Fisherman & farmer. [volume], July 18, 1890, Image 3

About Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??

Image provided by: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Library, Chapel Hill, NC

                
ME. HAHFY IVl A IN .
'ltmg cares assail
calm, contented breast;
xj . w . 4fcs! umbers neve; fail
Of welcome rest.
"Boon as the Sun, with orient beams,
Gilds the fair chambers of the Day,
Musing, I trace the murmuring streams
That wind their way .
Around me Nature 4ULs the scene
"With boundless plenty and delight.
And touched with joy sincere, serene,
I bless the sight.
I bless the kind creating Power
Exerted thus for frail mankind,
At who-e command descends the shower,
And blows the wind.
Happy the man who thus at ease,
-Content with that which nature gives,
Him guilty terrors never seize,
lie truly lives.
DOROTHY.
BY L. E. CIIITTENDEX.
It is an ideal hotel or semi-hotel down
by the sea, known and appreciated by a
certain set, who come summer after
summer to enjoy its lovely location and
famous table.
Broad porches extend around the
house, and these shelters from the sun's
fierce rays, are generally well filled of a
morning. On this special morning when
our story opens, the western porch is
occupied with a bright bevy of pretty
girls, who are all apparently talking and
laughing at once, as only girls and mag
pies can. One exception to this merry
hubbub, is found iu a girl withdrawn a
little from the rest, whose head is bent
over her book with an almost eager in
terest in her bright face. At last the
girls hail her, longing for fresh ears
into which to pour their gossip.
"O rare, sweet Dorothy, prithee give
tis heed," gaily cries her cousin Amy.
'Lend us those small, shell-like ears,"
chimes in another tormentor.
"For we would a tale unfold," sums
up a third.
But Doroth- is deaf to blandishments
or entreaties, and never lifts her head
until a ball of crewel deftly tossed into
her face causes her to exclaim im
patiently: -Well, what is it now?" tell,
and have done, and then let me alone."
"Now, Dodo, you know, in your mind
you added, 'idle rattle-pates,' to that
sentence," says Amy reproachfully.
:If you know so well what I am think
ing, perhaps it will occur to you to leave
.me alone," returns Dorothy bending over
her book again.
'O, you strong-minded young person,"
cries Gertrude Vaile ;'to pretend not to
be interested in our news. It's thrill
ing! It's sublime! and you prefer Emer
son's essays, dry old Emerson why I
always take him as a sleeping draught."
"I don't doubt it at all," answers
Doroth- drily.
'Xow Dodo, you must take your
medicine. So sit up, assume a pleasant
expression and wink as often as you
please, as the man said who took my
tintype on the beach the other day. By
the way girls, I have utterly forgotten to
tell you about that romantic adventure of
mine. The other afternoon a tallow-candle-looking
creature with a camera,
met me down on the beach and implored
me to have my picture tken with the
whole Atlantic for a background. Of
course I did ; could I resist the appeal of
such an Adonis? Nay, I should have
been taken as Aphrodite (in a tailor suit,)
with my classic head rising above the
waves' crests, had he so elected. For
tuuatcly he did not. I do wish you had
been there girls, but you were all sensi
bly taking siestas at that hour, and I
ought to have been, but I had a new
nov-.l and the hero and heroine were in
extricably involved in a hairbreadth
situation, and I really couldn't with a
good conscience leave them there. So I
was tak?n with my novel tucked under
my arm; and the result was a most sur
prising combination of a female suffragist
and a book agent, that you ever beheld,
for I was morally certain that if I let go
the corners of my mouth to asmrne the
pleasant expression I should outroar the
Atlantic. Here it is. Behold it in all
its pristine loveliness."
So saying. Amy produces a tintype
from her handkerchief bag and passes it
around. Whereupon the girl's giggling
chorus rapidly crescendoes into wild
shrieks of laughter, as they gaze upon
the dark, stern face and ramrod-like pos
ture of winsome, dimpled Amy, always
running over with fun and laughter.
