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§lain gpthr. W. ft. ». J. HEAD, PublMMM. IOWA. FAME, WEALTH, LIFE, DEATH. What i« fame? "Tis the fun-jrleani on the mountain, Spreading brightly err it flics 'Tis the ItuM'le on the fountain, Ri«inp lisjhtiy ore itfli#-*: Or, if lure antl thi re u hero Be remen.t»'rrl '.hrouKh the years, Yet to him th«- pain is zero If f'ut ouly in the air May be hearilsomeriti.*' rmentionof their name. Though 121. y hear it rot themselves, 'tis much the same. What in wealthf *Ti» a rainbow stll! reeedlng As the pantin? fool purpura Or a toy that youth unheeding, Seek* the readier way to loae Bat the wise man keeps due measure. Neither out of bieatb or base He but hold* In trust his treasure For the welfare of th- race. Yet what crimes some mn will dam But to Rain their slender share IB tome prosit, though with loss of name ®f health. la some plunder, spent on vices or by stealth. What i» life* 'Us the earthly hour of trial For n ilfe that's just begun When the prize of self-denial May bo quickly lost or won 'Tis the bour when love may burgeon To the everlasting Hower Or when lusts their victims orge on To defy immortal power. Yet how lichtly men ignore All the future holds in store, Spending brief hut golden moments all in Strife, Or In suicidal madness prasp the knife. What is death! Past its dark and mysterious portal Human eyes may never roam Yet the hope still springs immortal That it leads the wanderer home. Oh, the bliss that lies before us When the secret shall be known. And the vast anpelic chorus Sounds tbat hymn before the throne. What is fame, or wealth, or life? I'ast are praises, fortune, strife: All but love, that lives forever. ca?t beneath. When the good and XailWul servant takes the wreath. —The JWR. WAYT'S WIFE'S SISTER. By Marion Harland. [COPYIUGHT, 1880] CHAPTER VII —iCoNTiITCW*.) "Annoy me!'' repeated the poor, stiff lips. "Annoy me! You must surely know, Mr. (lilehrist, that that is not a word to be used by you to me!" "No?" coming a step nearer, eye kindling and voice softening. "You will let me try to overcome fe difference, then—will you not?" In the depth of her distress she appre ciated the adroit twist he pavo her an swer. The corners of the pale mouth stirred. ller strength was slipping from her. She must be brief and de cisive. "If that were all" looking cour ageously into the glowing eyes—"I would give a very different answer from the one you must accept without que tioning. I know that I can never give any other, unprepared though I was for what you have said. There are rea sons not immediately connected with myself why I ought not to think for a moment of—the matter you were speak ing of. You have paid me the greatest compliment a man can offer a woman. Hut while my sister and the children need me as they do now I must not think of leaving them, and I see no prospect of their needing me less for years and years to come. My sis*er opened her house to me when I was orphaned and homeless. 1 owe her more than I could make you under stand. She is peculiarly dependent upon me. Hester could not do without me. You have seen that. I can not bear to think how she would suffer if 1 were to go away." In her desire to deal gently and fairly with him she had made a concession fatal to the integrity of her cause. He laid hold of i? at once. "•Mrs. Wayt has a husband the chil dwM. 1 .i\. :i itl.' He i? n nan in the priiiio ji iili *wim' tjl.tiin-. approved by the i-hurch. He i* tmpuiir. and in the receipt of a ttoiar\ Fairhill will i ii.bal.1.. remain T!er"* 'orae for manv 1» *:.is .- all that separatesua—Witj. my darling' The strangest expression flashed over her face—a wiid ecstacy of joy that gave place, the next second to anguish as wild. She put her hands over the tell tale face, and bent her forehead upon her knees. "Don't! oh, don't!" she moaned. "This is too hard! too cruel! If you could only know all, you would not urge me! I did not think you could be so unkind!*' •'Unkind? To you, lletty?" "No! no!" moved to tears by the hurt tone, and hurrying over the words. "You could never be that to anybody much less—I can not say what I would!" March knelt down by her, and raised her head with tender authority she could not resist. lie wiped the tears from her face with his own handkerchief smiled down into the wet eyes. Loving intimacy with his mother and sister had taught him wondrously winsome ways, "Listen to me, dear!" as he would ad dress a grieving child. "Some time Ht*n you are willing to talk free HETTY GOVF.RF.I* 111:11 FAC* WITH Hftl HANDS. Ijr to me of this awful 'all' I will prove to you how chimerical it is. Until then nothing y*u can say or do can shake my purpose of making you my wife, in own good time. Wo were math for one another. Hetty! I have known that this great while. I am positive I -ould convince you of it, if you would give nu* a Chance." She arose nervously, her hands chafing one another in an action that was like wringing them in impatiencc or an guish. *'I must go, Mr. Gilchrist! It Is frrong to allow you to say all this. Then, too, Hester will be uneasy and need me." "Let rac go with you and explain why you hav outstayed your time," March" •Offgested, demurely. . "We could not have a mure sympfc thetie confidante than Hester. Ana must tell somebody." |5he looked frightened. ••There is nothing to tell! There never mm be. Can not you see?—haven't I convinced you of this?" "Not in the least. Until you can lay your hand upon your heart—the heart /0u and I knew to be so true to itself nr.d to others—and say, with the lips tiMtoaa no* fnMB« ii#—'Jtfatoh ttii- Christ, 1 can never lovo you in any cir cunistanccs!' 