The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on July 27, 1892 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, July 27, 1892
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MADCAP; THE UPPER DES MOINES, AtGONA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY. JULY 27. 1892, StORY OF A SIN. fct HELEN B. MATHERS. ' saia Mr. J<;yfe, with a gest- rf dtoauBt; "it's impossible." will be young men," hi men voun Liti I the farmer, shaking his head; "they IS allus keep in minS Fey ther Will- IB' advice, who ht of the future whatorer lie did, fie never might (trlevc for the past. 8 te nt °* Pleasant mnsfc have miss ~ a chap nnt lof 1 sir, IK 3 t« at r Mr Eyre joined for a moment in the I farmer's' hilarity, then rode forward to rile" had scarcely done so, when he Ihpflrd behind him the almost noiseless IJnmid of horses' hoofs coming over the Itnrf- he guessed that they were in pur- la it of him, and, turning to her, cried— I "One gallop, Madcap!" and a touch, Ithe blood-horses stretched fleetly out I almost to racing speed, and like winged Iwpitnrfls breasted the long low hill be- I too them, while far behind, like dull, I low echoes, came the pursuing feet. I Had some of Madcap's own wild spirit lleapedinto Mr. Eyre's veins that day I »9 they I'ode neck and neck, horses and I riders alike exulting in that masterful I rush through the soft spring air? Of I their own will the horses seemed to I stop at the prison gates of Marmiton, I but before she could even cast a glance I at the building, Mr. Eyre hud seized her I bridle, and turned her face and his own I homeward. I "go ends a happy day," he said, as at I the end of the straggling town his keen I eye detected amounted messenger ap- I preaching, who bore in his hand one of I those yellow envelopes that in rural I lives not infrequently cause a revolu- I "No!" cried Madcap, still breathless, I and all her young blood kindled in her I by the dare-devil ride; "'it is only just I begun!" I Prince Charlie, who knew his mis- I tress's every mood, and had carried her [barebacked many a time in glorious I spurt over hill and dale, tried to nestle I his velvet nose in her hand, upon which I she threw her arms round his neck. "0! Charlie," she whispered in one of his big, quivering ears, "don't you feel I voww to-day—just as we used to long ago?' 1 Mr. Eyre read his message through twice; then telling the man that there was no answer, asked Madcap if she were too tired to ride further. "For it is your birthday, Madcap; and we wi\l spend it together;— but tomorrow— to-morrow - " "To-morrow will be as happy as to* day," cried Madcap; but to this, Mr. Eyre made no reply. CHAPTER iv. Ho hoist up suilsi mid un-u' sailed ho, And S'lllctl unto u 1'iir coiintrie! And when lie looked his rinjr upon, He know film lovcrl unuthcr man. He hoist up sails, nnd name came lie— Hume unto his nln countrle: The first he met on his own land, It chunced to tro a bagger man. The beauty of Lord Lovel's woods was invisible to the man who after dark that night traversed them with now hasty, now lingering steps, inhaling wilh an odd sense of memory the crushed scent of the wild flowers that from, time to time he trod under foot. Xo friendly gleam of light beckoned him toward the ancient house:, no voice save a hireling's was likely to be uplifted in his welcome; and that sense of dullness with which we approach a place of which hearts once made a home oppressed thi wanderer as he crossed his own threshold, and hearkened to the long reverberations of the great bell as it clanged through the lonely, deserted place. At last a woman came; but, before she could ask a question, he hud passed her, and was standing in the midst of the diiiing-hall, who'n. amazed at his audacity, lamp in hand, she lu'.d shut the hall door and overtaken him. . "I want Job," he said; -'will you send him to me?" And his voice and manner being of that sort which wins princess and peasant alike (for, after all, a princess, however linely she laces her hodice, can do no more than have a woman's heart inside it), she departed, and presently an elderly serving-man entered, who looked scrutinmngly fit his visitor's back, at that moment turned toward him. For a moment he stood, his pulses beating between doubt and hope; then, as the other turned in his walk, lie ran forward, and seizing the young man in his arms, cried out in a paroxysm of love and joy— "So you've come home at lust, my dear. Uaar little Master Frank!" "Ves, Job; come back at last," said his master, laying his hand on the old man's shoulder; "and come home to stay piwise God." "That's good hearing," said Job, retreating a step to gaze at his new-found treasure: "but what brought you home so sadden-like?" lie added, certain niis- givnigs darting painfully through his miud. .'