Newspaper Page Text
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ft A Deed and a Word.
]•' A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern ;
A passing stranger scooped a well,
Where weary man might turn ;
He walled it in, and hung with care,
A ladle at the brink.
He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that toil might drink.
He passed again, and lo! the well,
Bv summer never dried,
Had cooled a thousand parching tongues,
And saved a life beside.
A nameless man, amid the crowd
That thronged the daily mart,
Let fall a word of hope and love,
Unstudied from the heart;
A whisper on the tumult thrown,
A transitory breath.
It raised a brother from the dust,
It saved a soul from death.
O gem! 0 fount! 0 word of love !
O thought at random cast I
Ye were but little at first,
But mighty at last.
Light.—A hidden light soon becomes
dim, and if it be entirely covered up,
will expire for want of air. So it is
with hidden religion. It must go out.
There cannot be a Christian whose light
in some aspects does not shine.
The End. —Prince Albert, when up
on his dying bed, said : “ I have had
wealth, rank and power. But if this
1 were all I had, how wretched should I
be now.
‘ Rock of ages cleft for mo,
Let me hide myself in thee.’ ”
Christ’s Truth. —I know that the
Word of Christ from the beginning of
the world hath been of such a sort that
he who would maintain it must, with
the apostle, forsake and renounce all
things, and stand wa ting for death
every hour. If it were not so it would
not be the Word of Christ It w r as
preached with death, it was promulgated
with death, it hath been maintained
‘ with death, and must be so hereafter.
| Luther.
Thorough.—Whatever is worth doing
I at all is worth doing thoroughly. A
slack hand never prospers, whole
hearted Christians are favorites of
i heaven. The Lord delights in earnest
souls and zealous service. Thorough
• Christians grow rich in grace and find
the yoke of Christ easy and his burden
light. There is great joy and sweet
ness in such a life. Everything seems
, to conspire to help the earnest, and the
soul grows strong by effort and joyous
by success. It pays to be thorough
Christians.
The longer I live, the more expedient
i I find it to endeavor more and more to
extend my sympathies and affections.
The natural tendency of advancing years
is to narrow and contract these feelings.
I do not mean that 1 wish to form a
new friendship every day; to increase
my circle of intimates —they are very
different affairs. But I find that it
conduces to my mental health and hap
j piness to find out all I can which is
amiable and lovable in those I come in
contact with, and to make the most of
it. It may fall very short of what I was
once wont to dream of ; it may not sup
ply the place of what I have known,
1 felt and tasted ; but it is better than
j nothing. It seems to keep the feelings
and affections alive in its huamnity ;
ami till we shall be all spiritual, this is
alike our duty and our interest.— The
Moravian.
A Christian man was dying in Scot
land. His daughter Nellie sat by his
bedside. It was Sunday evening, and
, the bells of the Scotch kirk were ring
ing, calling the people to church. The
good old man, in his dying dream,
thought he was on his way to church,
as he used to be when he went in his
sleigh across the river; and as the
evening bells struck up in his dying
dream he thought it was the call to
church —He said : “ Hark children, the
bells are ringing; we shall be late ; we
must make the mare step out quick I”
He shivered, and then said: “ Pull the
robe up closer, my lass! It is cold
crossing the river, but we will soon be
there 1” And he smiled and said : ‘‘Just
there now!” No wonder he smiled.
The good old man had gone to church.
Not to the old Scotch kirk, but to the
temple in the skies —just across the
river.
—
In the days when Philadelphia was
yet but little larger than one of our vil
lages. the question was raised among
the inhabitants, whether another meet
i ing house was needed. While men were
' freely expressing different opinions
[ about it. Dr. Franklin delivered his ideas
p somewhat after this fashion : “I put
up one martin box in my garden and it
□ was immediately tilled; I put up another
and that too very soon found occupants,
y I observed that it was the same with
’•y my neighl»ors. In tine, those who pro-
GRANGE,--
vided the most martin boxes, had the
greatest number of martins. So I be
lieve that the sect which builds the
most meeting houses in growing com
munities like ours will attract and retain
the largest number of our citizens.”
