6 BAREFOOTED. TTse erfrls ail iike to see the bluets In the lane And the saucy Johnny-Jump-ups In the meader, Rut we boys, we wanter see the dog'ood blooms again Throw-in' a kinder summcr-lookin' shad der; Tar the first mild mornln' when the woods are white (An' we needn' even ask our ma about It) leave our shoes right where we pulled 'em off at night, An' barefooted once again we run an' shout it: You may take the country over— "When the bluebird turns a rover, An' the wind is soft an' hazy, { An' you feel a little lazy. ' An' the nisger quits the possums— It's the time lor dog'ood blossoms. Sow light! helgh-ho! I wish there was more fences here; We d like to jis' keep Jumpln' "em to gether! VO El eds for us, no guns, nor even 'slmmon beer, No nothln' but the blossoms an' fair weather! The meader is a leetle sticky right at first, But a few short days 'lll wipe away that trouble. STo feel so good an' g;ay I wouldn' mln' the worst That kin be done by any field o' stubble. O all the trees are lookiti' sappy! O all the folks are smllin' happy! An' there's joy in every little bit o' room; But the happiest of 'em all. At the mornln' rooster's call, Are we barefoots when the dog'oods burst abloom! •-John Charles McNeill, In Youth's Com panion. BORN TO SERVE By Charles M. Sheldon, Atrthor of"IN HIS STEPS," "JOHN KING'S QUESTION CLASS," "EDWARD BLAKE,' 1 Etc. (Copyright, I'JUU, by Chariot* M. Sheldon. J CHAPTER VII.— CONTINUED. **lf I am going to stay a servant," «he said, with some calling back of her former habit, "I must learn what God thinks of service. I shall need -all I can get out of His word to strengthen me in days to come." She had made a collection of her passages relating to service, and to-night she Added to it from one of Paul's let ters, dwelling on the words as she read them aloud: "Servants, obey in all things them that are your mas ters according to the flesh; not with eye service, as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing the Lord; whatsoever ye do, work heartily, as *info the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that from the Lord ye shall receive the recompense of the inher itance; ye serve tlio j.ord Christ. For l>e that doetli wrong shall receive Again for the wrong that he hath done; there is no respect of persons. Masters, render unto your servants that which is just and equal; know ing that ye also have a Master in Heaven." "Of course," Barbara mused, after saying the words, "all this was said to actual slaves, whose bodies were bought and sold in the market like cattle. But what wonderful words to be spoken to any class of servants cither then or now! 'Whatsoever ye do, work heartily!' One thing that servants lack in their service is heartiness. Tt is done for wages, not for love of servie°. 'As unto the L.ord and not unto men.' How few servants ever think of that! The Lord is the real Master. He is being served if what I do is a good thing that heeds doing. 'There is no re spect of persons.' How great a thing that is J In Clod's sight my soul is as much worth saving as any other. He thinks as much of me as lie does of the rich and t,ie famous. 'Masters, render unto your servants that which is just and equal.' If tnat were done, it might make conditions far different so far as the servant-girl question is concerned. But who will tell us what is meant by 'just and equal' to-day?" Barbara shook her head doubtfully, and went on. " 'Knowing that ye have also a Master in Heaven.' That helps me. Paul must have known my need as well as the need of the poor bond servants to whom he wrote. 'A Mas ter in Heaven.' May He help me to serve Him in spirit and in truth." So Barbara the next day did not present the appeararce of the mod ern broken-hearted heroine in the end-of-the-century novel. Anyone who knew her could plainly see marks in her face and manner of a great experience. But there was no gloom about her, no un-Chris'tian tragic bewailing of fate or circum stance. If she were to live her life as she supposed she should, without life's greatest help to live, so far as humaji love can go, she would at least live it bravely as so many other souls have done. And yet, Barbara, you know well enough that Ambition does not spell Love. And, in spite of all, you know your heart would tremble if tne young minister of Marble Square church should pass you and give you one ■earnest look out of his great dark eyes, as he did on that well-remem bered day when he said that you were beautiful. Ah, Barbara! Are you quite sure 3'ou have forever bid den farewell to the holiest dream of your womanhood? She busied herself during the day with her work, and in the evening went over to Mrs. Vane's to see her again concerning the proposed build ing. She was eager to get to work. Her heart longed for busy days to keep her mind absorbed. Mrs. Vane suggested several good Ideas. "While you arc