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About The Sioux County journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1888-1899 | View Entire Issue (May 6, 1897)
"It is quite, quite impossible to let
ont another inch; she must have a new
skirt. Miss rim-ham."
My mother knelt on. the floor, of our
little sitting-room. The green cloth ha'l
been removed from our table, which was
strewn with scissors, cotton, tape and
snips. On a square piece of drugget, pu
down by our landlady, Mrs. Lipscombe. to
aave the carpet, I stood, undergoing the
agonies of being "tried on
I was wondering whether it could be in
any nay connected with a letter which
mother had received a day or two pre
. viouslyy a letter which I had seen her
take out and read several times since. I
had not seen her answer it yet mother so
seldom wrote a letter that I should have
ben certain to notice it. Altogether was
puzzled. The letter, I believed, concern
ed me in some way; else, why this new
i'oor, darling mother! As she rose
from the floor and arranged her widow's
cap at the glass. I thought how sweet
was her pale, lined face. To me it was
all so natural, our monotonous life to
gether at Shipley-le-Marsh, that I never
knew what she suffered.
Mother was the eldest daughter of
Matthew Carewe, a mill-owner, rolling
in money. lie bought Gray Ashtead, a
beautiful estate some fifteen miles from
Shipley, and added to it every modern
luxury that wealth could supply. His
family consisted of two daughters Em
meline and Rosalie. Emmeline was beau
tiful, with that fragile loveliness which
o soon decays. A complexion like n
conch shell, delicate features, hair of
pale (told, and soft, blue eyes. On her
he centered all his ambition. "Who mar
ried Emmeiline, married her name," said
be. She was to be heiress of Gray Ash
tead; she was to perpetuate the line of
Carewe. At the age of eighteen his id!
met. at Harrogate, a young Frenchman.
Constant Damien by name. He was n
member of a most ancient and noble
bouse, deprived of its title and estates by
tne revolution of lie was supreme
ly handsome, and, of course, penniless.
When Emmeline petitioned to marry
Constant my grandfather almost had
a fit. With much coarse language he dis
missed the idea altogether, terming his
would-be son-in-law a "beggarly adven
turer. Beside himself with rage. Con
stant told him that it was a condescen
sion on his part to stoop to the daughter
of a parvenue one who certainly did not
derive her beauty and goodness from her
father, but inherited them straight from
the angels; but Mr. Carewe should know
"that it was not for such canaille as he
t nsult a nobleman of France with im
ia.i the two separated, and nr'xt morn
ing Emmeline ran away wiih young
iMmii-r,. They went to London and were
marriti.. My grandfather expected them
10 appear m a tew weeks, suing for for-
giveness ami ne.p. lie inucn rn.stook the '
nature of Constant Damien. 1 lie young
Eian. who was by profession an artist.
worked night and day to keep his girl
wife from want. He would have died
a thousand deaths sooner than apply to
Matthew Carewe for a pin. For a year
the foolish couple were very, very happy.
Success began to smile on Constant; peo
ple took him np. I was born, and their
bliss seemed perfect Then the shadow
fell. Constant, walking home one day
in the rain, took a chill. lie neglected
his cold neglected the hollow cough
which followed it continued to go out in
all weathers, and at last, one day. took
to his bed. He was in a rapid decline;
nothing could save him, and in a year be
was dead, and beautiful Emmeline was
a widow just twenty years old.
Then, indeed, she wrote to her father,
hnt too late. He would have nothing
whatever to say to her. He could ueither
forgive nor forget. IBs darling, idolized
daughter had dealt bim a blow from
which he could not rally. He desired his
solicitor to write to her and tell her that
1X) a year, which she inherited from
her mother, would be paid regularly.
That was all.
The despairing young widow next wrote
to Constant's mother, who had married
a second time a Devonshire gentleman
named Burnside. The answer from her
was that she could have no communica
tion with any member of a family which
had insulted her Constant; Mrs. Damieu's
own grand relations might look after her
and her bnby. By the next post came a
kind, bluff letter from Mr. Burnside, my
grandmother's English husband, inclosing
a ten-pound note, and promising to send
more when I Rhould be old enough to
need education. But before that time
came he wns dead. Poor mother was in
deed friendless. She came to Shipley-Ie-Marsh,
and settled there, for two rea
sons. First, it was within the reach of
her sister Rosalie; secondly, it was a
place where nobody knew her.
