The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on January 13, 1892 · Page 7
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 7

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Wednesday, January 13, 1892
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\ ! ;toES : MOtNl8, 4 IOWA, WEDNESDAY* JANUARY 13,1892, LOVE'S^VICTORY. it SSftfHA H* CLAY. f CHA I'TEn XXI. . ,. JLI.1NO TIIK C'OSftnACT. The preparations 1'or tlic wedding went on \rlth great activity; the rooms prepared for flio brklo Weiv) a marvel of luxury and b;;ai"i- Thore was a boudoir with rose-silk and yhite-lace hangings, adorned with most e.\- jjulsite pictures and stntucs, with rarest flow- 'irsahd most bsatitiful orimiiieiits-^a little airy iiooki over which every one went Into aptures except.Pauline; she never mention- Id thein nor showed the least IntcrHSt in Iheiu. She went on In her cold, prowl, sell'- ontainwl manner, hiding many thoughts In ber heart. ''Miss lliiHtin;.,'!!," she said one morning:, f'you can do me a favor. Sir Oswald has en saying that we must call at tho Elms to ee 1 ady Hampton and Miss Rochefbrd. 1 ihoiild refuse, but tlmtthe request cxnctly mils my plans. 1 wish to seo Miss Kucli"- ord; we will drive over this afternoon. Will jrou engage T.ady Hnmpton in conversation twhlle 1 talk to her niece'i 1 " "I will'! > » iytV'17 you wish, Patiliiie," eturucd Miss Hastings; "but, my dear child, s prudent. I am frightened for you—bo brudent. It will bo worse than useless f 01 you to make an enemy of the future Lady Jarrell. 1 would do anything to help yon, anything to shield yon from sorrow or harm, |but I am frightened on your account." Caresses and demonstrations of affection vere very rare with Pauline; but now sho bent down with a softuned face and kissed lie anxious brow. "You arc Very good to me," sho said. |"you are tiio |who ffvft s 1'ni' n And with the |ft scii'-i.: of lone linn,'iiaue could I'b'.icn licr be.mk; filiad been so proud "lie In tho wide world >:vls there camoto her such s- and desolation as. no :« ribc. Ofwlnit use had it which her poor father of \vhiit avail the geiuiis ith which she >.v,;* so richly dowered? No one loved In 1 ! 1 . The only creature living who seemed to enter into cither her joys for her sorrows was tho kind-hearted, gentle 'governess. "You must lot mo have my own way this 'time, Miss Hustings. One peculiarity of the. "arrellsis that they mnsl say what Isontheli winds. I intend to do no now; it rests with you whether I do it in peace or not." After that Miss Hiisliiigs'tknow all further remonstrance was useless. She made such Arrangements as Paulino wished, and that fafteruonu they drove over to the Kims. Lady !;llni'i].(on r.reivi'd them very kindly; tin; |grent end nnd aim of her life wiisaccomplish- ' eel—her niece was to be Lady Darrell, o' i'Dwrcll Court. There was no need for any more envy or jealousy of Pauline. The girl jwho had so lately been a dangerous rival 'jind mi enemy'•) !>i: dreaded had suddenly [sunk Into <->>ni;i'.'(>• insignificance. Lady [Hampton < \vn i.imight it batttfr to be j?ra- ,cious, conciliatory. un«l kind; as Elinor hail :toJive with Miss; Dirrcll, it was useless to make tilings disjiijiwabli.'. So L-.uly Ilanipton rveived them Kindly. i [Fruit from the Cti;--l !>.«thousos'iind (lowers' ;from the Court •"•n-.-rvidories were on the table. Lady .Ilanipton insisted that Miss Hustings should join her in her afternoon tea, while Pauline,- speuklnic with haughty grace, expressed a desire to seo tho Elms garden. Lady Hampton was not sorry to have, an' hour's gossip with Miss Hastings, and sho desired Elinor t;> show Miss Darrell all their choicest flowers. JSiinor looked hiill'-IYitrlitcned at tho tusk. It was wonderful In s."i ;he contrast that the two girls piYser,t''d-4',utlinc tall, slender, queenly, in her swooping black dress, all passion and magniiiivuro; Miss Koeheford, fair, dainty, golden-haired, and gentle. They walked'in silence down one of the garden-paths, and then Mi$s Kocheford said, in her low, sweet voife: "If you lilce roses, Miss. J);;rr61l, I can show you a beautiful collection." Then for tho first time Paulino's dark eyes were directed toward her'companion's face. "I. am a bad dissembler, Miss Kocheford," sue said, proudly. "1 iwvo no .wish to see your flowers. I camo hero to see you. There is a seat under yonder tree. Come with mo, aii(| "iear what I have to say." Elinor followed, looking and fooling-ter'rU • bly frightened. What had this grand, im- [porions Miss Darrcll to say to her? They sat Idown side by sido under the shade of a largo 'magnolia tree, the white blossoms of which filled tho air with sweetest perfume; tho lulling summer beauty rested on the land- tecape. They sat in silence for some minutes, jOiid then Paulino turned to Elinor. "Miss Itochofonl," sho said, "I am come to Ive you u wtirulng—the