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The Brussels Post, 1908-8-13, Page 2.+3;N-A-m+noi;(4-A+):14-A+Ko,•m+no..):43:4);(+004x+m+1:4.044=40 SC of flys OR, TU GIRL IN BLUE ICH-Ast cr CHAPTER XX,—(Cont'd). Wo wandered on from room to room. There must, I think, have been quite thirty sleeping apart: merits, guests' rooms, etc., all fur- nished in that same glaringstyle, that greenery -yellowy abomination miscalled art. "The next room," explained my secretary, as we approached the end, of the corridor, "is Mrs. Hea- ton's boudoir. 1 expect she's in there. I saw Dalton, her maid, en- ter a moment ago." "Ob, for Heaven's sake, leave ber alone 1" I said, turningat once on my heel. I had no wish to meet that awful rejuvenated hag again. I fancy Gedge smiled, but if he slid he was very careful to hide his amusement from me. He was, without doubt, a very tvell-trained secretary. The thought of Mabel Anson crossed my mind. All the recollec- tions of the dinner on the previous night, and the startling discover- ies I subsequently made recurred to ice at that naoment, and I felt dazed and bewildered, This painted and powdered person could surely not Lb my wife, when I loved Mabel • Anson with all my soul! Only yes- terday I had sat at her side at din- ner, and had felt the pressure of her soft, delicate hand upon mine. No ; it could not be that I was ac- tually married. Such a thing was utterly impossible, for surely no man could go through the marriage ceremony without knowing some- thing about it. Hickman's treachery angered me. Why, I wondered, had he enticed Tee to his rooms in order to make that extraordinary attempt -von my lifel The wound upon my head was undoubtedly due to the blow lit had dealt me. The theory that I had accidentally knocked my head against the marble statue and bro- ken it was, I felt assured, only one of that fool Brittens brilliant ideas with which he misled his too -con- fiding patients. If this were so, then alI the incidents subsequent to my recovery of consciousness were part of the conspiracy which had commenced on the previous night with Hickman's attempt. We descended the stairs, pass- ing the footman Gill, who, with a bow, saicl— "I hope, sir, you feel better." "A little," I answered. "Bring me a whiskey and soda to the li- brary." And the mar at once disappeared to do my bidding. "I suppose' he thinks I'm mad," I remerked. "This is a very re- maresele menage, to say the least. In -ea great hall, as I walked to- wer& the- library, was a long mir- ror, and in passing I caught sight of my own figure in it. I stopped, • and with a loud cry of wonder and dismay stood before it, glaring at my own reflection. The bandages about illy head gave me a terribly invalid appear- ance, but reflected by that glass I saw a sight which struck me dumb with amazement. I could not be- lieve my eyes; the thing staggered belief. On the morning before I had 'eleaved as usual, but the glass show- sclethett I now -wore a well -cut, pointeie reddish -brown beard I My face seemed to have changed curiously, for I presented an older appearance than on the day before. My hair seemed to have loci its youthful lustreate] upon my brow were three distinct lines—the lines of care. I felt rny beard with eager hands. Yes, there was no mistake. It was there, but how it had grown was inconceivable. Beyond, through the open door, I saw the brilliant sunlight, the green lawn, the bright flowers and cool foliage of the rustling trees. It was summer. Yet only yes- terday was chill, dark winter, with threatening snow. Had I been asleep, like Rip Van. Winkle. in the legend ? "Tell me," I cried excitedly, turning to tho man standing behind rne, "what's the day of the month to -day?" "The seventeenth of July." "july1" 1 echoed. And what year is this?" "Why? eighteen hundred and nieetes-six, of eourse." "Ninety-six 1" I .gesped, stand- ing tearing at him 111 lelattic amaze- ment "Ninety-six 1" "Certainly. Why'7" "Am 1 really losieg my senses?" eried, dismayed. "Yesterday was six /oars ago!" CHAPTER. XXL "Yesterday six years ago I" he delioed, looking ee me in blank be- Wileorreett. "What do you electril" thrtf, 0 whet you've told ree le reelly the truth,:k I cried teen° in Weeder, "then it is the 010se astestaidinetMag Vve ever 'heard of. Are you absolutely cer- tain of the date?' "Certain ? Why of course." "Of the year, I mean?" "Positive. It's eighteen ninety- six." "For how long, then, have you been my secretary 1" I inquired. "Nearly five years." "And how lcng have I lived in this place 1" "For nearly four." "And that woman , " I demanded, Ineathlessly—"is she actually my wife ?" "Most certainly," he answered. I stood stupefied, stunned by this amazing statement. "But," I protested, lost in Won- der, "yesterday was years ago. How do you account for that? Are you certain that you're not deceiving me?" "I've told you the absolute truth," he responded. "On that stake my honor." "I stood aghast, glaring at my reflection in the mirror, open- mouthed, as though I gazed upon some object supernatural. My per- sonal appearance