THE CHRISTIAN SUN.
IN ESSENTIALS, UNITY;
IN NON-ESSENTIALS, LIBERTY;
IN ALL THINGS, CHARITY.
Volume XXXIII.
SUFFOLK, ALY., FRIDAY JANUARY 9, 1880.
Number 3.
jjnefrg.
Original.
forgiveness.
t BY REV. H. B. HAYKI.
Forgive to *aord as 1 forgive,
Those who hare injured me, j
And raay^he spirit in me live,I
• That is from malice free.
0 let me hare the gentle mind,
The mind that is in Thee ;
Forgiving, pitiful and kind,—
Thy true disciple be.
And for my enemies 0 Lord,
Give me a heart to pray ;
As Thou rcquirest in Thy word,
May I Thy word obey.
With every passion may I part,
That is o^f ill intent,
And clasp the erring to my heart,
That says, “1 do repent."
Help me to shun all sin and strife,
And live in love and peace,
Through %11 the days of mortal life,
Till mortal life shall cease.
CREAM OF THE PRESS.
—Headers, penitent and impeni
tent, look to the leaves of the new
three-hundred and sixty-five-paged
ledger God has put before you, with
the command to write not with your
hands alone, but also with your
hearts. You cau wipe away your
head records, 6ut the heart's motions
are written with indelible ink ; and
before you begin the page of a new
day, turn back to the blots, blurs,
crossings and erasings of the page
before, aud then steady yonr hearts
as. you begin the new iu the prayer:
“Create within me a new heart, and
wj/tw.JEJflpn me a right spirit.”
—There are very few tobacco-users
who would commend their example
to the young. They are ready euough
with excuse^for their own course ;
but they would shrink from advising
bright and pure boys to do as they
do. A great deal of prominence has
been given to the fact ot tieueral
Grant’s love of cigar-smokiug. Now
it ought to be made equally promi
nent that on his recent visit to Gir
ard College, he expressed the hope
that the boys there were not allowed
the use of tobacco; for if they kept
from it while under training; they
would be far less likely to indulge in
the practice wheu they went out. It
may Well be said to the boys, con
cerning these men who use tobacco
and advise others not to: “All,
therefore, whatsoever they bid you
observe, that observe aud do; but
do- not ye after their works: for they
say, and do not.”
—Estimates are made from time to
time, based on returns from the In
ternal Revenue Office, Police and
other places, Hospitals, Insane Asy
lums, Poor-Houses aud charitable In
stitutions, from which it is calculated
with reasonable certainty that our li
quor bills amount yearly to not less
than
1,—Direct expenses $600,000,000.
2— Indirect expenses $600,000,000.
3— Intemperance burns and des
troys property amounting to $10,000
000.
4— It destroys 70,000 lives.
5— It makes 30,000 widows,
6— It makes 100,000 orphans.
7— It makes 500 maniacs.
8— It instigates 250 murders.
9— It causes 500 suicides.
10— It consigus to jail 500,000 crim
inals.
11— And greater even than all this
it endangers the inheritance of liber
ty left us by our fathers by debauch
ing the voters and making instru
ments for k upholding corruption by
means of the ballot box.”
—Some time ago a party of ssilors
visited the Zoological Gardens* One
of them, excited by the liquor hjt had
taken, and as au act of bravtjdo to
his companions, took hold of a deadly
serpent. He held it up ; having seiz
ed it by the nnpe of tho neck in such
a way that it could not sting him. As
he held it, the snake; unobserved by
him, coiled itself round his arm, and
at length; it got a firm grasp, wound
tighter and tighter, so that he was un
able to detach it. As the pressure of
the snake increased the danger grew
and at length the sailor was unable
to maintain his hold on the neck of
the venomous reptile, and was com
pelled to loose it. What did the
snake then t It turned around aud
jtung him, and he died.,So it is with
the appetite for strong drink. We
can control it at first, but iu a little
while it controls us. We can hold its
Influences in our grasp for a while, so
that it shall be powerless ; but after
wards “it biteth like a serpent, and
ktingeth like an adder.”
