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The Brussels Post, 1896-2-14, Page 211 THE VI"AR'S GOVERN CIiAPTEIR XIX. cause eilexpected, haat0, she says, "No. thing• Plums 'mo 00 muoh as haying u1Y "Look you, how she e0meth,trllliias sin '111 praised. Do ytli know;" with u' nvr• bay. ears i - 1 ' bosita'ion,--�•,>: su lose—f µ1n acral i. P O 4 1 h t' b r"d lik0 Uliss I .d 't Alert ase May -Morn thrilling fryer . *reet 18811 sin my part, ,but With the dew and suns]rin0 s k*ss, x lovas Y Xt is like/ a fripud Reddy gololpo of her beauty nth, Are her twin oheOks;,end her mo do its ripe warmth wallah /rutty As e garden of tiro south,' Gerald Ifassoy To Georc,ie the life at the vicarage is quite supportable,—is, Indeed, bairn to her wounded spirit. Airs. Redmond May, of course, chop (Menge ange ;readily as the east wind, and, in fact, array sit in any quarter, being somo- what orratio in her humors; but they ere short-lived; and, if faintly trying, she is at beat kindly and tender et heart. AS for the vicar, he is—as Alias Geor- gie tells him, . even without a Mesh— "amply adorable;" and the children are sweet, geed natured little souls, true -hearted and earnest, to whom the loss of an empire would be as dross in comparison Neill the gain of a friend. Tbey are young 1 To Dorian Branscombe, Miss Brough- ton is "athing of beauty, and a joy forever; her 1av01ine58 increases" each moment, rendering her more dear. Per- haps he erhaps'he himself hardly knows how dear she is to his heart, though day after day he haunts the vicarage, p815810t- ing the vicar with parochial business of an outside sort. It ought, indeed, to be "had in remembrance," the amount ofcharity this young man expended upon the poor during all this early part ef the year. Then there is always Sunday, when he sits opposite to her in the old church, watching her pretty mischievous little , face meditatively throughout the ser- vice, and listening to her perfect voice as it rises, clear and full of pathos, in anthem and in hymn. The spring has come at last, though tardyand slow in its approach. Now— "Buds are bursting on the brier, And all the kindled greenery glows, And life bee richest overflows, And morning fields are fringed with fire." Winter is almost forgotten. The snow and frost and ice are as a dream that was told. No one heeds them now, or thinks of them, or feels aught about them,save a sudden chill that such things might have been. To -day is beautiful beyond compare. The sun is high in the heavens; the birds are twittering and preening their soft feathers in the yellow light that Phoebus flings broadcast upon the lov- ing earth. The flowers are waking slowly into life, and stud the mossy woods with colorings distinct though faint: "Nooks of greening gloom Are rich with violets that bloom. In the cool dark of dewy leaves." Primroses, too, are all alive, and sit staring at the heavens with their soft eyes, as though in their hearts they feel they are earth's stars. Each subtle green is widening, growing. A11 na- ture has arisen from its long slumber and "beauty walks in bravest dress," Comping up the road, Dorian meets Georgie Broughton, walking with quick steps, and in evident haste, toward the vicarage. She is lilting some merry lit- tle song of her own fanny, and has her hat pushed well back from her forehead, so that all her sunny hair can be seen. It is a lovely hat,—inexpensive, per- hapss, but lovely, nevertheless, in that it is becoming to the last degree. It is a great big hat, like a coal-scuttle,—as scuttles used to be, and gives her all the appearance of being the original one of Kate Greenaway's charming im- peTsonations. "Good -morning," says Dorian, though fin truth, he hard/ takes to heart the [full beauty of the fair morning that .has ;bean sent, so rapt he is in the joy atthe. very sight of her, "Going back to the •vicarage now?" • "Yes." ' She is smiling sweetly at 'him,—the little, kind, indifferent smile that comes so readily to her red lips. "Well, so am I," says Dorian, turn- Jngto accompany her. Miss.. Broughton glances at him de- murely. "You can't want to go to the vicarage again?" she says, lifting her brows. "How do you know I have been there, at all to -day?" says Dorian. "Oh, because you are always there, aren't ,you? says Georgie, shrugging, her shoulders, and biting.a little flower, she had been holding, into two clean halves. As you know so much,_ perhaps you also know why I am always there," says Branscambe who is half am half offended, by her willfulness h No, I don't," replies she easily, turn- ing her eyes, for the first time, full upon his. Tell me." She is quite calm, quite . composed ; there is the very faintest touch of mal- ice beneath her long lashes. Dorian colors perceptibly. Is she coquette, or unthinkin , or merely mischievious 1 "No, not now," he says, slowly. "I. hardly think you would care to hear. 