most solemn waning you have ever received—one that if you Save any common sense you will not refuse i heed, l.liour that you are going to marry y uncle, Sir Oswald. Is it true?" ,. "Sir Oswald lias asked mo to bo his wife," Elinor replied, with downcast eyes and a faint blush. Piiullir/.s t'ai'e glov.nud with scorn, '•There is no need 1'or any of those pretty airs and graces with me," she said. "I am going to speak stern truths to you. You; a young girl, barely twenty, and all your life before yon—surely you cannot bo so shamelessly untrno as oven to protend that you are marrying an old man like my uuclo for love? You know it is not so—you dare not even •pretend it." Elinor's faco flushed crimson. ''Why do you speak so to me, Miss Darrell?" sho gasped. "Because f want to warn you. Are you not ashamed— yes, I repeat the word, ashamed—to soil your youth, your hope of love, your life itself, for money and title? That Is what you tiro doing. You do not love Sir Oswald. How should you? Ho is more than old enough to bo your father. If he were a •''ijjf. P° or "will I' 0 " wouhi laugh his offer to scorn; •••&<> put he Is old and rich, and you are willing to I marry him to become Lady Darrell, of Dari rell Court. Can you, Elinor Kocheford, look I mo frankly in tne face, uml say it Is not so?" No, sho could not. Every word fell like a [ sledgehammer on her heart, and she know it ; was all true. Sho bent her crimson face, and j hid It from Paulino's clour gazo, "Are you not ashamed to sell yourself? If i no truth, no honor, no loyalty impels you to end this barter, let fear step in. You do not love my uncle. It can give you no pain to ; give him up. Pursue your present course, i and,1 warn yon. Darroll Court ought'to be "~ " I am a Darroll, and when my uncle ' took me home it was as his heiress. For a Jong period i have learned to consider Dorroll Court as mine. It is mine," sho contin- | ued-<-"m!no by right, for I am al> mill— mine by right of the groat love j boar itr- mineby every Ia\v that Is just anil right! J!lluor lipchoford, I warn you, beware how you stop In between me and my birthright— bavvore! My uncle is only marrying you to nunl&h mo; he has no other motive, Beware I .now you lend yourself to sucU punishment! I am not asking you to give up any love. If you loved him, I would not say one word; but it Is not u nmUw of. love—only of sale #ud barter. Ulveit.up!" l '%w cft» you tails SQ $rau£e}y tfi. m.6. "You <• ni if yon will. Tell my undo you repent of .thct Unnnttiral compact yon have made. B<j a tnie Vromrtn—true to the Instinct-, Heaven lias jilnced in yotif heart. -Mftrryfor love, notJiin'jr efee—purrf, honest loi*e- : -and then you will live and die happy. Answer hie—will you give It up? ' "I cannot," murmm-ed tho ciri. "You will not, rather. Listen to me. I am a true Darrell, and a Darrell never breaks a word once pledged. If you marry my uncle, I pledge my word that I will take A terrible vengeance on yon—not a commonplace one, but one that shall bo terrible. 1 will be rc- Veiiged upon you if} on dare to fctep in between me au>! my just inheritance,! Do you hear me?" "1 hear. Yon we very cruel, Miss Dirrell. You know that I eannot help myself. .1 must fulfill iny contract." "Very well," said Piinllne, rising; "then 1 have no more to say. But remember, I have given j-qu full, fair, honest warning; I will bo revenged upon you." And Miss Darrell returned to the house, with haughty head proudly' raised, while Elinor remained in the garden, bewildered and aghast. Two things happened. Elinor never revealed a word of what had transpired, and three weeks from that day Sir Oswald Darrell married her in the old parish church of Audlelgh Royal. CHAPTKU XXII. NO COMPROMISE WITII PAULINE. It was evident to Miss Hastings that Sir Oswald felt some little trepidation in bringing his bride home. Ho had, in spite of himself, been somewhat impressed by his niece's behavior. She gave no sign of disappointed greed or ambition, but she bore herself like one who has been unjustly deprived of her rights. On the nigh tot the arrival every possible preparation had been made for receiving the baronet and his wife. The servants, under the direction of Mr. Frampton, the butler, were drawn up in stately array. Tho bolls from the old Norman church of Audlelgh Royal pealed out a triumphant welcome; flags and triumphal arches adorned tho roadway. The Court was looking Its brightest and best; the grand old service of golden plate, from whleh in olden times, kings, and queens had dined, was "displayed. The rooms were made bright .with flowers and warm with tires. It was a proud coming home for Lady Darrell, who had never known what a homo was before. Her delicate face flushed as her eyes lingered on the splendor around her. She could not repress the slight feeling of triumph which made her heart beat and her pulse thrill