- wo ssuarinn OUR SHIPS THAT CAN NEVER COME IN. And with a tormented soul he removed all the books and zases—and even the urn—from the room on the second floor and carried them: to the garret. The joy of being a father obliterated the remorse from Durier's soul; he thought only rarely of his first wife, all and lived with the souvenir of the adored wife. He had ordered several reproduc. tions of a good portrait that he possessed of her, and all the rooms in the house were ornamented with them. Curiously enough it was among all these tokens of remetabrance that Durier was less sad. The dead woman kept her promise; she did not incommode him. The contemplation of the mala- chite urn awakened no cruel ideas in the doctor's mind; he continually saw his wife, gay, charming and smiling. He talked with her and they discussed their wedding journey, When he was obliged to work he carried the urn into his study; they had 50 often said that while he was busy she would come near his table and embroider without disturbing him. Bix months, then a year passed by in this manner. He now began to forget the urn at night, and imstead of carrying | it into his chamber left it in his study. He even finished by leaving it altogether in his study; not that the souvenir of the dead was lew desr to him, but be. cause he said to himself that the silence of the doctor's study was a more suitabie place for a funeral urn. Besides, he had taken care to always have close by a fresh bouquet of violets or roses, his wife's favorite flowrrs, At the end of two years Durier had been gradually led to return to his bach. elor life: all his comrades sermonized bim and his wife's guardian said to him squarely : Oh, wondrously fair are the Islands of Rest— The islands we never have seon— But we kiow they are smiling out there in ost, Their valleys all glowing in green. No cloud ever crosses their tropical sky, They know naught of sadness or sin, Atrest in their harbor, all peacefully lie Our ships that can never come in. “There dwell the fair faces our fancies may the malachite urn in the garret, her had it not been for a terrible incident that huppencd on his birthday, On t turn home until the dinner hour. The whole family was gathered and he was welcomed by joyous cries, He was greatly moved. The company 1 into the dining-room, and there, in the middleof the table, he saw the malachite urn containing & magnificient bouquet. He turned pale, while his wife burst into laughter. “Monster!” she said, ‘you concealed this beautiful vase, the finest thing you brought from Italy.” He stammered out a few incomprehen- sible words, and she continued with her playful air: “1 was obliged to ransack the garret {to find it. I discovered it among a lot of books; it might have got broken. Some books, in falling, had overturned it. The cover was off and broken into three pieces. Why did you store away such a beautiful vase in the garret! It | must have been there a long time.” “Oh! yes,a long time,” he stammered. “Yes, un very long time, for it is full of dust!” “Dust! voice. His wife believed that he was simply astonished, and she added: “Oh! full, full! A dust so fine that it flew into the air whilst [ spread it over the flower-bed { where my choicest plants are growing-- the flower-bed where I have gathered for | you myself this bouquet. What do you think of it! It's pretty, isn't itt” “Yes, yes, very pretty.” And in these fresh flowers, whose corol | opened as gracefully as the mouth of a Hoo, With eyes of the tenderest blue, That come in our slumbers to you and to me, In dreams that can never come true. We joyfully greet them, nor wish they were here Midst earth's ceaseless sorrow and din. ‘They are blissfully guarding the hopes we hold dear— Our ships that never come in. ~(hicago Herald, {IE MALACHITE URN. When Louis Durier, Surgeon of the Fifty-first Regiment, lost his wife, his sorrow was intense. He had scarcely had time to become well acquainted with the adored companion and to enjoy his happiness, for they had been married only a month and were on their wedding journey in Italy. They had met each other at Tours, where Durier’s regiment was in gerrison. He had won her heart by his elegant horsemanship and by the languid way in which he sang with his fine baritone voice gentle romances wherein it was reg- ularly a question of love. And he thus found himself married without having reflected a great while; for it was she who had chosen him in spite of her guardian, who did not consider that Du rier's position was on an equal footing with his ward's large fortune. She Lad always worried her guardian by her fantastical ways. Poor guardian! He had scarcely had time to turn round, as they say, before his ward called herself Mme. Durier. He consoled himself in