The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on March 9, 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, March 9, 1892
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UPPER T)ES MOINfiS, ALGOfrA. IOWA. WEDNESDAY. MARCH 9,1892. .OVE'S VICTORY. *t BfcBTHA It. OJLAt. CHAFF I'» XXXIX. DYUTG IN SIN. §aptain Langton left Lady Darrell at the Br of the porch, and went round to • the ijbles. lie was a man as utterly devoid of Jnciple ns any man could well be, yet the pruths he had told, the false testimony he I given, the false oaths he had taken, had aken his nerves, ijf'I should not care to go through such a fene as that again," he said—"to stand bei two women as before my judges." Je found his hands unsteady mid his limbs nbling; the horse he had to ride Was a ptritedone. The captain halt staggered as i placed his hand on the saddle. |"I am hot very well," he said to one of the Doras; ."goto the house and tell Frampton, |e butler, to bring some brandy here." "tn a few minutes the butler appeared with (pray, on which stood bottle and glass. " "This Is some very old brandy, sir," he Id, "ana very strong." fBut Captain Lnngton did not appear to 1 him, he poured' out half a tumblerful iid drank it, while the butler looked on In HSmazement. if>."It is very strong, sir," he repeated;' IM "I know what I am doing;" returned the . jfeaptaln, with an oath. , JftilHe was dizzy with fear and with his after- lljfiiticcess; he shuddered again ns he mo'unted ||t|lits horse, and the memory of Pauline's face iSiitid Pauline's words came over him. Then ' <|||lie galloped off, and Frampton, turning to f|4;the groom, with a scared face, said: "f "If he gets home safely after taking so ouch of that brandy, and with that horse, I ,,^ill never venture to say what I think tagain." *- #, # „ * » * § Lady Darrell returned to the library, where _ he had left Pauline. They looked at each ffiJtlier In silence, and then Lady Darrell said: " "1—I bellove in him, Pauline; he cannot i what you say." | Miss Darrell rose and went up to her; she ilaced her in a chnir, and knelt at her feet "You do not, believe what I have told _,ou?" she questioned, gently. f| "I cannot; my love and my faith are all Ills." "I have done my best," said Pauline, sor- bwfully, "mid I can do no more. While I Sjve I shall never forgive myself that I did fi|Sjiot speak sooner, Lady Darrell. Elinor, I *™%all kneel here until you promise to forgive ne." ' Then Lady Darrell looked at the beautiful ace, with its expression of humility. "Pauline," she said, suddenly, "1 hardly iVSprecognizo you. What lias come to you? ^IjiWhat has -changed you?" »$g Her face crimson witli hot blushes, Paulino llflfil: -"It is to me," she said, "as though a vail iw.tMBW.,,1 fallen from before my eyes. I can see sin in all its enormity. 1 can see to what :",UVjstrong emotion of any kind; the deepest pas- of her life was her love for Aubrey , ,,,, gton; but even she could give some faint i'l'^v'H IfShow deeply you have disliked me, ?d!:;/,;Ss;-way you have plotted against me, I cannot tetti'Svrefuse you. I forgive you, Pauline." m;S ''.fjfy Miss Darrell held up her face. M |?i!' : ;ll: "Will you kiss me?" she asked. "I have ;A'|sSnover made that request In all my life before, i.||v|i;butlmalceitiiow." °I^f^£ Lady Darrell bent down and kissed her, HlriS-'wliile the gloom of the even fell round them '''•'t--ifand deepened into night. fi'Sfj: "If I only knew what to believe I" Lady te o^KSDarrell remarked. "First my heart turns to 5v$£him, Paulino, and then it turns to you. Yet JSASboth cannot bo right—one must be most wick- r ' |M-'.'cd and most false. You have truth in your 16 §f?f face—he had truth on his lips when he was ip% talking to inc. Oh, If I knew—if I only IW&i And when she had repeated this many wjf?; times, Pauline said to her: j''!$>> "Leave it to Heaven; he has agreed that hall judge between us, and it will. f}|p;Whoever has told the lie shall perish in it." !;fij| So some hours passed, and the change that |Jf§|had come over Lady Darrell was almost pitl- :ij||iiful to see. Her fair J'ace was all drawn and fe^haggard, Uio liriglitne.ss had all left it. It is- lfi$jfwas as though years oli most bitter sorrow ialg^l&had passed over her. They hud spoken-to iediflffher of taking sonic refreshment, but she hail m-pUfgent it. away. She, could do nothing hut vace Eotfr'r'l^iiip and down with wearied step, moaning orSjf/fiVjhat she only wanted to know which was 3a$ii'Mfjright, which to believe, while Pauline sat by •j|i|fSjfh.er in unwenrled patience. Suddenly Lady o|.|t>;!i-;-|'ip:iri'oll turned to her. 'a,ifw;'4f: "What is the matter with me?" she asked. W'^'ltf^i'I cannot understand myself; the air seems dl':'J-.:?