The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on October 24, 1894 · Page 7
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 7

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, October 24, 1894
Page 7
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Page 7 article text (OCR)

h IOWA, WEDNESDAY, OCT. V/Atfett fa ifae sltt&y bod of &limfsh mere tfS root had humble birth, And the slender atom that upward grew WfiS cbarsfe of fliier, dull of hue, With naug&t Of grace or worth. Vh& jroldflsti that floated hear Saw alone the vul ;«? stem. •She clumsy turtl« puddled by, Ir'he water snake with lidleas eye- It Was only a weed *to thsm. Jjtitthe buttorfl/ and honey beo, ¥he sun and skir nnd air, *they marked Hi heart of virgin <?old Jjfi the sntln loaves of spotless fold, And its odor rL-h and rare. So the fragrant soul in It? f urlty, To sordid life tied down, Mny bloom to heaven and no man lend*, Seein? tiie coarse, vile ^tein below, How God hath seen the crown —James Jeffrey Roche. A Passive Crime, BY CHAPTEiHtl— "Mrs. Neville, an unaccountable pang at her heart, pressed all her remaining biscuits into the baby's hands; told the woman to call upon her next day; heard next day the child was an orphan,' and the end of it was, took her to her house and heart, to the intense disgust of numerous nieces and nephews, who had looked on Mrs. Neville as their joint prey. There you have the whole history, I believe." "It's a very strange story; she must have seen a great many pretty children besides this particular one. Why did she choose her?" "Fancied she saw in her some resemblance to a doad sister, that was very fondly and oven extravagantly regretted—your aunt, Mrs. Penruddock, I suppose, as she hadn't another sister that I ever heard of." "If she—the young lady above—is like Mrs. Neville's sister, Mrs. Neville must bo very unliko her own people," says the young man, slowly. "Yet, strange to say, that girl is most absurdly like a portrait of Mrs. Peuruddock that hangs in the small drawing room in South Audloy street, where Mrs. Neville lives. Not that there is anything so very remarkable in that; one sees chance resemblances every day.. But you being one of the family, should see this likenesa yourself. "No; I have no recollection ot aunt. My father and she were' always on bad terms with each- other during her lifetime, and there is no picture of her at the castle. The one you mention was sent to Mrs. Neville at her death. I- have been so much abroad that I am quite a stranger to the Wynters and all their set. You know Mrs. Neville P" "Intimately; and Beauty, too," with an amused smile. "And every Tuesday afternoon Beauty gives me a cup of tea with her own fair little hands." "Indeed;" exclaimed Penruddock. '.•Yes,/indeed; you did not think such-bliss could be on this miserable ftfcrth, did you? And sometimes, ,- not {JTten, I take a nice boy, when I find one, and introduce him to Mrs. Neville." "Am I a nice boy?" asked Penruddock, with a laugh. '"Wilding, if you will introduce me to Mrs. Neville." "Am 1 a nice boy?" asked Penruddock, with a laugh. "Wilding if .you will introduce ma to Mrs. Nrville, I shall never forget it for you as long as I livo!" "And a great deal of good that will do me," says Wilding, mildly. "However, I consent, and on Tuesday you shall make your bow to Mrs. Neville, and worship at Beauty's shrine." "Oh, thank you, my dear fellow, thank^you!" CHAPTER IV. In the Row. i All yesterday the rain fell heavily. Not in quiet showers, but with a steady downpour that' drenched the world, rendering the park a lonely wilderness, and the Kide deserted. To-day the sun, as though weary of yesterday's inaction, is out again, ' .going his busy round, and casting Jjis rich beams on rich and poor, simple and wise, alike. The Row is •crowded—filled to overflowing with the gaily dressed throng that has come out to bask in the glad warmth [ .p,nd sunshine, and ravel in the sense ~ i of well-being engendered by the soft,ness and sweetness of the rushing it- - ' The occupants of the chair geem drowsily inclined, and answer in ,$pft,.'m,pjjos}|llables those with, ener- ~ gy" &ufRq.lgn't t9 question them. One •old lady, u,Bminlf ft l pf the carriages that pass &n4, rapasg incessantly, ftaa fallen into a sp.u.njfl, and refresh- 1ng slurobev, jn.a'ae Bmsjeal by snpres low but deep. The Yfrj t U»ung.ej'tf ,o,n the railing haYfS STOWS' gi|fjit, §s tbPUg'h speech-WftS iFjjsgn V,e, Cation. nottQ be born 0 ! themselves