had certainly' changed, and that in itself convinc- ed me that there must be some truth in this man Gedge's state- ment. I was older, a trifle stout- er than before, I think, and my red -brown beard seemed to give my face a remarkably grotesque ap- pearance. I bad always hated beards, and considered them a re- lic of prehistoric barbarity. It was surprising that I should now have grown one. "Then according to your account I must have spent yesterday hero —actually in this house 1" "Why, of course you did," be re- sponded. "We were engaged the greater part of the day over Laf- fan's affair. Walter Halliburton, the mining engineer, came down to see you, and we were together all the afternoon. He left for Lon- don at five." "And where did I dine?" "Here. With Mrs. Heaton." "Don't speak of her as Mrs. Heaton I" I cried in anger. "She's not my wife, and I will not have her regarded as such." He gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "Now, look here, Mr. Gedge," I said, speaking for the first time with confidence. "If you were in my place, awakening suddenly to Rad that six years of your life had vanished in a single night, and that you were an entirely different par- son to that of twelve hours ago, what would you believe?" He looked at rae with a somewhat sympathetic expression 'upon his thin features. "Well, I don't know what I should think." Then he added, "l3ut surely such a thing can't be possible." "It is possible," I' cried. "It has happened to me. I tell you that last night was six years ago." He turned from me, as though he considered further argument un- availing. My head reeled. What he had told me was utterly incredible. It seemed absolutely impossible that six whole years should have passed without my knowledge; that I should have entered upon a busi- ness of which 1 had previously known nothing; that I should have rapidly amassed a fortune; and, moat of all, that I should have mar- ried that powdered, and painted 'woman who had presented herself as my wife, Yet such were the un- accountable facts which this man Gedge asked me to believe, He saw that I was extremely dubious about the date, therefore he led me back to the library, where there bung upon the wall a large attendee which quickly con- vinced me. Six years bad really elapsed since yesterday. In that vexing and perplexing present I reflected upon the puz- zling past. That happy dinner with Mabel ab The Boltoes, the subse- quent discoveries in that drawing - room -where she had sat at the piano calmly playing; her soft words of tenderness, and the subsequent treachery of that dog -faced man Hickman) all passed before me with extraordinary vividnees. Yet, in truth, all had happened long ago. Alas I I was not like other rnen. To the practical, level-headed man of affairs "To -day" may be suffici- ent, all-engrotsing; but to the very levee inejority—a majority which, I beheve,- includes also many of the practical, the business of to-dey admits of constant pleasant excine Sloes into the golden mists of "long ego," and many happy flights to the rosy heights of "some day," Most of those who Pend this. strange story of ray life will remember with a melancholy &Action, with a pain 1 that is seoto soothing than ment, Pleasures, the house wherein they Were bore, or at any rate the abode in which they passed the earlier years of their lives. The agonizing griefs of ohildhood, the disappoint- raents, the soul -racking terrors, mellowed by the gentle touch of passing years, have no sting for our mature sensibilities, but come back to us now with a „pathos that is largely tendered with amusement. I stood there reviewing the past, puzzled, utterly unable to account for it, Age, the iconoclast, had shattered most of the airy idols which my youth had .sot up in hon- or of itself. I had lost 63X of the most precious years of my life — years that I had not lived. Yet this man before ale declared moat distinctly that I had lived them; that I had enjoyed a second existence quite apart and distinct from my own self. Incredible though it seemed, yet it became gradually impressed upon me that what this man Gedge lied told me was the actual, hideous truth, and that I had really lived and moved and prospered throughout those six unknown years, while my senses had at the same time remained dor- mant, and I hacl thus been utterly unconscious of existence. But could such a thing be? As a prosaic man of the world I argu- ed, as any ono in his right mind would argue, that such a thiug was beyond the bounds of possibility. Nevertheless, be it how it might, the undisputed fact remained that 1 had lapsed into unconsciousness on that winter's night six years be- fore, and had known absolutely no- thing of my surroundings until I found myself lying upon the floor of the drawls:lg.