as she remembered that this was a 11 her own. Sho bowed right and left, with the calm, suave Millie'that never descried her. As she passed through the long file of servants she tried her best to be most gracious and winning; but, despite her delicate, grave, and youthful loveliness, they looked from her to •the tall, queenly girl whose proiul head was never bent, and whose dark eyes had in them no light of welcome. It might be better to bow to the rising sun, but many of them prcferied the snu that was setting. Sir Oswald led his young wife proudly through the outer rooms into the drawing- room. "Welcome home, my dear,-Elinor!" he said. ."May every moment you spend in Darrell Court bo full of happiness!" ; She thanked him. Pauline stood by, not looking at them. After the lirst careless glance at Lady Darrell, which seemed to take in every detail of her costume, and to read every thought of her mind, she turned carelessly a\vny. Lady Darroll sat down near the lire, while Sir Oswald, with tender solicitude, took 'off her traveling-cloak, his hands trembling with eagerness. "You will like forest for a few minutes before yon go to your rooms, Elinor," he said. Then Miss Hastings went up to them, and some general conversation .about traveling ensued. That soomerl to break the ice. Lady Darrell rel;;t.M oim or two little incidents of their journey, :md then Sir Oswald suggested that she should go toher apartments, as the dinner-bell would ring in half an hour. Lady Darrell went away, and Sir Oswald soon afterward followed. ! Paulino had turned to one of the largo stands of flowers, and was busily engaged in taking tho dying leaves from a beautiful plant bearing gorgeous crimson flowers. "Pauline," said the governess, "my dear child!" , She was startled. She expected to find the girl looking sullen, angry, passionate; but the splendid face wasonly lighted byagleam of intense- sewn, the dark eyes flashing lire, tho ruby lips curling anil quivering with disdain. Paulino throw back her head with the old significant movement. "Miss Hastings," she said, "I would not have sold myse.it' as that girl has done for.all tho money anil the highest rank in England." "My dear Paulino, yon must not, really, speak in that fashion. Lady Darrell undoubtedly loves her husband." Tho look of scorn deepened. "You know she does''..not She is just twenty, and ho is nearly sixty. What love— what sympathy can there bo between them?' 1 "It is not really our business, my dear; we will not discuss it." "Certainly not; but as you are always so hard upon what you call my world—the Bohemian world, where men .and women speak the truth—it amuses ine to find flaws in yours." Miss Hastings looked troubled; but she knew it was hotter for the passionate torrent of words to'ba poured out to her. P.iulino looked at her with that straight, clear, open, honest look before which all* affectation fell. "You tell mo, Miss Hastings, that I am deficient in good-breeding—that I cannot take my proper place In your world because I do not conform to its ways and Us maxims. You have proposed this lady to me as a 'model, and you would fain see mo regulate all my thoughts and words by her. I would rather die than bo like her! Sho may be thoroughly ladj'-like—I grant that she is so—but sho has sold her youth, her beauty, her love, her life, for an old man's money and title. I, with all my brusquerl/e, as you call it, 'vyould have scorned such sale and barter,"... "But, Pauline " remonstrated Miss Hastings. "It is un unpleasant truth," interrupted Pauline, "and you do not like t>.) hoar it. Sir Oswald is liaron of Audleigh Royal and master of Barrel itiourt; If a duke, thirty years older, had made this girl an offer, she would have accepted him, and have given up Sir Oswald. What a world, where woman's truth is so bidden for?' 1 "My dear Pauline, you must not, indeed, say these things^they are most unlady-like." "I begin to think that all truth Is-iunjl&e," returned the girl, witluv laugh. '"My favorite virtue does not wear court dress very becomingly." "I have never heard that it affects rus.seit gowns either," said Miss Hastings., "Oh, Pauline, If you would but understand social politeness, boclal duties! If you would but icoep your terrible ideas to youiyelfj If ymi would but remember thilt tUe outward bey,r- }«g of Ufa must b'e a,s iv bright;, ' have warned tier, and sin; 'm's ciuiscin to uis- • regard my warning. 1 shall never assume any false appearance of amiability or friend- Ship for her; it will bo war to tin; knife! 1 told her so, and she chose to disbelieve im;.'.' I am a Darrcll, and thcDarrells never break their word." Looking at her* the unstudied grace of hoi" attitude, the perfect pose, the graml face with its royal look of scorn, Miss Hastings' felt that she would rather have tho. girl for a friend than an enemy. "I do hope, for your own sake, Pauline," she said, "that you will show evmy respect to Lady D.irroll. All your comfort will depend upon It. You must really compromise matters." .'