Newspaper Page Text
•'WHERE THE.BROOK AND EIVER MEET."
(. A snow-wreath, a sunbeam—the birth of the stream A flashing, a dashing, a ripple, agleam Now cresting the hillside, now kissing the heath Aud sweet flower lips in the meadow beneath O brook-life! O child-life! What 'Other can be 80 fresh and 60 fearless, so joyous, so free? n. But deeper and stranger and calmer the flow. And fairer the scenes that are mirrored below, As down the dim distance the blue waters glide And thrill with the swell of the incoming tide. O river-life! maiden-life! dread not the sea, The Past is as naught to the boundless uTo beV STORY OF A HERRING. A herring? Bah! My dear sir, will you please to take a reef in your sail and give the herring a chance." To be sure the poor little smok ed and withered object is at best a hun ger and thirst inspiring mess, but if you follow its career from the time it got lost from somebody 's basket until it ceased to be used as a promulgator of human happiness, you will in justice to this od oriferous and much scorned fish, confess that it really had a mission. For a practical, yet modest wielder of fate, give me the herring that "Ted" Harper lound as he was going after his pretty sister at the Bank theatre. A deceptive parcel it represented, as it lay on the pavement, in a white paper, neatly tied with a string, "Ted'' made a grab for it, with a thrill of joyou3 ex pectation. "Golly, maybe its a bonanza!" he ex claimed, rushing toward a restaurant window near, and eagerly scanning the parcel, his dirty little digits tiembling with exciting hopes supposed to be hid den in a bonanza. "Hang it! a herring?" Oh, the disgust, the concentrated disappointment, con tained in the kick that helpless little hsh received as "Ted" flung it from him into the gutter. "Ted' ran his hands down deep into his pockets, and meditated upon the shallow ness of hope and the hollowness of life in general. He had not helped Longfellow write his "psalm of life," but he was the personification of the line. "And things are not what they seem." "Hang it all!" he nuttered, "if that had been a million bonanza, me and Nell would a-gone to the conternent and got our names in the papers like high-toners —by Jawg." This last explosive evidently meant something quite foreign to liis" mutter ings, for he made a sudden dive after the abused herring, and, wrapping it into a neat parcel again, he assumed a mild and business like air, although his eyes twin kled with some hidden idea, and entered the restaurant. "Say, mister, buy a blind?'' "A what?" exclaimed a waiter. "A 'blind'—a something what's got value and you don't know what 'tis- till yous paid for it." "Get out, you little vagabond 1 None of your smart tricks here," the bar-tender cried with an angry move toward "Ted but one of the gentlemen present inter fered, saying with a jocular glance at "Let him alone. Come here, my boy, and give us a peep at your 'blind'." But "Ted" made for the door and would have escaped if he had not been caught by the speaker, who laughingly wanted to know what was in the parcel." "How shud I know?" "Ted" retorted, with the wit of an embryo politician. "'Taint no put up job, honor bright— 'taint "Where did you get it?" "Found it right outside of this here door." The gentleman took the package from "Ted's" reluctant grasp, fingered it, smelt of it and with a knowing smile at "Ted," remarked: "Found it, did you, and, supposing some of us lost it, thought you would sell it for the reward?" "Ye-as," the young speculator drawled, looking down at the end of his nose that he was diligently scratching to avoid meeting the humorous scrutiny of his in terlocutor then added courteously: "I must go. My sister, she's waiting for me to take her home, and I guess the theatre is out now." "Oh, no, its time enough yet for anoth er act," the gentlemen replied, detaining "Ted" by general force. "Is your sister young and pretty." "You bet!" "Ted" cried with enthusi asm, "and she is going to be a second Lotta after awhile. You see, she ain't been at it long vet, but she gets money enough already to support rne'en her!" "So you are a pair of orphans, are you?" "I should think so. We ain't always been poor, neither but after mother died father took opium worse than ever, no body didn't buy his pictures and he had no money to buy paint. Then 'my uncle' you know him as plays the three balls— he got hold of my father, and it didn't take long to use us up after that." "Ted" said this last with a solemn wisdom