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HOME READING.
TUE ENGINEER'S RIVAL.
UY ALFRED B. COOl'KR.
"Yes, sir. That ok] shuntin' euginc
that's puffin:' an* snortin', like a broken
winded old horse, could tell a tale, if it
wasn't so short o' breath. That's the
very engine old John Wright used to
?i ivc when I was his stoker. Let meseo
?I've, been drivin* three year?aye, it'll
bo ten year come next September. He
wasufine flgureof a man, was John. He
stood six foot one an'a half in his stock -
in's, an' was broad in the shoulders,
"too. In Iiis greasy peaked cap, an' oily
blue jacket, he looked a giant. Ho was a
queer 'un. I used to tell him he needed
a wife to look after him. Ha! Ha! He
always made his tea wi' water out o'
th' eng ue boiler, an' when I laughed at
him, he'd slap me on the back, an' say:
'What's good for the horse is good for
tho rider, Harry.' He was a rare old
sort."
"Was he am old man?"
"Oh, : o; he'd be forty-odd, I suppose,
bul i was a young n;am of ?3, tur'he
i -1 me like, to me. As I've said, he
\\:;s a bachelor, an', as far as I knew,
likely t<> remain one. There wasn't
much of the ladies* man about John.
] tut si ill aters run deep, they say, an'
John Wright had his little secret.
"About three mile out o' town, I used
to notice" that he whistled three times,
and always locked across a couple o'
fields, a bit farther on, as if he wero
lookin' for somethinV I asked him once
cr twice what it. was, but he edged me
off, an' changed the subject, so 1 didn't
press it. But I kept my eyes open.
"It was early winter when I first went
on to stoke for .lohn, an", of course, bein'
u : oc<ls train, it was generally gettin'on
for eight o'clock at night when we
] sed this particTar spot, bound for
Bamham, 50 mile away. It's 'up bank,'
as 1 daresay you know, from here to
1. ogl ri Ige, eight mile up the line, cn'
we never got any great speed on until
we'd passed that length, especkiUj'
when we'd a heavy freight- But all I
could make or.t for some mon.ths was
the dim outline of a cottage, that had
an 'upstairs' window with a red blind.
The cottage lay a couple o' fields away.
"What made me notice the red blind was
that, as we ] assed, tbse'window was al?
ways suddenly lighted up,
"Aye, on' so was John Wright's face
soon as ever he saw it. Such a smile! ?
an' he had a kind face, hud old John?
an' then he'd secfn lost a bit, as if he
were thinkin' o' somethin' as was good
to think about.
"I couldn't make it out, for you see I
looked on Jchn as a musty, crusty old
bachelor, for all he were such a good
sort. But the light nights let the secret
out. It were no use of his kecpin' his
tongue tied then; for there, in th'little
front garden, across them two little
fields, was a pink frock, an'a sun-bon?
net, an'little bund llutterin' a bit of a
Jiaukyehief as we passed?every night,
as true as the clock.
'T chaffed John rarely about it, first
time I saw it, an' he blushed?he did,
indeed, sir! Though his face was grimy
on the top. and eoppercolor under that,
I'll swear he blushed. But he looked
pleased an' proud, for, by that time,
we'd grown such thick friends, that I'm
Hire he didn't mind me knowin'.
"Then, bit by bit* it all came out.
John and her father, who used to be
pointsman at Chubb Junction, half a
mile farther up the line than the cot?
tage, had been lads together. John had
gone up for a 'camp' every Sunday for
many a year. He'd known Mary Math
era sh ? was bom, an' when sne
was a little lass he'd r.urscd heron his
kcee, an' told her he'd wait for her. I
dare say he meant it in fun at the time,
but, as she grew up, he knew he liked to
be where she was better than anywhere
clsre in the world. That's how he put it,
sir. Then Tom Mathers, her father, fell
ill, an' I learnt atftertwards,un'Igussed
even then, that John Wright made his
wagT.= keep four instead of one. Mary's
fath< r never worked again. He was cn
his back for IS months, an' then he died.
"An* then, you may be sure, John was
a father to the fafherl ?ss, an' a husband
to the wiidow?as far as Jookin' after
'cm went, o.t any rate?only he wanted
to he a husband to the daughter, Mary.
Of course, I learnt this bit by bit, an' I
cn::'t help fillin' in things as come to \
my ears years after, for John was never |
1he man to blow his own trumpet. Ha,
ha! I!o was well content wi' the steam
whistle?especially when passin* I^tw'l
way cottage. Poor John!
"Weil, to cut a long story short, Mary
semed to make no objection. Why J
should she? She'd never met anybody j
t-'he liked better, an'a finer fellow than
John Wright never walked! He got her I
to promise to light the lamp in the room )
wi' the red blind, on dark nights, as he
passed on his engine, an* to give him a
wave of her hand cn light nights, for he
raid it was somthin' to be goin'en with,
like; he'd a touch o' sentiment in him,
had John, aye,he had that!
"One Saturday night he says: 'Harry,
you'd bolter walk o'er wi' me to-mor?
row."
" 'Walk o'erwi' ycu ,'Iaiys; 'where?'
" 'Why. 11 Mrs. Mathers", to be sure.
J'd like you to know my Mary. An'then
you can tell me what you think of my
sweetheart.' An' as hesald it that sweet,
far--?:? look came in his face, an' I knew
he loved that lass as few lasses are
Joved.
