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About Oregon City enterprise. (Oregon City, Or.) 1871-188? | View Entire Issue (July 26, 1877)
' , i! -- ! j DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. v I -z- " . . : : . . t j ; VOL. 11. OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1877 NO. 40. THE ENTERPRISE. A LOCAL NEWSPAPER FOR THE t'jtruaer, Uuln Imi ! I'mullr Circle ISSUED EVERY TE fliSDA Y. S. IDIEIMIIEIISrT, PBOP8IKTOR AND PUBLISHES. Official Paper for Clackamas County. Otliew: In Eiiterrie Ituililin-. Out door South of Masouic Building. Main Street. T-ruit orXulwcrlptlou: Hiugle Copy, one year, la advance $'i 50 biuglu Copy, six months, iu advance 1 SO Trrtut f AdirrlUiusi Transient ad vertiatoiiliuiH. including all lrgaT notices, jxjf square of twelve lines, one week 2 50 fur each subsequent insertion 100 Ugt Column, one year 120 00 Half Column, one year 0 00 Quarter Column, one year 40 00 Business CarU.;oue square, cue year 12 00 SOCIETY NOTICES. OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F. Meets every Thursday Evening, at-v. . 7X o'clock, in Odd fellows' Hall, v -rXjj 1 Main Street. Members of the Order iTiA. -are invited to altend. By order of N. G. REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2, I. o. o. r., meets on the Second and fT- at 7 o ciock, in me uua f ellows' Hall. Members of tue Degree are invited to attend. FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4. I. O. O. F.. meet at Odd Fellows' Hall on the First and Third Tuesday bf each month. Patriarchs in good standing are luviti-d to attend. MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1, A. F. h A. M., holds iti regular comiuuni- c cations on the First and Third Saturdays Id eaoh mouth, at 7 o'clock from the 'idth , . 4J V... ... . 1 . ...,.1. , 1 1 ' cscjfcoiuw-t iu iu .ii. u. ui .nun ii ; null y i 7H o'clock from the 2th of Marrh to the UOth of September. Brethren iu k""d standing are invited to attend. By order of W. M. BUSINESS CARDS. J. W. NORRIS, I'fijMioiaii anI Siiroon. On Fourth Street, at foot of Cliff Stairway. tf CHARLES KNIGHT, CANBY. OREGON, lMiysician and Druggist. aPrescrlptlons carefullv filled at short notice. Ja7.tr PAUL BOYCE, M. D., simian aiiI Surgoou, OitaooN City, Oueuo.s. Chronic Diseases aud Diseases of Woium aud Children a specialty. Otfice Hours day and Uiglit; always readr when duty calls. " aux. 'Ttf DR. JOHN WELCH, QDEXTTST.gS OFFICEJX OREGON CITY OREGON. Highest cash price paid for County Orders. JOHNSON & McCOWN, ATTORNEYS and COUNSELORS AT LAW OREGON CITY, OREGON. Will practice in all the Courts of the State. Special attention given to casts in the United States Land Orttce at Oregon City. Sapr'7'j.tf L. T. BARIN. ATTORNEY AT LAW, OREGON CITY, OREGON. Will practice in all the Court of the State, uovl, "75-tf G W. H. HICHFIELD, EsIuIiHnIkmI t in c -Il, One door North of Pope's Hall, M l T.. OHEUOX CITY, OKKUO. An assortment of Watches. Jewelrv. and St,tb Thomas' Weight Clocks, all of which are warranted to be as rerjresente1. SVKepairing done on short notice; audthauktul for past patronage. mIi faitl for Comity Order. JOHN M. BACON, BOOKS, STATI0ITCRY,3ir PICTURE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MISCEL LANEOUS GOODS. FB tJICS MADE TO ORUElt. . Obeoos Citt, Obeoox. "At the Post Office. Main Street, west side. novl. '73-tf J. R. GOLDSMITH, GENEUATi :v i: vs i i i : i c a o Collector aud Solicitor. PORTLAND. OREGON. C7"Iiest of references given. det 25-'77 HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL, Hub, Npokcs, Kims. OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK. OKTIIKI I A THOMPSON, niarSlTG-tf Tortlarnl, On-gon. J. H. SHEPARD, HOOT AXI) SltOi: STOUK, One door North of A?kernian Bros. as th cheapest. dwii iuu auun uiaue atiu repairea as cheap novl. 75.tf MILLER, CHURCH & CO. PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT At all times, at the OREGON OITY MILLS, And bare n hand FEED and FLOUR to sell, at market ratea. Parties detiring Feed must furnish aacka. nov!2tf A. C. WALLING'S lMoncer ISook Kind cry Pittoek's Building, cor. of Stark aud Front Sts.. PURTLtAD, OKCUUX. BLANK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND TO ANY doaired pattern. Music Bocks. Magazine, Newspapers, etc.. bound In every variety of style anown to the trade. Orders front the country fcrompUy attended to. novl, 75-tf OREGON CITY BREWERY- IIUriiIUT fc MADDER, Pnrchi the above Brewerv.rE "lV lnfom th Public that they areUE sow ..7.77. F-i 'uii un JaUty manufacture .No. 1 A.D OF LAER BEER, Ordwa aotlf. Tti anywhere in the State, uraar eoUclted and promptly filled. HO IS THE STORY TOLD. A fair head meekly bowed, A shy glance coming al ter. Voices not overloud. And a low sweet laughter : So is the story told Up in the cottage