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TEE FORTY ACRE FARM. BY JOHN B. TATES. I’m thinkin’. wife, of neighbor Jones, that man with stalwart arm— He lives in peace and plenty on a forty acre farm; Wliiie men are all around us, with hands and hearts asore, Who own two hundred acres and still are wanting more. His is a pretty little farm, a pretty little honse; He has a loving wife within, as quiet as a mouse; His children play around the door, their father’s life to charm, Looking neat and tidy as the tidy littlefarm No weeds are in the cornfields, no thistles in the oats, The horses show good keeping by their fine and glossy coats; The cows within the meadow, resting ’neath the beechen shade, Learn all the gentle manners of the gentle milking maid. Within the field, on Saturday, he leaves uo cradled grain To be gathered on the morrow, for fear of coming rain; He keeps the Sabbath holy, his children learn his ways ; And plentj’ tills iiis barn and bin, after the harvest dovs. He never saw a law-snit to take him to the town. For the very simple reason there is no line fence dowu, The bar-room in the village does not have for him acbarra; I can always find my neighbor on his forty acre farm. His acres are so very few, he plows them very deep; ’Tis his own hands that turn the sod—’tis his own hand 6 that reap; He has a place for everything, and things are in their place; The sunshine smiles upon his lields, con tentment in his face. May we not learn a lesson, from prudent neighbor Jones, And not, for wbat we havn’t got, give • vent to sighs and moans? The rich'aint always happy, nor free ■ from life’s alarms. But blest are they who live content, though small mav be their farms. Mrs. Bland. Rippling Beacn some tnree years ago, had the advantages of quiet and seclusion. It was an out-of-the-way place on the Sound, which I believed then I had almost discovered. There was a modest countryfied hotel, where rnijarht. hnA , a minimum of cost. ik/c/j two weeks holiday and an exceedingly moderate amount of money to devote to my pleasures, after due consideration, I had selected Rippling Beach lor my fairing. Asa third clerk in the bank my vacations were few and far be tween, and I bad determined to make the best of the occasion, when Mr. Howland, the assistant teller, whose busmess it was to pay the employees their salaries, had given me my check he had casually asked me where I was going, and I had expatiated on the charms of Rippling Beach, and its being one of the lost places on Long Island. Visitors at thfe Beach House were, though goodish people, not congenial. I was indifferent however, to society. Boatmen and fishermen were my boon companions. I had been a week at Rippling Beach, when I became acquainted with Mrs. Bland. This lady was a late arrival. How I came to talk to Mrs. Bland I can hardly tell. I rather think that, hearing the lady express a desire to see a city pa per, I had handed her a Times , and in this way come oommon-place con versation had commenced. A certain pleasant way the woman had, a fairly well-bred manner, a disinclination to indulge in tittle-tattle with the rest of the boarders, made her society rather agreeable than otherwise. Mrs. Bland was diminutive, had a graceful figure and dressed in quiet taste. Though Mrs. Agues Bland was fully thirty, she impressed me with a certain child ishness of expression, in which vague description I trust I am not paraphra sing Air. Bret Harte. The lady's eyes were of a pale blue, without fixity of glance. No one would have been rude enough to even attempt to stai'e Mrs. Bland out of countenance- It would have been apparently, too easy a thing to do. without having eva sive eyes, they seemed subdued, and the least bit furtive. An immense volume of fair, blonde hair, which she wore in oue big braid, added most essentially to her charms. For any trait of fixity of purpose in Mrs. Bland's regularly oval face, the only indication of it was a slight wrinkling of the forehead between the eyes. Such furrows, had however, no per manence. You might see such little winrows on a child’s face when some passing matter for a brief moment had engagefl'iVs shattered wits. Con versationally, Mrs. Bland was fairly amusing. Educated 6he was not, but having a good amonnt of intuitive perception, her remarks were clear and defined. It was the day affer 1 had given her the paper, when I said to Mrs. Bland, “ Has your budget failed to reach you ? It is one of the annoyances of an out-of-the-way place. Mails are dilatory or come in batches.” “What do you know about my mail ? ” asked Mrs. Bland, the little wrinkles roughing her forehead. “ Why, Mrs. Bland, I replied, “if you do not receive many letters, at least you have a famous collection of newspapers coming to you every day —at least a dozen. “ How do you know that ? ” : “ The only grocery man in the ! little town, who sells me fish-hooks, is the poet-master. Igo there early in the morning, before