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 ~i^%.~ ;ii5^.Tv-i»?r:^nP'v -3b.aE??^?*^***5S%Sfi~-; '^?f *ae-'^R*i=P^?^5 â- E^'*^.'-^ -^j^^^^ RUTH ELLI01T-* OR. • V-^^ A PROPHECY FULFILLED. A TALE OF SOCIAL LIFE IN CANADA BY W. K BESSEY. M. D. PART IV. ' Surely Goodness and Heicgr shall follow me all t-c days v/ my lue.â€" Ps. xxTiii " Two unseen angels in my daily paths attend (Juswerviug, from the cradle to the grave, KuU-powered, but for my wilfuluess, to save My feet, my hands, my tongue, from every end Oi error, and of sin, to which they trend, â€" Alike most loving, tender, true, audbrave. And in wtaoHe high companionship I have This only pain, that 1 their grace offend. How oft do they their silvery bowers leave, To come to succor us that succor want How ott ao they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like fljing pursuivant. Against foul Uends lo aid us milUtant They tor us fight, they watch and duly ward, and their btight squadrons round about us plant And all for love, and nothing for reward oh, why, shouid Heaven tor men have such regard I And still I offend, how oft â€" I cannot to myself confess, lHor dare 1 think how pure In God's pure view n hose faithful angels ail my steps pursue, Their sweet names, being Atttey at^a Uvodnet" Five years have elapsed since the death of Arthur Blackstone, and the lovely young widow as she sat on a beautiful Sunday afcernoon in July at the organ, singing and playing her favorite hymn, " Lead Kindly Light,' with her sweet little blue-eyed, golden-haired daughter of six summers play- ing at the parlor window looking out on the iront â€" looking her best, more rosy, more youthful and beautiful than ever. •' Oh, mamma, here comes Mr, Bently u[) the walk, and he's got Carlo with him. I'll run and meet them, can't I, Mam- ma?" And before Mamma could reply she was out of the door and down the path to meet Mr. Bently and her friend Carlo. Carlo was a very pretty spaniel dog that little Florence took great delight in playing with, and the dog seemed to be much attached and greatly pleased with his little friend. Mr. Bently made much of the child, for he knew that was the easiest avenue through which to win the mother's heart. Ruth rose from the organ and was stand- ing in the door ready to welcome her devot- ed friend and Ioa er â€" for he had never mar- ried. He had been absent over five years in foreign parts, but, always a true friend, he had never ceased to love her, and having re- turned within the past year and renewed his suit for her affections, was now her accept- ed and acknowledged lover. It wa^ a pretty sight for the now happy mother as they came along, Mr. Bently taking Florence's hand and she leading the dog by a stick in Ins mouth. The mother's face beamed with joy as they approached, and ere they had i-..^cended the last steps her hands' were on Mr. Bentley's shoulders, and with a gentle I hiding for being so late she held up her rt'eet face to be kissed. "Wait," she said, "until I get my sun- bonnet and we will go down in the grounds ic is much nicer outside than in the house these lovely summer afternoons." She was not long in finding it, for she was an orderly housekeeper and had a place for everything and everything in its place and taking his arm and Florence by the hand, they sauntered down the serpentine walk to their favorite retreat where the clustering vines, overhanging the lawn seat, placed against the foot of the great spread- ing Gilead tree that stood at the end of the walk on the brink of the steep declivity overlooking the valley that stretched away to the south, with its green fields and wind- ing river glistening in the sunbeams and quiet farm houses in tlie 'distance making it a veritable pai-adise for love. Little Florence and Carlo gamboled on the green, while Ruth and Herbert Bently opened their happy hearts to one another, while their tongues, set free, grew eloquent with love's impassioned tale, and eyes •'spake love to eyes that spake again." Their's was a love founded on esteem. " She that would raise i noble love must find Ways to l)eget a passion for her mind She" must be that which she to be would seem For all true love is grounded on esteem. Plainness and truth gain more a generous heart Than all the crooked subtleties of art." This was a favorite retreat of Ruth's in the quiet summer afternoons and here in the shelter afforded by the spreading vine she would spend an hour or two with her favorite authors undisturbed. And here, as if by a natural instinct, the lovers sought the seclusion that love delights in. And here they would sit together, sometimes for hours, lover-like, talking of each other, or the beauties of natural objects around them, without weariness, ' dreaming the happy hours away,' until the ringing of the silver tea-bell would call them 'back from the Land Elysian ' to