The Sully County watchman., December 08, 1883, Image 6

About The Sully County watchman. (Clifton, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1894

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
1
i
iSWiW*' mmm
HIV HO VS.
bt k. r.. Randall.
Two babe* have I- two darling boys
A* ever shared ft mothers heart.
One In my daily souree of Joy*,
And one—nh: quick the teardrt*st*rt!
One nestle* softly in my nrniR.
Anil one is I vine 'ncath the wnl:
One liere must Miller earth'*alarm1*.
And one is shelter,-,1 with our O-H!.
Two temlt feet perhajw must trend
I»tiK vear» the thorny pnfh of life.
While two in llower-iremmed valleys led
Shall ne'er know aujrht of ntorin OT Strife.
But when I part the miiinv bnnds
O'er Italty l»rnw with mother lore,
I er«r nee those rtow-erfilled hands
Long elasjKHl. the pulseless heati above.
O. Omit show me In virtue's ways
Mr Hov'i. uncertain stejw* t» uuide!
Ohl'teaeh me s|»eid mv dt»v«
That I mny meet the lx»y who died!
Stockton. Kan.
THE W ANhl KKIt s KK1TBN.
Tfce Welcome Return of
Elanked
1
1
a
Abroad Wanderer.
"Tin' melancholy day- an' come,
The saddest of tin- year."
But then, Mr. Bryant has never
been in California in November. Lit
tle Miss Poole (every one prefixes the
adjective) used to agree wiili Mr. Bry
ant when she lived in New England
but as slie stoops to pick some flowers
from her friend's garden—roses,
pinks and pansies—she thinks differ
ently.
How sweet and fresh everything' is!
What a beautiful emerald the grassy
l*wn What a lovely blue the far-off
•Icy flecked with fleecy clouds!—
clouds suggest ve of rain in our cli
mate.
Miss
Toole opens the gate and
ateps into the street. How clean the
aidewalks are.' how spring-like the
atmosphere! Her step is brisk as she
trips along. There is a bloom on Iter
cheeks, a sparkle in her eye but,
then, there is a bloom and sparkle
everywhere with our first showers.
They have not become monotonous
yet. There is no mud to mar the
clothes or the temper: no slippery
pav
einents, slushy crossings, or un
wieldlv umbrellas? to interfere with
th
e progress of the pedestrian. Enough
of such ills two months hence!
Miss Poole heard snatches of song
through open windows where house
wives are busy with brooms and
dusters. It is a pleasure to work where
there is no dust, when everything
without glistens spotlessly in the
morning sunshine. Even the stray
fowls show their appreciation as they
file with exultant strut after their
leader in search of tender verdure
peeping tip between cracks in the
sidewalks or fringing the cob­
les in the streets. Everything seems
to rejoice on this balmy November
day, and all the more because the
memory of the last "hot si»ell" of only
a few weeks before still lingering in
languid contrast. Then, humanity
Was sweltered into debility under a
relentless, hazy sky. King Sol asserted
his sovereignty with an uncompromis
ing' front, and all nature wilted in
acknowledgment of it.
But we have nearly lost sight of lit
tle Miss Poole, or we would have, if
•he had not stopped to say a few kind
words, and leave the greater part of
her flowers with a poor invalid she
sees sitting in the doorway of an hum
ble home. Then she climbs a hill and
turns into a court which is lined with
neat cottages. She stops before one
whose porch is embowered in nastur
tiums and madeira vines but before
she enters, her eyes wander over the
beautiful bay, which is just now break-
ing into glad little ripples in the sun
light. Crafts of all descriptions, from
the small sail-boat to the large mer
chant vessel or the grim man-of-war,
here find a safe anchorage. She enters
the house where a young girl is prac
ticing on the piano. The music ceases
as she smiles her welcome.
"What! back so soon, aunty?"
"Yes. dear. Mrs. Swift didn't need
me to day. and I am going to-mor
row instead."
