The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on August 26, 1891 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, August 26, 1891
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TTTF. TTPPER DBS MOlNES. ALOONA. IO\\ A, WEDyKSDAYv AUGUSTA, 1891. "MONICA r LOVE STORY OF MODERN DATS asrree, dear'. 1 ' says Olsa, "I told you it was not to be clone," say* Olgn, petulantly, addressing everybody genera IIJ-. "1 can't agree with you. I sea no reason why it ShoUid fall to the ground," .'ays AlUs Fitfcgerald, warmly, who is determined to show herself off In a gown that has done duty for ''Madame Favart," and Hut "Bohemian Girl," and "Maritana," many a time tad oft. "1 have, another idea," says Mr. Kelly t at this opportune moment. "If It is as useful as your first, you may keep it," says Olga, with pardonable Indignation. "I am misunderstood," says Mr. Kelly, mournfully, hut with dignity. "I shall write to Miss Montgomery* and ask her to make another pathetic tale about me. As you are bent on trampling upon an unknown genius, —poor but proud,—I shall not make you acquainted with tliis last beautiful thought •which 1 have evolved from my inner consciousness." "Don't say that I do tell it tons," says Monica, eagerly, and in perfect faith. She knows less of him than the others, and may therefore be excused for still believing him. "Thank you, Miss Beresl'ord. You can soar above a mean desire to crush a rising power. You have read, of course, that popular poem by our poet-laureate, called "Enid," "Yes," says Monica, staring at him. "I mean the poem In which ho has so faithfully depicted the way in which two escaped lunatics would bo sure to behave if left to their own devices. Considered as a warning to us to kuup bolts and bars on ^Colney Hatch and Ilanwell, it may be re- vfcardeil as a delicate attention. Dear Teuny- IBOII! ho certainly is » public benefactor. There is a scene in thai remarkable poem •which! think m'.srht; suit us. You remember where, after .much wild careering in the lore irround, the principal Idiots decide up- bn riding home together, pillion fashion?" "I-I think so," says Monica, who plainly doesn't, being much confused. "Then on his foot she net her own and climbed,'—and thun she drew her arms round him in a mostunmaiilenly fashion, if I recollect right; but of course mad people' vehement, poor souls; they can't help It. Now, supposing we adopted that scene, wouldn't it be effective? One of Madame O'Connor's big carriage-horses, i£ brought forward,—I moan the one thatkick- ed over the traces, yesterday,—would, 1 firmly believe, create quite a sensation, and in all probability bring down the house." "The stage., certainly," says De.*nond. "Ah t you approve of it," says Kelly, with suspicious gratitude. "Tien let us arrange it at once. Miss Bcresforci might throw her arms round Hyde, for example; that would be charming." Desmond looking at this moment us if lie would willingly murder him, Mr. Kelly is apparently satisfied, and .sinks to rest with his head upon his arms once more. No:oue else has heard the suggestions. ' • . "1 think you might help me, instead of giving voice to insane propositions," says Olga, reproachfully, turning her eyes upr Mr. Kelly's bowed form,—he is lying 1>1 <s- trato on the grass,—which is ( '.baking, in a palsied fashion. "1 really did .relieve you," she says, wlr-nunon that young man, springing to his t'eet, flings his arms wide, jsiud appeals in aii impassioned manner to •'en unprejudiced public ivs towiu-therho has t-Wen racking his bruin in her service for last half-hour. 'Then 1 wish you would go and rack it in somebody else's service," says Mrs. Bohuu, ungratefully. "Hear lierl" says Mr. Kelly, gazing slowly round him. "She still persists in this unseemly abuse. She is bent on. breaking my heart, and driving sleep from mine eyelids. It is ungenerous,—the more so that shu knows 1 have not the courage to tear myself from her beloved presence. You, ll'.imiync, and yiu, Ifossmoyuo, can sympathize with me: "Eitduri no? vile lioro must I wiilci- and weep, And lib my frowzy couch in sorrow eioop." Fancy a frowzy couch saturated with tears! you "know," reproachfully to Olga, '.'you wouldn't like to have to lie, on it." "Oil, do come and sit, down near me, and be silent," says Olga, in desperation. "Why not have a play?" says Captain Cobbett, who, with Mr. Hyde, has driven over from Clonbree. "The play's the thing," says Brian Desmond, la/.ily; "but, whim you are about it, make it a farce." "Oh, not ' says Miss Fitzgerald, with a horrUiedges'.ure; "anything but that! \V\\y not let us try one of the good old comedies I —The School for Scandal,' for example?" "What!" says Mr. Kelly, very weakly. He is plainly quite