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The Exeter Times, 1887-7-21, Page 7. . Recovered y a L tter. and d votion , righabea,nd with Thwiocluiltd;erlit lirileggtlitel°nvde e for the time being, at leest. 1. would length- . . It had been a. basy, wea.risonaseasap,y witl me ever since the elanging belle ciEd-screech big whistles had startled the winter mern ing punctually at 7 o'clock. Wore) tha that, it had proved one of these vexatiou periode taat semetimee drop down upoo u without the slighteet premouitiota in which the skein of lite becomes so hopelesely and inearricably tangled that the more we try to snaboth it out the mere we add to ite complication and eaytagry. Siam the wagewoWer's inexorable Wm - moue had warned the tardy. ones of their danger on that crisp, cleer winter morning, until now, at halapast five o'clock in the afternoon, it had been a veritable black - letter day with me, 'both literally aid met- aphorically. My head swam and my eyee were dim end blurred. The type -writer too had en in a sort of rebellious, cranky mood, • , ough protesting againet the incessant a and overwork that had been put n a it From the dingy little office on the third floor, where my monotonous life was mostly passed, I could look upon the rush and roar of King and Yonge streets. It was preciously seldom that I dared in- dulge in the luxury of teeth.% my aching eyes upon the ceaselessly moving panorama outside, but when I did it gave me new courage to t esume work, for I then realized what a world of active, perpetual workers there were besides my own hemble self. The sight was restful to the eye and en. couraging tosthe spirits. It was half -past 5 o'clock, and a cold win- ter day. The cranky type -writer heel ceased from its petulant clicks, and rested' in its corner in moody silence, as who should say, "I've been shamefally abused to-dey." The weary fingers that had, for nine hours, manipulated its keys, were rest- ing upon the aill of the solitary window in that dingy office; and the eyes that had followed steadily the hateful alphabet all day, werenow resting upon the wagons roll- ing over the smooth ways of the streets the nahielessly gliding cars and the mass of pedestrians. The tired body leaned againot the window -easing, as my eyes followed the movements of the busy living objects out there. I was present in the body in this little den, and zny eyes seemed to take in all be- fore them ; but my spirit was way out among the hills and fields of my native pima, 100 miles away. Thought is so inde- pendent of all our surroundings that it can take us airily on its wings and lead us back- ward or forward to manes once familiar, or to those in prospective, hoped for, but not yet realized. Se, while the weary hands rested on that black window -sill, and the tired body leaned for support against the casing, and the ach- ing and dimmed eyes seemed reveling in a feast of delightful change from the hateful and complaming little type -writer, my spir- it was 100 Miles away in Drayton, a quiet village in Wellington Co., and my mental eye was resting on a pleasant but humble cottage, and any spiritual ear was drinking in the sweet tones of tenderness of &anther's voicearect completely had my present un- congenial surroundings been obliterated ' cheer the heart of a poor old ;macaw mother :n mey weerarfiteMe day indefinttelY if it would . wh e "But what's that?" he maid, laying a finger on the rna,gical little machine. a I explained by showing hina a sheet of typewriting. He looked it over, and hand- ed it beck te me with a negative shake of the head. " Not any for me, miss," he said clepre- catingly, "The poor old soul wouldn't like it. She'd kind of think it wee news- paper work' or an -nothing like that, You see. I wanther to have a real, geagiUe hand -writ letter; more sociable like,",ou kuow." I reflected for an instant. I could, of comae, write one for him with pen and ink, My experience in penning addresses upon tens of thousands of envelopes, before I wise promoted to the dignity of a type -writer, had given me a mastery over the pen. It was only a question as to whether I should humor hie White, I decided in the affirmative. I had a dear friend somewhere out in the western country, perhaps a miner too. He had left a mother—and me—to seek his fortune. We were very dear friends once ; but a light cloud had hidden us from each other. Still I loved him after all these sad, lone- some years, and perhaps he still had a lin- gering love for me. Who knows? ge noticed my hesitation, momentary though it was. It would please mother so much"— "Yes,of course," I interrupted. I seiztel a pen, and placing a sheet of note paper before me, I was ready. " 1• wart it to go something like this," he began thoughtfully. "Dear old moth - I melted as I traced the lines on the pa- per. These first three words were the key to my heart He had opened it He seem- ed wrestling with some problem, and I tried to encourage him to proceed with the dictation. " 1 want it writ kind and tender like; just like