The Princeton union. [volume], March 24, 1892, Image 3

About The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
IN THE GLOAMING.
I saw you in the gloaming,
When wrapped in silvery [mist, the city,
Like a (air bride, stood in fleecy veil.
No stars, no lightonly the cold gray fog
Even the wind had ceased to sob and wail.
Now yon are real to me,
While I am still and ever must be
Like the cold mist, fleecy white.
That melts away so soon at the sun's kiss
That ehost-like glides away at morning's
light.
GRACE HIBBARD.
MONEY WELL SPENT.
OW we are not
only out of debt,
but we have got
$100 ahead, and
the question is,
How are* we going
to invest it?"
Hiram Graham,
sitting just outside
of the open door to
enjoy the grateful coolness of the
summer avening, threw aside his
paper as he spoke and awaited his
wife's reply. His wife, busy oyer her
sewing, did not reply immediately.
"Come," he said, "let me have yo ur
opinion. I'll bet you've made up
yo ur mind what to do with it long
ago. You know the saying, 'A man
to save money and a woman to spend
it" and he laughed good-naturedly.
Yes, Mrs. Graham had made up her
mmd long ago. The thought of a time
when they should be clear of debt and
some of their surplus earnings could be
expendedfor home comforts had helped
her to make over and repair many an
old-garment that she was about to
throw away in despair it had encour
aged her to contend with numberless
inconveniences. But now the time
had reallycome she felt rather a strange
reluctance about revealing her
thoughts. She was oppressed with fear
that her long cherished plans might be
dashed to the earth. However, she
commenced bravely enough
"1 have thought we could pai nt the
house some pretty color, such as sil
ver-gray, and have shutters put up at
the windows the right shade ot\ green
to harmonize with the color of the
house, the same as the green leaves of
the popular harmonize with the soft
gray of its trunk, and
"Why, Jennie," exclaimed Mr.
Graham, "There is a good coat of
pai nt on the house now, and there is
no color so durable as red lead in my
estimation."
"And," continued his wife, I would
have the yard closed in with a neat
picket fence"
I don't see any use in tearing down
that fence. The iails are as good and
sound as they were twenty years
ago."
"Please don't interrupt me, Hiram.
I would repaper the rooms, get a new
Ingrain carpet for theparlor, and mus
lin curtains for the windows."
"Thunderation! What is the sense
of having curtains if you have shut
ters? Beside, these paper curtains
answer every purpose, as far as I can
Bee. The paper on the walls is per
fectly whole. I is true that you ha ve
patched it considerably, but that
don't show much. And as for the car
petwhy, haven't you got a new rag
carpet in the room now
"Yes but that would be for the sit
ting-room. And I would have a bay
window made on the south side of the
sitting-room for plants."
"Mr. Graham laughed outright at
this.
"Now, Jennie," hesaid, "Ineversaid
anything about it, but I always
thought I was kind of foolish to spend
so much money and time as you do
fussing vwth flowers out-doors but
when ou come to make flowerbeds of
that bea ts me!"
"Hiram," said Mrs. Graham, "you
asked me for my opinion now please
don't interrupt me."
''Yery well go ahead."
I would have a portico built over
where you are sitting, and a wood
house and a large cool pantry, that I
I need so much, on the back of
the kitchen. One part of the
wood-house would be finished off,
where the cook-stove could stand in
warm weather. It would be so much
cooler for us to eat in the kitchen.
Besides this, there are many little
adornments, such as picture^ that I
would add afterward.
1
"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Graham, "if
we were to go into that it would take
every rent ,of the money."
"Well, we earned it to invest in
something, didn't we?"
"Yes but I want to invest my
money in something that will bring
ime in some income."
"It would bring us in the best of all
incomesnot in dollars, but what is
better far, in joy aad happiness. Life
would have a fuller and purer mean
ing for us both it would bring a high
er and better atmosphere in which to
rear our children. Even the humming
bird loves to deck its sweet little nest
with pretty mosses and lichens. Ought
we not to ha ve as much love for-home
and its adornings as God's dumb
creatures?
1
I ha ve something more important
to live for than a humming-bird has,"
said Mr. Graham, tartly. "I would
rather leave something more substan
tial to my childrensuch as bonds
and well-tilled acres, for instance. I
will tell you what I have been think
ing of," he said, with an air of one
who felt that the expressing of his
opinion must necessarily bring con
viction of his superior judgement.
