— Nn, THE END The play is done-—the curtain fallg— Hero and villain trade their parts; The rich scenes change to smoky walls; The lovers ¢'en forget their hearts, And so it is with life—a play Make tragedy or farce at will: Who knows but as the mourners pray The dead finds changes greater still? Winthrop Church,in Munsey's Magasin hl A SADDUCEE, BY EVA WILDER M'GLASSON. The people who had rented the little red cottage to the right of the Shakers’ toll-gate had moved out, leaving things, as usual, much the worse of their brief occupancy. *‘I shall take it on myself to cut the grass and mend the [ront shutter,” said Brother Boone Hinson, as he drove past, a share in the emptiness over yonder where Centre House was. Bhe began to wonder if Brother Boone really enjoyed his life, if he never yearned to live in town, where you had neighbors handy and everything was cheerful, A week after, as Brother Boone was laying the grass low in the yard of the unlet cottage, he wus taken aback to bear himself addressed in an unusual way, after the hollow formula of the evil world, “Oh, Mr. Hinson!” The toll-gate girl stood at the fence, a blue apron over her head, her sleeves rolled up, Brother Boone turned in an attitude of rigorous attention, Certainly red hair, though held by many as a mean infliction of nature, is not altogether ugly when the sun smiles through it. And Mrs. Meeks's niece, though one of Adam's evil brood, had a kind of gentleness in her eyes—a look so warm and compelling and saw golden-rod shamelessly flaunting itself among the knee-high weeds in the | scrap of a yard. It was Shaker land clear to the Ken- | tucky River, two miles away, and an inch of unkempt sward was a grievous offence | not to be tolerated. ‘It is always this way with tenants,” sighed Brother Boone. *‘I wish we didn't have to rent out our unused houses to | world’s people.” He sighed again, cast- ing an austere eye on the toll-gate house, | a low-browed dwelling which sat scowl- | ing by the green way-side, The girl who had come a few months ago to live with her aunt, Mrs. Meeks, the toll-gate keeper, looked apathetically | at Brother Boone as she swung the pole over his mule's head, “A worlding,” considered the young man, returning her glance with disap. proval, and getting a new idea of wickedness from the curling fluff of red hair over her big eyes. The mule went a little sideways as his driver turned em phatically from the Jezebel in the door- way, her black gown edged at the neck with a wisp of crape. “Always Shakers!" lowing him with weary eyes, some one else and then.” She k« pi He was a part of deadly tranquility whole secluded settler went, even outskirt nook Mrs. The stone walls of the severe houses just to the southward se Mrs. Meeks's niece like tombs, House, I ponderous, weighed her hear time her glance struck throug intervening stretch of meadow. There was nothing to hear, nothing to except now and then of fine evenings, when some of the Har- rodsburg young people dashed by in light buggies—mere flecting glimpses of gayety, which only stung Nom to a re- membrance of the city. She was new to country ways, and in the midst of the wild freshness of the unbuilded earth she pined for the fret of the town, the rush of traffic, the smoke, the clamor of humanity, “It wasa't clean, of course, in Cincin- mati, but I loved it,” said Nora. “Shows how li sense you got," commented her aunt, feeling ill repaid for giving her brother's child a home. “You'd of been in a fine fix if I hadn't taken you in when your paw died —not a cent in the world except what the furniture out three rooms brought. I don’t know what you'd of done, so I don't.” “I could have stood in a store,” said Nora. “Yes, you could!” satirically agreed Mrs. Meeks. “I know how you'd stood ina re. You wouldn't have lasted a You ain't too robust, noway. I hope you're gratetul to me for bringing you to a good home, where you don't have to doa living thing except tend the toll-gate, and look after the children a little, sad do the washing, and such.” “Yes, Aunt Molly.” “They ain't a many widow women would a’ done it,” complacently added Mrs. Mecks. ‘And me with four of my own to raise.” She sighed heavily. She was a large, limp woman, lavishly en. dowed save in the single item of teeth. Her thin blond hair was always slipping down. *“It would be pretty if you pinned it | closer,” advised Nom. “Don’t matter none,” reasoned Mrs Meeks. “Sharp plows is mighty little use when you got no land to turn. 1 don’t look to marry again, noway. A maa 'd think twice with all these young cones. And there's nothing around her soyhow but Shakers, and they ain't the marrying kind," “Why!” asked Nora, “Against the laws, Don't waste no words on um, Nors, when you tura the pole for um. The women are right soft spoken, but the men wouldn't take