The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on June 24, 1891 · 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, June 24, 1891
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THE UPPER DES MOINES, ALUONA. IOWA, WEDMSDAY, JUNE 24,1891 DAYS. '"It has baen oftsn ilone before; yours \a ,Slot a solitary ens.'.' ! "Solitary or not, there were elements about it inexcusable,'' M'.VS the old Squire, beating his hand upon the table as though to emphasize his words. "1 wouldn't take it so much to heart if I were you," says Brian, who is really beginning to pity him. "It has lain on my h: art for twenty years. I can't take it off now,' 1 says the Squire. "You have evidently suffered," returns Brian, who is gettniu'niore and more ama/ecl at the volcano he has roused. "Of course I can quite understand that if you were onco moro to find yourself in similar circumstances you would act very differently." "I should indeed I—very differently. A man seldom makes a fool of himself twice in a lifetime." "You didn't show much wisdom, I dare say." "No, none; and as for her— to iling away such a love as that " Here he pauses, and looks dreamily at the silver tankard before him. This last speech rather annoys Brian; to gloat over the remembrance of a love that had been callously ca4 aside to suit the exi- gences of the moment, serins to the younger man a caddish sort of thing not to bo endured. ("Though what the mischief any pretty girl of nineteen could have seen in him," ho muses, gazing with ill-.-oncealedamazement at his uncle's ugly countenance, "is more than I can fathom.") "Perhaps it wasn't so deep a lovo as you Hmngine," ho cannot refrain from saying /S-#ropos hiH uncle's last remark, with the View to taking liim-down a peg. "It was, sir," says the Squire, sternly. "It was the love of a lil'jtimo. People may floubt as they will, but 1 know no lovo has *~ .pwseded it." "Oh, he is iu his dotage I" thinks Brian, disgustedly; and, rising from the table, ho makes a few more trivial remarks, and then walks from the dining-room on to the balcony, and too the garden beneath. Finding his friend Kelly in an ivied bower, lost in a cigar, and possibly, though Improbably, in improving meditation, he is careful not to disturb him, but, making a successful detour, escapes his .notice, and turns his face tow.trd that part of Coole that is connected with Moyne by means of the river. ****** * At Moyne, too, dinner has come to an end. and, tempted by the beauty of tho quiet evening, the, two old ladies and the children have strolled inl.o tho t.vlllt garden. There, is a strange and sweet hush in the air—a stillness i'ull of lil'ii—but slumberous life. Tho music of streams can bo heard, and a distant inurmvr from the ocean; but the birds have got t.ieir hearts beneath their wings, and the rlsin.j night wind wooes them all in vain. Shadows numberless are lying in misty corners; the daylight lingers yet, as though loath to quit us and sink into eternal night. It is an eve of "holiest mood," full of tranquility and absolute calm.. "It is thnt hour of quiet,ecstasy, When ovorv rustllnir wind that pnssos by Tho sleeping loaf makes busiest minstrelsy." "You are silent, Priscilla," says Miss Biielfpe, glancing at liur. "Lam thinking: 'Such an evo as this always recalls Kathurhia; and yesterday tliat •Una,— all has helped to bring the past most vividly before inc." ,"Ali, dear, yes," s'.iici Miss Penelope, regarding her with a furtive but tender glance. "How must ha have felt, when lie thought What grief he brought to her young life!" "You are talking of mother?" asks Kit, suddenly, letting her large dark eyes rest ou Miss Penelope's face, as though searching for latent madness there. "Yes, my dear, of courso." "He would not have dared so to treat her had her father been alive, or had we been blessed with a brother," says Miss Priscilla, sternly. "He proved himself a dastard and a coward." "Perhaps there was some mistake," says Monica, timidly, plucking a pale blossom and pretending to admire it. "No, no. We believe he contracted an affection for some other girl, and for her sake jilted your mother. If so, retribution swift and proper followed on his perfidy, because lie brought no wife later on to grace his home. Doubtless lie was betrayed hi his turn. That was only just." "There seems to bo r.'ason in that conjecture," says Miss Penelope, because he went abroad almost immediately. I saw him shortly before he left tho country, and he was then qulta a broken-down man. Ho must have taken hisoio/t misfortune greatly to heart. "Served him right I" says Miss Priscilla, uncompromisingly. "He deserved no greater luck. Your mother suftVred so much at his hands that she almost lost her health. I don't believe she ever got over it." "Oh, yes, sho did," says Terry, suddenly, "she got over it uncommonly well. We didn't know who Mr, Desmond was