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THE PRAIRIE EARMER.
The swallow socks the grove where ins, it saw the sun . bright gleam, ,
1 be salmon leaps the torrent's fall to roach its native stream '
A thousand leagues the wild goose tiles on tireless wings o'orhead,
Straight as an arrow to the bleak, bare North where it was bred
Bo in the spring my faithful heart, holding all else In scorn
Turns back to old New England, and the home where I waa born.
Though b»e I've ,cast my lot for lifo. and bere I must remain
nil death shall plough dm underneath like stubble on the plain
Make not my grave in this strange land, but place me, if you will,
Within my father s burial lot upon the wind-swept bill,
Where I may watch the mountains glow, and ocean break in foam
And see in spring the orchard bloom round my New England home
—Eugene Barry. • '
I THE WRONG MISS SHURTLEfE. 1
«^r\ BALLY Gifford was not at ail
Jr\\ to blame for it. Anybody might
"■^ have made the same mistake.
GlfTord was short and fat and new to
the big woods. He had been in camp
a weefc and had gpeni i;m>m. of the
time lying in a hammock and reading
a novel while the Other men tramped
tl.e trails and rowed eight or ten miles
through Eagle Creek to Virgin or Lake
Julia. Everybody said that Gifford
was too Tat and lazy ever to make a
But that was before' Miss Shurtleff
and her mother came to tin? cam)).
They had a log cabin next to the big
cook shack, and it was uunounced that
Mr. Shurtleff would come up to join
them later. The young woman was
tall and athletic looking, full of life,
and eager to see and to do all there
was to be seen or done within twenty
miles of Big Lake.
Perhaps it was intentional —at any
rate Gifford got mixed up on the in
troductions. But that was nothing
against him. Anybody might easily
have made the same mistake.
Gifford fell desperately in love with
the younger of the two women at first
sight. Ami his new love transformed
him. lie became all at once the most
enthusiastic oarsman and woodtrainp
er in the party. It made a hero of
him. WlTat would have terrified him
before he now gladly undertook.
one evening when everybody In
camp was sitting under the birch trees
watching the sunset, a curious animal
as large as a small dog ran shambling
down in front of the shack and tried
to hide under a pile of logs. Gifford
and (iifford's Irish terrier, both entire
ly new to the woods, were up and af
ter it in a minute.
"Oh, what in the world is it?" cried
Miss Shurtleff. "Do you suppose it is
Gifford would show her he knew not
the meaning of fear. He ran directly
towards the beast, which, badly fright
ened as it was, made but poor progress
over the sand.
Gifford's dog was even before him.
It attacked the animal with open
month. But it made but one bite and
then began to roll over and over, yelp
ing with agony. "Look out," called
one of the guides. "It's a porky hog.
Better not touch it."
But with Miss Shurtleff looking on
Gifford would have tackled a raging
lion. He raised a club he had picked
up from the ground in his right hand,
and with the other grasped the beast
by the back. But, like the dog, he did
not keep his hold. Ills hand felt as
if it were full of red hot needles, and
from his heroic lips came a groan of
But even that was worth while, for
his sufferings called such er.pressions
of tender sympathy from the red lips
©f his divinity that Gifford would glad
ly have embraced another porcupine.
Tommy, the guide, pulled barbed quils
out of Gifford, who bore the pain like
a Spartan, and then performed a simi
lar operation on the dog, which for the
remainder of its stay in the woods ab
solutely refused to go within reaching
distance of anything that had life.
Doubtless Gifford would have dis
covered his mistake earlier if the two
women had not insisted in always re
maining together. Doubtless also there
was a conspiracy to keep him in ig
norance of his mistake, though no one
believes that either Miss or Mrs.
Shurtleff was a party to it. And the
fact that, the two women called each
other by their first names—Anne and
Julia—prevented his making the dis
covery in that way.
