—————————————— i ad ————— —-—" HAT DORKS YOUTH KNOW OF LOVE? so What aoes youth know of love? It plucks at will, Pontent in thinking everywhere its fill {es waiting within reach like buds in June,= 4.5 in the hesrt of music some new tune. What does youth know of love? The heart may by A thousand springs, and yet none satisfy; A thousand forms may touch us in the press, dnd still the spirit cry for loneliness. What does youth know of love? The hand, the face That find their way to the souls sacred place, Ah! these come pot at will; but having come, Yhenceforth wherever they may be is home. What does youth know of love? [ts need is strong. *T ia life's long music, not its morning song. Joyful the middle age that finds its own, 4nd sad the same whose early droams have flown. + What does youth know of love? ‘ Age knows it best, Love's memories few and precious sre Ms rest. God and eternity shine through dear eyes, And teach us of the bliss that never dies. ~Heien L. Carey. AUNT SUKEY, BY DORA R. GOODALE “Tet Albert carry the crock down- Stairs,” said my mother. It was long after dark, but I had Just come in from the barn; for we! were Mving on 1 farm, and that winter I bad the horses to fodder and pigs and poultry to feed, kindling to split, wood and water to fetch, and six or eight cows to milk by the light of the lantern. 1 set down the full pails now and got off my coat, which was already well powdered with smow, and stood half-dazzled, awkward, raw boned lad that 1 was, enjoying the warmth and holiday air of the kitchen. It was a great, dusty room, with high, oak ‘wainssot and beams overhead, old- time, six-foot fireplace, brick open oven and all; and the whole family was there—Grandfather, placidly eat- ing his pudding and milk from she thick blue bowl om his knees, while Louis »at on the floor sorting beans, and Esther was hanging the walls with laurel and ground pine, humming to herself as she went. At the other end of the room ok Aunt Sukey was weighing out suet and plums with her jolly black hand, and mother bent over the glowing stove—poor mother, she was always behind hand, and her voice was quits sharp with weariness, now as she apoke. . “Albert ean cary the crock dewn stairs,” she . _ALeat't go down those stairs after “dark; they're not safe”, I observed with decision “Oh, law, now chile, jes’ get erlong wid ye fer we can't stop fer no argy- fying, sho'ly,” exclaimed Aunt Sukey in a bortatery tone, tossing her head with its gay turban till the shadows danced on the wall. She was standing before the table, which was heaped with a motley collection of boxes and ‘trays, rollers, sifters and graters. Hukey drew only a theoretical line be- tween what she designated as ‘de pleat” and ‘‘de grejients,” but, like all true artists, while she scorned conven tions! arrangements she maintained s vertsin order well known to herself, sod went on choppicg and shredding with lofty composure. “1 can't go, I tell yon,” I answered, angrily. 1 should only smash the ja: snd break my neck into the bargain.’ ‘Ob, shucks, now,” burst out Sukey, with a more alarming voice and fall ing inte s somewhat broader pathos ““‘Any one tink you was afraid o ha’nts, an’ you too nigh a man to be vst skeery, sho’ly. Dis yer jar got to git down dere somehow, if ole Sukey Dab ter tote it on her back;” sad here she ed a6 me vindictively. ‘ e, hold a candle then, Estie,” «wald I, with sssumed authority. “Oh, nonsens, run along, Al, I «don’t dare stand in thet oold entry,” answered Father, impatiently, “You <an do it well enough, snd don’t you see that every one else is busy ?” Bhe lvoked over her shoulder and | nade a month at me as she spoke. ! Just sixteen, Esther was—less than | two years older than I-—and pretty and | fall of spirit. She was standing on | Siptoe having to fasten an evergreen ! wreath ground the great face of the | «lock; and the scent of the freshly | Wrokem boughs spread through the kiichen. Her face was flushed, and all ! her tong light hair hung down un- | Wralded. “ Yery well, then; the jar can walt 4M morning.” chair and began eating a fried cake. *Why, de Lawd knows we ain't got do cand e.grease to wate for dis yer | eberiastin’ foolishness. If dem "grejionts don’t get toted off right spry | to spile sho; an’ den we hab natin’ ter fatten up dem perk 4aced Bimonses. Jes’ you say de word now and clar him outen hers,” | orfed Aunt Sokey, looking st my mother with that despotic sir that | sonvinoed me that Nature favors some forms of absolute