"yfj^*f « f^r^ty THE UPPER DBS MOINES, ALGONA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY, JtJLY 13. 1892, MADCAP; -OK~ THE STORY OF A SIN, BY HELEN B. MATHERS. CHAPTER I, I of the Sin, Bht- ter's wrath. . . "Martha Mistake, you are found guil- tvbv your own confession, and on the Clearest possible evidence, of the murder of an infant, name unknown, in the Pool, in the village of Lovel, a half years iigo; and though no hope that to pass on you will be commuted." And the Judge proceeded to pass sentence of death in the usual way. Sordid and inexpressibly mean in the faint light of dawn looked the court in which these words were spoken: the sentence itself seemed too fine a thing for the wretch who received it, her lips narting.in an audible "Thank Godl" as the Judge ceased to speak, and, jerking aside the black cap, threw bis scarlet robes about him, and instantly left the court. A clamor of tongues broke out on his departure, and a trampling of feet set in toward the one narrow exit; not a glance of curiosity, not a word 9f pity was flung toward the prisoner in the dock; every emotion usual to the occasion seemed to be in abeyance, as jurymen, and spectators, and officials hurried to quit the place, where for so many wwry hours they had been incarcerated. One person alone kept bis place—a man in the prime of manhood and full intellectual vigor, who throughout the trial had sat by the .Judge's side, keenly watching the progress of the case, and still kept his gaze lixed on the prisoner, who, in the very act of removal, had thrust aside tlio jailer's arm to look back and return that curiously intent gaze. For a minute she hesitated, plunging in his eyes a strange look, to which be bad no clew; lier lips moved, she made a half gesture as though to beckon him, then turned and left the dock with a film step. "One of those retarded intelligences that think much and speak little; that combine the simplicity of thought with the directness in o.xeculion of a savage or a child. Unlov:-•!, as a virgin she has been able to briiig the whole forces of lier nature to a uilllcult undertaking, and so far has—succeeded." So thinking be rose and made his way 1o tlio Assize Inn, where lie found the Judge already retired to bed, his wii? suspended above him on the bedpost. "Is that you. Eyre?" he said, opening his eyes. "Iwish I could have hanged those twelve fools as well as the wo- Hiiiii. Nino hours' deliberation and a recommendation in mercy, on the face of such a summing-up as .mine! You'll turn in now, or'course 1 ?" ••J\'*j; u:y horse is waiting. I'm bound for home." The Judge made a wry face. "So you're still—still I wonder what it's like?" be added, as one thinking aloud. "Try it," said Mr. Eyre, with a smile. The old bachelor shook bis head* "WoniPii." bn said, "are—are " bill fir ;• •imiudiir of bis sentence was cut short by a snore. "And now for Madcap," said Mr. Eyre, as be spring into bis saddle— ".Madcap, sunshine of my breast." But even a.s )io spoke the governor of tlio jail hurried out and begged of him to defer Ins ii'.",Miriiii'rf for live minutes, as the riind-'iMiK-Ml v/ouian bad been asking eagerly to see him. "She lias been so inveterately silent," he said, as Mr. Eviv. dismounted, "that I feared if tins opportunity of bearing the truth were mia^d, another might not occur, and so ventured to detain you." "Oli. ulie won't confess," said Mr. Gym citr-lessly. "I have been studying !((;r; .she i'e.-u's only lest lier crime be discovered to the parents, who are guiltless in the business, or I'm much mistaken." "If the summing-up had not been so clear," said tho governor, "she would have got off; as it is, that recommendation to mercy may save her neck vet." "Not it," said Mr. Eyre; "Isliallsend a private line to town—guilty she is, and hanged she shall be." lliese words—for Uio cell door was at that moment thrown open—were beard by the prisoner. "Shall IV" she said, lifting her bead from lier knees, and fixing on him a Strange look as be entered. "Ay," lie said, "your crime was an inhuman one. and your life pays the forfeit." "If all were known," she said, should no more diu on the gallows than you." ''Then tell all," said Mr. Eyre, instantly. "Beveal the facts that prove your innocence—denounce the guilty and let the parents be brought forward! Ay," he added, pursuing her rising terror/'and they shall be, if they are liv- They're dead," she said, in uncontrollable agitation, "and 1 did it—I laid the baby down by the pool, and it was drowned; and 1 pleaded guilty—you can't alter that; ami if you tell anybody i said there's others behind me, I'll say "iat you lied, for all that you're a great gentleman, and