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Vi(, 5 ??. X V-N'. v V?1 TTs? r v .fV"i. $ V f 3& iiJE H: H THEKtSS I GAVE. She was a timid ltttlo maid, In manners such a prnde. That many things that otters did She thought extremely rude. ho blushed tt compliments she'd heard, O, many times before, . And frowned so sweetly that one felt Like praising here the more. Ehe read from books of etiquette The lessons they impart, .And conned them o'er and o'er until She line them all by heart; .And being anx ous to improve, Nor wishing to offend la anj way, both rich and poor Considered her their friend. O, many a lecture she would givs To me, who oft rebelled On purpose that she might declare The rigid views she held; .And once, as payment of my debt Not thinking it amiss 3. threw my arms around the maid. And gave her such a kiss 1 She did not like the kiss I save. She said it was not right: And, boing in a March-ing mood. She stormed with all her might; TVhilo I who would at other times No manly courage lack Confessed my fault the kiss was wrong And so X took it back ! Josephine Pollard, In N. Y. Ledger. LUKE MASON. Thrilling and Bomanlic Story of the Late Civil "War. BY JOHN R. MUSICK, AUTHOIt OF "BnOTIIER AGAINST BnOTHER," Helen Lakemas," Walter Bhowh- i-ield," ' Banker or Bedford," and Other Stories. Copyrighted, 1889. CHAPTER XIV. CONTINUED. Luke spurred his horse forward, and had just come in sight of a garden fence, when there camo 3 crash, and over and through the rotten pickets plunged three horsemen in gray uniforms. Colonel Mason was only a few rods from them, and lired a revolver as they disappeared into a thicket " Fire ! don't let them escape," ho shouted, spurring his horso in the thicket after the Heeing men. Twenty muskets belched forth their deadly contents into the wood. The bullets shattered the trees, cut off the leaves in showers, hut tho three Confed erates still thundered ahead, evidently un harmed. In his eagerness to capture them, Colonel Mason neve-- stopped to consider that he was only one man on horseback, the remain der of his staff being in another place. An occasional glimpse of the fleeing gray coats spurred him on, and ho drove his horse at the top of his speed through tho woods. Two or three times he fired his re volver, but owing to intervening trees and the speed at which they were traveling he missed. They were fully three-fourths of a mile from the house when the sharp report of a rifle broke on the air, and tho foremost horse and rider went down. A white puff of smoke from behind a tree marked tho place from whence the shot had been fired. The horso pitched his rider over his head, thro wing him with suoh force against a tree as to stun him. Colonel Mason was astonished at the shot, for ho knew none of his men were near enough to have, tired it, but he never for a moment slackened his speed. As his horse flew through the woods, leaping logs and whizzing past trees, ho saw tho fallen rebel trying to rise, the blood streaming from a uut in his forehead, caused by his fall against .he tree. A large, powerful negro bounded from a thicket with a blood-curdling yell, and club bing his rifle ran upon tho fallen man to dash out his brains. Down came the gun as a curse of vengeance escaped the black, but at the instant it fell a horseman was along side and a sword was thurst forward ward ing off the blow. "What! would you kill a wounded man!" cried Luke. " God a'mighty, massa, don't stand in my wa-!" cried the negro, panting with rage. !Foh twenty-two ya's I is been a prayin to de dcbil to give me a chance to kill dat man, an' I'll kill I hate him! I hate him!" In tho momentary glances Colonel Mason had been able to give tho belligerents, he discovered that tho white man was Dick Sneed and the negro Blackhawk. Never had ho seen such a picture of rage and fury in his life as the negro presented. He was more like some ravenous beast than a human, his eyes almost started from the'r sockets, he was foaming at tho mouth and he had gnashed his teeth until the froth about his lips had grown crimson. "Blackhawk, you shall not kill a helpless man,'' cried the Colonel, flinging himself from his horse before the furious negro. "I will, by I'll kill um iflhab to kill you fust." Luke had not considered what a furious madman ho had to deal with until the negro aimed a blow at his head, which, if ho had not parried it with his sword, would have killed him on the spot. With such force was the blow given that it shivered his trusty blade. Luke was almost as furious as the negro, and hurling the broken hilt into tho black's face, ho closed in on him and,whippmg out his revolver, struck Black- ' what! would too kill a wounded man! hawk such a blow on the h ead with the butt of the heavy weapon that he sent him down to tho earth insensible. Turning to Dick Sneed he found him on his feet. " Here, Dick, quick, mount my horse and fly for your life. That negro will kill you if ho ever loys eyes on you." Ho lifted the still dazed man in the sad dle and started