The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 18, 1891 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, November 18, 1891
Page 3
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THE UPPER DES MOINES, ALGONA, IOWA. WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1891. OVE'S VICTORY, BY BERTHA M. CtAY. CHAri'ER I. A GtRl, WITH A CTTABACTEn. ' It Id a strange place for an intelligence of, yet Madame Selini evidently knew what ) was doing when she established her office i an aristocratic neighborhood, and actually hext door to the family mansion of tlie ountess Dowager of Biirewood. The worthy countess was shocked, nnd, taking I counsel of her hopes, predicted that Madame !* Seltnl'e Institution would soon prove a i'nil- 1 nre. Notwithstanding this prediction, the agency prospered, and among its patrons were many of the nobility. One fine morning in Slay a carriage stopped before Madame Selini's door, and from It descended a handsome, aristocratic .while- man, evidently Of the old school. There was Borne little commotion in the interior of tlie building, and then a foot-page appeared, to whom Sir Oswald Darrell—for that was the gentleman's name—gave his card. "1 am here by appointment," he said, "to see Madamo Selini." He was ushered into a handsomely furnished room, where, in a few minutes, he was Joined by Madame Selini herself—a quick, bright Frenchwoman, whose dark eyes seemed to embrace everything in their coinpve 1 honsive glance. Sir Oswald bowed with stately courtesy and quaint, old-fashioned grace. "Have you been so fortunate, madanie, as to find that which I am In search of?' 1 he inquired. "I think you will be pleased, Sir Oswald- nay, I am sure you will," answered the lady. "I have a Indy waiting to see you now, wiio Will prove, I should say, a treasure." i 1 Sir Oswald bowed, and madamo contin- \ 'Miss Hastings—Miss Agnes Hastings- has been for the last six years finishing governess at Lady Oastledine's, and her two pupils make their-debut this year; so that, ithere Is no longer any occasion for her scr- 'vlces." "And you think she would be fitted, mad- ame, to occupy the position for which 1 require a lady of talent nnd refinement?" "1 am quite sure of it," replied madmne. "Miss Hastings is thirty years of' age. She Is highly accomplished, and her manners are exceedingly lady-like. She is a person of great refinement; moreover, she has had great experience with young- girls. I do not think, Sir Oswald, that you could do better." "Is the Irfay here? Can I seo her?" Madame Solini rang, and desired the little page to ask Miss Hustings to come to her. In a few minutes an elegant, well-dressed lady entered the room. She advanced' with a quiet grace and dignity that .seemed nut- ural to her; there was not the slightest truce of awkwardness or mauvais hontc in her manner. Madame Selini introduced her to Sir Oswald Darrell. "I will leave you," she said, "to discuss your private arrangements." Madame quitted the room with gliding, subtle grace, and. then Sir Oswald, in his courtly fashion, placed a chair for Miss Hastings. He looked at the pale, clear-cut, face for a few minutes in silence, as though ho were at a loss what to say, and then ho commenced'suddenly: "I suppose Aladamo Solini has told you what I want, Miss Hastings?" ,, "Yes," .was the quiet reply; "your niece jjhns been neglected—you want some one to take the entire superintendence of her." "Neglected I" exclaimed Sir Oswald. "My dear madamo, thnt is a mild word, which does not express the dreadful reality. I wish •to disguise nothing from you, I assure you— Bhe literally horrilies me." Miss Hastings smiled. "Neglected!" lie repeated—"the girl is a savage—a splendid savage—nothing more nor less." "Has she not received any kind o£. train- Ing, then. Sir Oswald?" "Training! My dear miulnme, can yon Imagine what a wild vino is—a vine that has never been cultivated or pruned, but allowed to grow wild in all its natural beauty and strength, to cling where it would. U) trail on the ground and to twine round forest trees? Such a vine is a fit type of my niece." Miss Hastings looked slightly bewildered. Hero was a very different, pupil from tlie elegant, graceful daughters of Lady Oastlediuo. "I should, perhaps," continued Sir Oswald, "explain to you the peculiar position that my niece, Miss Pauline Darrell, has occupied." His grand old face Hushed, and his stately head was bowed, ns though some of the memories that swept over him were not free from shame; and then, with a little gesture •of his white hand, on which shone a large diamond ring, he said: "There is no need for me to toll you, Miss (Hustings, that the Durrolls are one of tho •oldest families in England—ancient, honorable, and I must confess, proud—very proud. My father, the late Sir Ilildebert Dan-ell,. wut,, I should say, one of -the proudest and ; imo&t reserved of men. He had but two Xhildren, myself and a daughter twelve years younger-any sister Felicia. 