with beauty that j§ oavried by ftje tide e| fe^icm ebbs and dark gi'fl.ea vietoHft, e^q by two. ft.a4 flat j&t §U $o.t §0 mn<$ t&t yipjoria, as Mrs, fe'eyiliei fa W^Qm, it • " ift ,• i. hod, Mrs. Neville be6kons the youhf man to her side. It is quite a month since that night at the opera, where Penruddock first saw Maud Neville — a month full of growing hopes and disheartening fears. At first, Mrs. Neville had been adverse to the acquaintance altogether, bearing a strange grudge to the very name of Penruddock, as she held it responsible for all the ills that had befallen her beloved sister. She had scolied Wilding itt her harmless fashion as severely as she could scold anyone for having brought one of '-those people," as she termed them, within her doors, more especially the boy who had succeeded to the property that should by right have belonged to the little Hilda, her dead sister's only child. , But time and Dick Penruddock' s Charm of manner 'had conquered prejudice and vague suspicion; and Mrs, Neville, after many days, acknowledged even to herself that she liked the young man— nay, almost loved him, itt spite of his name and parentage, dust now he comes gladly up to the side of the victoria and takes her hand, and beams Upon her, and then glances past her to accept with gratitude the alow bow and very faint smile of recognition that Miss Neville is so condescending as to bestow upon him. 1 'Such a chance to see you in this confusion l" says Mrs. Neville, kindly. "And can you come and dine tonight? It is short notice, of course, for such a fashionable boy us you are; but I really want you, and you must come." "If you really want mo, I shall of course come — your wishes are commands not to be disputed," says Penruddock, after a second's hesitation. wherein ho has decided on telling a great fib to the other people with whom he is in duty bound to pass his evening. "But your dance — " "Is later on — yes. But I have two or three old friends coming to dine, and they are very charming of course and I quite love them, you will understand; but old friends, as a rule, are just the least little bit tedious sometimes, don't you think? And I want you to help me with them. I. may depend upon you?" "You may, indeed. " "Ah, so Maud "said," says Mrs. Neville, with a faint sigh of 'relief. "Did Miss Neville say that? I did not dare to believe that she had so good an opinion of me. To be considered worthy of trust is a very great compliment indeed, "says Dick, glancing past Mrs. Neville again, to gaae somewhat wistfully at tlie owner of the cream-colored hat. But she, beyond the first slight recognition and somewhat haughty inclination of her small head, has taken not the slightest notice of him. "Have you* seen the princess yet, Miss Neville?" asks Penruddock at length, in despair, filled with a sudden determination to make her speak; and to compel her large, thoughtful eyes to meet his own, if only for a single instant. Rather nice, her ponies, don't you think?" "Not bred so highly as Mrs. Cabbe's, nor so perfect in any, way," returns Miss Neville, unsympathetically, letting her eyes rest upon him for a very brief moment, and making him a present of a grave, pleasant, but cold little smile. Penruddock is piqued, almost angry. Already he has learned the value of position, money, the world's adulation; yet this girl alone treats him with open coldness and something that borders on positive avoidance, though she is utterly without position, and only indebted to the popularity Mrs. Neville enjoys with both sexes for lier admittance into society. 4 Two or three men coming up to the victoria at this moment stay to speak to its oc- cupants.ancl toall'Miss Neville gives the same cold greeting, the same frigid, but undeniably entrancing smile, A tall, dark man, pushing his way through the others, makes his bow to Mrs. Neville, and then raises his •hat deferentially to the beauty of the hour. Maud' acknowledges his presence with a salutation that is certainly somewhat colder th an those accorded to the others to-day. «»How full the Row is this afternoon!' says Mrs, Neville, genially, who has made the sume remark to a}l the others straight through. His its'" says Captain Saumarez, the now'oomer, "Heally, i daye say; but onge 1 had caught sight of your unappv pachable ( ponies I could -gee nothing else, Jt ssejns too much Iwok, to ineet you this afternoon with, the certainty of meeting yen again this evening, Thanks so rouoh fpr the q,ardj May I venture to hope fop ope ' dance tP* njgjit, Miss Neyille?