The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on April 12, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, April 12, 1893
Page 3
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THE tlPPEttlDBa MOINES, AGONA, IOWA. WEDNESDAY, APtUL 12, W3 BY HUGH COITWA.Y, "Called Back." Etc. Ete. If or some minutes the bishop stood on th« doorsteps, weighing the innocence or guilt of the inanimate creature at his feet, Sylvanus the while pleading its cause with his usual brisk vehemence and j erky dexterity. He expatiated on the size of his parish, and on the wOndp.ri ul assistance he derived from this modern Invention for getting quickly over the ground, Ho showed his lordship the convenient little bag attached to the back, in which he carried his books of devotion, or, when occasion needed, some small creature comfort for the aged sick. He explained the action of the machine, and so raised the episcopal curiosity, that an unheard-of thing occurred. His lordship gaiters and all, gravely installed himself ii the seat, and to the unutterable delight ol several ladies and gentlemen who. were gazing through the drawing-room windows, In a quiet, dignified, leisurely way, as behooves a bishop, actually propelled his sacred sell down the gravel path and up again, with no further damage than cutting up the edges ol his host's la\Vn, and knocking a couple of stones out of a rockery. The tricycle triumphed 1 Although the bishop did not embody an eulogistic notice of It In his next charge to his clergy, ho has been known, on several occasions, to recommend its use in outlying districts. Like many other useful Innovations, 8yl- ranus and his tricycle lived down prejudice, and were able to accompany each other to CHAPTER •fcu.... .MILLER TAKES A HOLIDAY. Mrs. Miller the respectable, middle-aged widow who had, In spite of her lack of properly authenticated service-testimonials, been Installed in the place vacated by the nurse- girl whose amorous tendencies sent such r thrill through Hazlewood House, coritinuec to give the greatest satisfaction. r he was i living proof that a broom which s .vept cleai when new* may continue to do s after th< newness has departed. Moreover, Mrs. Mil let was a broom which raised very little dus as it swept. She was a pale-faced woman, with strong ly-marked features. The nose was aquiline, the cheeks thin, almost hollow; the mouth and chin told of a certain force of character, the eyes were dark, and at times shone with peculiar brightness. In spite of the calm, methodical way hi which she went about tlie place in discharge of her duties, one skilled in the study of the face would have said that this woman po'ssessed a highly nervous temperament—that her quiet was but the result of years of self-control, that had she lacked that strong mouth and chin, Mrs. Miller's true nature would have shone itself at every hour of the day. She was thin, and In the dark gowns which she Invariably wore, looked almost ascetic. To men she presented few attractions. The under-garclener who had been reprimanded, but not dismissed, found the change of nurses a sorry one for him. Had he wished to do so I doubt if the most forward man-servant would have dared to put his arm round Mrs. Miller's somber waist. But her masters liked her, Miss Clauson liked her, the boy liked her, and, above all, Whittakcr liked her. This last was an im- Hazlewood House this particular afternoon In July. The "Tabbies" had driven into Blacktown; but Miss Clauson was in the back garden. Sylvanus pulled his tricycle aside, so that it should bo out of the way of other callers; then went to meet what fate had in store for him. Poor fellow, ho breathed a prayer as he crossed the lawn. He had really very little hope; but he felt ho must make his confession before he struck his flag altogether. It was a warm Jxily afternoon. Beatrice, In a dainty white dress, looked dellciously cool as she sat reading in the shade of a sycamore tree. She smiled pleasantly when she •aw her visitor approaching. Sylvanus would have given all he possessed to have leen her eyes drop shyly—to have noticed a blush rise to her cool white cheek. Mrs. Miller, the nurse, sat with the little boy on her lap some short distance oif. After the first greeting, Sylvanus fetched one of those comfortable carpet-seated chairs, several of which were scattered about, and sat beside Beatrice. They talked fora while on ordinary subjects; then, like a man, the curate resolved to come to the point. "I wish to say a few words to you alone, Miss Clauson. Will you walk into the Ifeuse or the other garden with me." She looked surprised, perhaps troubled. "We can speak here," she said, telling the nurse to take the child indoors. She kissed thejlttle man tenderly as he was led away. «vn,i OVA VP.I-V fnucl of