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Eaton weekly Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, May 09, 1872, Image 1

Image and text provided by Ohio Historical Society, Columbus, OH

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85034457/1872-05-09/ed-1/seq-1/

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,Yo,JGQI .-i C5- Jlottets j(4thfr.i)emocratic Party, and the Collection of Local and General News. . . - vu n ;, Two Dollars per Annum; in Adyance
Spring's Banquet.
coring cias as to ni oanquet
With chime of snow-firtii hells. -v
And spreads hisfeast of an ties
In sheltered dales and dells.
He pledges us in eroous on da.
Pear), amethyst and cold,
, V- " x-With amber wine of sunlight.
Of preeiousness untold. M . ,
Keek rioleta hi ha' d -maids are
I n modest purple drest.
Hie lackeys, dandelion cay. 4
In preen, with yellow vest ;
'i J And bntteroups and daisies.
In many a grassy field. - ,
Stand ready, at his bidding,
t Fresh store of sweeU to yield.. .. ,
In depths of dusky woodlands '
The May-flowers hear his oaJl,
" --'And timid, pale-faced liverworts,
Tbe lowliest of all: , ...
" "While delioate anemones
Are brushing to behold" "
-The pranks of emtio oolumbines
- - Decked out in red and cold.
Bright butterflies, with massages.
Flit through the fragrant air.
And stir of preparation
Ts annndiiiff evervwhere.
FrnBeloaeBt-ladn branches,
Tha rlad musicians sing.
And carol forth tha chorus, ' .
, i AU Hail, to joyous Bprinc 1" -?i
i . . ' - ;
rBut 8princ's a trioksy fellow : ;
He lures us out to roam. -r
Then, spite ef all his dainties. -. i
" He lends us huncry homo. "
For boney-drops and dew-dropa, - 4
And even sunlight wine.
Are surely insufficient
; Foe mortals who would din I
- Tet heed his InTiUtion 1 ' " " "
For pretty 'tis to see .
- His notion of a banquet. .? 7 . i
His festive rerelry.
So, with the clad musicians,.
Let every creature sine. -' ' i
' And eaml forth the chorus. ' ' ; i
V , f All Hail, te joyous Bprinc 1". ,
IN THE BROOK.
iSvIvia : lare.' had 'tome bacfc. Thia
piece of news, Vhiepering front one to
sutotber,Tas enough to set all the caps
iii Baybreok nodding, -anct.,to;, stir the
village int fippl of Tmttsaal excite
ment. - - .
,1 wish J icould make you re Bay
bToohr asritf' stood "that day, knee-deep
in fallen yellow leaves, and rimmed by
mountain' "range s of pale 'blue which
seemed melting jnto the pale Novem
ber 8ky.; Hush was 'the predominant
'character -of the-place. .The bare and
-eongless woods into which the long
etreet pluDgod at either end, where it
sought the epen country, were no stiller
than the v jllage at its-" busiest center.
There was absolutely no sound in the
sir, no voices, no hammers, no stir of
occupation,, only :. the cawing of crows
in the fields, and one faint shriek from
a distant, locomotive ten miles away.
The closely-shuttered houses looked
dumb and lifeless. There, was life
enough going on in back regions,
life, and' hard domestic trial, but it
wfan not visible textile road. The men
jpQfhe place, gathered in the customary
" itjcle .about tha poet-o.ifice store, can-
vsTjed, if at all, in low husky tones,
- T$ying their talk, with: the Life and in.
terest of frequent expectoration. The.
side-walk was deserted- ' Once or twice
in the course of the morning a woman
with fluttering garments passed along
. pc, dodged into this door- or that, but
er presence brought no 'relief to th
rrevailing sense of lifelessness, or
rtike it only with "that . slight surprise
crhich we experience when some bird,'
a robin pf4elated woodpecker, bnisher
u in Tthe wintry woods.
t-But-for all' this peaceful exterior,
Bay brook did not. lack its gossips; In'
the -remote : kitchens, where so ' much"
unseen, business was done, great, inter
change of neighborly chat was going
on; - it Mis Wilder' a, for instance, old
MiB" Philbrick had run ..over "'cross
lots" to interview hereronyon the topic
of the day, and Mis' Wilder, taking out.
.her knitting and banishing " the girls''
in - clamt-ily contrived en and -to the
buttery, had fairly settled down for en
joyment. While Hepsyand Fris, in
dignant at being sent off, and 6n very
tip-top of curiosity, were doing their lit
tle all to overhear through the chink of
-the door. ' ; " " " .
- " Who's Bylvia Dare?" asked Pris,
catching the name amid the tantalizing
bum, hum, hum of the low voices.
I don') know," replied Hepsy, with
wide "open eyes. . "Somebody awful, I
guess,' ." .-' '
: Poor Sylvia ! r It was not so very long
ten or twelve years at utmost since
she left her native village, and already
her name was a strange one in the ears
of the generation who now usurped her
place. . She wasn't " somebody awful'.'
then. .The elders remembered - her, a
willful," beautiful girl, carrying all before-
her with' "the insolence of youth
and. vanity, "flirting now. with - this
young man, now with that, and break
ing more than one heart. They recol
. lected the time of her brief engagement
to-Phil.Thorpe tha likeliest fellow in
the county and his wretched looks
when, some months after it was all bro
ken off, she vanished from home to re
turn no more. " " Gone on a long visit
.to orne friends ' in York," old Miss
Dare said, in & last -effort to- save her
darling's credit ; but a year later, when
she lay dying, the poor aunt confessed
-the truth,-he did not know where
Sylvia was,"- she- Lad never known,
Neither word r.or 'sign had come from
4taeichil-"Wince she went away. A dark
cloud of surmise rested thenceforward
over- the .fate o( the village beauty,
never . lifted until now, when, marvel
ous to relate, she had come back. -
"But when did she come back?"
