The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 25, 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, November 25, 1891
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TH1 WPJR DBS MQjNEgv ALQPM. IQW.A, WEDNJSPAY,. NOVEMBER 26, 1891. Rm V \s V' LOVE'S VICTORY. BY BBBTIIA ll. 01, AT. CHAPTER HI. "TOTJBOOOD eociutr is xi,t. Miss Hastings had -been prepared to see ;i hoiden< an awkward, uhHedgetl schoolgirl, one who, never liavihc: seen much of gwnl society, had none of tlio little graces ami charms that distinguish young todies, slit- tad expected to see a tall, jraunt pir], with red hands, and a general air of nut kiHi\vin>; •What to do with herself— that was the Idea she hail formed. She gazed fh wonder H( tlie teaiity— a magnificent figure— a airi whose grand, pale, statuesque beauty was something that could never be forgotten. There was nothing of the boavlihnr-seliool ynnnir lady about her; no acquired ifiMexs. s'ir \vns simply mngnifieent— no other word CDU.U describe her. Jliss Hastings, as she looked at. her, thought involuntarily ot the graceful lines, the beautiful curves, the grind, tree grace of tho world-renowned Diana of the Louvre: there was the same ;in;hed. graceful neck, the same, royal symmetry, the same hniinony of outline. Iu one. ot the most celebrated art galleries of Koine Alias Hastings remembered to have seen a superb bust of Jnno; us she looked al her new pupil, she could almost Htncy thu Its head laid been modeled from hers. Pauline's head was royul iu its queenly contour; the brow low, white, and rounded at tin 1 temples; the hair, waving in Urn-sot Inexpressible 'beauty, was loosely giilheied together and fastened behind with a glcamlm; silver arrow. The eyes were perlups tin most wonderful feature in thai wonderful face; they were dark us night itself, suiiu 1 •what In hue like a purple, hesii-tsciise. rieh, vBOft, dreamy, yet at limes all lire, all bright- jftness, filled with passion more intense tir.m ,ny words, and shining then 'with a .-strange ' -tf-golden light. 'J'he lirosvs \veri! straight. dark, and beaut i I'hl; the lips crimson, full, and exquisitely shaped; the mouth ltr>': n d like one that could persuade, or contemn— •that could express teiiderimss or scorn, love. orpride;>ith the .slighter, piny- of tbe lips. Kvery attitude thn girl jissumed WPS full ol unconscious grace. She did uot up|"'ur tn be. in the least conscious of her wonderful beauty. She had walked to the window, and stood leaning carelessly against the frame, one beautiful sinn thrown above hurhciul, at though she were weary, nntl would fain rest — nn attitude that could not have been surpassed had she studied it for years. "You are not aUill what I expected to see," said Miss Hustings, at lust. "You ;iro, indeed, so different tlmtl am taken by surprise." ' "Am 1 better or worse than you had im- agined'ine?" she asked, with (-areless scorn. "You are different — better, perhaps, in somethings. You are taller. You nre. so ' tall that it will he difficult to remember you are a pupil." "The Dim-oils are a tall race, quietly. . "Miss Hastings, what come here to teach meV" The elder lady rose from her seat and looked lovingly into the face of the girl; she placed her hand caressingly on the slendei shoulders. "I know what I should like to teach you, Miss Darrell, if you will let me. I should like to teach you your duty to. Heaven, yotu fellow-creatures, and yourself." "That would be dry .learning, I fear," she returned, "What does my uncle wish me to „, learn?" ! '-To bo In all respects a perfectly refined, fegraccftil lady."' Her face flushed with a great crimson wave that rose to the white brow and the delicate shell-like ears. "1 shall never be that," sh« cried, passionately. "I may just as well give up all hopes of Darrell Court I have seen some ladies since 1 have been here. 1 could not be like them. They seem to speak by rule; iliey all say Hie same kind of things, with the same smiles, in the same, tone of voice; they follow each otliei-'like sheep; they seem frightened to advance an opinion of their own, or even give utterance to an original thought. They look upon me as something horrible, because I dare to say what I think, ami have read every book 1 could find." "It is not always best to put our thoughts in speech; and the chances are, Miss Darrell, that, If yon have road (.'very book you could find, you have, road miiny that had been be.tr ter left alone. You are giving a very one sided, prejudiced view after all." She raised her- beautiful head with a («estr ure of superb disdain. '•There is the same difference between them and' myself as between a mechanical singing bird made to sing three times and n wild, sweet bird of the woods. I like my own self best." "There is not tho leivst doubt ot that," observed Miss Hustings, with a smile; "but the question is not so much who we like ourselves <is what others like in