— QP qlo I, as usual, ask too lat,e?" late. Every cianee is I am indeed Q denying that! aU? j| JJQQV dance?" jny To encourage iibrg&tfulneSflphc-jld be 1 ono of our greatest aims. Unit to return to our first discussion, 1 am indeed the unhappiest of Saen. Is there no hope that you will change your mind and lot me live in tho-ex* pectation of being favored with one Waltz?" "I can 'iffe! 1 you no such hope,'' returns she, with so much pointed decision in her voice and expression that Saumarez, turning sharply on his heel, takes off his hat with a frowning brow and somewhat vindictive glance* and the next minute has disappeared among the crowd. There is a slight but perceptible pause after he has gone. The other men have melted away before this and only Penruddock remains. About a weok ago, Miss Neville had almost promised him a waltz as to this particular dance, but doubtless she has by this time forgotten all about such a promise, and has given the waltz in question to some more favorer! individual. ' Cut at this moment Miss Neville sess fit to join in the conversation. She turns her head slowly, and letting her handsome eyes meet Penruddock's, chains him to the spot by the. very power of their beauty. "Then I suppose I am at liberty to give away that third waltz that I promised you at Lady Kyecroft's'P" she asks, slowly, without removing her gaze. "You remember it? I thought perhaps you had forgotten," says Penruddock, eagerly. "No, do not give it away. Dear Mrs. Neville, do not think me unstable, or fickle, or anything that way, but the fact is, nothing on earth could keep me from your dance to-night." He flushes a dark red, laughs a little, raises his hat, and, as though unable to longer endure the rather mischievous smile in Miss Neville's blue eyes, boats a hasty retreat. "He is a clear boy—quite charming," says Mrs. Neville, who is feeling puzzled, "but certainly a little vague. So very unlike his father, who was the most unpleasantly matter-of-fact person I ever met. What were you saying to Captain Sauma- roz, MaudieP I saw that you were talking to him, but you did not seem very genial, either of you." "He is very, distasteful to me," says Maud, quickly. "I don't know what it is, auntie, but I feel a horror—a hatred of that man. His manner toward me is insolent to a degree. It is as though ho would compel me, against my will, to be civil to him, and I never shall!" concludes Miss' Neville, between her little,' white, even teeth. "I don't think I care much about him myself," says Mrs. Neville. "He always seems to mo to. be something of an adventurer; and, besides, he is a friend of \ all the Penruddocks, and, except Dick, I never liked any of of them. Not that he is much of a friend there either, as he never speaks of them, and even if drawn into conversation about Dick's father, as a rule, says something disparaging. But he has money, and is received everywhere; and 1 really think, my dear child, he is very devoted to you." "Oh,-" do not, pray, try to make him even more detestable in my sight than he is already," says Maud with a shiver that may mean disgust. , "Oh, no! Of course I meant nothing. And he'is the last man I should care to see you married to. But some time or other you inugt make a selection—you can but kno r y that—and I am always thinking for you, indeed I am. Dick Peuruddock is very much in love with you, I really believe, though you always deny it." "I deny it because I think he ig not. I hope with all my heart and soul that he is not," says Maucl.witli sudden and unlocked for energy. All the color has fled from hei cheeks and her lips tremble slightly. [TO BE CONTINUED,] Not Quito Perfect. The boy had applied for a job in 3 wholesale house and was about tiv get it when a thought seemed to strike the employer, "Can you .whistle 'Daisy Bell?' ho inquired, "Yes, sjv, 11 responded the boy, "And 'After the Ball?'" "Yes, sir," "And -Ta-ra? 1 » "Yes, 'sir," "And 'Two Wttle Girls P'» . "Yes, sir," "Weil—" «»Hoid on," interrupted, the boy, fearful of results; yyou don't expeot a, bpy pf my size not to have n° bad habits at all, dp yovi?" fle \va§ &Jven tbe plaeo on tion, FAM AND tt 014 you, "Twelve ye»pg " iv, ape wy small fpf y wv 16 ysUP »»Jo.b,nny S OB Ma&frittea ftpfeWW J9flt , . , , ,, gu?ss§4 it fey ypjw sis* " We, 0| gw j}| feiS' \Q& -'H*'''"'^ ; r\r^v^^ , ,,if; % ^jl^^^^^P^fl)-'^ *£? !A,naI. _T*r .ita.r.nan^'na r>*nra> ririaf.^.