For some years mother was always
hoping that her father would relent; but
when I was about four years old, Mr.
Carewe adopted the son of his cousin a
bey about three years older than I. Then
other felt .that our chance was gone.
This adopting of a son and heir was a
aal Wow. Day by day she lived on her
ejttiet, dreary life, meek and . crushed,
hoping and expecting nothing.
Alt dinner-time that day mother was
Oent and preoccupitd.. The kind atten
tion aad grave smile with which she
anally met my childish chatter were
ot wine to-day. Once I almost thought
I saw ker crying, but it might have been
fluey.. .-. ,
Marianne Lipscombe bad hardly finish
ed clearing away the dishes when, from
am post at the open window, I announced,
tfmpaaatly, "Here's Aunt Rosalie!
slecant lumnrlw. with ! anlJ
dMataata, drew up at oar humble door.
t Rosalie marched Into the room fall
l:a ata. aad a fttj trikfog-lookiac
'Cast embraced mother warmly,
Verl etewa, with me M her lap. -
.-'X Tadpole," qaetb ske. "whea's
rJ cstas to fro aa large as year
In answer to this inquiry I burrowed
my tadpole head in her shoulder and
"Long and lanky! What a gawky child
she's growing, Emmeline! 1 don't know
bow you keep her in frocks."
"It is difficult." said mother, sitting
near, and watching with a smile of pleas
ure as I dived into a basket of Gray Ash
tead strawberries. "And that reminds
me, Rosalie, I have been waiting most
eagerly for your visi" to-day, to consult
you aliout something. I had a letter the
other day from Mrs. Burnside
"Mrs. ?" queried my aunt, puz
"Mrs. Burnside my mother-in-law old
Madame Damien, that was."
"Oh, to be sure! What did she say?"
"She wants to make Olga's acquaint
ance. She wants tne to send her down to
Burnside for a long visit, and I I have
decided to let her go."
"Emmeline! All that distance!"
"Here is the letter; read it for your
Aunt Rosalie took the missive, in its
cramped, angular, French handwriting.
which seemed to belong to another cen
"Burnside. June 3.
"My Dear Madame Damien You will
without doubt, experience a great sur
prise in receiving a letter from me after
my long silence; but it is written in de
ference to the wish of my late husband
Mr. Burnside. In his lifetime he ex
pressed a desire to be at the expense of
educating the daughter of my Constant
whose memory he ever held as dear as
that of a son. According to my calcula
tious. your daughter must be ten years
of age by this, and be grown a great girl
I would ask. let her come to Burnside and
pay me a long visit. Let tne as -ertain
her chura. ! r, her mental capacity, her
tastes, and her temper; I shall then be
able to judge how best to carry out the
wishes of Mr. Burnside. I trust that no
foolish pride will induce vou to stand
in t!ie way of your child's interests in this
limner, bend me a letter, indicating the
day and hour of her arrival, and she shall
"Hoping fer a favorable reply, I am
madame. yours very faithfully.
BLANCHE MARIE NICOLINE
"I think the old lady's rather uppish,"
was my aunt's comment on reading this
"Only look on the matter rationally.
Rose," said mother, pleadingly; "what
other prosjiects have I tor her? Yon
yourself must by this time despair cf
papa's ever coming round. It darling
Olga had only been a boy it might have
been different but now! His adopting
young Uayvttiham Carewe has been my
lou see." continued mother, with a
hopeless sigh, "my onlv hones for th
poor child must come through Mrs. Burn
side. She must have a
ittie money. I
should think, and when sh; dies she might
Have it to Olga."
"But I don't want to leave you; I won't
go anywhere," I cried, and .therewith I
burst into tears.
But the hat bad gone forth. Mother
and aunt set about to comfort me; but
nothing could change mother's deter
mination. I was to go and make my
I will pass over the sad parting with
my mother and the few incidents of my
journey to Kingsden, where I wag to be
met by some of my grandmother's folks.
When the train reached my destination
I scrambled up, the guard appeared,
flung open the door and deposited me and
my portmanteau on the platform.