us. However, we will discuss that at, another- time, Miss Dun-oil." "Has my uncle told you that if 1 please him— if I can be molded into the right form — I iini to be heiress of Durroll Court? she aske.d, quickly, "Yes; and now that I have seen you 1 am persuaded that you can be anything you " she said, have you '''Do you think, that 1 am clover?" she asked, eagerly. "I should imagine so," replied Miss Hastings. "Pauline—I need not call you Miss Darrell— I hope we shall befriends; i trust we shall bo happy together." "It is not very likely," she said, slowly, "that I can like you, Miss Hastings." "Why not';'" asked the governess, astonished at her frankness, "Because you are to correct me; continual correction'will be a great annoyance, and will prevent my really liking you." Miss Hastings looked astounded. "That may be, Pauline," she said; "but do you know that it is not politu of you to say so?. In good society one does not tell such unpleasant truths." "That is just it," was tho eager retort; • "that is why I do not like good society, and shall never bo fit for it, I am truthful by nature. In 'my father's house and among his friends there was never any, newt lo conceal the truth; we always spoke it frankly. If we did not like each other, we said so. But here, it seems to me, the first Irsson learned to fit one for society is to speak falsely." "Not so, Pauline; but, when the truth is likely to hurt another's feelings, to wound susceptibility or pride, why speak it, unless His. called for?" Pauline moved her white anus with u su- perl) gesture of scorn. "1 would rather any day hear the truth and have my mind hurt," she said, energetically, "than feel that people were smiling at mo and deceive me. Lady Hampton visits Sir Oswald. I do not like her, and she does not like me; but she always asks Sir Oswald how his 'dear niece' is, and she calls me a 'sweet 'creature— original, but very sweet' You can see for yourself, Miss Hastings, that I tun not that." "Indeed, you are not sweet," returned the governess, smiling; "but Pauline, you area mimic, and mimicry is a dangerous gift." She Ju\d imitated Lady Hampton's languid tones and affected accent to perfection. "Sir Oswald bows and smiles all the time Lady Hampton is talking to him: he stands first up on one foot, and then upon the other. Yoii would think, to listen to him. that he was so charmed with Tier ladyship that he could not exist out of her presence. Yet I hay* seen him quite delighted at her depnrtu!*, and twice I heard Him srty 'Thank Heftveh' —it was for tile relief. Yo"r good society ii Ml deceit, Miss Hastings." "I will hot have you say that, ..-Pauline. Amiability, and the desire always to be kind and considerate, may carry one to extremes at times; but I' am inclined to prefer the amiability that spares to the. truth that wounds." "1 am not," was the blunt rejoinder. "Will you come to your rooms, Miss Hastings? Sir Oswald has ordered a suite to be prepared entirely for our use. I have three rooms, you have four; and there is a study that we can use together." They went through the broad stately corridors, where the warm sun shone in at the windows, and the flowers breathed sweetest perfume. The rooms that had been prepared for them were bright and pleasant with a beautiful view from the wiiidows,<.w'ell'ftirn- ished, and supplied with every comfort. A sigh came from Mbs Hastings as she gazed —it was all so pleasant. But it seemed very doubtful to her whether she would remain or not—very doubtful whether she would be able to make what Sir Oswald desired out of that I'm nk free-spoken girl, who had not one conventional idea. . "Sir Oswald is very kind," she said, at length, looking around her; "these rooms are exceedingly nice." "They are nice," said Paulino; "but I was hap pier with my lather in the Rue d'Orme, Ah me. what liberty we had there 1 In this stalely life 1 feel as though I were bound with-cords, or shackled with-chains—as though 1 longed to stretch out my arms and fly away." Again Miss Hastings sighed, for it seemed to her that, the time of her resilience at I)nr- roll Court would in all probability be very short. CIIAPTICK'IV. "YOU AUK GOING TO 8PO1I, MY LIFE." Two dnys hail passed since. Miss Hasting's arrival. On ti beautiful morning, when the sun was shining and the birds were singing in the trdes, she sat in the study with an expression of deepest anxiety, of deepest thought on her face. Pauline, with a smile on her lips, sat opposite to her, and there was profound silence. M'«s Darrell was the first t'o break it. "Well," she asked, laughingly, "what Is your verdict.. Miss Hastings''" The, elder lady looked up with a long, deep-drawn sigh. "I have never been so completely puzzled in all my life," she replied. "My dear Pauline, yon are the strangest mixture of ignorance and knowledge that I have ever met. Yon know a great deal, but it is all of the wrong kind; you ought to