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LOVE REASONS NOT. CHAPTEH IV AM IKTBRBtTIMi Tm>A TTE. "Where have yon been Leone?" asks Farmer Noel She had begun a new life. It teemed years sine* she had left him, while he tat in the same place, smoking the same pipe, probably thinking the tame thoughts. She came in with the brightnees and light of the moon in her face ; dew-drop* lay on h*r dark hair, her beautiful face was flushsd with the wind, eo fair, so gracious, so royal eo brilliant. He looked at her in helpless surprise. " Where have yon been I" he repeated. She looked at him with a sweet, dreamy MnUe. " I hav* been to the mill stream." And she added in a lower tone, " 1 have been to heaven." It had been heaven to her this on* hoar spent with one refined by nat ure and by habit a gentleman, a man of taste and edu cation. Her uncle wondered that evening at the light that oame on her faae, at the cheerful sound of her voice, th* smile that cam* over her lip*. She was usually so re*tl**s and discontented. It was a break in her life. She wanted something to interrupt the monotony, and now it had come. She had seen and spoksn to not only a very handsome and distin- guished man, but a lord, the eon of an earl. He had admired her, said hsr faos was like a poem ; and the words brought a sweet, tnuaing smile to her face. When the sun shone in her room th* next morning she awoke with a sense of soms tU ing new and beautiful in her life : it was a p leasure to hear th* birds sing ; a pleasure to bathe u. the clear, cold, fresh water ;a pleasure to breathe the sweet, fragrant men ing air. There was a half wonder as to whether she oonld tee him again. The poetical, dramatic instinct of ths girl was all awake ; she tried to make her- elf as pretty as the could. She put on a row ol pal* pink a plain print, it is true, bet the beautiful head and face rose from It as a flower from it* leave*. She brushed back th* rippling hair and placed a crimson rose in its depths. Then be milled at herself. Was it likely she should s*e him? What should bring th* great ion of an earl to th* little farm at Ra*hl*igh? But the blue and white pigeons, the little chicken* all fared well that morning. Leone was content. In the afternoon Farmer Noel wanted " That II what my uncle eajri ; he i ,lwayi asking me if I cannot mtke myself more like the girls n( Rashleigh. ' I hope you never will." he cried, warmly. "I do not know how" ihe laid. " I muit always be what (iod and nature made me." Tiny made yon fair enough," he whispered. And then he owned to himself that she wt not like other girlt. She drew back proudly, swiftly : no mil* cam* to her lips, no laughing light to ber eyei. "Speak to me as yon would to on* in your own rank, my lord," *h*aaid, haught- ily. " Though fate has made me a farmer's niece, nature made me" " A queen," he interrupted And she was satisfied with ths acknow- ledgement. They eat down under one of the great oak-tr**, a great carpet of blue- bells under their feet. Leone looked thoughtful ; shs gathered somi- (pray* of bln*b*TI, and held them in her hands, her white finger* toying with th* lit' lr flower* ; then she spoke "I know," she said, "that no lady for instance, in your own rank of lifs would walk through this wood with you on a summer's afternoon." A laugh came over his handsome, happy young face. "I do not know I am inclined to think the opposite." "I do not understand what you would call etiquette ; but I am quite surs yon would never ask onr." "I am not cure. If I had met one in what you are pleased to call my rank of life last night by the millatream, looking as you looked, 1 am quite sure tnat I should ask her to walk with me and talk with me at any time." "I should like to see your world," eh* aid. "1 know the world <>t the poor and the middle clast, but I do not know yours." "You will know some day," he aaid. quietly. "Do not be angry with me if I tell you that in all my world I have never eeen one like you. Do not be angry, I am not flattering you, I am saying just what I think." "Why do you think that *ome day I may see your world ?" *he aiked. "Because with your face you srsture to marry well," he replied. "I shall marry wher* I love," said Leone. "Ami you may love where you wilt." hn replied ; "no man will ever resiat you." "I would rattier you did not spsak to me in that fashion," she said, gravalv ; and Lord ('hand us fout.il. that seated by this farmer's niece, in th* wood full of bluebells, h* was compelled to be more circumspect than if he were speaking to some countee*- elect in a May fair drawing-room. Leone, when the had set him qnito straight in hi* plaoe, as sbecalled it ; when she had taught him that he was to tr**t her with a* much, if