I'd talk to her if she was here now, you know." " Yes " I assented. "But' to tell it to a stranger"— Yes, I understand, but I eannot write it for you unless you tell me first what you want to sry to her," I said, "And then I added, "you can speak freely to me. I have a mother, too, a good way from here, and I can imagine I am writing to her, you know." "Is that so ?" he said, while a grateful smile, and something very much like a blush oyerspread his manly, bronzed face. "Then I'll go ahead, and I want you to say, Your ! boy, who left you about ten years ago, on whose head you laid your dear hand when I you gave him your parting blessing, and I told him whatever he did, or wherever he went, to always remember that—that—God I would take care of him—if--if—" I waited patiently without looking up till I heard a suppressed sob. Then I saw , that strong, roughly clad man choked with ; emotion, and his eyes ghstexung with the fiercely repressed tears. "Beg pardon, miss, I'll go on now, would I take care of him if in every time of tempta- tion he would take a look at his mother's picture in his pocket, and think how she was praying for him day and night. Your boy will be with you again in about a week, never to leave you again." "Sign it John, nuss, if you please." I Was disappointed at this ending. I had thought to k h* 1 at laast, not knowing then that 1 should address the en- velope for him. all t k' A vague presentiment had been grad:- • from the tablet of my mind that I felt the ' soft touch of a mother's gentle hand upon my head, as she smoothed my heavy tresses of brown hair in the old familiar, oaressing wa • and I eve heard th dear tones as she uttered. them in her musical way-- I "Courage, my child 1 and rememleer that a mother's prayers and love are always with you, and that your Heavenly Father, who cares for a sparrow, will watch over you." I It was the only Father I had at this time, I and I tried to trust him and let him take pvaeann 01 ifrt the sad corner of my heart, that my own that there was approaching a crisis in my , g earthly a her more than filled by his love life. I tidiculed the idea, and argued and car for me. that the man, and his history, was only a t "Can you write a letter, miss ?'' coincidence with something interwoven The street and all its great moving pan- with my own life. But in spite of the orama had only since vanished from my light manner in which I tried to treat the t physic&l seneed. The villago. home swiftly matter, this ghost of presentiment refused followed. • ngly black riuga under my eyes. Any one could ace them. Thia stranger eaw them. But the ,icesin at my heart now far exceeded in intenuity that of the aching eyes. "Now, Sniee," he continued in the gen- tlest tones, "11 you will please direct it for me, I'll be so xelieh obliged." I had not turned from the windew, nor uneloeed my eyes, and with all sights shut out from my senses, my hearing seemed painfully acute, That voice carried me back to scenes in which I had heard just such tone—low, gentle and tender. It was—I'm sure it was the twin of that voice that once, in the long; ago wakened in my heart its very ant and beat love. I heard his last request, but it had so mingled with the far -away veice I was listening to in my dreamy retrospection that I paid no heed to it. A slight movement on his part aroused me, and I saw him looking compassionately at me, and in a respectful way he held out the letter. I folded it and enclosed it in an en- velope, and took up my pen once mere. " Pleme direct it to Mrs. Jane Stanley, Drayton, Ont," he said. The hand that held the pen rose suddenly in the air, like the arm of one >ark stricken with the palsy, and the other followed it uncontrollably. One gasp for breath—a choking sensation—and I fell backward, but not far; a strong arm held me up. A convenient glass of water revived me suffi- cient:7 for me to hear the werds— " Poor child 1 she' R worn out." "Are. you John Stanley ?" I whispered, as he raised me to a sitting posture. "Why, of course I am John Stanley," he said, regarding me with surprise. My face, which a moment ago had felt cold and bloodless, was now burning as with a fever, and yet I shook as with the violence of an ague, as I said in almost inaudible tones— "I am Annie Sinclair." Something between a groan and a miner's shout of joy at the discovery of a rich lead reached my ear, as I was uncereinoniously gathered tightly into the shaggy, grizzly - bearskin coat of this terrible stra • ger. What if it were a mistake, after all? There might be other John Stanleys. Oh, yes, and there might be other Annie Sinclairs who worked ten hours a day on type -writers. And—I might not be myself, and John might not— "My own little girl 1 To think I've got you to write to mother and inquire about your own self 1" I think he must have forgotten aU about how tired and worn out I was from the fierce way in which he embraced me again and again, only pausing long enough to look lovingly into my aching eyes. I could easily imagine I was being hugged by. a