1 shall not see this other never' yon articulate so fiercely. If you want to get rid of me instantly, and for all time, look at mo and say it now— Ikttty!" His lingering enunciation of the name she had never thought beautitul before, would of itself have deprived her of the power to obey. She stood dumb, with drooping head and cheeks burning red as the sunset, her figure half turned away, a lovely study of maiden confu sion. had the spectator been cool enough to note artistic effects. Chivalric compassion restrained all indication of the triumph a lover must feel in such a position. I will not detain you, if you must go in," lie said, in a voice that was gentlest music to her ear. "Forgive me for keeping you so long. I know how conscientious you are. and how necessary you are to Hester. We un derstand one another. I will be very patient, dear, and considerate of those whose claims are older than mine. But there is one relation that outranks all others in the sight of Cod and man. That relation you hold to me. Don't interrupt me, love! Nothing can alter the fact. iive me those!" as she stooped blindly for shawl and cushion. It is my duty to relieve you of all burdens which you will permit me to arrv for you. You would rather not have me go to the house with you?" in terpreting her gesture and look. "Only to the gate, then? You see how reason able 1 can be when possibilities are de manded.'* He made a remark upon the agreeable change in the weather within the last twenty-four hours, and upon the sweet repose of the Sabbath after the tumult of the National holiday, as they walked on, side bv side. At the gate he stayed her with his frank, pleasant laugh. I have a confession I don't mind making now. At half-past twelve o'clock last night I stood on this spot watching you. Thor and I were camp ing out in the orchard. It was too hot to go into the house. I heard a queer clicking, and saw a light in this di rection, and came to look after Homer's lack-'o-lantern. Instead. I saw you at the study window, busy! (oh! how wichedly busy!) with the type-writer!" He stopped abruptly, for the face into which he smiled was bloodless, the eyes aghast. She made a movement as if to grasp the shawl and pillow and rush away—then her forehead fell upon the hand that clutched at the pickets for steadiness. "Are you angry?" pleaded March, amazed and humble. "If I had not loved you. I should not have been here! Was it an impertinent intrusion?" "No! And I am not angry—only startled." Her complexion was still ashy, and her tongue formed the sylla bles carefully. "1 can understand that vou must have thought strange of what you saw. llut 1 am used to type-writing. 1 earned fifty dollars—" with mingled pride and defiance March thought en gaging—"last winter by copying law papers. And I told you—everybody must know how poor we are." I know more than that, dearest!" laying his hand over her cold fingers I surmised when I saw Mrs. Wayt die tating to you. what it meant." She was all herself again. In defence of her sister's secret, as he imagined when she began to speak, she rallied her best forces. Her speech was grave, dignified an*5 direct. "I do not know what jtm surmised. The truth is that Mr. Wayt was taken suddenly ill last night. His sermon must be ready by this morning. There was not time to get a substitute. So, my sister found his notes. They were very full. She read them aloud to me. Anybody else can make them out. I copied the sermon with the machine from her dictation. You will under stand that we would not like to have this spoken of. (iood evening!" She was beyond reach in a moment, in another beyond call. March went back to the sylvan retreat that may l»e regarded as the stage set for the principal scenes of our story, Step and heart were light, and the same might be saidof a brain that whirled like a feather in a gale. While he had been loath to admit the gravity of the mis givings that had embittered the slow hours between 11:30 a. m. and seven o'clock p, in. of that eventful Sunday, he was keenly alive to the rapture of their removal. What a boorish bat he had been to suffer a suspicion of the lofty rectitude of the noblest woman upon earth to enter his mind! How alto gether simple and convincing was her explanation of what should1 have been no mystery to an honorable man! Yet he could not be ashamed, in the fullness of his happiness. He called himself all the hard names in this vocabulary with cheerful volubility, and gloried in the lesson he had thus learned of implicit trust in thegirl he loved. No accumula tion of circumstantial evidence or even the witness of the eye should ever call up another shadow of a shade of doubt. Among other occasions for thankfulness was the recollection that he had not let a lisp of what he had seen last night, and suspected this morning, escape him in conversation with his mother and sis ter. He found himself tracing, with aline sense of the druilery of the conceit, the analogy between prostrate Lagon. mu* arms, legs and head, and the suspicion which had menaced the destruction of his happiness. Mutilated, prone and harm less, it lay on the threshold of the tem ple of love and truth, ugly rubbish to be thrust forever out of sight. He had hardly noticed, in the ecstacy of relief, Hetty's haste to be gone after she had explained her nocturnal indus try. He passed as lightly over the in coherence that had replied to his ques tion when he could see her again. "Give me time to think! Not for a day or two! Not until you hear from me!'' she had said ju» before reaching the gate. He was shrewd enough to see how well taken was his vantage-ground. She had not demurred at his stipulation. He was positive, in the audacity of youth and passion, that she would never utter the words he had dictated. The turf under the tree was flattened by her re elining form. He lay down upon it, his arms doubled under his head for a pil low, Thor taking his place beside him. The golden-green changed into dull ruddy light, this into purple-ash. and this into gray that \yas at first warm then cold. The second vesper-bell had set the air to quivering and sobbed inu sically into silence that embalmed the memory of the music. Jiapt in dreams, in summer fragrance and in tend* dusks, the lover lay until the stars twinkled through rifts in the