SSIeS2MSSp'p4
ifee&:wssa6gffi&3
:l.i
SSSJV""'"- T""'' ' '" Onmimmn -g- ' 2pSjAimSSiBmmjS-dtKLiS
' i"-w-'w,- j . irtrr rr m rrr r i - - -.&- j'r:. --
fzfSS - ' " " '" ' ' " -' . '" ""
m
m.
EED CLOUD CEIEi
A. C. HOSMER, Proprietor.
rf.tt rr om.
- NI.P.RASKA
NEIGHBORS.
Tear came Is Helea: are yoa Carle or f ir?
Deep blae tout eyes, cr black as shadows are
That lie la wotxls at mifaichti Tell a sweet.
What form yoa wear large, mediam. cr petite?
I never sa,- you. aor yon me. I weea,
Aad yet our ve s oa the scl'-ame sheet
Arc F"ttrti ia the last nev atagaziaeL
I Tain would fciow. fair neishbor. If yoar sea
Caase from the wocll3uia. or the city's threat
Froai aiccntaia fastness, or bside the sea?
JKr"Ued it ia chaaibered soUtaUe. or free
As Birds oa wici; aatiast soce sylvan sceas?
I pray yoa sroir srqaaiat, aad 1-t as be
"Seizabors la thought as la the magaziae.
So ay I aste if yoa are deeply blae
IA to the fco ie. I a:eaa. or jast a trae.
Bnsht little wcaiaa nothing Bostsaese
Whoe soaz U suns withoat a thought to please
Aapht bat the nager! May I read betweea
The Uaev aad alc such thia?s a these.
Eoaiaz theyll priat theai ia the raagazas!
Did tone deferred iht Is the weary fcaie.
Eetwi t acceptaace and the pnated rhyme
TAiaie your sweet heart, hie a:y old battered t
so til.
Endure Ioajr articles, and curse the whole
Cocfoanded tribe of editors whose teen.
GaoL business sense would not once enroll
Our bnraiac thoughts ia their next raazazlae?
Aad did you aanoas'.y each nsoath e'er track,
Froai leadinr arucs to Dric-a-Brac,
Each page, lest haply they had hid your rerae
Betweea some dreary kind of prose? -or. worse.
Lopped o? a Iiae to pad a pare, and then
Slisspe'.t your naaie. the teader poet's curse?
Alas, for poets la a raagar'ne :
I cuetioa idly. Chance, aad chance alone,
XTpoa on pace aiy rere a-d yours has thrown.
Bat. l-'t me whisper e'er I drop my pea.
I aa: the steadiest of all carried men,
Aad vrnte thee liaes oh.aiay theyyetbeseea
By your brht eyes '.in hopes they'll bnn? me
tea
Or twenty dollars from some maraziae.
R. T. tv. DuUe. Jr m Centary.
AN AWFUL PLACE
That's What Mr. Eufas Thinks of
"New Tork City.
It was not very often that Mr. Rufus
gave himself a holiday; his business
demanded his time, and he was a very
devoted family man. But the time
came. as it does to most over-busy men.
when the family doctor looked scleinn,
and said to Mr. Rufus:
"My dear friend, you must take a
little rest you really must. A holiday
will do you all the rood in the world."
"What shall I do with a holiday?'
replied Mr. Rufus.
"Go down to the city and enjoy your
self for a week: see the sights, and
have a Turkish hath or two, and you'll
come back another man.' said the doc
tor. "I don't want to have you oa my
lands: Mrs. Rufus doesn't want to
:urse you I tell you that.'
Every body liked the doctor for his
affable manner?, and his pleasant way
f talking. Mrs. Rufus smiled and
"shook her head: Mr. Rufus laughed
and promised to take his holiday.
"I suppose I ought to rest myself,"
he said: "and Til take a fortnight.
Cousin Barker can go into the offlce
Vils I m gone."
"I shall be unhappy while you are
gone." said Mrs. Rufus. "I shall miss
you. and I do wish it was so that I
coulcgo. too: but I'm very welL Have
a real good time. Job. and don't hurry
home: and promise me you'll take the
T-rkish baths rijrht away.'
For several days the whole family.
servants included, werebusy. doing up
linen, ironing silk cravats, seeing to
buttons, packing a trunk and a port
manteau, seeinc that Mr. Rufus had
pins on a pin-cushion, plenty of cologne
for his handkerchief, his night-caps
and his little prayer-book. Had he
been goinsr to a desert island he could
not have been more carefully provided
with every thing: and although Mr.