the horse away at a gallop, which the Confederate kept up until out of sight. Luke then turned toward Black hawk, who was just getting up. Not know ing what the black might do, he cocked his pistol, intending to shoot him, should it become necessary, to preserve his own Ufa The negro noticed him, and in a deep, solemn voice said: "KUl me, matta, and dc secret 00 yo' birf fex" He was cool a -.d reasonable once More, sad Wmmm Luke lowered his revolver, astonished at the strange words so solemnly uttered. Colonel Mason stood for a Moment stupe fied, and then demanded: ? "What do' you mean?" "I kin tell ye mo' 'boatyene'f dan ye knows, massa ; but I'll not tell ye aow.n " Yes, you wilL" Lukf s teeth were set, his eyes glaring with intensity, and he was panting with excitement. "If you know any thing of this mystery of my life I will have it, if I have to wring it from you." ' I won't tell you now 'fore God I won't tell 's long as dat man lives; when he dies Itoleye." 0 'Tell me now or die" He raised the pistoL The negro, knowing that he held the winning card, coolly folded his arms across his .breast, and, facing the furious officer, said: "Shoot, massa, an1 de trufe you'll nebber know." Colonel Mason turned aside, his heart very faint and a mist coming over his eyes. He leaned for a moment against a tree for support, and when he next looked at the negro he bad picked up his gun and was coolly walking away. Luke returned to his command and with what prisoners they had captured they re turned to their quarters near Shiloh Church. . He deemed it best to tell nothing of his adventure with Blackhawk and Sneed, for it seemed to be one link in the dark mystery of his own life. CHAPTER XV. A SURPRISE. The day on which Colonel Mason returned to camp was the last of March. ' From hat time on to the 6th of April skirmishing along the front was almost continuous. On the 1st the rebel cavalry became bold and ap proached the Union lines, showing that an advance of some kind was contemplated. On the 4th of April his cavalry dashed down and captured a small picket guard of six or seven men who were stationed some five or six miles out on theTittsburgh and Corinth road. Colonel Buckland with a regiment pursued the Confederates, and General Sherman moved a brigade three miles out from the line. The Confederates retreated, of course, and many were the speculations as to their conduct. Many held that the attacks and skir mishes along the front were only intended to detract them from their march on Cor inth. But whatever may havo been the opinions of the subordinate officers, it was evident that General Grant believed that their entire front was threat ened, for he ordered his army to entrench, and did all in his power to hurry up Buell. General Grant was not certain where the attack would be made, at Shiloh or Crump's Landing, where Lew Wallace with his di vision lay. On the 4th of April the Gen eral was injured by his horse falling upon him and spraining his ankle, so that he had to go on crutches. He was assured by hi? subordinates that all was quiet on the front so far as the en emy were concerned. On the 5th, learning that a division of Buell's army, under Nel son, had arrived atSavannah, Grant ordered them to move up the east bank of the river, so as to be ferried over at either Crump's or Pittsburg Landing, as the occasion might require. Since his return from tho reconnaissance recorded in our last chapter, Colonel Mason had been in his camp and had seen nothing of the enemy. He was a changed man, and spent most of bis spare time alone in his tent gloomily brooding over the last dan gerous interview with the negro, Black hawk. Two sentences uttered by that dark man of mystery seemed to ever ring in his ears: "Kill me, maa, and de secret ob jo' birf dies," haunted him day and night "Who is he, and what does ho know of me?" the puzzled officer asked himself. "His words, I kin tell ye mo' 'bout yourse'f dan ye knows, massa!' ring still in my ears. What is it he knows oh! what is it?" His last interrogatory was ut tered with a sigh from the uttermost depths of his troubled heart Ah ! what a longing possessed his soul. A longing to know the history of that helpless babe found floating in its cradle down the turbulent Missouri. Picket firing and skirmishing at the front becamo a common thing. When a soldier was detailed for picket duty ho went fully expecting to bo fired upon before he re turned. "Jist let 'm bangerway." said Bill Snow, as he lay in his tent, listening to the 00 sional reports of muskets in the distant woods. "Ef they think I'm gwine ter git skeered at 'n ow-el they're badly mis taken." "WalL Bill, it mayn't be 'n ow-el by er long shot," said Arkansaw Tom, who was reclining on a pile of straw. "Yer don't think old Johnston or Price ar' comin' to tackle us, d' ye?" asked Bill "Mought be." "Let um come." "Not afore Buell gits here." "Whutd'we keer? Hain't weernuffter lick urn?"' "Wall, we 'd hev our hands full, ye kin bet, Bill. I'm ergoin' ter bet that we burn powder alore