-asked Mis Wilder.
Last night," replied Mis' Philbrick,
bringing her cap nearer. "Jehiel For
bes was to the depot with his team, and
l v-. ci J : -J . 1,
uo loivutju iier uycj, outs uiuii b orej.
nor give no -sign who she was, and
be neter ' mistrusted at"- first she
waa so changed . I ...Not much of Jiand
some Sylvie- Dare left, I reckon. But
by-and-by he asked where did she want
- to be set down? and she says, says she,
in a kind eft . hesitatmg voice, 4 Ja old
Miss Dare alfve yet? 1 ' And. their Jehiel
he said, 4 Why, tidr 'Mis" Dare 'died a
Jong piece back,'not more'n a year after
her niece-went-otf.'-- And at that she
Icind of choked, and 'pulled down her
veiL and thenJ ehrel jruejsed. So he
didn't say "anything more till they got
real near theJ Village, and then he asked
again where would she-- be set down ?
And at first sWa didn't Vnswerpand then
she said i'.Oii. J don't know i drive to
the kaxasv where Miss J)are usedtoJiye,
Perbaus-iJiev'll take me there -to board,'
Bftys.ghe, "and sbeburstriight out; Crying.
Jebel; iays karfelt real bad, and be took
1 .. .
virij - : . t; t;-
-. , ...
her ihere and fixed it all straight with
Mis'-Clark, and febe'e got the-roomier
aunt-uted to have. Mis' Clark don't
know yet who it is she's got ' board
ing with her. She 'n. Mr. Clark's
pretty much strangers yet in these
parts, you know. But I wouldn't won
der if somebody was to tell her before
long."
"Poor Sylvie! I hope not,"Eaid the
gentler woman. "And Jehiel says
she's so changed ?" " . ' (-
" He says she don't look: to him as if
she was long for this world," responded
Mis' PhilbrickJ : " Dre dful : thin and
holler, and with a cough that it shakes
vou all to nieces to hear. Poor cretur.
as you say, Mis Wilder. The way of
the transgressor u nam mere s no
doubt about it I Well, I must be
goin'."
" Mother," cried Pris and Hepsy, re
leased at last from their buttery, " who
u Sylvia Daze that you and Mis' Phil
brick was talk:ng about? Do tell us
about her."
" She's a poor child who used to live
here, and who's come back to die, I'm
afraid, replied the mother, cautiously.
" Don't mind about her, girls, but come
up stairs with me, and help pick over
the carpet-rags. It's time they was
sorted out."
And in the excitement of matching
blues and yellows, and arranging for
black stripes . and brown, Hepsy and
Pris forgot their curiosity. But their
mother did not forget, and prayed long
and earnestly that night for the wan
derer brought so strangely back to her
horse.' - i ' : :
Meantime Sylvia was lying in the bed
where, as a child, she had slept beside
her kind old aunt. The room was little
changed.--: There was the old-fashioned.
cherry bureau, the maple .wash-stand,
the pine shelf in the corner, on which
Miss Dare's black-bound Bible used to
lie. Sylvia even recognized " the musty
smell which breathed from the closet, a
sort of ghostly waft from by-gone and
traditional appareL There was the
wall-paper,, with, its wavy pattern, which
once she had loved to follow" with her
finger until it lost itself in : the rcorner
angle." There was "the .-small looking
glass which had reflected a fair young
face in. those other days, not so very
long ago; and, the -.broken,- slat in the
blind, net mended yet,. through . which
the sun sent its morning greeting. His
beams lay, a bright spot, on the same
strip of faded carpet. - Could they Tiave
been lying there all this time ? Sylvia
thought, pursuing her recollections with
languid interest. She felt tired too
tired to rise. She would lie still for a day
or two, and then' she should be better.
And she wondered.' if anybody would
remember her ? would come to see her ?
