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6 |ubbailj |bmtgl;fs. ft A Deed and a Word. ]•' A little spring had lost its way Amid the grass and fern ; A passing stranger scooped a well, Where weary man might turn ; He walled it in, and hung with care, A ladle at the brink. He thought not of the deed he did, But judged that toil might drink. He passed again, and lo! the well, Bv summer never dried, Had cooled a thousand parching tongues, And saved a life beside. A nameless man, amid the crowd That thronged the daily mart, Let fall a word of hope and love, Unstudied from the heart; A whisper on the tumult thrown, A transitory breath. It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death. O gem! 0 fount! 0 word of love ! O thought at random cast I Ye were but little at first, But mighty at last. Light.—A hidden light soon becomes dim, and if it be entirely covered up, will expire for want of air. So it is with hidden religion. It must go out. There cannot be a Christian whose light in some aspects does not shine. The End. —Prince Albert, when up on his dying bed, said : “ I have had wealth, rank and power. But if this 1 were all I had, how wretched should I be now. ‘ Rock of ages cleft for mo, Let me hide myself in thee.’ ” Christ’s Truth. —I know that the Word of Christ from the beginning of the world hath been of such a sort that he who would maintain it must, with the apostle, forsake and renounce all things, and stand wa ting for death every hour. If it were not so it would not be the Word of Christ It w r as preached with death, it was promulgated with death, it hath been maintained ‘ with death, and must be so hereafter. | Luther. Thorough.—Whatever is worth doing I at all is worth doing thoroughly. A slack hand never prospers, whole hearted Christians are favorites of i heaven. The Lord delights in earnest souls and zealous service. Thorough • Christians grow rich in grace and find the yoke of Christ easy and his burden light. There is great joy and sweet ness in such a life. Everything seems , to conspire to help the earnest, and the soul grows strong by effort and joyous by success. It pays to be thorough Christians. The longer I live, the more expedient i I find it to endeavor more and more to extend my sympathies and affections. The natural tendency of advancing years is to narrow and contract these feelings. I do not mean that 1 wish to form a new friendship every day; to increase my circle of intimates —they are very different affairs. But I find that it conduces to my mental health and hap j piness to find out all I can which is amiable and lovable in those I come in contact with, and to make the most of it. It may fall very short of what I was once wont to dream of ; it may not sup ply the place of what I have known, 1 felt and tasted ; but it is better than j nothing. It seems to keep the feelings and affections alive in its huamnity ; ami till we shall be all spiritual, this is alike our duty and our interest.— The Moravian. A Christian man was dying in Scot land. His daughter Nellie sat by his bedside. It was Sunday evening, and , the bells of the Scotch kirk were ring ing, calling the people to church. The good old man, in his dying dream, thought he was on his way to church, as he used to be when he went in his sleigh across the river; and as the evening bells struck up in his dying dream he thought it was the call to church —He said : “ Hark children, the bells are ringing; we shall be late ; we must make the mare step out quick I” He shivered, and then said: “ Pull the robe up closer, my lass! It is cold crossing the river, but we will soon be there 1” And he smiled and said : ‘‘Just there now!” No wonder he smiled. The good old man had gone to church. Not to the old Scotch kirk, but to the temple in the skies —just across the river. — In the days when Philadelphia was yet but little larger than one of our vil lages. the question was raised among the inhabitants, whether another meet i ing house was needed. While men were ' freely expressing different opinions [ about it. Dr. Franklin delivered his ideas p somewhat after this fashion : “I put up one martin box in my garden and it □ was immediately tilled; I put up another and that too very soon found occupants, y I observed that it was the same with ’•y my neighl»ors. In tine, those who pro- GRANGE,-- vided the most martin boxes, had the greatest number of martins. So I be lieve that the sect which builds the most meeting houses in growing com munities like ours will attract and retain the largest number of our citizens.” The sound common sense of Franklin has passed into a number of proverbs; but none of them is more valuable and more confirmed by daily observation than the comparison here reproduced. Home Mission Herald. A sad interest attaches to the beau tiful but fallen woman who personated “ The Goddess of Reason” at a fete in Notre Dame during the first French Revolution, but died miserably a few years ago. Mrs. Henry M. Field gives an interesting account in the New York Evangelist, of once meeting this famous woman in the hospital in which she sub sequently died. She says : Among the-wretched celeb