^-;jr'pll of whispers and portents—it is as though re here a waiting some great event What waiting for?" H ••'• '£fj;l< They were terrible words, for the answer '.$'-i<&i$i*o them was a groat commotion in the hall— 'Kv^Jiffiji 16 sound of 'hurried footsteps—of many I'j^WSsJyoiees. Lady Darrell stood still in dismay. 'wifft "What is it?" slid cried. "Oh, Paulino, ! jii : ;S"j|S;i'^m full of fear—1 am sorely full of feurl" '!$!$$$•' It was Frampton who opened tho door 'iSSf ij^iddenly and stood before them with a white 'Mj^$lfecared face. 'lS>i$f» "Oil, my lady—my lady I" ho gasped. Ijlfllll "Tell her quickly;" cried Pauline; "do yoi lliiSllSjpot see that suspense is dangerous?" :®lf'i|iP "One of the Court sorvants," sixul the but 'SUlppfler at once, in response, "returning fron iifpSff&jlyMidlcigli Royal, has found the body of Cap ^H^lpiin Langton lying In the higli-roiul, where iififjjffljls horse had thrown him, dragged him, am j?gp "Heaven bo merciful to him 1" cried Pan fj^Jino Durrell. "Jlo has died in his sin," |5pijBut Lady Darrell spoke no words. Per ^Sijjaps she thought to herself that Heaven hat ^indeed judged between them. She said noth Krfjng—she trembled—a gasping cry came fron Ulier, and she fell face forward on the floor. feff; They raised her and carried her up stairs •|ptyuline never left her; through the lonj SfjJtJJight-Vt-atches and the long days she kepi filler place by her side, while life and deatl 'fi!||ought liercely for her. She would awaki Ipfroni her stupor at times, only to ask abou '"''"" 'ey—it' It could be true that he was dea< then seemed thankful that she conic '•at death's door—s6 1 no more. They did not think at first that she couU Slrecover. Afterward Doctor llolinstono to d g'lMjer that she owed her life to Pauline Dar- JilfKell's unchanging love and care. llllt' CHAPTER, XL. fjltif : ' Tln 3 WOIIK OF ATONEMENTS J$s|| The little town of Audlelgh Royal had £j|||fiever been so excited. It was sucli a terri- iiiW'° accident. CupbUn Lnngton, the guest of "'"' " Jjlr Peter Glynu, so soon to bo master of Dar- !|eH Court—a man so handsouie, so accomplished, and so universal a favorite—to be ed in tho gloom of an autumn night, on lie high road I Society was grieved and jjiocked. ["That beautiful young lady at tho Hall flip loved hint BO deavlv. was." twmit* -wi»i«. jefea to encn otner, deep was her grief." An inquest was held at the "Darrell Anns;" and all the revelations ever made as ,o the cause of Cnptnln Langton'sclenth .were made then. The butler and the si'oom at Darrell Court swore to having felt some lit;le alarm at seeing the deceased drink wore than half a tumblerful of brandy. The butler's prophecy that he would never reach lotne in safety was repeated. One of the men said that the. captain looked pale and scared, as though ho had seen a ghost; another told how madly lie had galloped away; so that no other'conclusion could be come to But this—that he had rithlen recklessly, lost ill control over the horse, and had been thrown. There was proof that the animal liad dragged him . along tho road for some little distance; and it was supposed tho fatal wound had been inflicted when his head was dashed against the milestone close to which tie had been found. It was very shocking, very terrible. .80* ciety was distressed. The body lay at the "Darrell Arms" until all arrangements had been made for the funeral. Such a funeral had never been seen • in Audleigh lioyal. Rich and poor< every one attended. Captain Langlon was buried in tho prelty little cemetery at Audlelgli!'and people, as they stood round the grave, whispered to each'other that, although tho horse that killed him had cost over a hundred pounds, Sir Peter Glynn had ordered it to bo«hot. Then, when the autumn had faded into winter, the accident was forgotten. Something else happened which drove it from people's minds, and the tragedy of Atullolgh Royal became a thing of the past. Pauline did not'return to Omberleigh. Miss Hastings was dreadfully shocked when she received a letter tat I Im: her of Captain Langton's dentil and of L-idy. Darreli's serious illness. No persuasions could Induce her to remain longer away. She returned that same day to tho Court, and insisted upiin taking her share in the nursin.irof Lady Durrell. Lady Hampton looked upon the captain's accident as the direct Interposition' of Providence. Of course such a death was very- shocking, very terrible; but certainly it had never been a match she approved; and, after all, say what one would, everythinghnd happened for the best. Lady Hampton wont over to Darrell Court, and assisted in wtten ding to the invalid; bul her thoughts ran more on Lord Ayrisley, and the chances of his renewing his olfur, than on anything else. Elinor would soon recover, there was