then, of course; but I know she used, to make quite a joke of him." "A joke!" says Miss Priscilla, in an awful tone. "Yes, regular fun, you know," goes on Terence, undaunted. "One day sho was telling father some old story about Mr. Desmond, a 'good thing 1 alia called it, and she was laughing heartily; but ho wasn't, and when she had finished, I remember, lie said something to her about want of 'delicacy of feeling,' or something like that." "I was there," says Kit, in her high treble, "Ho said, too, sho ought to be ashamed of herself." "Oh, that was nothing," says Mr. Bores- ford, airily. "Father and mother never agreed for a moment; they were always squabbling from the time they got up till they went to bed again." The Misses Blake have turned quite pale. "Terence, how can you speak so of your sainted mother;"' says Miss Penelope. "I'm sure, from her letters to us, sho was a most devoted mother and wife, and, indeed, sacrificed her every wish and pleasure to yours." : "I never knew it cost her so much to Iteep away from us," says Terence. "If she was dying for our society, she must indeed have sacrificed herself,, because she made it the Business of her life to avoid us from morn to dewy eve." "Doubtless she had her duties," says Miss Penelope, In a voice of suppressed fear. What is she going to hear next? what are these dreadful children going to say? "Perhaps she had," says Terence. "If so, they didn't agree with her, us she was always in a bad temper. She used to give it to papa right and left, until he didn't dare call his soul his own. When I marry, I shall take very good caro my wife doesn't lead me the life my mother led my father." "Your wife! who'd marry you?" snysKit, scornfully, which in'erlude gives the discussion a rest for a little time. But soou they return to the charge. "Your mother wh'.'ii here had an angelic temper," says Miss Penelope. Miss Priscilla all this time seems Incapable of speech. "Well, she hadn't when there," says Ter«".ce: awl then hu says a dreadful tulner. as vulgar as it Is dreadful, that fills his aunt's heart with dismay. "She and my father fought like cat and dog," he says; and then the Misses Blake feel their cup is indeed full. "And she never would take Monica anywhere," says Kit; "so selfish I" It is growing too terrible. Is their idol to be shattered "thus before their eyes? "Monica, was your mother un/ciiit? to you?'' says Miss Penelope, in a voice full of anguish. After all these years, is the Katherine of their affections to be dragged in the dust? Monica hcsitati-s. She can see the grief in her an ill's f AW. and cannot boar to add to it. Tha truth is thai I he late Mrs. Beres- forrt had nof, bc-en beloved by her children, for reasons which it will be possible to conceive, but which would be tiresome to enumerate here. Perhaps there seldom has been a more careless or disagreeable mother. So Monica pauses, flushes, glances nervously from right to left, and then back again, and finally rests her loving, regretful eyes full upon Miss Penelope's agitated face. Something she sees there decides her. Sinking to her knees, she flings her arms around the old lady's neck, and lays her cheek to hers. "I will say nothing, but that 1 am happy here," she says, in a low whisper. "Miss Penelope's arms close round her. The worst has come to her; yet there is solace in tills clinging embrace, and in the dewy lips that seek hers, if she lias lost one idol, who can say she has notgained another, and perhaps a worthier ono'f Yet beyond doubt the two old ladles have sustained a severe shock ; they hold down their heads, and for a long time avoid each other's eyes, as though fearing what may there be seen. "Let us walk round the garden, Aunt Priscilla," says Monica, feeling very sorry for them. "The evening is lovely, and the roses so sweet." "Come, then," says Miss Priscilla, who is perhaps glad to "escape from her own thoughts. And so thi-.y all wander to and fro in the pretty garden, bending over this (lower and lingering over that in a soft, idle sort of enjoyment that belongs alone to the BO mi try. Terence has disappeared, but as he is not much on flowers, his presence is not indispensable, and no one takes any notice of his defection, "It grows chilly," says Miss Penelope, presently, let us all go in." "Oh, not yet, auntie; it is quite lovfciy yet," says, Monica, earnestly. She cannot go in yet, not yet; the evening is still young, and—and she would like so much to go down to the river, if only for a moment. All this she says guiltily to herself. "Well, we old women will go in, at least," says Miss Penelope.. "You two children can coquet with the dew for a little while; but don't stay too long, or sore throats will be the result." "Yes, yes," says Miss Priscilla, following her sister. As she pusses Monica, she looks anxiously at the girl's little slight fragile figure and her slender