partake of refreshment. "Is not this a lovely spot?" she asked. " How sweet the perfumes which come floating on the breeze. The new mown hay. how I love its odour. And sometimes after a shower, the perfume from these Gilead trees, mingling with the roses and lilacs of the garden, makes the air as redolent with perfumes as it now seems resonant with the aubdued murmurs of a thousand musical notes.'" " You are fond of flowers, Ruth, I per- ceive by the large collection of exquisite annuals, perennials, and exotics that adorn your garden " " Oh yes, Herbert, they are my friends and constant companions, and they seem to •mile for me and speak to me of heaven " For who shall say that flowers Dress not heaven's own bowers Who its love without them can fancy, or its floor " Who shall ever dare To say they sprinij not there And come not down that love might bring One piece of heaven the more. " Oh pray believe that angels From those blue dominions Brought them in their bright laps Down 'twixt their golden pinions^' '• Oh, there, you are sentimentaL I have heard tixt people in love are thus affected." «' Well, be it so," she replied. " Yes, in love I am, with nature â€" sweet, beautiful Cture. The world's a paradise to me with beautiful birds and flowers, and as man il lord of creation, you know, I must in- clude him in the catalogue, and I'm in love with one, too, but he's one after Bums' own heart. You'll find hia description in the poem ' Aman's a man for a' that.' He's gold that needs no guinea sti^p to make him pass current." " You surprise me with your eloquence. This, then, is your favorite theme " 4_ jt " Yes 1 Gh 1 see that lovely hnmining bird," she exclaimed, "as: he flits from flower to flower what pretty things there are in nature. Do you know, sometimes when I sit here In this secluded spot watch- ing that little creature, I wonder how many times a minute those tiny wings move." "Ah," said he, "that would be a nice calculation to come at, a little more delicate than bargains on stocks and bonds." "On, come now, my dear, leave stocks and bonds out of sight for one day and try to drink in the sweet delights of nature, by which we are surrounded. Look at that bumble bee there, how active he is ai he climbs in and out of each flower or scrambles over a head of sweet clover, all the while keeping still as a mute, until he starts on his journey, when he strikes up a hununing note as a warning of his approach some say it is caused by the beating of his wings in the air. What- ever is the cause of that sound it seems to me that summer would not be summer with- out the presence of these innumerable choris- ters who enliven their work with song." "Oh yes," he replied, "I love nature's music, and your conversation recalls those pretty lines of Baldwin's " There's music in the pitying voice of woman, soft and mild. There's music in the prattle sweet of every little child There's music in the voice of youth and of the riper sage, There's music even in the shrill and quivering voice of age. There's music in the murmuring shells upon the rocky shore, There's music in the flap of sails and in tha dripping oar. There's music in the w|ivelets white that flash upon the strand, And with a thousand furrows line the smooth and yellow sand. There's music in the song of birds, the rustling of the leaves And in the nodding of the cars amid the harvest sheaves, .veet tender songs of nature's voice that like Eome soothing spell. Our hearts enthrall and ever in our fondest memory dwell." "The other day," said Ruch, "I was gathering violets down by the brook in the meadow yonder ^here they grow in such profusion â€" violets are my favorite flowers â€" and the scene and the circumstance re- called these beautiful lines: â€" " Down where the river, and little brook meet Under a tuft of bright green grass, Hidden away from the wandering feet Of any one who chanced to pass. Nestles a lot of violets blue That bathed in the sun and drank in the dew. And saw in the river their own rare hue Reflected as if in glass. They bloomed in the sunlight, so warm and gay, And biuilingly Welcomed each passing shower They laughed at the brook as it ran away And passed their little bower. They loved the soft breath of the balmy air, And breathed out a fragrance rich and rare. So subtle it wasâ€" and it was not there â€" In the heart of each sweet flower. No rude hand plucked them out of their place Away from that cool shady spot, But the soft wind kissed them with soft embrace. To show they were not forgot. And day after day the song of the bird And the cry of the chirruping cricket was heard And the heart of each blossom with joy was stirred And blessed its quiet lot." " Do you often go botanizing thus " he {ksked. "Not often," she replied, "but it is of thrilling interest to me, for it does seem as if each moss, each sheU, each