overcome by this suggestion. "Well, why nolV" demands the fair Bella, with just a souitcon of asperity in her tone, —as much as she ever allows herself when in thi' society of men. She makes up for this abstinence by bestowing a liberal share of it upon her maid ami her mother. "11,'s—it's sucli a naughty, naughty piece," says Mr. Kelly, bashfully, beating an hon- iriiblc retreat from his first meaning. "Nonsense I One can strike out anything distasteful." "Shades of Fiirreii—and Who would be Jjjuly Leazle?" says Olga. "I would," says Bella, modestly. ' "That is more than good of you," says Olsrn, casting 1 a curious, glance at her from under her long lashes. "But I thought, perhaps—— Yon, Ilermia, would you not undertake it? You know, last season, they said you were " "No, dear, thanks. No, indeed," with emphasis. "Cobbett does Joseph Surface to perfection," breaks in Mr. Kyde, enthusiastically, "Oh, I say now Hyde! Come, you know, this is hardly fair," says the little captain, coyly, who is looking particularly pinched and dried to-day, in spite of the hot sun. There is a satisfied smirk upon ills pale little lips, and a poor attempt at self-depreciation about his whole manner. "You know you took 'em by storm ai Portsmouth last year,—made 'em laugh like fun. You should see him," persists Ityde addressing everybody generally. "Perhaps you mean the part of Charles Surface," says Bouayne, in some surprise "No. Joseph; the sly one, you know, says Kyde, chuckling over some recollection. "Well, it never occurred to me tha Joseph's part might be termed a funn, one," oays Mr. Kelly, mildly; "but tha shows how ignorant all we Irish are. will be very kind of you, Cobbott, to en lighten us,—to show us something good, in fact." "Ileally, you know, you flatter me absurd ly," says Cobbett, the seli'-dopreciatioi faili.:v.r. the smirk broader. Lu.u 11. siiiioyvH 1 , whose good t"Trmer i not his strong point, glances angrily at hiir smothers an explosive speech, and walks away with a sneer. "And Hr IVler,— who will kindly under take Sir Peter'."" asks Olua, with a smile that is faintly sarcastic. "\Yill you, Owen!" to Mr. Kelly. "Don't ask me. I could not act with Cob- bett. and Mis<; Fitzgera'd. 1 mi an, I should • "leal Hiisrii- only disgrace them." says Kelly, who is a ; "Oiii-tj," Siiys K >uaj-no. member of a famous ilrnnvitic club, in Duiv- | "i'^cn it h:i* ;;rrangi' tin, and who has had t\vn offers from Lon- ! n nr.mneers to tread the real boards, 'i feel I'm not up to it. indeed." "I suspect you are not," says Ilermia Herrick, with a sudden smile that lights Up all her colil impassive face. Kelly, catching it, crawls lazily over to her, along the grass, Indian fashion, and, finding a fold of her gown, lays his arm on it, and his head on his arm, and relapses into silence. "Kyde has done it," says Captain Cobbett. "Indeed!" says Olga, raising questioning eyes to tho big marinestandingbchind Monica's chair. "Ye—es. We—or—do a good d,-al of that sort of thing in our country," says Kyde, with conscious worth. "I have done Sir Peter once or twice; and people have been j.-ood enough not to—" with a little laugh— '•?ii*s me. I have a stylo oE my own; but— er : —" with an encouraging glance at the other num, "I dare say there are many hero who could do it as I do it." "Not one, L am convinced," says Desmond, promptly: and Monica laughs softly. "We must thii k it over, t don't believe anything so Important could be got up without deep deliberation " Olga is beginning, when Kelly, by a movement of the hand, stops her. "Do let it go on to its bitter end," he says, in a whisper, with most unusual animation for him. "Mrs. llnrrick, hrilp me." "Why not, OlgaV'' says Hermia, in a low tone. "The principal characters are will- ins; we have not had a real laugh for some time; why throw away such a perfect chance?" "Oh! that " .says Olga. Here a sight diversion is caused by the appeiirano.! of a footman, a tea-:ray, a boy, a gypsy table, a maid, a good deal of fruit, maraschino, brandy, soda, and Madame O'Connor. The. latter, to.tell the truth, has been lutviiii a s.oxta in the privacy of her own room, and has now come down, like a t:iant ivl'reslicd. to see how h.-r. guests tiro gcUiii'.'. 1 on. "Well! 1 hope;you' re all happy," she says, loviaily. "We are mad with perplexity," snysOlga. "What's the. matter, then, darling'. 