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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (April 15, 1886)
THE NEWSBOYS. BY WABKEN SUMXEK BAKLOTV. What's a town without the newsboys , With their early morning song Or their evening salutation As we meet them in the throng ? Laden with the latest tidings From the world's electric wires , Their ambiti&ri Is. to serve us To the height of our desires. Often weary , wet and hungry , Chilled by cold's relentless blast , With their bundle still a burden , Which forever seems to last. Let us with a kindly feeling Their entreaties try to heed ; For what seems to us a trifle ' May supply a mother's need. From the 1 > ottom of the ladder They begin the rounds of life ; Where they learn the art of climbing As they conquer in the strife. Oft surpassing those who started Far.above , at fortune's call , Who , allured by her devices. Sadly are the Hist to falL Then , brave boys , with humble calling , Hopefully your task pursue , Reaching for the rounds above you With a noble cud ia view. Paterson , X. . J. A STORY OF BEIGATOS. A SPANISH SOUVEXIR. Some time ago I was in Malaga at a moment when a book that had just ap peared at Madrid was making a great stir all over Spain. The "Bandolerismo" ( the brigand age ) , by Don Julian de Zugasti , ex- deputy of cortes and civil governor of Cordova , had just established the fact that the scenes of robbery , pillage , ar son , murder , and abduction , which then desolated the county , were not , as was generally believed , a passing crisis , but a national sore a normal condition , more or less acute , finding its raison d'etre on the one sidp in the Spanish character itself , and on the other in the weakness of the government and the in direct complicity of the inhabitants , of the judiciary , and even of persons in very high positions. One will understand the effect of this book at Malaga when I say that this city , right or wrong , is looked on as the refuge of all the bandits in the province. "Kill the King and go to Malaga" is an old Spanish proverb , iniptyiug that a person charged with crime can find a safe asylum in that city. In every pub lic place nothing was heard at this time but stories of brigands , the most dra matic tales of abduction , everyone hav ing some incident to relate in support of the revelations of Don Julian's book. Comments on this work never ceased , and , although the judgments upon it were diverse , its veracity and the ser vices rendered to society b3r the author , who , as governor of Cordova , had vig orously suppressed brigandage , were unanimously recognized. As I was dining one evening with the French consul the conversation natur ally turned on this book and stories of brigands. The crimes of all the Fra Diavolos of Spain were successively passed in review , and if I did not dream Df brigands that night it was because the dinner having been very elaborate , and moistened with the best wine of ihe country my sloop , under this burn ing atmosphere of Andalusia , was un- asually profound. Before dinner the consul had kindh' presented me to some of the notabilities of the cit3 % and to i countryman of ours , a rich capitalist held in high esteem by both natives and French , who had invited me to visit him , employing the Spanish form : Usted lienc su casa numero your house is in such a street , such a number , that is to say : "I live at such a place vud my house is y-ours. " A few days later I went to see this new Mend , Mr. C. , and , after a few com- tnonplaces.jthe conversation again led op to Don J ulian's book and the brig- inds. I asked him then if he himself believed these extraordinary stories ind if he shared the ideas of this book. "Assuredly , " said he , "I have very yood reasons to believe in brigands , for L have very often found myself in forc ed relations with them ; but , far from lomplaining , I owe to them the oppor tunity fo attend quietly to my business , [ f you are fond of this sort of stories , I will tell you about the famous Capt. Samarilla , theworthy imitator of the reat Jose Maria , sung in all the bal lads and celebrated in all our legends. I need not say that I promptly ac- jepted this , offer , and opened my ears aot to lose a word of the narrative , rriiicb to an undoubted authentic - , ad- ied for me the charm of reality , for the lewspapers were telling eveiy day of ihe exploits of this famous bandit , and it this instant were occupied with ihe abduction of a wealthy-Englishman , vhom the British government had de manded. "You know , " saidM. C. , "that I am ihe director of a lead mine in the Sier [ ra Nevadas. Under nyorders I have large number of workingmen , who lot only work in the mine , but relieve ihe hardships of uiat laborious toil and idd to its profits br occasionally fol- owing another trade smuggling , for jxample , or robbcry on the highways. But as I am not charged with the du- 5es of police outside my own works , ind as everybody there does his duty , I icver bother myself about what hap pens elsewhere. "One da3r a young man with a line ace , distinguished manners , a white ind aristocratic hand , neatly though uodestly dressed , came into my office ind asked for work in the mine. After looking him over and hearing his re- ' juest proffered him the purest Castil- | an , I told him that the kind of work I ad was hardly suited to the delicacy7 of kis hands or the distinction of his man- lers and his person , and advised him ( o seek emplo3-ment better suited to a can of his position. " 'I don't care how rough the work " 6 , ' he answered. 