crawling in- sect, holds a rank important in the plan of Him who framed this scale of beings hold a rank which, lost, would break the chain and leave behind a gap, which Nature's self would rue." " To my mind Nature is still, as ever, the thin veil which half reveals, and half con- ceals the faces, and lineaments supernal of our King. There are frequently hunters of botanical specimens hovering round, and I always welcome them as my friends be- cause we worship at the same shrine, think the same thoughts and are interested in similar things. The botanists I like best are Asa. Gray, Chas. H. Bessey, Dr. Spotton and Mr. Lincoln." " Take mosses, for instance how beauti- ful and how interesting," replied he. " Have you ever studied them " " There is a fresh and lovely sight, • A beauteous heap, a hill of moss Just half a foot in height. All lovely colors there you see. All colors that might ever be. And mossy net-work too is there As if by hand of lady fair The work had woven been." " I have often studied the mosses as I have climbed the mountain heights or visit- ed some moss-covered ruin in the Old World. All travellers do, more or less for, as you ascend from height to height, the varieties change. Some are simply wonderful to see words fiil to describe them. They reminded me of what Ruskin says of them. He calls them ' meek creatnres the first mercy of the earth, veiling with hushed softaess fruitless rocks creatures full of pity, cov- ering with strange and tender htmor the scarred disgrace of ruin â€" lying quiet upon the tumbling stones to teach them rest.' No words that I know of will say what these mosses are none are delicate enough, none perfect enough none right enough to describe them. Strong in lowliness, they neither branch in heat, nor pine in frost. To them, slow fingered, eonstantly started, is intrusted the heaving of the dark, eternal draperies of the hills to them, slow-pencilled. Iris-dyed, the tender framing of their endless imagery. Sharing the stiUness of theunimpassioned rock, they share also its endurance and while the winds of delating spring scatter the white hawthorn blossoms like curifted snow and the sunimer dims on the parched meadow the droppings its cow8lii-gold â€" far above among the mountains the idlver lichen sports star-like on the stone and the glittering golden tinges upon the edges of the distant western peaks, reflect, the saa- sets of ten thousand years." " Yes," she said, " tiiat is a trip I should like to make, taking in dear old England my father loves so well, â€" France, ftaly, Switzerland and the Alps to climb Mt. St. CUM^bui or Mt. Bui, rest at tl|^ Kvim «r ' Silk's Nest' (WOO feet h^) and far abofe the fle«^ clouds i rmag a* wrlf^:',ymp offdny- to Irtaite thait wondatnl sonrise so many rave about. "Tell me something of your traTds,., M^. Baiitly,^ said 'RiiOL **Yon haye been ab- sent for five yearsâ€" sad and eventful yeato to meâ€" yoit have drifted wfth disabled steamers in tlw Nortii Atlaiitic, hare been cast away aaiong lihe Shetland lake, have seen the ' midnight sun ' and the Laps with their reindeers htumessed at North Cape in Korway. Yon have seen Venice, Q«noa, and Lucerne, have climbed the Rigi ana seen that gorgeous sunrise far above the clouds; and high up the slopes ot the Wengen Alps, have witnessed the descending avalanche from the lofty Jungfrau with its crown of perpetual snow, crashing all befoie it in its death-dealing progress down the opposite side. You have visited Rome with its re 'lies, Egfpt with its Pyramids, Persia with its indolence, India, with its magnificence, IHxfuse wealth and gorgeous temples, China with its strange people, the Yosemite and the towering Kockies on this continent as you returned, now tell me, of all you saw, what pleased or impressed you most?" ' Well, the most profound impression I remember to have felt was when the shaft broke and we found ourselves adrift in a heavily laden ocean steamer, during a stormy season in the North Atlantic. We were three weeks out before we were found and towed into Liverpool by another of the Company's line. It is such a fteling of helpless helplessness, in some sense akin to despair. A passing steamer is signalled and told to say we are disabled, but all right, shaft broken, and under sail. I wa^ amused at a timid clergyman on board, who, grow- ing impatient, troubled the captain a good deal, and also complained of the men swear- ing. 