By this time Miss Poole has remov
ed her hat and displays an abundance
of soft gray hair—that beautiful kind
which is tinged with gold, and makes
one long to give it a caressing touch
with reverent finger-tips. She has a
cairn,
sweet
%.
i
face, and deep violet eyes
which rest upjn the girl with an ex
pression of fond delight.
"You are pleased about something.
Have you heard good news, Aunt
Annie?'
The inquirer is only fourteen, but
•he is fully a head taller than Miss
Poole. She lias the grand statue and
flower-like beauty common to so many
California girls. Her face is one that
was made for smiles, yet it wears a
subdued expression which tells, plainer
than words, of recent sorrow. There
is scarcely need of the sombre dress
•he wears, or the black ribbon that
ties her bright hair, to tell the sad
story. It is but three months since
•he lost her mother.
Miss Poole is somewhat startled at
the question but with a woman's
readiness she hands her the llowers
and asks her to put them into water.
Then she answers the question by
ask mg another.
"How do vou like the idea of Mrs.
Bv ift's dining with us on Thanksgiv
ing, Dora?"
•Mrs.
Swift!"
If Miss Poole had said Queen Vic
toria. the young girl could not have
displayed a greater variety of emo
tions. Astonishment, delight, admir
ation, reverence, were all expressed
in that simple exclamation. That
Mrs. Swift, who was accustomed to sit
in her elegant dining-room, before a
table laden with silver, line crystal,
and painted china, should take her
Thanksgiving dinner with them! Was
•he really awaker
While slie is thus wondering, and
Miss Poole is fondly regarding her.
We will return to Mrs Swift, in whose
garden we met Miss Poole not long be
fore. She is a stately woman, and
wears her mourning robes likea queen,
yet a sorrowful one, for the tears are
wet on her cheeks. Her surroundings
are beautiful, but they bring no joy to
her heart. How can they, when her
choicest treasures lit? buried in the dis
tant cemetery? Two mounds have
been added to the family plot during
the past year—her dear husband and
her last idolized child. Tet Thanks-
giving is at hand, and how can she re
turn I hanks.
"Annie, "she had said toMissPeole,
"I am beset with invitations, which I
have refused until I am weary. Save
me from my friends by asking me to
dine with you. Then don't expect
:|ne. for you know where I shall be.'
Miss Poole had answered:
"If I invite you, Laura, you must
Come. It will do no
your day at the cemetery
don't you look up and believe that
your loved ones are 'absent from the
oodv, present with theLonl,'aud that
all is well with them?"
"Simply because 1 cannot," sighed
the unhappy woman. "It is easy to
tell people to have faith, Annie but
it is the hardest thing in life to exer
cise it when we are put to the test."
"Yet there are those that can say,
'Though he slay.me, yet will I trust
in him,"' was the gentle answer.
rs. Swift remembered Annie Poole
as the cherished daughter of fond par
ents. Later, as a very lovely girl,
she had been an acknowledged belle,
and many hearts had been laid at her
feet. Then had come a great sorrow.
The smile was succeeded by a sigh.
Dora! For three months that name
had been ringing in Mrs. Swift's ears.
Night and day, sleeping or waking,
the image of this motherless girl had
been haunting her. Should she open
lor
-sighing
And that was the reason Miss
Poole had apjx-ared so happy that Do
ra had questioned her.
Mrs. Swift had rushed sobbingly to
her daughter's room as soon as she
was
alone.
^^B^RSSBSW -|f^^ijg&«t^W-rif iiii1 wit!
i
(too.1 to spend ,fromi1!" "'i'1™8- of Miss Uncle".
v Dear whv!
e 8 was
There was a great love between
these two women, so differently cir
cumstanced—the oue a wealthy lady,
the other an humble seamstress. Thev i .n 1 1
i i i i i 1 1 i i a e -f e e o a e I a n o n v e a i n
had know each from childhood, and |,„, i it i i
Ah, well! It was not the first time
that falsehood had done its work, and
an unknown wedding dress was laid
away with a shuddering sigh. Twen
ty-live years had passed since then—
years in which Mrs. Swift had been
sheltered as a happy wife. Fortune
had smiled upon her, and beautiful
children had gladdened her home.