and for the first time in years a painful
curiosity to know what had been said of
her absence awoke in her mind. - Once
she had not cared. Could it be-true,'
what Jehiel said, that her aunt's death
had really had anything to do with
Aa(?t,Arid Sylvia closed her ye,f then
opened thenr again, and' tossed fever
ishly about-. , s-j v-n
All that day and the next' she lay lan
guid and restless. Her landlady came
now andr ; then,, bringing up tea -ami
such other'ttles suggested thSmi
selves; but a sharp inquisitive manner
had replaced, the fussy - good-ntur-:of
her earlier greeting, and Sylvia guessed
that herstory was known. '' Why had
she come back ? she " asked herself, in
fits of miserable despondency. She did
not know that it was but the instinct of
all bunted and dying things, turning
with desperate- longing to the morning
covert where their race began, and which
to the end is home. M " "
- The third morning was warm and
sunny. A- oreamy naze soicenea the
mountain: outline and clothed the bare
woods with many-hued mists. Sylvia
felt stronger; Rising feebly, she dressed,
and, wrapped in a shawl, sat down be
side the open window, rne pure air,
the -quiet and peace of all out-door
things, the lovely penciling of the elm
boughs; as they fell between her eyes
and the. sky,' thrilled her ' with vague
pleasure.-- XsoDody seemed to be mov
ing; all things slept or appeared to
sleep, though blue smokes curled from
chimneys, and here and there the upper
half of a front door stood open to ad
mit the air. How pretty, how - hushed
it was ; how like the old life, and yet
how different. By-and-by a girl came
by a girl about the ' age of that girl
who had passed from all these peaceful
things so long ago. As she walked she
glanced upward, and, catching a glimpse
of Sylvia's head against the side of the
window, paused, stared curiously and
then hurried on again with a look of
sly confusion. Sylvia shrank back. Why
bad she come again T she again asked,
herself. . ' ; -
The next day was Sunday. A bright
and fitful Bun shone in at the pane, but
the clouds had deepened on the moun
tains, and the winds blew with a keener
edge. Jt braced Sylvia's languid frame
like atonic Looking out toward noon,
she saw orderly groups of people pass
ing home fiom church, aha a desire to
leave the house seized her. Perhaps she
bad been mistaken ; perhaps nobody
would know her, after all, or. knowing,
some kind soul might speak tenderly
and pityingly to her. Even pitv would
be sweet, thought bylvia in her loneli
ness, and wrapping herself in shawl
and veil, she crept down stairs and into
ine sweet.
People were not going home from
church, however. An unusual throng
was . pouring through Squire Welch's
gate, and moving in long lines across
the brown meadow which lay beyond,
What could it mean 7.
" Where are the folks going?" asked
Sylvia of a little boy who stood with
pocketed nands near the gate. ,
" Down to see the . baptizin','! replied
the boy. - " Aint you goin'? There's ten
on 'emibaside the Elders a goin' in. I
guess the water'il be pretty cold too."
Some vague:' recollection floated
through Sylvia's mind, as her feet rather
than . her will bore , her along in the
track of the procession ; recollections of
a baptizing to which she had been taken
years before.'. ". Yes, it . ; must . have
been here that -it took place ; here,
where Bayberry Brook pretty Bavber?
ry, from which the village borrowed ita
name rah deepest. . But at first sight
of the stream, curring through its
banks of sedge and golden grass, this
. t
remembrance forsook her. lost in a tide
of other thoughts. .' Half her childhood
had been passed in this meadow besiae
the brook. There was the shallow where
she and Phil built the dam. Under that
bank he found the lark's nest which he
showed her and kept a secret from all
the other girl?." Just then she had
caught her first trout.. She remembered
how the hook got tangled in her curls,
and how Phil worked for half an hour
totting :iti out. .ke could feel his
ngers now, and see the. bright boyish
face close to her ' own, and feel 'his
breath on her cheek.". And on that
hummock strangest memory of all
they had sat thatevening when he asked
her to mairy him, Poor Phill She
had felt sorry about him sometimes of
late years. She wondered if he were
alive yet if he had quite got over feel
ing bad about, her. But pshaw! of
course he had. And thus the path,
pursued almost unconsciously, brought
her to the bank where people were
standing in silent attentive groups.
For a moment Sylvia shrank back.
Then, perceiving that no one turned or
seemed to notice her presence, she ven
tured to linger, even to press forward a
little, and soon, absorbed in what was
going on, she forgot all else. Directly
beneath where she stood lav the deep
pool in which. Bayberry,. losing for a
time its happy, rippling murmurs, ran
with placid and noiseless force. The
farther bank was soft with tufts of yel
low grass. - There stood, the choir, and
even as she gazed the leader raised his
hand and led the air of a wild, sweet
hymn, full of that blended triumph and
pathos which distinguishes the Metho
dist hymnal, and which seems caught
from, those early days when, on lonely
bill-tops and Cornish moors, John Wes
ley stood and poured his burning mes
sage into the ears of the common ' peo
ple, 'who heard him gladly. Never under
gay English skies did the strains ring
with gladder meaning than now beneath
the !blue New England heavens, with
the distant solemn mountains looking
on, and the plash and jingle of Bayber
ry Brook sounding each note like an
unseen accompaniment. - One verse
no . more then, a bustle and stir took
place in the crowd below, and, slowly
emerging; two figures descended the
bank and passed into the water.
i One ' was a gray-haired . Elder : the
other ayoung woman, with long, stream
ing hair and black garments, btep by
step they gained the center of the pool,
where the water, was deepest, and,
standing waist-deep, paused, and turned
so as to face the people. . .Sylvia bent
forward, i She heard the sacred formula
pronounced, saw the girl's head with its
heavy tresses' bend suddenly backward
and vanish beneath - the- swirling- waves.
Another moment it rose again, and drip
ping and gasping the girl was led by the
Elder toward the shore, and assisted up
the bank by her friends, while a wild
strain of welcome rang from the choir.
Another baptism followed, and another.
Thenrsomev unusual -excitement shook
the- audience as a tall man's figare-ckme
forward leading a young woman by the
hand Sylvia' just caught sight' of the
girl's face as thev passed : a fair, modest
one), framed in flight, braided hair; but
the JSider advanced, and "-placing him
self between the two, led them into the
broofcrrXhe words lof ctmsecratin wtere
uttered, the dark head and the fair van
ished, in turn beneath the water, and
the forms turned again toward the
bank, the young man holding up the
girl with a strong arm. Her sweet, drip
ping face was quite unruffled in expres
sion. His Sylvia gasped as she gazed
wore a look of steadfast, honest peace,
which made the strong features -absolutely
beautiful.. It was Philip Thorpe,
i i i .i. . i u
but a man, every inch of him ; a man of
whom a woman might well be 'proud.