a magistrate, and I'm a poor serving-woman that " oO it "\YclS vmiT miaii'acio'a n nuo saiu it? ' sue criea, stai back as if a bullet bad struck her. "ff any come here after I'm dead, tell them --tell them 1 thought I'd a sort of oiaim on you," she wont on sullenly, Because 'twas you that gave me up to justice and put the rope round my neck; ancl because there's that in your face as nas seemed nat'ral to me all through, ana puzxles me yet: but I'm sorry now A sent to beg a word with you." Her arms fell to lier sides. The narrow mean face suddenly became fixed ami sharpened to an intensity of expression that almost reached power; still "nuking intently, her right band stole • throat and gripped it, while a smile crossed the intensity of her -. -, as one who in secret nourishes a Pleasant thought. MiJi n ' 8 m y hanging?" she said abruptly. ^paturday," Those fools recommended me to she said slowly; "I want you to 1 "•• that none of that rubbish ion this and Saturday." wi'u it's tixed aa fact." «in£ " r f' . ic < mnkmcrhard, "lots might happen in four days. £ ou're tBfce She " she said, tmnking hard, ""en in four days. You're She added suddenly; you give an order tbatno- T ^i» - "t- if It* c< L me and sec rae before I die, not if they begged ever so? and if Idle between this and Saturday—for folks sometimes die as quick at home as on the gallows-couldn't you make them bury me quick, so as them that come, mightn't be able to take a look at me?" Mr. Eyre glanced round at the tall narrow grating; the straw pallet, the W09den bowl and spoon; no, there was no instrument of self-destruction here —not even a beam whence she might simulate that awful leap in the dark winch in all human probability awaited 1161« "And so you would commit a second crime rather than face some unknown person—probably the mother," he said, looking at her fixedly. "No, no!" she almost screamed; "if anybody cauie after Tin dead it couldn't be the mother. Tell her that 'twas my own child I drowned in the pool. You'll have more on your soul than you know of if you tell her any different. I'm mad," she muttered, "to tell you this, and may be you'll tell 1m; and I'll have died for nothing, and s/ie'Kliveon believing whM's worse than the truth." "You did not bate this woman," said Mr. Eyre, slill watching her, "yet you killed her child; what then, was your motive for the deed?" "Love," she said. "I'd have given my heart's blood for her, and I'd have lost my soul to punish him." Her eyes bad the fixity of a tiger's, her body the spring aim crouch of one, as she looked straight before her, seeming to see what to Mr. Eyi'f was invisible. "So it is the old story," be said. "And you poor wretch, thinking to revenge yourself on him, have only called down punishment on what you loved. But what brought you to Love?" bo added suddenly. "I got a clew," she said, "but 'twas a false one. It's been a black, bitter mistake (like my name) from the beginning." "You cnme here in'search of the father?" said Mr. Eyre. "I'll tell- you no more." sbe said doggedly, and though there's one or two questions I'd like to ask you, 1 won't do it. I'll leavu nothing behind as she could know mo by, if'she came after J was gone. I'll be just a nameless woman as neither she nor you could be sure was her as she was looking for." "Your conviction \vill to-morrow be in every paper," be said, "anddraw momentary attention to your crime. Your absence from her, loo. may have excited lier suspicions. In all human probability you will see lier before you die." "To-morrow," sbe said, below her breath. "Ay, but io-daifs mine." "oSTot so," said Mr. Eyre, rising; "for since your intention is known, means will be taken to defeat it. You will be closely watched, and the escape you meditate rendered impossible." "You're a bard man," sbe said, looking up. "Have you got a wife, or E child, or any that may want pity, showi to them some day? I'm thinking they'! get bard measure if they're judged bj the mercy you've shown to others; am: though your high. God-a-mercy's high er. Perhaps He'll call me afore I'm fetched on Saturday." "Miracles are rare in these days,"he said, as lie struck the door with his whip. Then added, as the turnkey bur ried to unlock it, "You have nothing more to say?" "Xo; that's nil," she replied bitterly "One ruined life, two broken hearts, t murder, a hanging—that's all; am enough too for one man's holiday work!' "And who is the man?" be said, pans ing on the threshold of the now 9pei door; but the woman bad sunk with £ sullen silence, her face shrouded on hei knees. "She lias confessed nothing but wba we knew or guessed before," said Mr Eyre to the chaplain, who was waiting