join ed with a sorrowful comprehension of his family troubles that was as touching as ridiculous—touching frem its apparent truth, and lidiculous in its efforts to in vite attention to the fact that the little narrator was not of the common "scrub stock." "Ted" bad by this time quite an audi ence, who became interested in his world ly wise.ingenious little face, and when his first l'riehd proposed an "auction" then and there to dispose or that mysteri ous "blind" parcel, the. good-natured crowd fell into the idea with acclamation. The bidding began *iih a nickle, and the fan of competition ran into snillings very shortly, and after a little the parcel was "knocked down to the highest bid der" for a dollar and a half. "Ted" was simply charmed into open* mouthed silence but when they proposed again disposing ot it by auction, and played auctioneer with such advanta geout. skill tnat he realized i.ver two dol lars by the s.ile, "Ted" began to think he had, indeed, lound a bonanza. At this' moment the door opened timidly, and an anxious pair of bright eyes lighted from out a closely-muffled face upon "Ted," "Teddy, Teddy, what in the world are you doing here? Come home this min ute "Ted" rushed toward the door shouting: "Don't scold, Nell lound a herring, and it's turned to be a reg'lar bonanza." Poor "Ted!" his excited "give away" of the "blind" created a roar of laughter, and he was sharp enough to see his blunder and joined in the fun at his own expense, while his sister peered into a halt open door in perpleped anxiety. The gentleman, a handsome lellow, who first interested himself in the brother, ad: vanced now to the sister, and, while placing the results of the herring auction in "Ted's" hand, explained briefly how "Ted" came to be detained. The girl blushingly scolded the boy for his "wicked trick" and added: "I have had such a fright! I waited for him until they closed the theatre and then hunied home, fearing something had happened to him. Of course, when I did not find him there, I started out to look for him, for he had never failed to meet me at the theatre before. I called and made inquiries everywhere. At last a policeman told me a little boy was in here. Dear me, how scared I was! Come, Teddy," she said, taking him by the hand in motherly fashion "and don't you ever be such a bad boy again or I'll do something awful to you!" "May I walk home with you?' The girl drew back and her face flushed, but as she met the gentleman's admiring glances with sly reproach in her own large dark eyes, she replied: "Thank you I need no companv but Ted's." A short walk brought the two orphans to their neat little apartments, and then "Nell" sat demurely and listened to the story of "Ted's" herring. A silence of deep thought followed, "Neil'' the seven teen year old judge, sitting with her hands crossed over her face the picture of bad perplexity, while "Ted" somewhat shame-faced, gazed upon her with a dawning consciousness of having done something wrong. "Teddy," at last his sister said with a sigh. "I don't know what mother would have said to such conduct on your part, but I know it is only another way of playing the beggar, and I am right down ashamed ot you. The money has got to go back! Come on I'll wait outside the door, and you go in and put it on the countor. Come, we are not beggars yet." "Ted" began to cry quietly, but he knew there was no use protesting they started on their errand. The girl waited in the shadow of the adjoining hall door as "Ted," deeply humiliated, opened the restaurant door and found the same crowd gathered there. "My sister is much obliged, but she" —"Ted's" throat filled and obstructed further utterances. Laying the money down, he rushed out and joined his sis ter again. They gained their home with out discovering that they had been fol lowed. The following day a large package wa3 left for "Ted" and his sister. A let ter accompainea it, which read: "I trust this suit of clothes will fit you nicely, and that you will wear it with credit to your sister, who takes such admirable pains to make a fine man of you. The mclosurc she must accept from a sincere friend to all of her sex who strive honestly to surmount the difficul ties besetting their pathway while unaid ed and alone they battle for place and bread. 