oe
GONE.
Days of checkered life together,
Hours of fair and stormy weather,
Thoughts oft light as downy feather,
Gone, forever gone!
Momehts of eternal pleasure,
Dearer far than priceless treasure,
Sweeter than the musie's measure,
Gone, forever gone!
Hours of pain and weary labor,
Plercing like a glittering sabre,
The heart and the soul, its neighbor,
Gone, thank God, THEY'RE gone!
Thoughts which others could not borrow,
Words which flow to lighten sorrow,
And to brighten up the morrow,
Gone, forever gone!
Yes, tne year has gone forever,
Borne down Time's resistiess river,
But memory will forget it never,
Though it be forever gone!
emt AM Rm
For Our Youth,
The Story of a Gold Eagle.
A good many years ago a merchant
missed from his cash-drawer a gold
eagle, which is worth twenty dollars.
No one hed been to the drawer it was
proved, except a young clerk whose
name was Weston. The merchant
had sent him there te make change
fer a customer, and the next time the
drawer was opened the gold eagle had
disappeared.
Naturally Weston was suspected of
having stolen it, and mere especially
a8 he appeared a few days after the
occurrence in a new suit of clothes.
Being asked where he had bought the
clothes, he gave the name of the tailor
without hesitation, and the merchant
going privately to make inquiries, dis-
covered that Weston had paid for the
suit with a twenty dollar gold piece.
That afternoon the young clerk was
called into the merchant's private
room, and charged with having com-
mitted the theft.
“It is useless to deny it,” the mer-
chant said, * you have betrayed your-
self with these new clothes, and now
the only thing that you can do is to
make a fall confession of your fault.”
Weston listened with amszement;
he could hardly belleve at first that
such an accusation could be brought
against him, but when he saw that
his employer was in earnest, he de-
nied it indignantly, and declared that
the money he had spent for the
clothes was his own, given him as a
Christmas gift 8 year ago.
The merchant sneered at such an
explanation, and asked for the proof.
“Who was the person that gave it to
you? Produce him,” he demanded,
“It was a lady,” answered Weston,
and I cannot produce her, for she died
last spring. I can tell you her name.”
“Can you bring me anybody tha
saw her give you the money or knew
of your having it?” ssked the mer-
chant,
“No, I can’t do that,” Weston had
to answer, “I never told any on
about the gift, for she did not wish
me to. But I havea letter from her
somewhere, if I haven't lost it, that
she sent me with the money, and in
which she speaks of it.”’
“] dare say you have lost it;"” the
merchant sneered. When you have
found it, sir, you can bricg it to me
and then I will believe your story.
Weston went home with a heavy
heart. He had no idea where the
letter was; he could not be sure that
he had not destroyed it; and it was
his only means of proving his inno-
cence. Unless he could produce it,
his character was ruined, for he saw
that the merchant was fully convine-
ed of his guilt, and appearances, in-
deed, ware sadly against him. He
went to work, however, in the right
way, He kuelt down and prayad to
God for help to prove that he was in-
nocent, and then he began to over-
haul the contents of his desk and
trunk and closet.
He kept his papers neatly, and it
did not take him leng to see that the
letter was not among them. He sat
down with a sense of despair when he
was convinced of this. What else
could he do ? Nothing but pray again
for help and guidance, and strength
to endure whatever trouble God might
send upon him.
Skeptics may sneer at such prayers
as this, but Weston (who is a middle
aged man now, prosperous, respected
by all men, and deserving of respect)
would smile and say: “Let them
sneer.”
“When 1 rose from my knees,” he
sald, telling me the story years afier
ward, *'I happened to catch my foot
inan old rag that I had nsiled down
to the carpet because it was always
curling up at the edges. A nail at
the corner had come out, and stooping
down to straighten the rug, I saw a
bit of paper sticking out. I p ulled |
from its hiding place, and it was the
letter.
“y it got there I do not know;
the fact that I had found it was enough
for me, and if IT had not gone on my
knees again to give thanks for such a
deliverance, 1 should be ashamed to
tell you the story now.
“I brought the letter to my em-
ployer. It proved my innocence, and
he apologized. A month afterward
the gold piece was found in Mr.