without: "but a watch must be placet in her cell, and relieved night and daj till tho end. Should a stranger come to see her, send for me immediately." "Colonel Busby is interesting liimsel about a memorial." said the governor 'as they crossed the courtyard, '''and talks of himself taking it to town." "Pooh!" said Mr. Eyre; "he'd bette stay at home. Though if be goes be'l take no barm; no creature smarts so little as a fool.'" "Here be is," said the governor, repressing a smile, as at that moment a short, pursy man rushed through tin gates and unfurled a scroll on which i considerable number of names were in scribed. "We want your signature, Eyre," he said breathlessly. "You see I begai betimes, knowing the verdict was ; foregone conclusion. But with the recommendation to mercy to back it, '. flatter myself that this will put a differ eut face upon matters." "On what ground do you base your application?" said Mr. Eyre quietly "The woman pleaded guilty. If she did not actually drown the child, sbe deliberately abandoned it to its death the crime's all one in the eyes of the law." "But the length of time that has elapsed," said Colonel Busby, "the cer tainty that there are others in the background as guilty as herself—probably in this very neighborhood." His side long look fell before Mr. Eyre's glance as the latter said— "You will not count on me. Indeed I'm about to send a private line to town pointing out the facts of the case, am now the gross ignorance and stupidit) of the jury is responsible for the emu of justice contained in a recommenda tion to mercy." ,,-,-,, Colonel Busby turned pale. Mr. Eyre's influence in high cniart>rs was well known, and did he choose to exercise it, the memorial, though vouched by every signature of note in the country, was so much waste paper. With a brief good morrow to the two gentlemen, for dawn was now giving place to day Mr. Eyre mounted bis horse and rode off at a food pace, pausing, however, on the outskirts of the town to burst out laiHiing, as at a sudden recollection. "llow true," he said aloud-"liow true that 'with stupidity and a good digestion we may front much.' C1IAPT15II II. 'Twlxt ilow mid bird So sweet ti slk'iK-v ministered, God spuned to nsod H 1'or a word. Between the darknoss of night t and the brightness of morning, there is in spring and time of full summer a space that surely outweighs, in its peace and beauty, all the hours that have gone before, or will come after. It is that in which Mature still slumbers, yet trembles each moment toward awakenin"-—when no quiver of leaf, nor cry of bin?, nor footfall of her ghtest creature, breaks the intense stillness- Si in the hushed pause between earth and heaven, man involuntarily hearkens for the voice of God, but finds ft not; tbVo loWiwf? upward and despry. ng that Presence maae manliest, In light instead of sound, Iraws as nigh into his Creator as human being may. Nothing moves but the dawn, whose mtgoing breath is that wan pellucid )lue that overruns the heavens—whose 'ootsteps fall in hyacinth and gold on the edge of the sky, and who climbs with a measureless calm, a grand aus- ;erity that oftitnes lifts to its own peace .be soul of him who lonely worships torn below. So will you see the skylark, as though caught out of herself by this moment so solemnly sweet, so divinely still, jreak suddenly away from earth, and springing sheer up to Heaven's gate, pour her exalted song in at it—then, .hat throbbing rapture over, sink beavi- y to earth, the music in her quenched for sorrow that she must return to the munts of men, nor make her home in ;hat cold, pure splendor which for a moment her eager heart and wing have touched. That magic voice breaks the .harm; slowly above the horizon shows the blood-red disk of the sun, whose beams, arrows-straight, pierce to the very heart of Nature—and lol there is life in the air, there is color in the landscape; like a choir led by an invisible band uprise the million subtle sounds and scents of the morning; day has come, and with it unrest, joy, sorrow; and we look to the fading jasper in you far-off sky with a dim mysterious pain stirring at the heart, and the preans of praise around us ring in our ears like rude echoes of the worship that but now lay like an unuttered word 'twixt God and the soul of His creatures. At such a moment Mr. Eyre, checking bis horse on the brow of a hill that overlooked his home, sent bis glance in search of the rugged pile that crouched at the foot of the rock v/Lience it sprung, its summit clothed with gorse fcnat afc sunset (lung a blood-red banner above the ancientThouse, so that far and wide it was known as the lied Hall. But in the smile of