massed leaves. Now and then, the far-off roll of an onffcn and »lie sweet hymning of accompanying voices we re borne across his reverie, 'as the wanderer through the twilight of an August day meets waves of warm, perfumed air, or cur rents of balsamic odors flowing from evergreen heights. At nine o'clock the moon showed the edge of a coy cheek above the horizon hills, and shortly thereafter March •heard the click of the garden gate. In s'tfnctively he put out his hand to keep Thor quiet, an unwarrantable idea that Hetty might revisit the spot darting through his mind. The shuffling of fee over the sward quieted his leaping heart. In another minute he distin guished the outlines of a figure stealing across the moanlit spaces separating black blotches of shade. As it neared the covert he spoke quietly,not to alarm "Good evening. Homer." "Oh. Lord!" The three-quarter-wit ted wight bounded a foot from the ground, then collapsed into a shaking huddle. It is 1—Mr. Gilchrist!" March hast ened to add. "I am sorry I frightened you." •Now—I was jes" a-lookin' fer a light I see from the back porch down a this ere way," uttered Homer, in«n agitated drawl. March could see the coarse fingers rubbing against the backs of his hands, and a ray of light touched the pendu lous jaw. "It was the match I struck to light a cigar I smoked awhile ago," he said. •I dare say that may account for the light you have seen at other times." "Ye-es, sir:" dubiously. "I been saw the lights lots o' nights, when I ain't spoke of it» 'Tain't like er sergar. It's like a lantern a-swinging this er way"— swaying one hand—"I climb this tree one night, an' sot thar till nigh mornin*, a-waitin' an' a-watchin' fer it ter come again. There's a man what tole me twas the devil a-watching out for me "I am surprised you try to catch him. From what I have heard, he is a slippery chap." "XtbMt—I ain't a-feerd on him fer my self. Xo r, I'd be loath fer him to worry Miss Hetty." "You are a good fellow, Homer! A brave fellow!" responded the listener, with sudden energy. "When you do get on the track of the light, let me know, and I'll lend a hand to nab the devil." "Ye-es, sir! Xotr, I've been a turnin' over in my mind what that man say to me. He's a man as ought to know what he's talkin' about. lie t'reatened me orful a couple o" times, sence wo come to I'airhill. Sometimes I can't sleep fer thinkin' 'bout it. 'You stay outen that orchard!' he say. 'Ther' war a man mur dered thar onct,' he tell me, 'an' the devil is a-lookin' fer him. Ef he come acrost you he'll ketch you by a mistake,' he say. Hut then, there's Miss Hetty, ou know. Mr. Gilcliris'!" "What under heaven has she to do with your man, or his devil, or the light? Who is the man who threatened you? Does h^ live in Fairhill?" Homer plucked at his lower lip and glanced apprehensively around. •I dunno!" he answered, in sullen evasion. "I met him on the street ono day. Two times I come acrost him in =il :-i I w •s V A (HE DEVI I. WAS AFTER HIM, V i 7: the orchard. Onct he come to the gard ing gate. That was the time ho tell me "bout the murder an' the devil." "He is a cruel, rascally liar!" cried March, indignantly. "And you don't know his name? What is he like? Did you ever speak of this to Miss lletty?" "No. sir. She got 'nough to fret her a'readdv, Mi^s Hetty has. I'm 'fraid for her 'bout the man. Sf.t ain't 'fraid o' nothin". 'Vou do what I tell you. Homer,' sess she, 'an' I'll stan' between you an' harm.' she say. Hut she ain't know bout the devil. Nor I ain't heerd o' the murder when she tell me that. That mought make a dif'rence." "She is right, all the same. She is always right. Mind her, and you're sure to be safe. When did you last, seo this man who is so well acquainted with the devil?" An uneasy pause, during which Homer cracked each one of the knuckle joints in his left hand. "I dunno! I don' jis reklec!' You won't mention him to Miss Hetty.—nor to nobody—will you please, not, Mr. t»ilchris'? He's an roful man! He'd get even with Miss Hetty, some way, sure's you born, Mr. Gilchris"! •Xurver you let on a word to fur'.' sez he to mo—' or 'twill bo the wustest day she ever see," ho sez. "Why this is outrageous!" ejaculated the aroused listner. "Do you suppose I will allow this sort of thing to go on? I insist upon knowing who the wretch is! He'll find himself behind bars before he is a day older if I get hold of him!" 'JVW—" resumed Homer, dazed and dull—"you'd belter not meddle nor make with him. Me'n' Miss Hetty, wo could manage "bout him, but when ho sot 'bout feteliin' the devil in—that ain't a far shake—fAiv* ain't! I'll say that much, ef I die fer it—'faint by means' far nor squar'!" "Pshaw!" March laughed in vexed amusement. "Did you ever know the devil to do the fair and square thing? Or any of the devil's men? Why didn't you set Mr. Wayt after your friends? it's his trade to fight Old Nick, you know." "Yes, sir. So been heerd telL What's that?" It was the sound of the gate-latch fall ing into the socket, and firm quick foot steps. "O, Lord!" whispered Homer, again* "Don't let on as I've been here!" In a twinkling, ho had gone up the tree like a cat. Ity the time March recognized the latest ccmer, the rustling boughs wore still. Thor growled fiercely. His mast er advanced a step into the moonlight. "He quiet!" to th«* dog. "(iood even ing, Mr. Wayt! The beauty of the night has tempted you out, as well as myself." "Ah. Mr. Gilchrist!" suave and stately as usual. "As you say, it is a glorious night. I have been sitting for half an hour with your respected parents. See ing you change color suddenly during the morning service, and missing you from church this afternoon, I feared lest you.had been taken ill, an& so over to inquire. |TO 111' CONT!NrFI.J L- ap Canln* Intelligence. McCIuire—That's a line dog ye have Mul. Muldoon—He is I calls him Matchew maticks. McGuire— For whyf Muldoon—He understands Aggers ho well when I see a thramp coming up the road, an' I wants to sick Matchew niatics at him. I jtisht say: "three toimes two," an* he six.