|I got home-sick," said the young lellow, still resolutely fighting off a certain thought that had beset him ever since lie set foot on English soil; "and, Perhaps, I was tired of playing school- roy, and wanted to be my own master— and yours, too, old friend," he added, Winging Job's hand, as though he found mthat honest palm all tbe welcome man could desire. "Uod bless your little heart!" said Job, to whom the birth of Frank Misu Mere matter of yesterday, and "Us stalwart young soldier no bigger than the toddling ctiild whose steps he had so often guarded from danger: "but \5i, bells ru »g- ho carriage to meet you! What'll folks say to your coming homo ln Jn! s Promiskis sort of way?" , 'f hat as I've been traveling since naybreak 1 must be hungry"' said f. ra »k, seizins the candle. "Come Wong, Job, I've ransacked the larder wo - often not to know its whereabouts." .Job as he followed those light heels, "Knight how bright the house had all « once become with that sunshine '"eh his young master carried with « everywhere-iu at the chinks of «eu a hearts, and lonely places that the °"« >>ad forgotten, and, in short, into oi, y 'i 001 * and corner whore his eye K?? ced . <»id his step came. And travel s [auiecl us he was, he yet made one ot m.?n e -?y e| y figures that no man nor wo- mi,"f' ltlier c °w'd look on without ad- of that sort which leans to «f' " and you've come abit top early or a bit too lute," he added below his breath, wistful v searching Frank's face for the wickedness nowhere to be found in it. The voting fellow caught the look, and colored, lie too longed, vet feared to ask a certain question, but it was unasked still when at midnight he stood alone in his chamber, and, drawing aside the curtain from his mother's picture, answered in words to the mute welcome her lips seemed to speak. . 'I've come home, mother," he said, simply, just as though she heard him; and you'll help me;" and perhaps she did hear her boy, and did lielp him— afterward—who knows? Sleep was impossible to him; here, under his own roof-tree, he realized what his future life must and should be, as his father's had been before him. All that he looked on, all that he touched, spoke to him of duty, and the noble traditions of an unstained name; and, as he threw the casement wide, and hearkened to the night wind as it rustled like a sight through the woods below, his heart swelled within him, and he swore that he would be a faithful steward to the hundreds of sleeping souls intrusted to his care. The morning sun was shining in his eyes when he awoke and descended to the library, where Job, no longer the transported friend, but the faithful domestic, awaited him with a breakfast was the product of a sleepless night. It vexed the old man that his master would look through the open windows instead of at his plate; and yet who could take his eyes from those three avenues each above a mile in length, throuirh whose fretted aisles, like a magnificent burst of melody from an unseen source, had swept the tide of God's eternal green? "I don't s'pose you've seen anything since you went away to beat that," remarked Job complacently; "but, lor, what can >you expect out of England, Master Frank?" Frank laughed, and Ms laugh was something to remember, for its delightful ring, and the suggestions of happiness both to himself and others that it unconsciously brought. "And yet there are some fine sights abroad, Job. as you would say, if you could see. them." "And you liked 'em so well you could stay away these six years?" said Job reproachfully. "There v»'us work to do," said Frank, the color rising to his face (and this wus ono of those traits that warmed men's hearts to him. as showing that in his mind still lurked the ingenuousness of earlier years). "A man does not run away home when his comrades are tight- ingj'and I was wanted, Job, and nearly got my billet here," he added, laughing, as he touched a scar on his left temple that gave earnestness to the almost; boy< ish beauty of his fiice. "So it wasn't a bit of foolishness that kept you abroad sill these years?" cried Job. triumphantly. "Love's all very well, but fighting's better; it warms the cockles of one's heart, and when all's said, it's the real work a man's done, not the times he's made a fool of himself to think of when he's got the blues, and you'll have work