unlearn all that you have learned." "You admit then that 1 know something.""Yes; but it would be almost bettor, perhaps, if you did not. I Avill tell you howl feel, Pauline. Iknow nothing of building, but I feel as though I had been placed before a heap of marble, porphyry, and granite, of wood, glass, and iron, and then told from those materials to shape a mngnifieent palace. I am at a loss what to do." Miss Darrell laughed with the glee of a child. Her governess, repressing her surprise, continued: '*You know more in some respects than most educated women; in other and equally essential matters yon know less than a child. You speak French fluently, perfectly; you have read a large number of hooks in the French language—good, bad, and indifferent, It appears to me; yet you have no more idea of French grammar or of the, idiom or construction of the language than a child." "That, indeed, I have not; I consider grammar the most stupid of all human inventions." Miss Hastings offered no comment "Again," she continued, "you speak good English, but your spelling is bad, and your writing worse. You are better acquainted with English literature than I am—that is, you have read more. You have read Indiscriminately; oven the titles of some of tho books you have read are notadmissible." The dark eyes (lushed, and the pale, grand face was stirred a;> though by some sudden emotion. "There was a large library iu the house where we lived," she explained, 'hurriedly, "and I read every book in it. i read from earlymormngmit.il late at night, and sometimes from night until morning; there, was no one to tell mo what was right and what, was wrong, Miss Hastings." "Then," continued the governess, "you have written a spirited poem on Aune Bo- loyn, but you know nothing of English history—neither the dates nor the incidents -of a single reign. You have- written tho half of a story the scene of which is laid in tho tropics, yet of geography you have, not the faintest notion. Of mailers such as every girl has some idea of—of biography., of botany, of astronomy—yon have not even a glimmer. The chances are that if you engaged in conversation with any sensible, person, you would equally astonish, first by the clever things you would utter, and then by tho niter Ignorance you would display." "I cannot be flattered, Miss Hastings," Pauline put in, '-because you humiliate me.; nor can 1 be humiliated, because you flatter me." But Miss Hastings pursued her criticisms steadily. "You have not the slightest knowledge, of arithmetic. As for knowledge, of a higher class, you have none. You ure dreadfully deficient. You say that you have read Au- gasro Coiute, but you do not know the aiu swer to the first question in your church catechism. Your education requires beginning all over ugain. Vim have never had any settled plan ol'study, 1 should imagine." "No. I lenrneii drawing from Jules Lacroix. Talk of talent, Alls* Hastings. You should have known him—-he was the handsomest art 1st 1 ever saw. There was something so picturesque- about him." • "Doubtless," was the dry response; "but J think 'picturesque' is not tho word to use in such a case. Music, I presume, you taught yourself?" The girl's face brightened—her manner changed. "Yes. 1 taught myself; poor pupa could not afford to pay for my lessons. Shall I play to you, Miss Hastings?" There was a piano in the study, a beautiful and valuable instrument, which Sir Oswald had ordered for his niece. "I shall be much pleased to boar you," said Miss Hastings. Pauline Darrell rose and went to the piano. Her face then was as the face of one inspired. She sat down and played a few chords, full', beautiful and harmonious. "I will sing to you," she said. "We often went to the opera—papa, Jules, l.ottis, and myself. I used to sing everything 1 heard. This is from '11 Puritan!.'" And she sang one of the. most beautiful solos in the opera. Her voice was magnificent, full, ringing, vibrating with passion—a voice that, like her face, could hardly be forgotten! but she playr ed and sanjc entirely after ft fashion of her owi. "Now, Miss Hastings," she Said, "1 will imitate Adelinn Pah I." tface, voice, manner, all changed; she began one of the far-tamod ptlmnKtonna's most iftlmired songs, and MiHS Hastings' owned to herself that tf she had closed her eyes she might have lielieved Mndnnw Pntti present" "This is n Jo Christine Niissoii.''