"Well, I went; nn' I wished at the
time J'd stayed away. It was love at
first sight wi' me. an' I felt I should
rever.nevt r be the same again. God for
pi' me! but after that Sunday I felt at
times I hated John Wright. When she
stood at the stile, at the crossing mid?
way bet v. ecn the cottcge an' the signal
box?as she did every evenin' from the
very d ly I went wi' John?an' waved
(her hard to him, bashful-like, an' he
threw her e. clumsy kiss, I felt I could
ho' knocked him off the engine.
"I fought again' it?an', you must
understand, T didn't feel -that way all
the time, for we were good friends, on'
so ore would hare seen a difference;
tut when he lalicod of her. in his quiet
<\ny?of bein' wed, an' such-like?it
ivas. like knives in me.
"Then he pressed me to go again an'
?pend a Sunday at tho cottage. I put
him off, but ho wouldn't take'no' for an
answer. So, whether for fear of hurtin'
his feclin's, or because I couldn't keep
away, I can't say, but I yielded, an'
went. After that I went several times,
an' each time I got deeper an' deeper
I n In', aj; it h .Trim's sweetheart, I've.. *>n'
A lucky accident
for Rev. J. M. Stevenson, Hawthorne, N. J., who
writes: " By rare accident 1 was made acquainted
with Dr. Deant's Dys?
pepsia Pills. They act
gently and like a charm,
correcting the secretions
and preventing constipa?
tion. I subscribe myself
your friend, as your piils
are welcome friends to
me"
Kvery one of the thou?
sands of testimonials to
the virtue of Dr. Deane's Dyspepsia Pill? is
genuine. They cure ?white wrapper if constipated,
yellow if bowels are loose. Send for a free sample.
DR. J. A. VLAXL (0., &u?sic?, N. Y,
what "seemed" wbrsepl couldn't help
knowin' thai Mary was troubled the
same way. But I will say this, I never
tried to make Marv love me, an' never a
word of love passed bet-ween us, but,
sometimes, I thought I saw trouble in
John's eyes, an' then I'd vow to myself
to go no more.
"Often enougfh I'd ba on th' front o'
th' engine, or on th' tender, when we
passed the stile that summer, an' do ns
I would, I couldn't help but look to
catch her eye. Au' I never missed,
though she waved her hand.took! John.
"One evenin', in the early autumn of
that year, we were goin' at as good n
speed as the Incline would let us, an'
just gettin' towards the cottage. John
bud sent me round tohe' front o' th'en?
gine with my oil-can, an' I couldn't help
look in' ahead to see if Mary was stand
in* woitin' at the stile. Yes, she was
there as usual, right in front of us, for
the line euxved to the right just at the
ptile. an' was hidden from view behind
a little wood. I coukfsee her print dress,
an' the same white linen bonnet she
wore when I first saw her in the garden
on that spring evenin'. Oh, how my
heart went out to her, an' how that old
wicked feelin' towards John rushed
through me, an' made my nevres tingle
from head to foot.
"Mary had her bock towards ns?a
very unusual thing?an' I remember
wonderin' why. Then tho usual three
whistles sounded, short an' sharp. She
turned instantly, an' threw up her
hands like one demented. We went
thuuderin' down to the crossln' where
she stood* an' I saw her eyes starin'at
no, like coals of fire set in a faec as
white as chalk. She fascinated me,
"Just then old John shut off steam,
an' I heard him doin' a thing he'd never
done afore?reversin.' the engine! All
of a sudden Mary seemed to wake up,
an' find a horrible dream true, for I
heard, above the roar of the train, the
grindm' of the rails, and the shriek of
the brakes, that had been jammed hard
down?1 heard one piercing scream. It
was a word?my naine?'Harry!'
"Of course all this happened in a
breathless second or two. Half a life?
time is sometimes squeezed into half a
minute, sir. I took my eyes from
Mary's face as we passed her, standin'
ai if turned to stone, an' I looked ahead.
Heavens! what a sight! Hearin' down
on us at a great rate of speed was an
engine an' tender?a runaway! It
was coniln' down the bank, tender first,
an' we were timed to meet at the junc?
tion. I saw it all in a fiash. The train
was jumpin' iike a buckln* horse, am',
with my body all of a tremble, I'd as
much as I could do to get back to the
foot plate.
"There stood John Wright, of course.
I seemed to sec him, and naught else.
He'd done all man. could do, an' was
s tarn din' stock-still, with one hand on
the lever. But it wasn't his stillness
that made the tears start to my eyes.
It was the look on his face. It mode
rnc nearly forget the doom to which we
were rushin'. I can't describe it. It
was the look of a man who has nothing
left to live for?whose hope had been
suddenly wiped clean out forever.
"The rns?uit he saw me his face
changed. He sprang towards me, an',
seizin' me by the arm with a grip of
steel, spoke in a hoarse whisper, that
could be heard above everything:
'Jump off, my lad?you've time?you
can do it. Jump off!?for her sake
she loves thee?for her sake. Harry?
for heaven's sake!'
"I said: 'Nay, John.'
"'Quick,' he says. 'Harry! Harry!
Jump for your Mary's sake!'
"I swung one leg otf the engine?life
was dear?an' prepared for a spring
into the grass. Then a great surgin'
love for this man came over me, an' I
turned sudden-like, an' took him by
the hand, an' I says: 'John, we'll stick
together, an' die togethei?if it's God's
will?for her sake.' An' he just gave me
that sweet look, an' stepped in front of
me, as if to put his great frame be?
twixt me an' death, an' there came a
crash as if heaven an' earth had met,
an' I seemed to roll over an' over, on'
then it felt as if the whole earth had
risen xip an' smitten me?an' I knew no
more.