Rocky Mountain grizzly as lay helpless in the fur coat and felt the arm close tightly about me. But I made a feeble struggle at last to ex- tricate myself. What right had John Stan- ley to kiss me in this free and passionate manner? He had not yet asked me to for- giye him for the past John had been a miner, and I suppose he thought as he had once staked out his claim on me, that that settled it forever. Oh 1 these men are so cool and presumptuous. He only laughed at my weak efforts to free myself from his em- brace, and kissed me again.. John was the first to discover the presence of a third party in the room, and following his gaze, I saw with alarm that Mr. Bruns - ley, any employer, had come in, and was looking on with a countenance which was a study. Amusement and displeasure seemed hopelessly mixed. "It's all right, Mr.—," John explained. "This is my little girl. I left her behind me ten years ago. My claim is good yet." "1 am sorry to lose so good an em- ployee," Mr. Brunsley remarked smilingly ; but I must congratulate you, sir, on your good fortune in getting her." "1 want to pay you for writing the letter or me, said John, turning againto me. "I am already paid," I replied shyly. From that evening I turned my back on he hateful little typewriter, and have never touched a key since. Instead of looking out upon the streets of Toronto with their ceaseless !panorama of ars, wagons and human beings, I now look ut from a cottage situated about midway etweenairs. Stanley's and my own mother's pon the loved hills and charming land - capes where as a girl I was happy, and where as a grown woman I knew my first orrow, but where I now know the world as have never, never known it before—bright, unny, musical, cloudless and serene. I write all of John's letters now—but not with a type -writer, and he always pays me or my labor—in the same currency, which s legal tender in our house, as that be roffered me for the first letter I penned for tin. And when I tell my newer friends hat I was once hugged by a grizzly bear, nd they manifest incredulity, I bring out ohm's old mining coat, and they laugh. -nvlon. Une aear premptorily, to be exorcised. mother's face faded and disappeared, and her gentle injunction, woven into her bless -1 It had grown quite dark outside. I had ing, was ruthlessly shattered by this terse, , lighted the gas. My visitor was reading matter.of-fact sentenexplod- over the letter, which I had handed to ce, ed so ixnex c o pectedly into my ear. 1him, after signing it "John "—the name of h I had come out of my dream -life with a I mY old lover; but there are so many u shock that left me for a moment speech -1" Johns" in the world, I argued. I stood s less. I looked at the man dumbfounded.; at the window, looking at the streets again He seemed to me what, in my limited eg.iin the -glory of their electric lights. The bells s perience, a western miner should look like: and whistles were sending out the wel- I a broad -brimmed slouch hat, coarse trona: ' come sound of rest to the thousands of 8 ers inside of heavy boots, and a fur coat I tired toilers, and I—I was off to that dis- which gave him something of the appear. 1 tent village again, looking into those dear anoe of a grizzly bear, such as I had seen aged eyes and listening to those tender, f pictured in my school books. He had, how- iloving tones. i ever, a pleasant face which was both kind 1 " John " was reading to his old mother P and respectful, and was a man probably not half aloud, but it was only an indistinct h more than thirty-five.hum in my ears. I had called in another! t Could I write a letter? Well 1 Could al" John " from the dim past, who was stand. a human machine rotate and move in its well- ing by me and mother as of old. J worn grooves? Could a type -writer repro- I But as I glanced at the handsome face duce dictated speech or -thought? I near the gas jet, lighted up by the soft blaze "Could I write a letter ?" I interrogated and illuminated by a tender emotion which mechanically, still gazing at him. the contents of the letter had awakened, I 'That's about the size of it, miss," he gave a violent start. The faithful artist assented, with just a slight relaxation from memory, had by some subtle process remov his sad look, but not quite a smile. "You ed the bronze from that face, and by som see, miss, I've just come on from Lake Su- deft manipulation had also rejuvenated th perior, where I've been for about ten years face till I saw it a decadeyounger before me among the mines. I made lots of money 1 Be spoke to me now, having finished th We all Break Down There. He was about to die for a cold-blooded murder. Standing beneath the gallows he . made a short talk. He spoke of his impend - e in death with slight emotion. Then of e "his people" with some signs of there. Then , of his wife with sobs and a trembling voice. e Then of his old mother"—and then he out there, and I've come back to settle reading of the letter for the third time, bu down. I've got to be in this city for a week I kept my face to the