THE EVENING STAB.
Along the grassy slope I eifc ,
And dream of other years ;
My heart is full of solt regrets ,
My eyes of tender tears.
The wild bees hummed about tho spot ,
The sheep-bells tinkled lar ,
Xast year when Alice sat with me
g. Beneath the evening star.
The same sweet star is o'er me now ,
Around the same stilt hours ;
But Alice moulders in tho dust
With all tho last year's flowers.
I Bit alone , and only hear
The wild bees on the steep ,
And distant bells that seem to float
From out tho folds of sleep.
RICHARD HENRY SIODDABD.
FAME YEBSUS LOVE ,
BY FLORENCE REVERE PJENDAR.
"It cannot be ! "
- As these words fell from Helen Arm
strong's lips she arose from her seat
an old overturned boat and moved
slowly toward the water's edge.
For a moment her companion a
man of perhaps twenty-five hesitat
ed ; then he joined her , repeating :
"It cannot be , Helen ? Surely you
are not in earnest. You love me
have you not said it ? and yet you
refuse to become my wife ! "
"Edwin , I "
"You did not mean it , " quickly in
terrupted Edwin Bennett , adding :
"Come , darling , why should we not be
happy ? " and he drew her hand within
5.V- . his arm.
For an instant she let it rest there ,
then slowly but firmly she loosened
his clasp , as she said :
"For two years you and Ihavebeen
friends. In that time did you ever
know me to change my mind after I
had once decided upon any thing ? "
"No.Tjut " answered her
. com
panion quickly , while she , unheeding ,
goes on with :
"You know the one great desire of
my live is to win fame as an'artist. .
Could I do this as your wife ? "
"Why not , Helen ? Would I not do
anything in the world to help you ? "
came the proud answer , as Edwin
Bennett bent his eyes fondly upon the
fair face beside him.
"No , Edwin ; as a wife I could never
hope to attain fame. Marriage brings
to woman so many cares that there
is very little time left over for other
work. I should not make you happy.
I should be constantly longing for my
old , free life. "
"If that is all I am not afraid to
risk my happiness , Helen , " answered
her lover , a more hopeful look lighting
up his handsome face.
"Think how for five "
years , con
tinued Helen , "I have worked with
the one end in view. My home , you
are awaie , has not been particularly
agreeable. Uncle and aunt are kind
in their way , and have always let me
have my will about painting , provid
ed it did not cost them anything. As
for love or sympathy , you have s'een
how much they have yielded me. "
"Seen and felt for you , Helen , God
knows. And now that I will make
your life , if love can do it. one happy
dream , you will not ; and yet you do
not deny your love for me. "
For a second Helen's eyes rested
longingly upon the face of the man
who lo'ved her so dearly ; then into
their dusky depths crept an intense ,
passionate loflging , as they swept the
horizon and noted the glorious splen
dor of the setting sun , while she ex
claimed :
' Oh , Edwin ! If I could only repro
duce that sunset just as it is. If I on
ly could ? "
With an impatient sigh he turned
away.
"Always her art , never me ; perhaps
she is right after all. It would always
stand between us. "
She , not noticing , went on with :
"If it would only stay long enough
for me to catch those colors , but no ,
it is fading now. "
Turning , Helen found'her companion
had left her side , and stood a few
yards away.
"Edwin , " she called.
In an instant he was beside her ,
everything forgotten except that she
was the woman he loved.
"I wanted to tell you how good Mr.
Hovey is. It seems he was acquaint
ed with poor papa years ago , when I
was a baby , and therefore feels quite
interested inme. Youhaveheardhow
he praises my work , and last night he
proposed "
"Proposed ! " exclaimed Edwin Ben
nett , hotly. "Why , you don't mean
to say the old man actually had the
audacity to ask you to marry him ? "
"How ridiculous. How could you
think of such a thing ? " answered
Helen , a ripple of laughter escaping
from between her pretty teeth as she
continued ;
"No ; he proposed , if I were willing ,
to send me to Italy for two years , he ,
of course , defraying the greater part
of the expense. He said when I be
came famous I could refund him the
little amount if I wished. Was it
not generous of him ? Just think , two
years at work among the old masters.
What could I do then ? It would be
such a help to me. One can live very
simply there. My little income would
do , with care , I think. "
- "And you would go ? " As Edwin
Bennett asked this question a look of
pain crossed his face ,
"Why not ? " came the reply , as
Helen raised her eyes questioningly
to her companion.