no fear; the .shock to her nerves had been great, but people never died of nervousness; and, when she did get well. Lady Hampton intended to propose a season in London. But Lady Hnrrell did not get \gell as soon as Lady Hampton had anticipated. Indeed, more than one clever doctor, on leaving her presence, shook his head gr.ively, and said it was doubtful •whether La- ly JJurrell would ever recover at all; the shock to her nerves had been terrible. But there was something to be said also of a blighted life and a broken heart. Autumn had drifted into winter; and one morning Lady Darrell, who h id' been sleeping mores soundly than usual, suddenly turned to Pituline, who seldom left her. "Pauline," she, whispered; "you have not told any one, have you?" ''Told 1 what?" she inquired. "About poor Aubrey's faults. I know now that he was guilty. Str;in:re,solemn thoughts, strange resolutions, come to u«, are made, to us in sickness, when wo lie, where I have been lying, in the valley of the shadow of death. 1 know that hi; was guilty, and that he died in his sin. 1 know it now, Pauline." Miss Darrell bent over her and kissed the white brow. "Listen to in", dear," continued the weak voice. "Let this secret die with us—let there be a bond between us never to reveal it You will never tell any one about it, will you Pauline? "No," she replied, "never. I should nevei •have told yon but that I hoped to save you from a dreadful fate—and it would have been a dreadful fate for you to have married him; he would have broken your heart," "It is broken now," she said, gently. "Yet it comforts me to know that no reproach will bt) heaped on Aubrey's memory." "You will set. butter," observed Pauline, hopefully, "and then there will be happiei days in store for you." "There will bo no happy days for me," returned Lady Darrell, sorrowfully, "You see, Pauline, I loved him very dearly—more dearly than 1 knew. I had never loved any one s'ery much until 1 saw him. I couh more easily have checked a raging tire than have restrained my love after I had once given it. My life had in some way passed into his, nnd now, I do not earn to live." "But. you have so much to live for," said Pauline. • "Not now. I do not can) for might aboul me. I have tried to remember Darrell Cour; and all my wealth and grandeur, but they give me no pleasure—tho shadow of death lies over all." And it was all in vain that Pauline tried to rouse her; Lady Darrell, after her unhappy love, never cured to bo rousrd again Lady Hamilton would not think seriously ol her illness—it would pass away in time, she said; but Miss Hastings shook her head gravely, and feared the worst. The time came when Pauline told some part of her story to this governess. She did not mention Aubrey's crime—that secret she kept until death—but she gave a sketch o: what had passed between her and Lady Dar roll. "Did I do right?" slier asked, with tha sweet humility which had vanquished al pride in her. "You acted worthily," replied Miss Hast iugs, while she marveled at the transforma tion which love had wrought in that once proud, willful girl. Time p-.issed on, and by the syish of Miss Hastings :i celebrated physician was seni for from London, for Lady D.irrell grew no better. His opinion sounded somewhat like a death-warrant. "She may recover Nuflicieutly to quit her room and to linger on in life—how long is uncertain; but the shuck to her nerves she will never fully recover from—while she live she will ha u victim to nervousness. But '. do not think she will live long. Letherhavt as much cheerful society us possible, svithou fatigue; nothing more can bo done for her.' And with -that they were obliged to be con tent. Lady Hamilton would not admit tha the London physician was correct. "Nerves are all nonsense," she said, brus quoly. "How many nervous shocks have been through, with husband dead and chil dren dead? Elinor's only danger is he mother's complaint She died of consumption quite young." It svas found, however, despite Lady Hampton's disbelief, that the London phy Blcian had spoken truthfully. Lady Darrol rose from her sick bed, but she was but the shadow of herself, and a victim to a terrible ne-rvous disorder. Miss Hastings watched over her with grca anxiety, but Pauline was like a second sel to-tho unhappy lady. They were speaking of her one day, and Miss Hastings said: "Au illness like Lady Darroll's is so un certain, Pauline; you must not occupy your ; f rvith her so entirety^ or yon will lose iiirosvn health." • I3nt Pauline looked up with a smile—per- naps the gravest.- the sweetest and most tender liter face, had ever worn. ] shall never leave her," she returned. N.:wr leave her?;' questioned Miss 1 Jlast- nfis. .'•.'