1 was educated abroad. It was one of my father's fancies that I should see many lands, that I should study men and women before settling down to my right position in the world; so that I knew but Uttle.of my sister Felicia. She was a child when I Jef t homo—the tragedy of her life had happened before I returned," Again a great rush of color came over the pale aristocratic face. "I must apologize, Miss Hastings, for troubling you with these details, but unless you understand them you will not understand my niece. I .cannot tell you how it happened, but it did so happen that while I was away my sister disgraced herself ;°she left home with a French artist, whom Sir Ilildebert had engaged to renovate some choice and costly pictures at Darrell Court. How it came about, I cannot say—perhaps there were excuses for her. Sho may have found home very dull—my father was harsh and cold, and her mother was dead. It may be that when the young artist told her of warm lovo in sunny lauds she was tempted, poor child, to leave tlie paternal roof. "My father's wrath was terrible; he pursued Julian L'E.strunge with unrelenting fury. I believe the man would havo been a successful artist biit for my father, who had vowed to ruin him, and who never rested until he had done so—until he had reduced him She died, poor girl, and I have no clmibt thnt her death was greatly hastened l>y privation. My father told me of her death, ;i!*o that she had left one daughter; ho 'lid more—he wrote to Julian L'Estrnnge,, and offered to adopt his daughter on the one condition that he would consent never to see her or hold the least communication with her. "The reply wns, as you may Imagine, a firm refusal and n fierce denunciation. In the same letter came a note, written in a large, childish hand: " 'I love my papa, and I do not love yon. I will not come to live with you. you area cruel man, and you helped to kill my dear mamma, "It was a characteristic little note, and was signed Tauline L'Estrange." My father's anger on receiving it was very great, I confess that I was more amused than angry. "My father, Miss Hastings, lived to a good old age. I was not a young man when I succeeded him. He left me all his property. Ton must understand the Darrell and Aurt- leigh Royal estates are not entailed. IIo made no mention in his will of the only grandchild he had; but, after I had arranged all my affairs, I resolved to find her. Foi ten years I have beeii doing all 1 could— sending to France, Italy, Spain, and every country where 1 thought it possible the artist might have sought refuge. "Three months since I received a letter from him, written on his death-bed, asking me to do something for Pauline, who had grown up into a beautiful girl of seventeen. 1 found Mien that he hud been living foi some, years in the Hue d'Orme, Paris. I buried him, brought his daughter to England, and made arrangements whereby she should assume the name of Darrell. But I little knew what a task I had undertaken. Paulino ought to be my heiress, Miss Hastings. She ought to succeed me at Darrell Court I have no other relatives. Hut—well, I will not despair; you will see what can bo dona with her." "What are her deficiencies?" asked Miss Hastings. Sir Oswald raised his white hands with a gesture of despair. "I will tell you briefly. She has lived among artists. She does not seem to have ever known any of her own sex. She is—1 nm sorry to use the word—a perfect liolie- inian. Whether she can be transformed Into anything faintly 'resembling a lady, 1 cannot tell. Will you undertake the task, Miss Hastings?" She looked very thoughtful for some minutes, and then answered: "I will do my best, Sir Oswald." "I thank you very much. X'oti must permit me to name liberal terms, for your task will bo no light one." And tlie interview'ended, to their mutual satisfaction. to direst poverty—and then my sister appeal-' ed for help, arid my father refused to grant it. He would not allow her name to be mentioned among us; her portrait was destroyed; everything belonging to her was sent away from Pan-ell Court. • "When I returned—in an interview that I ] shall never-forget—my father threatened me not only with disinheritance, but with his curse, if I mado any attempt to hold the least communication with iny sister. I do not , know that I should have obeyed him If I "could have found her, but I did not even Jmow what part of the world she was in. CHAPTER II. "DARItULL OOUET IS A PRISON TO MB I" It was a beautiful Mayday, bright with fresh spring loveliness. The leaves were springing fresh and green from the trees; the hedges were all abloom with pink Imvthorn; the chestnut trees were all in flower; the gold of the laburnum, the purple of the lilac, the white of the fair acacia trees, and the delicate green of the stately elms and limes gave a beautiful variety of color. The grass was dotted with