•CompnwiUo matters!" cried Pauline. "You had bL'tler tell the sea to .compromise with the winds which have Inshod it into fury. There can bo no compromise with me.'' , The words had scarcely issued from her lips when the dinner-bell sounded, and Lady Barrel! entwed in a bnnutlful evening dress of white mid silver. .Certainly Sir Oswald's 'choice diil h'm great credit. She was ono of the most ilel'o to. the most graceful of women, fair, c.rossiug, insinuating—one of tliosa wonii;n who would never dream of uttering barbarous truth when elc^imt fiction BO much lii tier served tln:lr purpose—who loved fine clothes, swept perfumes, .costly jewels—who preferred their own coml'ort iu a graceful, languid way to anything else on earth—who expected to bo waited upon and to receive till homage—who deferred to men with a graceful, sweet submission that made them feel the deference a compliment—who placed entire reliance upon other.-i—whom men felt a secret delight in ministering to, because they appeared so weak—ono of those who moved cautiously and irraciotislv with subtle harmonious action, whoso bauds wore always soft and jeweled, whose'touch was lleht and gentle—a woman born to find her place in the lap of luxury, who shuddered at poverty or care.. Such was Elinor Darrell; and she entered tho drawing-room now with that soft, gliding . movement that seemed always to irritate Paulino. Sho drew a costly white laco shawl over her fair shoulders—tin; rich dress of silver and white was studde.d with pearls. Sho looked lilio a fairy vision. "1 think," sho said to Miss Hastings,', in her quiet, calm way, "that tho evening is cold." "You have just loft a warm country, Lady Darrell," was the, gentle reply. "The South of Franco is blessed with ono of the most beautiful climates in tho world." "Jt was very pleasant," said Lady Darrell, with a dreamy littlo sigh. '-Yon have boon very quiet, 1 suppose? We must try_to create a littlo more, gayety for you." She looked anxiously across tho room at Pauline; but that young lady's attention was entirely engrossed by the crimson flowers of tho bountiful plant. Not one lino of the superb figure, not ono expression of the proud face, was lost upon Lady Darroll. "1 have boon saying to Sir Oswald," she continued, looking intently at the costly rings shining on her lingers, -'that youth likes gayety—we must have, a series of parties and balls." "Is she beginning to patronize me?" thought Pauline. Sho smiled to herself—a peculiar smile which Lady Darroll happened to catch, and ; which made her fool 'very uncomfortable; and then an awkward silence foil over them, only broken by the entrance of Sir Oswald, and the announcement that dinner was served. CHAPTER XXIII. A. KIOII GIFT DECLINED. The bride's first dinner at home was over, and had been a great success. Lady Darrell had not evinced the least emotion; she had married for her present social position—for aline house, troops of servants, beautiful, warm,' fragrant rooms, choice wines, and luxurious living; it was only part and parcel of what she expected, and intended to have. She took the chair of state provided for her, and by the perfect case and grace of her manner proved that she was well fitted for it. Sir Oswald watched her with keen delight, only regretting that years ago'he had not taken Unto himself a wife. He was most courtly, most deferential, most attractive. I£ Lady Darrell did occasionally feel weary, luul the memory of Aubrey Laiigton's faco rose between her and her husband, she made no sign. When tho three ladies withdrew, she made no further efforts to conciliate Pauline. She looked at her, but seemed almost afraid to speak. Then she opened tv conversation with Miss IIa-.tiiigs,and the two persevered in their amiable small talk until Paulino rose and went to tho pitmo, tho scornful glance on her face deepening. "This is making one's self amiable!" sho thought. "What a blessing It would bo if people would speak only when they had something sensible to say I" Sho sal down before the piano, but suddenly remembered that she had not been asked to do so, and that she was no longer mistress of the house—a reflection sufliciently galling to make her rise quickly, and go to tho other end of the room. '•Paulino,'" said Lady Darroll, "pray sing for us. Miss Hastings tells mo you have a magnificent voice." '•ilave 1? Miss Hastings is not so complimentary when sho speaks to me alone." Then a sudden resolution came to Lady Darrcll. She rose from her seat, and, with the rich robe of silver and white sweeping around her, she wont to the end of tho room where Paulino was standing, tall, statoly, and statuesque, turning over tho leaves of a book'. Tho contrast between tho two