TRUSTING AND DOING.
One morning, many years ago, a
shabby young man,who would now be
denominated a tramp, was shown into
the study of a rural minister.
“Well, my friend, what can I do
for you t” inquired the old minister
looking up from his newspaper. “Yon
appear weary; pray sit down.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the other,
gladly seating himself iu au armf
chair. “1 have walked the shoes off
my feet lookiug for work, and spent
what little money I had, and as I
arrived here iu the village a stran
ger, I thought that you might know
id some oue who would employ me.
I’ll work at anything, for I’m almost
in despair. 1 didn’t know that a
healthy young fellow could come as
near starvation as 1 have been.”
“Are you hungry now f”
“No, sir, I begged my breakfast of
au old colored woman, aud then cut
some wood for her; but I was so weak
l could scarcely baudle the as.”
“Do you trust in God t”
“1 should have died long before
this if I hadn’t, sir. I’m a Christian,
aud I teach in Sunday school at
home.”
“Have you been very anxious
about the salvation of souls as you
traveled along!” inquired the old
man, glanciug at him over the top ol
his glaeses.
“No, sir, I have not. I have
thought of nothiug but my old father
and mother, and of getting work ;
but I have trusted in God.”
“Just hear this,” invited the minis
ter, turning fhe leaves of a Bible at
his elbow: ‘ “Trust in the Lord, and
do good ; so shalt thou dwell in the
land, and verily thou shalt be fed.’
Do you believe this ? Have you ev
er read this!”
“It sounds familiar to me, aud I be
lieve it, certainly.”
“Then you see where the trouble
has been : you have obeyed but halfl
the injunction ; you have trusted in
God, and forgotten to do good. Now,
as you are looking for work, this
morning, will you take this bundle ot
tracts with you, aud when you have
distributed them return to mot”
“I will take them with pleasure,”
returned the young man, rising; “but
will you not direct me to some one ?”
“No; the Lord will take care of
that, if you are in earnest,” smiled
the minister, shaking his hand cor
dially.
With a more hopeful heart Henry
Weston passed into the streets,
where he distributed many of the
tracts among the children ou their
way to school. Some of them hesita
ted, glancing at his ragged clothing,
but his smile aud pleasant word re
assured, so that not one gave a refu
sal. Stopping before a shoe store he
saw an old mau standing iu the door
way. Selecting “A Closer Walk
with God,” from his package, he han
ded it to him, saying, “Will you
please read this, sir? My old father
is very fond of it.”
The old man glanced at the tract
aud then at him.
“Seems to me, young man, you’d
better spend your money for shoes
instead of tracts,” he said gruffly. ^
“They were given to me to distri
bute as I go about looking for work,”
he answered gently.
“Then why didn’t you ask me for
work t”
“I intended to, but something iu
your manner reminded me of my sick
old father, 300 miles from here, and
and so I gave you the tract that he
liked.” Henry was passing ou, when
the old mau detained him.
“Come into the store and choose a
stout pair of shoes, my sou, I’ll trust
the Lord to pay me for them.”
Silent with surprise Henry follow
ed him, and was soou fitted with a
pair of stout shoes, aud after warmly
expressing his thanks, hastened on
his way.
Entering every store, lie asked for
work, being courteously treated by
all; but as bis stock was runuiug low
bo decided to inquire at some of tbe
handsomest dwelling bouses. On a
lawn under a tree be fonud a feeble
old lady sitting alone; touching bis
old bat lie laid “Light at Eventide”
upon her lap, and was turning away
when she faintly recalled him.
“Will you stop a moment t I am
curious to know bow one so poor as
you are has time to distribute tracts.
Will you excuse the question from an
old lady 1”
Removing bis hat be told her bis
story,.scarcely repressing his tears
when speaking of tbe new shoes.
“Would you accept a suit ofclotbes
that belonged to my sou, who lias
lately died I” asked the old lady at
its close. “They are nearly new, and
will tit you.”
