Bessie Moore was out in her father's
pasture, back of the barn, picking black
berries, when she was startled bv the
blast of the horn. A look of anxiety came
over her sweet face as she ran quickly and
climbed the fence to see if Mr. Thyson,
the "meat-man," who blew his horn
twice a week to announce his coming,
was to stop. She watched the horse
climbing the hill and when she saw her
mother come to the back-door and swing
a towel she threw herself on the ground
and sobbed as though her heart would
break. She knew full well that it was
not to buy meat that her mother had
signaled for Mr. Thyson to stop, for, al
though she was but ten years old, she was
aware of the fact that there was no money
with which tc buy it. O no! She real
ized that the event she had been dreading
so longwas to happen nowthat her pet
calf, Clover, her only playmate, so white
and so fond of her, was to be sold. Week
after week she had heard her parents dis
cuss the subject of selling Clover, but
week after week they had heard the
butcher's horn blow and had let the
wagon go by. But affairs had been com
ing to a crisis lately. Her father, who
had been sick all summer, was too feeble
to work, and the small stock of money he
had saved was rapidly going. She knew
that he could not afford to feed the calf
through the winter, and she knew that
Mr. Thyson wanted her and offered a
large price for her.
Mr. Thyson was a man who wanted to
possess all the rarest specimens of cattle,
and he had been very anxious to buy this
calf, which was to be the handsomest
creature, in color and shape, ever seen in
Loudoun county. He was a selfish man,
withal, and was very ready to take ad
vantage of Mr. Moore's misfortunes to get
her. He was known throughout the
country as a man who always got the best
of a bargain, who thought more of making
money than of anything else, and who
never worried himself about his neighbors'
tioubles or felt it is duty to share or re
lievo them. He had one child, a boy
about fourteen years old. named Tom, and
he was determined, if possible, to teach
him to be as shrewd in business matters
as himself but so far Tom had not shown
much progress in that direction. He of
ten went with his father as he rode through
the country with his meat, and was ad
vised by him to,lwT,tch
+*p qrr "'^^'^^n^r^f^j^^^m^^^^Mftw-fi^m^
sharp," for he
would soon be old enough to take the
business himself. And Tim did "watch
sharp," and his large brown eyes grew
moist with tears to see his father take
Bessie's calf away, for he knew how Bessie
loved Clover, and that it was only neces
ity that made Mr. Moore sell her. Mean
time Bessie had climbed the pasture fence
and crept quietly behind the barn, where,
through a big crack, she saw and heard
all that passed. Then, as the wagon
turned to go out of the yard, she went
back, and, running across the pasture with
all her might, climbed the fence on the
other side, ran along the road to the cor
ner which she knew the wagon must pass,
and waited for it. As she saw it coming
she waved her hand for it to stop, and, in
a trembling voice said:
Oh, please stop a minute. I want to
ask you something
Mr. Thyson drew up his horse3, won
dering what child it was in such appar
ent distress, for he didn't recognize
Bessie at first, as, in her haste to reach the
turn in the road before the wagon came
along, she had fallen down in the dust,
and then, wipping her tears with her
stained hands, had smeared her face so
as to be hardly recognizable. Her long
flaxen hair was blowing in every direction,
and her hat was lying on the other side
of the pasture fence, where it had fallen
when she climbed over.
Oh, please, please, Mr. Thyson," she
screamed, you won't kill mv calf, will
Father," said Tom, that's Bessie
Moore. Why, Bessie, what's the
Oh, I am so afraid your farther will
kill my Clover. You don't know how I
lovejher and I ean't help crying"*and here
the 'poor child broke down and sobbed
bitterly. Then, as she saw Mr. Thyson
draw up the reins to start, she continued:
"Perhaps if papa gets well he can buy
her back, you know. So you won't kill
ner, will you?"
No, no, child I won't kill her.
She's too pretty too kill. I will take
good care of her, and you can come and
see her whenever you want to."
"Then I guess I can stand it better. I
came out here so that papa could not see
me cry, for that would make him worse.
I knew I should cry when I said good
by to Clover." And sure enough, when
the horses started her tears started again
too, and there she stood in the dusty road
weeping and watching the wagon until
it disappeared behind the next hill.