"You say you love me ; and yet you
would put the sea between us. Helen ,
wait ; I will work hard and earn
money enough to take us both abroad.
Do you think I could deny you any
thing ? You should paint to your
heart's content , from the old masters ,
or anything else you pleased. So long
as you were happy , 1 should be. Per
haps I might turn painter , too , some
day.nvith you to inspire me , " he ad
ded , smiling slightly.
"I do not doubt your love for me/
" * * *
* ' V ' * ' " _ ' * % r * ' " - ' - '
Edwin , but ! t shall never marry. I in
tend to devo 5e my life to art. As a wife
it would bernpossible for me to do so
I should be 'aindered and trammellec
in a thousand ways. Believe me ,
have thought very earnestly of al
this , and I "
"Helen , when I came to spend my
vacation heio at Little Hock , so asto
be near you , [ said to myself , 'Now
you can ask the woman youlovetobf
your wife , and know that you have
home to offe. her. ' For your sake ;
wish Iwere _ lich ; but I am still young
and with the good prospects I have , . '
do not see why I shall not be able be
fore many yt ars to give my wife al
she can wish. "
"It is not that , Edwin. I should not
love you one bit more if you were a
millionaire , " interrupted Helen , glan
cingTepjL-oacufully at him.
"Helen , my holiday is over to-mor
row. I musi have my answer to
night. " The words came somewhal
sternly from between Ed win Bennett's
lips.
Mechanically , with the end of his
parasol , Helen Armstrong traced on
the glittering , yellow sands , "Fame
versus Love. " Then , as she became
aware of what she had done , she
sought to efface them. Too late. Ed
win Bennett's hand stayed hers , as ,
pointing to the letters that stood out ,
he said , hoarsely :
"Choose ! "
For a second she hesitated ; then ,
slowly came the answer :
"I accepted Mr. Hovey's offer this
morning. I am to sail in a week. "
Spurning her hand from him , Edwin
Bennett cried out passionately :
"Godforgive you ! I cannot ! " Then
without another word , he turned and
left her.
A faint cry ot "Edwin" escaped her
lips , as her arms were held out implor
ingly to war i him. They then fell to
her side , and she , too , turned and
went slowly across the sands in the
opposite direction. If he had looked
back and seen those outstretched
arms how different their life might
have been ; but no , he plodded angrily
along the shore , glancing neither to
the right nor left. Little by little the
waves crept up and Love was drown
ed , while Fame still stood out bold
and clear upon the yellow sands.
Ten years have come and gone since
Helen Armstrong and Edwin Bennett
parted on the shore , and during that
time they have never met. Helen had
won that which she had striven for.
She had become an artist ot renown.
Even royalty had been pleased to com
pliment her upon her art.
For the last month one of Helen
Armstrong's paintings had been on
exhibition at the Academy of Design ,
and crowds had been drawn thither to
see this last work of the celebrated ar
tist. The subject was simple , nothing
new , yet visitors returned again and
again to gaze at it.
It Avas the last day of its exhibition ,
when a lady and gentleman leading a
little girl of perhaps 3 years by the
hand , passed into the room where the
painting hung.
"Oh ! isn't it too bad there is such a
crowd ; I wanted so to see it , " ex
claimed the lady ; to which the gentle
man replied :
"We will look at the other pictures
first and come back again ; perhaps
there will not be such a crowd then. "
An hour or so later the gentleman
and lady returned ; then the room was
almost deserted , except for a few
stragglers here and there. It was just
about time to close the gallery.
For a few moments they stood in
sL'ence ' before the painting ; then a lit
tle voice said :
"Baby want to see too , papa. "
Stooping down the gentleman raised
; he pretty , daintily-dressed child in
lis arms. After gravely regarding the
picture for a second , the little one
asked :
"Is zay mad , papa ? "
"I am afraid one was , pet , " came
the low answer , as Edwin Ben
nett softly kissed the fair cheek of his
ittle girl. Then his gaze returned to
the painting.
A stretch of yellow sands ; dotted
lere and there by huge boulders , and
piles of snowy pebbles , against which
; he overhanging cliffs looked almost
slack. Gentle little baby waves rip
pling in toward the shore , while ma-
estic purple-hued , silver-edged clouds
seemed floating en masse toward the
crimson-barred that flood
jjlden , - sun
ed the sky and water with its warm
"ight.