girls— the delicate beauty of the one, and tho grand loveliness of tho other—was nover% more strongly marked. Lady Darroll laid her white hand, shining with jewels, on Paulino's arm. She looked up hfco her proud face. "Paulino," shesuid, gently, "will you not bo friends? Wo have to live together—will you bo friends?" "No ("replied Miss Darrell, In her clear, frank voice. "I gave you warning, You paid no hoed to it. Wo shall never bo friends." A faint smile played round Lady DarreU's lips. "But, Paulino, do you wrtseo how useless all your resentment against me is now? My marriage with Sir Oswald lias taken place,' and you and I shall have to live together perhaps for many years—it would bo so much bettor for us to live in peace." The proud faco wore its haughtiest look. "It would bo better for you, jK-rhups, Lady Darrell, but it can make no difference to nvu." "It can, indeed. Now listen to reason— listen tome!" and in her eageruoss Lady Darrell onco more laid her hand OQ the girl's arm. Her faco Hushed as Pauline drew b.«ck, with a look of aversion, lotting the juwo'od hand full. "Listen, Pauline I" persevered Lady Darrell. "You laiow all tJiisis'npn- sense—sheer nonsense. My position how is established. You can do nothing to hurt me —Sir Oswald wJU tq.be good care of that. Any attempt that you may make to' Injure mo will Jail uppu yourself; bosU^s, you, jJHtPw yes can d.0 upthlng," Ji\ spifj? pf her r^',ws j €^ e ^^M^M ( life that you can find out to my discredit— indeed, you cannot injure me in any possible way." She seemed so sure of it, yet her eyes sought Paulino's with an anxious, questioning fear. "Now, 1, on the contrary," she' went on, "can do imieh for you—and I will. You are young, mid naturally wish to enjoy yonrlife. Yovishml, Yon shall have balls and parties, dresses—everything that you en ft wish lor, If you will only be friends with me." •''.'•• She might as well have thrown drops of oil on an au.sry ocean to moderate its wrath. "Lndy Darrell," was the sole reply, "you are only wiistinu' your time and mine. 1 warned yon. Twenty years may ellipse before my vengeanec arrives, but it will come at last." She walked away, leaving the brilliant lig- nreof the younu; bridti alone in the bright lamp-light. She did not leave the room, for Sir Oswald entered at the moment, carrying a small, square parcel in his hand. lie smiled as ho came in. "How pleasant it is to see so many fair faces I" he said, "Why, my home has indeed been dark until now." He went up to Lady Dnrroll, as she stood alone. All the light In the room seemed to be centered on her golden hair and shining dress. He sail I: "I have brought the little parcel, Elinor, thinking that you would prefer to give your beautiful present to Paulino herself, But." ho continued, "why are you standing, my love? You will be tired." She raised her fair, troubled face to his, with a smile. 49 "Moreover, it seems to me that you are looking anxious," ho resinned. "Miss Hastings, will you eoiuo hero, please? Is this an anxious look on L'idy Darrell's face?" "I hope not," said the governess, with a gentle smile. Then Sir Oswald brought a chair, and placed his wife in it; he next obtained a footstool'and a .small t;i!>!e. L:idy Darrell, though half-ashamed of tin 1 feeling, could not help being thankful that Paulino did not notice these lover-like attentions. '•Now, Miss Hastings," spoke Sir Oswald, "I want you to admire Lady Darrell's taste." (To be continued.) TIGHTS AND STOCKINGS. Newest Wrinkles In Fastuniugg and Gar- tern—How u Girl Shops. Every one knows that garters have gone out, and girdles Lave come in, butdid-any- one stop to trace the analogy between the decadence of one and the popularity of the other. It is .the wearing of ttghts, of course, that brings the garter into desuetude; that is, that reduces the number of garters worn by one-half, says the New York Sun. If you see a swagger girl with a gold ribbon one inch in width, clasped around her waist, you may wager your bank account that she has its mate clasped just below the knee. _ What for? Oh, just for the quaint concc-U u£ thing! It is amusing to watch tbe pietly girls shopping for tights. With the perversity of things n'undane, the hoi-e counters are presided over-by men, and it is very embarrassing to have them think you are, a skirt dancer nr a ballet favorite. And so the pretty girl getn the tights on an order from the country, or from, a friend, or her mother, or grandmother even. Then nhe hustles home and puts them on over her Blended extretneties, throws away her garters and harness of elastic straps, and in hall an hour realizes that she has never really lived before. The lines of anxiety smooth out her fair brow, the shadows of core soften from her eyes. She knows her stockings won't come down, and bat-' tile, murder, and sudden death lose their terrors for her. One of the