'Souse day, if I may—. What every charming hat you have on to -day l" She smiles again,—what tree woman can resist a compliment 1—and blushes faintly, but very sweetly, until her face is like a pale rosebud brightly blow - 'This old hat?" she says, with a small attempt at scorn, and very well got -up belief that she misunderstood. him: "why it has seen the rise and fall of many generations. You can't mean this 'hat 8" "Yes, I do. To me it is the most beautiful hat in the world, no matter how many generations have been per- mitted to gees upon it. It is yours 1" "Oh, yes; T bought it in the dark a 'gels," says Miss Broughton, disdaining to notice the insinuation, and. treating his last remark as a leading question. I am glad you like it." "Are you ? I like something else, toot I mean your .voice." "It is too minor—too discontented, my aunt used to say." 'Your aunt seems to have said a good deal in her time. She -reminds 'me of •Butler's talker ; 'Her tongue is'alwa •s in motion,. though very: seldom to the purpose;' and again, 'She is a walking pillory, and punishes more eats than a dozen standing ones.' But I wasn't talking exactly of your every -day voice: I mean your singing: it is quite per- fect." infive minutes 1" Two camplimen,s f v nu says bliss Georgie, calmly, Then Changing her tone 'with dazzling, be- by own voice. a to thing I love best on earth." "Are you always going to love It beet en earth?" "Alii Well, that, perhaps wa8 8n exaggeration, I love Clarissa. I am happier' with her than with" any one e g' You—modltetive)y-••love her, "Yes, very' muoh indeed. But Iknow somebody else with whom I aryl oven happier," Well, that is the girl you are going to marry, 1. suppose," said Georgie, easily,—so easily that Dorian feels a toueh of disappointment, that is almost pain, fall on leis heart. "But as for 4larissa,"—in a puzzled tone,—"I can- not understand her. She i8 going to .parry a man utterly unsuited to her, i met him at -the ba11 the other night, and"-,thouglttlesssly—"I don't like him:' "Poor Florace 1" says Dorian rather taken aback, Then she remembers, and is in an instant covered with shame and confusion. "I beg your pardon," she says, hurri- edly. I quite forgot. It never occur= red to ire he was your.brother,—really. You believe me, don't you ? And don't think me rude. I am not"—plaintively —"naturally rade, and—and, after all," —with an upward glances full of hon- est liking,—he is not a bit like you!" If youdon't like him,.I am glut you think he isn't," says Dorian' " but Hor- ace is a very good Yellow all through, and I fancy you are a little unjust to hbu.„ "Oh. not unjust," says Georgie, soft- ly. "I have not accused him of any fail- ing: it is only that something in my heart says to me, 'Don't like him. "Does something in your heart ever say to you, 'Like some one'?" "Very often." Sheds (to confess the honest truth) just a little bit coquette at heart so that when she says this she lifts' her exquisite eyes (that always seem half full of tears) to his for tis long as it would take him to know they had been there, and then lowers them. I shall have to hurry," she says; "it is my hour for Amy's music lesson." "Do you like teaching 1".asks he, idly, more for the sake of hearing her 'plain- tive voice again than from any great desire to know. "Like it ?" She stops short on the pretty woodland path, and confronts him curiously: 'None, do you think I could like Tt? I don't then 1 1; perfect 1y hate it! The perpetual over and over again, the knowledge that to -mor- row will always be as to -day, the feel- ing that one can't get away front it, is maddening. And then there are the mistakes, and the false notes, and overy thing. What a question to ask me 1 Did anyone ever like it. I wonder 1" There is some passion, and a great deal of petulance m her tone; and her lovely flower-like face flushes warmly, and there is something besides in her expression that is reproachful, Dorian begins to hate himself. How could he have asked her such a senseless ques- tion? uestion? He hesitates, hardly knowing what to say to her so deep is his sym- pathy ympathy ; and so, before he has time to decide on any course, she speaks again. It is so monotonous," she says, wear- ily.. "One goes to bed onlyto get up again', and one . gets up with no ex- pectation of change, except to go to bed again.' One dem'd horrid grind,' " quotes Mr. Branscombe, in a low tone. Ile is filled with honest pity for her. In- stinctively he puts out his hand, and takes one of hers, and presses it ever so gently. "Poor child i" he says, from his heart. To him, with her baby face, and leer odd impulsive manner, that changes and varies with every thought, she is merely a child. She looks at him, and shakes her head. 