—— THE WORLD'S NEED, Bo many gods, 80 many creeds Bo many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind Is all the sad world needs, —Ella Wheeler Wilcox, in the Century. tN MORNING IN THE PARK. BY WILLIAM M'KENDRIC BANGS, INTRAL PARK was at its best, but it was evident enough that Doug: las Gray, as he en- tered the park at its lower and prin- cipal entrance, saw | nothing of what- ever there was of beauty in the scene about him. Ap-| parently Le was not happy. He walked along slowly, with his eyes upon the path immedi ately before hum, and with his hands clasped together behind his back. There were but few pople in the | paths, and the drives were almost empty, so that his attention tohis own thoughts was not diverted by any oe- asion to observe others, or by any need to preserve himself from harm. He walked on thus, without lifting his eyes, past the sorry collec- | tion of eaged animals which were to be looked at later in the day by so many | curious visitors; past the patient | donkeys, waiting the coming of the nurse-girls with their through the tree-lined mall and past the terrace, and go came to a bridge crossing a narrow part of the lake, | where he paused for a few minutes | and noticed, wonderingly, how clearly | the trees and the passing clouds, were refls dull andl almost muddy fresh air and the surro: soothed and rested him, not conscious of the less weighted with sorr and better able to bear his burdens, whatever they might be. He walked on more briskly now, and skirting tl ramble, with its curiously imitation of nature's presently came to a seclud and there he s¢ himss familiar th park, looked about him as th view was strange and deed, the circumstances were novel and his mood unusual to him. | Almost at his feet, or separated from | him only by the width of the foot- walk, ran the bridle-path, and beyond was the wide, smooth drive. Helooked | indifferently upon the few drives with heir equipages, and with little interest uj on the equestrians who passe d before him. But within a few minutes there came along the bridle-path, turning | sharply # corner just below where he sat, a young woman on horseback. As | she came abreast of him and saw who | it was sitting there alone she checked her horse se suddenly that he was thrown well back, to his manifest dis- pleasure, while she herself was almost unseated. To avoid her and het horse | the groom who followed close behind | was forced to make a quick, sharp | turn, but he did so adroitly, and then, stopping, he waited as patiently as he could at a discreet and proper distance. And Douglas Gray, when the young lady stopped before him in so unwise a manner, he rose in alarm and hur ried toward her. “Yon should not have he sal 1 in reprool. “Oh, good morning, Gray!” she r¢ spon led, with inflection which, to Gray's ears, perhaps then a little more sensitive and quick to hear offense than usual, had a sound of | SBArcCasm. “(ood morning, Leith,” he | returned, though and then repeated, ‘You should not have done that. It was not safe. Really, Ethel, vou are too reckless.” | " “Thank you. You are very kind," | she answered, and then, with a change of manner, she adde tiently, ‘It was cruel in you me here “Cruel?” he repeated in astonish ment. y “Yes, ernel. 1 did not would. I thought “But to follow?” he said, interrupt- ing her. You are hardly fair, You Are on horseback M I ou foot And I Was here first, you know, Surely I did not follow.” Miss Leith looked at him qnietly for a few minutes, making no response | in words, a smile just showing upon her lips as though she was amused but did not wish to show it, but the | smile grew and then she laughed un restrainedly, and so musically that the singing birds might silenced in listening envy, “Well?' Gray maid, inquiringly. He was puzzled and a little hurt, too, | but had he been more aente he would | have perceived that her laughter was not in derison of him, and that it was | not altogether joyous. The humor of the situation she felt; but the situa- tion itself hurt, too “Well?” he repeated. “It is so absurd,” she answered, as she regained her self-control, “Indeed, Miss Leith,” he retorned, with a great assertion of dignity in his manner, “You will pardon me if | almost chiarges; on | blue ndings had and, though | reason, he