. continued Pauline; mid again'the Imitation was brilliant and perfect. The magnificent voice did not seem to tire, though she sang song alter song and Imitated in the most marvelous manner some of the grandest singers of the day. Miss Hastings left her seat and went, up to her. "You have a splendid voice, my dear, and great musical genius. Now tell me, do you know a single note of music?" "Not one," was the quick reply. "You know nothing of the keys, time, or anything else?" "Why should 1 trouble, myself when t could play without learning anything of the kind?" . , "IJut that kind of playing, Paulino, although It Is very clever, would not do for edunited people." "Is it not good enough for them?" she asked serenely. "No; one. cannot.help admiring it, but any educated person hearing you would detect directly that .you did not know your notes." "Would they think much less of me, on thut account?" she asked, with the same serenity. : "Yes; every ono would think it sad to see so imrch talent wasted. You must, begin to sliuly hard; you unist learn to play by note, not by ear, mid then all will be well. You love music, Paulino?' 1 How tho beautiful face glowed and thu dark eyes shone. "I love it," she said, "because 1 can put my whole soul into It—there is room for one's soul in it. You will he shocked, 1 know, but that is why I liked Comic's theories—because they filled my mind, anil gave me. so much to think of." ."Were I In your place 1 should try to forget them. Pauline." "You should have seen Sir Oswald's face when I. told him 1 had read Comte and Dar- .\vin. He. positively groaned aloud." And she laughed as she remembered his misery. "1 feel veiy. much inclined to groan myself," said Miss Hastings. "You shall have theories, or facts, higher, more beautiful, nobler, grander far than-any Coinle ever dreamed. And now we must begin to work in real earnest. 11 IJnt Pauline Darrell did not move; her dark eyes were shadowed, her beautiful face grew sullen and determined. "You arc going to spoil .my life," she said. "Hitherto it has been n glorious life—free, gladsome, and bright; now you are going to parcel it out.' There will be.no more sunshiny hours; you are going to reduce mo to it kind of machine, to cut, oil'all my beautiful dreams, my lofty thoughts. Ynn want to make me a formal, precise young lady, who will laugh, speak, and think by rule." "1 want to make you a sensible woman, my dear Pauline," corrected Miss Hastings, gravely. "Who is the better or the happier for being so sensible?" demanded Pauline. She paused fora few minutes, und then added suddenly: "Dan-oil Court, and all the wealth of tho Darrells are not worth it, Miss Hastings." "Not worth what, Pauline?" "\ot, worth tho price, 1 must pay."' "What is the price?" asked Miss Hastings, calmly. "My independence, my freedom of action und thought, my liberty of speech." "Do yon seriously v.ilne these things more highly than all that (Sir Oswald could leave yon?" "I do—a thousand times more highly," she replied. Miss Mast Ings was silent for some few minutes, and tlieii said: "We. must do our best; suppose, we, make a compromise? I will give you all the liberty that I honestly can, in every way, and yon shall give your attention lo the studies I propose. .1 will make your task as easy as I can for you. Darrell Court is worth a struggle." "\es," wns the half-reluctant reply, "it is worth a slniLA'le, and I will make it." Ha! there was not much hope in Hut heart of the governess vt-hcn she commenced her tii.sk. CHiVI'TICH. V, Ttl": l-KOOKIOSS MA UK IIY THE I'UI'll.,, !lt, \va.i a beiiiiliriil afternoon iu June. M>iy, with it lilac and hawthorn, had passed away; the roses were in fairest- bloom, lilies looked like ;iiv:il while, stars: Hie fulness and beauty, tin- win-null iiml fragrancti of summer were on Ihe.l'acc of the land, and everything living n-joiee.d In'it, Pauline had beggi-d that the, daily readings might !:>Ki- plnei! uniier tlie. .LTcnt ce.dnr tree on ih'.- i;iu n. "If I iMii.-l.br'bored by dry historical facts," she viid. "let me :il least have the lights and shiiii'iw-i uirthe l:iwn t<i look at. The shadow of the lives on tin! J^IMSS is beautiful beyond everything else. Oil, Miss Hastings, why will people write dull histories? 1 like to fancy all kings heroes, and all queen* heroines. History leaves us no illusions." "Still," replied tho governess, "it teaches us plenty of what you love, so amic.h—truth." Tlie beautiful face grow very serious and thoughtful. "Why are s.o many truths disagreeable and sad? If I could rule, 1 would have the world so bright, so fair and glad, every one so happy. 1 cannot understand all this 'under-current of sorrow." • "Comte did not explain it, then, to your satisfaction?" said Miss Hastings. "Comte J" cried the girl, .impatiently. "1 am not obliged to believe all i road 1 Once and for all, Miss Hastings,! do not believe in Comte or his follows. I only read what he wrote because people seemed to think it clever to have done so. ¥ou know—you must know—that 1 believe in our great Father. Who could look, round on this lovely world and not do so?" Miss Hilstifgs felt more hopeful of the girl then than i. e had. ever felt before. Such strange, wild theories had fallen at times from her lips that It was some consolation to know she had still a child's faith. Then came an Interruption in the shape of « footman, with Sir Oswald's compliments, and would the ladies go to the drawing- room? There were visitors. "Who are they?" asked Miss Darroll, abruptly. The man replied: "Sir George and Lady Hampton." "1 shall not go," said Pauline, decidedly; "that woman sickens inn with her false, airs and silly, false graces. I Imvw not patience u> talk to her." "Sir Oswald will not be, pleased," remonstrated Miss Hastings. "That I cannot help—it is not my fault. 