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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.