THIS ROAD TO
Oh, the nursery is lonely, and the garden'!
full of rain,
And there's nobody at all who wants to
play.
But I think If I should only run with all
my might and main
I could leave this dreary country of To
day. For It can't be far' to cross it, since-1
came myself last night l
When I went to sleep they brought me
all the way '
And Tomorrow's very near,' they say it's .
almost in our sight.
So I soon could come again to Yesterday.'
t !
AN AFFAIR
OF
HONOR.
When I was last In Paris, I had a
letter of introduction to the Countess
de Clairmont, who lived in a venerable
mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain,
near, the ancient abbey church. I found
her to be an aged lady of a very old
family, a very devout churchgoer, and
a bigoted legitimist, believing in
"divine right" and the Count de Cham
bord, and fully expecting that he and
his white flag would rule the destinies
of France, when Orleanists, Bonapart
Ists and Republicans would be for
gotten. Apart from dogma and politics
she was, however, a very charming and
interesting person. She had' evidently
been very handsome in her youth, and
even in her old age retained a little
coquetry and much spirit. At the re
cital of some deed of daring and hero
ism her black eyes would flash and
sparkle, and her lips tremble with emo
tion. It was like going back to a past
century to sit in her" dim drawing
room, with its quaint old furniture,
rich and religiously preserved, hung
with portraits of her ancestors, and
hear her talk of warriors, priests and
nobles,, whose bones were long since
dust, whose miters and swords had de
cayed, and whose moldy and moth
eaten banners, waving in church and
chapel, are but tattered rags, with the
blazonry illegible.
1 ; One day I was looking at the portrait
of a lady soJovely, with a; sweet and
melancholy beauty, that even the dis
'figuring costume of the previous cen
tury, especially the abominable high
.head-dress, could not mar its effect, for
;you looked only on the faea and forgot
the" accessories. It. was from the pencil
of Madame Lebrun, the favorite artist
of Marie Antoinette, who has left the
such touching souvenirs of the unhappy
queen. ' ' -'' ' '
"That lady, I am sure, bad a story,"
I said. "I need not ask if the original
was a relative of yours, madame, for
I see a family likeness in the head."
"You are right," she said. "That por
trait might pass for my own likeness
as I looked fifty years ago. I have a
miniature taken at the same age, which
looks like a .reduced copy of Madame
Lebrun's charming picture." -"Arid
the lady was "
"Pardon me," said the old countess;
"I will tell you her story at full length.
It is an old family history, but it is
thought to have some of the elements
of romance. Perhaps it may be cf fu
ture use to you as a story-teller in
your own country. So arm yourself
with patience, cousin, and bear with an
old woman's, garrulity."
The old lady called me "cousin," be
cause at some far-away period there
was a matrimonial aniance between,
our families, long and long before my
grandfather emigrated to America. '
I will not attempt to relate the nar
rative In the language of my hostess;
but condensed and tell it in my own.
way. . ... . .
' The original of Madame Lebrun's
picture, then, was yictorine de Gran
tier, wife of Hector de Grantier, a gen
tleman of wealth and family. The
marriage was anxception to the gen
eral rule of French marriages, being
a love match. The parents of the lady
had permitted her to choose a husband
for herself; and though among her
many suitors were some more eligible
in point of fortune and opportunities
for rising in the world than Hector,
she gave him her hand because she
could bestow her heart with it.
r De Grantier was handsome, gentle
and warm-hearted. He had np vices,
and but little ambition. He was a poet
and a painter,, though not a profes
sional one, and he was in easy circum
stances, although not reckoned a man
of wealth. !
Never was there a happier couple,
and when the v bride's father and
mother, who died within a few days
of each other, left the world almost
hand in hand, the certainty of leaving
their daughter the partner of a man de
voted to her, heart and soul, soothed
their last moments.
' There was- a shade of melancholy in
Victorine's nature, and she often
thought to herself that her married
life was too happy that it was like a
briaht summer day, so perfect, so full
of sunshine, so heavenly, that weather-
seers pronounce it too lovely to last,
and regard it with shaking heads, as
the Drecursor of a devastating storm.
And the storm that wrecked the hap
piness of Victorine was near at hand.