—Munsey's Weekly. Ilattenberg's Joint, Queen Victoria—I tell you, Iiatt, our noble liold-Stick-in-Waiting is a daisy. Ilatti-nberg 1 think you have made a horticultural error, O imperial mother in-law. He can not be a daisy. Ho is more of a golden rod.—Life. Larkin Didn't Hmy Why. I.arkin—It was Chesterfield who said "Never argue," wasn't it? Uolley Yes. Larkin—Married man, wasu't he? Dolley—Yes, I believe so. Why?— MUM##'# Weekly, OR GIRLS AND BOYS. *0 A SAD LITTLE GIRL. You aay you are ugly, and you are afraid That nobody loves you, Had little maid or people whisper, with lip a-curl. As you paiH l»y "What an ugly girl!" Ah, well, my dear, if you mope and fret* our ugly face will bf uftiier yet. Let m«- tell you the nee ret without delay Of growing beautiful day by day. Tin a secret old a« the world is 44, Hut worth in itself a mine of golfl ltcauty of soul n beauty of face, For in ward sweetness makes outward grace. There is the seeret, simple and true Now prove what its wi*doin can do tor yon. till up your lieart with thoughts most HWect, Bidding ail others at once retreat. And these sweet thoughts Will grow like Seeds, And bloom into beautiful words and deed*. And soon, very soon, they will leave their trace loveliness on your ugly faet» Toe line.will be softer on cheek and brow. Bright smiles will shine where tears are now our eyes will sparkle, and some blest power Will make vou lovelier every hoM& Juit try it, my dear begin to-dugr To do kind things in the kindest Wny— o kindly think and to kindly speak, To be sweet-tempered, gentle aitd meek. Then never a^ain shall you need be afraid 'hat nobody iovi-s you,-tad tittle maid. Opinions will change, ith a pleasant whirl, And all will tliink: "What a charming girl!" —Emma Dowd, in liar pet* Young People. WHAT WAGGLE DID. A Naughty Little l»og Spoils a Promised Feats t. "Mamma, Mftf I go «m tft *ran' jia's?" "Yes, dear." It would bo hard to tell how many imes a day Patty asked this and her mamma answered it If any little girl who reads about her lives right across the street from her grandma's, perhaps »he can give a guess about it. Patty had only lately come to live so near, and vou may be sure she thought very delightful. What kind of a day is this?" asked Patty one morning when she awakened. "A very nice day, I think," said her namma. I mean, do you think it's bake-day? I mean gran'ma's bake-day?" "Yes," said mamma. "This is Sat irday, and grandma always bakes on Saturday," "May I go over?** "Yes." The other little girl who lives near grandma can tell you exactly why Patty wanted to go. She knows all about the lough nuts and ginger-snaps and cus iards and pies. Grandma and Hilda, he Swede girl who could not speak a word of English, were making pies when Patty toddled into the kitchen. "O gran'ma!" she said. "What a beautiful pie! I never saw a plaid pie before." "Didn't you said gran'ma. "Bring i patty-pan here, llilia." Hilda knew what the patty-pans were, for at least one of them was always jsed on gran'ma's bake-day. Patty thought they were named so because the little pie or ginger-bread or custard was always for her. 15ut other little jirls know well enough that patty-pans ire for little Kittys or Pollys or Prues ar a hundred others, especially the ones who live near gran'ma. Hilda smiled as gran'ma made the patty-pan plaid pie. The big one was fllled with apple-butter and had strips af crust criss-crossed all over it. The patty-pan pie was such a very little one that there could be only two pieces crossed on it. "That's a little bit of plaid," said Patty, laughing till the dimples were ill over her face. "Yes, only a sample," said grandma, but it will taste good." "Yes," said Patty. "One streak lor mamma, one streak for auntie, one treak for Elsie and one for me." "Dear me," said grandma, "how came I to forget that you always divide every ,hing you have? Eat the patty-pie yourself, little one, and we'll make a jaucer-pie for you to take homo." The patty-pan pie was almost cooked by the time the plaid was put on the aaucer-pie. Patty waited for it to cool little and then ate it, thinking it was as good as it looked, and that there was nothing in the world which quite came un to a plaid pie. When the saucer-pie was done, she could hardly wait for it to cool she was in such a hurry to take it home. Hilda set it in the kitchen window, but Pat ty, after watching it for a little while, mil finding that it cooled very slowly, took hold of it with a towel and carried It out on the back porch. Then she went out to see the little lucks and chickens. When she came back she saw gran'ma's little dog, Waggle, standing close to the plaid jaucer-pie. Was ho smelling it? Patty g*m ft little cry and ran towards him. "O Wag, you naughty doggie!" Waggle was a very pretty white dog with a little pink no^p, and Patty was usually quite willing that he should help himself to a share of what she had. But as is often the way with dogs he :iad chosen the part he liked best He iad left the apple-butter and very care fully picked out the strips of crust With a woe-begone face Patty took the pie back to the kitchen. Gran'ma had gone up stairs, and only Hilda was there. •lie's eaten up all the plaid," said Patty. Hilda did not understand. She thought Patty had eaten the crust and was sorry. "Yah, yah," said Hilda, smiling a great deal and nodding her head very bard. She smoothed the apple-butter with a »poon, took a little pie-crust which had been left, cut it into streaks and in a few moments the plaid was all on again. Into the oven it went, and came DUt as beautiful as before. Patty let it stay on the window-sill this time, and before long it was ready to take home to mamma and the others How good if- looked! Patty felt as if ilie could eat it all but she never thought of such a thing as not divid ing it "I've brought you a plaid pie. Gran' ma made it," she said to mamma and auntie and her sister Elsie. "And it' good." "Yes, 1 