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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*