Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (June 11, 1885)
THE SILK DRESS. "There's Annie Beldon , " said Aunt Jane , looking up from her knitting as she heard the sound of footsteps qn tho plank walk which lay along the fronl fence. "Poor soul ! I never see her ihat I don't think of that verse in the .Bible which says that "from him that .hath not shall ba taken even that which he hath , " and she sighed deeply. I looked from the window just in time to see Annie Beldon before she turned the corner of the next street. Shewas laded , careworn looking woman , a lit tle past middle age , with dork brown bair thickly sprinkled with gray. Her dress was a rusty black cashmere , her black shawlwas decidedly shabby , and her crape bonnetwas shabbier still. She looked neither attractive nor inter esting , and I turned from tho "window and took up my crocheting again , re marking only "that sho looked as if she had had her share of sorrow. " "Sometimes I think she has hnd a good deal more than her share , " said Aunt Jane. "I know dozens of women who have sunk into the grave under only half as much. And the best of it is , she don't never complain. She is the cheerfulest soul that ever breathed. " "Does she live near here ? " I asked , more out of politeness than from any real interest in the subject. "No ! but she was my next door neigh bor for twenty-five yearswhen this was 0 farmhouse. The town lay two miles off then , and we never looked to see it grow right up to our very doors. An nie wouldn't be wearin' such shabby clotbes-if there hadn't ' been a mortgage on then : place. She could have sold every acre at a good profit if it had lieenfree. " "Tell me all about her j Aunt Jane , " 1 said , as the old lady paused. "You'll lave plenty of time before supper. " "Dear me , child , there isn't much to tell , 'n' maybe the little there is wouldn't prove very interesting to you. I know Annie looks ' ' ' ' shabby , 'n'old , 'n' gray now , 'n' not much like she did thirty years ago. We was girls togeth er , 'n' she was the prettiest 'n' liveliest little thing I ever saw. Her eyes was as'black as coals , 'n' her hair hung in long curls to her waist. She had a laugh 'n' a good word for everybody , V more beans than she could 'tend to. There was only two of 'em , though , that she favored at all. One was Tom Layton. " "The owner of the Layton Mills"I interrupted. "Yes ; but he didn't own the mills then. He was only superintendent then , 'n' though he was a saving indus trious young man , no one looked to see liim get to be a millionaire. But he Tiad a good salary , 'n'liis father was well to do , 'n' he was reckoned a good match for Annie. For a while folks thought she'i marry him ; bufhe warn't a professor , 'n' Annio set a deal by her church. She allowed that if she mar ried a man who never went inside of one she'd be false to her principles , for the Bible says the righteous shall not be yoked to the unrighteous , yon know. Tom took it real hard at first , but he didn't bear Annie no ill will , V when she married Luther Beldon he sent her a handsome present. Luther , he was a real steady young man , but somehow or other he didn't have no luck. He had a good farm , but , work as he might , ho never made nothin' more'n a bare liyin , ' 'n' Annie had to pinch 'n' screw to keep clothes on their back. She was a mas ter hand at managin , ' V she worked like a horse , but year after year went by 'n' they didn't get no bet ter off. Drought 'n' early frost V too much rain , kep' 'em allers be hindhand'n'jest when they was thinkin' they was goin' to do better there'd come something that would put'em back again. "Luther he got discouraged , but Annie she never lost heart. Leastways she never seemed to. When they'd come over here 'n' Luther He'd get to teliin' how crossways things allers went for him , she'd allers have something cheerful to aav. She'd tell about it was a long lane that had no turnin''n' it was allors darkest jest before the day , Jn * there was allers a silver linin' to every cloud , till Luther he'd get pleasant again 'n' ready to laugh with her over "their troubles. " 'Ain't I got a treasure in my wife ? ' Tie'd say. 'Long as frost 'n' mildew : n' floods don't take her away from me , I guess I can get along. ' "They was over here to dinner the day I was 30. I was wearin' for the first time a new black silk which John had given me for a birthday present. Ifc was thick 'n' soft 'n' mighty hand- some , 'n' Luther he didn't seem able to keep his eyes off it. -wonder when I'll bo able to give .you a black silk , Annie ? he said , put ting Iiis arm around her as she stood by his chair. "We've been married seven years , 'n'I ain't been able to get jron nothin' better'n a calico. ' " 1 don't need a silk , ' says Annie. Tve got all the dresses J can use now. ' "Luther looked at ner real steady a rmniute. Then he says , sorter slow 'n' -quiet. Tor all that , I mean to get you one , Annie. I want to see how you'd look hi it. ' " * Xo better'n I'd look in my blue de laine , ' says Annie. " 'We'll see 'bout that , ' says Luther. " 'I don't care how hard times are , I mean to live till I get you a black silk dress. ' "She laughed 'n' told him he'd make a peacock of her if he could ; but for all her bravo words I knew she was down- Tight fond of pretty things , V ifc really "hurt her to have to wear old , faded -dresses , rn' bonnets five years behind . the style. But she never said so , V -she'd walk into church Sunday after Sunday in.her old blue delaine' 'n' yel low straw bonnet , lookin' as sweet 'n' happy as if she'd been dressed like a > queen , "Well , Luther he never came over ; here after thatwithout he had some re- mark to make * boufc my black silk , 'n * he .stuck to it that ho would give Annio one like it before he died. But year after year went by , 'n' my silk was all worn out VPd got atfoth- < er , V still Annie's best dress was but a1 cheap delaine 'n' ifc wasn't often she could afford to buy oven a pair of cot ton gloves to cover her hands. Things' hadn't gone better with Luther'n V they had other things to sorrow for than losing their best horses V cattle ' their crops. They lost their six chil dren , one after the'other. Three of 'em- died in one week of scarlet fever 'n' the , others was sickly little things , V went off in slow consumption. , "If ifc hadn't been that she had to keep Luther up , I believe Annie'd have give away many a time ; but for his sake she didn't show one-half she felt. An' she never lost faith in the Lord. She said His ways seemed hard , but that Ho knew what was best for her. "Well , time went on'n' about five years ago things seemed to take a turn for the better with Luther. His wheat crop turned oufc well , 'n' he sold ifc to good profit , 'n' he got his corn off the bottom lauds before the river rose , 'n' that was a great help to him. He seemed ical cheerful , 'n' told John he' was just beginnin' to enioy life , 'n' if things went well he'd soon have the' mortgage cleared off the farm. The' weather set in cold V stormy just after Thanksgivin' 'n'one afternoon I was out1 in the chicken yard shellin' corn to the hens , 'n' all muffled up to my eyes , when I heard a wagon stop at the gate1 'n' there was Luther a noddin' 'n' beck- onin' to me. I went down to the gate to speak to him , 'n' before I got there he was teliin' me how he'd sold Tom Lay- ton a colt he'd been raisin' 'n' was on his way at last to buy Annie that silk dress. He asked me 'bout the number of yards he ought to get 'n' where he'd best go to buy , V said ha couldn't hardly wait to get it now he was ready. He was gohr to give Annie a surprise , he said ; she didn't know what he was goin' after. "Well , the tears was in my eyes as T watched him drive off , pleased as a child at the idea of surprisin' Annie. But I never guessed what the black silk dress was to cost her , poor soul ! ] "It began to rain soon after Luther 'd gone , 'n' poured down for upward ot four hours. I was at the window when , he went on his way home , rn' I noticed he didn't have his overcoat on , 'n' I ? wondered what he'd done with it , ' , for I was sure he'd had ifc on when he , ' stopped at the gate * Annie told me , ' afterward that he'd taken the coat off his back V rolled the black silk up in' it to keep it from gettin' wet. Ifc wasn't even damp when he unrolled it 'n1 showed it to her , but he was wet to the skin himself , 'n' a few days later there was a doctor's buggy at the gate. John he went over to see what was the matter , 'n' found Luther walkin' the floor 'n' groanin' with pain. The cold hnd settled in his side 'n' the doctor couldn't give him no relief. But he said he guessed he'd pull through all right 'n' there wasn't no need to worry. "Miss Parsons was makin' the silk up. Lnther wasn't satisfied till Annie had gone to the village 'n' got some one to work on it , 'n' she thought best to humor him. He wasn'fc no better when the dress came home , 'n' the doc tor was still 'tending him ; but no one 'lowed he was anyway dangerous. It was John who brought the dress home from Miss Parsons , 'n' he said Luther was just too pleased for anything to see the bundle. " 'I'm goin' to have Annie dress right up in it , ' he says , 'n' you 'n' Jane must come over after supper 'n' see how she looks. "Well , as I heard afterward , John had hardly gone when Luther began to tease Annie to put the dress on. She wanted to get supper first , but he wouldn't hear to it. 