waiting to com plete the details of the building it self, why not interview a large num ber of factory and store girls about their work? Find out something about the- reasons that appeal to young women for a choice of labor. You are not certain that you can get any girls to attend your training school. I think you ean, but very Biauy other cood people will tell you jour plan is senseless. It is only when ]<c:ojjic ueglu Lu iry to no pood in the world that tliey discover what fools they are. Other people who never make an effort to better the world will tell them so. There will arise a host of tormenting 1 critics as soon as the idea of your proposed training-school is suggested. They will tear it all to pieces. Don't pay any attention to them. The world does not owe anything to that kind of criticism. But it will help your plan if before the building is put up you can answer honest questions as to its practical working. There's an other thing I would like to say; and I shall say it, my dear, seeing I am old enough to be your grandmother." "What's that?" Barbara asked, coloring. She anticipated Mrs. Vane's next remark. "I think it would be a distinct sav ing of power if in some way we could make the training-school a part of Mr. Morton's social-settlement work." "I don't think it is possible," re plied Barbara in a low voice. Iler manner expressed so much distress that the old lady said at once: "My dear, I will not say any more about it. But will you permit me to tell you plainly that 1 am firmly con vinced that Mr. Morton is in love with you, and wfll ask you to marry him, and you will have to give him some kind of a satisfactory answer, for he is not a young man to be sat isfied with unsatisfactory answers." "Oh, I cannot believe it!" Barbara exclaimed, and then she put her face in her hands, while she trembled. "It's true!" the pld lady said, stur dily. "My old eyes are not so dim that I cannot see love talking out of other eyes. And that is what his were saying when he was here last week. My dear, there is nothing dreadful about it. I should enjoy hav ing you for my pastor's—" "But it is impossible—" Barbara lifted her head blushingly. "There is nothing impossible in love's kingdom," replied the old lady, gently. "If it comes to you, do not put it away. You are his equal in all that is needful for your happiness." Then Barbara told her all about the event of the night before at the church. If she had been a Catholic, she would have gone to a priest. Be ing- a Protestant, she confessed to this old lady, because her heart longed for companionship, and there was that quality in Mrs. Vane which encouraged confidences. When she was through, Mrs. Vane said: "There is nothing very hope less about all this. He has certainly never been anything but the noble hearted Christian gentleman in his treatment of you." (Barbara did not tell of the remark Mr. Morton had made about beautiful faces. But, in as much as he had apologized for a seeming breach of gentlemanly eon duct, she did not feel very guilty i« withholding the incident from Mrs. Vane.) "And I really believe he feels worse than you do over any slights 3'ou received from the members of the church." Barbara was silent. Now that her heart was unburdened she felt grate ful to Mrs. Vane, bat she naturally "BUT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE— 1 " shrank from undue expression of her feelings. Mrs. Vane respected her reserve as she had encouraged her confidence. "Don't be downhearted, my dear. Go right on with your plans." Count on me for the 10,000 and more if the plan develops as I think it will. And meanwhile, if in 3'our trips among the working girls, you run across anj'one who can take Hilda's place, send her around. I haven't been able to find anybody yet. I would get along without help, but Mr. Vane will not allow it, with all the company we have. No, don't shake hands like men. Kiss me, my dear." So Barbara impulsively kissed her, and went away much comforted. She creaded the thought that she might meet the young minister, and half hoped she might. But for the nsxt three weeks Mr. Morton was called out of Crawford cn a lecture tour which the Marble Square church granted him; and, when Barbara learned that he was gone, she almost felt relieved as she planned her work with Mrs. Ward's hearty cooperation to see as many working girls as pos sible for information, and to learn from them the story of their choice of life labor, and its relation to her own purpose so far as helping solve the servant question was concerned. What Barbara learned during the next three weeks would make a vol ume in itself. She did not know that she had any particular talent for winning confidences, but a few days' experience taught her that she was happily possessed of a rare talent fur making friends. She managed in one way and another to meet girls at CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1901. work in a great variety of ways. Tn the big department store of Bond man & Co., in the long row of fac tories by the river, in the girls' re freshment rooms at the Young Wom en's Christian association, in the of fices of business friends where the click of the typewriter was the con stant note of service, in the res taurants and waiting-rooms about the big union station, in the different hotels and a few of the boarding houses of Crawford, Barbara met rep resentatives of the great army of young women at work in the city; and out of what seemed like meager and unsatisfactory opportunities for confidence and the sharing of real purpose in labor she succeeded in getting much true information, much of which shaped her-coming plan and determined the nature of her appeal to the mistresses on one hand, and the servants on the other. "With a few exceptions, then," she said to Mrs. Ward one evening after she had been at work on this per sonal investigation for three weeks, "all this army of girls at work repre sents a real need in the home some where. I found some girls working in the offices, and a very few in the stores and factories, who said they were working for other reasons than for necessary money. Here is a list of girls in Bondman's. I told them I did not want it for the purpose of printing it, and it is not necessary. But there are over 200 of these girls who cannot by any possibility save any money out of their expenses, and a few of them"—Barbara spoke with a sense of shame for her human kind and of indignation against un christian greed in business—"a few of them hinted at temptations to live wrong lives in order to earn enough to make them independent. And yet all of these girls vigorously refused to accept a position offered to leave the store and goto work at double the wages in a home as a servant. I of fered over 50 of these girls four dollars a week and good board and room at Mrs. Vane's, and not one of them was willing to accept it, even when, as in many cases, they were not receiving over three and a half a week, out of which they had to pay for board and other necessaries." j "And the reason they gave was?" I Mrs. Ward, who was an interested lis | tener, asked the question, j "They hated the drudgery and con | fineinent of house labor. They loved j the excitement and independence of I their life in the store. Of course, j they all gave a*> on* main reason ; for not wanting to be house servants ; the loss of social position. Several of ; the girls in the factory had > een hired girls. They all withe* xcep- I tion spoke of their former „i-k with evident dislike, and with one or two j exceptions refused to entertain any j proposition togo back to the old ; work. I think one of the girls in the i Art mills will goto Mrs. Vane's. She I worked for her some years ago, and i liked her. But what can the needs of j the home of to-day present to labor I in the way of inducement to. come i into its field? I must confess I had | very little to say to the girls in the j way of inducement. Not on account of ! my own experience," Barbara hastened to say, with a grateful look at Mrs. and Mr. Ward, "for you have been very, very kind to me and made my service sweet; but in general, I must confess, after these three weeks' con tact with labor outside the home, I see somewhat more clearly the reason why all branches of woman's labor have inducements that house labor does not offer." "And how about the prospects for pupils for the training-school?" Mr. i Ward asked, keenly. He had come j to have a very earnest interest in j the proposed building, i "Out of all the girls I have seen," j Barbara answered, with some hesita | tion, "only four have promised defi nitely that they would take such a course and enter good homes as servants. One of these was an Amer ican girl in an office. The others were foreign-born girls in Bondman's." "The outlook is not very encourag ing, is it?" Mrs. Ward remarked, with a faint smile. "It looks to me, Martha," Mr. Ward suggested, "as if it might be neces sary to put up a training-school for training our Christian housekeepers as well as Christian servants. If what Barbara has secured in the way of confession from these girls is ac curate, it looks as if they are un willing to work as servants because of the unjust or unequal or un christian conditions in the houses that employ tllem." "At the same time, Richard, re member the great army of incompe tent, ungrateful girls we have borne with here in our home for years un til Barbara came. What can the housekeeper do with such material? If the girls were all like Barbara, it would be different, you know." "Well, I give it up," replied Mr. Ward, with a sigh, as he opened up his evening paper. "The whole thing is beyond me. And Barbara, of course, will be leaving us as soon as this new work