rities of this hospital, my guide stop ping before an old hag, more dirty and more hideous than the others, but preserving still some traces of beauty in her withered sac of a beauty without intelligence and without noble ness—he whispered to me that that was the famous ‘‘ Goddess of Reason,” the woman who was selected in the mad days of the French Revolution to per sonify reason (the only object worthy of human worship) and was actually en throned on the altars of Notre Dame, to receive the homage of her idolaters. Those were the days when religion was banished from the world. Reason reigned—and this was her goddess! “ Will you speak to her ?” I endeavored to awaken some remembrance of the terrible, past in which she had such a part, by asking the old woman a few questions; but the facts were confuse! in her memory, and she was incapable of comprehending the full meaning of this page of her life. When I wished to sound her religious disposition— “Ah,” she said to me, “I am too old to believe in your God. When I was young and beautiful, they put me in His place upon the altar —the one is worth perhaps as much as the other! Don’t preach to me, hut give me some money to buy some snuff.” I threw her a few sous, and left her with disgust. Sabbath Home. Hail holy light, of Heaven horn. Hail Hummer ealm of Sabbath morn, Hail clear white beams that softly flow O’er stately hills and valleys low’! Aross the mountain grand and gray, Sweep the rose-flushes of the day ; And Peaks-of-Otter purple lie Against the amber of the sky. i Oh, welcome Sabbath-light serene, O’er city square, o’er country green! A message in each wave that flows In trembling tints of pearl and rose. That creeps o’er mountain, vale, and old And spans Catawba's tide with gold. Each heart that thrills beneath thy rays Throbs low with prayer, or high with praise. A rev’rent hush is over all, The cot tage lone and moss-grown wall. With softer music in its tone The slender stream moves slowly on. Each bird serenely sails along, A graver gladness in its song ; The solemn chimes of church-bells roll Sweet music through our calm of soul. Now from the village chapel white. Whose spire is touched with sacred light, A psalm ho high, and rapt, and clear, Falls sweetly on the listening ear. The organ’s soft majestic swell Voices the praise words cannot tell ; Birds in the tree, winds in the glen. Are joining in that grand “ Amen.” Above the earth, beyond the skies, Our thoughts on golden ladders rise. As angels in old Jacob’s dream. They upward mount from beam to beam. While higher thoughts and feelings rare Have bowed our hearts down like a prayer ; As in our souls new hopes are born. Thank God for his sweet Sabbath morn! —Exchange. department. a The Boy mid the Bird. One day while a young boy was walking in the field he found a wounded bird, which Ik ing too much injured to fly away, suffered to be caught and carried home by its finder in tri umph. Being a kind-hearted boy, he tenderly eared for the bird until its broken wing was well again. He taught the bird to sing and to do many wonderful things, and became at last very much attached to it. One day while the window was open the bird suddenly fluttered its light wings and flew out of the house, alight ing in an adjoining tree, and delighted with its mwlv-aequired freedom, it refused every in dueement its late master could offer it to re turn, and with a shrill chirp, that seemed to sav, “catch me if you ean," it flew away into the summer air and was soon out ot sight. The summer months passed away and the autumn came, the leaves grew crimson and golden and dropped one by one fr tn the branches. The bleak winds swept them away. Then the air grew cold and cheerless and the first snowflakes Ixgan to fall, and the wintry winds lu'gan to sigh over the barren fields ano about the chimney tops. The boy stood again by the open window warmlv ami comfortably clad, gazing with ad miration at the newly-fallen sn w. Suddenly his attention was attracted by a faint chirp m ar at hand, and looking in the direction of the sound, he saw his truant pet half chilled with cold. He called to it gladly and the bird timid ly approached him, a little distance at a time, and at last talking courage, it alighted on a bare branch by the window, and from thence flew into its master’s hand It was soon back in its cage agiin in the kitchen corner singing its old songs, safe from the cold. MORAL. Truant chickens invariably come home to roost. The bad young boy and the foolish girl who leaves a h ppy and comfortable home, when circumstances seem bright and fare, are glad enough to return again,when winter comes and adversity overtakes them. And they in variably find a kind heart to welcome them there, however great may be their offense or transgression.