f H|l trPPEK JJES MQlNES, ALGQNA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER IB, 1891. LOVE'S VICTORY. BT BBBTHA M. CLAY. _'hen SirUswald, ttltn his visitors, at;- vunced. It was Pauline's aversion, Lad\ Hampton, with her niece, Miss Ilocheford. Lady Hhtnpton advanced in her usual grave, artificial manner. "Sir Oswald wanted to send for you, but I said 'no.' What can be more charming than Such a group under (lie trees? lam so anxious to introduce my niece to you, Miss Darrell—she arrived only yesterday. Elinor, let me introduce you t;> .Mi.« Daneil, Miss Hastings, and Captain Langton." Pauline's dark eyes glanced at th? blushing, sweet face, and the shrinking, graceful figure. Miss Hastings made her welcome; arid the captain, stroking his mustache, thought himself in luck for knowing two such pretty girls. There could not have been a greater contrast than Pauline Datrell and E'llnnrRoche- ford. Pauline was dark, proud, beautiful, passionate, haughty, and willful, yet with n poet's soul and a grand 'mind above al worldliness, all meanness, all artifice. Elinoi was timid, shrinking, graceful, lovely, with a delicate, fairy-like beauty, yet withal keenly alive to the main chance, and never forgetting her aunt's great maxim—to make the best of everything for herself. On this warm August inorningMiss Roclu ford wore a charming gossamer costume ot lilac and white, with the daintiest of Parisian hate on her golden head. Her gloves, shoes, laces, parasol, were perfection—not a fold was out of place, not a ribbon awry—contrasting most forcibly with the grand, picturesque girl near her. Lady Hampton seated herself, atul Miss Rocheford did the same. Sir Oswald sug gesting how very refreshing grapes and peaches would be on so warm a morning, Captain Langton volunteered to go and order Borne. Lady Hampton watched him as hi> 'diked away. "Whnt n magnificent man, Sir Oswald I What a line clever face 1 It is easy to see that he is a military man—he is so upright, so easy; there is nothing like a military training for giving a man an easy, dignilied carriage. I think 1 understood that lie was the sou of a very old friend of yours?" '.'The son of the dearest friend I ever had in the world," was the reply; "and I Jove him as though he were my own—indeed ] wisli lie were." Lady Hampton sighed and looked sympathetic. "Langton," she continued, in a musing tone—"is he one of the Lnngtons of Orde?" "No," ivplicd Sir O.swald; "my dear old friend was of a good family, but not greatly blessed by fortune." J.t was wonderful to see how Lady Hampton's interest in the captain at once died out; there was no more praise, no more admiration for him. If she had discovered that he was heir to an earldom, how different it would have been: Before long the captain returned, and then a rustic table was spread under the lime trees, with purple grapes, peaches, crimson and gold apricots, and ruddy plums. • "It's quite picturesque," Lady Hamilton decIared,wtthasmile;"undElinor,dear child, enjoys fruit so much." In spite of Lady Hampton's wish, there did not appear to be much cordiality between the two girls. Occasionally Elinor would look at the captain, who was not slow to return her glances with interest. His eyes said plainly that-lie thought her very lovely. Miss Rochul'ord was In every respect the model of a well brought up young lady. She knew that the grand end and aim of her existence was to marry well—she never forgot that. She was well-born, well-bred, beautiful, accomplished, but without fortune. From her earliest girlhood Lady Hampton had impressed upon her the duty of marrying money. "You have everything else, Elinor," she was accustomed to say. "You must marry for title and money." Miss Rocheford knew it. She had no objection to her fate—she was quite passive over it-^but she did hope at times that the man who had the title and money would be young, handsome, and agreeable. If he were not, she could not help it, but she hoped he would be. Lady Hampton had recently become a widow. In her youth she had felt some little hope of being mistress of Darrell Court: but that hope had soon died. Now, however, that a niece was thrown upon her hands, she took heart of grace in another respect; for Sir Oswald was not an old man. It was true ills hair was white, but he was erect, dignilied, and, in Lady Hampton's opinion, more interesting than a handsome young man, who would think of nothing but himself. If he would bo but sensible, and, instead of adopting that proud, unformed girl, marry, how much better it would be I She knew that her niece was precisely the style that he admired—elegant, delicate, utterly Incapable of any originality, ready at any moment to yield her opinions and ideas, ready to do Implicitly as she was told, to believe in the superior::}-of her husband—a model woman, in short, after Sir