Rufus was a wealthy man. well up in
the topics of the day. and not past his
prime, il was, now fifteen years since
he hafi left his native town-
At last the hour came. Wife and
children west with him to the depot.
He- jumped into the train, and flew
away. There was a sense of adventure
and freedom about this sort of thing.
to be sure; but as the platform receded
into the distance, and the well-known
forms of his family became so many
small blurs, he put his ecru silk ker
chief to his eyes, and felt desolate.
"However, Tin going for their sake,"
said to himself- "I don't want to break
down at fifty, as so many men do.'
Then he got up and went into the
smokimr-car, and there fell into a con
versation with a person of dreadfully
communistic views, who wanted to
have all the rich men's property di
vided equally amongst the poor. The
rich men to have none, "to show 'em.
the communist said, "how it felt: and
was so completely horrified that his
journey ended before he thought it half
over. He was in "Sew York, and amidst
a howling band of cab-men and porters.
He was dragged into a vehicle, and
aw his trunk strapped on behind, and
his portmanteau on the seat opposite
him.
"Where to. sir?' yelled the cabman
at the door: and conscious that he was
a little old-fashioned in his ideas, Mr.
Rufus faltered out:
"Oh ah welL really, what do you
consider the best hotel?"
Sure, there's no better than the
O'Dowd House, sir," cried the cabman,
remembering, with all the warmth of
Irish friendship, a cousin who kept a
small hotel somewhere near the docks.
No better anywhere."
"Very well, drive me there,' said
Mr. Rufus.
Tm afrsi'TNew York is a very nasty
place," he sighed, sniffing the odor of
the gnrbage boxes as they drove along,
anil 'oo-dng out at the dingy tenernent
fJrWjust lighting up through the
d; si. "And. dear me, this isn't what
the Astor House used to be," he sighed.
as he alighted, and walked up the
steps. f
A dingy girl was washing up a very
shabby hall oil-cloth, and the table
cloths on the little tables in the dining
room were spotted with gravy. A
doubt that this cabman was not a good
judge of the respective merits of hotels
entered the mind of Mr. Rufus; but it
was too late to change that night. He
followed his trunk to his room alone.
nfter registering his name, and instant
ly at down to write to his wife. Alas!
as he searched his trunk, he remem
bered that, in searching for his razor,
he had taken out the box of note-paper
and envelopes, so carefully bestowed
on top of his trunk by his wife, and
left them on the bed.
"Hang it!" he said. "What a fool I
was, to be sure! Waiter, have you pa
per and envelopes?"
"I'll get ye some, sur," said the
waiter, "but it's an extry."
"Very well," said Mr. Rufus.
And the man ran away, and soon re
turned with an envelope bearing on it
the same of the O'Dowd House, and a
sheet of paper on which the artist had
drawn from his imagination a palatial
hotel, up the steps of which thronged
many gorgeous guests, and over the
door of which shone this inscription:
: the o'dowd house. :
: bt :
r . :
9
: B. O'DOTTD.. :
Hastily scribbling upon the latter
a statement of the fact that he had
arrived, and was safe in the inn. he
addressed and dispatched it, took his
supper, and went to bed. It was a
comfortable bed enough, aad he slept
like a top. and early in the morning.
true to his country habits, arose with
a firm determination to have aTurkish
bath before breakfast. He had the
direction of the baths in his pocket,
and a car took him to the door. Having
bought a ticket, he was introduced into
the public room, and to a private dress
ing room, and went through his ordeaL
Afterward, as he reclined on a sofa, he
came to the happy conclusion that his
inner man had not escaped through
the pores of his skin, and that when
he solidified again he should be himself
once more. There was only one early
bather in the place, and he did not
pause to rest. He was off as soon as
he had put his clothes on.
So Mr. Rufus was able to depart also.
He went to the little room where he
had left his garments and essayed to
clothe himself, but something had
happened to his garments; they were
too small. Had he swollen in the bath?
Xo. They were not his garments.
Yet he was sure of the number of his
drensing-room. He rang a belL An
attendant appeared. A search was
made. The polite proprietor was
summoned.
The gentleman who had just de
parted had evidently changed the
clothes. The same key fitted both
doors, and yet the garments left were
not shabby. They were ia fact, almost
new; a short cutaway coat, a light,
greenish-colored overcoat with tre
mendous buttons, trowsers of a very
broad plaid, a very sombrero of a
soft hat. ail at least two sizes too small
for Mr. Rufus.