'Well,' saidthe Captain, 'so long as you hear them swearing there is no danger,' and inmiediately he went forward to listen, and returned, saying, 'Thank God, they are swearing still.' I was much impressed by the strange phenomenon ot the midnight sun in Norway. I felt, standing on North Cape, as if I were standing on one edge of an eag- shaped body and could watch the sun in his entire circuit. There is no sunset there, during the six months the sun is north of the ecyiator. The British museum, West- minster Abbey, St. Paul's Cstthedral, and the Houses of Parliament in London, among other things, pleased and impressed me with their grandeur. But the Louvre of Paris, with its sixteen separate museums, astonish- ed me beyond anything I had ever fancied the art of man could have aAained to. To enumerate the wondeiful productions of painting and art that are' to be seen there would in itself weary you and the stories of the estates of the Grand Hotel and Grand Magasins de Louvre are the finest in the world and occupy an entire square. The old Louvre is connect-d with the Tuilleries by the new Louvre and is considered in an architectural point of view to be unequalled in palatial beauty. The theatres are very fine and the acting always of a high order. The hacks are cabriolets and reminded mc of the calashes of Old Quebej. To a woman Paris is centre of the world, for- here fashion takes its cue, and everything that can be devised to attract and captivate a woman's fancy is to be seen in the m ignificent shop win- dows and fronts, or magnsins, as they are called. In Switzei'land the scenery is over- whelming in its grandeur, â€" the niountaina are lofty an.l ascended by rail, but the sun- rise on the Rigi is something to be remem- bered for a lifetime. Away above the clouds â€" earth like a dark mist below â€" the sun- burst forth with a grandeur peculiar to it- self, that impresses one as nothing else does. I could think of nothing to so aptly express the wonder it creates in the mind so truly as Moore's poem, beginning "Thou art, O Gxl, the lite ami light Of all this wondrous world we see. And we Cou'd almost think we gazed Through golden viit\s into Heaven." " But talking of impressions, there is no- thing to compare to the solemnity and awe- like f eeliiig that is felt on entering the great St. Petei)% or the Vatican at Rome. No feel- ing imprea8e4.me bat grandeur on visiting Ihe Pyramidi^and Mausoleums of Egyptâ€" or of magnificence in viewing the vast mar- ble temple of India. Bo* in Borne one enters the great St. Peter's and feels as if overshadowed by a long Past, a living Pre- sent iand a^ eventful Future." ' Enter i Itsctandeur overwhelms thea not And why It u not lessened bat thy mind, Ebcpanded by the genius ot the spot. Has grown coloMU. and can only find A fit abode wheiein appear enbhrined Thy hopes of immoctall^. Thou art in Rome a thousand busy thongfats Rush on my mind, a ifaousand images. And I spring up as girt to run a nee. Thou art in Rome t The city that so long Reigned absolute the mi^tress of the world The mighty voice that prophets saw and trembled; There as thont^. Grandeur attracted grandeur, are oeheld All things that strike, ennobleâ€" from the depths Of Egypt, from the classio fields ot Greece, Her groves, her templesâ€" All things that inspire Wonder, delight,â€" who would not say the forms Most perfect, most divine, had by consent Flocked thitner to abide eternally Within those silent chambers where they dwell In happy intercourse." (to b8 continued.) YOUNG FOLKS. Two of Them. BT JULIA M. LIFPMAXir. Four small shoes with copper tips, Two big drums and two small whips, Two bright heads with golden cuns â€" " Cut 'em off 1 they're like a girl'a" C4ke must be enough for two, "n« bir piece would never do Two milk-cups and two high-chairs â€" Everything »u«r goirt pairs. Lots of noise with big toy drums, Two louri shouts when papa comes. Two small heads at mamma's xnee, â€" Twins are tired as can be. Barbara's Lesson. "Barbara!" The little rosy-cheeked owner of that name was lying on the lounge in the sitting-room, very much interested in reading "Dotty Dimple." "Is'pose grandpa's left bis cane most likely," she siid to herself. "It seems as if he is the most forgetfuUest man I ever saw. I most believe he hides his hat and cane when he ccmos in so's to have me hunt 'em up. Maybe he don't, but it seems so." " Barbara " called again grandapa's quivering voice. "I'm coming," said Barbara, just to quiet her conscience, for she knew very well grandpa could not hear her. " I just want to finish this chapter, and besides, grandma thinks you go out too much," added the naughty girl to herself. Then she went on with her reading, but she did not enjoy it any more, so she put it away, and went to see what was wanted of her. " Grandpa called you to go down to the store with him, " said grandma. ' ' He want- ed some pep'inint drops for his cold, but he's so forgetful I don't like to trust him alone, and I had to let him take a ten- dollar bill because wasn't any change. I do hope he won't loose it You didn't hear him call, did you, Barbara " "Iâ€" O grandma, just see that robin in the plum-tree And here comes grandpa all right " "I don't know," said Grandma Grey, going to the door. " He looks as if he was troubled, or something." " O Grandpa," faltered Barbara, "what is the matter " " Vou havn't lost the money, I hope," added grandma, anxiously. But the old man did not answer. He dropped dowii on the nearest chair, and be- gan to turn his pockets inside out nervously. "I don't know, mother," he said, with a hopeless look. "I'm afraid â€" I can't seem to remember, but I'm pretty sure I put it in my pocket when I paid for the things Yes, I'm pretty sure, but 'tisn't here." CHILDREN'S COSTUMES Fig. 1.