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is, hi HOUSE EULD. The Apple Tre; 5,... up: :r_lcvf~il apple tree i In Yl’:«’: ~prinz. Burma; hulls now unto me out ihourut- bring, fifthe happy lll'dflflz: future “"hcn 'ilt: tree Wc watch ind nurture \V‘ilf h : rnbed in fairest verdurc. Then “'lll 4n: I". in bonng the liveloni: morning, Merry lllfll‘. the tree adorning“ And their pretty ne~tiin5s warning, 'l'witieringr In the apple tree Now in su'nmcr see the apple tree Bending low. ‘ Green leaves waving happily To and fro. Dropped the dainty fragrant flowers From their cincraxl tinted lowers In their fragrant feathery sliovvcrs, Showers of snow. Then it was the wee germ started, As a ray of sunshine darted Through it, and new life imparted. And it grew. Full is the apple tree. Blcsrcd day-z of song and story Now we greet: Iladiant in her we ilth and glory, Autumn. sweet. Brown .md gold have turned the meadow Down the glen steal fltfui ~hailows, And its oder‘inz the tree throws At thy firct. ' Drop-i a gift ~o soft and yellow, Apples falling ripe and mellow. Each more luscious than his fellow, Such a treat! Fruitful apple treo. Stands the brave old apple tree. Brown and bare. Icy lmh~ long helplessly Hero and there. Stripped of all his summer beauty, Robbed of all his golden fruit. be Seems to plead -'o sadly, mulely For our care I _ That [stop to look in pity: . Then a ioyous thought corrir‘s'qmckly Soon glad spring again Will buy (:lOII-L‘. ~o fair, Our old apple tree. â€"â€"lr‘rances Rhodes Saunders, in Housekeeper- A Housecleaning Episode. Once more stand face to face With the evitable housccleaning. Every houscWife dreads it, even if men do pretend to believe that we are just in our “ element.” There is no getting around in, health and cleanliness demand this annual upheaval, so why rebel? Yes, dear diary, you know I dread it, dont you? But let me tell you a Secret ; I am going to control the house- clcaning this spring, and not let it control me. You know what I mean. You know how many times Ibave neglected you for Weeks, and then the “ reign of terror” over have come weary, peniteut and humble, with only a clean house to show for loss of strength and patience. Yes, we know itis wrong, no Christian can afford to throw off her armor, and be- comc a veritable “Xanthippc” for the sake of cleanliness ei en, but alas! ambition tries to make us compass the Work of two days in one; the result is, we overwork, and forget in the haste and confusion to watch our words. But this year behold a reformation. You will not be neglected a single (lay, for I have pledged myself to just one room a day. I shall rest every afternoon, then I Will not get Worried or fretted, and as a safeguard I will take a text each day to work by. To day I have chosen: “Sulli- cient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Here comes my helper, so an rcvmr. The foregoing is a quotation' from my diary on one April 1. And now for the sequel of that “ideal” housecleaumg day. I laugh every time I think of it, and it al- ways serves as a tonic when I am about ready for the “inevitable.” That is a good starterâ€"a good dose of laugh tonic. sistersâ€"so I willpass on to the sequel of that moraine, and if it causes you to laugh at my expense, all the better. Things never do move all quite as we plan them, especially during this dreaded season. Expected paperhangers or help fail us, etc., and so we might better stir" out expecting disappointments, and then we will not. be thrown ofl‘ our guard When they come. But back to this memorable morning. I will not attempt to give “my way," for I never followed the written “ how ” of any other housewife. I will only venture to say that I begin with the attic and work down. That year I intended to be thoroughness itself, even to having the floor mopped with turpentine and water, for 0, careful house- wives, I suspected moths had left their egg around as a result of my inability to say “no” when a friend in need begged the privilege of storing “ just a few things " in said attic. . . So with “ this one thing I do,” in my heart, I started for the first floor (leaving my aged mother to attend to any possible callers), accompanied by a Hollander, will- ing and stout. I said: “ Now, John, I wai'nt you to carry down all the bedding and clothes you see here and put ilicm on the lines and whip them, and then sweep and mop the floor.