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er ' re Houseuoco. "1 ‘ ¢' .l)rain on brown paper and serve hot. | HOW TO CARVE \VELL. Man; ladies have to carve for large families without any. or very little. experience, and a little advice from an éxperi.‘ carver will not Come amiss. It sly/old be born in mind. first oil 3 l | I l hot. This gentle heat will draw out) the juice of the apples and they Will cook in their own juice without the ad-n dition of water. This method of cook< ' ing this king of winter fruits makes a» most. delicious sauce. which would tempt. even those who are not fond of ls. l . USEFUL HINTS. Paint can be removed from-glass by! 8“ that “Wing 15 (1‘1"? an an- uTrubbing it. with hot strong vinegar. done in the right way. Many think i t Clover tea purifies the blood, clears if “293' "mall-IN 01' bird “9 lull-[H393 the complexion and removes pimples; that it is.all that is required, but to I dried shovel. may and econom‘ i tea. carve neatly artistically. inally. and place invitingly on the plat- W or dish is quite another thing. I In the first place the carver should be seated high enough to carve com-- fortably and with celerity. The next. I . be used for the In boiling for soup stock, the meat should be put into cold water, covering the kettle tightly. and letting the stock simmer gently until the meat. falls from the bones. ‘A handful of carpet. tacks will clean 1 I I l thing. she should he sure to have hengfruit jars or bottles readily. Half fin! platter large enough to hold the entire Ihe jars with hot soapsuds' pm in the ; joint or bird when it is carved, so that. i tacks covier, give vigorous shaking,and no portion ofi‘t falls on the table. No ; rinse well. a string or skewer should be left, in thel 1n stewing meats. the water should meat or bird table. unless it is which is permissible. Much depends upon the way in which the viand to be «saved is placed on. the platter. Large birds, such as turkeys, geese. etc, should have their heads placed always to the left. Smaller birds, as partridges, grouse, etc., which are usually placed across the platter. have their heads on the farther side: A saddle of mutton should be placed with the tail end to the left on tho carver; a haunch of venison or mut- ton, with the loin or backbone nearest the carver; a leg of mutton or veal‘ should be placed with the thickest part; up; a rib roast or sirloin roast. should have the backbone at the right; of the platter' the? flesh side should be up in: a roun of beef, andin asirloin beefâ€" st’eak the tenderloin should be next the carver. A fillet. of beef should have the thick end at the right end of the platter, and a calf's head should be placed with the face to the right. ‘AI roast. ig's head should be placed to the 115 t, and the thickest. side of a. roast ham should be on the farthen side of this platter. ’Now for the carving, and let the 'olnt’ be a leg of mutton or lamb. Put. 8 fork in the top, turn it toward ou, slice through 'to the b01184 lip the knife under and cut away from the bone. lA saddle of mutton is always carved with the grain of the meat. in lo ; thin slices from each side of the ack. 'It. must be turned over to reach the tenderloin and kid- ney fat. The leg and saddle of veni- son are carved in the same way. \Vhen the lag and loin are served together, the loin should be carved first. Cut off the flank first of all, and cut up in pieces; then separate the ribs; and last: come the legs. In carving a fowl it is always a. good plan‘ for the carver to first study the “uncooked” fowl very carefully. in order to get the hang of its limbs and joints. When the carver finds joint and cuts the gristle, the leg or wing is free. It is not so easy to find the side or collar bone. but that; comes with practice. . To carve roast: chicken the leg is first. removed, then the wing, from one side and then the leg and wing from. the other side. separating the joints.- Then the breast is carved each side;- next. the wsh-bone comes off. Now. separate the collar bone and shoulder blade. and the breast bone from the back, then the back from the body; then follow the side bones, and the bird: is completely dissected. The reader will bear in mind the: lore Yoing applies correctly to all class- es fowls and birds found in the markets. : v RECIPES. Rice \Vafflcs.â€"-â€"Sift one quart of flour with two teaspoonfuls of baking-powd- er and a teas oonfulof salt; add a eupful of cold oiled rice, a tablespoon- ful of melted butter. two beaten eggs; with sweet milk to make thin batter. Eike in_ wengreased waffle-tins, and serve with maple syrup. Macaroni, with Tomato Sauceâ€"Boil a quarter of a pound of macaroni in clear water until tender, drain, and. throw into cold water for ten minutes. Put. a tablespoonful of butter into a. fryingâ€"pan, and set. over the fire to melt; add a tablespoon-ml 'of flour" mix until smooth; add half a pint of stewed tomatoes. strained, and stir until boiling. Pour over the ma- caroni. ‘ Oyster Pieâ€"One quart of solid cys-v here, one quart of milk. ten largo cys-I' her cmkers rolled fine, pepper, salt.