not mure oourteey, than he bestowed on those of his own rank ; Leone, when she had done all this, she felt quite at home and everything wa* changed. H* wai roung thii brave, generous, gallant lover >f hers only twenty, with a nsart full of romance. He fairly worshipped the proud, aeautiful girl who carried herself with the stately graue of a young queen. He had alien in love alter the fashion of his age- madly, recklessly, blindly ready to go mad or to die for his love; after the fashion of hit- age and sex h* loved her all the more Because of her half -:old reserve, her indom tabl* pride, flattery. her haughty rejection of all Young girls do not always know the secret of their power; a little reserve noes further than the most loving words. Leone'* pride attracted Lord C'handoe quite as much as hsr beauty. The first little quarrel they had was an outburst of pride from her; they had been strolling through the sunniest part of Leigh woods, and when it was time to part he bent down to kiss the warm, it quickly from her to go down to the hay-field*. The men with him. She had never haian opportun werebsy with the newly mown hay, and | *y 'or exercising her natural talent for he wished her to take some messages about the stacking of it. She looked like a pic- ture of summer a* she walked through the green, shady lane, a red rose in her hair and one in her breast, a clutter of woodbine in ber hand. She saw nothing of Lord <Jhandos, yet eh* thought of nothing else ; very tree, every field, every lane she pass- d she expected to ss< him ; but of course e wa* not there ; and her heart beat fast a* she saw him h* wa* crossing what the people called the Brook Meadow and she met him face to face. They had met for the first time on a moonlight night ; they met for the second time on a sultry summer afternoon, when the whole world seemed full of love. The birds were ringing of love in the trees, the butterfliee were making love to the flowers, the) wind was whispering of love to the ree, the sun wa* kiasing the earth that lay mlent in it* embrace. '' Leone," he cried ; and then he flushed onsBson. " I bog your pardon," he said, " but I ought to say Hiss Noel ; but I have been thinking of you all night a* Lew*)*. I did not think of it before I epok*." SKe laughed at the long apology. " Sy it all over again," *h* said. ' Begin at '('-nod afternoon, Miss Noel.' " H* repeated it after her. then added : I think my kind and good fortune lent m* this way. I was longing fcr some on* te apeak to and of all happiness to meet wsi ; but perhaps you are busy." " V* : I hav* don* all that I bad to do. I am never busy," she added, with regal oalsn. H* smiled again. "No ; I could not fancy you busy," he "any more than I oonld fancy the Juno in a hurry. To *om* fair an their belongs by birthright a calm that is almost divine." "My calm cover* a storm," shs replied. "My life ha* b**n brief and dnll ; neither my heart nor my soul has really lived ; but I f*el in myself a capability of power that .met iniM frighten* m*." H* did not doubt it a* h* looked at the beautiful, passionate face ; it was even were lovely in th* gleam of th* sunlight than in the soft, sweet light of the moon. "Yon cannot stand in the sunshine," he nl. "If you ars not busy will you go *ilh me through Leigh Woods? I shall resjember the way this tune." She hesitated one half minute, and he aar it ; be raised his hat and stood bare- headed waiting for her answer. "Vee, I will go," she said at length "Why should I not?" They went together to Leigh Woods, liere th* great oak-tree* mad* a pleasant Made, and the ground wa* a mass of wild 4Uwer*| great slreamt of bluebells that Hirred *o gently in the wind, violeti that hul themsth en under their leave*, cowslip* like little tip* of 'gold, wild strawberry lil.itsoms that looked like snow-flakes. How fair it was. The sunbeams fell through the great green houghs, throwing long shadows on the grass. It was a beautiful, silent world, all perfume and lf lit. Th* poetry of it touched both of item. Lord Chandos was the first to speak ; h* had been watching the proud, beautiful i of Leone t and suddenly h* said : " You look out of plaoe here, Mil* Noel I J oan baraly tell you why." conversation ; her uncle wa* quite incap- able of following or understanding her ; the girls who were her companions lost themselves in trying to follow hsr flight* of fancy. But now there wai some one who under- stood hsr ; talk asshs would, ha appreciated it ; he knew her quotations ; no matter how original her ideas were he understood and followed them ; it was the first time she had ever hail the opportunity of talking to an educated gentleman. How she enjoyed it ; his wit seemed waiting on hers, and