"I woke from a troubled dream that
seemed to have lasted a lifetime, an'
opened my eyes, half conscious, an' not
sure but that I was still dreamin*. Then
I slipped off again, an' I remember
thinldn' that the sweet eyes that
mine had seemed to meet, were the
eyes of my guardian angel. An' they
were, sir?for, when I opened my eyes
again, all the past came back to me with
the tearful face of Mary Mathers.
"I put ray hand out on the counter?
pane, an' she put hers gently on top of
it. An', believe me, sir, that's the only
way I ever 'popped the question.' We'd
been through too much together to
need much fuss.
" 'Where is he?' I framed my lips to
say. I don't know whether she heard,
but she understood, for she put her
hand into her bosom and drew out a
black-edged card, an' held it before my
eyes, whilst her own filled again with
tears. I read: 'In Joving memory of
John Wright, who was killed at the
post of duty.' "
"And you've been happy in your mar?
ried life?"
"nappy! Happy isn't the word for
it, sir. Ours is one of the matches
made in Heaven."?T:M3its.
When a Man's Sin pie.
When a man is single he only needs
a few collars and cuffs, a suit of clothes
occasionally, and cigars, but after he
r^ets married he finds out what the iAg
stores are for.?Atchison Globe.
Wortny oT Ttnrtatlon.
Nineteen!) century road-makers are
recommended to study the methods of
the Romans, which reveal modes of con?
struction worth}' of imitation.
OILING THE HARNESS.
If Undertaken at All, This Work
Should lie Done Well.
Harness will lust much longer and
look much better if kept well oiled, ai:d
v. ill not get so sitiiT after being exposed
to a da}-'s rain. During the spring it is
Jifiicult to keep harness from getting
wet, and it will pay well before the sea?
son's work begins to see that it is thor?
ough]}' oiled. In doing the work, the
harness should be taken apart and
washed clean, using warm water and
eastile soap, and then wiped dry, when
the oil should be applied. If so clcnn
I that washing is not needed, it will be
better to wipe off with a wet rag as the
oiling cror be done better. It is best to
take harness all apart, in order to get at
ell of the parts and oil thoroughly.
Good harness oil can be purchased all
ready for use, or neatefoot oil, with a
little lamp black, will be found good. If
the harness has not been oiled for some
time and is hard and dry, it will be best
to go over them twice, finishing all up.
and then commencing with the first
piece and going over again. After every
fciart has been thoroughly oiled, it
Bbould all be hung up over a frame of
tome kind and allowed to dry. It should
not be hung in the sun or where t'he
wind strikes, as ft will dry too rapidly.
The oil should have plenty of time to
JKiok in. Like most other work on the
farm, if undertaken it will pay to do
welL?Jouraolof Ar^pulture.
TltEASUJtE-Tlt?VE.
BY S. DARING GOUL.D.
The forest of Dartmoor is surround?
ed on every side by wide stretches of
moorland that belong ro the- several
contiguous parishes, and every Ik-use
holder in each of these parishes claims
rights on the common of his parish,
o\er which, moreover, the manorial
lord asserts paramount authority, and
enforces it when, he can. The duchy
of Cornwall, however, to which the
forest belongs, professes a sort of sov?
ereignty over all these commons.
Now, there lived in the parish of
South Tawton, in the curious old vil?
lage of Zeal, where every house is an
archaeological .curiosity, and every
householder is independent?a poor
young man of the name of Josiah Day,
commonly known as young Rainy Day.
The nickname was acquired by him
through his excessive caution. As the
slothful man, according to Solomon,
excuses himself from doing anything
and going anywhere, by saying: "There
is a lion in the street," so did Josiah
Day shirk venturing- on any undertak?
ing, or investing small earnings in any
speculation.' to which the risk of loss
adhered, on the plea that he must look
out for and provide against a rainy
day.
Joe was not a lazy man, yet his ex?
aggerated prudence led to much the
same results as inertness?he let slip
opportunities that could never recur,
ujhI which went to benefit men less
able, honest and industrious than him?
self.
It sometimes happens that plums
drop into the mouths of those who
stand gaping at the clouds. All they
then have to do is to close their mouths
on the plums and to make the most of
them.
Such d plum dropped into the mouth
of Josiah one Christmas Eve. He did,
indeed, snap his jaws on it?but that
was all.
He was working on the common,
cutting up granite blocks, wherewith
to construct a "new take" wall. It is
the opinion of every householder in a
parish that has commons that he has
a right to as much open ground as he
can inclose?subject, if enforced, to a
payment, to the lord of the manor, and
thenceforth his own in perpetuity.
Whilst thus engaged Joe came on n
"barrow" or cairn of small stones. He
cleared away these as too small to
serve his purpose, and discovered bj
neath them a granite slab. This he
levered aside, without mucJi difficulty,
and to his surprise discovered a stone
cist or collin constructed of rude blocks.
He crept In, and was still further sur?
prised when he found within a pot con?
taining charred bones and ashes, and
near it a cup of yellow metal, and some
rings and hoops, some weighing six,
others ten and fifteen ounces apiece.
ne hastily scrambled forth, and as
the setting sun gleamed out, he exam?
ined his find by its light. He rubbed
the cup and the ring! on his sleeve, and
"By ginger!" said he, "if it ain't all
solid gold. Come! I'm in luck's way.
This shall stand over tigainst a rainy
day."
"I wasn't called young Rainy Day
for nothing," said he. "I'll put it all
back again where I found it, and there
it shall remain till I have real occasion
to lift it,"
So the young man replaced the cov?
ering block, then heaped the small
stones and earth over ft and disguised
the fact that the place had been dis?
turbed.