Finch’s overcoat pocket, He had
never put it in the cash drawer at all,
though he thought he had.—Hge raised
my salary on the spot to pay for his
unjust suspicions; and I have never
yet repented of trusting the Lord in
my trouble,” Youry Reaper,
d————
“Only Five Mivutes.
“You've been stopping on the way,
Tom,” said a poor widow to her son,
as he gave her the article that he had
been sent for. ‘Why don’t you come
straight home when you know my
time is so precious ?"’
“I did so, mother, until I got to Mr.
Gaskill’s,” he replied, “and then I
stayed to have a look through the
window for only five minutes,”
“Only five minutes,” yepeated the
widow, “means a great deal when you
come to reckon them all up.”
Tom Price looked at his mother as
if he had not understood her.
“Just reach down your slate,” said
the widow, “and then you will see
what I mean.”
Tom had his slate on his knee ina
twinkling, “Well, mother, what am I
to put down 7’
“Well begin with five, and tell me
how many minutes you waste in a
dsy.”
Tom wrote the figures, scratched
his head, and looked into the fire,
“Would thirty be too many?”
asked his mother,
Tom thought not.
“Very well,” continued Mrs. Price,
“There are three hundred and sixty-
five days in a year, and half an hour
for each day gives you a total of one
hundred and eighty-two and a half
hours, er upwards of fifteen days of
twelve hours each lost in twelve
months.”
Tom Price put his pencil between
his lips and stared at the sum before
him,
“Suppose you put down two hours
for each day, instead of thirty min-
utes,” added his mother; *‘that will
show a loss of more than sixty days in
the year.”
Tom Price was a sharp lad, and he
soon proved the truth of the widow's
statement.
“Se it does, mother,” he said,
“But when I send you for anything
I want, and yeustay loitering in the
street, my time has to be reckoned up
as well as yours, hasn't it?”
Of course Tom could not deny that.
“Then try and remember,” sald
the widow, “what a serious loss even
five minutes are to me, You know,
my boy, how very hard I have to
work to pay rent, buy bread and to
keep you to school, so that you ought
to endeavor to help rather than to
hinder your poor mother.”
“I'll run ail the way the next time
I go;"” said Tom.
“No, no; I don’t want you to do
that. I only want vou to bear it in
mind that our lives are made up of
these same minutes, and that we can-
not afford to throw them away just as
we please.”
Like a sensible little fellow, Tom
Price took his mother's lesson to
heart, and it was a long, long time
before he was again heard to use the
words, “Only five minutes.”
Let our readers also reflect upon
the value of precious time, so as to
improve it to the best advantage —
And let them remember that to help
us in this, as in every duty, we need
God's grace; and this we shall re
ceive if we ask in the name of Christ.
He only can “so teach us to number
our days that we may apply our
hearts unto wisdom.” — Young Reaper
A e—
For Farm Boys to Learn,
From a western paper we extract
the following practical remarks ; they
will be useful to every one on a farm :
How many of the boys who read this
paper could “lay off’ an acre of greund
exactly, providing one of the dimen-
sions was given them? Now “Hoe
Handle” likes to be useful, and I
have taken some pains to make out a
table, and I would like to have every
one of the farm boys have it. There
are 160 gquare rods in an acra, and
there are 30} square yards in one rod.
This gives you 484) square yards in
one acre,
10 yards wide by 454 yards long is
oue acre.
20 yards wide by 212 yards long is
one acre.
4) yards wide by 121 yards long is
one acre,
80 yards wide by 60} yards long is
one sore,
70 yards wide by 60} yards long is
one acre,
60 yards wide by 80§ yards long is
one acre, © wt
an, ph a a
o . ' 3
43 560 square feet to the acre, aud we
have another table : 1 Ph
110 feet by 360 feet—one acre.
120 feet by 503 teet—one nere,
220 feet by 198 feet-~one acre.
0 feet by 181} feet—one mere.
the acquaintance of that strangé
you were raving over 7" Becond ditto
“Yes, followed her home,” Fimt M.—
“How did she strike you?” Becond
ditto—"She didn’t strike me at all;
she got her brother todo it.”
Agricultural,
So
Plaster and Ammonia.
One of the most interesting subjects
that concern the farming class is the
retention of ammonia in the manure
heap. Its well known that the ap-
plication of plaster to decomposing
matter prevents the escape of ammo-
nis, but how this process Is accom-
plished Is often discussed in the agri-
cultural journals and farmers’ clubs.
