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U
NURSERY RHYME FOR TOURISTS
Oh, we are little children
I Who lore to po and play
' 'Mi.' n that Cfeat P'ay -ground over there,
- Three thousand miles away!
They hare such pretty dolls there.
All dressed like kings and queens;
French horses running races
And puppets making scenes,
VTho stamp and scratch and tellow
That they know best of all
Their playmates how to manage
The game of kingdom hall.
i
Then pops Nurse Pate out, crying:
They make her head go round:
And she gives ew-h lord a whipping,
h J Quite mistress of the ground,
There are mariontVtt climbing mountains
yr Which make them look so small;
And up they go In spite of
The way they break and fall.
Sometimes there's a big army
Of funny little things
That goes and tights a smaller
About two bran-stufiVd Kings.
Sometimes a flre-cracl:er
Csplodes when no one sees.
Because some dolls won't answer
"When others scold and tease.
When we go to this play-ground
We have a jolly rWo
In such a crowded steamboat
With little holes inside
Where we play sleep and comfort;
And then pretend to cat
Some sand and shaving provender.
And call tho Captain sweet.
This play of "going to Kuropo"'
Makes us all feel so grand!
Because we cross the water
Instead of crossing land.
Rose IL Lathrop, la JJ. Y. Independent.
MIRIAM.
By Manda L. Crocker.
CoprmcnT, 1SS.
CTIAPTEIt VIII. CONTINUED.
A fortnight after parting from Arthur a
note was handed her by a servant. It was
from her lover, and stated that he had per
fected Ills plans for leaving for the mines,
and that ho would be at tiie entrance to the
park from the highway with a carriage for
her on the morrow. In tho afternoon,
dearest, he had written, "I will come;
there is no need of mc asking you to be
punctual in meeting mo at the iron wicket
near the chase at three o'clock, as I know
you will not fail."
Fail! No, not for worlds, yet a strange
yearning for the dark old Hall, a longing to
be reconciled to tho gray haired father,
took possession of her. But more bitter
than tho waters of 3Iara came tho prompt
ings of pride a:l wounded filial affection.
It is utterly useless to grow morbid over
impossibilities. She must bow to the rod of
a heartless destiny, and go unpardoned and
unloved.
The morning dawned at last that closed
the losg. nervous sennight of waiting.
Miriam woke from a terrible dream of
death, and in an agony of doubt and terror
she sprang from her couch. 'It was but a
dream," she said, smiling faintly to her
scared reflection in tho mirror. 4but a
dream." Yet she could not help but think
that even dreams were significant some
times. She dared not mention it to Peggy;
for that credulous creature would, with
her Irish propensities for the mysterious,
r:"""erpret a terrible revelation, no doubt.
And the yawning mines, the black pits, and
the black-covered hearse of her night
vision would bo all but dire realities by
the time Ciarksou would be done with
them. She must not dwell on this; she
must prepare for her flight. Her face
assumed an ashen hue and her eyes
dilated as she thought of this the last day
for her within the hall as its heiress.
Disinheritance would be her doom. That
was what had fallen to the others; those
that had gone before her, and whose
portraits she had so often seen in the
gallery.
Oh ! yes. She must needs pay a visit to
her kindred of tho silent room, doubly her
kindred now, for the day had arrived at
last that another child of the Fercivals was
ready to depart from the frowning shadows
of Heathcrleigh. How many sad hearts
had gone from beneath its roof, with the
day of wrath treasured up against them.
"If itmustbe, itmust," she said, bitterly,
as she walked the shadowy, silent length of
the low gallery alone an hour before her
departure, taking a last view of the re
versed faces, hung in line "like so many
gibbettcd souls," she murmured. "I can
not help being that 'eldest child,' neither
am I to blame for the curse of an ancestor
falling to hapless posterity. Ah ! you dear,
proud one,' she exclaimed, with a tremor
wi mm
r ''firm
v"";i'
"alas! alas! that i am oxe or Tor."
of anguish in her tones, as she turned the
last portrait of the doomed to the light.
"You were a youngest child, poor Allen!
and whero arc you to day? Ah! my fair,
noble-browed relative, I fancy some one
will stand here some day and ask that
same question concerning mc; perhaps not
so very far hence, either.