begins. And then farewell to peace, and welcome chaos again." "You are not going to leave us just yet, are you, Barbara?" Mrs. Ward asked, with an affectionate glance at Barbara. "The house is not built yet," Bar bara answered, returning Mrs. Ward's look. "Of course, Barbara will leave us when she has a homeiof her own," Mr. Ward said in short sentences, as he read down a part of the page. "Then our revenge for her leaving us will be the thought that her troubles have just begnn when she begins to have hired girls herself." "I don't think thefe's any sign of it yet," Mrs. Ward said, looking keenly at Barbara, who colored a little. "I have not noticed any beaus in the kitchen." "More likely to come in through the parlor," Mr. Ward suggested. And ag-alu Barbara looked up with • blush, and Mrs. Ward could not help admiring the girl's pure, intelligent face. There was silence for n moment, when Barbara went over her list of figures and memoranda. "I see Morton is back from the west," Mr. Ward suddenly exclaimed, looking up from his paper. "The News says he had a remarkable tour, and prints a large part of his recent address on the temperance Issue. I predict for him a great career. Ma ble Square never did a wiser thing than when it called him to its pulpit. My only fear is that he may kill him self with these lecture tours." There was silence again, and Bar j bara bent her head a little lower j over her work, which lay on the table. "He is certainly a very promising young man," Mrs. Ward said, and just then the bell rang. "Shouldn't wonder if that was Mor ton himself," Mr. Ward exclaimed, as he arose. "I asked him to come In and see us as soon as he came back. I'll goto the door." He went out into the hall and opened the door, and Mrs. Ward and Barbara could hear him greet Mr. Morton, speaking his name heartily. "Come right into the sitting-room, Morton. We're there to-night. Mrs. Ward will be delighted to see you." Barbara rose and slipped out into the, kitchen as Mr. Ward and Mr. Morton reached the end of the hall. She busied herself with something there for half an hour. At the end of that time she heard Mr. Ward's hearty, strong voice saying good night to Morton as he went out into ths hall with him. After a few minutes Barbara came back into the sitting-room, and tak ing her list of names and facts from the table prepared togo up to her room. Mr. Ward was saying as she came in: "Morton seemed very dull for him, don't you think?" "lie is probably very tired with his lecture tour. It is a very exhaust ing sort ol'—" [To Be Continued.l THE HORSE PLAYED A JOKE. Drew Ills Youni; Mistress Up to a Store W here She Didn't Want to Uo, "You may think horses haven't any sense if you want to," remarked a lady from Mississippi to a group of friends seated around one of the tables in the Peabody cafe, according to the Memphis Scimitar, "but I had an experience when I was a girl that taught me that they have sense enough to get one in all sorts of pre dicaments. "I carried a friend of mine driving one afternoon. We had to pass through a town where there was a young man from New Orleans serv ing as a clerk in one of the large sup ply stores that were a feature of the country town a few years ago. He had paid me a great deal of attention, and, to tell you the truth,l liked him very much, and, though I was not willing to admit it at that time, and denied the accusation with true fem innfne promptitude in such matters, I always made it a point togo to that store for something every time I went to town. "On this occasion, however, I had no excuse togo and see him and did not intend doing so, as he had caught onto the fact that I never came to town without seeing him. But as we crossed the railroad, right in front of the town, the bridle bit came in two and I, of course, lost control of the animal, and lie, finding that no one was guiding him, turned himself around and marched as straight back to that store as if I had driven him with the utmost precision. "And that's not the worst of it," said she, in conclusion. "No sooner had he got to the store than he gave one of those little 'nickers' peculiar to himself, and familiar to the young man. The young fellow was there in a jiffy and I —well, I wished that 1 wasn't. My face turned all the colors of the rainbow and wound up in the most delicate touch of crimson. 