I have known abstracted gentlemen,
but never one so abstracted as this gen
tleman must have been." said the pro
prietor. "Probably he'll discover his
mistake and return."
But Mr. Rufus. sitting disconsolately
in his blanket, had no such hope. He
waited a long while and was at last in
formed that the "ladies hour"' had
come, and that all gentlemen bathers
must depart: and cramming himself into
the garments we have mentioned, de
parted, a comical sight enough, with
slee es that left his wrists.bare, and at
least a quarter of a yard of ankle be
tween cloth and shoe-
Ashe descended the steps of the
house, he saw on the opposite side of
the way a large sign bearing the words
CRA.-H iCOBBTX, :
ciothierM. :
"Thank Heaven. I shan't be obliged
to go far. he sighed: aad crossing the
street as hastily as a man might" who
could not bend a joint, he entered the
store-
I want some clothes." he said to the
clerk who approached him. "Some
rascal has changed mine for these In
the Turkish bath house yonder. I was
obliged to wear them so far, for Tm
not at home. I live out of town."
"Yes, sir; very annoying; very an
noying." said the clerk. "Certainly,
they're not what we might call a fine
fit, sir. What shall I show you, sir?"
The best you have," said Mr. Rufus.
..j r
Here he dived into hia pockets,' and
pulled out some keys.
"Hang it!" he said. "The rascal
has taken my pocket-book! However,
Tm Job Rufus, of Rufustown. Been in
business there thirty years. You'll let
me have them, and I'll send you down
a check; or. rather, I'll bring it in to
morrow. I shall have to telegraph
home at once for a money order."
"We don't do business that way in
New York." said the clerk, instantly
growing stony and folding away the
garments he had taken down just then. J
"See here, said a voice at his ear,,.
"come along quietly unless you want a
row. There are two more of us. I'm
armed and have handcuffs in my
pocket. Mr name is Burke."
Good heavens!" cried Mr- Bafus,
retreating, "has it come to this, that
highwaymen attack one openly at
noonday? Help! some one. Help!
ThievesMurder! Heip!"
In an instant more a pair of hand
cuffs were on his wrists.
The clothing clerks gathered around
him. A patriarch with a flowing white
beard, who would have done for Moses
in a tableau, but who was really the
proprietor of the place, joined the
group.
"Vetersble sir." cried Mr. Rufus.
don't see me murdered before your
eyes. I'm Job Rufus. of Rufustown.
I've been robbed alreadv. 3!erey!
Help!"
But all the patriarch did was to in
quire of one of the two desperadoes:
"What's he done?"
"A bank was the la3t thing." said
the man who had first spoken. Tve
been on his track a week. I'm Detec
tive Burke."
And Mr. Rufus was hustled into a
cab. He was beginning to understand
that a mistake had been made, and
though furious, was no longer terrified.
"Who do you think I am?" he in
quired, over his handcuffs, of Detective
Burke.
"O, gammon?" replied that gentle
man. "There isn't a suit like that in
New York nor a hat.''
"I doubt if there is, sir," replied
Mr. Rufus, quite calmly.
Shortly after, in some stronghold ol
the law. he discovered that he was sup
posed to be one Knowing Bill, of Balti
more; that Detective Burke had never
seen his face, but had followed the hat
and overcoat from description, and de
spite his wrath and the miseries of a
day and night passed in durance vile,
it was a joy to him when at last he
heard a portly, white-haired gentleman
remark:
"Detective Burke, yon are an idiot.
Couldn't you see that this gentleman's
story was true? Knowing Bill has
changed clothes with him in the bath
rooms, and so eluded you. Why, the
fellow is twerJty-eight, as dark as an
Indian, and half this gentleman's age.
Very sorry, Mr. Rufus. that this has oc
curred." Poor Mr. Rufus! he uttered a furious
phillipic and afterward pinned to
gether the garments which the action
of his strong knees and elbows had al
ready ripped, and hurried down stairs.
To return to his hotel and telegraph
for money from home was his only
course. He could not take a cab. Cab
men must be paid, and
"Lord help me!" said Mr. Rufus.
Tve forgotten where I stop."
Indeed, after standing on the curb
stone for half an hour, he found that
the name of his hotel was utterly gone.
He had never noticed in what street it
was located, and only that it had an
Irish name.