"Alas! alas! that I am one of you!" sho
exclaimed, wildly. "What a thing love is;
to win us all away from our ancestral balls
ino so-called mesalliances, bringing down
thereby the wrath of our fathers and dis
inheritance. 'Ah 1 good-bye no ! farewell to you all;
I am doomed also, and must be going!"
She turned the face of the hapless Allan
to the wall again, and waving a sad adieu
with trembling hand, while tears of anguish
bedimmed her vision, she 4eft the long,
Jonely gallery, shutting the door gently as
If on the beloved dead instead of on so many
portraits only.
"This is my last visit to the gallery, she
-whispered with prophetic lips, "the Iaittime
I shall come.
Iff'
VMV'M : &. ft,
Fv
'fi ii i ttr ' frM:Di
i is
CHAPTER IX.
So it happened that after having sought
ber father in a last hope of reconciliation
and failed, insomuch that the eadingproved
to be but a stormy Interview and wrathful
parting, Miriam stole quietly out through
the park to meet her future husband.
Tue dull gray afternoon seemed sur
charged with an oppressive silence, and aa
evil seemed lurking in the very air; or was
it but a nervous fancy lending a miserable
influence!
Miriam put ber hand on the wicket open
ing out toward the highway at a quarter to
three o'clock with a sigh, and found she
was a little early.
Her face had been white and drawn with
grief and pain, and her beautiful eyes had
in their depths such a wild, despairing look
when Peggy Clarkson met her in the hall
directly after the interview with Sir Ru
pert; but now her face glowed with satis
faction, and the fine eyes had a pleasant
light as she stood bidding a silent adieu to
tne dear, familiar grounds.
Ahl what an iron will upheld the fair
girl; truly she had the indomitable spirit
of the Percivals.
A sound of wheels coming slowly toward
tho chase, and ber heart throbbed wild
ly with expectation. She stepped outside
and crossed the common. "Yes, there he
comes," she said, and in a flutter of delight
she flew back to the pl&co of meeting.
'Dear Arthur," she murmured, "I have
never known but two f nends, mother and
you. She has been taken from me, and I
have only you left," and the pearly tears of
memory dropped on the trembling band on
the gate. "Poor mother!"
But the carriage drew up and Arthur
Fairfax alighted, smiling happily to find
his beloved Miriam punctual. He kissed
her where the tear-stains showed plainly
on the fair cheek. "Why these tears, dear
est!" he asked, tenderly.
'I was thinking of of mother," she an
swered, and ho understood, for his vision
was misty with emotion as beheld her for
a moment in silent caress.
1 eggy Clarkson came up with numerous.
bundles and faltering step. This was to her
a sorrow greater than that she felt for the
dead mother.
But she bore up bravely for the sake of
the beautiful girl before her and whom she
loved as her own. Her ownl Ahl yes;
away across the channel, in the mother
country on the shores of Killarney, restmjr
peacefully, was Teddy. Dear little Teddy,
who closed his blue eyes to this world in his
third year, and was laid away forever.
with bis flaxen curls clinging to his white
baby brow.
Poor Peggy! Many sorrowful days bad
gone over the cycling arc for her, but this
one seemed to her the hardest to bear. She
wiped her tears away as she came up with
her bundles and tried to appear cheerful.
All unconscious of treachery, Sir Rupert
was taking bis accustomed afternoon nap,
and while his only child was leaving her
home forever and caring but little for his
gray hairs, he was dozing the hours away in
his quiet apartments.
"Perhaps father may relent,'' ventured
Miriam, as her lover handed ber into tho
carriage.
"Oi doubt it, me darlint," sobbed Peggy,
wiping the tears away from her dim old
eyes in order to get a last sight of Miriam.
"Oi doubt it, but may the blissid Vargin pro
tect ye, onyway."
"Do not feel so badly, I pray, Mrs. Clark-
son," said Arthur, "if Sir Rupert never
forgives us. Surely you can trust Miriam
with mc, and feel that she will be happy,
and that is more than she will be here."
"An' you're livin' might, me mon, Oi kin
thrust the childer wid ye; an' far be it
from roe to help ye on in yer runnin' away,
sir. if Oi couldn't."