the morning one thought less of the grim battlements than of the little (lowers that crept between, and E eeped over to those brighter sisters elow, that bloomed in the old courtyard that bad once trembled to the thunder of a thousand feet; and even as Mr. Eyre gazed, there floated up to him a sound—the most joyous note surely in the whole gamut ofeartlily sound, so pure, so silvery—the laughter of a very young child. It came as sudden, as clear, as dropped notes of the skylark's song—a moment, and something flitted across the open— Moving; light, as all young things, As youiiH' Ijlrds and early wheat, When tlio wind blows over It— something that pattered barefooted over the stones as unconcernedly as rose-leaves sinking on moss; that held a nightgown up in one dimpled hand, and chuckled wisely to itself as it went, never pausing till the garden was reached, where its' tiny feet left a print of fairies' footsteps all along the silvered grass. Business was clearly in its mind, but. to a truant of three or thereabouts, there are fifty things abroad at tins hour of the morning calculated to make him forget why he got up thus early; and it was not long before he fell n with a lame blackbird before whom be went down on his hands and knees, the two exchanging conlidences without trace of shyness on either side; anc then there was a squirrel to be assistet in the fascinating duty of washing bei face, and a bird's-nest to be peeped in to—though to be sure, he was soon scared away from that by the fierce wistful eyes of the mother-bird; anc two field-mice to be put back into hole: arid altogether he wasted much valuable time, and brought down on his own bead the fate that presently overtook him. lie was just trying to coax a butterfly to perch on bis forefinger, when a slight sound in the distance made his heart sink like lead to where bis shoes ought to have been. He set off run ning in the direction of a certain rose- busli, but too late; the next moment something flashed past him, and the coveted (lower for which be bad risen .so early, was snatched from him by his pursuer's band. "And me got up to yerly," said Dody too dejected even to bold his night gown up, as lie approached his brother "Me opied the door all alone, and everything' "You couldn't expect to beat me, yon know, Dody," said Doune, with some contempt; ""and it's a pity you can't dress yourself—Jean." "You is not dressed proper," objected Dody; "your strings is banging out," '"O! that's nothing; Josephine often does that when she's in a hurry. I say Dody, I know something that yoi don't." "Jss," said Dody, too humiliated by his recent failure to hazard even agues: at the secret. "Now what would you say to going coAVsliping this morning with mother!" Dody clasped his hands in momentary ecstasy, then his face fell. "Daddy won't let us," he said gravely; "we've never been cowsiping wiz mummy all our lives—not never." "All our lives!" said Donne, with immense contempt; "why you're only four I'm live, and 1 went cowsliping whei you were a baby, eating pap and aL that." "You was a baby once," said Dody, with dignity; "so was daddy. Wondei if anybody' ever 'macked daddy, eli DoouyV" "Nobody 'ud dare," said Doune; "he punishes everybody. I heard Josephine toll Molly last night he was away punishing a poor woman, and that's why we're going to have a treat." "Poor 'opman!" said Dody, shaking his bead with much concern; "rathei not go cowsiping than hurt her, Doony. Wonder if ho whipped her very hard?" "O! ho doesn't whip her," said Doune. "I don't quite understand what be does, but he won't be back till breakfast- time," "O, my!" said Dody, hugging himself all up together with delight; "does 'oo think miimmy '11 wake up soon, Doony? "Siie'll have her cup of tea at seven, yon know, and " -Us'11 take it to her," cried Dody, shouting with joy, as he set off running toward the house, his thoughts flying in and out of a thousand golden bells that for him were nodding out yonder, while bis heart sped before to the mother without whom cowsliping was no joy. She beard that happy laughter in her sleep, and, waking, looked through hei window, and saw the little brothers crossing the courtyard, so that when they came down the gallery on tiptoe there was a wild cry of "Mother! mother!" a rush forward, and then two fond arms closed upon the pair, and heaven was in that narrow compass; and even to Dody, earth, with its store of cowslips, was forgot. Then, as you will see a young apple- tree, overborne by the weight of its first-fruits, bent proudly to earth, content rather to break than to forego them so sank this voiiiie ler treasures to the ground, wliere they clung about and