'I've ' been waitiu' nearly twenty years to see you in that dress , ' he says , ' I won't wait even an hour longer. ' "Well , Annie she made him lie down for he'd been walkiu' the floor con stant nearly all day 'n' she went into her bedroom to put the-dress on. She'd g'bfc the skirt on , 'n' was fastening waist , when she heard a queer s : from the spare room where Luther lyin' . She stopped a minute to lis 'n' then called to him to know i : wanted anything. There wasn't no swer , 'n' she crossed tho hall 'n' hur : into the spare room. Well , child , found him dead , his face turned tow | the door as he'd been watchin' for he the sound she'd heard was the c rattle in his throat. "When John 'n' I got there he'd dead only a few minutes , V I tell child , it was a sad sighfc to see kneelin' down by that low bed in new black silk , her arms round dead man 'n' moanin' 'n' shudderin him 'n' beggin' him to speak to her. " 'He isn't dead ! ' sho says to me came in. 'He has only faulted. Jane ! do something for him. Get water , * n' you'll find caraphere in pantry on the lowest shelf to the right.1 "But I saw that hot water 'n' camphere wouldn't be no use , 'n' I told her so as gentle as I could 'n' begged her to come away. She wouldn't listen to me at first , but after the doctor had come , 'n' he'd told her ifc was all over , 'n' poor Luther'd died from apoplexy of the stomach , she let me take her to her own room. As we was crosain' the hall she heard j the dress rustle , 'a'she stopped short'n' looked at me pitiful. " 'He never taw me in it , after all , ' V she broke down and cried as if her heart would break. there was a stone put over him 'u' his $ debtswere all paid , there wasn'fc noth- i' left for Annie , 'n' she was glad to ; ake a place in the mills. Wo wanted ler to come here , but she was too proud to at bread she hadn't earned , t she said. About a week ago I was out with Miss Sniper gettin' subscriptions : or the church carpet , 'n' we met Annie on the street. Miss Sniper , she ain't over-sensitive herself 'n' she don't give $ no one else credit for being so , V she up 'n' asks Annie if sho didn't ever wish she'd said 'yes"stead of 'no' to voung Tom Laytou. " 'Never" says Annie. 'Had I my $ ife to begin again I would not altar it as far as Tom Layton is concerned. " M 'But it'spretfcv hard to have to work for him , isn't it ? ' asked Miss Sniper , 'n'I felt it in my heart to hate her for asking such a thing. "But Annie only smiled. . 'I consider myself fortunate to be able to earn such good wages'she says'n'then she walked away smilin' still. "I was glad Miss Sniper didn't know about that black silk dress. If she'd said anything about that , Annie would 'a' broke down. She's got it packed away at the bottom of her trunk , poor soul , 'n' she's never speaks about it. " Theodora. The Contemporary Review. Theodora was tho daughter of a keeper , attached to tho Hippodrome at Constantinople , and was one of three sisters whom their mother sent on tho stage when they were still children 7 or 8 years old. With no talent either for music or dancing , her fortunevas in her face and her tongue. Her pretty features , her.nimble . movements , her audacious smartness in repartee , made her the most popular and notorious in the pantomimes ( to use the nearest modern equivalent ) which delighted a people whose taste had fallen below the regular drama. Needless to say what was the morality of the Byzantine stage , or what was the life the young actress led. Her enemies of later years declared it to have been more than usually shameless and disgusting , but the question , if delicately balanced less or more , besides being now insoluble , need make little difference to our view of her character. After some years she accompanied a wealthy Tyrian , as his mistress , to the Governorship of Trip oli ; quarreled with him , left him , and after having been reduced to sad straits in Egypt , found her way back to Con stantinople , where , according to a story current long afterward in the city , she ought to support herself by spinning wool in a house near the edge of the Golden Horn. This looks like trying to turn over a new leaf. However , she did not conceal her charms. Enconr- aged by the words of an Oriental for tune teller , who had promised her wealth and power , she throw herself hi the way of Justinian , who yielded at once to her fascinations. He was then about 40 years of age probably some twenty years her senior nephew of the reigning Emperor , and gathering into his hands the reins of Government which ivere beginning to slip from the grasp of his aged and ignorant uncle. He was an able and well-educated man , already remarkable for his fondness for theology and his assiduous attention to public business. His passion led him to promise to marry the whilom actress , but a law dating ( in substance ) from the time of and Augustus , re-en acted by later Emperors , forbade the union of Senators and other persons of exalted rank to women who had been on the stage. Nothing was left but to repeal the law , which the Emperor was compelled by the urgency of his nephew to do , and the statute may still be read in the Corpus Juris which so long held sway over Continental Europe , a monu ment of Theodora's arts and Justinian's susceptibility. There had been , how- evor , a more serious obstacle to the