The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on February 10, 1892 · 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, February 10, 1892
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THE UPPER PES MOINES, ALftQMA. IOWA. WEDNESDAY. FEBBUARY 10,1892. '$ VICTORY, va you dared to do so?" sne ae- Ido anything," he replied, "for you *tie. Do you hear? You madden d f tice I no more heed to his words than I the humming of the insects In the hall hear me I" he cried. "You shall • your Imughty head 1 Look al i to me, or 1 will " i will murder me," she Interrupted, jiot be the lirst time you have used 'It. I shall neither look at you nor STOI." I swear that you are driving me ive you so clearly tiiat my life is a a torture to me; yet I hate you so .._.nld almost trample your life out un- i$-feet. Be merciful to me. I know "lay woo and win this glittering wid- Show that 1 may be master of Darreli _—.,*6he has let me guess tiiat much—but, Patiline?! would rather marry you and starve all the world for my own." to him, erect and haughty, her F _,.... ... _ flush ing, her eyes no full of scorn tn|t theft light seemed to blind him. flft'llid not think," she said, "that you irould'dftte to address such words to me. If [liad'to choose this instant between death Ittd marrying you, I would choose death. Know no,words in which I can express my jcbrn, lily contempt, my loathing Cor you. If ^6u,r£JJe f at this insult, it will be itt your peril. .„., a bciiutit'ul liciid!" lie hissed. ^MJtm 11 sillier tor your pride 1" she said, calmly; "go und marry SuiUI. I have vowed to be revenged ier; sweeter vengeance I could not ijuian to stiinil by quietly while she mar a beautiful liend 1" he hissed lace white-with rage, his lips dry '> L l?&u1hlo turned away, and ho stood with U&piy'ltaullcrc:! imprecations on his lips. t'.'I'loye her and I hutu her," he said; "I volild take her in my iirins anil carry her i^iywjiere no one in the world could see her (eautfful l.ice but myself. 1 could spend my srholfcjite in worshiping her—yet 1 hate her. 3h6 has ruined me—I could trample her life thtl '60 and marry Ludy Darreli,' she said; ,wlll obey her." s'He returned to. the house. No one noticed hat hil face was paler than usual, that his lyeswern shadowed and strange; no one oiew that his breath came in hot gasps, and hat his he.ut beat with great irregular throbs. '.'I will woo Lady Darreli and win her," te salcl, "and then Pauline shall sutler." 'What a contrast that graceful woman, with ier fair face anil caressing manner, present- d to the gul lie had just left, with her pas- loriate beauty and passionate scorn; Lady Jarrell looked up at him with eyes of sweet- st welcome. "You h.ue been out in tho grounds," she aldt gently; "the evening is very pleasant." ' VJDid > ou miss me, Lady Darreli—Elinor?" ie OEjked, bending over her chair. He saw a warm blush rising in her cheeks, nd in his heart he i'elt some little contempt or the conquest so easily iimde. "Did you miss ino, Elinor?" ho repeated, ITounuist let me call you Elinor—I think it S the sweetest name in all the world." It was almost cruel to trifle with her, for, ilthough she was conventional to tlie last e'gree, and had but little heart, still what leart she had was all his. It was so easy to ecelvo her, too; she was so ready to believe i him and love him that her misplaced af- TCtlon was almost pitiable. She raised her 'flie ejes to his; there was no secret in them or him f'lamvpiy glad my name pleases you," he said, "I never cared much for it bofore." VBut you will like it now?" he asked; and hen bending over her chair, he whispered omething that sent a warm, rosy Hush over er face and neck. 'Eyeiyone noticed the attention he paid er; Lady Hampton saw it, and disliked him jore than ever. Lord Aynsley saw it, and new tli.it all hopes of winning the beauti- al widow was over for him. People made lieir comments upon it, some saying it would e an excellent match, lor Sir Oswald, had een much attached -to Captain Langton, theis thinking that Lady Darreli with her air face and her largo fortune, might have one, Bettei There was something;, too, in lie captam'b manner which puzzled siniple- earted pi oplo—something of fierce energy, rhlcli all the softuess of word and look could otblfle. "There is not much doubt of what will be tho Darreli Court," said one to nother. 