1 Hhall not make, myself a hypocrite, to please Sir Oswald." "hoi-jety lias duties which must be, .discharged, and whie.lt do not depend IIJJUM our liking: we must-do our duty win Ihw \vt>. like it or not." "1 detest society,'' was tin; abrupt replv-- "it is all a sham!" ••Then why not do your best toImprwti it? Thai, would surely fee belter than to abuse it." "There Is something in that, v confessed Miss Darrell, slowly. "if we each do our little best toward tnnk- In.n the world even ever so little bolter than we found it»" said MLss Hastings, "we sbnll not have lived in vain. 1 ' Them was a singular grandeur of generosity about the icirl. If she saw that she was wrong in an argument or an opinion, she admitted it with the most chnrmtng candor. That admission she made now by rising nt once to accompany Miss Hastings. The drawing-room at Dnrrell Court wn-* n ningnlticent apartment; it had been furnished under the superintendence of tlie late Lady Darrell, a lady of exquisite taste. It was nil white and gold, the. white hanKitiRs with bullion fringe and gold braids, the white damask with a delicate border of gold; the pictures, I be costly statues gleamed in tho midst of rich und rare flowers; graceful ornaments, tall, slender vases wore filled with choicest blossoms; the large mirrors, with their golden frames, were each and all perfect in their way. There was nothing gaudy, brilliant, or dax/.llng; all was subdued, In perfect good taste and harmony. In this superb room the beauty of Paulino Darrell always showed to great, advantage; she was In perfect keeping with its splendor. As she entered now, with her usual half- haughty, ball-listless grace, Sir Oswald looked up with admiration plainly expressed on his face. "What a queenly mistress tflio would make for the Court, It'she would but belnivn like other people I" hn thought to himself, and then Lady Hampton rose to greet the girl. "My dear Miss Darrell, I was gelling quite Impatient, it seems an age since I saw you— really nn age." "It is an exceeding short one," returned Pauline; "I s w you on Tuesday, Lady Hampton." "Did yon? Ah, yes; how could J forget? Ah. my dear child, when yon reach my age — when your mind is filled with a hundred different matters—you will nut have .such a good memory as you have now." Lady Hampton was a little, ovcr-dtvs.se.il woman. She looked all flowers and furbelows —all ribbons and laces, she wits, however, a perfect mistress of all the arts of po- •lite society; she knew exactly what to say and how to say if; she knew when lo smile, when to look sympathetic, when to sigh. She was not sincere; she never made the least pretence, ot being so. "Society" was hi r one idea—how lo please It, bow to win Its adinirat.li.tn, how to secure a high position in it. The contrast- between the two was remarkable—the young girl with her noble face, her grand soul looking out ol her clear dark eyes; Lady Hamplon with her artificial smiles, her shitting glances, and would-be clianiiing gestures. Sir Oswald sl.ood by with a coiirll.\ smile on his face. "I have some charming news I'or you," said Lady Hampton. "I am sure yon will be pleased lo hear It. M'lss Darrell."' "That will quite, depend on what it is like." Interposed Pauline, honestly. "You dear, droll child I Yon are so original; yon have, so much character. I always tell Sir Oswald yon are quite dilTeront from any one else." And though her ladyship spoke smilingly, she gave a keen, quiet glance at Sir Oswald's face, in all probability in watch the effect of her words. "Ah, well," she continued, "1 suppose that in your position a little singularity may be permitted," and then she paused, with a bland smile. "To wlmt position do you allude?" asked Miss Darrell. Lady Hampton laughed again. She, nodded with an air of great penetration. "You are cautions, Miss Darrell, But I am forfeiting my news, it is this—that my niece. Miss Kllnor Hnchl'ord, is coming to visit me." (To be continued.) AN ANT IfUNEBALi. ShiffUlnr Prooeaclure of Ants In Burying Thulr Demi. A lady gives this account of some ants wjiich she saw in Sydney. Having killed a number of soldier ants, she returned in a half hour to the spot where she had left their dead bodies, and in reference to what she tntn observed she says: "1 saw a large number of ants sur- roundJnsf the dead ones. 1 determined to watch their proceedings closely. I followed four or live that started off from the rest toward a hillock a short distance off, in which was an ants' nest. This they entered, and in about five