The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on March 9, 1898 · 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, 1898
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UPFBM DBS M01N328! ALGQNA, IQffiA, MAHOfl INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION- CHAPTER XXXII.—(CONTINUED.} They passed through London and at 'last reached Paris. On arriving at the station, Sutherland called up a fly, and ordered it to -drive with the greatest possible speed to the Hotel Sulsse, a quiet establish- .nient close to the boulevards. Once there, be ordered a private room, conducted Miss Hetherington to it, and proposed that she should wait there while he went in search of Marjorie. At first she rebelled, but she yielded "Yes, I will wait," she said. "I am feeble, as you say, Johnnie Sutherland, and not fit to face the fog and snow; but you'll bring the bairn to me, for I cannot wait long!" Eagerly giving his promise, Sutherland started off, and the old lady, unable to master her excitement, walked feebly about the room, preparing for the appearance of her child. She had the lire piled up; she had •the table ladened with food and wine; then she took her stand by the win- •dow, and eagerly scanned the face of svery passer-by. At length, and after what seemed to her to be hours of agony, Sutherland returned. Ho was alone. "The bairn; the bairn!" she cried, tottering toward him. He made one quick step toward her, and caught her in his arms as he re•plied: "Dear Miss Hetherington, she has •gone!" For a moment she did not seem able to understand him; she stared at him 'blankly and repeated: , "Gone! where is she gone?" "I do not know; several weeks ago she left this place with her child, and she has not been seen since." The old woman's agony was pitiful to see; she moaned, and with her trembling fingers clutched her thin hair. "Gone!" she moaned. "Ah, my God, she is in the streets, she is starving!" Suddenly a new resolution came to her—with an effort she pulled herself together. She wrapped her heavy fur •cloak around her and moved toward the 'door. "Where are you going?" demanded Sutherland. She turned round upon him with livid and death-like face. "Going!" she repeated, in a terrible voice. "I am going to him!—to the villain who first learned my secret and stole my bairn awa'!" Miss Hetherington spoke firmly, showing as much by her manner as by her speech that her determination was fixed. Sutherland therefore made no attempt to oppose her; but he called up a fly, and the two drove to the lodgings which had been formerly oc- •cupied by Marjorie and Caussidiere. To Sutherland's dismay, the rooms were empty, Caussidiere having disappeared and loft no trace behind him. For a moment he was at a loss what to do. Suddenly he remembered Adele, and resolved to seek assistance from her. Yet here again he was at a loss. It would be all very well for him to seek out Adele at the cafe, but to take Miss Hetherington there was another matter. He therefore asked her to return to the hotel and wait quietly there while he continued the search. This she positively refused to do. "Come awa', Johnnie Sutherland," she said, "and take me with you. If t'm a woman I'm an old one, and no matter where I gang I mean to find my child." At seven o'clock that night the cafe was brilliantly lit and crowded with a roisterous company. Adele, flushed and triumphant, having sang one of her most popular songs, was astonished to see a man beckoning to her from the audience. Looking again, she saw that the man was none other than the young artist—Sutherland. Descending from her rostrum, she eagerly went forward to join him, and the two passed out of the cafe and stood confronting each other in the street. "Adele," said Sutherland, eagerly, seizing her hands, "where is that man —Caussidiere?" "Caussidiere?" she repeated, staring at him in seeming amazement. "Yes, Caussidiere! Tell me where he is, for God's sake!" Again Adele hesitated—something Jiad happened, of that she felt sure, for the man who now stood before her was certainly not the Sutherland of other days; there was a look in his eyes •which had never been there before. "Monsieur," she said gently, "tell me first where is madame, his wife?" "God knows! I want to find. her. I have come to Paris with her mother to force that villain to give her up. lAdele, if you do not know her whereabouts, tell me where he is." She hesitated for a moment, then drew from her pocket 9. piece of paper, scribbled something on it in pencil, and pressed it Into Sutherland's hand. "Mcjjisieur," she whispered, "if you find her I—I may see her? once—only pnce again?" "Yes." "God bless you, monsieur!" She seized his hand and eagerly pressed it to her lips, then, hastily brush- Ing away a tear, she re-entered the cafe, find was soon delighting her coarse fcdmirera with another song. Sutherland had