the mail is sent to the hotel. The grocer gen erally runs the whole mail before me into a bushel basket prior to handing me my occasional correspondence. I see Mrs. Agnes Bland on ever so many jonrnals. Have I the honor of addressing a lady correspondent—a literary woman ?” “ Nonsense! What an idea ! My husband sends the papers to me. It is a delicate attention on his part. Time passes away in reading them during his absence.” “ Then there is a Mr. Bland,” I said to myself. “ I expect Mr. Bland will be here in a few days. Hope you will like him. He is a great fisherman. Now I notice you carry a fishing pole to the water-side every morning. My husband has sent his fishing tackle down, so if you want hooks or lines I can spare you some. You come here every season, do you not ?” “No; this is the first time ill my life. Good morning Mrs. Bland, and thanks for your offer.” “ Good morning, sir; but excuse me a moment. Would you kindly look at this bill of mine the oflme clerk has sent me ? I am an idiot about accounts. Here are some items which, no doubt are correct, with express charges on some trunks and things oaid for at the office, and Then ” t"h Eku*<l - wrTtTng fe? Would you, now, just make the ad- : dition for me ? Oh, I aint afraid of your looking at the bill. There are no cherry cobblevs on the account, and one does not trust muslin dresses to sea-side washerwomen.” Mrs. Bland had hanging from her neck a delicate chain, and among numerous rattling appendages there was a dainty, golden pencil. With as pretty a dimpled white hand as I ever 6aw, she bent over and offered the pencil. The calculation was so simple that I ran it over in my mind without the use of the pencil, and gave the total. It differed a few cents, the advantage being in Mrs. Bland’s favor. “ It is a trifle in error, Mrs. Bland, but the people are honest. The hill should be $28.67, iustead of $28.65.” “ I never could remember the fig ures : pray set them dowu. It will give Mr. Bland so much pleasure to know that my bill is exactly right. He is such a strict man of business.” “ Willingly,” I replied, and wrote at the foot of the bill “$28.07, Kor rect.” “ Thanks,” said Mrs. Bland. “ What a wonderful head you have for figures.” She scrutinized the bill closely. “ And what queer way of making sevens ! ” “ Oh, in the hank I am in, I do lit tle else than add up figures for hours on a stretch. There is nothing queer about my sevens. I always cross my sevens. Then they do not look like ones. In a great many banking houses in New York that is the rule. Scientific calculators always use the crossed seven.” “ Ah, indeed ! If you want to see a ludicrous 3 or 5, look at mine—such wormy twisting things. Look,” and Mrs. Bland drew the numerals. “ They are quite ludicrous, indeed,” I said. “ There make your 3 this way, and don’t bring the tail of your 5,” and I made the figures. “Thanks, for the lesson. I must go now and pay the bill, $28.67, you say ? ” With a bow I left Mrs. Bland, and hurrying to the water side, got my boat, and was off after blue-fish, I had better luck than usual, and brought home that afternoon some fine blue fish and weak-fi6h. I had the best fish cooked for supper, a portion of which I sent to Mrs. Bland, who THE FLORIDA AGRICULTURIST. seemed to partake of it with relish. I was not idiot enough to think, though it was three years ago, that the lady was especially pleased with with me for the attention, but in the evening, a fine moonlight one. Mrs. Bland lingered on the veranda. I was smoking a cigar on the bottom of the steps, within speaking distance of her. “ You very kindly offered me the use of Mr. Bland’s tackle. Now, you have not congratulated me on my good luck,” I said. “I do, I do,” said Mrs. Bland, quickly, with a certain amount of ex pansiveness. She rose from her chair and held out her hand, and it fairly trembled. I was surprised. What possible sympathy coula there exist between us ? I did not care to have even a passing flirtation with her. How the duce had my fish called for so marked an expression on Mrs. Bland’s part ? “ Five blue-fish, which would weigh thirty pounds, not counting weak fish, and a dab or so, 1 ' I said in the most commonplace way. “ Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Bland, appar ently absorbed. , “ But I have broken my squid, my best one, and I would really like to borrow a hook or so from you to make another. Could you really lend me 6ome hooks until I go to New York ? ” “ Willingly. Wait here a moment,” and Mrs. Bland arose aud went down the hall to her room. Just then David, the colored waiter came in with a telegraphic message for Mrs. Bland. She returned at once, took the message, read it under the ball lamp and went to her room. “ David,” I asked the waiter, “ I did not know that you could tele graph to such an out-of-the-way place as this ?” “It ain’t done often, sir. The tel egraph station on the road is fourteen miles from here, but you can get mes