1 " says Madame. "Hermia, like a good child, go and pour out the, tea." "I'll tell youall about it," says Brian, who is a special'favorite of Madame 0 Connor's, com'nu over to her and stoopini behind her chair to whisper into her oar. Whatever lie nays makes her laugh immoderately. -It is easy to bring smiles to her lips'at any limn,—her heart having kept nt a stand-still whilst her body grew old,— but now she seenv< particularly fetched. "Yes, yes, my dear O'gu, let them have their own way,' 1 she says, merrily. "Very good. Lot us consider it settled,' says airs. Bohun. "But 1 should like some tableaux afterward, as a wind-up." "Yes, certainly," says Konayno. "What do you think. Madame?" "I've set my mind on them," says his old hostess, gayly. "You're such a nr.ndsome boy, Ui:c, that I'm bent on seeing you in fancy clothes; and so is somebody else, I daresay. Look at the children, how they steal toward us; were there ever such demure little mice? Come here, Cieor.dc, my son, I have peaches and pretty tilings for you." Tho kind old soul holds outlier arms to vo beautiful children, a boy ami girl, who re coming slowly, shyly toward her. They ro so like Hermia Ilcrrlck as to he uiimis- ikably hers. The boy, coming straight to ladaiue O'Connor, ('limbs up on her lap nil lays his bonny cheek against, hers; but, ii; girl, running to her mother, who is busy vor thi! tea-tray, nestles close to her. "Gently, my soul,'' says Hermia, in a soft 'liisper. Though she still calmly pours out iot(iii,wlth Kelly beside her, shu le.stheun- ccupied hand fall, to mingle with the olden tresses of the child. As her hand lejts'the little sunny head, a marvelous weetness creeps into her face and transfixes ;toa heavenly beauty. Kelly, watching er, marks the change. Go ng round to the child, ho would have a ken her in his arms,—as is his habit with lost children, baing a special favorite in very nursery; but this little dame, drawing auk from him, repels him coldly. Then, as hough fearing herself ungracious, she slow- y extends to" him a liny, friendly hand, vhich he accepts. The likeness between liis grave baby and her graver mother is so •emarkable as to be almost ludicrous. "I think you haven't given Mr. Kelly even mo kiss to-day," says her mother, smiling 'iiintly, and pressing the child closer to her. 'Sheis a cold little, thing, is she not?" "I suppose she inherits it," says Owen Kelly, without lifting his eyes from the child's fair face. Mrs. Herriek colors slightly. "Will you let me get you some tea, Fay?" says Mr.'Kelly, addressing the child almost anxiously. No, thank you," says the fairy, sweetly but decidedly. My mammy will give me tall.'of hers. J do not like any other tea." "I am not in favor to-day," says Iv.'lly, drawing back and shrugging his shoulders slightly, but looking distinctly disappointed, it may bp the child sees this, because she ionics impulsively forward, and, standing on tiptoe before him, holds: her arms upward toward his neck. I want to kiss you now," she says, solemnly, when he lias taken her into his embrace. "But no one else. I only want to kiss you sometimes,—and always mamma." i am content to be second where mamma is first 1 am glad you place me with her in your mind. I should like to be always with mamma," says Kelly, lie laughs a little, and kisses tho child again; and places her gently upon the ground, and then lie glances at Ilermia. But her face is impassive as usual. No faintest tinge deepens the ordinary pallor of her cheeks. She has the sugar-tongs poised in the air, and is apparently sunk in abstruse meditation. "Now, I wonder who takes sugar and who doesn't," sho says, wrinkling up her pretty brows in profound thought. "I have been here a month, yet cannot yet be sure. Mr. Kelly, you must call some one else to our assistance to take round the sugar, as you can't do everything." "I can do 'nothing;" says Kelly, in a low tone, alter which he turns away and calls Brian Desmond to come to him. : ih •! '$ turning , If to "It sliull be as you wish. I nieali. 1 know nothiiu? about it," pently; "but I shall like, to help you if I can." "I mean you don't object to the subject,— or Mr. Ryder says Olsm. kindly, unaware , - n , ? ,. that Mr. Kvric has come away from Ihe t-a- | *"">' m S P'"- m pl'i • a :m.i pleased. "N.iw, ilwiU g<>»d of you," IIP s:iy*. ' Then- is untilinx erowl about tnc," s;iys Monica, t nrfiilty. "t am as horrid as I w,-ll •MM I) •, and y. u are Brian. I \\\.\ ir \v up that taolfiiu*. I will not be Dolly Y:irdcu; no, not if Mr. Hyde, went on his 7cwrj« to me." "My dear, <?crtr love!" says Mr. Desmond. D i von ind od love me,'.' says Monica, table and is now close behind her. Monica, j however, sees him, and smiles courteously. "Oh, no," she says, as in duty bound. And then the fourth is found and uraspcd, and all trouble is at an end. '•So glad I can now take my tea in peace, says Oiga, with a sigh of profound relief. "HVio would bo a stage-manager?" "Ah! you don't do much of this kind of thins in Ireland, I dare say,'' says Mr. Uyde. "What kind' of thing! 