throat and half-bared arms. "That dress is thin. Do not stay out too long. Take care of yourself, my darling." She kisses her pretty niece, and then hurries on, as though ashamed of this show of affection. A little troubled by the caress, Monica moves mechanically down the path that leads toward the meadows and the river, followed by Kit. By this timo the latter is iu full possession of all that happened yesterday,—at least so much of it as relates to Monica's acquaintance with Mr. Desmond (minus the tender passion), his uncle's encounter with her aunts, and Brian's subsequent dismissal. Indeed, so much lias transpired in the telling of all this that Kit, who is a shrewd child, lias come to the just conclusion that the young Mr. Desmond is in love with her Monica I Strange to say, she is not annoyed at his presumption, but rather pleased at it,—he being the first live lover she has ever come in contact with, and therefore interesting in no small degree. Now, as she follows her sister down the flowery pathway, her mind is full of romance, pure and sweet and great with chivalry, as a child's would be. But Monica is sad ana" taciturn. Her mind misgives her, her conscience pricks her, her soul is disquieted within her. What was it she had promised Aunt Priscilla yesterday? Aunt Priscilla had said, "For the future you must forget you ever spoke to Mr. Desmond. You will remember this?" and she had answered, "Yes." But how can she forgot? it was a foolish promise, for who has got a memory under control? Of course, Aunt Priscilla had meant her to understand that she was never to speak to Mr. Desmond again, and she hud given her promise in the sp'.rit. And of course she would bo obedient; sho would at least so far obey that she would not be the lir.st to speak to him, nor would she seek him— nor But why, then, is sho going to the river? Is it because the evening is so line, or is there no lurking hope of And, after all,'what certainty is there that—that—any one will be at the river at this hour? And even if them should be, why need she speak lo him? she can be silent; but if lie speaks to her, what then? Can she refuse to answer? Her mind is as a boat np:m a troubled sea, tossed here and there; but by and by the wind goes down, and the stanch boat is righted, and turns its bow toward homo. "Kit, do not letusgo tothoriver to-night," sho says, turning to face her sister iu the narrow path. "But why? It is so warm and light, and such a little way!" "You have been often there. Let us turn down this side of the meadow, and see where it will lead to." That it lends directly away from Coole there cannot bo the least?doubt; and.the little martyr treading the ground she would not, feels with an additional pang of disappointment that the fulfillment of her duty docs not carry with it the thrill of rapture that ought to suffuse her soul. "Mon'ioa, who is that?" exclaims Kit, suddenly, slaring over the high bank, beside which they are walking, into the Held beyond. Following her glance, Monica sees a crouching figure on the other side of this bank, but lower down, stealing cautiously, noiselessly, toward them, as though bent on secret murder. A second glance betrays the fact that it is Terence, with—yes, most positively with a {/mi/ "Where ou earth did lie get it!" says Kit; and, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she scrambles up the bank, and calls out, "Terry, here we are! Como here! Where did you get it?" at the top of her i'resli young lungs. As she did so, a little gray object, hitherto unseen by her, springs from among some green stuffs, and, scudding across the fields into the woods of Coole beyond, is in a moment lost to view. "Oh, bother!" cries Terry, literally dancing with rage; "I wouldn't doubt you to make that row just when 1 was going to fire. I wish to goodness you girls' would stay at home, and not come interfering with a fellow's sport. "Terry, where did you get this gun?" asks Monica, as breathless with surprise as Kit. "Is it"—fearfully—"loaded? Oh! don't!— don't point it this way! It will surely go off and kill somebody." "What a lovely gun!" says Kit, admiringly. -isn t if/" says Terence, forgetting his bad temper in his anxiety to exhibit his reasure. "It's a breech-loader, too; none )f your old-fashioned things, mind yon, but (i reg'lar good one. I'll toll you who lent it o me, if you'll promise not to preach." "We won't," saysKit,who is burning with curiosity. "Guess, then." "Bob Warren?" says Monica. Bob Warren is the rector's son, and Is much at Moyne. "Not likely 1 Pegs above him. Well, I'll tell you. It's that fellow that's spoons ou yon,"—with all a brother's perspicacity,— "the fellow who saw ns on tho Viay-enrt,"— Monica writhes inwardly,—"Desmond, you rtnow I" "The enemy's nephew?" asks Kit, in a thrilling tone, that bespeaks delight and a malicious expectation of breakers ahead. Yes. I