'You must not think me unhappy," she says, hastily. "I am not that. I was twice as unhappy 'before I came here. Everybody now is so kind to me, Clarissa and the Redmonds, and" -- with another glance from under the long lashes—"you, and—Mr. Hast- ings." "The curate?" says Dorian, in such a tone, as compels Miss Broughton, on the instant, to believe that he and Mr, Hastings are at deadly feud. I thought you knew him," she says with some hesitation. "1 have met him," returns he, "gen- erally, I think, on tennis -grounds. He can run about a good deal, but it seems aspity to waste a good bat on him. He never hits a ball by any chance, asides for serving—I don't think I swore for six months until the last time'I met him.' "Why, what did he do $" "More than I can recall in a hurry. Bo rone thing, he drank more tea than any four people together that ever I knew." "Was that all? I see no reason why any one should be ashamed of liking: tea." "Neither do I. 'On the contrary, one should be proud of it. It betrays such meekness, such simplicity, such content- ment. I myself am not fondof tea, —a fact I deplore morning, noon and night " It is a mere matter of education," says Georgie, laughing. I used not to care for it, except at breakfast, and now I love it." "Do you? 1 wish with all my heart that I was good souchong," says lilr. Brans combe, at which she laughs again. "One can't have all one's desires," she , says. "Now, with me music is a passion yet Ihave never heard any of .the great singers of the age. Isn't that hard? "For you it must be, indeed. But howv is it you haven't?" "Because I have no time, no money, no—no anything." "What a hesitation 1 Tell me what the 'anything' stands for," "Well, I mean no home,—that is, no husband, I suppose," says Georgie. She is quite unconcerned, and smiles at him very prettily as she says it. Of the fact that he is actually in love with her, elle is totally unaware. "That is a regret likely to be of short standing," ho says, his eyes on hers., But her thoughts are far away, and she hardly heeds the warmth of his gaze or the evident meaning in his tone. I suppose it I did marry somebody be would take me to hear all thereat people?' sho says, a little doubtfully, looking at him as though for confiema- tion of her hope. I should think he would take you wherever you wanted to go, and to hear whatever you wished to hear," he says, slowly. "What e charming picture you con - hire up 1" says Georgie, looking at him. You encourage me, The very ,first man an that asks I shall say 'Yes' to.me to marry him, " "You have made up your mind, then, to marry for money He is watching her °Tosely, and his brow has e,ontraeted a gond deal, and his lips show some pa;u. . I have mads; up my mind to nothing, Perhaps I li wen't .one to *eke up; "--• light/Y. "".Blit Ji hate toaoling, and I /note lasing poor. That Le ail, But we were not cellon(; of that, We Were lhinking of Mr. liestirlgs, Ab all events you trust. c0nfeeS he reads Well, and that le sanlctliing 1 Ali00at everybody reds badly., "They do, Rya Ilianscombe, meekly, do. Unless in wordsof one syllable, I can't read et all. So the curate 1las the �pull over me there, indeed,£ begin to 18e1 myself nowhere besides the our. ate. Ile can read well,, and drink tea well, I can't do either,, " "Why, here we are at the vicarage," says Georgie, in a tong of distin01 tier - prise, that is flattering 'to the last de- gree, "1 didn't think we were half s0 elo8e to ie. I- era glad I met you, be- mile% dc, you know, the walk hasn't seemed nearly so long as usual. Wall, good-bye I have those violets?" soya Br'auseombo, pointing to a little bunch of those eau comers .of the spring' that lies upon her breast, "You may," she says,,detaobing them from her gown and giving them to him willingly, kindly, but without a particle of the tender confusion he would glad- ly have seen in her. "They are rather faded," sho says, with Perna disappoint- ment ; "you could have picked your- self a sweeter bunch, on your way home.' I hardly think so," ''-Well, good -by again," she says, turn- ings up to him, the most bewitching and delfoious of small faces, 'and be sure you put my poor flowers in water, They will live the longer for it." "They shall live forever, A hundred yeaa'ts, hence, were you to ask me where they were, I swear I should be able to show them." A very safe oath," says Miss Brough- ton ; and then she gives him her hand, and parts from him, and runs all the way down the