And just then a gust of wind seized and
blew aside her veil, and Philip's eyes,
as he slowly ascended the bank, met
hers, and he knew his lost, love's facel
, " How dreadful . white Phil Thorpe
looks, don't he? ' whispered somebody
near- by in the crowd. "1 wouldn't
wonder if he'd taken his death of chilL"
"But Mary Allen don't," was there-
ply. ' She's just .as pretty and calm as
if she hadn't been in the water at all.
No wonder Phil thinks such a heap of
her. - Jiilder Quinn he wanted them to
go in separate, but Phil wouldn't hear
to it. she and me's going through iile
together, and we're going to be baptized
together,' he said. The Elder couldn't
do nothing with him. 1 don't blame
him one mite, for my part."
Sylvia heard no more. . The burning
flush which bad rushed into her face on
meeting Phil's eves gave place to death
like pallor and a feeling of sickly faint-
ness. With desperate footsteps she
hurrie I back across the meadow, feel
ing each .moment as u she must sink.
The wild, sweet strain of the choir pur
sued her . ..
He will save you
. He will save you -
: Be will save you just now. '
Just now , .
He will save you just now."
Would He? Oh, if He would!
When, a girl is, in country parlance.
" sitting up with a young man," it is
desirable that her parents should make
a practice of going to bed early. Farmer
Allen ana his dame were not behind
hand in this respect. .'They knew what
was expected of them, and duty, fortu
nately, coincided with both habit and
inclination. . So by 8 o'clock all was stiH
that Sunday evening in the old home
stead, except for the distant creak of
some bedstead : bending - under the
weight of a sleeper;-and- the crackling
oi tne. ample . pre upon the kitchen
hearth, .beside -which the lovers sat.
Philip was in the farmer's big chair, and
Mary on a low stool drawn up close to
it. rihere were tears on her fair cheek
and Philip looked grave and pale as he
stroked her Bmall fingers in his broad
paim. . .
"And so it's been like a cloud over
the day the day we said was going to
be so happy, Mary. ''Not that -it hasn't
been happy, dear I must : take that
back happy in some ways. But all
the time 1 am seeing that face that
poor changed face." . ... -. .-
" If she good looking still ?", faltered
Mary, ' -
' 4 .'V No,',' not . good ' looking now. You
needn'.t worry, dear. The bright pretty
.faoe. of fW,. times, js all tgoner. Nobody
i" - "I
will have to fret any' more over 'Sylvia
Dare's beauty." ; ;
"Oh, Phil, I'm not worrying," said
Mary, almost crying ; " it's only
only"
" I know, dear," very tenderly. " It's
only that to-day, of all days, you and I
were to belong entirely to each other
and ' to God. .And we do, -darling. . I
wouldn't go back if I could to that old
time when Sylvie made me so miserable.
This new time is more to me than that ;
and you, my Mary, a thousand times
dearer than ever she was. But some
men can't ever forget the past, or lay it
aside, or bury it awsy out of sight, and
I am one of them. My love for bylvia
Dare died long ago.- I wouldn't dig it
up again if I could by saying the word.
But when 1 saw her lace to-day, so un
happy, dear, so changed, I forgot all
that has come between, all her wrong
and my anger, and saw only the little
Sylvia who used to be my sweetheart at
Bchool and play with me beside Bay
berry Brook. Don't be angry with me,
darling, but help me to think -what we
can do for poor Sylvie."
Angry, Phil" kissing him " why,
how could I ? I love you all the more
for being so tender-hearted iust like a
woman, dear for all you're so big and
strong. But what can we do ?"
1 am trying to think, darhng. . If
you were my wue it would be easy.
We would go together to Sylvie, and
comfort her together. But it won't do
for me to go . now ; and if you made
friends with her, people would talk so.
Even your '' . - ;
" But Phil," cried true-hearted Mary,
" why need we mind people's talking if
what we do is right? Tell me that you
wish me to go and I'll go to-morrow. Or
you needn't tell me : I'll go any way,
because I want to go. And, dear,", the
sweet face grew tender; "you know we
said that we would try to look out for
something good to do something we
could help or give to in memory of this
day when we professed church mem
bership together. Perhaps this is the
very work. Perhaps He has sent this
poor thing specially to us; who knows,
Phil?"
While thus tender soul took counsel
over her fate, Sylvia stood alone beside
Bayberry Brook. A long afternoon of
fever had bred within her such restless
disquiet and impatience of the confined
air of her room that, haunted with the
to escape, she had risen from
her bed about 9 o'clock in the evening,
and, wrapped in a shawl, had crept un
perceived from the house. -
The night was wild and gusty. It had
rained heavily over the mountains all
day, and masses of heavy cloud, driven
by the wind, were now scudding across
the sky, catching up in their folds and
then releasing the moon,, whieh here
and there gleamed out with fitful splen
dor. A boding moan came on the
breeze, significant of coming storm. It
fell like some' awful,'' tortured human
voice upon the ears of the half-delirious
girl, as with Vapid steps she passed along
the meadow-path, now silent and de
serted. Gaining at last the bank where
in the morning she had stood, sbe paused
and ' bent over, with clasped hands,
weeping and talking to herself. .. .