we've been hero a week longer." "Been burnin' powder every day fur a week," said Ned, lazily shuffling a deck of well-thumbed cards. "Yes, 'n what does 't all 'mount to?" growled Max. "Nuthin'. Ef 't wan't fur tketn mullet heads who command th' army we'd a been in Corinth long ago." "Ye'll git ter Corinth soon ernuff, Max," Ned Cotton answered. "We'd as well a had this war over six months ergo as ter be foolin' an' dallyin' erlong. Now, didn't wc go right inter Fort Doneison?" "Yes, but old Sid Johnston warnt thar. We're not ergoin ter hev a walk over 's we did with Floyd 'n Piller. He'll do some o' thewalkin' himse'f." The conversation was cut short at this moment by the appearance of the Colonel. "I am going p the front, Tom, and want you four to accompany roe," he said. "It's getting rather dangerous up there now." "Yer bet we'll go," cried Tom, starting to his feet The four men at once buckled on their accoutrements and seized their guns. They were all that Luke deemed neces sary for tho reconnaissance. They were all on loot, as a horseman would be a too-conspicuous mark for a sharpshooter. Colonel Mason's regiment was out on the extreme front, and they had not gone more than a mile and a half before they came upon the picket line. Meeting some relieved pickets coming in the Colonel asked: "How is it at the f rontl" "Been quiet fur nour," one of the guards said. "Haint seen a Johnny fur nour, but they war a blazin' at us nearly all night" "Did they seem very strong!" "Wall, they made it mighty hot, part o' the time " "Of course you have no idea as to their numbers." "No, but I believe tiisy're more 'nthe Ginerals think." With his slender guard the Colonel moved on. Suddenly there came a distant shot in the woods. It was followed by three or four more m quick succession, and they saw the smoke issuing from a bunch of bushes two or three hundred yards away. " lake experienced Iadiaa couta, creepjag from tree to tree, and bush to bush, taking advantage oferery thing that would screen them from view, Colonel Mason and his faithful guard made their way to where five Union soldiers were crouched behind a large oak tree, at the side of a sixth who had been pierced by a musket balL "Is he hard hit!" asked the Colonel, com teg upon the group. "He's dyin'." one of his comrades an swered. It was needless to ask any further ques tions about, him. Those glassy eyes, that gaping mouth,the quick gasping for breath and death rattle in his throat were evidence, that life was ebbing away. With each painful gasp there came a gush of blood from the wound in his breast: "Joe, Joe, can't yer speak t me!" taid a comrade, bending over him. "Haint yer got no word t' send home. Oh speak, Joe, jest one word. Tell me that ye know me." Lf 2 X . .i''to.saete "joe! joe! just ose word." It was a lifelong friend who entreated him to utter just one word of recognition, and send some word of comfort to loved ones at home. But no word was spoken. Those ears were deadened to all sounds, or that tongue had not the power of speech. "Joe, Joe, jest one word; tell me yer prepared t' die." Ay, that one word that precious word of solid comfort to bereaved friends how many hearts it has lightened in the ages past, and how many it will continue to lighten in the ages to come, no one but an all-wise Father in Heaven will ever know. But this soldier was too far gone to even utter a word. Already his gasps grew shorter, and already the rigidity of death seemed to steal over his frame. The feeble struggle for breath at last ceased. The grim battle was over, and tho soldier was in the Beyond. "When you are relieved carry him to camp for burial," said the Colonel. With his faithful body-guard he moved on among the trees and bushes. Suddenly there came a sharp report from behind a tree not over a hundred and fifty paces away, and a bullet came zip through the cap of the Colonel, so near his skull as to stag ger him. "Are ye hurt, Kernel?" cried Tom. "No. Down on the ground, every one of you ! There are sharpshooters over there 1" In a moment the men were prone upon the earth and taking advantage of suqh shelter as they could And. "Chaw me up 'f I don't spile the mug o' that critter," said old Arkansaw Tom. "Thar hain't been but one in all this ere deviltry 'n I'll stop him 'f he sticks his ugly mug out from behind that tree." Arkansaw Tom lay behind an oak, where a projecting root afforded an excellent rest for his gun. They were near enough to the sharpshooter to hear him ramming a charge home in his gun. A few moments later a face was seen to peep around the tree. All was still as death, but that unerring Springfield rifle of Arkansaw Tom was leveled on the face. A moment of breathless silence, and then came a deafening report and puff of smoke. When it had cleared away a dark form was seen lying at the root of the tree from bo hind which tho bold sharpshooter had been firing. This was the only one of the enemy found at tho front that day, and on the evening of the 5th Colonel Mason returned to his camp, about