“ So he deccuded the flights of stairs with load after load, until he said good natured- ly : ” Guess you keep boarders, mum, you got so mooch bed tings.” At last. smiling his content, he said : “ Dot's all l” And l followed after to see if he understood hang- ing and whipping ; then said I as I handed him the beater: “ Now, John, I want you to give everything a thorough heating, for I am afraid there are moths in some of them.” At my words, poor John turned red, then white, dropped t a heater, and start- ed, saying: " I'm moocli afraid of mofs ! "‘ I run after him saying: “ Why, moths won't hurt you, do come back, i will pay you more than you ask.” But no, he acted as if he could not get out of my sight too quickly, and only replied : “ No, no, mofs, I mooch afraid l" Do you wander that an- noye-l as I was at losing him, I sat down and laughed uncontrollably at the idea of a man running away from possible moths? I learned later that hc did not understand my meaning, and thought I met the germ of diphtheria, a disease that had been very resultant and fatal that season. Anyhow was left in the lurch, but thinking of my text. I said : “ Never mind, let the clothes hang there until lunch time, and then I will send the man to hunt up some one not afraid of niols." So back to the attic I went, and so busy was I looking through trunks and sorting bundles that I forgot all else, until, hark ! “ thunder," then for the first time I noticed that the attic had grown dark, andâ€"“0, these clotliea!"1tlcw downstairs, and lacked in dismay at that array of bed- i ding representing three generations. 1; leaked up and down the street, but thorn was no help to be had for love or money. i The thundvr rooted and thelightning flashed \ad I did just that you would have clonal 200d sisters, in such an emergency, even if "is urippe" had worn you to a shadow, and you ihuuqht you had liztle strengthâ€"I lug- :ed and I tugged, until clothes, feather lads and all the rest of the heirlooms, were undersiicltcr. Then the rain fell in to:- rents, and “weak as a rag," I threw him- self or: the sofa andâ€"cried ‘2â€"â€"-no, no, I glanced towards my opsu desk, and as I contrasted my vanquished self with the madam who, a few hours before, talked so glowingly to her diary, I laughed, then thinking of my text, I laughed again, saying; “\Vell, it was a good one, the evil of this day is sure y suffi:ient." One “sequel” is usually enough, but I think Iwill add another. considered am not the only one who smiles as a result “In” I can afford to , of the Hollander's blunder. smile as I recall it all, as it never can occur again by any possible chance, for my attic I is now almost as hire as the cupboard of the famous “Mother Hubbard,” and my heart is made warm as I think that its contents are no longer food for moths, but in the homes of the needy, thanks to the lesson sent me bythe man afraid of “mofs.” If any of my sisters are carelessly or selfishly hoarding up “heirlooms,” or un- necessary beddiug and clothes as l was, I alm ost hope you will see yoursslves reflected in as unflattering a mirror as I did that April morning, and that the result will be more empty attics, and less suffering poor. Desserts of Nuts. The “foam of ches'nuts,” hazelnuts, or of any nut makes a dainty dessert. For this purpose the nut must be shelled and blancher‘,boilcdiill thoroughly soft in water, then drained and washed andrubbed through a fine puree sieve. About a cupful of the flaked chestnut meats will be sufficient- to use with a pint of cream. Whip the cream to astill froth, sweeten it with powdered sugar, using about three heaping table spoonfuls, adding the flaked chestnuts (sprinkling theui in by degrees). 1 on may use a tablespoouful of Maraschino to flavor this dessert, or a littl- orange flavor if you prefer it to the liquor. Let the dessert be thoroughly chilled before it is served. Some- times a half-cupful of grated chocolate, sweetened and flavored, is added to the foam. The clear pulp of the boiled chestnuts is sometimes passed through the puree sieve, slightly salted and served in a mound, sur- rounded by whipped cream and garnished by quarters of glace oranges. Keeping Fruit and Meats. Some meats and most fruits keep best at a. temperature slightly above the freezing p int. The essential thing is that fermenta- tion shall not take place and 'a temperature some degrees above freezing will ordinarily prevent it. Milk may be kept sweet in the hottest Weather by sealing it in a glass jar and placing the jar in a porous vessel of water. The constant evaporation of water through the pores of