minutes they reappeared, followed byoUietM. All fell into rank, walkincr reculurly and slowly, two by two, until they arrived at the spot where lay the bodies of the dead soldier ants. In a few' minutes two of. tho ants advanced and took up the dead body of one of their comrades; then two others, and BO on, until all were ready to march. "First walked two anls bearing a body, then two without a burden, then two others with another dead ant, and HO on, until the line extended to about forty pairsi and then the proaesidon moved slowly onward, followed by an -irregular body by about two hundred ants. "Occasionally the two ,, laden ants stopped, and, laying down ije dead ant, it.was taken up by the two walking unburdened, and thus by oc.caHior.ally relieving each other, they arrived at a s.indy spot near the sea. "The body of ants now commenced diff- jfing with their jaws a number of holes iu the ground, in each of which a dead ant was laid. They now lal-ored on until they had filled up thb ants' graves. This did not quite finish the remaikable circumstances attending their funeral. "Some six or seven of the anta had attempted to run off without performing their share of the task of digging. These wore caught and brought back, when thev were at once attacked uy tho body of ants and killed on the spot. A single gr/ive was quietly dug, and they were all dropped into it.-—Selected. Stranger: "Whatare your rates?" Hotel clerk: "Five dollarn a day, nii." Stranger: "It I corae i shall want a room on the parlor floor." Clerk: "That will be» dollar extra." Stranger: "1 shall also, want a fire in my room." Clerk: "One dollar more." Stranger: "And a bath." Clerk: "A dollar additional, sir " Stranger (thoughtfully): "How much will you charge to let me leave the hotel just as J am?" Nut Gone fur Uood. Bad actor—"My! my! The audience itt leaving the theater right in the middle of the pluy." , Call boy—"They ain't goin' home. They'll be back soon." Bad actor-"Will they? What did the go out for?" Call boy—"Eggs."—Good News. Waiter: "tiuejate" usually remember the waiter hert. sir." Uncle Si: "Dothey? Waal, I'll tgke a good look at ye. You ain't got no marks, but I puees I'll know ye again when I gee ire. FARM AND HOME. THK HOUSEHOLD Can«e» for ThftnkfttlttCM. ILLSN IKABKt.LR TLTVKU. For nil that Ucxl In mercy Mndo; For health »nd children, hnmn And frlendi, For Comfort In the lime of need. For evcrjr kindly woril »nd dWMl, For happy thought* »nd holy Ulk, Forfrnldante In our daily w»lK, tW everything Irn thank*! For beauty in thin world of our», For verdant grass and lovely tlowen, For song of oirds, for hum of !«•<<», For the refreshing puminer breeze. For hill and plain, for Mreatnuaml wood Fortlio grost ocpati'i" mighty flood, For everything glvd thank*1 For the «w«nt Bleep Unit comes at night. For the returning mornlniz's light. For the bright nun tlmt. shines on nigh, For th« M«ri" glltlprlng In the sky, For \\ietv and everything w« >pt«, O Ijonl! our lu'itru \vo lift to Thoe, Fur everything give tlmnkul 1TAIIM NOTKS. There is nothing so brave n« love. Doing wroiiK always kills camnlhinir good in your own soul. Thot-chool at'experience i* not a free Kchuol. Wo iiuve lo pay our nwn tuition. "A good liToe.uinol, bring 1 forth evil fruit, noil her oun n corrupt tree forth good fruit." Century Miigiir.ine: Mon't worry your brain tilmtil thu uuin in tin; moon, but study the nniti in your own orctcoat. There, never did, nml there never will, exist any I hint? permanently nolile an excellent in ii ehiir icier wliieh wns :i Ktmn^- or to the exeieit-e of re.-olute self-denial.— Swill, 0! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds murk tlie urolier little meant! And many a word, at nindom Hpoken, May soothe or wound a, heart that's broken. —Scott A. good name is n grant troamiro. II. will bo yours if you keup straight forward iu thd path of duty and UHel'alness. But remember that u good mime is easily forfeited and hard tu win buck when once, lost. Th« Socrot of Ifmiltli. Don't worry. Don't hurry. "Too swift arrives as lardy aa too slow " ''Simplify! simplify! simplify!" Don't overeat. Don't starve. "Let your moderation bo known to all men." Court the fresh air day unit night. "Oh, if you know what was in the, air." Sleep and rest abun-lrtntly. Sleep itt nature H benediction. Spend less nervous energy each day I bun jou make. Be cheerful. "A light heart lives long." Think only healthful thoughts. "Aa a, m,ui thinketh in his heart. HO he is. "Seek peace, and pursue it," "Work like a man, but don't he worked to death." Avoid puosion and excitement. A moment's anger nnty be fatal. Associate wit,h healthy people.. Health is contagious, as well us disease. "Don t carry the whole world on your shoulder", far less the universe. Trust the eternal." Never despair. "Lost hope is a fatal disease." "If ye know the things, happy are ye if je do them."