seeing the brilliant throng of officers who accompanied the young couple to the al. tar. The marriage was one of the most brilliant ones that had ever celebrated in the old city of Tours. i “My boy, you have no right to bury | yourself.” | It even happened that having accepted several invitations he was obliged to return the politeness. Bo one day he invited all the bachelor officers of | the regiment to his house. The dinner was all the more gay, | as they had promised themselves to en liven the poor widower. After an in. finite number of bottles of champagne and vouvray wine, which goes to the head as quickly as champagne, the guests were 50 gay that they scattered them. selves over the house and even went into the doctor's study. For the first time in two years Durier | Young girl, he though himself had dined exceedingly well, and | of the little blonde whe was, by the aid of his comrades, ig a | mourned, — Family Fiction state that Horace has described as ebriolus. Suddenly he found himself in Second Wind. - his study in the midst of a group of | knows After a week's sojourn in the neighbor. Lieutenants, who were singing a jovial | what it is to gain a ‘‘second wind,” hood of Tours they started for Italy. It [ONE Quickly sobered, he took the | though be may not bu able to explain was an enchantment for both of them: | malachite urn and placed it in a little re- | why one minute heis out of breath and they began to know each other by heart | ©*% adjoining his study, and which was | the next feels as if he could run several sad soou learned to know each other's filled with books. : | miles. The explanation is this mind in admiring the admirable monu- To avoid a return of a like profanation | In ordinary breathing we use only a ments of the classic land. the doctor decided on the following | portion of our lungs, the cells at the ex They had nearly finished their journey day to transform this little recess into a | tremity not being brought into play. and were staying for a second time at chapel; he had a gothic window set in, | This is the reason why those who are not Milan when, after an imprudent prome. and surrounded the urn with flowers | “in training,” and who try to run for any nade that she had absolutely wished to | Soon afterward he perceived that the | distance, soon begin to gasp, and unless make during a damp evening, Mme. flowers, deprived of air and light—the | they are courageous enough to persevers Durier, who was very delicate, suddenly | gothic window was small and somber— | in spite of the ch are fell ill. The following day inflammation faded as soon as he brought them, be- | forced to stop; but if they will persevere of the lungs set in, and a few days later, | CMe withered and spread about the the choking goes off, and | , t is notwithstanding the most devoted care chapel a sickening odor that his wife | what is known as *'w of her husband, assisted by the most would have detested as well sa he. He| When the second wi celebrated doctors of Milan, Mme. Du. | replaced the natural flowers by artificial | lished, the runner d not Ie rier was at the point of death. She had | plata, snd the urn remained calm in its | of heath, nif acs on running as long the cou » to console her husband. | BOOK. as his legs will carry him \Itis oot possible to be so happy and | Three years bad passed since Mme The fact is, thai on starting, the to live always. [I have had so much hap- | Durier's death, when her husband sud. | farthest portions of th lungs are choked piness in loving you. But do not weep, { denly discovered that he was the object with air, and the remainder do not sup- for I do not wish to pass away with the | of the most thoughtful attentions from | Pi¥y ar enough to the increased vision of your sad face.” She raised her [the termble guardian who had disap. | circulation caused by exercise. By de. arm feebly and stroked his moustache, | proved of the marriage. And after vari. | grees, however, Ve neglected cells come which he now neglected. ous invitations to dinner or to the hunt | into play; and when the entire lung is in “] want you to have your braveair. 