'I mus"t work for a iving ; I am out of work and absolutely i irithoutasou. ' M " 'Well , ' said I , without opposing i lim more , 'COIUR to-morrow ; you shall . ' kave something to do. ' - The next day the young man prei himself bright and early , and 11 ! put him in charge of a squad of miners. For about a month he attended faith fully to his business and became a great favorite with his companions ! But one morning he was taken sick. I wanted him to go into the infirmar } ' , "but in spite of all my efforts to detain him he insisted on going" away , and to all my protests he replied that his com panions would take good care of him. "The young fellow interested me , his courage , his perseverance , his force of will touched me , and I ended by offer ing to go with him to Malaga , ' where I promised to obtain him a place that would be worthy of his apparent station. " 'You are very kind , he said to me with tears in his eyes , 'and it is a long time since anyone manifested so much interest in me. I'thank you , and am very grateful. Allow me to respond to your generous offer with a confidence tbat will show you why I can not ac cept it. I do not wish you to believe that I am ungrateful or indifferent. My name is L , and the name of Sama- rilla was given to me by my comrades on account of the cloakl wore when I took refuge in the mountains. I served several years as an officer in the cavalry , and the future presented the most bril liant prospects , when I met a young lady at Seville with whom I fell desper ately in love at first sight. After some happy maneuvers , i was presented to the family , and soon accepted as a be trothed by the beautiful young woman , who gave me permission to come in the evening to talk witli her at her window. I was happy. Everything in the world seemed to srnile on me. My family was well-to-do and well disposed lo - ward me ; Ihad a charming fiancee , good comrades , and was patiently waiting my rank of captain in order to marry. " 'One evening , after having taken leave of the family of my inamorata , I took a little turn of the promenade and was going back to my usual place un der her balcony , when I thought I ob served someone in possession of that sacred spot. That , you know , is a mortal insult that no good Spaniard can endure , so , rubbing my eyes to assure myself that I was not dreaming , 1 quickened my steps , and , an instant later , clearly distinguished a man muffled in the folds of his long cape. " ' "Be off , " I cried to the stranger. "This is the balcony of my fiancee. If yon do not want to feel the blade of my navajci be off , I say. : > " "My rival for it could be none else than a rival drew his knife without a word , and sprang upon me. But I had rolled my cloak around my left arm. I parried the blow , and , attacking him in my turn , I struck him such a blow ( hat he gave a piercing shriek , and fell life less to the ground. " ' "What was to be done ? I imagined that I heard a cry respond to that of my victim. No doubt she had wit nessed the combat from her window. " 'To fly was the only thing left me. Windows began to go up , whistles sounded to call the night watchman. I lied and reached my liouse a prey to the liveliest anguish , devoured by jeal ousy and rage and terrified by a mis fortune the consequences of which J could not conceal. Being unable to rest in this uncertainty until the next day and thinking that I might be sought at my lodging , 1 went to my cousin's , an officer in the same regiment , and telling him what had happened asked him to go for information touching the consequences of the affray. After an hour an age to me he returned with the word that every chance of safety was closed against me , that I was known to be the assailant , that my rival be longed to one of the most distinguished families of Madrid and to % the party then in power , and that the p'enalty for my crime would be terrible , no one dar ing to defend me against such power ful adversaries. My relative himself already seemed cold toward me. I then thought that , for the present at least , the wisest thing to do was to put the mountains between justice and nyself. I returned to my house , gathered up the little money that I possessed , sad dled my horse , and galloped off for the mountains. " 'You know that every man with a weight on his conscience can easily find a refuge in the hiding-places of the smugglers and bandits. I secreted myself and lived some time on the little money I had taken with me. The day came when I had to sell my poor horse , my last faithful friend. I then appeal ed to my family. My relatives respond ed that I had disgraced them , and re fused to assist me. My friends , like my relatives , denied my appeal. Final ly , one day I learned that a price had