"Queer, said Mr. Thyson, as they drove
along, "that she should feel so. Well, I
can't help it. If I hadn't bought her
aomebodj else would. It's the way of
the world. It don't do to give way to
little things like this you know, Tom. It
you do you will never get ahead. They
couldn't afford to keep her and had to
sell her, and that's all there is about it."
But if it was"all there wa9 about it" it
it made him.very uncomfortable. In
spite of all his reasoning he couldn't help
thinking how easily he could spare feel
enough from the leads of hay and stacks
of grain with which his barns would soon
be overflowing to keep the calf for
a time. How happy that would make
Bessie, and how it would lighten her
parents' hearts I He couldn't get the sick
countenance of Mr. Moore out of his
mind, or the tired, wir face of hi3 wife
or more than all, little Bessie standing
alone, in the dusty turnpike, watching
him as he took away the only pet and
playmate she had.
It annoyed him, and it was something
new for him to be annoyed in this way.
He was glad when he found himself ap
proaching another farmhouse, and if he
blew a louder blast than usual on his horn
nobody but himself knew that it was to
give vent, if possible, to emotions that
wer getting too strong for him to man-
Tom was very quiet all the way home.
He seemed to be thinking very deeply
about something, but when occasionally
he did speak it was sure to be some in
nocent remark about Bessie or her father,
which only gave his father's conscience a
fresh prick and served to irritate him still
more. So by the time they got home ha
was, as his wife said, dredful grouty.'
As they were sitting at supper that
evening Tom burst out suddenly:
Father would sell that calf?"
Yes, and be glad to get rid of her, if
I can get my price."
"Well, I'd like to buy her if I've got
money enough in my bank."
You! What do you wan't of her?"
Oh, something. Will you sell her to
Yes, I suppose so. Yes, you may
have her for ten dollarsjust what I
And do exactly as I please with her
His father hesitated. He suspected
what Tom was going to do, and he saw a
dificnlty in it for him. However, he re
plied at last:
Yes, Tom, you may buy her and do
exactly as you please with her upon one
condition and that is, if by buying her
you get yourself into a hard scrape you
will work yourself out ot it without
Mr. Thyson thought by binding Tom
to that promise that he should have a
good chance to teach him a valuable les
son in shrewdness and foresight in mak
ing a bargin.
Tom readily promised, for he could
not imagine what scrape he possibly
could get into by buying Clover. So the
bargin was soon concluded and the money
Meantime, Bessie had dried her tears
and gone home, trying very hard to be
cheerful but as soon as she had eaten
her supper she crept up to her little bed
and sobbed herself to sleep. The next
morning she felt braver, and though she
would try very hard to forget Clover.
Her father usually lay on a lounge by the
sitting-room, window through the day,
and for several mornings Clover had been
in the habit of coming there and put
ting her head in to be caressed. So Bessie
made a point of getting a basket of fresn
clover-blossoms, with which her father
would feed the calf while Bessie and her
mother were at breakfast. But the morn
ing after Clover left Bessie sat down to
the table with a heavy heart, for she
missed Clover then more than ever. Sbe
had haidly taken a mouthful, though,
before her father called out:
"Bessie, just bring me a basket of
clovers, won't you? Clover wants her
Bessie sprang from her chair with a
bound, exclaiming: "Why, papa, you've
forgotten! Clover's gone 1"
But no! there was the aweet face peer
ing in at the window, and there, holding
her by a cord, stood Tom Thyson, his
face covered with smiles.
"Why, Tom!" screamed Bessie, "did
she run away?"
"No I bought her of father, and
I'm going to give her back to you. She's
yours again now. Good-by and before
Bessie could express her thanks Tom was
[Now, although the return of the calf
brought great joy to Bessie, it brought
equal concern to her parents, for the
question arese how Clover could be fed.
Mr. Thyson had foreseen the difficulty
from the first, but Tom in his eagerness
to get (he calf back to Bassie, had not
thought of it. He thought he would see
how Tom would manage.
Toward night Bessie's father called her
to him and told her that, although Tom
was very kind and thoughtful to bring
Clover back, she couldn't stay, for he had
not feed enough to keep her through the
winter, and no money to to buy any.