He returned home very satisfied with
himself and with his prospects. Now
he could Jock forward without blinking
to the inevitable rainy day. At pres?
ent he liad health, strength and youth
and with these he could earn his liveli?
hood. "Eut," as Jos put it, "I can't
reckon on these lasting. I knows sev?
eral young- chaps as has had colds set?
tled on their chestesses, and have died
of a decline. And Tom Endieott, he
dislocated his hip, and now can't hob?
ble up on to the moor after granite
no more; and as to old age and de?
crepit ude?there's no denying it, every
day and hour and minute brings me
nigher to it."
Accordingly, Jos went on breaking
up stone and inclosing, and instinctive?
ly he extended his "new take" wall in
the direction of the cairn and stone
chest that contained his treasure.
On the verge of the moor, on the con?
fines of culture, lived a girl named Mar}
Aggett, with her bedridden mother.
She made a livelihood out of plovers'
eggs, which she collected and sold, out
of some poultry she kept, out of flint
arrow heads, which, by searching, she
found on the moor, and which she dis?
posed of to an archaeologist. She also
did some needlework and went out char?
ring.
Jos passed the cottage twice daily
on his way out and on his way home,
and very frequently he saw Mary at her
door, or she was searching on the moor
near where he worked, O?d they never
met without exchange of salutations.
On one occasion, when overtaken by a
hailstorm, he hud been invited into ths
cottage, and had) been given a cup of
tea that warmed his heart as if it had
been peppermint, and got into his head
as if it had been whisky.
One day when they met on the moor
Ihe northeast blast was so cutting that
they retired together under shelter of
11 rock to eat together their lunch of
cold pasty. Considering how cold the
weather was, Jos puthis arm round Tol?
ly, and, having an overcoat, he threw
one arm of it over her shoulder.
The ensuing night was one of sore
temptation to Jos. He tossed on his
bed. He could not sleep. He sallied
very early from his bouse and went to
the moor, resolved to raise his treasure,
dispose of it, dare fortune and marry.
As he passed the cottage of Mary Ag?
gett he did not see her. He was glad of
this,' lest she should have asked him
why he went to his work two hours
earlier than usual.
ne proceeded to the cairn, removed
the stones, heaved the covering slab
aside,gotinto the chest and brought out
the gold rings and cup. He furbished
them up, and they sparkled in the morn?
ing sun.
When all were ranged before him, he
shook his head. "It would be madness
to risk it," said he. "If I mcrried Polly,
women be them corkscrews, she'd have
the whole story out of me, and they be
that chatterboxes, they can't help talk?
ing, and she'd blab about it to every one
in the place. Then I'd have the crown,
and the duchy, and the lord o* the
manor, and the parson and the 143
commoners down on me for demanding
their shares. Be hanged if I'll risk it.
Women is ter'blc dangerous animals
with their tongues, never to be trusted."
Then in went all the treasure again
into the coffin that had contained and
preserved it for 4,000 years.
"I know what I'll do," said Jos. "I'll
build my new-take wall right over this
old grave, and then no one can get at
the treasure without pulling down the
wall."
Little did Jos suspect that he was
being watched, and that his every word
was overheard by Polly herself, who
w as behind the rock hard by, where she
had, pjeked un flint chins and Rakes.
Slowly, painfully, Jo's Day worked at
his wall. He succeeded in carrying it
over the cairn, and thus he secured his
treasure from being-disturbed, and thus
was it made fast against the rainy
dnj\
In the course of the next three months
he had completed the inelosure, and
had taken from the common a tract of
good land of tive-and-twenty acres in
extent.
About this time Mary Aggctt's mother
died. Jos pitied her greatly, the cottage
was so lonely for the girl. His heart
grew soft when he saw her in black.
"Bless me!" said he. "If I lived in that
cottage it would save me half of my
jouruey every day, but I won't risk it."
Shortly after this a great surprise
came to him. One morniug he found in
his "new take" a lloek of sheep all
branded M. A.
"Gracious bless us!" exclaimed Jos.
"How ever came the sheep there? I'll
run ask Polly, she may know. She must
ha' Keen some one drive 'cm this way.'
He went to the cottage and spoke in
heat: "Mary, some owdacious radicals
have been turning sheep into my new
take during the night. They are
marked M. A."
"They are mine, Jos."
"Youre, Tolly?"
"Yes. It was very kind and consider?
ate of you, Jos, to inclose so many
acres for mo. I thank you with all my
heart."
"Inclose for you! It is my new
take!"
"There is some misunderstanding,"
answered the girl. "The new take is
certainly mine. I have been to the
lord of the manor and have bought it?
25 acres at so much gold per acre. I
have, the papers all drawn out."
"Yours! Where did you get the
money?"
That was a question Mar}- did not an?
swer.
After much consideration Jos said,
falteringly: "This is a pretty go! . How
am I to be paid for the walling?"
"I'm sure I can't think, Jos."
"But it has engaged me off and on for
IS months. Fifty pounds wouldn't re?
pay my labor. I can't afford?"
"I really am sorry for you."
"There is only one way out of it," ex?
claimed Jos, "that I can sec; and that
is by changing the brand on the sheep
from A to D, and by lumping together
my wall and your land."
"Well, I'm not particular," answered
Mary, and so the mat ter was settled.
The\' were married, and Jos found
that ho had secured not only a very cap?
ital bit of land, but with it a very
thrifty, witty and wise wife.
At the close of the iirst twelvemonth
there were three ia the house in tho
place of two. At the end of the second
year the number had mounted to five,
for the second addition to the family
consisted in twins.
But the conscience of Jos was un
etasy. Something stood betweenbimand
Polly. He had a secret from her, and
that is ever a barrier to connubial unity.
Christmas was approaching. Jos re?
solved to make a clean breast of it and
tell Mar}- everything.