been put on my head , and that I must no longer hope to resume my place in society , It was then that , having spent my last sou , I went to you , and you gave me bread. You know the rest. Permit me to thank you again and to take your hand ; you will then have lone for me all that you can do. ' "I admit that I shook his hand with all my heart , and he departed. "I have seen him several times since , but he had already become famous by liis exploits. I even lent him on one occassion some money , and not only lid he repay it promptly , but showed uimself very grateful for the favor. I will say more , that I have a great deal of sympathy for Samarilla , and that I owe to him the privilege of going into the mountains in the course of my busi ness without running the slightest risk. " After having taken a glass , M. C. continued : "One evening , as I was taking fresh air at the door of my hacienda , Sama rilla unexpectedly appeared , shook my hand cordially , took a chair , rolled a cigarette , and told me what he was doing and how he was now the chief of , the brigands. Let us allow the famous captain to speak for himself. ' 'When I left the mine , ' he told me , 'I was badly afflicted , both physicallv and mentalh' , and at one time I thought E must soon render an account of my life and my crime to my Maker. But my companions were as kind and de voted to me as my relatives and friends had been hard and pitiless. At lirat they took me into a part of the moun tains unknown even to the inhabitants of the region , where I might be sure of a shelter from justice. There they con fided me to the care of one of their wives , who bestowed upon mo all the attention and solicitude of a sister. Every day at their return from work my companions , one and all , came to see me , and to keep me company a few moments , some bringing me fruit , oth- srs a book , all renumbering me with some 1 rifle. These worthy fellows , in deed , displayed an affection for that I could not repay with my life. After three mouths of intelligent and assid uous care I got well enough to go out , and went for short walks into the mountains now and then. It was dan gerous , for I knew that I was always hunted , but my companions kept so close a watch ovor me that no harm be fell me , and last I thought of resuming my work. Strength and health were restored , I was happy in the affection and devotion of the worthy fellows who surrounded me , and with forgetfulness and contempt for the infidelities of the past my calmness of mind and heart returned. I was going to return to the mine , when one evening an unusual number of 1113' companions invaded my hut and asked me to listen to a spokes man , who had a communication to make to me in the mime of all. One of them then advanced and said : " ' "Listen , comrade : We have done for you all thai a brother might do , and we know you are grateful and ready to do as much for us ; but what we ask of you to-day is a service of another kind. You arc wrong in thinking to return to work. You would fall ill again , and this time our care might be unavailing. Your hands were never made to dig in the mines ; they are better made to hold a weapon and guide a horse. Society pursues you for a crime of which you were not willfully guilty ; a.price is set upon your head ; you are hunted like a wild beast ; you have no family but ours ; be then our brother , our chief ; to-mor row we will bring you arms and the horse that brought you into the moun tains. Be our chief , and when we need you we shall count on your strong arm and courage , as you may count on our blind devotion and obedience. " " 'Could I refuse ? I accepted. lac- cepted even with pride and gratitude this way of acquitting myself toward these kind-hearted fellows. From that moment I was treated like a lord , and provided luxuriously and abundantly with all that could augment the pleas ure of life and Hatter self-love. " 'Not long afterward the same com panion who had offered me the com mand , and who was to be my lieuten ant , told me that the time had come to put myself at the head of my men , and make a strike , on which depended the future of the band. It was to assist the landing of a ship loaded with smug gled goods which had arrived off the coast of Marabollo the night before. The royal troops had been warned , and were to oppose the landing of the goods by force. Our plan was to surprise the lotler by a sudden and bold attack , while a certain number of us got the goods ashore and hurried them into the mountains. It was an audacious scheme , the resistance was likely to be terrible , birt we numbered nearly one hundred men. and the custom house officers could not be more numerous , and we were cenain of the neutrality of the people on the shore. "On the day appointed we employed the time in fixing our weapons , dis tributing ammunition , and instructing each man in his duty. At dusk I took the head of my trpops , and we soon ar rived at a short distance from the land ing , where , thanks to the formation of the ground , we could casity hide our selves and scatter in little groups so as not to raise an alarm. At midnight a cannon fired from the brig announced