window till 1 coul or two on some business, and I thought rd gain my composure. What would a strong get some one just to write to my old man think of me, with my hp tremblin mother"— and the hot blood running riot over in "P11 write your letter," I said, promptly, cheeks and brow? The old mother" had settled the matter "It's a pretty handwriting," he mid,. wit with me. My slight vexation at being a grateful smile. "Better than mine;' called upon to lengthen my wearisome day hiding his maimed arrn in the great pocks had vanished with the other faded pictures, of lus grizzling coat. "But, I'd like it i "But," I added thoughtlessly, " why do you'd just put a little post—, what do you you not write yourself? Your mother, I am call it ?" he added, coloring. e would rather have a letter written by "Postscript," I suggested. "Certainly.' yoi own hand." "Tell mother," he said, as I took up my " 'teas I couldn't do it, miss," he re- pen again, "that I wish she'd remember me pid, this time with a sad smile. "I'm —na, give—love to—to—my little girl, if learning to write, but I'm afraid the poor she lives up there yet, and if she isn't old mother couldn't read my writing now." married." He had picked up my pencil and was He seemed to force the words out, and making hieroglyphics on a scrap of paper on turned away his flushed face from me. the desk. 1 My heart beat violently, and my hand "Could you read that ?" he asked. !trembled so that I could scarcely trace the I managed to decipher mother," but words he had dictated. that was all I could make out. I Could it be my lover, who had buried the "You used your left hand, I noticed. old love of which my suffering heartwas the Why do you not leant to write with your object? I wrote the fatal words. I could right hand ?" 1 asked again as thoughtlessly , scarcely see tho paper before me. I moved and with still sadder results. I the pen mechanically, as I would strike the "Oh ! I know how to write with that,", soellese keys of the odious typewriter. I he answered. !doubt if I saw the letters that 1 formed at There was no sinile now, and I observed all. My head wee in a dizzy whirl. that he did not withdraw his right arm Ile took the letter again and pored over from his capacious pocket, I the postscript, I thoeghb he never would. "Then why do you not uee that hand ?" , have done with it, he was so long4 ringed blunderingly. I can jut make it out," he said, final- " I left my right hand in Silver Islet, An ly, "Does not look like the other part of explosion took it off," the letter a bit, It is not much better He had laid the pencil down and looked than my left handed scrawl. Ohl 1 bog very much discournged at his efforts4 pardon, tniss," he hastily added, as he I longed to Mak amends for the pain I looked full into my pained eyes. " I apse had caused him, and I went immediately to 'you're tired. Been working all day, pro - the odious little type -writer, saying— bably. I'm a brute to add to your troubles " I will write you a letter on this." and tire you more. It Will do very well, I Hete was a num who Wetted a letter guess." written to hie poor old mother, whom he 1 I had cleeecl my eyes to try to shut out had not seen for ton yeara, and he had no 1 the pain. I had seen, daily growing, groat, HOUSEHOLD. The KitOhen Dreseer. The great* convenience in a kitchen, next to a sink provided with hot and cold ruuning water, us an old-fashioned dresser with its wide, capacious shelves above, and its pot and kettle closets below. Standing in full light varlet the wall, it has no dark corners for ate harboring of engem accumu. latione, and furniallecl with its great, tall, wide glazed doors, it must of necessity be neatly kept, or at QIICO expose the careless- ness of its owner, or her deputed helper, And epleaeing sight, too, isa well kept dreia ser, with its rowe of shining chine and glue gleaming through the clear palms of its great doors. And this brings me to the expression well kept, so I hasten to explain what that meaus. W ell kept means carefully and cleanly kept, and not only that, but carefully and con- veniently arranged. In the leitclaen dresser will be the china or semaporeelain for every- day nee, also the glass goblets, tumblers and dishes accompanying them, also the meat platters and the vegetable dishes belonging to the every -day act, the tea set, with its be- longings, and the knife-andspoon basket, erumb-tray and brush. A well -devised dresser generally has three wide shelves, furnished near the back with A moulding of wood to prevent large meat dishes from slipping down, and to keep them in a etanding position, and shelf -space af- forded by the top of its lower division. It has also three compartment e at the bottom or lower part, with a wide drawer above each. "n the middle lower compartment should be placed the household dinner pots; on either side, in the other compartments, the kettles, saucepans, griddles, broilers, eta. In the three drawers may be kept many arti- cles, auch as, in one drawer, clean kitchen towels tend dish-oloths ; in the second, the table-oloths neatly folded; in the third, the napkins, doyleys, and napkin rings, and per- haps the best carving knife, fork and steel. On the shelf -space, or room afforded by the top of the lower part, it will be found very convenient to arrange certain articles, for example, the coffee and tea ca,nnisters, the cocoa or chocolate box, and the tea, coffee, and chocolate pots, bright as polishing can make them, ranged in front of the monikers. On this shelf -apace, the knife and spoon basket or box of 'skated willow'the knives in one side and the silver or plated ware in the other.; next to this the caster, with its mustard, vinegar, oil and pepper cruets, all neatly kept and sparklingly bright; also in- dividual "salts," "oils," and "vinegars," and lastly, the crumb brush and tray, and the neatly -joined wooden table -mats, also fresh and clean. Above, on the next shelf, ranged in front of the meat dishes of graduated sizes, should be the dinner and soup and dessert plates, also the vegetable dishes; and above this the every -day tea set and the daily glass. There should be a fixed place for each pile of plates and saucers, also for the cups, and the glass and vegetable dishes, so thitt there will be no confusion, and hence less liability to breakage. Make your rules and see that they are en- forced, so that any dish may be found at the moment wanted, and always found brightly polished. The kitchen dresser, by its capability for being attractive, offers an inducement to and a reward for neatness not attached to the ordinary closet. By all means encourage the kitchen dresser. Little Helpers, Mothers, do you ever realize, howmuchhelp our little four-year-old girls are? Mine is a perfect treasure; and I often wonder what could I do without her? 111 would perrnit it she would be at work all the time. She seems to think if she is only helping mamma, she could not be happier; no difference how disagreeable, or hard the task to her unaccus- tomed fingers, it mamma will only say: "You are a dear, good little girl," she feels amply rewarded. Her little hands can do so many, things, such as picking up things and putting them away, so that it is no trouble to sweep, and on a few occasions bas swept the sittingavom—to use her own words—" Oh, so bright and clean 1" Going to the cellar or pantry, for needed articles, paring Rapiers, potatoes and turnips. in a surprising manner; a task she sea/ do, and one which most people do not particularly like; but she evidently thinks it the nicest work in the world. Setting the table as nicely as any one can do; but I will not al- low ber to wash or wipe dishes yet, though she often begs to do so; dishes, when wet, are slippery things to hold, and if broken would cause one to feel vexed in spite of themselves. She almost always pats them in the cupboard; sometimes (only when she teases, however,) she scours knives and forks ; helps chern, brings in chips, and when brother wheels a load of wood to the door, brings it in as it is needed ; feeds the ohidkens, waits on little brother, and—oh, I will stop or you will think that child must ertainly do all the work. No, of course he does not do any very hard work. I have dreadful time to keep her from trying to o everything, She is large of her age and ery itOtiVO ; but I would never think of put - ng her to work, if she could only stay away nd play contentedly. She watches how verything is done, "so I can do it just as ou do, mamma;" and is constantly lament. g because she does not grow faster; and hen she plays, the wildeet, roughest play nits her best, or play that is most like work; such as playing she has a large wash- ing to do, or must clean house. She loves to dust; if I will tie a soft cloth on a stick and let her use that for a duster, she will keep the furniture and zinc shining, and all such places as under clothes -presses and lit- tle nooks and cornera, where one cannot sweep with a broom, Nellie, with her "poke stick," will keep out everything in the shape of dirt. Dear little hands so willing and helpful 1 Do we appreciate them. as we should? I often look at them and kiss the dimpled fin- gers and think what tiny hands they are, to begin the fight with this rough world; but work is a blessing and nothing in life will bring us more real pleasure than being able to do our work, wh,alever it ia, well. a ti •a t broke down completely and gave way to un- e d controllable grief. e Ah, yes 1 It is right there that we all in g break clown. At the thought of "the, old w y mother," with her graying hairs, her kidly s face, across which time and sorrow are cut- ting their furrows, and her faith and affec- tion that never wavers or doubts, It is to "the old mother" that man's heart turns at last when trouble, or affliction, or remorse overtakes him, Other loves may be stronger, and the passion of other loves may obscure this for a time. The wife dinging in absorb- ed happiness to the arm, or little ones elaral3ering, fond and trustful about the knee, may efface all thought of "the old