was talking to him yesterday, early in the day, at Madame O'Connor's; and'ho asked me was I your brother, Monica, to which I pleaded guilty, though," with a grin, "I'd have got out of it if I eoulrt; and then he began to talk about shooting, and said I might knock over any rabbits i liked in Coole. I told him I had no gun, so ho offered to loud me, one. t thought it was awfully jolly of him, considering 1 was an utter stranger, and that; but he looks a real good sort, lie sent over the gun this morning by a boy, and 1 have had it hi-men in the stable until now. I thought I'd never get out o£ that beastly garden this evening." "Oh, Terence, you shouldn't have taken the gun from him," says Monica, Hushing. "Just think what Aunt Priscilla would say if she heard of it. You know how determined sho is that wo shall have no intercourse, with the Desmonds." "Stuff and nonsense I" says Mr, Beresford. "I never heard such a row as they are forever making about simply nothing. Why, it's quite a common thing to jilt a girl, now a-days. I'd do it myself in a minute." "You won't have time," says Kit, contemptuously. "She—whoever sho may bo —will be sure to jilt 1/011 tirst." "Look here," says Terence, eying his younger sister with much disfavor; "you're so precious sharp, you know, that, I should think there'll be a conilngratlon on the L,if- foy before long; and 1 should think, too, that an outraged nation would bo sure to iling the cause of it into the flames. So tako care." "Terence, you ought to send that gun back rftoiicc," says Monica. "Perhaps 1 ought, but certainly I sha'n't," says Terence, genially. "And it' 1 were yon," politely, "I wouldn't make an ass of myself. There js quite enough of thai sort of'thing going on up there," indicating, by a wave'of his baud, the drawing-room at Moyne, where the Missus Ulalw aro at present dozing. "You shouldn't speak of them like that," says Monica; "it is very ungrateful oC you, when you know how kind they are, and how fond of you." "Well, I'm fond of them too," says Terence, remorsefully, but gloomily; "and I'd be even fonder,-if they would only leave mo alone. But they keep such a lookout on a- fellow, that sometimes I feel like cutting t!ie whole thing and making a clean bolt of it." ' "If you ran away you would soon be wishing yourself back again," says Monica, scornfully. "Yon know you will have no money until you are twenty-one. 'People pretend to be discontented at times, with their lives; but In th-j long run they generally acknowledge 'there is no plane liko lUMllf,.' " (To be continued.) FARM AND GARDEN. n experiment which any farmer can easily epeat for himself and determine whether lie work is profitable or not. HOW THE ROBINS KNOW. BETH t>AT. "Oh dear, how t wonder." snid little Jnne, "How the rolitne know when 't Is going to ruin? There was not n clond In the clear, lilne sky, This morning when farmer I.eltoy went by— On his way to his Held to cut the liny— Mnt he said, 'Hear the robins;'t will vntn to-day. "Old robin wns glnglng so loud and clear That 1 ."topped, on my way to school, to hear; Up'and down, up and down, th« swept SOUR went .hist ns though the spray he stood on bent And swayed beneath him: so loud and clear As ir ho wished the whole world to hear. "Said the tanner, out I" his early grain, 'Hear the pesky robins; 't is going to rain!' So 1 went and asked my brother l.,nw: If he couldn't tell mo how the robins knew. He answered—lint. It wasn't a bit of uso— 'Why their mothers tells 'em, yon silly goose! "Hut 1 have been llilnkfncnll day, and now I'm sure I can tell, for myself, just how, For once 1 awok« In the still dark night— When only thn moon had her lamps alight— And opened the window to take n peep At the great big world, as It lay asleep. "Not a leaf, or a llowcr. seemed to bo awake, Not n trembling dew-drop a sound to make, 1 could almost hear—for no clouds were nigh— The woo stars twinkling up In Hie sky, by the garden wall, And over the wood. u. 1 saw wlml 1 thought was a young star, fall. A L.AKGE FUNERAl, AIVL, AROUND. The Corpse Weighed 000 Pounds and Wan Slid Down Srnlrs on a Plank; There was a large crowd of people present at Tenth and Berks ^streets, Philadelphia, recently, to witness the funeral of Mrs. Ellen Cleary. The reason for the great crowd was the facb thab the dead woman weighed 600 pounds, and it was expected that much difficulty would be experienced in removing the remains from the house to the hearse. The expectation was fully realized. The body was encased in a magnificent clothcovered casket of massive proportions. When the final leave taking was over, and the top placed upon the casket, which was in the second-story front room, over the saloon kept by the son of the deceased, at the northwest corner of Tenth and Berks streets, twelve stalwart young men, friends of the family, were called upon to remove the remains. The