a hundred wild-flowers; great clusters of yellow buttercups looked in the distance like the upspreading of the sea of gold; the violets perfumed the air, bluebells stirred in the sweet spring breeze, and the birds sang out loudly and jubilantly. If one spot looked more lovely than another on this bright May day, it was Darrell Court, for it stood whore the sun shone brightest, in one of the most romantic and picturesque nooks of England—the part of Woodshlre bordering on the sea. The mansion and estates stood on gently rising ground; a chain of purple hills stretched away into the far distance; then came the pretty town of Audloigh Royal, the' Audleigh Woods, and the broad, deep river Darte. The bank of the river formed the boundary of the Darrell estates, a rich and magnificent heritage, wherein every beauty of meadow and wood seemed to meet. The park was rich in its stately trees and herds of deer; and not far from the'house-was a fir-wood—an aromatic, odorous fir-wood, which led to the very shores of the smiling southern sea. By night and by day the grand music of nature was heard in perfection at Darrell 3ourk Sometimes it was the roll of the wind across the hills, or the beat of angry waves on the shore, or the wild melody of the storm among the pine trees, or the full chorus of a rhousand feathered songsters. The court itself was one of the most picturesque of man- ions. It did not belong to any one order or style of architecture—there was nothing stiff or formal about it-but it looked in that bright May sunshine a noble edifice, with its square towers covered with clinging ivy, gray turrets, and large arched windows. Did the sun ever shine upon such a combination of colors? The spray of the fountains glittered in the air, the numerous balconies were filled with flowers; wherever it was possible for a flower to take root, one had been placed to grow—purple wistarias, sad, solemn passion-flowers, roses of every hue. The star-like jessamine and scarlet creepers gave ito the walls .of the old mansion u vivid glow,of color; gold and purple enriched the gardens, heavy white lilies breathed faintest perfume. The spot looked a very Eden. The grand front entrance consisted of a large gotliic porch, which was readied by a broad flight -of steps, adorned witU white marble vases Jilled with flowers; the first terrace was immediately below, and terrace led from terrace down to the grand old gardens, where sweetest blossoms grew. There was an old-world air about the place —something patrician, quiet, reserved. It was no vulgar haunt for vulgar crowds; it was not a show place; and the master of it Sir Oswald DarrelJ, afi he stood upon the terrace, looked in keeping with its surroundings. There was a d&ttiir/tte air 'about Sir Oswald, an old-fashioned courtly dignity, which never for one moment left him. He was thoroughly well bred; he had not two sets of manners—one for the world, and one for private life; he was always (he same, measured in speech, noble in his grave condescension. No man ever more thoroughly deserved the name of aristocrat; he was delicate and fastidious, with profound and deeply- rooted dislike for all that was ill-bred, vulgar, or mean. Even in his dress Sir Oswald was remark- &ble; the superfine white linen, the diamond studs and sleeve links, the rare jewels that gleamed on his fingers—all struck the attention ; and, as he took from his pocket a richly engraved golden snuff-box and tapped it With the ends of his delicate white lingers, there stood revealed a thorough aristocrat—the ideal of an English patrician gentleman. Sir Oswald walked round the stately terraces and gardens. ','1 do not see her," he said to himself; "yet most certainly Frampton told me she was here." Then, with his gold-headed cane in hand, Sir Oswald descended to the gardens. He was evidently in search of some, one. Meeting one of the gardeners, who stood, hat in hand, as he passed by, Sir Oswald asked: "Have you seen Miss Parrell in the gardens?" "I saw Miss Dnrrell in the fernery some five minutes since, Sir Oswald," was the reply. Sir Oswald drew from his pocket a very fine white handkerchief nnd diffused an agreeable odor of millelleurs around him; the gardener had been near the stables, and Sir Oswald was fastidious. A short walk brought him to the fernery, an exquisite combination of rock and rustic work, arched by a dainty green roof, and made musical by the ripple of a little waterfall. Sir Oswald looked in cautiously, evidently rather in dread of what he might find there; then his eyes fell upon something, and he Said: "Pauline, are you there?" A rich, clear, musical voice answered: "Yes, 1 am here, uncle." "My dear," .continued Sir Oswald, half timidly, not advancing a step farther into iht grotto, "may I ask what you are doing I" "Certainly, uncle," was the cheerful reply; "you may ask by all means. The difficulty is to answer; for 1 am really doing nothing, and