"Thank you kindly," replied he, taking
her trembling hand in a last good-bye.
"Cheer up; you shall hear of Miriam fre
quently. Have acare, Peggy," he added, in
a lower tone, "that Sir Rupert docsn'tever
dream of your being mixed up in this leave
taking, or that you were aware of Miriam's
going."
The old housekeeper answered him by an
affirmative nod, and turned away to hide
her tears.
With a final good-bye, away they whirled.
Miriam waved an affectionate adieu with
her handkerchief as the turn ot the road
shut them forever from the park and the
tearful Peggy at the wicket,
"Ochboon! andmoould heart is broke
intoircly," moaned she to tho silent land
scape, while the clouds lifted and a ray of
sunshine shot athwart its dullness.
The brambles and the heath by the way
side were tinged with a beautiful flush of
autumnal scarlet, and leaves tinted with
the faintest gold went flying hither and
thither in the breeze. The sunshine which
struggled through the gray canopy and
cast a ray of promise across the day for
Peggy, lay glinting on the sea for Miriam
and her lover as they neared Hastings.
Tnrough the lanes, past the hedges
where the blackberry briars formed a
dense barrier, with their browning leaves
and luscious clusters, all familliar
nooks and old friends, who seemed to say
"good-bye! good-bye!" past all these they
had come, and the downs, tho sea and the
cliffs were uncommonly beautiful in the
setting light. The sea-breezes blew up
across the country, refreshing and sweet,
tho wind-mills on West Hill were whirling
their great arms, and the old castle near
by caught the western glow with a peace
ful contentment, which seemed to say: "I
am glad to be left to picturesque ruin and
forgctfulncss."
The quaint little church at Fairlight was
the destination, but they had taken a cir
cuitous route to avoid trouble, did the mas
ter of Heathcrleigh determine on following
them.
Miriam's heart went out to the gray
haired, feeble father whom she never ex
pected to sec again, and with whom she
never could be happy. She revolved the
possible scenes of wrath and, perhaps,
sorrowful regret that would transpire
when he should be made acquainted with
her flight. Then her thoughts turned af
fectionately to Clarkson, who was so "dc
tarmint to help the childer away unbe
knownst," and her heart ached for the old
housekeeper when she should fall under
the interrogative vengeance of her master.
And a great many other things connected
with the Hall floated before her mental
vision; some of them coming like reproach
lul reminders, while others were so dis
tasteful that she drew a sigh of relief to
find them really turning like a bad chap
ter in the history of the past.
She looked about ber. Ah! would she
ever stand here again and look far away to
High Wickham and the sea! They were
passing gaunt, grim Minnus rock now, and
the sea lay a dark strip in the distance with
the faint sunset light showing purple-tinted
on the sky above.
For answer the breeze swept by with a
low, mournful music, and died away in the
dusks of eventide.
Arthur, partly divining Miriam's specula
tions by the pensive look on her sweet face,
drew ber to his heart with a fond caress,
saying: "Never mind, dearest, I will try
hard to make all this up to yon. Be happy.
Bee! we have left the clouds behind us,
and as in happy emphasis the last rays of
the setting sun gleamed brightly from be-
ith a cloud and ! the seal af
"Yours was a beautiful home," he con
tinued, as she looked up with a smile of
trust and confidence, "but you were not
happy perhaps never would have been
within Its fateful doors."
"No," she answered, in a positive tone,
"that I think were impossible, but I shall be
nappy with you."
Then the dreary weight left her soul and
a wave of happiness, as brightas the circlet
of western gold, swept aside all misgivings
and the joy of assurance beamed on her
face.
Behind them were desolate Becchwood
Terrace, which might never more welcome
the one, and ivy-crowned Heatherleigb,
which could not, would not ever again open
its doors to the other. Before them was the
quiet, unpretentious wedding ceremony in
the little chapel of All Saints; near by also
Uncle Earle Fairfax, who was to serve a de
lightful little dinner just after the wedding
and just before their departure for their
future home in his pretty villa over there.