seemed to catch fire from it ; hi* ayes caught fire from her*. Sh* d**crib*d her simple life and its homely unrounding* in words that burned. It was in h*r simple, sweet, pathetic des- cription of stolid Uncle Robert that ehe excelled herself ; she painted his character with ths most graphic touches. "Bo you know, Miss Noel," said Lord Chandos at taut, "that you are a grain*, that you hav* a talent truly marvelous, that you oan describe a character or a plaoe better than I ha ve heard any one elss ? ' "No, I did not know anything about it," she said. "I am so accustomed to being looked upon as something not to be under- stood, admired, or imitated that I oan hardly believe that I am clever. Uncle Robert is really a character; nowadays men and women are very much alike ; but h* tends out in bold relief, quite by himself, the elowest, the most stolid ot men, yet with a great heart full of love." It was so pleasant to talk to him and (M hi* handsome young faue full of admiration ; to startle him by showing her talent, so pleasant that the whole of the summer afternoon had passed before she thought of the time ; and he was equally confused, for Dr. Her\ey'* dinner-hour was ovsr. And yet they both agreed u wa* th* most pleas- ant hour they bad ever spent. CHAPTER V. THE RKniXCII.IATION. It Was of course, the old story ; there w*r* one or two met tings by th* mill <t re a m , a morning spent together in eome diitant hay field, an afternoon in the wood*, and tlien th* mischief was done they loved eaoh other. "Alas, how oanlljT thing* go wrong A nigh too doep or a kin* too long , Than follow* a mist nnd a weeping rain- Anil life Ix never tno same again." It soon became not merely a habit but a necessity for them to meet every day. Far- mer Noel understood perfectly well the art of tilling th* ground, of sowing th* crops, or making I ho earth productive, but he knew less than a child of th* car* and watchfulness his young moo* required. H* oonMnted himself by asking where she had been ; he never seemed to imagine that kh*) had had a companion. H* saw h*r growing more and more beautiful, wit hnew loveliness on hsrfaoe, with new light in her eyes, with a thousand charms growing on ber, but he never thought of love or danger in fact, above the haymaking and ths wheat, farmer Noel did not think at all. She had gone into the glowing heart of fairy-land all the old life wa* left far be- hind; she did not even seem to remember that she had been rest!*** anddisoontented; that in her aoul the had revolted fiercely against hsr fate; that she had disliked her life and longed for anything that would change it) all that was forgotten; the gold en glamour ot lore had (alien over her, rme band. She drew him. Von would not have don* that to *ne of your o-.n class," she cried; "why do you do it to me?" " You are not really angry, Leone ?" he cried in wonder. Ska turned her beautiful face), colorless lib indignation, to him. "I am so far angry," the said, "that I shall not walk through ths woods with you never again." Sh* kept her word. For two whole days Lord Chando* wandered through the fields and tbs lanes, through the woods and by the river, yet he saw no tight of her. It wa* possible that she punished herself, qnito as much a* shs did him ; but he must be taught that, were he twenty time* an earl, he must never venture on even th* l*a*t liberty with her ; he must wait her permis- sion before he kissed her hand. The fourth day he could bear it nc long r he rod* psst th-. farm twsnty tunes or mor* ; at length he was fortunate enough to see Farmer Noel, and throwing the reins on hi* horse's neck be got down and went up to him. "Have you a dog to sell?" he asked, " Some one told me you had very fin* dogs." " I have good dogs, but none to sell,' re- plied the farmer. "I want a dog, and I would give a good pric* for a good on*," hs said. " W ill you 1st m* see yours ?" "Yes, you oan see them, but yen cannot buy them," said Robert Noel; and the next soens was the handsome young lordling going round thefarm. with the stalwart stolid farmer. He won the farmer's heart by hi* warm praises of th* farm, th* cattle, the dogs, and everything else he saw; still there wa* no Leon*. "I am very thirst >; should yon think m* very imp*rtin*nt if I a*k*d you for a glass of cider '" he said; and the farmer Aatterec by the re.juest, took him into the little parlor. He looked at hi* visitor in simple wonder. "1'hey *ay yon srs a great lord' won." he said; " but if you are, y ju have no pride about you." Lord Chandos laughed; and the farmer called Leone. There was a pan** during which th* young lord's heart beat and hi* face flushed. "Leon*." crisd th* farmer again. | He turned to hie visitor. "Yon will