as well satisfied as some of his su perior officers that there was no danger of an immediate attack. It was Saturday evening, and he laid down to peaceful slumbers hoping for a quiet Sabbath. He retired late, and, being weary, slept soundly. When he awoke it was broad daylight, and the tremendous roar of a storm of some kind came to his ears. Ho soon discovered that it was the shouts of men, the rattle of musketry and boom of cannon, mingled with the long roll of the drummer. "Wake up, Colonel, for God sake!" cried one of his staff. "We are surprised. Johnston's whole army is upon us." CHAPTER XVL A DAT OF DEATH AND CARNAGE. "Fall in I fall in!" officers were crying all along the lme, and in response men were everywhere springing into ranks. "Is it an attack or a skirmish?" Luke, who was still somewhat bewildered at his sudden awakening, asked of somo of his staff. "It's Beauregard and Johnston's whole armies," replied the Major, who at this moment was hurrying by. The forest where Luke was quartered was almost devoid of underbrush. The spring was a little backward and the leaves were not much larger than squirrels ears, while on many of the trees the buds were either only swollen or just burstcd, so that there was little to ob struct their view. The trees were turned a faint green by the young leaves and tender buds, and the earth had also received a light coat of ermine from the paint-brush of spring. A fourth of a mile in their front was what had once been a field, though every remnant of fence had disappeared. A few white denuded snags and trees reared their pale forms into the air and extended a ghost-like arm to the sky. The first thing Luke saw after coming out of his tent was a body of Union soldiers running toward them across the old held. He also noted that the sun was just rising, for the bare arms of the old snags were here and there tipped with fire. Beyond the retreating soldiers was the roar of fire arms and the yell of the eneu y, which every moment drew nearer. Colonel Mason found his htse ready sad dled, and-mounting. bad started along his line to give his regiment a hasty inspec tion, when he met General Prentiss. "Is every man inline, Colonel?" tho Gen eral cried. "I think so." "We'll need them." "It's a general attack, thea!" "Yes." A shell thrown by the enemy came whizzine- and shrieking through the air, clipping off great branches of trees as if they had been tender twigs. It exploded i the air a few rods to the rear of General Prentiss and his staff. "It's no sham," said the General, coolly. "If it was intended as a ruse they wouldn't be sending such metal asthatawoagaa-" Loud shouts were heard oath left, ft wa hr the sallonbir of borsea sea thun- darof wheels, and turamg his eyes hi that J direction Luke saw three batteries coating up and unhmbering. General Prentiss galloped away to give personal directions to the gunners, leaving Luke alone with his regiment "Be brave ; the day depends on you. Re member your homes, your country, and let every soldier do his duty," shouted Colonel Mason, galloping along his line. The mass of fleeing soldiers proved to ba a part of Colonel Dave Moore's regiment, which General Prentiss had sent out early in the morning to reconnolter. They had gone until they struck tho main line of the onemy, and were hurled backward like chaff before a whirlwind, bringing their wounded Colonel with them. Several thou sand skirmishers had been hastily deployed to cover their retreat These were forced back, reinforced, and still driven back, until they struck the mam line of battle and threw it into momentary confusion. Offi cers were now seen galloping up and down their lines encouraging their men by words and acts. But down upon them like an avalanche, or somo tremendous oncoming thunder storm, the resistless horde of rebels poured. "Steady 1 steady! steady! boys! Re member the old flag!" cried Colonel Mason. Whiz, whiz, zip, zip! como the bullets all about him, and now and then the branches and young foliage from the trees, cutby the speeding shots, fell on the heads of the sol diers. Ono poor fellow who was standing m his ranks suddenly clasped his hand over his heart and wilted down like a suddenly clipped flower. Another seized his leg in his hands and hopped away to the rear. It was one of the most trying times of the entire day; but the line still presented an almost unbroken front Two regiments had fled entirely, and there were thousands of skulkers from others hastening to the riv er, but still the rebels found a solid front when they come. Colonel Mason urged upon his men the necessity of holding their fire until the ene my were near enough to make it effective, butwhentho bullets fell liko hail among them most of them began to return it The Colonel's horse reared, plunged into the air and fell dead. Tho rider was in a moment on his feet The whole line was now a sheet of flame and column of smoke. Some one brought him another horsewhich he mounted and. took up his position at the rear of his rogi" ment a few