1 [and to evening parties where the doctor | working order the circulation and respira pave loved you so much! You will see; | had been obliged to scour up his baritone | Hon again balance each other, and the a surprise awaits you when you return to | voice, the guardian abruptly revealed his | second wind is the result Tours. And if you wished to make me | projects | Now let the reader repeat his experi one?! If you wished never to leave me, | “My friend, I see that you do not | ment of holding his breath against time; w keep me always | comprehend, and that everything must | but first let him force out of his lungs am frightened at this wicked | always be explained to you. Have you | every particle of air that he can expel, death, which destroys us daring so never remarked that 1 have a daughter?” | and then draw as deep a breath as his many years. Tell me, do you wish to| Durier trembled and made a vague | lungs will hold. If this be repeated make of me a little Jot of dust, so that | gesture. | seventy or eighty times, by way of im- you can carry me away with you! [| ‘A daughter, monsieur, who rendered | itation of the whale, the experimenter would take such a small space! I would | our existence very unhappy when you will find he can hold his breath for a aot incommode you, would not prevent | married my ward. Bat to-day all is ex. | minute and a half without inconvenience. you from working. You would some. | plained. Just imagine that this child Should he be a swimmer, he should times glance at me, and never entirely | she was ther only sixteen—was jealous of always take this precaution before ‘‘tak- forget it." your wife! She was already in love with | ing & header,” and be will find that he | you!" a—— | can swim for a considerable distance be. When Dr. Durier returned to Tours he | ‘Bot that is over, I hope.” fore he needs to rise for breath, — Yankee sas changed beyond recognition His | “Oh! no. It has only increased and | Blade. il thick black hair bad turned white, his | become embellished. I have made in- eyes had lost their brilliancy, and were | quiries and know that you are on the eve Felt Ashamed of His Joke. surrounded by a dark circle, his cheeks | of promotion snd have a superb future Most squirrels keep two or more stores fell, and when he walked he was bent | before you. [know the amount of your | of food. Wood, the British naturalist, over like an old man. fortune ; my daughter has a very reapecta- ; teils of a friend who fouhd one of these He did not bring back his wife'scoffin. | ble dowry, sixty thousand dollars. Will | reserve stores which a squirrel had pro- She had requested, he affirmed, that her | you be my son-in-law?” vided for an exigency, and the friend, in body remain in Italy and he had respected | Durier was very much embarrassed. | 8 moment of thoughtiessness, determined her wish. She reposed in the Campo. | He had never thought of the possibility | to play a joke on the squirrel. He ac- Banto at Milan. of a new union; he was, therefore, not | cording replaced the nuts by small round At the memorial service, which was | prepared to struggle, for he had no seri. | stones, and carefully concealed all evi. celebrated in the cathedral at Tours, he | ous arguments to produce. Every one | dences of his visit. One cold day in excited the pity of all the congregation, |is agreed that a map esanot remain a | winter he passed the spot, and found that even that of his wife's guardian, who, | widower all his life when he has been | the squirrel had called there a short time however, was furious since the notary | married oniy a month. previously. This he know by the fact had told him that before starting for| Finally Durier, who was an easy-going | that ten inches of snow had been seratched Italy Mme. Durier had recently made | man, allowed himself 50 be drawn into a | from the top of the hole, outside of which w will in favor of her husband. This was | second marriage. Bui he was careful not | the stones been cast by the disap- the surprise. to take hiv wife to Italy. He contented | pointed animal. This struck the joker “Courage, Majos I” raid Durior's Col | himealf with trip inte, Brittany, resurn. | with remorse. He said: *‘T never felt the onel to the bereaved Sargeon. ing hose by way of Paris. He came “Be a man!” said his comrades. back to his home tortured by remorse, After the ceremony he allowed no one | He belioved he had contracted a marriage to accompany him to the house that of duty and interest, but he found awaited the happy couple and where he | he was madly in love with his second sions ive. He even refused | wife. , who wished to give him 8 only e pra a ar ia His 0: 1y excuse was that she resembled wanted no vitoesses. His orderly was sufficicat to wid him in un the box that be had from Milan. It was 4 fav box in le and contained a malachite umn of a splendid . “Is that u new traveling case?” asked the orderly. i Je ppened the box and took out the urn. cried Durier in a strangled he saw the smile vn he had so Every boy who has » + mile ing sensation, tab ane out et with you?! I] life. Fancy the poor little fellow, nipped with cold and scanty food, but foreseeing ried one was as a blonde, Bhie had only one fault; she was tzribly Jonlous of everything, even of remem. brance. With such a jealousy Durier of whose portaits save one had rejained | And | perhaps he would have entirely forgotten | adopted the at day he was so busy at regi- | nial lquarters that he di p= | mental headquarters that he did not te. five inches apart directly along the centre a long winter, resolved to economize his | little hoard ms long a2 possible. Fancy | him at last determined to break this | HINT TC CELERY GROWERS, We all know of the trouble and delay of gathering the stalks of celery plants to, r before the earth is drawn about it if each one has to be tied up or held separately, For three years, says I. V. Shank, in flusbandmain, I have following plan, which at fist was an experiment, the results of which has proved entirely satisfactory: I dug a trench about nine inches in width, Bet the plants about of trench. Before drawing in earth | crowd the space between the bank and the plants with straw, which effectually prevents the soil from coming in contact with the celery, and so continues to the required height; after which I cover the top with straw to the depth of four inches, and finally cover all with earth to a depth sufficient to protect from freezing if left out over winter, BHEEP AS SCAVENGERS, Writing in the New York Tribune, [.. B. Pierce says: “Now that sheep ure coming to the front once more, it is possible that some very unproductive and worthless slashings wiii be brought to profitable condition. No other animal is 50 at war with nature's wildness as the sheep. BScarcely any noxious thing ex cept thistles will guin a foothold in sheep pasture; and there is no way of subdu. ing a clearing so thoroughly as to set sheep a-feeding there. | know of a clearing of ten acres that has been noth. ing but a bill of expense for eight years, which now (barring stumps) might have been a clean, bluegrass pasture if it had been made a run for a small flock of sheep. The owner has had a spell of cutting brush and weeds about once in two years, and now the last end of the field is worse than the first. One of the present beauty spots is a half-acre patch of teasles. As a run for cattle the field has certainly not been worth twenty-five cents an acre, and many of the stumps are no nearer decay than eight years ago the having been kept alive growing sprouts, roots by BULES FOR WINTER FLOWERING. The bulbs should be potted as soon as | they can be had in a compost consisting | of good loam and rotten manure and road grit, in equal parts, and should be just | covered with soil, and the whold watered with a hose, upon a firm bottom in the frame yard snd coal ashes put over them to the depth of six or seven inches; here they | should remsin until the pot is full of This is the object obtained by f the roots, covering with ashes; the crown o bulb being kept cool and dark with the covering, the roots grow away in advance f the tops, and so the plants become fitted to yield a good bloom, and here we | would say to beginners in bulb culture We have | lies the grost secret of success, soen people who ought to have known better pos bulbs and place them at once into n greenhouse for flowering, or into a stove for carly bloom. were disappointed, but as a rule the qual ity of the bulb has been blamed and not the foolish treatment which it has re peived. Now, we say to all who for early flowers of Roman hyacinths, get them as early as possible and treat them | as we have directed and a grand bloom will be the result Never subject them to artificial heat before the pots are full of roots. — Colman’s Rural World. —— CARE The Maine Farmer truly says there is wich bad management with calves in the older months of the year. If confined o the pasture where they have run dur ng the summer, without additional food, they are sure to grow thin in flesh and ose ground when they ought to be grow. ing right along. On the other hand, if turned into a run of extremely fresh grass they are quite liable tv scour, and many times this difficulty will follow so long as the grass lasts. Later on they are left out exposed to the cold storms and frosty nights of late autumn and compelled to live as best they are able on only frosted grass. As s result of all this they come to winter quarters reduced in condition and actually less in weight than at a time two or three months previous, Now, what has been gained from the feed they have consumed during the time and from the time that has with- out grain? This has all been lost, and more than lost, for it will take some time and good feed to turn the tide and start them again into thrift, A good practice is to house them nights and give extra feed of some kind. We have secured very satisfactory results from a feed of good hay each night at the barn. Of course more rapid growth can be made OF CALVES, | by adding wheat bran, crushed oats or | linseed they should folly of practical joking so much in my | | neal. iit