"You know that I haye always want
ed that forty-acre lot of Southwell's
that joins me on the north. They
say he is hard up now and when he
finds out that I can make a large pay
ment down, I believe I can get it
mighty reasonable. And when I get
that paid for I have one of the best
farms in the country. Now what do
ou say to that?" Jhe asked, triumph
antly.
"It would run us right in debt
again." said Mrs. Graham.
"Well, suppose it did. W ha ve
swung this time easy enough and an
again. You must remember that this
land was badly run down when I first
got hold of it, but the farm is in good
condition now."
"Easy enough!" Mrs. Graham did
not repeat the words aloud. Her
husband did not know of the little
sacrifices and acts of self-denial it had
cost her. never could know it and
therein lies the pathos of many a
sacrifice.
The next morning Mrs. Graham was
up betimes and busy as usual
amid her household cares, but her
hea rt had lost its lightness. She
could think of nothing but the great
barn-like house, painted a glaring red,
with its large, shutterless windows,
like lidless eyes staring out upon the
dusty highway. Inside it was equally
barren of grace or beauty the walls
were dingy and unadorn ed by pict
ures of any kind the furniture was
guiltless of paint or varnish with no
works of literature worthy of men
tion, besides the weekly paper, the
Bible and an almanac. In this at
mosphere she must live here she must
henceforth work on, while mind and
soul starved. Here, too, she must
rear her children, to see worth and
beauty in nothing that cannot
be represented by gold. What won
der, then, it her "eyes and thoughts
wandered, over the waving grain to
where a stately stone house stood on
an eminence. She knew there was
beauty there the breezes stole into
large airy rooms, through lace curtains
there were rich carpets and costly
furniture, and a library that was al
most an intellectual feast to look at.
Outside there were pleasant walks and
drives, and a flower garden filled with
the rarest floral treasures and then
she sighed softly as she thought to
herself-
"But love would not have been
there, and life would have been worth
little to me without that.'
"Jennie! Jennie' Oh, here you are,"
and Mr. Graham came out through
the kitchen door and seated himself
upon the edge of a huge log that had
been hewn out and did duty for eaves
drop and cistern.
I was not unusual for him to seek
her he always did when he came in
and did not find her in the house. I
was not a bad hab it in the man. His
life seemed bound up in her and
although he had the reputation
among his neighbors of being "close"
in his business transactions, he was
kindhearted and generous, too, in his
way. This morning he had something
of importance to communicate.
"I didn't tell you last evening," he
said, "that I had already had some
talk with Southwell about that land.
He wouldn't listen to a cent under
two thousand then, and I wouldn't
offer more than fifteen hundred.
came over to see%ne this morning, and
offered to split the difference. Ain't
that a bargain though? A little bet
ter than spending money for paint
and paper, Jennie! Oh," rising to go,
I came near forgetting to tell you.
Powers is here. He wante to hire out
during harvest. I have hands enough,
but I suppose the more help I have
the better I shall get along, so I told
him to go right to work. I don't sup
pose he has been to breakfast yet, his
folks are so slack, so you might send
out a bit for him to eat. Try and
have the lunch ready at half-past 9
ou can blow the horn, and I will
send one of the men down for it."
Poor Jennie! I was like the last
straw that broke the camel's back.
She struggled hard, but the tears
would come. Mr. Graham turned
back and came instantly to her side
when he saw that she was in trouble.
"What is the nfatter, dear?" he
asked, compassionately, while his
large, kind hand glided down her hair
with a soft, caressing touch, "If you
are not feeling well I will slip down
and gee Miranda Powers to help you.
I guess I had better anyway, hadn't
I?"
Mrs. Graham mastered her emotion
with an effort.
"Oh no," she said. "There isn't
anything the matter."
Mr. Graham hesitated. was not
satisfied with the explanation.
"There," she said, "nowdo go along
to your work, or I shall be foolish
enough to cry again!" and she looked
very much as if she might.