enough to do abouj the estate, without thinl&ngof any love- muking this ever so long." "i : li leave that to the squire," said .Frank, laughing. "Is he as bad its ever? "The squire has left the llall," saic Job, puttina; on a deceitful air of innocence us he poured his master out a cup of coffee. "He's eating frogs this blessed minute, no doubt; though I'm much mistook if Nancy of the Mill cottons down to 'em along with him." "The old sipiire has left Lovel?" criec Frank, pushing back his plate. "To be sure," said Job, with an elaborate appearance of unconcern; "il must be nigh on five year and a half ago that the county folks made up theii minds that they couldn't, stand Mis Nuncy, and so " "And so the Bed Hall's empty!" exclaimed Lord Lovel, starting up frou his seat; "and I've been thinking ol that old reprobate as holding his court there, and setting a bad example to the neighborhood—an influence that woulc dwarf mine so hopelessly, Job, that could make no way asrainst it." "Well—well," sjiid Jobdeprecatingly "he were a rare bit of human nutur', to be sure; and human natur's lively ant interestin', Muster Frank, while the Ten Commandments in the main i: dull." "Hut they don't bring disgrace ir their train," suid Frank, walking to the window and looking out. "Who was i' you said was living at the lied Hal now?" "His son," suid Job, in a tone or suspicious mildness, us lie busied himself about the table; "he's been here foi years, and a new order of things it up yonder—church and children, anc —OW sweethearting—but always with his owrti wife; they ride by liere often, and I wonder how long it will last," added job, with a smile. "Harrington Eyre is married!" cried Frank, advancing; "then what became "Mr 'Harrington was killed in a duel," said job, inwardly marveling at his master's ignorance; "it's young Mr. Eyre that's living up at the Hall now." -Youii" Mr. liyre!'' cried Frank, startin" buck as though a bullet had struck him-"old Mr. Eyre, you mean, -and he is here-fove-impossible!" "Well he ain't a chicken, tobe sure, said Job impartially, "that's why I've got some hopes of him yet; when.folks of his a"-e takes a moral turn, it gets fixe into a sort of habit with 'em " "Then he has turned over a new leaf!" exclaimed Frank involuntarily. "Lor, Master Frank, I wonder if he knows his own face in the glass, lies that altered; he's a justice and a magistrate, and punishes folks for being wicked instead of making 'em.so, asTie and all the Evresdid afore him. But its dead y dull in the village now," added Tob regretfully, "or so the women say; ffitlw pretty clincks hereabouts go un- ueked and if there's a bit of beauty growing up in .the place there ain't a soul in life to discover it," "would you have him as bad as his father?" bnjst out poor Frank^nara^ shock of trading Home-coming!" said his Job, and K'slrr^ng- them Eyres; not women cloy, even day of i too sweet a man can wish for a nessof histacetovvamit*rorwniieinhi3 memory, and .afar off, she was still his sweet little Madciip. his tyrant,, his love here at his irat^s she was wife to iis friend only—his friend \vho had stolen her from hhn, but who had made ier—happy. He looked around him—that exquisite sense of newness with which the old country ever strikes us after long sojourn in burning climes, gradually stole :ipon and soothed him; and the pride in :ns own soil, that every true man knows, jiwtfke and prompted thoughts of an existence apart from love. With a sudden backward movement of the shoulders, as though he shook some weight from them, he stood for a moment to watch the woven da/zio of light and shadow above—a shut's of sunlight fell full on the young, beautiful face, rellned almost to sternness by its absorption of ihonghtjbut. like mn^ric, the look faded, as almost at his side* here broke forth a peal of childish laughter, and, with a violent start, he perceived how he had reached a portion of his estate that adjoined Mr. Eyre's, a tall hedge forming the boundary between them. He was turning to retrace his steps when a woman's voice, following on the others', drove the blood from his cheek, and rooted him to where he stood. A moment and he was parting the young leaves to look to the meadow beyond, across which he saw his lost Madcap coming, holding up her gown with one rounded arm, a basket in her hand, and a child on either side, tripping over the cowslip's head, with a footfall light as a shadow, quick as a sunbeam, A wornnn pfrri'ct us n younjf mnn's drenm, And breathing beauty nnd the old sweet nir 01' tho fulr iliifH ol' old, when man wus young