The sound common sense of Franklin
has passed into a number of proverbs;
but none of them is more valuable and
more confirmed by daily observation
than the comparison here reproduced.
Home Mission Herald.
A sad interest attaches to the beau
tiful but fallen woman who personated
“ The Goddess of Reason” at a fete in
Notre Dame during the first French
Revolution, but died miserably a few
years ago. Mrs. Henry M. Field gives
an interesting account in the New York
Evangelist, of once meeting this famous
woman in the hospital in which she sub
sequently died.
She says : Among the-wretched celeb
rities of this hospital, my guide stop
ping before an old hag, more dirty and
more hideous than the others, but
preserving still some traces of beauty in
her withered sac of a beauty
without intelligence and without noble
ness—he whispered to me that that was
the famous ‘‘ Goddess of Reason,” the
woman who was selected in the mad
days of the French Revolution to per
sonify reason (the only object worthy of
human worship) and was actually en
throned on the altars of Notre Dame, to
receive the homage of her idolaters.
Those were the days when religion was
banished from the world. Reason
reigned—and this was her goddess!
“ Will you speak to her ?” I endeavored
to awaken some remembrance of the
terrible, past in which she had such a
part, by asking the old woman a few
questions; but the facts were confuse!
in her memory, and she was incapable
of comprehending the full meaning of
this page of her life. When I wished
to sound her religious disposition—
“Ah,” she said to me, “I am too old to
believe in your God. When I was
young and beautiful, they put me in His
place upon the altar —the one is worth
perhaps as much as the other! Don’t
preach to me, hut give me some money
to buy some snuff.” I threw her a few
sous, and left her with disgust.
Sabbath Home.
Hail holy light, of Heaven horn.
Hail Hummer ealm of Sabbath morn,
Hail clear white beams that softly flow
O’er stately hills and valleys low’!
Aross the mountain grand and gray,
Sweep the rose-flushes of the day ;
And Peaks-of-Otter purple lie
Against the amber of the sky.
i Oh, welcome Sabbath-light serene,
O’er city square, o’er country green!
A message in each wave that flows
In trembling tints of pearl and rose.
That creeps o’er mountain, vale, and old
And spans Catawba's tide with gold.
Each heart that thrills beneath thy rays
Throbs low with prayer, or high with praise.
A rev’rent hush is over all,
The cot tage lone and moss-grown wall.
With softer music in its tone
The slender stream moves slowly on.
Each bird serenely sails along,
A graver gladness in its song ;
The solemn chimes of church-bells roll
Sweet music through our calm of soul.
Now from the village chapel white.
Whose spire is touched with sacred light,
A psalm ho high, and rapt, and clear,
Falls sweetly on the listening ear.
The organ’s soft majestic swell
Voices the praise words cannot tell ;
Birds in the tree, winds in the glen.
Are joining in that grand “ Amen.”
Above the earth, beyond the skies,
Our thoughts on golden ladders rise.
As angels in old Jacob’s dream.
They upward mount from beam to beam.
While higher thoughts and feelings rare
Have bowed our hearts down like a prayer ;
As in our souls new hopes are born.
Thank God for his sweet Sabbath morn!
—Exchange.
department.
a
The Boy mid the Bird.
One day while a young boy was walking in
the field he found a wounded bird, which Ik ing
too much injured to fly away, suffered to be
caught and carried home by its finder in tri
umph. Being a kind-hearted boy, he tenderly
eared for the bird until its broken wing was
well again. He taught the bird to sing and to
do many wonderful things, and became at last
very much attached to it. One day while the
window was open the bird suddenly fluttered
its light wings and flew out of the house, alight
ing in an adjoining tree, and delighted with its
mwlv-aequired freedom, it refused every in
dueement its late master could offer it to re
turn, and with a shrill chirp, that seemed to
sav, “catch me if you ean," it flew away into
the summer air and was soon out ot sight.
The summer months passed away and the
autumn came, the leaves grew crimson and
golden and dropped one by one fr tn the
branches. The bleak winds swept them away.