Among her rejected suitors was a wild,
bold man, named Raoul Maltravers, an
ensign in the royal navy, of a very dis
tinguished family high in power at
court, who might wen look rorwara to
the prospect, of seeing the broad pen
nant' of an admiral float over his own
quarter-deck. . But, with all the qual
ities of a nobie race, he was stained
with many vices. He was a gamester,
a duelist and a libertine ; prodigal with
his gold, cruel wfta his sword, false in
his lores, and fatal in his hates.
YESTERDAY.
Over there my boat la.' sailing, all alone
upon the pond " -: .
I must hurry back before she, blows
Tstray i v ' , . '
And arbutus flowers are trailing ; In the
pleasant fields beyond, ' -With
the other little, lovely flowers of
May,
And the trees are white with blossoms, and
the air Is bright with song
And the children all are happy there and
gay.' - - .
Oh, I want. to go to find them now, and
you may. come along, .
If you'll show me, please, the road to
Yesterday.
Caroline McCormlck, in Harper's.
Although his rejection was couched
in the most respectful-terms, it roused
his worst passions, and he swore to
wreak a deadly vengeance on the rival
who prospered where he had failed.
The hand he could not win himself
should never be clasped in wedlock by
another's. In this temper of mind he
went to sea. v
It must be borne in mind that this
project of vengeance was a secret
locked in his own heart, to be divulged
in action, . not in words. Therefore,
when, some months after the marriage,
the ensign returned from his cruise,
the incident did not create any alarm
in the breast of Madame Victorine de
Grantier.
One morning when she woke up she
missed her husband from her side, but
this caused her no surprise, for he was
in the habit of rising without disturb
ing her, dressing and then taking a
ride on horseback. But he always re
turned to breakfast, which was served
punctually at eleven o'clock In the
forenoon. When, therefore, it came to
be. nearly noon, and he did not make
his appearance, she was naturally un
easy. His horse was very spirited, and
might possibly have thrown him, she
thought. But on inquiry, it appeared
that the animal was in his stall, and
that Monsieur de Grantier had left the
house on foot.
Madame de Grantier ordered the
breakfast things removed, after mak
ing a slight repast, and then took up
a book to while away the time until
her husband's -return. At one o'clock
a; visitor was announced Capt. Paul
Beauregard, an officer in the French
guards. He was an intimate friend of
De Grantier, as well as of the 'lady,
and scarcely a day passed without their
seeing him. ' - ' "
My husband! Have you seem any
thing of him?" she asked. 7
I have been with him all the morn
ing, madame."
Where is he? Why did he not re
turn with you? How has he been en
gaged?"
Capt. Beauregard replied to the last
question:
"In an affair of honor, madame."
"A duel?"
"Yes; and he has been wounded. I
thought it best to prepare you for the
accident." :
"He is dead!" shrieked the unhappy
lady, as she fell back in convulsions,
for she had read -the terrible truth in
the captain's face. ;
Beauregard rang the bell and left her
in charge of her maid, while he went
into another room. It was agony bit
ter as the pangs of death to listen to
her wails, "and sobs, fudd shrieks; but
in an hour, Florette, the waiting maid,
pale, frightened,, with swollen eyes, for
she, too, had. been Sweeping bitterly,
came to say that -Madame de Grantier
was cajmer,' and desired to speak with
the captain. ' v b
The officer found the lady white as
marble, but strangely quiet and col
lected. , . . 1 :
"Hector is
dead?" she half asked,
half asserted.
Her friend
drooped his eyes. The
answer was sufficient.
"Now tell how this happened," said
the lady. "Hector was kind, and gentle,
and courteous. He had no enemy-
how could ' he have, ; for he never
wronged a human being."
"That did not prevent his having an
enemy a mortal foe who last night
publicly Insulted him, even struck him,
and thus forced a challenge from your
husband." -
"Ay, honor compelled Hector to draw
the sword. But the name of that vil
lain the murderer?" r
"Raoul Maltravers."
"He! The man whose hand I re
jected! Oh! My poor, dear murdered
Hector! Why did we ever meet? Fatal
was the hour in which you saw and
loved me! Often have your lips told
me that I had made you the happiest
of men. Little did you dream that I
would give you death as well as love.",
"I implore you, madame," e aid the
captain, "not to view this tragedy" in
that light. An unforeseen calamity has
fallen on you, and my heart bleeds at
sight of your distress. But I can do
more than pity; I can and will avenge
Hector. Raoul Maltravers dies by my
hand!"' ;. V:- - -; v-.
