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Western appeal. (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1885-18??, June 27, 1885, Image 4

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83016811/1885-06-27/ed-1/seq-4/

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Gaunt faced and hungry eyed she waits,
This sombre warder or our rates,
Forever sleepless while we sleep,
And silent while we watch and weep.
Sometimes, beguiled by smiling skies,
And wooing winds we shut our eyes,
Forgetting for a little space
That tiresome, unforgetting face.
Or, stirred as stirs the sap in spring,
By natures force, we laugh and sing,
Or run to pass that waiting shape,
With flying footsteps of escape.
But where we run she leads the way,
She goes before us night and day,
No flying footsteps can escape
By any path, that somber shape.
Always she waits with whip and spur,
To urge us on if we demur
With bitter breath we call her foe,
As driven thus we rise and go.
The roads we follow wind and twist,
Our eyes grow blind with blinding mist,
Blown down to us as we ascend
The upland hights that near the end.
And at the end"Where is the foel
Where hideth she!" we cryand lo,
Through breaking mist, and angel's face,
Looks out upon us from herplace'
Healthful Qualities of Milk.
In a "Five Minutes Talk on Health,"
in the New England Farmer, Dr. Pat
terson has a few words to say on the
subject of milk:
It is owing to the fact that milk so
easily absorbs the odor or infection of
an thing with which it comes in close
contact, that this most valuable article
of food has often been brought into dis
repute. Like some people, it is known
by the company it keeps. Not only
must the stock from which the milk is
obtained be good, and the food proper
both in kind and quantity in order to
get good milk, but the right care must
be taken of it after it is produced.
This care consists first in providing
proper receptacles to hold it, and sec
ond, a proper place for the milk cans,
pans, pails, etc., to be kept. It may
be laid down as a rule, which never
should be violated, not to use milk uten
sils for any other purpose than that for
which they were designed. Also all
receptacles used -for holding milk
should be kept scrupulously clean tin
and earthen dishes should be washed
every day in boiling water and
thoroughly dried.
But it is in the storage of xnilk that
additional care must be taken. It
is true this involves careful attention,
but it more than repays for the labor
expended. The mam thing to be re
membered is to keep milk by itself.
Under no consideration should it be
placed in the cellar near vegetables, or
in close proximity to roots and herbs.
Milk will absorb emanations from any
or all of these substances, as quickly
as blotting paper will take up the ink
spilt upon the table. In the summer
time it is eostomary for many farmers
to place their milk in the well to keep
it cool. Now, where is the well lo
cated, and what is the condition of the
water in it? These are important
questions, to which the health of our
own and any other families who may
use the milk demand attention.
In manj of our country homes
throughout our rural districts of this
country, will be found a cupboard in
one corner of the kitchen, where the
milk is usually kept. As the kitchen
is often the "living room" of the family,
especially in winter, we ask the ques
tion in all seriousness, is that the best
place for the milk? Think for a mo
ment of the cooking, washing, ironing
and other uses to which the kitchen is
pyi, to say nothing of its use as the
farmer's smoking room. Certainly
such a place is not fit to keep milk in.
Another important matter is thekept,
keeping of milk in the sick room.
Never should any considerable quantity
be allowed to stand in the sick room of
a patient who is using milkand it is
often better than medicinelet a glass
of it be placed on a small table within
easy reach of the patient or nurse, but
certainly once every hour change the
milk and the tumbler. Do not fill up
the same tumbler until it has been
thoroughly washed. That infectious
diseases have been carried through the
medium of milk is a question -settled be
yond doubt. Fortunately we have a
remedy against such further repetition
of this kind. It is found in boiling
the milk. A standard medical author
ity has stated "that none of the organ
isms to which the infectious diseases
are due can possibly withstand the
temperature of boiling milk." Let us
then by every possible care and caution
give heed to the obtaining and preserv
ation of good, pure and fresh milk.
Variety of Grain Food.
The most successful farmers, says the
Ploughman, feed their stock on a vari
ety of food. Experience has proved
that a herd of cattle fei on but one
kind of fodder, though it may be the
best that grows, will not keep as
healthy or do as well as if fed on sever
all kinds. While the principal food may
be composed of that fodder which can
be grown on the farm to the best advan
tage, a change to some other fodder not
as easily grown is very often desirable.