1 explained to him in my confusion that I had not intended to come to see liim, but the horse would bring me, and he didn't object." Unexpected ('raise. Dr. Guthrie, an authority on mili tary surgery some 50 years ago, was a kindly man, although somewhat brusque in manner. Sir Joseph Fayrer says: I was his house surgeon, and we got on very well together. One day, when we were going through the wards with a large following of dis tinguished visitors, foreign surgeons and others, we stopjied by the bedside of an interesting case, when Guthrie found fault with dresser for some thing he had done or left undone. The student ventured to reply, and Guth rie said: "1 dare say you think you're a remarkably clever fellow, don't you?" "No, sir," said the youth, earn estly, "I don't." "But you are, though," said Guthrie, and passed on. —Youth's Companion. Clerical Humor. "That was an excellent discourse you delivered last Sunday," remarked a veteran minister of the gospel to a rising young preacher, "but I would hardly call it a sermon." "Why not, doctor?" demanded the other. "Because you had no text." "Don't you call such a discourse a sermon unless it has a text?" "Certainly not." "You have read the Seimon on the Mount, have you not?" "Many, many times." "Well, it has no text." "On the contrary, my dear younp friend," said the veteran, "it is con posed entirely of texts."—Youth' ComxJiinion. NEAT FEEDING DEVICE. W'liere Calves Are Kept Cunllueil in Suiall l'elis tlie I'lnn Here (liven lai Excellent. The feeding of calves is never very agreeable work, and especially when the feed pail is virtually at the mercy of the calf, as it has to be more or less, under ordinary circumstances. The plan shown in the accompanying cut for watering and feeding will be found convenient, especially where calves are kept confined in small pens. The two slits cut in the side of the pen should be just wide enough to ad- FEEDER FOR CALVES. Mit the calf's head. The animal caii then get to either division of the feed box, one end of which is fitted to re ceive a pail, while the other is open to hold grain or hay. Even for calves that are old enough to be tied in stalls, this plan is useful. The box could, in that case, be continuous, having divi sions as shown in front of each stall, with similar openings for the young sters' heads. The calves could also be tied to a stanchion behind the open ings. Another desirable feature of this plan is, it admits af leaving a pail of water constantly before each calf, which will be much appreciated, as young stock need to drink more fre quently than older animals.—Fred O. Sibley, in Farm and Home. SECRETION OF MILK. Important and Instructive Facta Will oil Are Xot an Well Known as They Should lie. At a recent dairy conference, Prof. Wood read an interesting paper on some recent investigations upon the secretion of milk. Although bring ing nothing actually new before his audience, the lecturer dwelt on some important and interesting items which are probably not generally known. He did not place much reli ance on some of the so-called points in judging the milking capacity of cows, while he considered the size of the milk vein and the shape of the udder useful guides to the amateur, though the expert was generally able to judge their capacities by the gen eral build. On the effect of the nerv ous system on the secretions of milk, it was generally known that a cow had more or less power to hold up her milk; but to what extent she may at will affect the actual secretion was not so clear. To milk a cow one teat at a time has a deleterious effect on both the quantity and quality of the milk. Circumstances that affect the animal unpleasantly decrease produc tion, and the fat is consistently and most materially affected. On the question of food, it is generally known that it has a great effect on the quantity of milk. Poor rations will decrease the quantity of fat, though it will not be raised above the normal by liberal feeding for any length of time. The tendency of milk production is hereditary, with usual ly only a small change in the quantity and quality. THROWING AWAY MONEY. Farmers Who Italse Scrub Cattle Do It Systematically and Every Ur.y in the Year. None but a rich man can afford to throw money away, and a rich man is a fool if he does it. Bilt many men who are not -rich are virtually throwing money away because they neglect opportunities to make it. Not all men can see great opportuni ties for profit in business; such men are comparatively rare. But all men can and should see such opportuni ties as are open to all. Improvement of live stock is one of these free-for all opportunities. There is not a man in this country who does not have an opportunity to Improve his stock, and who does not have the incentive before him every time he sells an animal. Yet thousands will continue to throw money away by breeding SSO horses, three-cent steers or some thing equally as bad. Pure-bred stock is not a rare thing, that re quires a vast amount of money. Good blood can he had by any man who really wants it. ll© can secure the service of a good sire, lie can club with others and buy one, or he can sell a part of what he has and get an improver if he only wants to do it. There are sales where stock is to be had at reasonable prices, there are breeders in almost every country, and there are opportunities for all men who need better stock. Let them open their eyes and see how much they are throwing away!