'No (gie blamed the young widow for mar- yjnj* feun, but there was a general expres- |9n.qf (libippolntiiutnt tliatslio had not done fitter,' 'Those duelling in the house foresaw what ratf abput to take place. Aubrey Langton eci\me tlio widow's .shadow. Wherever she rent lip followed her; ho made love to her ri%£he most persevering assiduity, and it gem^4 to bo with tlie energy of a man who ad set himself a task and meant to gu iiough with it. lie also assumed certain airs of mastership, j.e l?new tliat ho had but to speak one word, ri^'pajiell Court would bo his. He spoke U a tQpeot authority, and the servants had {ready begun to look upon him as their . haughty, and reserved, Pauline stood aside and watched— watched ind of silent triumph which filled ast nigs with wonder — watched and o word— allowed her contempt ant 1 to b( seen in every net-ion, yet never one word— watched like a beautiful, BS spirit of fate. ugliout the bright', long summer Aubrey Lnngton staid on at Darreli ptu,d. and at last did what lie intended to 0— "proposed to liiuly Darrell, Ho was ac- 9p$a;, It was the end of July then, but, Je.l4jn.ft to her regard for appearances, it tllilt »o further word should be the spring of the 1'oJ- CHAPTKH XXXII, >'l HAVE HAD MY KKVENGB I" ,s a w arm, beautiful morning, with a lying over the fair summer earth: inline Darreli, linding even tlie largo, iih too warm, went out to seek her shade—the shelter of tlio great cedar .s she sat with bor book in her hand icli she never turned a page—Miss watched her, wondering at the dark that had fallen over her beauty, jig at the concentration of thought se, wondering whether this shadow .npointment would darken all her life /would pass away, wondering if tlio ,co to which she had vowed herself .nned yet; and to them, so sileu.t and ", Ciimo tlio pretty, bright vision of Ku'roil, wearing a white morning dress tie ribbons In her golden hair. Tlie ess and freshness of the morning to linger on her fair face, as she drew iem with a smile on her lips, and a " half-proud shyness in her eyes. "I :im glad you are both neivy sue Ram "1 have something totc.il you." The bhisl and the smile deepened. '-IVrliaps you can guess What it is. Miss Hastings, you are smiling—Pauline, you do not look at me Captain Langton has asked me to be his wife and I have consented." Then she paused. Miss Hastings constrain Jated her, and wished her much happiness Paulino started at first, clasping her hands while her"face, grew white,, and tlien she re covered herself and kept perfect silence. "Pauline," said Lady Darreli, "I am very happy; do not shadow my happiness. Wil you not wisli me joy." "I cannot," replied the girl, in a trembling voice; "you will have no joy." Then, seeing Lady Carroll's wondering face, she seemed to recover herself more completely.- . •"1 will wish you," she said, bitterly, "as much happiness as you deserve." "That would be but little," returned Lady Darreli, with a faint laugh; "I do not hold myself a particularly deserving person." Then Miss Hastings, thinking they mighl come to a bettor understanding alone, wenl away, leaving them together. Lady Darreli went up to the itlrl. She laid her hands on her arm appealingly, and raised her face with a pleading expression. "Pauline," she said, her lips trembling with emotion, "after all, I was your uncle's wife: for his sake you might show me a little kindness. Marriage is a tie for life, not a bond for one day. Oh, Paulino, Pauline, if there is any reason why 1 should not marry Aubrey Lanirtou, tell it—for Heaven's sake, tell it! Your manner is always so strange to him; if you know anything against him, tell me now before it is too late—tell mei" There fell over them a profound silence, broken only by the sweet cheery music of a bird .singing in tlio cedar tree, and the faint clglilng of the wind among the. leaves. "Tell me, for Heaven's sake I" repeated Lady Darreli, her grasp tightening on Paulino's arm. "I have nothing to toll," was the curt reply, "Pray do not hold my arm so tightly, Lady Darreli; i have nothing to toll." "Do not deceive nic-r-thero must bo some reason for your strange manner. Tell it to me now; before it is loo late." There was almost ini iigony of pleading in her face and voice, but Pauline turned resolutely away, leaving her beneath the cedai alone. "I must bo mistaken," Lady Darreli thought. "What can she know of him? must be wrong to doubt him; surely if 1 doubt him I shall doubt Heaven itself. It is her manner—her awkward manner—nothing more." And she tried her best to dismiss all thoughts of Pauline from her mind, and give herself to her newly-found happiness. "Pauline," said Miss Hastings, sorrowfully, when sho rejoined tlio girl, ''I cannot understand you." "1 do not quite understand myself," returned Miss Darreli. "i did not think I had iiny weakness or pity in my heart, but I find it is then;." "\ (in frighten me," said Miss Hastings. "What makes you so strange? O, Pauline, throw it of)', llils black shadow thai envelopes you, and forget this idea of vengeance which has so completely changed yuii!" She looked up with » smile—a hard, bitter smile. "1 shall have had my revemtc," she said, gloomily, "when she lias married him." Nor could any entreaties, any prayers of the kindliearted woman move .hor to say mere. Whether the mysterious and uncertain aspect of thingri preyed upon ilis.s Hustings' mind, whether she grieved over her pupil and allowed tlmt grief to disturb her, was never revealed, but in Hie month of August she became seriously iH-.