wonder what 'Leone' means, it is such a strange nams; it is my niece Here she comes," Ths loveliest picture in all the world, trying hard to preserve her usual stately grace, yet with a blushing, dimpling smile that mad* her lovely beyond word*. "Leon*," *aid the farmer, "will you bring a jug of cider?" "Pray, cried the lord, " do not trouble yourself, Mist Noel. I cannot think" Shs interrupted him by a gesture of her white hand, I will Bend it, uncle," she said, and disappeared. " .she is very proud," he said ; but she I* a fin* girl." The cider came ; the visitor duly drank his glas* and went ; his only reward for all that trouble wa* th* on* glance at her face. That eame evening a little note was given to bsr, in which he Dogged ber so humbly to forgi/e him, and to meet him again, that she relented. He had learned hi* l***on ; h* wooed nor with the deference due to a young princes*; no word or action of his displeased her after that, while h* loved her with a love that wa* akin to madness. So through the long, bright, beautiful summer days, in th* early morning, while the tweet, fragrant air seemed to sweep the earth, and in the evening when the dew lay upon flower and tree, they met and learned to love eaoh other. Oue eventing, as they *at by their favor- ite spot th* mill-stream Lord Chandua told hsr how h* had learned to love her, how he had ceased to think of anything in the world but herself . I knew yon were my fate, Leone," he said, "when I saw you sitting here by the mill-stream. I am quite ture that I have loved you ever sine*. I do not remember that there has b>en one moment in which I have not thought of you. I shall always thank Heaven that I eame to Kashleigh 1 found my darling here." For one* all th* pride had died from her face; all the hauteur wa* gone from her eyes; a lovely gleam of tendernett took its place; a love light in th* thy, *w**t eye* that drooped from his. "My darling Leon*," h* said, "if I lived a hundred years I could only my over and over again 'I love you.' Those three words eay everything. Do you love me?" She looked up at him. Then she raised her dark eyes to his and a little qniv*r passed over her beautiful mouth. "Yes I love you," ah* said. "Whether it be for weal or for woe, for good or ill, I know not; but I love you." There we* unutterable pathos, unutter- able music in those three word*; they seemed to rhyme with th* chime of th* falling waters. Sh* held out her white hands, h* clasped them in his. Why do yon say it so sadly, my dar- ling ! Love will bring nothing but happi- ness for you and for me." he said. Sh* Uid tier white arm* on hi* n*ok, and loosed earneetlv in hi* fao*. " There can be no comparison," she said. " Love to you is only a small part of your life, to me it is everything everything. Do you understand ? If you forget m* or anything of that kind, I could not bear it. I oonld not school myself into italisnoe a* model women do. I ahonld come and throw myself into the mill stream." " But, my darling, I shall never forget you never ; you are life of my life. I might live without the air and the sunlight; * might live without sleep or food, but never without yon. I must forget my own soul before I forget you." Still the white hands clasped his should- irs and the dark eyes were fixed on his ace. " Yon and your love are more than that to me," she said. I throw all my life on ;hn one die ; I have nothing else no other lope. Ah, think well, Lanes, before you jledga your faith to me ; it means so muoh. [ should exact it who'e, unbroken and forever." "And I would give it so, ' hs replied. " Think well of it," ehe said again, with those dark, earneel eye* fixed on his face. Let there be no m intake, Lsnos. I am not on* of the meek Gris*lds> type; 1 should not suffer in silence and resignation, let my heart breac, and then in silence sink into an early grave. Ah, no, I am no patient Oriaelda. I should look for r*veng* and many other things. Think well before you pledge your- sslf to me. I should never forgive never forget. There is time now think before you seal your fate and mine." I need not think, Leone," h* answered, quietly. "I have thought, aid the result is that I pledge you my faith forever and ever." The eamest.sager gar* died from her eyes, and th* beautiful fao* was hidden on his breast. "Forever and ever, sweet," he whispered: "do yon hear? in all time and for all eter nity, I pledge you my love and my faith." The water seemed to laugh as it rippled on, the wind langheda* it but tho tall branches, the nightingale singing in the wood stopped suddenly, aud its next burst of song was like ringing laughter; the mountains quivered over the nullaiream, the star* seemed to tremble a* they shone ' Forever and