Oswald's own heart. She saw that the baronet was much struck with Elinor; she knew that in his own mind lie was contrasting the two girls—the graceful timidity of the one, her perfect polish of manner, with' the brusque independence and U-rrlbiy plain-spoken faslu Ion of the other. "It would bo ten thousand pities," said Lady Hampton to herself, "to see that girl mistress of Darrell Court. She would make a good queen for the Sandwich Islands, Before I go, I must open Sir Oswald's eyes, and give him a few useful hints." CHAPTKIl XII. SrB OSWALD THINKS OF MARRIAGE. Fortune favored Lady Hampton. Sir Oswald was so delighted with his visitors that he insisted upon their remaining for luncheon. "The young ladies will have time to be• come friends," he said; but it was as well that lie did not see how contemptuously Pauline turned away at the words. "Pauline, 1 ' he continued, "Miss liocheford will like to see the grounds. This is her first visit to Darrell Court. Show her the fountains and the' flower-gardens." Elinor looked up with a well-assumed expression of rapture; Paulino's look of annoyance indicated that she obeyed greatly against her will. Sir Oswald saw the captain looking wistfully after the two girlish figures. "Go," lie said, with a courtly smile. "Young people like to be together. I will entertain Lady Hampton." Greatly relieved, the captain followed. He was so deep.ly and so desperately in love that he could not endure to see Pauline Darrell talking even to the girl by her side. He would fain have engrossed every word, every glance of hers himself; he was madly jealous when such were bestowed upon others. The three walked down the broad cedar path together, the captain all gallant attention, Miss Rocheford all sweetness, Pauline haughty as a young barbaric queen bound by a conqueror's chains. She did not like her companions, and did not make even a feint of being civil to them. Meanwhile the opportunity so longed foi by L-uiy Hampton had arrived; and the lady Seized it w.i.i iiiacrlty. She tunn-U to Sit Oswald wit.'i :i smile. "You amuse me," she said, "by giving yourself such an nif of age. Why do you consider yourself so old. Sir Oswald? If it Were not that I feared to flatter you. I should Say that there were few young men to compare with you." "My dear Lady Hampton," returned tho baronet, in a voice that was nut without pathos, "look at this." He placed ids thin white hand upon his white hair. L idy Hamilton laughed again. "What docs that matter! Why, many men are gray even in their youth. I have always wondered why you seek to appear so old, Sir Oswald. 1 feel sure, judging from many indications, that you cannot be sixty." "No; bull am over fifty—and my Ideals that, at fifty, one is really old." "Nothing of the kind!''' she said with great energy. "Some of the finest men I irnve known were only in the prime of life then. If you were seventy, you might think of speaking as you do. Sir Oswald," she asked, abruptly, looking keenly at his face, "why have you never married?' 1 He smiled, but a flush darkened tho fine old face. "I was in love once," he replied, simply, "and only once. Tho lady was young and fair. She loved me in return. But a few weeks before our marriage she was suddenly taken ill and died. I have never even thought of replacing her." "How sad 1 What sort of a lady was she, Sir Oswald—this fair young love of yours?" "Strange to say, in face, figure, and manner she somewhat resembled your lovely young niece, Lady Hampton. She had the same quiet, graceful manner, the same polished grace—so different from " "From Miss Darrell," supplied the lady, promptly. "How that unfortunate girl must jar upon you!" "She does; but there are times when I have hopes of her. We are talking like old friends now, Lady Hampton. I may toll you that I think there is one and only one thing that can redeem my niece, and that is love. Love works wonders sometimes, and 1 have hopes that it may do so in her case. A grand master-passion such as controls tiie Darrells when they love at all—that would redeem her. It would soften that fierce prido and hauteur, it would bring her to the ordinary level of wonunhojd; it would cure her of many of the fantastic ideas that seem to have taken possession of her; it would make her— what she certainly is not now—a gentlewoman." "Do you think so?" queried Lady Hampton, doubtfully. "1 am sure of it. When 1 look at that grand 1'nce of hers, often so defiant, I think to myself that she may be redeemed by love." "And if this grand master-passion does not come to her—if she cares for somo one only after tho ordinary fashion of women—what then?" He threw up his hand with a gesture indicative of despair. "Or," continued Lady Hampton—"pray pardon me for suggesting such a tiling, Sir Oswald, but people of the world, like you and myself, know what odd