the child." said portant matter, as in the servants' hall Whittaker, by virtue of long service and irreproachable character, reigned supreme. The new nurse was in many ways a servant after his own heart. She treated him with the respect which was his due, and neither by word nor action ridiculed his masters—the crime common to nearly all the retainers of Hazlewood House. The only fault whicli Whittaker could find witli Mrs. Miller was on account of her religious sentiments. For Whittaker was an intelligent man, who In his hours of leisure improved his mind. For theology he read good old-fashioned, one-sided works whicli proved beyond doubt that through the parish church lay the only road to heaven. Every one knows that It is delightful to give a newcomer the benefit of one's own religious tenets—to point out where one is right and tho other wrong. It was but natural that in a kindly paternal way Whittaker should take an early opportunity of ascertaining Mrs. Miller's orthodoxy. He did this in the butler's pantry, whither she had one day come on some errand. It was on a Monday, and Whittaker begun by commenting on Mr. Mordle's sermon of tho preceding night. He little guessed what a storm his words would raise—how by sheer accident lie had stumbled on a way of turning this calm-looking woman into a wild enthusiast. But he had, in fact, struck the lire "You are very fond of the child," said Sylvanus. "Very, very fond of him." Then she turned her clear gray eyes upon him as one who waited for a promised communication. He knew all was lost— or rather nothing had been his to lose. But he went on to the bitter end. "Miss Clauson— Beatrice— " ho said. "1 have come to-day to ask you if you could love me— if you will be my wife?" She did not answer. He fancied ho heard her sigh; yet that sigh gave him no hope. "That I love you I need not say. You must have seen that. In my own clumsy fashion I must have shown it." "I feared it was so," said Beatrice dreamily. "Yes it was, always will be so. Even as I speak, I speak with little hope; but at least you will hear and believe I love you." His voice was so deep and earnest she scarcely recognized it. He looked at her. Her lashes were cast down and tears wore forcing their way through them. "Will you answer me?" he said tenderly. "I do not insult you by speaking of wealth and rank in the world. If you loved a man you would care little for that. You would marry tho man you loved In spite of all the world." She shivered. Her mouth worked piteously. For a second a wild joyful thought ran through the wooer's mind— for a second only. "Do I judge you rightly?" he asked. "I think so— but, oh, Mr. Mordle, I am so sorry for this." Her accent left no doubt as to the genuineness of her regret. Had she wronged him to the greatest extent, it could not have been more real. So like a man he took his answer. He rose. His face was pale, but then, a man's face is, so far as color goes', beyond his control. But his manner and words were his own bondservants. "We can still be friends?" he jerked out, In a very good Imitation of his usual brisk manner. "If you wish It," said Beatrice, quietly, almost humbly. "Of course I wish it. By the bye, will you wish me a pleasant holiday? I am going away next week. France, Switzerland, Rhine— all the rest of it." Beatrice laid her hand on his arm. "Don't, please, speak like that; you make me miserable." "Miserable I" "Yes. Do you think a woman does not feel unhappy when she finds she cannot accept the love of a good manlike yourself? Do you think she believes ho goes from her side and forgets all that has happened? I don't think I am to blame, Mr. Mordlo, but anyway I feel miserable." Ho took her hand. "No, you are not to blame. I was a fool. Never mind, I am a man, also. I really was going away next week, unless— well, never mind what. When I come back, If I am not cured of my folly, I can at least promise that even you will not see any symptoms of disease. Good-bye." He turned and left her. Even in his desolation he had the grain of comfort that he had not borne himself amiss. To Miss Clauson, at least, he must always stand far above his unfortunate name. Still he was terribly upset. So much so that lie walked to the end of the lane without remembering his tricycle, and was compelled to retrace Ids steps in order to recover his artificial means of propulsion. Ho felt this to be a peculiarly unfortunate incident, for, as he walked up to the house, he caught a glimpse of Beatrice standing In a pensive, thoughtful attitude, gazing out of one of the windows. Nevertheless he mounted his metal steed bravely and sped away. By the unwritten canons of art, it seems to me that a rejected suitor Is expected, If a horseman, to dash his spurs Into his charger's flanks and gallop away, anywhere, any. where !