felt stronger w Wii all the ugh the new to him. In- was with + Is done that,” Mr anu Miss simply, quick think yon have been absurd.” “Well? he mid again, as she paused. “I hope you will explain.” “1 have been so unhappy so long — ever since last night — because be- onuse—1 so feared you might have been hurt—because { “aia not know what might have been the effect upon you of my--my~" “Refusal of me,” Gray said, as she hesitated, *‘It was a refusal, you know ~t very decided refusal; and I do not see why —-" “But you ought to see why,” she interrupted. “I wes about to say, only, that 1 | absurd of me, was it not? | will not—will not do that; but prom- | | plied, seriously enough. | spon le i, | me think you loved me, too.” | explained, '‘to say | my life be ruined.” | anything so untrue. | and to 1x | quietly, “and it seemed to me that 1 suy that I cannot see what can be 50 | " | or nothing with me. | so long 1 was your lover, you know. did not see why you should be afraid of the word." “Oh |" ““A refusal it was,” ho repeated, nnd as to your reasons, of course I would not ask. Who would, and for that matter, why should I care to know?” he asked, bitterly. “Why, indeed?” she returned ns bitterly, and then coutinued abrupt- ly: “I am not heartless, I want yon to know~-I really do-——all the night “Oh, that is—"' long I worried and worried becanse I “Except,” he interrupted, “I want feared you had been so wounded. I | youn to know that becanse you find me, i was very unhappy, and yet—and yet,” | as you said, trying to be interested 1n ~ghe laughed again before she went all this" —and with a comprehensive on—‘‘here you are enjoying all this : gesture he indieated all the fair view as if nothing had happened. It was | before them— *“‘that I love you any | less or think your love any less good | to have and to keep. But,” he went on, grimly, ““we know- I can remem- ber how cruelly a child suffers when he finds he cannot have the moon. But he lives through it. He hae to, alas!" would not plead for your love; I would not tell you that with it to help and encourage me I might win the world. Pshaw! Although I did think it the one good thing which | could come to me in life, I still did | not want you to give it to me in pity, or because I wanted it and begged for it. No; I wanted it only if you conld give it to me freely, aud as a right. That is all.” **Would it have gratified you had I —had I killed myself, say?" “Don’t!” she said earnestly. ‘*Men have been known to do that, you know,” he pursned ; ‘“‘and for less canse than I have, too." “‘Oh, please do not speak so,” returned, she “Promise me—I know you “Oh, I bave no patience,” she be- gan; but interrupting herself, went { on, abruptly: "If only you had been willing to trust me!" “Trust yon!" he repeated, is aston- ishment. “I asked you to share all | my hopes. Why, I asked you to be | my wife! What stronger evidence of trust can a man give than that?” | “Oh, that!” she said, contemptn- ously. ise me you will not do anything you should not.” “I will do the best I can,” he re- me," she re- “You made “Yon are laughing at passionately. “Tam very glad I did make you think yon; but it should not have been hard---1 had only the truth to tell.” “*And vet you are here?” **Yes, I am here, as you see.’ ““And youn don't said, petulantly, “Ah, ves, Ethel, but I do mind,” he | returned, gently. “Perhaps if I did | not mind much I wonld not be | here. I loved and--kbnt he said, interrupting and then he continued with a sadness which she, tng busy with her horse, which had did not heard his words vou do not wish I sho nto all that again, do you?” “No,” swered, curily, an hat he should so ask her if he “Well, that is of some consequence, though you speak as if it was of none | at all.” “A man might ask na because he wanted a wife,” “Yes, he might.” “Or because he though he owed so much to her.’ “Yes, I suppose so; but you know why I asked you," he returned, look- ing at her curiously. “I know now- it you kr w that man mind at all?” she 80 you, himself, n answered. went on, 1m- she “B she petuously, “ron have spoken so often and so bitterly of women hinder their husbands and upon them —of who their hus le mission and sole al- “but 1 1d go 10 restive, notice, she are drags do not As if a woman's aim should be to added, contempt- are say women Mmnads, ' she an it help some man!" sh uously, “What nscious ol, alxhougl he od | Ot | interrupted him. inderstand it “And I don't see why a nd ' Mh vd him f Are 80 strong man--men see why a man woman's help. many stories of have been ruined by MMArriages, Oh, I re- you have said— r quickly out of re she could ehieck and turn him, t once to ucceeded, and came | amber everything sek to where 1, he had everything " : turned and was walking away, striking “But what has this— it the plants along the path with his “And you know you haw cane, angry and hurt that .ds wound! pa frivolous." she conti should have been so ruthlessly and so “Surely needlessly opened. Bat, in truth, it “Oh, you have not rebuked me in had not gone far, if sat all, toward |g rds I know,” she went inter. healing. rupting hax again, relentlessly, *‘but “Mr. Gray!” Ethel called, for he | your manner. Asif a girl ought not was not yet out of hearing. “Mr. 3, be happy and careless and free as Gray, you had net finished,” she went | |,n0 as she can Troubles sad on as he joined her. | cares come soon enough!” “Finished?” he repeated. *‘I don't | “Ethel, for heaven's sake do lot + Laow. But am sorry to have driven I am trying to understand,” you away by speaking of my love, shall not so offend again.” “Oh,” she responded, demurely. ad’ he continned, at sight 5 NO» men WHOSE ives 1 % Go. | had OF NnWise CGiray had stoo guedq, on, be. | “Do you mean to say that that ia | why you declined? That you refused Jesides.” thought it would be breaking his promise, ‘‘you have told || me that I was able to make you be lieve that I loved you. Why should I speak of it again?’ ““I don't §now, I am sure,” she could find to say. “Of it is uld like Assure You were g¢ once ne because you a will frighten my horse “Oh, bother your Gray | said, warmly. “There only one thing I ought to do and want to do.” “And that?” Miss Leigh asked, she tried to soothe her. horse, which you know," he | had started and yime restless as hat you had been (iray had come closer to them. worried. I can only thank you for ‘ vour kindness and interest, and say,as | «How that would look." re. I said before, that I mean to do the sponded, and continued: ‘It is very best I can. I will not be overcome,” | fortunate that I am here and out he added with determination, ‘or let | of vour reach - of Then she gave was all is over now. 1 you, though. course is all to wl enough, wi bee ‘Simply take you, and keep you.” she un now her horse his head and, urging him forward, began again her long-interrupted ride; but belore she came even to where her groom was waiting she changed her intention and turned toward pity, As she passed Gray, stood where she had left him, she called to him: An il ng, CAsY carried her out “It will all be faney,” she returned. ““Don"t," he plea led. easy enough, I “Don't will no aay It be easy.” “Bat vy night, and hesitation and evidert er T whe un left me and—" she so suddenly last who still went on with 1barrassme nt, sud you began so soon to forget here and interested in other *‘It is 80 late I shou go home am going.” And stride her horse #4 { of Gray's sight. " he nssented as she! As the sun had risen higher a haze paused, “but, at all events, I did not | had come, softening the outlines of begin to try to forget until you forced | the distant trees, and giving promise me to, And,” he continued, grimly, | that the day was to be a warm one, “I have not succeeded very well, | It was indeed already much warmer, either, But I will.” | but, nevertheless, as Giray retraced his “Oh, certainly yon will, There is | steps toward the entrance he walked no doubt of that, There are so many | rapidly and far more vigorously than things a man can be iaterested in.” | he had in the invigorating air of the “Fortunately,a man is compelled to | earlier morning Leslie's Weekly, beat least, | think fortunately, He ms ——— has his affairs.” lac “That is just it!" she interrupted, Flax Over Lalayette, petulantly. ‘‘His affairs, indeed I" “Yes,” Gray went on, not heeding, apparently, the interruption. ‘'‘And it is fortunate for me that I am com- pellel to be interested in my affairs, is it not? If my way had all been made fcr me I could aflurd to nurse my grief and to make much of it, and I dare say I would. And that would not be good to do, sarely.” ““No, I fancy not,” she answered, doubtfully, and then with a quick change of manner she asked him: “Bat why did you leave me so sud: denly last night?” “There are times when a man oan- not retreat too quickly,’ he returned, ith a | things." “oh, An American “While in Paris a short time ago,” | said a traveler recently, **it oceurred | to me that it was a fitting act to make a pilgrimage to the tomb of that illus- trious Frenchman, dear to the hearts of Amerioan patriots, Marquis de La- fayette. 