^«ho*v , l&AttERS OP INffeRESf f€> AGRICULTURALISTS, Adra* frp to bate Mints About Cultivation of the Soil and Yield* ThttimsA** Horticulture Viticulture «*4 floti- imitnre. Kind of Morse to M. Butter worth, speaking at a Mis- $6uri convention, said: The question of the day is what kind of horse to breed. So long as American farmers find stock raising the chief reliance) draft horse breeding must be the inost profitable and substantial branch of agriculture. So long as the cities and factories continue to grow, so long Will the demand for good draft horses Continue, and good prices be Maintained in all the leading markets of the World. While many farmers con-' tent themselves with using small scrub horses on the farm, it does not pay to raise them; better raise a big high* grade colt that will at maturity Sell for enough to buy two little horses. The farmer that will content himself with only small horses to do the farm Work generally breeds to a cheap borse and raises a cheap colt, while the more enterprising farmer breeds to the best imported horse available, and raises a colt to be proud of, that grows i rapidly, and when 2 years Old is so well matured that he can Work enough to pay his board, and< When 3 years old, drive to town with a load, and he can take a load that is a load. The horse buyers are continually asking your price for that horse, while the farmer driving the little scrub never is asked such questions. But it pays to keep these big .grades until they are 4 or 5 years old to thoroughly mature and harden them for the city work. The dealers who are eager to buy our young draft grades have them matured further east and double their profit. It pays our western farmers to keep them to maturity. Few farmers can afford the luxury of a non-producing team of geldings or mules that can not breed. Many of our western farmers find the draft mares the most profitable and the most practical farm team for heavy plowing with a big plow, for hauling all our heavy farm machinery, for taking large loads of grain to market and large loads of manure to the fields, and when once we use them on the farm we will never do without them. Some here may say they are too big and clumsy and too slow for them. The model draft horse is not clumsy or slow; the American draft horse is not bred on that line; as to size, we want all the size we can get; there will be, in spite of our best efforts, too many small horses. We must have better mares to raise the better class of extra heavy draft and coach horses for the city markets. Grade up as fast as possible, keep all the good mares and they will breed better with each additional cross; breed to the best of sires and you will have the best colts. Then you will take better care of them, and best of all, get the best prices. You will not have to hunt a buyer or sell on time. If Prance, with her, 3,000,003 horses, has increased her exportation from 10,000 in 1880 to 30,000 in 1839. what might we do in ten years with our 14,000,000 horses if-they were only the right kind, if they only had the size for the foreign markets, Our export of horses last year was less than four thousand head; let the good work of improvement go on until American horses are the equal of the horses of any European country, and good enough to suit the best markets of the world. Blindness Among- Horses. It has been stated that blindness is more prevalent among horses ia America than among those of other countries. If this is the case the causes of the evil should be investigated and removed if possible without delay, It is the fact that blindness is more prevalent among horses in Ohio than those of any other section of the country, says the New York World, The qases of blindness are attributed in a great measure to over-feeding, the Ohio horses being notoriously fat. It is a common practice to force the fat upon bprses intended for sale by stuffing them principally with Indian eprn, and keeping them without service' in warm close stables. This method pf feeding sppn fattens, a hprse, but at the safoe time its digestive f uoetipns are injured by the treatment, It r is now Relieved that blindness can be trao§dvtp a sympathetic rel^tipn b,e* twegn disorder pf the digestive apd, the brain, and that tfce- latter the pptio bepprnjes. diseased &nd ends, jn ing tte Titian? Blindness is. aJsp fr§* queasy transmitted, to the pffgpying,, »»4 ttmi»» evil, ftrst originating' ,in dj6eate,'&JgQ Safest by UPFIfi*", |8 J8 weU' known; ajsp, pro,* travels. These