-iiot enough to be obliged to keep her room, but her health and her strength failed her, and day by day she became weaker and less able to make any exertion. Lady Darreli sent for Doctor Helmstone, and lie advised Miss Hast ings t-o go to the sea-side at once, anil to remain there during the inuiimn. At lu;r earnest request Pauline consented to accompany her. "The change will do you good as well as myself," said the. anxious lady; and Miss Darreli saw that she was thinking how much bolter it would be that sho should leave Dar- reli Court. "I will go," she said. "I know what you are thinking of. My vengeance is nearly accomplished. There is no reason now why I should remain here." After many consultations it was agreed that they should go to the pretty little watering-place called Omberleigh. Many tilings recommended it; the coast was sheltered, the scenery beautiful, the little town itself very quiet, the visitors were few and of tlio higher class. It was not possible to find a prettier spot than Omberleigh. Lady Darreli was generosity itself. In her quiet, amiable way she liked Miss Hastings as well as she was capable of liking anyone. Sho insisted upon making all kinds of arrangements for the governess—she was to have every comfort, every luxury. "And you must do nothing," she said, in her most caressing manner, "but try to get well. -I shall expect to see you looking quite young and blooming when you return." Lady Darroll had already written to Om- berleigh, and, through an agent there, had secured beautiful apartments. When Miss Hastings half remonstrated with her, she laughed. "I have nothing to do," she said, "but make every one happy; and it is my duty to find you always a comfortable homo." Lady Darreli looked, as sho was in those clays, a most happy woman. She seemed to have grown younger mid fairer. The height of her ambition, the height of her happiness, was readied at last. She was rich In the world's goods, and it was in her power to make the man she loved rich and powerful too. She was, for the first time In her life, pleasing her own heart; and happiness made her more tender, more amiable, more considerate and thoughtful for others. Lady Hampton mourned over the great mistake her niece was making. She had whispered in confidence to all her dear Mends that Elinor was really going to throw herself away on the captain after all. It was such a pity, she said, when Lord Aynsley was so deeply in love with her. "But then," she concluded, with a sigh, "it is a matter in which 1 cannot interfere." Yet, looking at Lady Darrell's bright, happy face, she could not quite regret the captain's existence. "You will not be lonely, Lady Darreli," said Miss Hastings, the evening before her journey. Sho never forgot the light that spread over the fair young face— the intense happiness that shone in the blue eyes. "No," she returned, with a sigh of unutterable content,- "I shall never be lonely again. I have thoughts and memories that keep my heart warm—all loneliness or sorrow is over for mo." On the morrow Miss Darreli and the governess were to go to Omberleigh, but the same night Lady Darreli went to Paulino's room. "1 hope you will excuse me," she said, when the girl looked up in haughty surprise, "I want to say a lew words to you before The cool, formal, terms on which.they lived .were set aside,) (ind for the first 'time 'Lady Darreli visited Pauline in her room. "I want to ask you one great favor," continued Lady Darrell; "Will you promise ma that Miss Hastings shall not want for anything? She is far from strong." '•I shall consider Miss Hastings my own especial charge," said Pauline. "But you must allow me to help you. I have a very great affection for her, and desire iiothing better than to prove It by kind actions." "Miss Hastings would be very grateful to you if she knew it," said Paulino. "But 1 do not want her to be grateful, 1 do not want her to know anything about it. With all her gentleness, Miss Hastings has an independence quite her own—an Independence that I respect greatly; but it is quite possible, you know, Pauline, to manage an invalid—to provide good wine and little delicacies.' 1 "I will do all that myself," observed the young girl. . Lady Darreli went nearer to her. "Pauline," she said, jrently, "you have always repelled every effort of mine; you would not be friends with me. But now, dear—now that I am so much happier, that 1 have no cloud in my sky save the shadow of your averted face—be a little kinder to mo. Say that you forgive me, if I have wronged you." "You have wronged me, Lady Darreli, and you know it. For mo to talk of forgiveness is only a farce; it is too late for that I have had my revenge I" Lady Darreli looked up at her with a startled face. "What is that you say, Pauline?" "I repeat it," said the girl, huskily—"I have had my revenge 1" "What can you mean? Nothing of moment has happened to me. You are jesting, Pauline." "It would be well for you if 1 were," said the girl; "but I toil you in all truth I have had my revenge!" And those words sounded in Lady Dar- reli's ears long after Pauline had left Darreli Court. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE STUANGEK ON THE SANDS. The tide was coining in, the sun setting over the sea; the crimson and golden light seemed to be reflected in eacli drop of water until the waves were one mass of heaving roseate gold; a sweet western wind laden with rich, aromatic odors from the pine woods seemed to kiss the waves as they touched the shore and broke into sheets of beautiful white foam. It was such a sunset and such a sea—sucli a calm and holy stillness. The solden waters stretched .out as far and wide as the eye could reach. Tlio yellow sands were clear and smooth; the cliffs that bounded the coast were steep and covered with luxuriant green foliage. Pauline Darreli had gone to the beach, leaving Miss Hastings, who already felt much better, to the enjoyment of an hour's soljtude. There was a small niche in one of the rocks, and the young girl sat down in it, with the broad, beautiful expanse of water spread out before her, and the shining waves breaking at her feet. She had brought a book with her, but sho read little; the story did npt please her. The hero of it was too perfect. With her eyes fixed on the golden, heaving expanse of water, she was thinking of the difference between men in books and men in real life. In books they were all either brave or vicious—either very noble or very bas.: 1 . She passed In review all tlio men she had ever known, beginning with her kind-hearted, genial father, the clover humorist artist, who could define a man's character in an epigram so skillfully. He, was no hero of romance; he liked his cigar, his "glass," and his jest. She thought of all his rugged, picturesque artist-comrades, blunt of speech, honest of heart, open-handed, generous, self- Bacrilicing men. who never envied a comrade's prosperity, nor did even their greatest enemy an evil turn; yet they were not heroes of romance. Siie thought of Sir Oswald— the stately gentleman of the old school, who •had held his name and race so dear, yet had made so fatal an error in his marriage and will. She thought of the captain, handsome and polished in manner, and her face grew pale as sho remembered him. Sho thought of Lord Aynsley, for whom she had a friendly liking, not unmixed with wonder that he could so deeply lovo the tair,sol't-voiced,inane Lady Darreli. Then she began to reflect how strange it was thai she had lived until now, yet had never seen a man whom she could love. Her beautiful lips curled in scorn as she thought of it, "If ever I love any one at all," she said to herself, "it must be some one whom I feel to be my master. I could not love a man who was weak in body, soul, heart, or mind. I must feel that he is my master; that my soul yields to his; that lean lookup to him as the real guiding star of my life, as the guide of my actions. If ever I meet such a man, and vow to love him, what will my love do for me? I do not think 1 could fall in love with a book-hero either; they are too coldly perfect 1 should like a hero with some human faults, with a touch of pride capable of being roused into passion." suddenly, as the thought shaped Itself in her mind, she saw a tall figure crossing the sands—the figure of a man, walking quickly. He stopped at some little distance from the cliff, and then threw himself on the sauii. His eyes were fixed on the restless, boautiful sea; and she, attracted by his striking masculine beauty, the statuesque attitude, the grand, free grace of the strong limbs, the royal carriage-of tlio kingly head, watched him. In the Louvre she had seen some marvelous statues, and lie reminded her of them. There was one of Antinous, with a grand, noble face, a royal head, covered with clusters of hair, anil tlio stranger reminded her ol'it- Bhe looked at him in wonder, Sho had en picturesque-looking men—dandies, fops —bul II .is was tlio first time, she had ever seen a noble and magnificent-looking man. 