that the boats had quit the ship , and soon , indeed , black masses which ad vanced in the shadow could be seen on the horizon. At the same tjme we ap proached the shore , and then , all at once , when the soldiers in ambush were on the point of throwing themselves upon the boats , which had almost gain ed the shore , we rushed upon them with a formidable war-cry , and after a short but desperate battle we were masters of the field. In a twinkling the goods were lauded and loaded on mules and men , and the boats regained the ship , which at once raised anchor and disap peared in the night. ' 'Only a few men failed to respond to the morning roll-call ; we had brought off our wounded , and the a'ffair , loverly directed and bravely executed , brought us nearly 500,000 francs. " 'For my companions from that time E was Capt. Samarilla , the chief , whom they loved and would have followed to Hie ends of the world , the famous bandit on whose head is a price , but who , if heaven pleases , will never fall alive into the hands of the law. for he will never be sold by his companions. ' "Such was the history of Samarilla as related by himself , which I hold to be absolutely true for it has been given to me to verify it. Samarilla is indeed udored by his soldiers , who would risk their lives a hundred times to save his , as he himself would never rest while any of his men are in trouble. Like his predecessor , Jose Maria , the captain endeavors to repair the injustices of fate and society. He plunders and pun ishes the wicked rich to givo to the poor ; he scatters gold everywhere along his route ; in considerat'on of a small rent he protects estates against irregu lar robbers , and even employs his in fluence to secure the election of worthy and patriotic men to office , even though they be his personal enemies. In short , Samarilla is the slave of his word , and never breaks it even at the peril of his life. " Thus spoke my countryman , and I have retained , if not the self-same words , at least the smallest details of this interview. In quitting M. C. I felt a presentiment that some day1 would encounter Samarilla. for whom I ex perienced a real sympathy and a cul pable admiration. The same year King Alfonso made a journey to Andalusia and passed some days at Malaga , where , in his honor , there were magnificent fetes , races , bull-lights , festivals , and an enthusiasm so real and so general that all the la dies of the city showered the young monarch with flowers and all sorts of loving emblems. 1 myself had the honor to be presented to his majesty , and I was so charmed with my recep tion and with all I saw that when , some days later , I learned that the king was going to Granada. I determined to again see the wonders of the Alhamfara under the illuminations of a fete. The mountains had been infested with brigands , but at this moment ic was re ported that Samarilla with all his band had departed for a distant province. Nevertheless , I went to see my new friend , M. C. , informed him of my pro ject , and admitted that I thought of asking the government for an escort. "Do nothing so foolish , " he said at once. "Besides being swindled out rageously at all the inns , you would at tract attention and infallibly be robbed and abducted you and your unhappy companions. Since you"are bound to go , I will get four good , strapping fel lows , with whom you will have nothing to fear , to go with you. Tell me the da } * of your departure , and 3011 will find them at the gate of the city on the road to Velez-Malaga. " I gave him the day and hour , and one morning , after slipping a pair of revolvers into the holsters of my saddle and placing an excellent double-bar reled carbine in front , I set out , fol lowed by my servant , toward Velez- Malaga , and soon came upon my four attendants , who were prompt at the rendezvous. I might say that if I had met them further from town , I should involuntarily have drawn my revolvers , so tanned and feroc'ious were their faces , and so formidably did they bristle with firearms and knives. They asked me very politel3' if I was Capt. Z. , and put themselves at my orders ten steps behind me. All went well the first da3r ; we lunch ed at an inn on an omelette with to mato sauce , a piece of sausage , that ex cellent bread that everybody eats in Spain , and some fruit. The landscape was charming , the temperature very mild , for the road runs along the sea and passes at the foot of the mountains through some of the most picturesque scenery I have ever beheld. We lodged at a comfortable hotel , and resumed our journey at an early hour in the morning. We were now in the ver3'midst of the Sierra Nevadas. The county became more and more savage. The road wound around the mountain side , with fathom less chasms on one side and a wall of perpendicular rock on the other. At each turn a new panorama met the C3"e , and I passed from one enchant ment to another. From time to time I perceived some armed men on the heights who seemed to be sentinels , but having questioned my attendant they told me they were shepherds watching their flocks. All at once at a turn in the road I saw a horseman a few steps before