• '•No. I shall stiy with her to comfort hnr vhllo life lasts, ti'm'l t!mt will b'ti my atonement." ' C1TA! TE!l Xt,I. LOVE AND SOKIiOW. Tic beautiful golden summer came round, ml Darrell Court looked picturesque and ovely with its rjclmess of foliage and flush >f flowers. The great-magnolia trees were in bloom—the air,was full of their, dell; cate, subtle perfume; the chestnuts wen? in iliiom, the linioti all in blos.-oin. Sweet stunner had scattered her treasures with no nig- ,,'ar.l hand;-and Lady D.irrell had lived to ;e« the earth .rejoice once more. Under the limes,, where the shadows of the ;raccfu!. tremulous, scented leaves fell on .he grass,—the' limes that were never still, )iit always responding to some half-hidden .\iiisjieroftlio wind—stood Pauline Darrell and her lover, Sir .Vane St. Linvrence. They lad met but once since their hurried parting ntOmberleigh. Vane had been to Darrell Joiirt—for their engagement was no secret no\v. They wrote to each other constantly. On this fair June day Sir Vane had come to the Court with news that stirred the depths of tho girl's heart as a fierce wind stirs the ripples on a lake. As the sunlight fell through the green [eaves and rested on her, the change In her was wonderful to see. The beautiful, noble 'ace had lost all its pride, all its defiance; ,he play of the lips was tremulous, sensitive; and gentle; the light In the dark eyes was of ove and kindness. Time had added to her ovellness; the grand, statuesque ligure had deleloped more perfectly; tiio graceful atti- ludes, the unconscious harmony, the indefinable grace and fascination .were more ap- sarent than ever. But she no longer carried tier grand beauty as a protest, but made it rather the crown of a pure and perfect womanhood. Something dimmed tho brightness of her face, for Sir Vane had come to her with iiiKo news and a strange prayer. His arm was clasped round her as they walked under the limes where lovers' footsteps had so often strayed. "Yes, Pauline, it has come so unexpectedly at last," spoke Sir Vane. "Ever since tiraveton lias been in office, my dear mother has been unwearied in asking \'< - un appointment for me. You know the story of our Impoverished fortunes, and how anxious my dear mother, is to retrieve'them." Her hand seemed to tighten Its clasp on his, as she answered: "Yes. 1 know." "Now an opportunity has come. Grave- ton, In anssver to my mother's continued requests, lias found for me a most lucrative office; but. alas, my love, it is in India, and ] must shortly set out." "In India!" repeats Pauline; "and you must set out shortly, Vane? How soon?" "In a fortnight from now," he answered. 'It is an office that requires tilling up at once, Pauliny. I have iome to ask it you wi.ll accompany me? Will you pardon the shQrt notice, and let me take my wife with me'to that far-off land? Do not let me go alone into exile—come with me, darling." The color and light died out of her beautiful face, her lips quivered, and her eyes grew ili!a as with unshed tears. "I cannot," she replied; and there was a silence between them that seemed full of pain. , . - . "You cannot, Pauline 1" he cried, and the sadness and disappointment in his voice made her lips quiver again. "Surely you will not allow any feminine nonsense about dress and preparations, any scruple about tho shortness of time, to come between us? My mother bade me say that if you will consent she will busy herself night and day to help us to prepare. She bade me add her prayer to mine. Oh, Pauline, why do you say you cannot accompany me?" The llrst shock hail passed for her, and she raised her noble face to his. "From no nonsense. Vane," she said. "You should know mo better, dear, than that. Nothing can part us but one thing. Were it not for that, 1 svould go with you to the very cud of the svorl'd—I would work for you and \vith you." "But svliat is it, I'auliue'."' lie asked. "What is it, my darling'."' She clung to him uuuv closely still. "I cannot leave her, Vane,—1 cannot leave Lady Dnrroll. She is dying slowly, hour by hour, day by ilay—and 1 cannot leas'B her." "But, my darling Paulino, there are others beside you to attend to the lady—Lady Hampton and Miss Hastings. Why should you give up your life thus." "Why?" shn repeated. "You know why, Vane. It is tli • only atonement I can oiler her. Heaven knows how giadly, how happily, 1 would this moment place my hand in yours and accompany you; my heart longs to do sn. You arc all I have in the world, and how I Jove you you know, Vane. But it seems to me, that i owe, Lady Darrell this reparation, and at tlio price o' my whole life's liiippini'ss I must make it." He drew her nearer to him, and kissed the trembling lips. "She has suffered so much, Vane, through me—all through me. If I had but foregone my