To day, like Rachel, she was weeping! »e s, hail come very near having
for them, and worse, she was wil- skeleton in her closet. That whi
owed. Yet this sad-eved mourner dress had been the drop of bitter
would not. if she could, liave changed
Miss Po»ie was ecstatic. Trouble? M10
It would be a pleasure, and she could
give Mrs. Swift something which she
unusually attractive on account of
the regatta, and there would be such
a display of sail boats and other crafts
to say nothing of the ferry boats plv
i
get a good musical education to fit her pudding into the skillet for a nine
for teaching, as her mother dull But"
"she is far to pretty to re
main with me. I have to leave her
alone too much, and although there
never was a better child, she is a con
tinual anxiety to me."
Mrs. Swift could not understand
this.
"And among all the people you
meet are there none that would like to
take herf"'
Miss Poole blushed.
"I have spoken to no one but you,
dear Laura, do you know that her
name signifies a gift from the
Lord
There was a silence in which
Mrs. Swift struggled with the selfish
ness of her grief. Then she said:
"I will bring her home with ine on
Thanksgiving. Come to-morrow An
nie, and help to arrange Pearl's room
f*r her." Tlien shiveriugly "Every
thing must be different, or I could
not stand it."
She opened the closet
door and caressed the articles hanging
there. She kissed the little mementos
about the walls. Her tears dropped
on the white-draped bed. Then she
leaned against the* window and sor
rowfully impressed everything upon
her memory. To-morrow others
would enter, and the work of change
would begin. 'It would no longer be
P, u-r« room.
But Mrs. Swift's grief took a differ
ent shape from that hour. Peace en
tered her heart. Her husband's pic
ture seemed to smile approvingly up
on her. That night in her dreams,
her children's kisses fell on her face,
and sweeter than all, the words of
divine commendation seemed adress
ed to her: "Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto the least of these, ye have
done it unto me."
Jerry was one of Miss Toole's pro
teges, and like the rest of her nets,
had his peculiarities. He had been
a black-and-tan in his day, but years
and a series of canine disorders had
stripped him of his satiny coat, and
left him bare and decidedly uncanny
looking. So he had been turned out
upon the cold charities of the world
and a pitying hand had taken him in.
Mrs. Swift had been wont in her
happier days, If style her friend's cot
tage "The Infirmary," for every out
cast in the animal kingdom seemed to
I find its way there. Many a pretty
kitten or promising puppy, that the
little seamstress had "brought up by
hand" had found a welcome home:
bu' no one wanted Jerry, and cats
were entirely too commou for oue
eyed Topsy to be disposed of. A stray
,yi»i-»HriitaMiit
canary had been captured, and also
remained a fixture because it was
asthifiatical and all Mrs. Poole's
knowledge of bird-food and tonics
proved of no avail Dick's hoarse lit
tle croak only grew hoarser, and his
seed-cup needed constant replenish
ing. for he was a wi*eful glutton. A
crippled pigeon was the hist patient
admitted, and as he was recovering
waltini?
f°r
flake as an accession to his dove cote.
It was her sympathy for dumb cre
atures that had led the kind-hearted
woman from her room in a boarding
house, with its necessary restrictions,
to the freedom of a cottage. lora's
mother, who was a fellow-lodger, and
disliked the life on account of her
child, had joined hands with Miss
Poole in her undertaking, ami thev
had lived happily together until death
came and left Dora an orphan.
It may be wondered why Miss Poole,
at the age of forty-live, should not
have attained a modest competence
and been able to look forward to a
1
that her life had been spent in con-
tinual ministries. She could not be
charitable and lay up money. Wher
ever she met need, sue did what she
could toward allaying it. Dear little
woman! She was an exemplification
of the lines:
"The trivial roiinrl, tfw* common teak.
Should furnish all we oiii ht to ask—
Ri Mini to d"iiy ourselves -a ad
Tl bring us daily nearer iod."
1
And sometime, when she receives her
crown, she will be surprised to find it
gemmed with stars.
Miss Poole, bright and cheery as
a
lite
'uss 'n l,er
CUP.
places with her friend, who had never I before she resolutely kept nerves and
known a husband's devotion or the
jovs
of motherhood.