way sate Shay be kept thriftily growing, and to do it ve something good to eat beside what they can get in pasture at this sea. & F ht i | i gi3 HE t i good condition they cannot be handled too carefully. As soon as they are dried, carefully rub off any adhering loam or soil by turning each tuber around in your hands a couple of times, and then place them in the baskets, barrels or chests in which they are to be stored, so that they cannot be readily shaken about when the packages sre handled, If at once forwarded in well ventilated barrels or boxes. Large strawberry crates are excellent to pack in when intended for keeping, as they are not so deep as barrels, If intended for winter use or sale, the packages should be stored in a well ventilated place, free from damp- ness, where they can remain until weather comes on, when they should be removed to a warm room. The packages containing the potatoes should not be moved more than is absolutely necessary, as changing then from place to place is apt to produce sweat and decay, One of the very best places to keep sweet pota- toes during winter is a tight loft or room over the kitchen, so constructed that the heat from below can readily be utilized in warming the loft or upper room, It should be borne in mind thet rats and mice are very fond of “sweets,” and will soon do considerable damage among them if not guarded against. Swees po- tatoes can stand much more heat in win- ter than the common potato; in fact will keep well under a degree of heat which would svon shrivel or rot the latter, In the spring a good market is easily found for them, snd a large number can be profitably disposed of by almost every farmer. The raising of plants from the potatoes makes an item in profitable farming also. New York Herald CRIBEING CORN, I have yet to learn the economy of cribbing corn with the shuck on, writes N. J. Shepherd in the Western Plowman. The large amount of storage room re- quired, the more handling necessary with the extra work of handling that is occa sioned is certainly worth more than the small amount of feed that is received in the shucks. If roug tainly can be secured at a much less cost, by is needed it cer and of a considersbiy better « cutting the foc.der in go mity 1 season wie 1 | When the water | has soaked away they should be stood | Of course they | wish | After the corn has matured sufficiently to gather and ¢ away there is but » small amount of nutriment in the dried ip shucks, “It is not good economy 1 feed corn to stock of any kind with the ick on, and hence if stored away with. be all handled over again It will not keep any better in the shuck than without; na | fact, if the corn is exposed and gets wet it will damage more in the crib if it is eft with the husk on than without, More erib room is required to hold a given mber of bushels, and more handling } be required from the field. It can be jerked off ia the field in a little less | time than to shuck clean, but the work of husking sgain before feeding out will more than make this up so that so far as the work is concerned snd the expense of properly storing, husking clean in the field will be found the most economical plan, while in feeding out much time will also be saved. It is always best in harvesting and any crop to take reasonable | pains to put in as good condition as pos- and in a majority of cases this can be done at a much less expense at the start than to wait until it is needed, either | for feeding or to send to market, and then be obliged to handle over again be- | fore it can be considered as being ina | suitable condition. Wheat, oats, barley and rye can be cleansed much more thor- oughly before putting in the bins in | graneries than afterward ; and whichever plan will economize labor to the best ad. | vantage should be used. And it is certainly not economizing labor to store corn in the crib with the shuck on, where, before it is fed out, it must all be handled over again, and the shuck be taken off bafore it is fed to the stock. Even to hogs and cattle it is no real saving. The cattle will waste more { or less corn in attempting to eat shuck, cob and grain all at once, and oli: more grain is wasted than the value of the shuck as feed in giving cattle com in the shuck. What is fed to the hogs, has at least wasted the shucks, while there is al- ways more or less waste of grain that could have been saved if the corn was fed shucked. With sheep and horses the corn should always be shucked before feeding. And it is only in exceptional cases that this can be done cheaper in the crib than in the field, FARM AND GARDEX XOTES. Hog cholera is often a proof of bad feeding. ™ out husking it must Nl belore feeding storing sible fore the frost? pasture, winter, they must receive proper