6 TO HAPPINESS. It ain't so far to happiness—lt's lyln' all around; It twinkles In th» dewdrops, (brings blooms to barrnn ground. It sings >J all the breezes; It ripples in the r.lis; It's wrttin 011 green banners that wave from all the hills. It ain't so far to happiness; we rob our lives of rest To find it o'er broad oceans as far as east form west; From ail Ihe dear home places ill sorrow we depart, And dream not that its dwelling place is ever in the heart. It ain't so far to happiness; It's shining all along; It's In the lowliest violet, it's in the thrush's song, .And hold It—ye that find It. forever to breast Till you sleep and dream forever in the roses of God's rest. —F. L.. Stanton, In Atlanta Constitution. The Trouble s* on the Torolito. BY FRANCIS LYNDE. CH APTER VI I.—CONTINUED. "There arc plenty of itching trig ger-fingers hereabouts just now, and one of them is going to crook itself some dark night if Wykamp doesn't have a spasm of common sense. What do you suppose he's up to now?" I made the sign of unknowledge; and Macpherson drew his chair nearer and lowered liis voice in def erence to the Dionysian-ear quali ties of the loosely built house. "You know his attitude toward—• toward Winnie—Miss Sanborn? Well, he changed it in a day; came here two or three times and tried to see her. and when she wouldn't he be gan on the girl—Selter's daughter. I don't know how far it has gone, but far enough to make a family row, with the falher and mother on one Bide and the girl on the other. Of course. Nan believes in liim and stands up for him; but Jake knows, and loads his rifle accordingly." "There'll be a murder," I ventured. "I'm afraid of it. And at this time It would be most confoundedly in opportune. The news of the fight with the land company has gone abroad 111 the county and the state, and public sentiment is with the set tlers. But if one of them should for get himself and happen to kill the land company's chief engineer—well you «ee what would happen; public sentiment would take the other side In flic turning of a leaf." "Assuredly. Can't you bring the girl to her senses?" Macpherson grinned. "I've already burned my in that fire— burned them rather badly. You haven't forgotten about the pony and the riding-lessons, have you?" "No." "And. besides, I have a funeral of mv own and I can't furnish mourn ers for Wykamp's. I'd much rfttlicr furnish the corpse." Silence, for the space of a full min ute. and then I say: "You haven't found out, anything more?" "Not a syllable. I've been respect ing her prohibition as much as I •could, feeling as I do, and coming here every night. We meet and speak and pass, and that's all there is to it. But I've seen and heard enough to make tne feel murderous; she fairly shudders at the mere men tion of his name." "I wonder what he did to her?" "I don't know; but I'm beginning to suspect that Nan does. If—if it's anything—anything bad"—the words ■came hard—"it would be like the fiend to boast of it to another woman." "You mustn't jump at conclusions, ■else it, will be your itching trigger finger instead of Selter's. Why do yon think Nan knows?" "I can't tell; it's in the air. I've •caught her looking at Winifred in a. way—but don't make me talk about it—don't make me talk about any thing. Turn over and goto sleep, or I shall go away." I was too weak to withstand him, and, truly, sleep was again knock ing at the door. But when the door was opened and closed again, a dream came between and I saw Wv kainp directing the work on a dam in a precipitous canyon—saw him and wondered that I had not before remarked that his ears were pointed, ami that a pair of satyr-liorns curled gracefully over the visor of his out ing-cap. CHAPTER VIII. DOCUM IS NT AHY KVIDENCE. (Winifred to I'riscilla Bradford.) Boar Prissie: Your last letter accuses me of a lack of confidence, and it's so. I have been "talking scenery," as you say, and it is because a thing so dreadful has happened that I haven't been able to bring myself to write about it, even to you. But I shall lose my mind if 1 do not confide in some one; and since you have asked fur a share of the burden, you shall -have it. Inasmuch as you know all the piti ful foretroings, for you 1 can com press the dreadful thing into three words: He is here. How he found me out I don't know; or if it were .design or a mere arrow of spiteful ■chance; but the miserable fact re mains. lie is the engineer in churge of an irrigation project which in volves me welfare of the entire set tlement: his camp is but a short lialf-miie from the schoolhouse; and