â€" The " Clovis " coat, made in dark blue cloth trimmed with black Pereian lamb, for a miss of fourteen years. The hat is a bine felt, trimmeil with blue velvet aiida bright-colored bird. The pattern is in sizes for from twelve to sixteen years. Price twenty -five cents. Rg. No. 2 â€"The " Dalmar " coat, made in rough brown cloth vnth almost invisible stripes of a lighter shade, for a boy of fdur years. The back is similar in arrangement to the front. The hat is a Tam o' Shanter of brown phish, with a brown silk pompon at ihe top, and a brown ribbon bow at the back. Three yards and one- cjiwrter of goods twentv-four inches ^^•T' M^i '^^*'° y*" °f forty-eight inches wide will le required to make f£is coat in size for four years of age. Patterns in sizes for from two to six years. Price twenty- nve cents each. " Well," said grandma, Wiping her ew. on her apifon, " you are too old to go to Su stop^alone. I don't know how we (aq gnJ! the money, but there will be some i^ Don'tfeel bad, father. We don't need mJ; things," and the dear old lady smiled th^l her tears, and took up her knitting. ^^ Poor Barbara She felt as if she could never be happy again. For notwithstand ing her heedless ways, she had a tender heart, and dearly loved her grandparents who had taken her, a feeble baby, irom her dying mother's arms, and had been to her all that father and mother could be. How much she owed them. She knew irery well the ten dollar bill could not be spared without sacrifice. She slipped quietly out of the house, and went down the village street,. lookiui; care- fully as she went but she saw nothinir of the money, and her heart grew heavier G\m moment, and the hot tears dropped on the bright leaves at her feet. She reached the grocery where grandpa went to trade, and went in, asking, in a trembling tone,â€" "0 Mr. Cummings, did Grandpa Grey"â€" Before she could finish her question, the grocer answered, " Yes, he It ft his change on the counter, and he got out of sight be- fore I could call him. Here it is, Barbarba but he is too old â€" your grandpa is^to go about alone." " I know it "it was all my fault," said the little girl. "I'll never let him go again. Thank you, dear Mr. Cummings, for keep- ing the change," and Barbara hurried home with the money held firmly in her hand and wiping the tears from her eyes, she cried, â€" " It's all right, grandpa I've got it here in my handâ€" don't you see I heard you calling me all the time, too, and pretended not to hear but I'll never in all my life be so naughty again, if you'll only forgive me." " You are a good little girl, Barbara," said ^andpa. But Grandma Grey took oflF her spectades and wiped them carefully then she bent down and kissed the.little girl's flushed, pen- itent faice, and said, " I hope this will be a lesson to you, my dear child, for grandpa and grandma are growing old, and you will have to take care of them now." One Way to Ee Happy. Most boys and girls think that if they could only have everything they wanted to wear, to amuse them, they would never be cross or dissatisfied. That is a mis^^aken idea. Things outside of yourself do not make happiness. I knew a boy once, about nine years old, who it seemed had every- thing that could make a boy happy â€" a love- ly home^ a papa and a mamma who did everything in the world to make him happy. He had a printing-press, a velocipede, a bicycle, sled, skates {ice and roller), books â€" everything and yet he was the most im- happy child I ever saw. One winter morn- ing the streets were covered with snow. All the boys in the neighborhood were out with their sleds, shouting and laughing and having the best kind of times. This boy went about the house frowning, growlino-, and whining. What about, do you thinlf? He was not satisfied because his sled i as not longer, and utterly refused to go out. He "would not po out with such a mean sled," he said. That afternoon I was walk- ing not far from this boy's house when I heard shouts of laughter from some chil- ren who were out of sight around the cor- ner. When I did see them I stood perfect- ly still. There were four little children without overshoes, or overcoats, or mittens. They had an old broom and two older boys were pulling him along by the handle. The forth child, a girl, was running along hold- ing the little one on the broom. Their eyes were shining, cheeks