been too much carried away by the work he had in hand to notice Adele's emotion. He opened the paper she had given him, and read the address by the aid of the street lamp; then he returned to the fly, which stood waiting for him at the curbstone. He gave his directions to the driver, then entered the vehicle; taking his seat beside Miss Hetherington, who sat there like a statue. The vehicle drove off through a series of well-populated streets, then it stopped. Sutherland leaped out, and to his confusion Miss Hetherington rose to follow him. He made no attempt to oppose her, knowing well that any such attempt would be useless. So the two went together up a darkened court, and paused before a door. In answer to Sutherland's knock a little maid appeared, and he Inquired in as firm a voice as he could command for Monsieur Caussidiere. Yes, Monsieur Caussidiere was at home, she said, and if the gentleman would give his name she would take it; but this Sutherland could not do. He slipped a napoleon into the girl's hand, and after a momentary hesitation she showed the two into the very room where the Frenchman sat. He was dressed not in his usual dandified fashion, but in a seedy morning coat; his face looked haggard. He was seated at a table with piles of paper before him'; He looked up quietly when the door opened; then seeing Miss Hetherington, who had been the first to enter the room, he started to his feet. "Madame!" he exclaimed In French, "or shall I say Mademoiselle Hetherington?" "Yes," she returned quietly, in the same tongue, "Miss Hetherington. I have come to you, villain that you are, for my child!" "Your child?" "Ay, my daughter, my Marjorie! Where is she, tell me?" By this time Caussidiere had recovered from his surprise. He was still rather frightened, but he conquered himself sufficiently to shrug his shoulders, sneer and reply: "Really, madame, or mademoiselle, your violence is unnecessary. I know nothing of your daughter; she left me of her own free will, and I request you to leave my house." But the old lady stood firm. "I will not stir," she exclaimed, "until I have my Marjorie. You took her from her home, and brought her here. What have you done with her? If harm has come to her through you, look to yourself." The Frenchman's face grew livid; he made one step toward her, then he drew back. "Leave my house," he said, pointing to the door; "the person of whom you speak is nothing to me." my "It is false; she is your wife." "She is not my wife! she was mistress, nothing more!" Scarcely had the words passed his lips when the Frenchman felt himself seized by the throat, and violently hurled upon the ground. He leaped to his feet again, and once more felt Sutherland's hard hands gripping his throat. "Coward as well as liar," cried the young Scotchman; "retract what you have said, or, by God! I'll strangle you!" The Frenchman said nothing, but he struggled hard to free himself from the other's fierce clutch, while Miss Hetherington stood grimly looking on. Presently Caussidiere shook himself free, and sank exhausted into a chair. "You villain!" he hissed; "you shall suffer for this. I will seek police protection. I will have you cast into prison. Yes, you shall utterly rue the day when you dared to lay a finger upon me." But Sutherland paid no heed. Finding that in reality Caussidiere knew as little of Marjorie's whereabouts as he knew himself, he at last persuaded Miss Hetherington to leave the place. They drove to the prefect of police to set some inquiries on foot; then they went back to the cafe to make further inquiries of Adele. On one thing they were determined, not to rest night or ('ay u itil they had found Marjorie— alive or dead. faint; sha had not a sou In her pocket; and her child was fainting with cold and hunger. It seemed to her that her last hope had gone. then she suddenly remembered that a certain Miss Dove, a wealthy English woman, had founded a home in Paris for her destitute countrywomen. She knew the address, It was nearer than the British Embassy. She dragged herself and child to it. She had just sufficient strength left to ring the bell, when she sank fainting on the threshold of the door. When Marjorie again opened her eyes she was lying in a strange bed, and a lady with a pale, grave face was still bending above her. "Where am I?" she cried, starting up; and then she looked around for her child. A cold hand was laid upon her feverishly burning forehead, and she was gently laid back upon her pillow. "The child is quite safe," said a low, sweet voice. "We have put him in a cot, and he is sleeping; try to sleep, too, and when you waken you will be stronger, and you shall have the little boy." Marjorie closed her eyes and moaned, and soon fell into a heavy, feverish sleep. Having seized her system, the fever kept its burning hold, and for many days the mistress of the house