Gratefully accepting them, be went
l bo tbe house with her, aud was shown
into 11 room where he was allowed to
choose a whole out-fit, from stockings
to collar and necktie. After array
ing himself in the neat business suit,
he told his benefactress that in his
old clothes he asked for tlie humblest
employment, but now he should ask
for any oflice short of the Presiden
cy.
With his last tract lie entered a
large carpenter’s shop in a side street,
that had escaped his notice. “Will
you please accept this I” he asked,
laying “What is Eternity” on a desk
before which a middle-aged mau
stood figuring.
“What is time ? is of more conse
quence to me, just now,” he replied.
“Pin short of a hand to-day.”
“Pm a carpenter, looking for work
“Just go to work on that sash in
the corner there, and Pll decide your
wages when I see what you are
worth.”
At noon Henry entered the old
minister’s study.
“Excuse me—you have the advan
—Why, it’s the young fellow that
did good as well as trust in the Lord 1”
almost shouted the minister. “I knew
the Lord would keep his promise.
Now, come and have some dinner,
and tell me all about it.”—S. S. Times.
PUTTY AND PAINT.
Stepping into a new building the
other day I saw a carpenter finish
ing some work, but there was one
joint that would not go together as
he desired. After working with it
some time, aud not finishing it to
suit him, he left it, remarking, “A
little putty and paint will make it all
right.” Ah, yes, thought I, how
many defective places iu our charae
ters are only covered with “putty
aud paintand w hen the wear of
the years shall remove these, how
broken, hew defective, and how re
pulsive will we appear to those w ho
shall then see our sadly disjointed
lives.
There is a young man full of noble
pride end hope ; fYieuds are on every
haud to help him, and he makes
many earnest efforts; success is
within his grasp, but, uukuowu to
those w ho love him, he is allowing
some improper habit, some wrong in
dulgence to lead him. It may be
the sparkling glass that has the ad
der’s sting iu it; or the strange al
lurement of the gambler’s halls,
where these are covered by the dark
ness of the night, and shut away
from the sight of all good men, aud
when warned by his conscience and
by all the teachings of his better life
of the wrong and the danger, he only
puts on more carefully the outward
look of iunoeense, and the attitude of
goodness while he does not change
his habits ; he is only covering them
with “putty aud paint.” Wait until
years shall pass, and deep-seated hab
its shall assert its sways, then all
the “putty and paint” of his decep
tiou will be worn off, aud the black
deformity of his vices will stand out
so prominently as to mar and des
troy all the beauty and excellence of
his other attainments. One confirm
ed bad habit disjoints aud spoils the
whole of life.
There is a young' Christian; his
soul is burning with intense desire
to live a grand life, and to do a grand
life-work ; he makes the start, and
for the time all is clear and bright
before him; but by-and-by discour
agements cross bis path, he is disap
pointed in the lives of other Chris
tians, he does uot find the helps at
hand that he had fondly hoped for
and expected to find ; duty now de
mands of him entire faithfulness, but
he falters; he makes up his mind to
hold on to an outward form of wor
ship and of faith, while his life relax
es into the easy-going, careless life
that is like those around him in
the church. How my heart saddens
when I see him, for I know that his
forms of worship and nominal faith are
only putty and paint, and they cover
and hide for a time a backslidden
life; but when the hour of anguish
and of death comes the “putty and
paint” of his formality and dead
faith will have all worn off, and the
sad spectacle of a backslidden Chris
tian is presented to meet the fearful
demands of that dread hour. Is this
a picture of your life, reader 1
There is ouo glorious power that
can take these lives of ours, and so
thoroughly go through and through
them that from the ceutre to the cir
cumference of our being we will be
tilled with light and might, with
truth and righteousnoss; then we
are made so beautiful in life and char
acter that we shall need^ijo “putty
and paint” to cover our defects; for
the all-healing and all-cleansing blood
of the Lainb shall have washed our
[S^^way, and we through him be
made “whiter thau snow.1' Then we
shall stand the tests of life, the trial
i of death, and the flash of judgment
light, and will gain the secure tri
umph of heavenly bliss forever.—
Rev. T. L. Tomkinton, in the Confer
ence Worker.