monarchy, rudimentary ear on either side, while Esther began to dance a reel, and Bukey struck up, “Oh, de good ole chariot’s passin’ by,” rolling out the chorus with great unction. The little dark buttery was fillea with good things, but I stalked through it in anything but a Christmas humor. The cellar stairs were narrow and steep, the jar heavy and slippery; and I was conscious of a half-formed resolve to show Aunt Sukey for once that she had made a mistake in her Mercury. ‘Jes’ aggravatin'ness,” commented her voice from the other room, followed by a rich, mellow laugh and a refrain of, “Roll, Jordan, roll.” Here myx foot slipped a bit on the stairs, and, instead of nerving myself to regain my balance, I yielded to nature, my knees gave way, and I and the fatal jar went down with a crash together. The crash was followed by a shout. Down rushed the family ina body, with tallow dips flaring, and my first consciousness was of a violent twinge in my foot, which was doubled back under me. My hands were bruised and cut, and my lip was bleeding. Oh, whes a flurry there was! Grand- father scolded, Louis +creamed, and my mother burst into tears, while they dragged me up stairs among them. Only SBukey held hack. [ can see her now as she stood in tho kitch- en door, with her hands on her hips, and an angry sneer as the dismal pro. eession entered. I gave her a look as I passed which said as plainly as words; “It’s all your fault,” and she in turn broke cut freely with accusa- tions. ‘Ho! you t'ought you'd pay ole Sukey back, did you, kicking out your foot and going spack with all dem ’‘grejients,” she began; but the pain was too great for any response, and I sank down om the settle with- out speaking. Poor Mother, how she upbraided herself as she drew off my cowhide boots with her tender hands; for one of the bones of my foot did afterwards prove to be broken. With what self- reproachful zeal dear Esther harried out in the snow to a neighboring farm, whose owner had the name of sa mas. ter-hand at doctoring. I was the mar. tyr of the occasion, and a very respeoct- ful martyr I made, being almost per- suaded, in fact, that I had fallen a vie- tim to duty. The role once assumed, I played it with proper feeling, meet. ing Aunt Sukey’s attacks with angelic forbearance, leaning languidly back on the couch, while mother cried over my hands, and begging her not to feel badly. Finally, good Mr. Baunders came in, listened to grandfather's ver. sion of the story, snd a rumbling se- companiment of comments; and then I was rubbed, bathed and bandaged, and bundled off to my room. The next day the house was all in » bustle of preparation. It was the day before Christmas, and my uncle and cousins were coming over from Haley, and my married sister from Cheshire. People flew hither and thither, intemt on their several concerns, sweeping snd adorning. putting the finishing touches to cushions and mufflers, and oracking jokes when a neighbor ei for a “light” or a swallow of cider. The kitchen was the scene of unparalleled baking and brewing, as I judged from the whifls of warm air and tantalizing fragrance that came up the back stairs; ad as I lay there tossing and turning, I found my pillow a thorny ome, and secretly fumed at my folly. I had not de ib- erately thrown myself down to spite my mother and Sukey—that would have beem childishi!—and i: had all passed so quickly th t my promptings were hard to analyze; but [I had a dreadful suspicion at heart that | was just a great humbug. Anyhow, I had overshot the mask, and surely I was punished sufficiently without any bhm- niliating confessions. Not a glimpse of Aunt Sukey did 1 get that day, for we mutually cherished resentment; but all my relatives came solemnly in and protested tha: my moth- er and Sukey were very unwise, and that | was much to be pitied. I was suffering so thatI could not bear to be moved, and the hours wore away heavily. At ight Esther br ought me my supper and told me that a yule-log were gamos and daneing ia the kitchen below, and great peals of laughter came up that broughttears tomy eves, Bat the wicked, suspicions, old SBukey should never exult over me; and I shat my lips tightly together when mother came in and kissed me good- night, winspering tenderly: «My poor boy! You can’t blume we as much as + blame myself.” At last the house grew dark and guiet. Every one had gone to bed. The ticking of the great clock was plainly heard, and seemed to keep dme to the tirobbing pain im my ankle. Solitude