thought that Marjorie would die; but fortunately her constitution was strong; she passed through the ordeal, and one day she opened her eyes on what seemed to her a new world. For a time she lay quietly looking about her, without a movement and without a word. The room in which she lay was small, but prettily fitted up. There were crucifixes on the wall, and dimity curtains to the bed and the windows; through the diamond panes the sun was faintly shining; a cozy fire filled the grate; on the hearth sat a woman, evidently a nurse; while on the hearth-rug was little Leon, quiet as a mouse, and with his lap full of toys. It was so dreamy and so peaceful that she could just hear the murmur of life outside, and the faint crackling of the fire on the hearth—that was all. She lay for a time watching the two figures as in a vision; then the memory of all that had passed came back upon her, and she sobbed. In a moment the woman rose and came over to her, while little Leon ran to the bedside, and took her thin, white hand. "Mamma," he said, "don't cry!" For in spite of herself Marjorie felt the tears coursing down her cheeks. The nurse said nothing. She smoothed back the hair from her forehead, and quietly waited until the invalid's grief had passed away. Then she said gently: "Do not grieve, madam. The worst of your illness is over. You will soon be well." "Have I been very ill?" asked Marjorie, faintly. "Yes, very*ill. We thought that you would die." "And you have nursed me—you have saved me? Oh! you are very good! Who—who are you—where am I?" "You are amongst friends. This house is the home of every one who needs a home. It belongs to Miss Esther Dove. It was she who found you fainting on our door-step, and took you in. When you fell into a fever she gave you into my charge. I am one of the nurses." She added, quietly: "There, do not ask me more questions, for you are weak, and must be very careful. Take this, and then, if you will promise to soothe yourself, the little boy shall stay beside you while you sleep." Marjorie took the food that was offered to her, and gave the promise required. Indeed, she felt too weak to talk. (TO HE CONTINUED.) AND GARDEN, MAtTERS OF INTEREST AGRICULTURISTS. TO Some Up-to-Dftte Hints About Cultivation of the Soil and Yields Thereof—Hortlcnltnre, Viticulture and Floriculture. Around the Farm. . Last harvest, owing to the wet weath- Jr, a certain flat in one of my fields t?as so wet as to measurably drown the Jats which were sown upon it. There were more or le.-s oats, however, all through it, and a huge crop of sour grass and various sorts of weeds. I out and stacked it. Today the stock prefer it to bright, threshed timothy. I had sown the flat to timothy and clover and wanted the land clean, which Was the chief reason for'mowing the mixed oats, weeds and sour grass. I shall never despair again of getting some good out of even a first-class stand of weeds. The blanket of snow has prevented the ground from freezing to any extent. Hence fence posts can be driven with less labor than in the fall. The cracks through the fields made by the drouth I see are closed, and the ground Is damp a foot down or more. This is cheering, for the cracks prevented the How of water to the reservoirs. In my opinion the wide-awake farmer will keep over a few hundred bush- fels of corn, at least until he is reasonably sure of another sufficient crop. Also, he will save a few tons of hay. There has been a slaughter of rabbits this winter beyond any other sea- Bon within my knowledge. The taste for fried bunny is on the increase among the people. I am glad of it. It will save blackberry gardens and young trult trees, for, singular as it seems, many farmers neglect the ounce of preventive so long in such matters that they are compelled to use the pound of sure. The only objection any farmer can have to gunners hunting rabbits in his fields is, he don't want them to kill his quails, and he wants them to be careful about shooting towards stock. A neighbor had two valuable Angora Boats killed this winter by careless gunners. In an adjacent neighborhood I am credibly informed that some sort of a pest is killing off the rabbits; that many dead ones are daily found. It may be they are mistaken. The dead rabbits are perhaps those which have been wounded and escaped, and afterwards died. The neighborhood, however, says no to this suggestion. Renters seem determined not to pay cash for land. They are willing to give a larger share of grain than hitherto. Some are now willing to give half the crop. The rule hitherto for some years has been two-fifths in the bushel and crib and half the hay. That Is what I have rented for a number of years past. I have made careful estimates and find that, one year with another, I have done as well, and sometimes better, than those who have rented their land for cash. I have had one