— Eugene F. Hall. Coleridge was a remarkably awkward horse man, so much so as generally to attract notice. He was once riding along a turnpike road, when a wag approaching noticed his pecularity, and thought the rider a fine subject for a little sport, when, as he drew near, he thus accosted the poet: “I say, young man, did you meet a tailor on the road?” “Yes,” replied Coleridge, “I did ; and he told me if I went a little further I should meet his goose.” Sanctum Reacts. Looking for tlic Man who •‘Puts Things in the Paper.” He came in with an interrogation point in one eye, and a stick in one hand. One eye was covered with a handkerchief and one arm in a sling. His bearing was that of a man with a settled purpose in view. “I want to see,” said he, “the man that puts things into this paper.” We intimated that several of us earned a frugal livelihood in that way. “Well, I want to see the man which cuts things out of the other papers. The fellow who writes mostly with shares, you under stand.” We explained to him that there were sea sons when the most gifted among us, driven to frenzy by the scarcity of ideas and events, and by the clamorous demands of an unsatisfied public, in moments of emotional insanity, plunged the glittering shears into our exchanges. He went off calmly, hut in a voice tremulous with suppressed feeling and indistinct through the recent loss of a half dozen or so of his front teeth. “Just so. I presume so. I don’t know much about this business, but I want to see a man, the man that printed that little piece about pouring cold water down a drunken man’s spine of his back and making him instantly so ber. If you please I want to see that man. I would like to talk with him.” Then he leaned his stick against our desk and spit on his serviceable hand, and resumed his hold on his stick as though he was weigh ing it. After studying the stick a juiimte, li£ added in a somewhat louder tone : “Mister, I came here to see that ’ere man. I want to see him bad.” We told him that particular man was not in. “Just so. I presume so. They told me be fore I came that the man I wanted to see wouldn’t be anywhere. I’ll wait for him. I live up north and have walked seven miles to converse with that man. I guess I’ll sit down and wait.” He sat down by the door and reflectively pounded the floor with his stick, but his feel ings would not allow him to keep still. “I suppose none of you didn’t ever pour much cold water down ary drunken man’s back to make him instantly sober, perhaps.” None of us in the office had ever tried the experiment. “Just so. 1 thought just as like as not you had not. Well, mister, I have. I tried it yes terday, and I have come seven miles on foot to see the man that printed that piece. It wasn't much of a piece. I don’t think ; but I want to see the man that printed it, just a few minutes. You see, John Smith, he lives next door to our house, when I’m to home, and he gets how-come-you-so every little period. Now, when he's sober, he’s all right, if you keep out of his way; but when he’s drunk, he goes home and breaks dishes, and tips over the stove, and throws the hardware around, and makes it inconvenient for his wife, and some times he takes his gun and goes out calling on his neighbors, and it ain’t pleasant. “Not that I want to say anything about Smith ; but me and my wife don’t think he ought to do so. He came home drunk yesterday and broke all the kitchen windows out of his house, and followed his wife around with the carving knife, talking about cutting her liver, and after a while he lay down by my fence and went to sleep. I had been reading that little piece ; it wasn’t much of a piece, and I thought if I could pour some water down his spine, on his back, and made him sober, it would be more comfortable for his wife, and a square thing to do all around. So I poured a bucket of spring water down John Smith’s spine of his back./ “Well," said we as our visitor paused, “did it make him sober?” Our visitor took a firmer hold of his stick and replied with in creased emotion ; “Just so. I suppose it did make him as so ber as a judge in less time than you could say Jack R ibinson; but mister, it made him mad. It made him the maddest man I ever seed, and, mister. J >hn Smith is a bigger man than me, and stouter. He is a good deal stouter. 11la — bless him, I never knew he was half so stout till yesterday, and he’s handy with his fists, too. I should suppose he's the handiest man with his fists I ever saw.'’ “Then he went for you, did he ?” we asked innocently. ‘‘Just so. Exactly. I suppose he went for me the best he knew, but I don't hold no grudge against John Smith. I suppose he aint't a g >od man to hold a grade agamst, onlv I want to see the man that printed the piece. I want to see him bad. I feel as though it would sooth me to see that man. I want to show him how a drunken man acts when you pour water down the spine of his back. That’s what I come for.” Our visitor, who had poured water down the spine of a drunken man’s back, remained until about six o’clock in the evening, and then went up the street to find the man that printed that little piece. The man, he is looking for started for Alaska last evening for a summer vacation, and will not be back before September, 1898. Exchange. Literary Visitors. One by one Jthe literary men of England come to visit us. The horror of free institutions has kept some of the brightest lights of literature on the other side of the waters ; and the possession of that bauble, a title, has had a similar