1 " asks Olga, sweetly, who doesn't like him* "Tea-drinking 1" "No—acting—or—and that" "I'm afraid I'm quite at sea about the 'Mint,'" says Olsa, shaking her blonde head. "IV.rhaps we do a good deal of it, perhaps we don't. Explain it to me." ("Awful stoopid people!—not a word of truth about their ready wit," says Mr. Kydo to himself at this juncture.) "Oh, well—cr—let us confine ourselves to the acting," he says, feeling somehow at a loss. "It is now to you here, it seems." "I certainly hove novel- acted in my life," begins Monica; "bu " Mrs. Bohun interrupts her. "We are a hopelessly benighted lot," she says, making Ryde a present of a beautiful sniilo. "We are sadly behind the world— 7-,,coco"—shrugging her shoulders pathetically—"to the last iK'grce. You, Mr. Hyde, havn opened up to us possibilities never dreamt of before; touches of civilization hiiher.o unknown." "I should think in your case a very little tuition would ho sulUcient,"says Kyde, with such kindly encouragement in his time that Konuync, who is at Olga's feet, collapses, and from being abnormally grave breaks into riotous lauirhtcr. "You must touch us staw effects,—Is that the proper term?—and correct us when wo betray too crass an ignorance, and—above all things, Mr. Kyde," with an arch glance, "you mtist promise not to lose your temper over the. (jiunihcru'.s of your Dolly Varden." "Whose Dolly Varden?" asks Desmond, coining up at this instant laden with cups of tea. "Mr. Ryde's." ' . "He is to bo Hugh to Miss Buresford's Dolly," says Konaync.. "Yes, isn't it good of Monica? she has consented to take the part," says Olga, who is really grateful'to her for having helped her out of her dillicu'.ty. "IInvo you?" says Desmond, turning upon Monica with dilated eyes. "1'es. is i hat tea lor me?" returns she, calmly, with great self-possession, seeing that sundry eyes are upn'n her. "For you or any one," replies he. Tone can convey far more meaning than words. The words just now are correct enough, brit the tone is uncivil to the last degree. Monica, flushing slightly, takes a cup from him, and Olga, takes the second. There is a short silence whilst they stir their tea, during which Madame O'Connor's voice can be distinctly heard,—it generally can above every tumult. She is discoursing enthusiastically about some wonderful tree in her orchard, literally borne down by fruit. "You never saw such a sight!" she is say- Ini^—"laden down tothoground. The finest show of pears In the country. 1 was telling William lie would do well to prop it. But I suppose it will ruin the. tree, for the next two years to come." "What, tin* propping?" aays Kiissmoyne. silly "1 love you ben nis'i: of all you do. What is there not coiumcndabie in every action of your*? I love you; I live always in the hope that some day you will b? more to me than you are to-day. A presumptuous hope, perhap?," wit-Ii a rather forced smll >, "but one t will not st'tfH-. 1 suppo*' every one lives in a visionary world at times, whew some not impossible she, rolirns as <i'.-et>n, 1 dare say you think my queen IK impossible, yet you little Uno.v wha dream* lm\v been •uy playmate?, night and day." "Am I your queen?' 1 sweet y. "Yes, dtu-lini." "A ml you arc glad 1 have given tii'ili'im?'" "1 don't know what 1 .should hnvi you hadn't." To be continued. up thte done if f.V.A.N POHKKT ANt) MTKKAJI. From the meadows comes faintly the sound of the Bor™°ui> nR «n the Mr on the soft southern The hllTJUlI'S In scarlet with Illlles are glow- And"the cuttle He resting beneath tin 1 broad NEW RELIGION IN SPAIN. Hrery iVomnn Coiivork Olvon the Itlfchl to rhocmi u Tlunlmiiil. A strnngo sect hns come to public notice in Madrid, Spain. It ha* its headquarters in tho Culle del Somliro- reto, a poor bat central part of tho town. The-, a nre about 1.000 members in ftlndrid, nnd the moiriborship In the provinces ia increasing 1 despite tho unitocl efforts of tho government and tho clergy to check its growth. Tho largest branch is located at Valencia. Tho two leading doctrines of tho aeot, arc the propagation of tho human race and Iho banishment of disease. Tho louder is a former work- mun named Jcminu. who is culled "The Grout PonlilT," and nt whoso house the members meet. After prayers and tsinging nt tlieso meotintrs tho pontiff blossom Iho sick and administers dosoa of holy water to thorn. Crowds of sick people Hook to him to bo honied, and thcro seems to bo a particular desire to submit sick children to his ministrations. Tho gather- Ings take place at night. The strictest morality is enforced as a'part of tho leuenls of tho now religion. Tho doolrino of tho propagation of the raeo is carried into practical ell'ect in this wise. Any woman is entitled to nso in mooting nnd cry out "I wish to marry" so-and-so, naming tho