- and a small ieco of butter. Stir all together an pour into a dish lined with a thick puff paste. Cover with an upper paste and bake three-quarters of an hour. I Oyster an English recipe.â€" 'l‘ake three dozen large. fat oysters,sca- son with’ salt and cayenne. and lay in' a acive to drain. Stew the liquor dowm thicken with a tablespoonful of butter! rolled in flour; let. cool, dip each oyster into the sauce until well coated. Roll“ a shoot of iuff paste out thin, cut out in rounds. lay an oyster on each, gath- er the paste up with the fingers. pass a thin stripe around it twice. and tie. l-‘laitcu the bottom so as to give a» hag-like shape. and fry in boiling fat. Boiled Onionsâ€"Peel a dozen medi- uuiâ€"sized onions and put. into a sauce- pan of boiling water. add a teaspoonful' of silt. and set over the fire to boil until tender; take up. drain. and turn into a heated vegetablcodish; dredge with pepper and salt, pour over melted butter. and serve. Delicious Apple Sauceâ€"The ordinary way {on making apple sauce is to pour water over the apples when put on to cook. and very often the sugar is not put. in till the sauce is almost done. his makes a thin. watery sauce which is not: half so delicious as if made in the following manner: Pure and cut up tart apples into quarters or finer if desired. Place them in a granite saucepan and pour over the sliced ap- ples one full cup of sugar to each quart. of apples. Place the kettle on the book of the store where it is not too 1 when brought to the he boiling when the meat is put into a silver skewer. . it. The intense heat causes the pores to close immediately, and thus keeps the juice in the meat. . I It. is said that elder-flower water is an excellent and simple wash for the skin. It! may be made by placing the blomoms only in an enameled saucepan and cowering with cold water. One who has tried it. says that to remove a. refractory screw from wood, heat. a piece of iron red hot and hold it: on top of the screw for. a minute or two, then the screwdriver will easily take out. the screw, if used while the screw 13 wanm. f . i If the leather valises, the reticules and the other paraphernalia of travel are dull or streaked, they may be re~ stored to their original luster by rub< bing With; the wall-beaten white of an egg. Leather cushions and seats may be renovated in the same way. i An excellent: substitute for potatoes at a dinner is rice cooked in milk and well salted, put into a. dish and brown-i ed in the oven. ‘M'ake a hot lemon sauce and pf:er it over the rice when it: is taken. from the oven and just before the dish is sent to the table. If smother would teach the small lads of the family how to sewâ€"and a most useful accomplishment they will find, it' in the endâ€"let her follow the example of a clever kindergarten teacher. who achieved signal success by adroitily managing that the boys’ sew- ing should take the form of sailmak-i ing for small boats, learning to mend sweaters and stitch balls. . i Low book cases around the walls of a; back parlor or library are both conven- ient; and pleasant to see. Chairs and couches may be pushed up in front. of the least. used of these so that. they in- no way take up space. In the long run,- costly bookcases bought. as so many pieces of furniture, are unsatisfactory: They seldom are made to hold as many books as possible, but; are rather showi pieces. The simple rows of shelves which can be raised in many quaint) ways are after all the most artistic,- and a room can be filled with these by some: good carpenter for what one elegant: so-called store ‘ibookcase will cost. â€"._â€"..â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"- SPONGE FISHING. Method of Securing the Useful Articlesâ€"A Trying Occupation. Lying on his chest; along the boat's deck. the sponge fisher, with his water- glassâ€"a pane set in a box fitted, with handlesâ€"looks down 40 feet into the clear depths. \Vith one hand he grasps and sinks a slender pole, some- times 50 feet in length, fitted at; the end with a double hook. The sponge once discovered. the hook is deftly in- serted at the rock base, and by a sud- den jerk is detached. This curt: discriptioun of what see-ms the simple work of sponge fishing gives no idea of the real skill and exertion needed. The e e of the fisher has to be trained by ong experience to peer into the sensand tell the