The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 20, 1899 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, December 20, 1899
Page 3
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i;-'-^ rf: IQffi&» JfffflPNflSQAY BEOEMBM* 20 4 1&& The Christmas Rose It was Christmas eve. The air was rosty. Men's boot heels made the inow creak under them as they passed frith quick tread. There was a rum)le of carriage .wheels, a. rapid, hurry- ng tread of thousands of feet in the rowded thoroughfare of the great :ity. And amid all this Christmas activity 'hlllp Meredith walked with an acrid indefinable pain at his heart. He pas as strangely incongruous amid, the oy, the color, the brilliancy of this estival eve as a skeleton at a feast. Be made a strenuous effort to forget. Ie had told himself that the coming rf this anniversary should not overwhelm him with that agony of recol- ection which he knew down in his ih- ermost soul he could not endure. For ays the approaching holiday had filled 1m with an unacknowledged terror. It was the first Christinas ho had pent without her, without Mirabel, ind, telling himself that he would for- et, that he would not remember, he itraightway remembered with the in- Jmate fidelity of pain all that could ound him now. A breath of fragrant air from out a orist's shop made him turn his head lor a moment, and as he looked he saw orget-me-nots. The sight gave him a ang. He recalled the morning they :ad first met. It was a morning in prlng,. fresh with Innocence—one of tiose mornings that yet dawn on the porld to evoke images of'primordial aybreaks when the world was young. Jer eyes were blue—blue like the for- et-me-nots. Then, less than a year iter, they were wed, and tho one hrlstnias they had spent together ad seemed to him more exquisite in perfect happiness than the one on e plains of Judea could have been to e shepherds. Then came misery; larcely had the echo of the Christmas iells died away in the air than that .tal episode had occurred that had arted them. It arose In a trifle, as ,ost of the world's misery an'd wars ave, and then before he knew it he ad said words that had made a gulf itween them which it seemed could .ever be bridged. She said she would away and battle with the world by :orself; he made a brutal reply. Then ey parted. Again the'opulence of" a florist's shop iet his gaze. A sudden resolution e to him; he stepped up to the wln- ow and speculated between orchids nd lilies. "Ah, Philip. I see you are choosing :y Christinas,gift," said a voice at his bow. He turned—It was his cousin, woman born to bring to others some ! the light and Joy denied them in iielr own poor lives. "Do not hesl- ite so," she continued, laughing. "You now how easily I am pleased in the alter of flowers. Shut your eyes and lioose whatever you see first when DU open them, and it will suit me." "It will give me more pleasure to lit your taste than to trust to a hap- azard choice," he replied. "Give mo our parcels, you look like Mrs. Santa aus, and come with me straight into he shop and say what you will have. will see to it that the Christmas lint wears a flowery garland for ou." "Oh, Philip," said the woman, her r es filling with a soft mist, "you are ways good and generous, and I will t you give me a bunch of thosa merican beauty roses—but not for e. I want to send them to the Woin- I's hospital in the morning." He purchased the roses, and they parated at the door. louK IT and insistea «»" *** SSS c, ,i e stii ° ng and we » **" nT™» I 6 the hospital Th <*e were *° m » rk « .<* violence on her-there Z± I* n ° thlng t0 P0lnt to her IS *%?$* th ° sinister fac t that she had fallen in a faint on her way -•«*Y , er , gave the 'officials a hint what might be concealed. The wed- ig ring shone on her hand yet she steadfastly refused to let her'husband' rtn n i° !! ed> The h °"P>tol Physicians shook their wise heads and turned her over to the tender mercies of the nurse, saying that she would be all right when she recovered her full senses. Shortly after noon the nurse approached her. She bore a large box. Here is something for you," she S3.1 a. It was a large white box; nround it were wide, pale blue ribbons. A spray w OH, HOW BEAUTIFUL! of holly lay on the top. She looked at it listlessly. "Shall I open it for you?" said the nurse pleasantly, "it was sent especially for you by a friend." Tho pale patient almost smiled. The nurse's kindness was almost pathetic. "There is no one to send me flowers," she said; "but you may open it for me." The nurse did so. A rush of fragrance filled the air. The roses burst upon the vision of the pale woman with the glory of midsummer, dazzling in their brightness. They lay in their satin-padded home like fragrant jewels. "Oh, how beautiful!" she cried. "Let me have them." As she took them a card fell out. She looked at It as one might look at a dear face that had been hidden for years'. Her eyes dilated. She silent for one moment, then she cried out in a voice that thrilled the fturss and caused every head in the ward to be lifted from its pillow. "It is he!" she tried, "it is he. 1 must go at once." They remonstrate*! .with her, but the sick woman was Well. She arose from that pale couch with sudden