Was that all that was before them I No,
not by a great deal. There lay a beautiful
sea of happy sailing for the two hopeful
hearts, but beyond its narrowed limits
broko the billows of a dark and moaning
flood. Happy for them, as for us all. tho fut
ure is vailed from our inquisitive hearts;
else we would go down into tho depths of
despair sometimes ere the battle of life
should begin.
But with hope for the anchor and love at
the helm, their ship had spread sail for tho
untried waters, which looked fair and se
rene in the offing.
Ah! here was tho chapel at last, in the
dusk and silence, open to receive them.
Uncle Fairlax and a few friends waited
them in the dimly-lighted chanceL
Miriam paused a moment in the shadowy
porch for a little whispered prayer and
then passed down the narrow aisle on tho
arm of a mend to where Arthur and bis
il'iV.
m
'XATUBB 9ZEX3 TO HAVE PUT OS MOUBNINQ
FOB CS.rt
uncle awaited her. A soft, sweet light
shone from her dark eyes, and the marriage
service was responded to in low, clear
tones, without hesitancy.
On the arm of her newly-made husband
Miriam left the chapel, but there were none
to strew flowers in her way. All was si
lent and gloomy without, and tho dream of
the previous night recurred to the bride as
she crossed the church-yard. The head
stones gleamed through the darkness like
mile-stones of the past, and Miriam Fairfax
hid her face on her husband's shoulder and
shuddered. He noticed it and asked:
"What is it, dearest?"
"Nothing!" she answered, '-only this is a
gloomy wedding night. Nature seems to
have put on mourning for us, Arthur."
"Why! why, little wife," he said; 'I am
so happy I do not seem to remember
aught of shadows. As to the gloom, dear
est, I had not thought of it. Surely you do
not regret"
"Hush! Arthur, that were impossible,
when 1 love you so."
But the light and warmth and happy re
ception at Uncle Fairfax's superb home
brought back the smiles to Miriam's face,
and Uncle Earle's blessing settled like a
holy benediction on their heads. For
gotten were all the shadows and gloom
of All Saints in the well wishes and God
speeds showered after them as they started
for their home near the mines.
Arthur had invested what money he had
in buying shares, under the supervision of
his uncle, who had great experience in this
matter, and who owned much mining stock.
He was not going to tho mines as a laborer,
but sent in the interests of the company;
ho resolved to be faithful, and hoped to rise
to positions of more importance, and double
and treble his finances.
And when this was accomplished he
would leave tho mining districts and retire
to comfort and happiness in some beautiful
home near the sea, as his uncle had done.
Then Miriam should be happy in her elegant
home, and he well, he would be the proud
est, happiest husband in England.
Together the happy couple planned the
future, as they occupied the pleasant, quiet
compartment carrying them to Bradford.
"That seems a koinde of happy omen,
though," mused Peggy, watching tho sun
shine checker the dancing shadows at her
feet. "Koindo o' happy, but mo heart is
broken for a' that," and she wrapped her
withered hands in her linen apron and
crept along stealthily toward the Hall.
"But tho swate misthress is boun' to
have love and gude thratement where
she's goin', an' that's more than she would
win from thtt masthor. th rlnrlini
Through the clustering oaks sho passed
in fear of being seen by Sir Rupert, not
withstanding he was pretty sure to stay in
his own apartments the remainder of the
day. "An' conscience makes cowards av
tho whole av us," she muttered, slipping
tnrough the shrubbery like some cruiltv
thing bound for a friendly covert.
roor old I"eggy! She had Darted with
all that was left her to love of the proud
family which had known her as house
keeper for years.
The bonnie brown hair that Ancil had
praised so much had grown white in the
service of the great HalL
She dragged herself into the servants'
quarters, where old Ancil was waiting
her return in great trepidation, and sat
down, moaning and rocking herself to and
fro in the extravagant manner of her
countrywomen, expressing her inconsolable
grief. Ancll said nothing, but his beard
ed lip quivered as be sipped his ale, and
his little blue eyes filled with tears as he
looked at his wife.
Sir Rupert, feeling weary and somewhat
indisposed, had his dinner served in his
own apartments, and never did James
serve at a quieter hour.
Sir Rupert said but a word or two, and
those were low monosyllables; the serv
ants, knowing of Miriam's flight, went
stcathily about their several duties, as if
they feared the very walls would cry out
and implicate them.