nuptials of the eager pair. The Em press Euphemia was an ignorant and rustic person , who had risen in life too late to acquire the polish of the capital. But she was pious , and she was respect able to the backbone. Sho had probably heard of Theodora's earlier Fame , for the Court was like most Courts ; anyhow she knew what Theo dora had been , and the idea of her nephew marrying such a person was too shocking to be considered. While she lived she held out and kept her busband to his resistance ; but when she died he gave way , the law was repealed , the marriage was solemnized , and when in a few years the old Emperor died , Theodora was crowned along with her [ insband , and received the homage of the Senate , the priesthood and the people. A rise like this had never been seen before , not even in Constan- ingloii mi , and is called upon to associate with peo ple who have plenty of money. As a natural result he soon becomes involved financially. A man who feels the sharp" pressure of debt cannot always afford the luxury of indulging in the most rigid ideas of what is strictly honorable. None of them have any better pay than the department clerks and bureau chiefs. Yet these of ficers live at the best hotels as a general thing , have carriages , dress well and are seen everywhere. The department clerks , who have equal salarieslivo in the back rooms of cheap boarding-houses , wear shabby clothes' and never go in society. A second lieutenant has $1,400a _ year ; a first lieutenant , $1,600. that is if he is mounted. An unmounted first lieutenant gets $1,500. A captain not mounted is paid $1,800. A captain mounted has $2,000. It will'be seen that up to the grade of captain officers rank with the department clerks BO far as salary goes. When you get above captain you strike the salaries paid to the chiefs of bureaus. A major is paid $2,500 ; a lieutenant-colonel , $3,000 ; a colonel , $3,500. It is only when you reach the rank of brigadier-general that the pay of a Senator or member is reached. A brigadier-general is paid $5,500. A major-general $7,500 , and a lieutenant-general $11,000 per annum. FARM , FIELD AHD FIRESIDE ' , A Few Shorts. It is asserted that tho objection for merly urged against tho Norman horse , to tlio effect that ifc could not endure the southern climate of the United States , is n fallacy , as proven by the experience of the principal importers. The late General Horace Capron , at one time owned a farm , the net r ? eipts from which amounted , in one year (1847) to over $36,000. It would seem as though some men could make farming pay. Eighteen hundred dollars' worth of strawberries have been raised on two and a half acres of ground by a farmer of Delaware township , Caraden County , N" . J. , and he accordingly has been awarded a premium by the Slate Board of Agriculture. Having abandoned all hope of a peach crop , this year , the fruit growers of the Eudson Biver Yalley have generally re solved to plant young Concord grape vines by the thousand where peach or chards now stand. Por the space of sixty by sixteen miles , between Cornwall and Catskill the average of grape vines is already very large. Good wine has been mado on the North Biver for years past. Indeed , there are those who as sert the vintage there already exceed that of California , and are confident the average quality of the wines is fully squal to those of the Pacific Coast. Every one owning a hot-bead , and there is nothing to prevent any one living in the country owning one , should bear in mind that by its use many regetables may be forwarded several iays in advance of the season. Beets , for instance , sown in a warm bnd and transplanted to the open ground , may be had much earlier by this method. Use only the turnip-rooted varieties , however , for forcing ; the long-rooted , kinds are apt to become forked and severed with fibres. Lima beans , cu- sumbers , squashes , melons , etc. , plant- ad in inverted sods and placed in a hot bed can be brought into use before the tegular season. In planting tress be careful to pre serve the roots moist , and the tops will is a rule take care of themselves- Many planters drop their trees where they are to be set , and allow them to lay in the sun and wind without any protection , until they become seriously injured. The moment they are un packed at their destination , each tree mCst at once be "heeled in , " in other words , have the roots well covered in a trench , and the soil tramped hard. It luminous to have the air circulating freely through the delicate fibres , and almost as much care should be taken with the trenching as the planthfg. IToCnre for Glanders. Glanders is a certainly fatal disease , and as it is virulently contagious when a horse is known to be affected by it the animal should be killed and buried deep ly without delay. The law enforces by hea FT penalties this disposition of a glan derous horse. The disease begins with swelling