J aiii forced to see him every day. Knowing what this must mean for jne, you will wonder that 1 did not shriek and run away at the very first. That, indeed, was the first im pulsive prompting, and under other circumstances I should have obeyed it unquestioningly. But it is not so easy to disappear when one is far from the highways of travel; and there was a second thought potent enough to make me stay —and suffer. l*ut together all the little odds and ends I have written about Mr. Mac pherson (but you have doubtless done this long ago) and draw your own conclusion. There is fuel enough, God knows, to keep the shame-fire burning all through my miserable life, but this is not of it. Having said so much, you will understand what follows, reading between the lines if you care to. Our first meeting—the only one in which he has had the hardihood to speak to me—was one evening when 1 was walking home from the school house with Mr. Macpherson. He was riding past and he recognized me, wheeling his horse to fling himself from the saddle and to add another insult to all that has gone before.Mr. Macpherson resented it prompily, like a man and u gentleman, and he— he struck him! After that, I knew I had to stay; that otherwise there would be more misery and perhaps bloodshed; and however rich his de servings, God would require his life at my hands. So I have stayed and suffered, not knowing what a day might bring forth, and drinking the cup of terror to the dregs. Thus far, Mr. Macpher son has amply justified all my be lievings of him. His quarrel with the land company is quite as bitter as that of the settlers—the plans of the company, if carried out, will practic ally dispossess him—but he will not make it a personal matter with the engineer—for my sake, if for no bet ter reason. So long as he does not know the shameful facts, I tell my self there is reason to take courage; but if he should find out—oh, Pris sie! living as you do in the peaceful quiet of the old New England home you can't understand. But the men of these wildernesses, men reared in homes just like yours, perhaps, be come terribly swift to right their wrongs with the strong hand. You will say that, so long as I keep my secret, exposure can come only through the man who will stand a self-confessed villain in the telling; and this is true. But the dastardly hardihood of this man is past belief, and I have begun to fear that the worst is yet to come. You will re call my frequent mention of Jacob Seltcr's daughter. From what I have seen, there is reason to fear that she is in danger of becoming his latest victim. They arc together a great, deal, and Nan's dislike for me is growing day by day. What lie lias lold her, I can only surmise; but her attitude toward me has lately 1 changed from frank aversion to something like contempt. Merciful heaven! If he should boast to her, and it should come to Mr. Macpher son's ears—but 1 must not antici pate. Write me a good long letter, Pris sie, dear, and try to comfort me if you can. Lovingly, WINIFRED. (Richard Grantley to Eugene Hal cott.) Dear Halcott: I was foolishly glad to hear from I you again; glad to learn that Colo rado has given you a little longer j lease of life, if no more. Your hand f \ Oi "WHY DO YOU THINK NAN KNOWS?" writing is so cheerfully undecipher able that I have not yet mastered your opening sentences, but 1 gather from a readable word here and there that you were convalescing from an attack of "barn fever," whatever that may be, when you wrote. I don't know the malady; but if you are convalescent that is the principal fact. You are right in supposing that I know something of Wykamp. He was a classmate of mine in the school of engineering, and was with me one year on the geodetic survey. He is bad medicine in a moral way; is rather unmoral than immoral, I should say; the quality seems to have been left out of his make-up. There are localities on the Carolina coast where he doesn't dare show his face —and lie is no coward, either —and I even here in Boston .where his people are known and respected, there are doors which will never again open to him. The episode you refer to occurred in New Hampshire, and the facts were swiftly and deeply buried —by the young woman's people, I suppose. I haven't, been able, thus far, to get at the details in any sort ofsequence, but there was a marriage, which was no marriage, and a woman scorned, and all that; you know the pitiful round of such things. Without knowing anything about the merits of this particular case, 1 should not hesitate to lay evary ounce of