vigor— her eyes were bright—every trace of lllh-ess left her. "I must go to him," she repeated, time And again. The doctors came and looked at her and then conferred in a low tone with the nurse. "She may go," they said. So she took her roses and walked down the street. She walked some disance .and then she neared a church. On Its steps.just stepping out to go down the avenue, was a man. His restless agony had driven him forth to try to exorcise the demon that would not let htm rest. He had passed the church and, drawn by an impulse he could neither define nor resist, he had entered. With the strains -of "Gloria in Excelsis" ringing in his ears he went out. As he stood on the steps of the cathedral and looked "casually down the street he saw what made his heart stand still. He caught at the air with lips that were pale with emotion. Great God I could it be she? 'A mist swam before his eyes—his knees shook under him. He hastened toward her. "Mirabel!" he gasped. She looked up at him with a smile. "I was going to see you," she said simply. The morning sunshine made a halo about her heart. Her eyes were filled with a dewy sweetness. The purple shadows of tho aftermath of pain were slipping .away on the horizon before the glory of dawning joy. He felt dazzled. His heart leaped, then burned within him. He drew her arm within his own, and they turned down a quiet side street. "I knew you would find me some time," she said, with an infinitely gen tic air. "When they brought me your roses in the hospital this morning and I saw your dear name once more I knew that my trouble and separation were over forever. I could not wait for you to como to me, and so I started to come to you. Sweetheart, how good it is to see you once more." "Listen ho said, his throat quivering. "Listen to the bells. They are ringing 'Peace on earth, good will to men.' Come, come with me, .darling. No birthday of any pagan god ever brought such happiness as this." The lesson taught by their long separation and tho meeting that Christmas morn was one which the pair never forget. Couldn't Help. "I have called," announced the mendicant, tearfully, "to ask you to help me in iny extremity." "Impossible," returned the business man, promptly; "I'm not a chiropodist."— Philadelphia Record. It was Christmas •morning in St. Joph's hospital. There was a faint an- septie odor in the air. The long lines narrow white cots stretched their rried rows down the room In pitiless- quiet arrow. In one cot lay a worn- i, who was a mystery to tho hospital ficials. She had been brought in te in the afternon of the day before isensible. She was young and beau- ful; her clothing was that of a gen- she had flnement, albeit wi but evpry mam that coulgi iden- Y her had beep pin her garments. a Destroyer had hovered near her. MY GIFT? all the marks of h certain signs of carefully clipped All night Siva ft he passecj her by* and in the early |Wvs of the mowings she revived and words theyXcould bijt indis- understand, '.Howard noon she 90 that her ctonversatioia be* Intelligible, gut ita th 9 F eturn she seAmed to &tt&r4 !eore<t wore closely, \ She tfe? "Merry Christmas, mamma, and many of them! Thank you for your books; we read some already, and mean to read more after breakfast!' cried Jo, Amy and Meg as they came trooping into the room where theii mamma was that Christmas morning, "Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began .at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say a word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman, with a little newborn babe. Six children aro huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there. The eld est boy came to tell mo they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give, them your breakfast as a Christmas present?" They were all unusually hungry having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke; only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously: ."I'm so glad you came before we began!""May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?", asked Beth, eagerly. "I shall take the cream and the muffins," said Amy, heroically giving up the articles she liked. Meg was already covering the buck- wheats and piling the bread into one big plate. "I thought you would do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. "You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinner time." They were soon ready and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few pepple saw them, and no one laughed »"• the queer party, A poor, bare, miserable room it was,' with broken windows, np fire, ragged bed-clothes, a sick mother, wailing baby and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled unaer one old quilt, trying to keep warm How {he big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in. "Acb wein Gott! It la gooij angels come tp USl" »a,ld tb« poor wonjap, crying for Joy. "Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them laughing. In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set tho children round the. fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds—laughing, talking aud trying to understand the funny, broken English. "Das 1st gut! Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things as they ate, and THE) PROCESSION'SET OUT. warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had beep onsldered a, "Sapcho" ever since she was borp. That was a very happy breakfast, though they did pot get'any of it, and when they wept away, leav> ing comfort behind, J think tbere was pot in all the city four merrier people thap tbe bupgry little girls who gave AND MATTERS OP INTBRE9T AGRICULTURISTS, Cot- So»a tTp-to-Datft, Hint* About tlvatloo ot the Soil And Thereof— Horticulture, Vltlcnltara and tlorlcnltnrfc. Forest In th» Garden. In discussing the matter of fertilizing a village gaYden with an old garden'er, he highly rebommended autumn leaves. In the autumn of 1897, -when the streets were full of fallen leaves, I made up my mind to try them, says a contributor to Rural New Yorker. After a good rain I hired a village cartman to collect them for me, and dump them in a compact heap in a place Ih the garden, where a wago'n could enter without doing harm. Ho dumped eight loads, charging me only 20 cents a load. Being gathered from the gutters, where they lay in heaps, having drifted thus in the rainstorm* of the previous day, it was an easy job, and he did it in a half day. In the spring of 1898 they were not sufficiently decomposed to be desirable, and I left them undisturbed. Last spring a single handling made them as fine as could be desired. In fact, this leaf mold was worth to' me three times its cost in commercial fertilizer, for it supplied a want which no commercial fertilizer can supply — humus. 1 ehall continue the practice, adding annually a little potash (muriate) or wood ashes to the pile, the latter of which I get from an open-grate wood lire, in spring and fall, in our sitting room. My old friend who so strongly recommended this had a garden in which he had been obliged to raise the soil to a proper level, and really good surface soil was not to bo had, so he had to use such as he could get, much of it being subsoil when he dug the cellar for the residence. He could furnish the nitrogen, potash and phosphoric acid from the dealers in those things, but the indispensable vegetable humus ho had to look for olsewhera, and he found it. It taKcs two winters thoroughly to decompose the leaves, but they are •worth tho time and trouble it takes. I have begun arrangements for gathering them this fall, and when frost comes I shall double the quantity gathered. The present supply will be used in making the garden next spring. There is no place where leaves can •bo thus collected so easily as in villages where shade trees are abundant, and this qualification is growing year by year, as we are becoming better educated in their beauties, but? of course, in many rural places other than villages, they are to be had at a slightly increased 'expense. It. N.-Y. — The leaves will also be found useful to the amateur gardener, as they are to the florist, in his compost heap, to be used with potting soil. The florist usually has what he terms his rot-pile, where everything in the way of dead plants, leaves, and vegetable rubbish is mixed with srent soil from pots or benches. The soil weathers under the influence of sun and frost, until, mixed witn this humus, it is again available. eown in artlls la the latter flirt d August, the crop should be cultivated several times, it will fatttlsfc eome forage in autumn, and where th« win ter is not too severe will stift to grow again In .the spring, thus t-rodu clng forage in late autumn ana early spring, at the two periods when it is most needed. JInlry Vetoli or Kami Vetch. The scientific name of this plant Is Vicia . villosn. A government report says of it: This annual leguminous plant !s a native of Asia. It has been cultivated for about fifty years in some parts of Kuropo, especially Southern Russia, Germany and Prance, and was introduced into this country for the first time about 18-17 under the nanio of Siberian vetch. Excellent sports away their breakfast and .'heinselvea on bread Christmas morning, and contented njjjk pn as to its drouth-resisting qualities and ics adaptibillty to our climate have 'been received- from Washington, Nebraska, Georgia, New Mexico, South Dakota, Minnesota, Montana, and Pennsylvania. It has been grown on the experiment grounds of the department of agriculture at Washington, D. O., and has proved to be thoroughly adapted to and valuable for this locality. The seeds germinate poorly when they are more than two years old. Most of the seed used in this country is imported from Europe, so that particular care should be taken by importers and dealers to handle none but such as can be sold under guaranty as good, fresh seed. Cultivation—Hairy jetch may be sown Jn autumn, from about the middle of August to the middle of September, or in spring from the latter part o? April to the middle of May, It should be sown broadcast or with a grain drill at the rate of one to one and quo-half bushels of seed per acre, The drJJl method of sowing will require a less amount of seed. When the seed, is put in broadcast, a busbel of rye, oats or wheat should be sown at the eajne time so as to furnish a support to keep the vines up off the grouad. « it ij bbserrattong. The sending ttt market -of wormy fruit that has fallen from the trees should be discontinued. This fruit fit only for hogs and other stock, ant Should be collected and so fed as noon as it falls. This will destroy the worms that are usually the cause of the falling. The good small grades of apples and pears may be disposed of in several ways, and should so be disposed of. if nn evaporating factory is handy, the fruit can be taken there or in the absence of that, the old- fashioned method of sun-drying can be used, in sun-drying any of the fruits! they should be protected from flies by screens of some sort. Another method is canning, which needs no explanation. If the fruit thus canned is to bo worked up in sufficient quantities to go on the market, more than - individual efforts will be needed. It is probable that canned fruits will be sold with more difficulty In the future than in the past owing to tho wholesale use of preservatives. It is possible that fruits canned at homo and free from all objectionable ingredients could bo sold in tho neighborhood at an advance over what is paid for them in the market. * « * Tho utilization of all the fruit that is now wasted would be a great boon to the human race. A large per cent of cultivated fruit is lost and a still larger percentage of that growing wild. One man said, in the presence of the writer: "Blackberries grow wild In my neighborhood in such quantities that we do not cultivate tho tamo ones. We pick and ship the wild ones till they get too low to pay us a good profit and then we let tho rest rot on the vines." This man was located more than 100 miles from Chicago, but on a railroad. What happens in the localities that are a long distance from railroads? The writer has passed through mountainous regions in tho Middle and Atlantic Seaboard states where the blackberries were growing wild in great profusion over hundreds of square miles, with no one to pick thorn. More and more these wild supplies are being utilized, but as yet only partially/ What is needed is a more complete system of utilization combined with more commercial honesty. In addition to the free bounties of nature there Is the Immense supply of cultivated fruit, a large part of which is lost by rotting. Theoretically cold storage is the means of saving it, but practically a very small percentage of our fruits over gets Into cold storage. l-urge lloga. About this time of year, as we look over the exchanges, wo frequently see reports of large hogs killed by various parties each trying to outboast the qne who made the previous report, says Farm and Home. And every time we see such a report wo feel like saying, "the bigger the hog tho bigger fool the one who fattened It." There is but one excuse for having such extraordinary weight in hogs. When one has an old hog, kept for breeding purposes until it is ten or a dozen years old, if fattened it will bo a largo one very naturally, but wo think the owner of such an animal would save more 1 money to kill and bury it than to try to get it fat. Wo do not believe that in New England any man can take a hog that weighs 250 pounds, and buy the food for it, and got pork enough to pay for the food. It will cost less to feed two hogs until they will dress 200 pounds each than to make one weigh 3GO pounds, and lesa to bring three to weigh 175 pounds each than one which will weigh 450 pounds. Such heavy hogs cannot be sold at as good a price as the lighter ones, and the pork is not as good for home use. We do not believe in killing lean hogs, nor in keep- Ing them on poor food or short allowance to get more lean meat, as it is not necessary. Tho fattest hog -we ever raised and killed weighed less than 150 pounds when dressed, and, wo think, as lean a one was an old breeder that dressed 720 pounds. The first was pork for our own eatiag and good enough •for anybody. The big one was sold to a sausage manufacturer for what he would pay, and delivered at bis back door after dark. Possibly people could eat the meat after it had been ground up. A New Idea.—>Do you or any of your readers know that scaae plants grown Jn close proximity to some varieties of fruits will impart their flavor to the fruit? asks a contributor to Rural New Yorker. J had a melon vine run in a small patch of peppermint, and the melons had a decided peppermint flavor. Sly neighbor had a gourd vine which ran on a peach tree, and the peaches had a disagreeable, gourd-like taste. I haye 'noticed while gathering wild blackberries, that those which grow close to the French mulberry (a species of Calliearpa,—Eds.) had a peculiar fragrance which was quite an improvement over the others. I took the hint, have planted this shrub among my patch of blackberries, and produced, berries which are far superior'to any blackberry I have ever tasted. The sise of a ftock must be regulated by the accommodations, if a man had his entire time to devote to the care of bis poultry «pd w&3 skilled in the care, «f-them it is possible that a flock, of almost w -sJae might be. Sfcte fltlffc ft* Skim tbiik should -always 69 wnetf it & avid fable, says s Wlttf Blooded stock, tt la not only & flesh grodttdei in itself, but it makes the ordinary grain feeds itiofS' digestible afid eft adds greatly td