In the center of the picture , where
; he beach formed a cure resembling a
iorseshoewas an old boa , turnedbot-
: om upward ; some few feet off , the fig-
.ire of a-young man , apparently walk-
ng hurriedly away. Although the
ace was not visible , the gazer felt
; hat the man suffered ; and the glorious
sunset was this day naught to him.
Perhaps it was in the tightly-clasped
land , the veins of .which stood out
ike great cords ; or , maybe , in the
man's apparent total disregard of his
surroundings.
To the right of the picture was the
Igure of a young girl , trailing a para
sol in the sand , as she appeared to
move slowly in the opposite direction
'rom her companion. Only a little
rit of a delicately shaped ear and a
mass of glossy braids showed from be
neath the shade hat , but one could
readily believe that the pretty girlish
igure belonged to an equallyattract -
"ve face.
About half way between them ,
: raced upon the sands , were the words ,
'Fame.versus Love. "
"Is it not lovely , Edwin ? " and Mrs.
Bennett laid her hand upon her hus-
jand's arm as she added :
"Yet how sad it somehow seeems.
I can't help feeling sorry for them. I
wish I could see their faces. I feel as
if I wanted to turn them round. "
Clasping the little hand that rested
'
so confidingly upon 'his arm , Edwin
Bennet inwardly thanked God for the
gift of his fair young wife , as he said :
"Come dear , they are commencing
to close up. Baby's tired , too. "
"Ess , me's tired. Baby wants to
tiss mama , " lisped the child , holding
out her tiny arms.
Husband and wife failed to notice a
.ady who stood near , gazing at a
painting. As the pretty young moth-
ir stooped down to receive her baby's
hisses , which the little one lavished
* . > " - - J" ' ' s , , . ' * ' * .r7 " ' - * , < \ - " t P" " ? - ' J ? * - . ; - - * * :
' . . " . " " " " - ' '
on cheeks , lips and brow , a deep ,
yearning loot gatheredin the strange
lady's eyes and she turned hastily
away.
"Oh , Edwin ! " exclaimed his wife as
they passed the silent figure in black
"Wouldn't it be nice if baby should
grow up to be a great artist like thi
Miss Armstrong ? "
"God forbid , Annie , came the earn
est reply , followed by "let he'rgrow
up to be a true , loving woman , that is
all I ask. " The lady's hand tightened
its hold upon the back of a settee as
the words reached her ears , but she
did not move until they were out o !
sight. Then lifting her veil she went
and stood before the painting that
had won such fame. Tears gathered
in her eyes as she gazed , and with the
words , "I will never look at it again , "
she , too , passed out of the building ,
and in her own handsome carriage was
driven home.
Scorn shone in her dark eyes as they
fell upon the costly works of art scat
tered in lavish profusion about her
luxuriously furnished apartments.
Hastily throwing aside her wraps , she
crossed over to a mirror. A very
handsome face it reflected. Not look-
ingthe thirty years it had known.
Helen Armstrong for it was she
had heard of Edwin Bennett's marrage ;
heard that he had succeeded in
business beyond his most sanguine
expectations ; heard that his wife was
one of the loveliest and gentlest oi
women , and that Edwin Bennett
idolized both wife and child. This day
she had seen them.
Then came the thought that she
might have stood in that wife's place ;
she , too , might have had those baby
lips pressed as .lovingly . to hers ; but
she had put it from her. She had
chosen Fame versus Love. If she
could only go back to that day on
the sands , how differently she would
now act.
Turning wearily away from the
mirror , she exclaimed , bitterly :
"Too late , Helen Armstrong. As
you have sown , so must you reap. "
Gen. Butler Talks out in Meet
ing.
General Benjamin F. Buutler being
in New York looking after Miss Mary
Hoyt's interests in the Hoyt will con
test , a Tribune reporter asked him if
he had read Warner's compromise
silver bill. The inquiry lead to a long
talk , in the course of which the Gener
al said :
"I have grandchildren who will live
to see the Vanderbilts and the Goulds
taken out to the nearest lamppost
and hung in the most scientific and
skillful manner. After there has been
bloodshed we shall settle down again
for a while. These money kings see
the dangers already. But they do
not see the remedies. When I was a
candidate for President , Gould said
Butler must bedriveninto theground.