Meantime Dorothy has agaiu sought
refuge in Emerson's "Compensations."
"Dodo. Dodo," they call shrilly and
in every key, but with no result until
their victim suddenly arises, bangs her
book together with emphasis, and is
walking away with a majestic air when
they all with one intent fall upon and
surround her with such a mass of billowy
mulls and such chaos of babble, that she
yield perforce, and they escort her back
to the piazza and put her in a huge arm
chair and surround her, a most unwilling
prisoner.
"Now will you hear our gossip cr
not?" queries Gertrude with uplifted fin
ger. "If your shrieks and yells have not
absolutely deprived me of the sense of
hearing and you can focus your accumu
lated mass of weighty intellect upon this
important subject in hand, I think verv
likely I shall hear it," returns Dorothv,
with dignity.
uThe prisoner at the bar is fined ten
-kiiSis for contempt of court," says Ger
trude, and proceeds to collect the fine in
person.
"Now, we have teased her long
enough, girls," says Amy, "so Dodo pre
pare! Who do you think came Jast
night?"
"The President and all his suit."
"Guess again."
"The clam-bake man."
"Horrors, no! Now, once more."
"I cai t think of any one else, unless
it's Gertrude's Dick."
"No such good luck," pout3 that
young lady, "or we'd be riding the
waters blue."
"And burning your nose a rosy hue,"
chimes in Amy readily.
"Well, I'll tell you before you go wild
with curiosity. I hope you haven't for
gotten your old friend, Wayne Palmer
ston,who lost his wife three or four years
ago. Well, maamselle, they are here!
Not his wife, you understand, unless her
harnt ha3 come, but he and his little boy.
He is no end rich, handsome, and fascin
ating, we know. Could tnything have
beer, more desirable? No, not the death
of his wife, Gertrude, I blush for you
but his coming here."
"This is positively his first appearance
since his grief," says Gertrude. "Ah,
Dick look out, if you stay away much
longer, there is no telling what may hap
pen, for, of course, he is after a wife. If
that is not a bonanza for this man-less
resort, where the bug professor is belle of
the ball, I give it up."
Dorothy's face, usually most cxpies
sive, is positively rigid now, so anxious is
she to keep any betrayal of her feelings
from this giddy crowd of butterflies.
When they finish talking, she sits
straight up in her chair and says :
"Do you, iniquitous young females,
really mean to say that you have had the
audacity to take me away from Emerson,
to fill my eyes with such vapid nonsense
as this? I admire your temerity and I
have the honor to wish you a very good
morning."
So saying she takes her departure
beachward, unhindered this time, her
slender figure in its dark blue habit
dress sharply sillhouetted against sea and
sky. The girls watch her tili a curve in
the beach suddenly shuts her from their
sight. They are quiet for a minute or two,
then Gertrude says:
"How did you dnre. Amy?"
"O, I daro do anything," returns that
nonchalant damsel, with, at the same
time, an uneasy feeling in her heart, as
she recalls some memories of Wayne Pal
merston's friendship for Dorothy.
As they separate to preps: for bath
ing, a gentleman in the balcony overhead
throws away his cigar and walks beach
ward also, but out of sight of the girls.
The next morning Dorothy, with "Sar
tor liesartus" held loosely in her hand,
is looking out over sea and sky from a
pile of rock far above the beach, when
the book, struck by a pebble, foils down
on the beach below.
Good temper may not be Dorothy's
strong point, for she turns wrathfully to
discover the cause of her mishap, and
meets the roguish laughing eyes of a
small boy in kilts, who contemplates her
wrathy face with calm satisfaction.
"Did you ever see a better shot?" he
proudly queries.
"I can think of a better," she answers.
"What is it?" he asks with interest.
"To shoot you down after it," she re
plies, laughing.
"Ho, you couidn't, you're a girl, and
girls can't throw for cold victuals, Don
ald said, and he knows; Donald teached
me."
"Well, suppose you go and fetch it
back, then, since you belong to the su
perior sex," she says, amused.