undertaking proved to be one of great difficulty, as the size of the casket and unusual number of pall-bearers made id impossible to carry the body down stairs. Finally a stout plank was laid upon the stairs and a stout ropn fastened round one end of the casket. Half the number of pall -bearers then took hold of the other end, while the remaining number held fast to the rope, and thus the ponderous weight was slowly lowered down the sliding-board. When the first floor was reached the pall-bearers were instructed to take hold of the bottom of the casket as the strong looking, richly mounted handles would not sustain the weight. Standing alongside_ the curb was tho largest hearse in the city, to which wera attached four large coal black horses. It required the utmost exertions of the pallbearers., with the assistance of several hackmen, to raise the casket to a suf- ficent elevation to enable them to slide it into the hearse. This done the funeral cortege slowly moved to St. Malacca's church, Eleventh street above Market, where another immense crowd of curious people kept several policemen busy in preserving order. To remove the body from the hearse and up the steep steps, completely exhausted the pall-bearers, and when, finally the _ massive casket was placed upon a bier just inside the door, they were panting for breath and perspiring profusely. The bier, resting upon wheels, was rolled up the main aisle to the steps of the sacristy and several magnificent floral designs placed upon it. After the services hpd been concluded the casket was again placed upon the bier and •wheeled to the front door whepce the body was, after a severe effort, placed in the hearse. At the cemetery the same difficulty was experienced in lowering the immense casket. BRIEF ITEMS. "And then tho next inlmtto, n littlo bird Sang tho cweetcst Hong thnt I over hoard; 1 know what I thought was a falling "tar Wns nil nngpl, come from hlg lioino ptnv, To my to the birds that Ming out BO plain. 'Llltlo bird, toll tho robin 'tis cotng to rain.' " JTAUM NOTKS. Good roads are the highways o wealth. Early broods are tho most profitable. Chopped onions are recommended aa a good food for chickens if fed only once o: t jvico i\ week* . Whenever you see a wcad cut it belov tho surface. The hop crop of Washington for 189( netted $1,500.000 to that state. Plan your work. Know just •\yhat is tc be done and when and how it is to hi done. Remember that the demand for eggs ii this country is, ou the average, mucl greater t an the supply. Celery and asparagus i>ro both henlthfu vegetables; and we can all grow onoug 1 for home uso. Cross-bred sheep are good practica sheep. There is no absolute uso of throw in« away a (look because it is composed inferior sheep. Breed it up. Carrots make a very palatable and valuable food, especially for colts, and with ground adapted to them, it pays to grow a few bushels as an appetizer for tho horses and colts, or as butter-color for tho cows. If tho giape vines were not properly pruned last fall, do it now. Cutaway all superfluous wood, get the vine down to a size and a shape that will enable you to handle it, and remember that by not a 1 lowing it to overbear you will get the finest product. Tho CllH'liiul Milking;, To let the calf suck the first part of a milking, and take what it leaves for the house, is not politeness, but rather shrewdness and economy. The calf gets the milk that contains less of cream but a greater proportion of casein, which is the real nourishment in milk. The latter part of the milking contains most of the cream, which in turn is best for tho butter maker. Hence both parties to the transaction are benefited. Plowing Turnips. It is nearly time for putting in tho turnip seed. Use only the now crop seed, and use it liberally, as the fly is very destructive to tho young plants. Keep the land intended for turnips well cultivated so as to destroy as many weeds as possible before seeding. If manure is spread on the ground now harrow it in and thus per- Inff And Feeding; 8hei<l>. Sheep that have been shut up to be fat- •eneddonot require exercise any more; hey are supposed to have made their nnscle, and now they are to develop fat, which require? rest. To this end they hould not only be kept clean butubsolute- y dry. There is n > other sure method if keeking them free from catarrh and •mi flics, and no sheep e.in fatten with its lostrils half stopped with disgusting ac- 'unuilations of mucus. It needs all the air t can obtain by the deepest and fullest nhalations to oxygenate and assimilate ,he immense amount of concentrated food which is being taken into the stomach and .iltimately into the blood. Though requiring to be dry, both above ai.d under Toot, the sheep house should not be warm find slo.imy. Ulass windows should exclude the storms, but bo open to admit the air freely at all other times, and that at a