— if a pedestrian, he should rush off in a frenzy, stride off with dignity, or lounge away with studied carelessness. The Reverend Sylvauus's manner of departure was taiulyan impertiuaeut Invasion of com from the flint. She forgot all about her errand, and entered into religious discussion in a way that took the male disputant's breath from him. She talked about selection and predestina- tion—tlic utter inefflcacy of works or faith to save—she pounded him with terrible texts which cut otrtho hope of mercy from all save tho elect, until poor old Whittaker fairly gasped. His one-sided studios furnished no weapons with whJcli to meet her vehement attack. All he could do was to shake ills head pityingly and sigh for the state of her mind, lu this he was little different from many reputed teachers of men. Suddenly, as if remembering where she was, Mrs. Miller grew calm; but evidently by a great effort of self-control. She even apolbgi/.od for her excitement, which she imnnrl Afi- Wliittnl.-or wnnlil fnrirnt. Then /y was, nowever, clear that sne nafl noc come here to enjoy a day at the seaside. Instead of going at once to the gay esplanade, she sought the Shades of the general waiting- room—here Hhft remained an hour. She then embarked in another wain; one that ran on a single line of railway—ran nearly the whole of its way with the sea on one side, and a mighty hill of smooth, rounded pebbles, known as the Chesil Beach, on the other, whilst in front of it loomed tall, serrated, precipitous cliffs, at the foot of which was its destination. Mrs. Miller paid no attention to the natural scenery of the place. She stepped from the train and walked out of the little station in a methodical, business-like way. It was evident that tho woman had not come so far on a mere pleasure jaunt. It was a burning day. The sun shot down Its rays fiercely on the treeless, shadcless, barren island, or so-oalled island. Mrs. Miller's black garments seemed scarcely suitable to each weather—her frame certainly not strong enough to toil up those cliffs of oolitic limestone which frowned down upon her. No wonder she turned to the cabstand. The two or three cabs which it boasted were rickety old machines, but the horses which were between the shafts were strong ones. Horses need be strong to earn a living in this land. She drove a bargain after the manner of her kind, then took her sent in one of the dusty vehicles. She was driven through the little gray town which lies at the foot of, and stretches a long way up tho hill. Tho horse toiled up tho steep street; on and on until the occupant of the cab looked down on the tops of the houses which she had just passed. Then a turn, and a bit of level ground, another turn and a steep hill; so on and on in a zigzag course until the table-land which lies at the top of Portland Island was somehow reached, an event which must have been grateful alike to tho horse and tho occupant of tho cab, supposing the Isttrtcr only possessed of nerves of ordinary strength and therefore apt to rebel against being drawn up hills as steep as tho side of a house. Some time before the cab reached the top of the cliffs it had at intervals passed gangs of men working by the roadside. At a distance these men looked little different from ordinary navvies, but a closer inspection showed that the garments of most of them consisted of a dark yellow jersey covered by a sleeveless jacket of light fustian or some such material. This jacket, moreover, was stamped in various places with the government broad arrow. Every man wore gaiters and a curiously-shaped cap, under which no hair was visible. Occasionally one might be seen who moved with a certain stiffness in his gait, as if something which he would willingly have dispensed with restrained the natural elasticity of his lower limbs. Here and there the monotony of the attire was broken by the appearance of some who were dressed in blue instead of yellow; but taken altogether the dress, if comfortable and enduring, was scarcely one winch a man being a free agent would choose for himself. The gangs whicli Mrs. Miller passed on the roadside were for the most part engaged in handing lumps of turf from man to man. They performed these duties in a listless perfunctory manner, although standing on the hill-side above every band of workers were two men In long dark coats with the shining buttons of authority, and each of these men held a rifle with fixed bayonet. Further away in the quarries could be seen many other such gangs, digging, delving, hauling, wheeling barrows, ami performing other operations needful for extracting tin' famed Portland stone from the ground. After passing various sentries, and driving for some distance along the level ground, Mrs. Miller's cab readied a beautiful, tall, buttressed wall; skirting this it turned at right angles and very soon drew up before an imposing entrance built of gray stout', and bearing over the archway the royal nrms of England. This was the entrance to Her Majesty's prison of Portland. In front of it, across tho road, stretched the other, an expression very neariy ftffin .. hatred settled on her strongly-marked fe»i ures. Yet, in spite of his elose-clippei. crown, shaven cheeks, and ugly attire, th" convict was by no means ill-looking. IIi.