For the infermation of those who are
not familiar with the chemical reac-
tions that take place when plaster
comes in contact with manure, let us
eall to notice the communication of
“J. P. B.,”” which appeared in these
columns some time ago, in refutation
of a previous article from the Country
Gentleman, The claim by the latter
is that ammonia has no effect on sul.
phate of lime (chemically termed cal-
cium sulphate). Sulphate of lime, or
ordinary land plaster, is a compound
of lime and sulphuric acid, chemi-
cally united, Pure ammonia is a gas,
but prefers existence when united
with some other substance, such as
a sulphuric acid, when the two sub-
stances combine and produce sulphate
of ammonia, It is true, as the Coun-
try Gentleman alleges, that ammonia
cannot deprive sulphate of lime of its
acid, though many have affirmed that
it can, and our correspondent, notic-
ing that the plaster *'fixes’’ ammonia,
no doubt overlooked the fact
that in the laboratory the
change can only be effected
when the ammonia is a salt, Thus,
carbonate of ammonia (carbonic acid
and ammonia), when placed in con-
tact with sulphate of lime, compels a
reaction, the carbenic acid leaving
the ammonia and passing over to the
lime, while the lime gives up its sul.
phurie acid to the ammonia and car-
bonate of lime (chalk—calclum car-
bonsate).
The union of nitrogen and hydrogen
to form ammonia is the coming to-
gether of the two elements at the
moment of liberation ; but when plas-
ter and carbonate of ammonia decom.
pose each other, there is a chemical
reaction, eausing a change of bases,
though the plaster has no chemical
effect on the ammonia gas. Ammo
nia exists principally, when in the
manure heap, as a carbonate, and the
pungent odors with which we are so
familisr when in proximity to decom-
posing substances is usually carbonate
of ammenma instead of the gas,
Plaster has great affinity for molst-
ure, and water absorbs many times ils
own volume of ammonia gas, which
fant enables us to know that, independ-
ent of Its chemical effect, it assists to
arrest ammonia by absorption. We
must sdmit, however, that the two
deepest mysteries in agriculture are
the actions and chemical influences of
plaster to erops and ammonia to soils,
It is well known that plaster is the
cheapest of all fertilizars in proportion
to the benefit it confers, and farmers
should use it more. It is the proper
method of getting at the facts when
its chemical character is discussed, for
if it has no other virtue than securing
ammonia it is invaluable, Wood
ashes, being rich in potash, which is
very ocaustive, are dangerous to use in
manure heaps, as all caustic alkalies
rapidly drive off ammonia by fore
ing it from its combinations; but,
while the ammonia gas will easily
unite with muriatie, nitric or sul-
phurie acid when exposed to them, it
cannot deprive lime cf its sulphuric
acid until it has first undergone a pre
vious combination. There are in
manure heaps many vegetable acids
that exert an unknown influence, and
they should also be considered as as.
sisting in some of the chemical
changes,
msm,
Farm Notes,
Butchers’ waste, such as plocks,
ete., when boiled and thickened with
meal, answer a good purpose as a
substitute for insects when fed to
poultry. '
The stock raisers of California esti-
matethe aggregate value of their flocks
and herds at $35 000,000, The number
of brrned cattle is vlaced at 2 250,000
An English paper asserts tbat it
costs as much to transport a bushel of
wheat twelve miles on a turnpike road
in England as from an American sea.
port across the broad Atlantic.
When roots are injured, as in trans.
planting, the broken roots should be
cut smooth and the top cut back in
proportion to the roots removed,
Dead wood is of no use, and should
always be taken off,
An Illinois correspondent states
that experience has taught him that
esttle will thrive better on good,
bright flax straw than on oat or whea
straw, and he never knew of cattle
being injured from eating it.
it will be interesting to lovers of
urs of chocolate cakes out of peanuts
alone, without a particle of cocoa, is
an immense and profitable industry
in the Northern States.
selecting potato seed two things
should be kept lo mind: first, plant
only such seed as may be expected to
produce smooth, falrsized potatoes;
pa ity when the seed ls
in full vigor.
Basswood trees are urged for plant.
ing by the roadside as they serve the
double purpose of attractive shade and
abundant forage for bees; they also
make excellent timber whenever it
becomes desirable to fell them.