tilings are likely at any time to happen—supposing that she should marry some commonplace lover, after a commonplace fashion, and that then the master-passion should find her out, what would be the fate of Darrell Court?" "I cannot tell," replied Sir Oswald, despairingly. "With a person, especially a young girl, of her self-willed, original, independent nature, one is never safe. How thankful I am that my niece is so sweet and so womanly!" Sir Oswald sat for somo little time in silence. He looked on this fair ancestral home of his, with its noble woods and magnificent gardens. What indeed would become of it if it fell into the ill-disciplined hands of au ill-disciplined girl—unless, indeed, she were subject to the control of a wise husband? Would Paul!no ever submit to such control? Her pale, grand face rose before him, the haughty lips, the proud, calm eyes—the man who mastered her, who brought her mind into subjection, would indeed bo a superior being. For tho first time a doubt crossed Sir Oswald's mind as to whether she would ever recognize the superior being in Captain Langton. He knew that there were depths in tho girl's nature beyond his own reach. It was not all pride, all defiance— there were genius, poetry, originality, grandeur of intellect, and greatness of heart before which tho baronet know that lie stood in hopeless, helpless awe. Lady Hamilton laid her hand on his arm. "Do not despond, old friend," she said. "1 understand you. I should feel like you. I should dread to leave the Inheritance of my •fathers in such dangerous hands. But, Sil Oswald, why despond? Why not marry?" The baronet started. "Marry I" he repeated. "Why, I have never thought of such a thing." "Think of it now," counseled the lady, laughingly; "you will find the advice most excellent. Instead of tormenting yourself about an ill-conditioned girl, who delights in defying you, you can have an amiable, ao lomplishcd, elegant, and gentle wife to rule your household and attend to your comfort— pou might have a son of your own to succeed >-ou, anil Darrell Court might yet remain in the hands of the Darrells." "But, my dear Lady Hampton, where should 1 find such a wife? I am no longer young—who would marry me?" "Any .sensible girl in England. Take my advice, Sir Oswald. Let us have a Lady Darrell, and not an ill-trained girl who will delight in setting the world at defiance. In- leed, I consider that marriage is a duty ivhich you owe to society and to your race.' "I have never thought of it. I have always considered myself as having, so to speak, finished with'life." "You have made a great mistake, but It Is one that fortunately can be remedied." Lady Hampton rose from her seat, and walked a few .steps forward. "I have put his thoughts in the right groove." she inusnd; "but I ought to say a word about Elinor." She turned to him again. "You ask me who would marry you. Why, Sir Oswald, in England there are hundreds of girls, well-bred, elegant, graceful, gentle, like my niece, who would ask nothing better from fortune than a husband like yourself." She saw her words t.ike effect. She hud turned his thoughts and ideas in the right direction at last. "Shall we go and look after our truants?" she asked, suavely. And they walked together down the path where Paulina had so indignantly gathered the broken lily. As though unconsciously, Lady Hampton began to speak of her niece. "1 have adopted Elinor entirely," she said —"indeed there was no other course for me to pursue. Her mother was my youngest sister; she has been dead many years. Elinor lias been living with her father, but lie has | ust secured a government appointment ibroad, and I asked him to give his daughter to me." "It was very kind of you," observed Sir Oswald. "Nay, the kindness Is on her part, not on mine. She is like a sunbeam In my house. Fair, gentle, a perfect lady, she has not one idea that is not in itself innately retined and delicate- I knew that if she went into society at all she would boon marry," .. "Is there any proDamtity ot thatr* Sir Oswald. "No, for by her own desire we shall lire very quietly this year. She wished to see Darrell Court and its owner—we have spoken so much of you—but with that exception we shall go nowhere." "1 hope she is pleased with Darrell Court," said Sir Oswald. "How could she fail to be, as well as delighted with its hospitable master? I could read that much in her pretty face. Here they are,. Sir Oswald—Miss Dnrrell alone, looking very dicnlflcd—£linor t with your friend. Ah, she knows how to choose friends 1" They joined the group, but Miss Darrell was in one of her most dignified moods. She had been forced to listen to a fashionable conversation between Captain Langton and Miss Rocheford, nnd her indignation and contempt had got the bettor of her politeness. They all partook of luncheon together, and