Industrious scratch
ing of my uncle's pen. Presently the
writer ceased, folded his papers,
placed them lu an envelope, ou which
he bestowed a vigorous blow'at the
scaling place, then threw himself back
lu bis chair aud folded his arms. He
appeared to know perfectly why I had
disturbed blm at that early hour,
though I had uot yet spokeu to him;
and with his accustomed bluntncss be
nt once grappled with the business
be conceived 1 bad come upou.
'With regard to those sequins,” said
uncle Sam, “I find no cause to revise
the remark I made about them last
night. Adams, the butler, or what
ever you call blm, stole them; of that
I don’t entertain the smallest doubt.
He may have been assisted by another
of the Holdcnburst sen-ants, or by one
if Knight A Faulkner's men; but It
pf Rub;
Is improbable. I. have never heard R
suggested that the old man was A thief)
but I well remember bis miserly habits
of more than twenty year* ago. Misers
tineas once acquired is never shaken
oft, bnt intensifies with time. What
can be mote reasonable than to sup.
pose that when Knight <e Faulkner
were making the alterations in the
Hell, the treasure wna Accidentally
revealed to Adams?—who Would bs
quite safe, he wonld think, in conclud
ing that its existence was unknown to
your father or any other member of
our family from the mere fact of It
being where 1t was. Many pqpple who
can look with equanimity on piles of.
bank notes are strangely moved at
tight of a heap of gold coins, and fiud
the Infernal stuff quite . Irresistible.
Tbls I believe was the case wiib
Adams; and I base my opinion on bis
going to much In and out of the crypt
about the time the robbery la sup
posed to have taken place, hit atrange
finding of you there, his Illness lmmc
dlately afterwards, his lies to Incrimi
nate me; and bis gift to you of fifty
pounds. This last more of the old
man wat to salve bis conscience rather
than to benefit you. That conscience
Is a. vile thing and troubles a great
many people, 1 know well; for I had
a conscleuce 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
core two straws what became of the
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 bas been demon
strated to blm. Tbls Is my position;
and If you Intend to try to recover the
treasnre—good; I will help you, with
advice and money. Or If you don't
tblnk the amount worth the trouble,
good again; and we will agree not to
speak or tblnk nuy more of the mat
ter."
At another time my uncle’s declara
tion would hare depressed mo, for cer
tainly there was but one thing I more
ardently desired than bis reconciliation
with my father. But I 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 only
looked for the speedy possession of a
quarter of a million sequlus, and of
Constance Marsh ns my wife, bar, also
for the patching up of the miserable
feud of which uncle Bam had Just
spoken. Lovers' thoughts arc ap ex
travagantly fantastical that I was
oblivions of the fact that the sequins
might never be recovered, or If recov
ered were not mine; that Coustuuco
Marsh lutd not promised to marry rnc;
nud that my uuclc had just declared
the Impossibility of renewing bis for
mer friendship with my father. In
tbit cheerful mood I answered that
I had fully determined to fallow up the
clue be had suggested, and was pre
pared to accept nuy assistance he
might think necessary anil wus pre
pared to offer.
“Very good," said uncle Sum. ‘Tho
case is a simple one. You have not to
deal with uu accomplished thief, but
an Ignorant old miser, who wus over
come by a large temptation and bus
already manifested a symptom of re
morse. The world knows nothing of
Its greatest thieves; tbelr success pre
vents that. Your object, us I under
stand It, Is to get n grip ou those se
quins; nml mine merely to establish
the fact , that I had no baud in ab
stracting them. Am I right!''
"Quito right, uncle.”
"Well, you have but to follow mj
directions, and I venture to predict
that you will recover every sequin be
fore three weeks are over your head.
Return nt once to Holdenbursi, and for
a few days closely observe every net
of Adams; but Ue extremely cautious
that the old mnu doesn’t become con
scious you are watcblng 1dm. Talk to
blm freely, but make no attempt to
sound him on any point which bears,
however remotely, ou the matter lu
hand. It Is not unlikely your vlgllnueo
will be reworded by valuable knowl
edge. About a week after your re
turn scud the old mnn ou some errand
which will keep blm nwuy from Hold
enhurat for un entire day, and duriug
Ids absence thoroughly examine bis
room and everything that Is his. Dou't
scruple to turu out his drawers aud
boxes—his suspicious conduct fully Jus
tifies the act. Sbould you fall to Uud
the sequlus, wbeu the old rauu returns,
seise him by the throat and, forcing
him against the wall thus"—here uncle
Bam suddenly arose and, graspiug me
tightly around the neck with his left
hand, pushed me backwards against
a large cabiuet with such vigor that
I was almost strangled, and my white
tie, which I hud speut twenty minutes
In adjusting, hopelessly spoiled—"tell
him you possess the clearest possible
evidence that he has stolen the con
tents of tell 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 blm with
robbery. Be Intensely earnest In your
manner, and let your subsequent acts
accord with your words. If you don't
find the sequins wliile Adams Is away,
your accusatiou on bis return will
throw him into a deadly terror; he will
fall on his knees like a penitent vil
lain in a melodrama und give you In
formation worth goUO.DOO. If you Und
the sequins, you cuu afford to deal less
harshly with the old man.”