cruel vengeance, and when she came to me with doubt in her heart if I had but spoken one word, the chances are that by tins time she would have been Lady Aynsley, and I should have been free to accompany you, my beloved; but I must sulfer for my sin. I ought to sulfer, and I ought to atone to her." (To be continned.) FARM AND HOME. TIJJE BESEBTJil) STEST TOBESTB AND STREAMS) Bare arc tlio boughs, sure to their tips fill] clinging The fragrant orioles deserted neete, Its tattered fragments in the breezes ewlng^ Ing In Idle mockery of its enmmer rest. The patient weaver, at her labors busy, Ha* wakedns often with the morning light, "C3 3r darting downward from her snmmit dizzy, Flashed like a meteor across our eight. Sombre in hue, like Portia's leaden casket, Uncc filled, like that, with a most precious prize, \ It hangs in air, n broken, ragged basket. Its contents scattered under sunny skies. Beneath the sheltering foliage closely shaded It shunned the prying ecnoolboy's eager gaze. While the slim twig to which 'tis deftly braided Offered no foothold for the squirrel's wuye. Nnngbt cares the bird for her deserted dwelling, Free as the air on which she spreads her wing, Her breast ere now with warmer breezes swelling Perchance another melody shapings. So with ourselves, through many a clime and nation, In search of wealth or fame we wander wide, KhowinK for years no settled Imbliallon— To no one spot on earth's fair surface tied, Still, as the bird with summer's sun returning, Finds the old tree on which to hang her nest, So we, our hearts for childhood's pleasures yearning, Seek the old home, our wanderings o're, to rest! "Pilgrims on earth, with no abiding city," Through what far planet are we yet to roam? Where shall we rent when heavenly love and all u Shall tnd out toils In our eternal home? FARM NOTES. Keep teed corn from getting damp. When the fowls pet too fat an exclusive feed ot oats will reduce them. There is no advantage in Latching out goslings until grass gets a good start. Damp quarters and stagnant water of ten prove fatal to turkeys and chickens. Onions and peas are the first spring crops in the garden. The ground cannot be made ready too soon. Turkeys, ducks, geese and guineas can be_hatched in the incubator as well as chickens, and can be raised in a brooder. Plant an asparagus bed this spring. To will give you a larger return for the labor and land employed than anything else on the farm. Fowls that are confined in email runs should be fed green food, in. some form, every day or two. Cabbage is excellent for them; suspend a head a few inches from the floor and let them pick at it. The Barn Cellar. The farmer who thinks he has no use for a barn cellar cannot be called a broadminded man, It is far better to put the manuie there from stabled animals than allow it to be piled against the siding of the barn and rot it away, while the pile itself fire-fangs and wastes. Sheep. There is not much danger of increasing the number of sheep in thin country toe rapidly until we have reduced the amouni of our importations of wool below 90,000,000 pounds annually, which has been the average of the past ten years. Only gei good sheep and take good care of them and and it will be a long time before we have too many, if we do not buy foreign wool. HEROES IN KANSAS. They Were Fucltivts from Justice, and Adveittoed tlie Fact. "About the coolest thing I ever Faw," continued the man who bad been talking, writes 0. H. Parson's to the Detroit Free Press, "was something that happened out in a ecrop of a place in Western Kansas one day I lay over there a couple of yeaw ago." "Indeed!" interrupted the quiet little man, cornered up next the car window. "It seemed a couple of boys had come into town the day before and got so all fired funny that the citizens had to dust up their old pine Ecantlin' calaboose for their benefit. "Well, by the next morning they were a heap too dry in the throat t o stand any noufenee, so they made up their minds mighty quick to leave their present quar- tern, and they did it, too. Theic knives, you know. '•Well one of 'em slipped down to their one-horse printing office and got a big pester struck—'We are fugitives from justice.' And what did they do but stick ii. onto a cio.-epiece of their scanHiu' and parade that town with that bill flying uver their bead^l "What did the citizens say? "Why, the town joet naturally yelled itself hoarse and pasatd the bat to pay the damages. —" Strawberry Beds. The new strawberry bed should bo prepared as soon as the weather will per mit. The young plants should be set ou in the rows early, so as to get the benefit of the spring rains. Dry winds and lack of moisture cause some of the plants to perish, and the more growth made by the the time the warm days shall come on the better both for runners and plants in rows. Turnips. Turnips need rich soil, but should not bi grown in contact with fresh manure. 