favored man. Tho man upon whom her choice haft fallen is doomed to become a huaband. It is useless for him to protest prior engagements. Tho pontiff marries tho couple then and there. Over HOO such marriages have taken place and the popularity of the pontiff among women desiring matrimonial partners is' unbounded. Their benefactor is under a cloud, having been thrust into prison on ' the charge of practicing medicine without legal authority. Scores ef women show their devotion to tho persecuted pontiff by gathering outside tho prison and uttering lamentations nnd expressions of sympathy for him. It i» mld-miinmor noon, anil ihe. Bun in hit Pours down hlo warm rays on the bosoni of Forever repenting the wonderful story He hM told through the age* *inco lime had Its birth. TIs small wonder, that bursting from cloud* In the morning, Or robing In crimson from victories won. All [nature with light, hent MII! beauty ailarn- The nfe-loving Greeks mmle n Clod of the 81111. Whim he roso from hl» slumbers beneath the How M ' l tho dftlfmUlB opened their bmls In the While ihi> b'oes and the birds, In a mld-summnr piran, All ImstiMied the prnlso of Apollo to sing. mortal* to Whoolso but nl)li>ty, Moiwilnnd I'ould Hum i-omloscmul upon nhlne With liln cmlli'p, now tin' tiMiiU-n'ot flmvpr rnros- Now "ripcnlns tlin olive, Ihn corn nnd tin- VlllK. Althonch tiriTco linn lone fndi'd, wllli nil of lu-i- Tim Fiinie fim slioils Its benm* over mirth 1 * wld- o&t ri\ni!i', Wliilii no re:onl of mortal, tlioiiRh over no l)i>le"iK ' in tile hrlghtnOKH « *lmdo«v of 'i^rio deeper than to cut. off. with a sharp plow, the weeds and (jra^s between Mid roots ftf.d the t>ranobr«: the second ••houli'l be no drop as thn soil will admit. Whenever HIP rains h<ive rendered the ground hard cr rlo*o or (lie grass and wepds lie- gin to spring sinrw, if mny l>e harrowed and plowed, or plowed only, at di^crf-Hon. This operation may IIP repented until seed time. Repented plowing for whpak is nrcesanry. Without it the enrth is not snfficienlly hroken and mellowed. By freqitPiit plowintf and breaking over a piece of sandy ground acquires sui oily softness when passed between the Hrgers, and is> tho surest loken of the fitness of the ground for wheat. After this preparation it may be sown at the rate of ono bushel of ctn-ui wheat to on acre. F. M. C. «rll EurlT. While the crops that ate held bach for higher prices may sell to better advantage Infer on, do not lose sieht of the fact that every day causes a loss of weight. All crops nre composed largely of water, nnd a portion of this water is constantly evaporating. This is made apparent by ths fVt that old seed is drier Hum that which is new. CHAPTER XVIII. "Then it is decided," says Olga. '"Tito School for a Scandal' first, and tableaux to follow. Now for them, i suppose tour altogether will he quite sufficient. We must aot try the, patience of our poor audience past endurance." "It will he past that long before our tab- ;eaux begin," says Ulie Koimyue, in a low tone. He is dressed in a tennis suit of white flannel, and is looking particularly handsome. O'ga makes a pretty little mouc, but no audihle response. "I have two arranged," she says, but am distracted about three or four. Will anybody except Mr. Kelly come to my assistance 1 .'" "O.i, you're jealous becausu you didii t think of''Enid'itud t he carrlaije-horscs yourself," returns tlml.yoiinu man, with Ineffable disdain,—"or that Dully Vardeu affair." '•Well, that last might do—modified a little," says Oka, br'ghtenhu,'. "Mr. Jtyde is enormous enouiih for anything. Quite »r "No, the, enormous produce, you boy!'' s;iys his hostess, with a laugh. Monicii, who is growing rcs'tlet» beneath Desmond's angry regard, turns to her nerv- ot'.sly. "1 think I should like to sec It," she says, softly. "Allow me to take, you to it," says Hyde, quickly, coming to her side. •'Miss Heresford is coming with we," interposes Desmond. His face is pale, and his eyes flash ominously. "That is for Miss lleresford to decide," "She has duciiled," says Desmond, growing even paler, but never removing his eyes from his rival's, lie is playing a dangerous game, but even it: the danger is ecstasy. And, as Monica continues silent, a great joy h'lls liis soul. "Hut until"—begins the Englishman, doggedly—"1 hear " "Mrs. Bolimi's cup is causing her embarrassment, Sue to it,", interrupts Desmond, unemotionally. And then, turning to Monica, he says, "Come," coldly, but with such passionate, entreaty in his eyes that she is borne away by it, and goes with him submissively across tho lawn, until she has so far withdrawn herself from her companions tliitt a return would be undignified. They go as far as the entrance to the orchard, a good quarter of a mile, in silence, and then tho storm breaks. "1 won't have that follow holding you in :iis arms," says Desmond, pale with grief and rage, standing still and confronting her. "i thought you said you would never be jealous again," says Monica, who has had .hue to recover herself, and time, too, to 'row angry. "I also said I hoped you would never give me. cause." "Mrs. Bohun has arranged this tableaux." "Then disarrange ii." ",Hut how!"' "Say you won't act with Ityde." "Yon can't expect nie to make myself laughable in that way." •Thou I'll do it." 