'If ills uoul is like liis face," she thought to herself, "ho is a hero." She watched him quite unconsciously, admiration gradually entering her heart. "I should like to hear him speak," sho thought. "I know just what kind of voice ought to go with that fi^eo." Jt was a dreamy spot, a dreamy hour, and lie was all unconscious of her presence. The face she was watching was like some grand, 1 iu'inonious poem to her; and as she so watched there came to her the memory of the story of Lancelot and Elaine. The restless golden waters, Ilio yellow- sands, the sliffs, all faded from her view, and she, with her vivid imagination, saw before her the castle court where Elaine first saw him, lifted lier eyes and read his lineaments, and then loved him with a love that was her doom. The face on which she gazed was marked by no great and guilty love—it was the face of Lancelot before his fall, when he shone no)lest, purest, and grandest of all King Arthur's knights. "It was for his face Elaine loved him," thought the girl—"grand and noble as is the face on which the sun shines now." Then she went through the whole of that marvelous story; she thought of the purity, the delicate grace, the fair loveliness of. EJaine, as contrasted with the love wnicn, Hung DacK upon itself, lea ner u prefer death to life—of that strange, keen passionate love that so suddcnly.changcd th whole world for the maid of Astolnt "And I would rather be like her," said th girl to herself; il l would rather die loving th highest and the best than live loving one les. worthy." It had seized her imagination, this beauti ful story of a deathless love. "I too could love as Elaine did," sh thought; "for love cannot come to me wear ing the guise it wears to others. I could rea< the true nobility of a man's soul in his face I could love him, asking no love in return, could die so loving him, and believing hirr greatest and best." Then, as sho mused, the sunlight deepens on the sea, the rose became purple, the wa ters one beaming mass of bright color, an ho who so unconsciously aroused her sleep ing soul to life rose and walked away ovc the sands. She watched lilni as he passe out of sight "1 may never see him again," she thought "but I shall remember his face until I die.' A great calm seemed to fall over her; th veryd ...lisof her heart had been stirred She had been wondering so short a time be fore if she should ever meet any one at al approaching the ideal standard of cxcelleno she had set up in her mind. It seemed Hk an answer to her thoughts when he crossec the sands. "I may never- see him again," she said "but I shall always remember that I havi met one whom I could have loved." She sat there until the sun had set over tin waters and flic moon had risen; and all tin time she saw before her but one image—tin face that had charmed her as nothing in lift had ever done before. Then, startled toh'iu that it had grown so late, she rose and cross eil tlio sands. Once she turned to look at tin sea, and a curious thought came to her Ilia there, by the side of the restless, shining wa ters, she had met her fate. Then she tried to laugh at the notion. "To waste, one's whole heart in loving a lace," she thought, "would bo absurd. Ye the sweetest of all heroines—Elaine—did so." A great calm, one that lulled her broodin; discontent, that stilled her angry despair that seemed to raise her above the earth, lha refined and beautified every thought, was up on her. She reached home, and Miss Hast Ings, looking at the beautiful face on wliicl she find never seen so sweet an expression, so tender a light bofore, wondered whathac come over her. So, too, like. Elaine- All nijjht his fnco before her lived, and'the face was Dark, splendid, sparkling In thoBllcncc, full Of. noblo things All unconsciously, all unknowingly, the lovo had come to her that was to work won tiers—the love that was to be her redemption. (To be continued.) SIAM 1'KOGUESS. It Is a lUcli and ITcrtllo Country with Able Kulera. Siam has been, Until lately, a terra incognita, a country whose only product so far as was known to Americans ano Englishmen, was the famous Siamese twins. The first- treaty of commerce was made by the Siamese government with England in 1857, since which little has been added to our knowledge of the country and its people, The area of Siam is twice that of Great Britain and Ireland. The population is said to bi» about six million. The Siamese sovereigns have usually been of considerable ability and in energy and enlightenment are superior fo most Asiatic potentates. The late King ol Siam and his successor have done what they could to introduce the forms of western civilization. Bangkok, the cap ital, has the electric light, train cars, and government office of European architecture, and the present king has also shown himself a reformer of abuses, e5pecial)y of the worst of Siamese social evils, the universality of serfdom and the prevalence of slavery. Furlhfr and much-needed reforms are expected from him, but even were the DO litical and fiscal administration of the kingdom very much better than it is, the Siamese, a light-hearted nation of Buddhists, fond of amusement and accustomed to frequent holidays, are litth fitted to develop the great resources of their country. Its internal trade is chiefly in the hands of Chinese, who, with the Malays, add some millions more to the estimated population already stated. B-ailways are being constructed, and Europeans have been encouraged by the policy of Siamese royalty to settle at Bangkok, and to develop the external trade of Siam.