Hiram Graham had a faint idea as
to what the matter was, and was very
willing to do as she ba de him.
felt considerably annoyed that his
wife could not see the avantage of
the proposed purchase that would so
materially add to their mutual prop
erty. And then he began to wonder
what she was thinking so silently
about while she stood looking off to
ward the distant hill. A little jealousy
crept in with the thought. The owner
of that fine mansion had once been a
formidable rival of his. There could
have been no reason for her choice
but the one she so shyly confessed to
him in the soft twilight of a summer
evening ten years ago.
When he came in 'to dinner followed
by his troop of hands, he could not
help noticing how flushed and tired
she looked but she was as cheerful as
ever. The morning cloud had passed,
and with the sweet spirit of self-sacri
fice that characterized her, she had
buried her dead hopes and had taken
up the burden of life again as best she
could.
Hiram Graham was not ignorant of
this sacrifice, and it touched him keen
ly the thought of it troubled him
through the afternoon. even for
got to estimate what the probable
yield per acre would be as the heavy
sheaves were shoved off the rear plat
form and lay so near together on the
shorn ground. could not deny
that his wife had worked as hard as
he during the years past, and the
economy he had practiced had been
mostly in her domain. began to
wish he had treated her wishes a little
more respectfully. But then he could
not help looking over to where that
forty acres lay. What a choice piece
of land it was! How long he had
wanted it! And now, when it was al
most within his grasp, must he let it
go? And even were he to yield to Jen
nie's wishes now, would she not know
that h had done so reluctantly, and
against his better judgment? Andl
during the afternoon he thought the
matter over and over.
"Powers," he called out, as that in
dividual was leaving the field at night,
"If the folks at home can spare Miran
da, let her come up in the morning and
help "my wife."
"All right she will be glad to come,"
was the answer.
Harvest was over, and Mrs. Gra
ham spoke of discharging the girl.
"You had better keep" her to help
you," advised her husband.
"No," said Mrs. Graham "when
there is none buc my own family I can
do the work easy enough alone. I be
lieve I like to work she added, 'smil
ing. "At least, I am happiest when I
am busy."
"How long has it been since you
ha ve been home to your father's on a
visit?" he asked, abruptly.
Five years ago la st "June, when
Ellen was married
How prompt was the answer! Per
haps she had counted the time.
"How would ou like to go out and
see the folks this fall?"
Wbat a glad light came in to herf ace,
and then faded, as she said, hesitat*
mgly:
"How can I.po?"
"Never mind about that. You
have earned a playday, and none of
my transactions shall hinder you
from taking one. You had better take
the children with you the folks will
want to see them. We will go to town
to-morrow, and you can get what
things you need, and Miranda can
stay and help you get ready. You
want to get off as soon as ou can,
for you will like to make a good long
visit while you are about it."
appeared anxious to hasten her
departure, but Mrs. Graham was too
happy at the thought of seeing the
home of her childhood again to notice
it at the time.
"But what will ou do without us
if we make too long a stay?"
"Dou 't mind about me. I can keep
old bachelor's hall," he added, laugh
ing.
Two weeks after Mrs. Graham had
gone, and Hiram Graham had the
house all to himself.
After the lapse of five weeks he went
to the station to meet his wife and
children. They had enjoyed the most
delightful visit, and all were well and
happy, and as they drove homeward
there was much to be told, and many
inquiries to be made. As they neared
the house Mrs. Graham looked sud
denly forward, while her husband
watched her face andrubbedhishands
together in quiet glee. What was that
soft, lustrous gray gleaming out from
among the green leaves? Was she
dreaming? No it was the house with
its green shutte rs and portico.
"Wh y, Hiram Graham, what have
you been doing?" she looked again.
"A nd a picket fence! And the most
charming little gate! And a graveled
walk!" and then she could not keep
the glad tears from coming.
"Come, Jennie," said Mr. Graham,
teasingly, although his own eyes
moistened with sympathetic happi
ness, don't feel too glad about it. I
may have worse things yet to show
you. There, how does that suit?" he
asked after they had entered the
house, pointing to the bay window.
I did not understand such things, so I
got a workman who did, ou see it
is all complete, ready for the plants.