effect upon others. But a clearer idea of us has become the possession of a few, and their number is in creasing. The great Dickens twice honored ps by his presence,and his last visit was an ovation, and immense financial success, notwithstanding he had, some twenty-five or thirty years prev iously, rubbed our corns rather severely. Others have visited this “blasted” country, and have not found us altogether a set of heathens. Tennyson has not come, and we hope he will not. His moroseness and prejudice, ingrained and inerad icable, that looks upon Americans as lees civilized than his imaginary attendants upon King Authur, would see nothing this side of the water upon which the Laureate to Queen Victoria might look with favor. We admire his poetry—we do not admire him. But here comes a man who, since the death of Dickens and Bulwer Lytton, stands nearest the throne of Romance. He is not afraid of being robbed, insulted, or cheated by Ameri cans, and we are glad he has come. He may do as Dickens did after his first visit, but we can stand it and admire his genius still; but we do not believe he will have occasion to be dissatis fied with us, nor that he will abuse us without cause. He is, eventually, to visit this coast also, and we begin our hospitality by bidding him wel come.—Alta California. ‘ Three Great Truths. A good advertisement in a widely circulated newspaper is the best of all possible salesmen. It is a salesman who never sleeps, and is never weary ; who goes after business early and late ; who accosts the merchant in his shop, the scholar in his study, the lawyer in his office, the lady at her tea table ; who can be in a thousand places at once, and speak to a million people every day, saying to each one the best tiring in the best manner. A good advertisement in a newspaper pays no fare on railroads ; costs nothing for hotel bills ; gives away no boxes of cigars to customers, or merino dresses to customer’s wives; drinks no whisky under the head of traveling expenses ; but goes at once and all the time about its busi ness free of expense. A good advertisement insures a business con nection of the most permanent and independent basis, and is in a certain sense a guarantee to the customer of fair and moderate prices. Experi ence has shown that the dealer whose wares have obtained a public celebrity is not only enabled to .sell, but is forced to sell at reasonable rates, and to furnish a good article. Secrets of iObb Jhllotusbip. How Women arc “ Initiated.”l A certain lodge of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows determined to have their lodge room done up clean and nice. It was resolved unanimously that Mrs. K., should be employed to do the job. After the meeting adjourned the guardian, who knew the inquisitive character of Mrs. K., procured a billy-goat and p’aaed him in the closet that was kept as a reserve for the secret things. He then informed the lady of the wishes of the lodge, and requested her to come early the next morning, as he would then show her what Was and what was not to be done. Morning came, and with it Madame K., with her broom, brushes, pails, tubs, etc., and found the guardian waiting for her. “Now, madame,” said lie, “I tell you what we want done, and how we came to employ you. The brothers said it was difficult to get anybody to do the job, and not be meddling I with the secret in the closet; we have lost the key, and cannot find it to lock the door. I as sured them that you could be depended upon.” “Depend on! I guess I can. My poor and dead gone husband, he belonged to the Free Masons, or anti-masons, I don’t know which, lie used to tell me all the secrets of the con cern, and when he showed me the marks of the gridiron, made when he was initiated, and told me how they fixed poor Morgan, I never told a living soul to this day; if nobody troubles vour closet to find out your secrets till I do, thev will be there till they rot, they will. ’ “I thought so,” said the guardian, “and now I want you to commence in that corner and give the whole room a thorough cleaning, and I pledge my word anil honor to the fidelity of ■ your promise; now don’t go into that closet; t and then left the lady to herself. No sooner had she heard the sound of his feet on the steps than she exclaimed, “Don't get into the closet!” I'll warrant there’s a grid iron, or some nonsense, just like the anti-Ma- ■ sons for all the world, I’ll !