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SYNOPSIS.
A detachment of the Eighteenth in
fantry from Fort Bethune trapped by
Indians in a narrow gorge. Among them
is a stranger who introduces himself by
the name of Hampton, also Gillis the
post trader, and his daughter. Gillis and
a majority of the soldiers are killed dur
ing a three days’ siege. Hampton and
the girl only escape from the Indians.
They fall exhausted on the plains. A
company of the Seventh cavalry. Lieut.
Brant in command, find them. Hampton
and the girl stop at the Miners’ Home in
Ctlencaid. Mrs. Duffy, proprietress. Hamp
ton talks the future over with Miss Gil
lis—the Kid. She shows him her moth
er's picture and tells him what she can
of her parentage and life. They decide
she shall live with Mrs. Herndon. Xaida
the Kid—runs away from Mrs. Herndon’s
and rejoins Hampton. He induces her to
go back, and to have nothing more to do
with him. Hampton plays his last game
of cards. He announces to Red Slavin
that he has quit, and then leaves Glen
• *aid. Miss Phoebe Spencer arrives in
Glencaid to teach its first school. Miss
Spencer meets Xaida. Rev. Wynkoop,
etc. She boards at Mrs. Herndon’s.
Xaida and Lieut. Brant again meet with
out his knowing who she is. She informs
him of the coming Bachelor club ball in
honor of Miss Spencer.
/ CHAPTER XIII.
Silent Murphy.
Brant sprang forward, all doubt re
garding this young woman instantly
dissipated by those final words of mis
chievous mockery. She had been play
jng with him as unconcernedly as if
he were a mere toy sent for her
amusement and his pride was stung.
But pursuit proved useless. Like
a phantom she had slipped away amid
the underbrush, leaving him to floun
der blindly in the labyrinth. His in
cautious foot slipped along the steep
edge of 'the shelving bank, and he
went down, half stumbling, half slid
ing, until he came to a sudden pause
on the brink of the little stream. The
chase was ended, and he sat up, con
fused for the moment, and half ques
tioning the evidence of his own eyes.
A small tent, dirty and patched,
stood with its back against the slope
of earth down which he had plunged.
Its flap flung aside revealed within a
pile of disarranged blankets, together
with some scattered articles of wear
ing apparel, while just before the
opening, his hack pressed against the
supporting pole, an inverted pipe be
tween his yellow, irregular teeth, sat
a hideous looking man. He was a
withered, dried-up feilow. whose age
was not to be guessed, having a skin
as yellow as parchment, drawn in
tight to the bones like that of a
mummy, his eyes deep sunken like
wells, and his head totally devoid of
hair, although about his lean throat
there was a copious fringe of iron-gray
beard, untrimmed and scraggy. Down
f the entire side of one cheek ran a
^ livid scar, while his nose was turned
awry.
He sat staring at the newcomer,
unwinking, his facial expression de
void of interest, but his fingers open
ing and closing in apparent nervous
ness. Twice his lips opened, but noth
ing except a peculiar gurgle sound is
sued from the threat, and Brant, who
by this time had attained his feet and
his self-possession, ventured to ad
dress him.
“Nice quiet spot for a camp," he re
marked. pleasantly, • but a bad place
for a tumble.”
The sunken eyes expressed nothing,
but the throat gurgled again painfully
and finally the parted lips dropped a
detached word or two. “Blame—
pretty girl—that."
The lieutenant wondered how much
of their conversation this old mummy
had overh sard, but he hesitated to
question him. One inquiry, however,
sprang to his surprised lips. “Do you
know her?”
“Damn sight—better—than any one
around here—know her—real name."
Brant scared incredulously. “Do you
mean to insinuate that that young
woman is living in this community un
der an assumed one? Why, she is
scarcely more than a child! What do
you mean, man?”
The soldier's hat still rested on the
grass where it had fallen, its military
insignia hidden.
“I guess—I know—what I—know,”
the fellow muttered. "What's—your
—regiment?"
“Seventh cavalry.”
, The man stiffened up as if an elec
trie shock had swept through his limp
frame. “The hell!—and—did—she—
call you—Brant?”
The young officer's face exhibited
his disgust Beyond doubt that se
questered nook was a favorite loung
ing spot for the girl, and this disrepu
table creature had been watching her
for some sinister purpose.