Then the air grew cold and cheerless and the
first snowflakes Ixgan to fall, and the wintry
winds lu'gan to sigh over the barren fields ano
about the chimney tops.
The boy stood again by the open window
warmlv ami comfortably clad, gazing with ad
miration at the newly-fallen sn w. Suddenly
his attention was attracted by a faint chirp m ar
at hand, and looking in the direction of the
sound, he saw his truant pet half chilled with
cold. He called to it gladly and the bird timid
ly approached him, a little distance at a time,
and at last talking courage, it alighted on a
bare branch by the window, and from thence
flew into its master’s hand It was soon back
in its cage agiin in the kitchen corner singing
its old songs, safe from the cold.
MORAL.
Truant chickens invariably come home to
roost. The bad young boy and the foolish girl
who leaves a h ppy and comfortable home,
when circumstances seem bright and fare, are
glad enough to return again,when winter comes
and adversity overtakes them. And they in
variably find a kind heart to welcome them
there, however great may be their offense or
transgression.— Eugene F. Hall.
Coleridge was a remarkably awkward horse
man, so much so as generally to attract notice.
He was once riding along a turnpike road,
when a wag approaching noticed his pecularity,
and thought the rider a fine subject for a little
sport, when, as he drew near, he thus accosted
the poet: “I say, young man, did you meet a
tailor on the road?” “Yes,” replied Coleridge,
“I did ; and he told me if I went a little further
I should meet his goose.”
Sanctum Reacts.
Looking for tlic Man who •‘Puts
Things in the Paper.”
He came in with an interrogation point in
one eye, and a stick in one hand. One eye was
covered with a handkerchief and one arm in a
sling. His bearing was that of a man with a
settled purpose in view.
“I want to see,” said he, “the man that puts
things into this paper.”
We intimated that several of us earned a
frugal livelihood in that way.
“Well, I want to see the man which cuts
things out of the other papers. The fellow
who writes mostly with shares, you under
stand.”
We explained to him that there were sea
sons when the most gifted among us, driven to
frenzy by the scarcity of ideas and events, and
by the clamorous demands of an unsatisfied
public, in moments of emotional insanity,
plunged the glittering shears into our exchanges.
He went off calmly, hut in a voice tremulous
with suppressed feeling and indistinct through
the recent loss of a half dozen or so of his
front teeth.
“Just so. I presume so. I don’t know much
about this business, but I want to see a man,
the man that printed that little piece about
pouring cold water down a drunken man’s
spine of his back and making him instantly so
ber. If you please I want to see that man. I
would like to talk with him.”
Then he leaned his stick against our desk
and spit on his serviceable hand, and resumed
his hold on his stick as though he was weigh
ing it. After studying the stick a juiimte, li£
added in a somewhat louder tone :
“Mister, I came here to see that ’ere man. I
want to see him bad.”
We told him that particular man was not in.
“Just so. I presume so. They told me be
fore I came that the man I wanted to see
wouldn’t be anywhere. I’ll wait for him. I
live up north and have walked seven miles to
converse with that man. I guess I’ll sit down
and wait.”
He sat down by the door and reflectively
pounded the floor with his stick, but his feel
ings would not allow him to keep still.
“I suppose none of you didn’t ever pour
much cold water down ary drunken man’s
back to make him instantly sober, perhaps.”
None of us in the office had ever tried the
experiment.
“Just so. 1 thought just as like as not you
had not. Well, mister, I have. I tried it yes
terday, and I have come seven miles on foot
to see the man that printed that piece. It
wasn't much of a piece. I don’t think ; but I
want to see the man that printed it, just a few
minutes. You see, John Smith, he lives next
door to our house, when I’m to home, and he
gets how-come-you-so every little period. Now,
when he's sober, he’s all right, if you keep out
of his way; but when he’s drunk, he goes
home and breaks dishes, and tips over the
stove, and throws the hardware around, and
makes it inconvenient for his wife, and some
times he takes his gun and goes out calling on
his neighbors, and it ain’t pleasant.