, v un, what a a read ml, dreadtui world
it is !" she sobbed : " I didn't know how
dreadful - till I came back here. That
girl's face ! Did my face ever look like
tha? so happy and quiet ! I had for
gotten girls could look so ! . How Phil
changed when he saw me! He turned
white, and his eyes stared as if I was
something awful. And I am 1 I am a
ghost ! the ghost of little Sylvia Dare,
who used to play beside Bayberry Brook.
Oh, if I could only go back and be her
go back to the time when.! went to
school across this meadow, and Aunt
Orphah used to call me a 'good child !'
Good! Ah, no! Nobody will ever say
that to me again ! ..
" If there was only some way of going
back going back ! Any way to get rid
of the burden of one's self! What did
that hymn say
" " He will save you just now V
Not me ! That couldn't mean me ! I
wish it did. I wish the Elder would
take hold of my hand and lead me in
and dip me under, as he did this morn
ing, and say those words, and all these
wretched years could slip off and float
away, and I could rise up again washed
clean, with a face like that, girl's, and
walk out and begin over! , Oh dear!
That would be good I"
he hlled her hands with the water
and poured it over her burning head.
" That is nice," she said " nice and
cool. Perhaps, if I went in and stood
just there where Phil btooaV this morn
ing, x snouia do cooi au tnrougn, ana
this pain would go away.' I'll leave my
shawl. here, though, to keep dry till I
came out." .
She threw the shawl upon the ground
and waded in. The stream had risen
since morning, fed by the mountain
rains, but she never heeded the added
depth. Intent upon reaching the mid
dle, of the pool, where the morning's
baptism had taken, place, she hurried
forward. Now the' water was at her
waist now above her breast. A hasty
slip her footing gave way the water
was over her head. Instinctively she
struggled, for one moment grasped the
air then a sudde gladness possessed
her: "Just now," she murmured, with
a wild smile on her white face then
gave herself to the stream and sank
The moon plunged into sudden eclipse
of cloud; the wind sounded with dreari
er moan then, ere the ripples of Syl
via's passa'ge had: ceased in the brook.
the silvery radiance again streamed
forth and lit the eddying circles. The
breeze died into stillness, and bush and
night possessed the place.
They found her in the morning. The
stream had floated her downs Utile way
to where a tiny cape of yellow grasses
arrested its flow and there, half in,
half out of the water, she lay pillowed
on the slope. The brown waves played
lightly-with her garments and fanned
and caressed her form as a mother
caresses her child.'' A smile of perfect
peace rested on' her lips. She was fa'r
and young and innocent i the deep bap
tism' of Death had washed awav all stain
of life's anguish, and sbe seemed as pne
fallen aieepr s , , j-v o 5 1
.J She looks dreadful happy, dqa
she" said old Mis' Phil brick.
. But fhuip and Mary were' heavy a
- - ' "
wet were going to be so good to her on
the morrow," they siid to each other ;
" if she had only knowti if she only
had lived one dy longer !"
In the meadow, not far from the
water s edge, is Sylvia s grave. Bough
hands laid her to rest and smoothed the
brown sods over her; but many kind
words were spoken, and no harsh ones,
for the village folk were not ungentle
at heart. The mui mur at Bayberry
sounds forever past her bed, and Philip's
little children come sometimes to put
daisies and pink mallow-buds on the
mound. And sometimes, though rare
ly, Philip comes himself, and stands,
and thinks, and stoops to brush a stick
or a dead leaf from the grass. The blue
sky arches her in, the curving mountain
chain encircles her- and so Sylvia rests.
Farm and Garden.
Sprouting Potatoes to Advance the Crop.
The Germantown Telegraph says :
" Sprouting white potatoes will advance
the crop two weeks. They should be
cut so that about two eyes are allowed
to each piece, and these should be
planted in hot beds with very thin
covering of soil ; or it is better to plant
in boxes and set these in a hot bed, so
that after they are properly sprouted
they can be at once carried to the place
of planting. ' If the nights should be
anyway cold, protect 'with thin cover
ing of straw when the plants make their
appearance above ground. Some per
sons who want a large quantity sprouted.
cut the potatoes as desired, and spread
them on boards, boxes or crates, in a
dark place, and when sprouted, say
from an inch to an inch and a half, ex
pose them to the light, moistening two
or three times a week with tepid water.
They should be planted out so that
there is not more than two inches of
soil over the top of the sprouts."
Poultry son the Farm. The ordinary
farmer has this advantage over the pro
fessional poultry keeper his fowls cost
him little in the way of food and almost
nothing for care. He usually labors
under the disadvantage of not giving
his fowls enough care, and of managing
some things about them with a -great
disregard tor true economy. 11 is towls,
during much of the year at least, live
on food that would otherwise have been
wasted, or on that the eating of which
is ; a positive advantage to the owner.
This makes . the eggs . and . . poultry
obtained almost a matter of net gain.
But because the fowls cost little, fur
nishes no good reason for keeping those
that are useless and such are kept on
many farms. .. In many cases the stock
never , reduced by sale only by
deaths from old age, disease or accitlent,
and by killing a good share of the
young for home use.