'Tis not the offering of charity. It is rendered in the spirit of a brother to a sister. Be a brave, studious boy, Teddy, and hurry up into the growth of a protector." Ten ten-dollar bills constituted the "inclosure." The letter was signed "True Friend." "Poor little Nell! If the government had opened its treasury to her, she could not have felt richer. She knew what it was to make the most of a dollar. The burden of living had fallen upon her early, and the hundred dollars in her lap seemed to lift a world of care from her mind—coal, rent, victuals and those not considered trifles in a household which consume so many shillings and Nell bowed her head in iter little, womanly, hands, and ctied as if her relieved heart could not give vent to its gratitude in any other way. "Ted" had got into his new clothes. They fitted him splendidly. But when he saw his sister weep, ha went and laid his head on her shoulder and began to force a drop or two from his beaming eye, just for sympathy, and said: "What's the use of crying, Sis? When all these "spots" is gone, I'll be big enough to earn money." Nell only hugged his head ana cried the more, saying: "Ain't it awful nice, Teddy? I wonder where it came from!" "I'll bet you I can guess," said "Ted," a little uncertain whether to express his guess. "Why, who?" "I think its that nice, big gentleman who wanted to see us home." "Teddy, how dare you think so?" "Ted" thought he had better retract for fear those new things might go the way of the herring money for he quick ly exclaimed: "Pshaw! It couldn't be him, you know, for he don't know where we live, nor our names, nor nothing!" Happily some months passed. Nellie was making rapid progress in her business. She had spoken some lines and received the commendation of the stage man ager, and, filled with hope for the future, she flitted out the stage entrance door to meet "Ted" and tell him of her success. "Ted" was there, but he was so sick that he could scarcely totter along by his sis ter's side. He had complained of a severe head and throat ache all day, and now the little chap was completely "used up," he told his sister, staggering with each word. She supported him until his legs re fused to support themselves, and fright ened and heartsore, she attempted to car ry him, when he was quietly lifted from her hold and taken in the arms oi a gen tleman who had "shadowed" the two from the stage door. "Nell" recognized him with a singular sensation '*f pleasure, and accepted his assistance with a quiet "thank you." "Ted" was earned up in their little room und placed on his lounge, the gen tleman saying to "Nell "Undress him. and get him tc bed while I am gone I will fetch a physi cian.', "Ted" was utterly unconscious of the kisses and tears that were rained upon him by his sister, and when the doctor came he looked very solemn and pro nounced it pneumonia. The unusual noise in the room arrested the attention of the people in the house, and ready hands ministered to the poor lad and gave encouragement to the aimost frantic sister. 'Ted's" nice, big gentle man attended to all the doctor's orders, and "Nell" could only look her fervent gratitude as he went in and out like some angel of mercy. Once he stooped over and whispered to her: "Trust me as you would a brother or "What shall I call you?" "James Overton." The next night and the following "Nell" did not go to the theatre, for she sat by the side of poor little Teddy, who would never again find a "bonanza" or witness an auction of herring, for he was dead. As if frozen with her loneliness and grief, "Nell" bent her tearless eye upon the silent form, her fingers interlaced in the agony of her unutteraule sorrow. "All are gone, all—all—and I am left alone. Oh Tedd! Teddy! why could it not have been me?" she murmured. "Not alone, Nellie, my brave little wo man. Let me be more than your brother or friend, if in time ot sorrow you can lean on me confidentially. Nellie, here at poor Teddy's side I tell you that I have known and admired you for months, have watched your heroic conduct, have learned to love you. Do not bo alone in your sorrow, de&r girl, for your grief is mine—only tell me that my sympathy is not intrusive, that my presence is a com fort She gave him her hand, saying thank fully "It seems as if God had sent you. Tell me here, are you the writer of a letter signed "Friend?:' "I am. You will not be angry?" Oh, no. It made poor Teddy so proud and happy. He guessed it came from you." A few months after poor Teddy was buried, Nellie left her little room for a comfortable home as the wife of James Overton. Amon« the curiosities in their hand some cabinet is a sealed little glass cab inet containing a smoked