'And so miike me laughable in another way. 1 can't see what right you have to interfere," she breaks out suddenly, standing before him, willful but lovely. "Wlr.u arc. you to me, or 1 to you, that you should order ii|o about like this'i"' •'Youure till the world to me,—you are ma wife,'' says the young man, in a solemn tone, but with passionately angry eyes. "You can refuse me, if you like, but 1 shall go to my grave with your image only in my heart. As to_whut I am to you., that is quite another thing,—less than nothing, 1 .should say." "And no wonder, too, considering your awful temper," says Monica, viciously; but her tone trembles. At this he seems to lose heart. A very sad look creeps into his dark eyes and lingers there. "Well, do what you like about these wretched tableaux," he says, so wearily that Monica, though victorious, feels inclined to cry; "If they give you a moment's pleasure, why should I rebel? As you say, I am nothing to you. Come, let us go and look at this famous pear-tree." But she does not stir. They are inside the orchard, standing in a secluded spot, with only some green apples and an ivied wall to see them. Her eyes are downcast, and her slender fingers art) playing nervously with a ribbon on her gown. Her lips have tulccu u remorseful curve. Now, as though unable to restrain the impulse, sim raises her eyes tu his for :i!T! 'f •"•'•"iirl. but, brief as it is, he win suclhiU iheyaiv lulloi t. ;.i.-, "IJriaii," she says nervously. ; It is the lir-.t time she has e\vr culled .him by his Christian name, and he turns to her a face still sad indeed, but altogether sur- Ki'i-Ivatlou ol' Iliu-rnli. One familiar English word of oura— "hurrah"—says Sarah Orne Jewett in her interesting work on the Normans, is said to date from Rolfs reign. "Ron." the Frenchmen called our Rolf; and there was u. law that if a man was in danger himself or caught his enemy doing a.ny damage he could raise the cry, "Ha, liou!" and so invoke justice in Duke Rolf's name. At the sound of tho cry everybody was bound on tho instant to give chase to the offender, and whoever failed to respond to tho cry of ' Ha Ron!" must pay a heavy fine to Rolf himself. Thus began tho old 'English fashion of "hue and cry," as well us our custom ol shouting "Hurrah!" when wo are pleased and excited. of I>oafiieK8. At least one person in three between the ages of ton and forty yearn is subject to partial deafness. Tho groat majority of cases of deafness are hereditary" and dtio to tho too close consanguinity of the parents. Deafness is more prevalent among men than among women because the former are more exposed to the vicissitudes of climate. It is thought that telephones tend to bring on deafness when one ear is use-. to the exclusion of the other. giving who L careo wickai chnngo. Throiiiili Iho bounty of nirlnt!lliiu>, Iho Hplonilor of cnmmrr, Tho ulorlosi of, autumn, nnd winter u long Ho ropoa'lx (hi> HIIIIIH loconcl to i"«r(li'i< liitosl comer , , , ,, Tlnil ho told tlio llrtil diiy when ho Hank In the \vo»t. No loiicor \vn worship tho fiiblod Immoral*, Nor how to I lii'lr InniK'-H. J.MMVOII In xtouo, Hut. wo dimly dltpuvrn, aa thuiigli Iho. hall-opomid porlnln, A power im«?ou, Ihoujjlt not an unknown. While wo. throw to tho winds mythological fahliw, CInfl. the Hhnc.Ules nnd foltorH ol fnlmi crpedx down tho lino, H wo Kii7.o on Iho BCiiHonp, so clmntrlnir, yet Who can itoiihl that tho author of nil IN divine? ~KAHM NOTES. Put, wooil ashes and suit where the hogs ,111 get: tit thcin every day and hour in the ay to tttke a lick. If puker/, -d charcoal net sulphur uro needed no harm Mill be one. There is not, much more expense in pro- ..cititf agood tlireo-yi.'iir-old colt than in Crowing a good steer, but, (hero in an up- rceiable dUicrene>.' in the valnu of the roduct. Tho wool clip in Australia this year_ is lie larKUtst in tho 'history of tho colonies nil will roach 8100,000,000 111 value. There .':11 be '20,000,000 bushels of wheat lorex- jort from Australia. Givo tho hens all t'no liberty possible, ced but hUle corn, ami in tin; '.:onki-d food iriven bo sure thnt there is a mnull quunH- y of IniNftod meal nnd iii-iunil inmil. Even i teaspoon of each in a quart oH ahorU will >e found of great value dun i^l.'io moult- ng period. llrooilliii' Sown. The value of a brood *ow depends a* much on the manner in which she euros for her pi«s a< upon her age and size.. Some sows are very negligent of their pig» whilo others unintentionally crush them. When n sow proves hers-ell vain ible she "•honld bo retained in preference to one that is Ijjtter in oTlain respect* lint uu- Iried as a dam. TII I-; Kitllll ttllll Sol<MHH'. They dwoll upiul Ilia' radiant pair; In diflVronl Curtis apix'ai-; Ami wlillo (hi> vciii-f nl men llipy chars, 1'mo sppnrato allure lu-io. A uoMoii lamp Ilio 0110 ili.