rods away to watch theif maneuvers. Men were falling, and the en tire line was now enwrapped in flame and smoke, while tho rebel horde was pressing on with resistless fury. A shell exploded at tho feet of the Colonel's horse, and the poor beast sank dying to the earth. He sprang from the saddle, and one of his staff brought him another steed. While galloping down the line sword in hand a grape shot struck tho blade, break ing it off close to the hilt Crash upon crash of cannon was added to the continuous roar of small arms, and tho air became thick with smoke. The ground was literally cov ered with dead and dying. For awhile they tried to carry the dead and woundt. to tho rear, but so closely were they pressed that they were forced to give up tho plan. Again was Luke's horse killed under him. The rebels charged. His men were fall ing back, anrd he dashed forward to make a stand if possible. A shell exploded but a few paces away and live or six of his men fell from it His Lieutenant-Colonel lay mortally wounded on the field and the Major was killed, so their duties devolved upon himself and staff. lTO BX CONTINUED1 a THE AMERICAN SOLDIER. Tae Physical Training- of Privates la th United States Army. If asked in what does the physical train ing of the American soldier consist, the writer should be compelled to answer that, other than a modicum of drill, there is none. To laymen this declaration may be astound ing, but it is not the less true. The dangerous and difficult duty which falls to our troops upon the Western plains is not, properly speaking, physical training, which should precede and fit them for that service. In recreative exercises we are, too, sadly de ficient With the exception of an occasional game of base-ball, in which possibly three per cent of the command participate, how rarely do we see our enlisted men engage in any out-door sports or pastimes. As foi educational exercises, none are prescribed. Swimming, which, is both recreative and educational, and should be compulsory, is seldom practiced, even when tho oppor tunity offers. The nowly-joined recruit is put through the "setting up" and squad drill for a week or two, by which time he gets his Springfield rifle, and, owing to the scarcity of men, often goes on guard be fore ho has learned to salute properly. This scarcity is principally due to the small com panies and scattered condition of our little army, and, in part, to the large number of men employed on extra and daily duty. Tbe latter practice is the bano of tho service. The soldier's former occupation is entered upon his descriptivo list at the time of enlistment, and if a carpenter, blacksmith, tinner, brick-mason, plumber, painter or teamster, the post quartermaster has him detailed on extra or daily duty in that ca pacity before ho has learned to depress his toes. If a farmer or baker, ho be comes the victim of the post treasurer and passes his enlistment in the post gar den or bakery. A clerk and his own Captain captures him, to make out the com pany papers, unless, indeed, the post Adju tant forestall him and put the man at work upon the post returns. This officer, if Adju tant of his regiment, is on the alert for re cruits with musical tastes (whom he assigns to the regimental band) and printers. The post surgeon lays in wait for two or more quiet men of neat appearance and negative qualities for hospital attendants, and those who are not detailed as company cooks and kitchen assistants become the prey of the post police officer, and pass their days in digging ditches and raking dead leaves. Our soldier is every thing but a soldier. Verily, instead of the device of crossed can non, sabers or rifles, by 7?hich the several arms of the service are distinguished, he should bear a shovel salient athwart a rake rampant as insignia of his nrofession or occupation ! United Service. m Breathing bad air is a prolific cause of morbid conditions of the blood. Any air that is freighted with unpleasant odors has a certain portion of its oxygen displaced by some unwholesome gas, and when breathed becomes a double source of contamination, first by cutting off the necessary supply of oxygen, and next by impregnating tbe sys tem with the poisonouk gases inhaled. Water should always be swallowed slow ly. It is not the stomach which is dry, but the mouth and throat It you toss off a drink of water you throw it through your mouth into your stomach, without doing the former any good, while you injure the lat ter by loading it with what it does not re quire. Drink slowly, and keep the water ia your mouth for a moment when you begia, Tax only reason why a full-grewa p to tbe age of fifty at least, is aot M acureaaatoytebecaaMJMdOMBOt hu the actor feabiU ex a bt A DRAYMAN'S LUCK. Haw Steahea Girard Helped, a J?eer to Make a Tertaae. Ca,.t ...,,.. seeing a story about old Steohea Gtaratto-other l.y remind, mo an incident that shows one of his pe culiarities. Girard had a drayman who was a decidedly poor' man. Ono day the drayman, who was an industrious, bright fellow, with a good many mouths to fill at home, was hear to remark that he wished he was rich. "What's that?" sharply said Girard. who heard the grumble. "Oh," said the man. "I was only wishing I was rich." "Well, why don't you get rich?" said the millionaire, harshly. 