1 asked a number of people before I conld find snyone to en- lighten met as to the spot, but after | repeated inquiry ascertained the loea- | tion, The grave is situated mn old | Paris, within the grounds of a convent | that the ancestors of Lafayette found- ed, and where repose the remains of | many of the French nobility, The | first thing that attracted my atten- tion with the hero's tomb was that above 1t was floated a silken flag bear- It was all | ing the stars and stripes, I bad been lover | *“It seems that a good many years ago an American gentleman left in his will a sum of money to be used for the | special purpose of keeping an Ameri- | ean flag forever flying over the grave I could not be that I could not be | of Lafayette. It has done so without asaything. I have loved you-—how ean | intermission from the day the will one tell? When did I first meet youn? went into effect, and whenever, Ever since then I tuink I must have | throngh the wear of the elements, loved you, and looked forward, and | oue flag becomes unserviceable, a new hoped to win your love and you, | | one straightway takes its place, was blind, perhaps, and deluded, but | Throagh untold centuries the em- my hope was very real to me. When | blem of the country which it its early that was killed, or gone, there was | struggles for liberty had his ben- nothing left for me to do or say to | eflcent aid, will wave above his ashes ™ had come to one of them. Even though you did not know it, and whether you wanted me to be or not, I was; and you do know it now. When | you. AundIwould wot urge yous I| <Washiogton Post, who-—who | And | as | 224 2 YOUNG SHEEP MOST PROFITANLE, Experiments show fFeven to ten that sheep of months old ean be made to gain fourteen pounds for every 100 | pounds of digestible material con- sumed, whila those of eighteen months | old will make a gain of but five pounds, It is difficult to get a profit from feeding old sheep; and any sheep can be made to gain as much 1n ten weeks as ig usually done in five wonths, —New York World, A PREVENTIVE OF PLANT MILDEW Joil a pound of sulphur snd one of lime in two gallons of water until it is reduced to about six pints. Put this aside to settle, then pour it off clear of all rediment and bottle it, When needed for use, mix a gill of this liquid in five gallons of water. Sprinkle the plants with this in the evening, or, better, apply with a syr- ge If this is persistently used on green house plants spring and summer they troubled with mildew. This is rei particularly valuable as during will never be ounce fa week ured asa nedy, but it is A preventive, It also bins a good effect in kee ping down insects. — Detroit Free Press, to the can Farmer, ACTE Bry THE 1 He is found to produce a poun product from less food than either cattle or sheep, and therefore the most economical machine to manufac- tare our great crop ito marketable ment. Our people are becoming wiser every year, and exporting leas, proportionately, of the raw material and more of the condensed product. If it takes seven pot average to 1 is no dou gins t porting on ham, instead of The difference 1n cost a fine profit of itself; 1 pound of mest 1s usually worth than seven rn in the eign market. The production of should be ed on the consideration that it earries of the valuable constituents than beef The fat pig « three-fourths as much mineral matter per hundredweight as the fat steer, and only two-fifths as much nitrogen per hundredwe ight, therefore, the production of a ton of pork on the farm will carry off only a little more IRAE Feven | ands of © encoura than half the ity carrie d of by ) ton « This ¢ in round numbers the comparative t of producir k and beef is thus evident that the pi should high