short avenue to the house, leaving him to turn and go on Io Gowran. (To Be Continued.) BARTER OF CHRISTIAN WOMEN. Armenian Wives seri Daughters Da• changed air tienldeyP. The latest advices from Eastern Turk- ey not only seem to shote that the re- sponsibility for the slaughter, burning "and plundering of Armenians there rests upon the Turkish authorities, but correspondents Writing from Asia Minor tell that the Mustafa Pasha himself, commanding General at llharpnt, shar- ed in the plunder. "It can be estimated on reliable testi- mony," says one • writing from there, "that the leaders in .the raids of plund- er and murder in this part of the coun- try and the chief part of the plunder is now stored in Turkish houses in this city, and in the houses of Turkish Aghas on the plain. Moreover, Mustafa, Pasha himself had a cordon of Circassians around the city, and when they saw any one,cerrying off a particularly valuable thing, they seized it and appropriated it for their chief. "Everywhere it has not only been a riot of plunder and: murder, but has been a religious crusade or'crescentade.' The miscreants have in many instances, demanded tliat Christians should in- stantly declare themselves Mussul- latter have been shot dead, or butcher- mans, and upon refusal. to do so, the. ed in cold blood. The pressure brought to bear on the people of the villages has been and is still fearful. Therm is a matter which should be brought before aEuropean tribunal. It is the capture of the wives and daugh- ters of Christians and forcibly giving them to the Turks and Kurds as their wives. Hundreds were thus carried off during the Sassoun massacre, and the same thing bas been done here also. A commission should come and examine the villages of Hoh, Tadem, Yertmenik and other villages. In the village.of. Tadem, Turkish Aghas gathered in a large number of Christian women and girls of the- village, and sold them to Turks and Kurds, taking in, exchange horses, donkeys, etc." The writer then refers to several in- stances in which the Sultan has shown that he will 5.0 anythingpossible for. those of his own faith, especially for: those who have been newly converted, but the Christian population have noth- ing to hope for from him. In view of this the writer says: "It is a most serious question how relief can be given in time to save thous- ands of lives. Winter is upon us. Ap- parently it is part of a well -laid plan to prevent aid being given until such time as relief work would be difficult 01). account of snow and cold weather." The writer also states that, as far as they have been able to learn, the num- ber killed in the region for which he writes is 12,708. DANGER IN EARLY RISING., sm� Dr.' Selden II. Tnlcolt bas a Theory that It Conduces to Insanity. Dr. Selden H. Talcott, the Medical Superintendent of the Middletown State Insane Asylum, N. Y„ has recent- ly started the theory that nothing con- duces so much to insanity as early rising. In proof of his assertion, Dr. Talcott calls attention to the relative frequency with which farmers, their wives,. eons and daughters, become insane. The cause of this has hitherto thougbt to be their isolated lives, their hard work, and, perhaps, the excessive use of pie and potatoes. On. the other side, it has always seem- ed to Dr. Talcott and other eminent alienists that there must be some other deep-seated cause of insanity among the farming olasses than pie and pota- toes. Farmers have 011178ys 'pure, fresh air in abundance, which city folk seldom have; they are less liable to mental and nervous' strain than city folk, and, also, less liable to infectious diseases and the bad .effects of alcohol. Dr. Talcott's view, after a careful con- sideration of the advantages and die advantages of farming life as a predie posing cause of insanity, is that it is the excessively early hours of rising which increase insanity' in the rem' districts out of proportion to the urban and suburban rate. He thinks growing children, in particular, suffer severely from the "artificial cut-off, which is applied so rigidly to their lives, British Territory. An Englishman can go round the world and touch on British territory all the way, viz„ from England to Halifax, N. S., across Canada to Vancouver, across the Pacific to Hongkong, thence to Singapore, Penang, Mauritius, Cape Town, St. Helena, and England, Or from Penang to Ceylon, Bombay, Aden, Perim„ Malta, Gibraltar, ani/ home. This is a "sea connection" that no other na- tion in the world possesses,' PA"UC., ;AR. ECONOMfOAI :I F EOSLIG. The best food is Usually the cheap-. est, The best ration is composed of sev- er'al kinds of fend as a relo. Certain qualities are looking in corn for pr0- d8101115 