He couldn't see that it was better for
a man of considerable wealth and a
family and property interests to beat
the head of the masses , and able to
control them. He only saw in the
background the torch of Communism ,
as he thought. Some day a real red
Communist will lead these men , and
then he will see the difference. Every
man is a Communist now , in the eyes
of the community , who preaches the
equality of men. Christ was the Com
munist of Jerusalem. As the head of
the labor element I could have settled
this whole railroad question as no
other man could settle it. The mis
take I made in running for Prisident
was like running against a stone wall.
I knew that the people in all ages had
failed themselves in every important
crisis of importance to themselves. It
is the history of the ages. But I was
foolish enough to think that the peo
ple had grown wiser and better ; that
the world had progressed in the direc
tion of human knowledge and under
standing and power of concentration.
I thought the laborers of the new re
public were more intelligent. They
are not intelligent. They were afraid
of me because I had a little property.
They were just as foolish as Gould.
But that is not all. Nine out of ten
of them would sell their votes for § 2
apiece. I was a fool to think that
this age was different from any other.
Experience has now taught me the
same lesson as history.
An American Woman in an Ital
ian Insane Asylum.
Washington Special.
A report received at the State De
partment from the American consul
at Genoa , Italy , contains the elements
of a first class romance. The Consul
writes that on August 28 he visited ,
in company with a friend , the asylum
for the insane which stands on the
outskirts of the city. Before leaving
the building he was informed that one
of the patients , an American lady , de
sired to speak to him. Some objection
was made by the officers in charge.
The patient , they said , was very vio
lent , and it would be better to disre
gard her wishes if it were not desirable
to bring about a scene. Bub the con
sul persisted , and in the interview
which followed satisfied himself that
his fair countrywoman was no more
insane than himself. He demanded her
release which was not effected without ,
some difficulty. The consul describes
her as being very pretty and about
twenty-five years of age.
The lady's story is that she married
her husband , who proved to be a titled
adventurer , in one of the large Eastern
cities about two years ago. Her fath
er settled upon her an annuity of § 5-
000 a year. Shortly after their ar
rival in Genoa her husband decoyed
her to an insane asylum , where she was
placed under restraint , though in oth
er respects kindly treated. Her hus
band had averted suspicion by inform
ing his wife's parents that she was too
ill to write.
The lady is now en route to America
with funds furnished by the consul.
Her husband fledfrom Genoa upon the
announcement of her release , and has
not been heard from since.
U. i * * "
EAEM AM ) HOUSEHOLD.
Agricultural Items. *
Some interesting experiments have
beenmade in France on the adyan
fcages of giving water to milch cows
warmed , instead of in its natura
cold state. At the Agricultural schoo
of-St. Remy two cows were fed on the
same food , but one was supplied with
cold water and the other with the
water to 113 degrees fahrenheit. The
latter yielded one-third more milk.
The roots of asparagus may be
planted in the fall , when they are
taken up. As they are usually storec
in the cellars of the seedsmen during
the winter it is just as well , if not bet
ter , to prepare the beds and set oul
the roots in November , taking the
precaution to mulch .the new planta
tion liberally as a protection from
sudden changes of weather in the
winter.
A neighbor was recently remarking
apon the avidity with which a" farmer
is now wont to seize upon any oppor
tunity of getting hold of a mortgage
upon an adjacent farm , with the re
served intention of foreclosing in case
of default in paymentapd securingthe
forfeited property. This is worse than
loosing the money in many cases , be
cause the added land , in addition to
an already existing overplus which is
only half cultivated , will only make
the farmer poorer than he wasbefore.
It is not the breadth of land , but the
depth of rich soil andthe weight of the
crop which enriches a man.
The easiest way to rot straw for use
as manure is to compost it with lime
and earth and make it up into a flat
heap so as to keep it moist. This
will be less trouble than covering it in
furrows with lime. Another way
would bo to spread the straw over the
ground , scatter lime over it when it is
wetand plow it all in and leave it un
til spring , when ashes and guano
could be used with potatoes or any
other crop. If , however , it is more
convenient to put the straw in large
furrows and lime it and plow it in
beds , this method is quite free from
objection.
B. S. Hoxie sent a circular to Wis
consin fruit growers , replies to which
indicate the following 8 varieties best
adapted to Wisconsin , on account of
hardiness , productivness , and quality :
Duchess , Wealthy , Fametise , Pewau-
kee.Plumb's Cider , Wilbridge , Tallman
and Sweet and Wolf River. The
Duchess and Wealthy are spoken of
as being iron clad. In southern and
southwestern Wisconsin the reports
favored the Roman Stem , Golden
Russet , Fall OrangeWillow Twig , and
RedAstrachau.