I do not know how to describe 'nothing.' " "Why did you come hither!" lie asked. "To dream," replied the musical voice. "I think the sound of fulling water is the sweetest music in the world. I came here to enjoy it, and to dream over it." Sir Oswald looked very uncomfortable. "Considering, Pauline, how much you have been neglected, do you not think you mlirht spend your time more profitably—in educating yourself, for example?" "This is educating myself. I am' teaching myself beautiful thoughts, and nature just now is my singing mistress." And then the speaker's voice suddenly changed, and a ring of passion came Into it "Who says that I have been neglected? When you say that, you speak ill of my dear deail father, and no one shall do that in my presence. You speak slander, and slander 111 becomes an English gentleman. If I was neglected wlien my father was alive, I wish to goodness such neglect were my portion now I" Sir Oswald shrugged his shoulders. "Each one to his or her taste, Pauline. With very little more-of such neglect you would have been a " Ho paused; perhaps some instinct of prudence warned him. "A what?" she demanded, scornfully. "Pray finish the sentence, Sir Oswald." "My dear, you are too impulsive, too hasty. You want more quietness of manner, mora dignity." iler voice deepened in its tones as she asked: "I should have been a what, Sir Oswald? I never begin a sentence and leave it half finished. You surely are not afraid to finish it?" "No, my dear," was the calm reply; "there never yet was a Darrell afraid of anything on earth. If you particularly wisli me to do so, I will finish what I was about to say. You would have been a confirmed Bohemian, and nothing could have mado'you a lady." "I love what you call Bohemians, and 1 detest what you call ladies, Sir Oswald," was the angry retort "Most probably; but then, you see, Paulino, the ladies of the house of Darrell have always been ladles—high-bred, elegant women. I doubt if any of them ever know what the word 'Bohemian' meant." She laughed a little scornful laugh, wbich yet, was sweet and clear as the sound of silver bells. "I had almost forgotten," said Sir Oswald. "I cii mo to speak to you about something, Pauline; will you come into the house with me?" They walked on together in silence foi some minutes, and then Sir Oswald began: "I went to London, as you know, last week. Pauline, and my errand was on yom behalf." She raised her eyebrows, but did not deign to auk any questions. "I have engaged a lady to live with us here at Darrell Court, whoso duties will be to finish your education, or, rather, I may truthfully say, to begin it, to train you in the habits of refined society, to—to—make you presentable, in fact, Pauline, which I'am sorry, really sorry to say, you are not at present." She made him a low bow—a bow full of defiance and rebellion. "I am indeed indebted to you, ail-Oswald." "No trilling," said tlie stately baronet, "no sarcasm, Pauline, but listen to mo! You are not without .sense or reason—pray attend. Look around you," he continued; "remember that the broad fair lands of Darrell Court form one of the grandest; domains in England. It is an inheritance almost royal in extent and magnificence. Whoso reigns hero is king or queen of half a county, Is looked up to, respected, honored, admired, and imitated. Tlie owner of Darrell Court is a power even in this powerful land of ours; men and women look up to such an one for guidance and example. Judge then what the owner of the inheritance should be." The baronet's grand old face was flushed witli emotion. "Ho must bo pure, or lie would make immorality the fashion; honorable, because men will take their notions of honor from him; just, that justice may abound; upright, stainless. You see all that, Pauline?" "Yes," she assented, quickly. "No men have so much to answer for," continued Sir Oswald, "as the great ones of the land—men in whoso hands power is vested—men to whom others look for example, on whose lives other lives are modeled—men who, as it were, carry 1 the minds, if not the souls, of their fellow men in tlie hollows of their hands." Pauline looked more impressed, and insensibly drew nearer to him. "Such men, I thank Heaven," lie said, standing bareiieaded as ho uttered the words, "have the Dan-ells been—loyal, upright, honest, honorable, of stainless repute, of stainless life, fitted to rule their fellow men- grand men, sprung from a grand old race. And at times women have reigned here—women whose names have lived in the annals of the land—who have been as shining lights from the purity, the refinement, the grandeur of their lives." He spoke with a passion of eloquence not Jost on the girl by his side. "I," he continued, humbly, " of the least wortiiy of my race, I have- done noth- iwg for its advancement, but at the same time 1 have done nothing to disgrace it. I have,carried on the honors passively. The time is