ate the ptintipftl ideas advanced by most veterinarians f e- specting- the cause of prevalent horse blindness in our country and a mode of arresting the spf-ead of the evil. There are some other causes of this disease which appear more evident, any of which are perfectly capable of removal Blind horses are more common In cities than in the tufal district?. This is principally caused by bad stables. Many of them ai-e underground cellats, and with few exceptions all stables are too small They do not admit & sufficient quantity of fresh air for ventilation and respiration, and this always tends to injure the health of the animals. Light is as essential to the health of horses as, that of men, and yet most stables are nearly as dark as dungeons. It would be far better for most of the horses in our cities to be kept in open sheds than in the stables commonly provided for them. 1 am also positive that eye* blinds on the harness tend to injure the eyes of horses, and as they are totally useless and unsightly appendages they should be abandoned entirely. The open bridle has become more common, but it should be universal. Tight, close collars, which squeeze the eyes of horses in putting them on, are also very injurious to the eyes of the animals. I have known one case of permanent injury to the eyes of an excellent horse trom this cause. Car' riage and draft horses should be provided with divided collars, secured either at the top or bottom, so that they are not required to be forced over the heads of the animals. The Work of Reaves. In the fall of the year the deciduous trees shed their leaves, the organs by which they derive nutrition from the atmosphere in the form of carbonic acid. During the period of growth each leaf is an active chemical laboratory, drinking in carbonic acid, decomposing it, assimilating the carbon and giving off the superfluous oxygen. This decomposition of the carbonic acid takes place only during the day. Light is essential to the process, and our short winter daj'S do not furnish it in sufficient quantity; moreover, leaves are delicate structures, affording very little protection from cold to the sap circulating through them, and would, consequently, if they remained on the tree, be killed by the first frost, causing a sudden arrest of all the functions of life, and a consequent shock to the system which would almost certainly be destructive of life. The transpiration of plants is a yery active process; the water taken up by the roots carries small quantities of nutritive matter in solution, this is assimilated by the plant, and the water given off by the leaves. An idea of the activity of the process will be gathered from the statement that a sunflower three feet high requires double its own weight of water every twenty-four hours. With a fall of temperature, the roots cease to take up water. The pores of a pumpkin root close at a temperature of 45 degrees Fahrenheit. The leaves continue to transpire, and the plant gradually dies; the leaves -wither for want of moisture and are no longer capable of performing their functions. The fall of the leaves at the beginning of winter is thus necessary to the plant's protection. If they were killed off suddenly by the frost while in the active exercise of their functions the congelation of the large quantity of water circulating through the plant would rupture the tissues and cause death; but the water in circulation having been gradually evaporated at an earlier stage, the plant is in no danger from this cause. M. 0, LA.TTA. in a report to the Whatcom Horticultural society of Washington state, says of propagating and training the currant: In order to obtain the most satisfactory and profitable returns we take cuttings for propagation from bushes that produce the largest amount of good-sized berries, marking them at the time of picking' the fruit for that purpose, and our largest yields are invariably ob' tained in this way, in some instances picking thirteen pounds of fruit from a single stock, as trained in tree form, while under the sam,e cpnditions it would take an average ol three or four of the cherry variety to yield »n equal fimouofc While the currant will bear as much pr more neglect than any other of the edible fruits, yet none of them resppnd so generously to high and tfcpyc-uglx cultivatipn, w?r pay a greater percentage pn care and labor, ( Tb§ plant is a gross f§ed§r will assimilate readily any of tli§ pf the barnyard or bwsr ina* ; it