1 they do not grow rapidly they will bi stringy and of little value. If planted top early they are liable to the same fault, probably because sarly in tho season plan food bar. not developed so as to suppl; this voiacious vegetable feeder with ai the plant food it needs, Early sown turnips, if not made stringy, have more nutriment than those sown late aac maturing much more quickly. Salt for Animals. Mr. S. N. Pierce, of Callaway, Neb., writes that he regards plenty of salt as th best preventive of worms, whether in horses or hogs, and that rubbing the back of hogs with a mixture of one part of cor bolic acid and ten parts of water is the best preventive of palsy, or dragging th< hind parts. He also says that it th« wart: tha 1 sometimes appear on horses are rubbed a day with butter they will disappear. No harm can come from the tria of either. Care of Trees. If the limbs of trees are noticed to growing in such a way as to interfere wit] other liiubs, if the wood is not frozen ant if the j ack knife is sharp, it is the ver: best tim« in the year for pruning. If th limb is too large to be taken (ff with a jdck knife, wait a while, or just as long a it will take to go and get a sharp saw, J wash of strong lye or potash water on th trunk and large limbs of fruit trees earl, in the Fprhif? will destroy insects unde the bark, or their eggs, if there are any And if it runs down to the ground ant souks in where the routs find it, it will no hurt the tree or the fruit at all.—American Cultivator, The Incubator. The incubator if of improved self-regu lating kind is very handy for growi.nj early chicks. It is used exclusively b. those who make tbe growing of chicks fo early market a business, but it may b used with profit by farmers, who know that tbe earlier chicks are hatched the better winter layers they will prove nex season. It is impossible to get fowls tha will set early enough. Later in the sea sou the incubator may be put away fo next year, and tbe batching be done b; hens in the old-fashioned, natural way. 1 hen's tiiije is not so valuable as that ot th,e person who will necessarily be obliged t< give the incubator-hatched chicks •& goo< deal of care. Help t<w Vvuvf tawV*. It very often occurs that the latub is able to start *be rnilfc for tb$ flpt i! which bp gynjmeij \jp tbje prij|r- ! iL hepberd start the flow for the litMe naw omer and that it is seen to get a supply iefore leaving it. If the ewe does not give sufficient milk, it can be supplement- id with cow's milk, and what is bettpr is o feed the ewe the same ration which makes a cow give plenty of milk. Tbe utfon is found to be equal parts of ground lah and corn and wheat bran about from me-hal£ pounds to two pounds at a feed, n helping the young lamb get its first lourishment it ia not always best lo wait ill the lamb gets almost given out and liscouraged in its attempts, for at this ime it takes more patience with it. It bould be helped while trying to help il- df. All lambs do not need help. Low Prnnlnff Vet-sus High Pruning. tn a paper read before the California 'oinologieal society, B. 0. Clark said: Low pruning of frait trees has the advantage over high pruning, 1. "There is no danger of the trunk and arger limbs becoming sunburned and in- ested with borers, which will in time de,troy the usefulness of the tree, if not kill it. 2. The fruit is nearer the ground, a laving ot fifty per cent, in the cost of har- vestinz the wop. 3. The lower branches are tbe oldest and produce fruit first. If cut away to raise the head of the tree it does not come nto bearing as soon. 4. A low-branched tree will furnish the nrgest bearing surfdce in a given time. :t will be the largest tree at a given age. 5. It is less at the mercy of winds, not so likely to have its branches broken and 't will never blow over. 6. When the outward-inclined branches of the main limbs are trimmed off as they should be,'the plow and cultivator can work afi close to the tree as is possible under any other method of pruning. Insect* Injarlons to OrasseR. A very large number of insects live and levelop in grass and meadow lands. Some ive on plants above ground, others on the roots bolow < r.nd some even in the stems of :he grasa itself. Clover also sustains a 'arcre number of species on root, stem, eaf and flower. Each year the number of insects increases until finally the grass runs out. Cut worms feed on the grass and clover above ground, wire wcrms on Ibe roots below. The cut-worms that are injurious usually become about half grown Ln the fall, winter in that condition on or just below tho