commercmlly valuable sponges from those that. are worthless. He must" have a. deft; hand to detach" the sponge without a_tear. Above all. while doing this with one hand, he must. manipulate with the other the water-glass, as the waves sway it. sideways up and down. The strain on the eye and body is most. intense, to say nothing of the cramped position and exposure to Wind and wet. which, first. and last, make almost every sponge fisher a victim of acute rheumatism. Yet, with all. his ardu- ous toil, an expert sponge fisher earns not. more than $15 a month, besides his "keep" on the boat. which barely de- serves the name of eXIstence. __‘_.. ASSASSINATIONS .OF RULE RS. Five attempts have been made against the life of Queen Victoria, one in 1840, two in 1842, one in 1849, and one in 1882. An attempt against the life of Fran- cis Joseph of Austria was made in 1853, and one against the King of Italy in 1878. Three attempts were made against the life of Queen Lsabells of Spain.three avainst Napoleon lII. when Emperor 0 France. and three. in 1861, in 1875, and in 1878, against the life of Wilhelm I. of Germany. In the United States few assaults have been made upon pub- lic men in office, although two Presiâ€" dents have been shot down in “'ash- ington. Mr. Lincoln was assassinated in April. l865, and President. Garfield. in July 1881. v : TRUSI‘. Harold. she said. almost in a whisper. am 1' the first girl you ever kissed? You are. he answered with eager “fusismm' he iied.1 k ' lieve on. a rep ~ co ing him full in the Sincerity must command confidence: Yes. she went: on with a far-away look in her eyes, Sincerity must even show for itself with those who think; And the amateur_is always sincere. You are the‘most inexperienced kisser I ever encountered. "I don’t know whethelr any of the rest of you have ever had anything like this in your: experience or not. It is against the rules, of course, for our bank to take charge of the books of any of the depositors, but INTERESTING EXPERIENCES TOLD BY THE BIANAGERS. new a Poor Woman Kept nei- Book From a (‘ruclminbnndâ€"A Smoolhrdâ€"Tougued Lawyer and the liechanlc-Au old Woman Astoulsned at the Amount Due. That truthis stranger than fiction, or, at any rate, sometimes as strange. can be learned behind the doors of a. commonplace savings bank, though the clerks pouring over the big blank books from morning until night may know it not. Many accounts in these banks are opened by people of little means, and the sums to their credit gradual- ly accumulate from small beginnings. Thousands of them have only a limit- ed education, and it is hard for them to realize that they are to get the ben- efit of the interest accruing on their money unless they actually see the am- ount entered in their pass-books every six months. Some even go further. The figures are not enough for them. They must see and handle the cash for themselves to be convinced. So it sometimes happens that; one of those doubting Thomnses will present his book to a paying teller and have the interest due him counted out, and then, without leaving the bank, will join the line on (the other side of the room and deposit it again. . - If one has the good luck to get sev- eral managers of savings banks to- gether, and, when they are through with talking business, beau“ them ex- change interesting experiences, he will have an enjoyable hour. Here are some of the things which he will be likely to hea‘r, or might have heard any time lwithin the last few years. Imagine a group of managers seated around a glowing coal fire in the lux- urious office of one of them. After the ccnversa/tion has "become general,” as some of the novel writers say, Mr. A‘. discourses to this effect: I MUST PLEAD GUILTY to violating the rule, to a certain ex- tent, myself. In one of the drawers in my desk, for this last six or seven years, I have kept the book of a wo- man who opened an account that: long ago. As soon as she 'had done so she 02mm to me and told me a. moving tale of the cruelty of her husband, say- ing that; he would give her no peace day or night if he knew she had put money in a bank. Slhie was afraid to take the book home with her, as she had no place to conceal it: where he could not find it, and she didn’t want to tell any friend about what she was doing “unbeknorwnst,” as she might have said. So she begged me, with tears in heir eyes, to allow! her to leave it. With me, and as a personal favor I consented to take clialrge of it. Every now and then she comes in here, asks for the book, takes it; out to make her deposit and then returns it to'me. Her account now amounts to about $800. And I think I can say that I [have never suffered from a pricking of con- science because of having winked