A heavy step crunched on the gravel
near me. I looked up. A very tall, and.
as it seemed to me then, fabulously broad
man stood over me. A rough, grav-clotb
hat covered tangled yellow hair, blue
Saxon eyes looked down from under
squarely marked brows, the lower part
of the face was hidden in thick blonde
beard and mustache.
"Miss Damien?" said he, in grave,
"Yes, I am Olga Damien," I answered,
looking up at him with a treacherous
quiver of my mouth, which warned me
that tears were not far off.
Hercules lifted me up a tremendous
height into an airy "trap." I liked be
ing there. It was not so pleasant when
Hercules climbed in leside me. carefully
arrangingadnst-cloth over my knees, and
easily gathering np the reins. We started
off for our five-mile drive. Suddenly we
took a sharp turn to the right, through
a gate which stood open, over a bridge
under which a stream murmured, and,
behold, the bouse fronted me! An old,
low, long Elizabethan pile, gray, stone
built, and beautiful. We stopped at the
front door: it was open, which sfmck
me then, I remember, as odd. I was set
on my feet by Hercules, who then strode
to the wide door at the foot of the stair
case, and called aloud, "Madame! I
have brought her!"
A moment elapsed, during which, spite
of June sunset, cold shivers ran dovn
my hack. Then a door opened, and
tnrough it enme my grandmother, with
hands outstretched. Ah! She was like
an old picture like a lady' from another
century. What a grandmother for me to
possess! As she stood smiling, and never
speaking, but holding out her hands to
me, I held back no longer. 1 ran straight
into the shelter of her arms, let her pull
my bat off my tumbled locks, and felt
her caressing touch as she held my head
against her breast and murmured over
in, in the softest voice Imaginable.
"My dear granddaughter! My poor
Constant's fatherless little onel go thon
bast come to me at last, mon en fan'!
Art thou very, tired, thea? Nay, do aot
weep, the Journey ha been a long one
for each small feet"
Drawing me Into a room sear, whereof
I waa too tired to notice anything bat
that It saaalt of rosea, eke rang a bell,
la a moment a middle-aged woman ap
peared, with a tweet, sober Cace, dressed
in him k like In r in, sires, twin one
those pretty uriiiatt'ly caps b!
framed the face ike so aureole.
"Esperance, tlijs is Monsieur Con
slant's little one." said my grandmother
tremulously. D yon see a likeness.
asked my grandmother, with a kind of
appeal in her voice. The old serving
woman shook her head.
"My Monsieur Constant had deep
brown eyes, she said. " I he young d
moiselle's eyes are gray. His complexion
was a perfect olive her skin is fair under
her black hair. But, madame, she re
minds me strikingly of the old portrait
of the Princess Olga, whicD was brougl
from La Chaudenave."
"You think so?" said my grandmother.
wun evident oeligtit. "les, you are
right, Esperance, it is so. She has the
same low brow and short upper lip: she
is aristocratic to the backbone. Thank
heaven, there can be very little of the
Carewes about her!"
ane is tirea, madame. It is seven
o'clock. I shall take her straight to bed
les. my iamo, sne went on to me, err
if thou wilt, thou must be so weary,
is a frightful journey for so young
I laid myself down in the strong arms
and wept quietly. My grandmoth.
stole up and stroked my hair.
"She must wait, then, until to-morrow
to s c her Uncle Rcmy," said she, softlv
"1 wonder, Esperance. will ie. too, see
the likeness which we have discovered?"
I think so,' said Esperance. "and
Monsieur Remy will also be a playfellow
for her. I dare say the master scared
les, observed madame, regretfully
my poor ictor is not a ladies' man."
1 wondered, sleepily, whether Victor
were Hercules, who bad vanished mirac
ulously as soon as my grandmother ap
peared; also, I wondered how my Uncle
Remy, who must of necessity be grown
up, could be my playfellow; and so I felt
the touch of soft lips on my tear-sf aim-
cheeks, and wag carried up the wide,
shallow oak staircase, along a corridor,
and into the sweetest little chamber im
I was awakened on my first morning
at Burnside by singing. A young, vig
orous man's voice was caroling in the
earden below me. I sprang from my bed.
drew aside my rose-colored curtains, an!
peeped forth; but the singer had disap
peared. Esperance now entered and pro
ceeded to wash and dress me.
At the door I paused, and demanded ic
a low voice of Esperance: "Who is the
gentleman who drove me from Kingsden
yesterday what is his name?"