me. escorted 03 two men similarly mounted and armed. I pressed up 1113' horse and coming up with him wished him gooda3r Vaya listed con Dios , etc. These few words sufficed , it appears , to show my inexperience with the lan guage of Spain , for the horseman , who had but himself at r y left to continue along the road with me , said in excel lent French : "I am delighted , sir , to meet a stranger , and ibove all a French man. " I had no re-.on : to hide my or igin nor the object of ni3r journey , and , as at the first glance f had made up my mind that I was quil able to resist an attack Toy my neigl bor , we fell into conversation. As w.went along I no ticed that myunkno.wn wore with much distinction a handsome costume of gar net velvet braided \ \ th bhick , that his leggings were finely embroidered , and that his arms were Magnificent. "Then you have no fear of brig ands ! " he asked. "WinI replied. "I have heard of none but Samarilla's band , and accord ing to what I have heard of him I be lieve I have no reason to fear a meet ing with him. I am a foreigner. I liavc no great amount of money , and Simarilla would rea , > no great profit or glor3r by robbing m-1. Besides , I am a friend of one of his friends who former ly gave him work in his mine when he was pursued by the officers of the law , and should I conimnd nyself to him I believe he would do me no harm. Samarilla is a gentleman. I nyself am an old soldier and o licer , and 1 am told that it would 01113necessary ' to show him my passport to be immediatelv set at Iibert3- . " "You ma3' be r'ght as to yourself , " he returned , "but aI am a Spaniard I have no wish to muet him , and I hope as long as we trav.-l together we shall not have that ill luck. However , do not delude yourself as to your , forces and arms , for resistance would be ab surd and useless ; my men and 3'ours would be of no avail before an attack by a force ten times their number. " The conversation continued thus for neamr two hours. My companion was marvciousty familiar with the countn . He toid me the names of the different peaks , showed me 5nthe distance Grana- i da , and the Sierra Nevada with its crests of snow in midsummer. Finally he said that before quitting us he want- ' ed to offer me some refreshments. ! We went into an inn at the edge of the bed of the Cocin. a little stream us- , ' ually diy , where he ordered a sort of j a biscuit , which he placed in a glass of , fresh water , making a drink that 1 ' found to be delicious. He took a like drink himself and then threw a piece of gold on the table. J Without waiting for the change we | remounted , and at the next turn of the , road my unknown shook my hand , warmly , wished me a pleasant journey , and left me with these words : "llct'ol- lect that in Spain brigands exist only in novels and the imagination of cowards , " , and he was off at a gallop. Two hours later I entered Granada. ' I saw the king , attended the festivities of the court , and a ball at the Alham- bra , then returned to Malaga by rail enchanted with 1113 * journey through < the mountains and bewildered 03 the splendor of Granada. [ I hurried to thank M. C. and to asj j [ sure him of my perfect satisfaction with j my traveling companions. I praised i their ferocious appearance , and declari i cd that the3' would have defended me most valiantly if I had encountered 1 brigands led even 03' the famous Samaj j rilla himself. "Really , " he replied , "it seems to me [ that you have no right to complain of my terrible friend who offered you re1 1 freshments and with whom you were = confidential. On my word , 3-011 have i made a conquest , and to-da3T you can " travel through the whole countywith t no risk of harm. 1 "What , " I cried , "ni3 * unknown com- , panion ! " f "Was Saraarilla himself. And this is what 3-011 taid to him. " s He then repeated the conversation \ with the genial stranger so accurately i -i. that I realized at once that only the latter could have related it to him. The following winter , at Seville , I narrated my adventure to several friends. "It is easy to prove the identity ol your companion , " said one of them. "Come with me to-morrow , and 1 will show 3011 a portrait of Samarillla. aHis photograph is in the hands of the "authorities. " The next day I recognized my moun tain traveler perfectly , and felt that I could count on one protector more in the world. In Spain it is prudent to believe in brigands , and wise to say nothing ill of them. Paris Figaro. The Literary Fever. The Sun received some MS. last week , accompanied by a note which reads as follows : "I send this mani script , with stamps inclosed , in case it is rejected. This is my first work of the kind. Being out of employment. J have taken this way of earning an honest livelyhood. This is strictly origancl , and hopeing 3rou will draw a favorable opinion of it. I remain , 3'ours respectfully , Price $7.00. " There were nine pages of foolscap , which would be ample for the price , as far as qtiantit3is concerned , to an3r pub lication that buys MS. , but , as , might reasonably be expected in a "first at tempt , " the quality is considerably acking. The culmination or