—The laws of Life. Adaptability In The keeper of a, house in such a manner as to result in a genuine home in largely in considering housekeeping in its true relation as subfervient to the household life; to consider that the household is made for the family, and not the family for the household. The housekeeping that is so immaculate that comfort is sacrificed to order, that convenience is micrih'ctd to appearance, is by no means ideal, however fair in uy bo its outward aspeut. Order, punctuality, eleir'liness, economy are virtues in tho relative sense, and only as they are hold adjustable are they strictly virtues. The lite is more than meat, and there may be considerations of enjoyment or of social duties that quite supercudo a regulation that rivals that of the Modes and Persians in its unvarying character. In many households tho family would gain largely b,y ''.onsidering breakfast as a movable feast,, lobe partaken of at tho individual convenience of each member of the family, rather than to be appointed at a fixed hour, whon all must, perforce, an pear. Coffee and rolls nerved in one s romn often enable one to write letters or perform some needed task, impossible if a regular breakfast hour down stairs must be observed. The French custom is gaining more and more in American households, and it is one to welcomed. Adaptability and adjustability are jlho most desirable of factors in housekeeping economy. The morning is usually the best time for any individual work. Then (lie hours »re, as a rule, freo from social demands, and the individual is in his best condition for w iting, or for whatever employment he may be engaged in, if of a nature requiring solitude and thought. A margin of easy-going latitude in housekeeping life need interfere with 110 essential arrangement, und may add A world of comfort to individual living. mid Children. When a man begins to get along in veari, he gradually changes from being a king in his family to a patriarch. He is more tender and kind lo his offspring and instead of ruling them, the first thing he knows they are ruling him. A child without a grandpa and grandma can never have its share of happiness, I'm sorry for 'em. Blessings on the good old people, the venerable grandparents of the land, the people with good old honest ways und simple habits und limited desires, who indulge. in no folly, who hanker after no bitr thing, but live along serene and covet nothing but the happiness of their children and children's children. I said to a good old mother not long ago: "Well, I hear tha Anna is to be married." "Yas, air," she said, smiling sorrowfully, "I don't know what I will do. The last daughter I've pot is going to leave me. I've nursed her and petted Tier all wy lite, and 1 kinder thought she was mine, but she's run off after a fellow she's no kin to in tha world, one who never did a thing for her but give her a riiifc or a book or two, and a little French candy now and then, and it does look so strange and unreasonable. I couldn't understand it at all if— I hadn't done the eatae thing myself a long time ago," she k.ept knitting away with » smile and a tear '.'.pon her motherly face. But I'm not going to slander these little chapi that keep us go busy looking after them for there ia 90 meanaes in their mischief, and if they take liberties it ii because we let'em. Mrs. Arp nays they ftiejnst too sweet to lite, »nd i* nlwayi narrating .tome of their -m.it t sayinsru. Well, they nre mighty «nmrt, for they know exactly how to get everything and do everything they want, for they know to manage her, and they know that she manages me. and that settles it. V man is the ftead of the house, but about some other things he is only next to the head, if he ain't a fool. A man can punish hit children, but it's always ndvicnblp to make an explanation in due time and let hii wife know wlmt ho did it for, because, you see, they are her children, sure enough, and she knows it nntl feels it. Tho pain and trouble, the nursing and night-watching, han all I MM; « hers, The washing and dressing, and mending and patching —tieing upfingi-M and tots, and sympathizing with'em in all their ureat and little troubles, all fall to her while the father intending to hjs farm, or his store, or his office, or his friends, or maybe hit billiml-table. _Wlje/itt worn in says, "This is my child," it carries more weight und more meaning thim whon a nniri says it, and 1'vu not got much respect for a htw that will vivo a man the preference of ownership just bromine he in a mail.— F.xchatig". Til 1C V\ UM Kits' W! IT.. P.IIINIirililll SCOTSMAN. I'liwlin thii lilnl* In tlu> morning I'hn iti>tvilri>|i* irlnw like u ptivinu- ay\\\ • llennllfiil l.nlti In tln> hid,'.