the best marbled meat. It is rich in fat, blit lacking in the coedit- uents of 'raison growth. Tho average feeder has =eh to learn 03O8t the 'prop- t0hre8fmr81offu1r0is0h1i(11guat1h7e p$rutcsoinof- bination, T1r0 annuals aro not of uniform con.' stitution and peroral health, Tiro dl- gestivo apparatus of one is unusually vigorous and hili 1ulndle to advantage the richest 0f rations. Another 02010 del - 10410 w111: demand less of food in quan- tity and a mixture of different consti- tuents. The proper adaptation of the rations to a number of cattle' or horsescalls for close observation as to the ani- mal's opacity to appropriate a given ra- tion to the best purpose. Mlusole and sinew are needed by the horse, and such food as oats, clean clov- er and corn blades, with a Small per- centage of bran, corn and new process oil meal form' a ration that with earl ations should be desirable. The horse is intended for work and strength iu the frame work of the creature is the first consideration. Fat is but an in- eident in the make-up efa horse, 1t. adds to the appearance of 1110 equine 1f in moderate quantity, and, as a rule, there is enough of the carbonaceous fat food in the various constituents of glue ole forming grains, provenderand con- diments to furnish that quality in ade- quate proportion. This latter proposi- tion applies to horses kept on a Lana where they are turned out to graze in summer and winter upon blue grass, clover, rye, corn stalks, etc. Horses kept in dry yards,and fed everything by hand so to speak, must be dieted morecare- f O the and hogs, as well as mutton sheep, are heavily fed for the purpose of producing meat. The sort of meat de- manded by the market must determine the plan of feeding. Formerly, when tallow and lard were not in competition with petroleum, electricity and cotton seed oil., the simple question of fat oro - duction was in order. Corn mainly, with a slight variety of other grains seemed adequate to the situation. The new era of the manufacture of meat, is a much more complex problem. The village as well as the city person- age, 115$0 works within doors of office, shop or factory, demands more lean. meat. The farmer, too, performing his labor by•modern machinery and in win- ter often within the doors .of barn or shed has not the vigor'ins appetite 'that relishes fat meat. It is safe to estimate that three-fourths of the people of our country, no longer care for the over -fat food that was required by the masses fifty years ago. In fact the health of the people is•batter and tneir ability to perform manual and mental labor isen- hanced by the use of more Lean meat for food. Modern food for the meat producing animals is more economical if it em- brace at least three-fourths proportion of muscle -forming constituents, during the period of development and maturity of the frame of the carcass. During the period of fattening to the finish, even, it is wise, Nye behave, to provide that two-fifths of the food should be Pretien the (muscle -forming food), and during summermonths the three-fourths ration is'a safer one, even for the finishing months of the feeding period. Knowledge of the right ration for the domestic animals is the greatest need of the time. As a regulator of digestion for meat producing animals the oldpro- cess oil cake, ground, is probably safer in small quantities. We venture ex- pression of the belief that in combination with an almost exclusive corn diet with plenty of rare, bright, fresh clover or timothy hay, or ensilage, that, it is safer to use .the new process oil meal, in very moderate quantities at the first. By close study and experiment, the in- teleigent feeder may learn to realize good results in feeding exclueerely the products of. the farm. Root crops and ensilage, if rightly managed, in combi- nation with bran, shorts, oats, rye or barley, corn, winter pasture, new cured bay, bright corn fodder, millet, and al- falfa, adapting the food best for one's locality. These succulent foods do much to establish and maintain vigor. Brains duly exercised see how to feed the cheap farm products to better re- sults than in exchanging at the town for others. PROTECT THE LIVE STOCK. A common winter sight, is a herd of cattle exposed to severest kind of weath- er, browsing in fields or stending hump- ed up in chilling winds. Food is fuel to the animal body. It requires more fuel to keep up steam in a boiler, when the weather is intensely cold, than it does when it is mild. In the same man- ner, other things being equal, it requires morn food to sustain an animal freely exposed to the chilling blasts of win- ter than it does for one given. protection. In experiments conducted at the Indiana