-room of what was alleged to be my country house. We: years out of a man's life is a large slice. The face of the world changes considerably in that game of time, I found myself livinga life which woe so artificial andin- congruous to my tastes as to ap- pear utterly unreal. Yet, es I made further inquiry of this man Gedge every moment that passed showed rae plainly that what he bad said was the truth. He related to me the routine of my daily life, and I stood listening agape in wonder. He told me things of which I had no k-nowledge' • of my private affairs, and of my business profits; he took big lea - flier -bound ledgers from the great green -painted safe, and showed me formidable sums entered therein, relating, he explained, to the trans- actions at the office up in London. Some documents he showed me, large official -looking sheets with stamps and seals and signatures, which be said were concessions ob- tained from a certain foreign Gov - letter -box, exhibiting letters I had actually written with my own hand, but without having any knowledge of having done so, These revelations took away my breath. It could not be mere loss of me- mory from which I was suffering. I had actually lived a second and entirely different life to that I had once led in Essex Street. Appar- ently I had become a changed man, bad entered business, had amassed a fortune—and had married. Assuredly, I reflected, I could never have been in my right senses to have married that angular per- son with the powdered checks. That action, in itself, was sufficient to convince me that my brain had been =balanced during those six lost years. Alone I stood, without a single sympathizer—without a friend. How this astounding gap in my life had been produced was abso- lutely beyond explanation. I tried to account for it, but the reader will readily understand that the problem was, to me, utterly inex- plicable. I, the victim of the trea- chery of that ,man Hickman, bad fallen unconscious one night, and had awakened to discover tbat six whole years hacl elapsed, and that I had developed into an entirely different person. It was unaccount- able, nay, incredible. (To be Continued.) QUITE SIMPLE, BUT— Sometimes even the greatest minds have lapses. There is the story of Isaac Newton, the groat scientist, who cite a large hole in his study door, so that his pet cat might passfreely in and out, and then cut a smaller one for the use of her kitten. Morse, the inventor of- the telegraph, now in world-wide use, is the subject of a similar anecdote, When he had perfected his system, he submitted it to the officials of an American railway. Irt talking over the matter, Morse confessed that there was one difficulty he .had not been able to surmount. "As long as poles can be used," he fiaid, "it is easy- But what must be done when we come to a bridge? We cannot use poles there, and the wire would break of its own weight -without some support." "Welle' immedi- ately replied ono of his hearers, "why not fix the wires to the bridge?" Morn looked at him for a moment, Then he exclaimed :--"I never thought of that, It's the very thing I" ignorance is bliss to everybody eaccpt, the man who doesn't know enough to advertitle. 'Mat boy,'seid tee nem sadly, Ahl he prepared to administer to ithin Eperrem Reefers his eighth see wales the lest throe days, "is miehfe es‘i lioy, keels de white sheep of de family," ON THE FAR851 55050' .!L.41-1" V9e..01_ lit.44VriR leeseseeettreeteaseitAseetekees~deeSa ON WHAT DOES BUTTER, QUAL- ITY DEPEND, Prof. Van. Norman in the last re - pert of the Farmer's Normal in- stitnto for Pennsylvania, bas some- thing to say as to what the quality of butter depends on, that is worth considering by Canadian butter makers. Referring to the faults in the butter of his State, he says there is an unnecessary amount of manure gets into the milk due to lack of cleanliness in the stables, If cows are kept clean the butter will be just as acceptable to the trade and will faro better at the National Dairy Shows. To quote : "The trouble is that we lack the uniform'ty which cornea from comparing our own make with others. When I sit clown in my little room and make butter, and see no bettor except what I make myself, I have no meas of judging wherein I fail or excell. My judgment is one-sided. That is the trouble with most of our butter - makers. "What I want in a judge is a men who is broeght into contact with dif- ferent kinds of butter regularly. He needs the variety and practice to keep Ms judgment accurate. hold their cream at home for one or two days before they deliver it to the creamery, and the butter made from it has an old flavor, as the but- terenaker calls it, and it is a flavor we do not want. The cream can be kept two days and kept in good con- dition if kept quite cold, but ib is not wise to do this, as a rule. The same thing holds true on the farm, where'only a limited amount of but- ter is made, and it takes two, three, four or even five days to collect enough cream for a churning. The facilities for holding that cream and keeping it in good condition, are rot as favorable as we should have them. Therefore the cream is not kept cold, and is subjected to the odors of the cellar and of the cook- ing, of the washing, and of that bell- ed cabbage dinner that we some- times have, and the result is unfor- tunate in the