know it's good if gran'ma made it," said Elsie. She went for some little plates and a knife, and mamma began cutting u in four pieces. ••If I hadn't hurried you wouldn' have had it," said Patty. "I caught Wag just in time. He ate all the plaid off. •'Off what?" asked mamma. *Off the oio." "This pie?" asked auntie. "Yes, and Hilda put some more streaks on. Hilda's a good girl." "Patty," said mamma, "run back %c gran'ma's and ask her to lend me three eggs" Patty had to look for the eggs in the barn, and it took her some time. When she came back there was no pie to be seen. "Is it all gone?" she asked, In a little dismay. "All gone, dear," said mamma, "but here are some poaches for you. You like them just as well, don't you?" "Yes." Hut she could not help won dering why thty did not leave any pie for her. I And to thin day the darling little I Psfcfc* tlv## aofc know that the oie was thrown away because Waggle had tried it, and mamma did not like to make her feel badly by letting her know.— Youth's Companion. KEPT HIS PROMISE. Obeyed His Mother ly the Aid of twm ItlK lllrda. Johnny, it is time to go for the cows," called mamma from the kitchen window. Johnny was busy mending the wheel of his wagon, and did not look up. ".lobnny!" called mamma a second time. "I is getting late, and it will be dark before you get home." "Yes," answered Johnny, as he re luctantly laid down the hammer and started for the house. "Now, Johnny, I do not want you to ross the creek. If the cows are in the woods posture, you must go around the road. Do you hear?" "Yes," answered Johnny, thinking all the time of the wagon he had left behind. It was, indeed, getting late, and he ran quickly down the long lane, at the nd of which was a pair of bars, very heavy bars, that did not move easily. Hehind these the cows should have been tanding. On this particular evening, however, either from forgetfulness, obstinacy, or some other reason best known to themselves, the .cows were not there. Now, Johnny was not a very brave boy, and hunting cows in the deep woods, under dismal hemlocks and along dark ravines was not a very invit ing prospect Then, too, tho thought that a wildcat had been killed within a mile from thero kept 'itseif uppermost in his mind, and he imagined lie could see tfie eyes of its mate glaring upon him fiTm behind every stump and tree. It was growing darker, and no cows were to be seen. He pressod on up a dark ravine, where he knew they often went "Co boss, co toss!" he called, again and again. Presently the stillness was broken by strange noise. It sounded awful. Johnny felt something go thump, thump, against his breast but it soon stopped and he went on. Again the dismal sound, and again the thump, thump. "I can't go any farther on that road," he said: "liesides, I just expect the cows are in the woods pasture. There's tho log now. I'll just run across and see. O, I promised not »o cross tho log. Surely, mamma wouldn't expect me to go right among wild animals and all kinds of dreadful things. I'd bet ter drown." He had reached tho water's edge, and was just ready to step upon the log, but a little voice kept saying: "You prom ised not to cross the creek, you promised not to cross tho creek." "Well, I won't," he said, resolutely stepping back into the road. Again the dismal noise, and again the thump, thump. He stood still and looked and listened. Right there above his head sat two old owls. Close side by side they sat, as harmless as kittens, with their great eyes looking right at him. He was greatly relieved at this discovery, and with alight heart stepped briskly along. Lying in repose a few yards beyond were the cows. So it turned out that the big-eyed, long-eared birds had heard his call, and actually helped him in his search. Johnny is now an old man, and he says he has noticed all through his life that if you will bravely face all dangers and troubles, they will generally turn out to bo big owls.—Golden Rule. lielnK Courteous. I treat him as well as he Phrenological Journal. treats ns,™ said llal. His mother had just reproached him because he did not attempt to amuse or ntcrtain a boy friend who had gone home. "I often go in there, and he doesn't notice me," said Hal again. "Do you enjoy that?" "Oh, I don't mind! I don't "I should call myself a very selfish person if friends came to see me and 1 should pay no attention to them." "Well, that's different you're gwowm up." "Then, you really think politeness and courtesy are not needed among boys?" llal, thus pressed, said he didn't mean that but his father, who had listened, now spoke: "A boy or a man who measures his treatment of others by their treatment of him has no character of his own. He will never be kind, or generous, or Christian. If he is ever to lie a gentle man he will bo' so in spite of the boor ishness of others. If he is to be noble, no other boy's meanness will change his nature." And very earnestly the father added: "Remember this, my boy: you lower your own self every time you are guilty of an unworthy action because some one else is. He true to your best self, and no boy can drag you dowfe**" AMERICAN SOCIETY GIRLS. Tliev Are Alwstya Beautiful and Most De lightful t'ump inluiia. Possibly the most interesting and en gaging ladies in the world are those who are known in American journalism as "swell society girls." As "society girls' their manners are affable, their conver sation full of vivacity and wit, and their dress irreproachable. They are always well eloved and booted. Thev delight in tailor-made gowns, they wear white collars like men. and they always take the most exquisite care of their teeth and hands. All these charms of woman hood are theirs if they be "society girls." But if they be "swell society girls" they add to these graces of nature and art tno accomplishments of civili zation and higher education. They sing, paint and dance: but they will not, or do not like their ambitious literary sisters, write for newspapers—oh! no, they draw the line