«pliivH, Of lluhtfltll I'li'in- mid kiMMi: Tho olnor \V:I!UM 'noath Marry ray?, Wlih soinolliiio.i cloiidHlivtwiM-n. Tlio voli'o of inn- I'njoliiH IhowihO To mi.-!!', and \voi|;n, and provo; Tlio dtlicr lifts oxpt't-ltiul OVOH, And lul}' miiriiuirs, "l.ovo." Iloth toaolu'H of coli-ntliil lili-th, To each bo cri'ili'iii'o u'lvon, To Sdom-.o who liitrrproix Knrlh, ' of lion von. —Tlio Spor.tutor. To l'n I Hi tlio SIMM' Would AHvuj'n Know. L Western divine has been soino moral advice to his son, about to enter upon a business in New York, "it is always to fight, my son, and as a christiai minister J warn you against it; but at the same time, if you over lind yourself in a fight—find yourself. I say, with no way out—see that the right man is whipped." "But how shall 1 know? Who in the right man, father?" ••Tho other." ; vs. MMVlllK. We are sorry to M'O that, every now and igiiin' Home advocate of broadc.tst sowinir of small gruiu manages to get. himnelf ieard through some of tho itgricultnral ournals. Practical men, however, now understand so well the advantage of drill- ng in the seed that little harm is likely ;o result from the contrary udvico. With i good drill tho seed is distributed with jrecision and uniformity lit any do.nred lepth, hence a saving of seed and a better stand, since tho seed is nt equally dis- Irili'ited that the individual plants have room for proper growth. Gram tliut is sown broadcaht and covered_ with tho imrrow or other cultivating implements is always unequally covered, so that their is a waste of seed and a consequent uneven stand. The harrow lias its use ir. the work of grass seeding, b»t it is lining and cultivating the soil, and not for covering. In seeding with a drill it in of first ini- purrance t'O havo an implement that perfectly regulates the depth of sowing, nnd it hh'ould place the send deep enough so that it is surrounded with moist soil, and no', placed in the drier surface. Thu drill (should also press tho soil above the seed, leaving it properly_ compact, while the general surface remains loose and mellow Compacting the soil about, fro.shly planted seed constitutes a great, factor' in its germination, and should never bo neglected in field or garden. (,'OH| ul' I'roiUiuiutjr Iliittcr. Butter can be provided at a cost ol twelve cents a pound, ac.ording to the results of experiments made, but to do so the silo must bo used, the feed giver judiciously, and tho cows munt bo of tho best, producing not less than 300 pounds of! butter per year, Cows that produce less will increase tho cost according to tho difference in tho number of pounds bo low 300. The joys which live and grow are thoso which am shared with others. What's gone, what's pant help, should be past, irrief.— Stmlicppenro. Tlio longer the observing man lives tho more ho finds out how liltlu he knows. Tho man who doeu not work with his heart will accomplish very little with his hands. That, which is good to lie done cannot, be dono too soon, ami if it in neglected to bo done, onrly it will frequently luippon that it will not I") done at all.—Uishop Mitnt. L'?r your light shine; that is what it is for. So of all git'tn and possessions of -body, mind and estate, thoy tiro for useful pm-poses and should not ho covered and hidden. The man who pray, in proportion to the purity of his prayer, becomes a spiritual power, a nerve from Uin divino brain, whence power iiniuv goelh forth upon his fellows.— Macdomild. Why slioulil we live l.all'-way up tbojiili and swathed in mists, when we niitrht tvo nn unclouded sky nnd u visible bun ver our liuad-i if wo would only climb h/her. nnd walk in the light of his facer 1 — Dr. Macliircn. KlIllHIIH I'llllllSOllll.T A man c.m never live down liis folly. It i still worse with the woman. There nevor waf a doi; HO good that he ould not give Ileus to his best friend. Tun Cent- of being culled u eownrd makes itn of cowards try to net like bruve men. There is nothing more discouriigiug to man than tho thought cl how gioat ho is itended to bn. Uttlo ThliiK>« anil III);. From tlio l.iilhoran. "A Persian proverb says: 'Do the little liings now; HO that, big things shall come o thee by and by asking to bn done.' So i'ten wo'lose the opportunity of doing lit- In things and lilfclo itcls of kinrltiOHsbe- ause wo are wailing for tlio opportunities o do great or grand things, or, we forget o do what it really lies in our power to o." "Well, Kastus, 1 hear you have loft Mr. Smithors." ••Yas-sif." , "Did ho give you a good recommendation!" 