mother." But when a great Crisis comes and the strong mart is bending beneath a bur- den too grievous to be borne, the vision comes to him of one, idealized in his heart at least, who never doubted, who never wearied, but who loved all the time with aalove that passeth understandiug. The wife wonder- ing at this at first, ticcepts it at last, quietly acquieschig, but happy in her mother's heart to know that from her own children in the days to come this same miracle shall be rend- ered auto het 1 Getting Even. "My neighbor has thrown her dead eat over in my yard 2" announced a female call, er nt police headquarters the other day. " Yesan." "Can yea do anything ?" "No,ma'am, Ian afraid not." "1VeII, I cart 1 I've got a dog four times as big as her cat, and I'll poison him and throw the body into her yard this very night—so there 1" "A guilty conscience needs no 'Maser," says the proverb, with great truth. The guiltier a man's eonscience the more willing e is to worry along without an accueer. Original Reoeiptlf, COORIES.—Two cups sugar, one azid one- third cups of lard and butter, two-thirds of a cup of sour milk, and two-thirds of a tea, spoonful of socla ; one egg and flour to roll out. Bnawims Sroacie CAKE. —Beat six eggs two minutes ; add three cups of sugar, beat five nib:alto ; two cups of flour, with two teaspoonfuls of baking powder, beat two minutes ono cup of cold water, beat one minate, extract of vanilla or lemon, little salt; two Inore cups of flour, beat one min. ute. Bake in morlerate oven. ALAMO Came—Three eggs, two cupe of sugar, one-half cup of butter ; three cups of flour, One cup of milk and two tea,spotnifitle baking powdor. One teaspooriful of almond flavouring. I3ake hi legate ORIQEEN Satean-e-Boil one chicken Ow der, and Chop &IS ; chop fine the whites of tw4ve hard-boiled eggs; add equal quenti• Hoe of chopped celery and cabbage ; mash the yolke line ; add two tablespoons but- ter, two of auger, one teaapoen mustard; pepper and salt to taste; and lastly, one. half cup good Sider vinegar; pour over the salad and mix thoroughly. NWE DtSCUITS.^1 gilart Of flour, 3 tea- spoonfuls of baking powder, a pinch of salt, three tablespoonfuls lard or butter. Mix soft, roll out half an inch thick, spread with butter and sugar, and sprinkle cinnamon over and some nice Eriglieh currants. In the manner berries are very nice used in this way, Roll up same as jelly cake, cut is tamps la thick, and bake in a quick Inetue &mita. Diseolve one rounded tablespoon of butter in a pint of hot milk ; when lukewarm stir in one quart of flour, add one beaten egg, a little salt and a tea- cup of yeast ; work the dough until smooth. If in winter set in a warm place, if in sum- mer a cool place, to rise. In the morning work eoftly, and roll out a, halaioch thick, cut into biscuits and set to rise for thirty minutes, when they will be ready to bake. These are delicious. Tars CREAM CAXE.-1 Sup of botter, 2 cups of auger, 1 cup of sweet milk, 1 cup of corn- starch, 2 pups of flour, 2 teaspoonfuls of bak- ing pewder, the whites of eight eggs. This makes four or five layers about an inch thick. For the Laing to put between the layers ; the whites of three eggs, beaten stiff, one pound pulverized sugar. Boil the sugar with four tablespoonfuls of cold water until it candies. Pour it into the whites slowly, beating until nearly done. Flavour with vanilla, DELICIOUS CORN BREAD.. -1 pint of corn meal, 1 pint of flour, a cup shortening (half butter and same of lard) ; 2 eggs, 3 heaping teaspoons of baking powder, and cold water or sweet milk enough to make it very thin; just so it will drop nicely from the spoon. Bake it thin, so it will not be more than la inches thick when done. Sour milk can be used in plane of sweet milk with water, and soda in place of baking powder, but only one large teaspoonful of soda should be used, just enough to make your milk foam nicely. i This is nice baked n gem pans for break- fast. The New Englaaixi Blue Laws. These laws were enacted by the people of the "Dominion of New Haven," and became known as the blue laws because they were printed on blue paper. They are as follows: "The governor and magistrates convened in general assembly are the supreme power, under God, of this independent dominion. From the determination of the assembly no appeal shall be made. "No one shall be a freeman or have a vote unless he is converted and a member of one of the churches allowed in the dominion. "Bach freeman shall swear by the blessed God to bear true allegiance to this dominion, and that Jesus is the only king. "No dissenter from the essential worship of this dominion shall be allowed to give a vote for electing of magistrates or any officer. "No food or lodging shall be offered to a heretic. "No one shall cross a river on the Sabbath but authorized clergymen. "No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep houses, cut hair or shave on the Sabbath day. "No one shall kiss his or her children on the Sabbath or fast days. "The Sabbath day shall begin at gamut Saturday. "Whoever