sufficient elevation [not to strike the sheep directly. Whether in the sheep house or in a feeding yard adjacent, the grain troughs should be (hit-bottomed to prevent, the master she-jp from heaping up feed and exerissing monopoly. From the time the (lock is put into the yard to begin tho fattening process, it should bo nearly or quite a month before tho grain ration is increased up to tho full capacity of consumption. An increase of two quarts a day will carry tho feed in that time from ono bushel up to three per day; and that amount of corn or meal is about all that 100 average Merino or Southdown welhnrs can bo induced to oat, with plenty of clover hay. It is best to itaviilo this into two foods; ono at noon another at night. Green feeding in the inorniiif? is not advisable; somo slioop have a human sluggishness and lack of appotitu upon rising. Poultry PolntH. Small hens may bo active layers, but if the market is going to bo Hooded with small eggs the egg-weighing bill will soon bo in order. Small chiclions should never bo fed or kept with tho older ones, as they aro apt to bo injured. Have two or three yards, and separate them ac- i vding to ago and strength. VVhon tho c nub of a fowl is largo and bright-col- loroil, showing it to bo full of blood, and shaking with every activity of tho bird, sho is in a healthy, laying condition. If tho edges of tho comb aro purplish- red and the movements sluggish, there is disease and danger. Most diseases of poultry nro directly traceable to filth. Try to clean up onco a week, and see if the effect is not wholeso-.no. Earth door is best for tho poultry eouso. A cement surface underneath posososses tho advantage of perfect drynpss for tho extra cost; but it is [not dillicult to keep your earth-door reasonable dry, provided you maiden, nnd as shy as the wild bird of the wood*. H wns no'wonderfor she had been in America only a few weeks and could not speak a word of English. The strange tongue and the unfamiliar faces freighten- ed her. When she first came in and sat in the furthest eoiner. every child turned and stared at In r. Toor Grelchen blushed, and hid her head, and then those dreadful girls laughed at her. At recess, May Thorp, the best, prettiest and brightest girl in school, called her mates around her, and said: "The poor little thing is frightened and lonely, and can't understand a word we say, lint she cnn understand kindness. Lot her see that wo will bo her friends and nml she \vill forget to be nfrnid, and will soon learn to talk to us." May wont to her lunch basket nnd took out an apple, cut it into two halves, and with a smile offornd it to Uretehen. The raise a mound of earth for tho house ditch mit liny seed in it to germinate in order that they may be destroyed. Coarse Fertilizers. There is se_rious danger of positive injury from using coarse manure in the hill with any kind of crop late in the season. Under the plant there is no opportunity to stir tho manure and soil witn cultiva'tor, and often the first roots that start oil are withered and dried up by mid summer unless tho season is unusually wet. This is the reason why many wholly fail in growing cucumbers. These are necessarily planted late to escape frost, and therefore, the manure is less moistened by spring rains than it is for crops planted earlier. PotlttOOB. Potatoes, with good cultivation, pay uniformly a better prorit than any other cro p that can be grown at the same expense and with the same cultivation. Dairy cows, of thu best class, pay bettor than any other stock which demands no more capital; and fowls pay better than any stand on, and surround it with a catch tho rain. Supply pure fresh water. In cold weather it will do MO harm to have tho chill taken off. All grass should bo run through n cutter; half an inch in length for adults, and a qnartor-inc.h for large chicks, will enable them to oat all kinds, and without danger of clogging the crop, as is tho case when tho grass is long, in which instances occur where the crop becomes packed. To insure future eggs for hatching, fowls should have plenty of exercise and groon food or clover; the males should have run with tho flock at least a week before tho eggs are used. To decide whether eggs aro fertile or not, hold between (he thumb and forefinger with an end toward tho thumb and finger in a horizontal position with a-strong light in front of you. The unfertilized egg will have a clear appear- once, both upper and lower sides being the same. The fertilized will have a clear appearance at tho lower side, while the up- por side will exhibit a dark or cloudy appearance.