closing catastrophe , particularly , is too highly wrought and sensational. The hero shoots a skunk with a borrowed gun loaded with dynamite , kills the animal "deader'n a smelt , " the gun bursts into a thousand pieces , and the shooter still lives to tell the talc , being but slightly hurt. The spelling of the sketch in many instances is also calculated to depreci ate the market value of the same as for instance : "clamouring" for clamber ing ; "lone" for loan ; "mutch , " "buisi- " "whitch " " " "sieze- ness , , "ceartanly , - ing , " "tiard" for tired , etc. These and other words are strict * original , to be sure , but would all have to be corrected , which is a bother. The writer's am bition to earn an honest livelihood is praiseworthy , but there are perhaps other iields wherein he will succeed better than writing for the press. Right here is a good opportunity to give a word of advice to the vast army of young people who feel that tliC3' are inspired to become authors. First , find out if 3'ou can spell correctly nearty all the words in common cvery-day use in the English language. If 3-011 don't know whether 3-011 can or not. write a letter to some teacher or good scholar of 3-0111' acquaintance and : isk to have misspelled words corrected. You may have splendid ideas and a keen sense of humor , unlimited pathos , or statis tics and reminiscences galore , and 3"ct nip everj'thing in the bud by incorrect spelling. It would be well also to dis abuse 3Tour mind of the idea that 3-011 have but to write and mail your pro duction to some well-known publication , when wealth will roll in upon 3rou at seven or eleven dollars per roll. To put it mildly , the young man or woman who imagines that a "first attempt" is worth aii3'"considerable quantity of hard cash , must have a good deal of that commodity known as "cheek" or "gall , " and needs only study the his- toiy of all prominent authors whose work now commands good prices , to find that even their first attempts did not enrich them to aingreat extent. Look at llu rh Coiiway. He wrote and wrote , accumulating a trunkful of stories , and , lacking in "cheek , " did not succeed in getting any of them pub lished until he was a middled-aged man. Then one came out somehow , and it was discovered that he had ail those years been hiding his great novelistic light in a trunk. His success overpower ed him. He'died. There is a moral here , but not knowing just how to state it , we pass on. It is not b3 * an3' means intended in these remarks to discourage young peo ple from writing , but it seems as if man3r of them use but little judgement in the matter , and think that "every- thing goes , " whether , it is correctly- written or not , or whether , being cor rectly written , it is adapted for the par ticular publication to which the3 * send it. On the other hand , it occurs some times , of course , that a writer with true genius languishes in obscurity from want of confidence and perseverance in placing his or her productions before the public , or meets with rebuff because unknown to fame , while less meritor ious authors who have climbed the steep ladder have but to write anything and be well rewarded. Such is literary life , and there seems to be no remedy , although , it must be confessed , the chances for success are much better to day than formerly. If there only were some way to choke off the embryo writers who are totally unfitted for the business and don't know it , the others would have a belter chance. Peck's Sun. Mercantile Hypocracy. In a store. Merchant ( to clerk ) "Did you send Hammerton his bill again this week ? " Clerk "Yes , sir. " Merchant "What did he say ? " Clerk "Said he would be around ind pay it. " Merchant "That's what he has said for the last six months. He's the bijr- - jest liar in this town. He can never jet ten cents' worth on a credit here any more. I reckon we'll have to sue aim sh here lie comes now. " Merchant "Good morning , Mr. Hammerton , glad to see you , sir. Won't pou sit down ? ' Hammerton "No , thank 3ou. I sailed in to settle that bill. " Merchant "What bill oh , ves. Why , sir , I hadn't thought of it. You see , the collector has charge of the bills : ind I pay but little attention to them. 1 Ihank you. " receiving the money and < receipting the bill ) "Call again , Mr. Hammerton. Hammerton "I am a little pushed tor moneys at present. " Merchant That makes no difference , sir , none whatever. Whenever you ivanfc anything give us a calL Arkana tas Traveler. i i HOUSEHOLD HINTS. Parsnip Fritters Scrape and boO tender , rub through a colander to get rid of the tough and stringy portions , ul of milk , a beat in a eg"a tablespoonf teaspoonful ( heaping ) of prepared flour , with a little pepper and salt ; make into small , flat cakes , flour and fry m good dripping or lard. Hominy Soak a cup of small homi ny for two hours in enough cold water to cover it. Drain , put over the fire in a farina kettle , with a quart of a water sligtly snlted , and cook for an hour after it reaches the boil. II I has not soaked up all the water , pour it t ! off and supply the place with a cup ol warm milk. Bring it to a boil and serve. Eat with