of the glands of the throat ; then a white , thin , acid discharge.es- 3apes from one nostril , and at times from both. On examination tho membrane ( called Schinderianlin- ing the nostrils is seen to be of a livid or lead blue or purple color , spot ted with red raw sores or ulcers , having i deeper colored ring around them. This last symptom is unmistakable , and when it appears no doubt remains and bho beast should be put out of suffering ind misery which will certainly ensue. Death by glanders is horrible ; the wretched animal slowly rots away and flies by inches in extreme torment. At first the symptoms of glanders are much the same as those of distemper or nasal gleet , but when these appear every pre caution should be taken against con tagion. N. Y. Times. Sweet Corn Better than Sorghum. The planting of sorghum for stock is again recommended in the agaicultural papers ; but after several years cultivat ing I have given it up for this purpose , much preferring sweet corn. The ob jection I found was. the stalks are so hard and tough that cattle will not eat any part except about two feet of tho top , whereas they eat every particle of the sorts of sweet corn I raise for them , the stalks being three-quarters of an Inch in diameter at the butts , and 5 to 6 feet tall. If the sorghum could be first crushed by passing through heavy rollers , as is done when the juice is to be made into syrup and sugar , the stalks might be made tender enough for cattio fodder ; but to pass them through a corn stalk cutter would be of little benefit , as the pieces , however short-cut , * would c be still sharp at the edges , hard to t chew , and still harder to digest. I be I lieve there is a great future for sorghum i throughout all our climates for making i a superior quality of syrup , and per haps also of sugar when the process of t granulation becomes perfected , which I e suppose chemists will be able to accom t plish in time. Sorghum has one merit t over corn its roots penetrate the soil t more deeply , and this enables it to bear I a drouth better , and particularly in i light gravelly and sandy soils. If any a one has hud u more favorable experi t ence in making it acceptable fodder for f stock than I give above , I shall be glad e to hear from him. A. B. Allen. t i The Winter's lesson. e If any farmer has gone through the F past winter and learned no lesson , he $ is not the man we write for. It has been to . Some a severe schooling many. c will become disgusted with the State , ct and resolve at all risk to sell out and cd go somewhere. But where will it be ? h Running uway from Iowa blizzards , c what country will you find which has o not something worse ? With your pres t ; ent knowledge of the good health and prolific character of Iowa , can not am- pie preparati "ons be made to avoid the ; bad effects and annoyances of Iowa storms cheaper than you can sacrifice your property , and go to some other .region where rose-colored letters aro written from by bold speculators , aiu where the country never keeps hal pace with Iowa in production , prosper ity and population. There will this spring probably be stampedes from tho best States in the Union to Oklahoma and the two Indian reservations just brought into marke in Dakota , south of Pierre. In either case , in two years they will wish they were back at their old homes. Stay in Iowa , and prepare your farms by evergreen wind-breaks , auc fast-growing groves for fuel , and pro vide cheap but warm and comfortable stock barns and sheds. Then when whiter comes you have wood on your farm , and your stock and food where you can take care of them in comforl to yourselves , with an increased profit on the stock. This is not a hard question to solve. There is no need of facing suffering in Iowa blizzards. They can be provided against. Then stay home with your family through the winter , which ought to be the happiest place in this world , and the most profitable place for any farmer in or out of Iowa. Des Moines Begister. Handsome Mantel Xi ombre quins and Hat Crowns. A handsome lambrequin which L am making is of crimson velvet. For a mantel two yards long take one yard of velvet and cut in two lengthwise ; fold one of these pieces hi half and cut , making two strips one-half yard long , and another one yard in length. The short pieces are tacked around tho ends of the shelf , then tack the longer strip also. Pleat one end of the long piece and fasten it up to tho shelf un der a handsome bow of ribbon. This drapes the center strip quite gracefully ; place another bow of rib bon at the other cud of it and trim all the lower edges with crescents and tassels. One of tho smaller pieces paint in Kensington painting a spray of pansies , aud the other carnations ; tho long strip has a large , graceful spray of Yirginia creeper. Hat crowns , so much [ n vogue no ware very easilymade. Take one-third of a yard of satin , cut the flat piece from