Among the fodder crops that can be
easily grown on most of farms may be
named oats. While this fodder may
not be quite as good for milch cows,
as barley fodder, it makes a change
that is agreeable as well as
benefical to the cows, providing
the crop is properly grown and
cured. The great mistake that
people make in raising oat fodder
is in not sowing seed enough four
bushels to the acre is not too much.
The straw is then fine and can be easily
cured so that the hay will be perfectly
sweet, and will be eagerly sought for by
both horses and cattle but if only two
bushels be sown to the acre the straw
will be so coarse that it is difficult if
not impossible to properly dry it so itpeas,
will not be smoky when fed out when
this-condition it is not a desirable
food for any animal.
Farmers who have tried to grow oat
fodder in this way have become dis
couraged, and abandoned it as a fodder
crop but those farmers who have sown
seed enough to make the straw fine,
cut it at the proper time, and cured it
well, have found it a valuable fodder
crop. On good land a very large crop
can be grown, much more than barley
or rye, and quite as much as of Hun
garian. The only drawback to the oat
crop is its liability to rust occasionally
we* have a season like last year, when
the rust will strike it before it is fully
grown but it is not much more liable
to rust than timothy grass, unless it is
permitted to stand until the grain is
fully matured. When it is found that
it is beginning to rust it is best to cut it,
although it is but just commencing to
blossom but when there is no appear
ance of rust it should be permitted to
stand until the kernel is nearly grown.
To those who understand just how to
grow it, and how to cure it, the oat
crop is one that will give as good re
turns as almost any crop grown on the
farm but it is not best for the farmer to
depend wholly on this for a fodder crop,
but to let it come in to make up a vari
ety. Corn, rye, barley and Hungarian
are all good and should be considered.
Manuring Trees and Vines.
It is supposed by some that when
any invigorator is to be applied to
trees or vines, it cannot be used too
plentifully, and they accordingly mulch
and manure to the damage of what
ever is planted out, and wonder that it
does not grow more vigorously. We
have known farmers when setting out
grape vines, to dig a pit and throw in
the carcasses of two or three sheep or
a bushel or two of old bones from
slaughter houses to each root, giving
only a light covering of dirt, believing
that if bones are good for vines, the
roots would run down into the putrid
flesh or the dry bones, and feed
plentifully thereon.
Now, any one knows that roots or
seeds placed in a dung hill, will not
thrive, and this should teach all that
manure only furnishes a portion of the
elements required for the support of
vegetation, and that a bed of manure
or bones beneath a tree or vine, is only
an impediment to its growth. A pint
of bone dust will work a greater benefit
to a tree or vine, when worked into the
surface soil, than a bushel of whole bones
under the roots, and so will a few
shovelfuls of decomposed sods increase
the growth of any plant more than a
cart load of manure put in beneath the
Digging pits, especially in clay soil,
and filling them with any material,
before setting out shrubs, is a bad plan,
for this excavation will hold water as
well as a cistern, and the roots of the
trees or vines will several months in
the year have to stand in a complete
mud-hole. When setting out a single
tree or vine, loosen up the soil no
deeper than the hard-pan, and work
in rich surface soil and loambeing
sure to get fine dirt a? ound the fibrous
roots. When planting an orchard,
unless the ground is thoroughly
underdrained, dig no deeper than the
plough goes, then the drainage will be
sufficient to save the tree from drown
ing out. Never mix fresh barnyard
manure with the soil when planting
orchards or \ineyards.Tribune and
Corn for Horses.
The Live-Stock Journal is averse to
feeding corn to horses. It says that
corn makes too much fat and not
enough muscle. The horse's muscle
wears away by work as metal wears
away by friction. Fat wears away un
der exercise, but its disappearance in
nowise lessens the power for either
draft or speed. On the other hand,
well-nourished and vigorously exercised
muscles, without a deposit of fat to keep
them company, are much more efficient
for any purpose for which the horse is
than when there is a load
of fat to be carried. The trainer acts
upon this proposition, and works the
fat off, experience having shown that
the muscles, trained down by exercise
until fat accumulations are removed
fattening foods being mainly abstained
fromgives the best results in the case
of a speedy horse. The same rule will
hold good with the work horse, though
modified by the degree in which the
movements of the latter are slower
than those of the former. If the farmer
has only corn for feed, then he will be
wise if lie makes sale of his corn, or the
greater part of it, buying oats instead.