And life an epic. Heavens, how he had forgotten herl Memory's colors had no more power to paint her as she lived and breathed than an echo is able to repeat the tone of a well-loved voice; and if but a moment ago he had thought of her as happy, how poor and pale a thing that happiness seemed beside this radiant joy that glowed with color, life, and songl * And he realized then that in her choice she had done well—that she might never have looked as she looked then, if she had married himself, and if the man's passionate love leaped up in him at sight of her, a nobler instinct struggled above, and thrust it down. "Look," she cried, "here and here, and here!" and at each word stooped to pluck a cowslip from its stalk, yet found time between to kiss the little eager faces so near her own, and so for the first time brought her motherhood home to Frank's mind; for perpetually as she had dwelt in his mind all these years, Madcap as a mother had never for a second presented herself to his imagination. His heart throbbed; inexpressibly sacred and more dear to him in this most moving, pathetic situation a woman can fill in the eyes of the man who loves her, was Madcap then. Her voice came to him like a revelation as she dropped her basket to throw an arm round each child's neck and call them her little loves, her sweethearts—after all, might not the secret of her happiness lie with them, not with Mr. Eyre? •'And now for the cowslip ball," she cried, and came all breathless to the brook, and sat down beside it with her lapful of gold—"God's gold," as Doune, who was beginning to understand what his prayers meant, with some condescension informed Dody. "But me know sumfm' too," said Dody, who was watching the fall of each cowslip's head with'absorbed attention— "A. wohln and n wren Are God n'miirhty's cook and hon. Did 'oo know zat, mummy?" "No," said Madcap, laughing; "but Dody knows lots and lots of things that mummy doesn't!" "Me'll seep wiz 'oo to-night," said Dody, with a royal nod, "and then me'ii tell'oo.» "Josephine won't let you," sait Doune, who looked upon such talk as frivolous interruption to cowsliping, and whose love for his mother was rarely shown in outward expression. "His father's son," thought Frank, as he looked at him with a momentary throb of aversion; then away from him to Dody, who in feature and coloring equally resembled Mr. Eyre, bi.it earriec a subtle look of Madcap in his every look and gesture that won Frank's heart on the spot, as later on, Frank won his —and kept it, too, to the last. To the young fellow, the making of that cowslip ball was an idyl, and never sure was a string more prettily held than by this little pair of lads, ao serious, so intent, so fearful lest even by a wandering glance after a butterfly a shake shovild be engendered and a blossom spilled; while between them knelt Madcap in her white gown, swinging those golden bells as one who weaves in with each a hidden joy, a sweetcontent, that made the wreathing of this child's pluy- thing as true an index to her life as though Frank had followed it, day by diiy. for tho past six years. ' Ennj more f'owers, mummy?" saic Dody, speaking for the first time since the ball had beeii commenced. Yes! there was one more; it was between Madcap's lingers then. She was looking into its heart, cinque-spotted but she siiw not the llower, she had for gotten her children; a dark beloved face seldom an hour absent.from her sidn had risen before her, and in spirit she had leaped to it, and was crying out- Yesterday, I wished you away; but to-day, I wish yon here!" Me known me'll drop it," said Dody in a voice of grave rebuke; and ther Madcap came to herself with a start and swung her cowslip, and with mucl squeezing of certain little fat hands in side it, the ball was tied and tossed big! in the air, with the magic invocation— Tisty-tosty, fair mid forty, How niiinyjMWw.-*."