at a Violation of a rule of the bank.” Dir. A. having been vaui-tted by the unanimous silence of his confreres, Manager B. began to speak. “I don’t. want to bore any of you who may lhavc heard this before,” he remarked, "but. it certainly was a singular experience. Some" yearsago a hardâ€"working me- chanic opened an account in our bank, to which he added regularly for some time. After that for a long period the account lay dormant, growing by the addition of the interest until it am- ounted to about $3,500. an! . ‘ UNPRJNCIPLLED LAWYER heard of it, and, after the manner of his kind, went. to the mechanic with a plauSible tale, "What will you give me," he asked, "if I will prove to you that. there is a. sum of Several thou- sand dollars due ydu, and put you in the way of getting the money?" The mechanic was naturally astonished, and was easily prevailed on by "the smooth- tongued lawyer to signa contract that. if the lawyer could make out such a. case as he said he could the money would be divided between them. There- upon the lawyer, let out his "secret." “The money is due you,” he said, “from such and such a. savings bank." “Oh, I know all about that,” replied the mechanic; "1 have known all along that I had the money there." But the law- yer flaunted the contract in the man's face, and, though it was a plain case of fraud, the man believed it was a valid contract and actually gave the seoundrel lawyer imlf the amount in the bank." ‘ . After a suitable interval, Manager C. took up the tale. "1 don’t. know that I can do better," he began, "than to tell a little story which I heard: a few years ago from the manager of one of the banks. and i shall try to tell it as nearly as possible in his own words, as I recall them. "As I was sitting in my office one day one of the young men in the bank came to me and showed me a book which bore a date of man years before. He said it had been tight in b' an old wo- man. I told him to sen her to me. On inquiry, I [mod that. she could neither read nor write, but she said the book belonged to her, and she had put the money in the bank a long time before. As nearly as she could remem- ber. the amount was about $300, and several times, pomtip .to the book. she asked anxiously i it was not all there. I assured her that it. was, and proceeded to question her as to why she had left the account_ SO LONG UNDISTURBED. In some way She said that many years before she , had been employed as a servant. and ‘ had taken all she could spam from her I SAVINGS BANK ROMANCE, ages and put the money in bank. ‘Af- tor a time she went a“ ay from the city. and had never set foot. in it until that , day. She was getting old, and thought | it would be a good thing to go and get. her money. Assuns e asked if it was all there, in it‘ating‘the book. and of course I told her it was all right, except the interestâ€"aword that seemed to convey no idea. (to her mind. ' I became convinced that she was en- titled to the money, and told one of the clerks to write up the book just sat though it had been an active account all the time. When his work was done I found that the amount. due the old ,woman was about $3,000. She. was l aimplly dazed, and asde how it could lbs. explained as well as I canal about the interest, but-she \vas unable to understand it. Overcome by her feelings she burst into tears, when tbs money was brought to her. "Oh, su‘. she said1 “you don‘t know what you have done for me. I can‘t understand at. all how all that money belongfiato me; but, do you know, I shan‘t ve to do another day‘s worlfas long as I live." I don’t think," said my firiend in telling the story. "that. I ever had a keener appreciation of the benefits of, savin ‘ banks than at that moment: and I fancy all of us would have said the same thing if we had 'been in his place." FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. Among all the illustrious names of which this century boasts, probably none is of greater prominence or more worthy of its liberty than that of Miss Florence Nightingale. Inthcse times when fame may be attained in a day, and almost as soon forgotten in the steady march of time and the proâ€" gress of life and thought, notoriety is of short; duration. and a name seldom lives long in the hwrts and minds of the people. But there are exceptions to every rule, and for over forty years there has been enshrined in the hearts of her countrymen the English, one great, grand nameâ€"Florence Nightin- gale. She is the organizer of the fieldâ€"hos- pital system, and during that terrible campaign in the Crimea, in which her country was involved, her indefatigable efforts in relieving the physical suffer- ings of the soldiers can never be forgotâ€" ten. Miss Nightingale was