If corn be used in whole or in part, the
effect should be carefully noted as to
the extent to which fermentation sets
in, meeting this by use of salt and
ashes, at once lessening the amount of
corn fed. It will be found that horses
fed upon corn will eat earth when al
lowed access to it, as, to a degree, this
neutralizes the acid generated in the
stomach, and gives relief. Corn may
be rated as the natural food for fatten
ing stocksuch as are fed for their
flesh. All kinds of fattening stock are
made ripe on corn, with the addition of
an allowance of coarse feed or fodder.
Ripeness in the horse is a very different
thing from ripeness in the fatted steer,
for in the one case it means full vigor
of muscle with an absence of fat, and
in the other an abundance of fat. no
matter how much and as to the muscle,
no matter how inefficeentfor work.
Manure in Gardens.
The best manure for either vegetables
or fruits is well decomposed barnyard
manure. It is not advisable to use
fresh manure, as in such a condition it
is unfit for plant food, and if it is put
into the soil dry and fresh it is a long
time before it gets into condition so
that the roots of plants derive nourish
ment from it, better place in a heap
and allow it to ferment and rot before
putting into the ground. All vegetables
require well manured soil, some of
course, much more than others. Cab
bage, celery, sweet corn and cauliflow
ers especally, require rich soil. For
beans and tomatoes, if the soil is
in tolerably good condition, atop dress
ing of wood ashes applied after plowing
and well harrowed in, is excellent in
most kinds of soils. I have often raised
better crops ot these vegetables when
an application of wood ashes was
given than when barnyard manure
was used there was less vine and more
Ji, i
fruit. Working the ground at a prop
er time is another essential to be attend
ed to. Clayey land has to be carefully
worked, especially when plowed in the
spring. If wet when plowed it remains
in a lumpy condition all summer, and
as a consequence poor crops can only
be expected. Thorough cultivation
before the seeds are put into the ground
greatly accelerates the work during
the entire season.Country Gentleman.
Iiv FUterers.
A curious experiment was shown a
year or two ago, in which a long glass
tube was filled with earth and sewage
poured in at the upper end. If the
tube was long enough six or eight feet,
the liquid issued from the bottom clear
and pure, its disolved and suspended
organic matters having been oxidized
by the soil. If, however, before
pouring in the sewage a little dilute
chloroform were allowed to filter
through the earth, sewage subsequently
applied passed through the tube
without change, the oxidizing action
of the soil being completely suspended.
After some hours or days the soil
regained its oxidizing quality. This
experiment was believed to show that
the oxidation of organic matters in
sewage ws something more than a
chemical reaction, and that it depended,
at least to a certain extent, on the
presence of a small living organisms
whose activity could b& temporarily
suspended by"anaesthetic, and with it
the oxidation of the sewage.
This theory has now been confirmed
by additional observations, and the
little creature which converts into
fixed and harmless salts the putrefying
impurities of such sewage as it canappear
reach is believed to be a micrococcus
somewhat resembling the yeast plant.
Many and varied tests have been made
to determine the conditions under
which the disinfecting microbe lives
and acts, and a good deal has been
learned about its habits. It is found
that it flourishes best, and is most
efficient, at a temperature of about
ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit,
nearly the temperature of the blood.
At higher or lower temperatures its
action becomes more feeble, and ceases
altogether near the freezing point, or
above one hundred and thirty degrees.
Experiments to show its distribution in
a clay soil show that it is most abun
dant in the upper six inches but islettuce,
found to a depth of a yfoot and a half.
Below that depth it cannot live, and
soil taken more than eigteen inches
below the surface has hitherto always
failed to induce any change in nitro
genous solutions to which it was
When an orchard ceases bearing while
the trees are still sound and healthy, it
is certain that labor and manure applied
in restoring it to productiveness will pay
better than anywhere else on the farm.
It has been ascertained by carefully
repeated experiments that the first
drawn milk contains five, the second
eight and the fifth seventeen per cent,
of cream. Thus a cow three-quarters
milked is not half milked, if butter is
the object.
The statistical account of the produc
tion of wool throughout the civilized
world shows that in the year 1830 it
was 320,000,000 pounds, in 1871 it was
nearly 2,000,000,000, while in 1883 in
the United States alone the .production
in the whole world in 1830.