'That soft response smote her heart.
She tried to look cheerful as she said:
"Well, Annie, you may expect me
if you will make no trouble on my ac
count."
,HOS,t.
slon-.
1
could not return, ami that was a fine *'ie blighted hopes that were hid
view of the bav. Indeed, it would be
until tine day, years
tear-glands in subjection while she
vanquished the fix* which would have
soured her temper and blighted her
life. To romantic minds, she em
ployed very common place—ves, even
contemptible—means in doing this.
She had her dress dyed, and it was
precious thing in her posses-
den ,ts
ing back and forth, which was always sentence. Mrs. Swift knew what she
a chcerfui sight. She would also re
memler to keep "Jerry out of the way
as Mrs. Swift liked him at a distance.
(The lady smiled faintly at this allu
sion to her friend's canine protector.)
Yes, and how pleased Dora would be,
dear child. She would sing and play,
and they would have the coziest time!
only wore it on special
occasions, and but one friend knew
brown folds. Miss Poole
had said to her.
"And when I die, Laura, will you
see that."
There was no need of finishing the
meant, and she thought of her brother,
and wondered if he would ever know
what a priceless treasure he had lost
when—ablaze with indignant jealousy
—he had married another woman for
spite. Dear, hot-headed Will! lie was
fifty, and a grandfather now, and Mrs.
Swift and her friend had laughed to
think
of
him in that role.
us
*Yijss
Two
years
before, the news had come of his
wife's death. Mrs. Swift hatl eyed Miss
Poole
narrowly as she told her of it
but the violet eyes had grown kumid
sa'T(*:
the door of that daintv room, and bid' "loorWill! I am glad lie has his
this stranger come in? Would she daughters and grandchildren to com
open her arms and say, "I will be your
mother?" But then* was a pause in
the cheery talk, and almost before she
knew it itrs. Swift had asked:
"What are you going to do with
that child, Annie?"
"I wiH keep her until I can find her
a home, Laura. Poor girl! I wish
that I were able to give her the privil
eges she deserves. If she could only
fort him."
Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and
beautiful. Miss Poole and Dora were
up bright and early, for there was
much to be done before they could
start for church, and the church-going
•was as important an item as the din
ner in Miss Poole's estimation.
"Such a privilege!" chirped the lit
tle woman, as she dropped the plum-
1
ours
steady boil. "How much nicer
this is than Wing cooped up in a room
in a lodging-house, with only a
restaurant meal to look forward to,
and with plenty of time to get blue
in!"
"Yes, indeed," answered Dora, with
an eloquent glance as she shelled the
peas.
There had been much debate as to
what vegetables should accompany
the turkey in its brown and basted
state on the dinner-table, for the
Italian vender had his cart so heavily
laden with garden produce that Miss
Poole would fain have sampled every
thing he had. The size of her range
and Tier limited store of cooking uten
sils restricted her to a few that her
friends liked so cauliflower, sweet
potatoes, green peas, and celery were
at last decided upon, which, with
cranberry sauce, would make by no
means a poor repast.
"There will be no French dishes,"
Miss Poole said: "butLaura will have
a dinner such 41s her mother might
have cooked when we were girls. Give
me the old-fashioned Yankee cooking
every time, my dear."
And Dora smiled and nodded in re
sponse, as only a charming girl with
a goxl appetite could under the cir
cumstances.
Everything was standing in neat
readiness 011 the table, shelf, and sink,
and Miss Poole was taking a satisfac
tory survey before preparing for
church, wh«m the door-bell rung and
Dora returned with a basket and a
note.
As the elder woman read the mis
sive, a si.adow passed over her face.
"Mrs. Swift says that an old gentle
man friend dropped in unexpectedly
last night, and as she has made no
preparations and has given the ser
vants the day, she feels obliged to
bring her visitor here. I'm sorry, for
I counted UJKII having a cosey time
to ourselves.'" Then smiling cheerful
ly "But never mind, he will be wel
come. )jen the basket. Dora."