renter seven years, and he has done as well by his portion of the farm as I myself would have done. The great trouble with many renters is they hog the land over. It runs down under their hands. The fences, the house, the barn and the door-yard and orchard look as if a very poor widow lived there and had no help whatever. This kind of farming makes the owner harder in his demands than he would be if the renter took a little pride in keeping the place in good condition. I have no use for a slovenly renter. EDWARD B. HEATON. times be required before the vine returns to Its normal condition. ' (3) A plant that is carrying less fruit than it is capable of maturing generally produces a very heavy foliage and an excess of wood. This may probably he explained by the supposition that the energies of the plant are directed almost entirely to vegetlve activity. (4) The most difficult and important feature of grape pruning Is to be able to judge of the kind and amount of wood which should be allowed to remain upon the plant. This amount Is dependent upon soil, variety, climate, character of the season, and to a limited extent upon the method of train- Ing. The paramount importance of having a properly balanced top and root system is most fully realized by American vineyardists 6f long experience. Years of study, especially the study of the variety of grape an-1 of the soil upon which it is growing, are brought to bear upon each indivilual vine when it is pruned, and in no direction can the skill of the vineyardht be more clearly demonstrated than in questions regarding the amount and kind of bearing wood that is allowed to remain. No rule-of-thumb will cover a living and sensitive organism for the grape-vine; in pruning judgment must be exercised at almost every siep. But it is fortunate that considerable variation may be allowed without serious consequences or the profitable culture of the grape would indeed be a hopeless task. Yet the less the reliance placed upon this i allowed variation the better will be the vine. Getting Wild Honey. The usual way when a bee tree has been found is to cut it down, stupefy the bees with smoke as well as may be, and take their honey. This, of course, destroys all future harvests of sweet from that tree or swarm. Possibly Daniel Johnson, an old bee hunter, of Dedham, Me., has discovered a better way. The bees provided against their tree being cut down and their stores destroyed by selecting a tree which overhung a deep ravine.' If the tree were cut down it would fall into the ravine, smashing the tree and destroying the honey. So ho Inserted a gas pipe from a hollow near the ground, running it up the tree until the honey was reached. Then he built a fire at the foot of the tree. So soon as the fire warmed the honey inside, it began to run down, where it was caught In pails. It nearly filled a barrel. Mr. Johnson thinks he has a permanent hive of bees on that tree so long as It does not succumb to the effects of fire at its roots. He thinks there is enough honey left to winter the bees, and that next year they will go to work and fill the empty combs. But it is very possible that heat sufficient to melt honey comb has killed the bees, and that the barrel of honey this year is the last he will get from that tree. NAVAL BURIALS. CHAPTER XXXIII. HEIN Miss Hether- intgon was hastening to confront Caussidiere, Marjorie, with her child, was walking weari- 1 y through the streets of Paris. As the daylight faded away the cold had increased; the snow was falling heavily, soaking her through and through. Suddenly she remembered what the milk-woman had told her; she would go to the English ambassador—perhaps he would give her relief and enable her to get home. She paused once or twice to ask her way, but she could get no answer. She was nothing more than a street waif, and was accordingly thrust aside as such. At last a little gamin gave her the information she asked. The place she sought was three miles off. Three miles! She was footsore and Regulation!) Require That Christian Interment Be Provided, The chaplain's official station in most ship ceremonies and in time of battle, is at the sick bay, where lie the sick, says Donahoe's. Discipline and fresh air are wonderful preservatives of health, and a chaplain's duties to the sick in times of peace are very light. At naval hospitals, however, whither are brought from the ships the very sick and the seriously wounded, a chaplain finds ample field for the exercise of that tender sympathy which wins souls to God and for the ministering of the consolation of religion. It is also the duty of the chaplain to assist at naval burials. The regulations require that Christian burial be provided for all men who die in the service. If possible, the body is interred with the rites of the church to which thq deceased had belonged. When this sad duty is required