BEARING THE CROSS.
Nearly seven hundred years ago,
on a cold rainey evening, five persons
stood together in a little room in one
of the poorest streets of the city of
Cologne. There were four men and
a little girl. It was plain they were
hiding, for chilly as it was, they dar
ed not light a tire. At last the bitter
cold was more than they could bear,
so they ventured to make a small
fire. They had scarcely began to
warm themselves, when soldiers
burst in and siezcd t hem all. They
were taken to prison, and soon
brought before the judges. Then it
was found that their only crime was
that they worshiped God, and would
uot pray to the Virgin Hilary or the
saints. They were condemned to be
burnt to death; but a pardon was
oft'eied them if they would forsake
Christ. Three of the men answered
at once they could die, but they
could uot be unfaithful to their .Lord.
The fourth, named Robert hesitated ;
he was the father of the little girl
Arlette, and her mother had uot been
dead many weeks, llut soon he de
cided like the rest. The judges
coaxed aud threatened Arlette. They
told her they could not save her
from being burnt alive, unless she
promised to leave her father’s reli
gion. She answered steadily, “I can
not forsake the faith.” In less thau a
week, the live were led to the place
of execution. The four men were
tied each to a stake, and faggots
heaped round them. They placed
Arlette against a stake, but did not
tie her. Then they set tire to the
fagots, aud some kind-hearted man
pulled the little girl away, and said
he would save her from the dreadful
death, aud bring her up not to serve
her father’s God. “I cannot forsake
the faith,” said Arlette again. Aud
before they could stop her, she had
run to her father aud caught hold of
his hand. In a few moments, Robert
and Arlette were in heaven together.
You aud I may be thankful that
we have not to bear a cross like Ar
lette, but we can love the Savior as
well as she did, and be as firm as she
was in refusing to do anything that
will grieve Him.—Early Days.
TRAIN THE CHILDREN.
“In spite of all the vast changes
which have passed over the minds
of men, the same qualities .are still
uecessar.v to make a good scientific
student, and efficient medical or le
gal adviser, an efficient spiritual pas
tor. Simplicity, sincerity, love of
goodness, and love of truth, are as
powerful and as much needed in our
day as they were in the days loug
ago, which formed the great profes
sion and are still the backbone of so
ciety.” Dean Stauley speaks words
of wonderous import. True wisdom
is of the heart rathey than the head.
“It is the harvest of moral thought
fulness patiently reaped through the
years.’1---*-—■-—-—
And so we say again, that the
moral training of our youth receives
far too little attention. We want
men who are strong in the right;
men who will show no infirmity of
moral courage even under the pres
sure of great temptation ; men who
maintaiu an abiding faith in the
omnipotence of virtue; men fit for
any crisis, “men made by the time
to make new a time.”—Dean Stan
ley.
THE VICTORY.
It is told of a Christian woman
that a friend entered her room and
found her with bowed bead, as if in
prayer or deep earnest thought. For
a long time the siletjjce was unbro
ken. At length her friend spoke to
her tenderly, knowing that a great
sorrow was on her heart and think
ing that she might comfort her. “I
have been trying to say the Lord’s
Prayer,” she answered, “but I cannot
get through it.” Her friend was well
aware that she had known that pre
cious prayer, and had repeated it
over and over ever siuce she learned
it in infancy at. her mother’s knee.
Her remark seemed strange, there
fore, to her. But she explained. She
had said the words thousands of
times, in sunny childhood, in joyous
youth, on her wedding morn, and
then along the gladsome years that
followed, amid songs and flowers and
prattling child voices, aud in the
sweetness of an unbroken home cir
cle. Aud they had flowed from her
(lips like rippling music all this while.
But now a great sorrow bad come.
The blow had well-nigh crashed her.