Christmas clay arrived and Joe put on
his Sunday coat and flowered his "wes
kit," took his lever and went forth.
"Polly," said he, "come along-. I've a
surprise foryou." nedeliberately threw
down a portion of his new-take walk
discovered the lid of the stone chest,
levered it aside, and then jumped into
the box. Nest moment he rose out of
it blank with despair, trembling with
disappointment. His treasure was
gene.
By the .side of the cairn and over?
thrown wall stood his wife watching
him, w ith a smile on her cherry lips and
a twinkle in her bright eyes. A toddling
child clung to her skirts as she held one
of the twins in each arm.
"Poll!" he gasped, "I'm a ruined man.
I've lost everything. I've been robbed."
Then td:e laughed and when she
laughed the child holding her skirt
laughed also and the babes in her arms
chuckled and crowed.
"No, Jos Rainy Day," she said, "you
have lost nothing, you have gained
much. I found your treasure, and I dis?
posed of it to the antiquarian gentle?
man who buys the arrow heads. With
the money I bought the land, the sheep,
the cows?and you."
Then Jos scrambled out of the grave,
and fell a laughing, and he laughed till
the tears ran down his cheeks.
"By ginger!" said he; "woman's wit
outweighs man's wisdom. My true
treasure-trove is here"?be clapped his
wife on the shoulder?"and it's one
neither crown, nor duchy, nor lord of
the manor, nor parson nor the hundred
and forty-three commoner! have on?
particle of right over no more nor n
pin's head, but is all?all and undivided
?my own."?The Graphic.
FEMININE FASHIONS.
New Items of Dreaa for tlio Coming
SensoB?
There is a great rage just now for
black velvet ribbon trimming in wide,
medium and very narrow widths
Bodices laid in tucks, either horizon?
tal or perpendicular, are a special fea?
ture of the spring modes. They are
Sometimes graduated In widths, but
offener of even measurement, and like
pullings, cordings and lace insertions
they form yokes, vest girdles, sleeve
puffs and pretty little bolero jackets.
In spite of authentic accounts from
the .most official sources and of endless
snubs from the tailors and dressmakers,
the obiquitous fancy waist makes its el?
egant and fascinating appearance
among the lovely things in spring and
cummer gowning. It will not clown;
this seems positive, and for the very
good reason that it is one of the most
attractive and graceful forms of dress
ever devised for general use, as well as
for the most ornate and charming fin?
ishing toutdi to an elaborate toilet; and
the tempting1, novel and beautiful crea?
tions in these bodices now exhibited by
.ctnrT!__Lranorters are riatcnt evidences
"Cures talk" in favor
of Hood's Sar.-:aparilia,
as for no other medi?
cine. Its great cures recorded in truthful,
convincing language of grateful men and
women, constitute it3 most effective ad?
vertising. Many of these cures are mar?
velous. They have won the confidence of
the people; have given Hood's Sarsapa?
rille the largest sales in the world, and
have made necessary for its manufacture
the greatest laboratory on earth. Hood's
Sarsaparilla is known by the cures it has
made?cures of scrofula, salt rheum and
eczema, cures of rheumatism, neuralgia
end weak nerves, cures?f dyspepsia, liver
troubles, catarrh?cures which prove
13 the best?in fact the One True Blood Purifier.
r_r ?? n.? cure liver ills: easy to
tlCOU 5 PlIlS take, easy to operate. 25c.
thai they "are stllT?VIhe "height oFfa
vor both here and abroad.
Leather belts in all sorts of hand
some, devices, but not at all wide, are
Dtill in high favor, and are worn with
morning;and traveling costumes. Some
bare chntelainc-bagattachmcnt.s, others
merely a little coin purse banded fast,
to the belt, or tiny flat aumoniers de
ponding from a metal chain. Very ex?
pensive belts of light kid or fine leath?
er, with real gold or silver attachments,
are sold by high-class importers of
Paris and Vienna fancy wares.
The beautiful, very natural looking
French violets seem to be greater in fa?
vor?if possible?tlinn ever, and the
great liking for these blossoms will
probably continue for two seasons, a3
they are. still in great use in Paris, and
are likewise finding marked favor in
the eyes of English women of uonk, in?
cluding the princess of Wales anel her
daughters and the duchess of York:
Mention should also be made of a small
cluster of violets with which it is said
the queen herself has freshened up her
last year's spring bonnet.
Shirt waists made of every possible
sort of material will be. quite ss gen?
erally worn as ever. There is not the
hast diminution in their popularity; on
the contrary, the range of out-of-door
amusements, which waxes more and
more universal, renders this style of
easy, neat and natty dressing still mere
generally adopted. Of course the
wearing of shirt waists is no longer a
fad, but their usefulness and undeni?
able comfort have become so thorough?
ly well established that every complete
summer outfit includes at least half a
dozen sorts of linen, wash silk, dimity,
huvn ami similar light fabrics.?N. Y.
Post.
PLEA FOR THE BIRDS.
Their Destruction Is KntJn rprerlntr
the ForentH nn?l OrcI:iirits.
A pica for the birds is being widely
disseminated, in the form of a circular
which contains uju:o earnest words
from Mrs. Caroline 13. Hoffman, local
secretary of the Massachusetts Audu
boii society. Mrs. Hoffman tells the
often-told story of the mother heron
which must be killed when brooding
to obtain the white aigrette which is
her decoration at that time, and of the
cruelty of sacrificing the mother-bird
and her little ones for the gratification
of feminine vanity. The Florida heron,
she says, is annihilated.