at sea the ship is hove to, the flag displayed at half mast, and the officers and men are mustered on deck to pay their last tribute to the departed. The funeral services follow and the body is then consigned to the deep. A guard of honor fires threo volleys over the watery grave and the bugler sounds the last "taps"—sad, mournful notes of the bugle which tell of the hour of sleep. If the death occurs at a nospltal, an escort and a guard of honor from the ship to which the deceased had been attached accompany the funeral cortege to the grave. As the procession enters the cemetery the bugler proceeds, followed by the chaplain. This spectacle is always impressive. It naturally suggests the prayer that angels, led by the angel guardian, may bear the soul of the deceased before the throne of God as friends bear the body to the grave; that the angel, at the judgment seat, may proclaim welcome, joy and gladness as the bugler at the grave recalls sadness and regret. Training Grape Vines. E. G. Lodeman, Department of Agriculture Report: Training, on the other hand, is almost wholly a matter of fconvenience. It does not affect the strength of the vine or the value of the crop in any essential particular. The training of a vine refers to the disposal or arrangement of the various parts of the vine after pruning has taken place. The method of training adapted determines the operator to leave certain growths in certain positions, not because more or better fruit is expected, but for the reason, perhaps, that the fruit may be harvested with greater ease, that a laborious operation may be wholly dispensed with, or that there may be less danger to the maturing crop from winds or other natural agencies. The method of training adopted by a vineyardist is largely the result of personal preference or of education, although soil and variety are important factors in the selection of a system. The health and vigor of the vine are rarely affected by the method in which it is trained, and although some system of training must be adopted in every vineyard, still altogether too much weight has been laid by most horticultural writers upon the peculiar merits of the various systems, while the actually ruinous effects of bad pruning have not always been sufficiently emphasized. A vine properly trained is desirable, but a properly pruned vine Is essential to the highest success. The importance of this subject necessitates a somewhat detailed statement of the principles which are vitally connected with the proper pruning of the vine. These principles serve also as the foundation for all systems of training, and they can not be ignored without more or less injury to the plants. (1) The amount of fruit which a vine can bear and mature in highest perfection is limited; when this limit is ex^ ceeded the fruit deteriorates. (2) Upon the fruit the effect of overproduction is to reduce the size of the berries and of the clusters, and probably also to impair the quality; the vine makes a poor growth, the foliage is small and the vigor of the plant is generally reduced. When a vine has Experience. No advice, however good, can take the place of experience. There is no way that the novice in poultry keeping can become efficient except by experience. Many people think they have experience, but later find to their cost that they had not obtained for a number of years, has a little touch of poultry diseases, cures the troubles with ease and imagines that he knows all all about them and that he can fight off anything that conies. When any of his neighbors has a like trouble he cheerfully gives them his advice and knows, or thinks he does, that if they follow the recipes they will have no further trouble. But later he finds that he knew less than he supposed. One of the same diseases attacks his flock again. He tries the old remedies and finds they will not check this new invasion. The enemy comes on fearlessly and creates havoc in his yards. He now gets a little more experience and perhaps comes down to the old remedy —the hatchet. Thereafter he says that there is no cure for this or that disease. Is he right? Who knows? We all need more experience and more systematic investigation. BloodJHumors Spring is the Cleansing Season- Don't Neglect Your Health You Need to fake Mood's Sftraa* parllla New. Spring Is the season for cleansing and renewing. Everywhere accumulations Of waste are being removed and prejJari- tions for the new life of anothet season afa being made. Thia is the time for cleans* Ing your blood with Hood's Sarsapa* rilla, Winter has left the blood Impure. Spring Humors, Boils, pimptes, ernp- tlons, and that tired feeling are the results.; Hood's Sarsaparilla expels all impurities from the blood and makes it rich and! nourishing. It builds up the nervous system, creates an appetite, gives sweet, refreshing sleep and renewed energy and vigor. It cures all spring humors, boils, been allowed to overbear, especially Sarsaparilla pimples and eruptions. Hood's Is America's Greatest Medicine. 