“Not that I want to say anything about Smith ;
but me and my wife don’t think he ought to do
so. He came home drunk yesterday and broke
all the kitchen windows out of his house, and
followed his wife around with the carving knife,
talking about cutting her liver, and after a
while he lay down by my fence and went to
sleep. I had been reading that little piece ; it
wasn’t much of a piece, and I thought if I
could pour some water down his spine, on his
back, and made him sober, it would be more
comfortable for his wife, and a square thing to
do all around. So I poured a bucket of
spring water down John Smith’s spine of his
back./
“Well," said we as our visitor paused, “did
it make him sober?” Our visitor took a
firmer hold of his stick and replied with in
creased emotion ;
“Just so. I suppose it did make him as so
ber as a judge in less time than you could say
Jack R ibinson; but mister, it made him mad.
It made him the maddest man I ever seed, and,
mister. J >hn Smith is a bigger man than me,
and stouter. He is a good deal stouter. 11la —
bless him, I never knew he was half so stout
till yesterday, and he’s handy with his fists,
too. I should suppose he's the handiest man
with his fists I ever saw.'’
“Then he went for you, did he ?” we asked
innocently.
‘‘Just so. Exactly. I suppose he went for
me the best he knew, but I don't hold no
grudge against John Smith. I suppose he
aint't a g >od man to hold a grade agamst, onlv
I want to see the man that printed the piece.
I want to see him bad. I feel as though it
would sooth me to see that man. I want to
show him how a drunken man acts when you
pour water down the spine of his back. That’s
what I come for.”
Our visitor, who had poured water down the
spine of a drunken man’s back, remained until
about six o’clock in the evening, and then went
up the street to find the man that printed that
little piece. The man, he is looking for started
for Alaska last evening for a summer vacation,
and will not be back before September, 1898.
Exchange.
Literary Visitors.
One by one Jthe literary men of England come
to visit us. The horror of free institutions has
kept some of the brightest lights of literature on
the other side of the waters ; and the possession
of that bauble, a title, has had a similar effect
upon others. But a clearer idea of us has become
the possession of a few, and their number is in
creasing. The great Dickens twice honored ps
by his presence,and his last visit was an ovation,
and immense financial success, notwithstanding
he had, some twenty-five or thirty years prev
iously, rubbed our corns rather severely. Others
have visited this “blasted” country, and have not
found us altogether a set of heathens. Tennyson
has not come, and we hope he will not. His
moroseness and prejudice, ingrained and inerad
icable, that looks upon Americans as lees civilized
than his imaginary attendants upon King Authur,
would see nothing this side of the water upon
which the Laureate to Queen Victoria might look
with favor. We admire his poetry—we do not
admire him. But here comes a man who, since
the death of Dickens and Bulwer Lytton, stands
nearest the throne of Romance. He is not afraid
of being robbed, insulted, or cheated by Ameri
cans, and we are glad he has come. He may do
as Dickens did after his first visit, but we can
stand it and admire his genius still; but we do
not believe he will have occasion to be dissatis
fied with us, nor that he will abuse us without
cause. He is, eventually, to visit this coast also,
and we begin our hospitality by bidding him wel
come.—Alta California. ‘
Three Great Truths.
A good advertisement in a widely circulated
newspaper is the best of all possible salesmen.
It is a salesman who never sleeps, and is never
weary ; who goes after business early and late ;
who accosts the merchant in his shop, the
scholar in his study, the lawyer in his office, the
lady at her tea table ; who can be in a thousand
places at once, and speak to a million people
every day, saying to each one the best tiring in
the best manner.
A good advertisement in a newspaper pays no
fare on railroads ; costs nothing for hotel bills ;
gives away no boxes of cigars to customers, or
merino dresses to customer’s wives; drinks no
whisky under the head of traveling expenses ;
but goes at once and all the time about its busi
ness free of expense.
A good advertisement insures a business con
nection of the most permanent and independent
basis, and is in a certain sense a guarantee to the
customer of fair and moderate prices. Experi
ence has shown that the dealer whose wares have
obtained a public celebrity is not only enabled to
.sell, but is forced to sell at reasonable rates, and
to furnish a good article.
Secrets of iObb Jhllotusbip.