then the visitors departed; not, however, nn til Lady Hampton had accepted from Sir Oswald an invitation to spend a week at Darrell Court. Sir Francis and Lady Allroy were coming—tho party would bo a very pleasant one; and Sir Oswald said ho would give a grand ball in the course of the week— a piece of intelligence which delighted the captain and Miss Rocheford greatly. Then L:idy Hampton and her niece set out. Sir Oswald hold Elinor's hand rather longci than etiquette required. "How like she Is to my dead love I" ho thought, and his adieu was more than cordial. As they drove home, Lady Hampton gazed at her niece with a look of triumph. "You have a splendid chance, Elinor," she said; "no girl ever had a better. What do you think of Darrell Court?" "It is a palace, aunt—a magnificent, stately palace. 1 have nliversocn anything like it before." "It, may be yours if you play your cards well, my dear." "How?" cried tho girl. "I thought It was to bo Miss Darroll's. Every one says she Is her uncle's heiress." "People need not make too sure of it. I do not think so. With a little management, Sir Oswald will propose to you,! am convinced." Tho girl's face foil. "But, aunt, ho is so old." "Ho is only just fifty, Elinor. No girl in her senses would over call that old. It Is Just the prime of life." "I like Captain Langton so much tho better," she murmured. "I have no doubt that you do, my dear; but there must bo no nonsense about liking or disliking. Sir Oswald's Income must bo quite twenty thousand per annum, and if you manage well, all that may be yours. But you must place yourself under my directions, and do implicitly as I tell you, if so desirable a result is to bo achieved." xirr. PAULINE'S LOVE rou DAKUELI, couivr. Miss Darrell preserved a dignified silence during dinner; but when the servants had withdrawn, Sir Oswald, who had been charmed with his visitors, said: "I am delighted, Paulino, that you have secured a young lady friend. You will bo pleased with Miss Rochol'ord." Pauline made no reply; and Sir Oswald, never thinking that it was possible for one so gentle and lovely as Miss Rocheford to meet with anything but the warmest praise, continued: "1 consider that Lady Hampton has done us all a great favor in bringing her charming niece with her. Were you not delighted witli her, Pauline?" Miss Darrell made no haste to reply; but Sir Oswald evidently awaited an answer. "I do not lilco Miss Rocheford," she said at length; "it would bo quite useless to pretend that I do." Miss Hastings looked up in alarm. Captain Langton leaned back in tho chair, with a smile on his lips—he always enjoyed Pauline's "scenes" when her anger was directed against any one but himself; Sir Oswald's brow darkened. "Pray, Miss Darrell, may 1 ask why you do not like her?" "Certainly. I do not like her for the same reason that I should not like a diet of sugar. Miss Rocheford is very elegant and gentle, but she lias no opinions of her own; every wind sways her; slio has no ideas, no force of character. It is not possible for mo to really like such a person." "But, my dear Pauline," interposed Miss Hastings, "you should not express such very decided opinions; you should be more reticent, more tolerant." "If lam not to give my opinion," said Pauline, serenely, "I should not bo asked for it." "Pray, Miss Hastings, do not check such delightful frankness," cried Sir Oswald, angrily, his hands trembling, his face darkening with an angry frown. He said no more; but tho captain, who thought he saw a chance of recommending himself to Miss Darroll's favor, observed, later on in tho evening: "I know you would not liko our visitor, Miss Darrell. She was not of the kind to attract you." "Sir Oswald forced my opinion from mo," she said; "but I shall not listen to or.o word of disparagement of Miss Rocheford from you, Captain Langton. You gave her groat attention, you flattered her, you paid her many compliments; and now, if you say that you dislike her, it will simply be deceitful, and I abominate deceit." It was plain that Pauline had greatly annoyed Sir Oswald, lie liked Miss Ruche- ford very mucli; the sweet, yielding, gentle disposition, which Pauline had thought so monotonous, delighted him. Miss Rocheford was so like that lost dead love of his—so like I And for this girl, who tried his patience every hour in tho day, to find fault with her! It was too irritating; lie could not endure it. He was very cold and distant to Paulino for some time, but the young girl was serenely unconscious of It. In ono respect s'.