Deep were the shadows. She had
been called to take out of her bosom
and give to the Great Shepherd the
most precious and tender of her joys.
And now she could not get through
the Lord's Prayer auy more. Since
the light had faded from those dear
eyes she had begun a hundred time,
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hal
lowed be thy name. Thy kingdom
come. Thy will—But she could
not get auy further. She could not
say, ‘*Thy will be done.” And it was
days before she obtained the victory,
and before quiet peace came again.
But when it came, what deep and
blessed peace it was.—Presbyterian.
THE LORD'S GONE,
I was trying to give my little two
year old some idea of God. Of course
lie could have no conception of the
omnipresence of the All Father ; so,
in reply to my question, “Where is
the Lord!” 1 encouraged his answer,
•‘Way up high, in de shy.” This he
delighted in giving,often adding “Let
Taudie do up in de sky, and see de
’ord.” But one day he was a little out
bf sorts, body and spirit. He leaned
on the window sill, looking thought
fully out upou the lawn, aud, to my
question, “Olaudie where is the Lord?
he made no reply for a moment; then
turning, gave me a searching, rather
sullen look, and said, emphatically,
“De Lord gone; der ain't any Lord.
How like the moods of ns older
ones when life goes wrong with us.
It is easy to get away from God as
far as a sense of nearness is concern
ed. When we give up that sweet,
patient trusting, which brings with it
such blesseduess, and try to walk
alone, we feel, as we deserve to, the
hidings of a father’s face. Though
it is our privilege constantly to hold
sweet communion with our Lord, yet
by neglect of duty aud coldness ol
heart we may cut off our.eommuuica
tions with our heavenly Father,
walking in darkness aud feeling that
he is far from us. Let us rather
abide iu his presence, drawiug hourly
nigh unto him, never for a moment
listening to the language of the
tempter when he would whisper,
“There ain’t any Lord.—F. S. J. in
Ametican Messenger.
IN A BAD WAY
“Thiugs are in a bad way in onr
Sabbath-school.” We know they are.
Its classification is the best illustra
tion we have seen of “the law ot
chance.” Most of the teachers have
marvelously little knowledge of scrip
ture, and still less love for it. The
only singing that has any animation
in the school occurs when two him
died little Arabs scream for dear life
upon “Hold the fort,for I am coming."
And one would thiuk that a force
Doming with such an outcry would
drive off the fiercest enemy. As for
order, if “Order is heaven's first
law,” that school will evidently not
be entitled to a first place. When
the superintendent speaks, whethei
he shall be heard by a score or two is
simply a question of luug and throat
power. If Demosthenes had atten
ded that school he would never have
needed to seek the roar of the waves
as a poise in his practice of oratory.
He could have practiced in the
school-room. Things are indeed in
a bad way. But you can make them
better. One' earnest, prayerful, or
derly, quiet, determined spirit, can
make them better. “A little leaven,”
etc. , The school may be a very uu
promising lump. But wherever there
are souls to save we can find meals in
which the leaven will work. Let one
teacher or scholar be attentive, quiet
gentle, prompt, and organic, that is.
watchful of all duty in the school as
an organized body, aud the good
contagion will spread.— Church and
School.
SERMON FROM THE WORLD.
“Marie’" wrote to t lie New York;
Tribune, asking how she should as "
sist iu collecting some money tor a
country Church. She asked, further,
if it would be advisable to attempt a
concert, and said they had tried call
co-parties, sugar parties^ fish-ponds,
mock postoffices and the like. The
Tribune replied : “Wo recommend a
revival of religion.” No answer
could have been more wise. It is a
waut of piety in a Church that makes
it necessary to resort to worldly prac
tices in order to raise money for reli
gious uses, and it is only when the
piety is added to and improved that
the difficulty will disappear. If the
Maries will cease troubling themsel
ves about “calico parties and the
like,” aud assiduously choose the
good part as they sit at the Master's
feet, they will greatly help till the
treasuries with houest money.-- J'-sm
ted Presbyterian.