coming when Dan-ell Court must pass iubiother hands. Now, Paulino, you have heard, you know what the ruler of Darrell Courl. Klwuld be. Tell me, are you lilted to take your place here?" '•I am very young," she murmured. "It i.s not a question of youth. Dame Sibella Darrell reigned here when the was only eighteen; and tlie sons she trained to succeed her wcru amoiig the greatest statesmen England has over known. She improved uiul enlarged the property; she died, after living here sixty years, beloved, honored, and revered. It Is not a question of age." "I am a Darrell!" said tho girl, proudly. "Yes, you have the face and figure of a Dan-ell; you bear the name, too; but you have not the grace and manner of a Darrell." "Those we mere outward matters of polish and veneer." she said, impatiently. "Nay, not so. You would not think it right to sen an unformed, untrained, uneducated, ignorant girl at the head of such a house as this. What did you do yesterdav? A maid rtisploitsod you. You boxed her ears. Just imagine it. Such n proceeding on" the part of tho mistress of Daru;il Court would till one with horror." A slight smile rippled over the full crimson lips. '•(Jueen Elizabeth boxed her courtiers' ears," said the girl, "and it seemed rislit to her." "A queen, Pauline, is hedged in by her own royalty; she may do what she will. The very tact that you nre capable of defending nn action so violent, so unlady-like, so opposed to all one's ideas of feminine. 1 delicacy, proves that you nre unlit for the position you otiuht to occupy." "1 am honest, at least I make no pretensions to be what 1 am not." "So is my butler honest, but that does not tit him to be master of Dnrrcll Court. Honesty is but one quality—a good one. sturdy and strong; it requires not one, but many qualities to hold such n position as 1 would fain have you occupy." Miss Dnrrcll's patience was evidently at an end. "And the Upshot of all this, Sir Oswald, Is " "Exactly so—that lam anxious to glvo you every chance in my power—that I have found nn estimable, refined, elegant woman, who will devote her time and talents to train and fit you for society." A low, musical laugh broke from the perfect lips. "Have you any idea'" she asked, "what I shall be like when I am trained?" "Like a lady, I trust-a well-bred lady. I can imagine nothing more beautiful than that" "When is she coming, this model of yours, Sir Oswald?" "Nay, your model, niece, not mine. Sho is hero now, and I wish to introduce her to you. I should like you, if possible," ho concluded, meekly, "to make a favorable Impression on her." There was another Impatient murmur. "1 wish you to understand, Paulino^' he resumed after a short pause, "that 1 shall expect you to render tho most implicit obedience to Miss Hastings—to follow whatever rules she may lay down for you, to attend to your studies as she directs them, to pay the greatest heed to all her corrections, to copy her stylo, to imitate her manners, to " "I hate her I" was the impetuous outburst "I would sooner bo a beggar all my life than submit to such restraint." "Very well," returned Sir Oswald, calmly. "I know that arguing with you is time lost The choice lies with yourself. If you decide to do as 1 wish—to study to become a lady in tho truest sense of the word—if you will fit yourself for the position, you shall bo heiress of Dan-el Court; if not—if you persist In your present unlady-liko, unrefined, Bohemian manner, I shall leave the whole properly to some one else. I tell you the plain truth without any disguise." "1 do not want Darrell Court I" she cried, passionately; "it is a prison to mo!" "I excuse you," rejoined Sir Oswald, coldly; "you are excited, and so not answerable for what you say." "Uncle," said' the girl, "do you seo that beautiful singing bird there, giving voice to such glorious melody? Do you think you could catch it and put it in a cage?" "I have no doubt that I could," replied Sir Oswald. "But, if you did," she persisted; "oven suppose you could make It forget its own wild melodies, could you teach it to sing formally by note and at your will." "I never have supposed anything of the kind," said Sir Oswald. "You are possessed of far too much of that, kind of nonsense. The young ladies of the present day, properly educated girls, do not talk in that way." "I can easily believe it," she returned, bitterly. "Miss Hastings is in tho library," said Sir Oswald, as they entered the bouse. "I hope to see you receive her kindly. Put away that frown, Pauline, and smile If you can.' Ito- momlier, it is characteristic of tho Darrelis to bo gracious to strangers." With these words Sir Oswald opened the library door, and holding his niece's hand, entered the room. Miss Hastings rose to receive them. Ho led Paulino to her, and in the kindest manner possible introduced them to each other. "I will leave you together," ho said. "Pauline will show you your rooms, ings; and I hope