^o was changing rapidly. The time had been when she had been indifferent to D.irroil Court, when she had thought with regret of the free, happy life In the Hue d'Orine, where she could speak lightly of the antiquity and grandeurs of the race from which she had sprung; but all that was altered now. it could not be otherwise, considering how romantic, how poetical, how impressionable she was, how keenly alive to everything beautiful and noble. She was living hero in tho very cradle of the race, where every tree had its legend, every stone its story; how could she be indifferent while tho annals of her house were filled, with noble retrospects? Tho Darrells had numbered great warriors and statesmen among their number. Somo of the noblest women in England had been Darrells; and Paulino had learned to glory in the old stories, and to feel her heart beat with pride as she remembered that she, too, was a Darrell. So, likewise, she had grown to love the Court for its picturesque beauty, Its stately magnificence, and the time came soo^ when almost every tree and shrub was dear to her. It was Pauline's nature to love deeply and passionately if she loved at all; there was no lukewarmness about tier. She was incapable of those gentle, womanly likings that save all wear and tear of passion. She could not love In modernt ioti: nnft very soon th love of Darrell Court became a passion wit-l her. She sketched the mansion from twenty different points of view, she wrote verse about it: she lavished upon it the love whirl some girls lavish upon parents, brothers, sis tcrs, and friends. She stood one day looking at Has the west ern sun'.ic.ims lighted it up until it looked as though it were bathed in gold. The statel) towers and turrets, the flower-wreathed bni conies, the grand arched windows, thoOothii porch, all made up a magnilicrnl picture; th fountains were playing In tho sunlit air, tho birds singing in the stately trees. She turn cd to Miss Hastings, and the governess sav tears standing warm and bright in the girl's cye«. "How beautiful ills!" she said. "I can not toll you—1 have no words to toll you— how I love my home." The heart of the gentle lady contracted with sudden fear. "It is very beautiful," she said; "but, Pauline, do not.love it too much; remember how very uncertain everything is." "There can be nothing uncertain about my inheritance," returned the girl. "I nm a Dan-ell—tho only D.invll loft lo Inherit it. And, oil I Miss Hastings, how 1 love itl Hut it is not for its wealth that 1 love it; it is my heart that is bound to It. 1 love it as 1 can fancy n husband loves n wife, a mother her child. It is everything to mo." "Still," said Miss Hastings, "I would not love it too well; everything is so uncertain." "But not that," replied Pauline, quickly. "My uncle would never daro to bo so unjust as to leave Darrell Court to any ono but a Darrell. I am not in tho least afraid—not in tho least." (To be continued.) AMERICA AND AMERICANS. Strange Coiners of our Country but Little Known by one People. We live in the most wonderful land in the world; and ono of the most wonderful tilings in it is that wo Americans find so little to winder at. Other civilized nations take pride in knowing their points of natural or historic interest; but when we have pointed to our marvelous growth in population and wealth, wn find little else to say, and hasten abro.id in quo»t of sights not n tenth part, so wonderful as n thousand wonders wo have at homo and never dream of. It is true that other nations are older, and have grown up to think of something besides material matters; but our youth nnd our achievements are poor excuses for this unpatriotic slighting of our own country. There is a par 1 , of America — u part even of the United States—of which Americans know as little as they do of central Africa, and of which too many of them are much less interested toJearn. With them, "to travel" moans only to go abroad; and they call a man a traveler who has run his superficial girdle around the world naid is as ignorant of his own country (except its cities) as if he had never been in it,. I hope to live to see Americans proud of knowing America, and ashamed not to know it; and it is to my .young countrymen that 1 look for tho patriotism to effect so needed a change.— C. P. Lummis, in St. Nicholas. ODDITIES. A spanking teun,—the old-time father and mother. Lithographer.—"What, color will vou have your billheads?" Merchant.—"Dun color." A Texas young lady is named Angelina Acid. Her fellow speaks of her as his sour mash. She—"I would still lovo you if you asked me to live in a cot." He—"How ibout aflat?" Shu (sighing)—"E pen love aas its limitations."—New York Sun. We have noticed that tho cheaper tho .rousers a young man has on the more fur ae puts on the collar and cuffs of his overcoat.—Atkinson Globe. IT:Druggist— "Yon might have.charged that young man 82 for filling that pro tcription. Why did vou put tho price at 25 cents?" " Clerk—"Ho understands Latin."