>e bound. I will take one peep, and nobody will be any wise", as I ean keep it to myself. - ’ Suiting the action to the word -he steppsd lightlv to the forbidden closet, and turned the button, which was no sooner done than “bah !” went the billy-goat, with a spring to regain his liberty, which came near upsetting her lady ship. Both started for the door, but it was filled with implements for house cleaning, and all were swept from their position to the bot tom of the stairs. The noise and confusion occasioned by such unceremonious coming down the stairs drew half the town to witness Mrs. K's efforts to get from under the pile of pails, tubs, brooms anil brushes in the street. Who should be the first to the spot but tha> rascally door-keeper. After releasing the goat, which was a cripple for life and uplifting the rubbish that hound the good woman to the earth, anxiously inquired if she had been taking the degrees. “Taking the degree I” exclaimed the lady ; “if you call tumbling from the top to the bot tom of the stairs with the devil after ye taking things by degrees, I have (hem, and if ye frightened folks as he frightened me, and hurt to boot, I’ll war ant they will make as much noise as I did.” “I hope you did not open the closet madam, ’ said the dooi keeper. “Open the closet ? Eve eat the apple she was forbidden. If you want a woman to do anything, tell her not to do it, and she’ll do it certain. I could not stand the temptation. The secret was there. I wanted to know it I opened the door, and out popped the tarnal critter right into my face. I thought the old boy had me, and I broke for the stairs with the critter butting me at every jump. I fell over the tub and got down sta rs as you found us all in a heap” “But, madam,” said the doorkeeper, “You are in possession of the great secret of our or der, and you must go up to be initiated and then go in the regular way.” “Regular way I” exclaimed the lady, “and do you suppose I am going near the tarnal place, and ride that ar tarnal critter without a bridle or a lady’s saddle ? No, I don’t want anything to do with the man that rides it. I’d look nice perched upon a billy-goat, wouldn’t I? No, never! I’ll never go nigh it again, nor you shall nudder —if I can prevent it, no lady shall ever join the Odd Fellows. Why, I’d sooner be a Free Mason, and broiled on a gridiron as long as the fire could be kept under it, and pulled from garret to cellar with a hal ter, in a pair of old breeches and slippers, just as my poor dead husband. And he lived over it, but I never could live over such another ride as I took to-day.— Ex. ill forts. The first public schools in Georgia were instituted in Columbus. John Shirley Ward, who was recently a Nashville editor, is farming in Cali fornia, and has 2,000 sheep already. A Jackson letter says the present crop of Mississippi is the shortest known for many years. It is stated that Gen. John C. Breck inridge is to take up his residence in New York, and resume the practice of law. a countryman at Dyersburg, Ten nessee, was noticed the other day gravely setting his watch by a painted sign in front of a jeweler’s. The New York World estimates the shriiilitigu of railroad stocks Guring the panic at $185,000,000, and Western Union Telegraph at $15,000,000. A Mrs. Hayden, of Sharon, Vermont, has a peony-root in her garden that is over eighty years old. She has seen it in blossom seventy consecutive years. There are 20,000 drunkards in Con necticut, and fifteen out of every forty one men who have attained their major ity and died during the last five years, were drunkards. During the past twelve months, five hundred and fourteen deaths occurred in San Francisco from consumption, due, it is supposed, to the changes in the temperature there. Congress passed a law. which went into effect on the Ist of October, inst., that cattle in transit on railroad trains shall receive food and drink at least once in twenty-four hours. It is gratifying to all Tennesseeans to know that his State was awarded the first place as a mineral State in the great Vienna Exposition. The conse quences to flow from this recognition abroad of this mineral wealth, we may reasonably hope and expect, will be vast in point of active capital. It has a depressing effect upon the mind to read the subjoined paragraph, for to reasons: First, It is sad to learn that the matrimonial prospects of our Western friend, Waukeen, are not at all promising, and, second : It is still more sad to learn that he proposes to return to America, for we had hoped we were rid of him and his usual howling- 1 . The St. Louis Times says: “It is announced on good authority that the engagement between Joaquin Miller and Miss Hardy, the daughter of Sir Thomas Har dy, is broken off —that is, if it ever existed. The young lady is on the continent with her parents, and Mr. Miller is about to return to America.” Freedom of the Press.- —In St. Peters burgh, recently, the editor of a daily newspa per. being much impressed with the prevalence of drunkenness, determined to instruct the pub lic min I on the subject, and, with this view, took an excursion into the country to collect facts on the subject. There he found two typical villages, one,where there was no tavern, all order and thrift, the other all poverty, misery, disease and dirt. On this he wrote a powerful article, making tin appeal to right-minded persons to do what they could to mitigate this evil, but he nnfortunotely brought it to a close by asking, “Where are the clergy, and why do they not preach against drunkenness?” The police au thorities, being unable to answer this home question, gave it up, and settled the difficulty J summarily by suppressing the edition of the ! paper in which the article was to appear. It is a solemn thing to be caught in a large V city, away from home, with barely a dollar in your pocket and no poor relations near to help 1 