the containing vessel suffices to keep the milk at a temperature low enough to prevent fermmtation. Tried Receipts. Green Pea Soupâ€"Boil and mash through the colander flqts. of peas, and add ,3; lb of butter and 1 qt. of sweet milk: then stir into a little milk,onc tablespoonful of flour, and add it to the other ingredients while they are boiling, to thicken it. A slice of good, cold boiled ham imparts a fine flavor, Bunsâ€"Early in the morning make a sponge of one quart of flour. As scan as it rises well, heat into it 2 eggs, 2 tablespoon- fnls of lard, ‘2 tablespoonfuls ofsugar. Put it to rise again, then work in enough flour to make a soft dough; roll it out and out like biscuits, only a size smaller. Put two together, with butter between, an 1 bake in a slow oven. Egg Turbot.-â€"-One dozen cold hard boil- ed eggs chopped fine, one and a half pints of cream gravy seasoned highly with pepper salt, celery salt,and a little minced parsley. Mix with the minced eggs the juice of half a lemon, stir them into the gravy and bake with cracker crumbs strewn over the top. Serve hot. Ginger Snapsâ€"Beat together well, hall pound of butter and half pound of sugar, and then add a half pint of molasses and a half tea-cup of ginger; mix with one pound and a half of flour, kneed it well, roll very thin and cut into small round shapes. Bake in a moderately hot oven. Sweet Wafersâ€"Beat 6 eggs; add ‘2 ozs. melted butter, 1 pt. of flour, l.1_. cups of sugar, 1 cup of sueet milk. See that the wafer irons are hot before you begin to use them. Cook the wafers quickly and rol while hot. Orange Syrup. â€"-â€"Squcezc the juice through a sieve ; and to every pint add one and a half pounds of powdered sugar. Boil it slowly and skim as long as any scum ring, then take it off the fire,let it get cold and be tle it for use. 139 sure it is well corked. It is an excellent flavoring for custards and saunes. Pan:akcs.-â€"-One pint of sweet milk, two tablespoonfuls of butter, four eggs, two- tblrds of a cupful of flour, and salt to the taste. The butter must be melted, and the eggs beaten separately. Mix the ingredients thoroughly. Butter a small frying pan, and pour in one-half cupful of the batter, move the pan around so that the batter will cover it, and place it over the fire until brown; then remove from the heat and the pancake will rise. Sponge Puddingâ€"Two ounces of flour, two ounces of sugar, one pint of milk; boil all together, then add two ounces of butter, and six eggs beaten Separately. Stir all together well and bake in a pudding dish (set in a pan of hot water) for an hour. Sauce for Aboveâ€"One egg. butter the size of an egg, one and one-half cupfuls of sugar, beat all together until very light ihen add one cupful of boiling water, and flavor with vanilla or orange. Candied Peels. Ihave made candied lemon and orange peel for years, as good if not better than what We buy. Soak the peels in weak brine (a half-teacup‘ul of salt to three pints of water is about right) for two days: drain well, make a thick syrup of granulatedsugar and water, enough in cover the peels. Cook slowly on kick of the stove if tin-re is a heavy fire, stirring occ uioinlly, to give each piece the some share of cooking and syrup. As iliesyrup boils down he very carefulabout its burning, but hell all into the peels possible. Take out on plates, pouring what syrup re- mains over them. Put in a warm p‘scc to dry gradually. You are sure tube delight-l ed With the result. .._â€"â€"_..___. l’lLLlGE “TIMI-S II SCOTLAND. A Broil Class. A race which has all but passed away from the country-side in Scotland since the passing ofstriugent‘ vagrancy Acts and the reformation of local authorities -18 that of the halfmitted wanderers, or “naturals,” las they used to be called, whose idiosyncras- ies a generation ago formed one of the occasionally painful characteristics of most rural districts. A sort of privileged men- dicants, they were never turned from the door of cottage, manse or farm-steadiug. I This friendly reception was due. partly to tition, which made it unlucky to refuse hospitality to thosementallyafilzcted, and partly for fear of the unreasoniug ven- geance which some of them had been known to perpetrate; but most of all to pity.which everywhere looked upon them with akindly and eycusing eye. Stories of their exploits and sayings, by no means always so “tliowless” as might have been expected, but generally containing a biting grain of humor which tickled the fancy, were cur- rent every 4 