The dgg plant seed, says Mr. Vick,
may be sown with tomato seeds but
more care is necessary at transplanting,
to prevent the plants being chilled by
the change. Those who have no hot
beds can sow a few seeds in boxes in
the house. Hand-glasses are useful for
covering at time of transplanting.
A grower of small fruit has found
that salt hay, spread over the whole
surface of the ground I the depth of
three inches, will prevent mildew on
gooseberries. This grower, who resides
near the sea-coast, obtains his salt hay
from the marshes which the tide over
flows. Common, coarse hay or bog
grass, soaked in brine, would probably
answer just as well.
The Germantown Telegraph avers
that quinces can be raised as readily
as apples or pears. But the ground
where they are growing needs to be kept
from grass and weeds and it is an ex
cellent practice to spread ashes of
any sort and lime around the trees,
and dig such fertilizing material into
the soil. Quinces sell as high as $10 a
barrel, and they have always been high.
Dr. Nichols, of the Boston Journal
of Chemistry, found by repeated and
careful experiments, that cooling
of cows1
legs by standing ithe a pool of
cool water in hot summer days, sensi
bly diminished the milk secretion, so
sensitive are cows to the influence of
cold. Yet many farmers subject their
milch cows to frequent and severe chills
during the winter, both in-doors and
England imports nearly $25,000,000
worth of cheese a year. The average
price paid for the imported article is a
little less than eleven cents per pound.
Canada sends a higher priced article
than the United States, and the largest
amount of any one country in compari
son with previous years. The increase
from the United States has been slight,
and the product of Holland cannot com
pete with American cheese.
A Pomfret (Conn.) farmer, whose
cows are accustomed to run beside
barbed wire fences, wishing to open a
part of the mowing to them for fall feed,
drew two lines of old cord and other
pieces of twine across the field, making
them fast here and there to some bean
poles. The whole thing was the work
of only a few minutes, but not one of
his eight cows ever erossed or molested
that fence. They fed up to it and then
turned aside. Such is the force of habit.
The latest improvement in raising
lima beans is to use brush about eight
feet high, stuck likepea-brush, instead
of poles, as commonly practised. Plant
in hills about three feet apart in the
direction of the rows, two or three
plants to the hill, and the rows six or
eight feet from each other. Cut off the
tops of the plants when they get above
the brush, and stop all the side shoots
When they are two feet long. The
vines are much better exposed to the
to he
and far
sun and air in this
larger crops are sa i
than by poling.
The Poultry Monthiy has some ad
vice to give on the care of young chicks
It says: Far the first pweuty-four hours
do not give them any food whatever,
and do not give theni raw food until
three or four weeks aid, but cooked in
gredients, stale brriad soaked, hard
boiled eggs, thoroughly boiled potatoes,
fine corn-meal, etc. This food should
be given them eight or nine times a day
during-this term, and if you can give
them milk to drink so much the better
for them. When they are past four
weeks old then give tjhem cooked meats,
vegetables, with some wheat screenings.
Many careful and painstaking farm
ers have demonstrated the fact, that
old animals, of any kind of farm stock,
cannot be profitably (keptupon the farm,
as a general rule. We saw it stated
that a gentleman Tyho served on the
committee of cost of production, at the
late Chicago Fat Stock Show, said the
fact was established, that profitable
feeding did not extend beyond the two
year-olds. We find it convenient to
keep our steers till three years old, but
we doubt if there is much profit in
keeping them greatly beyond this age.
As to pigs, eight [to ten months will
give greater profit tjhan if wintered over.
Fruit-growers mjust now prepare for
the coming of two (broods of locusts
the seventeen-year and the thirteen
year. The entoniologist of the Agri
cultural Department gives warning
that they will sooh be here, and will
remain until late ijn July. Fortunately
he is able to predict that they will not
do a great deal of harm. For the first
time in 221 years the two broods will
in conjunction. A short arith
metical calculation will prove that only
once in 221 years can these two bands of
marauders meet and become acquainted
with each other, they strictly observe
the periods of what may be called
their revolutions.