A delightful exclamation arose as
the raised cover disclosed beautiful
flowers and grapes. It was an oppor
tune gift, for there was a dewiness
about Dora's eyelashes that showed
that she was thinking of the mother
who had been here last Thanksgiv
ing. She was soon employed in ar
ranging theclustersof Muscat, Tokay,
ami Hose of Pwru in a glass dish, and
asking Miss l'oolw to admire with her
1 he contrasting bunches of amber and
red and purple. The flowers, tx,
were a delight, soothing the troubled
young heart with their voiceless elo
quence.
Mi.-.s Poole gave the girl a lxk of
yearning affection. No one knew of
the warfare that was going on her
bosom. How she loved this dear
child Yet to-day she was going from
her to cheer a bereaved home, and
how desolate she would lie! Yes,
Pearl's room was waiting for Dora.
For days preparations had been going
011, and every night Miss Poole had
come home Warning with smiles. She
lost sight of herself in rejoicing with
her friend, who had emerged out of
her morbid condition, and was dis
playing a cheerful interest in the pre
parations for her adopted child. Then
there was asm prise in store for Dora,
and a joyful one she knew it would
be. Miss Poole rejoiced to think of
the young grl's future prospects. She
had told her that Mrs. Swift was pre
paring for a young friend, anil Thanks
giving evening, when they accompan
ied the lady home, they could see the
i bower of beauty which was waiting
for the coming guest. Dora had been
in a state of delighted anticipation
ever since. Thanksgiving Day had
come, and it required all Miss Poole's
exertions to fight against the desola
i tion that was striving to gain an en
trance into her brave little heart.
The church going brought some
comfort. On the way home she could
recall numberless blessings for which
she could be thankful and as she re
moved her wraps, she said softly:
"I will show Laura and the dear
chiM that I am thankful with them
by wearing my silk dress to-night."
Any one looking into the kitchen
that afternoon would have seen the
iiersonideation of contentment in the
little housekeeper bustling about there.
There was a sputter and fi/v.le about
the pots and pans agreeably sugges
tive of the near approach of dinner
time, which Dick, interpreting as |os
sible rivalry to his vocal jnjwers, tried
to vanquish by tuning up his hoarse
little pipes into a harsh melody. Then
the odors from the stewpan and oven
had their effect upon Topsy and Jer
ry Topsy, with a world of* pleading
in her one eye, accompanied Dick's
voice with the most pathetic of meaws
while Jerry jumped ami frisked and
was equally expressive in hisown way
until he was surprised by being shut
up in the shed, as the sight of his
coatless back would not exactly act as
an appetizer upon the guests.
Dora had set and reset the table at
least a dozen times, and Miss Poole
was looking anxiously at the clock,
for everything was dished for the
dinner, when Mrs. Swift and her
friend arrived. Miss Poole could not
understand why Laura betrayed so
much emotion when she introduced
Mr. Potter, for her voice choked, and
she immediately left the room in a
very unceremonious manner.
lie was a rheumatic old man, very
lame, very deaf, and very much
wrapped up. He had a thick shock of
gray hair, and his face was twisted
into a hundred wrinkles. He would
not remove his overcoat or silk hand
kerchief which was tied round his
neck close to his face. ''Rheuma
tism!" was his laconic explanation.
Miss Poole was all anxious sympathy.
She saw that he avoided draughts.
She provided him with her easiest
chair. She was too solicitous to no
tice that Mrs. Swift was too full of
laughter to speak. She raised her
voice until at last her friend ventured
to remonstate:
"Don't bother about him, Annie.
He is a crusty old fellow, and as deaf
as a post."
"Hush!" whispered the kind-heart
ed hostess: "I am afraid he will hear
you." Then she begged him to take
some celery, as she believed it was
goml for rheumatism, and heaped his
plate with good things, and raised her
voice all the louder, just to receive
jerky monosyllabic responses for her
pains.