surface sheltered by the ijrass itself, and resume their feeding early in the spring as soon as vegetation starts. Wire worms usually live more than o_ne year in the laivul states, and as a rule w inter among the roots in that condition. When they are fully grown they undergo their changes to pupa and imago quite early in the summer, and then the beetles remain under ground during the winter. Prof. Cumstock, of Cornell station, hat found that plowing between July 20 and Sept. 20 so disturbs these hibernating beetles that the insects die and do uoi emerge during the following sprint,'. Prof. Smith, entomologist of the New Jersey station, believes that a large percentage of insect carl be averted by gooe farm practice, and recommends to plow late in the fall whenever possible. In bulletin No. 85 he repeats his advice to use kainit whenever practicable as effective against both cut worms and wire worms. The authorities quoted agree as to the value of fall plowing for the destruction of insects, but Prof. Comatock reported poor success with kainit as against wire worms. THE HOTJSEHOliD. Little Things. f consecrating them anew in prayer to oliness and to God! r-Archbishop Trench. The Sin of Frctfnlnenc. Fretfulnese is so common a sin that we eldom think of it seriously as a sin at all. "et it carries with it always a demoraliz- ig and destroying itfluence. It blinds ae eye to moral beauty, the good and tin- elfishnefs in others. Fretfulness murders ove, murders hope, murders Irust, makes ome a mockery, and makfs the fretful Christian's religion appear like a sham. Mam JIB, ia God dead 9 " asked H little girl of a worrying, fretting mother one morning at the breaVfast table. If God's are and love, of which the mother had aught the child were real, and not make- eheve facts, the child could not under- tand how the mother rould live so unrest- ul and distrustful in life. I imagine that othtng makes a child want to get away to lie ends of the earth and die, as a freiful ather and mother. The children of a retful mother are in a senho already or- >haned. In tneir laces can be seen the .nsatiafied longings of hungry hearts. THE KITCHEN. E. H. CHASE, I ttirew a pebble Into tho lake; The pebble was email, The lake was wide. But the circling waves, by that pebble made, Pictured a ICSHOII (hat will not fade While men on this earth abide. I gave my love to a sorrowing world; Tho word was feeble, The world was wide. But toe love wave met with the sinking bark Of «ne who was dying alone In the dark. And a pteun rolled in with the tide. I reached to heaven for a sinning soul; My prayer was weak, But God wan ftroug, And Bins like Bcarlet were washed and white, For tne soul that s rovelled sprang up te the light. And ths weeping became a song. Good Housekeeping. God hates a short yardstick. Love speaks the mother tongne of every body. Faithfulness is something God ha promised never to forget. Do Ifiss growling, brother, and perhap you will do more grow'n g. There are too many reformers who neve want to do any work at home. Darkness cannot put out a light. AH i can do is to make it brighter. It is not enough to have great qualities we should also have tbe management o them.—La Rochefoucauld. Behold I come quickly and my rewan is with me to give every man according a his work shall be.—Rev. xxii. 12. When you are slandered, keep still an let the mud settle to the bottom, andjthere •will be nothing but clear water left. Be punctual in duty, prayerful iu daily life, pleasant in demeanor, proper in Christian conduct, and exercise religion principle in all your relationship. No experience makes one grow old s fast. BE to struggle to keep down the voic of conscience. No one can do this with out wasting the strength of his life.—Dr A. E. Dunning. He is the noblest specimen of a Christ ian whose breezy uplands reflect the ligh of God's countenance, aud whose lowlies vales are green with springing grass an fruittul with golden harvests.—Dr. T. L Cuyler. Life'u Harmony. ' t Life is like a harp. Childhood has it silver string tuned to joy and forgetfu ness; youth adds hope, love, and courage middle life, sympathy, devotion, frienc ship; but old age, experience, that attune each to its iull measure of tone) and it i the wrinkled hand sweeping the string that makes life's true harmony Stay in aia Pavilion. In a world where there is so much t ruffle the spirit's plumes, how needful Ika entering into the secret of his pavilion yrbich' will alone bring it back tn com posure aod peace! In a wprld where ther ts so much to sadden and depress, how blesf ed that communion with him in whoc U the one true souice and fountain, of aT gladness and, abiding joy! In Where eo much js eyw BPekjng . out *p»it9> to wader t&em, cop, Cold Slaw. Shave cabbage into shreds; mix one •ell-beaten raw egg it a half teacupful of ondensed milk; add a teacupful of vinegar; boil till it thicken?. Pour this mixture over the cabbage. Sprinkle with alt. Some merely seive the shredded ttbbage. Jelly Ca c. Eight eggs, while-", two cups of sugar. 