A writer-in the London Garden, re
ferring to the well-known fact that new
seeds usualy germinate more quickly
than old ones, says that many old ones
will germinate well with heat, that
would perish in! old ground, a fact
which should be borne in mind by those
who are testing seeds this spring
in warm rooms. Among those which
may be kept two seasons, are named
onions, salsify, i,n& some others while
tomatoes and artichokes will
continue good three seasons cabbage,
turnips, spinach, kales, etc., four sea
sons and maons, cucumbers and
beets, for five or six seasons. It must,
however, be borne in mind that such
rules as these are more or less arbi
trary, as much depends on condition of
the seeds, the temperature and damp
ness of the placs where they are kept,
and on the condition of the soil which
receives them, favorable influences
sometimes inoije than doubling their
keeping, and favoring or preventing
germination altogether.
Bible Scenes Illustrated.
In an article in the Gospel in all
Lands, Rev. E. F. Baldwin writes from
At every tul'n in this semi-Oriental
land, onefind:5 the scenes and sayings
of the Word of God vividly reproduced
and illustrated! Here, as one approach
es the city from oar home, just before
we enter the West gate,' sits another
Bartimeus, by the wayside, begging,
and around 41m the loose outer gar
ment, he might easily cast away if he
started up in eager haste to receive his
At one point, as you come over the
brow of a hill [on which the "Casba" is
built, the city at once burst out upon
your vision, las did Jerusalem before
the Lord Jesus when he wept over it.
On the other side the city, as you pass
from the "Marino," or enclosure where
is the customrhouse, you behold again
Matthew sitting at the receipt of custom,
in the persons of the Sultan's officials,
who sit, with piles of silver before them,
to appraise and receive the duties on
One of the first houses I entered was
built on the city wall, as were several
we read of insacred story. I now well
understand Peter's going upon the
house-top to i pray, for it is upon our
.terrace, as the flat roof of our house
is called, I go when I would be most
alone. TheT children playing in the
market-place those of pretentious
piety prayidg in public places the
women grinding at the mill the narrow
path through the field where the seed
may fall on tjhe beaten path or in thorny
ground, or in shallow soil or good the
girding up I of the loins these and
scores of Scripture allusions may be
seen* or sought out in this land which
has so many Palestinean features. It
makes very [real to one much of the
outward lifejof our Lord when he walked
among mem
Ancient Temperance Pledge.
On the
blknksleaf oftransmitteEnglish
Bible which1
an old
ha been from
sire to son through many successive
generations and appears as the prop
erty of Robert Bolton, B. D., and
preacher pf God's Word at Broughton,
Northamptonshire, is inscribed the
following pledge: "From this day for
warde to the ende of my life, I will
never pledge any healthe nor drink a
whole carojuse in a glass cup, bowle, or
other drinking instrument, except ne
cessity doe require it not to my own
most gracious kinge, nor any the great
est monarch or tyrant upon earth, nor
my dearest friend, nor all the gould in
the world,! shall ever enforse me. Not
angel froni heaven (who I know will
not attempt it) shall persuade not
Satan, with all his oulde subtleties nor
all the powers of hell itself shall betray
me. By this very sinne (for sinne it is,
and not a little one) I doe plainly find
that I have more offended and dishon
ored my glorious Maker and most gra
cious Saviour than by all other sinne
that I am subject untoe and for this
very sin itj is my God hath often been
strange untoe me and for that cause,
and no ojther respect, have I thus
vowecLanjl I heartily beg my goodFath-.
er in heaven of His great goodness and
mercy inj Jesus Christ, to assist me in
this samei, and be favorable unto me for
what is
April 10,
Amen. Broughton,
1637.R. Bolton.
They were seated in the dining-room
of James Walford, a professional singer,
and the occasion of the meeting was to
commemorate Walford's signature to
an agreement with the lessee of the
Cremona Theatre. A few days before
the document had been duly completed
Walford was to have twenty pounds a
^eek, the largest salary he had yet
reached, and was to create the leading
tenor part in a new comic opera.
Walford himself was hardly as glad
as his friends, for he was the besfr
natured, best tempered, kindest-hearted
tenor that ever lived. A few months
previous he had lost a young wife, to
whom he was devotedly attached, and
he was left a widower with an only
child, a boy of four years old. Now that
his wife was gone, this boy was the very
apple of his eye. Those who knew him
best said it was well he had the child to
centre his affections on, for otherwise
they feared his reason might give way.
One of the pleasantest things in con
nection with the present social meeting,
was that M. Grattin had come, and
shown himself most cordial and agree
able. Every one regarded this as ex
ceedingly good on his part, for it was
known to all that the choice of a tenor
for the Cremona Theatre lay between
him and Walford. Thus he had come,
as it were, to signalize the triumph of
his rival over himself.