the burden of blame on the shoulders of the man. He's bad, as I say; and in his peculiar specialty has few equals and no superiors. CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JANUARY 23, 1902 Your plan to block his present game by putting the evidence of one of his former escapades into the. hands of the young woman is in genious, but it won't work. As against the lightest word of a pro fessed lover, all the newspaper charges in the world would weigh as hydrogen—or coroiiium. if that be lighter. None the less, I'll send you the newspaper clipping*, if 1 can un earth them in the files. Sincerely, as always, DICK. (President Baldwin, of the Glenlivat Land Company, to Chief Engi neer Wykamp.) Dear Sir: Yours of the 16th, stating that you have made excavations on the site last chosen for the dam in the upper canyon is at hand. Without going into the technicali ties, I must say that I think you are mistaken. I went over the ground last year with our consulting engi neer, and he is quite sure tliat, a dam at the point where you are working will be entirely safe. Make such changes in the plan of construction as the nature of the substrata de mands, and push the work with the utmost speed. With all due regard for your opinion, I will say that I have always found the members of your profession inclined to err on the side of permanence at the cost of celerity; and the work must be driven. Results are what we want. Take another week for the exca vating, and if you do not strike bed rock, putin concrete and build your dam. A change to the former loca tion, as you suggest, is impossible. Macpherson will not sell, and he is a man of means and influence, abund antly strong enough to fight a battle which would delay us indefinitely. Moreover, the settlers are threaten ing, and you must keep the peace at all hazards. Your destruction of their flume and ditch was exceedingly ill advised, and if it be not too late, I would suggest that these be re placed. Yours truly, JOHN BALDWIN, President U. L. Co. CHAPTER IX. A MIDNIGHT VISIT. It was well on in the month ol August before 1 had progressed far enough on the road to convalescence to bear removal from the farm house at Valley Head to Macpher son's; and after the buckboard trip to the ranch at Six-Mile becameapos sibility, I still lingered on at Selter's, being by that time critically inter ested in the small tragi-comedywork ing itself out under my eyes as the long summer days waxed and waned. Interested, I say, but involved would be the better word. I could no longer call myself an onlooker. If there were other reasons for my stay—if, in those short weeks which will always be marked with a red letter in any poor calendar of mine, there had come into my life a thing which common loyalty bade me triple-lock in that chamber of the heart which is at once the sanctuary and the tomb of hopes unrealized and unrealizable, 1 shall not utifold it here. This is Maepherson's story, and none of mine; but if I say that in those days of leaden-winged con valescence Winifred Sanborn gained an ally whose loyalty was not measured by the hope of reward, it is sufficient. But though for me the days were as the days of the lotus eaters, the tragi-comedy went on, workingoutits details with relentless precision. The breach between Seller and the land company widened day by day; and Wykamp's reckless by-play with the Tennessean's daughter gave it the depth of personal hatred as between the vindictive descendant - of the lie demptioners and the engineer. Mac pherson was still on the sideofpeace, but it was evident that bis influence over Seller was strained to the breaking point. In the family at the farm-house the daughter was at sword's points with the father and mother for Wykamp's sake; and though Wykamp had long since been forbidden the house. Xan met hitn and walked with him in open defi ance of her father's interdiction. It was in the hope that the girl might still be induced to listen to reason that I had written to Grant ley; but when the forgotten news paper story was finally in my hands I was as one who has been suddenly made responsible for the safety of a powder-magazine. For, hidden under the charitable hyperbole of the re porter who had written the news paper account, there was a story too despicable for any recounting; the story of Wykamp's perfidy and Wini fred Sanborn's dishonoring. Having the proof in my hands, I knew not what to do With it. It was incredible that it should not bring the girl to her senses; but without showing it to her I could hardly hope to make her