sage sent by the coach—tho’ Mrs. Bland’s messages come on horseback with a map kiting.” It wasAUione of my bnsines how Mrs. Blaivls messages came, though for telegraphic messages. In a mo ment more Mrs. Bland was down 6tairs holding in her hand quite a number of large hooks. It was not my fault, but the lady had taken up with the package a small fly-hook, which, is 6he opened the parcel, punctured a rosy first finger, so that a drop of blood started. “ I am so sorry, may I not tie this handker chief around it ? ” “ What with a hook in my finger ? Pull it out. Please, no fuss.” Here Mrs. Bland’s face looked rigid, and the wrinkles between her eyes made a series of archings. “ But,but,” I exclaimed, really dis turbed, ‘ I can’t pull it out. Can you beaithe merest cut with my pen knife ? ” “ Can I ? Nonsense; of course I can,” an! shfc held out a taper white finger, aid I felt my heart sink with in me asl made a careful probe, and fortunatly , extricating the barb, drew on the hook, which I deliber ately fit 'in my pocket book. “WoukMrs. Bland faint now?” I asked m se f. “A glss< f water?” I said anxious ly “ Wht or ? To dip my finger in ? Ridcu ous! I will put it in my mouth. PI ;ase do not destroy your pockethnd ;erchief. You will excuse my suclng my thumb like a baby while I alk There, it is all over now yur ; gentleman. I never scream t a mouse, go into hysterics over a citti 'pillar, and do not blink at ligh iit “ Yoiari a. very brave little woman then. ‘He 3 take this telegraphic raessaguvl ch you’ve just dropped,” and I nnd 1 the message to her. “ 1 htrd he waiter tell you 1 re ceived en messages a day. Now canyoumi that together with my dozen f%w )apers ? ” “ 1 <J:in< —do not care to; it is not anyff iy business, Mrs. Bland. 1 am pc (irious,” 1 replied. “ W<l, ] am—very much so—and my busies is to —ah ! ” here she stopper to David just then rang a bell, web meant that the stage coach nb the passengers from the railroat w s coming. This coach stoppecat le house first, then con tinued iii journey to a small tav ern fur.erm the coast. “Yowre saying, Mrs. Bland— pray Oatii ie.’ J in 4, : , . ~ .. , hr. . m “ All ci tell you is this sir, that ] in that coach you will find a man you hardly expected to see. Go and look.” With that Mrs. Bland fanned herself quite composedly and went to her room. 1 went to the coach, not understand ing what the woman meant. Some three women got out of the vehicle, followed by an old gentleman who had to be helped out —evidently an invalid. On the box by the driver was a man who, as I approached, lit a iuze, and with it his segar. His face I did not recognize, I then felt some tittle curiosity to find out what Mr6. Bland meant about the man “ I hardly expected to see.” 1 did peer into the coach. 1 was aided by Da vid, who with a lantern was looking for a parasol one of the lady passen gers had left. There was a man, ap parently asleep. Though it was sum mer a handkerchief was thrown over his face. One glimpse was enough. Though his whiskers had been cut, and his reddish hair stained black, it was the face of George Harland, the assistant teller of our bank. He looked at me in an agonized way, then put his fingers to his lips and said in a low, broken voice; “My God! Henry, lam a thief, trying to escape—to escape. 1 know they are after me ! then he shuddered. lam mad—crazed—have lost my head. You here ? Do not betray me! ” “ To Dickerson’s,” cried the driver and off went the coach. From Dick erson’s 1 knew that 6mall fishing boats ran to Martha's Vineyard, and the Massachusetts coast. 1 stood ap palled, dazed and speechless. Mrs Bland met me on the veran dah with some flowers in her hand which exhaled a deep luscious per fume.—The odor quite sickened me. “ Ladies and gents,” cried the good natured familiar landlord in his shirt sleeves. “It isn’t down on the bill of fare, but we have been quite short of fruit, peaches and sich, for the last three days, and nary a boarder has grumbled. 1 came across a fine lot of fruit this arternoon, and they is sot iu the dining room, and do you all jess go in and help yourself.” Mrs Bland was near me. aud clapped her Tng take me in ? she asked quite naturally. I had no heart for peaches, still* I offered the woman my arm. There was a group of noisy boarders at a long table, but through David’s care Mrs Bland secured a long kitch en table on which was placed a dish of peaches, flanked with huge half moons of watermelon. “ You saw him,” asked Mrs. Ag nes Bland, paring a peach with a sti ver pocket fruit knife which she drew from her pocket. “Dear me! the juice of the peach gets into my cut finger and really stings.” ‘‘ Saw him, Mrs. Biand. For God's sake, what does this all mean?” “ I like cling-stoues better than free-stones. I should be so much obliged to you if you would pare a peach for me. My finger makes me so awkward.” “ Are you a Nemesis, Mrs. Bland?” “A what? I don’t know what that means.” “ Explain! ” “ Oh! the man in the