!!, J live? One ^ / i Down slipped the golden ball through Madcap's fingers, and with a shout of joy was seized on by the children, who held it up for her small—velvety, vo- limtuous, like a full rich draught of summer after the wayward sips of sweetness that lurk in the pale cups of primrose and anemone! As the children ran away with their treasure, Madcap cast a quick look around and drew from her bosom a letter, that she first kissed, ttien held a moment in her hand, as a child will delight to abstain for a moment from its coveted cake; and Frank wondered what could be on the page to the window, and a wager. This sudden knowledge of her near- vorn ttiac must not. snail not, nom nny f for you nnd mo. In three days, nt will return, or summon yon to my kle. I would take ymi with me, but such SMoeiations, are not for yon. Wife—swcet- twrt—joy of my life, write to inn the mo- iciit you receive this—and every day, do ot, let those rogues delny yon for one mo- iniit. Pshaw 1 I know tliou lovest me in liy real heart better, I think, than those retty boys I gave thee. "I am. now and always, "Your loving, faithful husband, "EYHK." "I didn't think it of you, Master Trank; no, that I didn't." said a reproachful voice at Frank's elbow; "let xlone the Hible. I never know'd no pood as ever come to a Peeping Tom; hey mostly peeps after petticoats, and >etticoats bring misfortins." 'What is it?" said Frank, whose color announced him fully alive to tho mean- less of tlie action in which he had been irtught. "Was that letter from him?" le added tnentiilly. "Why. Colonel Busby's asking for von; sure you don't forgot /n'm, Master ?rank, tho bigjtist fool in these parts." "Confound him!" cried Frank, noarli- y. "Well, I hope the callers have be- JUM early enough." "It's not a call exactly," said Job, 'it's business, I s'pose they want you ;o sign the 'morial they're getting tip 'or that poor soul up yonder;" and he pointed in the direction of Marmiton. "What poor soul?" said Frank, for a moment the thought of Madcap swept aside. 'The woman what's condemned to death for drowning a child in the Shifting Tool," said Job, speaking slowly ana watching the effect of his words. "Poor wretch!" said Frank, absently; "by the way, Job, do yon know if Mr. Eyre is from home?" "What made you think of that?" said Job, with a shrewd suspicion as to what ais master had been peeping at; "well, tie is— I hoard it just now—ihb old squire is dying at last, and Mr. Eyre ho was telegraphed for yesterday, but wouldn't "" cos 'twas his wife's birthday; but, juj.\ Master Frank, don't 'eo go in for looking through Mr. Eyre's hedges; he's a bad ono to meddle wi', an' David ain't tho only ono as got into trouble through a spying after what warn't his'n." "Ah, now do you do, my dear Lovel?" said Colonel Busby as Frank entered tho library by tho window; "rejoiced to sec you homo again, and looking so bright and well; you have come, too, in the very nick of: time to render me a most valuable assistance. For some reason, Eyro has set himself from the first against that unhappy woman up at tho jail, and will cut off her last chance; of life if he can; but with your signa- ;ure"—and he suddenly unfurled before Frank's astonished eyes a scroll on •which were inscribed names varying in dignity from thatof alordof themanor, ;o a tiller of the same—"we hope to de- 'eat him yet." 'What is it?" said Frank, passing his land over his mouth to hide a smile, Colonel Busby's little fat form and ex;ended scroll irrepressibly suggesting ;he personage who in a pantoinine is always striving to get a .hearing, but lOVP.r «snnr-.pp.f]s To be Continued. Home Politeness. A boy who is polite to father and mother is likely to be polite to everybody' else. A boy lacking politeness to his parents may have the semblance of courtesy in society, but is never truly polite in spirit, and is in danger, as he becomes familiar, of betraying his real want of courtesy. We are all in danger of living too much for the outside _ world, for the impression we make in society, not coveting tho good opinion of those who are in a sense a part of ourselves, ang who will continue to sustain and be interested in us, notwithstanding these defects of deportment and character. We say to every boy and every girl, cultivate the babit of courtesy and propriety at home, in the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and you will bo sure in other places to deport yourself in a becoming and attracrive manner. Backbone. There are certain animals that have no backbone, They can not Btand|upright. The backbone enables an animal to stand upright, and the better backbone it has the better it stands. There is very little use in standing upright even ap strongly if not of use to help others in bearing Some burden outside of their own bodies. When a burden comes on an animal that has no backbone, it strengthens it. We need not be anxious about burdens coming on these of good strong principle, for the very burden will make them stronger especially if they carry the whole matter in prajer to God. Paul did this with his burden acd had God's grace given unlil he could carry it, If you have a backbone do not be afraid of a burden.