James came and went like a thief fearing
detection, and whenever his master looked
his way he grew pale with fear; butas8ir
Rupert caked no questions he was glad
that the revelatioa kad not been Us to
sake, and that the austere father re
auiaed in ifaeruce as yet of Us daugh
ter's flight aad subsequent marriage.
"Okl the disclosure, Mttend a, as a
T II r... r)'; f, L iwl iff it
1 1p Ttnm C&2 Mil I I w
tI wYiwc-Aii. a "Wii
n. r i Taw 'M - r, : K-.U . . M
- I IX.U - Wf W" "-'
S-Mf . .YCirWsJ
" ,S. i "'"' ',T" '
came down stairs with the trencher, and be
skivered in anticipation of the morrow.
CHAPTER X
"Howly mother! an' we'll put it off till
the crack o' doom if we can," Peggy ejacu
lated later, when Sir Rupert had re
tired, and the servants had all huddled
around her in the west wing to bear the de
tails of Miriam's departure. Nothing suited
her better than to entertain them in her
graphic way and impassioned manner with
weird and strange recitals of fortunes pos
sible and impossible, and often she had held
them spell-bound until the great clock of
the central hall warned them of midnight.
"But ye all know full well," sho reflected,
"that the mastlier tcill be knowin' uv it ter
morrer by some manes, an' mark ye," mov
ing her right index slowly around the circle
like tho finger of destiny, "mark ye, there's
not a mother's son of ye knows a single
wurrud of tho runnin' away whin tho
masthur's wrath runs hoigh." And all
promised with one accord to faithfully
keep their knowledge a secret for the
"Swate childcr's sake," Peggy said, while
her auditors knew full well that it was for
her own sake as much, and more, than foi
Miriam's that they were enjoined to such
secrecy.
"An' wo must kapo tho saycret for the
loifc uv us," supplemented the housekeep
er or.co more, as they were about to sep
arate for the night; "ye know if ye don't
we'll bo whooped out o' the Hal! quickern'
a wink; ony way, maybe we'll be kilt night
on the spot, an' which is wurrust uv the
two Oi'm not to say."
At breakfast the next morning Sir
Rupert settled himself in his accustomed
seat and looked about him; he would wait
for Miriam, something ho scarcely remem
bered of having to do, she being an habit
ual early riser.
The butler stood respectfully near. Quak
ing in every limb, in dire anticipation of
the impending storm about to burst over
their unlucky heads, and perhaps sweep
them from Heathcrleigh like chaff.
"Miriam is late," said Sir Rupert. "Call
the housekeeper."
Clarkson was waiting in the next room,
and at a look from the terrified James
came forward as if by magic, halting at a
respectful distance, demuro and innocent
looking enough to win the favor of anyone,
however austere.
It was evident that she was in better
trim for the emergency than her fellow
servants were.
"Ask the maid if Miriam is ill," the mas
ter commanded, rather than said. Then
he relapsed into a silence to bo felt. He
was thinking that perhaps the disagree
ment of tho day before had unnerved the
almost heart-broken daughter. Perhaps
he had been too harsh ah ! perhaps he had.
Little did he dream when he asked for the
maid that she had gone. Declaring that
she would not stay to hear the anathemas
sure to fall, little Mary Ferris had left only
afew hours after her mistress went away ;
and, at the time the master of Heatherleigb.
called for her, sho was relating again the
instances in connection with the flight of
Miriam to the dwellers of ber father's vine
covered cottage, some three miles from the
HalL
Clarkson went, without a moment's hesi
tation, in search of the girl, whom she
knew to be far enough away. "Howly
mother," she murmured, as she went up
stairs, "defind us in swate marcy! The
masther'll be for the kiilin' av us all in less
an no toime. Oi feel it in mo bones."
Opening the door of Miriam's room she
peeped in cautiously, as if fearing that the
woeful tradition had taken form unto itself
and was bat waiting to slay the first in
truder. Then, remembering the fair,
proud face of its late occupant, Peggy went
over to the bed and knelt for a moment in
prayer, making the sign of the cross as she
did so.