The O'Gorman. the McManus. the
O'Brien what was it? Alas! it was
gone-
"l'm going mad." thought poor Mr.
Rufus. Td better go home and be
locked up there."
And as he knew the way to the depot
he hurried up Broadway, the pins in
his knees flying out at every moment
and exhibiting the red flannel beneath,
his big sombrero shading his eyes, his
tight little overcoat bursting up his
back. Who would have recognized
Mr. Job Rufus. of Rufustown, as he
hurried into the depot?
"Well?" said the ticket clerk, peep
ing out at the remarkable figure that
stood before his window.
Tm Job Rufus. of Rufus Brothers,
Rufustown." replied Mr. Rufus. "I've
been robbed. I want a ticket down
there. Til pay at the other end."
"You wilL eh?" asked the clerk.
"Get it at the other end. then."
"But. sir " exclaimed Mr. Rufus.
The window went shut in his face.
Mr. Rufus clasped his head with both
hands. What should he do? He went
to the door and sto.-d there for a mo
ment. Suddenly his eye rested on a
sign opposite:
: Bests Co., A&ut. ;
A wild hope urged him. He rushed
across the street, and bolted into the
office- Two very ill-tempered looking
gentlemen looked up from newspapers,
and inquired his business with their
eyes.
"Your name is Rufus, sir?" said Job.
Oae of the men nodded.
"A Rufus of Rufustown?" inquired
Job.
"No.'' replied the gentleman.
"I thought I might perhaps discover
a cousin," faltered the hapless Job.
So many of our family have settled in
New York. I'm Job Rufus, of Rufus
town: and although I feel greatly em
barrassed. I will tell you my dilemma:
I came down yesterday. I Tve been
robbed all my clothes taken, and
these left. I want to get back home,
and if you'll lend me the pri'"" of a
ticket Til return it at once, and be
greatly obliged also greatly and if I
can ever do any thing for you at Rufus
town "
"Look here, my friend." replied the
man addressed: when 1 was young
and fresh confidence men often took
me in. They can't do it now. You
tell too old a story. I have sworn to j
have the next fellow of the sort ar-
rested, but you may go. if you'll go at
once. You're an old man. and you
look as if you had been a decent fellow
once. There's the door."
"A confidence man! I?" roared
Rufus. "Lord forgive you! Lord for
give yon! There's nfllellow-feeiing left
is the world!'
He staggered out of the office, weak
with hunger and crushed with morti
fication. Could he walk to Rufustown?" he
asked himself. Could !ie beg a ride
on the baggage cars?" He went back
into the depot and sat down; he felt
nearer home there.
A train was coming in: people hur
ried by; he watched them dreamily. A
boy was crying the papers for sale:
"Mys-te-rioua J.-appearaaoe of a
gentleman!"
"O. deaf! O. dear!" sobbed a voice
near him, "he meats wotir paT
Mr. Rufus started up. A youth of
fourteen, whom he recognized as his
second son. was passing behind him,
supporting n his arm a lady, whom he
knew at once to be his wife."
"Emma Jane!" he roared. Emma
Jane and Washington!"
O. how that poor little woman clung
to him: how she sobbed.
They telegraphed to us. They said
you'd mysteriously disappeared," said
Mrs. Rufus.
"So I have, my dear;' and in a cab.
which Washington had the presence
of mlud to call, all was explained.
O'Dowd had telegraphed to the poor
wife, and the morning paperhadalong
account of how Mr. Job Rufas, of Rufus
town. had ordered breakfast, gone out
to bathe, and returned no more.
"Sure, we thought you'd been mur
dered, sir; and I'm proud to see you
alive again!" said Mr. O'Dowd: and
looking upon him as his best and truest
friend. Job Rufus shook him by the
hand, and poured out thanks and
blessings.
"But for that man." ho declared to
Mrs. Rufus. on his way home in the
cars, "but for that man. Tm not sure
that I should not have mysteriously
disappeared forever. New York is an
awful place." N. Y. Ledger.
A PICKEREL STORY.
9 Wonderful TluU ThoM Who Know It
True Iiont lar Tell Jt.