--Selected. FARM AND HOME. A 01 NTLEMAN. MAROAnKT B. lANOSTBn. I knew him for n gentleman By signs that never fall! His coat wns rough and rather worn, Hie cheeks were thin and rather p»le— A lad who had his way to make, With little time for ]>lay— I knew him tor n gentleman By certain signs to-day He met his mother on the streot; Off came his little cap. My door was shut; he waited there Until I heard his rnp. He took tho bundle from my hand, And when 1 dropped my jien, lie sprang to pick it up for me, This gentleman of ten. lie cloei not push and crowd along; His voice IB gently pitched j Ue doey not Ding his books about As if lie were bewitched. He stands asid to let you pass; Hi' always shuts the door; He runs on errand* willingly To foree and mill and store. . lie thinks of you before himself; He serves you If ho can; For in whatever company The manner make tho man. At ten or forty 'tis the same, The manner tells the tale; And 1 discern the gentleman By signs that never fall. Harper's Yonng People. JTAUM NOTJC8. Clierrleg uud UCCH, Mr. Samuel Miller, of Bluffton, Mo., says, in a late issue of American Warden- ing, that he seldom had u crop of cherries till his sons located an apiary near his plantation. Their work in fertilization has insured him regular crops. How to Prevent Colic. i The colic season is here. Many, remedies are given to cure it. Sometimes they work and sometimes tbey don't at any rate the best way to treat colic is to prevent it. Be careful about over-feeding and changing food suddenly and giving too much water when overheated. Object of tbe Oardn. In growing fruit, flowers or vegetables for market, it is well to have but few kinds, and make a specialty of them, so tliat there may be a load at one time, but in growing them for home use, try to keep up the variety and have something fit for use all the season. There pro or should be always two objects in the gurclecl. The first and most important being to supply the family with whatever can bo grown there, and the next to have something to sell which may help to supply what does not grow there. Early Harvesting. It will soon be time for harvesting the em ll grains. Be sure to cut early or before the grain has become hard or dry enough to rattle out. It will continue to draw nourishment from the juices in the until tbe latter is fully dry, and the grain will be more full nnd plump if cut when just passing out of the milk than it would be if ripened standing in the fields. It cut while in the milk it will shrink, us it does not find enough in the straw then to mature. Poultry Pointers. A hen at Hawthorne, Fla., hatched nineteen chickens from eighteen eggs. With proper feeding a chick should double its weight every ten days until forty days old. Keep the ducks our of the chicken yards the water they befoul will soon bring on contagion. The good layers are active and generally on the move and scratching about—are the first birds out in the morning and the last to roost at night. Give your young brood clean water, plenty of grit, a ^variety of cracked and whole grain, mostly in a dry state; keep them out of tho grass when wet with dew and rain, and they will thrive. For chicken cholera ther is nothing better than carbolic acid, one drachm with two gallons of water. Let the fowls have free access to it as r drink, and mix it with other food once a day. letter every time she took a morning walk without him? She had found it on her pillow that morning when she bad awakened to find Mr. Eyr,e gone; and this was his letter,— the tirst love- letter Mr. Eyre bad ever written his wife,— '•Madcap," he said, "I go to my father, who is dying. This is our first pavtiije, the first in six long happy years, ana I leave • -"•— you thus rather well' sboulii tie thaa that the word between us: it is a A Flea for the Eldest Girl. Let me enter a plea in behalf of the elde=t daughter, especially in a large family, where many duties are performed, not from a choice on the past of the mother for her daughter, but from necessity, which makes many a demand upon a girl's time that the mother would, oh; so gladly spare her. If perfect understanding can exist on the subject between the two, half the disagreeableness or weariness is done away with at once, and then, if a jittle care'is taken that the few hours of leisure shall be leisure indeed, and uninterrupted there will be much happiness, even in the life of a busy, working, eldest daughter m her earliest teens. It is agreat mistake to allow the children ot 2, 5 or 6 t« ba always present whon the oldest is entertain^ friends, In> stances are not infrequent, how»ver, whert tbe little ones