She bases her plea in this circular
more particularly upon the practical
ground of the great injury to plant? and
forests by the wholesale destruction cf
the littic creatures1 so useful in destroy?
ing Insects. She says: "Already in the
southern lauds of Europe are the
forests perishing in a frightful manner,
and not less are the orchards in danger,
for against tho increase of injurious
iijsects t here is no remedy when the lit?
tle birds are missing. And no land in
the wide world is safe against this
horrid destruction."
Quoting foreign criticism of bird
dceornt'ou, she continues: "How for?
eign land:; think and write about it, a
newspaper from Tokio, Jap.m. will best
show. It says: 'It is net enough that
'"the Europeans compress themselves
with st eel and whalebone; they also de?
mand for adornment cur beautiful and
useful birds.'"
She. concludes: "Equally guilty of
this barbarous custom is every pur?
chaser cf these birds, marytrs unto
death. May these words meet with the
right reeeption; may women at length
reflect and acknowledge that there is
something better, nobler, more to be
desired than this foolish style, which
is bought with the blocd and life of
creatures fashioned by the Gcd of love.
May American women ccmc to the
front and be the first to do away with
this brutal practice.
"Everywhere our orchards, our fruit
trees, are crying out to be delivcrc'l
from insect pests. Competent witnesses
testify that all over our country, within
a generation, birds have diminished in
a most rapid manner and the injurious
insects have made headway in the same
degree. Setting aside all sentiment,
the destruction of fc-rests, orchards
and fields ought to be sufficient to deter
women from Indulging in this mur?
derous practice,."?Detroit Free Press.
OUR WOMEN IN HISTORY.
Americana of the Gentler Sex Wile
Have Loft Iicconls.
One subject of considerable interest
is running the rounds of the women's
clubs. It rose out of the question: Who
are the ten greatest women of American
history?
To which the first answer was: Pris
pilla Aldeu, Pocahonlas, Martha Wash?
ington, Hannah Adams, Elizabeth
Goose, Moll Pitcher, Emily Blackwell,
Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott
and Martha Mitchell.
This created a storm of protest, espe?
cially from the friends or admirers of
Mary Washington, Dolly Madison, Su?
san B. Anthony, HarrietBeceher Stowe,
Clara Barton, Frances Willard, Mary
Lyon, Emma Willard, Mollic Stark, Bell
Boyd, Anne Garrel], Erminie Smith,
Nancy Hanks, Eliza Greatorex, Hetty
Green, lie v. Phoebe Han ford aud Be v.
Antoinette Brown Blackwell.
In regard to the relative greatness of
the members of this list everything
Bcems to be a matter of personal taste,
all with one exception, namely, Eliza?
beth Goose. Upon Mrs. Goose, better
known as "Mother" Goose, a very de?
termined assaidt has been made. To
some critics she is a myth, a poetic crea?
tion, like "King Arthur." "the Princes
Angelica," or "the Demi-God Sieg?
fried." To another group she was a
poor married woman of Boston, Mass.,
blessed with an extraordinary memory,
which enabled her to quote hundreds
of thousands of lines in both verse aud
prose to her little ones. To a third
group she was an embryo philologist,
who passed a large part of her life in
collating songs and stories which have
made her famous, and in doing for our
language and literature what the
Brothers Grimm did for the German.
A fourth section regarded her as a
Bostonian genius, who originated the
500 pages of tales and jingles which ap?
pear in printed form to-day over her
name.
Even in Boston, calm and collected
Boston, the fight is seemingly fiercer
and hotter than anywhere else. Beside
the ordinary quarreling between the
four schools there is a still more bitter
kind going on owing to the terrible
charge made by the purists that the
supporters of Mother Goose are endeav?
oring to ruin the good name of the city,
and to the retort by the supporters that
the purists are. so bigoted, narrow
minded, pedantic and intolerant that
they are trying to rob Eoston of its
chief literary glory.
Thus six schools of thought arc imi?
tating the Kilkenny cats, and not even
Emerson's Brahma can bring order out
of the chaos. It is high lime for the
friends of Mother Goose to rise up in
her defense. She did live, and lived In
Boston. She was a good woman, a good
wife, and agooel mother. She had many
children, and she did sing them the
songs and tell them the stories which
have given happiness to millions since
her day.
This aione would entitle her to world-1
w ide fame. ,.But_therc. is .nmne? much
more, beyond this. 'Nearly all ulTher
writing:; arc in, the nature of folhiorc,
carefully collated and edited. Every
song and tale has come down through
long centuries, if not ages. They were
told or sung, whist>crcd or crooned, by
mothers long before Caesar crossed the
British channel. They were traasroittec
from mother to children, remembered,
and again transmitted, livery now and
then some clever brain wcnld make on
improvement or alter a J-r.e.
Discords Ivecamc musical and trage?
dies were mnde delicious with grim
humor. The gcniu3 of the Germanic
race, was expressed in this literature of
babyhood. It came across the ocean in
the Mayflower, just as it crossed wider
oceans in going from England to Cape
Colony or to New Zealand and Austra?
lia.
Priseilla Alden undoubtedly told of
Humpty Duinpty'K woes to the off?
spring of her marriage with John Al?
den, and Gov. Bradford must have
"liocked a By Baby on the Tree Top" to
two generations of little Puritans and
Pilgrims.
Just exactly what they said and sung
we elo not know and probably never
will know. Strangely enough,although
millions upon millions of human beinjra
have gone through Mother Goo.se melo?
dies and have carried large, parts of
them in memory, nobody until the time
of Mrs. Elizabeth Goose thought it
worth while to confide the pleasing In?
fant one-eeut compositions to paper and
ink.