thfeif value. While skirt milk ftloae is rarely, profitable, frotn twenty to forty pounds being required to make a pound fet' meat, when mixed with graih fit the proportion of three pounds or less ol ffiilk to each pound of grain its vaiue is greatly increased, in a test reported by C, Pi Goodrich one bushel ol corn produced ten pounds of pork, and Ott8 hundred pounds of skim milk produced five pounds of pork, when fed separately. When fed together, however, the mixture produced eighteen pounds of meat, an increase of three pounds due to the mixing, in this case one hundred pounds of skim milk took th& place of 44.8 pounds of corn. It the porh was worth twenty-five (iePts a bushel, the milk was worth 19.6 cents per one hundred pounds; if the corfl was worth forty cents, the milk was Worth 31,4 cents. Extended tests in the feeding of skim milk have been made at the Utah station and ore these: "The hogs fed on the milk and grain ration made much more rapid gains than either those fed on milk alone or on grain alone. The time required to make one hundred pounds of gain was seventy-nine days for the hogs fed on milk and grain, one hundred and sixteen days for those fed on grain alone, and one hundred and forty-seven days when the feed was milk alone. "Tho milk and grain lots required 2.B8 pounds of digestible matter, tho milk fed lots, 2.85 pounds, and the grain fed lots, 3.19 pounds to make one pound of gain in liye weight.',' In this case one hundred pounds of skim milk took the place of 23.2 pounds of grain in the mixture. Work at other stations has given very similar results and has demonstrated that when not more than four pounds of skim milk is used with each pound of grain the milk is worth from fifteen to thirty cents per hundred pounds. The younger and smaller tho hogs the higher is the value of milk. For full grown and aged animals it is of less value. It < may bo taken as a safe rule that it is profitable to pay at least fifteen cents per one hundred pounds of all the skinl milk needed to make four times tho weight of the grain fed, and where it is impossible to secure enough for all the hogs the available supply should be given to those pigs , nearest the weaning ago and to sows suckling pigs. Irrigation Lands Alkalized. Maurice Watel, writing from Paris, Franco, to Bradstreet's, says: { I read in your journal that the west* ern irrigated lands become alkalized, by over-Irrigation. Really all , lands become alkalized by irrigation wherever rain is scarce. In Egypt the same thing occurs as In tho western United- States, and people are obliged, from time to time, to wash the soil. During those years the fields to bo washed are not cultivated, arid they are watered very heavily. The water used for washing is carried away toward tho Nile by drainage—I mean the water which has penetrated the vegetable layer and exhausted the alkali in the same. In one word, in a country of deserts the system of irrigation always has as a counterpart a system of drainage. This system of drainage has the following object: First—To permit the washing of tho soil when it is necessary. (Remedy). Second—To carry away the water of irrigation, wliich, after it penetrates tho vegetable layer, can take from tho subsoil the salts contained therein and In-lng them to the surface by capillarity. (Preventive measure.) J The time Is coming when every farm will be an experiment station. We will then not have to depend on the data gathered in a few situations In each state, but will have thousands of scientific experiments upon which to mse -uouclusions. The work of mak- ng the farms experiment stations IB ^olng on with ever increasing rapidity. The number of students In our agricultural colleges is increasing from year to year and the future must see a very much,larger proportion going jack to tho farms than IP the past. The application of science to our farms means the saving of our farms, for it will etop tho exhaustion of the soils and will turn the tide ip the other direction. The farms will be smaller, and the farm population larger. We have seen for many years a great movement of the' rural populations towards the cities. The re-establispmept of the fertility of our farms apd in- -reased opportunities OB them will at east stop the tide that has beep mov* ng towards pur cities. This will ba lone ip a very natural manper, T^IQ profits of farmjng will be increased, nd thus more men will be glad to oc- upy farms and will be able to make, a living op smaller areas. arm stwff i« almost mwW fo tae t the, fowls, England . Buying Raceborsea,-r 'inkey Potter, a racehorse whose un* ertainty made him more famous than his Bpced did, has been sold by bis wner, J, H. Smith, better kpowp as Texas," Smith, to the English $QY- rnmcnt, ami is pow on his way to South Africa, where he will be used in the war agaipst tbe Boers, ,J. P. Bryan, one of Great Britain's adepts, bought Pinkey Potter apd a dozen or more horses at Harlem, All of tftem bad outlived their usefulness as purge. i/ but should }>e valuable $&> ien, Mr, Bryap wept from Harlem to St. &Qyis f jwh&ro b,e $«- P-ecta to find at least t^nfeflye. ra»e\ - will be o| fMlfta th/ It IB paid

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