—St. Louis Post Dispatch. CONSUMMATE NERVE Whiskey Trust Counsel Wants to Appear Before u Urand Jury. BOSTON, Feb. 4.—A most unusual application was made to Judge Nelson, in the third district court, today, by counsel for the whisky trust. Assistant District Attorney Wyman came before the court to ask tbat the grand jury be excused until February 16, when Chas. A. Prince, counsel for the trust, addressed the court, saying, in view of the fact that it was reported that the trust was to be indicted by tho grand jury, ind in view of the fact that Judge Nelson, on Tuesday, had charged the jurors especially with regard to violations of the anti-trust law, he would ask permission to present to the jury members of the trust and others as witnesses in order that it might be shown that there waa no violation of law. Judge Nelson asked with surprise if it was desirod to bring before the jury persons against whom it was proposed to find indictments, and on receiving a reply in the affirmative peremptorily declined to allow such a course to be pursued. The jury was excused until February 16. tfOHMEU PATIENTS TESTIFY. Progress of the Inmiuo Hospital Investigation ut Jacksonville, JACKSONVILLE, Feb. 4.—Most of the testimony at the investigation of the insane hospital today was given by former patients. All testified tbat tdey had been abused while inmates. One of the witnesses said the food was poor and insufficient, but this is denied by others, who sold it was g"od in quantity and_ quality. The burden of their testimony also was to the effect that the mistreatment of patients by attendants bad been invariably carefully concealed from Dr. CUrroll, the superintendent. Tlie physicians of the institution denied that bhe sick insane had been neglected, NO ATTENTION TO RUMORS. jlarza and tUe Revolution oluoli Talked of In Mexico. CITY op MEXICO, Feb; 4.--Rumors concerning Garzi und his rtveluUonary movement are plentiful, but the government pays no attention to them. FARM AD HOME. OVER THE 1 RIVEU. NAStrr vc. rntEs'T. Over Hie rlrur they beckon to me. Loved ones who've crossed to tlie further side Tho gleam of thoir snowy robes I see, But ihelf voices nro lost in the dashing tide. There's one with rlnslete of snnny tiolrt,' And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilight, arny nnd cold, And tho pnlo mist hid him from mortal view We saw not the nngels that met him there, The satPB of the city we could not see. Over the river, over the river, JIy brother stands walllnc to welcome me. Over the river the boatman paio Carried another— the household pet; Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale; Darling Minnie! 1 see her yet! She crossed on her bosom her dimple hands And fearlessly entered tho phantom bark; Wo watched it glide from the silver sands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. Wn know she is safe on the other side; The gate o£ tho city we could not see; Over the river, tho mystic river, Sly childhood's idol is .waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores Who cross with the boatman cold and pals; We hear the dip of their golden oars, \Ve see the glenm of tha snowy sail, And lol they have passed from our yearning hearts. They cross the stream and are gone for ayo: We may not sunder tlio veil apart, That hides fromjonr vision tho patea of day. We only know that their bark no more May sail with us o're life's stormy sea: But somewhere, J know, on the unseen shore, They watch, and beacon, and wait for me. And I pit and think when the sunset's gold Is flushing river and hill and shore, I shall one day stand by the water cold, And list for the sound of the boatman's oar, I shall watch for nglenm of the flapping sail 1 shall pass from fitiluwlih the Doatnmn pale To the better shore of the spirit land. I shall know the loved who have gone bofore, And joyfully sweet will tho meelingbe, When over the river, the peaceful river, The ungel of death shall carry mo. FARM NOTES. Hogs that are squealing from cold are not making pork. Have regular hours for feeding. Nothing is so valuable as regularity. The common nettle-weed is first-rate food for laying hens. They like it, either chopped fine, green, or cut -up with the cooked soft food. Prime the apple trees in winter. Sow ing off a few limbs is not pruning. If the trees have heavy, hanging branches, shorten them back. Cut away all dead wood, wherever it may be. The ntock from which our_fruit trees are grown has an important influence upon their health, fruitt'ulness and longevity. We must pay more attention to seed and scion then we havo been doing in the past. Good animals, good crops, good