old Under the smoky rafter. A fair maid flushing red With an unknown feeling. But shamed to bow her head For all her lover's kneeling So is the story told Down 'mid the white and Under the painted ceiling. gold A" UAmS POET. Somebody contributes to the Kansas World a po em, giving the secret of a lady who married wealth and betrayed a lover. It is so much better than newspaper poetry in general, that we copy the con cluding five stanzas: They call me the wit afrd the bauty The irumau wttu notning to crave Bend lower, dear Belle, let me whisper . I wish I lay dead iu my grave ! x For here, by all that is holy. Br the crucifix blessed I'll swear That to lie upon that man's bosom And feel I'd a right to be there " To feel his dear arms thrown around lue. To his broad bosom clasping me tight To drink in the balm of the kisses I know on my lips would alight To hear his low murmured ' My darling,' Breathed close in my hungring ear. And feel his proud heart beating wildly. To my poor, wretched bosom so near. " I would give up my rank and my station. All the blessings of life I have known. And I fear if the forfeit were Heaven, I'd stake it to call him my own. And he knows it. He knows that awoken. A whisper from him or a nod. And the vows of my wifehood were broken, Unheeded my fame or my God. " He knows it. He knows that I love him With a love that o'ermastereth pride ; That a sign, and I'd crouch like a spaniel. Close close to my dear master's side. He knows it ! And yet there's no tokn. No whisper from him, and no sign; And my fame is still bright and untarnished. The world's fairest honors are mine. ' Ah, Belle ! he's the truest of geullemen. In spite of the garments he wears; By right of the nobleman's spirit. The honor his proud bosom bears. Now you've opened the sepulchre wbited. And seen the dead bones lie within ; Close it up J Seal it fast ! And forever Bewara of my shame and my sin." LETTY'S PROMISES. Wheu Laurence Van Everen was about to sail for the East Indies, he asked Letty to walk half an hour in the orchard with him, which was wreathed and perfumed with fruit blossoms. ' 1'vo a request to make to you, my dear Letty," he said, "and i'm half afraid you may think it a selfish thing to ak; indeed I know it is, but yet, with the renowned selfishness of man, I not only ask, I beg it." "What on earth can it be?" said Let ty, smiling, "Do you want me to get me to a nunnery till your return, or to travel to Calcutta to marry you? Or do you want me to give the cold shoulder to Tom Longworthy. and promise never to say so much as 'how do ye do?' to him?" For the gossips had said their say in Van Everen's ear, when he re turned from his last voyage, to the ef fect that Eongwarthy had taken advan tage of his absence to be sweet on Let ty, and that Letty was by no means averse to sweets, supplemented by the assurance, "However, Tom isn't a mar rying man. and if Letty hadn't been promised, he would have paid her no heed; Tom always goes in for a safe thing." But this philosophy by no means satisfied Van Everen. "No Letty, it is none of the trifles," he answered; "it is something much more important to my happiness. "You know I will do anythir mything to please you." "You will? Then promise me this thing solemnly promise that if any thing should happen to me, if I should never return, or I should die, promise that you will remain mine forever that you will never, never marry another. (Jan you promise me tins, darling? "Certainly. Tiut you will come back you must. Why, I should dio myself if you failed. There is no need of sucli a promise, but I give it all the same. I promise solemnly that if you die I will never marry. "Thanks," said Van Everen, kissing her cheek with an air of having con ferred a favor. "I have 'exactly five minutes left in which to say good-bye. There i a great deal called love in this world which is only propinquity ; but one musn't call it loving, so the poet tells us Unless yon can love as the angels may ltb the breadth of heaven betwixt us. And you think you can, Letty?" "I know it. Perhaps you mean to commit suicide iu order to test me." And then followed a few minutes of tender nonsense, and Van Everen tore himself away, leaving Letty in tears. What a long, long time it was to look forward to! How many storms would beat along the coast, how many suns would shine, mornings dawn, and even ings gather to their close, before they met again! In the meantime here was her trousseau to finish; and she used to sit at it hour by hour, with her thoughts away on some distant reach of the In dian eeas, except when Tom Longworthy loitered in to help kill time. One morn ing he brought her a letter, which a sailor who had spoken the Flying Scud, two months out, had entrusted to him,, and he looked out of the window wTiile