"No flies in Prague," says a resident in that city in reply to inquiries from manufacturers of fly-papers asking for information as to the extension of their trade in Bohemia, for there are not sufficient flies to exterminate. In restaurants there are very few flies. Screen doors to keep out flies and other insects are unknown. THe buildings are all constructed of brick, stone or concrete. The pavements and sidewalks are made of granite block. There are no wooden sidewalks, stairway, or buildings in the city. Decayed vegetable or animal matter is not openly exposed to flies, and the streets are frequently cleaned during each day.

A contrivance that will be found very useful is the cheese protector designed by a Michigan an. With his a cheese may be kept fresh and moist for a long time wand not only save the dealer money, but give greater satisfaction to his customers. This device consists of an automatic shield, adapted to close over both sides of a wedge of cheese or to fit into the opening of a cut round cheese. It is fitted with a spring which causes it to keep always pressed over the cut surface of the cheese, thus preventing the air from reaching it and drying it out. The difference noticed between cheese bought at one store and that obtained at another is not always a matter of quality, but often a matter of method in preservation. The dealer who takes proper care of his goods will find that they keep fresh longer and the protector shown in the cut will give him invaluable help in this direction

Cremation is becoming popular in the United States. We have now eighteen incorporated crematories, and about 3,000 bodies were cremated during 1893. The number of people who dread burial and its loathsome associations is large, but a prejudice still exits against the burning of the dead, which is, however, disappearing. the cemetery of the future will not be complete without a crematory attachment, a prospect that gives cause for rejoicing.

The late Augustin Daly had in his employment a man who always addressed him a not periodically asking for an advance of money. This note was invariably answered by a most abusive letter, in almost insulting terms and threatening instant discharge if the offense was ever repeated—and in closing a check for the money!

At regular intervals of about three months the man invariably made the same request, with the same results, always, however, getting a check inclosed. And thus it continued until Mr. Daly's death.—New York Times

Gold can be beaten out so thin that it allows light to pass through it, in which case, though it still appears brilliant yellow by reflected light, it is green as viewed by transmission—that is, by the light that passes through it. This curious effect can easily be observed by laying a piece of gold leaf upon a plate of glass and holding it between the eye and the light., when the gold will appear semitransparent and a leek of green color.

Mr. N. Chevalier, the well known artist who accompanied the late Duke of Edinburgh on many of his travels, was once going from Dunedin to Lyttelton, New Zealand, by steamer. Anxious to catch the earliest glimpse of the coast he went on deck at dawn and was alarmed to see that the vessel was heading straight on to the land. Calling the officer's attention to the fact, he was told that it was only a fog bank. THe artist maintained his point, but the second officer looked and confirmed his mate.

The artist then said: "Well, gentlemen, I will back my artist's eye against your sailor's eye, and I say that what you mistake for a fog bank is a low range of hills, and there is a range of mountain appearing above them."

But he was only laughed at, until the captain coming on deck found in the growing light that the artist was right and the seamen wrong. The vessel was out of its course, and there was only just time to avert disaster. The helmsman was dismissed in disgrace and the course given to the new steersman, but the vessel's head still pointed landward—the compass was all wrong.

The cause was discovered later. A commercial traveler had brought a box of magnets on board and deposited them in a stern cabin, causing what might have been a fatal deflection of the compass.

To return to the question of interpretation, the artist was dealing with the appearances which his eye was trained to see and his mind to interpret. A speck on the horizon might have remained a mere speck to him long after the sailors had interpreted the speck into a vessel of definite rig. There can be little doubt that the trained eye is accompanied by a sort of mental seeing, and instinct outrunning optics.

The French cook who professed to cook apples in 400 different ways was not necessarily exaggerating. Here are some of the nice things which can be made:

Buttered Apples.—Pare and core six nice apples and place them whole in a saucepan with aa piece of butter the size of an egg; put a teaspoonful of sugar in each of the holes where the cores were and stick a clove in each apple; stew very gently, covering the saucepan that they may cook tender by the steam; turn them occasionally, and when very tender lay them on a glass dish containing half-inch layer of apple marmalade; put a cube of red currant jelly on the top of each, dust with sugar and cinnamon and serve very cold.

Compote.—This is much superior to apple sauce. Put one-half pound of sugar and a pint of water in a granite preserving pan, add the thin yellow rind and juice of two lemons; boil until the scum rises, remove it and add six apples, pared, cored and quartered. Simmer until the apples are clear without breaking them if possible. It will take about 20 minutes.

Frosted Apples.—Simmer a dozen apples with their skins on in the water containing a small piece of alum. Put them over in cold water and when the skins will pull off with the fingers remove them and dip the apples in melted butter; sprinkle thickly with coarse granulated sugar and bake i na slow oven. If carefully done they will sparkle as if frosted. Pile in a pyramid and pass whipped cream with them.

Miroton of Apples.—Stew a half a dozen pared, cored and sliced apples with a very little water, two tablespoonfuls of sugar and some powdered cinnamon. When reduced to a pulp spread this smoothly in a dish. Boil eight lumps of cut sugar with a teacupful of water and the thinly-grated rind of two lemons for a few minutes; add butter the size of an egg, a spoonful of flour, the yolks of two eggs and the white of one; mix all these well over the fire and spread over the apples. Whip the two remaining whites to a stiff froth an when the custard is cold pie the whipped whites upon it; sift sugar on the top and set in the oven for a moment for the apples to brown.—American Agriculturist.