"So you have been eavesdropping,
have you?” said Brant, gravely. “And
now you wan' to try a turn at defam
ing a woman? Well, you have come
to a poor market for the sale of such
goods. I am half inclined to throw
you bodily into the creek. I believe
you are nothing but a common liar,
but I'll give you one chance—you say
you know her real name. What is it?”
The eyes of the mummy had become
spiteful, “it’s—none of—your damn—
business. l'm--not under—your orders."
“Under my orders! Of course not;
but what do you mean by that? Who
and what are you?”
The fellow stood up, slightly hump
backed but broad of shoulder, his
arms long, his legs short and some
what bowed, his chin protruding im
pudently, and Brant noticed an dddly
shaped black scar, as if burned there
by powder, on the back of his right
band.
• “Who—am I?” he said, angrily. “I’m
\ —Silent—Murphy.”
An expression of bewilderment
swept across the lieutenant’s face.
“Silent Murphy! Do you claim to be
Custer’s scout r*
The fellow nodded. “Heard—of me
—maybe?”
Brut Stood staring at him, bis mlad
—
occupied with vague garrison rumors '
connected with this odd personality, j
The name had long been a familiar i
one. and he had often had the man
.pictured out before him. There could ;
remain no reasonable doubt of his j
identity, but what was he doing there? .
"Yes, I've heard of you,"—and his j
crisp tone instinctively became that j
of terse military command,—“although |
we have never met, for I have been
upon detached service ever since my
assignment to the regiment, i have a
troop in camp below," he pointed
down the stream, "and am in com
mand here.”
The scout nodded carelessly.
"Why did you not come down there
and report your presence in this neigh
borhood to me?"
Murphy grinned unpleasantly. "Rath
er be—alone—no report—been over—
Black Range—telegraphed—wait or
ders.”
"Do you mean you are in direct com
munication with headquarters, with
Custer?"
The man answered, with a wide
sweep of his long arm toward the
northwest. "Goin' to—be hell—out
there—damn soon."
"How? Are things developing into
a truly serious affair—a real cam
paign?”
"Every buck—in the—Sioux nation
1 —is makin'—fer the—bad lands,” and
: he laughed noiselessly, his nervous
lingers gesticulating. "—guess that—
j means—business.”
Brant hesitated. Should he attempt'
“It's—None of—Your Damn—Busines s. I’m—Not Under—Your Orders.”
| to learn more about the young girl?
Instinctively he appreciated the futil
i ity of endeavoring to extract informa
tion from Murphy, and he experienced
a degree of shame at thus seeking to
! penetrate her secret. He glanced
; about, seeking some way of recross
ing the stream.
"If you require any new equipment,” !
j he said tersely, "we can probably sup- j
ply you at the camp. How do you I
| manage to get across here?”
Murphy, walking stiffly, led the way !
down the steep slope, and silently i
pointed out a log bridging the narrow j
stream. He stood watching while the
officer picked his steps across, but
made no responsive motion when the
other waved his hand from the oppo
site shore, his sallow face looking
grim and unpleasant.
The young officer marched dowrn
the road, his mind busied with the
peculiar happenings of the morning,
and that prospect for early active
j service hinted at in the brief utter
ances of the old scout. Brant was a
thorough soldier, born into the service
and deeply enamored of its dangers;
yet beyond this he remained a man, t
young man. swayed by those emotions,
which when at full tide sweep aside
all else appertaining to life.
His had been a lonely 'life since
leaving West Point and joining his
regiment—a life passed largely among
rough men and upon the desolate
plains. For months at a time he had
known nothing of refinement, nor en
joyed social intercourse with the op
posite sex. Yet, beneath his mask of
impassibility, the heart continued to
beat with fierce desire, biding the time
when it should enjoy its own sweet
way. Perhaps that hour had already
dawned; certainly something new.
something inspiring, had now come to
awaken an interest unfelt before, and
leave him idly dreaming of shadowed
eyes and flushed, rounded cheeks.
He was in this mood when he over
took the Rev. Howard Wynkoop and
marked the thoughtful look upon his
pale face.