Agricultural Experiment Station, mllch cows exposed to all sorts of ,weather in winter, but provided with night shelter, made a very unfavorable showing as compared with those given the shelter of the stable, excepting for a brief air- ing' when the weather was suitable. The exposed cows ate the most food,' lost.. slightly in weight . and also : in milk yield. The sheltered ' ones gained in .. Weight, and otherwise made a better showing than the exposed lot. At the (Kansas Experiment Station, hogs, kep in conditions of winter exposure did not produce pork so economically us those given reasonable shelter, although the same kind of foodwasfed to each lot. In reporting the feeding experiments with steers at the same station, Prof. Georgeson says that steers to give the best returns when being fed for beef should be provided with shelter. Warm low, open sheds in the feed lot give conn fortable shelter to steers. While live stock should be protected from the in- alemeuey of the weather, it is important that the stables should be µ-e11 ventilat- ed and not too warm. Disease props- gates easiest where the air is stagnant and impure, hence special efforts should be made to keep "the stable air pure, Without doubt, tuberculosis is more pre- valent among cattle closely confined to stables where the ventilation is bad,than it is whore the air is good. Live stock should oereain1y be allowed outdoor ex- ercise when the weather is mild and i comfortable, but if it snows or rains and I the air is chilling, the animal Should, 1* given stable protection,, It is also m- portant that the stable should not be oto warm, in winter. A temperature of forty degrees Ts a very satisfactory grecs in the hares 6t181 Waged filen tale into a. freesing atmos /lore to wets' are Very apt to be sever0ttw .elnlled and take cod,. When the a1able 7S forty dee groes enireelb are not So 0884 chilled when turned. frona 1110 stable. leery Stable should )lave a thernlorueter b0' o the rime. as keeping the jpesss i 1obuxp TO SET BItOS1I1N LEOS, The Poultry Journal gives the follow. tag directions for setting a fowl's broke e11 leg: TO set broken thighs In fowls, take a strip of old cloth about 12 0r 18 inches long, (according to size of fowl) and one moll wide, anal a na11owv strip to tie around this, I.1'ave someone to hold the fowl firmly, with the log in the right position (be sure to get i11't, right before beginning with the plaster, as it hardens rapidly), `Take a teacups 1141 full of plaster o Paris, add mens' water to make it like thiels,cream,dip about two inches of the strip i tpil tight ter and wrapfirmly, but not too around the leg, going above and below the fracture, applying the plaster all along, and cover ,the last winding of bandage, also the end. Tie the narrow strips .around this, and hold in same pos. ;tion until the insister is thoroughly hard, then put the fowl gently in a quiet coop. so it will not be disturbed, tend it w111 heal in five or six weeks, if the fowl gets the plaster off, renew at once. Treed sparingly for a few days to prevent fever. A BRAVE SPEECH. Ti bat 'felted States Senator Wolcott Says About the Boundary Dispute. The bravest, worthiest utterance made by any American public man upon the Venezuelan boundary dispute was ,the speech delivered recently in the Son- ata by Senator Wolcott. That oration deserves to stand to the everlasting honor of the statesman who made it. Its fairness and courage must startle the American people, who have been listening so long to sounding, flamboy- ant, and insulting declamation against England, Oat of this bedlam of spread- eagleism they bear one of the strong- est, most respected characters iu the Senate condemning the stand taken by the United States, denying ,the appli- cation of the Monroe doctrine to the question, eulogizing England for the splendid front she is now showing to her enemies, and rejoicing that he is of English stock. It takes a high de-' gree of couragethus to stem the flood of jingoism which the majority of his collagues in both Houses seem to think leads on to success at the polls. The two parties have been vying with each other to score the highest point in ag- gressive Americanism. The most peace- ful members of Congress, those most friendly to Britain, those most convinc- ed of the impropriety of the United States interference, have been swept along by what they supposed to be A POPULAR WAVE. Few of them dared to raise the faintest protest against the general drift to- wards war. Congress graduallytoned down, it is true, as it began to catch the real sense of the country from the letters, sermons, meetings, And news- paper articles opposing its hasty action, but it still believes in