81; six for $5. Prepared by C. I. Hood & Co., Lowell, Mass. u it n*ii are the only pills to take nOOU S FlHS W lth Hood's Saraaparllia. Josh BlllliiRR' rhlloRoplty. In a forlorn hope a woman's wit iz worth more than a man's judgment. Tallent frequently descends from, father to son; genius descends from heaven alone. '• The office ov true wit is to discover truth, and to sho it up In a new and concise manner. The grave is sed to be the end ov am- bishun, but I hav often seen it airing itself on its tombstun. The world, after all, judges kindly, and is more often deceived In Its overrates than in its underrates. If a man wrongs you, thare Iz two ways to git perfekt revenge—forglv and forgit him nz soon as yu can. If I waz starving I think it would demoralize me more to beg for a loaf ov, bread than it would to steal it. . Thoze people who assoshiate all the time with dogs and horses, seldum git mutch abuv the level of theze animals. A strange little animal, apparently of unknown species, was on exhibition in a Parisian museum, and drew large crowds at one sou a head. One day a visitor entered with a dog, and at sight of it the curious animal curved its back and began to hiss and spit. Then the spectators discovered that it was merely a shaved cat. Fear of robbers induced a farmer in, Mishawska, Ind., to conceal $500 in 1 gold in a feed chest. Some weeks afterward the money was missing. The farmer's cow become ill, and died, and a post-mortem examination revealed the coin in the cow's stomach. Rob nature and she will rob you. Canada Thistles. Any reader of The Farmers' Review that can answer the question will oblige G, L. Having several patches of these plants in a pasture of two hundred acres, we know those thistles to be rich in sugar; cut, too, within the spring cattle prefer them as fodder better than rank grass. We have known field mice to climb the main stem, to eat the seed in its capsules. Thistles and grass' growing together cut with a scythe in mowing will make excellent hay for cows, increasing their flow of milk; that produces sweet butter. The dry spines being sharp, are very disagreeable to bare hands. When stacked in large barns the saccharine matter sweats vigorously and sometimes fires the stacks by spontaneous combustion. I£ the sod containing thistles is then broken by plowing, planted with potatoes for two seasons thistles are destroyed. In Great Britain many persons use them for edible greens, before cabbage comes. RICHARD BAKER, JR. Monument to the Potato.— A curious monument has been discovered in the dense undergrowth of the so-called Braudhai, in the Upper Hartz. It is a granite block, about 7 feet high, resting on a stone pedestal, and on an Iron tablet attached to U is the following inscription: "Here, in the year 1747. the first trials were made with the cultivation of the potato." The German peasant at the time did not take kindly to the potato plant on introduction to the country. It had, however, a gre^t friend in the king, Frederick II., who was convinced of Us value, but who was obliged to use forcible measures to get the people of Pomeranla and Silesia to plant Both the method and results when Syrup of Figs is taken; it is pleasant and refreshing to the taste, and acta gently yet promptly on the Kidneys, Liver and Bowels, cleanses the system effectually, dispels colds, headaches and fevers and cures habitual constipation. Syrup of Figs is the only remedy of its kind ever produced, pleasing to the taste and acceptable to the stomach, prompt in its action and truly beneficial in its effects, prepared only from the most healthy and agreeable substances, its many excellent qualities commend it to all and have made it the most popular remedy known. : Syrup of Figs is for sale in 50 cent bottles by all leading druggists. Any reliable druggist who may not have it on hand will procure it promptly for any one who wishes to try it. Do not accept any substitute. CALIFORNIA FIB SYRUP CO. SAN FRANQISOO, CAL. '• LOUISVILLE, W, NEW YORK, H.Y. WILL KEEP YOU DRY, Don't be fooled with a mackintosh or rubber coat, Ifyouwantncoat that will keep you dry In the hardest storm buy the Fish Brand Slicker. If not for sale In your town, write for catalogue to A. J. TOWER, Boston, Mass How to grow Wheat at 4flc n few. •*<» 831 bm, o»ts, *73 l>w Marten wv» bug, Potatoes upr acre. See our jjrcft! 0»t Why la » woman's hu,$ when it is young, years may some- I to her than her "JONES BE VATfS TUB Farm and Wagoti 'SCALES. ttaUed'ststoa standard. All Sizes «M»4 All Kinds, Not made by a trust or controlled by a combination. Tfm free Book and Price List, address JUNES OF Ul!VeUA*lTON. thauitou, N. X., V, S, A,

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