4 cup of butter, %. cup of sweet milk, 2J<j ups of flour, two neaping teaspoonfuls of taking powder. Boat tbe whiles of tho ggs to a froth; beat tho butter and sugar o a cream. Divide in three or four equal iarts and bake in jelly pans. When doce pread with jelly and pile one cake above he other. I.tt<ly Cuke. Three-quarters of a cup ot butter, two ups of sugar, one-half cup of milfc, three ups of.pastry flour, the whites of sixepga, ne teaspoonful of baking powder and one )f almond. Beat the butter to a cream, idd the sugar gradually, then the flavor- ng, milk, whites of the eggs beaten stiff ind the flour in which the baking powder ias been mixed. Bake in sheets in a moderate oven. Chicken Collets. Boil two well grown chickens. Let oool and cut the breasts into thin slices. Have a little bechamel sauce and cover the slices of the chicken with it while warm, lay on L dish with alternate slices of cold ham. When the chicken is all piled up nicely, cover the whole top and sides with the sauce. £Cut this mass into small cut- ets, and cover the edges with bechamel sauce, which should be cold. Garnish with parsley. Imitation Plum Pudding- Soak dried apples over night; in the morning chop a teacupful of them very ine and put them in a pint of molasses, reep in a warm place an hour or two, then add a teacupful each of chopped suet, ihopped and seeded raisins, and one cup water. Lastly, add a pinch of salt, a teaspoonful of cinnamon, 3 pints of flour, ind 2 teaspoonfuls bakinp powder. Place in a piulfling mold or a fbured bag and boil 2)<5 hours. To be eaten while hot with a hot sauce. economical Sponge Cake. Separate 4 eggs, brat whites lo a stiff froth and the yolks very light. Pour a teacupful boiling water over 2leacupt'uls granulated sugar, stir until the sugar dissolves, then add Ihe yolkc, a tenfpoonful extract of lemon and 2 leacupfuls flour with which ha« been aifted a feaspoonful baking powder and a pinch of salt, lastly add the whites. Pour into a greased pan with a buttered paper on the bottom and bake 40 minutes in a quick oven. EAGLES FO« 1'ETS. An Intrepid Indian Boy Vseg Them for Piny and Gume. An Indian bov belonziug to the Sioux tribe, a Pine Ridge letter to the Boston Globe states, has a pair of pets which are not only strange and interesting, but are useful as well. These are ^two large eagles. These young Indians are fond of hunting, but are not allowed to own or carry guns, and the result is that they are compelled to UFO the bow and arrow, which they use with great txpenness. Tbe boy shot an old eagle and wounded it. It flew to its nest and he followed until he eaw where the home of the bird was. He then killed the wounded bird und waited until its mate appeared and also killed it. Climbing to the nest he found two young ones, which he took home with him d bepan a c mrse of training which has jesulte i in his having the birds eo fully under control that they come and go at his command. He takes them out, and when he sights any quarry he turns his eagles- loose, after fastening their beaks bo that they can not. eat the animal, and tne birds immediately give chase and bring down the prey. ^ DUSTING WITH AlH. It is lunch ISnrller Than to a Feather Duster, aud Mure KffectiTe, One of those simple inventions which makes everybody wonde why it had not been thougt ot before is the new device fir cleaning railway ears adopted by the Union Puo So railroad at its shops _ak Port and, Oregon, says the ludurtiiu) World. Compressed air at a pressure of fif>y pounds to the square inch is carried to r be cars by means of a flexible rubber hose with a small nczz'e. Tbe apparatus is used in precisely the sumo way that a water hose is used the only difference being that a cum pact stream of air instead of water does the cleaning work. The results achieved by this device are said to be extruoidinary. Not only is the work more thoroughly done than by beating with a stick und by the use of brushes, but the car ia cleaned in an exceedingly short time. •I have been paue* you Ma'm'selle Posem: ing for you, za Mr. Ei»el: "Pausing? Posing meau. EWISP is to wait." 0Ma'm'sellePoaem: Zit is set; zat I mean. I baf bteu pausing for za pay, and now I pause nn |ongnirfl" Mr*, Biwn,*o: "I rrgret to le^rn that your daughter's cough \e no better. Of course, you have emplajed, ()>e best raed^ cal talfflt, 1 ^ A'^til Mr?. Grubstake?!, ''Pb, yes no f xoenaa, 'AH

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