jingdism. That it is not now so ardent, however, is manifest from the reception that Sen- ator Davis' bill defending the Monroe doctrine appears to have met. Senator Wolcott's splendid speech is likely to knock some more of the fervour out of the jingoists. Even more creditable to h'im than his fairness and• courage are the noble sentiments to which he gave utterance when speaking of the civilizing and Christianizing work that he believed the two English-speaking nations are called to do. "Whatever," he says, "of advancement and progress for the human race the centuries shall bring us must largely come. in my opinion, through the spread of the re- ligion of Christ and the dominance of the English-speaking people, and wherever you find both you find com— munities where freedom exists and law is obeyed." Such sentiments as these are rarely heard in Congress, and ex- pressed by so distinguished a Senator as Mr. Wolcott they must have a whole- some effect. Senai:or Lodge, with his boasted culture and boasted jingoism, and Senator Morgan, with his rancorous hatred of Britain, are poor figures be- side the Senator from Colorado. What makes Mr. Wolcott's fairness the more praiseworthy is the fact that he comes froma silver State, and : is himself an advocate of silver money. The silver men were supposed to bear the strong- est dislike to England, because it was the home of the hated gold bugs."' Senator Wolcott's speech could not be more fair-minded and British if. it had been delivered in the British House of Lords instead of in the American Sen- ate.. • TAKE CARE OF THE CHEST. And the (test of the Body Will. Take Care' of Itself. "Take care of your chest," says a' physical culture teacher, "and the rest of your body will take care of itself, The 'chest is the chief thing to be re- membered. Keep it well raised and your head, spine, shoulders will revolun- tarily assume, their proper positions without any effort on your part. The cry from parents and teachers used to ho: "Throw your shoulders. back 1" slut this mistaken notion is now cora= pietely exploded. The shoulders have nothing to do with correct posture. It is all the chest, and its elevation' or depression will regulate the rest ef the body. The chest is the seat of all things spiritual, elevated and ennobling. Bring it into pronrinenco and you brio into prominence the best qualities of your nature. It has been said that whatever psychological attribute is most marked in a human being is correspond- ingly most marked is his physical being. It he's a 'glutton his stomach is moss inevidence; if a scholar or brain -work- er, his head is sure to be thrust well forward, but if he preserves a proper intellectual balance he walks with his chest in advance of the rest of his body, It is curious, too; how one may really influence his own mental condition in this way. use try and see how im- possible it is to say: '011, bow happy I am 1" with sunken chest and spent breath. One involuntarily 1111s his chest and takes a good long breath when he says anything optimistic and brave, far if he doesn't he might just as well say 'Have mercy on usmiserable sin- ners.' The effect is the same, "There is no surer cure for the `blues or like maladies than merely lifting the chest and taking a good, long breath. It scares away all the bugaboos of pe-- simism," Sagadahoc county, Ilia., is expecting to make about $5,000 out of prohibition shortly. Forty -eighty indictments for violations of the liquor law have been found in the county, and it is figured one. When it is as high as sixty de- the fines will amount to the sum named, About tie' Hotcse. LAUNDRY WORK, When, the Weekly waslling ices been gether04, sort the 0lotn1es, carefully, placing the table linen, doillos and On" ter pieces where they will be waelied (1101. If they aro stained with Toa; or 00ff08, Pour boiling water ;1hr0ug11 .the• cloth, and it mai remove the staid. Any place that needs darning or mend - ins should be attended to before the article is -"washed, for it will .be easier' to do and, will look better. Prepare a good suds with ivory 808P and warm suit water, and wash them in it, file embroidered pieces should 'never be rub- bed on the board. Pass through the• wringer, and rinse through clear water',, then, through one to which a littlebi8-• insg has boon added. If any starch is• thought necessary, use very thin boil-. ed ster'clo for the purpose, If 111e table Brod is shaken free from arouses before henging on the lino, brouget in and folded down while quite damp, and ironed with a hot iron, it will look like new. Carving cloths and doilies that are fringed shoals} nave the fringe combed out, and a celluloid comb, may be kept for that purpose. If