just like roses, and they certainly were just as happy as though they had the most beautiful of sleds. The following conversation was overheard among some little children Three tiny, ragged boys were playing to- gether in the sunshine Thursday on a side- walk near one of the North End railway sta- tions. A fourth youngster came up, his eyes glistening with pleasure, his dirty face proud with deljght. "Oh, boys," he cried, "I've foun' a tm-cint piece. " The others crowded around and discussed the treasure excitedly. Then they sat down on the curbstone to compare reminiscences of recent lucky finds. " I foun' mos' a hull piece of a top, yester- day," said one. " I foun' a big bone in our alley, a n'orful big bone," said a second, "n' I'm goin' to mike a jumper out of it." The youngest childâ€" the very dirtiest, smallest, thinnest baby thatever walked â€" had listened with a smile of perfect content, and now he chimed in, in a tone whose joy and pride no words can convey "Thith momin' I foun* a peanut." You see, it is not what you have, what you find, that makes you happy, but the use you make of it. If you use it to enjoy it, get all the pleasure and profit there is in it out of it, you will be happy in its possession but if you think all the time that you want the thing yon have not got, or cannot have, you lose all the pleasure locked up in your present possession. You know Paul said, "I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." Now that is a text for you to think about. Paul meant that he had learned how to use the present time,^eiifeBent gifts, the present friends -that W was not wUe to keep grasping all the time for something ont of reach. Think about it,., ' • Th6 Iddn and the KoW A liOTi was sleeping in his lair, when a mouse, Dtot knowing where he was going, ran oy«tl» mighty beast's nose, andawak- S? l*?^ The Uon clapped his paw upon the frightened little creature, and Was about to make an efiid of him in a minate. Then the.riibuse ina tone of pity besought haa to spare one who had so thoughtleMly offraAri^d liot stain his honorable paws ^thsotnflingaprey. The lion smiling at the Uttlepnsoner'afright, generonsly let him *u^?^' ** ?^, Wpened, not longiafter, that the liCTa, while tanjmig the woods for his prey fell mto the tofla 5 iKe hunters j and find- ing himself entangled, without hotpe of es- cape, set up a roar that filled the whole forest withits eoho. The mouse, hearing the voice of his form- er prepwfvvi ran to the spot u*i without more ado, set to work to nibWe the knot in the cord that bOund the jion.. ,In,» short '"^i*^*^*'^^^ ^^^. conviSSig him that kmdness is seldom thrown away. Patience may be bitter, but the fmitwiU D6 BWO0t^ HOI For good lisitea as at id without iplished, 1 first glance,] lexperienced, peeping is not i "icient allowq le, but in !Cooking and ing, these are but I will venti: vibese is seldom! :^thout know! peeping and dl to it properly. I the most imf â- Â«d with good hd housewife whd gratest numbel brge variety of deliberation anl good housekeej ' jergency, saj lests, with tl ichas poultri ^(ices and herb| jjilnviting meal. f We all know] try, that the day in the weell ftnd we have alll city expect moi in the town, bei dently, that ej fruits, grow on I see, therefore, to be a good than in the to't stores to run and made up â-  may be deficit housewife then! only for emergJ attractive for I tbose who go oi shop to bear tlT ing knowledge portant acquisi that knowledg serenely happj formed irreguh And this latte suggestion. I cooking should one individual the occupation should not be i dishwastiing, and churning, the family tho trf being excell about would b weariness of so many workt that branch in gaged. Nor n with method, should be as m the washing an of work. This to where there or other femali creasing work change and di tematic chang( in carrying it pecially will t only for home dainty and m work by whicl pleasing and a and brothers Books on coo fancywork ar( much can be necessity they and one has tc recipes and pose of this di ,jaid as far as are of little pi give informat dishes or old 1 fecial occasi portions ot tB other subject: such, for exai ing of cckrpet furniture th rooms the ti etc. In addi portant feat some canning for which sp€ attain good i required or i prepared to i oeipts, not r( and the knoi oMney. The follow with aspeci ordinarily a1 Ceeamed and slice lei two tablesp and a little I mixture boil sauce three has been sti Boil once, a Potato ' Hiash smoot toes. Add thirds of a tiie whites pepper to handle woi bread crui kot lard. Beets. â€" pare them stalk to ret of the vej tender in a hours' boil while hot, on salt, pe are then rt Parsnip parsnips a When cole of an inc pepper. 1 mto flour. in the f ryi fe enough pa brown on 1 I To RoA singed the .^ dean whit m per and sa sized onio quantity ^luge tea â- .i-'tfj,'