How Women arc “ Initiated.”l
A certain lodge of the Independent Order of
Odd Fellows determined to have their lodge
room done up clean and nice. It was resolved
unanimously that Mrs. K., should be employed
to do the job. After the meeting adjourned the
guardian, who knew the inquisitive character
of Mrs. K., procured a billy-goat and p’aaed
him in the closet that was kept as a reserve for
the secret things. He then informed the lady
of the wishes of the lodge, and requested her to
come early the next morning, as he would then
show her what Was and what was not to be
done. Morning came, and with it Madame
K., with her broom, brushes, pails, tubs, etc.,
and found the guardian waiting for her.
“Now, madame,” said lie, “I tell you what
we want done, and how we came to employ
you. The brothers said it was difficult to get
anybody to do the job, and not be meddling
I with the secret in the closet; we have lost the
key, and cannot find it to lock the door. I as
sured them that you could be depended upon.”
“Depend on! I guess I can. My poor and
dead gone husband, he belonged to the Free
Masons, or anti-masons, I don’t know which,
lie used to tell me all the secrets of the con
cern, and when he showed me the marks of the
gridiron, made when he was initiated, and told
me how they fixed poor Morgan, I never told
a living soul to this day; if nobody troubles
vour closet to find out your secrets till I do,
thev will be there till they rot, they will. ’
“I thought so,” said the guardian, “and now
I want you to commence in that corner and
give the whole room a thorough cleaning, and
I pledge my word anil honor to the fidelity of
■ your promise; now don’t go into that closet; t
and then left the lady to herself.
No sooner had she heard the sound of his
feet on the steps than she exclaimed, “Don't
get into the closet!” I'll warrant there’s a grid
iron, or some nonsense, just like the anti-Ma-
■ sons for all the world, I’ll !>e bound. I will
take one peep, and nobody will be any wise",
as I ean keep it to myself. - ’
Suiting the action to the word -he steppsd
lightlv to the forbidden closet, and turned the
button, which was no sooner done than “bah !”
went the billy-goat, with a spring to regain his
liberty, which came near upsetting her lady
ship. Both started for the door, but it was
filled with implements for house cleaning, and
all were swept from their position to the bot
tom of the stairs.
The noise and confusion occasioned by such
unceremonious coming down the stairs drew
half the town to witness Mrs. K's efforts to get
from under the pile of pails, tubs, brooms anil
brushes in the street.
Who should be the first to the spot but tha>
rascally door-keeper. After releasing the goat,
which was a cripple for life and uplifting the
rubbish that hound the good woman to the
earth, anxiously inquired if she had been taking
the degrees.
“Taking the degree I” exclaimed the lady ;
“if you call tumbling from the top to the bot
tom of the stairs with the devil after ye taking
things by degrees, I have (hem, and if ye
frightened folks as he frightened me, and hurt
to boot, I’ll war ant they will make as much
noise as I did.”
“I hope you did not open the closet madam, ’
said the dooi keeper.
“Open the closet ? Eve eat the apple she
was forbidden. If you want a woman to do
anything, tell her not to do it, and she’ll do it
certain. I could not stand the temptation. The
secret was there. I wanted to know it I
opened the door, and out popped the tarnal
critter right into my face. I thought the old
boy had me, and I broke for the stairs with the
critter butting me at every jump. I fell over
the tub and got down sta rs as you found us all
in a heap”
“But, madam,” said the doorkeeper, “You
are in possession of the great secret of our or
der, and you must go up to be initiated and
then go in the regular way.”
“Regular way I” exclaimed the lady, “and
do you suppose I am going near the tarnal
place, and ride that ar tarnal critter without a
bridle or a lady’s saddle ? No, I don’t want
anything to do with the man that rides it. I’d
look nice perched upon a billy-goat, wouldn’t
I? No, never! I’ll never go nigh it again,
nor you shall nudder —if I can prevent it, no
lady shall ever join the Odd Fellows. Why,
I’d sooner be a Free Mason, and broiled on a
gridiron as long as the fire could be kept under
it, and pulled from garret to cellar with a hal
ter, in a pair of old breeches and slippers, just
as my poor dead husband. And he lived over
it, but I never could live over such another ride
as I took to-day.— Ex.
ill forts.