- featurcs were straight, and might even have been called refined. He was above the middle height, broad shouldered, and healthy- looking. His teeth were good, and Ins hands, although rough and hardened with toil, werr not the hands of one who has labored Iroiu his childhood. His eyes had a cruel, crafty look in them; but this look might have been acquired since his incarceration. Indeed, Mrs. Miller had noticed tho same expression in the i yes of every convict whom she had met on the road to the prison. Mrs. Miller looked through her bars at the convict; tho convict looked through his bars at Mrs. Miller; the warder between them sat on his stool sublimely indifferent, and for a while there was silence. The convict wi\.« the first to break it. "Oh, It's yon, Is it?" he said. "Yes, it's me," said Mrs. Miller. "Well, what do you want? To see how 1 am getting on?" Ho spoke quite jauntily. His visitor gazed at him scornfully. "Oh, I'm in splendid health," ho continued. "Physically, I'm twice the maivl was when I came here. Regular hours, regular meals, regular work. Constitution quite set up. No chance of my dying before my term s up." "No, I'm afraid there isn't," said Mrs. Miller with such bitterness that the impassive warder glanced at her, and wondered what manner of prisoner's friend this was. The prisoner's face changed. Ho scowled at her as darkly as she had scowled at him. "When will your time bo up?" she asked sharply. "Can you tell me?" she added, turning to the warder. "Can't say exactly," answered the warder. "He's in bine, so he's in his last year." Mrs. Miller shuddered. Her hands clinched themselves involuntarily. "I want to know," she said, addressing the convict, "what arrangements you will bo willing to make when you come out. That is the object of my visit," The man looked at her mockingly. I have thought of nothing as yet," lie said, "except the joy I shall feel at once more returning to tho arms of my devoted wife." The woman's dark eyes blazed. She leant her face against the bars, and glared at the shaven'face before her. "How much money do you want?" she whispered. The convict shrugged his uninteresting- looking shoulders. "Money Is an after consideration—I am pining for connubial felicity." She turned and paced the narrow space. The warder grew quite interested in tho Interview. As a rule his duties worn very monotonous. He recognized the fact that Hie present conversation was out of tlie ordinary run. The woman seemed to have forgotten his presence. Slio stamped her foot, and turned fiercely to tlic convict. "Look here," she said; "will you goto America, Australia, anywhere? Money will be found." "Certainly not," snid the polite convict. "Besides, si'r," he added, turning to tho warder witli an assumed air of deference, "1 believe it is o nine. </mi -111171. I mean it is indispensable, that I'nr SDSIIU time 1 must ruporl myself to (ho pnliru im<:« a month?" Tlio warder nodded. "(Jtnl hc.lji UN!" i!iimnu:;H the wo:ii:in. Then Inniiii.'i to Hm convict, she s nil: "You'll Id mi; Unn-.v wlim vim are relcas- I.IVKY SANDY. We told our renders a few weeks ago about .lolin Johnson's mistakes. They inner have boon wondering, as we did for a. long (line, what became of tin man who. by assuming the mortgage on the farm, took (bo load (hat proved too heavy for poor John. Was be some man who bad inherited wealth, which wiser men bad made and wished to play farmer? Or was lu a, capitalist, who bad made money in other lines, and wished a safe and sun investment from which be could grind as much rout, as competition ninous, tenants would permit? Or was he i man who bad bought it. with the ox poetution of paying the mortgage fron the proceeds of his own labor on the farm? We found out all about it quite recently. His name was Sandy MePhor- son, one of those hanl-hondod Scotch- men who may bo found In every part of (lie world where there is good land or a. chance (o 'push business. Wo don't, know how much Sandy know about, farming in the "laud o' cakes." Ho probably knew more than lie lot on. knew no- took John ils farm because the milk don't whirl ust right, in them bottles. 