"Oh, me darlint, me swate mauvourneen,
an' it's a towerin' pashun yer faythur'll
be in!"
ITO BE CONTINUED.1!
m
A QUEEN'S THOUGHTS
The "Philosophy of a Princess Koted for
Her Philanthropy.
Forgiveness is almost indifference; who
really loves does not forgive.
A man in love is like an ostrich; he thinks
ho is not seen because be does not see
others.
Maternal love is an instinct, but there are
instincts of Divine origin.
A woman does not become a mother;
sne is one from her birth. A numerous
family satisfies her vocation; it does not
create it,
A household without children is a bell
without a clapper. Tho latent sound would
be beautiful enough were there something
to awaken it.
Jealousy in a lover is a homage; in a hus
band an insult,
Friendship based solely upon gratitude is
like a photograph; in time it fades.
Friendship diminishes when thero is too
much happiness on cither side and too much
misery on the other.
Thero is but one happiness duty. There
is but one consolation work. There is but
one delight the beautiful.
Happiness when at a distance appears so
great as to touch the sky. When it enters
our door it so dwindles that very of ten wo
no longer recognize it
Happiness is like the echo; it answers
but docs not come.
Seek consolation only in immortal things,
in nature and in thought
The power of doing a good action is happi
ness enough.
Misfortune may make us proud; suffer
ing makes us humble.
Wo are always the martyrs of our own
faults.
Great misfortune lends greatness even to
an insignificant person.
There is a sort of instantaneous brother
hood between victims of misfortune.
When you have long been in mourning you
xeei attracted by every black cloak you
meet.
The respect people show you in your mis
fortune diminishes long before you have be
gun to outlive it, and you are irritated at
being treated as before.
One must indeed be unhappy to attempt
suiciae a second time.
Suffering is our most faithful friend. It
often returns. Often it changes its garb
aid even its face, but we soon recognize it
bj its cordial and intimate embrace.
When you are young grief is a tempest
which prostrates you; at mature age it is
simply a north wind which adds a wrinkle
to your brow and one more white hair to
your head.
Suffering is sensitive and clairvoyant
Happiness has firmer nerves, but not so
true an eye.
A beast in pain seeks solitude. Man alone
makes a parade of his misery.
When we have a sorrow which we do not
wish to mention, we apeak of others which
we hid formerly.
Grief is a hot spring; the more it is re
pressed the more it spouts Carmen
Sylva, ia London Life.
A stsdicats of Philadelphia capitalists
has purchased the grspbophoas rights to
all countries outside of the United State
sad Canada for 500,NL
GARDINER'S ISLAND.
A WHdrn of Tang-led Boasty aad la.
drserlbabla Graadear.
Nowhere within one hundred miles
of New York City can such a complete
wilderness be found a wilderness of
tangled loveliness and grandeur as is
found in the vast forests of Gardiner's
Island. The fame of the forests on
this famous old island has gone abroad,
and thousands of people have visited
them this year.
The Gardiner's Island forests occupy
a large portion of the interior of the
island. They are composed chiefly of
gray oaks and gum trees, standing at
such distances apart as to have per
mitted them to grow to great size,
while the srround is covered with fine
sweet grasses. Many of the trees are
heavy with Florida moss and festoons
of poison ivy and wild grape vines,
lending to the landscape an especially
tropical effect At one point in the
center of the forests the paths come
together before' a stile of rails. Here,
in a dark, leafy glade is a directory of
this year's visitors to the forest.
Hundreds upon hundreds of cards are
stuck into the chestnut fence rails and
Bteps everywhere. In some places tho
leaf of a noto book bears the name of a
whole party. In the collection are
names from all corners of tho United
Stntes.
The woods are literally full of game
birds and animals, but hunting them is
not permitted. Passing over a narrow
table land from the shore to enter the
forest a reporter scared up an immense
flock of quail, which whirred a few
rods away and dropped in the grass
only to dislodge another flock of similar
proportions, and a great flock of cooing
wild pigeons broke out of tho edge of
the forest as he entered. Midway in
the forest are the blackberry swamps,
the resort of reed birds, bobolinks, and
blacksnakes. The latter are as thick
as hail there, but the island colonists
say they will not hurt any one. al
though last year a large blacksnake
gave one of tho farm hands a severe
flogging. Further on the tree limbs
are piled high in places with dead
sticks and leaves, and great gray birds
are circling high in the air overhead,
crying wildly. They are fishhawks.