that you will soon feel Imp- py. and quite at homo with us." Sir Oswald quitted the library, leaving the two ladies looking in silence at each other. To be continued. FARM AND HOME. TEXDEUNKSS. Unlit]; HIM A bishop having struggled through life without repining, was asked the secret of his being so uniformly happy, and replied that it consisted in "making a right use of his eyes." Being requested to exolain, he added. "In whatsoever state I am, I first look up to reaven, and remember that my principal business here is to get there. I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind how small a space I shall occupy in tho after death. lastly, I look abroad upon the world, and observe how many there are moreunhapy than myself. Thus I learn where truehapiness is placed, where all my cares must end and that I have no reason to repine."—Seleotod. MiBBion of YOUIIK Men. God is a most tender father, whose more tender heart we wound by an> action contrary to His laws. The question before you, young men, is how to act and what ido you in all your i ill guide you in your i ysical, moral, intellect vancement, and thus an ness in all things is inevitable, be alive and energetic, and, If I conld Mlway* boar within my honrt. Tho feeling that I never knew how iipnr The tlniPtnny be when I ?hall havo lo imrt With the beloved ones 1 hold mo«t denr, Mv lips would be more careful to nunpreM The sharp nnd vexlnc word, tho quick retort. And ."trive Instead to tlil with tenderness Kach passing day. For life IB very short— A brief companionx'ilp, « little space In which to show onr love, and then the breath Dies out In silence from pome cherished fnco And leave ns lonly in the midst of death. O.loTel I stand beside, thy grave; The shndowH tali in ihi'fl'lng lines Alhwalt this violet-dotted nave Enriched by the solemn plnei, The tender plnmeg of tufted cras§ That seem to enanl thy perfect rest, Ah, mo! no mighty Rilled of brass Could hold me further from thy breast. The fnr-olT wind that faintly moans In balmy fields and woodland rife, Brines och es of the liquid tones That made such music In my life; And when I watched the flowers unfold To creel the soflly scented south, I see tne smile that played of old, Upon the blossom of thy month. But when I held within my arms Tho whltenesH of thy womanhood, 1 was not conscious of thy charms, Thy truMlnj> fallh nnd perfect good. I did mil lovn Dice well enouuh; I might havo miide the world more swoei, And lined the p.Uhs, so dalle and rough, With roses for Ihy tender feet. Ah, yes; my lovii was very blind; I did not hold Iheu as 1 ou^hl. In calm, untroubled peace enshrined, U Away from every vexing thought. I pierced with Idle jnr andfrol The heart that never would complain, And made Ihy drooping eyelids wet With teurt of ragiitf, uiimnttered puln. I did not mean lo wound time, love; llul ofltimos llu> turbid roll Of dally cares would rise above The pur« affection of the soul; For sorrow had not. come to teach My love the meaning of our vow, And cleanse tho citrront of my speech From words 1 grlnvn lo think of now, (>, love I and could thy heart be stirred A moment from Us lraui]ull sleop, To hoar the softly whlspurad word— "Korglvu me, love," t would not weep, I would not oven mourn thy IOSB, llul take my lonuly bunion up, And miiimur not beneath the cross, And meekly taste my biltor cup. In vain 1 kneel upon the narrow brink And Blrotch my hnmlti out lo the unknown sea, And strive BO hard to grasp Iho broken link That bound my heiirt to all monl fair to me. No faintest whisper risen from tho gloom To hiiHh the beatlugH of my wild regret; The dead will novor wake within the. lomb And say, "O, lovo, lako comfort and forgot/' And mill, 1 think It were not all In vain. If wo poor mortals, who are thus buroft, Oonld loam from xll thlH deep, imcoiwlnir pain To allow more klndnonu to tho dear onoa loft. FAllMNOTJCS. How well the poultry growa depends upon the food given them. The average number of onion seed iu pound is 12,000. It pays to grind grain for the stock, an it pays to feed jt with cut fodder. Give plenty of attention to the miildn, of. a good pasture and a good hay croj Grass is king, it we keep tho weeds out. Clover is the bent for growing animals Begin to cull out and fatten all of tho un profitable cattle and sheep. Tuko care of tho colts now and teae them to eat oats, and feed them liborall to develop all tho size and quality to b bad. J.'o lessen the number of insects nex season rake up all tho fallen fruits. The, will niuko excellent feed for tho pign i cooked. The milcl. cow will need something bo sides corn meal this winter. If you havi neither ensilage nor roots, bran and oat should bo fed, and the uniuinl will respom handsomely to tho gift of oil meal. No lino of farm animal industry ha made the substantial, marked progress in Iho last nix years than have Hheopt No more now money ban boon made by hand ling stock tbun lias been made by handling gheep. j^u, juuug UIKU, IB now 10 acs ana wnac is to guide you in all your deliberations, what will guide you in your zeal for your own physical, moral, intellectual and spiritual advancement, and thus an nurnttRr.