here about the country; and sometimes they even did a useful service which could have been effected by no more sane and sensuble person. It is recorded in the life of Hcgg, the Ettrick Shepherd, that he owed something of the dawn of his inspiration to one of these Wanderers. One sunny sum-ner day when a lad of twenty he was herding his sheep on Hawkshaw Rig, above the farm of Blackhouse, on the Douglas Barn, in Yar- row, there came up to him ONE OF THESE NATURALS named Jock Scott, well known and wel- comed on that country side for his poetic procliVities. To while away the time Jock, who was then on his return from a pure. grination in Ayrshire, recited to the She - herd the whole of a wonderful poem called “Tam o’ Shanter," made by an Ayrshire ploughinan of the name of Burns. To that recitation, no less, perhaps, than to the storied surroundings of the hills of Val row among which he dwelt, Hogg owed the opening of his eyes to the poetic light that never was on sea or land, and to the ma ic of that elfin under-world in which he was to dream his exquisite dream of Bonny Kilmeny. Of later wanderers like Jock Scott on that Border side Dr. Russell, in his “Re- miniscences of Yarrow,” has recorded an anecdote or two. Jock Gray, supposed to be the original of Davie Gellatley in “Waverly ,” is described as wearing knee- breeches, and fastening his stockings with glaring scarlet garters. Like many of his kind, he was strong in mimicry,.especially of the ministers whose services he attended, and whom he could frequently be induced to “take off”with great effect. Once the wife of the minister of Selkirk asked him to furnish forth an imitat-on of her husband. That gentleman was in the habit of reading his sermons, a habit much reprobated in those days. The saltness of Jack’s repl may therefore be understood when he told the lady that before he could comply with her demand she must give him “a bit 0’ paper. " Sometimes his zeal for ministerial duties carried him further than mere mim- icry. It is recorded that on one occasion he managed to make his way into the pul- pit of Ettrick kirk before the arrival of the minister. When the latter himself reached the foot of the pulpit stairs and discovered the occupant of his place, he called out, “Come down, John." The predicament reached its climax when the congregation heard the answer, “Na, sir ; come ye up ; they’re a stiff-necked and rebellious people; it’ll tak’ us baith.” When Jock was a lad the minister of Yarrow once told him he was the idlest boy in the parish, and suggested that he might at least» hard a few cows. “Me herd cows! me herd cows 1” said Jock. “I dinna ken gersh [crass] frae corn;” a re- joinder which suggests the idea that Jock may pessibly have been something of the knave as well as a little of the fool. Jack latterly used to wander about the country with his father, an old mendicant, who. with a gift of prayer, was accustomed to conduct family worship in the cottages in which the pair were lodged for the night. It is recorded that one night during this function, Jock, who doubtless felt the GNAWISGS 0F HUNGER. just then, twice or thrice lifted the lid 0 the pot on the fire, and was heard speculating in somewhat forcible language as to when his parent would conclude. A strong affection, nevertheless, existed between the two, and when at length the old father died Jock at once took to his bed and within a week also breathed his last. Some of the verses of this worthy, containing no small inkling of pawky humour, are preserved, with a description of their author, in the “Memoirs of Dr. Robert Chambers.” Jock Dickson, another wanderer of the same sort, whose father, nicknamed “ Cool- the-kail” from the length of his sermons, had been minister of Bedrule. was a visitor in Yarrow, and was wont for many a day to find quarters in the various manses in which his parent had been known. He was distinguished chiefly by the cut of his clothes. These consisted of “ a long bluc coat, with very wide and long tails, and a double row of brass buttons down the back as well as in front, knee-breeches, and shoes with buckles.” On account of these liabili- meats the boys of some of the towns throucb which he passed were accustomed, merciless and conscienceless as boys con- stantly are.to follow him with the shout of ” Daft Jock Dickson ! Buckles and pouch- es ! Buckles and pouches E” On the south shore of loch :Lomond many of the inhabitants still living remem- ber \Vill-o’-the-shore. A fearsome sight he