believe it. And to put the clip ping, and Grantley's letter of expla nation which accompanied it, into the hands of Nancy Selter, was like set ting the clocmvork of an infernal ma chine in order and turning it over to a passion-mad girl with power to set it in motion. Bruited abroad, there was no limit to the trouble for which the story might be responsible. It would inevitably destroy what small peace of mind Winifred had been able to gather up out of the wreck of the past in the new environment. It would probably cost. Wykamp his life, at the crack of the mountaineer's rifle in ambush, or at the hands of a vigilance committee upon which every man in the settlement would be eager to serve. Failing in this, it might easily make a murderer of Macpherson. I knew my friend's character and the strength of it; but there be provocations too mighty to be shackled by any promlsu of for bearance. I'nder the circumstances I c;uld do nothing but watch and wait; and, as the time passed, I did not dare to leave the Selter household. Slowly, and by inches, as il were, it was driven in upon me that I should be compelled to set the infernal ma chine in motion as a last resort, if 1 would not be a party to another crime; but I refrained until it be came clearly evident from Nan's con temptuous attitude toward Winifred that Wykamp had given the girl his own version of the shameful tale. After that, 1 waited only for what might promise to be a fitting oppor tunity. The opportunity came one day when Selter was afield, and her mother's absence at one of the neigh bor's left Nan alone wth me. They had slung a hammock for me under the shelter of the farm-house porch, and the girl was sitting on the door step, sewing. Not knowing any tra jectory of indirection in such a mat ter, I sent my first shaft as straight as 1 could aim it. [To Be Continued.] A ROYAL SAUCEBOX. Story of the Childhood of flie t.nte Dowaurr Emprcua of Ger iii n The late dowager empress of Ger many was for so many years a prom inent figure in the world's gallery of unhappy women that it is not easy to think of her as a little, laughing, golden-haired girl, with a merry tongue that often got her into trou ble with her august mother, Queen Victoria; yet that is the picture of her which Vanity Fair presents. The late queen, who brought up her children as wisely as any mother in all England, insisted among other things that they should treat all members of the household with re spect, and address each member by his or her correct title. The little princess royal frequently broke this rule, her most serious of fense being a determination, which no amount of punishment checked, to call the physician in ordinary by his last name only—"llrown." The queen, finding all other penal ties futile, had finally threatened to send the princess royal to bed at the next offense, no matter at what time in the day it should occur. Walking with her mother one morning along the corridor in the palace, the little Victoria met the physician. "Good morning, Brown!" she cried, saucily. Glancing up, she met the sorrowful and displeased eyes of her mother, and immediately added: "And good night, Brown, for I'm go ing to bed!" Then, with a courtesy to the queen and the barest nod to the physician, the princess royal danced off to the nursery. As soon as she was inside the room she said, with a defiant toss of her golden, curly head: "Please, somebody, put me to bed. I've been dis'spectful to Brown again!" Griilinin'ii Grit. The little story below is Lord Wolse* ley's tribute to the bravery of Lieut. Gen. Sir Gerald Graham, V. C., G. C. 8., G. C. M. G.: At the storming of the Taku forts Graham, who was in China with Gor don, led the sappers, whose duty it was to lay the pontoon across the wet ditch surrounding the great northern fort. While superintending this operation he was on horseback, and being almost the only mounted officer present, af forded an easy mark to the Chinese matchloekmen, who had already picked off 15 of his sappers. During the height of the uproar caused by the firing of the great guns and small arms, Lieut. Col. Wolseley, who was standing by Maj. Graham, having some remark to make, placed his hand on that ollicer's thigh to draw his attention. "Don't put your hand there!" ex claimed Graham, wincing tinder the pain. "There's a jingal-ball lodged in my leg." It was the first notice he had taken of the wound. —Youth's Companion. "Don't Get ley AY iH II Give* • Yield SuritttKftliiK Any Other Hay Crop. Alfalfa Medieago Sativa is one of the oldest cultivated crops. It has been