she read it, whistling "The long, long weary day," softly. Tom was really a comfort to her, in spite of Van Everen's unreasonable jealousy. He could tell her all about the long Indian voyage, of cyclones, calms and trade winds all about the great foreign cities to which her lover was bound, with their sun burnt natives, their strange customs, their fantastic stuffs, and curious archi tecturetill she felt asil she were there herself. It was some months later that Tom Longworthy came in with a cloud on his face. "You are ill," said Letty, regarding him. "Not at all, thank you, only ill at ease. " "Then you have some bad news." "Yes, I have some bad news." "Nothing about Laurence?" she gasped. "I hope not." "You hope net. For heaven's sake, don't vou knoxc? What is it? Don't think you are sparing my feelings. You are only cruelly ' "The Flying Scud" "Is lost?" "Has foundered. But there is no cer tainty with regard to Laurence; he may be among the saved. Letty! Letty! don't look at me as if had brought it about. I would exchange places with him gladly for your sake; I would in deed!" he cried. She left her needle where the ill-news found it, and folded away all the wed ding garments. And month followed month of anxious forebodings; and one or two old seamen straggled home to their families, battered and destitute, after many hardships, but they knew nothing of Van Eyeren; he had not taken the sane boat; some had been swept away by a wave, before the ship was abandoned ; and so by sad degrees hope and Laurence Everen was given up. But though the object that made existence precious has been rudely torn from us, yet we go forward with the drama; perforce, ve must dine, read letters, receive condolence, discuss crape and bombazine, as if the world had not suddenly grown empty and for lorn. And so it was with Letty. Daily life was too exacting; she could, not sit down and hug her grief, and look at it in every light, and discuss it in all its bearings; she was obliged to dry her tears and earn her bread. The railroad stock in which her small fortune was in vested had suddenly declared against dividends. She could not permit her self to share the crumbs that fell from her uncle's table, and which they could ill-afford to spare, even had independ ence been sweet a quality it was never known to posess. Thus in her routine of drudgery Tom Longworthy's kind ness and occasional visits constituted her only variety. If she found a bunch of the earliest May flowers on her desk, she knew who left them there; if Christ mas brought her an anonymous gift, he was none the less certain of the giv er. If her birthdays and anniversaries were remembered, whose thoughtful ness could it bo but Tom's? It was, perhaps, three years and better after the Flying Scud had sailed that Letty, weary of declining invitations, and of being asked if she meant to sacrifice her self like a Hindoo widow, joined a party of friends going to take their tea in the sunset at the beach, two hours steaming down the river. She had understood that there was to be a handful of people, but she found a crowd; and sitting on the sand, looking at the delicate sea shell pink of the eastern sky above the tossing breakers, or watching the groups of Jgirls making their table of a sand heap and spreading it with dainties from their baskets, while others gathered drift-wood and lighted a picturesque blaze beneath the coffee and clam pots was a pleasant change from the monot ony of her days. Presently, while she gazed, a little boat, with the sunset red dening its sails, "quenched its speed in the slushy sand," and Tom Long worthy threw his anchor ashore. "Letty!" "Tom!" "I wish you had allowed me to bring you down." "I wish I had." And then they fell to speaking of the moon-led tides; about great storms and wrecks. "Do you know," she confessed , "their driftwood fire chills me? How do I know but it is a bit of spar poor Lau rence clung to?" "They are having supper," sail Long worthy, turning away. "Let me bring you something. We have been too gloomy." "No, when I am gloomy, I am in no danger of forgetting. Don't you re member Anderson s story oi the poor old maid who used the broken half of a bottle picked up on the beach for her canarv'a drinking-vessel, when it was a bit of the very bottle to which her lost lover had entrusted a tender farewell." " You don't intend to be an old maid, Letty?" "I ? The day of my destiny is over. How ghostly the lighthouse looks! I used to think I should like to live in one, especially in stormy weather." "They will be lighting up presently; we will pay them a visit, if youplease." And while they climbed the light-house tower, and saw the fishing fleet standing out to sea, and watched the. keeper light his lamps, while he told them of the seabirds that beat