And here," he said, leading the way
through the kitchen and throwing
open the door, "is the wood-house,
and there is a pantry that can't be
beac anywhere. And here is some
thing you didn't mention he con
tinued, approaching a neat sink in the
kitchen, and laying hold of the
handle of a cistern-pump that stood
in one end, up gushed a jet of soft
water which told of a good cistern
underneath. "Look through the
window and ou will see a covered
drain that carries away all the waste
water. You see I didn't do anything
with these things," he said, after they
had entered the sitting-room, and
glancing deprecatingly at the dingy
colored paper, the dilapidated furni
ture and threadbare carpet. I
would rather trust that to you. And,
beside, I found there was so much
real enjoyment in it that I thought I
would be generous and leave some of
the pleasure for you. Here i3 the
money that is left," he added, present
ing her with a goodly roll of bills.
One pleasant day in autumn all
was complete, and indeed, as Mr.
Graham said, it did look like a bit
of Eden."
I do believe," Jennie said, turning
toward her husband, with a glad,
bright look on her face, I do believe
I am just the happiest woman in the
world!"
drew her gently to him.
"Jennie," he said, what were ou
thinking about that morning I found
you churning under the locust tree,
and looking so intently at that old
building on the hill?"
Her only answer was a merry
laugh.
"Did you ever think so before?"
Although he asked the question
hesitatingly, he looked wistfully into
her face for an answer.
"No, ou dear, simple darling, and
I am sure I never shall again" and,
looking up archly, I didn't then!"
Six years had passed away, and one
bright morning in spring Mr. Graham
entered the house. had changed
in these years the slight roughness
which had characterized him -previ
ously had worn away there was in
creased dignity and manliness in his
bearing. His children had also grown
to be a constant source of parental
pride and delight. So surely do our
inner natures conform to the plan of
ur outward surroundings. held
up the planer he had in his hand.
"There/' said he, addressing his
wife, is the deed of the Southwell
forty, free from incumbrance. If it
had not been for you," he continued,
smiling, I should ha ve owned it long
ago, and the whole Southwell farm,
to o, perhaps. But I thank God that
I didn't," he added, earnestly. "If I
had I would ha ve been so close over
the work-rack by this time that
never would be able to lock up."
THE MEM AlsD HOME.
TO PREPARE CERTAIN GROUND
FOR A CERTAIN CROP.
A. serious Question for ths Farmer
Color of Milk and ButterDip the
Sheep Dogsheep Notes
and Home Hints.
Waste of Plant.Foods.
The following essay was written for
the Practical Farmer and was awarded
tha first prize:
"How to fertilize a certain field for
a certain crop." is a question th at
forces itself for consideration more
seriously every year, upon the mind
of every tiller of the soil. Many of
us are confronted with the fact that
the supply of barn-yard manure as
usually saved, with what little can be
bought, is insufficient for fertilizing
more than a part of the farm each
year while sevearl years' trial of com
mercial fertilizers leaves room for
doubt concerning their profitableness.
Sometimes we can more than double
a farm or^arden crop by their use
while on* another crap, perhaps the
same year, they would not pay for the
trouble of applying them. Occasion
ally they even seem to injure the
crop.
You may ask now, how we can hope
to increase the fertility of our farm
lands, so they will again raise the old
time crops, without buying fertilizers?
My own observation, experience and
study on the subject, give me the fol
lowing answer: Most farms have
abundant natural resources of plant
food, but the greatest difficulty with
most farmers is to develop, save and
control it in a profitable manner. A
certain amount of the plant-food
locked up in the soil, dissolves by
natural processes and becomes avail
able every year. We can here assist
nature by thorough tillage. Plowing
as deeply as ^he fertile top soil will
admit, and working it up very fine
and mellow, with harrow, cultivator
and roller, leaving it loose and open
to the action of sun. air and rain,
greatly aids in increasing this amount.
The soil is bravely struggling to be
more fruitful, even with but half a
chance. We should not refuse to give it
aid. Clover has been highly praised as a
soil renovator for run-down farms, and
I believe none too much, when prop
erly used in a rotation of crops. I
sends roots deep down into the soil,
to gather up the scattered particles of
plant-foodthat are lost to the other
cropsbringing them again to the
surface, where they are most needed.
It also, by some means, has the pow
er to obtain free nitrogen from the
air, work it over by assimilation, and
use it in its growth and development
Why need we despair of restoring our
run-down soils, when we can use
clover to gather the most costly and
most easily lost element of fertility,
from the inexhaustible stores of the
atmosphere? The farm's ruination is
generally the result of the farmor's
own wastefulness and carelessness.