"I will, pretty quick. I'm tired now;
I'd rather talk to you. Girls can talk;
Donald says they've got the gift of gab,
if nothing else."
"Pray, who is Donald?"
"Gracious! don't you knovj Donald?
Well, he's one of the bulliest bricks you
ever knew. ' He takes care of a place of
papa's, down in the country, and he's
teached me more things than I s'pose
you'll ever know, 'cause he won't let
girls come there if he can help it, he
'spises 'em 'cause they gabble so."
"Good for Donald ; they do," with a
recollection of the preceding morning's
trial.
Just then a gentleman comes in sight
with Dorothy's book in his hand, and he
comes toward the mute little figure look
ing blindly, anywhere but toward him,
saying, "Good morning, Dorothy, here
is your book which my son so rudely sent
from your hand."
Mutely, still, Dorothy stretches out her
hand for the volume and finds it clasped,
and presently is aware that there is some
one sitting besides her on the rocks.
"Dorothy, are you never going to
speak T' he says, quietly, near her ear.
The boy has run off to play again.
"Have you forgotten me so utterly,
Dorothy?"
"No, not forgotten," she answers in a
queer voice, as though some one had a
hand on her throat.
"Nor forgiven," he adds.
But she answers not, and rising
wculd pass him, but he gently detains
her.
"No, dear, not yet; I have hungered
for this moment too long to have it
shortened so. Stav, Dorothv, and hear
me, and yet what can I say that will not
: be disloyal to the dead? Oh, be pitiful
1 dear, do not look so hard ! I have loved
! you tenderly for so long, Dorothy, Lucy,
J your friend and confidant, and my wife,
! is dead, and I can never tell you what it
I was that came between us. Her short
j life as happy I think, and I loved her,
but Dorothy I love you and I want you
for my wife, won't you come?"
Dorothy dare3 not look up into the face
so eloquent with longing, so she droops
her head and answers, "No, no, that
time has gone forever O Wayne, why
did you come to disturb my quiet com
panionship with my books. I can never
be your wife.
He points to "Sartor Resartus." "Do
you gain peace and happiness from
pessimistic Carlyc? Is it he who
teaches you to live an ideal visionary life,
when real duties and a husband's devo
tion awaits you? Do you not remember
his own love madness described here,
when he went up and down upon the
earth a desolate wanderer seeking illu
sive peace"'"'
Here a piping voice breaks
about as hungry as they make
wish we'd go to luncheon
'sides I want to talk to the
in. "I'm
'em, and I
together ;
girl some
more.
I like her, and I am sroing to tell
Donald about her.
But Dorothy is gone.
That evening Wayne Palmerston looks
into the jarlors where a hop is in pro-
gress.
He espies Dorothy in cream white,
with a great bunch of Jacqueminot roses
in her corsage, listening to the bug pro
fessor's description of some of his dis
coveries with her face alight with inter
est. At this instant a curious feeling
m O
takes possession of the man looking
through the window; he is conscious of
a desire to adorn the-bug professor's neck
with one of his pet snakes and leave it to
do its duty.
Meantime, cousin Amy, a bewitching
spectacle in masses of white tulle, has
paused in her mad career, near the win
dow, and is watching him with laughing
eyes.
"Banquo at the feast," she cries gaily
at last, "and quite gloomy encugh to take
away Macbeth's appetite. Why, sir, in
this forlorn spot where the masculine ele
ment of society is so absurdly small, are
you not doing your duty?"
Wayne pulls himself together. "Be
cause I was sure I was too late to have
the honor of your charming self for a
partner, Miss Amy," he replies to that
young lady, whom he has known since
she emerged from pinafores.
And Dorothy is presently edified and
distracted from her lesson on bugs, by
the vision of Amy and Wayne waltzing
as they only can waltz. She receives a
wicked glance from radiant Amy, who is
happy as she complacently fancies the
other girls' emerald envy at this spectacle.