most' remarkable things about a wornau IB the way she manages from little girlhood up to keep one cornor of her niind clear und devoted to her stockings in the midst of most distressing grief and anxiety. Asa child, ho matter how much she wants to beat her brother in the race, she has to stop if her sacking comes down. As a woman she may in the stress oa woe, let her hairpins fall out, she may forget to eat or sleep, but she never relaxes vigilance over her stockings. The amount of nerve force consumed in a life- simeof this constant, strict surveillancey is enormqu". Now that the tyranny of the garter is ended, it is little wonder that our girls are growing taller, and that our women are stepping up bravely into the world's high places and winning laurels in fame's great temple. ' OTSTE HUNDRED iMSARS AGO. Work Performed by Women During the Eighteenth Century. „ Queen. The scarcity of domestic relics at the Guelph exhibition left many visitors under the impression that needlework, lihe all manual occupations, wasnuuh neglected by the ladies of the Geordian era. Happily this imputation is clearly refuted by sweet Cowper, witty Dr. Johnson and humorist Addison, who all agreed in their praises of the needle, so inspired were they by the astounding quantity by eysry kind of work executed by their acquaintances. Who is not familiar, too, with the capacious work bags of our great-grandmothers, as well as with their quaint samplers and pictures embroidered in a flat style, -which contrast greatly with the raised and complicated productions o* the needle during the reign of the Stuarts! The example of women's activity came, as usual, from high quarters. We read with no little amazement of the prodigious number of tapestray ehairs worked by the Electress Sophia, mother of George I, who left tokens of her nimble fingers to palaces, convents and churches all over the country, which did not prevent this gifted princess from learning five languages, besides being renowned as a clever painter and gardener, as well as a profound philosopher. Caroline, when Princess of Wales in 1795, interested herself in the «ilk wormg kept in the mulberry garden at Chelsea^ and was forever knitting. Latter on Queen Carlotte, fond heisclf of netting, knotting^ and ribbon work showed her special interest in needle work by establishing a school for the daughters of clergymen and decayed tradesmen, where silk embroidery was taught as a profession. The pupils worked for their patroness a magnificent bed cover in lilac satin, which wa« exhibited for a long time at Hampton Court, another for Lord Howard in gray silk, embroidered in white and ifold spots. It is also welt known that at the court of George III idleness, eves in leisure hours, was not tolerated, We are told tfeatwhen ajt Wiftd|pr castle, every day during the evening concerts, the princesses, their visitors an,d at' tendants were all ^u?y, %$bw WW P«»«l, needjte pr kn,QtfJBg, ' ' FARM AND HOME. MY 0.1,1 J STOXE JOHN S. A1UM9. It stands as ft stood in "aiild lang syne," By the side of the Ifthe that leads to the spring, Over it clambprSjtho running vine. And about Itth" brumbies and lichens cling; In the bnslies (hat Hank It on oither hand, The robins chirp and the bluejaws squall, While stately cedars, a giant-band, Are standing guard o'er my old stone-wall. Men show me in triumph their fences white, Bnllt by some youth with a beardless chin, As mushrooms frail that grow in a night, Or lilies that neither toll nor spin. And granite deflly hammered I see, With Iron crowned like an ebono pall; But painters MB raro who match tor me - The hues of moss on my old (tone-wall. What sounds it has echoed In by-gone years— Perchance the savage warwhoop shrill While the homeateau blazed amid shrieks and tears, And the cannon booming on Bunker Hill. The bear once hauntnd this sunny glade, Tho deer when h« fled trom the hunter's ball And the fox, as by moonlight, he slyly strayed, Mny have lurkwd In the shado of my old stonewall. I wonder sometimes what his name minht bo Who rolled together these massire stones, While hfs flrelock leaned 'gainst the nearest tree. Was it Smith? or Thompson? or Brown or Jones? Did he wear u cue and a throo-cornerod hat? Was his IP? hut fashioned from spruces tall? Wn« he long or short? was he lean or fat? This man who constructed my old stone-wall. Perhaps he landed on Plymouth rock From the Mayflower's bout with the Pilgrim hand, Anil wandered away from the little llock.