butter. "The first principle in our butter - making is to have a clean, raw pro- duct and control the changes dur- ing the ripening of the cream so as to get the desired results. The mar- ket has changed in the last few years, and to -day it wants a milder- flavorecl butter than formerly. When we say "milder," we mean one in which fermentation during ripening of the cream has not gono so far. First, the cream becomes slightly sour, then it becomes ripe, then over -ripe. The difference is in the degree of fermentation, and the market to -day wants a mild -flavored butter, one that is not rancid or made from over -ripe cream." THE _CARE OF GROWING STOCK At this time of the year, growing fowls require the most careful atten- tion. Many poultry keepers are in the habit of letting the chickens take care of themselves after the first few weeks, but until they are three or four months old, it is essential that every care should be taken. A little neglect may ruin a very prom- ising youngster, The aim of the peultry-keeper should be to keep the chickens steadily growing from the time they leave the shell to muster- ity, and this can only be a,ccorciplish- ed by the strictest attention to every one of the many detail on which successful thicken rearing depends. See that the coops are well ventilat- ed, and that they are regularly and thoroughly cleared. Avoid over- crowding at any cost, as more cases of retarded growth and actual loss can be traced to this cause than to any other. It is a mistake to feed growing fowls solely on "dry" chick feed; much better results can be obtained by giving soft and "dry" food al- ternately. Vegetable food is essen- tial, and chickens cannot be reties ed to the best advantage unless they have a grass run. Where, however, it is impossible for a grass run to be provided, vegetables must be given ; bu-b care mese be taken that they are perfectly fresh, and renewed daily. If decayed vegetables are left about in the run, they will do much Moro harm than good. A great mistake, which many poultry -keepers make, is to keep their chickeiss in too close confinement. If strong, big birds are desired, it is essential that the chickens after the first week or so, should be'given a free range or an extensive grass rim. Exercise is the finest thing in the world fox growing fowls, and the birds that take the exorcise make the big- gest and most vigorous adults, 133 A shopkeeper had in his employ a man so lazy as to bo utterly worth - lose. One Slave his patience exhaust- ed, he discharged him, Will you give me a cheracter 1" asked the /clay rrian, The employer sat down to write a non -committal letter. His (afore resulted as follows :—"The hearer of this letter has worked for inc one week, and I am satisfied," Many a man looks epon a mese tiage lioense kg a blotter with Whith he expecte to 'conceal his past, and fresh fruits, An ideal summer food, wholesome, nourishing, delicious. CONTAINS MORE REAL NUTNIPIENT THAN MEAT OR EGOS , 1054 SOLO BY ALL GROCERS .11.agfti.% l. • MAN OFTENHUNGIIIMSELF FRENCHMAN WHO COULD TRANSFORM MIS BODY. Strange Cbaracter Could Apparent- ly Die at Will So as to Deceive odors. One of the most original music hall characters in Frence, known as "Le Pendu," or the man whp used to hang himself, recently died at Scillies Pont, near Toulon. His real name was Simeon Aiguier, and he was born ab Sollies Ville in 1861. Unlike Fregoli, who imitates vari- ous personages by sudden changes of clothes, he could in a way trans- form his body, and possessed the most curious physical aclaptabilities ever known. When a young man writes a Paris correspondent) he surprised and puzzled the army doc- tors. As he presented himself for physical examination he appeared ei; thin, spare -ribbed fellow, al- most a skeleton, and before the ex- amination was over ha tested in the presence of the array doctor with an onormously inflated abdomen, as if Iso had dropsy. 'While the physician was examining this abnormal de- velopment the abdomen retreated, and a big bloated tumor suddenly grew. on the young man's throat, as if he had an immense goitre. He had apparently, in an instant trans- ferred the welling from the lower part of Ms body to his throat. When the examination was over he stood there, a skeleton-like young fellow as before. KNOWN AS SKELETON MAN. His strange power soon became known all over his native district, and he was induced to show himself on the music hall stage. For a long time he was known as the skeleton man, though he also exhibited him- self as the fat man. His physical transformations did not stop here. Ho was able to imitate tee process of dying and death itself to perfec- tion. Scientists and the members of various medical faculties often wish- ed to examine his strange faculties but he constantly refused to divulge the secret of his transformations. When he imitated the state of a dead person he threw himself into a perfect coma,. His heart apparently ceased to beat, and the most expert physicians are said to have been un- able to detect the slightest move- ment of his pulse. They