in §»§Uy propagated frpm cuttings pfabPttt eifbt ,in.efce§ m ' from. tb§ fcujb »t a»y fro'm. t&e. , Jailing of th? leaies in late stwflpey until ^e }y'crati'&'t&? spring! we in tbg' iaU awl ^§1 tkejn .winter, covering ,t " &'• ,» Jto frusta _ „ jwftw-l**jtowtopf ,-wto tetimwhttm JO* John W. t)elk, writing !fi Ef says: We hats feesa testing fof time the different kinds of commonly raised oil the t&tm, aad that eommbn foddef 6dtfi id ofte'df tiftl beat for the cows giving mlife. cows do bettef, give mote milk, produce mote bttttef whett led on it during winter than any other kind Wi have tried, and we get Such & IftrfS yield from the ground, as conifrariti with other kinds of roughage, making from seven td eight tons ef the wtf choicest per acre when it ifi cured and housed aa it should be. When it M cut at the fight stage, and properly cured, our coWs even eat the stalks* £3 there is but Very little waste. SGfg* hum is our next preference; it makes an excellent feed for cows in milk, and is one of the best for young cattle. Out 1 cattle will all stay fat and sleek on it, but the ones in milk, whett changed from sorghum roughage tft that of fodder Corn, show & slight increase, both in milk and butter, Hence we recommend fodder corn, in preference to other hay or roughage, for it has been proven to be a fact, here in the south, that sorghum hay could not be excelled by many others for dairy cattle, and some even went so far as to say that it was the best—none excepted. Let that be as it may, our experience has proven to us that the fodder corn produced the greater amount of milk and butter, and that is what we feed and attend to our cows for. It not only proves to be good in winter, but in. the dry, hot weather of late summer* Wnen our pastures are failing, we find that a bundle of fodder corn not only increases the amount of butter, but is eaten with a relish by the cows. It may not produce as much per acre as some, puch as sorghum, cow-peas, etc., but will make more than the major part of our haying plants per acre, besides giving so much more beneficial results. LIQUID MANURE. —It would be well if all practical farmers were to record their experience with liquid manure. This is mine. As a young man I had my tanks, pumps and carts. All through the winter it took a man and horse about two days a week to keep the tanks from overflowing. I always applied the liquid to grass, but seldom found much benefit from its application, save in early spring. I estimated the cost of its application at 10 shillings a week. But the pumps were always getting out of order, the distributor would choke, and the tanks would overflow; so I turned all the rainwater from the house and farm buildings, which had previously gone elsewhere, and every drain that I had on the homestead into the principal tank, and then had a six inch pipe laid to a pasture, down which the liquid manure could run by its own gravity. It then irrigated about one- fourth of an acre,' and produced a wonderful increase of grass on that rood of land. But I found that 100 pounds of guano—it was guano in those days—gave quite as much grass, so I came to the conclusion that the full value of the liquid manure was 10 or 15 shillings, and not the £36 a year it had cost me. Further, it was no trouble beyond drawing out a few furrows upon a fresh piece of land in the autumn. In this district, where we usually have plenty of straw, I much prefer covered yards from which, no liquid can 'escape.— C. S, Bead, in 1 toll's Messenger. THE CABBAGE MAGGOT.—Extensive depredations of this maggot are re-, ported this summer by the market gardeners of Long island. The early cabbage suffered very severely from, them, while the late planted varieties are almost entirely free. It has' lately been learned that the, insect', lives and breeds on the charlock or ' wild mustard and other plants of the mustard family, in the absence of cabbage plants. The omission to grow a crop of cabbages will npt, therefore, ensure a riddance of the insect the > following year, unless at the same time the ground has been kept free of weeds, especially those of,the mustard tribe- One of the best means pf venting the attack of the . . 14 < , f '?. - But this is expensive except in garden operations, on a eroftU mimbejr pf eibs,ta<nc§S for the. but noae really of the 99r»eJl f « ; : -^r^^~^'^^^;^ topUe iWM^ftPtaKPS l^g^^wMm^Mmm &m9&mt -•**..«»• "''" sr-attQB.ff ***"

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