their lives out against the windows, of ships he had seen go to pieces in the storm, of the times he had put out in his boat to the rescue, and his wife keeping the lamps bright alone amidst the gale, their friends were gathering up the fragments and steaming homeward, each thinking that Letty was with the other. When Tom and Letty came out under the stars, the beach had a wild and louely aspect ; some night bird was screaming overhead, the gypsy fire smouldered amidst some stranded timbers, but the sands were deserted. Tom's little craft was the only one in sight, and with the wind dead against them and the tide falling, it would be useless to start for some hours jet. "We may as well make ourselves com fortable," said Tom, bringing fresh fuel for the fire. "I am to blame for this disaster." "I don't call it a disaster exactly," said Letty. "Do you see how much our back-log resembles a crouching camel? In this weird light I can half believe that we are belated on the desert, and are bivouacking till day. It's rather roman tic than disastrous." "I am glad you-see it in that light. You would make the desert blossom like a rose." "How you flatter me!" " I ? We never flatter those we love." "You needn't take paiDsto tell me that you don't love me," she laughed. " "I take pleasure in telling you that I do." "That you do! that you do? "Yes; I do love you, Letty," stretch ing his arms toward her, for she had risen and half moved away. "Letty! Letty! don't be angry with me for lov ing vou. How could I help it?" t "You must," she cried; "You musn t 1 love me. You don't. It's all a fancy. You deceive yourself. I can't allow you to love me." "You might as well say that you wouldn't allow the frost to pinch you, or the rain to drench you.. Can't vou love me a little, Letty?" "Oh, don't ask me! don't! I can't; it is quite impossible. Forgive me for say ing so. You have always been a friend to. me." "And always shall be, Letty." "Then don't let us talk about love, nor think of it. I shall never marry." " But if you should change your mind" "I can never change it." "Yet if such a thing should hap pen women have that privilege, you know you will find me always the same." "But you must be sure that it never can happen." "Since you deny me so much, humor me in this whim of mine, Letty, and promise me that if any change should occur, you will let me know." "I can safely promise you that," she replied. "Thank you." It is nut often that a lover is obliged to impose his society upon the sweet heart who has refused him. One might conceive of it as an embarrassing situa tion, but it did not prove so in the case of Tom and Letty ; they spoke or were silent, as the spirit moved. He trimmed his boat with a hand as steady as if all his wishes had been granted." They counted the constellations and the har bor lights, watched the stars set, and the gray dawn shine upon the water, and sunrise was just beginning to glow in tender lines of color as they reached the town, made the boat fast, and stepped ashore. Only a few loungers were smoking on the wharf, and waiting for a job or a sensation. The widow Gir dle was pulling up her blinds as they passed, while the housemaid at Dr. Squills was sweeping off the front steps, leaning on her broom, for all the world like an interrogation point. "That don't look right," said Widow Girdle "a teacher of youth gallivant ing about the country. Where has she been at this hour? That's what I would like to know." "I dare say you would," said her brother. "Suppose you ask." But Mrs. Girdle did better. She ask her neighbors, who passed the question on; and the result was that in the course of a month Letty was notified that her resignation of her grammar school would be accepted. Mrs. Girdle, shop ping in Boston one day, met Tom Long worthy at Parker's. "What is the news at Carbondale?" he asked. "News is as scarce as money, Mr. Longworthy," said she. " I suppose you know that Letty Andrews has lost her school. But that's and old story." "Lost her school! Why?" "Oh, you must ask the school com mittee. Young ladies who have the care of children should be circumspect, and not allow fascinating young men to keep them out late on the river, you know." "You don't mean to say that luckless affair of mine was the cause? It was all an accident, Mrs. Girdle, and entirely my fault." "I wonder you don't make amends by marrying her, Don Quixote." "She has all ready refused me." "Refused you! You're joking," said the widow, opening her eyes with as tonishment." "It may be fun for you, but its ghast ly truth to me." Mr. Longworthy went directly to his office, and wrote, "Dear Letty, don't forget that I love you, and that it is hard for me to live without you." "Thanks," came the reply. "You will hnd it possible. It was early in December when