Bless me! Why, that is Mr. Burn
side, the master of the house!"
But Mr. Burnside is dead." I objected.
True. Mr. Burnside who was hus
band to madame is dead; but this is his
son. .Monsieur ictor. :ow. run in. dear
child, and greet thy grandmother.
1 entered timidly. My grandmother
was presiding over a most tempting
breakfast table. At the other end of the
table sat Mr. Burnside, quietly unfold
ing the Times.
The lion looked no less terrible with
out his hat than with it. He turned on
me a half-puzzled, hnlf-amused glance.
I drew reluctantly near, and received H
grave and awkward "How do yon do,
Miss Da mien T'
I retreated as far as possible from him
to the other end of the table, and at that
moment was heard an elastic step on the
gravel outside, the French window wo-.
Hung open, and a young man bounded in
and Hung his arms round my grandmother
Good-morning, my dearest," she re
plied to his ardent salutation; "see
Remy. here is your little niece poor
Constant's little girl."
My uncle flung himself on his knees
beside me and encircled me with his
arm. His beautiful face was close to
mine. I saw dark masses of clustering
curls, a rich brown skin, sparkling black
yes. a slight dark mustache on the
impetuous lip, and a warm (lush of color
in the cheeks. My heart went out to him
at once. His smile of pleasure and
amity won me. I gave to him willingly
the kiss for which he entreated, and in a
minute found myself enthroned upon bis
knee, shy, yet utterly happy.
Tell me, Remy, said my grand
mother, wistfully, "do you see any like
To my brother? None. But I tell
you to whom I do see a likeness to our
Muscovite ancestress, the Princess
"I am enchanted, ' said madame.
I do not know when my life at Burn
side first became an ordinary thing to
me. I was wonderfully happy there.
Every day developed some new pleasure.
though the life at the Manor House was
of the quiestest and most retired order.
My chief delight was in ray rides with
Uncle Remy. Esperance made me a lit
tle riding skirt, and together we scam
pered over Dartmoor, or traversed the
old coach road, whence, at the high
points, one could catch glimpses of the
One day, many weeks after my arrival.
when I bad settled down into all the
Burnside ways, and ceased to feel a sin
gle pang of homesickness, my uncle and
were riding along the coach road, past
pair of old gates, evidently leading to
some park or country seat. As we passed,
at a foot-pace, the heavy gate swung
open, and a young, pretty girl stepped
out into the road. She glanced up as
she was closing the latch, met my
nncle's eye, and bowed, with a blush and
smile. He instantly checked his horse,
and raised his bat, with looks of most
"How do you do, Miss Lyndon? I did
not know you were returned from Lon
"How do you do, Mr. Damien?" was
the answer, In a fresh and prepossessing
voice, "we only returned yesterday
evening. Who is your fair lady?"
It is my little niece. Olca Damien.
! She and I are sworn brothers' and the best
- "I am delighted to see her, and hope
we may be better friends," said this de
lightful young lady. "We are going to
have a garden party next week; I shall
certainly inclose a card for Miss Olgn
Damien. Will Mr. Damieu's pressing
engagements allow him to honor us with
Remy burst forth Into a vehement dec
laration that ropes should not keep him
from the Brooklanda on the day men
tioned;' at which Miaa Lyndon laoghed,
waved her band, aad walked quickly
away np the lane.
After tbia meeting my ancle waa silent
and abstracted daring a long portion of
ear ride. That 4ajr at luucb he aa-
iihiiiii e,J ni. Mealy, "the Lyndon are bnck
St the P.ri.oklrtiulH," The 'iiire looked
up. and I saw a frown of annoy mice
gstbi-r on his iwnally psive face. His
stepbrother looked defiantly at him.
"When did they coir home?" growled
"Lust night," was the airy reply. "They
are going to give a garden party next
week, and O'ga is to be included in the
"I give you due not'ee that I do not
go, went on the squire.
"That is a pity; yo-i will be terribly
missed," answered my uncle, with great
My grandmother, who had been listen
ing to this jangle with evident uneasi-
Dess. now thought it prudent to interfere,
"No more of this, please, my sins."
sain sne; anil licit tier ot tne young men
sjKike another word.