—Good News. Landlady—"I am afraid those towsls are too small." Clerk—"They are our regular size for warders, madam." Landlady—"I know. But I want fcliem 'or myself." Tailor—"How wide a collar shall I put on your overcoat, sir." Customer—"Make it so wide that when [ pass you on thosroefc I can turn it up so ?ou wDn't recognize me."—Clothier nnd furnisher." "I tell you." said Murray Hill, "there's an indiscribab'.e sense of luxury in lying in bed and ringing one's bell for his valet." "Yougotavfilet?" "No but I've got a bell." After ''What did you do on Thanksgiving?'' "Oh, I had a glorious time! 1 was helped three tima> to turkey." "So was 1." "And twice to ice cream, und I had a quarter of a mince pie and a lot of cus • turd.' 1 "I had a pumpkin pie and custard pio, md mince and apple turnovers. Then 1 lad nuts and raisins " "So did I! 1 ' "And candy." "And did U" "And tho npxr, day I had the doctor." "So did 1!"—To'edo B,<c. Go at Uuou. "Oh, Minnie, Minnie, come here, qiick!" ''Yes, mother I'm coming," cried Minnie, fondly finishing the lust, leaf of her new book, and saying. "How I wiah mother did rnt need me so often!" "Oh, Minnie dear, come," cried her mother, afraid to alarm her too much by calling what v-aa wrong. So at last Minnie walked away to the lumry, und what a sight met her eyes! Mother had been hushing baby in her irms, when Fred, who was two years old, ;iad gone too near tho fire, and his pina- ioie had caught the flame. Mother had tossed baby into the cradle n an instant, and rolled (iw nuraery rug •ound little Fred. She held him close, as he dames were extinguished, and he was in an agony of fear and pain. Minnie will never forget the look on iier mother's face ai she said, "You are too .ate to be of much use now, Minnie, but perhaps you could comfort baby a little." Poor Fred's wee bands and neck were jadly burned, but with mother's tender care he got better; and the lesson had made a better and happier girl of Minnie Benson. She says now "that ehe would rather give up everything that she ha* than Bee again that sorrowful look on her mother's lace." FARM AND HOME. HARVEST MARUAttST MAt KRAfT. Praise bo thine, etcrii*! Kincj Yonns- nnd old ''Mosannn" -iing; Them lm«t blpM u* far nnd wide At thr licniitpons" liarvpst-tidn; Ancol-volcps liiijh nrp blending; In the anthem never-rndlnc; Hear ns while xvefnln would render Trnlso for mercies kind and tender. Lord, 'tis tblno Almighty hand That onwrentties the radiant land; That pastures doth enfold In a roynl rob>- of cold; Shining vineyards, hill-tops heavy, Woods nll.'ur p declnrp Ihv Rlorv; Thou hast hune the frnlt'-igo glowing Where the orchard-boughs art*blowing. Praise for sun, nnd praise for dew, 1'nilso for love forever new! I'riilso for bounties richly plied, That thy child may bo fe'd; Krend of life, tor all avahtn , Wine the true, tho ncror-talllnir, Keed our souls, In thee confiding; Keep our lives In thine abiding. Old nnd young their mimic raise, All things breathing chnnl thy praise; J'.very season, every your, Are thy lend r mercies near; Thou, our Hope, our Help forever, Hod of harvest! leave 119 never, Till we roach our Father's portal, Hearing homeward sheaves Immorlnll VAHM NOTKS. Sht-ep require tho constant care of some one familiar with their needs and habits if hey aro to bo kept in largo numbers. If you cannot pulverize or grind refuse wiles, place them around the fruit trees uid vines, burying thorn deep enough to vvoul having them turned up by the plow. If tho wharfs leading into tho tie-up, if •cm have u barn collar, tiro not in comli- ion so that cattle can go up and down oatUly and safely in all weathers put them n trim now, before if is uify colder. Top-OroMinir. Query? If a city lawn will winter well, hicknn up, and make u good growth early ext spring if top-drossi-d with stabli) ma- uro, why will not u whole field if you ave u closely Heeded eod and manure nough to cover it now? Ans. It will; vo huvo tried it.—Ex. Food for Work llor.-tns. A pair of work horses which formerly lad six quarts of cob-meal daily with i<ood liny aro doing quite as well on buy nd six quarts of mixed grain nearly halt f which is shorts. With thrco quarts of hcrts, two of cob-meal and ono of lin- eed, a team at moderate work will do veil. Suvlng I.uboi-. It is just as necessary to have everything bout the buildings arranged HO as to avo stops, and save lifting, us to locate ear a good' market. Not 'every one can o thd latter, hut every farmer can avo things Inindy and convenient about ho buildings, it \m will inalio it a study nd fix one thing tit, a time, as he has op- lortunity. Farm Work for Winter. It was one advantage of tho old-time yttem of farm work that it made plenty or tho farmer to do in winter. If nothing Iso there was at least always the clearing f tho forest and its preparation for tho ultivatiou to bo done. It did not pay inch, but it increased the value of tho mn, and BO indirectly gavo better wages ian ono farmer in ton can now make. It B not