It is eaid that in England a new use
has been discovered for damson plums,
Farmers are planting quite largely;
less for pies than for dies, it having
been ascertained that a besutiful color
can be obtained from the ripe fruit.
It every farmer would keep a record
of the number of eggs laid, chickens
hatched and those sold or eaten each
year, they would form the basis of
most interesting statistics, and bes
matter of surprise to every one as to
the value represented by them In
money.
“harles Beach, President of the
Wisconsin Dairymen’s Association, is
authority for the statement that the
eow had contributed $250,000,000 to
the wealth of the nation within the
past year, and that cattle-raising had
decressed over ten per cent. in the
past ten years,
The Pillsbury A Mill, at Minneaps
olis, did one day last week what it
has been trying for some time to do.
and what some skeptical persons have
said it could not do, viz. : turn out
5000 barrels of flour, It succeeded In
making the best record ever made by
any mill in the world—5107 barrels.
The aphis, or green fly, is one of the
most troublesome enemies of pot.
grown plants, It is mcs! easily de
stroyed by syringing the plants twice
a week with tea made from tobacco
stems, moving them up and down
until the insects are thoroughly
washed off. This will also destroy
other insects,
Forty thousand horses are bought
and sold annually by seventeen of the
leading dealers of New York and
Chicago, who unanimously declare
that the one-half and three fourths
blood Percheron Normans bave more
siyle, action, best endurance on paves
ments and sell for more money than
any other class of horses on the mar-
ket — Chicago Tribune,
H. W. Biarks says : “1 keep a cow
for milk, and the betier I feed and
care for her the more milk I get. 1
jour hot water on the cut hay and
stir the hay well after putting on four
quarts of cornmeal. This ration I gave
twice a day, with a little dry hay at
noon, 1 do not waste a pound of hay
all winter. My method kesps a cow
in good order and saves nearly one
fourth of the hay."
Guinea grass, known also as
“Means grass’ and “Johnson grass,’
is reported to be growing in popular
ity among Southern farmers familiar
with Ita value ns a hay grass. Like
Bermuda, it lssald to be perennial,
though the tops are killed by severe
frosts, The roots being perennial the
cost of renewal of the essed is saved,
while the land is continually im-
proved by their occupancy of the soil,
Dr. Johnson, of Indians, says: “In
dairy products we in the West, with
our method of using five acres of hihg
priced land to keep one dairy animal
a year, cannot compete with the in.
tensified farming of the Eat, where
they keep one animal a year on
one acre of land, and that, too,
ofl a natural fertility much inferio
to ours; and, more than that, where by
means of silos and ensilage now they
are keeping two animals to a single
acre,’’
In contrast with the common prac-
tice of letting dairy cows go dry four
months or so every year, a recent
writer says thal he has a cow that has
completed her fourth farrow year and
has syeraged during tne past six
months a fraction over five pounds of
butter per week of first-rate quality.
He cites also the case of a cow in
Berkshire, England, which ten vears
sgo dropped twins, and has given a
good mess of milk daily ever since,
In Ireland the sod cut on boggy
ground is piled up in heaps until dry,
then burned into a species of charcoal.
This is then pulverized and mixed
with well-rotted stable or hen-house
manure, or night-oll in equal propor-
tions. Placed in drills, where turnips
Or carrots are to be planted, it is said
to make them atiain a monstrous size,
The experiment is certainly worth of
a trial by farmers who can «et the bog
mold without too much labor or ex-
pense,
AAAS MY ANA
Time to Kill Him,
———
“Pa,” said a boy looking up from
his grammar lesson, “Why am Ia
preacher 7"!
“Why are you a preacher ?”
“Yen, sir.”
“You are not a preacher.”
“Yea, I am, for don’t you see I'm a
parsin’.”
“I don't know what you mean,”
“Why, don’t you see? A preacher
is a parson and I'm a parsin’, [tsa
pun.”
“Jane,” said the father, turning to
his wife, ‘hand me that stick of stove
wood. I ean pardon his lying and
ean excuse his stealing but now the
time for killing him has arrived.’
Arkansaw Traveler.
Old Bir James Herring was remon
started with for not rising earlier. “I
can make up my mind to do it,” he
sald, ‘but cannot make up my body.”
Didn't Want Advice from
Strangers.
