Citeranj. 
THE STORY OF STONY BROOK FARM. 
HENRY STEWART. 
CHAPTER XXI. 
(Continued from page 25 ) 
“ But what have you here, George?” 
“Thisisthe ladies’ department, where the 
cream cheese is made. Here is Emily and 
her partner, Mias Bartlett, and she will tell 
you all about that. I will leave you now.” 
“Now, Uncle, just yon ait down there; I 
know George has tired you to death. That 
boy is on his feet the whole day long, here and 
there and everywhere, and never rests a min¬ 
ute. Here you see we have it quite cosy and 
comfortable. Now take this cheese and a 
cracker and eat a little while we talk. But I 
expect you have been talked to death very 
nearly.” 
“ This is my cheese-creamery, or my cream- 
cheesery as I might say. How do you like 
that cheese? It is pure cream and brings 50 
cents for each one; just a pound.” 
“It is excellent. Now tell me how you 
make it.” 
This, you see, Uncle, is a shallow copper 
vat with a steam jacket. The milk intended 
for this cream is set in the evening in this vat 
and left until morning. In the morning the 
steam is turned into the jacket and In a short 
time the thick solid cream rises to the top. 
Then the steam is turned off and the milk is 
left to cool. The cream is then skimmed and 
put into these little molds which ere lined as 
you see with muslin and the edges of the cloth 
are folded over it. The next day the cream 
is lifted out and laid upon this little mat made 
cf rushes, sewn to¬ 
tion. The man recognized him and greeted 
him familiarly. 
“Mornin’, Jedge.” 
“Good morning sir. I think I have 
met you before; your name is Smith, is it 
not?" 
“Yes, Jedge; a very common name but to 
make up for that, I’ve an uncommon handle 
to it. Jehiel Smith is not so common a name 
as John Smith or Dick Smith, and I don’t get 
taken for another man so often you see, as if 
I war plain John Smith. Goin’ down to the 
furnace, Jedge?" 
“Yes, I’m going to see how things look since 
I was here last.” 
“That must be nigh onto two years I should 
say, Jedge.” 
“Just about two years; and I expect things 
have changed to some extent.” 
“You bet they hev. Why the land’s cleared 
all around the lake and back to the mines, and 
the black rock. We polled 500 odd votes at 
the last town meetin’ and raised money for 
two more school houses. Last year there was 
a good many potatoes and oats, and a pile of 
wheat sent down the road and the year before 
a lot was brought in. We’ll need an elevator 
and a grist mill right away. We’ve voted a 
bonus of $5,000 for ’em, and we want you or 
some of the rich men to put them up for us. 
It’ll pay well Jedge." 
“I have no doubt of it Smith. I am glad to 
hear things are doing so well.” 
“Well you see, Jedge. the land is good and 
the market is first rate; the mines and the 
furnaces want a power of stuff, and we get 
Checawgo prices, and freight added, instead 
of paying freight to carry our produce away. 
Ther's only one drawback, and that is freight 
is too high on what we hev to fetch up and 
send down, and it kinder kills business. But 
you can’t touch the railroad, they hev us tight 
anyhow; and it is makin’ money hand over 
last Winter, and I could buy out the old place 
five times over if I wanted to.” 
“ Wbat’B doing with it ? Oh, nuthin’ as I 
know on; it’s lying around wattin’ to be sold. 
The old folks are dead and gone; no wonder; 
not a chick or child but had to leave them in 
their old age; but Li and me were able to 
make them comfortable and we went, some 
of us, every year to see ’em, and it’s better for 
them as well as for ns that we came to the 
West.” 
“ But wouldn’t you like to go back again P* 
“ Go hack again ? No sir-ree 1 Why should 
I ? What’s the old place to me when it 
wouldn’t support me. I hev a dear memory, 
of course, for the old folks; but I don’t owe 
nuthin’ to the old place. It was too poor to 
afford roe a livin’. Here I’ve comfort and 
plenty, and am rich as compared with the old 
folks. Poor old man I how bard he worked 
and how poor he lived on his poor, stony, lit¬ 
tle farm, all cramped up with his two-acre 
fields; and I’ll never forget the time he give 
me the $50, which bronght me out West. 