Stubble fields and gardens are left
bare all fall and winter, with no green
covering to gather and store up fer
tility, as it becomes valuable after the
removal of crops, when they might
have been sown in rye or even oats.
to be turned under in the following
spring.
Manure is carelessly thrown out under
the eaves in a scattered pile, where
the water from the roof "runs off'
with its best part. The liquid manure
runs down under the horse stalls and
pig pen floor in pools, where it soaks
into the ground, and is of no present
earthly use, or seeps from under the
buildings and is washed away by the
rains. Usually little effort is made to
convert waste products of the iarm
into manure. Straw is piled out in
open field or barn-yard where the
stock are allowed to tear down,
trample under foot, and waste it even
with plenty of room in the barn. Corn
fodder is hauled to the fence row and
'fed over," in rain, mud and snow,
the stocks scattered here, there and
everywhere, and then raked up in the
spring and burned. These are facts
of common, every-day occurrence. It
is no wonder with such wastefulness,
that our farms are becoming more
destitute of plant food every year.
There is no need of such waste.
It will not cost you half so
much to have water-tight floors
in your stables. as to con
tinue with the loose, wasteful
plank floors yo u' are now using. If
you doubt the truth of this, take the
floor from part of your stalls and give
them a good coat of fine broken stone
or gravel and cement, and see if it is
not so. Peed everything in the stable
so you will have the refuse for an ab
sorbent. Arrange so as to put your
straw back into the barn when thresh
ing, or haul it in afterward so you
will have it dry and easy to get for
feed and bedding. It is not so diffi
cult to feed corn fodder in the stable
without cutting, as you might think,
where stanchions and long mangers
are used. The stalks thrown back
under the stock and kept level, will
be trampled and broken up more than
one would expect, and will soak up
an immense amount of liquid manur e.
See if you cannot arrange so as to us
clover in your rotation of crops, then
subscribe for three or four of the lead
ing farm papers, and study the prac
tices of the best farmers of the day.
Color of Milk and Butter.
An exchange publishes the testi
mony of an injiellegent New York
dairymen to the effect that the butter
made from his cows was of a height
ened yellow tint in winter, approach
ing that made in summer from the
pastures, and attributes the cause to
an abundance of sunlight admitted to
his stables through glass windows,
with which they were generously sup
plied, and continued -by saying that
one reason why winter butter is
whiter than summer butter is that
cows do not receive as much light in
the stable as in the fields, and he be
lieved the light and consequent heat
decreased the consumption of food.
The latter part of this assumption
is true, beyond a doubt less food is
required to support the animal system
in comfortable, well lighted stables,
with good ventilation, than in exposed
quarters, and moro of the food con
sumed is devoted to the milk yield,
but it is the nature of what the cow
eats that influences the color of her
milk and butter, and nothing contri
butes to the golden yellow colornot
only of her product, but of her skin
as the natural grasses of the summer
montha Ensilage comes next and
approaches nearest in its effects to
grass, and the milk and cream will
continue yellow longer through its use
than with any other winter feed. Yel
low corn meal and oil meal will help,
but the milk of cows making butter
in the summer of the deepest yellow
color wiVJ in winterwhen fed upon
dry foodfade out to white, as will
the skins of the udders, and inside
the ears: a feature so handsome and
attractive in some herds during hot
weather, on green food, is entirely
absent in winter.
The color of milk by no means in
dexes its quality, white milk being
often moro heavily laden with oil and
fat than yellow, and producing more
cream, but in commercial value and
desirability the color of the butter
certainly sustains a most important
part, else the use of artificial coloring
substances would be abandoned.In
diana Farmer.
Far-rung Without PIjs.
A somewhat eccentric farmer whom
we once knew took the thoroughly
Jewish view of the hog as an unclean
animal, and would neither eat its
flesh nor have one about his place.