cultivated for 25 centuries, its native home is supposed to be that of the primitive Aryan stock from which all the European nations are de scended. Mr. Gerald McCarthy, M. S., says that alfalfa is a very long-lived perennial plant of the pulse or leguminous family. It roots very deeply going from 6 to 30 feet deep, and as a consequence is practically drought proof when once well estab lished. It requires a rather dry soil, I rich in lime. The plant is tender and j feeble when young and requires a I mellow surface free from "weeds with j plenty of soluble plant food at band. | On worn lands this crop usually fails to catch unless the soil has been given a good dose of stable manure or bone meal just previous to sowing the seed. Once started a sowing lasts from 10 to 30 years. The dry valley and mountain lands of the Kocky mountains seem to be the home of this plant in America. It also succeeds well on the Pacific slope and in the Mississippi valley. It does well on the lighter soils of the Atlantic coast and gulf states, but requires great care to get it started. It is usually sown broadcast in early fall using about 20 pounds of seed per acre. No nurse crop is desirable. When well eared for the yield of this crop is enormous, exceeding any other hay crop. In New Jersey four cuttings per year are obtained; in the gulf region eight cuttings are the rule. The yield is one and a half to two tons of air dry hay per cutting, giving a total yield for the year of 0 to 16 tons per acre. One ton of this hay contains the following amounts of plant food: Nitrogen 43.8 lbs. Phosphoric acid 10.2 lbs. Potash 33.6 lbs. As with all other lcgumines the nitrogen conies from the air. The potash and phosphoric acid come from the soil and to keep up the yield an annual dressing of these substances equivalent to that which has been carried off in the hay must be given. Taking the average yield at six tons per acre we obtain: I Nitrogen, 2G2.8 lbs worth $31.53 ! Phosphoric acid, 61.8 lbs worth 2.47 Potash, 201.6 lbs worth 8.06 ■ Total fertilizing value {42.06 To replace the above amounts of potash will require 403 pounds of muriate of potash. To replace the { phosphoric acid requires 425 pounds lof superphosphate. But where the j growing season is long and the tem j perature favorable the yield may be j larger and the fertilizer must be in j creased proportionately. A good | normal fertilizer for alfalfa is as fol lows: ! Muriate of potash 500 to 1.000 lbs. Superphosphate 6"0 to 1,000 !bs. Lime 600 to 1,000 lbs. MILK STOOL AND PAIL. The V'oiiibl nn t ion Here Described la Held in lliteli Eiteem by All Wliu Have turd It. I 1 We have tried several kinds of stools | and have seen all styles in operation ! in various parts of the country, but | nothing suits us so well as the style shown here, says a Michigan farmer iu | Hoard's Dairyman. We made .the first ! one when we commenced dairying. | The cut shows how to make it. The I board A should be about 22 inches long for a tall man and about eight inches J wide. The two end pieces, 1» and C, ' can be cut and adjusted to suit each' j milker. We made the stool s»o as to | have the sekt D about ten inches high. MILK STOOL AND PAIL. All pieces are about eight inches wide'/ It is a pleasure to use this stool. One can sit comfortably without bracing. No need of hugging the pail; simply let it rest between the knees. The pail should be tilted slightly, and, thus arranged, a good, rapid milker will spatter very little milk. This stool keeps the pail off the floor and thus keeps it clean. We prefer a heavy tin pail, slightly flaring and of good depth. A flange at the bottom is a protection and strengthens the pail. TIMELY DAIRY NOTES. Do not change the feed suddenly. Salt should always be accessible. liead current dairy literature and keep posted on new ideas. Have the herd examined at least twice a year by a skilled veterinarian. Do not move cows faster than a comfortable walk while on the way to place of milking or feeding. Never allow the cows to be excited by hard driving, abuse, loud talking or unnecessary disturbance; do not expose them to cold or storms. Feed liberally, and use only fresh, palatable feed stuffs; in no case should decomposed or moldy material be used. Observe and enforce the utmost cleanliness about the cattle, their at tendants, the stable, the dairy and all utensils. Promptly remove from the herd any animal suspected of being in bad health, and reject her milk. Never add an animal to the herd until cer tain it is free from disease, especial ly tuberculosis.—Farmers' lieview.