“I called at your camp,” explained
Wynkoop, after the first words of
greeting had been exchanged, “as soon
as I learned you were here in com
mand, but only to discover your ab
sence. The sergeant, however, wu
very courteous, aid assured me there i
_
would be no difficulty in arranging a
religious service for the men, unless
sudden orders should arrive. No
doubt I may rely on your cooj>era
tion."
“Most certainly," was the cordial
response, "and I shall also permit
those desiring to attend your regular
Sunday services so long as we are sta
tioned here. How is your work pros
pering?”
"There is much to encourage me.
but spiritual progress is slow, and
there are times when my faith falters
and I feel unworthy of the service in
which I am engaged.”
"A mining camp is so intensely ma
terial seven days of the week that it
must present a difficult field for the
awakening of any religious senti
ment," confessed Brant syinpathetical- !
ly. "I have often wonderrd how you
consented to bury your talents in such
a place.”
The other smiled, bst with a trace i
of sadness in his eyes. "I firmly be- J
lieve that every minister should de
vote a portion of his life to the doing
of such a work as this. It is both a
religious and a patriotic duty, and
there is a rare joy connected with it.”
"Yet it was surely not joy I saw pic
tured within your face when we met;
you were certainly troubled over some
problem.”
Wynkoop glanced up quickly, a
slight flush rising in his pale cheeks.
"Perplexing questions which must be
decided off-hand are constantly aris-.
ing. And just now I scarcely know
what action to take regarding certain
applications for church membership."
Brant laughed. "I hardly consider
myself a competent adviser in matters
of church policy,” he admitted, "vet I
have always been informed that all so
desiring are to be made welcome is
religious fellowship.”
"Theoretically, yes.” And the min
ister stopped still in the road, facing
his companion. "But this special case
presents certain peculiarities. The
applicants, as 1 learn from others, are
not leading lives above reproach. So
far as I know, they have never even
attended church service until last Sun
day, and I have some reason to sus
pect an ulterior motive. 1 am anxious |
to put nothing in the way of any hon
estly seeking soul, yet 1 confess that
in these cases I hesitate.”
"But your elders? Do not they share
the responsibility of passing upon
such applications?"
The flush on Mr. Wynkoop’s cheeks
deepened, and his eyes fell. "Ordi
narily, yes; but in this case I fear
they may prove unduly liarsh. I—I
feel—that these applications came
through the special intercession of a
certain young lady, and I am anxious
not to hurt her feelings in any way, or
to discourage her enthusiasm."
“Oh, I see! Would you mind telling
me the names of the two gentlemen?"
“Mr. John Motfat and Mr. William
McNeil. Unfortunately, I know neither
personally."
“And the young lady?”
“A Miss Phoebe Spencer; she has
but lately arrived from the east to
take charge of our new school—a most
interesting and charming young wom
an. and she is proving of great assist
ance to me in church work.”
The lieutenant cleared his throat
and emitted a sigh of suddenly awak
ened memory. "I fear I can offer you
no advice, for if, as 1 begin to Buspect,
—though she sought most bravely to
avoid the issue and dispatch me upon
a false trail,—she prove to be that
same fascinating young person I met
this morning, my entire sympathies
are with the gentlemen concerned. I
might even be strongly tempted to do
likewise at her solicitation.”
"You? Why. you arrived only this
morning, and do you mean to say you
have met already?”
"I at least suspect as much, for
there can scarcely exist two in this
town who will fill the description. My
memory holds the vision of a fair
young face, vivacious, ever changing
in its expression, yet constantly both
piquant and innocent; a perfect wealth
of hair, a pair of serious eyes hiding
mysteries within their depths, and lips
which seem made to kiss. Tell me, is
not this a fairly drawn i>ortrait of
your Miss Spencer?”
The minister gripped his hands ner
vously together. “Your description is
not unjust; indeed, it is quite accurate
from a mere outer point of view, yet
beneath her vivacious manner 1 have
found her thoughtful, and possessed of
deep spiritual yearnings. In the east
she was a communicant of the Episco
pal church.”
Brant did not answer him at once.
He was studying the minister's down
cast face; but. when the latter finally
turned to depart, he inquired, "Do you
expect to attend the reception to-mor
row evening?”