herring. It is the identical one "Ted" wanted to sell James Overton as a "blind." Wounds in the Heart. Wounds in the heart are commonly supposed to be instantaneously fatal, but such is not the case. Indeed, it is not possible except by some extreme violence •such as dynamite explosions to blot out a human lite instantly. Keeper Good's pistol ball went right through the heart of Barret, the Sing Sing convict, yet he lived four minutes. Portecello's knife cleft the heart of Bolander completely in twain, in New York, but he did not "fall dead upon the spot. The instinct of self preservation remained, and even that horrid wound had not deprived him the strength to obey it. He ran first to ward a neighboring drug store, then turned and run down Fulton Street, and had reached a point many feet distant from the spot where he was stabbed be fore he fell and expired. So O'Connell who was stabbed by Nichols, at Nyack, N. Y. though his heart was actually cut in two by the stroke, ran several feet after the wound was inflicted. A punc ture of the heart is necessarily fatal, but the victim is often conscious for two or three minutes, though generally without much power of motion or speech, save the first cry of agony. This shows that the brain can act even after the heart is destroyed. On the other hand, the heart continues to exescise its functions after the brain has ceased all action, as in case of death from severe blows on the head. The hearts of crim inals who have been hanged, generally keep up their pulsations for twelve or fifteen minutes, although it is reasonably certain, when the neck is broken, that they can receive no nervous impulse from the brain during that time. The continued working of -the organ is attrib utable to a residuum of nervous force. In the case of some animals this is suffici ent to keep the heart pulsating for an hour after it has been taken from the body. The common notion that the heart is a delicate organ is a mistake. It is, on the contrary, one of the most ro bust. Its muscular strength is enormous, and its tolerance of disease is something marvelous. Men and women whose hearts have been.diseased from childhood sometimes attain to a ripe old age, and many people with heart disease live for years in almost momentary expectation of a sudden death, and then die of some other malady. Only a few of the many diseases" to which the heart is liable are inevitably and speedily fatal. Most oi them, even, of the organic diseases, are quite incompatible with long life. As to uie function^ diseases, or derangement of the heart's action without actual lesson they are devoid of danger, though their manifestations are commonly more dis quieting than those of a serious organic disease. THE FARMER'S SONG. O ye who crowd the city's ways, in search of toilless-treasure, Think not the sun-browned farmer's day Devoid of joy or pleasure. Forth to the fields at morn he goes, Nor fears the labor's soiling At close of day the world he knows Is richer for his toiling. True. therc is in his daily life Of joy and care a blending, Away from the world's grosser strife His patient flocks attending But as he turns the fruitful soil, Nature's mysteries learning, With _wordly store she crowns his toil, While health is labor's earning. And by the sweat of brow, 'tis said, That man shall earn his living, And to all such their daily bread A bounteous soil is giving. All honor, then, to him whose hand The fruitful earth is tilling— Obeying thus the great command With cheerful heart and willing. THE FARM AND HOUSE. Recipes. Shirred Eggs.—Butter a neat baking dish, and break six eggs into it place in a hot oven and when the eggs are well set, seasou with salt, pepper and a little butter, and serve immediately. It is bet ter to have the smallest size of baking dishes, and placing two eggs in each, serve them individually. The eggs should be quite soft the centre when taken from the oven and stirred together be fore eating. Eggs.—Well, the least said about city eggs at this season of the year:, the bet ter. Perhaps in some happier clime hens are not altogether demoralized, and giv en to loafing and repudiating their natu ral obligations. Then the feathery ome let, the delicate poach, the delicious cake and the delectable meringue need not be come mockeries, as when store eggs are the sole and unreliable dependence. Tak ing it for granted that chickendom has not gone altogether wrong, that egg-lay ing is not among the lost arts, and fresh eggs are still to be had, the following recipes are excellent: Fricasseed Eggs.