The afternoon of Thanksgiving day
was of that dreary, hazy nonpareil
character when the «fluent glories of
a soft Italian rain were slowly fading
into the sutumnal tints of a blue
norther that came streaking down
from the baid summits of the Rocky
Mountains, and east its chilling shad
ows on the shingle ryof of the City
Hotel at Brenham, Texas. Our scene
opens in the famoups hostelry.
Five solitary drummers were lying
sround the stove, not in picturesque
groups, but in obedience to the natural
instinct all drummers seem to have to
impart a flotitious expansion to the
truth. They had been lying so much
in a professional capacity that it was
a treat to them to have a littlgugo-as-
you-please lying match wit *h
other on general principles. The sub-
jects under discussion, or rather under
prevarication, were fishing, hunting
and fleld sports generally. They told
such fearful lies that the very stove
turned red, which stove they had sur-
rounded as completely as if it was a
country merchant who needed goods,
The youngest commercial emissary
in the delegation was a youth named
Levi Jacobson, who was raiding in
Texas in the Interest of a Baltimore
house in the boot, shoe and cothing
line. Hedid not join in the conver
sation, and there was resl'y no reason
for him to do so, as the sacred cause
of truth was suffering abundant mau-
tilation, as it were, at the hands of the
other inquisitors. The reason Levi
Jacobson did not volunteer to help
them was because there were other
topics on which he could do better. If
they had walked about the drama, or
of female loveliness, he would not
have been found without something
to say, for was he not a critic and a
masher o! the mashers? Hea prided
himself on being one of the knowing
ones: but having lived all his life in
cities or on the road he was some-
what lost when the talk was of quail,
trout, deer, and of the rival merits of
choke bore, centre fire, 10.calibre, ete."
ele.
Hnipe were mentioned, and some
one made an allusion to that hack.
neyed old practical joke about eatch-
ing snipe in a sack, never supposing
for a moment that there was any one
alive on earth who did not know the
Jacobson, however, was igno-
rapt, as he demonstrated by remark-
ing that “those snipe must be stupid,
like that ostrich vas, to put thelr heads
in a bag.”
It was nuts to the other drummers
to find at last the most “innocent man
on the rosa.”
A snipe hunt was at once proposed,
Mr. Jacobson to take the leading role
and carry the sack and the lantern.
They went out about three miles
from town in a hack at § o'clock at
night, scross creeks, through woods
and swamps, until they came to what
the driver said was a good snipe
ground. Jacobson was placed in a
perth with the lantern in one hand
sud the sack in the other. The rest
of the parly were to seatler oul for
some distance, and then to gradually
close in and return back to Jacobson,
driving the snipe before them. The
lending man in the comedy was in-
structed how to kill the snipe when
he captured the full of the bag, and
how to set his trap and walt for more,
Then the other drummers went howl.
ing out into the darkness in pursuit of
snipe.
Mr. Jacobson waited.
Holding the sack made his ars
ache,
Ballfrogs croaked.
Jacobson continued to walt.
Owls hooted.
The night grew on apace and found
Jacobson still waiting for the snipe to
come out of the darkness,
* . = » . * * + .
It was midnight.
Around the same stove four selitary
drummers were gathered. They were
full of mirth and gayety, and they
Isughed loud and long.
Suddenly the lsugh died away on
their lips, the merry joke was chopped
off in its utterance and an unripe pun
was hastily thrown under the stove by
the long-legged drummer, for there in
the doorway stood a ragged and mud.
stained remnant—all that was mortal
of Jacobson, the snipe hunter,
He sald: “My vrends, you thought
dot was a good joke, but I vas sc-
quainted vith dot joke sefen years ago.
I stayed out vith dot bag there just to
see if you vas 80 mean as to blay dose
tricks on a stranger, and 1 vants
nodings more to do vith you.”
He refused all overtures looking to-
ward a reconcilistion, and went to
bed swearing he would leave the
place on the next day's evening train.
He stayed in his room all of the next
morning. The joke got over town.
Mr. Moses Solomons, a leading mer.
chant of the place, theught it was de
cidedly wrong to have treated Jacob-
gon #0 badly, and called to make his
soquaintance and extend his sympa.
thies.