It was iny first intimation that this
peaceful Devonshire household possessed,
like other households, a skeleton in their
cupboard. 1 had never before seen th
domestic quiet mstiiroeu in anv wav.
But, as I looker) t the lowering brows of
Mr. Burnside. Hurler which his blue eyei
seemed to shoot sparks, I ' pitied Uncle
Lemy from thv bottom of my heart.
iTo be continued.)
The Rev. H. R. HnweU, In his book,
"Travel and Talk," tells some uuitisin
stories of the levees held at Govern
ment House, Adelaide, in the early
days of South Australian prosperity.
The Governor of the period a very
early one decreed thnt nil who prcsem
etl tbi'nisclvi8 at his court should wear
The nmnlier who aspired to the hon
or of presentation in those days wan
very small, and among them there was
Imt one who possessed a tail-coat. The
difficulty was not Insurmountable, uev
The lucky owner of the coat went In.
made bis txiw and came out, nnd then
huii;; the coveted possession on a tree
for the next coiner to army himself In.
This process was naturally slow, and
the Governor grew Irnpntient, and in
quired the reason of the delay.
It is snbl that the liidicrousness of
the situation Rtruck hi m at once; lie
burst out laughing, nnd suspended the
oppr'-ssive regulation until siu-h time
as the colony should be sufficiently ad
vanced to live more generally up to tall-
It must have boon a Jlttk Inter on.
that uuotlier ami'sing seem; was wit
nessed at a pi isciitatiou, for a colon
ist's lady had then arrived at the dig
nity of a real Irish car. purchased in
Dublin. It was the only one In the col
ony, and the lady was proportionately
proud of it. She drove in grand style
to Government House, the cynosure "of
nil eyes. But her Joy was damned.
when, after her own presentation, she
happened to look out of the window In
time to sec another imrty arrive In an
exactly similar Irish ear. Her pre-eminence
was gone, and her inortlilca.lon
But what wns her aneer and disgust
at swing a third, ami a fourth, and
even a fifth car arrive, all at due inter
vals. Shy made her way down In a
terrible state of disappointment.- -last
la time to see her own -ar, with her
own driver, arrive with a sixth lrvvr.
So far from not having created a sen-
ation, the car had lnt-ii too popular,
nnd her man had not been proof against
the money offered him to allow other
people to rid..' In It.
Jewish Longevity. I
Some Interesting statistics relating to
Jewish longevity were gathered some
cw years since. In Fratikfort-on-
Main it was demonstrated that on-
fourth of all the Christians died In sev-
a years; the same proportion of Jews
lived alKive 2.S years. One-half of the i
Christians died in 30 years 0 mouths; of ;
the Jew one-half lived more than 5.'5
years. The remaining fourth of the
Christians were dead at CO vears. and
or the Jews not until ,1 years. In
1 1-u.Nhiu, -H per cent of the CJirlstians ,
lived to be 14 years old and TiO per
cent of the Jews. In IWOW of tin
hrlstian pomation there were H:j
deaths, and oniy 8!i deaths among the
Even a lawyer, who Is getieral'y sup
posed to know exactly what to do with
hia tongue, may make a slip oecaslonnl-
ly. In a c rtab court, not long ago, one
of the attorney demanded jierniissiou
to introduce the testimony or two wli
neoes who bad not been duly cited. '
"Do you suppose," said the court.
that tiny will materially assist us in
getting at the facts?"
"I think so," answered the lawyer.
I have not had an opportunity to com
municate with them."
An audible smile ran around the court
"LA them be culled at once," aaid the
judfje, and the eoiileitrew in volume.
Hlppcfatairy In Paris.
The people of Paris are hlppophagus
to a remarkable degree, consuming on
an average over 20,(KiO homes and don
keya annually. Last year, according to
the returna, the Parisians ate 23..'td
horses, 43U donkeys and 86 mule. This
home, donkey and mule flesh drose
ready for the buteherVi block weighed
5,879 tons and waa sold at prices vary
ing from 2 aous to 1 franc per pound,
the latter being the price paid for the
beat borae steaks.
Properties of Floor.
M. Fleurrat, a French chemlat, has
discovered a purely chemical standard
for determining the bread-making prop
rrtlea of flour. In a paper presented
to the Academic des Sciences Le aaeertj
that flour containing one part 0f glu
tenlne to three parte of gliadlno pro
duce the bat result for dlgeetlon of
the bread and for bakera purpose.