at journalism. They may disport with the muses they may write verses—generally love songs but nothing would induce them to write a short article for a paper. As a general rule your "swell society American girl likes to iparry a title, it seems more in consonance with her idea of "swell"-craft than marrying a com moner. The husband, also, must not speak-English if he hopes to bo hapny, for the "swell society girl" of America loves her liberty of speech, so she says a great many pleasant things to a kin dred spirit that she would rathor he, being a foreigner, did not understand at least this is tho reason a fair Phila delphienne, as tho French would say, gave us for her preferring a foreign cav alier to an English-speaking swain. We, however, think that the inter changes of marital amenities are carried on bette'r when one language is the mother tongue of both husband and wife. Still, as we do not pretend to be familiar with all the motives which impel the "swell society girl" of the United States to fulfill what she imag ines to bo the duties of her exalted sta tion, or which urge her to strive to bo come the consort of a peer or to live re signedly in dignified celibacy, we must content ourselves with regretting that some of them are not journalists, as wel as poets, seeing that, notwithstanding this grave shortcoming, they are alwayt beautiful and most delightful compan ions.—Galignani. —Mrs. Jeff Davis has roceivod from her publishers a chock for Si.aiW.'J'i, be ing her half of the royalty on two months' sales of the memorial volutin of her husband, prepared by J. Williau JontN* TCC FARMING WORLD. GOOD HINTS. A Hwrtlenltnrlat (iim His Rxpcrlnw* la Planting Stiawl«rrlca—Ilia Id«a of C'lod-Crunher. The fruit-grower, like tho farmer, la largely indebted to the season for his success or failure. I am forcibly re minded of this, says a writer in Popular Gardening, by the ease with which I have been enabled to got a perfect stand of strawberries on a block just planted. The ground was plowed when It crumbled nicely and in the only inter val in this very wet spring when it could have been done. It was harrowed very fine and then planed down with a home-made contrivance that answers admirably. This consists of three logs six inchcs in diameter and seven feet in length strung upon two five-eighth iron rods forty-one inches long and held apart by wooden dowels. The rods are one foot from either end, and, having hooks in the front end, are connected with a log chain and the doubletree is hitched to this so the machine drags at an angle of about 3') or 40 degrees. Nuts at the back end of the rods make all snug. The ground, being corn stubble, had many places held up loose by the corn roots, and goingover it with this simple contrivance not only levels the surface but compacts the soil and makes it of uniform solidity. We planted with a line containing twelve tags to the rod and with a brick mason's trowel. The young man as sisting would take a basket of plants, drop the length of the line and plant back until he met me when we would shift the line and commence a new. We averaged a row of two hundred plants in ten minutes and including lit tle hindrances could easily put in over five hundred per hour. I lead frequently about planting with a spade, but never took kindly to it as the most important part of the worV, PI ruck's CL()l»-fItf8HKK A.NO ri.AINKft that of properly placing the plants, falls to the lot of a small boy who oftener than otherwise gets it either too deep or too shallow. In tho present caso the warm open winter bad produced a considerable growth of tufts of grass, and many mag nificent docks, and where the sods or docks came in the way we dug them out, and replaced with clean soil. This took a little time, but previous ex perience had taughtme that it paid in the after-hoeing. Wo were particular to set the line exact and plant close to it so that we can run a little one horse harrow close to the plants and kill all the newly-sprouted weed except a liuo three or four inches wide. Just as we got the ground in shape it commenced to rain, and rained every night and occasionally in the day time. This would have made a serious state of affairs had the land been clay, but being a rich sandy loam in fine con dition, it was not sticky and permitted planting very soon after a shower. We watched the weather closely, and when a shower was apparent we fell to and dug a lot of plants, shook them out and put under shelter to be trimmed when it rained. Several mornings 1 got up at daylight and dug several hundred plants before breakfast throwing them into piles of one hundred each to be afterwards gath ered up and carried to the green house, where we trimmed them in a pleasant atmosphere, and out of the cold, raw wind or frosty air. The result of our rainy-day planting is: that of many thousand scarcely one wilted, and all are growing as if they had never been moved. Now these notes are to impress upon beginners three things in strawberry culture: 1.—The importance of fitting the ground early and thoroughly. 'S The value of a complete stand of plants with no vacancies and above all, 3. The proper trimming of a plant for set ting. Conversing with a friend, recent ly, he remarked: "I don't spend much time pulling off runners or dead leaves I just plant them out just as they are dug." How many can you plant in an hour where you take them from a basket into which they a^p thrown, I asked. "Oh! about seventy-five or eighty I guess," he replied. Exactly! and 1 can plant three hundred in an hour without help, and the difference is that 1 have the plant properly trimmed. Some leaves curl downwards and some are dead, these I remove so that I can get by a glance a clean view of the plant, and know just bow deep to set it The dead runner does not interfere with planting but it is strong and rots slow ly, and the chances are that if left on you will catch hold of it in weeding or hoeing and pull out the plant after it is nicely