With his left hand done up in a
bandage to soothe the pain of the por
cupine quills, Gifford became more
than ever the slave of the young wom
an. She, on her part, was kind enough
to him, though she seemed anxious
that he should pay attention to tin
older lady rather than to her. And
Gifford obeyed her commands and
waited on the ancient person assidu
ously. Once the old lady announced
that she would like to drink some
ndlk, fresh and warm from the milk
ing, and Gifford, at a look from Miss
Shurtleff, volunteered to get up every
morning at four o'clock, when Tommy
milked, and get the milk for her. That
was heroic, for Gifford liked better
than most men to lie abed late in the
Every day, when he could persuade
them to go, Gifford took the two
women out rowing or fishing or explor
ing. Before they came to camp be
bad boon too lazy to go out on the
water unless Tommy pushed the boat,
but now ho was always ready to row
a boat containing both Miss Shurtlefl
and her mother any number of weary
miles, while Tommy, with a smile hid
den under his brown mustache, came
skimming along behind, with nothing
but the lunch basket in his skiff.
When you consider that Gifford's
arms were short and thick, that his
wind was bad and his hands tender,
and that he had never done any row-
Ing before that summer, you may be
gin to realize the power of love. Big
blood blisters came on the palms of
Clifford's pudgy hands, and he suffered
almost continually from pains in his
back and legs, but not for n moment
did he ever think of giving up the bat
tle. Miss Shurtleff expressed an ad
miration for water lilies; Gifford wad
ed out in ten inches of water and two
feet of mud to get them, greatly to
the damage of bis footgear and trou
sers. Miss Shurtleff casually remarked
that the great hairy woodpecker must
be a curious looking bird: Gifford, fai
and round, climbed a forty-foot pine
stump, an/I took a young bird out of
its nest to show her. Incidentally the
stump broke ns he wns coming down
and Gifford fell into the creek. For
tunately the creek bottom was good
The climax came on a Saturday.
Tommy, the guide, precipitated mat
ters the night before.
"Mr. Shurtleff is coming Sunday
morning," he said.
Gifford started as if he had been
shot. In the more than two weeks
which had passed since Miss Shurt
leiT come to the camp, he had never
once had an opportunity to speak with
her alone. And now her father was
coining. For some reason Gifford felt
much afraid of Mr. Shurtleff, though
lie bad never seen him. He was anx
ious to reach some sort of an under
standing with the daughter before the
old man put In his appearance. Only
one day remained in which to make
the attempt, (iifford's back ached and
his arms were sore; his hands were
one mass of blisters and his legs
pained him at every Step. But he was
"What do you say to a little row
down to .Big Dog lake?" he asked air
ily that Friday evening after supper.
Big Dog lake was a good twelve miles
to the south. Altogether the trip meant
a row of twenty-five miles.
"I'd like to go," said Miss Shurtleff,
"but it's a terribly long row."
"Not at all." said Gifford, and Tom
my, the guide, retired to the porch
and laughed noiselessly, with one
hand over his mouth.
"I'll take you in my boat," said Gif
ford, desperately, "and "
"No," interrupted the young wom
an, "I think we'd betfer go together.
We can both go in Tommy's boat and
you can "
"Not at all," said Gifford, "I will
row you both, of course, If you prefer
to go together."
They started at five o'clock in the
morning. Gifford felt sure he should
faint before they covered [he first five
miles. But he gritted his teeth and
kept on, though every stroke was
agony. lie had laid out his plan of
campaign. He would wall until they
landed for luncheon, and then make an
opportunity to speak to the young
Luncheon time came. Gifford ate al
most nothing. When they had fin
ished their coffee he started to walk
back into the woods. Presently there
came the sound of a cry.
"Come here, quick." Gifford was
calling. Tommy, the guide, must have
been posted beforehand. At any rate,
he did not move. But the young wom
an was up in an instant, running back
tiirougn the wood's trail as lightly as
a fawn. The old party sat still on
her cushion —which was as Gifford
Gifford wasted no time.
"Miss Shurtlcff," be began abruptly,'
•'I love you and I made this chance
to tell you so."