So thy next morning Bessie started to
take her back to Tom. It was two miles
away, but it was a lovely morning, and
Bessie enjoyed the walk very much.
Tom saw her before she reached the house
and ran to meet her."
'I know you've brought her back,"
said he, laughing healthily, "because
you hayen't any feed for her. I forgot she
would have to eat,but do not worry, Bess.
You shall have this calf for yours,"if you
have to wait till she 's a cow," and then
they both laughed to think she wouldn't
be much of a calf by that time. "But,
you see," he added, "I'm in a scrape,
whether I give her to you or keep her
myself, for I haven't any feed for her,
either, and it never will do to ask father
for any. I'll go to bed soon after supper
and think it out." So Bessie left the
calf, and Tom took part of what money
he had and went to his father to buy some
feed for her. He was determined not to
ask him to give him any,and his father was
pleased to see that Tom was sticking to
his promise not to ask his help.
The next morning he said to his father:
"Father, have you anything you could
hire me to do this winter? I"am going to
carry the calf back again this morning.
I atn not going to give this job np, now
that IVe started. So I am ing to earn
enouglv to feed her this winter myself."
"Ah! So you are going to work for the
call's board, are you* Well, if you want
to take Jim's place here you can earn her
board and something beside. You could
do bis work before and after school if you
were smart and got up early."
"Well, I'll take it and try. I'd like to
buy feed enough now to keep her this
week, and after this I canearn it and
carry it over.'V j^JII
His father smiled at Tom's business
like way, and thought to himself: "Well,
a fact. He'll get sicK enough of his
bargain before spring, but it will do him
Tom filled his hand-cart with the feed,
and, tving the rope around Clover's neck,
started again to take her back. I don't
know what the people along the r^ad
thought io see the calf going back and
forth so oiten. But Tom didn't care. He
kept straight on and carried the calf to
"Here she is, Bess, and here's enough
to feed her one week, anyway, and I'll
see that she has enough all winter, unless
I get sick, and I don't feel very sick now.
Don't catch me backing out of this
scrape! No, sir-ee!"
All winter Tom was up betimes in the
morning, fed and watered the cattle,
groomed the horses, and did whatever
was required. He carried Clover's feed
over every week or two, and never once
complained. His father watched him
curiously, and every week congratulated
himself on the good lesson he was teach
At last spring came. The tender grass
began to sprout, and Clover could keep
heiaelf, from the pastures and meadows.
1 he farmers were all p'owing and bar
rowing, and getting the ground ready for
planting. Everybody was busy and in a
hurry, as usual. Mr. Moore was improv
ing, but was still very weak. His affairs
looked very diseouraglng to him, and his
depressed state of mind did much to re
tard his recovery.
He had bought the farm where he was
living only the spring before, after the
planting season was over, expecting to
earn enough by his trade, that of a car
penter, through the following season to
enable him to buy seed and to thorough
ly plant the whole place in the spring.
Instead of that he was taken sick sooa
after he bought it, and had been obliged
to sell his stock to get money to live up
on. And now, right in the busy season,
when every hour seemed worth a day at
any other time, he was taken sick, with
no money to buy seed or the necessary
farming implements, or to hire the need
ed help. With his mind overwhelmed
with discouragement he sat one evening
in the doorway of his house, and looked
hopelessly on his still unemployed land.
At the same time Mr. Thyson was riding
slowly along, having made an unusually
good trip with his meat, and was review
ing in his mind with great satisfaction
the prosperous condition of his affairs.
As he passed he saw Mr. Moore sitting
there, and noticed that he looked very
pale and worried. A feeling of sympathy
took strong hold of bim, and he was
tempttd to stop and have a talk with
him, but those fields waiting to be plow
ed and sown, spoke to him so plainly
and reproachfully that he concluded he
would better bow and go along.
I'm sorry for Moore," he said to him
self "that's a fact I'd be glad to give
him a lift, but I've got my own family to
look out for. If I had always given
away to my feelings I wonder where I
should be now. O no! no it never will
But as he drew up to his own house
the sight of his broad acres so carefully
planted, and the neat, thritty appearance
of all the surroundings, did not give him
the feeling of satislaction he was enjoy
ing before he met Mr. Moore. As he
went into the kitchen where his wife was
busy getting supper, he said, glancing
out of tho window at Tom, who was hav
ing a grant frolic with his dogs:
"It does me good to see Tom playing.