thoroughly conversant with the work she.undertook before she started for the Crimea. She had devoted much study and time to hospital work and had been in one of the best training schools for nurses which at that: time existedâ€"tho institution of Protestant Sisters of Mercy, in Kaiser- werth, Germany. \Vhen she departed with her assistants for the scene of war it was without any thought of re- muneration, for she had wealth at her command and could happily do so. The War Office in London, almost_ panic- stricken with the multifarious_disasters demands and criticisms, which were heaped upon it, invested Miss Nightin- gale with almost absolute control of the undertaking, and how well she succeedâ€" ed is best: told in the words of one of the soldiers who lay wounded under her care: “She would speak to one and another, and nod and smile to many more. but she could not do it to all, you know, for we lav there by hundreds: but we could kiss her shadow as it fell on the wall at nighb. and lay our heads on our pillows again content." I Another story is told which well il- lustratcs, the honor and lays bestowed upon her. There was adinner given to the officers of the British army and navy on their return from the East, where Lord Stratford. suggested that each guest should write upon a piece of paper the name of the person whose deeds iinthe Crimean war would engrave themselves most indeliblv in the history of the British peOple. \Vhon the papers were examined. everyone had written the name of Florence Nightingale. She returned to England at the end of the struggle with broken health, and has since been a constant sufferer. No Vic- torious army was ever welcole more joyously than Miss Nightingalc,_ and Queen Victoria presented her with a jeweled decoration. especmlly deSigned ' for her by the Prince Consort. iii spite of her poor health Miss Nightingale contributes frequently to the pressand is the author of several books. dealing chiefly with nursing and hospital work. She is very devout. and is a great read- er. Her own home is in London. but much of her time is spent. with her sis- ter, Lady Verncy. in Buckinghamsbire. Miss Nightingale's services to human- ity are legion. especially those concern- ing hospital work and sanitation. and hers is a name worthy of the honor it has received. .__ _ ...___._. DEER’FOO'I‘ DEAD. Lieut.-Col. Herchmer, commissioner of the Northâ€"\Vest Mounted Police, who is in Ottawa on his annual visit in connection with the force. ‘has re- ceived a telegram stating that Deer- foot, the once world-renowned Indian runner, died on Thursday at Calgary in the police barracks. where he was confined for an assault on another In- dian and his wife. Deerfoot was one of the instances of civilization havmg a bad instead of a good effect upon the North-West Indian. In his savage, or semi-savage, state Deerfoot was classed as a good Indian. His pheno- menal fleetncss of foot caused him 'to be taken up by some white men as _ a professional runner. They brought him east. where be easily defeated the crack runners of his day. His contact. with civilization proved. howmwr, that. an Indian does not always benefit by such advantages. A MUTUAL FRIEND. Bobby Popper. what is a mutual friend . y . Mr. Ferry. He. is generally one who y makes it; his business to see that you i don't. miss hearing the mean things your friends say about. you. DULL IN PUMPKINVILLE. Hodgeâ€"419,310. old man. what's goin’ on in Fumpkiuvillel Podgevâ€"Nuthin. \\ 'y. it's got jest so blamed dull house rent has stopped an' the interest. on what a fellcr owes has plum QUIL- " malicious. 3 "IN A IIINUTE." Bobbie Brown was a bright, active little boy and a general favorite with all who knew him. His «hoclniatec did not think agains Culliplcle without. lhim. and he was always sure to be the -first one chosen. Iou might think that such a little boy would ever be on the alert tor something to do that. would help his nuinnua. but I am sorry to say Itoiibis “as um. \\ lien in: was enjoymg an exciting game, or when at the [Dust interesting part of a iavcriic book, his mamma mien called him to amm-rrunds tor her. and "in a minute" was sure to bc tho cheery response. But it was an easy matter to let that minultc go by.a.niia number of calm for cannons, before Robbie put in his appearance. . One day in early suiiuncr Robbie rushed into the sitting-room and gave his school Locks a triumphant fling into one corner and his bat into another; HIS-10.08 and manner would indicate that something unusual had happened. “No more school for three whclc menthol" be exclaimed. "Uh. won't: that be jolly?" . ‘ "Hmvwill you spend your vacation?" asked his manuna looking. up from her sewmg. "I mean to have just as good a time as