piace in our agriculture; be fostered in every way ities studied and pushed. carefully noted and prevented, for he is the most profitable meat producing animal on farm. The pig is an excellent adjunct to the dairy, turning all the refuse milk whey into cash, As he is king of our meat exports, so let us treat him with great consid eration. ~—St. Louis Star-Sayings, Ives have a should his capabil- his diseases the THE APPLE AS A COMMERCIAL CROP, Spraying with the copper solutions will not, alone, give an apple crop every year, as some horticulturists seem to think. when they do bear the crop is heavy and so exhaustive that the tree takes | the following season to recuperate, If the fruit was thinned-leaving only a moderate crop to bo matured The majority especially bearing for a potash in some crop conld be grown every year, erying need of the great of our orchards to-day, those that have been in namber of years, is form, hard-wood ashes where these can be obtained at fair prices, In setting ont an orchard many points should be taken into considera. tion--such as the market the fruit is designed for, the varieties which flourish best in the vicinity, produe- | tiveness, keoping qualitios, ete. The commonest mistake is that of planting | As a rule three | too many varieties, or four varieties of established adaptability to your conditions and | popular in market are enough for any commercial orchard, and it is oftener than otherwise good judgment to make the list still smaller, Single trees of varieties grown for family use may be added if desired, but it is wiser genor- ally to graft two or three kinds ous and | the treo given proper fertilization, = | There is nothing Letter than | ergios into the dairy daring the | single tree to make up this variety, { rather than to plant so many trees, | We should not be deterred from plant. ing desirable market varieties because they have been badly affected by scab. Spraying is an antidote for that | trouble and a man is worse than fool- ish to-day who plants apple trees and proposes to grow fruit without spray- ing. ---American Agriculturist, THE FILMY Few of have attracted more attention than the different varieties of esparagus, The first of these to become generally esparagus tennissimuas, a climber with fine feathery foliage; a plant which advanced so rapidly in public favor as to soon be- come a rival of the popular smilax. From a large cluster of roots dozens of fast-growing wiry stems spring and soon hide the soft foli- age, as fine as silken threads, Another variety of later introdue- tion is esperagus cormoriensis, another elegant climber for the or con- servatory, by = yusidered even superior to tennissimus, being of more vigorous growth. But these climbers need support, but it must be lender and dainty to suit such airy, graceful plante Still more ESPARAGUS, KNOwn was slender hemselves in hous and me © attractive 1s ind esparagns plumosa, a gem delicacy and fineness texture, a in le Arrangement } I been call 118 has sDTrav ple , & Spray pi a Week } with viol €¥] arag arieties of es INIIAX, all placed i special care being needed except to give them partial shade and an annual rest. Are easily grown if good loamy soil, ne the uew decorative plants | Showering the foliage every day ie | recommended, but my plants do not | get it, yet they grow finely. esparagus now of all highly ree not yet given thet believe any o hen jual the nu at 1 have , An 1 cannot aisty the plumy es- Free fern-like plum 1 ter PAragus Press. FARM AKD GARDEN NOTES. Now watch for the insects, and do not let the little pests get the best of van Let the pig have a share of the ture, especially the weather pas- luring bot What can be prettier than a brood of fat little chickens before they have got their pin feathers? A horse will drink a great deal more water if to drink from a trough instead of a pail. AR allowed an ua Clean out from le¢ the poultry roosts at least once a week, and then put a layer of ashes on the floor, In greasing a many forget tl fifth The horse gets the benefit of this when he is turning cor ners Avoid the June flush of milk, with its low prices for calves and all dairy produce, by having your cows ecalve at any time except May and Jane, wagon wheel While eggs are so cheap in some sections, seven