kissed her as though ;bey could no more be a-weary of her ips than she of theirs, till, out of breath, ,hey kissed no more, but squeezed her ;o them with all their little tender might—the truest, fondest pair of lovers woman ever had yet. And to such lovers as these she never grows old, nor waxes their love chill; iwenty years hence, whether here or with God, she will be as dear, asbeauti- .'ul in their eyes as now, while far away whether here or beyond) in the innermost recesses of her heart, she will cradle them warm, the tiny creatures whose tender feet had neither will nor strength to stray further from her side iluin her voice bad power to win them back. "Happy a year, mummy 1" said Dody, patting lier t'*u-o with a little velvet Hand; "it's your burfilny. but I've got noting for you," be added, his voice rising as his lii"irt swelled. lie means many happy returns of the day," s;;:d Donne, presenting the rose and strn^ling out of bis mother's arms; "but h >'s so very little, you really must excuse him." "Thank ymi, my sweethearts," she said, and heV voice might have painted her to a blin ! man as she stood, Dody's pink toes envied like rossi-leaves at her waist, and on her young 1'auo such a glow-as mukiM tho mother yet Tholr.i'io.'il tlilnir nllvc. "But tlieso cold wet feet," she added, feeling them nnxiously, "and this dripping n'ight-giiwn"—• and she shivered as though a blast of death bad struck her, as she wrappi-d her arms about him. Dody clung to her in almost as much fear as love when she carried him over the threshold bo was so rarely privileged to cross; bill when bo found himself warmly wrapped in her elbow-chair, and she on her knees before him warming bis cold feet at her breast, while against bis liltle limbs she laid her head in the old, old worship that requires no teaching, lie resigned himself to circumstances with all the unconscious grace and dignity of childhood. "You is a sweet little mummy," be said, framing her chestnut bead in his hands, adding, as one struck by a sudden recollection, "would 'oo like to hear me say my pairs? me knows such pitty worses, and 'oo's never beard me say them—not never!" "Say them to mo now," whispered Mrs. Eyre, biding her face in bis neck that he might not see tlio color that overspread it;—not for her bad been the joy of folding these little bands in prayer, as rarely, indeed, bad she stood by her children to bless them as they slept; her husband's love overshadowed all her life, and demanded of her an undivided allegiance in which her motherhood found no nlace. To be Contimier!. Peeling Hurried. Probably nothing tires one so much ai feeling hurtled. When in the early morn iner the day's affairs press on one's attention beforehand, tmd there comes the wonder how in the world everything is to be accomplished; when every nitarruption is received impatiently, and the clock 11 watched in distress as its moments fll paht, then the mind tires the body. W< are wrong to drive ourselves with whip and spur in this way. Each of us i promised strength for the day, and we must not wear ourselves out by crowding two days' task into one. If only we can keep cool and calm, not allowing ourselvei to be flustered, wo shall^be less weariec when we have reached the eventide. Th< children may be fractious, the servant trying, tho friend we love may fail to visit us, the letter we expect may not arrive, but if we ciin preserve oartranquilit' of soul and demeanor we shall get throur.fl everything creditably. Courtesy to he Agtd, Nothing more quickly brands a young man as a gentleman thin deference to the whims and habits of those past middle life. Not much complaint can justly be uttered against American younur men on this score, but something may be said about the temptation all young people feel at times to be impatient because "the old folks" neem "behind the times." It is easier to look backward than forward, and it may be well to bear in mind that inasmuch as people have always been more or less influenced in their old age by their early training, BO it will be in the future; and that the next generation will probably find the young men of to-day in very many cases "behind the times." Another consideration that should have more weight is this, that those who boast superiority as to manners, mental endowments and physical strength can very well afford to be magnanimous in their judgment of others less fortunate. Young men, above all others, should not kick a man who is down. Oa the contrary, it is the pnrt of manhood to help the fallen, to provide out of our plenty that the meager resources of others may be loss noticeable. Bat if the old people cannot go so fast.