•n't,!—Thes
iu soiling at
TOM SM
Jjnnn and j-iresitlc.
TUCKAHOE. Oil INDIAN BREAD.
This is an extraordinary produc
tion found iri various parts of the
United States, most frequently along
the Atlantic coast, which may be
called an underground fungus belong
ing to the tuber family. Its usual
shape is globular or oblong, surface
roughened into protuberances, and
weighs from a quarter, to several
pounds. Its internal substance Is
white, solid and farinaeious having
hut little taste and no smell when
quite dry. It is said by some that in
growing, it is attached to the root of
a pine or oak and is found attar
clearing the woods and upon farming
the soil. In decay the inner sub
stance cracks from the centre and
parts assume a brown eolor. As it, is
supposed to have formed an article
of food among the native races of
this country, it is of considerable in
terest in determining the use of some
of the uteusiis which have been
found, and it is also connected with
the number of early inhabitants.
It was referred to by some of the
first Jesuit missionaries who wrote
concerning North America arid also ,
by some of the Botanists of the same
period but since then has received no
mention so far as we are cognizant
of.
In order to determine the exact na
ture and extent of this production we
will be pleased to have all who may
be able to favor us with answers to
all or a part of the questions here
given :
1st. Have you found any speci
mens upon your farm? How many
and how large,
2nd. Is it prevalent in your neigh
borhood ? and to what extent?
3rd. In what kind of soil does it
best thrive ?
4tb. Was it attached to a stock of
its own, having a growth above
ground? Of what nature is this
growth ? Does it blossom ! when ?
5th. Was it attached to the root
of another growth ? W hat kind of
tree ? When fouud was the tree still
living ?
Oth. Do yon know of any tradi
tion concerning its early use?
7tb. Is it used now for any pur
pose? what?
Sth. Do you know of any author
who has mentioned its existence and
use! who ?
9th. Can you send a specimen?1
(whole if possible).
10th. 2iame and address.
All answers will be gratefully re
ceived and immediately accepted.)
Specimens will be desposited with
the National Museum, at the Smith J
souiuu Institution, and receipts for- J
warded to the douors.
Please address,
J. Howard Gore,
Columbiau University, !
Washington, D. C.
USE OF SOOT IN THE GARDEN.
Scot is valuable Tor the ammonia |
which it contains, and also for its
power of reabsorbing ammonia. The
creosote it contains is valuable as an
insect destroyer, and as a fertilizer of
all garden crops. If the soil is dry, a
little common household salt may be
•mixed with soot. Lime and soot
should never be mixed together;
lime destroys the ammonia. Soot
that has been steeped in water for
two or three days is as good a fertili
zer' as liorse-hoof parings for honse
plants, and increases the vividuess of
(he bloom of flowers in the open air.
Soot and salt in connection with com
post—one quart of salt to six quarts
of soot—is an excellent fertilizer for;
asparagus, onions, cabbages, etc.
Two bushels of compost makes a hea-j
vy dressing for each square rod of j
ground, to be worked into the surface
of the soil.—Exchange.
Cut akd Cooked Food.—By ac
tual trial and experiment, times
without number, it has been proved
that the cutter ifnd food cooker may!
be used with a large per cent, of i
profit in feeding most stock. Exper
iment shows that, ground or cooked
com will produce a considerable
uumber of pounds more of meat per
hundred than when fed dry and in
the ear. Grinding mills and feed
cookers can now be had cheaply, and
they will soon pay for themselves on
the farm, in the saving of grain.
I’he extra milk and butter from the
cows alone will pay for them.
Bakers Graham Bread.—Make
a sponge ns lor white bread with;
wheat dour, say one square ofeom-j
prcfljtf5>~east to two quarts of water
'make up the dough with
VT.—o .’i«i;T oue-halfa tetwqpj
to r? ,ll,;
•'IUAKO
p.
TFl.
SELECTED RECIPES.
Boiled onions are prescribed for
cold in the chest.
Gueen sage put in a. closet, will
clear it of red ants.