Hints on Management of Fowls.
Written by E. J. Tuylor From Tha Ameri
can Rural Home.
It frequently happens that the best
of feed fails to make the hens lay as
they should , not because the fowls
do not get enough , but because it isnot
the kind of food they desire. Thefeed
may consist of everything necessary
to satisfy the demand for egg material ,
and yet very few , if any , eggs be laid ;
there niiay be several causes for this
difficulty , one of the principal being the
fact that they are not supplied with a
sufficient supply of pure , fresh water ,
and without water is plentiful the fowls
will not lay. As water is one of the
principal ingredients of the egg , an un
limited quantity must be supplied. If
water cannot be furnished for the egg
the hen cannot lay. In winter it is very
important either to protect it from
freezing , or else add a little warm water
occasionally during the day. I adopt
the latter method although it is rather
a trqublesomejob ; but tlierearemany
details connected with raising poultry
which are somewhat unpleasant , but
must be attended to , and water will
freeze on very cold days , and of course
is useless to fthe fowls when in a frozen
condition. The feed , however , may
be of the very best quality , and yet
notsatisfy the fowls sufficiently to
make them lay. If that should be the
case change it entirely for a few days.
For the morning meal give something
entirely different from "that given pre
viously , even if it is inferior , but by
ail means give whole grain at. night in
cold weather , for fowls go to roost
early in the evening , and arecompelled
to remain in the coop till daylight ,
which is about thirteen hours on very
short days , and it stands to reason
that their systems require solid food
to keep them warm and comfortable
through the long cold nights. Whole
corn and wheat is the most suitable
for them then , but in the morning
some soft food should be given warm ,
which they will not fail to appreciate
for a change. Other changes can be
made for them by taking good clover
hay steeped in warm water , and after
chopping it fine sprinkle it slightly
with meal.and if fed warm will be very
acceptable. They are also very fond
of a few onions chopped fine.
Oats , or corn parched , will make a
splendid change of feed for a few days ,
and it fed warm is stimulating and
[ ; ood for bowel complaints , especially
if some of the grains are parched till
burned. The greatest secret of cor
rect feeding is to give the fowls a va
riety , and a generous supply of eggs
may be expected , if the feed given is of
good quality , and the prospect will be
still better if the fowls are furnished
with good.clean , comfortable quarters ,
and plenty of water. Neither is it
advisable or profitable , to keep poul
try in very large flocks , for even with
the hest of care and food it will be im
possible to keep them thrifty and
liealthy for any Considerable length of
time. Experience has taught me most
decidedly that forty hens cared for
properly in comfortable quarters , will
yield twice as much clear profit as
one hundred crowded and neglected.
It is a very perplexing question to
aecide which variety of fowl to choose
trom so many varieties , all of which
have many excellent qualities. The
Average fanner and amateur breeder ,
will find the Plymouth Rock and Wy-
andotte ns satisfactory a fowl as can
be selected for all purposes , for while
they perhaps require a little more care
and food than the smaller and more
active fowls , they are decidedly tho
best for broilers , and when fat will
find a ready sale in market ; they aro
quiet and docile , bear confinement
well , and for this reason are very suit
able for small farms , where they must
be yardeti. a largeportion of the year.
They are good winter layers , and if
they receive proper care will shell out
plentifully during tho winter months.
A flock of common fowls can be
very much improved by using well-
bred cocks ; two are sufficient for any
ordinary flock , and in the course of
a year or two it will be found that
they have been worth'many times
then ? cost.
How to 1.11.1 Plants.
Get so'me good rotted manure from
the barnyard and mix it with equal
parts of sandy loam. Then of the
plants you are about to dig up , cut
off all the longest branches and trim
very close. Don't bo afraid to cut it ,
as the more you cut off the sooner will
it commence to grow again. Now dig
it up , being careful not to break oil
any of the tender roots , as it is those
that will supply the , plant with
strength to start again. Get a pail of
water and wash the soil completely off ,
dipping tho plant up and down until
all the soil has left the roots. This
will remove all worms and every root
let touching the new soil will be ready
to start. Then pot and water it , and
stand it in the shade for at least three
days. In a short time the plant will
commence to show signs of new life.
How to Manage a Wife.
Toledo Blade.