ever." he repeated. The Household WMWMMV A Folding Conch. The illustration showaa homemade couoh that U als* capable of being turned into a wind seemed to catch up the word* and repeat, them, the leaves seemed to murmur them, the fall of the water to rhyme with them. " Forever and ever, swset, I pledge yon my love and my faith ; onr hearts will be one, and our souls one, and yon will give me the same love in return, my sweet ?" "I give you even more than that," she replied, so earneetly that th* word* had a ring of tragedy in them ; and then bending or simply forward, h* kissed the sweet lips that were over it, ai for evermore to be his own. " You ate mine now forever," ho said, " my wife, who is to be." She wa* quite silent for soms mianUs ; then, looking up at him, she said : I wish you had never sung that pretty i MKJKTAB1.K COCCB. "sofa bed," when desired. It is a rectangular box covered with any material that may be desired. The cushion on top is made separate from the body of couch, while the front of the box has a stout leaf, heavily hinged at the top, which ordinarily is folded down, as shown. This " leaf " u upholstered to match the cushion, and when raised to a horizontal position aud two legs inserted under it, there is all in readiness a wide and very comfortable bed. When this front is raised the cushion is, of course, moved back a little. The main body of the conch should be twenty-eight or thirty inches wides, without back or arms, these being supplied by an abundance of cushion*. Cooking- and Serving- Beefsteak. A correspondent writee : While a prop- erly broiled or fried ateeJt is a perfect dish in and of itself, yet there are little ad- ditions or changes that can be made which ballad of th* mill-wheel to me ; do you know what the water always says when I listen? Those vows are all forgot t en. The ring aimnder broken.' " "My darling." he eaid. clasping hsr to his heart," no words that have any ring of doubt in them will ever apply to us, let the mill ttrem aay what it will. " (TO nt. COXTISCID.) BLINDNESS FROM SMOKING. add to th* " variety" that i* always desir- able on a table. One of these change* that it i* easily mvle i* to place a lump of butter on th* hot platter ; when th* butter is soft tlir into it a few sprig* of fresh parsley. Plaoa the broiled steak on this and turn over, bringing th* parsley on [top. If liked, add a few slioee of lemon _ .: |y acineexo the juice of a lemon and from a plain dish yon hav* made one on which a high-priced city cook pride* himselr. To bake steak is a good change. Pound or score with a knit* ; place in a pan ; sprinkle the top with bread or cracker crumb* ; add pspp*r and salt and little ! tilth Wertlngsneu) > Ike ver-Vt* r Mresif Tetwee*. "The symptoms of over-indulgence in smoking are more or lee* clearly defined,' eay* Dr. Dunn. ' 'They may be caused in on* or two way*: in th* upper claane* by moking too much; in the lower by smoking too strong tobacco, as. for example, shag. "The toxic affect* of tobacco among the lower classes are comparatively not infre- quent. The form which the poisoning takes is that known to ophthalmic snrgeont as " Tobacco amblyopia." the men come to the hospital" complaining of loss of sight. 1'uniinonly they are found to be bootmakers or the** to whom the opportunity occurs of smoking while they are at work. In most cases there i* a serious failure of vision. Associated with this i* th* loss of percep- tion tor the color* red and green, which is confined to ths central par*, of the retina. Th* diagnosis, however, having been made, the treat men t is easy enough. Practically this resolve* itself into th* emphatic pro- hibition of all smoking. It is always best to give the patients instructions to burn their pipes. As long M an eld 'trusty friend U permitted to lie on the mantel- piece or anywhere within eight nnd reach the temptation become* almost irraaietiblr to d is .bey order*, and in th* luxury of renewing a valued companionship to forget th* strict injunctions against indulging in he habit which had been laid down. Almost invariably in these oases owr-in dulgenoe is found to coneitt in smoking half an ounce of *hag daily that i* to say. when the surgeon asks the patient, ' How much do you amok*?' It I* seldon that aay other answer U given than that of 'About half an ounce of khag a day.' Ths constancy r>f this reply i* really remarkable. Tobacco amblyopia, 1 is almost unknown in connec- tion with any other form of tobacco than that which i* called ' shag'. In addition to th* amblyopia the patients are distinctly affected with 'tobacco tremors ;' their hands are shaky ; they are more or let* nervous, and they complain of Ion of appetite. Their complexions, moreover, are) m