- YOU must therefore, capable of much exertion and sacrifice to insure success; you must not depend too much on the supernatural, forgetting that the natural also cornea from God. Every young man must needs think and act for himself, for in our day the American youth has a noble mission to perform.—Archbishop Ityan. Ewes that are to bo bred this fall shoulc have their lambs weaned as early as poasi bio, so as to have ample time for rest and recuperation from tho debilitating effect o: nursing young before they are again turned with the ram. A handful of grain to each ewe each day will also bo of good effect just now. How to Use Your Team, Exercise skill an.d judgment with your team when hauling a heavy load. Some drivers when taking a load to a given point will exhaust both wind and inuBclea oi a team; while another by taking advantage of the ground or by giving a real wnore especially needed, will get extraordinary service out of u team without injury. Never omit applying a mulch to voting tree? if there is the slightest danger of a drouth. Nrver forgot that low, stoat (not stunted) trees nre preferable to tall, slender ones. Never forget that n hardy, vigorous, productive variety, of medium quality, is infinitely more desirable than a feeble- Krnwine. shy-bearing variety of ranch better quality. Never buy a large number of varieties for a strictly commercial orchard. Thi« is a common nnd serious mistake. Five varieties are usually too many; three are belter, and n single ono may prove to be the best of nil. Never fail to hnvr> a succession of (jpplen for Imine use. Foi this purpose a few trees each of somewhat larger list of rarities rm»3' be selected. Hyn slid Wheat Compared. Wheat flourishes best and is most productive on calaireons soils—that is, on fcoiln that contain more or less lime. Ryo grows well on soils much lighter and. drier, nnd although it does better on lands containing some lime, it does not require- it nrccsRiirily to the same extent that wuoafc. does. }< armors BOW rye on soils they consider loo poor for wheat, nnd thnr^foro rye fields will usually IMS found occupying thn poorest soil on the farm. Hye endures cold better than wheat, and is a common Bubstilule for it on soils that will not grow the latter grain with certainty and profit. lly»> sown ns a green crop in the hill inny be used for winter pasture or for floilni* in the Hprintf, in either case furnishing green food, which no other crop wi I HO well supply at the Riimo season. When harvested for the grain the straw of rye, unlike that of wheat, IB a valuable purl,of tho crop for Halo, being extensively used for packing and bedding material, but on account of its toughness nnd coarseness it has but little value as animal food. Svtlno lirnnilluir. No olbor clnss of stock IHIH, in n comparatively nliort spaco of time, undergone so much improvement, as hogs. We must combine quick growth with easy fattening qualities. In selecting tho brcod BOW, chooso ono with mnrkciT characteristics of the breed of whieh H!IO is a type, as those poiiila are UIUH most likely to strongly develop in her progeny. A spring-farrowed' animal from a prolific dam is desinvbln — especially from a dam noted for large lilr torn. Only the soundest and ntrongoflt pigs of any litter should bo retained for breeders. In addition to general clmruc- t-.u-istics tho following points are desirable,' a correspondent of the Western Swino^ Tho Ndw Jerusalem. Curlatuln Inquirer. We are told that when the first of a company of crusaders reached the brow of the hill from wbich Jerusalem could be ' ; een, they leaped, from their horses and gave themselves up the exultant exclamation: "Jerusalem!" "Jerusalem!" The annoyances or. loug travel, the perils they hud encountered, and tho conflicts before them were all forgotten. If, when they beheld a city in ruins, they bad such joy, what emotions ought to fill Christum hearts when faith contemplates the new Jerusalem! It was the command of old time: "Let Jerusalem come into your mind." Let us think aright of the heavenly city aud we shall be filled with hope and led to renewed diligence for ourselves and anxiety that others may enter the golden gates. ^ A meteorite, found a few weeks ago in the roots of a willow Itumedy for Lloe. A mixture of lurd and snuff is tho California remedy for lice on stock. This ointment does not need to bo applied to the entire animal, but a ring of it two or three inches wide made completely around the neck will have the desired effect. Suu'ir Iluetg. Sugar beets will grow in every section of this country, and, though they may "ary in the amouut of sugar contained, according to soil and climate, yet they are unsurpassed as food for stock and it pays to grow thorn for that purpose alone. A plot of ground that is well manured in the fall and planted to sugar beets next spring will be an experiment worth trying by those who have hitherto given but little attention to growing beets. . ....'