was, to children and persons not acquaint- ed with the neighbourhood, as he went about the quiet roads grumbling to himself regarding his wrongs, and muttering venge- ance on all and sundry. His clothes were always in the last stage of tatters; his head had no covering but a great shock of matted hair; and IIE SLOL'CIIZD ALOSG with his great splay feet naked in all Weathers. Ills usual custom upon entering ahonse, which he did without ceremony, was to “ wecht the women,” as he called it. Upon one cecasion he rushed into the mansion-house of ledarvan, and straight- way seizing its mistress by the waist, to her dismay lifted her into the air. Mat- ters were put right, however, by the lady‘. sister, who was present, suggesting to the too energetic and somewhat dubious visitor i that what he wanted was a “ jelly piece." “ Ay,” said he ; and, no doubt to her im~ mense relief, set his burden down. Some- thing more than a suspicion existed that Will‘s pranks .Wcre not confined to the comparatively harmless one of “wechting the wemen.” The opening of ficld~gutes during the night, and the consequent seri- ous straying of cattle and sheep, were frequently attributed to him. Further and even worse deeds of spiteful mischief contributed to make him sufficiently feared as the evil genius of the country-side ; and it was no small relief to the farmers, as well as to women and children of his dis- trict, when he finally disippeared. Egg \Vill was a character of a different sort in the same neighbourhood. A good- natured “snmph,” with broad fat face and harmless hands, he went about the district with a long basket, gathering eggs, which he carried to Duinbarton for sale, there y contributing in some degree to the support of himself and widowed mother. In this way he was a beneficent friend to the farmers among whom he went; and u on coming to a bed of thistles growing by the read, he would be seen to set down his basket and attack the enemy, routing them out with immense energy and indignation. His chiefpeculiarity, however, was unbound- ed admiration for people of title; and at all the public functionsâ€"cattle-shows, fairs, and sportsâ€"he might be observed, with open inouth and undisguised worship, FOLLOWING TIIE FOOTSTEI’S cf the Duke of Montrose. Upon one occasion a late minister of the district, who was blind, was being led through a cattle-show at Drymen by one of the present proprietors of the neighbourhood, then a boy, when the Duke was seen approaching, followed a few paces distance by his humble worshipper. The minister’s guide whispered to him that the Duke was coming towards him, but at that moment some other object de- tracted His Grace’s attention, and he turn- ed aside. The follower behind, however, perceiving the expectant attitude of the minister, seized the golden opportunity. “How do you do, Mr.â€"â€"â€"?" lie sai , throwing his utmost powers of mimicry into an imitation of the ducal accent, and entire- 1 deceiving the unfortunate clergyman whom he addressed. “I am very well, I thank you, my Lord Duke,” replied the latter, sweeping off his hat to his interroga- tor; and then, on a hurried whisper of “It's Egg Will!” from the boy at his side, he more suddenly and with less dignity clapped his hat on his headagain; and With an angi- exclamation turned on his heel and made for home. \Vill’s purpose, however, had been sufficiently served; and never to his dying day did he forgot that he had once been taken for the Duke of Montrose. Old-Fashioned Gardens. There are no gardens nowadays like those we remember in our childhood. The dear old flowers are out of fashion . Their places are usurped by hybrids, with long Latin names, which nobody can pronounce, or translate, and which would not pay for the trouble in the event of suc- cess. How well we remember the old-fashioned garden ! It was generally on a south slope, Where the can lay golden and warm all the summer day, and the brow of the hill sheltered it from the bligbting winds of spring, and from the frosty breath of early autumn. All the family took pride in it, and did their share of the work in it. Each of the little girls had her own particular flower- bed, and cultivated her own pet rose-bush, in some secluded corner. The boys raised wonderful melons and squashes, and grandmother had her patch of thyme, and hyssop, and rue, and worm- wood, and sweet marjoram, and tansy, and a score or more of theseold-fashionedplants, whose very names have gone out of the memory of the present