"Hold!" cried the widow, with sud
den and startling energy "I forbid
you to espouse -' this quarrel. I have
my own purpose of vengeance, and no
man, not even you, shall be permitted
to stand between me and : my predes
tined victim. He has fobbed meof
more than life, but I will punish him.
I was a fond, weak, gentle, loving,
happy girl. They who know me hence
forth will know me as a tigress thirst
ing for human blood. ; But no word of
this to others. Be my friend in this
extremity, and as you were his true
and loyal friend to the last moment, I
(wish you to conduct the funeral rites.
Francis A. Durlvage.
? ' " '
You see how calm I am when I can
speak these - words without con vul-
When Victorine was alone with her
deajd, she had' a wild outburst of pas
sionate grief, but it rapidly gave way
to a calmness so stern that it' would
have appalled an observer had there
been witnesses in' the chamber of
death." " I ..? VV-
"Hector de Grantier," she said, ad
dressing the cold clay, "if my Creator
spares my life, your son, whom your
eyes were never to behold,, shall be
your avenger. I; will rear him strong,
valiant, sk,ilful, and teach him to look
for no happiness, .no rest, no employ
ment, until he. has slain the man. who
has robbed you of life, me of a hus
band, and himself of a father."
Two months after the funeral the
friends of the family were apprised
that the widowed lady was the mother
of a daughter! Shortly after, this
event, she retired with her infant child
to an estate in Brittany.
Sixteen years passed away, and then
Victorine de Granthier, still wearing a
widow's weeds, again resumed her resi
dence in Paris. She lived in a fash"
ionable quarter, but in great privacy,
receiving only relatives, making rid ac
quaintances. Her daughter, named
Claudine, had grown up a beautiful
girl, the picture of health a bright
flower to bloom in the almost conven-:
tional gloom of her mother's house.
The only frequent visitor ;was ; the
young Chevalier de Hautp.ville a cousin
of Claudine, and, strange io say, a per
fect image of the girl the same height,
features and complexion., The gossips
of the neighborhood . said they , were
born for each other, and predicted? a
marriage between the parties. Bu; t the
servants of the family asserted that the
old lady would never, for some reason
of her own, probably that of nearness
of blood, permit the alliance, and that
the young people rarely if ever met.
It was observed that whenever Claud-S
ine had gone to church, the chevalier
was sure to make his appearance, and
when he was in the drawing room she
was always absent. Whether, this was
arranged by the mother, or whether
tuis young woman and this young man,
so strangely -alike, cherished an antip
athy equally strange, was a mystery
like almost : everything else in that
mysterious household. ' . , tij.
Had the widow, foiled in her plan t
of vengeance by the sex of her off
spring, forgotten or forgiven Raoul
Maltravers? No one knew, but no one
ever hoard her pronounce his name. '
. Meanwhile Raoul Maltravers had
left the sea, "not being particularly fond
of the music of heavy gifris for, though
brave enough on the duel ground, be
cause he was the best blade invFrance,
and always sure of victory, he was
really a poltroon. He had married a
very beautiful heiress, and lived in :
great splendor. He had more than one
affair of honor after his " marriage
with, In each case, a fatal result to his
antagonist. - .-. 4..
One day the Chevalier de Hauteviiie
made a morning cajl on Madame de
Grantier. He found her in her boudoir,
which was draped -with black. . and
lighted with wax tapers.
"You know this is a sad anniver
sary, she sa,ia. men sne aaaea, wun
a sharp look of inquiry: "Raoul Mal
travers?" I y-
"Dead," was the reply. f
"Come to my heart!" cried Victorine.
claudine, you have avenged your
father!" .. . , ; ;
"Claudine ! " I exclaimed, in utter v
astonishment, when the old countess
had come to this point of her narrative.