The first public schools in Georgia
were instituted in Columbus.
John Shirley Ward, who was recently
a Nashville editor, is farming in Cali
fornia, and has 2,000 sheep already.
A Jackson letter says the present
crop of Mississippi is the shortest
known for many years.
It is stated that Gen. John C. Breck
inridge is to take up his residence in
New York, and resume the practice of
law.
a countryman at Dyersburg, Ten
nessee, was noticed the other day
gravely setting his watch by a painted
sign in front of a jeweler’s.
The New York World estimates the
shriiilitigu of railroad stocks Guring the
panic at $185,000,000, and Western
Union Telegraph at $15,000,000.
A Mrs. Hayden, of Sharon, Vermont,
has a peony-root in her garden that is
over eighty years old. She has seen it
in blossom seventy consecutive years.
There are 20,000 drunkards in Con
necticut, and fifteen out of every forty
one men who have attained their major
ity and died during the last five years,
were drunkards.
During the past twelve months, five
hundred and fourteen deaths occurred
in San Francisco from consumption,
due, it is supposed, to the changes in
the temperature there.
Congress passed a law. which went
into effect on the Ist of October, inst.,
that cattle in transit on railroad trains
shall receive food and drink at least
once in twenty-four hours.
It is gratifying to all Tennesseeans
to know that his State was awarded the
first place as a mineral State in the
great Vienna Exposition. The conse
quences to flow from this recognition
abroad of this mineral wealth, we may
reasonably hope and expect, will be
vast in point of active capital.
It has a depressing effect upon the mind to
read the subjoined paragraph, for to reasons:
First, It is sad to learn that the matrimonial
prospects of our Western friend, Waukeen, are
not at all promising, and, second : It is still
more sad to learn that he proposes to return to
America, for we had hoped we were rid of him
and his usual howling- 1 . The St. Louis Times
says: “It is announced on good authority that
the engagement between Joaquin Miller and
Miss Hardy, the daughter of Sir Thomas Har
dy, is broken off —that is, if it ever existed.
The young lady is on the continent with her
parents, and Mr. Miller is about to return to
America.”
Freedom of the Press.- —In St. Peters
burgh, recently, the editor of a daily newspa
per. being much impressed with the prevalence
of drunkenness, determined to instruct the pub
lic min I on the subject, and, with this view,
took an excursion into the country to collect
facts on the subject. There he found two typical
villages, one,where there was no tavern, all order
and thrift, the other all poverty, misery, disease
and dirt. On this he wrote a powerful article,
making tin appeal to right-minded persons to
do what they could to mitigate this evil, but he
nnfortunotely brought it to a close by asking,
“Where are the clergy, and why do they not
preach against drunkenness?” The police au
thorities, being unable to answer this home
question, gave it up, and settled the difficulty J
summarily by suppressing the edition of the !
paper in which the article was to appear.
It is a solemn thing to be caught in a large V
city, away from home, with barely a dollar in
your pocket and no poor relations near to help 1
you spend it.
“How old was you when you commerced
chawin’ terbacker, brother Jim ?” inquired a
nine-year-old Nashville boy, yesterday. “1 was
about nineteen years old,” replied Jim, as he
put a fresh quid in his mouth. “Oh, shaw, I.
ain’t agoin’ to wait till I’m that old,” responded
the ambitious juvenile.
In affairs of love, a “missive” is, out of al]
questions, the most eligible mode of communi
cation ;it spares the blushes of the lady, and <
saves the tyro of a lover a vast deal of assur
ance. Besides, the ladies prefer that as they
have an opportunity of exhibiting the proof
positive of the power of their charms to all
their female acquaintances.
A blood-thirsty citizen of this place, who
thinks his life in danger, carries a pistol to
protect himself. He came in the office this
morning to get a string to tie the stock and
barrel together, as the other fastening is gone,
and he took occasion to observe that it would
make the streets run with blood if people didn’t
stop fooling with him.