For the last three score years , more
or less , I've been reading veiy fre
quently articles on "How to Manage
Husbands , " and the thought occurs
to me why so much needs be written
about them , and so little about tho
wives.
One of two theories presents an an
swer.
First are wives so near perfect anc
angelical that they need no managing ?
or , second , have husbands long since
come to the conclusion that it is
problem beyond their comperhension ?
The latter the most correct , probably ,
the majority will decide. Not neces
sarily , but conveniently so.
It has become second nature to man
to think and feel he constitutes the
whole family , and the wife must ex
ercise every ingenuity to assist him to
occupy the position honorable. That
wives have some natural rights and
feelings in this case , but not antago
nistic , without the husband so wills ,
I propose to set forth.
There is one way to manage a wife
and if it is properly done your home
will be a home , not in name but real
ity.Your
Your work may be very trying and
troublesome , but when y > v5 return to
your home , leave it all behind you and
meet your wife with the same sweet
smile you expect her to have for you.
If the meal is not quite ready don't
commence to grumble , butlend ahelp
ing hand. Hold the baby , draw the
water , see if the fire needs attention ,
or place the chairs at the table.
It's not the steps you save her , but
the kind , loving attention that acts as
a stimulant , and she forgets herself
for you. When seated at the table if
you discover a mistake in some dish ,
don't setup such a time as to sadden
her life for the next six months , but
tell her that's nothing will bo all
right next time. Don't go preaching
a sermonabout your mother's fine
cooking. There is no cook but will
some time have a mishap.
Every man knows that if a wife is
treated and made to feel his happiness
depends on her , she will exert every
faculty for the desired result.
Don't bank every cent and do all
the buying for the house so she shall
not handle a dollar. Don't toll her
how fine Mrs. so-and-so looked and
then withhold from her the necessary
means to improve her scanty ward
robe.
Romember it is as important forher
to have a new hat once in ten years as
it is for you to have a new one.
Don't you do all the going out when
evening comes. Take your wife with
you , but should it be impossible , you
remain at home with her.
Treat her like a rational human
being and this hue and cry of manag
ing will be done .away with. Your life
will be sunshine instead of shadows.
There are exceptions occasionally
to be found even when this method
is practiced.
The Profitable Cows. :
All cows are not profitable , judged
3y the milk and butter they produce ;
: he difference is great even in the same
icrd. But the fact has scarcely ever
cometo the minds of some farmers !
A farm will keep ten good cows as
"comfortably" as ten poor ones , and
the difference in return for the hay ,
grass and grain eaten measures the
profit or loss of the "machines" which
convert the feed into available credit
or debt. A neighbor owns "native , "
51-ade Durham and Jersey cows. He
thought that some of the common
stock and the Durhams were profit
able. The idea presented itself that
ic would sot a sample of milk from
2ach in glass vessels of the same size
and shape , to note the percentage of
zream , and later he obtained a croam
jauge. So great was the difference , he
same to the conclusion that certain
ones were unprofitable ; in fact , but
ittle cream was perceptible on their
milk , and he consequently disposed of
three head at once. What he as-
, * ertained to be true of his own cows
> y experiment is true of many others
n this vicinity. These were cows kept
'or ordinary farm purposes ; not strict-
y a dairy herd such as the Mohawk
Valley dairymen keep. They look
carefully for the best ; common farm
ers take up with whatever comes along.
1 little experimenting by the latter ,
low and then , might open their eyes
; o sources of loss not now suspected.
N Y. Tribune
Corned Boof for JTamnieii. . t.
To four gallons of water add one
and one-half pounds of sugar or mo
of saltpetre , and
lasses , two ounces
six pounds of rock salt or puro com
mon salt. If the meat is to be kept
through the summer , or more than
three months , use nine pounds ol salt.
Boil all together gently and skim.
Have tho beef or tongues closely
packed in the vessel in which they are
to remain and pour the pickle over
while boiling hot. Pour on enough to
cover the meat well and place a weight
upon it. The meat will be fit for uso
in a few days. The same pickle may
be used the second time by adding
about one-third of the ingredients and
heating it again. The meat canjre-
main in the pickle any length of time
when six pounds of salt is used with
out becoming too salt. If ninepounds
of salt are used , the meat may need
to be freshened before boiling. This
quanity of pickle will cover. 100
pounds of meat properly packed.
To cook , cover with boiling water and
simmer gently till tender about three
quarters of an hour for every pound
of beef. Let it cool in the water m
which it is boiled , slice thin and serve.