off ir hats to a lady to save their lives. That there Brother Boone is the worst of allum. He's too straitlaced to live.” “I liked his looks best of all,” ro flected Nora, He was so unlike the young men in | town, who wore narrow shoes and had watch chains draped across their vests, and were collared and eravatted within an inch of their lives. Brother Boone | bed broad shoulders squarely outlined under his blue cotton coat, and his dust. colored hair curled up under the wide. rimmed bat ho wore. He looked strong .nd wholesome and happy, and yet he was a Shaker, and had lived always in these quiet uplands | where nothing ever happened, “Shakers |" wondered Nora: “people | who don't love or marry or have any. thing in their lives but work and prayer, Ob, I couldn't!" She vaguely conjectured what these straoge beings thought of when sprin came about, aud flelds were fringed wi wild flowers. Did the moonlight srouse no strange imagery in them! ‘Could they look unmoved on the sky when stars stole dimly out one J otis Spasiay- fog the night with silver dust! She shuddered « Better this weary life, with the four little forever she thought, fol. a “I wish would pass by just now which pervade to Meeks lived. Shaker emed to where he sce, ttle of of ts mouth. none ’ nt one's skirts and ail the work to do. than that Brother Boone caught himself short in wondering if perhaps Mother Aun Lee might not have appeared thus when she drew men's hearts to the truth, The truth! That meant the abjuration of anything like a kindly feeling for blue | eyes ringed darkly. “What do you want!” demanded Jrother Boone, coldly, feeling that at- tack is often the best mode of defence. The girl looked scared. **Oh—why { —I was going to ask you if you'd always lived here, seeing you pass every day, | | kind of wondered if you'd ever lived in | ~ town. I'm from Ciscinnuti myself. Have you ever been there! We lived on the side of Mount Adams. It was real gay there. You could hear the | band play in the Highland House up on “Crowds go ‘hey drink sit But rushed on: summer nights, ginger ale, and to the music. een | top." She there beer on and listening maybe you've | “Nay,” confuted brother Boone, in a terrible voice. “To a junketing place where wine-bibbers congregate! Nay." ‘Nice people go there,” faltered Nora: “‘not Shakers, of but know.” “I know little of the world Brother Boone condescended to “l been to several Kentuc Ky towns, course, ” explain, ! id nowher else.” “Don't you get lonesome eo sometimes over th ven- where it's so quieti” tured the girl. “Lonesome!” ‘among so many holy peo ple—the I esteem it a blessed privilege to be one cf them, | be indeed wretched to live in the De frowned he, dropping the scythe, ) world's elect! 80 wuld utter darkness.’ *Should you?" mid Nor. would rather work my to the bone than be one of them, a Shaker wo- man, and wear capes and scuttle-bon ets,” “Now 1 Logers She stopped short, Mrs. Meeks was calling her. ““Aw, Nora, look at you a-dawdlin’ there while the dish-water cools off, and me with as lame a back as [ ever had in my life. You need a good talking too, thats what. I'm too essy with you. Nothing mellers an apple 30 quick as freemog it." “Good-by, Mr. Hinson," said the girl, tigood-by."" ‘‘Brother Hinson,” he “Good by," “She is a frail little thing.” to himself, slashing the weeds down. “I work too these world's as idle as corrected her he said reckon Jane Meeks makes her hard. They are all idle, women, this Norah, no doubt, the rest if she One day when he went by he saw her in the yard. Mn pole for him, her cold the ¢ ywed maa hang dared he clothes the hanging Meeks raised nod at variance with she baatered a dark br ing over her porch rail. ““The evil of the human heart is past computing,” declared Brother Boone “I shouldn't wonder if Jane Meoks thinks of marrying again. If she takes up with that Joe Hutton, she will regret it; a trifling scam It chanced, on a certain eveaing in September, that he met the red-haired girl face to face as he took a short.cut through a corn field west of Shakertown. It was well on for sunset, A languid yellow melted about the earth, golden, like a ring in which a great topaz blazed, Cow bells tinkled faint anl far in the distant roadway. Two bare-legged me in which " Dn Pp Shaker boys were walking a stone fence | hard by, shoutiog as they pitched atout | for balance. Mrs. Meoks's niece looked whiter than ever, and her threadbare gown hung Her hair was disordered and made a misty bronze glow behind ber head, “Are you sick!” demanded Brother Borne, bluntly, stopping the way. “No," she said. And thea he maw that she had been crying, that her eyes were wel even now, as he looked lato their blue depths. Brother Boone had never seen any woman cry, save old Sister Ellen Gray- bill upon getting word of her son's