I possibly can," said lllo'bbic. And then, as his nipnuna. made no reply to this, he broached a. subject. which rad. been occupying his mind for the last three months. "Really, momma," he began. “can't I go to grandpa’s this summer?" “I‘ll sec," said momma quietly. This satisfied Robbie, for he know that was almost as good as "yes." f‘lia't'. evening when the postman came With the mail‘he brought. a letter for Robbie from his cousin Fred. “Nellie and I came to grandpa's last week," he wrote. "and Ben and Daisy are coming to-morrow. Then we will have some guy times, but it will not be complete without. you. Grandpa has promised to take us to the woods next; Tuesday. \Ve will take our dinneran stay all day. If you are coming at al this summer we want you to be here by that time. The strawberries are just getting ripe and grandma thinks it is wonderful how many we. can cat. Now don't fail to come.” Fred. "Oh, mammal” exclaimed Robbie when he had finished reading this lat- ter; "can't; I go?" : "Yes, I guess you may go.” mid his momma. ' "Oh, goody, goody l" exclaimed Robâ€" bie. “That’s most too good to be true l" And he danced about; the room, clap- ping his hands in delight. Two years before he had spent. the summer at. his grandpa's farm, and he remembers everything so well. ‘ . ' Robbie and his momma were to start early Tuesday morning and it seemed to him as though that time would ncvcn come. Shortly after breakfast Robbie thought it must be time to get ready, and going up to his niamma's room he opened the door saying, "Isn't; it time to get ready ?" : “In a. minute. dear.“ sh‘o quietly said, and then went on with her reading. Robbie was verbi much disappointed, and in order to while away the time he went into the yard to play with his dog Rover. But. he soon grew tired of this sport. and he again went: up to his mamma's room. : "Oh! momma l” he exclaimed a little impatistnly, “do hurry, for it’s mosh train time now i" . . She did not. raise her eyes from be back when she said: "As soon as Il finish the chapter I am reading." {During the next few! minutes Icobbic made frequent journeys to his main- ma’s room. time he found herl reading, but she always said she would be ready "In a. minute." The lasttime.’ when he was coming down the stairs, he heard a rum‘bing in the distance that: sounded very much like an ap- proaching train. He ran to the winâ€" dow’, and sure enough, there was the morning~train at the station. [In stood by the window watching it. until it; disappeared around the curve, and then he wan slowly up the stairs. 'Ilc kept bravely up until he. reached his mamma's room, and then throwing himself upOn the couch, he burst in- to tears. . “Oh, mam-ma!” he subbed, "the train’s gone, and. now we can't. go to- day at. all. It's all your fault, too.” Mrs. Brown was no longer interested. in her book, and laying it. upon the table she drew her chair to Robbie's side and said: "i an) very sorry 1 have disappointed you, but. it had to be done. Listen now, and I will tell you all about it." ,- la‘or a long time she. talked to the for- lorn little fellow lying so still upon the coudh. \Vhen she had finished and ltobbie bud driml his tears, he threw his arms around her neck, saying: “I s'posc I linVi-n‘t done right and I am sorry, but I will do better, I really and truly will." Mrs. Brown did not wish the punish- ment to be too severe, soilic next mornâ€" ing she and Robbie started to the coun- try. \thu Robbie stepped from the car he saw his grandpa than: waiting for them. "Why, momma l" he exclaimed. "how do you s'pose grandpa kin-w that we were coming to-day'! Didn't you write :10 them that we Wore coming yester- a).lli . Before she could make grandpa came up and said: “ Come on and get into the buggy. Bu spry about it. too. for i must be back in time to take the children to the woods. " \Vhy, I s‘posed they were going yes- tcrday.‘ said Robbin, " for that kvas what Fred told me. in his li-lier." "They did intend to,” said grandpa, “ but when they got your mamma’s let- ter saying that. you could not i-oine un- til toâ€"day, they decidml to wait." Robbie was so much interested in something that he saw along the road 'ust then that he forgot to ask any- hing mum almut it until that evening. "Momma," he said. when he was al- most asleep, " how did they know we were not coming $081811“): 1" ".‘Whun pups and I decided upon a plan.to break you of that habit, I wrote and told them all about it." "‘Well," said Robbin. "I guess you won't. have to do that tiny more. for I'll never say ‘in s minuto' again as long as I live." ' ' - [ think we are safe in saying no nev- er did. N any reply .h. arut‘kilp'i‘rxv’fipqil ._ ...A .9. .e . A “flux-v.1" _ AA AAAAAAAA‘AAAAA_AAA‘, - AAAA