started thus putting it back or killing it outright As the plants are trimmed I keep them in my left hand until I get a fist full full when they are carefully placed in the end of a basket or box, lying closely together as and handy as a box of toothpicks. Outtat fur the Drains. Farmars spend time and money oi tile or stone underdrains, and then leave the outlet of the main wholly un protected. Consequently in a year or so the cattle or other stock and the ac tion of the frost displace the drain and partly or wholly fill up the channel. If the fall is but slight the whole work sometimes proves worthless. For proper cutlet lay a large flat stone two or more feet square above the tile, as shown in the engraving. Place a num- SKCUlNt OUTI.KT FOIt 1KAIXS. her of small stones each side to Tvc aid ia supporting the stone in a proper posi tion. If stone can not be had use a wide piece of plank about three feet long. It will last much longer if tho surface is first charred. If stones can not he obtained for the side supports use blocks of wood or even whole or broken sections of tile. After heavy rains, or at least several timos a year, examine the outlet and remove all ac cumulations of mud or graveL Jersey organ says that It makes a mighty sight of difference—or words to that effect—what kind of a good cow you have. It is altogether useless for our contemporary to waste space in giving its idea of what kind of a good cow a good cow is. We all know what the standard of a good cow quarter. It in that Tiikkk has not been much said about dehorning recently, but th*: horns utv ail THE DAIRY. A trotting mateh between the cow* tnd tne dog may be very interesting, hjt it does not make butter. The men who take good milk to a factory should forbid their cheese maker taking in sour milk, if he is too limber in the spine to reject it himself. Experience proves that it is the most profitable policy to board the dry ow in the season when the milk ia wcrth the l"ast and tho board cost the least—on grass in summer. You can not afford to let the cows shrink their mess, because tho pasture ives out any more than you can afford to go without fire in winter, 1 ecauso the fuel is exhausted. There is no profit in the one, and no comfort in the other. Fresh, cool buttermilk is esteemed a luxury by many people, and dairy far mers who are on the watch for profits* hie ways of disposing of their various products are beginning to send butter ilk to tho cities instead of feeding it to the pigs. A dairyman claims that two ounces of salt per day to each cow increased the butter productone-fifth. which indicates that a loss may occur by the failure to supply some inexpensive essential, though tho farmer may be feeding liber ally and giving bis animals the best of care otherwise. A German scientist states that when milk is first drawn from a healthy cow it contains no microbes, but after two hours exposure he estimated that 25,000 were present in half a cubic inch. The higher the temperature of the milk tho greater the number of microbes. The same thing occurs in the fermentation of beer, but he says, the microbes are harmless. It is cheaper to keep a family cow than to keep a herd proportionately. With a herd there is more or less labor to be hired and paid for, while the labor re quired for one cow may not cost the ex penditure of a dollar. Though the labor may be applied, yet it will be performed by some one that would perhaps not be otherwise employed. It Is the cost in money—the outlay—that reduces the profits. All labor that can be applied, and which would otherwiso be wasted, is so much made and saved. The family cow will also consume many substances that would otherwise be thrown away. Some Danish chemists have been trying to provo that the flavor of butter —whether that of turnips, or oily, fishy, bitter, or tallowy—is due to the pres ence of bacteria. Prof. Storch has found a large number of a particular variety of bacteria in oily butters, though he has been unable to produce oily butters by introducing the bacteria into cream while in other cases he obtained bac teria, not differing materially from the acid making bacteria, which in large quantities gave a tallowy flavor to the butter. Prof. Jensen reports similar results. Prof. Fjard found turnip flavored butter from cows not fed with turnips, and supposes the flavor to re suit from the presence of a certain kind of bacteria. FAMILY CHEESE-MAKING* The Experience of a Ladv Who Has Bili Verjr Nncrmafal. The state of the butter market has awakened a new interest in the subject of making cheese in small dairies in our vicinity. Through tho month of June I made twenty-four gallons of new milk into cheese every day, and al though I had no training in the work except what I could remember of my mother's way of cheese-making when I was a girl at home, 1 met with good success, and now look with a great deal of pride upon my shapely cheese^ turn ing a beautiful deep yellow in the cellar. Every thing I could find to read upon cheese-making was eagerly studied. Some of my first-made cheeses flat tened out two went so far as to crack a little. I pasted cloth upon the others and stopped their cracking. I cut the cracked cheeses and used in the family, what 1 did not sell at fifteen cents per pound. They were rich, finely-flavored cheeses but would not have kept long. I judged that the spreading was caused by putting tho curd into the press while yet too moist I therefore cut it over more times, thereby getting it drier, and the result was no more trouble from spreading. I would like to know whether those cheeses would have been all right if they had been bandaged when first taken from the press? They did not leak, but seemed tot» tender to stand up Mr. Itrown spoke of inclosing the shelves with thin muslin to keep away flies. 