We imagine that quite a numoer oi
our -readers, if they would take the
trouble to look at their stock of poultry,
would find one to a half dozen cocks
which had better be disposed of, on ac
count of old age, quarrelsome disposi
tion, or because they are, m every way
inferior fowls, simply . left, over, having
accident ally escaped killing ' ' ' when
young and also-a-goodly number, oi
venerable - hens, , or those nooDiing on
frozen feet," -etc ' To-, keep such .fowls
over the winter ' will .'.cost something j
and all this cost will be a loss, for, even
if they do not die, such fowls are almost
useless.; It will be much better to dis
pose of them now, sending those fit for
eating to market or to the home table,
and killing and burying the others.
Many farmers would do well to thus
reduce their stock one-half. Better care
of the remainder might follow with ad
vantage in many cases. It possibly will
be neither advisable or necessary to
build a poultry house, but some comfor
table place should oe provided wnere
the fowls may be protected from storms
and cold winds, by day as well as night.
Every consideration of economy will
dictate good feeding during winter, so
as to prevent the low is oe coming poor.
Fowls with insufficient food or exposed
to severe storms will not lay well ; while
it is eouallv true that very many
persons do get a goodly number of eggs
during the" winter months, by giving
good food and comfortable quarters to
young, healthy hens.
We certaimy would hot advise farm
ers to purchase large numbers of fancy
poultry, but on many farms the - old
stock has run down by long interbreed
ing, poor care, and no selection. In
such cases a change is certainly desira
ble, and this should be had by obtaining
a good cock, either from a neighbor's
vard or from some fancier. For our
selves we should decidedly prefer to
have fowls of some established breed,
and would not feel satisfied with a stock
widely varying in size, color, and form.
But whatever class is kept, some care in
selection will be necessary to keep them
from degenerating. Weeiern farmer.
AUike Clover in Michigan. Samuel
Booth, Branch county, Michigan, writes
the Western Bur alt ." A year ago list
spring. I hesitatingly purchased enough
of the seed to sow twenty-five acres, it
taking at the rate of four and one-third
pounds to the acre,. at one dollar per
pound. . l sowed in the month oi Apru
on ground prepared for and sowed to
wheat. I harrowed the ground and
afterward plastered it. Notwithstand
ing the dry season, I out from the
ground about forty tons of hay in July.
I drew m my barn nve tons lor ieecung ;
the balance I stacked, and in Septem
ber thrashed it and got eighty-nve
bushels of seed. Before cutting I
brought in some stalks which measured
four feet in length. The field on
WlllUlA IV nSO BVVTll X0 UlgUl lUUUl ...... j
soil dark sandy loam, i am leading
this winter mv entire stock, consisting
of horses and cattle, on the hay that
was thrashed. They never thrived
better on any feed than they do at the
present time. It is free : from fuz and
dust, and the stalk, unlike the other
clover, remains green alter the seed has
ripened, and the cattle seize it with
an avidity that would plainly indicate
its superiority over the common red
clover.- It is also excellent for the
honey bee, equal if not surpassing the
white clover.- The first cutting pro
duces the seed, and afterwards excel
lent pasturage, but if preferred for hay
and no seed.i it nroducea two- crops.
With the knowledge t have of it,
would not reoontmend it fof light,
yeuunj B9UUY auu.
Hints for the Housewife.
' Lemon for a Cough. -Roast the lemon
very carefully without burning it ; when
it is hot cut and squeeze into a cup upon
three ounces of sugar, hnelv. powdered.
Take a spoonful whenever your cough
troubles you. it is good and agreeable
to the taste. . Barely has it been known
to fail of giving relief. , ;
A Relish for Breakfast or Lunch. Take
a quarter of a pound of good, fresh
cheese ; cut it up in thin slices and put
it in a spider, turning over it a large
cupful of sweet milk ; add a quarter of
a teaspoon ful of dry mustard, a dash of
pepper, a little salt, and a piece of but
ter as largo as a butternut ; stir the mix
ture all the time. Have at hand three
Boston crackers finely powdered or
rolled ; Bprinkle them in gradually ; as
soon as they are stirred in turn the con
tents into a warm dish and serve. , .
Scalloped Potatoes. Boil in the skins,
peel quickly when done, and rub
through a cullender or coarse sieve, or
m'sh smoothly ; season highly with Bait,
pepper and butter; add two or three
hard boiled eggs -chopped fine. . Four
eggs to a quart of mashed potatoes are
nice ; but if not plenty two will an
swer. - Fill a baking dish with it, and
bake long enough to form a delicately
brown crust. Serve as soon as taken
from the oven. ; '
A Brilliant Stucco Whitewash. Take
clean lumps of well-burnt lime, slack it
in hot water in a tub, and cover it to
keep in the steam. - It should then be
passed through a. fine sieve in a fluid
form, to obtain the flower of lime. Add
a quarter of a pound of whiting or of
burnt alum, two pounds of sugar, three
pints of rice flour made into a thin and
welT-boiled paste, and one pound of glue
dissolved over a slow fire. .. It is said to
be more brilliant than plaster of Paris,
and it will last hlty years. - it should be
put on warm with a paint brush. . .
Boiled. Ham. -Cat thin slices from the
middle of the ham, as true and uniform
as possible, having the knife very sharp.