"Yes," she replied; "the Chevalier de
Hauteviiie and Claudine de Grantier
were one and the same'person. Madame
de Grantier had reared her. daughter
like a man, and trained her to arms
in the solitude of her old provincial
manor house where a wonarousiy
skilled professor of the sword, an Italr.
ian, gave her lessons daily. You must
not think too harshly of the memory .
of Victorine de Grantier. I am now
positively certain that the death of
her husband turned her brain, and, that
during all her years of widowhood she
was a monomauiic'. That she inspired.
her daughter with her fanatical idea of
vengeance is natural the mother lived
for no other purposed
"But what became of Claudine?"
"She is still, living at . an advanced
age, a widow," replied the countess. ;
"Doubtless harrowed by remorse for
having shed human blood?" .
"It caused her great suffering for
years, but the clergy whom she con
sulted told her, that the circumstances
absolved her from all moral guilt She
was; an irresponsible agent . of her
mother her judgment deliberately per
verted by one. who herself had lost
the power of reason. Yet were many
hours of bitter sorrow and penitence
passed by that unhappy woman. "And
now let me show you a sad relic" . ,
The old lady rose, walked to ai
ebony cabinet, and unlocking it, took
out a long, old-fashioned rapier and
bade me draw it. I examined the blade
arid remarked that It was covered with
rust. - . ' '-'V' r ;- -, 5 '
"These darker stains are the .life-
blood of a man," said the old lady with
a heavy sigh "for' that: was the sword
with which I killed Raoul Maltravers;"
"You!" I cried. : r -
'Yes; for, before I became Countess
de Clairmont, 1 was Claudine de Gran:
tier." New York Weekly. :. V
EnflliHHah.eeter8i,.iy5
Phrases are"" more ' influential - in
British politics than in American. The
latest to come into general : use ' is
"hasheeter" i It describes' those
who accept the -prime minister's fis
cal policy, which he said was so sim
ple that he could write it on a. half
sheet of note paper. This phrase h'a's
not been in use long, but it is likely to
appear frequently in the .London -dispatches
for the next few months.
J Youlh'a Companion.
The Little People's Trust. .
I love this trust the mitten trust,
The. red and blue and white and speckled,
The rosy and alert, robust ; -Young
industry that's mostly freckled.
I love this trust the tippet trust.
The satin, woolen, silken, tousled
It's merry, cheery win it must, .
Sleek-combed or not more often frousled.
I love this trust a lively band
Of dancing, prancing roguish fellows i
ineyje scampering along the land - .
For chestnuts where the frostrkey mel
' lows.
I .love this trust a coyish lot ; ,
i Upon the barnyard gate they're swing-
Sweet maids with rose cheeks flaming hot ;
Each voice a choral chord is ringing.
God bless tfels trust! The summer sky A
Has crowned each member with its story;
And e'en November passing by '. - .
Leaves roses in. its path of glory. .
Here's to this trust the winning trust!
Fair Nature rises up to flaunt it.
It wins its way ; it r,ha!l, It must
No forests, steeps or rivers daunt it!
Horace Seymour Keller, in Massachusetts
Ploughman. ...
A Scent Party.
.Here is the way to give a "scent
party": Blindfold each guest in .turn
(one at a time, of course), and seat
him or her in the centre of the room,
where all the other guests may keep
the ''trial" hv view. Then bring in a
basket of; such articles,, as are here
named: A bottle of turpentine, a bot
tie of camphor one of peppermint, a
moth ball, a rose, a bit of salt codfish,
a leaf of rosemary, an onion, etc.
Although the odors'and perfumes of
these t articles are familiar to all
when scented singly, and with the eyes
open it Is astonishing and laughable,
to hear the blunders of the blindfolded
one, as he endeavors to name the ar
ticles that are passed in rapid succes
sion before his nose. He will declare
turpentine is camphor, peppermint a
rose, a moth ball will be a geranium,
and so on, till his futile attempts cre
ate the greatest; merriment to the on
lookers. But when , the test come3 to
those who laughed loudest, their con
fusion is perhaps: greater than his, as
they "grope blindly" with olfactory
nerves to name things they know so
well but 'smell so badly! - v -.
.During such a test, remarks the
Brooklyn Eagle, . one will learn how
much the-nose depends upon the eyes
to tell one's things.
A Great Bear Den.
On the right-hand ; branch and the
left-hand bank of Skytes creek, some
two miles from its junction with Big
Birch river Webster county,' ; there
stands a poplar tree that surpasses in
size any tree of any kind in Webster
county. . - " . . .