care and stention now. If the frost cut the tomato vines before the fruit was mature it may pay to pick it in- | tended for immediate shipment, they are | | Cure, Did you select and secure your corn be- | Plenty of salt is as good for hogs as | for the cows, especially if the hogs are in | If the cows are to do good service next | so —— NEWS AND NOTES YOR WOMEN, Very few women carry watches in New York city. The winter hats are very large and the bonnets very small, It is said that lemon juice will make the hands soft and smooth. Mrs. Oscar Wilde is one of the most popular female orators in England. The Queen of Italy has been growing | stouter and stouter, much 10 her annoy. | ance, Bilver finger-rings are very much worn, the design being ote of two snakes with | jeweled eyes, cold Only the girl with the Dapline head and Corinthian contour should essay the Eiflel coiffure, A square of bolting cloth embroidered in colored threads is reserved for a cor- sage handkerchief, Princess Beatrice, of England, has taken to a high dog cart, which she drives with much grace. Miss Sarah Irving, a niece of Washing- ton Irving, welcomes the who come to the novelist's old home, The Queen Margherita of Italy has ordered a portrait of herself as 4 present to the German Empress guests beautiful tose Terry Cooke seldom does any writing now, and is confined to her room many days at a time owing to illness, Jig muslin bows of the same color as toe frock, with the knot already made, are now to be found in the Paris shops. Sir Julian Paunc have bloomingly [ote's four daughters brilliant complexions and dress iu tne extremest English man- ner Miss Rachel Sherman, the General's youngest daughter, will spend the winter in Paris with the family of Minister Reid. Mme wife of the Pres the French Republic , 1s of height, with olive complexion and Roman {eatures. ident of medium Camnot, v - white, black anc colored, fre broidered colored silks, are alm the Orients] embroideries such high favor. jucntly em- in beads and tinted metal and wi as fashionable as which are in The Misses Pullman, daughters George M. Pullman, the Pul man of Chicago, will make th in Washington this season under spices of Mrs. Logan, with whom they traveled abroad for eighteen months, of Mr the su Belts for evening wear made of minis. tures are sold at $500. t takes twenty of the ivory paintings to encircle the slightest waist and they are not to be had under $40 each. It is needless to say that this style of girdie will not be the rage. Lady Dilke is one of nlished women in England. « perfect treat 10 sit by her at dinger She is so bright, piquant and clever, and at the same time so kind and sympathetic; She possesses in an eminent degree what the French call savoir vivre, the most acco It is said to nm Very preity lamp shades are made of thin tissue paper cul and curled to re. semble flower petals others are of pisin paper, with a crinkled appearance caused by folding sad smoothing; others take the form of birds, and are meant to shade one side only of the candle Elizabeth Liske, a Russian years old, already six feet six inches in height, three feet v2¢ and three-quarter inches round and three feet eleven imches round the chest, is the latest thing out in giants. The doctors my she will continue to grow in every way for some years yet. eleven the waist, A tiveat durprise Is in store for all whouse Kemp's Balsam for the Throat and Lungs, the great guaranteed remedy. Would you believe that it is sold on its merits and that any druggist §s authorized by the proprietor of this wonderful remedy to give you a sample bottle fre-? It never fails to cure acute or chronic coughs, All druggists well Bemp's Balsam. Large bottles S0c. and $i. Waite in Russia the Shah ordered 11.00 re- peating rifles for his troops. A man who has practiced medicine for years ought to know salt from sugar: read what he says Torro, O., Jan. 10, 1885, Messrs, ¥. 1, Cheney & Co. —Gentiomen:—1 have been in the general practice of med icine for most 40 years, and would say that in ali my practice and experience, have never seen a preparation thay | could prescribe with as much eonfidence of success as | can Hall's Cas tarrh Cure, manufactured by you. Ave pre soribed it a great many times and its effec wonderful, and would say in conclusion that have yet to find a case of Catarrh tha: 8 would not eure, if they would take it accords ing to directions, Yours Lop 4 Le Lo Gorsven, M.D. OfMoee, 215 Sammit “4 We will give $100 for any case of Oatarrh that cannot be cured with Hall's Ustarch Taken internally. A J. Cnexey & Co, Props, Toledo, O. Sold by Deugeista, he, | Tre sole panacea for every allment in China | Is & plast 1. Yon wear out Clothes on
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