| To make him a home In this rugged land: Perhaps he had children who cliiiiod his knee When tba shades of eve began to fall, While he told of his childhood beyond the sea, And rented from building my old stono-wall. Hundreds of winter's snow since then Have whitened the hills of the still old town; Tho builder has gone from the haunts of men, In tho Valley of Death ho has laid him dowu; No bar has emblazoned his deeds in Soug, His name tradition may not recall,> But behold his handiwork, staunch and strong, This ancient relic, my old done wall. Boston Journal. FARM NOTES. Two Time is never poorly spent that is applied ti the study of the two fundamental principles of agriculture— how to prevent deterioration of the soil, aud how to get the best returns from the expenditure of a given amount of labor._ All success in agriculture depends practically upon the proper solutions! of these problems, Saieiico to Aid Agriculture. The development of agriculture is progressing upon nsoie lires thin most of us are aware of. For instance, an eminent authority has recently stated that in a few years linen cloth will be as common and as cheap as cotton, 011 account of tho new processes of rotting flax. The cultivation of bacteria for this purpose, which will do in a few hours what is now the work of weeks and months, 'is one of the ways in which science conies to the aid of, agriculture. Weevils, Farm and Ranch ia authority for the following: A few armfuls of vermfuge weed (some call it Jerusalem oak, others worm seed), something that grows on almost every farm in the country, placed in thebottoji of your corn, thus driving out all the weovils. . It will alao drive worms from cabbage by placing a few leaves on ''the growing plant. Beans and peas may be kept in good condition through the winter by placing a few letves in your boxes or bags dried fruit in like manner. THE IIOUSBHOliD. Turkey Notes, Buy your gobblers early. Ship your turkeys in muslin coops. Yearling hens produce the strongest poults. S.'alded cornineal is the proper morning feed now. Bring your turkeys home at night and feed them up well. Never inbreed turkeys. Change hens or gobbleis every year. The turkeys should be picking up corn lively now. Give itto them. To make a good and cheap turkey roost get four forked posts from the woods, about' 20 feet long. Put them in the ground 2 feet. Then drop two worn fence rails in the forks and throw two or three cross Belles on these and you have a good roost for them.—Poultry News. ' Vegetables for Poultry, If you keep poultry in pens and yards throw in all the vegetable and garden truck you can spare, reduced to eatable size. Raw potatoes, onions, turnips, carrots, cabbage, beets, celery tops, 'etc., chopped fine. All will aid in producing winter eggs, and remember meat of some kind is almost a necessity. Ileets for Cows. Beets are considered good food for milch cows, but as they contain a very large amount of water, probably not as much real nturishmeut can be grown to the acre in this crop as in corn or other common grains, especially if the stalks or straw are considered. Feed the beets cat fine, alternating with grain foods. Salt for Sheep, The necessity foTaTepular supply of salt for sheep is one thing'in the management of theae animals that should not be neglected. The prevailing parasitic disease of sheep, known as the fluke, or liver rot is more injurious to the flock tlwn any other disorder. And while it is difficult to cure, no other disease is more easily prevented. Salt seems to be a sort of specific against this destructive parasite, which takes poseension of the liver and the gall bladder and thus fatally disturbs the most important of the digestive and assimilating organs. Sheep fed on salt marshes are never known to be affected by this disorder, and it seems to follow that it is the salt that is the preventive agent. If so, it is reasonable to believe—if it were not proved by experience-^-that the regular use of salt is a remedy for this parasite, as it has also been found for the prevalent lung threadworm. It is certain that salt is a. necessary agent of digestion, for its principal element—hydrochloric acid—ia u component part of the gastric fluid. And as the sheep, weakened by incomplete digestion, may become a more easy prey to the parasites ita reinforcement by means of this digestive agent teads to ward/ off okB.-^*- Snow on the Monntnln. IUCHARD Bujvrrra. Yon towerlrif height I* softened Into erftce ^nd loveliness by enow ita summit bears; So have I eeen some nigged human face Mads benitilfnl with ngs and silver hairs. —Ladles' Home Journal. 