— cannot learn the "new-fangled notions"— then niore's the pity. The differences may be made less noticeably by generous conduct on the part of those who can, if they will, conform to the eccentricities of the of hers. If grandmother uses "is" for "are," it is to be borne in mind that it ia much more difficult for he* to change the habit of half a century tban 'for a young man to abandon his daily quota of cigarettes. If grandfather uses his knife for his fork at table, young men should remember that this is a fault that is noc comparable with the impatience, which will not permit them to overlook it. With all progression and energy and high abitions, we are not as good as our fathers, nor can we be until struggles with the world shall have taught us patience with others' faults, generosity towards those weaker than ourselves, and gallant helpfulness to those on the down- hillside of life.—Young Men's Era. QUKER WAYS OF KATS. Natives of Abla.They Move Westward With Plagues. Rats are natives of Asia and their raids westward belong to comparatively modern times. ;Prom the fact the rat is not mentioned by any of the early Europeans, it is surmised that it was unknown west of the Granges in ancient times. The black rat firet came trom A«ia, to Europe in the sixteenth century—along with the plague—and was first, known as the "Graueyard Specter," becfiuse he prayed on the flesh of those who died during that awful visitation. He was also known as the "Plague cat," because the common house) cat had a similar habit of feasting oa the dead. 'Ihis black rat was the common house rat until the brown or gray rat made his appearance in 1775. The gray rat came to Europe from India by way of Russia, and is now popularly known as the Norway rat, from a mistaken tradition, that it ceme from Norway to England and from the later country to FARM AND HOME. BITTER AJJT) SWEET. JOHN STUART. Rough indeed Is the wny of life, Rough and eteep and long; Bold the foos which beset our path, Bold and keen and strong. Bitter, too, la the loss of hope, Bitter, broken vows; Sad and helpless the weary soul, Sad its leafless bonghs. All beginnings must needs be small, Sparks tho lire began, Rill and streamlet ere river wide, Babe before the man. Character must be slowly built, Kest comes after strife, Fame treads swift on the noblest deer, Death gives birth to life. Fight and win, Is the soldier's cry, Fight and four no fool Crosses many precede the crown, Brave men patience show. Shall wo dlepnlr if sorrow comef Faint, if burden press f Flee in terror If storm cloud burst? Yield to fear's carese? God forbid? Wo will live and work, Ever trust and pray, Count the past as a training school, Hope for brighter day- Courage take from the lives of men Caet In hero mold, Profit ca/n by lh« errors grave Made in days of old, bo our lives should be fraught with good, Words aglow with cheer. Every action Inspired by love, Holy thoughts more dear. Then the way that was long and steep, liitler, rough and sad, Prized will be as the key to life Sweet calm and glad. —Sprluglleld Sunday Republican. KAKMNOTJS8. Hellebore for Currant Wonus. This is one of the surest remedies for destroying the currant worms or caterpillars that wo have ever found. If taken m time it will save tho current crop. It can be dusted on from a flour dredger •when the bushes are wet with a recent shower or with dew, or it can be_well mixed with water and applied with a sprinkler or garden syringe. Satisfactory results will follow, if tnken in time, from either method. It takes but little time to go over a long row of currant bushes. The currant is BO popular with houskeepers thrt it should bo preserved if possible.— Whale oil soap is also destructive co the worms but is less pleasant to use than the hellebore. Tho latter is a fine powder and is kept by druggists generally.—Ex, Production and Consumption. Carefully compiled statistics furnish arguments that are difficult to upset. Those which bear upon the production arid consumption of food in this country indicate that the two lines are rapidly drawing together, and that if we continue to proceed in both at the same rate that wo are now doing the latter will soon overtake the_ former. This would be a pretty good thing for the farmers, but pretty bad for all the rest of the people who depend upon their daily labor for their food; but we probably shall not get quite to the point, where will be any actual scarcity of food, or wheve prices will become extravagant, but we shall very soon be where that bug-bear of over-production will be crushed forever. Then, as the actual needs of our population grow, farmers will increase their production by the