wears clothes trimmed with gold, silver orbone lace above one shilling per yard shall be presented by the grandaurors, and the selectmen shall tax the estate £3U0. "Whoever brings cards or dice into the dominion shallpay a fine of £5. "No one shall eat mince pies, dance, play cards, or play any mstrumentof music except the drum, trumpet or jewsharp "No gospel minister shall join people in , marriage. The magistrate may join them in marriage, as he may do it with less soandal to Christ's church. "When people refuse their children con- venient marriages, the magistrate shall determine theoint p . "A man who strikes his wife shall be fined £10. " A woman who strikes her husband shall be punished as the law directs. "No man shall court a maid in person or by letter without obtaining the consent of her parents; £5 penalty for the first offense, ten for the second, and for the third im• ptisomnent durino the -pleasure of the court." RUSSia'S Royal Sorrows. I hear from St. Petersburg tnat the slight improvement which recently took plaoe itt the Czarina's health has not been sustained. The Empress is a prey to a deep melancholy, and so pronounced was this Some weeks ago that the Czar'in alarm, called in Dr. Buko- witz—whom, however, the Empress refused to see. The journey to the Don Cossackcoun- try somewhat roused the Empress from her sadness, but now that she is back in Gets claim the old depression is again asserting itself. Thi The fact s that the Czarina lives in a state of constant terror, Which is all the more oppressive because of the necessity of hiding it from the Czar. Then the young Czarewitch gives cause for no little anxiety. I have it upon undoubted authority that the heir apparent to the Russian throne has been pronounced by physicians to be within a measurable distance of sheer lunacy. Ner is his physical healahmuch better than his meittal condition. Of all women in the world the Czarina. of Russia is most to be pitied. Her husband is in dailyperil of i assassination and her eldest son s on the verge of lunacy. The Craig Ambition. The Czar's highest aim is to be crowned. "Emperor of Asia" on the site of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. The Crimean War had ith origin in the quarrels over the holy places in Palestine, and was a continuation of the conflict between East and West which the crusades left still unsettled. Every step of the Russians toward Constantinople is thus a step toward Jernealem. It ia of great eignificetnee that the Emperor Alexander 111, confides much more upon the power of re. ligions enthusiasm than either of his prede- essors did. svishee to procure a more official and esstentcstious consecration of his religious au- thority, and to have his positiort emphasized as the supreme protector of the Eastern churches and the Orthodox Faith, and so rally all the Greek -Oriental churches and peoples around the person and office of the Czar as the Coustantine and Justinian of the modern world. This bold project has bean long in preparatioia is never lost sight of itt any diplomatic movement, nna no sacrifice of money is thought too great te secure thie end. Numbers of settlements Of Eastern menks, of appareritly harmleas ancl unpre- tending ohmmeter, have been and are being foteded, and Russia finds money to pay for the puthhase of the land. LIWITNING MAK& Mrs. Theedore Williame of Acworth wa. killed by a etroke „received while ehe was, tatting in clothes from a wire clothes line. Archie Fry, of Parkeville was takiu g hie horse from the plough, when lightning saved him the trouble. The bolt then ran acroaa the field eighty feet, and killed three other horses. As Robert Appleby of Chillicothe, Mo., was standing in his door, lightning ;Area a• tree near by and threw one of the iimba against Appleby, breaking his arm and near- ly killing him. A brakeman named, Williams was etruck by lightning on a train of the Missouri Peel - AO while stopping at Centre View. He was toesed all about the caboose by the povverfult &rid, but escaped serious injury. A negro and his wife of Guinnett, drove theitmule under a Shed duringa storm A lightning bolt struck the mule and broke his neck but neither of the negroes as hurt, except in feelings. Lightning jumped from a large locust tree Qn the premises of John W. Hurd at Dover into the house and ran all over it, Visiting every4;ilt picture frame up stairs and down, and then made its exit by a hole in the roof. The barbed-wire fence about Sam 13rittle place at Monroe threw off sparks like au electric machine auring a recent thunder storm, and Mr. Britt and his negro servant were rendered unconscious by the influence, but suffered no serious injury. Two Columbus, Miss., darkies took refuge under a tree during a recent thunder storm, an I were both killed. One had his clothes stripped completely from his body while the other showed only a blue marls on the crown, of his head aid another on the ball of hie foot. Paper Car Wheels. 