that condition which may be described as muddy, 'and there is a characteristic exprsesion of listleesnes* in their eyw. " But what are th* results of the treat- ment ? In most oases, the surgeon may speak hopefully of the recovery of vision ; provided that the patient absolutely osaeos to smoke, and certain treatment be applied, some improvement will begin to take place in the course of a fortnight Always very gradually, but generally (peacing surely, the improvement progr***ss, until at the nd of some weeks the lost sight is nearly quite regained. Most oommoaly, however, the surgeon never see* the end of the cuss. Generally speaking, a* soon a* th* patient find* that his sight i* sufficiently improved to enable himtoattondto his work, he ceases to com* to the hospital, and the sub*oqu*nt record of his progress i* thus lost to ihe surgeon.' 1 A Fair Question. Judge- -This gentleman charge* you with stealing hi* bull-pup, valued at S7.V What hav* you to say? Prisonsr Well, Judge, do yon honestly think that a man wot'a fool enough to pay 175 for a snub-nosed, pig-sjied little brute like that has got sense enough to know his own dog when he sets him? piece* of butter ; pnt water enough in the Lin to stand a quarter of an inch deep over th* bottom, and bake for twenty ainutee or half an hour. To cook in this way the tteak should not be cut over half an inch in thickness. If I think a steak i* tough I ttew it until tender, place on platter and pour over it a thickened gravy. Cooked in this way I have often been asked, " Where did you get vel at this time of yearT" For this way of cooking I liks best a " round" steak, cut rather thicker than for broiling. Another way to cook a "round" i* to make a dressing a* for stuffing a fowl ; spread thickly over th* steak, roll up and bake. Slios like a roll jelly cake and it is simply delicious, either hot for dinner or simply delici cold for tea. Timely Recipes. Tomato Preservee. Take 7 pounds of small, sound, ripe tomatoes ; 7 pound* of white sugar and the juice of three lemon*. Sprinkle the sugar over the tomatoes and let them stand together over night. In the morning drain off the syrup and boil it. skimming it often ; put in the tomato** and boil them slowly for thirty minut** ; take out the tomatoes with a perforate,! skimmer and spread upon flat dishes ; boil the syrup down until it begins to thicken ; add just before yon take it from the fire the juice of the three lemon*. Put th* tomatoes in jar* and pour over thorn th* hot syrup, and when oold teal or tie up with thin paper. Tomato ( ' taup. Half a bushel of fine, rip* tomatoes ; wash them, out out the stems, hreaa them up, and put on th* fire in a large kettle. Take 10 green peppers, rip* ones, 6 medium -sized onions, 3 [9od-*ied pieos* of horssradish root ; chop these together and add them to th* tomatoes' on the fire and cook all together lor three hours until it become* thick, the* stra*n it through a coarse tieve into a Urge) pan ; put it on th* fir* again and add one teaoupful of salt, two tableepoonful* of powdered cloves, thro* of powdered cinna- mon, 1 tableepoonful each of black pepper and cayenne ; cook J of an hour longer and then bottle, cork and *eal while hot. Do not lei. the tomato** scorch. Tomato Soup. Take one pint of canned tomatoes, or 4 large raw ones ; let them be very ripe. Pare the tomatoes and out them into small bits ; put them into a kettle and pour on thsm one quart of boiling water and let them boil slowly for 15 minutes ; season to taste with pepper and salt. After th* tomatoes havs boiled the required tin*. add a very snail, level teaspoontnl of soda, and while it is foaming stir it and imme- diately add one pint of tweet milk ; stir and add a piece of butter larger than an egg ; .let this com* to a boil, and then add two soda cracker* rolled very fin* ; stir until th* craokere are all blended and send to table hot. Tomato Butter. Take nice, rip* toma- toes ; pare and out them up ; weigh, and to each pound allow hall a pound of white sugar ; mix th* cut tomatoes and sugar to- gether, put them into a large preserving kettlu and tet them over a steady fire, keep- ing them well atirred from th* bottom. After they have commenced to boil, add, for each ten pounds, three sliced lemons. Keep them boiling gently for four hour*, and take car* that they are well stirred so as not to settle to th* bottom of the kettle and burn. After cooking for four hour*, if you see they are not thick, cook them longer, for some tomatoes require more cooking than other*. When don* put into small jars and teal while hot. Logic. The Boy's Mother "Why do you get you hands so dirty ? " r Th* Boy "Can** then I don't havo to take car* and not play in th* dirt."