you spend it. “How old was you when you commerced chawin’ terbacker, brother Jim ?” inquired a nine-year-old Nashville boy, yesterday. “1 was about nineteen years old,” replied Jim, as he put a fresh quid in his mouth. “Oh, shaw, I. ain’t agoin’ to wait till I’m that old,” responded the ambitious juvenile. In affairs of love, a “missive” is, out of al] questions, the most eligible mode of communi cation ;it spares the blushes of the lady, and < saves the tyro of a lover a vast deal of assur ance. Besides, the ladies prefer that as they have an opportunity of exhibiting the proof positive of the power of their charms to all their female acquaintances. A blood-thirsty citizen of this place, who thinks his life in danger, carries a pistol to protect himself. He came in the office this morning to get a string to tie the stock and barrel together, as the other fastening is gone, and he took occasion to observe that it would make the streets run with blood if people didn’t stop fooling with him. A farmer lost a gimlet in the woods near Monticello, Minnesota, three years ago, and the other day cut down an iron-wood tree, fast in the forks of which he found —not a gimlet, but a three-quarter inch auger! He is sorry he didn’t wait a year or two longer, as a two inch auger was just what he wanted. A decidedly rough looking individual ap plied for a license as a teacher of a school far from Troy, recently. “Do you think you can manage a school ?” inquired the examiner. “Well, I guess so,” said the applicant, im perturbly. “If I can’t, I ean knock the spots out of the youngsters.” The vacancy still exists. A mamma in the rural districts lately gave her five-year-old hopeful an outfit of fishing tackle. Soon she heard a shout from Willie, and running out, found one of her best hens fast winding up the line in her crop, whether the hook had preceded it. Willie, observing the troubled countenance of his mother, quietly re marked,“Don’t worry, mother. I guess she will stop when she gets to the pole.” One of the incidents of the demolition Wash ington market was the following speech deliv ered from the top ofa box: “I am Mrs. Mar tha O’Donnell, the A No. 1 fat woman of Washington market. I came into this market weighing 200 pounds, and now I weigh 345 pounds. I have been here fifteen years, have paid $lB a month, and have made SIOO,OOO, and in tend to make SIOO,OOO more. I have a farm of ten acres on Long Island, support a husband gentlemanly, and a family in luxury, and I give them fast horses and carriages with which to enjoy themselves. I have stood the most in tense cold in winter without a fire, and the greatest heat in summer, and have never taken cold or been overheated.” Spie jfeitdjcn. - ■ | Lobster Fritters. —Chop the meat with the red part and the spawn of two large lobsters very fine, and add grated breadcrumbs,a little blitter, salt and pepper, and c opped sweet herbs; make the whole into a paste with yolk of egg, form it into pieces an inch and a half thick, dip them in batter, and fry. To Make Brown Bread.—Take three parts of second flour and the fourth of rye, lay it one night in a cool place, and the next morn ing work it up with a little milk added to the water. Set it at a proper distance from the fire to rise, and then make it into loaves, and bake. Time, one or two hours, according to weight. Cream Cakes. —Put one cup of water and one cup of butter on the stov, to boil ; when boiling stir in two cupsol flour, and when cool add five well-beaten eggs; drop this on your baking-tin, one spoonful in a place, and rub each with the white of an egg. Bake in a hot oven. For the cream boil one pint of milk, and when boiling stir in two eggs, one cup of sugar, ami half-cup of flour beatten together, with a little cold milk, and let it boil till s. fli ciently thick. Flavor with lemon. — Ex. Queen Cakes.—Beat one pound butter to a cream, add one pound sifted loaf sugar, beat nine eggs well ; mix all together. When ready to put into the oven, add one pound sifted flour, half a nutmeg, half pound of currants, a little mace and cinnamon. Bake in small tins. Sift sugar over the cakes when half baked,and ■eturn them to the oven. Sponge Pudding.—Butter a mold thickly, and fill it three-parts full with small sponge cakes soaked through with wine ; fdl up the mold with a rich cold custard. Butter a pa per and put on the mold; then tie a floured cloth over it quite close, and boil it an hour. Turn out the pudding carefully, and pour some cold custard over it. Or bake it, and serve with wine-sauce instead of custard. Oyster Sauce. —Take two dozen oysters; blanch and remove the beards. Put three ounces of butter into a stewpan with two ounces of flour, add the beards and liquor with a pint , and a half of milk, a tea-spoonful of salt, a i pinch of cayenne, two cloves, and a half a > blade of mace. Place over the fire. Keep $ stirring, letting it boil ten minutes; then add a tea-spoonful of essence of anchovy and one of P Harvey’s sauce. Pass it through a sieve into another stewpan, add the oysters, and make verv hot, but do not let it boil. A less quantity zs may, of course, l>e made, using less propor tions.