1,1 fe. KI.EAMOn M. 11F.NNY. Life Is a folded flower, and what ft holds We know not, till, unwinding leaf by leaf, It sbows God's secrets hidden in Us folds And bears Us fragrant heart to vision brief. For. when Its beauty and significance Upon our earth dulled senses break at last, Back to Its dust the flower turns: perchance Ere we have learned its meaning life is past. —Youth's (Companion. Looking up always lifts up. Be a blessing and you will receive blessing. Beware of excessive concealment that provokes malicious guessing. While preaching silence to others, don't talk too much, To love an enemy is the only possible way of destroying him. To brood over the past is to misspend the present, and to jeopardise the future. When you denounce sin it is not a good plan to do it with a club in your hand. The long winter evenings are here. What provisions have you made for reading and self-culture? _"A merry heart dos'b g_ood like u medicine, but a brold'n spirit drieth the bones" fof other people.] The blessedness of youth consists in opportunity; that of old age in the golden fruit of opportunities improved. Tho Type of Gladness. There are, indeed, types of gladness that cannot bo produced after a first heavy sorrow. We can never again look upon the woild with tho same eyes. There are void . laces in our earthly love that must remain void while we stay hero. But there ia a profounder love for those who stay with us, a gentleness, tenderness, sweetness of affection, unknown before. Our love gains by loss, grows by amputation. Above all, there is a more vivid fonse of heavenly realities, a consciousness of unbroken union with those that seem di"ided from us, an intimacy with higher fellowships opened for us' by those who have gune from ns, a more clinging sense of dependence on tho infinite love, and hence a joy purer and loftier though its pristine bouyancy be forever lost. Especially as life wanes, and the shadows lengthen, may the treasures laid up in heaven give us a familiar, home-like feeling as to the mansions when they shall be oura again, nnd the very hopes wbose failures cast a, cloud over earlier years may tb.ua shed over declining days a genial light, that shall grow brighter and brighter till it by merged in tho pure radiance of heaven— Dr. A. P. Peabody. ^ Don't Hear Everything. The art of hearing should be learned by all. There are HO many thing which it is painful to hear, very many of which, if heard, will disturb the temper, corrupt simplicity and modesty; detract form contentment and happiness. If a man falls into a violent pasaion, and calls us all manner of names, at tbe first word we ' should' shut our ear as a sailor would furl his sail and making all tight, Feud before the gale. If a hot restless man begins to inflame our feeling, we should consider what mischief the firey sparks may do in our magazine below, where our temper is kept, and instantly close the door. If all the petty things said of one by heedless or ill nal.ured idlers were brought home to him, ho would become a mere walking pin-cushion stuck fulljof sharp remarks. If we.would be happy when among good men, we should open our ears; when among bad men shut them. It is not wortb while to hear what our neighbors say about our children, what our rivals say about our business, our drees, or our affairs.—Presbyterian. . : THE KITCHEN. Cream Sauce, Remove the fat from the chicken liquor, ha/ing about a pint; melt one tableapoon- ful of butter and mix -with it two tablespoonfuls of flour; add one of cream seasoned with salt and pepper,' Potato Soup, •'?'» To one part of pototoes boiled and mashed fine add two parts of chipped bread, well soaked. St'r well together; flavor •with onions sliced and fried brown; salt and peppar to taste. Apple Corn-Starch Pudding. Tart apples, stewed with very little water until pulpy, sweetened and thickened with corn starch, (make a nice pudding to be eaten with cream. Rhubarb is used in the same way. Tbe corn starch must be dissolved in a little cold water before add-, iug it to the boiling fruit. Cup Pudding. — Beat up 2 eggs wi'h 6 teaspoonfuls of sugar until the mixture ia vsry lighi; then add 1 tablespoonful softened butter and 6 tablespoonfuls of flour. Have cups buttered, and I tablespoonful of jam or jelly, or twice tUat amount of fresb . fruit iu them. Fill cups up balf full of bacter and bake balf an hour. A Good Bice Dessert is made of 1 quart of sweet milk, % of a, cup of uncooked rice and a little salt. Put this in cups, set them in a. steamer over a kettle of boiling water and cook-until the rice is almost like jfclly. When eold turn out of cups, serve with sugar and cream flavored, «r pudding sauce. Welsh Karobtt. Break fine balf a pound of cheese into a eauce pan, or a doume boiler. Rich cheese witb some age is preferable,;. As the. cheese melts, stir through it 2 eggs well, beaten, a trifle of cayenne, ^ teaspoonful salt, a tablespoonful butter,.a teaspoonful mustard and a half teacupful creftm. Have ready nicely browned slices ol toast, spread the mixture pn them; serve hot. Souse. t Clean, and scrape the pigs' fee.t w& ears; cove? them with salt and water, »nd let them siand for two days; then turfc tale water off gad cover again with clean salt and water j let then* ste n d t[ss jpnger, ttes bojl a,b,out twp hourf i wa^er: wfeeft Ppl4 S.pij$ fa^M&^&f^ TbeelVowJUew. wWeMoMf, IfiOfl of fiblOn* rt ' l "** u * rl -'* n OTifl u. nannftil % t

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