A Dublin correspondent say a that by
the death of Lord Waterford the Irish
labdlorde hare tost their guide, philoso
pher and fjaand.
Utilizine two Old fiamn.
On hdndrcds of farms are to be
found two small barns Instead of one
large one. These are often detached or
attached corner to corner. Space is
wasted n lid work cannot tie conve
niently done in them without much loss
of time. The Illustrations show a plan
for making the most of two such
barns. They are moved to n position
parallel to each oilier ami are then
connected by a shod-roofed one-storied
ritRSI'KCTIVE VIKW OF BARN?.
addition, as shown in the first picture.
This gives a barnyard Inclosed on three
Hides, and so protected from wind and
storm, and nu Interior that can be ad
vantageously arranged. The arrange
ment suggested In the floor plan that is
given In the second illustration is for
use on a dairy' farm. Where other
kinds of farming are followed, a differ
ent interior arrangement can easily lie
decided upon. In the plan given, it Is
Intended that a feed car be used to
convey silage, grain, etc., along in
front of all the cattle stalls. American
Ptir the Poil.
Next lo mulching there is nothing
like a constant stirring of the soil. I
bare found many workmen in gardens
totally unacquainted with the princl.
pies of hoeing. The hoc Is drawn over
a surface already bard, cutting off
weeds close to the ground. Then the
weeds are raked off, leaving the ground
in really worse condition than it was
before, for the weeds shaded the sur
face If they did rob the ground. Hoe
ing should be rully as much to loosen
the soil as to destroy weeds. Lvery
Rtrrikir of tlln Imr kIioiiM l,u...t,
,,.,, nwi,. . . ,. , , 1 ' ,,
L,,,,..,,, , ,,..,.,, ,,,. ,
firs, . nrv . ... , . '
vr.rv o' u,nM ,,., .,.,,,.
wliat a beh) constant cnltlvn n,o, ,t,i
h!ii.1 Is in hnriinm o,i n ,.m.'.
niants. And when rnii, ti
water iH nII tuk,.n nr, lf fnUll
Good mulching preserves the looseness
of the soil in the same way. I am sure
that very' many more of our lovely na
tive flowers could be successfully
grown than there are if mulching or
hoeing could be made a feature of cul-
For Calve at l'aatnre.
The calves at pasture ought to have
daily a little graiu to keep them grow
ing thriftily. Their Increased size In
the fall will more than pay for the out
lay and the trouble. The sketch, from
an agricultural exchange, shows a
bandy feed Ikx. But It on the Inside
or llK! W1" "we, o that the grain
can ,K? mit ln tlirugli the boards from
i ..... i
FRED BOX FOKCALVF.S.
the outside. Put Bints ou, as shown,
far enough apart so that the calves can
put their bends between them, but so
near that (he old stock. If In the pas
ture, cannot reach the box. The slat
also support the box and hold It In
Kail Chilled Hefore Retting.
Early failure to batch eggs very sel
doru come from lack of vigor in the
germ; for In this the early eggs are
superior. They more often come from
allowing eggs to be chilled Isforc flic
setting begins. Everyone knows that
chilling after a few days setting noon
destroys the life In the egg. It may
do so where eggs that have never liecii
set on are kept In contact with metal,
which rapidly abstracts heat when the
eggs are kept for greater safety near
the freezing temperature. Dishes for
holding egga should be of wood, which
abstracts heat aiowly.
Mskla Cider Vlnecar.
First have a good, strong, Iron-hoop-ad
barrel. Neit hav good apple cider.
Ooer the bonkholea with mosquito
netting or other material that will keep
put ilie flics. ':!, Inires ought rot to
bo put In. except temporarily, for at
least a year. Keep Hi.- vinegar barrel
in the garret, or other place where the
air is warm and sultry. The cellar Is a
lia.I place In which to make vinegar.
To hasten fermentation,' occasionally
turn the ildr out of one barrel Into
another, thus exposing It more fully to
the air, and. hy adding a gallon of
Mrong vinegar or a little "mother". to
each barrel. There are other method
liy which the process may be hastened
Mill more, sucb as trickling It through
Ihmh-Ii chips or shavings; but these are
hardly to lie recommended, for those
who are content o wait on the natural
process rarely fail to find themselves
amply repaid through the high value
of their product. Farm and Fireside.