and darkness are wonderful accncers. The longer 1 lay the more gulity and wretched 1 felt, and the more impossible it seemed to make explanations. Still the clock ticked on; the sound of distant sieigh- bells was heard and died away on the mow; rats and mice scuttled about, i ly from the farmyard, At last My mothor was one of those | sut, and for a moment 1 wondered it | Santa Clans would visit our chimney. {Then I remembered that Christinas | wms and bosom that had nursed me in all ailments since babyhood, and as! ihe, I suppose, caught sight of my haggard looks, nature proved stronger than pride and we threw pretense to the winds. “Oh, Aunt Sukey, do fix meupor I | shall die,” groared I, and “Oh, my po’, po’ chile, oh, bress you, yes” murmured she, rocking me back and | forth in her arms, whilo the tears streamed down ber face; and when I’ was partly eased by that sweet conso- intion, she added in a rare voice of ten- lor contrition, “Yes, my po’ lamb, it was jes’ all my fault; dose yer ’gre-' jients mought a’ stayed in de kitchen from now till de Fo'th o’ July without | burting deirselves ef I hadn’t been dat ynsistent; I'm jes’ clean ’stracted tink- in’ how I done bre’k your leg when de’ | wan't no 'scuse; an’ it's all de fault of lis yer ole nigger, now suttinly.” This was too much. Conscience ' sould keep silence no longer before such an example; ard I put an end to my sophistries by bursting out in a stifled wail of confession: «Don’ say hat, Aunt Sukey! 1 fell down on purpose.” An hour later I sank into a blissful tleep, soothed by the music of in- xhaustible lullabies. The next day | was one of the happiest Christmas Days that 1 can remember—I was so wetted, made much of and praised, and 0 relieved by an unburdened con-! science, Only one thing troubled me; Aunt Sukey would not hear of a gene- ‘al public confession. «I'll jes’ tip de | wink to de mistia,” she said—'here was | + whole volume in her inflection of ! ‘mistis.” “Cause she's dat disjected | Uinkin' twas her doin's, sho'ly, bat I clar 1 ain’t sgoin to hab you lettin’ on ‘0 all dem or’nery Simmonses, an’ see iat Est'er, as looks so mighty peart ' snyhow, dese days, holdin’ up her head iky high and crowin’ ober vou.” Modern Military Rifles, The London Standard says: On the whole, there seems good reason to be ' wtisfied with our own rifle, the Lee- : Mitford. It is light—9lb 6oz—the ' ightest in Europe, except the French wm, which is i less; it fires sight rovnds, and in this direction is surpassed by no weapon; and it has a’ range of 50 less than 3,500 yards, with + smokeless nitro compound. At 2,000 yards the percentage of hits when ex- reriments were lately made, the object »oing four companies in gasrter column danding—a good si targel—was 18: at 2,000 yasls it was 29 per cent. ; | snd at 2,800, 18; Lut the latter range is | sver a mile and a half, and if on y 18 men fell before the enemy at that dis | tance it would have its #¥ect. Another sdvantage of the new rifle is its reduced calibre, for this enables the soldier to carry more ammunition. The late General Skobelefl, who saw | as much fighting as any one of recent vears, was of opinion that 130 rounds were necessary to keep up a fight when once troops wers committed to it; and it is certain that #0 rounds per man were found too few at St Privat, where the Freneh fired away all they had, and were forced to re- treat, ammunition wagons not having come up. Russis is supposed not to | have settled what magazine rifle she | wil! adopt; and this is also the case | with Spain, Portugal, Norway, and Sweden. Even non-progressive China has a magazine rifle, the Lee, which fires five rounds. The new rifle and field artillery have snormonsly exténded the dang r zone | into which no troops can pass without | peril of death. The new fleld-pieces make capital practice st a range of three and a half miles, end the rifle is sighted up to a couple of miles. What is the result? Obviously the troops must be spread out more as the area of the battefleld widens, and the men must no longer advance in massed col- umns. These changes necessitate the abandonment of the old cast-iron tac tics, and the adoption of a new system, im which much wore is left to the indi- vidual intelligence of the soldier Satisfied with His Investmen:. On the grip of & summer car sat an oll gentleman who looked like Denman Thompson in “Josh Whitcomb,” Tue | onble car ran through a squalid district | wheres women and children sprawled |! over the blistering