to ten cents per dozen, it may pay to feed them in the milk to calves as a great factor in growth and fattening. What would many a eity child give to glance at a row of cherry trees in full blossom? Stick to the farm, boys, for if you don’t you will be sure | to pass many a regretful day. Apples ordinarily are | a full crop on alternate years, becanse | The windows of hen houses should be covered with cotton cloth or protect. ed with a rude awning made of the same cloth, or with evergreen trees { cut and set like posts before the win- dows, washed, or the glass may be white: The modern dairyman who is mak- ing the most money hires but little help, devotes the time from May to September to raising forage and grain crops, keeps only a limited dairy in milk during the summer, and pats his other eight months, It is not an attractive sight to have the lawn covered for months with coarse stable manure, making it look like a barnyard, S5'vble manure fills the lawn with weeds; this is inevit able. Give it wood ashes, bone dust, ote, or any standard grass fertilizer and you ean have a perfect lawn. With turkeys, try not to have to move them into new quarters, The hens, especially, do not usually do so well when moved late in the season. They like to become accustomed to their place before n time. Have time to look up the most desirable ry for nests and the bast places to their on-coming broods, | Doubt as to the Seat of Permeation, “4 kin almost make out this feller's poem,” said Unele 8i, laying down the magazine his niece had brought to the farm, “‘but not quite.” “Read it, uncle,” said the niece. “It goes this way : Low in the we A cloud of f wl there portent LRAT en blaek is us, with t FV a Re \ strange thrill brings the tens r A subtle {eel rmeates my frame ing pe “Well, what is there you do not une derstand? It "clear tion of moods produced by a storm.’ y Rees A CX POs coming “Oh, I understand the storm part of it all right, but what 1 can't git at from his verses is whether he feels it comin’ in his rheumatics er his corns Bome folks feels it way and the other, know.” —C Tribune Ous ros you inciunat: ssi — Killed by a Pet Squirrel, The news of Hammond, Spalding C received was severely | the | and fron lied ing VEeRrs relatives tl unties, ~~ Atlanta J« ventv-five nany ia To Clennse the System Worse Thar Hum If afflicted wit son's Eve soreeves use | water, Drugeists sell at 25 ner If You are Tired . All the ti it 1 W Hood's Sarsaparilla r i (vet H Hood's Pills i "is The Greatest Medical Discovery of the Age. KENNEDY'S Medical Discovery. ONALD KENNEDY, OF ROXBURY, MASS, Has discovered In ome of our common wis & remedy pasture we that kind of Humor down to a common pimple He has tried it in eases, and never failed exoent nder humor). his possession over two hu IPOS OTOrY from the worst Scrofula ver eleven hundred in tw He bas now in AACS ndred evrtifi- cates of its value, all within twenty miles of Boston. Send postal eard for book A benefit is always experienced from the first bottle, and a perfect cure is warranted when the right quantity is taken. When the lungs are affected it canses thooting pains, like needles passing through them ; the same with the Liver or Dowels. This is caused by the ducts being stopped, and always disappears in a week after taking it. Read the label If the stomach is foul or billous it will cause squoamish feelings at first No change of diet ever necessary, Eat the best you ean get, and enough of ft Dose, one tablespoonful in water at bed. time. Sold by all Druggista WHO That insists upon keeping a stock of ) Radwau's Ready Bele In the house? Why, the wise mother. Because, when taken internally it Cures in a few minutes, Cramps, Spasms, Sour Stomach, Heartburn, Nervousness, Sleeplessness, Sick Headache, Diarrhea, Dysentery, Summer Complaint, Colic, Flatulency and all internal pains DOSE-Half a teaspoonful in half 2 tumbler of water Used extermally, it will cure Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Mosquito Bites, of Insects, Sunburns, Bruises, Burns, Sc Coughs, Colds and all throat troubles. Radwdrs Ready Relief, aided by Rad way's will cure Fever and Ague; larious, Bilious and other Fevers, Fifty Cents a Bottle. Bold by RADWAY & CO., New York,
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