The stick piles are their nests in the
trees. Gardiner's Island is one of the
breeding spots for tho osprey on the
North Atlantic coast, because the Gar
diners would never allow their nests
to be pillaged. Tho original Gardiner
directed that all game be protected
from ruthless invaders, and it has been.
Fat woodcock and lazy rabbits barely
rolled out of the reporter's way. A
raccoon was sighted, then a wild cat,
and finally a deer.
Nearly all of the eleven proprietors
of this magnificent entailed estate have
been buried on the hill overlooking the
manor. The first one. Lord Liou
Gardiner, was interred atEasthampton
on Long Island. John Lyon Gardiner,
the present proprietor of the island
and manor, who is said by his depend
ents to possess all the virtues of his
ten predecessors, has made an inter
esting addition to the Easthampton
cemetery, in the recumbent figure of
his remote ancestor. The Knight, in
complete armor, lies on a sarcophagus
in a Gothic marble chapel surrounded
by a low iron fence. It was designed
by James Renwick, the architect ol
Grace Church and of St Patrick's Ca
thedral. On the sarcophagus is in
scribed in Old English:
"Lion Gardiner, an officer of ye English Army
and an engineer and Master of Works and Forti
fications in ye Leaguers of ye Prince of Orangt
in ye Low Countries. In 1635 he came to New-
England in ye service of a Company of Lord!
and Gentlemen. He builded and commanded ye
Saybrook Fort After completing his term ol
service there, he moed in 163U to his Island, ot
which he was sole owner and ruler. Born in
1599, he died In this town in 1G63, venerated and
honoured."
A red cedar bar on two posts of the
same material marked Lion Gardiner's
grave for over two hundred years, un
til the present monument was erected.
Before this work was done, as there
was some doubt as to whether the first
proprietor of the island was buried
there, the grave was opened. Seven
feet below the surface the workmen
found a layer of stone, beneath which
was a skeleton nearly perfect in pres
ervation. A physician examined it and
found it to bo a man's frame. The
skull was white and hard, the jaws
square, the teeth good, locks of brown
hair were found, together with five of
tho coffin nails and a bit of cedar wood.
These relics established the fact that
the grave was that of the first lord of
the manor. They were put back.
covered with cement and stones, and
the monument was raised to his mem
ory. N. Y. Tribune.
Will Carleton's Ready Answer.
A story of Will Carleton which shows
the popular poet's aptness for making
a ready answer. He was recently the
invited guest at a public dinner of jolly
book-sellers and stationers. Upon ris
ing to recite one of his poems he was
exceedingly annoyed by the loud talk
ing and laughing of a group at one end
of the table who had indulged too
freely in the beverages served. Seeing
that a steady glance did not prevail
the poet said: "You will pardon me if
I wait; it would scarcely be polite for
me to recite while those gentlemen
over there are talking." At this the
most boisterous of the group shouted
across the table: "Go ahead, old fel
low, we're going 'over the hills to the
poor-house.'" Quick as a flash the
poet answered his interrupter with:
Yes, and to the asylum, too." The
diners shouted at the neat rejoinder,
the boisterous member was crushed,
and the poet proceeded to the renderinc
of one of his best poems. W. J. Bok,
ia Boston Journal.
The mouth of Calumet river,
emptying into Lake Michigan, aafl
moved east 2,800 fet sinos 1836.
FARM AND FIRESIDE.
Poultry at certain seasons
sometimes over-stimulated "by high
feeding to make them lay. It must bo
remembered that fowls can be injured
in this way.
If a fruit tree is not bearing as it
should, stir the soil well and apply a
dressing of rotten manuro. If, in a
few days after, a' ..dressin of wood
ashes can be put on it will make it all
j the better. Prune well, especially
when cutting out all the old, diseased
wood.
Roasted oysters: Take oysters ia
the shell, wash the shells clean and
lay them on hot coals. When they
are done they will open, when the up
per shell can be removed. Serve the
oysters in the loose shell, with -a little
melted butter poured over each. Bosr
ton Herald.