vement, while puny babies wailed and helpless mothers tried in a hstless, half hopeless way to qniet their eriea. T'hetrain ran by two siqnarce of sweltering misery, and then thie old gentleman showed signs of un- mistakable excit mont, pulled the wron bell cord and rung up a fire as a sign that he wanted to get off. After the usual amonnt of compliments in such | cuses between the conductor and the | pa-senger he succeeded in alighting, and | muttered: “By gosh! I'll do it: it won't cost much, and it will do lots of good.” When he reached the women they ap- peared to be pleased at what he sug- gested, and when the next car came slong going west he halted it and load- ed every thing in sight on board for a fresh air trip. Arriving at the ead of the road Cheeryble, or Uncle Josh, who- ever he was, waa soon jn Heaty with a asloo keeper for a bucket of lemon. o. “Not too rweet, you know, but with lots of ice. The children and women drank i eagerly, and after Shjoxing not a cool breeze, but a low whieh rose from MAKING COD LIVER OIL "it is not generally known that some. | times when the oil fails to effect » cure IT DOESN'T ALWAYS NEED COD the steam arising from the trying-out LIVERS. vats will succeed. A consumptive here, in almost the A Good Place For Oonsumptives $0 last stage of the disease, happening to Visit, pass through a cod liver oil factory | stopped, inhaled large draughts of the usually offensive vapors as though they Were the sweets of a flower garden, remarking: «There 1s something here Amerfean eod liver oil 1s made fa dock, pollock, hake and cusk are used in the manufacture. Only about one- third of the American output of this oil is procured from cod livers. From September until March the livers are fat and in the best condition. and, although a wealthy man, obtained permission to work in the factory. At the end of a month he had geined A bucketful of livers will then yield about six quarts of oil. Only four quarts of this, however, can be made suitable for medicinal purposes; the remaining two quarts is of an inferior quality and is used by curriers. From March to June the livers are thin and inferior, and will yield only one-half as much oil. Cod liver oil thirty pounds, had greatly improved | in appearance and feeling, his appetite had returned, his cough was gone, | and finally he completely recovered. | Singers also sometimes resort to cod liver oil factories to inhale the fumes ‘arising from the vats. They assert | that their voices are thereby strength- | ened and cleared. a —————— a How They Waked the Shah, FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Trade is a world in itself, Deference is silent flattery, Every bee’s honey is sweet, The house showelh the owner. Anger at a feast betrays the boor. Ground for ground is not good polley. Disinterestedness is the very soul of virtue, Impudence | bypoerisy. Patience will tire out everything bus mosquitoes, A man generally gets his deserts fa any neighborhood, Abstinence should be the exception, is nothing more than opes “Happy as a king’ is a libel on had piness, and the king too. Now truths ars merely old ones with the cobwebs brus'ied off. The gratitude of place expectants iss lively sense of future favors. It is no eomfort Lo be told we are free to follow the advice of others Man 1s a noble animal, splendid is ashes and pompous in th grave. Tales relating to the Shah's last vigit to England are flying through from livers of fish that have not beem ' dead over forty-eight hours. Fishing vessels on their long trips to the banks gave the fish livers in the air. hogsheads and 80 inveterate opium eater, and when sell them to the oil manufacturers for under the effects of the drowsy drug, thirty cents per bucketful. livers an inferior quality of oil is made From these it is understood among his attendants that no one is to dare come that is used by tanners | arouse him from his blissful dreams. Up to about three vears ago the most primitive means were used for obtain. ing oil from livers. i held in Windsor Park for his indivi. The results were = Qual amusement. The day before it very unsatisfactory, and the best por- The old method was to expose the livers to the action of the sun until the oil was dried out. Only a smal percentage of oil was thus due was thrown now every portion of the liver is used. The method is to put the livers into a large tin-lined vat having a coil of per- forated steam pipes in the bottom. A pressure of thirty pounds of steam is