1 wish 1 had >oou liorii a lucky Sandy." There are two sides to all questions, and we give Alex. McKouklo's story and that, of the neighbor. Our readers must judge which is nearer the truth. At. any rate. Sandy paid the mortgage, mid paid it off the farm. LOST IN TIIK. MUSH. lioiug Astray in the Screaming Wilds of Canada— for Help. The neighbors all say I bat In thing about, farming when be Johnson's place. He did not. know, If his hired man Is to bo believed, a, wagon hammer from a, clevis. .Predictions were freely made by knowing ones that he weeds would rim him out; and that, the farm would be for sale at. a reduced price in two years. Iu some way lie bad scraped together enough cash to pay all but; the ineum- brance. but it; Is a fact that, tlie mortgage, the taxes, (he. interest and the hired help, as well as the living, had to be paid from Ibo farm. It. soon became apparent to the hired band that if Sandy did not. know much about, farming be was very cute iu llud- ing out what, he really needed to know. He bad many a laugh at. bis employer for the first mouth or two, but when It. 0,111110 bis tnirn to toll the reason for doing tilings this way or that, the laugh Mr. Hubert Crawford, describing ills life as a civil engineer In tho wilds of Canada, devotes one chapter to his experiences in going astray iu (he "bush." With two companions be was plodding through a part of (lie forest quite now to (hoiu in the dusk of a late autumn evening. Many streams bad to be crossed, and more tha.n once all bands were totally immersed. Worse than all, darkness was rapidly falling. At wot, tired and hungry, they were obliged to confess that, they were lost, and, more than Ilia I, in a cedar swamp with the water nearly up to their knees. They bad no lirearms, their mutches were wet. and worthless, and as they sat upon the trunk of a fallen tree and talked the situation over they agreed that, they bad only one chance of rescue. If they could make themselves hoard at some settler's clearing they would be saved. Otherwise they were lost. They agreed to take turns In using their 'lungs to the utmost, with nu occasional blending of all three voices to vary the effect. For soino t.tme they screamed lu vain. Then at last, they beard an answer. Yes, their cries Avcro certainly auswoiod, but, not iu a way to encourage them. The answer was the bowling of wolves, a sound to make the blood curdle In their veins. They ceased their shouts. It wjuld bo better to freeze, than to be eaten by wolves. Hut; liust; then tb sound reach- into, the grim realms of tragedy, life KLatwo are always inextricably nnngl< hoped Mr. Whittaker would forgot. Then she left him. In his responsible position his first thought was that his masters ought to bo informed of the heterodox views held by the nurse. But this seemed scarcely fair to tho woman, who, iu spite of all, went to church as regularly as the other servants. So he did not; mention the matter to tho Talberts, but overtaking Mr. Mordle as the latter was one day walking into the town, he,' with all respect, told him what strange ideas Mrs. Miller held on religious subjects. This may seem presumption on WJiitttiker's part, but (lie truth is, that the dream of his life was, that had not fate made him a butler he might have been a clergyman. And a very imposing one he would doubtless have made. "Ah!" said Mordle. "Calvinism—dreary religion—most dismal and dreary of all." The curate was rather short with Whit- takcr. Ho thought the old servant rather o. nuisance and somewhat of a prig. "Will yon see her and talk to her, sir?" asked Whitlaker, respectfully! "No—Calvlnists are incurable. But to please you, Whittaker, I'll preach to her some Sunday." It may bo presumed that Mrs Miller did not inflict her Calvinism upon Beatrice, as the latter seemed to find the new nurse perfectly suited to her duties. It was clear (hat Mrs, Miller had become strangely attached to her young mistress. Nothing seemed to give her such pleasure as performing any small personal service which Aliss Clauson required. When Beatrice passed her, the woman's dark eyes followed her with an expression of almost dog-like affection. On her part, Beatrice treated the nurse with a consideration not always shown by the most amiable toward their servants, It was vulgarly said among tho household that Mrs. Miller, quiet as she was, had managed to got the length of Miss Cluuson's foot. Whether Mrs. Miller was unduly favored or not, things at Hazlewood House ran on smoothly. Perhaps it was tlie perfect order in which the gear worked that induced the nurse to take a day's holiday. It was the day after Mr. Mordlo had made and lost his venture. Horace and Herbert pottering about the gardens, saw the bright- haired boy going out in charge of the parlor- maid. This was an infraction of rules which could not be overlooked. They demanded the cause, and were told that Mrs. Miller had gone for a day's holiday. Of course the