Klectric I.laht by Wlol Tower.
Electric lighting Is commonly In tRe
country regarded as exclusively a city
luxury. It Is likely that the expense of
carrying wires from house to house In
thinly settled districts would be too
great to make it possible to furnish
electric light ou a large scale economi
cally. But the experience of Nansen's
ship, the Fram, on her northern voy
age shows that electric lighting fy
wind power, transmitted to batteries
and stored as electricity, is entirely
possible. In the high Northern lati
tudes fuel was much too precious to be
used in making electric light. So a big
windmill was set up, which was run
whenever the wiud was favorable, and
by stored electricity made a steady
light all through the dark northern
winter. Such windmills are often used
on Norwegian vessels to work the
pumps. We may yet see farm wind
mills providing power to run dynamos
and charge storage batteries with elec
tricity to lie used for lighting farm
bouses, as well as to do much work
that now taxes human muscles.
lied ee riant.
Hedges for protection are not as com
mon as they might be. They are not
only beautiful In themselves, but. If
properly managed, are cheaper than
any fence except a stone wall. There
are numberless Instances of well-cared-for
.osagi; orange and honey locust
hedges being kept in first-rate condition
for half a century, and there is no rea
son to believe they might not last for
nearly as long again. They hare to
be annually trimmed, and, Indeed, are
the better for two trimmings a year;
but one who understands this will get
over the work so rapidly, that it takes
little more tinie than It would to give
the annual whitewashing to an ordi
nary fence. When the expression "well
cared for" Is used, it simply means
that the cutting must always be of
such a character that the bottom of the
hedge la left the widest part. Median's
Variety of Feed for Hob.
The hog gets at any time ln his life
h-ss variety in his feed than any other
kind of stock. This is especially true
when he Is being fattened. There are
other grains that have quite as good
fattening qualities as corn. A mixture
of oats and barley, or of pens and lar
lcy ground together, makes a feed that
will not only fatten, but will al-o fur
nish the due proportion of lean meat
that is required to make healthful and
easily digested pork.
A good man Is merciful to bis beast,
also to bis chickens.
Sanitary surroundings are of more
consequence than medicines.
If you cannot keep your poultry In
comfort, cease to keep them at nil.
Light Is essential to the health of the
bens, therefore, have good windows.
Eggs InieniM forlintcbliigsliouldnot
be kept over four weeks. They must
be turned every day or two.
l.'se Plenty of See'l.
Seed Is costly, but the poorest method
of economy is that of using us llttlu
seed as possible. A large number of
clover crops fall becau.-e not enough
so-d Is used, and It Is better with some
crops to have an extra number of
plants to come up ami remove those
not desired than to have failure and be
compelled to replant, f,s the time lost
cannot be recovered.
The Hort Klines.
Some fanners make the mistake of
shoeing horses when it Is unnecessary,
and others refuse to shoe when It
should be done. Some leave the shoes
on too long, Just because they seem to
stick well. An expanding, growing
boof will soon outgrow the shoe. The
shoes should not be left ou longer than
State Dinners at the White Mouse,
Ex President Harrison asserts that
state dinners cannot lie wholly divest
ed of the repression and stiffness which
are the aeompanliiients of all state af
fair. "There Is no opportunity for
general conversation," lie writes In the
Indies' Home Journal, "and the chef
nnd your neighbor at table have your
fate in their hands. But there are
many other dinners and luncheons to
which the elect and the congruous
come; and twenty such, seated ubout
the round fable in tli private dining
room, make a goodly and a heartsomc
company. These are the dinners that
endure the supreme test you thlok
well of your host and of the company
when you wake up."
To Soften and Whiten the akin.
Almond meal is said to soften and
whiten l he skin. It is usually nut Into
a bag made of nun's veiling or of soft
bunting, nnd used as a cake of soap
would be when bathing. After Its use
the skin should be bathed with fleer
water. ladles' Home Journal.
Hpaln has 22,005 elementary schools,
but only 41 per cent, of the children
receive even the rudiments of an edu
cation. The teachers receive only 28
to 9100 per year, and most of them are
unable to collect that. In 1803 there
waa owing ta Iranian teachers f 1,90V
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