Of all the numerous guides and oars
men at Greenwood lake, young Tom
Garrison is one of the most industrious
and the most patient under misfortunes
and adverse circumstances. Tom
never has been lucky for himself. He
has had a "bad leg" for several years,
and last summer his grandfather died
and left $o,000 to Tom's younger broth
er, locally known as "Snapper." since
the jockey of that name became fa
mous. Tom struggled through last season
with his bad leg encased in six yards
of elastic rubber, and did not make much
money because the season was short
and the fishing rather unsatisfactory,
for what reason nobody knows. In
previous years Tom was enabled to
make considerable money by piloting
unsuspecting anglers to a little lake on
top of the mountain, inducing them to
tramp there with him by means of the
alluring story that the lake was so full
of bass that another could not be put in
without tvx being crowded out on
shore. The crop of strangers was not
large last year, and the story had be
come too threadbare for the frequent
visitors.
Late last fall Tom and Frank Hazen
went out after rabbits. A single shot
from Hazen's gun glanced from a stone
and put out Tom's right eye. This
was the wor.t ue'e Tom ever had.
worse even than mis nag a share of his
grandfather's inheritance: but it did
not prevent him being one of the most
skilful oarsmen and anglers at the
lake. He procured a perfect counter
part of his goo i e e in glass, and.
while it was a hollow sham for all
practical optical use. it certainly served
theoutward purposes of the eye he lost
in the woods, aad if it had not heen for
the fact that the glass eye was prone to
weep at all times and was constantly
suffused, Tom would not have minded
it much. It was a hollow shell of cun
ninjrly blown and colored glass, and be
haved well, inasmuch as it stayed
straight in its socket and did not make
him appear ridiculous by trying to turn
into the corners. Tom, while out fish
ing a few weeks ago, took his eye out
to wash it in the lake, and as he was
rubbing it between his thumb and fore
finger it popped out of his hand and
fell in twelve feet of water. Tom
spent two hours looking for it. and was
finally compelled to sadly turn away
and contemplate the necessity of spend
ing a large sum for a new eye.
A day or two later he took Charles
Mockridge. of Soho. out after pickereL
and they caught 115 fair sized-fish be
fore turning the bow of the boat toward
the Lakeside Hotel. When they landed
atthe wharf Tom called Mr. De Graw's
attention to the fact that he had recov
ered his eye and was wearing it.
"How did you get it?" asked De Graw,
and right there Tom became silent.
Since then he has said rather than lose
the respect of his patrons, who have al
ways believed what he said, he would
never tell how he recovered the eye.
Among the fish which he displayed
was the largest pickerel which has been
caught in Greenwood Lake in several
years. It was a six-pounder and had
only one eye, the other havingevident- i
ly been eaten out by the deadly "eye
pincher" as the guides call a sort of
water beetle which attacks the eyes of
all fishes in the lake. Mr. Mockridge
was almost as reticent as Tom, bat he
admitted that the recovery of the eye
was so singular that he would not have
believed it if he had not witnessed it.
He finally and reluctantly said it was
as much as he dared say at the time
that the eye was disgorged in the fish
well of the boat by the big pickereL
Afterward, however, in a moment of
confidence, he told a Newark friend
that when the big pickerel was pulled '
ia it wore in its vacant eye socket the I
glass which Garrison dropped over
board a day or two before. He now a
absolutely refuses to say any thing
about the matter, but he has the dried
head of the pickerel and Tom Garrison
has the glass eye. Cor. N. Y. Sun.
Insecticides ahould be used before
the damage to fruit is done. It is too
late afterYne insect has found a rt&reat
I ia the fruit- 1
MEXICAN FOOT-BALL,
TUtetli rttyt i .Mwrleoitetorwtfcw
pan!h otqimt.
It may be a satisfaction to the lovers
of foot-ball to know that it has a better
historical right to be called "our Na
tional game" than has base-balL The
ancient Mexicans (native American)
had a game of ball resembling modern
foot-ball, and we are told that it was
their favorite game at the time of the
Spanish conquest. They used a large,
solid rubber ball, played in parties
with equal numbers on each side, and
struck the ball with any part ot the
body, but in most skillful playing with
the hip. Each party tried to drive the
other to the wall, and it is not difficult
to imagine squirming heaps of Indian
legs and arms, such as may be seen in
modern scrimmage for the ball."
They had large buildings especially
for the game, which are referred to by
the ancient chroniclers as " teanis
courts." although the resemblance of
the game to tennis is not very marked.