"What?" said the startled young I
"Miss Shurtleff. I love you," again
declared the red-faced Gilford. And
then Miss Shurtleffs face broke Into a
"Why, my dear man." she said, "I
am Mrs. Shurtleff. Julia, there on the
bank, Is my step-daughter, and the
only Miss Shurtleff I know of."
Poor Clifford's face was purple.
"You see, my husband Is thirty-five
years older than I am. But I'm not ;
angry with you. In fact, you've paid
me a great compliment. But I thought
you knew nil the time."
Mrs. Shurtleff wanted her step- ;
daughter to help her row to camp in
Tommy's boat, but Glfford would not
listen to It. lie was game to the end.
-»c left the camp that night and went
back to Milwaukee. He didn't care to I
wait and meet the aged Mr. Shurtleff.
| A SUMMER'S "PLEASURING." I
Mary Makepeace sat. down in her
favorite chair In her own room, and
threw her bead back with a long sigh.
"No words can tell how glad I am that
I've made my last visit for the sum
mer," she said. "Now I shall have
some peace, not to mention pleasure."
"My dear." said her mother, re
"I mean it," returned Mary. -'Of
course I like change of scene, but I
am tired of adapting my whole life to
others, as I am expected to do as a
"My dear!" said her mother again. '■
"Think bow kind everybody has been
"They meant to —they were kind,"
Mary said, wearily, "yet I feel as if I
bad barely escaped with my life, and
you will admit that Is not Just the
right kind of after-feeling.
"Let me tell you, mother," Mary con- i
tinued. "At the Fosters' I changed my
hours for rising, for retiring and for
eating my meals. At the Lanes' 1 I
changed father's politics—for of course
I haven't any of my own—to please
Mr. Lane, and I had all 1 could do to
keep from changing my religion to!
plense Mrs. Lane.
"At the Jenkins' I changed all my
views about what constitutes diversion
to suit the family In general. At the
Pages' I entirely changed my point of
view concerning music and books. And
at the Kevins', where I was 111, I
changed my doctor, and took stuff
which I felt sure would poison me, just |
to please them.
''I ate cheese, which I abhor, and
gave up fruit, which 1 like, at the J
(risks'. I slept with closed windows
at (Jroat-Aunt Maria's because she Is j
afraid of a breath of air, and drank j
twenty-one pints of hot water the four
days I was at Cousin Thomas' 'to flush
"No,'.' said Mary, in a firm voice. "1
pay no more visits for months to come.
Home-keeping youth may have homely
wits, but if I go about much more I
shall not have any wits at all." —
Ha I lad of Fashions.
Where are the fashions of yesterday—
Garments our elders sometime wore?
Styles that, smiling, "We now" survey
in many a magazine of yore.
Where are those garbs ourselves for
And scornfully dropped beside the way?
Knocking, in truth, at To-morrow's
There are the fashions of Yesterday!
Peg-top trousers that long held sway,
Casing the legs of far-hack beaux,
Of tailors' gooses were late the lay
(Ib it geese, or gooses, who knows,
Skirts that flared over dainty toes
Flare again o'er the toes of May!
So chic a damsel you'd scarce suppose j
Would wear the fashions of yesterday!
And points, outre, are again au fait!
(Ring the knell of the hull-dog last.)
And thicker and thicker come tripping
Those high French heels of the ;
And punctured sleeves are inflating
And laces slip from retirement gray.
And pokes and bonnets their shadows
Hail to the fashions of yesterday!
Man mid maiden, who'd scorn, egad,
rl mugs in the slightest sense passe,
This very moment, dear hearts, you're
Simply in fashions of yesterday!
—Edwin L. Babin in Puck.
Firm <''nmp K'niblom.
So far as known, the first campaign
emblem was a finger ring of copper.
It was worn by the adherents of John
Qulncy Adams in 1825, when he ran ''
for President, and was Inscribed, "John
Qulncy Adams, 1825." Tintypes and
medallions were among the Insignia of
the 1800 campaign. i
Canada's New Pacific I toad.
The new railroad through Canada to
the Pacific coast will pass through |
vast regions never heretofore explor
— ■ — .