coach ? Now sir, listen. The ‘828.07. Ivorrect,’ you wrote on that bill of mine gave me the clue to your handwriting. Mr. Bland—there is a Mr. Bland sent me down here after you. Those figures and K-o-r-r-e-c-t cleared you. There were no figures like yours in the altered accounts. George Har land was a thief. I was glad when I could congratulate you en your luck.” Luck, Madam! what do you mean ? You were the only gentleman here—all the rest of them were cads and muffs. Your society was not unpleasant to me, and I should tiave so disliked to be the meaus of bringing a theft to your door. Mr. Biand was on that coach with the driver. \on may have noticed first a blue splutter and than a red snlut ter from Jus match. That meant, A nght, Mrs. Bland.’ George . lailand has misappropriated 872,000 belonging to your stupid old bank, and did it, clever as you are in fig ures, right under your nose. sir. The papers lor the past week have had an mkkng 0 f jt_ not w jj ere y OU would look for the news, but in per sonals and advertisements. That is why 1 read the papers. Please don’t go ; any sympathy 1 might have hail -—jWid if have not much to waste-, was really that of thankfulness that quite a decent young man like you was safe. Mind, 1 never suspected you, though Mr. Bland might have done so. George Harland ought to have 150,000 in notes, on his person, this very moment.” There was a base look of greed in the woman’s face. “ You are, then, Madam—? ” “ The wife of Mr. Bland. 1 am afraid,” and here Mrs. Bland smiled, showing me a set of white teeth, a single black melon .seed increasing their pearly luster by contrast. “ that you do not like me as well—at least my society—as you did an hour ago.” There was a little bit of kill ing disdain about the woman. 1 suppose the scorn on my face was manifest, for 1 made no effort to con ceal it. “ Great Lord save us! ” said David, coming in and addressing us, “ some thing drefful has happened—dat man m stage coach— ’ “Not run away—escaped?” said Mrs. Bland, springing to her feet with the latent energy of Johnathan Wild. Her eyes had lost their pale blue shimmer, and glinted like cold steel; the furrows between her eyes took strange, arabesque, sinister trac eries. It was a dreadful face to see. “No Ma’m—woss nor that. He blow his brains out, right in the coach.” “ David,” said Mrs. Bland, now as quiet and unrippled as a dish of milk in a dairy; “ David, bring me a napkin, and 1 will take another bit of melon—if you will help me, sir.” But 1 did not help Mrs. Bland. The Stoics say “ Turn in upon your selves; there you will find repose.” Oth ers say, “ Go forth from yourselves and seek happiness in diversion.” Neither is true. Alas! happiness is neither with in us nor without us. It is the union of ourselves with God.— Pascal. RECIPES. Catskill Milk Potatoes. Take good, sound potatoes, cut them in P' < > * i —* mg to the quantity you wish to make, in a pudding dish; then, after vou have put the potatoes Jin the milk, put in the oven for about twenty minutes, then take out and put the potatoes with the same milk into a saucepan to boil until done: season before you put them to boil. Pice Pudding.— Boil one cup of rice a little while; beat well together three eggs and one-half cup sugar: add one cup of raisins, one quart sweet milk, and the cup of boiled rice; any seasoning preferred can be added. Bake in a moderate oven an hour. To be eaten cold or hot, with wine sauce or sweet cream. Fish Iritters.— Take salt codfish, soak it over night. Iu the morning throw the-water off the fish, put on fresh, and set on the range until it comes to a boil. Do not let it boil as that will harden it. Then pick it up very fine,season with pepper, mace, and perhaps a little salt. Make a batter of a pint of milk and three eggs, stir in the fish and fry in small cakes. Any kind of cod fish makes nice fritters. Ginger Snaps.— One teacupful each of molasses, brown sugar and melted lard, two teaspoonfuls of pulverized alum dissolved in a teaspoonful of boiling water (bo sure that it is well dissolved,) five teaspoonfuls of soda dissolve in four tablespoonfuls of boiling water, one teaspoonful of salt anci two tablespoonfuls of ginger ■ mix to a stiff dough, roll the same thickness as cookies, and cut into squares, and bake in a quick oven. They are very good. Oyster Short Cake. —One qnart of flour, three teaspoonfuls *of baking powder, one tablespoonful butter, a pinch of salt and enough sweet milk to moisten well. Roll about an inch thick and bake on tin pie plates quickly. While it is baking take one quart of oysters and half a cup of water and put on the stove; then take half a cup of milk and the same of butter, mixed with a tablespoon fill of flonr and a little salt and pep per; acid all together and boil up once. When the cakes are done, split them open and spread the oys ers between them, some on the top. 1 ut what oysters that are left in a gravy dish, and replenish when needed.