' Jehiel,’ says he, * ’tis the price of the best 
cow; but its your share; if you do well you 
can send it back to me, and if not its yours, 
and you’ve aimed it well.’ And how good I 
felt when I sent that $50 back out of my first 
year’s wages, and how hard I worked to 
get it; and the next year I sent him another 
$50, and every year after, to keep his head 
above water, as long as he lived. Go back, 
sir? No, indeed. Here I’ve land enough to 
keep my three boys busy, and they hev bet¬ 
ter schools and a better education than I hed. 
And when we get to Lakeview, you’ll see my 
oldest boy come to meet me with his team 
and road wagon, worth $700, and if you 
should see my house, you’d see it carpeted 
all over, and my girl has a piano, and an 
organ, and can use them well, too. That’s 
our stvle h’re. Go back again 1 Not much, 
dged with gold braiding and buttons. Three 
large silver amulet cases, containing charms, 
were hung over the shawl girdle. The head¬ 
dress is the prettiest part of the Egyptian cos¬ 
tume, and Sofia’s was exceedingly rich. Her 
hair was divided into 20 or 30 small braids 
hanging over her shoulders; to the end of each 
P s affixed three silk cords strung with gold 
hs of various sizes. Two rows of gold 
coins as large as a half-crown piece, laid 
close together encircled her forehead, and 
at each temple depended a cluster of 
smaller ones, with an agate ornament, 
in the middle. The back of the head was 
covered with a small Egprtian fez, orna¬ 
mented with a large ckoors of solid gold, and 
bound on by a handkerchief of embroidered 
crape. 8he wore two necklaces of gold coins 
thickly strong together, and each individual 
piece of money depending from a massive or¬ 
nament in the form of a fish; one of these 
necklaces was long, and the other just encir¬ 
cled her throat; and between them was a 
string of beads of Egyptian agates, a3 large 
as birds’ eggs, and strung together with golden 
links. Her ear-rings were of gold filagree in 
the shape of flowers, and her bracelets, of 
which she wore several, of massive gold and 
silver. We computed that she carried abouf 
350 pounds on her person in coin alone, with¬ 
out including her other ornaments.—Mrs. 
Romer’s Pilgrimage. 
COUNT BERTRAND. 
A curious personase died recently at the 
age of 72 —the Count Napoleon Bertrand, son 
of the companion of Napoleon I. at St. Helena. 
The count was a very eccentric man, and ev¬ 
ery year he used to hire a room in a hotel, 
and go to bed for three months, after having 
given orders for food to be brought to him 
once a day and net a word to be spoken by 
the servant. He was 
asleep daring' the 
siege of Paris. One 
day the bread was so 
abominable that he 
flew into a rage, and 
forced the waiter to 
tell him that the rea¬ 
son was the city 
was besieged by the 
Prussians. Th 
Count Bertrand was 
stupefied for a mo¬ 
ment. At last he got 
up and wandered 
about the hotel for .- 
time, saying to him¬ 
self: “Paris besieged 
—besieged! What, 
ought a Bertrand to 
do?” And after a 
few minutes’ reflec¬ 
tion he said, “I will 
go to bed.” And he 
went to bed and slept 
out the siege. He 
was an assiduous at¬ 
tendant at the Bona- 
partist masses. 
gether, and then put 
into the mold again. 
A rush mat is put 
on the top of the 
cream and this wood¬ 
en block is laid on the 
upper mat and press¬ 
ed gently/so. Then, 
after It has stood on 
the bench one day 
the mold, which you 
see has no bottom, is 
lifted off and the 
cheese with the rush 
mats is wrapped in a 
dry cloth and packed 
with others in this 
box. Here are three 
dozen, and these will 
go off by the train 
this afternoon and 
be sold to-morrow. 
They will soon have 
a very little cheesy 
taste and there is no 
salt in them and they 
are as rich as butter. 