Letty went into Boston to answer an adver tisement for a companion. It had proved unsatisfactory, and she was on her way to the cars, when ' she was overtaken by Captain Crane, a neigh bor, just home from a three years' cruise. "Ship ahoy!" 6aid he. "How are the folks at Carbondale? Don't know me, Miss Letty? Anything happened since I sailed?" "You'll find plenty of change Cap tain Crane. Even Carbondale doesn't stand still while you go around the world." "By-the-way, I fell foul of an old sweatheart of yours in Californy." "An old sweetheart of mine?" "Yes. Even old sweethearts get old if vou erive them time enough. Per haps you don't remember Van Everen !" "Don't remember Van Everen!" "Laurence. Wasn't he sweet on you, Miss Letty? I ran against him, just by chance, a week before I sailed; he's given up the sea, he tells me taken to trading. Guess he's married money, by the look of things." "Married money! Laurence Van Ev eren ! What do you mean Captain Crane? Don't vou know that he was lost at sea in the Flying Scud?" "Was he? Then the sea's given him up, too; it's a mutual affair, eh? He's the substantialest shadow I ever sight ed. The Flying Scud was lost while I was off whaling, but I didn't know he was aboard. But, you see, he wasn't born to be drowned, Van Everen wasn't! His wife can't hold a candle to you, Miss Letty begging pardon but I reckon she had solid charms." Letty was in a half-stunned condition, all the" way to Carbondale, while Cap tain Crane spun his yarns. Waa it any thing to her that Laurence waa alive and married? Did she feel any bitter ness that he had given her so much trouble for naught, that he had forsaken her? She had promised never to marry if he died; but he was not dead. And Tom loved her and she? Yes, she was grateful to Laurence, after all; she felt as if she should like to thank him for having jilted her so cruelly. "Dear Mr. Longworthy," she wrote to him, "when I told you I should never marry, it was because I had given a solemn promise to Laurence Van Eve COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA ren that if he died I would remain sin gle." But he is alive, and I hope you will pardon Lett? Andrews." "So the dream departs!" sighed Tom. "The lost hero returns; she is going to marry him after years of constancy. She need not apologize for loving him instead of me. It ends like a novel, only I am left out in the cold like the villain in the piece. I wonder where Laurence has been all this while. He always had a plausible tongue; but if she loves him well, I had better go West and change the scene." But before going West it was neces sary for him to run down to Carbon dale, settle some family fairs, and ap praise his grandfather of his plans. It was a month since Letty had written her note before he could make up his mind to see her and Carbondale. "I have come, Miss Letty," he blun dered, "to offer my congratulations and and good-byes at once." "Congratulations?" questioned Letty, with a perplexed frown. "Yes. You are looking worn and pale; I'm afraid happiness doesn't agree with you." "Happiness doesn't agree with me? I don't think I evertried the experiment." It was Tom's turn to look surprised. "I received your note " The color trembled acros3 Letty's face, her lip quivered, her eyes dilated. "You received it?" she gasped. "You received it!" "Wasn't it just a' little unnecessary, Letty ? I should have heard of it soon enough." "How could you have heard it if I had not told you?" "Wouldn't it have been in every body's mouth? Can a dead man come to life and nobody speak of it? But I dare say you meant kindly. Letty ?" "For Heaven's sake, Tom, don't you see what I mean?" cried Letty, all of a rose-color. "Certainly you meant to break it to me gently that you were going to marry Van Everen." "But Van Everen is already married." "Married? What a dunce I am! Letty! Letty! can you forgive me? Can you love such a stupid fellow? Jove! a whole month of happiness forfeited by a blunder. Kiss me Letty." Heart Disease. When an individual is reported to have died of a "Disease of the Heart," we are in the habit of regarding it as an in evitable event, as something which could not have been foreseen or prevented, and it is too much the habit, when per sons suddenly fall down dead, to report the "heart" as the cause; this silences all inquiry and investigation, and saves the trouble and inconvenience of a re pulsive post-mortem. A truer report would havo a tendency to save many lives. It is through a report of "dis ease of the heart," that many an opium eater is let off into the grave, which covers at once his folly and his ciime; the brandy drinker, too, quietly slides round the corner thus, and is heard of no more; in short, this "report" of "dis ease of the heart," is the mantle of char