, This monarch of the forest meas
ures 27 feet in" "circumference three
feet from the ground, and as its an
nual growth shows an inch in twenty
years, we find that it has withstood
the storms of 1000 years. Like all
things earthly, however, death and
decay mark its present condition, and
while at one time it contained man
feet. of valuable lumber, yet early lo
gers and mill, men yiewed itj; sighed
and passed on. No crosscut saw;icTd
reach its girth' and'no team of hoisS '
could move a log' of twelve feet long
were it possible to cut it into ' such
lengths. "itri .
Immense . cavities are found . in the
upper trunk and large limbs; where
many generations of bears have hiber
nated throughout the winters. This
is evident from the fact that the body
of the tree is slightly inclined from a
perpendicular, and what; is termed or
known as the "upper side" is scarfed
and raked from the ground to the first
limbs by the claws of many bears
ascending and descending for ages.
Early. trappers and hunters were fa
miliar with the tree and' knew it to
be a "bear den," but none were found
with the necessary industry and nerve
to chop down the tree and secure the
game. Fairmount (W. Va.) Times.
A Dog Detective.
Scip lives in , Old Town when at
home, is an undersized cur with bright
eyes and sharp ears, and is of badly
mixed lineage. 5 He is owned by; one
of ' the state game wardens, t whose
duty it is to examine certain , trains
coming down from the game region.
Every piece of game must be checked
up and suspicious packages examined.
The Maine law positively prohibits
the taking out of, the state of game
birds in any way whatever.
As the people alight from the train,
few notice a little dog dodging about
among them, sniffing at this.handbag
and that bundle. .
r Soon his master hears a little bark.
He knows what that means, and, drop
ping everything, - finds Scip dodging
and nosing about the heels of a pas
senger. The warden closes in on the
game "pointed" by Scip, quietly in
vites the suspect into the baggage
roomr v and questions him about- the
game which he has concealed about
his person or effects. 1 The dog has
never, been known vto fail in "point
ing? game.. He possibly may have
missed some, but when " he has made
up his doggish mind that there is a
riolation of the law, he has always
been correct so far. ...
v But inspecting - the hand-baggage . is
not all of the little detective's work
hy;' any means. After the passengers
are all, out ha hops into the baggage
and express car and applies his sharp
little nose to 6verything in sight, i :
v vWhile making his usual inspection
ot : the express car one- day, he cam9
across a barrel, to all Intents and pur
poses containing fish. It certainly had
fish In4t. Scip sniffed at it, went on,
and then came back and sniffed again;
Round and round the barrel he went,
whining and dancing.
' With, a faith; in the little animal
born of long experience, the officer in
vestigated the barrel, and found, in
the centre of a liberal lining of fresh
shore v cod, several dozen of plump,
partridges. Boston Record. . -
Oldest Doll In America.
Long, long ago, when William Penn
sailed from England-on his. second
visit ;;to America, .what do you think
he brought with him on the good -ship
Canterbury? -An English doll. This
passenger is the sole survivor of that
voyage across the Atlantic, which was
made over 200 years ago. -
; William Penh had a little daughter
named Letitia.- :;Letitia heard her fa
ther tell wonderful ; tales of what he
saw and heard in Pennsylvania on his
first visit to this country; thousands
, of i miles distant; from Letitia's homeV
He often told - her about little Miss
Rankin, who, 'living as she did in the
wilderness ' of Pennsylvania (for this
was long ago, remember), had no. toys
at all, not even one rag doll. .. When
Letitia's father was- getting ready to
again cross the ocean to ' America his
little girl insisted upon sending' a doll
to that lonesome little girl..
So a doll was dressed in a court
costume of striped and delicately tint
ed brocade and velvet. The skirt was
held out, by enormous hoops, for such
was the fashion of the. weil-dressed
ladies of . that period. " The doll itself
is twenty 'inches high and has the
long waist and slender form of - the
court beauties she left in her native
land. Her hair is r611ed back from
her face, much in the style of today.
' This doll now lives ' in Montgomery
county, Maryland, . in the strictest se--clusion.