"Yes," I gasped, as soon as my un
cle relaxed Ids grasp on my throat.
To be continued.
lock a
fldtientflreJ
A KANGAROO MESSBNGEfl.
T seems to be a law of iiH*
ttire that the inexperienced
Softly (wbo fell overboard .and wat
dramatically rescued)—“Old—you—aw
—faint, when you .beard them yell
‘Man overboard?’ ” Helen (sobbingl-
“No—no, Cholly. I nei» w cure sus
pected they could mean
.
6 I O should suffer ridicule. All
x A jl the world over a beginner
'WOV Is considered ‘‘fair game."
The new boy finds tbls out before be
bas been many-hours at school, and the
“tenderfoot" in America: or the “new
chum" in Australia is not a whit bet
ter off tban the urchin whose compan
ions do their best to make him realise
his own insignificance and their im
tnense superiority!
It happened not long ago that a
young man went to Australia with the
Intention of settling in that country.
The station he purchased was a con
siderable distance from Sydney, and
part of the journey was taken by
coach. The ydnog man secured the
box seat, and, finding the driver an
intelligent, talkative person. * b<
thought it ft good opportunity for gain
ing information about the country.
The driver was quite willing to
oblige blm, and in the course of the
next hour or two related many things
which astonished biro much. He wot*
dered how it was that the statements
so seriously made by the driver
seemed to afford vast amusements to
the other passengers. But this did not
trouble him. No doubt these fncts
were an old story to them, while to
him they wero new and deeply inter
esting.
lie began to ask about the wild an
imals of the country, especially about
kangaroos—were they dangerous.
“Not at all/’ replied the drirer, with
a wink at n grinning friend in the rear.
“It is the easiest thing in the world
to tamo kangaroos; in fact, the squat
ters hereabouts train them to be use
ful in various ways.”
But the “new chum" had caught a
sly twinkle In his companion's eyes
and began to suspect.
“iTou think me rather fcreen, I dare
say?" he remarked, with un air of cau
tion, “but I’m not going to believe that
talc. It is n little too absurd."
“Well, sir, I'm only telling you," pro
tested the mischievous driver. “I nev.
or tamed n kangaroo myself, certain
ly; but a frlcml of mine who lives not
far from hero has some very intelli
gent kangaroos. lie sends one down
to meat the conch most days. »I Just
pitch off the mailbag, and the kan
garoo picks it up, pops it Into her
pouch and carries it hack to her mas
ter/ 1
At this moment the conch rounded
a bend In the road, and behold, In front
of them ami not throe yards from tho
roadside was a large kangaroo seated
up on Ids hind legs nud wntehlng the
approaching coach exactly us if he
were there on purpose.
Curiosity must be a strong point In
knngoroD nature* for, timid us they
arc. these animals seem easily attract
ed by any ummual sound, and will sit
up motionless, as If fascinated, until,
with n sudden start, they awake to a
sense of danger and are ofl^ like the
wind.
Needless to say. the merry driver
was quick to see his opportunity. He
drove as near the nuiinnl ns he con
sidered prudent, and then, waving his
long whip, he snouted:
"I've nothing for you to-day, sir;
nothing for you to-day!”
And. as he expected, the kangaroo
wheeled suddenly about, sprang over
le bushes and disappeared.
The “new' chum" was delighted.
“Bless my heart!" ho- cried. “Wlmt
a wonderfully lutcliigeut creature! I
»r would have believed It if I had
not seen it myself. I should like to
have a kangaroo like that; I must
learn how to train them."
Among the ninny things he learned
during the next year of his life kan
garoo training was not included.—New
York Weekly.
SOUTH AFRICAN GIIOST YARN.
B. Fletcher Robinson tells tho story
of an army captain—a “quiet, thick-set
level-headed man, with a clear eye, a
strong will and enough common souse
to run a morning paper"—who went to
dine with some lady friends nt an old
Dutch manor house at Stellenbosch.