1 • 'Yes-sir. He dun write it, an' unld I WH7. do mos 1 mendacious an 1 fallible niggnh he knowcd."—Harper's Weekly. It IN Said. There is said to be a man in tho Old Colony who is FO rigid in his temperance views that ho refuses to take an umbrella when ii rains because there Is a stick in it. Mo takes his water clear. —Boston Traveler. is a mighty mean man, 1 say!" exclaimed Jenkins, warmly. "Why, what has Smith ever dono to you?" asked UlenWnsop, surprised. 1 'Bet me ten dollars I co,uld't hit a barn door with a revolver at five paces," said. Jenkins, angrily. "Taunted mo into taking him up, Got m.e to put up tho money. Measured off the five pacos in pre.senco of a lot of wit- nesssos. Gave me a revolver, loaded, and then set the barn door up edgewise." A Greut WiiKtu. Much of the corn fodder goes to wiwli and is not used at all. One of tho greater problems that confronts farmers is how 10 make good use of, the corn fodder, properly secured . it is as good to feed as much of the wild hay, and some prefer to timothy for fattening Hteern. The con should be cut before tho t'roht, and afte husking Ihe btalks may be placed near thi sheds, and either cut up or fed whole dur ing the winter. It will more than paj for the longer time that it takes to cu and uu»k, and at all times thu stalks ar a (>ood substitute tor hay. Muttou. The production of mutton must bo th main object of the shepherd now an hereafter. Tho rearing of the sheep fo wool alone is a relic of a semi-barbarou pastoral industry, and is consistent onl with entensive- ranging over an otherwip unoccupied territory which approaches i character to a desert of wilderness. A! though this hti« been to a largo extent tti character of .the western sheep herding, i is ulreii-ty pacing away, and the end o it is within sight, The poor, light shet' iire no longer profitable, even for thei llceces and are rapidly bein^ replaced b larger animals with heavier fleeces an carcasses fit for tbo butcher. Vor .Winter Wlicut. Land for winter wheat should be plowed before the grass, or whatever grows there, has acquired a ripeness which will prevent its rotting while the ground is under tillage. The first plowing should Nnoii mill IJllH«otl. "The unseen is greater than thu seen. Pho friend thai- you lovo in not tho form hat is visible to your eyo. It IK the un- eon spirit, thu soul that is invisible to ninse, that awakens your atlcction. Tho mtward and visible has no power over tho leart, mive as it is a symbol for tho unseen intelligence that accompanies it. We wo dealing with the invisible world even lore, although at times the grosser things of sense KOOIII to so fill up our vision."— Methodist Recorder. "Perhaps you have a great mind; per- uupn you hare an eloquent tongne; it may be you hii'n a large purse, and can glorify and bless God and mankind with that. But perhaps you have nothing in the world but a kind, sweet smile; then let that fall upon some poor life that has no sniiles in it. Remember that a dewdrop glistening in the sun is just as beautiful USD rainbow." 0. H. BACKJIUUBT. The Went Kunlpu for Kent. There is nothing which will give u chance for rest to overtired nerves so surely as a simple religious faith in '.the overruling, wise, and tender providence which has us in its keeping, It is in chafing against the conditions ( of our lives that we tire ourselves iniiueasurubly. it is in being anxious about things which we can not help that we often do the most of our f-peudiug, A simple faith in God which practically and evjry moment, and not only theoretically and on Sundajs, rests on the knowledge that he cares for us at least as much as wo cure for those who are the dearest to us, will do much to give the tired nerves the feeling of tho bird in its nest. Do not spend what strength you have, like the clematis, in climbing on yourself, but lay hold on things that ate eternal, and the peace of them will pass into your soul like a healing balm, Pat yourself in the great everlasting currents, and then you can rest on your oars, and let those currents bear you on their strength. —Anna C. Brackett, in Harper's Magazine. Phosphorus is now being made by decomposing a inixture of acid phpsphatus and carbon by the heat of an electric arc within the mass, ' •

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