Wynkoop stammered slightly. “I—I
could hardly refuse under the circum
stances; the committee sent me an
especially urgent invitation, and I un
derstand there is to be no danaing un
til late. One cannot be too straight
laced out here.”
“Oh. never mind apologizing. I see
no reason why you need hesitate to at
tend. I merely wondered if you could
procure me an invitation.”
“Did she tell you about it?”
“Well, she delicately hinted at it,
and. you know, things are pretty slow
here in a social way. She merely-sug
gested that I might possibly meet her
again there.”
“Of course; it is given in her honor.”
“So I understood, although she
sought to deceive me into the belief
that she was not the lady. We met
purely by accident, you understand,
and I am desirous of a more formal
presentation.”
The minister drew in his breath
sharply, but the clasp of his extended
hand was not devoid of warmth. “I
will have a card of invitation sent you
at the camp. The committee will be
very glad of your presence; only I
warn you frankly regarding the lady,
that competition will be strong."
“Oh, so far as that is concerned I
have not yet entered the running,"
laughed Brant, in affected careless
ness, "although I must confess my
sporting proclivities are somewhat
aroused.”
He watched the minister walking
rapidly away, a short, erect figure, ap
pearing slender in his severely cut
black cloth. "Poor little chap,” ho
muttered, regretfully. “He's hard hit.
Still, they say all's fair in love and
war.”
CHAPTER XIV.
In Honor of Miss Speocer.
Mr. Jack Moffat, president of the
Bachelor Miners’ Pleasure club, had
embraced the idea of a reception for
Miss Spencer with unbounded enthu
siasm. Indeed, the earliest conception
of such an event found birth within
his fertile brain, and from the first he
determined upon making it the most
notable social function ever known in
that portion of the territory.
The large space above the Occi
dental was secured for the occasion,
the obstructing subdivisions knocked
away, an entrance constructed with an
outside stairway leading up from a va
cant lot, and the passage connecting
the saloon boarded up. Incidentally,
Mr. Moffat took occasion to announce
that if "any snoozer got drunk and
came up them stairs” he would be
thrown bodily out of a window. Mr.
McNeil, who was observing the pre
liminary proceedings with deep inter
est from a pile of lumber opposite,
sarcastically intimated that under such
circumstances the attendance of club
members would be necessarily limited.
Mr. Moffat's reply it is manifestly im
possible to quote literally. Mrs. Guf
fy was employed to provide the requi
site refreshments in the palatial din
ing-hall of the hotel, while Buck Ma
son, the vigilant town marshal, popu
larly supposed to know intimately the
face of every “rounder” in the terri
tory, agreed to collect the cards of in
vitation at the door, and bar out ob
noxious visitors.
The invited guests arrived from the
sparsely settled regions round about,
not a few riding for a hundred miles
over the hard trails. The majority
came early, arrayed in whatsoever ap
parel their limited wardrobes could
supply, but ready for any wild frolic.
The men outnumbered the gentler sex
five to one, but every feminine repre
sentative within a radius of about 50
miles, whose respectability could pos
sibly pass muster before the investiga
tions of a not too critical invitation
committee, was present.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
She Saw The Joke.
But Lack of Humor Failed Her in En
suing Recital.
“My mother is a dear old lady,” said
the professional jokesmith, “but she
has no more sense of humor than an
Egyptian mummy. The other day we
were discussing a friend of the fam
ily, a certain Mr. Joblots, we will say,
who keeps a book and stationery
store. I remarked to her that Mr.
Joblots seemed to be getting along
very well in spite of the fact that he
keeps stationery. ‘Why shouldn't he?*
she demanded. I repeated my locu
lar remark with emphasis, and took
great pains to explain to her the play
on words. When she saw the paint,
*•v.wv " ^ J
which she eventually did, Bhe shook
all over like a bowl of jelly, and re
garded me as a mad wag.
“Several evenings later we were
entertaining guests at dinner and the
name of Mr. Joblots came up in the
course of conversation. My mother’s
eyes glistened in anticipation of a
bon mot. ’Sir. Joblots,' she exclaimed,
‘seems to be getting along very well
in spite of the fact that he keeps writ
ing paper.’
“And when no one laughed, and the
conversation resumed its normal flow,
she looked so disappointed that 1
really felt sorry for her."