brothers said no more, but upon seeing Beatrice they mentioned the matter to her. "Yes," she said, "I told her she might go for tlie day." The Talborts were too polite to blameBea- trice in words, but a slight elevation of four eyebrows showed their owners' discontent. Beatrice, in giving a servant a holiday, had taken a liberty. "Where has she gone?" asked Herbert,who liked to know that his servants were spending their time properly. "To London, I suppose," said Beatrice, carelessly. Now the way In whicli Mrs. Miller spent her holiday was as follows :— 81;^ rose at an early hour and walked from jo-h's 'wood House to the cross roads. Here •alted until the lumbering old-fashion- IABE JOS3 came in sight. She took a seat in it, mite ancjas in due time deposited at the Blackis just Cation, At Blacktown she took the ie, Frida/ \Weyinouth, which fashionable \vat- governor's garden, still brilliant with ed? (To be continued.) ALO.YK. A Melancholy Bumot.l;'s room. One of. Earliest 'Efforts. Mrs (lowers, and looldng like a glorious oasis in the midst of a barren land. A man who in discharge of ins duties has to live on the top of Portland Island, wants a garden or something of tlmt.sort. Without it the monotony of the place would drive him mad. But Mrs. Miller did not even look at (he gay beds. She dismounted, and after telling the cabman to wait for her, walked boldly through the prison gate. She was immediately accosted by a portly good-tempered-looking janitor, whoso gold- laced cap spoke of superior standing. He ushered her into a little waiting-room just inside the gate, and asked her to state her business. Sirs. Miller's business was to see one of tho convicts, by name Maurice liar- Mrs. F. H. Burnett in April Scribner: When she bad been a. little child lying awake in the Nursery bedroom she bad boon heart-broken by a fancy of nbaby lost in the darkness of the night and storm, and wandering alone, crying, crying for some one to Hud it. This Sunday night it made her melancholy. Even, the cheerful sounds of the bright lire of blazing coal were not enough to overpower the 1'ecllng. And she felt so alone that she began to wish "mnmrna" and the governess would come home from church, and vey. Now, convicts are only allowed to see their friends once in six months; so the janitor shook his head dubiously. Still, as Mrs. Miller was a most respectable-looking woman, he said he would mention the matter to the governor. He begged tho lady to take a chair and then left her. She sat for some time in the bare little waiting-room, the walls of whicli were decorated with notices requesting visitors to tlie prison not to oiler the warders any money, but to deposit such donations as they wished to make in boxes which were hung against the wall for the benefit of discharged prisoners and the officers' schools respectively. After a while tho good-natured janitor returned. Ho told Mrs. Miller that tho convict had not seen a friend for many months, BO upon his return from work he would be asked if he would like to see her. She must give her name. She wrote it down; then waited patiently. By and by there was a measured tramp of many heavy feet, and she knew tho convicts were returning to dinner. After the Irani]) liad died away, a warder made his appearance and told her (o follow him. It was but a step. Ho opened a door in tho rear of the waiting-room, and Mrs. Miller found herself in a place which could suggest nothing else than a den at a zoological garden, one side of the room being formed of iron bars about six inches apart. And opposite was a similar den with its front turned toward it and entered by another door, and between the two was a space, a narrow den, entered by another door and containing a stool. Presently the door of tho middle den opened and a warder entered and seated himself upon the stool; then tho furthest door opened, and one of the blue-habited convicts walked up to the bars, and gave his visitor a nod of careless recognition. As a rule when a female friend is permitted to see a convict thero is weeping and wailing. Hands are stretched out through the bars across tho open space, and if the two persons are of ordinary stature, finger-tips may just meet. This is better than uotli i uiv. Time was when no open space divided th.: friends; they could kiss and almost embrace through one set of bars. But it was found that tbo visitor's kiss often transferred a half-sovereign from her mouth to (lie convict's. A kindly action, no doubt, but one which when discovered led the man into trouble, knocked off good-conduct marks, and lengthened his time of imprisonment. So now there is a space of something Jila- five feet between tho visitor and tho visited. With these two there was no weeping, no stretching out of hands. In fact, as Mrs. JJ,Uler looked