application of the new and letter methods ot agriculture which we are now experimenting with, to the end, happily that we may be provided with means when the time comes for their use, l'£a> vesting Wheat. A showery harvest not only increases' tho labor of the farmer, but is liable to impair the quantity of the grain. It is therefore the wisest policy, considering the uncertainty of the weather, to shock wheat in such a manner that it will stand a good rain without getting wet on the inside. Rural Home says: "A good way is to set up eight bundles in open Dutch shock, saving out two of long straw for cap sheaves. Take tho cap sheaves and bind them near the butts; have the butts even. Open tho tops, dividing as near as possible in the middle, and place the bundles on top of the shock, butts upward, spreading the tops evenly over the two sides of the shocks. Some put a longhand around the two butts to hold the sheaves together. If done right these will make a roof that will shed a eoaldng rain. "Another way is to set up a round shock of eight or ten bundles and lay a bundle on top, butts in the middle, and spread the top around over one-half of the shock; then lay the butt of another bundle on top of the first and spread its top over the other half. It might cost half a dollar an acre to cap shocks in either of these ways, but if it should prove a rainy Harvest" it would probably save twice that in labor of standing out and perhaps opening the bundles." pounds of butter a year, we ^should have the key to certain success, because .m is not so very difficult to gather np a herd that will make two or three times that, and if there is profit in such a cow there will be a fortune in cows so much better; but our private opinion is that instead of sending us his balance sheet ouf_mend will conclude to sell the cow. We are sure he Mill if he has good common sense and looks the matter straight in the face. Fruit Growing. Common sense is a great requisite iu the making of a profitable orchard. Do not expect a healthy, thrifty growth of young trees from land which you have been continuously cropping in grain and grass for years, *ind trom which yju continue to tnke off exhausting crops after the trees aie planted. The trees amst have something to feed on if they are to grow, and if the Incd does not supply theirnead you must furnish fertilizers. Another im» portant point about starting the trees is in regard to the pruning at time of planting. The roots should be cut back one- half, and the top pruiu.i in Jue proportion. The brancher- o' >. tree as it comes from the nursery ore of;cm where they are not wanted. If opposite each other there is danger that the tree will split as it grows older. It is a good practice to takeoff the top entirely, leaving only buds on themcln trunk, and these can be allowed to develop into branches where wanted. All that are not wanted should be removed with tho thumb and finger before becoming large enough to require the knife.— Exchange. Tar-keys. Young turkeys are so tender and so easily injured that I find it a good plan to remove tl:oni from tho nest when a few hours old. The mother turkey on account of her size, is liable to crush her young while moving on her nest. It is a good plan to keep the young poults nestled m a basket, nicoly wrapped in soft, warm flannel for about two days. Lift them out now and then on the second clay for an airing, and teach them how to use their legs, and give them suitable food. Put into a shallow pan a pint of fresh, sweet milk, into which drop two well beaten eggs. Place this on tne fire, stirring until it boils aud becomes like jelly. Half of this quantity will do for a small brood, as it should be fresh every day. Poultry oat little until ttmy are three or four daya old, and then egg custard will be relished more than any other food. After the fourth day, put the poultry back with the mother in a clean, roomy coop and keep them there two or three days. They should have some kind of green food such, as tender onion tops, lettuce or cabbage, cut fine enough to swallow. Season the egg custard with a little black pepper, and add some bread crumbs. Give the poulls a drink of sweet milk once daily, but sue that they do not get wet, Arrange thb pan of milk so they; cannot get into it. Do not leave it within reach all the time. If the weather is warm and bright let them out for a run of a few hours, but watch the mother and the poultry closely. Turkeys wander away and hide if not watched carefully. Countless dangers attend young turkeys —the most defenseless of all young fowls. When they appear tired put them into a coop. As the brood oe- comes stronger increase their time in the open air, until two weeks old after which let them out in the morning as soon a.a tho dew is off tho grass and they can stay out until sundown. Most of those who raise turkeys, find their greatest loss from fatigue. It used to be the custom to keep young turkeys penned up until they could fly over the fence, but such confinement was disastrous. The plan given above is ranch better. Fresh air, sunshine, exercise, ailil the opportunity to pick up insects and some fresh green stuffs is needed. Never let them get wet, keep them near home so that should a nhower threaten you can at once got them back into the coop.