Sandwich Dressing: One-half pound
of butter, two tablespoonfuls of mixed
mustard, three tablcspoonfnls of salad
oil, a little red or white pepper, a little
salt, yelk of one egg; rub the butter to
a cream, add the other ingredients,
and mix thoroughly, set away to cool,
spread the bread with this mixture and
put in tho ham chopped fine.'
Lawns, says the Country Gentle
man, should be cut frequently, but not
so ahort as to deprive the grass plants
of their leaves and vigor. As a gen
eral rule, the grass should never be
sheared nearer than two inches of the
ground. A longer growth than is
necessary during the summer should
be permitted after the middle of au
tumn to serve as winter protection.
It is well for the farmer to study
the character of the weeds that grow
upon his farm, for without a knowledge
of their habits he can not successfully
fight them. Each section of country
has its weeds which are injurious to
farm crops, and these weeds commonly
differ in different localities, though,
some of them appear to be common to
all. In weed destruction there is need
of associated effort in every community
in order to accomplish any thing.
Corn is the best material with
which to fill the silo, and it should ba
put in when the ears begin to glaze.
Some farmers pick the prime ears, and
ensilage the remainder. The more
ears that are left, the better, of course,
will be the ensilage. The silo need
not bo filled in a hurry. It is better to
put iu a layer of about two and a half
feet and then let it ferment till the
temperature rises to about 130 degs.,
and then add another layer, and so on.
till the silo is full. In this way extra
expense for help is avoided. Dairy
World.
ASHES AS MANURE.
A Good Fertiliser When Applied la
u
lied QaantUhM.
It has been abundantly demonstrated
by analysis and experience that ashes
of mineral coal are practically of no
value as fertilizers, although the use
of these in finely sifted condition is
frequently represented as beneficiaL
In such cases the benefits are due to
the mechanical changes wrought on
soils of a texture that required soma
such addition. It must be added, how
ever, that this mechanical action of
coal ashes is, in some soils, injurious.
With the ashes of wood the case is
quite different, these being classed
among the most valuable of fertilizers.
The valuable ingredients of wood
ashes are potash lime and phosphoric
acid, potash leading in importance,
according to the popular opinion. It
is, however, sometimes difficult to de
cide to which of these ingredients the
useful effect exerted by wood ashes is
due, depending, as it does, on tho
amount of each that may have existed
in the soil as plant food previous to the
application of the ashes, for lime and
phosphoric acid are as essential to
plant growth as is potash.
The ash remaining from the combus
tion of wood and plants is very small
in volume and weight compared with
the amount of vegetable matter it rep
resents, but it has been conclusively
demonstrated that a plant can not
grow in the absence of the substances
found in its ash. The ashes of plants
are, therefore, exceedingly valuable
agents in their own reproduction, for,
although they are not all identical in
their composition, the ash of each
class of plant differing in some re
spects from that of others, yet there is
enough similarity existing in all to
make their ashes generally useful. As
they are among the most useful, so,
where wood is used for fuel they may
be pronounced among the most econom
ical manures, and none should be
wasted, but all be saved and applied to
the land. Leached ashes, though less
valuable, contain most of their original
elements, except a loss in their potash
and soda They may also be advan
tageously applied, and will improve all
soils not already saturated with taa
principles they contain.
In general it may be said that a
dressing of from twenty to forty
bushels of wood ashes will be beneficial
on all soils reduced by cropping, never
ertheless a continued yearly applica
tion of ashes without a corresponding
use of vegetable or barnyard manure
would eventually be injurious. For
renovating orchards and for all plants
having a woody structure ashes will
be found useful. Asa rule ashes will
be found most profitable on soils dei
cient ia potash and for crops that ex
haust the land of this ingredient
The relative proportions of the alka
lies in the composition of the ash of a
number of the ordinary crops is con
cisely stated by Johnson as follows:
Cereals (grain), SO; Legumes (ker
nels). 44; root crops (roots), CO;
fframes in flower, 33. The above may
serve to indicate in some measure the
crops to which ashes may be mosV
profitably applied. N. T. World.
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