Neuralgia and rheumatism —it —.
der the heed of sharpshooters.
PLANT CULTURE BY THE
AID OF ELECTRIC LIGHT
Success of the Artificial Methods of Forcing Vegetation —By
B. H. Thwauj.
The electric culture Installation at
(he Koval Botanic society's gardens.
Regent's patk, is attracting much at
tention. Very soon after Jabloucho'T
invented the eiectric arc it was dis
covered that the rays from this light
stimulated the growth cf plants, and
the work was continued by Sir IV.
Siemens in Great Britain and bv Mr.
Farcy ia America. Sir \V. Siemens
died before his experiments were com
pleted, but they were of splendid prom
ise. Mr. Bailey was convinced that
the arc light promoted assimilation
and hastened growth and maturity. In
order, perhaps, to better understand
the beneficial effect of electric arc
rays on plants, a brief summary of the
The Traveling Lamp.
natural processes and role performed
by the various agencies will be use
ful. As we ail know, the essential
food elements of plants are carbon—
which the leaves of the plants absorb
from the ambient atmosphere—and
nitrogen—which the plant, by means
Prematurely In Bloom.
of its roots, derives from the soil fer
tilizers. Of all the processes that
constitute links in the chain of or
ganic vegetable activity, none is so
wonderful as are those associated
with the building up of a green leaf.
The chlorophyl granules embedded in
protoplasm constitute the green pig
ment of leaves forming the field of
chemical activity, the function of
which is to find nutriment for the
leaves, and through them the plant,
during the active period of its exist
ence: but this chlorophyl function of
plant nutriment cannot be exercised
unless it is receiving the violent actin
ic or chemically stimulating rays from
the sun or its substitute, the arc elec
tric light. The chemical rays of the
sun exercise other functions, which
result in promoting the exercise of the
respiratory organs of plants. Other
phases in the life of a plant appear
to correlate wh h the changing inten
sity and character of the solar light
during the diurnal period. Further, it
is well known that while roots and
stalks of plants are nourished by fluid
foods, the leaves are principally fed by
gaseous ones. Nature, again, provides
a warm environment to roots during
cold periods, such as a covering of de
cayed leaves or snow. It will be ob
vious from the above to the most
casual observer that if a near imita
tion of natural forces is to be secured
for the artificial cultivation of plants
independently of the sun and weather
the following agents must be assem
bled and harnessed for the common
object: (a) An ample supply of violet
or chemically active rays projected
from powerful and moving arc lights;
(b) a supply of electro-static current
for atmospheric and root electrifica
tion; (c) the plant environment of an
atmosphere containing moisture and
in the proportion common to the most
fertile countries, and at temperatures
within the limits of 70 degrees Fah
heit and 80 degrees Fahrenheit; (d)
an ideal fertilizing agent: (e) an
ample supply of water for the roots’
service.
Seeing that the installation at the
botanic gardens has only been in op
eration for a few weeks, it is too early
y»t to make any pronouncement, but
the requisite agents are, it i3 hoped,
being furnished by the system now
under test. As to the machinery that
is accomplishing this, any lengthy or
technical description need not here be
given. Briefly, it consists of a modern
producer suction gas engine coupled
to a dynamo. The electric energy de
veloped by this plant is allocated to
the feeding of the arc lights and
traveling gear in the greenhouse. An
electro-static machine driven from the
gas engine crank shaft discharges
electricity at various points in the
glasshouse to electrify not only the
air, but the plants and their roots as
well. The stored heat developed by
the engine is utilized for maintaining
the greenhouse at the desired temper
ature. Placed just below the roof
of the house are two rails from which
depend the arc lights, the most inter
esting device probably in the whole
plant to the general visitor. It is
equipped with special reflector hoods,
by which the beam of light is con
fined within narrow limits of concen
tration. The open end of the hood
Is closed in by a water screen, made
■ np by a glass trough filled with water.