The whole thing suddenly palls upon
Dorothy, and with the briefest word of
excuse, she leaves the professor, who
gazes regretfully after his appreciative
listener, and seeks her own room.
There she finds Ruskin, Carlyle and
Emerson regarding her from a shelf with
mute sympathy, but she will have none
of them it :'s apparent, but passes them
by without a glance, kneels by the win
dow and cries! yes, strong-minded Doro
thy cries in the weakest and most femi
nine way possible.
How long she sits there she never
knows, but by and by her head droops
over on the window sill and she falls
asleep and dreams that she hears Donald's
sneering laugh at girls, of her champion
Roy's defense of her as the one exception
to girls, in general; finally of being
borne off through burning forests and
over fiery bridges by Roy's father, and
of continually stopping at people's gates
and banging away on their doors to tell
them the world is on fire, as a piece of
gossip.
nen sne at last awakens the room is
full of smoke, and she hears a voice that
she can never forget, calling: "Dorothy,
come, the house is on fire!"
She opens her door half bewildered,
not at all certain she is not still dream
ing, and finds Wayne with Roy in his
arms, rolled in blankets and solemnly re
garding her from them like a small, newly-come-to-life-mummy.
"Come this way, Dodo," says Wayne,
taking her hand in his, and they run to
the stairway, but it is too late; the
stairs are blazing. The halls are filled
with panic-stricken men and women.
"I remember a long ladder at a back
window, Wayne," says Dorothy, and
they run in that direction. Yes, there is
the ladder, and he takes Roy down and
returns to the little woman bravely wait
ing without a cry. As he
carefully down she whispers:
rrnirlp hfr
o
"I loved you all the time, Wayne,"
and he feels a rush of gladness through
his heart as he answers: "My darling."
When they are down the ladder Doro
thy, for the first time in her life, faints
away, but not till she hears the fire com
panies come clattering down the road.
When her eyes open languidly she
hardly knows the sooty, besmirched man
bending over her, but by and by she
finds out that she is in a cottage and she
recollects all about it.
"Are they all safe?" she asks.
"Every one, thank Heaven," answers
Wayne. "The firemen behaved like
heroes."
"So did papa; I could have helped,
only papa made me watch you. He says
you wfl live with us. I only hope
Donald will not care." At this they
laugh a little, although Dorothy's eyes
are full of tears. The Housewife.
The Korean alphabet is phonetic, and
so simple that any one can learn to read
in a day. Nearly all the women of Kore?
can read.
The Khedive of Egypt has but one
wife, while Ismail, his father, has &s
manv as three hundred at a time in his
different palaces.
THE FARM AND GARDEN.
FATTENINO GEESE IX FRANCE.
In France the fattening of geese for
market is the business of men who do
nothing elc. They contract with the
dealers to get their stock in marketable
condition at a certain time for a once
agreed upon. Franc e is considered the ! tae cabbage tribe, all of which may
largest poultry market in the world, the ; be kopt in check by judicious hand
keeping of poultry being done in a man- I picking. Snails and slugs attack all the
ner that makes it pay. It is not un- varieties of cabbage, and frequently provtj
common to see the French peasant dnv- verv destructive. The best mode of de
ing into market a flock of several hun- Proving them POntntl in dusting the
dred geese, selling them as we would so plants and ground about them with
many sheep or hogs. There are also
many who go among the farmers, pluck
the geese feathers and market them on
percentage; this gives employment and a
living to many poor people. America
Agnculturiat.
CAPACITY OF A UOKSE S STOMACH.
The nampitv nf (in tinimnr itnm w li w
not in anv wav a criteria, for inHrin
fully of the quantity of food and water it
may require or may consume. The j
stomach has a capacity of about twelve
quarts, but yet the animal will eat more
hay and oats at a meal than the stomach
could hold in its ordinary condition. A
large bundle of hay and a pack of oats
will be readily eaten by a horse of 10U0 ;
pounds weight. This quantity of food
will distend the stomach considerably,
but it is relieved of this distension by
the constant passage of the food into the 1
intestines, where it is finally digested.