ity, which the politic coroner, and the sympathetic physician throw around the grave of "genteel people." At a late scientific Congress at Strasburgh, it was repor ted that, of sixty-six persons who had suddenly died an immediate and faithful post-mortem showed that only two persons had any heart affection whatever; one sudden death only, in thirty-three from disease of the heart. Nine out of the sixty-six died of apo plexy, one out of every seven, while forty-six, more than two out of three, died of lung affections, half of them of "congestion of the lungs," that is, the lungs were so full of blood, they could not work, there was not room for air enough to get in to support life. Hall's Journal of Health . That Historic River, the Danube. The river Danube has figured largely in history for 2,000 years, and it again becomes the object to which the eyes of the world has turned. It fnrnished a highway for the Turks in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, to penetrate Europe as far as Vienna, and in the days of the Crusades it became an outlet for the religious enthusiasm of Europe to flow to the Holy Land. The Danube, from its source in Baden to the Black Sea, is 1,820 miles long, and it drains, with its tributaries, an area of 300,000 square miles. It passes throughJBava ria, Austria, Hungary, forms the bound ary between Hungary and Servia, to the Carpathian Mountains, where it sepa rates Roumania and Bulgaria, and passes into the Black Sea through sev eral mouths, the principal one being that of Sulina. The Danube is naviga ble for steamers as far as Ulm, in Ba varia. At Nicopolis, in the fourteenth century, 100,000 Christians were driven by the Turks into the Danube, and in the fifteenth century 40,000 Turks were slain on its shores at the siege of Bel grade. A Female Who Must Have Been Ten Feet in Height. A very remark able skeleton was recently dug up in the ground belonging to the Fair Association at Lexington, Kentucky. The experts who examined the bones conclude, from their length, that the man to whom they belonged must have been ten. fet in height. The skull was badly fractured, but the jawbone was preserved, and is twice the erdinary size of the jawbone accorded to men in these days. From this it is probably hot too bold a de duction to conclude that the skeleton is that of a female; but the sex, owing, unfortunately, to the destruction of the skull, is difficult to determine. One thing seems certain, that the specimen does not date back many centuries. John Smith wants to know how he shall sign his name to prevent getting mixea up wim oiuers ot that ilk. Some people adopt the plan of adding. "2d " "3d," etc.; but the right appendix for Air. mitu would be "1,634,781 l-2th" or thereabouts, and even then he would run some risk of being mistaken for another John Smith. Old and Sticky Batter. Prof. L. B. Arnold, Secretary of the American Dairymen's Association, writes to the New York Tribune as fol lows: "Of the great mass of butter which finds its way to the general mar ket and is reckoned as "good," the first and most obvious defect is in an old taste, derived, probably, from too much or too long exposure of the cream be fore churning. Everybody understands the fact that butter exposed to the air soon acquires an old and disagreeable taste; but everybody does not seem to appreciate the fact that cream deterior ates the same as butter by standing open in the air. Bat it certainly does so, and very much more rapidly than butter, and especially if exposed to air which is warm, or which contains any bad odors or vapors. Owing to the nitro genous matter mingled with cream, it is very susceptible to change. Exposed to warm and damp air, cream will decay about as much in one day as butter would in the same situation. It is, therefore, very easy, and certainly very common, for butter to aoquire an old taste by too much exposure of the cream before churning. The surface of cream which is exposed to the atmosphere, es pecially to a faulty atmosphere, is all the time changing and working toward decay while standing for the slower par ticles to get up and ready for the skim mer. The longer this exposure contin ues the greater the change and the more is the flavor of the resulting butter af fected. It is one of the striking advant ages of the more modern modes of rais ing cream that they bring it to the sur face quickly and improve the butter by shortening the exposure of the cream to atniosjjheric influences. The clean est flavored butter, that which has the fullest, freshest and most delicious taste, and the best keeping quality, is now made by heating the milk to expel objectionable odors, and then, under an air-tight covering, lowering the temper ature to hasten the ascent of the cream. If cream must be exposed to