results all around on the farm are not the outcome of good luck. It is patient, .continued, intelligent effort tbat brings success in agriculture—not a hit-or'iniss, happy-go- lucky course. It may be an open questionwhether.it will pay all farmers to feed cooked food to their hogs, but there is no doubt that cooked food will make more h'esh than uncooked, because .a larger proportion will be digested und assimilated. Wo do not advise feeding turnips to milch cows. Not that they will always impart a flavor to tlie buttc-r, and perhaps never will, if fed just before milking, but there aro other roots that are better and which never flavor the butter under any circumstances. Pure Preeds. By using males Hint are not pure bred, the farmer is breeding down instead of jp, and he loses an entire year of his life beforn he can correct each mistake, while each year's work in grading up tho herd or flock renders tho work of improvement easier the next. Ciimidn Thistle*. Canarla thistles can bo killed by repeat- id cutting during the growing season, or by thorough ploughing and cultivation. If cut closely while in bloom, and then •epeatedly cut as often as they grow, :here will be little left of them in fall; jut frequent plowing, hoeing and cultivating will do more thorough work. Keep Aheud of your work. It is only the industrious man who has leisure. He is never pushed by his work. [t is always ahead of him. He keeps it at arms length, and is never in doubt what ie shall take up next. Everything comes n rotation, and as he sita and studies over the year's work, iC he is well prepared he iah tell what is to be done each day ihough the season, It is in this way only that one can do justice to himself and nakes every day count for its due profit. .Breaking the Cult, A run of sleighinp makes a good time to ireak colts. Hitch the colt up at first alongside a well; broken, stady horse and drive thus until it has become accustomed o all the tones of ^command and move- nents of the voice and hardness. After )eing thoroughly used to driving double jegin with light load on a single sleigh. There is no noisa of wheels, as in buggy or wagon, and the first drive can be made without much danger of accident if the colt has made gentle by careful handling >efore being put into the harness. ' Early Laiubg. Many of the early lambs have come in, md the later ones will come in February md March. The first day's exposure of a 'oung lamb may be fatal, and if not the 'ulureof the lamb may be influenced, lave warm quarters for the ewes that are expected to come in, but_do not crowd ,hem. As the early lamb is the one that pays it should not be retarded in growth at the start for lack of nourishment or warmth. Begin to feed them, on ground oats as soon as they will eat. The ewes ibould be looked o^er daily, as they are object to milk fever. Plenty of hay hould be given them at this time. Wholesome- Food, The question novr . being considered by well-intormed farmers is whether the will-barrel should be abolished or not. It s true that many waste substances can be added to the swill-barrel and fermented, iut this very fact is used as a reason for iscarding the swill-barrel. The swill an just as conveniently be given in a resa and wholesome condition as to allow it as tilth. A mess of fresh skimmed milk and cornmeal or slop made by oaldiug bran or ground grain, will af- ord a -wholesome food and avoid disease erins. ' The FreuoU ftoudau. The Houdan ie a breed that has not re,med the attention in this county that it really deserves. It derives if-s name from the place of its birth—Houdan, France. Knglisb authorities are of the opinion it is a made breed of the Creve- couer and some fowl of the Sultan type, with a possibility of a subsequent cross with the Dorking. But no matter how they are rnnde, they recommend themselves very highly as a valuable far n fowl. They nre excel! nt layers of large, white eggs, and us tabh fowls are unexcelled. They ctih be confined by low fences. The writer bred them for a number of years, and found them haidy from chick to hen. They mature early. Houdan cockerels crossed upon hens of almost any breed make excellent broilers. Linseed OH Meal as n Fertilizer. The Ohio experimental station has be_en making some chemical and field tests with linseed oil meal to determine its value as a fertilizer, aud their conclusions are worth noticing. Without going closely into the analysis, we may say that the fertilizing constituent, of new process meal, valuing the nitrogen, phosphoric acid and potash at their market prices, gave the meal a fertilizing value of $21 per ton, or just bhe price at which it can be bought in car lots; but itjhns been demonstrated that not more than one-third of the fertilizing value of the rnenl is lost in feeding, provided the manure is carefully saved and properly handled to avoid