Herrera gives a description of this
game as seen by the Spaniards in the
City of Mexico before the destruction
of the "halls of Montezuma," of which
the following is a translation, taken
from Stephens' . "Travels in Yucatan:"
"The King took much delight ia see
ing sport at ball, which the Spaniards
have since prohibited because of the
mischief that often happened at it.
and was called by them tlachtlL being
like our tennis. The ball was made of
the gum of a tree which grows in. hot
countries, which, having holes made in
it, distills great white drops, that soon
harden, and, being worked and molded
together, turn as black as pitch. The
balls made thereof, though hard and
heavy to the hand, did bound and fly
as well as our footballs, there being no
need to blow them; nor did they use
chaces. but vy'd to drive the adverse
party that is to hit to the wall, the
others were to make good or strike it
over. They struck it with any part ot
their body, as it happened, or as they
could most conveniently, and some
times he lost that touched it with any
other part than the hip, which was
looked upon amongst them as the
greatest dexterity: and to this effect,
that the ball might rebound the better,
they fastened a piece of stiff leather on
their hips. They might strike it every
time it rebouuded. which it would do
several times, one after another, ia so
much that it looked as if it had been
alive. Thev played in parties, so many
on a side, for a load of mantles,
or what the gamesters could afford,
at so many scores. They also
played for gold and feather-work,
and sometimes played themselves
away, as has been said before. The
place where they played was a ground
room, long, nerrow. and high, but
wider above than below, and higher
on the sides than at the ends, and they
kept it very well plastered and smooth,
both the walls aad the floor. On the
outside walls they fixed certain stones,
like those of a milL with a hole quite
through the middle, just as big as the
ball, and he that could strike it through
there won the game; and in token of it
being an extraordinary success, which
rarely happened, he had a right to the
cloaks of all the lookers on. by ancient
custom and law among gamesters; and
it was very pleasant to see. that as soon
as ever the ball was in the hole the
standers-by took to their heels, run
ning away with all their might to save
their cloaks, laughing and romping,
others scouring after them to secure
their cloaks for the winner."
As to the fate of this ancient game
there is the old story. It was prohib
ited by the Spaniards "because of the
mischief that often happened at it"
because, in truth, the people were at
tached to it. and it was the policy of
the Spaniards to wean .them from all
their old customs: yet the policy that
substituted bull-fighting for tlachtli
may well be questioned. N. Y. Even
ing Post.
STORIES OF PETS.
Accompanied by the AtflJitf Fl Liars
of Gn: Skill.
A man in Westchester County has a
pet cat which he has taught to play
"Home. Sweet Home. by walking up
and down the keys of the piano. The
cat also sits on the rocker of the cradle
and rocks the baby of the house to
sleep every night.
'Stump" is a dog livincr oa the Jer
sey coast and owned bj the captain of
a pilot-boa- Stump never likes to stay
ashore and can never sleep in less than
ten feet of water, where he sinks to the
bottom and curls up in the sea-weed
and sand. All the fish eaten on the
boat are caught by the dog; but it is
fair to state that they never eat fish on
board that pilot-boat.
A colony of black-snakes lives In a
garden in New Jersey. They make
themselves useful by allowing the pea
vines to be trained over their bodies in
place of stakes, while two of them tie
themselves into knots about the gate
to keep out intruders.
The editor of a Long Island paper
has a pet turtle which he uses as a
paper-weight. The turtle eats nothing
but printer's ink. and every night
gathers up the papers on the desk into
a neat pile and then sleeps on them.
The turtle is marked "G. W.. 1789."
bat that is believed to b j a fraud, al
though any doubt uttered in his pres
ence is quickly denied by vigoroue
screams on the part of the turtle.
Parrots as pets are very common,
but there is a certain green parrot in
New Hampshire which is an extraor
dinary bird. His owner is a deacon of
the church, and the bird goes with hint
to prayer-meeting and leads ia the
simring. He knows every hymn by
heart, aad the deacon has only to give
out the aumber of the hymn and he
starts oS a, once. His favorite piece
i. "O for wings to 2y." Judge.
FARM AN3 FIRESIDE;
Liirno Flapjacks: One pint of milk.
three egs. juice of one lemon, one
fourth of a teaspoon of soda dissolved
in hot water, flour to make a light bat
ter; fry in hot lard and sprinkle with
sugar.
A good appetite indicates good
health. It is no disadvantage to have
an animal that is a heavy feeder. Such
animals usually produce proportion
ately to the quantity consumed. The
food is simply the material to be con
verted into products.