He has had a hard winter of it. But I'm
glad I let him go through it. It has
taught him a lesson he will never forget,
Yes I think very likely," gently an
swered his wife but I have thought
many times, father, that Tom was teach
ing a more important lesson than the one
he was learning. But come, supper's
ready." She then stepped to the door
and called Tom, and the subject was not
continued. As Tom came in breathless
from play, his father remarked:
"That's bettor fun than working Clo
ver's board and carrying it over to her,
"Yes, sir. But I'm afraid, if Mr.
Moore doesn't hurry up and plant, Clever
will be marching back here in spite of
me, next tall. I wish I was a rich man.
I'll bet I'd make tilings look different
over there in no time."
Mr. Thyson made no reply, but finish
ed his supper and went out into the yard,
where he stood leaning on the fence, ap
parently in deep thought. As Bill, his
Head man on the farm, came along, he
stopped him. and they had a quiet talk
Meantime Mr. Moore had gone into his
house, utterly unable to throw off the
gloomy thoughts which filled his mind.
He saw no way out of his difficulties.
The faith and hope which had kept him
up till now seemed gone. He went to
bed early, but did not sleep for hours.
Toward morning, however, he fell into a
deep sleep. His wife quietly darkened
the rocm and left him. The sun was sev
eral hours high when he drew aside the
curtain to look out. What a sight met
his eyes I Men were plowing, harrowing,
and shouting to their horses. Part of the
ground was already prepared for plant
ing, and there, in the barn door-way, sat
Tom and Bessie, cutting potatoes, and
chattering like blackbirds.
"What does it mean, mother? What
does it mean?" said he, as he opened the
"It, means, father, that the dawn has
come. 'Twaa very dark, you know, last
night. Those are Mr. Thyson's men!"
"Thyson's men! Thyson's men! Why!
I don't understand."
"Well, nor I, and the men say that they
don't know what has come over him,
either. But he told Bill to take men and
horses and come over here and plant what
ever you wanted, and he'd provide the
seed and they are working hike, bearers,
I tell you."
The next afternoon, when the horn was
blown, Mr. Moore was waiting at bifl
gate. As the wagon came along Mr.
Thyson saw him, and didn't feel at all
like just bowing and passing on. No! he
felt lite stopping, staking hands and get
ting out to see how his men were doing.
"God bless you, sir!" said Mr. Moore.
"You have given me the best medicine
I've had. I believe it's going to save my
life. I don't knowhowto thank yombut I
know that I feel like a new man?'
"So do I, Friend Moore. So do I.
But don't thank me. It's ail Tom's do
ings. I thought I was teaching him a
great lesson, but, bless you! he was teach
ing me a greater one, all the time. Well,
the Lord has great suprises in store for
us sometimes, hasn't He?" And with a
fervent shake of the hand, Mr. Thyson
got back into his wagon and drove home.
From that time Mr. Moore's health
steadily improved, and from that time,
also, Mr. Thyson was another man. It
was the beginning, but not the end, of his
A few years later, when Tom and Bes
sie commenced housekeeping on their
own account, and Clover lowed content
edly in her new home, Tom remarked
with a merry laugh:
"You see, father, I was longer-headed
than you thought. 'Twas all in the fam
ily, after all."- Christian Union.
An Eeaster Poem.
BT MRS. C. WHITON.
Bursting from earth in air of earlv spring,
I found a lily growing sweetand wild
And plucked the blossom, snowyfair, to bring,
As a type of resurrection, to my child
With it to show
How out of death nivinest life might grow.
I told her then what Easter meant, and whv
There seemed such gladness in the world to
Why clear-voiced choirs sang so exultantly
The joyful anthem -'Christ is risen again!"
That, dying. He
Had taken from the grave its victory.
"Because 'He died and rose again,'" I said,
"The dark and shadowy vahey none need
The little brother that to you seemed dead
Was only on Christ's bosom heavenly near
There is no tomb
Can prison or hide the soul's immortal bloom.'