one corner , then divide the remainder into two strips and pleat around itthe material should be on tho bias ) . I have both painted and em broidered them. One , painted on gray satin , was a wreath of pink , blue and yellow daises , with the initial in guilt. [ painted the same design on pale-blue satin , and embroidered in chenille on crimson and on dark bine. Another one on pale-blue , was a spray of poppies and wheat. A pretty design for an old gold lining is a wreath of pausiea. The Best Land for Melons. ? rom the Nashville American. The best land for growing melons is a dark , sandy loam , having a gravelly sub soil , through which water rises within 2 or 6 feet of the surface. Such lands are seldom found outside of the first or second bottoms of large or small rivers.- The high or upland which nearest ap proaches in character river bottom is ; he best place to grow melons. The jest manure is well-rotten stable dung , in connection with that of pigeons , , chickens and turkers ; and the best fer- iilizer , guano , with or without tho acid phosphate. Tho land should be plow-- : d , harrowed and fined in the fall , and. aid off so the melon hills will be from' ; en to twelve feet apart each way. Where each hill is to be an opening should be made a foot deep , and in cir cular shape , three feet across. Into his tho manure and fertilizers should je put to the extent in quantity that' will a third fill the hole , the earth returned and filling the remaining ; wo-thirds. This should be done in the fall , so as to give a chance for tho man ures , fertilizers and earth to become in corporated with each other. Plant a dozen seed in a hill as soon as the earth s well warmed up and there is nothing ; o fear from frost. Commence cultiva- ing as soon as plants are fairly , above ground , and when the cut-worms have lone their work , thin to two plants in a lill. Continue cultivating , and keep the land clean till the vines begin to run , but beware of disturbing them in any way'after that period of growth has been reached. If our correspondent will find the right kind of land , and will follow these directions , he will be pret ty sure to get large , if not early , mel ons. But still he will find many diffi culties in his way , and we advise him before he undertakes growing melons on any considerable scale to take a tour among tho melon growers , near and re mote , and he will return home feeling the time and money well Hpent. Shall VTo Sleep With Open "Windows ? This question introduces a subject upon which there is a diversity of opinion , both among medical practi tioners and individnals. "I have no bad colds since I learned to sleep with my window open , " remarked a gentle man in the office of the medical and sur gical reporter the other day. In reply , the editor says that the only "hard colds" he ever suffered from were con tracted by sleeping in rooms to which the night air had free access. The edi tor adds that it is well known that the bodily tomperature sinks slightly dur ( ing sleep : the physiological functions act with diminished activity ; and hence the resistance of the economy to morbi fic influences is proportionately lessen ed. But itis also well known that at night these influences are more potent and noxious. Tho air is charge ! with great er humidity ; miasmetic aud malarial a poisons rise to higher levels and extend with greater rapidity ; the chill of the damp night air is penetrating and dan gerous ; the emanations from organic de cay are more perceptible. Against these the sleeper is less protected than in tha daytime. He has divested himself of his woolen external clothing to put "on cotton or linen , and lies between sheets of the same raaterinl , between which , at the tops and sides of the bed , the air gains ready access to his unprotected surface.If he is restless , he renders uoh access yet more easy. A greater risk awafo him. A sudden fall in temper ature at night is no unusual occurrence. In summer a thitnder gnat , in win ter a shift of the wind to the north , often reduces the temperature ten to twenty degrees. The sleeper is unaware of this. He remains exposed to it with no further protection thnn he found agreeable at the higher temperature , until ho awakes chilled and stiff , perhaps with the seeds of a serious illness already sown. These are such positive and unavoidable risks that we should counsel a delicate por- son to bo exceedingly cautions how he ventured on the plan of open windows at night , however much has been said in its favor by popular hygienists. A Toon ? Girl's Good Tosto , A Lady in Now York Mail. A well cooked meal served on a poor ly set table i like gingerbread with tho spice left out. Say as you will , eat ables taste better out of pretty dishes ; but to be pretty , it is not necessary that they should be expensive. A lady was once visiting a family whose means were somewhat straitened , yet through the deftness and