npoil, unrebuked the gam* of dominoes, letters orga*ne of bp.ck- gammon, because, being the oldest, Julia is expected to yield up, one after another, to the small tyrants, who in another room would be perfectly saistitled with tbiei toys, and with but little trouble on the mother's part could be kept with her, instead of mainng themselves a trial and annoyance to their sister and her friendi. If self-sacrifice is demanded of the mother anyw_here it cannot be better exercised than in the performance by herself of the nursery dutieay, nor is tbere any other place wh^re it will repay with such happy results, the reeptqt the little ones have for the older ones' time and possessions, and the love and affection tbe big brothers and uiiters have for the babies who are nover allowed to become a care or bother to then., is rew rd enough for tbe many hours the mother in consequence must spend with them herself, and after a while the older oites yoJcrotarMy tftke watch and, ward over the little one, especially eo when he is deposed from of reigning baby aid & o§He4 wpp» give t and comfortable scratching- pens are anti- fat rules. Experience Clover hay is too often cut late in the season. It is too ripe then for the best curing, and its feeding value is lessened. It is one of the hardest crops to handle for H cures only when tbe proper weather is at hand, if harvested when the blossoms begin toturn brown it will have to be gathered in between rainy spells, for wet weather is generally at hand by that time. If one wishes the clover to scatter a little seed around, it is all right to harvest the olover at this Ints potion of its life, but if the bept hay forfeding is to be obtained, it needs tobe harvested earlier. There is nothing Rained by such lateness. Infuct, the second crop is greatly hindered in its growth by cutting t 4 he clover so late. Enrly culling will give fche second crop » chance to develop before fall. The clover should not bo_ cut in the morning when the dew is on it, and, where tbe growth Is very rank, this often means not until after ten o'clock. Only so much should be cue as can be attended o properly and hauled in at one time. If cut in the morning, it lies in very thick swaths. Frequently a, rank growth of clover lies so thick in places that the top jets much curing, while tho bottom is lot wilted nt all. As soon as thoroughly wilted, which will not be long, tho clover needs to be niked into windrows immediately, where it can remain for sovsral hours, allowing kh9 air to circulate through it and carry off some of the moisture. Before the early dews of night have be«un to fall, however, tho bay should be cocked up and allowed to remnin for 24 hours. If tbese cocks icmain over night they can be thrown open wilh tbo_ pitchfork^n the following morning, to give tho moisture a chance to escape. The heat of the interior of the cocks will also escape, and by noon tho hay will bo ready to haul. It must be watched at this period, for somo are more dryina; than others, and some clover parts witu its moisture more rapidly. If there is any danger of its becoming so dry that the leaves will crumble under the touch it should bo carted to the barn immediately. When put in tho mow great cure should he taken that there is no dew or moisture on the hay. Ono load of such hay will start many tons to excessive sweating and heating. Storing it in tuo barn properly is a very important part of tho work. LC tho hay is thoroughly dry put n, load or two in the mow, and then put in a thin laj er of dry straw over it before tho second layer of hay is put in. The straw will have a tendency to prevent heating in the mow. Clover hay cut and cured and mowed in this rnnnner is pretty sure to produce fine hay. Sr.arcoly any loss or injury from healing will be experienced, and the nourishing quality of the clover will be retained.—A. B. Barret, in American Cultivator . THE HOTJSKliOljO. Lire Well. "Donire not to live long, but to live well: How long we live, not yeiirn but nctloui tell. Who does the best his circiimntance alkmn DOOB well, nets nobly, angela could do TIo more." The Linden for Iiee« The linden, or common basswood, is not only a handsome tres, but its blossoms make excellsnt bee pasturage. It is planted in some parls of Europe for this purpose chiefly, though (he wood is also valuable for some purposes. Honey from basswood blossoms is to many tastes better than that from white clover, and il more of it were marketed there would soon bo a great demand for it. Sometimes a buTfir secures a box of honey of extra pood flavor, hut