The dinner passed off very well, on
the whole. Laura was cheerful and
profuse in her praises. "It reminds
me of home," slie said, somewhat sad
ly. out before the tears had time to
gather—and they were wondvrfully
near all their eyes just then—Mr. Pot
ter took such a mammoth pinch of
snuff that they all sneezed, and what
was more natural than that they
should laugh after that? Mrs. Swift,
especially, indulged in such a burst of
merriment that a discerning person
could have seen ttiat there was some
thing more than a pinch of snuff to
excite it. Indeed, Dora's brown eyes
were lixed steadily 011 the visitor, aud
she longed to ask Mrs. Swift in a
whisper if he waa'nt putting on a lit
tle bit."
The meal over, they withdrew to
the parlor, where Dora played aud
sung and as the old man drew him
self up to the piano, Mrs. Swift beck
oned to her friend and said
"Ijend me an apron and I will help
you to clear up, Annie, for Mr. Potter
will fa 11 as 1
een soon. He always does
after dinner.
It was not long before Dora made
her appearance.
"Mr. Potter has gone out on the
1lisrch,
o
and he wauts a match to light
cigar."
With their combined efforts the
clearing up was soon effected. Miss
Poole donned her brown silk dress
but when they were ready to return
to Mrs. Swift's, Mr. Potter was snor
ing on the ]Mrch, and the little wom
an would not have him disturbed.
Mrs. Swift gave her friend a mean
ing look.
"If you won't mind, I will go on
with Dora," she said, "and you can
follow with Mr. Potter."
"Very well was the cheery answer.
"For I must feed poor Jerry before I
start."
Mrs. Swift stooped and whispered
some thing in Miss Poole's ear, "Be
kind to him," was what she said, and
Miss Poole,_ not seeing any sueeial
significance in the words, smiled and
nodded assent. But all the cheeriuess
fled as Mrs. Swift and Dora departed.
She threw herself into achairwith
streaming eyes: but a movement on
the poarcli caused her to dry her tears
speedily, and jump to her feet to find
that her visitor was snoring louder
thi.11 ever.
"Poor old man!" she murmured,
gently placing a warm shawl over
his knees. Then she went into the
yard with a dish of scraps and releas
ed Jerry from his confinement. What
a happy dog he was! How he jumped
and frisked and danced about her!
She smiled through her tears. Here
was something that loved her. Yes,
he had even forgotten his hunger in
his joy at seeing her.
She was gently patting his head
when a soft voice reached her ear:
"God bless the little woman!"
She looked up hastily. Surely she
was mistaken. That voice belonged
to the past—the dear, dead pasj. But
Jerry pricked up his ears, and barked
lustily. He has no hairs to bristle,
but fie made up for their loss by a
succession of quick, aggressive bounds
toward the house.
Miss Poole followed the dog. It
was just as well if he had awakened
her guest, for the air was chilly. She
walked round to the front of the
house, and that voice was still ringing
iu her ears. Was it possible that the
benediction had floated to her ears
from afar? She had heard of such
things before. And then her friend's
whispered words came clearly, sharply
to her remembrance. "Be kind to
him." Did Laura mean— But she
had reached the porch. Her visitor
was not there, but his cane was so
was the silk handkerchief, and—Miss
Po le could hardly believe her eyes—
but, there too was the shock of gray
hair.
Wonderingly, yet in tremulous an
ticipation. she eijtered the door, and
as she did so her eyes fell upon a tall
man, standing with outstretched
hands before her. She took him all
in at one glance—his serene, bald
forehead, his long, sandy beard
streaked with silver, his kindly face,
his tender blue eyes fixed lovingly
upon her.
"Annie." lie said, "don't you know
me? Don't you remember Will
Graham, your old playmate and
friend—your own Will that has never
ceased to love you?"
"Oh, Will!" she cried.
Mrs. Swift and Dora were sitting
side by side and hand in hand when
the two entered. Miss Poole was
clinging to her companion's arm.
There was something in her mien that
checked the impulsive outbreak with
which Dora was about to greet her.
Mrs. Swift came forward with an
affectionate caress:
At last, sister!" she said tenderly.
ELSIE ANOE.
•exfrnn Hospitality.
Fannie li. Ward.