went as far as to apply various instruments to detect life without success, and even through the stethscope not the slightest action of the heart could be perceived. The most expert doctors would have declared him dead, and yet in the next instant he 'would jump up and crack jokes, and be as touch alive as =y00°. His last trick, and the one which kept audiences spell -bound, was when he used to ,hang himself by the neck with a cord. There was NO MERE MAKE-BELIEVE. about it. Ile -would hang himself, or alow himself to be hanged, from a nail in the ceiling in the presence of a large audience. The rope would fasten round his throat, his muscles would stiffen, and the frightened public would see him go through every one of the phases of a man who -was actually hung. The ghastly spectacle was first exhibited in a cabaret in Montmartre, and despite its horrors, or rather, on, account of them, it had a great success. A story is told that he once pleyed the' trick in a hotel where he was stop- ping. He hung himself from the' coiling, after ringing the bell, and when the waiter entered he was horrified by the sight and rushed down to inform the peopeictor. Be- fore they returned to the room the man who was supposed to have hanged himself had taken up his valise arid met them quietly on the stairs. Although it might have been expected that some day he would. hang himself in real earnest, such a calamity never betel bios. He died of a most commonplace illness, the grippe, at his home near Toulon, where he had retired after earning a considerable fortune on the stage. He never divulged the secret of how he produced *0 extraordinary rigidity of the nauseles of his neck when he used to perform hie feats of bulging, and carried the mystery with him to his grave. Doctors pro- poses/ to preform ATI autopsy on buS body to disco -Wm his secret, but his fannly refused to allow it. IN MERRY OLD ENGLAND NEWS BY MAIL ABOUT JOILN BULL AND HIS PEOPLE. Occurrences in tee Land That Reigns Supreme in the Com- mercial Worl a. A Cingalese baby has been born at the Franco British Exhibition. Ring Edward has shown his dis- approval of Sunday theatricals. A sandstone image of 'an ancient British goddess has been unearthed ar Caerwent, Denham Mill, Essex,' immortaliz- ee in Constable's paintings, was almost totally destroyed by fire re- cently. Parasols for men are now the fa- shion, it is said, and London dea- lers hint that they have come to stay. A red parasol mistaken for a danger signal, stopped the London Express the other day, travelling at full speed. A dressing case containing $1,400 worth of jewellery was recently stolen from the Great Western sta- tiott at Oxford. Ten years ago the number of emi- grants from the United Kingdom was about 60,000. In 1907 it had risen to 237,000. The 'Wellingborough Bench rec- ently ordered a man named Bates to pay £6 and costs for shooting a valuable racing pigeon. The public clock erected at Old Town, Bexhill, in commemoration of tho jubilee of Queen. Victoria, was destroyed by fire recently. Bees have formed a hive- under the iron plate of some railings in front of a house at Harlesden, and can be seen entering and leaving "TIcay ilee.igerette dict not reach Eng- land until alter the Crimean war, isi 'which the British officers adopt- ed it from the Turks and Russians. The death of a ten -year-old b named Albert Wood was stated at an inquest held at Bethnal Green to have been caused by eating ice OTCSID, At Manchester Assizes, John Tames Stone was found guilty of murdering his nine-year-old daugh- ter Alice at Oldham, but was de- clared to be insane. A widow of tremendous strength was fined at Kingston for refractory conduct in the local workhouse. Her feat consisted in lifting a combus- tion stove and dashing it down on a table'breaking both. At Stsiclland, in Dorset, a whirl- wind caught up a large pile of heel, weighing several hundred weight, carried it to a great height, and finally scattered it over the neigh- boring fields. Stow Green pleasure fair, which has been held annually for more than 800 years, has practically ceased to exist. When it opened last week the fair ground was al- mostsledded to supply free soap to. the p00telnirgtYr'ound that owing to the ple cannot afford to buy soap, the prevailing distress there many peo- ple Health Committee has Devonshire's apple mem:will not be neater so good as was hoped, Fruit which had a,ppereetly.set well ha$ of late been -dropping off in large quantities. If the price of beef is going up the price of coal is coming down. In the London, market there bus been a fall of, es. per ton in little over. a Month's time, PEOW MACARONI IS MADE. This is how macaroni is made ;—To very ghitinous wheat flour is added a plentiful supply of dried eggs. Mixed with water this becomes a dough, which is so thickly kneaded as to be difficult to impress with the fingers. Then it is carried to a rolled press perforated with holes, through -which the dough is pressed by means of a heavy plate worked by a serew, The result is macaroni without holes in the sleeks. Pipe