If you happen to feel a little cross
and who among us does not at soma
time or other? do not select that sea
son for reproving your noisy household
flock. One word spoken in passion will
make a scar that a summer of smiles)
can hardly heal over.
In -cutting up chickens be sure to
use a knife to disjoint them, instead of
chopping them. Also care should be
taken with all meats not to use a
hatchet, as the fine splinters and slivers
of bone, which are exceedingly sharp,
may cause serious trouble if taken into
the mouth and stomach- Country Gen
tleman. The Journal of Health asserts thas
no thoughful mother should rest until
she has taught her daughter to do well
the following things : To make a cup
of coffee, to cook a loaf of bread, to
cook a potato, to broil a steak or
chicken, to cut. fit and make a dress,
and to set a tidy table.
Lima Bean Soup: Put a quart of
dried beans in a saucepan, cover with
boiling water, and boil slowly onehour.
Drain and pass through a colander.
Put a pint of milk on to boil, add the
beans, thicken with a lump of butter
rolled in flour. IetitboiL add the beaten
yolks of two eggs, season with salt and
pepper, and serve.
Encourage the children to take
good walking exercise. Young ladies
in this country are rarely good walk
ers. They can dance all night, but are
tired out if they walk a mile- Girls
ought to be able to walk as easily as
boys. Half the nervous diseases which
afflict young ladies would disappear if
the habit of regular exercise were en
couraged. The farmer, because of the credit
system, indulges in many luxuries that
would be denied if they were to be
paid for at the time- It is an easy
matter to give an order with the sug
tion to "charge this." and if paid at
the time would be easy: but it is the
accumulation of these little charges
that soon confront the debtor In the
shape of an enormous bill that causes
the trouble and inconvenience- It
would be far better for all farmers if
the rule of paying as one goes could be
adopted, or else not to go.
Strawberry Acid: Have three
quarts of ripe strawberries, two ounces
of citric acid and one quart of water.
Dissolve the acid in the water, pour it
over the berries in a stone pot or glass
jar, and set in a cool place for twenty
four hours. Then drain off the liquid
and pour it on three quarts more of
fresh berries, and again set it aside for
twenty-four-hours. Drain again, and
add as many quarts of sugar as
you have of juice. Boil and skim for
three or four minutes. When cool
bottle and cork lightly for three days,
and then cork tightly, A spoonful of
this in a glass of water is a most re
freshing drink. N. Y. Independent.
OVERFEEDING THE PIGS.
It Produces Apoplexy. Paralysis aad Other
srrioas Allmeot.
Swine are proverbially greedy, but it
is the duty of the owner of an animal
to control its natural habits when these
are opposed to its well doing; so that
the first thing to be done in feeding
young pigs is to measure their feed
judiciously. They should never have
all they will eat. Only fattening swine
should be so fed. ancJfc they would soon
die from overfeeding-if they were not
killed. When a young pig chokes at
the trough, squeals and falls over in a
fit. it is overfed; when it goes to the.
side of the stall, champs its jaws, foams
at the mouth, and does nothing else
than this. it has been overfed, and in
both eases it is suffering from conges
tion of the brain, due to indigestion
and disturbed circulation. It is ia a
state of apoplexy and will probably
die, anyhow, but the others may be
saved by at once reducing their feed to
about one-tourth of what they have been
getting. The prevalent paralysis of the
hind limbs is caused by over-feeding by
which the kidneys have been overtaxed
and the nervous system of the lumbar
region (the lions) is disturbed. Thus
the power of motion of the hind legs is
lost. Recent experiments in feeding
young pigs goes to show that a forty
pound pig needs no more food per day
than two quarts of milk and four
ounces of solid food, such as bran or
oats and corn-meal. On this allow
ance, gradually increased, pigs make a
steady and healthy growth, while two
others kept in a pen by themselves,
and suffered to gorge themselves, be
came stunted, stopped growing and in
the third week one was attacked by
congestion of the brain aad had to be
starved out of it. iosing fully two
months' growth. When young pigs
are weaned, they should be fed in a
shallow trough, from which they can
take food only slowly. A pint of milk
and two ounces of boiled corn-meal
mixed with the milk will be enough for
a daily ration the first weelc and a
gradual increase may be made, sub
stituting raw meal, not exceeding the
limit above mentioned, for a six
weeks' or eight-weeks' old pig of the
best kind, and less in ratio with a less
weight. Over-feeding is the common
bane of the pig. American. Agriculturist.
, I
h