Having once gained the confidence
of Mexican aristocrats and the entree
to their homes, one finds them most
charming people- generous and hos
pitable to a fault—but most always
remember to allow a wide margin for
the extravagant gallantry of Southern
races. For example, when you visit
a family for the first time, your host
is sure to
say (in the musical Castilian.
which loses much of its fine meaning
in translation): "Consider this house
your home while in the city. All
here is at your disposition. Sly case
is yours, and I am your guest." You
are not to move in and take literal
possession, but must have some equal
ly polite reply upon your tongue's
end. If you chance to express ad
miration for his horse, his watch, the
garment he wears, he immediately
says: "Take it. it is yours"—-and the
situation is sometimes embarrassing.
They love to wine and ^dine you, and
l*ad you with extravagant
gifts. always, however, ex
ited ing an equal return.
And, then they will pet and "coddle"
you to an unprecedented degree, and
ojjen their hearts so entirely that you
may read the innermost secrets of
Mexican character like an open book
and vastly interesting reading it is.
But be careful that the fur is never
"smoothed the wrong way!" The
sharpest, of claws are hidden under
that velvet exterior, and those suave
manners cover depths of passion,
anger, jealousy, revenge, past all
sounding—aa cruel and relentless as
the grave.
The fruit shipments from the Hud
son River valley are simply immense
and surpass all previous years. The
amount of grapes alone tliat is shipped
is between live or six hundred tons
daily. Of these there are numerous
varieties, but the Concord is the prin
cipal grape produced. The season
will continue for two weeks yet. The
district from which most of the fruit
is taken extends from Cornwall to
Kingston. A local newspaper says
that in five years from now the whole
river front, and for several miles in
land, will be oue vast vineyard. I^arge
quantities of into peaches are also be
ing shipped.
"What's the matter with you, Pat?
You lean forward like a man with a
spinal complaint." "Och, it's nothin',
yer honor, ownly that I was compel
led to borrova shurt from me hunch
backed brotuer, an' it's niver a soul
can git the bulge out of it, so they
can't."
COUNT RUMFORH'S idea of a kitchen
fire was that it should do all the work
required in a heating way about the
house, and so when his fire was not
needed for cooking purposes it was
providing warm air for the rooms,and
liiially after the fire had apparently
fulfilled every other mission the
chimney terminated in a series of hot
air pipes, which ran through a tank
in the upper story and furnished hot
water. A few of Rumford's ideas,
put in practice the present day, woultj
be productive of much saving, since
every housekeeper knows that the
kitchen stove is the most wasteful one
about the house, as much fuel being
required to boil a couple of eggs anu
a pot of coffee as would warm the en
tire building from top to bottom.
The total vote of Virginia for Leg
islative memlers at the late election,
was against for C011
gressinan-at--Large in lS8g. The De
mocratic majority now is 17,IKM, and
the Readjustee' majority last year
was r»,S.°i7. The total Rcadjustcr in
crease this year is 2S.71U and the
Democratic 49,490.
Horticultural Notes.
The strawberry prospect in South
ern" Illinois is'not good for anoth
er season. The drouth through Aug
ust and September has played smash.
Every grower is complaining of a poor
stand. The white grub and drouth
have ruined them. All last spring's
getting is not half a stand from the
above named causes, drouth and in
sects.
The peach growing centre is grad
ually moving South. A few years
ago there were great orchards in New
Jersey. Then Delaware was the chief
producer. Now Maryland an Virgin
ia are coming to the front. The larg
est peach farms are in Maryland. The
Round Top farm has 12r»,(MX peach
trees. O11 the estate of Col. Watkins
there are 120,000 trees. A peach tree's
usefulness is over after ten or twelve
years of life, and the soil in which
it grows is unfit for peach cul
ture.
In a speech delivered at the Dayton
Horticultural Society, Dayton, O., by
J. O Arnold, the following advanta
ges of tile drainage were enumerated:
"It warms the earth from beneath, of
fers more feeding ground, thus un
locking its fertility prevents surface
wash, dispenses with open ditches
which are always filling up, enables
the crop to nutture before frost, pre
vents the winter killing of wheat, the
heaving of rxtis by frost, utilizes the
snow fall, increases the crop, dispells
chills and fever, and improves the
health of man. It is a savings bank
paying better than ten per cent., and
sometimes the gain is 20, 40 and 60
per cent, greater, and the farmers are
iinding it out."