When he was admitted to Mr, J.'s
room the Iatter said :
“Vat you vants? Guess you veuld
nll
iike to go bear hunting vith me and
a flour-sack ; or do you vant to have
some fun driving jack-rabbits into s
mosquito net, eh 7”
Mr. Bolomons explained that he
hud heard that the boys had treated
Mr. Jacobeon rather rough'y, and
that he had threatened io leave the
city without showing hi samples,
He merely called, he said, to say that
the citizens should not be blamed and
to advise that Mr, J. should change
his intention and prosecute bis busi-
ness as If nothing tad happened,
“I don’t vant any advice from stras-
gers. I vas treated padiy in this
town, and I leaves it right awsy.
There vas no shentlemans in this
blace,”’
Mr. Bolomon has a great deal of
pribe in the social and financial stand-
ing of the people of Brenham,
When Mr. Jacobson was dragged
from under Mr. Solomons it was found
nec ssary to ac j ast his scattered Abra.
hamic countenance with about a yard
of court plaster, He is now traveling
in Western Loulsians and he tel s the
merchants with whom he does busi
ness that he was run over by a hand.
car on the Central Railroad.
——————————
The Legend of the Beautiful
Hand.
There was a dispute among three
ladies as to which had the most bemu-
tiful bande, Oue gat by a stream aud
dipped her hand into the wa'e>, snd
held it up soother plucked straw cer
ries until the ends of her fingers were
pink, anotaer gathered vivles until
her hands were fragrant. An old,
haggard woman passing by ssked,
“Who will giveme a gift? for I am
poor,”” All three denied her ; but an.
other who sat near, unwashed in the
stream, unstained with fruit, unsdorn-
ed with fl wera, gave her a litile gift
and satisfied the poor woman, And
then she asked them what was the
dispute, and they told he - and (ifted
up before her their beautiful hands
“Beautiful, indeed,” sald she, when
she saw them. Bot when they asked
her which was the most beautiful, she
said: “It is not the hand that is
washed clean in the brook ; it is not
the hand that ix tipped with red ; it is
not the hand that is garlanded with
fragrant flowers: but the hand that
gives to the poor is the most beauti-
ful.” As she said these words her
wrinkles flsd, her staff was Lhrown
away, and she stood before them an
angel from heaven with authority tc
decide the question in dispute. And
that decision has stood the test of sll
time,
Time on a “Mixed” Train,
On some of the Western roads they
attach a passenger car to a freight
train and call it “mixed.” If fsn’tin
the order of things that such train,
should travel very rapidly, and some-
times there is considerable growling
among the “traffic.” '‘Are we most
there, conductor 7’ ssked a8 nervous
man for the hundredth time. “Re
member, my wife is sick and I'm
anxious.” “We'll get there on time,”
replied the conductor stolidly. Half
an hour later the nervous man sap-
proached him again, “I guess she's
dead, now,” said he, mournfully.
“but I'd give you a little something
extra if you could manage to esteh up
with the funeral. Maybe she won't
be 80 decomposed but what I would
recognize her!” The conductor
growled at him and the man subsided.
“Condactor,” sald he, after an hour's
silence, “Conductor, if the wind isn’t
dead ahead I wish you would put on
some steam. I'd like to see where my
wife is buried before the tombstone is
crumbled to pieces! pat yourself in
my place for a moment.” The con-
ductor shook him off and the man re-
lapsed into profound melancholy, “I
say, conductor,’ said he, ater a long
pause, “I’ve got a note coming due in
three months. Can't you fix it so ae
to rattle along & little?’ “If you
come near me again, I'll knock you
down,” snorted the conductor save
sgely. The nervous man regarded
him sadly and went to his seat. Two
hours later the conductor saw him
chatlering gaily snd isughing heart
ily with a brother victim, and ap-
proached him. “Don’t feel so badly
about your wife's death?” *“Mime
heals all wounds,” sighed the nervous
man. “And you are not so particular
about the note,” sneered the ocon-
ductor. ‘Not now. That's all right.
Don’t worry. I've been wu
and I find that the note ting Ww
iawed since I spoke to you last!”
There comes down to us tne story of
two looks of Jesus, the one historical,
the other traditional—the look he gave
Peter, and the look he gave the ecbler
who mocked him on the way to his
crucifixion. The ene look
penitesice deep and sincere ; the other
sent the mocker throughout the world
and throughout time a wandering,
wasting, but never dying Jew. So for
every soul there is born of the look of