put on the boiler, and the steam es- caping through the perforations in the ! no desired result; the royal carriage "ally large dose of his favorite opiate and overslept himself in the morning. { No sign appearing outside his appart- ' ments the queen sent a messenger to inform him of the time. The reply Iwas: “His majesty otfl] | “Waken him directly !” was the royal | command, given, it must be confessed, ‘with a display 'Back came the answer: “We dare | not, for our lives?” Messengers passed to and fro, with tion of the livers was wasted. secured, and the resi- AWAY as uscless, In Patience waxed great. At last some half an hour after steam is turned on | O1¢ thought of asking the attendants all the ofl that can be procured by | If there was any way of swaking the trying out will have arisen to the sur- | Shah without enraging him to such an face. ye . : ber,” will have sunk to the bottom of | Paid forfeit with his life. the vat. The oil is bailed off and put | Hon Was held and, with many deep sa- into barrels . after which it is refined by being al- | Music bad been known to arouse their lowed to freeze tillit is of the con. | Eracious master from slumber with- sistency of thick mash, when it is put | Ot ruffling the serenity of his tem- into drilling bags and the pure oil | Per. The queen heard of this and pressed out in a heavy iron pross. The | gave orders that the band of the Life oil that is pressed through the drilling | Guards should be sent for and sta- is considered refined, and after being | tioned just under his windows. The put up in new barrels of forty-five gal- | Life Guards played the nolsiest march in their repertoire under the Shah's lons each is sold to the wholesale | druggists for about 36 cents per gallon, | “asement, which had the desired effect From these it passes to the retail drug. | °F swakening him with a smile shin. gists, who sell it for $4 or 85 per gal- | ing on his serene countenance. The lon. Running the oil through char. royal party was, notwithstanding, late on the ground--a very unusual oocur- | rence, for | } t vastly inferior to the freezing and embodied—and the Persisn slumbers pressing process. Refined cod liver | B8Ve become almost proverbial. ass I AA, A Young Austrian Giantess, perature at which the crude oil was The most famous child in the Ger- frozen, will change its color and as | man empire just now is Elizabeth Lys sume a milky appearance. The refin. ' ka. Every German daily has told ite ing process leaves in the bags a sub- | readers how she looks and acts, how stance resembling lard in color and | much she eats and drinks, and what | consistency. It is stearine, or “tanner’s | kind of clothes she wears. All Berlin | grease,” and is used as a dressing for [is calling upon her, ss all Vienna | morocco. called npon her a few weeks ago when | The blubber left in the bottom of | “he was in the Austrian capital. the vat after the trying out is allowed | Elizabeth is getting all this attention, to work and ferment for forty-eight | not because she is pretty or clever, but hours, and is then pressed. After the { becanss she isbig. According to Vir- pressure has continued for fourteen | chow, she is the biggest girl of her | hours all the oil is secured that remains | Years whom Europeans of modern | in the blubber. It is inferior oil, of limes have scen. Though but eleven which there are six grades; it is worth Years old, she is 6 feet 6 inches tall, about 25 cents per gallon, and is used wd weighs about 300 pounds, | by eurriers in dressing, tanning, and | Elizabeth was born on the Manor coloring leather. There is left in the = Wiessolyj in the valley of the Danube bags a substance of the color and con- Her parents were poor peasants, not sistency of dry mud called “scrap,” taller nor broader than other peasants. which is sold to farmers as a fortilize- | Sbe was the youngest of five children | st $9 per ton. none of whom, save herself, is remark | The best quality of cod liver oil ably large. Four hours after her birth | comes from Norway. It is much She weighed ten pounds. Bhe grew | clearer and whiter than the American % Other children grow till she was 4 oil. Itisputupin tin casks holding Youre old. Then she began to be a {little giantess, In her fifth year she | 30 gallons each, enclosed in wooden "¥ 58. barrels. The claim is made that no £ained ten inches in height. She out- | livers except those of the codfish are 'ETew her blue cotton gown and wood- | sh idly that Papa Lysks, | used