First of all, on his arrival he was
startled by the appearance on the
reramla of a hmldled-up old woman,
‘with a lui,’g yellow face and thin
lips," and‘later on In the evening
when, after some music in the draw
ing-room, he returned to the dining
room for something he uotlced that a
half-length portrait hanging on the
wall was swaying from side to side
with a slow, deliberate swing, aud that
tho 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 up and up till it reached his chin,
and then, with a shiver of wild terror,
be felt two hands fasten on his throat
—hands with thin yet muscular fingers
that clutched even tighter, as if grow
ing in strength as they materialised.
And the man of the portrait, hanging
dear of tbc gathering mist, still
watched him with an evil leer. With
an effort he managed to get away, but
again, as he hurried from tbc house,
he was startled l>y the vision of the
old, yellow-faced woman.
On the following morning he heard
that Ids friends had left the house, and
that one of them stated that she had
been nearly strangled in the night.
Afterward the cap|ain discovered
that the house had for some time been
used as a temporary hospital, and that
two of the sick wbo had been placed in
the dining-room had screamed for beln
during the night, imploring their at*;
tendants to take them away, as «oma
one had tried to choke them.
Lastly, from local Inquiries, he
learned that the amiabtf gentleman
whose portrait bad brought Miff
strange an experience had hanged him*
self, about 1810,* after strangling bis
frdtiagest daughter in the dining-room.
Toil ffdlt* Wfts hla name, and the
legend bt the tragedy ie atm whispered
in the district, ' .
It is a story id irblcb the captain
rarely refers. But if you fish him
whether he believes in ghosts he sayft
"Year quit® simply.—Johannesburg
(S. A;) Stdft
SNAKES IN BEU.
No matter where he Is, or at wbat
hotel be is stopping, John L. Carter, a
well known railroad character of Col
orado, always, before going to bed,
removes tbc covers and shakes them
thoroughly before daring'to turn in.
That is, he does this in the season
when snakes are around. While talk
ing to a group of friends in the lobby
of the Savoy Hotel, Mr. Carter told a
story that explained this unusual habit
of bis.
It was about the mjddle of one July
when he wa» at Tucumcari, N. M. f
witU a construction party of the 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 he did not even strike
a light, but threw oft bis clothes and
piled himself Into one of the beds
along the wall. In a few moments he
was sound asleep, but frequently dur
ing the night he was awakened by
wlint seemed to him a moving ridge
beneuth him in the bed. He was too
sleepy to get up and investigate, how
ever, and anyway felt that It was only
trick of his imagination. Rising
early the next morning, be, as was the
lmblt of the men In the camp, began
the task of folding up and putting
away the blankets on the bed. As he
Jerked the third one from the bed and
gave it a vigorous shake he beard a
heavy thud on the other side, as of
some body striking the ground. What
confronted bis eyes when he lowered
the blanket almost paralysed him with
fear. There, all coiled and ready foi
battle, lay an immense prairie rattle
snake. loiter, when with the aid of
some of the men about the camp £ho
had answered his call, he had dis
patched the reptile, he measured it
and found that it was exactly five feet
In length and as large around as a
man’s wrist. That’s why Mr. Carter
always inspects his bed in the make
season.—Kansas City Journal.
TO REMOVE SPOTS.
To.remove spot, from elotfi mako m
hosts of fuller’s earth and carefully
cover the spot; wheu quite «
«ir For lifiht face cIotl1 ' dry * rcncJ *
eU ahoidlbe XPP««» >“ ““ • am9
way. v * Nj - j
FIGHT WITH A LION.
Details of a terrible encounter with
a lion In Mashonaland are to hrrtid by j
the last mail from South Africa. An j
Englishman named Nicholson, accom
panied by Ills Zulu servant, sighted the ,
animal lying on top of a stony ridge. |
With a view to testing the theory that
a Hon will. If boldly approached, turn
tail and run, Mr. Nicholson advanced '
until he was about ten yards from the j
ridge, while his Zulu made a flank 1
overoent. i
As the lion was about to spring Mr. ,
Nicholson sent a bullet from his Snider
rifle into the lion’s shoulder, and right
through Its body. With an angry roar
of pain, the beast sprang and a blow
from the pad of bis paw sent Mr. 1
Nicholson rolling down the slope for
some twenty feet.
On rising he witnessed a display of ;
extraordinary pluck on the part of Job. j
Zulu servnut. Without the least
hesitation tho native, carrying a shield i
and Two assegais, mode straight for j
the great brute, and when it sprang nt \
him received It on the shield and j
thrust nn assegai into its chest. But i
Job fell, though fortunately under hla
shield. Mr. Nicholson then jumped to !
the rescue. Drawing out his clasp !
knife, he severed the tendons of one |
of the beast’s hind legs and once more |
the Hon attacked him and threw him 1
•lean over Its head.