macaroni is made through a similar press, with the difference that a round picot of metal makes the cen- tral hole As it issues in lorig, snaky ropes from the bottom of the press, they are violently fanned to prevent them from sticking togeth- er, and are afterwards taken out ins to the open and laid on long bam- boo poles to dry, Two or time days' exposure in the warm, sunny air of lealy melees the doegbpipes hard and brittle, and fit to use fot food, '00041:0"-:,0eIvr.01k0000.1009 0 ALT 1iiii0+0e>104944,44.94.0e/644: HEART -DISEASE IN CHILDREN. Diseases of the .sort are generally supposed to be the fate of adults and not of (biter= and this is largely true, although there ale exceptions to the rule, if rule it can be called. These exceptions are generally the result of the aeuto infectious disord- ers in childhood, such as scarlet f er, An attack of rheumatic fever in childhood is almost certain to affect. the heart, but heart weakness may be the sequel to any debilitating disease. The symptoms of heart trouble in children are very much tee same as. in adults. There may be a feeling, of distress round the heart, or even of actual pain. There ty'll almost, certainly be a rapid pulsts and sheet - =Bs of breath on exertion, accom, Periled by great sensations of fa- tigue. The slifferer is subject to at- tach �f the "blues," a small or ca- pricious appetite is usual, with con- sequent loss of flesh. Tne child will sometimes start from sleep in great agitation and terror with a rapidly beating heart, and chorea—St. Vit- us's dance—is often an accompani- ment of a damaged heart. In these cases, an placing the ear to the region of the heart a distinct blowing sound OT "murmur" will be. hoard, and' this is a proof that the, valves are not doing their -work pro- perly. Children often outgrow these val- vular affections of the heart, and the danger with them is not so much, in the immediate present, as in the future. There is clanger that the heart may become so far damaged that it will meet badly the demands made upon it by adolescence. In the treatment of this condition rest is of the greatest imposbance, drugs being only secondary. To establish eau rigidly carry out proper mode of life, and then rest, rest, rest, is where the difficulty comes in. It is impossible to make a little, restless, active child under- stand the importance of keeping quiet, and this makes it absolutely necessary that watchfulness on the part of the parent or teacher should not be relaxed. Stairs should bo taken slowly, runnning should be forbidden, and the child should not be allowed to wrestle with other children. Skipping-ropes and hoops and all toys calling for violent exer cise should be put out of sight, and a daily effort be made to keep the child amused and occupied in a quiet fashion, A happy medium must be found between spoiling the child and allowing it to cry violently, and this is a matter for al the tact that can be exerted. The medical treatment will of course be in the hands of the physician.—Youth's Companion. WHEN VISITING SICK. 1. Let the invalids talk of them- selves first. I have noticed particu- larly with those who are much alone, tnat they want to tell what- they have been doing, who has called, and a little About their aches and pains. After that they will gladly listen to anything that you may have to sate 2. Do not impress upon them -whet a very good time you are hav- ing in the world, while they are out of it all. 3. Usually try to bring some little thing to them. It need not be ex- pensive, but a single flower, a bunch of grapes, a potted plant, or a little leaflet. All these things relieve the monotony of their existence. 4. Tho weather often depresses sick people, and if practical it is ad- visable to call on stormy days, or on the second day of a long storm, thus bringing a little sunshine to them. HOW TO STOP NOSE BLEED. A simple way of stopping nose bleedings is to wind a pieoe of tissue paper about two inches long into a tight roll half the size of the little finger. This is then placed in the mouth under the upper lip, as far upas it cart go, Of Course this bring it just beneath the nose, and with the tongue the roll is kept in position. The advantage'of this is that the nose presses against the arteries loading to the nasal pee - sages, and stops the blood befogs kcaenrcrheietbf'aroundelltilcm In very severe cases tying a band- the arms and legs., making the bandages tight enough to stop circuletion, effectually stops the nose from bleeding, In remov- ing the bandages all must not bo taken off at =cc, but each one sleW- ly, INA the blood may not flow quickly, breaking out again et the weak place. When the bleeding is so severe as to require this trea- tment it would be well to call a phy- delete DOG TAIL SOUP. "You have heard, iso doubt, of the feat? "The traveller and ids dog wore lost and hungry on the plaine. Night fellet looked es though eoth must go supperlese to bed, "But the ingenious traveller dar oft the dog's tele made a tilltritiou,s soup of 14 atel lewd the Iseegry lute Mal the bone."