—Boil six eggs for fif teen minutes, then lay them in cold wa ter for half an hour. Put a tablespoon ful of butter in a saucepan and when melted add half a teaspoon of chopped onion. Let this cook until lightly browned, then put in a tablespoonful of flour which must be mashed and stirred until smooth and free from lumps (do not let it brown), then add a gill of wa ter and enough sweet milk to make it the consistency of rich cream. Let the sauce boil up once, add the eggs cut in quar ters, lengthways. Season to taste with salt and pepper put in a little chopped parsley and serve on a hot platter. Poached Bggs.—Put a large sized pan on the stove With plenty of water, slight ly salted, and it place as many muffin rings as there are eggs to be poached. Make ready some thin s'ices of buttered toast cut into .uniforln squares and ar range them on a hot platter. When the water is simmering, drop the eggs from a cup, into the rings as soon as they are cooked,(not too hard) take up both muf fin ring and egg with the skimmer, and slip it on apiece of toast then the ring may be removed, leaving the egg in a nice even shape. Sprinkle very lightly with salt and pepper, first basting the egg with a little melted butter if desir ed. An epicure would garnish poached eggs with sorrel. Plain Omelet.—Put the frying-pan on to heat. Break six eggs into a pan sea son with pepper and salt, then beat them briskly until the yolks are well broken, but not until they are frothy. Put a small tablespoonful of butter into the hot frying-pan and as soon as it is boil ing pour in the eggs. Shake the frying pan gently with the left hand, and use a knife in the right to loosen the edge of the omelet so that all the eggs may be cooked to a creamy consistency without being any ovegione, then tip the pan a little, turn one half over the other" and loosen the bottom by shaking gently let stand for a moment longer and toss it over on a hot platter or slip it out with a pancake turnei. French Omelet.—Melt a heaping tea spoonful of butter in half a cup of hot milk and turn it over a half a cup of very light bread crumbs—baker's bread is best—add salt, pepper, and the yolks of three eggs beaten to a foam. Cut the whites of the three eggs to a stiff froth, lay them over the yolks and mix lightly together. Melt two teaspoonfuls 3f but ter in a smooth frying pan—and be care ful not to burn i«- put in the omelet, as soon as it is ready, and cook until well done (but not until tough and leathery) then turn it together in the shape of a half moon, and slip or toss it onto a hot platter. A very nice variety may be made by omitting the bread crumbs, milk and butter, simply beating the eggs separately as before directed. In both these preparations the whites must be put over the yolks and mixed only lightly together, and the omelet nust be cooked in a hot spider as soon as ready, with butter enough to prevent sticking^ Pits vs. Boot Houses. Throughout, all the newer portions of the west, root crops, from the lack of cel lars, occasioned from the want of drainage are often imperfectly wintered. That there should not be cellars is not so much from the want of fall to some natural outlet, as from the fact that in building the house, the lack of stone, and the want oi time to cut a drain, and the necessity of tilling the same prevents this impor tant adjunct, a good cellar, being made. Thus, from year to year the family sup plies of vegetables and roots must be kept either in pite or caves, otherwise termed root houses. In many cases the land is such that easy drainage is not feasible, so that an underground cellar is not possible. In this case the sooner a secure root house is built the more will be saved, since it is not pleasant to »et the daily supplies from pits, that can hardly, in this way, be kept from freez ing. In making a root house where timber is handy all that is necessary is to exca vate to such a depth more or less so the bottom may be dry. Wall this up with logs, to a height from the bottom so a person may easily stand upright, and of an area sufficient to hold the supply. Fasten securely over all a roofing of logs securely chinked and pitching both ways. Cover all with earth top and sides, two feet thick, fit in tight double doors, with an air space between and there will be no danger of freezing. The surplus stock of potatoes etc., for sale may be easily kept in pits either un der the ground or entirely above