• Keeping Cabbage, i {111. is desired to keep cabbage in a col- should by all means be.detached from a house whero tho farinei; dwells. Such boute cellars are too warm fur keeping any vegetables well, and cabbages will boar colder weather than most vegetables. In a dry place out of doors dig a furrow eight inches deep; put the wibbages in heads' down and earth up. leaving only a little of the stub below the roots exposed. They will freeze thus, but are more apt to, be injured from warmth than from freezing. A few for use in coldest weatUer, when tbese trenches cannot be opened handily, may be kept in the house cellar. Herd: A light head; long, deep body, and- at leant 12 teats — the mare tho uuttor — are desirable. Wild and unruly HOWS — those • having bad Utibitn — should bn discarded entirely. Tho selection of the boar w ot even more importance, and ho may bo- mated with hundred)) of DOWN during his. lifotinio. A young boar should bo kept. growinur until ho in a year old. But ho must not lie allowed to got too fat. Persons accustomed to scrubs are very apt on first experience. with, a thoroughbred boar to think ho is getting too fat IVH his synir metrical proportions are deceptive. When a boar is full grown ho will no- require rich food, but enough to ketp him in good strength. Ho Kuould not com- monco to ucrvo until ho ia at least ten montliH old. _0nco serving is enough; allowing more is only waste of strength. When heavily worked, food accordingly.. Oatu form a very good feoil. So doon corn,, oimilago, clover, hay cut fine and scalded, . mixed with middlings and skim milk. . rionie think that a thoroughbred pigougbt . to thrive on IOHH food than a scrub, nnd ' acting on this theory become diHgunteil. i with pedigreed stock. Daily exoroiso with plenty of plain food will k«ep tho boar in , good health and viuor. When provided with suitable food and stabling it it) best. to have the HOW raise two litters of pigs a year, letting licr take the boar in November and April, HO shn will farrow in March and September. If Soptoinbur pigs are r-iisiid they will bo developed before severe frosts come. Usually prices are best in December and ugain in April and May. Without milk and other suitable foods, a dry piggory and |good CATO, autumn ry breeding will not Buccded. THIS Fuitli anil Holenoe, j, B. n, They dwoll apart, thai radiant pttlrr In dlfforont garbn appoiir; And while Iho vown of men they nhuru, IIuvoHeparute altum hero A golden lump the one dlnplnys, Of light Htlll clear and keen ; Tho other wulkn 'neuth slurry ruye, With uomotnueu cloudu between, TIu> voice of onoeiijoliiH tho wine i'o mote, and weigh, ami prove; The oilier Illls ux|joclanl uyon, And only inurrmiru/'Love.' 1 Doth tuftcherH of celmttlal birth, To each ho credence To Hclenco who Interprets Earth, To Faith, the Beer of Houven. —The Spectator. Tho soul has no pillow on which to repose so soft and sweet as a good con- Bcience. — Gregory. Nothing is so certain that lying doea not pay, but tbeio ia u great lying d( deaf of it. The AI>I>U> Orpburtl With other valuable su made by Prof, Lflcuty, at an Ohio horticultural nieetjng, were the following; Ne?w plant dseperthas toe tree stood. ilone all tho same. Looking too closely at a dollar doesn't'!. make it any bigger, but it very often • makes the soul u good deal smaller. There are people who wouldn't lie with-' ;ho lip for anything, and yet they live »-.i, io every day in the week. There is never nny difficulty in finding jeople to play the first fiddlo, but oh, how jard it ia to get the rest of. the orchestra. Good lluutla. That is a good hand which is put out to > iclp some one who has fallen by the way- d«. That is a good hand which knows how • iiake puin easier and headaches vanish. . That is a good hand which knows how • o_givo heartily and freely. That is a good hand thnt is put out to' lelp you or me as we walk along in life;. when we feel we need souio one to pro- ect us. That is a good hand which never wrote nothing ot which he is ashamed, and- vhich never puts its hand to fraud and • Uhonesty. That iti a good hand which helps- along • lie sick and the weak, the helpless and > be poor. That is a good haud which does its - irork well; whatever it may be, wherever - may lie, it doth not grow weary, and it doeth ita work 80 it is worth its wages.— Atlanta Constitution. _ Ordinary peat is now being use4 as fuel < for locomotives in Sweden, and whera • the supplp is sufficient is likely to take tha place of coal. Ou a recent trial steam was kept at full pressure with peat during »« Kip with 10 loaded cars-

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