O! impotence of words! Who can explain
This wondcious mystery? And yet, per
Through one white lily on God's altar lain
My child may grasp the flower's signifi
And, kneeling, sav,
"A little child doth yield her heart to-day!"
HUSBANDS AND WIVES.
MRS. CHARLOTTE E. FISHER.
I do not say the husband is always to
blame. The wife often makes home un
happy too often both are in fault. Yet
I think the husband is more apt to be
come careless and neglectful of little at
tentions soon after marriage than the
wife is. A trusting, loving girl gives up
her freedom forever and goes out from
under the sheltering roof of the old home,
to bless and brighten the new. Goes to
be his own in sicknens or health, for "bet
ter or worse," until one of the twain shall
rest from all earthly labors.
Before marriage he was all attention as
to his personal appearance eager to grat
ify her every wish. He admired the rose
bud she selected to wear on her bosom,
but thought his own chosen rosebud
much lovelier. He admired the dress she
wore, the ribbon in her hair, truly she
could do nothing to please him that fail
ed of its objects. And he told all his
love and admiration in actions, and what
was still pleasanter, in words.
Now they are wedded, both sure of the
other's love. The days are full of light
and joy, she knows a shadow can never
darken their home for is she not his
darling his own happy little wife and
does he not tell her so every day? She
does not believe any change"will come af
ter marriage unless it is greater and more
perfect love and trust. Years puss. Have
they carried the bloom of life with them?
He has business to look after, but he loves
his wife just the same, she will not believe
otherwise. Yet, sometimes when he goes
to his work, with only a hasty kiss and
never once noticing the lily buds in her
hair, or that she has on his favorite jewels
sometimes, I say, a feeling of disappoint
ment clouds the joy in her heart. The
full glory is dimmed. He continues to
grow more neglectful. She wears the
colors that used to please him she strives
to beautify his home in every possible
manner, but he speaks no word of praise.
He even finds fault with her once in
awhile but what pains her most is his
constant indifference, and he has too,
a habit of putting her second in
stead of first in nearly everything.
Occasionally, when he does happen to
notice her he wonders at tne worn face
and quiet manners and doubtless there
by, she has become very careless of home
enjoyments and love. Does he never re
member the many times a gentle woman
stood beside him, lifting the hair from
his brow or parting it with soft fingers, or
caressingly laying a white hand on his
head. He used to kiss that same hand
holding it in both his own, and say many
kindly things. Now she lingers Hear hira,
but he never lifts his eyes trom his book
to the face beside him,"or finds one little
word ofendearment for his wife.
Oh, if the walls ot her room could
speak, would they not echo the words
that had so often been spoken to them:
"Oh! God, what have I done? What have
I failed to do, that life is not as it once
was? Ohlhavel frighted away all the
tender words all the caresses that once
were mine? Oh! why did I not die when
every word and action were full of love?
Betterfar better, to have gone away
from earth ere the bridal rosea faded
than to have lived until my heart calls
out vainly, day and night for the glory of
departed days I"
Mow a Boy Goes on an Jimurik
There are so many bright spots in the
life of a farm boy that I sometimes think
I should like to live lite over again 1
should almost be willing te be a girl if it
were not for the chores. There is a great
comfort to a boy in the amount of work
he can get rid of doing*. It is something
astonishing how slow he can go on an er
randhe who leads the school a race.
The world is new and interesting to him,
and there is so much to take his attention
off when he is sent -o do anything. Per
haps he could not explain himself, why,
when he is sent to a neighbor's after
yeast, he stops to stohe the frogs he is
not exactly cruel but he wants *.o see if
he can hit 'em. No other living thing
can go so slow as a boy sent on an errand.
His legs seem to be lead, unless he hap
pens to espy a woodchuck in an adjoin
ing lot, When he gives chase to it like a
deer and it is a curious fact about boys,
thar two will be a great deal slower
about doing anything than one, and that
the more you have to help you on a piece
of work the less is accomplished. Bovs
have a great power of helping each other
to do nothing and they are so innocent
about it, and unconscious. "I went as
quick as ever I could," says the boy. His
father asks him why he didn't stay all
night, when he has been absent three
hours on a ten minutes errand. The sar
casm has no effect on the boy.