Then sometimes we 
get an order for 
clotted cream, just 
as it oomes off from 
the scalded milk, 
and that is sent 
down in, glass jars 
packed in wooden 
boxes,’” 
“Now, Uncle, 
taste this.” 
“ Well, what is 
that, Emily ?” 
“ That, Uncle, is 
what you would call 
pot-cheese, but cured 
so as to resemble 
Nenfchatel cheese and is sold under that name 
And we make it in this manner: The sour 
skimmed milk is warmed to 80 degrees and when 
the curd is set it is lifted out with a strainer and 
put into a thin muslin cloth. This is hung up 
to drain and the curd is then pressed lightly 
and made into small flat round cakes, which 
are sprinkled with salt and then put away on 
shelves in the old milk house. In a short 
time they are covered with white and blue 
mold; and are left in that state for a month. 
They are then scraped free from mold and 
are packed in jars which are covered with 
cloth tied down, anil are set away in the cel¬ 
lar for two months. By that time they 
acquire a sharp flavor and a strong smell— 
ugh—which some people think are just de¬ 
lightful.” 
GOOD WORDS 
for women. 
I jr ' Woman is the mas- 
_ £ Herder.—Woman 
WSr pi is the crown of crea- 
f ’ Voltaire.—Women 
^ ft,’ teach us repose, civ- 
' J ility, and dignity. 
(V _ _ , - *j John Quincy 
Adams.—All that I 
]_p IG gg am my mother made 
me. 
Lessing.—Natu re 
meant to make woman its masterpiece. 
Lamartine.—There is a woman at the be¬ 
ginning of all great things. 
N. P. Willis.—The sweetest thing in life is 
the unclouded welcome of a wife. 
V oltaire.—All the reasonings of men are 
not worth one sentiment of women. 
Beecher.—Women are a new race, re creat¬ 
ed since the world received Christianity. 
Leopold bchefer.—But one thine: on earth is 
Mr. Lloyd’s Hereford Ox, Champion of the Breed at Smithfield Show—[After London News 
fist. They say the road paid 20 per cent last 
year." 
“You came from down East I think 8mith; 
did you not?” 
“I did; from Nashua. My father was born 
there and his father afore him, and his father 
afore Aim. And a hard time I had of it there 
when I was a boy. It was "Jehiel, now we 
hev them taters in, let’s go and pick up rocks; 
and then, ‘now corn’s planted, let’s put up 
that stone wall,’ and after that, ‘let’s clear 
them rocks off’n the medder, and cut them 
hard hacks,’ and so on, and when brother 
Lionel—he’s in Wisconsin, down to Green Bay 
now—wanted to go to college, father couldn’t 
raise a dollar to help him and I sold my pet 
steers and let LL hev the money. And when 
I was 23, father says—cryin’ like—‘Jehiel, says 
Mr. Bates; you don’t find many goin’ back, 
sir.” 
(To be Continued.) 
HOW AN EGYPTIAN LADY DRESSES. 
She wore a garment of some thin white 
material, with loose sleeves, embroidered 
round the edge, hanging over her hands; then 
a large pair of crimson silk trousers so long 
and wide that they entirely concealed her 
bare feet; then came a garment like the Turk¬ 
ish antoree, descending to the feet before, 
hanging in a train behind, and opening at the 
sides, with long sleeves open from the wrist 
to the elbow and falling back so as to expose 
those of the white garment. The dress was 
made of crimson damask and embroidered 
all round the edge with black braiding, and 
was confined, not at the waist, but over the 
hips with an Indian shawl wound two or three 
times round and knotted before. The last 
garment was a jacket reaching onty to the 
waist, with half sleeves, made of an exeeed- 
ingly rich stuff of dark blue silk, embroidered 
all over in running pattern with gold, and 
CHAPTER XXII. 
The train was about ready to start from 
the Ironburg depot of the Great North and 
West Railroad, wheu Mr. Bates entered a car 
and took a seat. Next to him was seated one 
of the new settlers, a farmer with whom, as is 
the custom West, he soon fell into converse- 