the air while rising, it will do very much toward avoiding the old taste, so often found in butter, to have the air in con tact with the cream as cool as possible. Cold retards change, and the cooler the surface is kept the less progress toward decay. The cooler air now sought in modern creameries makes a marked im provement in their butter over those who have used cold water but warm air in their rooms for setting milk. Preservation of Eggs. One of the most successful modes of preserving eggs is that adopted by Mr. Hulton. of Farrington Lodge, Preston, who writes as follows: "With regard to the preservation of eggs for future use, the great object to be obtained is the entire seclusion of air. This has hitherto been generally effected by stor ing the eggs in lime and water," or by smearing them with oil, or by packing them in bran, sand or sawdust; but all these methods impart a bad flavor to the egg. Salt is the only effectual method, for if it imparts any flavor it is that nat urally supplied to an egg. My first at tempt with coarse salt on a stone slab in the dairy failed, because the salt melted owing to the damp, and left the eggs exposed to the air. Ifindnowthe best plan is to get a brick of salt, pound it fine and dry it, then place the eggs freshly gathered, and with the pointed ends downward in the salt, and pack them firmly in a box or jar; then keep them in a dry place. Outof some hun dreds done last year, none have been bad; and most of them quite fit for the table when kept not more than three months; after that they will poach well, and are good for culinary purposes. The same salt used for several years is better than new. One great conve nience of this plan is that on opening a box, or 4-lb. biscuit tin, containing about 60, you are not compelled to nse them all quickly, for each egg is isolated in salt and remains fresh till wanted. While writing the above I directed my cook to try three eggs from some which are still remaining of those put in salt last Spring, and have consequently been kept for more than nine months. One of these was broken into a bowl for poaching, quite fresh, without .odor, and of good color. The other two were boiled, and though opening well, with no enlargement of the air vessel (show ing the exclusion of air to have been absolute), I mu3t admit tasted rather strong, or like a 'crate egg.' This prac tical test, however, corroborates entirely the trath of what I have stated above, and can not but be looked upon as a satisfactory instance in support of this very useful and convenient mode of the preservation of eggs." Poland China Hogs. The Poland China hog is a cross of the Paland, Big China, Irish Grazier and Bayfield, and has now become as popular as the Berk shire. The description of a perfect Po land China, adopted by the National Swine Breeders' Association, is as fol lows: "Long in the body, short legs, broad, straight back, sides flanking well down on the legs, very broad, full square ham and shoulders, small, drooping ears, short head and wide be tween the eyes, spotted or dark color ed, hearty, vigorous and prolific. As compared with the Berkshires, the most noticeable differences are drooping in stead of erect ears, less dish in the face, greater liability to be marked with spots, ribs not so sprung out, and in very fat pigs not so much sway at the back. Semi- Tropical. It is said that of all creatures, the horse has the smallest stomach relative ly to its 6ize. Had he the complex ru minating stomach of the ox he would not at all times be ready for exertion. The stomach of the horse is not so capa cious, even when distended, as to im pede his wind or speed, and the food passes onward with a greater degree of regularity than in any other animal. In eight or ten minutes after a horse drinks a bucket of water it has passed entirely out of his stomach into the large intestine. A Mother's Kiss. What can be more beautiful and more holy than a mother's " love what more thrilling and more impressive than a mother's kiss? How pure and how un selfish is her affection, with what ecstasy does she clasp her first darling babe to her bosom, with what pride does she gaze on its dreaming beauty, with what passionate eagerness does she all bnt smother her little one with her loving kisses! But when, from her fond arms, her cherished one is torn, yet warm with her last embrace, her last kiss, and placed beneath the cold sod, which hides it forever from her sight, then does it not seem as if her very life would go with it? Mother's "last kiss" has been the charm which has kept many a schoolboy in the right path, when ha had got over all other home influences. Tom Brown, en route for Rugby, made a bargain with his father before starting that he was not to be subjected to the indignity of a paternal