tbo do-nothing policy in winter that s ruining thous.mds of farmers. They imply consume all that hoy can produce n summer. To got ahead under such a Jan of operations is simply impossible. Ivory funncr should, by feeding stock or 11 some other wny, calcultilo to earn some aing in. the winter. If more farmers did nis, funning would bo more profitable mil it now is. Stubborn Cream. Stubborn cream is a peculiar result of ryer food, cows long in milk und well dvanced in gestation, tbroo things that ontributo to smaller globules of fat in the lilk, more albuminous matter to contend vith, tind what may bo called drynoss of 10 cream. OOWH that are provided wi'h n abundance of succulent forage in late ill and winter, givo milk not greatly iffi'renfc in churmtbility from summer. 'lip remedy for stubborn cream is to add little warm water to the milk when it is .it out; churn a few degreeu warmer tban sual and slightly dilute tho cream when 10 churn starts. A noted professor suya mt diluting cream does no good, aim len says that he used warm skim milk or tho purpose, Of course ho fuikd, as o wiis adding more of the same kind of sticky substance" to the croum Unit was cca-iioning the trouble of stubbornness. Abater liquefies this albuminous substance lid helpH to sot free tiio g'obules from this m>'r<ico of albumen. Often cream in the vinter foams, und it is simply because of iis same albumen frothing, tho same us vhen whites of eggs uroboiilen; a spoonful f water will "upset" a plate of "frost- ng,"und two quurls oC water at 100 de- rees will stop tho foaming of tho cream. iilirdenlnt; Ity KloolrloU.y. Experiments upon elcc'ric'tty as iiffro'- ng plum giowth have been going on for om» time at tho MiUBachu^oit.H Agricul- ural college ut Ainben-t, and Prcf . War- er, who is giving great attention to tho natter, is pr> paring a paper for an agricultural 1) I etin which w'll not only uiliody the results of bit own experience, ut will give tho inyestigdtigiiH lately auc'o in foreign countries. Intense iniereat has has been aroused mong Massachusetts farmers and agvi- ultuihts by the publication of a bulletin rorn the agricultural station of Cornell niversity iu vhich tho declaration is nade that tho experiment showa that the loctric light can bo profitably used in :ie growing of plant*. In the light of a is announcement the publication of 'rof. Warner's experiments will be looked orward to with considerable interest. J rof. Warner has conducted his investigu- ione with great care und thorougbn'.-sK. nd f iw persons outside the college stuff aye been awure that experiments wire oing on. It is understood, says the Boson Journal, that important experiments ave also been made ut the college with leclric currents, with the end in viaw of erifyiu^ the experiments of foreign cientiBtsjwhioh go 10 show that the action f the electric currents upon plants and egetables tennis to consist in 'he active insolation of the organic principles exiut- ng in tbe soil, which are thereby brought vithiu tbe reach of tbe room, thus cuua- ng a more rapid growth in a shorter eriod. minted with the efectric light, and that is W. W. Rawson, an extensive market gardener in Arlington. Mr. Rawson had his nfctPtition drawn to the effect of the electric lifzhf on plant growl in a singular manner and by accident. As far as he is concerned, therefore, his experiments were original with himself and were made long before he heard any attention was being paid to the subject by foreign or American scientists. In ths fall of 1889 it, so happened thnt nn electric Mght was erected by tin 1 town of Arlington for street lighting purpose* nt a point in close proximity to oni- sid,> of his residence. On that side of his house were a number of flower beds which never thrived until the rays of the electric [light uegan to fall upon them. The plants soon begnn to show an unusual change. Finally they rxlii'jitoil such a lively and increased growth that they cculd not fail to attrart"u',tenlion, nnd no reason could be assigned to the phenomena but the effect of the olecric light. Da- terminrd to push the experiment further, Mr. Riiwson introduced lights into huex- tensive hot-hou?e, devoted ro the winter raising mainly of cucumber and lettuce. The mnrked (ftV'ct o.i his crop became at once voiy manifest, ami the experiment win seemingly so successful during the winter of 18S!) and 1890 that he fully lenionstnitcd to his own f at if fuel ion that 10 could rise a lamer crop of lettuce or lucuinbcrs of better quality in a shorter .nuo than ho could before; in fact, ho con- mieed himself that the light, enabled urn to increase his profits 25 pnrcont. over what thov hud boon before. L;ist winter 10 was disappointed in obtaining electric lower and could not make further investigations. Mcnnwhile he corresponded with cienhsts at home and abroad and impart- d to thotn thn results ho had obtained, lo hoprs this winter to resume his ox- lurimont* on u huge scale and is making irepanitioi's to that end. Ho has expori- lonloil both with tho arc anil incan- esconta mid 1ms found that tho former are ho most ollhient.