Most of what usually went to the pig
pen was given to poultry. He claimed
that his hens laid more eggs than
they would if obliged to travel and
feed over land contaminated by the
hog. Our experience has always been
that a few pigs, at least enough to eat
the skim-milk from the dairy and be
fattened mainly on small apples and
potatoes, could be kept with scarcely
any cost. Such pork is sweet and not
unhealthful. It is the keeping oi
large droves of hogs together, feeding
them on ground that has been poisoned
by their excrement, that gives rise to
diseased pork and creates the dislike
against pork as a food. No other
animal furnishes so much or so good
meat for the food it eats as a pig.
American Cultivator.
Horns Hints.
For ivy poison apply sweet oil.
Kerosene oil will remove rust in iron.
Oil door latches and locks occasionally.
Oil paint lasts longer when put on in
autumn.
Use whiting moistened with kerosene to
scour tin.
If boots squeak drive a peg in the center
of the sole.
Melted snow produces one-eighth of its
bulk in water.
Nails dipped into soap will drive easily
into hard wood
To remove a tight finger ring, hold the
hand in very cold water.
To keep off flies paint walls or rub over
picture frames with laurel oil
Morocco leather may be restored with
the varnish of white of an egg.
A cement made of sand and white lead
pamt will stop leaks in the roof.
Sealing wax is made of two parts of
beeswax and one of resin melted together
To clean ermine and all white fur, rub
with corn meal, renewing the meal as it
becomes soiled
To remove iron rust wet the goods in
clear water and rub with ripe tomatoes
Place in the sun when almost dry, if the
rust is not removed repeat the process
When a chimney catches fire throw "salt
upon the fire below, shut off all the drafts
possible (a piece of old wet carpet held
before the grate is an excellent thing to
use in shutting off the draught), and the
fire will slowly go out of itself.
Stockings should never be left to soak,
but washed immediately in clean water,
and not in the boiling suds that is left
from the other clothes, and which always
has plenty of lmt in it. They should be
pinned in pairs and hung up by the toes.
Woolen hose should not be ironed, but
dried nicely and pulled into shape.
Sheep Notes.
Sheep do not like close confinement
Ewes about to lamb must have comfort*
able quarters.
A few places where a ewe can LB put by
herself is always convenient
Keep the hogs away from the sheep,
especially when the ewes are lambing
One of the points in a good shepherd is
to know well how to care for the lambs.
The best plan of forcing the growth of
the lambs, is by feeding the ewes liber
ally.
So long as mutton and wool are im
ported every year, there is certainly no
good reason for thinking that sheep rais
ing is over done.
Lambs intended for early market do
not need to be either docked or castrated,
but those to be kept should be operated on
when a week old.
Unless with old ewes, it is usually not
necessary to supply sheep with ground
grain. Shelled corn, whole wheat, bran
or middlings, make good feeds
Lambs, wool, mutton and manure are
the four cardinal points in sheep raising,
and with good management any one can
be made to pay the cost of keeping.
i Sheep, like other stock, like a variety,
and will thrive much better if this can be
supplied to them. This is an item when
they must depend upon dry feed alone.
Straw makes the best material for bed
ding for sheep, and when possible, a suf
ficient quantity should be supplied to keep
them dry and clean. In no way can the
wheat straw be used to a better advan
tage.
To make the most out of sheep, they
must be kept for a series of years. Some
years they will return a much better
profit than in others, but it is hard to sell
out and buy in always at just the right
time.
While sheep may be regarded as
scavengers of the field, too much depend
ence should not be placed upon them to
keep down weeds and sprouts, as it can
hardly be considered good economy to
force thein to feed on these aloce.
FROM CRADLE O GRAVE.
Baby, Willie, Billy, William and "Old
B.U" JonesHis End.
'Mrs. Jones has a baby,
"The deuce you say."
"Fact." "Girl or boy?"
Boy." "Let's hunt up old
make him set 'em up."
So is ushered into the world Baby
Jones, very red and hungry, and very
much troubled with insomnia The
former grows on him, and on wearing
off the latter Papa Jones loses his
hair and several pounds of flesh, and
Mama Jones loses some of her good
looks.
Pay?' said Papa Jones in astonish
ment. "Do babies pay? Well, I
should say they did."
"Pay?" said Mamma Jones, "why
the whole world could not buy him."
And so Baby Jones becomes Willie
Jones, and with his little primer and
immaculate tie marches proudly to
school, says the Minneapolis Journal.