kiss; not so, how ever, with his mother, whose last kiss all the racket of public school life could never efface from his memory aud heart. "Mother's last kiss" has proved the sal vation of many a man, although its in fluence has slumbered an not made itself felt until years after t had been imprinted on his lips lips which had often since then been sullied and der- i filed with blasphemy and obscenity. But it makes itself felt now; and, as it burns on his guilty mouth, he, forms good resolutions, goes back to good habits, long ago abandoned, and be comes, by God's help, a man once more. "A mother's kiss!" ay, though friends forsake, and shamo brands thy brow, mother will cling to you, her arms are ever ready to receive you. The memory of a mother's love and kindness, her last fond kiss, will warm and thrill with pure enjoyment, as some incident of the past awakes within us the soft tones of her dear voice, long since, perhaps, still ed forever the memory of that kiss will continue with us till life's pilgrim age is done. Appletons' Journal for July. Power of a Dead Child. Last Tues day afternoon Detective Pryde stepped on board the steamer 'Maud as she touched the levee, and approaching a brunette leading a white poodle, poutcly told her that she was wanted on a tele--gram received from St. Louis. "It's my husband," said she; "I will wait, but he can never induce me to live with him again." She walked to the Worsham House with a firm tread and her little white poodle trotted behind her. The hus band arrived in due time. An inter view was arranged and took place. Mr. Gardner approached madam with ex tended hand, but madam would have none of it. What did the deserted hus band then? He knew well the path Io the woman's heart. Tenderly and gent ly he led her back to the little cradle and its baby inmate in which mingled their blood in common; thence he brought to her mind the baby shos, the little torn apron, the ball, the mar ble all that remain of their idol, now in heaven. The mother's heart, through the little dead form and the sad picture of the white flowers on a short coffin, warmed again toward the father of her boy. Her face twiehed with emotion, and as the bright days of the honey moon were brought back to her thoughts, sobs shook her frame, and be tween tears she said, "I'll return with you." The battle was won. Punishing Children Anna C. Brack ett, in the American Journal of Educa tion, calls the attention of teachers to the liability of children to be punished or corrected without their clearly know ing why. "They may thus perhaps un derstand," she adds, "what often seems to them so incomprehensible why a child who has been rebuked for some disorderly conduct repeats the offense almost immediately, giving the impres sion of willful and malicious wrong doing. The same mistake is frequently made in recitations. A pupil's answer is pronounced wrong, and the question passd to another, when he does not know what his error is, and often fan cies that it lies in quite a different di rection from that in which it really lies. One of the most successful teachers wo know ir almost invariably in the habit, after having passed the question and re ceived a correct answer, of asking the pupil who failed: 'Why did I pass that question?' A few trials of this simplo interrogation will soon, we think, con vince any teacher of the truth of what we say. The most astonishing misun derstandings are thus continually brought to light, and we become con vinced of how double-edged a thing is this language which we use so thought lessly and freely." To Avoid Sleeplessness. If you wish to sleep well, eat sparingly of late suppers. Avoid all arguments or con tested subjects near night, as these are likely to have a bad effect upon one who is troubled with sleeplessness at night. Avoid having too much company. Many persons become so excited with the meeting of friends that sleep departs for a time. There is probably nothing better, after cultivating a tranquil mind, than exercise in the open air. By ob serving these simple rules, sleepless ness, in the majority of instances, may be cured. Artificial flowers called hygrometers are something novel. They are colored with a material composed of chloride of cobalt. When exposed to sun and dry air the leaves become deep blue, and when the air is moist they turn a pink ish shade. Olive Logan finds the greatest im provement in the dressing of English women since the Crystal Palace costnme contest. A gold medal is given to tho individual showing the handsomest cos tume for the least money. The handsomest bonnets are those with the least trimming. They are shown, from Paris, -wth a bird perched on top anda single bow of violet under the crown. "Only this and nothing more." -I V X -: - ., i v ! i-.l i 1 i