4,I don't know how without money," returned the drayman. "You don't need money," said Girard. "Well, if you will tell me how to get rich without money I won't let tho grass grow before trying it," returned the other. "There is going to be a ship load of confiscated tea sold at auction to-morrow at tho wharf; go down there and buy it in and then come to me." The man laughed. "I have no money to buy a ship load of tea with," he said, "You don't need any money, I tell you," snapped the old man. "Go down and bid on the whole cargo and then coma to me." The next day the drayman went down to the sale. A-large crowd of .retailers were present, and the auc tioneer said that those bidding would have the privilege of taking one case or the whole ship load, and tbat the bidding would be on the pound. He then began tho sale. A rn tail grocer started the bid ding and Ihe drayman raised him. On seeing this the crowd gozod with no small amount of surprise. When the case was knocked down to the drayman the auctioneer said ba supposed the buyer only desired the one case. 'Til take the whole ship load," coolly returned the successful bidder. The auctioneer was astonish ed, but on some one whispering to him that it was Girard's man who was tho speaker, his manner changed, and he said he supposed it was all right The news soon spread that Girard was buy ing itea in large quantities, and the next day the price rose several cents. "Go and sell your tea," said Girard to the drayman the next day. The dray man was shrewd, and he went out and made contracts with several brokers to take the stock at a shade below the market price, thereby making a quick sale. It a few hours he was worth 150,000. St Louis Globe-Democrat THE HUMAN APPETITE. Why It Can Not Be Regulated According to Popular Medical Kales. Doctors disagree, and always have disagreed, as to the quantity of food a day required by nature for the support of the human system. A French physiologist says six pounds of solid and liquid food is the golden mean be tween excess and improper abstinence; and another, who agrees with him, the proportion of solids should be about two pounds. An eminent Amer ican authority puts the total at fivo and a half pounds, of which two and a half pounds should be solids. They all state the kind and qualities of food which they consider most nutri tious. It should be borne in mind, however. that these learned professors experi mented upon themselves, and. there fore, if it be true that "what is one man's meat is another man's poison," neither their quantitative nor their qualitative directions are of universal application. It is our own opinion that every stomach, like, every heart, best "knows its own burden," and ;that the burden it can carry without incon venience is the true gage of its healthy requirements. There can be little doubt that a mo notonous diet, whatever the kind of nutriment used may be, is injurious. It is only necessary to look into the mouth of a human being to see that he is by nature both carnivorous and herbivorous his teeth show it and if, in spite of his teeth, he confines him self either to bran bread and squashes, or beefsteak, he outrages the laws ol health, and will assuredly suffer for it in some way or other. The quantity of food that may be beneficially taken into the stomach can not be regulated by fixed rules. It depends upon the size and vigor of the organ, the occupation and habits of the individual, and other conditions, and can only be ascertained by indi vidual experiment N. Y. Ledger. A Blue Beard and His Wives. A Boston paper tells of an old burying ground in a southern New Hampshire town where there is an in teresting group of seven tombstones. Each of six of them marks a little strip of earth where rest the remains of one of the wives of one man, and the seventh is the grave of the Bluo Beard himself. The epitaphs of the wives are short and simple enough, but the .fifth begins underneath the name and record of the woman's birth and death, these words: "The Peace maker." One can only speculate as to what the circumstances were under which she exercised her benevolent art; b no doubt she had to be a peacemaker to enable her husband to get along in any sort of comfort with all his deceased wives' relations. 'But the epitaph on the husband's tomb stone is a gem. It reads thus: "Best Weary Pilgrim." "Pump" is the name of a milk ped dler in Chicago. Very appropriate name for the trade. It is nip and tuck between the pump and the cow as te which shall furnish the most of the oloriiig atter lor eofee ia cities. HOME, FARM AND GARDEN. In hot weather lettuce is apt to war I"" ""' Auia wu ots xu pars prevent . .u i5 r , Z-ZZJZ?X'Zr . . 