generation. Nobody could keep house without tansy to “spot.” cheeses, and hyssop for a. cough, and rue for the measles, and wormwood for sprains, and thyme and sweet marjoram for the legs of veal and lamb, which came in season every spring. There‘was the asparagus bed, where imi- tation green peas were gathered in April, and where, later on in the year. grew and flourished those green feathery sprays, with coral berries, which once adorned every looking-glass in the country, and hung in bunches from the hooks in the plastering, and kept the pine and spruce boughs coni- pany in the wide old fire-places through the summer. There were rows of hollyhocks, and sun- flowers. and princes' feathers, and rose of Sharon, and nasturtiums. and gilliflowers, and bed of June pinks, and sweet-William, and marigolds, and bachelor’s buttons, and jonquils, and was there ever any flower, however sweet, that could equal a June ink for fragrance? Beside the fences blossomed the old damask rose, and the double white rose, with a heartlike the inside of a sea-shell, and the lilacs and sweet brich filled up the spaces with their hardy luxuriance. One did not have to nurse plants like these, and shield them, lest the wind of heaven blew too roughly upon them ; they were tough and hardy, and aeolimated, and they amply repaid the little care bestowed upon them. Nothing in the old-fashioned garden was so rare that it could not be spared to make up a bouquet for the best room, when the minister was coming to tea, or Sarah Ann was expecting her youna man, and the rosy- checked school-children, who pceped through the gate on their way to the rustic school-house were made glad by nosegays of pinks and heart's ease whenever they asked for them. The ribbon borders and beds of today were unknown; nobody had ever heard of the Umbilicus Sempervium, or the Sci-opu- larin Chrysantha; fortunes were not invest. ed in garden statuary, and ornamental urns and flowervpots, but the old~fashioned garden wasjustas beautiful, and its flowers just as swoet, and the whole thing was a crest deal more satisfactory than the club- orate garden of these times. There are no flowers lovelier than those our grandmothers cultivated, and we make a mistake to exclude them from our gardens. because they cream-fashioned. And while we would by no means be unmindful of tho xery beautiful novelties being constantly put forwud by our florists. we would still retain in our gardan the pinks, and swat williams,and pandas, and marigolds, and hollyhockn, and all their old-time compan- ions even a‘. the risk of being called. an old fogy of the female pcrsmion. l COUNTRY HIGHWAYS. The Evolution of the Trail. the Bridle Path and the Wagon Road. _Under the caption of “ The Ways of the “.orld," Mr. Edward \V. Perry is contrib- uting to the New York Observer a series of articles on roads and road-making. In his first article Mr. Perry savs :â€" I’athless wildernessas are myth-s. Every habitable part of the earth has its roads. Across the bleak plains of the frozen north. among the peaks of rugged mountains, over broad and grassy prairies, and tlirouvh the depths of tropic jungles, man has for canâ€" turies had his highways. These were at. first. so faintly marked that the eye of civilized man would have been unable to discover them. \Vith increased. use they became more distinct, until at last man Were so wide and smooth that the blin might safely follow them. Where men had beasts of burden thbir passing feet widened and wore smooth the trails, and bridle paths were made. That the packs might freely pass, branches were lopped off here and there, than trees were cutaway, rocks were removed and easier grades were made in some ascents, for wliegls had come into use. Increase of trafhc followed, as always happens when meansare improved or increased. Then serfs were made to work at stated seasons, to Widen ~and smooth the common way yet more, that vehicles might the more easdy roll along, and our present plan of “ work- ing the roads ” was thus born. But ' that was in ages of darkness and despotismfiwhsn a few favored men robbed the many, separately weak, of their fair share of property and of liberty. For man is conservative. To this hour, after centuries uncounted of opportunity and evolution, in lands whose people boast of hiin achievements, he is still content to use roads that are in roughness, in steep- ness and in muddiuess what they were generations ago. He seems to believeâ€"it cannot be said truly that he thinksâ€"that