—Kx. THK VliMvry. KFPIK I,. SMITH. 'nco on n llmo thore journeyed through tho hum, A wlno mint, who IOHR j-enrn hnil notiaht to Una Ono mnl too Ktroni; for Iliittory to blnil nd Inuil n willing »luvo ut lior commniiil. nil nil in vnin; yut Ilimlly did ctnnd lloforo him ono far modOHty of ml ml Kivr-fiimcd, Him long ho pllod with quostloni o provu ilia novel night wnn now nt hand. t liiBt lio Hnld, "You tiro u hnmhln innn." A nleiiHQj look nwunt ncrotm lliootlinr'n fuco "I (runt. I nm." Thi> wlmi man erlwl In naln. riiolhiiiK 1 nought 1 liuvu not found, nor can: Tho dumon prlilu llndH hcnt UH utronguBt nlnoo, \Miuro liif.kof vault; hulli iniuli! ono viiln." — Ilnrpur's Wcokly. GruliiH of Gold. True economy is the child of wisdom nd the mother of independence. Tho more originality you have in your- elves the more you ni'n in other poop'lo. Thrift is tho fuel of mugnilicoiico. Thor.j is nothing lit'lo to the really KMitjhi spirit. Diligence is a lair fortune und industry iiod estate . The end of our life is God; the rule of ur life, duty; the obstacles, our bad pas- ionH. — Lacordairo. Every duty wo omit obscures some truth •e should havo known.— John Ruskin. To jiopo and not bo impatient is really o bi'liovp. — Thomas Carlylo. 1 (.oiisider that man to bo undone who is istmeiblo to *lume. — Plato. Christ loads ono through no darker ooms than ho went through before. — axtcr. lie In Tlino. Noyer tako tho last train when you can elp it. Much of the trouble in life is lused by tho fnct that people, in their en- agomonlB, wait till tho"last minute. The cyan o'clock train will tako thorn to the i&ht place in time, but in this world lings are very apt to go crooked. So ou had better tako tho train that starts n hour earlier. In everything that we o lot us havo a little margin. We tried, nlungly to pursuude Captain Barry, when IT Giipo Uatleias, to go down und get his rotikflint, while wo took his place and valched the course of tho steamer. Ho itinmted to us that we are running too oar the bur aa to to nllow a greenhorn to nanage maters just thore. There is always danger sailing noar a coast whether n i-hip or in plans and morals. Do not ilculuto too closely on possibilities. Deter have room and time to spare. Not ceding this counsel makes bad work for iis world and the next. There aro many nes of communication helwoo earth and oavcn. Men Huyfj they can *turt at any me. Afler a while, in groat excitement, ley rush into the depot of mercy, and ml that the opportunity has li'ff, and, oholdl.it is the last train!—Christian ierald. of ttu experiment* at the gricuftura! college only one private iudi- tdual iii tbe *tate U known to bare expert- Uii£rutuful 1'euple, You inny rest upon this as an unfailing rulh, that the e neither is, nor never was, ny person remarkably ungrateful, who fas not also urisuffrir.ilily proud; nor any no proud who was not equally ungrateful, ngratitude io too base to return a kind- ess, nnd too -proud to regard it—much ke the tops of mountains, lofty, yet bar- en, which produce nothing, which yield othing, which I'oeJ nobody, yet are high nd Btutely-Xid look down upon all the orld o)^;u them. It w-i« ingratitude hielu^uc the poinard into Brutus' hand, ut it wa* want, of companion that ihruat ; into Co>tar's h^art,. Friendship con- tsts properly in mutual offices, and a gen- rous strife in alternate nets of kindness, iut ho who does' a kindness to an ungrate- ul person, nets his seal to a flint, ana sows is seed upon the sandj upon the former e makes no impression, and from the lat<ii finds no production. Uu Good Now. Dr. Johnson wisely uuid: "Ho who waits to do a good deul at once, will rrver o,anything." Life iu made up of littlo hings. It IB but once in an agct that oc- asion is offered for a great deed. True reatness consists in being great in little fhinns. How are railways built? By one shovelful of dirt after another; one srmel- ful at a time. Thus, dropi make the ocean- Hence, we should be willing to do a little good at a time, and never "wait to do a great deal of good ut once." If we would do niuoh good in tbe world we must be willing to do good in little things, little acta one after another; speaking a word here, giving a tract there, and set' ting n good example at ajl times; we must do the first good thing we can, and then, the next, and the next, and so keep on doing. Tim is the way to accomplish anything. Thus only sb.)Jl wa do all the good in our power.—Epyorth Hpi-nld. All wen we uot uuiurlew, uut some B«B we home less thftn others.
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