Going after cows was a serious thing
in my day. I had to climb a hill which
was covered with^eild strawberries in the
season. Could any boy pass by those ripe
berries? And then, in the fragrant hill
pasture there were beds of wiutergreen
with red berries, tufts of coluiibine, roots
of sassafras to be dug, and dozens of
things good to eat or smell, that I could
not resist. It sometimes even 'ay in my
way to climb a tree to look for a crow's
nest, or to swing in the top. and to trv if
I could see the village church. It'be
came very important sometimes for me
to see that steeple, and in the midst of
my investigations the tin horn would
blow a great blast from the farm house
which would send a cold stream down my
back in the hottest days. I knew what
it meant. It had a frightfully impatient
quaver in it, not at all like the Bweet note
that called us to dinner from the hayfield.
It said: "Why on earth doesn't that boy
come home, it ij almost dark, and the
cows ain't milked?" And that was the
time the cows had to start into a brisk
pace and make up for lost time. I won
der if any boy ever drove the cows home
la*e who did not say tnat the cows were
at the further end of the pasture, and that
"Old Brindle" was hidden in the woods
and he couldn't find her for ever so long!
The brindle cow is the boy's ecapa goat
many a time.
A Nice Wedding Present,
Another Jew's daughter and her ducats
have been transferred to Christian hands.
The strict member of the synagogue dont
like to see this continual transformation
of the daughters of Judah into Christian
wives, the more so when they carry in
their hands gifts so rich and rare as
those which a Rothschild can command.
Hannah de Rothschild, the wealthiest
daughter of her race, is now Ladv Rose
berry. It was remarked by a friend of
mine who was present that the Hews were
only represented by one prominent per
sonage at the breakfast, and he was Baron
Ferdinand Rothschild. The only speech
on the occasion was made by the Prince
of Wales, who proposed "health and hap
piness to the bride and bridegroom," to
which Lord Rosebcry briefly replied.
uMy friend, who was behind the scenes,
tells me of one little present which was
made to the bridegroom that has no men
tion in the long lists of diamonds, silver,
iewelry, and other treasures printed in
the newspapers. On the evening of the
wedding Lord Rosebeiy received a pack
age from the bride-elect. It contained a
small gold box, and in a separate enve
lope a pretty gold key. No letter ac
companied the gift, nor instructions of
any kind. My Lord, however, did not
hesitate as to the use of the key. He
opened the box. It contained the last
check which Hannah de Rothschild would
ever sign as a spinster. Beautifully
written in her own fair hand, it was drawn
in favor of Lord Risebery$1,000,000,
payable to his order.London GOT. N.Y.
The Blue-Bells of Scotland.
Norman llaoleid. 'f
How long has that bell been ringing
its fragrant music, and swinging forth its
unheard melodies among Brackens and
briers, and primroses and woodroof, and
that world of poetical wild scents and
formsso manyso beautifulwhich a
tangled bank over a trotting burn among
the leafy wood discloses? Spirits more
beautiful than fairies behold these scenes,
or they would waste. That bell was ring
ing merrily when Adam and Eve were
married. It chimed its dirge over Abel,
and has died and sprung up again while
Ninevah and Babylon have come and
gone, and empires have lived and died
forever! Solomon, in all his glory, was,
not like these.
What an evidence have I in this blui
drooping flower of the regularity and en-*'
durance of God's will since creations^
dawn. Amidst all the revolutions of
heaven and earth huricanes and earth
quakes floods and fires invasions and^
dispersions signs in the sun, moon, and
stars perplexity and distress of nations
nothing has happened to injure this
fragile blue bell. This is the centraH'r
piece subsisting at the heart of the end-\
The blue-bell swung in breezes tem-^JF^,
pered to its strength centuries before theA*#|
children of Japheth spied the chalky
cliff of Dover. It has been called by
many a name from the days of the print
ed warrior to the days of Barns but it
has ever been the same. It will siner on
with the spirit-song until time shall be
no more. The blue-beil may sing the
funeral knell of the human race.
xml | txt