in its manufacture, but the Amer- im Oes 80 rapidly yeka, fcan manufacturers strongly suspect Who was trying to support Mamma that it owes its remarkable clearness 'Lyska and four other little Lyskas on to ita having been mixed with seal ofl. Something over $100 a year, was put Twenty dollars per gallon is consid- '0 his wits’ ends to get money enoug* ered a low price for this oil, and it ‘© keep her decently clothed. sometimes goes as high as $98, Amer. | From her fifth to her ninth birth. fen is the largest buyer of Norwegisr day she grew only an inch or two. sil. yo Detween ber ninth and tenth birthdays “Newfound! liver ofl ranks the gained a foot; between her touth a xg nn and eleventh, « foot and four inches of the livers of cod She could pitch hay, cut grain, plough a Labrador 30. and dig potatos with any man on the ofl factory that manor. Her hand was as large ae ud lis # Sof Hver thres ordinary fominine hands, and i she once knocked a young man, whe teased ber, senseless to the ground. KP — gy -> - | Affiction may one day smils | and till then, sit thee down One of the best evidences of our mortality 1s our desire to be o. { The chans f slavery are none the los Rauling for being made of gold, again to sorrow, ime To be really cosmopolitan a man must bs at home even in his own « ountry, Heaven should be kind to stupi! peor | ple, for no one else can consistently, | There are seme men so insolent thal their trade is not worth the endur 16+ The less we know what 1s 1n s'ore fot | us, the more cont«nted we will be. | Walk the path of advice carefully for | deception will be met at every step, : If a man has the toothache, he cannol {| imagine how a man feels without it. Those who advocate the virtue eof | yielding are Len fited by the process. | To be popular a person must possess Uh | talent of disguising his charscter. There is no reason why a man shoud | turn dog for the sake of success in a shop, A merely fallen enemy may rise again, { but the reconciled one is truly vane | quished, | The love that man gains by flattery ts | worth just about as much as the flattery is, | Asa man grows older he sees what {an ass he used to be, but fails to see | what an ass he 18 A dwarf sees farther than a giant | when he bas the giant's shoulders te { mount on. In the adversity of our dest friends | we often find something that is not lis | pleasing to us, The man who is blessed with a good | memory needs to be blessed with for | bearance, too, | Oredit is like chastity, they both cas | stand temptation better than they can | suspicion. | There is as much place for true dig. | nity and self-respect behind a counties {as 1u frout of i. 1 { A coward can be a hero at a distanosg (It is presence of danger that tests pres ence of mind, | Love is the first passion of the heart, | ambition the second, and avarios ibe { third and last, | Learning is a good deal like strength -~it requires good horse sense 10 kuow how to apply it. | There cannot be a greater rudeness { than to interrupt another in the current | of his discourse, { Great men are not by any means the | best of companions; they seidom cas | ever enjoy themselves. One of the hardest things to learn is that the world is seidom watching ws when we are doing good. If you will be familiar, you must ex- pect to lose the confidence of fools and the esteem of the wise, Confess your sins tothe Lord and you will be forgiven; confess them to men. and you will be laughed at, If a man should happen to reach per fection In this world, he would have die imm diately to enjoy himself, Half the misery of human life might be extingul-hed by mutual offices of compassion, benevolence and humanity, Adversity has the same effect on a man that severe traming has on the pugilist—it reduces Lim to his fighting weight, There are some folks i+ ths world who spend their whole time hunting alter righteousioss and have uo spare time to practice | . Even more than a grea’er length of a clear percep lou uf Lhe rightful objec 0 be atttalined, Each man can learn something from Lis neighbor; at least he can learn this- to have patience with his neighbor, t« ive nud let live, Where men feel mot, they speak not most, for in the deep things of Ix heart, ss in thi gs spintual, there am feelings which cannot be uttered, Nuture embraces entire humanity sm ore social body, but art strives to divide the relations of mankind, and from tis commercial strife civilization results,
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