— N ational Stockman. Winter plowing an»" hauling is a sood sized mortgage on the spring work. | THE IDEAL FARM HOME. It Muh( lljive Srorrs of Convf nfrnoe* I'nthouKlit Of a Score of Ycnri Ako, Forty years ago this subject would have meant something- quite different from what it does at present. Then a plain frame building with plastered walls and a brick chimney would have seemed a great advance on the double log cabin with its stick and mud chimney at either end, the well sweep in the yard, chickens roosting in the frees or on the rail fences. A. pile of logs in the front yard was not deemed out of place in early days, and shade trees, shrubbery and flow er beds were exceptional, if not un known. The ideal farm home as we now regard it must have many orna mental features, and numerous con veniences that in pioneer days were unthought of. As to externals our first thought is regarding walks and drives. They should be dry and clean. Mud should not be tracked into the house, and to prevent this gravel should be used freely, not only to make walks to barnyards andi outhouses, but to build drives from the road in front to the wagon shed in the rear. A shed or covered way ought to extend from a side porch of the house to the drive so the la dies can enter or depart from the carriage dry shod. Cows as well as horses must be shedded at the model farm and the milkers need bring no dirt with them indoors. The stables and sheds will be cleaned two or three times each week and the refuse drawn out to the fields. A row of hothouses, sheds and covered ways will extend from kitchen to barn, so there will be no need to tramp through mud and rain at any time. The ideal home is possible only when built upon a good well-graveled road, because the people who dwell in it are sociable and must visit and at tend meetings, lectures and concerts. Tt must have a telephone connecting with all the neighborhood and the towns and villages near. It must have a daily mail, which it easily can have if the roads are what they ought, to be. It must have shade trees, vines, shrubbery and flowers in the blue-grass lawn, and a small fruit as well as a vegetable garden, well stocked with the best varieties and well tended, and it should be convenient to the kitchen so as to be most available and useful.—lndiana Farmer. HOMEMADE SAWBUCK. One That Will If'> 11:1 In Firm find Strong Even AVlien Pnt to the RouKhent luaee, A homemade sawbuek is a common sight on any farm, but there is a vast difference as to their make, whether substantial, firm and solid. I have a fine sawbuek, made as follows: Hard wood, such as birch, is used for the main piece, being a log of cord- DURABLE SAWBUCK. wood split in half. Two holes are then bored four to six inches from each end, close beside each other, but not connecting, from upper right hand to lower left hand corner, and vice versa. After four holes are made, select four sticks cut in equal lengths and height the sawbuek is desired. Shave down the upper half of each until it fits holes and ram each halfway through, as far as shown, until tight. As the main log cannot slide down lower on the legs, it will remain firm and stronger -E. G. Gerlaeh, in Farm and Home. AUTUMN FARM NOTES. Remember that the hens as well as the horses want water and want it pure. Fence posts and fixings cut now will come handy for repairs in the spring. Have a dry shelter for the reaper and mower and all other farm im plements. See that all animals on the farm are protected from cold rains and chilling frosts. Ship only the solid heads of cab bages. Take off some of the outside leaves and stems. Pack tightly. Shoes may be made nearly water proof by rubbing into them a mix ture of rosin, beeswax and lard. Take rides in the country in these sunny days, to inspect neighboring farms, and have the wife go too. Attend now to the opening of drains in the wheat field and for turning of the washings of the high way over the low land when the fall rains and spring floods come.—Farm and Home. Wirt* CJrann for Twino. Wire grass is being now manufac tured into binding twine by a Minne apolis company. Large areas of grow ing wire gras's have been brought un der the company in question. This land is marshy and »t the present time is not suited to the production of any thing but wire grass. Most of the land in question lies in Minnesota and Wis consin. The twine manufautured from wire grass is' light green in color and somewhat bulky and it can be used only by machines with fixtures adapt ed to it. It sells at a price somewhat lower than other twine, most of which is now controlled by the twine trust. It will not, however, be an easy task to demonstrate the utility of this kind of twine to farmers who have been accus tomed to the other kiud.
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