* A Little Lesson g
4 In Patriotism k
"Let our object be our country, our
whole country, and nothing but our
Gen. Winfleld Scott has become :o
well known as a very old man, prob
ably on account of his portrait having
been taken when
lie had reached an
advanced ago, an I
that most of uh ,
Beera to forgot that
It was in youth
rather than In bis
old age thai he p in
formed th si> ser
vie. for his coun
try which <livi Lii-
Bhed him nbov«
wmriEi.D Ro,r. Bcott Nvas Xi " a
y ung tnnn when in
; the war of iml 1 he direel d at Qui ens
town, on the Niagara River, n strie*
of engagements in which were blend
ed, aecordii g to one hlsto lan, i c tm st
perfect plan of arrangements, iho m >-t
undaunti d i oui ag •, the raosi disnH
trons defeat and the mosl triumphant
The battle of Lundy's Lane brought
Scott into action again. Although I •
was wounded early in the eu. d c vet,
he fought on. gallantly charging the
enemy as they advanced.
War after war followed in the a
reer of the soldier until finally the
, Mexican war brought to him his (Teat-
I est glory. It was one of the most pic
: turesque campaigns of history, daring
i In conception and exeution.
Despite his years, Gen. Bcoti served
in the Civil War until be was no long
er able to bear the hardships of the
camp and the He'd. Few men can
show such a long record of Bervlce for
tlieir country as can he. lie served
from 1812 until November. 1801.
His entire life was devoted to tho
cause and the welfare of the United
States. In defense against foreign in
vaders, In advances Into Iho enemy's
country, in protection of the frontiers,
in the struggle to preserve the Union,
Winfleld Scott was ever ready to do
all In bis power for the sake of the
country he loved.- Chicago Journal.
CRATER OF VESUVIUS.
View l.uoUinu Directly Down Into Hie
Great Seething Cone.
The Illustration gives a view of th«
crater of Vesuvius looking directly
into Its seething core. Its recent erup
tion brings this great volcano Into the
public view again and recalls the fact
that since the overwhelming of Pom
peii, A. I). 7!t, there have been sixty
tremendous convulsions of the natural
LOOKING INTO VESUVIUS' (HAT 11. j
monster. These upheavals have taken
place with remarkable regularity, at
intervals averaging thirty years. In
spite of the well understood habit of
the peak to cause widespread destruc
tion on these tumultuous occasions,
there Is such a fascination aboiit tin
region that during the periods of quiet
many persons are attracted to the base
of the mountain, and others, still more
venturesome, build houses upon the
sides of the smoking wonder.
City Without Tuxes,
In the Black Forest of Germany Is
toe little city of Freudenstadt, with
about seven thousand Inhabitants, a
busy Industrial place with iron and
chemical works of some Importance,
Small as it is, Freiideh-t.ult Is a
full-fledged city, with a mayor, alder
men, half a dozen policemen and a
fire engine. The public business is con
ducted on an economical basis, and
the total expenses do not exceed twen
ty-four thousand dollars in a year.
Freudenstadt has the distinction of
being the only city In Germany^ an I
perhaps In the world, which does not
tax the citizens a shilling for munici
pal expenses. The yearly net revenue
from the public property covers all the
This property consists of about six
thousand acres of tine forest, which',
being managed under the best forestry
methods, Is a permanent source of in
come. One or more trees are planted
for every one that Is cut down. No
tree Is cut till it can yield the maxi
After deducting nli the expenses of
the Industry the annual profit to the!
acre Is about five dollars.
Some men believe in lon< engiige
ments, but the average girl Is v.... aj :
to take chances on any kind.
HoMoti Hi own Itreud.