waste. Thus, if tho meal is used first as a feeding atuff and the residue applied to the land, the coat of the fertilizing is reduced by whatever value the stock may gnin from feeding. Thus it incpntestably offers a cheaper source of fertility than does any of tho strictly commercial fertilizer?. In field experiment a heavy application of the meal was found to produce a masked increase of crop?, vet not so great as to warrant using tlie meal directly for that purpose. There is no doubt, however, that it would bave given a profit if its feeding value liad been firsb availed of. THE Day and Night. JAJIES MANNING 11UON80N. Too soon, nlnsl the pleasing dav basiled; Miijeslic tho groat orb his course has sped, Ami swept In triumph, all the skies aclow. Behind tlio hilltops to tho world below. Around us now tho shadows noiseless fall, And ni«ut c mes gloomy on, her fnco n pall, let soon rollev-ed by the glorious sipht Jf heaven's jewels and the radiant light lYnnsformluj; softly into tiooms in gray The garish tones und harsh outlay of day. Pho day WUB pleasing, aye. tho day was fair: fin, was tho day full charged wilh griefs and care; i'ho night is sombre, aye, the night is sad; Yet e'en in sombre night, wo may be glad; iVo see a beamy then, not seen before— I'ho golden sands of the celestial shore Gleiyn brightly on the uplift, reverent eye, And holy lovo illuminates the sky. Our harvest burdens are those wo bor- •ow. Discontent is the peg in your ehoe that lurts. A child tbat does not laugh is seldom lealtliy. Knowledge without love is as a body without life. 'Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil." There is no sharper sword than that in .he hand of truth. An hour of praises is worth a day of ! asting and mourning—Livingstone. Sow much easier it is to tell others how ';hey ought to walk, than it is to step •ight ourselves. In tho blackest soils grow the richest lower?, and the loftiest and strongest trees spriner heavenward among tho rocks.—J. ft. Holland. The talent of success is nothing more ban what you can do well; and doing well vhatever you do, without a thought of *ame.—Longfellow. Too lateral. A good deal of tuct is needed in giving nstructiou to children. A Pit.sburgh, Sunday school teacher said recently to one if his scholars: "You shouldn't fight with .he neighbors' boys; you should beau coals 3f fire OB their heads." "I can't," was he reply; "we burn natural gas." Face A.UH woretH to Fiiee, Northwestern Uhrletain Advocate. The best reading produces the best hiuking, and the best thoughts make the ' mpressions upon mind and heart and eatures, A beautiful mind will make a teautiful face. We all admire beauty of ace and form, and desire them for our- elves. Here in an easy and certain way o acquire both in measure. The influence f good reading on character is immeasurable. Noble, sweet, grac'.ous houghts reveal themselves both in features and character. Beauty of mind is ust as apparent and appreciable as beauty f person. Tha Great; Mim, The idealist is often the narrowest of men. The great man is one who enshrines u ideal in his heart and goes to work in he world, taking men as he finds them nd doing the best for them and with hem, drops as near to their level as he lonestly can, if by any means he may Jay icjd of them, uses ideas in order to pave a way for his own, telling them a great many half truths, hoping that at last they may be ready for whole ones.—Rev. Dr. T. ".'. Munger. "1 Can Not Dig " What a picture of laziness and pride we ave in 'be parable of the unjust steward Luke 16:1 8). He says, "I can not dig, o beg lam ashamed." He would not work, and yet he did not want to ba class_ as a pauper. He wanted to live by his wits. Trying to do so he did what w^as no better than stealing. But he did it in he way of business, and^everybody smiled ind said, "What a shrewd fellow he is!" 'here are a good many people to-day like bat steward. They dispise manual labor. They want to be gentlemen, or what they call gentlemen—t. e., to have soft hands and wear their Sunday clothes every day. But in order to do this, they must get money in some way, and they must get it without working foi it. How can this be done? That is the problem which confronts the proud and penniless American. And in trying to solve it he meets temptations to dishonesty which are exceedingly insidious. He wants to get into business, or to get an office, or to secure an agency; anything that is genteel, that will deliver him from the necessity of digging, And there are unscrupulous Capitalists and speculators who are looking out for just suph men. They will pa.v iheia well to do their dirty work; aud to lie and c.heat for them, to eell imitation goods or bogus stocks, The young man muH begin, h >w ever, by selling Wwelf.—Bu9tio",8 in fee" Occident,

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