at the caged creature in front wondered how they would get through the rain. It seemed lonely when the wind sounded like that. And suddenly, as a means of distracting herself, she began to write a "piece of poetry." It began by being a very linn-owing thing. The immortal whole was never seen by her after that night, but the fla,vor of the first verse was so fine that it would not bo easy to forget it. The "Secretaire" bad jiven her an acquaintance with more than one darkling poem, recording and immortalizing the sentiments of lofty-minded persons who wore .tflie victims of accursed fate, and who in tlie depths of their woo wore, capable of devoting many versos to describing their exalted scorn of tilings in general—particularly suns which would unfeelingly persist in sbiu- tng, stars that continued heartlessly to remain bright, and skies whose in- blneness could not bo too scathingly condemned. And the very loftiness of their mental altitude was was on the other side. It was clear that, if Sandy had much to loam be did not. liave much to forget, and, further, tliu,t be bad but. little respect: for custom or tradition or anything else not backed by good, sound souse and for which 11 goixl reason could not be given. The neighbors say he fooled away much more time that, year in reading and thinking about, farming (ban be did in actual work on the farm. I hare reason to believe that Sandy wa.s not. so much in love with farming at. the end of tho llrst year as be was ill; the beginning. Although the season was fair and. prices of cal;(1o and hogs booming In 1.8S2-S!i, there was precious little left after paying the hired band, (be interest on the mortgage, the taxes iiul living expenses. In fact. Sandy and bis family seemed about; this time to bo •iUidying economy. However, he bad ball'' bis land down to giw-s so that, in the fall bo dismissed bis hired hand and wiih the help of bis two boys ran the ;farm himself. Me abandoned wheat growing, planted what corn be could work thoroughly, and raised some oats, hurley and (potatoes,. He astonished tbo neighbors by plowing up some of Ills young clover, after covering with manure, and grow crop of potailoes that; set, the tongues of all tho potato growers wagging. Ho fenced off half bis tame grass and grow a crop of bay and clover seed; bought in the spring a lot of the best steers ho could find and fed them on nil the corn they would eat and pastured them until about; the middle of June on the other ball', and then cut a crop of seed in the fall. There is a story yet told in the neighborhood about the purchase of those steers. Sandy's credit among his neighbors was, by tills time, none of Ibo best. The steers were bought od them again. It semcd to bo changed Faint, and far oft' as It was, it sounded like (ho barking of a, dog. Hope revived, and tho three men, with many stumbles and falls, pushed the woods lu the direction of the sound, Then they sCoppcd and combined, (heir strength In one loud call. Back came tho dog's bark. This time there was no doubt about it, and again tho men pushed on. Listening and traveling alternately, Ihov emerged from the cedar swamp at. last, and saw a, light; hi the distance. They made for it. at; once, and found themselves in a log hut, the only oc- ciipanls of which M-cre a. wonuin and two young children. The woman bad board the shouts of the men, and, not. being able to answer loudly enough herself, bad set the dog barking. At, the same time she bad put the kettle on to boil, so that within live mbiules after tlie men reached the but they were drinking hot coffee a.nd drying themselves bcvfoie a binding lire. "In many wanideriugs iu dlstiuit lands," says Mr. Crawford, "I have seen different phases of life, from the greatest luxury to the most; abject poverty and hardship, but never did I see a. brighter lire or drink a cup of bettor coffee than on that occasion in a backwoods shanty. Not; even coffee thai. I have lasted In the sultan's palace at Constantinople, served in the most delicate porcelain on gold trays, could equal it." BEAUTY AND BRAVERY. An Incident of the War Which Shows That They Arc Found Together, the cause of their being isolated from tho "hollow world," They were always "alone." Alone. That was a good idea. The piece of poetry should be called "Alone." And the wind should bo beard in it. How it wailed at that particular moment. And this was the soul-stirring result: Alone—alone! The wind shrieks "Alone!" And mocks my lonely soirow, "Alone—alone!" tbo trees seem to moan, "For tbce there's no bright tomorrow." it a, public sale and nt what the other bidders regarded as a long price. The question was, who would go Sandy's .securityV A countryman of Sandy's got wind of the talk, and taking him to one side said: "Sandy, let me give yon