11 18 the body of the wheel only which Mar paper. The material is a calendered rye - straw "board" or thick paper made at the Allen Company Mills at Morris, llinois. This is sent to the works in circular sheets. of twenty-two to forty inches in diameter... Two men, standing by a, pile of these, rapidly brush ever each aheet an even coat- ing of flour paste until a dozen are pasted into a layer. A third man transfers these layers to a hydraulic press, where a pressure of five hundred tons or more is applied to a pile of them, the layers being kept distinct by the absence of paste between the water sheets. After solidifying under this pres-• sure for two hours, the twelve -sheet layers' are kept for a week in a drying room heated; to 120 °F.; several of these layers are ine turn pasted together, pressed, and dried for. a second week, and still again these disks are pasted, pressed, and given a third dry- ing of a whole month. The result is a mr- cular block, containing from 120 to 160 sheets of the original paper, compressed to bi or inches thickness, and of a solidity, density and weight suggesting metal rather than nhe"paperfibre.wheel" is made up of this. disk of compressed paper, surrounded by a steel tire, and fitted with a cast-iron hob, which is bored for the axle; wrought -iron, plates protect the paper cEsk on either side, and all are bolted together by two cirelee of bolts one set passing through a flange of the hub, and both through the paper centre and its protecting plates. The real service of the paper is in inter- posing a non -vibrating substance between) the axle and the tire, so that thevibrations, vehich in some unknown way re -arrange the atoms of metal so that it brittles and breaks after long wear, are prevented. Nature always provides some way of wear- ing things out, whether it be man, lest he lag superfluous on the stage or "the ever- lasting hills" themselves, but in the case of compressed paper, art seems to have got, ahead of nature, for it seems not to have worn out at all. The steel tires of these whgels do wear down, and are then return d ma lathe to a smaller diameter; brat when they are gone and are taken off, the paper block appears again as good as new, and ready for a new tire. The paper wheel has the one disadvantage of greater costabat its longer life and greater safety are in its. favor. The Happiness of Flight. May we not infer that all animals whose muscular development is greater in propor- tion to their bulk than that of man should derive from its exercise a greater intensity of pleasure, greater absolutely in propor- tion to the attainments and less interfered with by the greater muscular ease with which they are accomplished. If this is so the majority of the mammal& and almost all birds shoulcl in their powers of speedy movement on earth or laity flight in the air possess resources of mental pleasure intense beyond ours and less subject to be dimmed by the pain of overstrained muscles. The power of flight is without doubt associated with pleasures which we cannot directly gauge or estimate, but of the Value of which our desires can give us some idea. That birds distinctly enjoy the exercise of their powers there can be no manner of doubt. Having once acquired the power of flight or inherited it from their seuropsidan ancestor-, they have developed it far beyond all tbes requirements of their individual or specific life. If it were not pleasurable, then flight would be discontinued when it was no longer necessary. But as a, fact, bird life presents Is innumerable instances of the maintenance of the powers of flight in species to Whose existence it is by no means essential. The skylark does not soar from mercenary mo- tives: pigeons, domesticated for generations fly about all day long, though they need to seek neither food nor shelter. It is not necessary to watch birds ou the wing for very long to convince one's eel/ that the act of flight is one of pure enjoyment, that it is cultivated and adorned with the refinements which characterize an" accomplishment." Such is the evolution of the tumbler pigeon such the more refined and masterly hovering of some birds who possess the power of so balancing themselves on a slanting breeze as to remain motionless with respect to the earth, without apparently moving a wing or a feather, floating all the time, still and calm. Lonely Jacob's Ladder. On Mount Whitney, the highest meuntaia in California, at a level of 14,000 feet above the sea and 1,500 feet above the timber line, where there 18 no soil and no moisture save - snow and hail and ice'there grows a' little flower shaped like a boll -flower, gaudy in colors ef red, purple and blue. It is balled. Jacob's ladder and its fragrance partakes of` the white jasmine. It bloom alone, for it not only has no floral associate, but there is inoccormeaptounyip, e: not even bird or insect, to kee t "Did.yeti meet with success asked a. neighbor of a man who had returned from prospecting for silver in New Mexico. "Oh, yes, I met with euecees'but SECCOSS Was going the other way. 111 muld have over- taken success 1 would have been all right."