A farmer lost a gimlet in the woods near
Monticello, Minnesota, three years ago, and the
other day cut down an iron-wood tree, fast in
the forks of which he found —not a gimlet, but
a three-quarter inch auger! He is sorry he
didn’t wait a year or two longer, as a two
inch auger was just what he wanted.
A decidedly rough looking individual ap
plied for a license as a teacher of a school
far from Troy, recently.
“Do you think you can manage a school ?”
inquired the examiner.
“Well, I guess so,” said the applicant, im
perturbly. “If I can’t, I ean knock the spots
out of the youngsters.”
The vacancy still exists.
A mamma in the rural districts lately gave
her five-year-old hopeful an outfit of fishing
tackle. Soon she heard a shout from Willie,
and running out, found one of her best hens fast
winding up the line in her crop, whether the
hook had preceded it. Willie, observing the
troubled countenance of his mother, quietly re
marked,“Don’t worry, mother. I guess she will
stop when she gets to the pole.”
One of the incidents of the demolition Wash
ington market was the following speech deliv
ered from the top ofa box: “I am Mrs. Mar
tha O’Donnell, the A No. 1 fat woman of
Washington market. I came into this market
weighing 200 pounds, and now I weigh 345
pounds. I have been here fifteen years, have paid
$lB a month, and have made SIOO,OOO, and in
tend to make SIOO,OOO more. I have a farm
of ten acres on Long Island, support a husband
gentlemanly, and a family in luxury, and I give
them fast horses and carriages with which to
enjoy themselves. I have stood the most in
tense cold in winter without a fire, and the
greatest heat in summer, and have never taken
cold or been overheated.”
Spie jfeitdjcn.
- ■ |
Lobster Fritters. —Chop the meat with
the red part and the spawn of two large lobsters
very fine, and add grated breadcrumbs,a little
blitter, salt and pepper, and c opped sweet
herbs; make the whole into a paste with yolk
of egg, form it into pieces an inch and a half
thick, dip them in batter, and fry.
To Make Brown Bread.—Take three
parts of second flour and the fourth of rye, lay
it one night in a cool place, and the next morn
ing work it up with a little milk added to the
water. Set it at a proper distance from the fire
to rise, and then make it into loaves, and bake.
Time, one or two hours, according to weight.
Cream Cakes. —Put one cup of water and
one cup of butter on the stov, to boil ; when
boiling stir in two cupsol flour, and when cool
add five well-beaten eggs; drop this on your
baking-tin, one spoonful in a place, and rub
each with the white of an egg. Bake in a hot
oven. For the cream boil one pint of milk,
and when boiling stir in two eggs, one cup of
sugar, ami half-cup of flour beatten together,
with a little cold milk, and let it boil till s. fli
ciently thick. Flavor with lemon. — Ex.
Queen Cakes.—Beat one pound butter to a
cream, add one pound sifted loaf sugar, beat
nine eggs well ; mix all together. When ready
to put into the oven, add one pound sifted
flour, half a nutmeg, half pound of currants, a
little mace and cinnamon. Bake in small tins.
Sift sugar over the cakes when half baked,and
■eturn them to the oven.
Sponge Pudding.—Butter a mold thickly,
and fill it three-parts full with small sponge
cakes soaked through with wine ; fdl up the
mold with a rich cold custard. Butter a pa
per and put on the mold; then tie a floured
cloth over it quite close, and boil it an hour.
Turn out the pudding carefully, and pour some
cold custard over it. Or bake it, and serve
with wine-sauce instead of custard.
Oyster Sauce. —Take two dozen oysters;
blanch and remove the beards. Put three
ounces of butter into a stewpan with two ounces
of flour, add the beards and liquor with a pint ,
and a half of milk, a tea-spoonful of salt, a i
pinch of cayenne, two cloves, and a half a >
blade of mace. Place over the fire. Keep $
stirring, letting it boil ten minutes; then add a
tea-spoonful of essence of anchovy and one of P
Harvey’s sauce. Pass it through a sieve into
another stewpan, add the oysters, and make
verv hot, but do not let it boil. A less quantity zs
may, of course, l>e made, using less propor
tions.