—Tho Poultry Journal. TUB IIOUSMIIOLD. J-JTTI.K THINGS. little German did understand thnt. and May was quite riijht; sho soon learned to talk, and she nlwnys loved May best of all her new friends. Ailil to Your Vonnhnlarjr. Harper's Ilawxr. A certain father constantly told his (laughers, "Girls, get new words in your vocabularies!" It wns plain his admonition wns heeded. Seldom were girls met whoso language was as varied ami picturesque as theirs. They were never at a loss to express exactly what, they intended. They used different phrases to describe different 'feelings and setuatious. And tho proper word appeared where it was needed. After talking to tho average girl, to whom everything is "awfuly sweet, or "simply dreadful," and whosc]lerms of joy or grief, assents or doninl. cnn bo confidently predicted, it was n pleasure us wall as a relief to listen to those bright young people, whose convursulion showed whnt might be ao-complished with little effort. The Kuiflish langnnge, made up ns it is of words derived from tho principal language of. the world, holds immense possibilities for the student. Those ablo to speak or write it nnxily, who have a ready command of a correct phraseology, possess n power miiekly recognize^ nnd strongly felt. Ami it is- a power which a sullicipiit amount of study can give to those willing to lalco tin) trouble to acquire it. Kveryone may not be aule to write freely nnd with the most agreeable effect to the reader, although, with the 'reqrisite amount of pains, moro could bo done in this direction than most people suppose. But it is ut least possible for young people —and some older people—to "get a few now words into their vocabularies." A book of synonymos is an easy InsHOssiblo help. It could teach a fow adjective besides those in evory-day use, which aro frequently worn threa'.lbaro. Indeed, some of these stock phrases have become meaningless. A family which established a lino for tho use of anyone of thorn, coupled with a reward for n clever application of u now word, might institute a reform which would spread, as do tho ripples, until it covered n whole corner of society's millpond. Til.1C K1TCI1KN. WIIITU Sl'ONCIE I.IA1CIC, Sift ore-half a, cupful of corn starch with one cupful of (lour, adding one teaspoonful of baking powder; stir in one cupful oi' smear, one teat^ioonful of vanilla, then add the whiles of eight eggs boaton to a stiff froth, and bake immediately in a buttered basin. A oil]) of wii'.nr tlinoly brought. An oltnroil wmy chair, A liirninirof tho window blind, That all may fool thn air; i An early llowor bunUiwaii ur.nHlcoii, A light and cautious troail, A volcu to HOftOBl whlspors hushod To Hpiiro mi nulling hoad— Oh, llmi(.'H Ilkn llii'Hc, though Httlu things, Thi) piirosl lovo disclose, As fragrant utoiiiK In tliu all 1 Kovoul tho hlddun roso Tho bravest man of all is ho who dares to do right. Efforts made to bo permanently useful must be uniformly joyous. It w'll avail us nothing to know, if wo live not according to our knowledge.— Carlylo. Tho virtue ot man ought to bo measured, not by extraordinary exertions, but by his ovory-day conduct." Men may judge us by tho success of our 1- - / - , • i i n i i i» I 11HJI* lli»lj J l -' l -**3 1 "' ** J IJ J w»t«J rMiv^v^tjnn v/i. \JKI. other small or minor industry of the farm. c ff or t s . God looks at tho efforts thorn- r Polr-nti in nnmm nnrlnn rliou n»*n inuf tlin i The effect of removing tassels from corn is to turn the strength of the plant to the ovaries, and so produce a larger amount of grain. It is a'rflistak} to suppose that polar research has cost enormously in human life. Despite all the great disasters, ninety- seven out of every 100 explorers have returned alive. Every year a layer of the sea fourteen feet thick is taken up into. the clouds. The winds bear their burden into the land, and the water comes down in rain upon the fields, to flow back again through the rivers. The works of watches are now plated with palladium, which is a whiter, lighter and more fusible metal than platinum. About one-seventeenth of a grain of palladium will, by electrical deposition, coat the works of an ordinary watch. Taken in combination, they are juHt tho thing for an industrious man of binall means who has 10 acres of good ground. Upon this much land, with this combination, such a man would bq sure not only of a good living, but of saving a snug sum every year. The New Agriculture. The new agriculture is to bo based largely upon common sense, tho outcome of some bitter experience of late years. Among the things that we have learned are, not to keep more live stock than wo can keep well. The effort to maintain one head more than this may destroy the profit of all; and not to store perishable produce for a rise when we are offered a fair price for it. Rats and mice can soon counterbalance the gain, even if it comes, and if the rats and mice do not, then the interest may; and then again,_ the rise may not come. Another item is that stock is mature whenever it will sell at the top of the market. After that_ point is reached you may easily make gain in weight at a loss of profit. "Quick sales" is a good as axiom for the farmer aa for the merchant. selves. Our daily life should bo sanctified by doing common things in a religious way. There is no action so slight or so humble but it may bo dono to a great purpose and ennobled thereby. To act with common sense, according to the moment, is the best wisdom I know, and tho best philosophy to do one's duties, take the world as it comes, submit respectfully to one's lot, bless the goodness that has given us so much happiness with it, whatever it is, and despise affectation.