Sensible Departure.
Dancing days are near at hand , and
there is every indication that the dia
phanous textiles in silk , muslin , tulle ,
etc. , will in a great degree lose tho
hold they had upon fashion a year
ago , giving place to silk-embroidered
veilings , delicately tinted crepoline and
cashmere goods and silks , satins , and
even plushes in soft , exquisite evening
shades. This is a sensible and com
mendable departure. The airy gossa
mers should not have all the seasons
for their own , but should disappear ,
like the swallows , with the first chill of
autumn , to be seen no more until the
time of bursting buds and sunny skies.
It is impossible to be warmly clad in
the matter of comfortable , long-
sle'eved , high-necked underwear , when
attired in a toilet of a semi-transpar
ent nature , and therefore when thus
dressed a lady is trifling with life and
health. The wearing of such toilets is
a relic of our grandmothers' foolish
days and ways , and should have gone
into desuetude simultaneously with
the dying out of the wearing of paper-
soled'shoes , wasp waists , and heathen
ish tight lacing. New York Post.
Pillow Shams.
To stiff white bed covers , pillow
slips and shams , false sheets and Val
enciennes trimmings , monogrammed
and rufiled fineries , there is a truce.
They were so slippery , so troublesome ,
and so false Avithal , that the beds
that have known them shall know
them no more. They had always to
be removed belore the sleeper could
enter his bed , and they were the tor
ment of the house-maid. They en
tailed a degree of washing and ironing
which was endless , and yet many a
young housekeeper thought them in
dispensable. That idea has gone out
completely. The bed now is made up
with its fresh linen sheets , its clean
blankets , and its Marseilles quilt , and
with square or long pillows , as the
sleeper fancies , a bolster in its plain
linen sheath , then over the whole is
thrown a light silk covering of some r
bright color , over that a spread of
lace , Notinglmm or more expensive ,
such as the furnisher pleases , which is
easily folded away in the evening. Or
spreads of Chinese or Japanese em
broidery , Turkish , Smyniote work , or
one of the various sorts of patch work
or Decorative Art embroidery now so
fashionable. But it is no longer three
or four or five pieces of slippery linen
to be adjusted ; it is one light and eas
ily aired covering. If the bed is a tes i
ter , and the curtains are of silk or
chintz , the bed covering should , of
course , be of silk or chintz to match.
And in a very pretty bedroom the
walls should becoveredwith the same ;
silk or chintz. Harper's Bazar.
The Popnlar American Sarahs.
New York Evening Post : Added
jlory is given this season to the useful
American surahs which , from time to
bime have taken a step higher in public
estimation. These silks have proved
30 trustworthy that a demand has
arisen for the goods for exportation ,
trebling that of any season past. Mer
chants long ago claimed that in point
af durability and good appearance to
the end , the American surahs are
ihead of either cashmereserge .or silk-
ivarp goods of any sort. They occupy
in uncommonly wide field of usefulness ,
is they are not only fashioned into
; legant costumes and mantlesbut also
orm linings to bodices , polonaises ,
jloaks , etc. , and have proved very suc
cessful used for rich underwear , as the
surah can be laundried under a careful
land to look as well as the Chinese
yashing siik. The cheaper brands aro
lot flimsy like other low-graded goods ,
or though light , they are also exceed-
ngly firm and evenly woven. Silkbed-
luilts made of theselast foryearsand
airtain linings of surah are said to
ceen their color under the strong influ-
; nce of the sunlight better than linings
) f any other description. °
The South is progressing. The as-
lessed value of property in the 12
States of Alabama , Arkansas , Florida ,
Seorgia , Kentucky , Louisiana , Missis-
uppi , North and South Carolina , Ten-
lessee , Texas and Virginia has in-
Teased from $2,184,208,505 in 1880
: o $3,070,514,435 in 1885. The in-
xease in the value of farm products
luring the same period has been from
5549,850,000 to $699,077,000 ; inth
reduction of fruit and vegetables
rom § 10,821,599 to 819,065,000 ; in
'alue of stock , from § 325,378,414 to
5562,916,258 ; in the number of cot-
on spindles , from 542,048 to 1,161-
166 ; in the production of iron , from
! 10,722 tons to 641,000 tons ; in the
'alue of lumber and simple articles of
rood , from § 36,521,708 to § 49,200-
100 ; an'3 in the value of general manu-
actures , from § 315.924,774 to § 445-
156,000.