a. pointer. I hue a little siller by me. Gio me your note for four months and take yer discounts. I hue faith in the moil who does bis own thinking." From that time on Sandy prospered. In three years, when the mortgage was due, Sandy bad not the money to pay it all, but: it ceased to trouble him. The creditor was only too glad to renew part of it and tit the lowest, rate of interest. Our information comes from Sandy's wife's brother, Alex. McKonklo. Yesterday, however, we met one of tho neighbors and asked him about Sandy. "The luckiest, dog you over saw," said be. "He does tho queerest, things—the voi;y opposite of what tho rest of us do, and somehow they come out just right. I toll you, stranger, it is better to be born lucky than rich. AYhen everybody else wants to buy anything, Sandy sells; when every other man in the neighborhood wants to soil, Sandy buys, and so wo call him 'Lucky Sandy,' because if he buys it goes up, and if he sells it comes down. In ISSJ-Si when everybody was cra/y after cattle, Sandy kept only u few milk cows. Ho bought steers in the spring and throw away hLs corn by feeding them on clover knee high. When nobody would look at sheep, Sandy always kept a good flock. If sheep ever go down again Sandy won't be caught witli a baker's dozen. What; sort of men are likely to bo found, tbo bravest? A writer in tlie Atlantic raises this question, and seems to A quart of corn twice a day to twenty hens, is supposed to bo a proper allowance, but no estimate can bo arrived at, as bens will noli thrive on corn alone, nor will all liens in u flock eat alike, or prefer the samo kind of food. When feeding the hens give them a variety, but never give them more than they can oat up clean, it is better to give too little than too much. In the winter tbu hens should 'have two good meals each day, but in summer one meal is ample. If they are on a range it is safe to assfert that one-half of the quantity supposed to bo a meal will bo sufficient. The poultrynuin observe his flocks and Judge of their wants b!y the amount of on If hogs go up Sandy is sure to have a nice lot, and if they go down he has but a few." "How about the mortgage?" wo asked. "Oh, bo paid that off long ago; not -by bard work or good farming, but because be was born with a silver spoon in bis mouth—pure luck, sir! K very thing lucks well with Sandy. He's patronizing the creamery now, and the lucky dog somehow gets more for bis milk than any man in the neighborhood. Tbo neighbors say (hat ho lias a whirligig with a place for bottles in It. Ho puts some stuff in tlie bottles witli a little milk and whirls it around and if tbo cow's milk don't Whirl just right lu them bottles, no sells Her right off—yw, sir! Sway 9$-, sells the best looking c# como to the .quite unexpected conclusion that physical beauty is perhaps tho surest; sign of physical courage. Ho quotes a. French philosopher as saying that "where bravery amounts to inndwss ('hero is always something womanish about tbo face and bearing," and relates an incident, of (ho civil war which seems to point to a similar conclusion. I attended a festival at Harper's Ferry near the close of the war. Gen. Sheridan ordered that all who had ctiiptured bulllo (lags or performed any remarkable feat of daring should repair to the parade grounds to receive such decoration as they deserved, which was douo to tho accompaniment of martial music and many cheers. I looked with groat; pride on the iiuijlloy .collection of tho bravest of braves, and with no lltt,lo interest, for I hoped to discern among the elect some sign which would segregate these companions-in-arms from (heir congeners of lessor renown] Alas! they were of every buo and shape, and almost of every nationality, the American type predominating, for wo wore four against all other nationalities. They wore, for tho most: part, a quiet- looking body of young men, displaying as much coolness in this (he supreme hour of triumph as bud boon shown, on the occasions which bad led to it. One typo of tho soldier was conspicuous by its absence—I moan the stalking, self-conscious, moro-tban-erect sort of person, having the practiced frown and quick flash of (lie dark eye, the ideal soldier in time of peace, but there were present some picturesque-looking fellows of tho 'Buffalo Bill kind, presumably from the plains. All were clad iu Undo Sam's uniform' of blue and Virginia's uniform of swtuv thy tan. All looked hardy and woatu* er-worn, and as (hoy passed in review before Gen. Max A\ 7 ebor's headquarters, the one distinguishing characteristic of these youths was expressed by a Virginia lady Avho stood near nie, and as the reigning belle of Harper's , doubtless considered that siio spoke wUli authority; Kpxdsouie group of toy

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