The fact that she did this, and It in
an ago when there were no schools of
philology, no folklore associations, no
child science, nor kindergarten busi?
ness, shows her to have been a woman
of extraordinary genius.
The stars have been in the heavens
since fie creation. Nevertheless we
praise Mr. Hersehel for making the first
good map of the sky.
The English language had been spok?
en for many centuries when Dr. Samuel
Tohnson made the first real dictionary
of our speech.
Mrs. Goose did the ::ame thing for the
immortal literature of early childhood.
How far she has unproved it, how far
Ehe softened down the rough, coarse,
and vulgar expression^of untic|uity, we
ran only guess. She must have done
much in this direction, because in her
book there is not the slightest unpleas?
ant word, line, or thought.?Chicago
Tribune.
NATIVE PASTURES.
After Hnvlas Been Grazed Closely
They Should Ue Manured.
There is rjuite a diversity cf opinion
among farmers and stock raisers on the
cpuestion of manuring native pasture
lands. Some have obtained excellent
results by manuring, while others
seem to have had quite the opposite ex?
perience.
The soil of the western prairies is
very rich and under ordinary circurn
ftances will gdve fair returns without
the application of fertilizers of any
kind. Nevertheless, it is certain that
better returns may be had if more avail
able food is placed within reach of the
grasses. Anyone who has observed n
piece of grass land so situated as to re?
ceive the wash from a barnyard, will
have found that near the yard where the
supply of fertilizer has been great the
grasses have become thinned out to a
few species, while where the supply has
been moderate the grasses are much
nfjrc evenly developed and the yield
decidedly plain. A too plenteous ap?
plication of fertilizer will thin out the
grasses and reduce the yield of forage
at least for the first season or two, since
many species will not stand such treat?
ment. On the other hand, a proper
amount of fertilizer will increase the
yield. It is quite possible to use too
much fertilizer for any crop, and the
native grasses seem to be more sensi?
tive in this respoct than the ordinary
cultivated species.
Any pasture which has been grazed
closely for some time will be benefited
by an application of a thin top-dress?
ing of well-rotted stable manure, fol?
lowed by a thorough harrowing. It
is doubtful if much is gained by putting
coarse unrotted manure on the pasture:
it can be u;-ed to l"-:t?r .vd v. p q
The general belief among
doctors is that consump?
tion itself is very rarely
inherited. But the belief
is becoming stronger that
the tendency to consump?
tion is very generally
transmitted from parent
to child. If there has
been consumption in the
family, each member
should take special care
to prepare the system
against it. Live out doors;
keep the body well nour?
ished ; and treat the first
indication of failing health.
of Cod-liver Oil, with
Hypophosphites, is a fat
producing food and nerve
tonic. Its use is followed
by improved nutrition,
richer blood, stronger
nerves and a more healthy
action of all the organs.
It strengthens the power
of the body to resist dis?
ease. If you have in?
herited a tendency to weak
lungs, shake it off.
SCOTT'S EMULSION has been
indorsed by the medical profes?
sion for twenty years. (Askyour
doexor.) This is because it is
always palatable?always uni?
form?always contains the pur?
est Norwegian Cod-liver Oil
and HypopnospMtes.
Put up in 50 cent and S1.00
sizes. The small size may be
enough to cure your cough or
help your baby. All druggists.
JUST AS GOOD IS NOT
SCOTTS EMULSION.
STOP, WOMEN!
You Are Asked to Consider
an All-Important Fact.,
You Can Talk Freely to Mrs.
Pinkham, But It Is Revolting
to Tell Your Troubles
to Any Man.
In addressing Mrs. Pinkham you are confiding your private
ills to a woman?a woman whose experience in treating woman's
diseases is greater than that of any living physician?male or female
You can talk freely to a woman when it is revolting to
relate your private troubles to a man?besides, a man
does not understand?simply because he
is a man.
Many women suffer in silence and drift
along from bad to worse, knowing full well
that they ought to have immedi?
ate assistance, but a natural mod?
esty impels them to shrink
from exposing themselves to
the questions and probably ex?
aminations of even their fam?
ily physician. It is unneces?
sary. Without money or price
you can consult a woman,
whose knowledge from actual
experience is greater than any
local physician. The follow?
ing invitation is freely offered;
accept it in the same spirit:
MRS. PINKHAM'S
STANDING INVITATION.
Women suffering from any form of
female weakness are invited to promptly communicate with Mrs.
Pinkham at Lynn, Mass. All letters are received, opened, read and
answered by women only. A woman can freely talk of her private
illness to a woman; thus has been established the eternal confidence
between Mrs. Pinkham and the women of America which has never
been broken. Out of the vast volume of experience which she has
to draw from, it is more than possible that she has gained the very
knowledge that will help your case. She asks nothing in return ex?
cept your good-will, and her advice has relieved thousands. Surely
any woman, rich or poor, is very foolish if she docs not take advan?
tage of this generous offer of assistance.?Lydia E. Pinkham Medi?
cine Co., Lynn, Mass.
cultivated lamb*. Ashes usually' 'Have n
beneficial effect upon grasses on soils
not too plentifully supplied with alkali.
?Dakota Field and Farm.
STRONG CORN CRIB.
It Costs About 840 and Holds 1I.OOU
Bushels, Shelled.
I will give my method of building a
crib t hat is cheap and strong. Set two
parallel rows of stone blocks 2-/3 feet
apart in the irow, the rows as far apart
as the width of crib. Then make the
frame in sections as shown in the cut.
The posts are 2x0 inch> one 11 feet long
1 I
11
I?
|l
i I
i!