The water drank stays in the stomach or
the intestines a very short time. A few
minutes is sufficient time for the water to
become absorbed into the blood and the
tissues or pass off through the skin or
the kidneys . The reasonable way to
test the safe quantity of food is to con
sult the healthful appetite of the horse,
and to avoid trouble after a full meal by
always watering the aui:nal before feed
ing. More harm is done by neglect of
this precaution than by the horse eating
more solid food than the stomach can
safely contain. New York Times.
( ARE OK TIIK CARRIAGE.
Five dollars per annum and proper
care will keep a farmer's pleasure-wagon
looking as well as that of the million
aire. Apply paint once a year and var
nish twice. These can be purchased
ready mixed for use, and the farmer can
put them on himself. As soon as the
vehicle returns home muddy, wash the
mud oil by throwing water upon it, and
then use a sponge softly. One who
washes a carriage with a cloth always
scratches and mars the varnish Mud
suffered to dry on acts as a sponge and
absorbs the oil from the varnish, leav
ing the vehicle spotted and dingy. Some
wash carriages with soapy or ho'c water.
These have about the same effect. Keep
the wagon under cover and away from
escaping ammonia; kept in a stable or
near a manure pile ammonia will destroy
the varnish; it has been known to do j is beyond the reach of common bees, but
this in one night. Standing in the tierce I Italian bees store honey from it to a con
rnvs of the sun when no breeze is stir- : siderablc extent.
ring is always bad. A feather-duster is
a necessary adjunct to the carriage-house,
and should be used very time the vehicle
returns from a dusty drive. Dust allowed
to remain on the varnish soon auncres 1
and makes it look gray. A canvas cover
will keep off dust and filth and scratches
of fowls. New York Tribune.
THE WAGES OF FARM LAROR.
Notwithstanding the general depres
sion in agriculture and the low prices
ruling for farm products the wages of
farm employes seem to be well maintained
and not to have been much affected as
yet by low prices. According to the re
port of the Government statistician, cov
ering investigations made during the past j
two vnnrs there is evervwhere u nressure
, ,
beside requiring instruction and super-
vision. Farmers in New 1 ork and in
many other States as well, are trying to
do their own work to avoid the expense
of skilled labor and the annoyance of un
skilled. The demand for labor in other pursuits
with better compensation and the desire
for living in citie3 and towns are the
chief causes of the scarcity of intelligent
farm labor wherever it exists. In the
cotton States very few laborers are em
ployed through the year at given rates in
money, this class mostly preferring to
work at shares of the prod. ice. The ex
cessive wages formerly demanded by har
vesters in the great wheat regions have
boen reduced along with the introduction
of improved machinery for doing har
vest work. There have been only slight
fluctuations in the average rates of wages
since 1870, and the result of the whole
investigation indicates a fair, if not full
employment of farm labor at wages sub
stantially the same as two years ago,
when a similar inquiry tvas made. 3'eic
York World.
ENEMIES OF CAUrJAGE.
The caterpillars of the cabbage moth
An rrr,,.t mischief bveatinir the h. arts of
cabbages and cauliflowers, rendering
them totallv unfit for use. Hand-pick-
ing and dusting the plants with newly
slacked lime are the best means by which
these destructive insects can be kept in
check. Another insect injurious to the
k'-ives, and especially so to cabbage and
broccoli, is a minute fly. It is very
of competition with farm labor, with- profitable, but the maricet is more name
drawing laborers from rural engagements to be overstocked with them than with
and thus leaving to the remainder fair the white marrowfat, the pea or tho
wages. In New England farm wages are navy bean.
slightly higher than two years ago. There i Some of those who have been accus
is complaint of the scarcity of intelli- tomed to eating buttermilk -flavored
gent labor, and where foreign labor is butter washed white in grains, but after
abundant much of it is untrustworthy, j they use it for awhile they object to the
abundant from midsummer to the evA ,rf
autumn, and from going through all its
changes in less than a month, its num
bers increase with alarming rapidity.