he does not know bow to duplicate it. Nine times but of ten this extra good honey is from basswooc blossoms, which are now in their fullesl blossoms. Harve^tinjr the Corn Crop Too much leisure is often manifested in thernatler of harvesting the corn crop_. Some farmers seem to think that after it is well ripened it cannot be damaged by standing, and so permit it to remain in the field until some wholly convenient time for gathering; but corn, as well as other crops, should he harvested and put securely away as soon as it is ready. Depreciation will result from many causes when left standing in the field after it is ripe and dry. Some stalks will droop until the ears touch the ground, and then rot at the tips if wet weater corner. * Others will be pecked by birds, and where the husk opens the entire oar may be damaged by rain. Beside this, when the corn is harvested so late very little good can be had from the fodder. It gets over-ripe and is blown to pieces by the wind, so that the stalk field is of slight value eren for pasturage. Too Fat. Wbat is the matter with my hens, they fall dead from the roost?" "Why don't my hens lay, they are fed, regularly three times a day? Such questions and many similar are being continually asked. Wha,t is the matter? '^^ -fat! A too-fac hen lay a very few egcb, *m too-fat hen's eggs do not natch well.X 9|po-fat hen is a ready victim of diseaan/fThere is a science in feeding, you cat make a mistake by not giving enough. So the best rule to go by is to give all fchey will eat up clean, But you wwt ' ' " h&ve, Labor, JLIfe'd Keynote. f'KANOKS B. OB0001). Labor IB IHo, 'tis the still water falleth; Idleness ever depalreth, bowalleth; Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust ansll- eth; Flowers drop and die In the stillness of noon. Labor Is glory I—the flying cloud lightens, Only tho waving wind chances nnd 1>rlght»ni. Idle hearts only the dark future frlghtena. Play the sweet keys wouldet them keep ih»m In time. To owe is human, to pay divine. A man's conduct in an index to hio worth. Next to living with honor, is to die with honor. • One unguarded slip of the tongue may do irreparable injury. A judicious silence is always better than truth spoken without charity. God had to deal with man by law before be could deal with him in love. I will lifb up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.—Pa. cxxi, 1. Be not overwise in doing thy business, and boast not thyself in the times of thy distress. Affliction is a kind of moral gymnasium, in which the disciples of Christ are trained to robust exercise, hardly exertions, and severe conflict.—Ex. "In Christ shall all b« made alive." Not simply by his power, hut united to Dim ao that his life becomes ours. He not only gives life, but is himself, the life. Have a Purpose. Resolve when you awakt, that it will be to some faithful purpose, and that your renewed powers shall bo obedient to him to who has renewed them. And throw a glance backward, before your eyes are weighed down, to see how well you have kept the morning's resolution.—Frothing- hain. . feed according to the object you For instance, give bens all the corn will eat up clean, nod you are niak- pat? 9r wheat an4 you Double WJHYonDoIt? Always say a kind word if you can, if only that it may come in perhaps with singular opportuneness, entering some one's darkened room like a beautiful tire- fly, whose happy circumvolutione he can not but watch, forgetting his many troubles. —Selected. Prepare for Death an for a Journey. The proper way of looking upon death is to regurd it as a part of life. It means transition. 'Tis transfer—we were here; we are there. "Death," as Victor Hugo said, "is not a blind alley, but a thor- oughfaie opening on earth, ending in heaven." Montaigne records that to him who told Socraten ''the thiity tyrants have sentenced them to death," the philosopher made answer: "And nature hath sentenced them." To (he queen in "Hamlet," seeking to rousolf the melancholy prince in his grief for his father says: "Thou know'st 'tis common, all that live must die, pausing through natyire to eternity." Accept death as inevitable. Prepare for it as for a journey. And then await the day and hour of departure with serene composure. If we are ready, 'tis rather to be longed for than fcured. St. Paul dipped his pen in the ink of inspiration and wrote: "To die is gain." Heaven is a larger and fairer earth.—St. Louis Republic. _ TBS republics: nominated J jgoyernp.?. ,ns of Michigan have T. Rich, of Elba, for

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