0 0 rf One cause for mildew on goose berries, grapes, eta, is too thick foli age, or being grown with too thick; tops. Thin out thoroughly and you will prevent mildew to a great extent. Currants and gooseberries should be well and heavily mulched with any coarse litter. Currant Pie. One teacupful of mashed currants (canned ones wilL do), one teacupful of sugar, two eggs, two tablespoonsful of flour and one teacupful of cold water. Bake with one crust, and, when done, make a frosting of the two whites and spread It over the top. With the later crops it Is very important to stir the soil frequently. By this plan, and especially so if only the surface is disturbed, aconsiderabio aid toward securing the necessary moisture may be secured. This work is of really more importance in this respect with the late crops than with the earlier ones. The safest and best way to grow black raspberries and blackberries for fruit is to plant thick and cut back thoroughly, making & perfect hedge of canes that are strong and stocky. Of course, in growing two crops together, as de scribed above, compost or manure must bo used freely, also mulch. As soon as tho strawberries are all gathered give the beds a weeding and apply a dressing of well decomposed manure. If new plants are wanted, allow a sufficient number of runners to take root and cut off all others as they appear, unless the beds are treated on the removal plan, when they will be needed to form plants for next year's supply. If a crop is removed and another garden crop is not required, sow the land with rye; if cows are kept, the waste of a moderate garden will ge far toward keeping one cow, and the rye will form acceptable food in both fall and spring. Peas may be used for the same purpose, but they end with the season. If preferred, the land may be sowed to buckwheat, to be turned under as a green manure. American Agriculturist GOOD BUTTER-MAKING. John Gould Gives Some Sensible Advice to Farm Dairymen. It may be A. D. 1915 before tbe co operative creamery, in some of its forms, will have superseded farm butter-making, however desirous we may be of its earlier adoption by dairy people in general. In. the interval, an immense amount of butter will con tinue to be made at the farm homes. That this butter would make a motley collection as in the past none can dis pute, but there is after all a constantly increasing amount of good butter put upon the market If people could bo induced to discard their individuality in making, and adopt somo few defi nite rules, so that butter-making could have system and sameness about it, there would be a great advance made. Too few realize that their way of mak ing is not the method by which the butter is made which brings the high est price. No one is soiling butter now at advance, and paying prices, who still clings to "Grandmother's" way of making. Neither does the market put a premium on butter made from actively sour cream, nor butter with pronounced butter milk flavor or made sharp with over-salting. Butter, to bring a high price, must be made of cream not over thirty-six hours old, slightly acid. It must bo washed free from buttermilk with weak brine, and salted not to ex ceed three-quarters of an ounce to the pound. Butter also needs to bo packed in some of the cheap but tasteful pack ages now obtainable and sent to the market immediately. Long-keeping butter is no longer called for. Butter is made to sell, not to keep, and the consumer says, "to eat fresh, not held until devoid ot fine flavor or aroma." The great evil is that so much butter is made by those who have a few cows that they can not make a specialty of fine butter-making, and so make as best suits them. This butter made from old. and often fermenting cream, is at the start destitute of butter flavor. It is not washed free from buttermilk, but "worked over" with ladles, "balled up" and sent to the grocery store, un protected from the light and air, and then consigned to the "shoe box." When at last, weeks, may be, though it should only have been days at the most, this butter finds its way to the city market to be rejected and neg lected, it is finally sold for a few cents per pound, and actually scoffed at by tho proscribed oleomargarine. This making an originally good ma terial into a low-priced, objectionable article, that does not attract but low ers the price and lessens consumption, should be stopped. It is both unprof itable and unbusinesslike. The mar ket wants good butter, and discards poor. Why, then, insist upon fur nishing the latter? If one can not make a fine article and get a good price for it either change methods, quit the business, or, what is better, patronize a co-operative creamery. There the material ci a whole neighborhood can be massed, rules of production adopt ed so that substantial uniformity will be secured, and a final product turned out that finds its way at popular prices to consumers of good butter. The one is moaey losing; the latter is money making. Which shall be the feoiee? American Agriculturist. -I' ' ti t . -. . .t? - tVmk rMmm fegggfea - lvlr;-.V.iiA:ii tiT "