Cutting off and burning the infected
leaves 1 the only way of arresting pro
gress. There are several ether kinds of
' caterpillar besides the
;lOYe which at-
t newn
ked lime or fresh sawdust.
Tac formation of protubrances on the
'. roots, usually termed clubbing, is Hm
Hunt destructive disease to which tho
j cabbage tribe k subject. It is ascribed
! to one or more specie of insect, mag
gots being generally found in tho hlhflf
cles. J.ime. wood ash -, soot, nitrate of
soda, and common salt :ire considered to
i he Meful "PpHcations to the sod iu
which cabbages, etc., are to be grown.
ami marl unquestionably is so. It is
also a good plan to dip the roots of
plants about to be planted in a mixture
of soot ami water, math" of the consist
ency of thick paint; to this some rec
ommend the addition of saltpetre, in tho
proportion of one pound to every gallon
of soot. In transplanting, all plants
that are clubbed should be thrown away,
01 if this cannot be afforded, the tuber
cles should be cut off with a sharp kuife.
The ground should never be cropped
with cabbages in succession. Cftseajw
Time.
FARM AND GARDEN NOTES.
"Water plants in the evenin.
The nav bean is the one unusually
grown for the market.
In handling bees be gentle; subdue
them, if necessary, with smoke.
In handling queens never catch them
by the body, but by the wing.
The best protection against moths and
robbers is to keep all colonies strong.
The man who will find a perfect,
simple remedy for the cut worm has made
bis fortune.
Two weak families, when united, will
consume little, if any, more honey than
if left separate.
(rive the girl a flower bed, the boy a
vegetable garden; or change about if
their tasii
hoosc that way.
Keep the garden frequently stirred ; if
you don't you will soon have to Stir to
get any crop except weeds.
It is the best to plant the poles first,
then the beans, when you raise hnias, un
less you have the improved bush variety.
If all the fniit you wish to send to
market is not first-class make two grades
of it. Don't mix in the same case, box
or barrel.
Red clover secretes much honey, yet it
President James M. Smith says of
wood ashes: I have used them iu.prcf-
j erence to auy fertilizer I could get for
potatoes for many years.
Plant the late potatoes just as soon tn
you can get the ground ready. In this
way you get ahead of the bug and .save
much work and expense.
You need not be in a hurry about plant
ing beans; after the corn and potatoes
are all in, and even under a good grow
ing headway, will be time enough.
Grape vines should be cut back each
year within a few buds of the old growth,
but even when this is neglected most ex
cellent crop3 of fruit are sometimes pro
duced. Kidney beans are sometimes very
- ... , 111
other kind.
Butter :n be salted too much when it
is dry salted, but not when it is brioo
salted. The latter method requires the
most salt and the least labor, besidei
being sure to salt the butter evenly.
Don't plant beans with the supposition
that they require poor soil to make 1 good
crop. To Ic sure, they may produce 1
paving crop, where wheat or corn would
not. but poor soil is not necessary U
make them do well.
Every farmer should have a supply ol
grapes. hva well started the grape vin
is long lived and very productive. Set ii
good ground and trained to a trellis, o:
on an old wall even, they are almost sun
to produce fruit every season.
Adopt some good pattern of hive and
stiek to it. Choose those that are sc
exact that every part of each will fit witl
that part of another. This is important,
as many advantages are gained by thi
interchange of frames and other parts.
Mrs. L. B. liaker. of Lansing, Mich.,
in relating a four-years' experience is
the apiary before a State convention,
said she had found bee-keeping mon
healthful, profitable and enjoyable thai
1 1 r . . . m At m m lri-x.i , I kt w .
ber ionner uccwpwwo 01 cW,iuS
ert
When brine .-a'.ting there is no use ia
; waiting for the butter to absorb the brins
when it is put into tne churn : if you are
! ready to print or pack, give the chum a
few turns, draw off the brine and the
butter will be as salt as if it were allowed
to remain in the brine for an hour.