" She is ohly removed from
her careful wrappings when' little girls
desire the honor of making . the ac
quaintance of the oldest doll in Amer
ica. Philadelphia Press, '
The Light Artillery.
William stood in the exact , center
of the wharf, on the spot where a
carefui mother - thinks a small-boy
least likely to fall into the water. Wil
liam's feet were planted wide apart;
his hands were in his trousers pock
ets, and his lips puckered to whistle
a faint and jerky "Fair Harvard." ;
.As William's father came down the
gang-plank of the evening boat from
the city, William drew his right hand
from his right pocket and extended it,
saying with respectful cordiality, "Good
evening, father!" . . (
"Good evening, my son!" replied
his father.
:i.i'ShallvI- take- your bag,: sir?;" in
quired William, looking bravely at the
lawyer's bag!
'"Thank you," replied his father. ; "I
can manage the bag, but if you would
kindly take charge of this newspaper?
Thank you." : :
Then William put his hand into his
father's overcoat' pocket it is for . lit
tle sister to hold a, hand, but a grip
on a pocket helps, too and they start
ed up the road at their usual gaft, two
of William's ; steps matching one of
father's strides.
"Father,", i said William, "I have
something .ry peculiar to tell you.
You see those bright yellow blossoms
that'- look! like funny little faces all
along the road?"
" "I see them," replied father. "What
is peculiar about them?"
"This," said William. "I stopped to
pick one of the funny little faces, and
something hit my hand. I went along
the ' road a piece and stopped again
to pick one of the funny little yellow
faces, and again something hit my
hand. Now is not that peculiar?" ' ;
"I think," replied father, "that Col
onel Snapdragon's light artillery has
been bombarding you. ; He has evi
dently opened his campaign."
"Oh are the funny little yellow faces
soldiers?" cried William, in delight.
"But where is the light artillery?"
Then father showed the little green
cannon-vessels, concealed behind leaf
fortresses.
"The seeds are the ammunition," he
explained, "and the seed-pods are ' the
cannon, which work something like
spring guns. Touch one gently." -. ,
William touched a fat little green
cannon gently with the tip of his fin
ger? and I jumped backr startled as
with' a faint ' snap , it burst, and - the
small green spring inside shot out the'
seeds. ;-; v- - . ;;- '
"Colonel Snapdragon's men are
farmer soldiers," : said father, "who
use their cannon to plant gardens; for
wherever a cannon-ball falls in the
fall,' a new plant springs in the
spring." - V;-
Every night after that William and
his father stopped on their way from
the ..wharf to salute Colonel 4 Snap
dragon's roadside regiment; and the
bright-faced soldiers replied with' the
tiniest rattle of artillery from fat little
green cannon. Mary Alden Hopkins,
in Youth's Companion.
Tsetse Fly Microbe Found. -An
important bacteriolcgical discor-ery-
bias been made by the Pasteur in
stituted For some time pas the staff
has sought ;- for the microbe of the
deadly tsetse" fly the dipterous insect
of South Africa whose bite is fatal to
cattle, horses and dogs. Now - their
labors have . been 'crowned with suc
cess. - The British doctors have sent
their congratulations to the institute.
London Chronicle. . '
- An elephant, with a circus, ajt Dun
dee, Scotland, put, his trunk, into the
pocket of a farmer the.other tiay,;tob)c:
out a bank note for 20 f 100) "an4"
swallowed it. .
. A Use for Camphor. '
Camphor is very useful to freshen
the air of a sick room!" Put a piece on
an old saucer, and on. it lay the point
of a red-hot poker, when its fumes
will quickly fill the room.
To Remove Putty .v
. -To remove old putty, and, paint, make
a paste with soft soap and a solution
of caustic soda, or with Vlalced lime
and pearlash. Lay ifon'wittfa piece
of rag or a,brushaiui;leave'it or sev
eral hours, when it will be '.found that
tfie" "paint or pufty" may be; easily re
movedi.-., . " -
Washing Black Muslin.
In washing black muslinis and lawns
a" tablespodnful t 6t turpentinei should
be added to each pailful or rinsing wat
er. Use gum-arabic 'water instead of
starch' for' black cottons: ; This gum
arabia water is useful to freshen mus
lins of all colors' which' .Tiave become
limp. - Sprinkle, the gown-and-turn it
wrong side .out whije drying. Sprinkle
with clear water and iron' ' oh the
wrong-side.' . . v- ;
Charming' Drawing Room.