Then it turned on tho Zulu, h^t Mr. )
TO MAKE SILK PORTIERES. * •
A lady is inquiring about silk por-r.
Here*. To mi.kc a nice pair of por
Here*, one and one-half *»■?* * ld *’
three yards long, good and *
requires about six and a half to s.ven
uounds medium fine. \ •• /
CLEANING THE SINK. Nl
A true housewife should take the
greatest pride In her kitchen *>nk aaffi
Keep It spotlessly clean. The easiest
and best way to clean s galvanised
Iron sink which has been more or loss
neglected is to rnb strong soap powder
into every corner and over every Incn-
of surface. Let It remain on for ten
or fifteen minutes, then with a stout
brush go over the whole, dipping the
brush Into boiling water. When the
sink Is thoroughly scrubbed, polish it
with keroaene, rubbing the oil into the
iron and leaving no residue of greas*
behind. The kerosene prevents It from
rusting after the etroug soap powder
and boiling water are used. Car.
must be taken that the painted wood
work around the sink does not com®
Into contact with the powder, ns it
may eat off the paint. The kitchen
sink should be cleaned as thoroughly
ns this twice a week, and ertry day
carefully rinsed out .with hot ^aoay
suds. t \ . ■
HIGH ART WITH EGGS. ^
To properly boll eggs for tRble use it
a 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 tho clock all the time, and
it Is a very poor rule, anyhow. Nearly
all cooks put the egg in boiling water.
It is a very bad habit and a bringling
way to cook nn egg. Soused into boil- %
Ing water, one of two things Is sure Jo
occur. Either the shell will burst/ 1
permitting part of the egg to escape,
and water to enter the shell, or the silk
on the inside of the shell, and the white
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 hare often complained
when trying to take the shell from
hard boiled eggs that pieces of tho
egg sticks to tho shell. Of course they
will, if the egg has been immersed in
boiling water. Every kitchen ought
to he provided with nn egg tCftter.
They are easily made, but very efficient
ones can be purchased at a small cosvJ
The eggs should be tested before being
put In the water. Wheu ready, put
your eggs in cold water, place upou
the stove, and as soon as the W'nter.
comes to a boll they are ready to serve.
If soft boiled are desired. If medium
or hard boiled are preferred, let them
boil a minute or two. Eggs thus pre
pared nre palatable and nutritious, and
you will always know when to take
them off without having to looi at the
clock nii the time.
RECIPES^::
Nicholson succeeded in cutting the ten
dons of the 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 thruRts of his assegai. The plucky
Zulu had to undergo repairs. Mr.
Nicholson was only slightly damaged.
—London Globe.
SAILORS FIGHT TARANTULAS.
The Italian bark Anita Menotti re
cently arrived at Philadelphia from
Buenos Ayres. Under her batches she
had 1000 tons of bones. When the
hatches were lifted and tho crew went
below they fonnd that a horde of ta
rantulas, centipedes and nameless
bugs were prepared to give battle, i
When the sailors began the work of
unloading tho pests fought them. The
seamen armed themselves with long,
strong bones, and with these they
sought to beat off the tarantulas and
centipedes. As fast aa one tarantula
was killed another took its place.
Several of tho seamen were nipped In
the legs, but saved from severe bites
by their sea boots. The sailors in the
hold soon became exhausted, and
others of the crew took their places,
but they could not put down their te
nacious foes. At last the sailors
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 Ivolosky,
a fireman, at a colliery, on the way to
work, fell Into a mine breach 300 feet
deep. His fall was stayed after drop
ping ten feet by the root of a tree, to
which he hung until a number of men
formed a human chaiu and rescued
| English Pudding—One cup molasses,
j half a cup butter, one cup sweet milk,
I one teaspoonful soda, one teaspoon-
j fnl'different spices, one cup chopped
! raisins, three and a half cups flour.
I Steam two or three hours aud serve
! with whipped cream,
j Fish Chowder—Six large potatoes
sliced thin in two quarts water; boll
i 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 the potatoes, pepper and salt to
taste; when the potatoes are most
ready odd three pounds fish; let boll
five minutes; then add one pint sweet
milk and let come to a boil; last of
til 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 largo
spoonful butter and one of flour to a
paste; add a little of the hoi soup to
paste and when dissolved add to rest
of soup and boll up till thickened and
serve with croutons. Very nice and
eeeonomical.
For Making Bread in Day Time-
In the morning dissolve in three pint*
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 make
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.
Cost of Maintaining Children.
In the children’s homes of Ohio are
19D3 children, which are maintained
it A cost of 9138 each per annum.