sugar and cream. Baked Halibut Buy a piece of hali but cut square and thick , not in slices , put it on the wire frame for roasting in the dripping pan , and pour a pint of well-salted water into the pan , lay the halibut on the cut side , and on the other or upper side , lay enough slices of thinly cut salt pork to cover the fish ; bake till the fish is thoroughly done , half an hour at least , occasionally basting it with the salted water. Broiled Shad Make your market- man split the shad down the belly ; this brings the thickest part over the great est heat of the fire , and it is nicer to help served in this manner. Put it on i well greased gridiron and turn quite often ; to know when it is done separate the flakes of the thick part with a knife , and if it is at all pink or translucent return it to the fire. When done lay on a hot platter , skin side down ; strew with salt only , put on bits of softened butter and serve. Veal Cutlets , with Butter Sauce Dip each cutlet in a beaten egg , then in peppered and salted cracker dust , and fry in hot dripping to a rich golden brown. Lay each as it is done on paper to absorb the grease. Arrange a hot dish and put on every cutlet a generous spoonful of sauce. Make it by beating two tablespoonfuls of butter , to a cream with a tablespoonful of lemon juice and a tablespoonful of minced parsley . Broiled Chicken Do not attempt to broil an old or full grown fowl ; take a young chicken , split it down the back always , wipe the inside dry after re moving the giblets , and place it on the gridiron with the inside down ; keep it so till it begins to grow very brown , then turn it , but the moment the skin threatens to burn , reverse it again. To find how it is cooking , insert a sharp knife into the thickest breast , if the flesh is pink at all , return it to the fire ; when well done and browned , Ia3 * it on a platter , inside down ; butter , salt and serve. Fried Potatoes When they are smok ing hot , and delicately browned they are delicious. To have them moist and free from an abundance of grease , de pends entirely upon two things the condition of the lire and the lard ; for lard it must be , fresh , firm , and sweet , for neither drippings , skimmings nor any of the other little economies tho heart of the mistress is so apt to de light in will answer so well no matter how nicely rendered. Put in at the first a generous supply , and see it be comes smoking hot over a fire not too bright at first , but steadily increasing in the temperature. On these two commandments haug all one's skill and success. Baked Toast Pare the crust from slices of stale bread and toast quickly. As each is done , scrape off every sign of burn or scorch , dip in a pan of boil ing salted water and lay in a deep dish that will bear the fire without injury. When all are in , pour upon the toast a quart of hot milk ( half cream if 3-011 can get it ) in which has been dissolved a heaping teaspoonful of butter and a teaspoonful of salt. Set the dish in a dripping pan of hot water and this in the oven. Bake covered for half an hour , then let the top Ia3'er brown very slightly. Should the milk be all absorbed before the time is up , add a little , boiling hot. Toast thus prepared has a rich creamy flavor the ordinary "dip toast" never acquires. Stewed Fowl Cut an old hen , or a tough fowl of any age , in pieces , sin o and wash carefully , and put into a cov ered pot or saucepan , pepper well and pour on hot water enough to cover well , let it stew slowly on the back of the stove all day , filling up with water when needed , till even the gristle is tender. It is better to put in a whole onion with the fowl , as it stews all away and adds richness to the gravy , but this be omitted. Next can day carefully re move all the fat from the surface of the gravy , add some chopped celery ; or a teaspoon of celery salt ; common salt enough to make it palatable , and two grates of nutmeg to the gravy , and when it is hot thicken it with a heaped tablespoonful of flour rubbed in one of butter till smooth ; put in the chicken when the gravy is thick and hot , and heat it through. Serve very hot. What You Have a Eight to Know. How much have we a right to know of the private affairs of our friends and acquaintances ? This is a delicate ques tion to answer. Where to dra.w the line depends so much on the degree of in timacy. But in order to make social intercourse satisfactory , easy and se cure , we certainly ought to know some thing. We are bound in fairness to our fellow- man to give our credentials , our pass port , so to speak , our nationality , our calling , our domestic condition , in order / ' to save him from the mortification of / I treading on delicate ground , or at least to save him from the restraint which v uncertainty involves. Of course there are many private matters which a man nas a right to keep secret , according to stir recognized code of social laws though we think the less secrecv there is in the world the better , since"all se- jrets are lies by implication. Texas Sifttngs. California newspapers are besinnlnir to kick igainstthe large influx of Italians who havo jeen imported by vineyardists.