Thereupon the boys "christen" his
new shoes by spitting on them, and
they soil his white tie by rolling him
over in the sand. And Willie Jones
cries and tho teacher comforts him by
letting him sit on the platform and by
calling his tormentors "bad boys."
And they grin and look ashamed.
BfBut Father Time keeps his scythe
a-swing. and lo! Billy Jones is in the
high school. Billy the Kid he is
called now, and he nearly breaks his
mother's heart one day because she
sees him smoking a cigarette and evi
dently enjoying it Billy Jones is also
inclined to partake of the fruit of his
neighbor's pear tree, said fruit being
obtained after dark.
Jonesey anc*
Will Jones is a different boy a few
years after his graduation from the
nigh school. Life has become a ques
tion of neckties and fits on clothes.
He ushers strangers into seats at the
Church of the Dan and Beersheba
Pilgrims. He leads the german, and.
one day Deacon Potts is pained to see
him coming out of a bucket-shop,
where he has taken a flyer on wheat.
William Jones, aged 40. is the
cashier of the Heighton national bank.
Mr. Jones is known as one of our
best and brainiest business men. Mrs.
Jones speaks of him as Mr. Jones, or
William, and Deacon Potts takes his
advice on the investment of a few
hundred dollars he has laid by. They
talk of running him for the legisla
ture, and the Evening Squarsh has
boomed him for mayor. The little
ones call him papa and run to meet
him at night when he comes home.
At 60.
"You know old Bill Jones? He
was telling me the other day how he
used to play ball where the postoffice
now stands. He's a jolly old fellow, I
tell you. Told about helping to pitch
a teacher out of the window when he
was a boy about forty or fifty years
ago."
Bill is a jolly old boy.
company in a roar at his
wedding with his stories.
Bill has laid by quite a little pile in
his day. Smooth old boy is Bill. He
has accumulated quite a stock of ex
perience at any rate, and is always
ready with a word of counsel if you
ask his advice.
Seventy-five years old to-day is "Old
Bill Jones" or "Old Billy Jones." as
his younger friends love to call him.
There is so term of reproach irj, fam
iliarity unless it is used by the
thoughtless or inconsiderate. His old
friends have dropped by the wayside,
one by one, and old Bill Jones is the
last leaf on the tree. It is well rip
ened by time and frost, and the first
breath of winter will detach him
gently, and he will fall to his parent
earth in sweec peace. "Old Bill
Jones!" He has done his work well
and he is ready to go He wonders if
he will meet the old boys again and
talk over the old days. His mind is
rriuch on his youth. He loves to re
call the old associations. The old
voices are in his ears. He smiles as
he see's the children play.
Hello, Colonel, whose
this you are filling?"
"William Jones', sir."
"What? Old Billy Jones? Well,
well so he has gone. But he lived to
a good old age. Let's see, 78 years
3 months' the stone says, don't it?"
That's doing pretty well in these
times. Jones was a good old fellow,
though. I remember hearing my
father tell how Jones let him have
$5,000 once to tide him over a crisis,
and he never took a bit of security.
He and father were great friends once.
How long ago? Oh, that must have
been twenty or twenty-five years back.
Father's been dead eighteen years.
Well, good luck to him, wherever he
is. Good-day.
I
1
Kept the
daughter
They say
grave is
Dissipation of the IUlnd.
"I know a literary man," says a
philosophic friend, "who works from
twelve to eighteen hoars a day. He
complains, when he has time, that he
hasn't half time enough to do what he
would like to do. That man is a study.
He is the best read man I knowis a
living encyclopedia of knowledge.
But he doesn't know enough to come
to dinner. I presume such men ar
necessary to the world. It is a curious
thing that the man who works hard
with his brains conceives more work
and is inspired by the ambition to ac
complish it whereas the man who
hasn't anything particular to do never
originates anything and finds it a task
to do anything. These qualities often
exist in the same man. Now, my
own case, when I am much driven. I
think of lots of things I'd like to do if
I had time 1 make a memorandum
of them and put them aside, working
a little on this or that between times.
Just as soon as I am relieved from
mental pressure my thought capacity,
industry and ambition collapse to
gether. I think work, congenial,
mental labor, is a sort of dissipation.
JThe. more you have of it the more you
$QM and the more you can dountil'
something snaps. "New York Herald.
i
*t*