the, embroidery is ironed. on the wrong :side, it will show the pattern nicely. After the table linen is washed the bed linen. should receive attention next, and other clothes in their order. ABQTTT THE BABY. The baby's bath, next tothe baby's. nap, is the most important event in the young autperat's .existence. Xn, order that it may be the means of hy- gienic grace it is designed to be, it must be taken in water of a certain mild' temperature, which should be set by the physician. And in order that the water may never be hotter or colder than that temperature, a thermometer should ba kept on hand to test it. The baby's clothes should be design- ed for the most warmth with the least • able weight. As far as possible ands should be avoided, and when they cannot be they should be yoke shape andof woven goods. Babies' hoods of swandown are pretty enough to reconcile their youthful wear - ens to the state of babyhood. They are. of white silk outside, of white ear in- side, and they are finishea with frills of white chiffon about the face. Jackets made entirely of lambs' wool . are among the bewitching things de- signed for infantile wear. They have bigsleeves and are lined with quilted white silk, HARDWOOD FLOORS. If a hardwood floor is well laid it is a "thing of beauty" indeed. Before any wax is applied. the •floor should be thoroughly cleaned to have best results. Beeswax'should never be used as it soft- ens easily in hot weather, darkens the floor and becomes sticky. But there is a wax that comes prepared for that purpose which is not expensive. One pound of it is sufficient for three hind - red square feet. This wax is usually applied with a woolen cloth, the first coat being put on a few day before the second one. The floor is then polished with a heavy brush, first across the grain, and then with it. To make it shine a piece of carpet can be plaoed under the brush and the floor gone over with it once week. Never use turpentine to clean a waxed floor because it will invariably, remove the wax, DISHES FOR INVALIDS. Milk Soup.—Scald a quart of milk an hour in a pitcher set' in hot water, add awell li-ttle salt, and stir two in queggsickl. y the beaten yolks o Codfish Gruel. -Freshen a tablespoon- , • ful of finely shredded 'codfish. 'Thicken a teacupful of boiling water with a tea- spoonful of sifted flour. Cook the cod- fish in this 3 to 5 minutes. Season with a little sweet cream and serve with a toasted soda cracker.. Cracker Panada.—Pour over crackers enough water to barely cover. Boil 2 minutes, pour off the surplus water, add hot thin cream or rich milk, and sweeten with powdered sugar. Sippets.—Toast thin. slices of brown bread and pour over them hot meat gravy slightly thickened with corn etarch. Beef Sandwiches.—Chop fresh lean beef very fine, season with salt and pepper, and spread a thin layer be- tween delicate slices of brown or white buttered ,bread. Mulled Buttermilk.—Boil, fresh but- termilk and thicken with the'beateq yolk .of an egg. Sweeten to taste. Egg Gruel-13eat the yolk of an egg with a, teaspoonful of powdered' sugar, add a teacupful of boiling water, then stir in quickly the beaten 'white, sea- son with a dash of nutmeg. Beef Soup.—To a pint of hot beef es- senoe'add a teaoupful of thin cream; when boiling add the beaten yolk of an egg., Poached Eggs.—Break 2 eggs into scalding water to which have been add- ed a little butter and half a teaspoon- ful of vinegar: Let cook till the yolk is set, then dip out with a skimmer. On a heated platter place small squares of toasted bread moistened well with. cream, and place an egg on each, dust with salt and serves Beef Patty,—Remove the tender fiber from lean beefsteak by scraping it with a dull knife. Press the fiber closely into a thin flat cake and broil it on 0. toasting fork, Serve with the inside of a baked potato roasted in the ashes. Toasted Mutton.—With a sharp knife cut very thin slices from loin of mut- ton, lay each slit* on a toasting fork and cools over a clear hot fire, Serve with a slice of brown bread cuts very, thinand nicely browned. Porridge.—Cut 24 raisins into ,quart- ers, seed them and boil thorn 20 min- utes in water to cover,- let the water evaporate, add 2 teacupfuls of milk. Thieken with a teaspoonful of corn starch wet with water, to apaste. When it boils up add the white or an egg cold 11 beton with a tablespoonful of mf, Oatmeal Relish.—Cook' 2 tablespoon - tills of seedless raisins and 1-2 pint oat- meal 'flake* in enough water to make a vera' thick gruel. Scryye cold with oiigar. and cream or fruit ,luSoe. Those who never retraot their :opin- ions love themselves more than they love truth,—Joubert. 1 h 01 11 6 Ii 1] A 1' It A 6 33 A s T B A 13