Hut it by carelessness some parts are
thicker than others, roll the thick part
out, stoutly, with '. a rolling-pin , Soak
an hour or two in warm water, unless
the ham is quite fresh. Have the grid
iron perfectly free from roughness, and
well heated; then broil over a brisk fire,
turning constantly, that no part may be
black: If cut thin enough, it will take
but a few minutes to broil. When done,
butter and pepper to suit the taste. For
breakfast, an ooielet, or eggs cooked in
some acceptable way, should always go
with ham. . '
Spiced VeaL -Chop three' pounds of
veal steak and one thick slice of salt fat
pork as fine as sausage-meat ; add to it
three Boston crackers rolled, hne, three
well-beaten eggs, half a teacup of toma
to catsup, a teaspoonful and a half of
fine salt, a teaspoonful of pepper, and
one, grated lemon. ..Mould it into the
form of a loaf of bread, in a small dripping-pan
f cover with one rolled crack
errand baste with ) a teacupful of ' hot
water . and ; melted butter, with - two
tablespoonfuls of the, butter. -. Bake for
three hours, basting every' little while
(this 'makes it moist). ' Make the' day
before it is desired :for 'the tabled slice
very t thin, and garnish,- with lices of
lemon and Jjits of, parsley, : . ; ... . , i7.
Current Items.
I
IIakriit Becchkr Stowx makes $15,-
000 yearly off her Florida farm.
A daughter of James Russell Lowell
was married in Cambridge, Mass., a few
days ago, to idward Burnett, ot
isoston. ' '
At the sale of Le Grand Xockwood's
collection, in New York, last Thursday
evening, sixty-two pictures . brought
$43,190. .
Richmond, Va., furnished to the
market, in the six months ending
March 31, 7,227,802 pounds of chewing
tobacco, and 591,956 pound ol smok
ing tobacco. . , - . ,
Conoressmkx : have until ' the 1st of
July to fill vacancies .in the Naval
Academy at Annapolis, lhe present
number of cadels is 215, while the max
imum allowed by law is 334. " '
Ths Pennsylvania oil region contains
2,000 square miles. ' Of this' space only
ten square miles are actually worked.
Last year's yield was about 5300,000
barrels of lorty-three gallons each.
Rev. Stcaet' Robinson, of Louisville.
has sued the Missouri Democrat lor oU,-
000, for alleging that he had' recom
mended during the war that infected
clothing should be shipped to the
.North. ,
At the ruins of a malt house, in the
burnt district . of Chicago, lately, work
men came upon smouldering material,
which burst into flames on exposure to
the air. The fire had smouldered for
six months. . ; ; ;
Td tttiilAnta rtf AmhAMt fVkllecrA. yw
: 1 J : .: i .UA 1 .r a pa
to be permitted to attend a dancing
school. Some time ago the young gen
tlemen asked for this privilege and
were refused. :
Dr "M" r.n ri atr niurit. Colonel IL R. Mo-
W1U j.ovv v " -
road Association, was robbed at a hotel
in Grenada, Miss., of diamonds, a gold
watcn, si,zuu, ana aio ui tui icuui
. ' ..i i j -ii -
valued at several mousanu uwuvb.
of BADtiats of West
Tennessee, North Missouri, and Arkan-
. -mm- 1 1 J .A
oaa iv onocinn in rvi AmnniK. iihh hca
that body to saise $200,000 in the event
... . . ., -r . : . xt :
that the csouinern xtapiisu uiuiotuij,
Of lireenvilie, O. J., remmeu iv
vicinity of Memphis.
Js a leading bank - in Stockholm all
i .u.Viira a.ira fni" nima vears oast
.otiafutr.nT'ilv filled bv females.
" ' . -'J
That is what might have been ex
pected. Jfivery one wno ua ever m
trusted a secret w wrauu m.uwm
thev make first-rate tellers.' ; .
A notk from a gentleman who was
' snowed up '-in Maine, states that
during the last storm so" 'much snow
tVi bflvholft of the
noo -v o J
outside door of the house where he was
stopping, . that, it took' two men two
days to shovel it out. And that wasn't
the hardest storm of the month by any
means, '
A Canni-Ballad.
TPs about an ancient cannibal man.
Who eume from an islaixi near Japan.
a canmoai man wno wv tourn ana old.
When Barnaul bouzht him and naid In srotd.
Ani whether the man or Barnam was sold.
Xou will learn In this solemn story..- ,-
His teeth were sharp as the teeth of a law. -.
And be bad two rows in bis lower jaw
Filed and nnlished. and ready for one . ....
On mf muttnmftr fnll .f iiliftfl.
Or the first fine baby that lay around loose. ..
nor oabies were all nis sriory.
A sad mistake for a cannibal band - - ' ' ' ' 1 i
To come to an almost babyless land. s , . -
For babies are stranralv ont of atvle r
You may travel the country many a mile.
Without tne litrnt ot a baby-smtie
Unless with tne lutca and lnsL.
Bnt H&rn(im leant bis man In a eaffe.
Thouirh he felt quite sure, at the fellow's ae.'
That his oannibalistio feats were done.
Unless he should eat a man for fun:
And onoe, on the sly, he fed him one.
w hioh wasn't a wue proceeding-.
For, bavins; tasted a white man's meat.4 i
He was always ready to kill and eat ,
And he looked with lonainr at rosy cirls . .
Who came to the show in shining? cnrls.
With cheeks like peaches and -teeth lkk pearls.
ana ne wondered now tney las tea.
.... -. .
It happened one, when the flesh was weak. '
That he snatched a bite from a rosy cheek :
When Barnum entered the oaaje to beat him.