Boiled starch is much improved
I'.V the addition of a little sperm, or a
little salt, or both, or a little gum ai a
bic dissolved.
Snow Sponge Cake.—One cupful
o! flour, a little heated ; one and one*
half yupful sugar ; two teaspooululs
ciemt tartar; mixed with flour (uo
sed.1;, whites of tell eggs. This
makes a very white, beautiful cake.
Eemedy foe Earache. - Take
the kernel of a peach seed, bruise it
considerably, then pour boiling hot
water on it about a teaspoonfui. Let
!' stand till about blood beat, then
pour in the ear. It will give imme
diate relief.
Dress Wash.—A very nice thing
for a lady to keep a bottle of this on
her dressing table alway s for little
spots oil tier garments. One quart of
boiling water, half an ounce of cam
phor, one ounce of borax ; after cool
ing, half a pint of alcohol.
Boiled Hominy.—Put six ounces
of borniny to steep iu one pint of wa
ter over night; next morning put it
on the fire with the water it was
steepeil in ; add one-half pint milk,
one half teaspoonful salt, boil one
hour closely covered on a slow fire.
Corn-meal Waffles.—The yolks
of two eggs well beaten, one teas
poonful of butter, oue of wheat flour,
one teaspoonfnl salt; one pint sweet
milk or water, one pint of corn meal*
or corn flour if you have it is nicer,
1 and lastly, the whites of the eggs well
i beaten. Bake iu waffle irons.
Gravies.—To have gravy always
on hand you must do as the French
do, namely ; Save gristle and every
bone left from cola meat or fresh.
The bones must be chopped small
and put on to stew with enough wa
ter to cover. Leave the fat on until
I you need to use the gravy. By this
means it will keep longer.
To Take Stains Out of White
Goods.—One teaspoonful of chloric
of lime in about three quarts of wa
ter will take any kind of stain out of
white goods, put the part with the
stain on it in the water, and let it re
main until taken out. It will not in
jure the cloth if prepared iu this way.
Only spots on white goods can bo ta
ken out this way.
Homemade Yeast Powder.—
One quart of fresh buttermilk made
up with corn meal to a stiff batter,
with a teacupful of yeast. Let it
use ; t hen add enough flour to make
.' a stiff dough ; let it rise a second
time ; put it on dishes or boards to
dry iu the shade; rub it up, aud keep
it m a bag. To one quart of flour
rut ue tablespoonful of yeast pow
dor.
I’kikd Bread Cakes.—Take bits
of bread you may have left after
meals, soak them iu milk, or milk
aud water, outil perfectly soft; mash
tine ; add two eggs, pinch of soda,
salt to taste, and enough flour to
make them fry nicely; drop the
spoonfuls into hot butter or lard.
They are inexpensive and good, and
a better way to use dry bread than iu
puddings.
Jolly Boy's.—One cup of sour
milk, half a lerel teaspoouful of soda
(dissolve soda in a little of the sour
milk with a pinch of salt), one egg
beaten light, one tablespoonful of mo
lasses. Mix rye meal with the milk
to the consistency of a thiu batter,
aud then add Indian meal until the
batter become a stiff one. Last of all
stir in egg. Drop from tablespoon—
about half a spoonful at a time—into
kettle of boiling drippings or lard,
and brown as you would crullers or
fried cakes. If they are rightly made
they will pop over themselves when
done on one side.— Rural Messenger.
Mixced Turkey.—Take the re
mains of cold turkey aud cut into ve
ry small pieces ; weight perhaps half
a pouud; take half the amount in
cold potatoes and cut also iu pieces
the same as the turkey. Put ou the
firo iu a saucepan, with an ounce of
butter and oue small spoonful of flour.
Stir with a woodeu spoon, until it
bubbles, then, pour on one gill of
boiliug milk or cream ; then add the
turkey aud potatoes, a little salt, pep
per aud nutmeg. Serve very hot for
breakfast.
Taken altogether, the Pekin is the
most profitable breed of ducks fore
farmer.