Dressing Poultry For Market.
A. Lawrence in the Fancier's
Gazette gives the following regarding
the preparation of poultry for the mar
ket:
Fattening--In fattening poultry
give them all they will eat. Corn is
preferable, as poultry fattened on it
is more yellow and better than that
fattened on any other grain, and re
member you will get pay for every
jwmdd your poultry g%ins in fatten
ing.
Killing and dressing—Food in the
crop injures the appearance, is liable
to sour, and purchasers object to nay
for the worse than useless weights:
therefore, keep from food twenty-four
hours before killing.
Sticking in the mouth—we think
the best mode of killing, although
some prefer opening the veins of trie
neck. Dress the fowl as soon as pos
sible after it dies. For scalding, the
water should be nearly or quite boil
ing hot. Dip the bird in the water
three times, holding it there about two
seconds at each immersion, and lift
I ing it entirely out each time. Pick
the feathers off immediately witheut
rubbing, which causes the skin to
turn black. It should be plumped, by
dipping into boiling water f«r about
two seconds, then immediately into
cold water.
If your poultry is nice and fat, we
prefer it dry-picked. Take nothing
but the feathers off for this market,
leaving head and feet on and entrails
in. Be sure and let the poultry get
entirely cold before packing.
I
A MINT OF WOMEN.
They Arc making Our
Coin.
Fifty women employed in the mint
in San Francisco are called adjusters,
and their pay is $2.73 a day. These
adjusters occupy two large rooms on
the second floor of the mint. One is
used for the adjusting of silver and
the other for that of gold. The floors
are carpeted, and each lady has a mar
ble-top table, a pair of scales, and a
fine, delicate file. Before the gold is
turned over to them to be adjusted it
goes through the process of being
rolled, annealed, cut and washed.
They then take it a state ealled
"blanks, that is perfectly smooth,and
the weighing is done. It is weighed
to see if each piece be of stauuard
weight, which must be of 4123 grains
for a silver dollar.a slight discrepancy
being allowed on either side. If a coin
is found outside of the limit after be
ing weighed by an adjuster it is re
turned: if too light it is condemned,
and must be remelted if too heavy it
is filed to its proper weight. This is
the ladies' work, and an interesting
sight it is to watch the small white
fingers deftly handling the shining
pieces. A room near the adjusting
room has been set aside for the ladies,
who use it as a lunch room two long
tables are provided, and a janitress
furnishes boiling water for making
tea, and also keeps the place neat ana
clean. Several of the ladies have been
in the jniut for many years.
Jturied Treasure.
l-iiredu linies
It lias been a tradition in Lareuo
ever since the occupation of Mexico by
General Taylor's army that on the v
aeuation of that country by jAny
there was a great amount of o. •^ir
bon whisky buried somewhere ni the
environs of New l^aredo by General
Taylor before crossing the river. Last
Sunday Tom Gal legher started on foot
to the outskirts of the town. He ex
tended his walk some distance, and
soon approached an arroyo that makes
{into the Rio irande just above town,
He had not proceeded far before he
noticed some rather peculiar mounds
just to one side of thelted of the creek.
I lie got a sharp stick and began to dig,
when he found a brown stone jar. lie
(quickly ojeiied it, and discovered that
he had in his hand two gallons of the
finest bourbon whisky that ever made
ia man drunk. He tasted it so many
times before he got home that he was
rather drunk when he did arrive.
After a few hours' sleep he took a
couple of men and proceeded to the
arroyo, where they succeeded 111 un
earthing ten two-gallon jugs of that
historical whisky, which is now thirty
seven years old.
Representative Cassidy, of Alabama,
will introduce a bill early the forth
i coming session, providing for a record
of marriages in Utah and for the dis
frauchittuuettt of women in tke 1'erri
I tory.
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