M. Grattin was a strikingly hand
some man. His manner was refined
and gentlemanlike, and the only ob
jection Englishmen found to him was,
that he seemed to be anxious to show
elaborate kindness in small things at
the expense of sincerity in -greater.
Thus it happened that although the
men present that night greeted his ar
rival enthusiastically, and told him he
was a good fellow for coming, next
morning when they thought over the
matter, they agreed it was only what
was to be expected from so polite and
courteous a man.
It was but natural under the circum
stances, after the death of Walford's
wife, his curley-headed little boy Frld
dy should be made much of by the
Bohemian friends ot his father. Upon
the death of his wife, Walford, having
no woman relative who could take her
place, dismissed the general servant
and hunted up his old nurse, Martha
At last the great night was at hand.
Walford was full of spirit and confi
dence. The rehearsals had been most
satisfactory. Every one connected
with the theater had complimented him
on his singing and acting in the part,
and the whole company were in the
very best of humor, for the belief was
general that the opera would run a
hundred nights, at least.
It was a dreary, cold, damp, disheart
ening evening when Walford prepared
to leave his home for the theater.
"Now, Martha," said he before go
ing, "you'll be king of the castle while
I'm away. I shall not be back till past
midnight. You need not sit up for me.
I shall get my supper in town. It's
time now, isn't it, for Freddy to go to
bed?" He took the boy iu his arms,
kissed him fondly, stroked his brown
curls, and called fiim his Fred, his little
man, his fine boy, then added: I
think, Martha, in honor of the occasion,
I must give Freddy a shilling."
The father handed the boy the shill
ing, and having kissed him again long
and lingeringly, rose with a sigh, and
said to Martha: "You'll take care he
ets into no trouble while I'm away,
he safest place for him is in bed."
He did not*come on very early in the
first act. He felt in no way nervous.
He never had been in better voice, and
the part suited him perfectly. What
more could any tenor desire?
There was, of course, an under-study
to his part. M. Grattin had that duty,
and yet, singular to say, he did not
arrive in the theatre before the curtain
went up.
Grattin had belonged to the Cre
mona Company for a considerable time,
and during that time had always sung
second or third tenor parts. He had
been paid eight guineas a week, and
for a while there had floated before him
the hope that he might be promoted to
the first place with a salary of twenty
pounds. This hope had been dispelled
when Walford got the engagement, and
now he, Grattin, had no part at all, and
no chance of an appearance during the
present run unless Walford broke down.
Just as the curtain was rung up there
was a great commotion behind.
Grattin had arrived in a state of the
highest excitement, and there were
sounds of consternation and dismay
from the men's dressing-room. Before
the curtain had been up a couple of
minutes the opera was stopped and
the manager stepped forward to
explain that, owing to a sad calamity,
news of which had reached the theater
but that very moment, Mr. Walford
would not be able to appear that
evening. In the face of such a mis
fortune M. Grattin with whom they had
so long been favorably familiar, had
kindly consented to sing the part.
The manager said more, but this is
all that is material. The audience
were docile, and accepted the situation
without a murmur.
What had occurred behind was this.
Grattin had, in a state of wildest
excitement, frusfeed into the men's
dressing-room and anounced that
after Walford left his home, he, Grattin
was passing by with the intention of
calling for his friend, when-he found a
crowd around the house and flames
bursting from the windows. He
learned from the police that from the
first alarm it was impossible to enter
the house. Hence their fear that the
boy and possibly the old woman had
In the face of such horrible events
it was clearly impossible for Walford
to sing. So the poor father, assisted
by those around him, took off the gay
trappings of the stage, resumed the
sober garb of every-day life, and went
off mutely with his friend to the^scene
of desolation.
When he got there, the house was all
ablaze, and he was assured that noth
ing could be done until morning.
Had anything been heard or seen of
his boy? No, nothing. Had anything
been seen of Martha? Yes she had
come back, and her story wa? a strange
one. It ran as follows:
Very shortly after her master had
left the house, and just as she had put
the boy to bed, a knock came the side
door. She went down, leaving the
paraffin oil lamp burning on the table
close to the bed. She found at the door
a ragged little boy who handed her a
It was to the effect that if she came
to a certain public-house the writer
would tell her something which would
be greatly to her advantage and the
advantage of her master.