— Horace Wai polo. Influence. Doun Stanley. Each one of us is bound to mako the lit' tie circle in which wo live better and happier; each of us is bound to see that out of that small circle the widest good may flow; each one of us may have fixed iu his mind the thought that out of a single household may flow influences that shall stimulate the whole commonwealth and tho whole civiliaed world. Remove Corn Tusseln. The Ohio experiment station has made some interesting experiments, showing the effect of removing tassels from corn. They were made to test the theory that if the tassels were removed from corn before they have produced pollen, pollen-bearing being an exhaustive process, the strength thus saved to the plant would be returned to the ovaries and a larger amount of grain be produced. Prom each alternate row of a plot of corn the tassels were removed as soon as they appeared'. Briefly, the result of the experiment was that the number of good ears and the weight of merchantable corn were both. » UtWe more than 50: per oe»' greater on the rows from we removed" 'i'lie Five Arab Never tell all you know; for he who tolls everything he knows, oferi tells more than he knows. Never attempt all you can do; for he who attempts everything he can do, often attempts more than he cau do. Never believe all you may hear; for he who behoves all that he hears, often believe 1 * more than he hoars. Never lay out all you can afford; for he who lays out everything he can afford, often lays out more than he can afford, Never decide upon all you may see; for he who decides on all than he eees often decides on more than he seqs. 4-KluaAvt, COOKIKS WITHOUT 1 have had this simple recipe iu uso for some time. Take ono cupful of sweet milk, two cupfuls of sugar, one cupful of butter, one tcaspoonful of. soda in flour enough to get the mixture in a condition to roll. Nutmeg may be used for seasoning, or any of the extracts. I'llKSSian CORN IIICICK. Take six pounds of corned beef, remove tho bones and tie in a cloth. Put in a kettle, cover with cold water and simmer gently for two hours. When _ done, take up, placo under a heavy weight for 24 hours, then remove tho cloth, slice thin and servo with grated horseradish. CUHHY Ol!' J1UOWNBD DBK1'. Fry a minced onion brown, add a teaspoonful of curry powder, simmer a moment, thon adil half a pint of gravy or clear soup, and half a spoonful of browned (lour. Cut tho cold boiled beef into slices and warm them in the sauce. Arrange on a hot platter as many slices of toast as you have guests. Add to them the curry and servo. MIIJC I'OIllirAOK. For threo pints of milk, or milk and water, use two tuble.spoonfuls of whout flour, first wetting the flour in cold milk very smoothly, and adding to tho boiling milk. It is better to make this in a double boiler, to avoid any chance of it scorching and let it cook thoroughly. Season it with salt or sugar. UAI'KIl BAUOK, Chop OIK) teaspoonful of capers very fine and mix with them ono teaspoonful of salt, a very littlo pepper and one ounce of butter. Chop ono hard boiled egg and add it, stirring all the ingredients well to- gnthor. This is nice with roast lamb or boiled mutton. HICK CAKE. Beat two cupfuls of sugar with one-half cupful of butter, four pgga, one-half cupful of sweet cream. Sift one and one-half cupfuls of rico flour with one-half cupful of flour, and uso one good teaspoonful of baking powder. Season with extract of lemon or vanilla and bake quickly in a hot oven in patty-puns. CHEESK AN!) EQO SALAD. This is nice for ^lunch or picnic. Boil one dozen eggs hard, peel and slice them and put a layer in a dish. Grate on a layer of nice cheese, then put on another layer of sliced eggs, and so proceed until tho proper quantity of eggs and cheese has been usetl. Sprinkle over the tcp a few capers and finely chopped pickles, then pour over the whole a mayonnaise sauce, and put over the top a layer of grated cheese. ODDITIES. What is better than to give credit to whomjit is due. Give the cash. Teacher—"Which teeth does man get last?" Johnnj KnowiUll—' 'The false ones of course." Mr. Gotham— "jfou are looking badly today." Boston Girl—"Yes, these new eyeglasses don't fit. "Johni won \ you please i®v we 4 Uttle wood this Bwmng?" "J'p'iorry 4ear J but I haven't time. < have to go to the

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