This water screen through which th“
Kght lays have to penetrate is intend
ed to secure as near an imitation of
1 natural solar effect as possible, and
to limit the effect of the rays, and It
! it is desired to screen from the plants,
any portion of the spectra, colored
water can b™ employed. The root
' of the reflector is provided with a.
| chimney to permit the escape into tha
roof of the greenhouse of the nitrous
I oxides that may be produced. It is
i arranged that the arc lights are an
tomatically. constantly and almost itn
I perceptibly moving along the entire,
1 length backwards and forwards of the,
I greenhouse, radiating a powerful beam,
] of light on both sides of the house.
The photograph of the tomato
! plants is evidence of the beneficial ef;
j feet of the rays of the arc lights. So
, far as age is concerned the two plants
! are identical, but the taller one has
been subjected to 48 hours' arc-light
treatment. It will be seen that it is
not only taller, but more fully devel
oped so far as leaves or branches are
concerned, and quite healthy. Should
the weather be dull or fogs arise, the
artiflicial rays would be given for a
longer period. It would be detriment
al, of course, to run the plant all night,
as plants require in a general way
six hours' rest at least.
We now come to the economic ques
tion, the most important, probably,
from a commercial point of view.
Here it is rather early to give figures,
though 1 expect it will work out to at
least a saving of 30 per cent, over all
systems at present employed. So far
as labor is concerned, this is not an
expensive item. Any ordinarily intel
ligent workman could master the
manipulation of the system in a few
hours, while the apparatus will run
for four hours without attention. it
is also early to say definitely what a
nurserymen adopting the system could
hope to obtain. Strawberries, 1 imag
ine, could be ripened under the system
in seven weeks, and raspberries and
grapes and other similar fruit in about
two and a half months from shooting.
I am here working, more or less, on
the results obtained by Sir William
Siemens, who employed a simple sta
tionary arc. We know that with his
comparatively primitive installation he
secured ripe and strong-flavored
grapes in from two to two and a half
months from a date in December. i
As a result of the present experi
ment I have been frequently asked if
the application will be extended to
field work. No doubt it will be the
The Tomato Plants.
means of bringing the question of elec
Iro static application for field work
to the front. After all, If we admit
that in the open it is impracticable,
yet. considering the development of
cheap roof construction, with roof3
that can be rapidly removed, there is
no reason at all why electro culture on
a big scale cannot be brought within
the sphere of practical science for ap
plication throughout the year.
SELECTING OF
DAIRY CATTLE
j The British board of agriculture, in
dealing with this subject, binds its j
faith to the dual-purpose cow, and nat
urally considers that the carefully- !
bred Shorthorn approaches most near
ly to its ideal. It is acknovriedged, how
ever, that a difference in choice ought
to he determined by the nature of the
ground and the purpose for which the
cows are kept. For good land the
breeds recommended are Dairy Short
horns, South Devons, Jerseys and
Guernseys; for exposed country,
Welsh, Ayrsbires, Kerries and Red
polls. Those kept for milk-selling had
best he Dairy Shorthorns, Welsh, Ayr
shlres and Kerries; for butter-mak
ing, Jerseys, Guernseys, South Devons,
Dairy Shorthorns and Red-polls.
Grain Growers’ Troubles.—While it
is sometimes difficult to secure hired
help for the dairy farm, the grain
grower has more serious troubles
along this line. His rash comes all
at once and a scarcity of help means
a great lose. _ ___. i
FOR TRIFLING ILLS
IMPORTANCE OF SOME KNOWL
EDGE OF MEDICINE.
Ailments Likely to Become Serious
Can Be Checked in Their incipi
ency if One Understands How
to Deal with Case.
It is a good thing for at least one
member of every family to have a lit
tle knowledge of medicines, in case of
emergency, and the information should
be acquired by one sufficiently inter
ested to make some study of the mat
ter. Some people regard minor ail
ments as too trifling for any attention,
while others grant so much impor
tance to slight disturbances that there
is eventually great waste of time and
money. It would seem that some one
in a family who would observe care
fully, storing valuable knowledge by
experience, and who would study trust
worthy sources, would prove to be an
indispensable comfort in the home.
She will know just when the doctor is
needed, and just what to do without
him, or to assist, and in that knowl
edge will show herself as praiseworthy
as a thrifty housewife or a matchless
COOK.