—J. 0. Quiun in Orange Judd Farmer, THE HOJVIlS. The Shadow. Hints for the Flower Garden. Those who want large roses should thin out tLe buds early. If the soil is poor an occasional application of liquid manure will be very helpful. There are many plants besides roses that need staking and tying, and the sooner it is done the better. Lnok over the seedlings and eee if they cannot be still further thinned out with advantage. Many kinds of seedlings may still be transplanted. ]t is not too late to sow seeds of the Chinese primrose for blooming next winter. The young plants should be put singly in small pots as spon as they can be handled. As pansied are popular it may be well to note that seed sown now will produce food plants for autumn blooming. Orchard and Garden, authority for the foregoing, advises that the seed be sown in a spot just a little shaded, or, at least, the soil should not be allowed to get dry. Bedding plants will need attention at times, and so, in brief, will all the inmates of the garden. Weeds we have with us nlways, but the stay of each should be made brief as possible. Wisconsin f/'owB. The cows of Wisconsin are reported as making an average of 125 pounds of butter a year, but the best make 850 to 400 pounds, while there are certain dairies that average 800 younds, Consequently some of these cows must go down to or below 100 potnds. Now, if any of our readers happen to have a cow that is producing but 100 pounds of butter a year we wish they would sit right down and figure out the profit, and lee us know how much it is, and how it is done. If we could find out how to keep, even the smallest margin of -—'"•, a cow that will make only JOO SEATOK DOtfOHO. Along tho gardoti path a shadow sped: I looked above. On gorgeous pinions lied A. butterlly. And still Its shadow stole Dark oil the earth; and soon the neighboring air Had lost the pinions, and tho path was bare. Even BO appears tho myctlc-wiuged soul, Even so Us mournful shadow on the ground, Mournful, though birds make music, flowers surround— And then all's gone I It Is a shadow dies, No more, when God commands our pinions Heel — Washington Star. There is some promise in your Bible exactly adapted to every trying hour. The difference between a wisa man and a fool is that the fool's mistakes never teach him anything. Seek a convenient time of leisure for thyself and uieditatd often upon God's loving- kindness. — Thos. A. Kempis. We grow into highest Christian life by tho cordial belief of the truth as it is revealed to us, and the living up to that truth. To think kindly of one another is good, to speak kindly one of another is batter, and to act kindly one to another is best of all. — Selected. There are people who would do great acts; but because they wait for great opportunities, life passes, and the acts of love ate not done at all. — F. W. Robertson, Christians should improve every opportunity to influence those around them to exercise all diligence in making sure the calling and election of their immortal souls. It is delightful to think that out of the miseries of life, so much of which _afflict us, there shall coma some of the highest of our enjoyments. The pains shall be fruitful ones, "working out" an unspeakable blessedness. of Life. In our planning, the true meaning ot life needs to be understood. Life as a whole urn-it be reckoned with as including the eternal future not less than the possible threescore years and ten of earth, No plan is worthy of the dignity of a human soul which limits itself to jthis life. — The Cougregationulist. Peace. The New Testament opens with "Peace on earth and good-will to men;" and these were the hist words that rang through the air before the vision faded: "And the Spirit and the Bride say come, and let him that heareth say come, and let him that is athirst come: and whosoever wijl, let him come, and take of the water of life freely, And all between these two magnificent notes rolls the anthem of God's mercy— "WfeoBoeYer will,"
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