?h
i
11
j.
m
OUTLINE OF CORN CRIB.
and the other 14. The sill is 2x10 and 7
feet long. The cross piece near cave Ls
an inch board C inches wide. The rafter (
is 2x4 inches. Make as many of these
sections as necessary for the size of the !
crib, and set them on the stone blocks.
Xail them securely at corners and tie |
across with lx6-ineh boards. Floor of j
inch lumber. Size up horizon tally with j
lx4-inch lumber.
I built a crib 7 feet 4 inches wide, 11 ;
feet liigh at rear, 14 feet at front, and GO
feet long, using good lumber, oak frame, |
pine roof, for $40. It will hold 2.000
bushels of shelled corn. In siding up.
leave as many openings as desired for
filling in; cut the siding at the opening
with a miter and the slats can be re?
moved one at a time, making cheap
openings.?Malcolm Crockett, in Ohio
Farmer.
LIVE STOCK POINTERS.
If the sheep on the farm must be sohl,
sell them fat.
Do not make the slops from the
kitchen answer for water.
There is always mere or less loss
when an inferior sire is used.
It will help maintain health if the
hogs hava pure, fresh water every day. !
The putting in and culture of the
crops has much to do with their pro- ?
ductiveness.
The fanner ought to be a good judge |
of live stock and know how to buy and j
sell to the best advantage.
When the sheep are sheared is one
of the best times to determine what
sheep should be kept and what sold.
It is the steady, qu'et horse that can
usually be depended upon to do the
biggest day's work during hot weather.
With all classes of stock it is better
to wait until the grass in the pastures
has made a good growth before turn?
ing in.
In the end nothing pays so well as
thoroughness in all of the details of
farm management and in the core of
the stock.
The calf that Is to make a good beef
animal should be made to grow rapid?
ly from the sLort, and good feeding is
of course necessary.?Farmer's Union.
. T-?rr~'-1
? SUCCESSFUL R?CkT
Owners or Sheep Would Do Well to
Investigate Its Merits.
Below I give a description of a sheep
rack of my own construction, which
may be called a combination station?r;;
rack. Eighty feet of lumber will build
a rack 12 feet long. The cut gives bot h
end and side view of rack when com?
pleted.
The rack is built as follows: Frame
stuff for posts should be 2x2 inches. A
rack 12 feet long should have three
.frames frndona lfi-fjEatlangfOUJ fxaJ?<?
Posts should"be 31 uieTiesT?ng. 'Wirith
of frame at top ?8 or 30 inches, and 22
inches at top edge of piece 5. This is
where the boards rest on for bottom of
grain trough; two boards 10 inches
EXCELLENT SHEEP RACK,
wide for bottom, and board C nailed se?
curely to the out edge of bottom form
the grain trough, which should be not
less than 5 inches wide. Board A is IS
?inches wide and is nailed on the top
side of slanting pieces 3, which form
bottom of hay rack. These pieces
should be 1x4 inches. They ore nailed
to top of frame and rest on top edge ol
board B, which sets on the center cl
bottom, heace makes two troughs and
makes a solid base or bottom of hay
rack. This board may van' from G to S
inches in width or height. D are strips
3 or 4 inches wide nailed to lower sid<
and edge of board A,and on top edge ol
board B strips one-half inch thick ami
3 or 4 inches apart. This completes th?
rack.
When sheep have access to the hay oi
rough feed no hayseed can get in the
wool if hay and grain are fed at the
same time. The grain should be put in
first and can be poured into the top of
rock, and it will divide itself equally in
both troughs.
Foot piece 6 is made of inch lumber,
and should be securely nailed to bottom
of frame. This makes the rack stand
firm. Piece 4 is 5 incheswide and keeps
the rack from spreading.
This sheep rack is easy to make. Any?
one who can use a square, saw and ham?
mer can make one. It is all put togethei
with nails. I know of no better rack
I have used this rack for stock sheep
for over eight years. Small Iambs will
not get in the troughs to soil the grain,
?E. L. Horner, in National Stockman,
KEEP MORE SHEEP.
.Many Reason* V.lsy Every Fnrmo:
Should Have n Flock.
There are a number of reasons why
sheep should be kept on every farm
whatever the price may be for wool oi
mutton, says a writer in the Bural Ca?
nadian. Sheep should be kept in time
of low prices because the low prices will
not always exist, but are likely at any
time to take an upward trend. When
that time comes the people will be found
clamoring for mutton, which thej
learned to eat in a time of low prices
When the rise comes the number oi
sheep being marketed will suddenly
fall off, as will also the number to b<
had for breeders. You will then be
glad that you kept enough of the old
liock to prov ide for the expansion of the
new flock.
Sheep should be kept because there
are many wild grasses on nearly every
farm that will be eaten to the best ad> 1
vantage by sheep. They have no butter
or milk to be tainted and rejected by
the market for that reason. A lot ol
sheep running in the cow pasture might
reduce the weeds to such an extent that
much of the bad effect on the butter
would be avoided.
Sheep cannot be dispensed with foi
the reason that they provide meat in
small parcels, each one of which may
be disposed of before it suffers from th*
effects of decay. Every farmer can thus
provide himself a constant supply oi
meat that can be equaled only by his
poultry. The two make an agreeable
addition to the larder.
Sheep should be kept in large quanti?
ties for the public good. If < he present
rate of depletion be allowed to go on.
there will come a time when we must
import a considerable amount of om
mutton, and the money thus going out
annually will tend, by so much, to keep
the balance of the trade against us.
Which He Und Failed to Return.
Jones?Your husband has a very
limited vocabulary.
Mrs. Brown?Yes, he hae had fcr jokp
time; over since you'borrowed three
volumes of his dictionary.?-N. Y. Jour
Bfcl.