. A charming drawing rponi-'has for
its . wall cpvering terra cotta pongee,'
and another ha blue linen enl ployed
in the' same i way.' most satisfactorily.
Brown wrapping paper, such as butch
ers use is ' capable rofvpr,bdjicing art
istic results, and the straw Covering of
tea chests is regarded as an ideal mat
erial "for" waif cfjfvefingTi-in fact, the
most; extraordinary, sorts of . stuff are,
often used by individual women of
artistic tastes : with t fortunate : results.
Paper to Wrap Sausages'
A German editqr has hit upon; a new
idea in . practical journalism, says the
London Daily Chronicle. ' He li mind
ful of theaitility. of hts paper for mak
ing parcels, and especially for tying up
the popular' sausage. So he addresses
his. feminine patrons .in -these terms:
"You have often complained "to us,
dear readers, " and Especially dear
housewives, . that ..our paper . snj,ells of
printer's ink, and is, therefore, unsuit
able Tor' carrying-butter, -saufeages, and
fresh bread. Eager to. meet your
wishes, dear friends and household
fairies, we have decided to publish,'
.twice a week, an issue,, which .will be
printed only on one side," so that the
other will be available for those dom
estic -uses, And .iivi order,. 4hat you
shall . lose no reading matter, , hese
particular" numbers will be double the
ordinary size." ; . r ; v
Porch Furniture.
A great variety of charming porch
furniture has come into use this year.
Most of it is now made of waterproof,
so that it is nd longer necessary, to
turn chairs up at night, move the ta
ble. into the' farthest corner, and bring
in the rugs and cushions. The appear
ance of these articles has been a veri
table boon to the exhausted y- house
holder, whoh as found, the labor of
bringing in everything from the porch
at night an' unpleasant ending to an
enjoyable evening. Screen chairs are ,
among the latest ideas, says the Scien
tific American. They.are made wide,
with broad arms, and a seat wide
enough for two, -with a great back,
high and broad enougluto absolutely,
hide any occupant -of the chair. The
practical utility of these chairs Is so
very - evident that 'they will doubtless
enjoy- a long maintained popularity.
Porch swings can be made oilt of bam-'
boo couches, with an additional rail
ing at the back and foot, making both,
ends alike. These can be purchased
ready for swinging, or can be made
by any ingenious person. The water-,
proof rugs and' cushions are, perhaps,,
the most useful of recent devices for
the porch and are a distinct saving in
labor. . ' ; ' ' c
" Recipe" '
Sauce TartareTo . ahout ' three-"
fourths a efhp . of. mayonnaise dressing
add, when ready to" serve, half a table
spoonful, each, of, fine-chopped, cucum
ber pickles, olives,, capers, chives and
parsley. Boston Cookiirg" School Mag
azine. v '
Chicken or Fish Mousse Chicken .
or fish mousse may be made by follow
ing the recipe; given for ham mousse.
Of course as neither (of tjiese articles'
has been salted' soaking over night
is not reqUiredw J Use Bechamel sauce
with chicken- and HQllandaise' or fish'
Bechamel with the fish mousy. Bos
ton Cooking School Magazine;
Almond of Cocdanu Milk Pound'
in a mortar a cup' of almonds or a cup
of cocoanuf meat, ground fiiie, adding"
from time to'.tinxe a tablespoonful of
cold water, until the whole' becomes a;
n ofniofV nnste ' Dilute with a nint
H I it utuwu viww. , T
of milk or water, and strain through
a . cheese-cloth,, pressing out all that
will pass through - the cloth.-Boston'
Cooking School Magazine. ' "
f Planked ShadThe process is very
simple. Buy a proper oak plank at a .
reliable house furnisher's, or at . the 1
village carpenter's shop: Split " the
shad and lay it,.. skin' side down", on:
the planT f Attach It with a few ten-'
der tacks. Sprinkle with ? salt and
pepper, and " spread with butter. Broil
under the gas flamed or if a cbal stove
is used, place it in the oven until the
fish is",,cooked Do not remove from'
the planks Vbutr send to the table just
as it comes rom is
a proper garni3o.! , J r "