continued endurance of ills he knows, is easier than would be the mental exertion of deciding what are the better ways, and of screwing up his courage to the point of adopting those ways. For it requires courage to change from old and accustomed methods. , Leaders of reforms are usually denounced as extremists by their fellow men. To move the masses as far as they should go, their leaders must go farther. But can it be shown that the most extreme of reformers has persisted in blunders as wasteful, as costly, as absurb as those to which the con- servative element obstinately adheres 'f I have in mind a bit of road where such conservatism is often shown. There an en- gineer carried a wagon road half a mile or more along one side of a. high spur of a mountain, and further back along its other side. An even and easy grade was thus secured, and the bed of the road is the solid rock, liewn smooth. But the distance around the point is twice as great as is that from the. spot where the old trail parts from the new and smooth roads,to go zigzagging five hundred feet up that rough and rocky spur and down again, to the place where that ancient path joins again the modern way. Sometimes an arriere so far forgets the traditions of his fathers as to permit his mules to go around by the new road; but a caballero in the saddleâ€"neverl And the Indians, who hear on their backs or their heads burdens which they will market in the city eighteen miles away,seem to never dream that it would be easier for them, and quicker, to go around the rocky point than it is to clamber over its broken height. One of northern brain can think of only one cause for following so difficult, tedious and costly a way, whcuan easy and inexpen- sive one is at bandâ€"and that cause is iden- ti :al in nature with that. one which leads millions of people in the United States to continue, your after year, generation after generation, to use as public highways the muddy, rough lanes which are in place of the clean, smooth and hard roads they may easily have if they will ; and that causcis conservatism. ‘ As population grew and traffic increased in some countries, roads were improved un- til, where wise forethought was combined with great governing powers, public high- ways reached, ccnturies ago, a nearness to perfection never since surpassed, perhaps never since equalled. Growth of military and civil power brought need of smooth and easy roads over which couriers could travel swiftly, armies march rapidly, and the spoils of conquest be moved quickly to escape possible pursuch, to add to the power of the conquerors, and increase the wealth, comfort and beauty of their central strong- holdsâ€"the home nests whence those rapa- cious birds of prey swooped down on their Victims. ' Such were the great roads of Memphis, of Babylon and of the Roman empire. Such was the evolution of that wonderful high- way system built by that wise and cour- ageous nation of true Americans who four centuries and more ago had roads which have never since beon equalled in extent and in workmanship by any others in the western world, and have been surpassed by few roads of modern days. - Yet our own need of perfect highways is incomparably greater than was theirs. The aggregate of the distances over which we have to move the products of our forests, our mines, our farms and our factories, greatly exceeds that of the distances travel- led by those ancient races; the quantity of our products is vastly more than the total of the products of their empires could have been, and the conditions of our climate, our soil and our civilization make our need of smooth, dry and hard roads much more urgent than any want of the kind ill people could have known. Hard Times and Railroads. That the still prevalent financial rtrlno gcncy has been disastrous to the railways of the United States is evident from the fact. that one-fifth of their total mileage has got into the hands of reccivers. An important consequence will be that the various companies will be unable to meet their obligations to the Government, and the question is now before the House Committee on Pacific railroads. The first instalment of bonds issued by the Govern- ment in aid of the construction of the Pacific roads, and amounting to $2,362,000, falls due next January, and must be provided for during the next fiscal year, being payable at tie «late of their maturity. The whole unount involved is about $35,- 000,000. , .~-.......a.... pg-.. _.\..... . \ W ~. A ..%Wâ€"