There are so many emergencies for
which frail humanity must be pre
pared that, one short article could
scarcely begin the long list. But the
following few suggestions may serve
as the first guide post on this particu
lar path of research. Cause, preven
tion and cure shoula be the systematic
divisions of this study. •‘Colds'’ are
concerning a good many households
just now; it is always so at the change
of seasons. Impure air is a powerful
ally o! this disease. It may be in a
bedroom, a schoolroom, a public hall,
a crowded drawing room. There is
more illness caused by defective ven
tilation than by draughts. If one is
exposed to the latter, and yet is warm
ly clad and moving briskly, there is no
danger. The factor most potent in re
sisting cold is a healthy circulation of
blood; such a condition cannot exist
for a moment without pure air.
Preventives of cold and its various
catarrhal conditions consist chiefly in
common sense, that rarest of all vir
tues. That means keeping the body
sturdy in all its vulnerable points—a
throat that is used to exposure, a head
that often goes hatless, feet that may
get wet without harm (providing they
are reshod as soon as inactive), a body
that never feels the cold when it is
hurrying about in fresh air. The cure
of colds is a simple matter if begun in
time. The first signs of cold should
be the signal for treatment.
Then there are such little trouble
some matters as nosebleed, earache,
inflamed eyes, mouth sores and th“
large and various number of ills re
sulting from fever and deep-rooted dis
ease. The amateur student of these
difficulties should not rely upon her
scrapbook when biding emergencies.
She should learn by heart her store of
wisdom, and above all things cultivate
good judgment.
Tenderloin and Oysters.
Tenderloin and oysters, while mak
ing a unique and distinctive dish, are
at the same time so simple to prepare
that the ability of the inexperienced
cook is not taxed, says the Delineator.
Let her first mix a little butter and
flour in her stew-pan, and, when the
blend has browned let her add a
chopped Spanish onion and two pickled
walnuts that have been cut into small
pieces. A moment or two later two
tablespoonfuls of mushroom catsup
and a teaspoonful of Worcestershire
sauce are added, after which the un
cut tenderloin steak is placed on top
of this mixture to simmer for about
an hour. It must be turned three or
four times during the interval.
Liverworse or Scrapple.
Take ten pounds of the head, heart
and odd pieces of fresh pork, together
with an equal jiortion of liver; when
cooked pick out the bones and put
through a sausage grinder; return to
the stove and let it cook slowly all
day, stirring it. Season with a little
sage, thyme, pepper and salt, and
thicken to the consistency of mush,
with cornmeal. Pour into earthen or
stone pans and cover with lard.
When hard it is either sliced and
eaten cold or fried thin and brown.
This is far superior to pork sausage.
How to Boil an Egg.
Most people drop an egg into boiling
water and let it cook steadily for three
minutes for a so-called soft-boiled
egg. The proper way to soft-boil an
egg is to remove the saucepan from the
fire when the water reaches boiling
point; drop the egg in at the moment
of removal, cover the saucepan and
leave the egg in the water for six
minutes. When there are two eggs let
them stay eight minutes. For medium
cooked, ten minutes are required, and
for hard-boiled half an hour.
Press Cake.
Two and a half cupfuls sug^r, one
cupful butter, four cupfuls flour, one
cupful milk, four eggs, one-half te»
spoonful soda (no more). Bake in
three sheets. To the third portion add
one tablespoonful molasses, one cup
raisins, one cup currants, one tea
spoonful of all kinds of spices, three
teaspoonfuls wine or brandy. Put
jelly between layers; press under a
board and a flatiron four hours; frost
and put it where the flies can't get it.
Unusual Recipe for Cooking Onions.
The onions, which should be of the
large Bermuda variety, should be
boiled until nearly soft, but still firm.
Stuff with a filling made of any con
venient chopped meat, one hard-boiled
egg, salt and pepper to taste and a
quarter of a cupful of chopped nuts.
Sprinkle cracker crumbs over the
whole, and on top of each onion lay a
thin slice of bacon. Bake for half an
hour.
Facts Abcut Fried Oysters.
When oysters are to be fried, they
should never be rolled in egg and
breadcrumbs or cracker dust, as most
cooks believe. After slightly flatten
ing each oyster, lay it in fresh milk,
then roll it in a mixture made of equal
part of flour and sifted cracker
crumbs. Lay them in the regular cro
quette or oyster broiled over very
deep hot fat and fry until browa.