For along time the woman hesitatdc
Then, thinking there might really be
some advantage to herself and* her
master behind this note, she resolved
to risk going.
At the public-house indicated, she
found a stout, slatternly woman, who
appeared to be the worse for drink.
This woman said that hor design was
that Martha, being in a position of con
fidence, as she was informed, should
gradually pillage the house: that she the
strange woman, would dispose of the
goods, and that they two should divide
the money between them.
Martha broke away from this wretch
indignantly, and hurried back with all
speed to the house. She had not been
more than half an hour absent, but
when she got back, the place was in
flames, and all possibility of getting at
the room where she had left the boy
was over. No doubt the child had got
out of bed, and while playing with the
lamp, it fell and fired the house.
There was nothing for the disconso
late father to do out to wait there
through the dreary watches of that
desolate, sad night, looking at the un
certain flicker of the gradually dying
With morning came the possibility
of search. Then the remains of the
lamp were found, but no trace what
ever of the boy, except, strangely
enough, some buttons which were
known to belong to his clothes and a
shilling. Both the father and the
nurse agreed that there could not
possibly have been any other
silver coin in that room than
the one given by the father to his son
the evening before. This coin, too,
was found in a place close beside the
iron bedstead, which would roughly
correspond with where the nurse 'had
put his clothes. Although it was nine
o'clock in the morning, Walford re
fused to leave the ruins, and a friend,
who had stayed with him loyally all the
time, set off in search of some refresh
ment. He came back very shortly,
and, preoccupied as Walford was, ha
could not but see that some new and
startling surprise had overtaken his
friend. He asked hastily what it was.
"I don't think I ought to tell you,
Walford, but if I don't, some one else
will in a few minutes. There was a
bad break down at the Cremona last
"I know there was, and I was the
cause of it," said Walford, sadly.
"But who can blame me? Look at
this. Where is my boy?"'
"I don't mean you, Walford, but
Grattin. He fell on the stage in a
fainting fit, and the opera had to be
stopped. They say he's seriously ill.
In fact, the doctors think he can't
While the two men were speaking, a
third man came up and said: "I have a
note for Mr. Walford."
When the owner of the burned house
had read it, he turned to his companion
and said: "It is from poor Grattin. He
asks me to come to him at once for
God's sake, or he may never see me
again. He lives quite close. I will
not be long. Wait for me."
Walford found Grattin exhausted,
but able to speak fluently.
"The doctors tell me I may go at any
moment. I will not waste a word. I
have been unconscious until just now.
I want you to forgive me if you can
if you will. I was jealous of you. I
made my up mind to destroy^ you if I
could. The whole plot was mine.
I got a woman to decoy our servant
away, and I set fire to your house
"And the boythe boy?" whispered
the father pale as death
"Is sleeping there." He pointed lo
a door leading off the room in which
he lay. I used chloroform on a
handkerchief with him, and then
brought him here. He is safe. Open
the door and look. Mercy! mercy,
James Walford! Hark! There's your
boy's voice. Is it not sweet enough to
your ears this mornirg to take away
your anger? Hark! That is the call
boy! 'Monsieur Grattin, the stage
waits,' Ready."
And with this word Monsieur Grattin
answered his Last Call.
Southern Chain Gangs.
Florida has no chain gang, but the
terror of the colored evil doer is to be
let out by contract. A man who had
once been let out that way told me that
before he would go there again he
would cut his throat. He had been, a
slave, but said slavery was nowhere in
comparison to it. Knock down and drag
out if killed, no questions were asked.
It is worse than the chain gang, for
they are let out to parties in far out of
the way places, whilst the chain gang
is generally in sight of some one.
I ran across one of these gangs in
Georgia and talked with the keeper
who had his rifle strapped to his back
and bloodhound by his side. I expected
to find a "Lagree," but he was a mild
spoken and pleasant man, at least for
the time being. The 25 men, mostly
young, and all colored, were grading
with pick and shovel. They had light
chains, about as large as one used for
a halter, twined around one leg and
fastened to the belt no balls. It did
not impede their movements, and was
principally for fastening them together
at night. Whilst eating their dinner
of corn bread, I talked with them.
They seemed about as happy as fellows
generally are who have to work for a
living. This was a county gang. For
high crimes they are put in the state
gang, which is much worse. It does
not take much of a crime to send a col
ored man to the chain gang, and thev
are sent there early and often.

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