- nre iluwninu, Hill H|M<V iit'Vi'i a momiMil lo look a I them; Thn men iim \Minlim; ilioir lirpnkfii"! i-.iriy: She HUM not Hmji-r, elm inuM not wail : I 1 or \vdids Unit art' t,|mr|i nml look* thai nr-j mirly Ait< ,\!ml mi'ii yl\n »ln>n Ilicir HUM!" :iu> inln. To glorious i*olonr« I ho Homln urn inrnfni;, II «lit> \\oiilil Inu lunk over woodn und tri'd.; (till Ihnie lira I tin (Hain't anil licni U tho churn- ln«~- 'Phono llilinrit niii^t nlwn) - yield lo these. Thu \viviM Is llili'il \\lili iho \viii» of liiMinty, If she could lint p niw- anil ilrlnk It In; Hut )ili'Hciir. , him myf, nuii<t wait for duly— Ni Kleuleil work in ronnnllled H|II. Tliw day grown hoi, ami her hnndn grow weary; Oh I lor an hour to criol hur lienil, Out with lln 1 lilnlHiiml HIU wind HO clieerj: .Hill. nh« iniiKt got dinner and wikn thn bread; The bin<y men In the Imyllw d working, If they nuv linr Hitting with Idle hand, Would think It In/.y. mid call her Hhlrklng, And uhii could never inako them uiidwr- Klninl. They do not know that the heart within her Hungers for lieauly and tilings Mihllinu; They only know that they want, their din- nar— Plenty of U— und "jiihl In time;', And afmr HIM mveopliii; and clnirnlni,' and liakliii;, She H||H ami vewn, though her head It) iichlnu, 'l*ill lime for Hiipner antl ^eJinren 11 drawn Her hoyH ill mchool tnuxt look like other», Hhu Hayn, us nhn pali'lien their froclcu and IIOHU ; Kor the world irt quick to censure inolherti Kor Ilia lenul n«i;li<i:t of chlldron'H clothnu, Her Iniphiiml coineH from the Hold of labour, Ho cIvuM no pralBo to the weary wife: She'n done no more Hum hax her nuluhuour, 'Tin thu lot of all In country life. Hut iiflor the Htrlfu and weary |UNH|U Wlih life IB done, anil »lni Ilex at re«t. The inttlon'H brain mid liearl. and muscle HIT HOIIH nml danghtiirs — nhull call IM Ijlact, And I think (he nwoeleHt Joy of heavon, Tho niriint bllpx of uternal life, And the faired, crown of all will no ({Ivun Unlo lli« wayworn furinor's wtfo. KAHM NOTES. Wliout I'or Fowln. Wheat fed wliolo to laying fowls, atid wheat screanings or cracked wheat fed to young chicks have always produced the most desirable results, though it must bo remembered that they must not be fed in the 8I11UO quiiutitiLM as corn. Tho tendency of wheat is to proouco a healthy growth, feed tho muscular tissues and aid materially in causing tho hens to Iny often, and rich eggs. K on ill MI; AiilonilH, Keep IIH many animiilH as possible, but do not kfr-p more than can bo comfortably sholterecl, A sheep should have twenty square feet of room, as crowding is injurious. Too many animals will occasion a Ipsn, but the capacity of tho farm and buildings I'or the support of stock should be fully utilixod. Hutting Vlilk. Milk set in milk pans in a pantry at & temperature of sixty to sixty-five depreea will raise more er&am und butter than milk set in cooler pails, lit a temperature of fifty six degrees. Milk to wliieh BO per cent, water has bwn added will raisit more cream when set at lifl.y'h'vo degrees than the same to which no water has added. ToolH Sleol liars are much butter than iron, and being KO much lighter, one can as well throw uway an iron one and buy new as use un iron that is much heavier. The same is true with regard to tho old- fashioned crosscut saws, and cant dogs, manure- forks und pitchforks. All such tools are so cheap that no one can afford to use a poor or heavy ono, if such tool is use often. HltcliliiK the lloi'Hu. Ono of the best methods of hitching a hor.-e that is uneasy, or has the habit of pawing in the stall, is to pass a rope over a small pulley, and attach about a pound weight to it, and fasten the halter into a rinjs or loop on that rope upon the inside ot the stall, so thut when the horse stands up to tho manger the halter will be drawn up short, and the weight rest upon the floor. When hnliua down the weight will come up enough io«ivo him ull the ropo neiwssary. Homo do this and have thu halter fastened to a ring upon the top of tho head instead ot under the jaw, ami when they desire to lead him out by the halter, pass the loose end down through the other rintr. I'rollt In Oreuni. Dairymen who are not butter makers will often find it more- profitable to sell tha cream than to jell milk. Hotels and many private families will olteu buy cream regularly, especially during tho cummer fruit season^ and quite as much may be obtained for this alone as bottle milk and cream would bring together. The skim milk theu brings an added pro fit by being used for feeding. A good way to start a cream trade would be to put it up aently in pint or half pint glass jars, and then offer it from house to bouse, just as milkmen do. It would uot take long to build up a pay- inn route in any good town. Jersey cows would be beat for a cream dairy, uot ojily because of thn excellence of their product, but because the name iu itself constitutes, a good Guest: "I want a good hearty djnuer -plenty of variety. What would you " Waiter— "Order consomme soup, htwh, and mince pie. That'll be »ure tp include evwytWb»g."~Bu,fJa|o

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