ingenuity of one of tho daughters' busy fingers , their home always possessed a cosy prettiness pe culiarly its own. "My dear , " said the lady , I was never so much surprised as when Hattie explained to me tho mo dus operandi of soino of her home achievements. "Why ! the chair I was sitting on , such an easy one , with just the right hollow for your back , was made out of a flour barrel. Her brother did the carpentry and she the uphol stery. Old fashioned flowered chintz , too lovely for anything. And then the lunch. I don't mean tho eatables , which were very simple , but deliciously cooked. You would never have guesse'd what the center-piece for the table was composed of. As pretty a flower or nament as I ever saw that girl had man- ' ufactured out of an old cruet-stand and " a pie plate. Positively ! Tho cruet- stand was set upon the tin plate.then tho whole covered with this luscious green moss , excepting , of course , the handle around which were twined , so as to con ceal the plating , some creeping vines. Nestling amid the moss were halfblown roses and buds , while feathery ferns trembled gracefully at each passing breeze. There , yon see , I am getting quite poetic over it , and no wonder , for really that house is tho abode of poesy. It was summer time , and they ha < ro a lovely garden , or they could not have afforded the flowers , of course ; but I assure you , before my visit ended , ! should not have doubted Hattie if she had informed me she could trans form a teakettle into a lovely parlor or nament. THE KEY OP DEATH. A Marvel ofMachanlcal Ingenuity Excited Terror in Venice. From Public Opinion. In the collection of curiosities pre served in the arsenal of Yenice , there is a key of which the following singular tradition is related : "About the year 1600 one of those dangerous men , in whom extraordinary talent is only the fearful source of crime and wickedness beyond that of ordinary men , came to establish himself as a merchant" trad er in Yeuice. The stranger , whose name was Tebaldo , became enamoured of tho daughter of an ancient house , already affianced to another. He demanded her hand in marriage , and was of course rejected. Enraged at this , he studied how to be revenged. Profoundly skilled in the mechanical arts , he allowed himself no rest until he had invented the most formidable weap on which could be imagined. This was a key of large size , the handle of which was &o constructed that it could be turned round with little difficulty ; when turned it disclosod a spring , which , on pressure , launched from the other end a needle or lancet of such subtile fineness that it entered fnto the flesh and buried itself there without leaving external trace. Tebaldo wait ed in disguise at the door of the churcn in which the maiden whom he loved was about to receive the nuptial bene diction. The assassin sent the slender steel unperceived into the breast of the bridegroom. The wounded man had no suspicion of injurybut seized with a sud den and sharp pain in the midst of the ceremony , he fainted , and was carried to his house , amid the lamentations of the bridal party. Yain was all the skill of the physicians , who could not devise the cause of this strange illness ; and in a few days he died. Tebaldo again de manded the hand of the maiden from h r parents , , and received a second re fusal. They , too , perished miserably in a few days. The alarm which these deaths which appeared almost mirac ulous occasioned , excited the " utmost vigilance of the magistrates ; and when , on close examination of the bodies , the small instrument was found in tho gangrened flesh , terror was universal ; every one feared for his own life. The maiden thus cruely orphaned had passed the first months of her mourning in a convent , when Tebaldo , hoping to bend her to his will , entreated to speak with her at the grate. The face of the foreigner had been ever displeasing to her , but since the death of all those most dear to her it had become odious as thongd she had a presumption of his guilt ) , and her reply was most "decisive in the negative. Tebaldo , beyond him self with rage , attempted to wound her through the grate , and succeeded ; the obscurity of the place prevented his movement being observed. On her return to her room , the maiden felt pain in her breast , and uncov ering it , sho found it spotted with a single drop of blood. The pain in creased , the surgeons who hastened to her assistance taught by the past wasted no time in conjecture , but , cut ting deep into the wounded part , ex tracted the needle before any mortal mischief had commenced , and saved the life of the lady. The State inquisition used every means to discover tho hand which dealt these insidious and irresist ible blows. The visit of Tebaldo to the convent caused suspicion to fall heavily upon him. His house was carefully searched , the infamous invention dis covered , and he perished on the gibbet.