Mix together a cup each of granara
flour, wheat flour and common] and
a teaspoonful of salt. Warm a cup of
milk to blood heat, dissolve in It a
■cant teaspoonful of baking Boda and
stir in n teacupful of New Oilcans mo*
lasses. Make a bole in the middle of
the meal and (lour, pour in a half pint
of bollng water, then add the warm
milk and molasses. Beat nil very
hard and turn Into a greased mold
with a tightly fitting top. Steam In an
outer Vessel of boiling water for thrcM
boon. Take out of the water, turn
out the bread and set in the oven for
live minutes before serving.
l'uiiipki . Dodgci •«
Mix one tea onful of suit In one
hnlf cupful of continual, and - aid it
ill* just enough boning water in
(lumpen; then add one-half cupful «.<;
stewed pumpkin; 01 0 tnbleHpboaful of
lard or good drippings, one cupful ol
buttermilk, one-half trnspoonful of
soda. Stir well together and add about
n cupful of cornmeal, enough to form
■It Into thick oblong cake -. one table
spoonful of dough In each] Bake iv
hot oven twenty-live minutes. Servo
with chocolate or cocoa.
Take the medlars when <juito rip(\
wash them, and put Into .-i preserving
pan with just sufficient water to cover.
Let them simmer very slowly till they
become pulp. Pass through a Jelly
bag, but do not press the pulp through.
To every pint of liquor add one pound
of loaf sugar, bring to the boll, .ml
boll for twenty minutes, or until quito
clear, and it will Jelly.
Two eggs, a teaspoonful of baking
powder, two and one-half ounces or
castor sugar, two and one-half ounces
of butter, four ounces of flour, a little
grated lemon rind. Cream butter ami
sugar together, add grated lemon rind,
beat the eggs thoroughly, ndd by de
grees sifted flour; also baking pow
der. Bake in a moderate over forty
Nock Mince Pie.
Soak a cup of breadcrumbs In a cup
of boiling water until very soft. Add
a cup of sugar, one .of raisins, a half
cup of currants, a half-cup, each, of
molasses and vinegar, two tablespoon
fills of butter and a tea spoonful of
cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg, mixed.
Tut Into a saucepan and cook until
Cut the crust from bread and (oast
each slice to a golden brown, then dip
In hot salted milk. Pack hi a dec))
dish, cover with a mixture of two
parts cream to one park milk, to which
a pinch of soda has been added, Sprin-
I kle each Slice Of toast lightly with salt
and hits of butter. Set in the oven
and bake for ten or fifteen minutes,
Snow Eggs and Stewed Fruit.
This la a delicious dish for hot
weather. Divide the whites from the
yolkS of three eggs, and whisk tho
former to a very stiff froth with :i
teaspoonful of castor Bugar, Put
rather more than a pint of milk,
sweetened to taste, in a stewpari, and
when ii bolls drop in the whit ! of
egg in dessertspoonfuls.
801 l one summer squash until ten
der, thirty to forty minutes; drain it
very dry and press it through a strain
er; add to it two eggs well beaten, one
fourth cupful sugar and four table
spoonfuls of milk; flavor with lemon
rind or vanilla; line a pie dish with.
a good plain paste, pour In the cus
tard and bake thirty minutes.
Six hard boiled eggs, a small bunch
of parsley cut tine, or one-half tea
spoonful celery seed; chop the whites
and yolks separately, then mix with
this dressing: Yolk of one egg; stir in
Oil till It is thick; add one-half tea
spoonful of dry mustard, one teaspoon
ful vinegar, little salt.
One teaspoonful of Bi sii mustard,
two teaspoonfula of Hour, one tea
spoonful of sugar, one-quarter tea
spoonful of salt. Mix thoroughly: add
enough boiling water 1,, a thick mix
ture, then enough vinegar to thin it to
the right consistency for table use.
Beef Soil p.
Eljrlit pounds beef boll live hour*,
five onions, live carrots, three p ta
toes, one quart of tomatoes, two tur
nips, one teaspoonful thyme, cinnamon
and cloves, one teaßpbonful of celery
seed, salt and pepper. Boil vegetablei
Take any kiud of cold meat and
chop tine with a little cold ham or salt
pork; mix in one or two eg^'S and a lit
tle butter, and season with salt and
pepper; with this, mix bread or rusk
crumb*, moisten a very little and bake
like a pudding.