The cannibal thought he had oome to treat him.
And so straightway becan to eat him, -
w ltnout even salt or pepper. s ..
And though he was strinsrv and awful tour h. . .
For a toad eanare meal he Droved enough-
AIas 1 alack 1 what a terrible omen i
It reaches to women as well as showmen - t
That whether cannibal. Greek or Roman, .
ts aver so ota, vou c&n trust no man.. 1 1 ,
Varieties.
Poor a as A burning shame." ' . "
Spell-bound lildreri at school. ' '
Th compositor's" grievance -Out of
sorts.
" Tat elephant lives 200 years."-r-.Er.
If you don't believe it, buy one and see
for yourself.' ' V" - -
That Vermont girl who: splits a cord
of wood daily, will be woo'd. by a raft of
fellows when she grows up, (
A pen-portrait in an Indianapolis
paper of Godlove Orth -says " he -uses a
deal of hair-dye.'? - Well, don't, whom
Godlove die young ? "
. Ti . Tioiiil ?t-i'l .'I '.
A German lately married says : r'' Id
vas youst so eay as a needle cood valk
out mit a camel's eye'as to get der be
hindb vord mii a voomans. ' .,- i'
; '. j - Thbbb was a little maid. . . - ' j. -Vt
hen the neighbors' hens had laid
: Their eggs in her father's sardeu, . ; ; j '
She used to sell them, so
, She bought some ealioo . -. - - ; o -- ;
And made herself a bowling Dolly Varjen.
Th building for women students at
Cornell University, will, be commenced
this year, and is to cost about $150,000,
with a . gift -pf v $100,000 besides.
Women will probably be admitted next
September. ., , ,r."-V i --.
" A sim plx mode of avoiding the spread
of Small-pox has been discovered in Ala
bama. - They let the patient die . safely
by himself, hire a negro, to bury him,
and shoot the negro -as.- soon asi them
at is hnjshed.- j .. .5.; ,r. -t r. : ,
.Walter, a five-year old, was surprised
t breakfast by' the presence of "
at
diminutive egg, served' for; his special
delectation He thus accounted for the
egg's smallness : " Mamma, I think the
ehieken was learning to lay.; i : j -tt
" A sntANaiit. meeting a' man in the
streets of Boston, a few days since,
roughly accosted him with,1 44 Here,' 1
want to go . to the Tremont House I?
The deliberate reply was : " Well, yon
can go if you won'be gone long."
A ladt was once reading to a little
boy aged seven the story of the resur
rection of .Lazarus. . Seeing.. peculiar
expression on his countenance when tne
condition of Lazarus's body was men
tioned, she sought to divert , his ; .at
tention from the circumstance by asking
him what ne supposed xne aiscipros aiu
when he grave wa opened ? - Dunno,"
said he, "I s'posethey held their noses."
A chapter of " Notes in Rome," in an
English magazine, opens with the - fol
lowing anecdote :. " Did you visit Rome
in your travel asked a gentleman in
the interval ot a waltz, oi nis parraer
who had jutt returned from doing the
continent of Europe. : 'Rome? Romer
replied the young lady, in a hesitating
voice; 'let me- see.' Did we-go; to,
Rome? O yes. , That is wnere we , saw
a woman shaving a dog on the steps of
a church.'" -
A T.ADT was asked by her Biddy, about
the . nature of - the next : world, and
whether it would be just like this. The
lady being blessed with a happy family
of eleven children, has a skeleton in the
unoA TV, fiiA ttbnru nf . fttnckiiifr-basket
that never- gets-empty, and at whose
side sne has spent many j .
With this
spectre - before her eyes she replied to
T ... , r II Li T J 1 k:l.
the gin piayiuny s a uuu w
shall be required to darn stockings after
midnight." " Sure and that's thrue for
ou, mum, for all tne pictures oi angeia
! have ever seen were barefutted."
Fraudulent Pensions.
T. ia iutimntiul ibst a. vast number of
claims for pensions growing out of the
rebellion, probably one-fourth, are fraud-
. m . i J A. xLa
men tv A plan nas oeen propweu w
aiAM;-;A.An Ar PanttAna -svnd tr i.HA
y.s sii ifinniuiini va A oavfcf - -
Congressional Committee on Pensions,
. . . ., f r 1 1 J 1
by which the sysiem oi irauu wuiu w
destroyed, and which would ieaa o
detection of fraudulent claims hereto
fore granted. : It is to publish in each
county alphabetical lists of all persons
to whom pensions have been or shall be
granted, giving the residence, xkc., of
each person pensioneu, anu w iuruu
thereof" to each Federal and
State officer of the county. This, it is
believed, would result in Baviug uumuu.
of dollarj annually to the Government,
and in bringing to punishment all con
cerned in tne irauas, anu wuuiu tiwra
the Commissioner ot .Tensions to mod
ify the requirements of his office so as
to render it possible for all honest claim
ants to comply with them. ...
A dispatch from Dt. Peters, of Litch
field observatory, Hamilton college, an
nounces the discovery by him of another
planet at 2 o'clock on Wednesday
morning. It was in 11 hours, 56 min-
utes, 52 seconds of right ascension, and
4 degrees, 45 minutes south declination,
with a retrograde motion of 39 seconds
toward the north," 3 minutes per day.
It ia a star between the 11th. and 12th
magnitude, '"'.- ...-. '-'
" , - . - i .i ; " ft 1 '

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