1 remember my mother kept her cheeses in what she called a "cheese jack." It was a long closet with doors, sides and back covered with coarse sheeting. Rut it seems to me wire netting would be bet tor, since it would also protect from mice. I think there is but one mouse in my collar, but he has already tried his teeth on my most promising cheese, and I fear that keeping the article! from mice is one of the most difficult points. I find that other dairy people are trying to make their own cheese this year. It seems to me a very sensi ble, practical way of adding to the com fort of the family. It is no harder work than butter-making, and if a jar of but ter has been packed to last through the time of making cheese, only one procesi need be carried on at a time.—Rural New Yorker. BEETS AS COW-FOOD. Tkt Result or Kxperlnifints at the Okla Agricultural Station. A bulletin of the Ohio Agricultural Experiment Station, now in press, gives the result of an experiment in feeding sugar beets to milch cows, made during the past winter, together with a sum mary of two similar experiments, one made by the station in 1SSD and ono by the farm department of the Ohio State University in 1879. In the last named experiment eight cows were kept under test for eleven weeks in 188t, twelve cows for eight weeks, and in 1890, twelve cows for nine weeks, the cows in each case being weighed daily, as well as their feed and milk. In each of the three experiments the cows ate more hay and more total dry matter when feeding on beets than on other foods (hay, moal and bran in 1879, corn silage in 18S9 and 1890) and in each case more milk was given from the beets than from tho other foods, but it is not yet demonstrated that the increase of milk was produced economically. For twelvo years records have been kept on the farm now occupied by the station, which shows that the average yield of beets over this period has been nearly sixteen tons per acre, against an annual yield of about fifty-five bushels of shelled corn per'acre. Hut a crop of fifty-five bushels of shelled corn, with its fodder, will con tain nearly twice as much dry matter as sixteen tons of beets, and these experi ments indicate that, whether fed dry, as-orn meal and dry fodder, or as corn ensilage, the dry matter of the corn crop will be found about as effective, pound for pound, as the dry matter of the beet crop. It is possible to raise much more than sixteen tons of beets to the acre. One crop of two acres is reported at 37,V tons per acre, and smaller aroas have given still larger yields, but such crops require very rich land and thorough culture Whether it is possible to produce pound of dry matter in beets as econom icaily as it can be done in corn ia not yet definitely settled, but the probabili ties are against it.—Farm. fcield and "*fcoeku°*" ATTORNEYS. piiANK ttAYLUE, Attorney and Counselor at Law, CKKSCO, IOWA. Will practice In all the Court* of the State. Office over Zundclowiu store, east side Elm street. Silt Jolin McCook. ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR i! LAV, CRKHCO, IOWA. Will practice In nil the courts of tht state*, make loan* and nticrvl t-t iniyiiir fiiel Kdllnf •Hi e«tat«* and wenr ll» *. Otfire ovor Cnwo Ciiion iviujrg Hank. W.11 UAHKP.R. ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR AT LAW, County Attorney. Will pract.co lu all State aud i'uOtral Courts. CKBMCO, ... IOWA. PHYSICIANS. 6eorgeKessel,M.D. CRESCO. IOWA. Spftelal Attention Paid ftoOase* Rrrftfp* Ing Harglcal Operation*. 10 tf A. BAKHETT. M. D„ C. M. PHYSICIAN & SUltGEOtf, CHESCO, IOWA. Special Rttent on to Suryery. Office over Jo'mson Bro*. alongs.de the bank. Office open nijflit and day. 46-tf QU, O. U. KGLLOGO, DENTAL SUKGE08, CKE8CO, IOWA. AS work in his line will have prompt ant careful attention. Ottiue over Wbite a Moonl store. 6-27-If J^cKAY. PHOTOGRAPHER CRESCO. IOWA. Our p:eturesof children excel all others fa North* astern Iowa All work the verv best Copies from ukl pictures furnished in everj style and sixo, fr-27 JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, CRESCO, IOWA. Ofice with V. K. Bark- r. In I'nlon Building. ^JISS LAURAINE MEAD. ORH3SCO, IOWA* Will give Muolcal Instruction on PIANO, ORGAN OR GUITAR! And in Thorough Base* Instrument for Practice. HOTELS. 8 TROTHER HOD8K, W. STROTIIER, Proprietor, CBK800, IOWA. flw only First-class Houas In Cresco. (It JOHK FARNS W ORTH, Fr. Receives a w. Totma, c&siuet flUHK OF HBESCgj CRESCO, IOWA. Deposits, and Makes Cti. lection*. Buys sad Bella Kzcbange, Government Bond* and oilier securities and doca.a general bankim bugin—h. Drafis tm Europe for Salt. Improved and Unimproved Real Estate Bought and Sold on Commission. Pamafee Tickets at Reduced Rate*. FRED. MARTIN lias again assumed full contiol of CENTENNIAL MEAT MARKET, WHICH WILL AT ALL TIMES B& FULLY SUPPLIED WITH THE BEST THI COUNTRY AFFORDS, Our Terms will caatiiiae to bs Cash In Buying and Selling We take pleasure In referring to the patrons of this mar et and assure them that we shail keop a lull •toek of Fresh and Salt Meats. Poultry in its Season, FRESH FISH, H&MS and BACON. Cash paid for Fat Cattle, £heep, Calves suitable for Market. Centennial Block, CRE CO, 10. DR. OWEN'S ELECTRIC BELT AMD StrSPESfSOKTf. rminuMi. I(, lit!. limwD juutat, ISM. AVD lUBfLNIOR Vluirutfid to cur. lilt foV v o v i a 4 1 w A 'JLhsumstlo OomplaBits. iLumhiiSk OwMrsl aa! •nsrvous jMbilitr, Cm* uvtacta, SidswlntMSM Xsrvotikness, Trcablirg, Seagal KxhsortioB.Wsnr S i *ied»r41s ftfvv ilsLlfe, In iethtvoais Sr irntw orl.ua of au« or femil\ fj-uiT to Maroisilui roriu ox it iuih vault p*. owtVa ELECTRICINSOliS rwa rii* V»od H. poatAM for mki lllutnlid patuphlrt, thick *Hl (a plainM*lad«n*«l*p«. MeaiiaaIfeUp*P*r.*ddr«^ RUPTURE ELECTRIC BELT AID TRUSS. COMBINED. DR. ISRAEL'S ... XLKOTEO-OAl.VAinO TOTOI, Oww's SlMtrla l.lt AttaafeaMat. V wit. MM and comfort. Tho ear. slliriitMi, Tiilatotkoi •Itotri. IruM boll o» or mod*. (•ptinli IN. SO o SO 4iyi. for foil dticrlptlul of Dr. Ona'illMtro'flilraiili Bolta, Spinal AprlUnooo. rtii TruM?i IM UOblM Mil to. for mi lllatlriui i-ipLlcl till hi •••lion to plain aooJ«Aasi»l.,[j« Boia^uiy by th.