ground as the case may be. If the aoil will ad mit, dig pits 3 feet wide and of any re quisite length, though it is better not to have more than 100 bushels of roots in one pit. Cover the bottom and sides of the pit with weather beaten slough hav or clean long straw, fill with the rTots to the surface, rounding them up naturally, cover with hay or straw, then 6 inches ot earth, then another layer of litter 6 inches deep, then to 8 inches more of earth, well packed snd smoothed down. This will keep the roots from freezing in any winter. If the heap be made entirely on the top of the ground, the piles should be about 4 feet wide, and as high as they will lie nicely. Cover with four inches cf straw, and 8 iuches of earth, then with 6 inches ot straw and again with 8 inches of earth. In the case of potatoes put in green from the field ventilation should be se cured so the moisture of sweating m«'iy pass off easily. Indeed the pits should not be cevered tight until this sweat has been gone through. Hence, it is better that potatoes, beets, rutabagas and other roots be left only lightly covered just so as to be secure from rain, until about the time of hard weather, when they may have their final covering. So far as keeping is concerned there is no doubt that any roots may be kept much more uniformly sound in pits than in ordinary cellars. Nevertheless pits cost more in the long run than cellars when means lor building them cheaply are at hand. Farm Notes. Almost a famine prevails among th« tenentry in the west of Ireland. Thirty years ago only about 600 cases of seed leaf tobacco were sold in the country. The average quantity now grown is 1,500,000 cases. The Springfield, Dakota, land-office, August, disposed of 38,924.93 acres of land, the Yankton office of 37,885.88 acres, and the Sioux Falls office of 24,407 acres. The soil should be fed so that it in turn may feed plants for in proportion to the richness ot the soil, either natural or ar tificial, in just such proportion may it be made to yield a heavy crop. There is at present considerable discus sion among Minnesota farmers in regaid to sowing winter wheat on the prairies. Conflicting opinions are entertained, but fhere is a disposition among many to give it a fair trial. In the United Kingdom the average acreage of holding is 56 acres. Of the tenant farmers, 560,00® in number, 70 per cent, occupy farms under 50 acres each 12 per cent, between 50 and 100 acres 18 per cent, farms of more than 100 acres each. A Maryland farmer says he easily erad icates Canada thistles by sowing the in fested land with buckwheat early in the spring, allowing it to grow till it is blos somed, and turning it under and again re seeding with the same grain. The last crop is harvested when rij»e. Another enemy to wheat growing is reported in the shape ot a weed some what resembling cockle. In some parts of the east it has become so abundant as to cause serious alarm especially so in North Carolina, where it springs simul taneously with the grain, and nearly smothers it. The people have given it the name of "Dutch cockle." It is a fat year for the West and South to the tune ot 50,000,000 bushels of wheat and from 70,000,000 to 100,000,000 of corn more than was ever before produced in the West, and 50,000 bales of cotton more than was Cver before produced in one year in the South. The tobacco crop will be 12,000,000 pounds more, and the sugar crop 200,000 hogsheads more than ever before produced in one year It is estimated that at least 80,000 tons of wheat will be shipped from eastern Oregon and Washington Territory thi« year through Walla Walla alone. This estimate does not include a vast stretch of territory where the farmers must seek another outlet. It is evident that eastern Oregon and Washington territory will, in the future, contribute largely to the grain exports of the Pacific coast. Industry, enterprise and intelligent observation is what makes the good far mer. Such a man uses every means in his power to keep his land fertile, by clean cultivation, rotation of crops, and the application of such manures as may be adapted to the special wants of the crops he cultivates. He does more, he reads the best journals he can buy, having reference to their practicality in agricul tural art. Some of the handsomest silk stockings have the leg and bottom of the foot in dark Burgoyne, Canaque, duck's breast, blue or bright red, with the instep of white and black zebia stripes forming chevrons with the points downward.