death. The ola woman had sat for days with swollen eyelids, refusing comfort, refusing even to listen when Rider Thomas pointed out to her the evil of 100%, | sorrowing when earthly ties waxed slack and broke. Brother Boone had been furtively aware of pitying Ellea Grayhill, but jt around | | said, almost sternly, as if he were claim- | you | Nora”—he seized her bony little fingers —=‘‘would you take such a step, with these examples of holiness so close at hand? Nora, I thought you were of the base fabric of the world when 1 saw you first, because—I reckon it was because your face is so fair, and your eyes take the heart with a great warmth; but now you seem to me better and sweeter than any one else on earth, I can't let you walk into this gin that the devil has set to catch your heel, Nora.” He drew | ber forward, folding her brow in his | palm as with an instinct of protection. | “I thought Shakers never loved Any | one,” said the girl, looking up at him. | **‘But you, Brother Hinson, you" { IT" said he, starting away from her, with a curious pallor about his lips. Was this indeed he-—this man with a { tumult in his breast like the swell of a | flood? Was it he, a Shaker, or merely { one who had been a Shaker till the bub- i ble of his faith burst at the ties, point. ing of love's finger? “I never thought of marrying him,” said Nora. “I don't like him, you know. I couldn's marry any one unless [—" | The blood spoke so eloquently in her ! cheek that Brother Boone's heart leaped | with a comprehension of its meaning. | ! Nora looked across the yellow field. “‘He said he would live in the little brick house nexteto the toll.gate: the | one the Shakers own: and and then all ut once it came over me that I had seen you cutting grass in the yard | of that very house, and-—and-—somehow ~I knew I couldn't marry him ever— | over. The young Shaker's hand trembled on | { her hair. “I am going to take eare of you,” he {tog a right anbther had infringed. Was it 50 wrong, then? Was it not a { man’s part to shield the helpless! Reason { took him down. There were the Shaker {folk at a mere stone's-throw: he the and give her to their of take doors, He austere life losthed the Due was mi Nora yasehold & lightning an evening ity unshorn, worid i The sun was qe now, and it was very still And then { suddenly a clear sound swung through the hollow twilight, wie Centre House raised its gray old walls just to the sonthward, its tiny window night held On its square belfry the lights as black as if eternal sway within, iron bell careened slowly, giviag out the evening hour, The man in the corn fleld beld his i soul fast in his teeth. The woman study. ing his face read the significance of its strained lines, of the drops of sweat on its temples; and herown face. on which 8 certain tmuquility had shone, glow something paler. She drew his hand from her head and kissed the palm, “I know, dear,” she breathed: ‘yon would give it sll up for wouldn't you-that life you love! we gently, “If I would let She pause i, lwste ing me, She oa ot you, + Was thas a sound of footsteps crus wag the gh the ! lin time to catch { a man's fig. sriet hand. kerchiel, its dark face gaplog with sar. prise, “Hello! 'S thet ater} ’ FOIL the ure, its throat bound ia 8 =~ i Bae tun swaggering advance « youl" soccosted Mr. Hutton's voice. “And this ~why, blame | "taint Bro’ Boone Hinsen! Heh! heh! { Ain't this a little out of your line, Bro’ Boone, "s-talking to the gyrils, huoht Bein's I'm going your way, Nory, I'll see you home. Say, Bro' Boone, theard the news, hev you! Meand Nory's got it fixed up, I saw parson to-day. Come sis.” on, He winked at her cheerfully, but Nora shrank away, “Not with you," she said ‘not with you." And then she made a little Kes ture toward ths Shaker village. “I am going there.” Mr. Hutton's face expressed blank in. credulity, “‘Going whar! Over Shakertown!? What fort" “To live," said the girl. “To live!” excluumed ber smtor, In the sinuous accents of amazement. “You ‘ain't got your right mind, hes she, Bro’ Boone! The Shakers ain't takin’ in any new members no more. You'd better come home with me. You ‘ain't got your right mind, I keep tellin’ you. Come on.” He laid hold of her arm, aod then rather suddenly he loosed his grasp, for Brother Boone Hinson set him aside with a forceful hand, “The Shakers will take hor in,” said Brother Boone, composedly, ‘‘and take care of her for me till 1 ean make a home | for her in the world." —lHarper's Weekly. Masterpiece of the Confectioner's Art, One of the most remarkable master. [ices of the confectioner’s art ever seen * now on exhibition in Paris. It Is the {work pf one M. Baroneret, and las miniature reproduction of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. had been with no such wild lifting of the heart as shook him now, “What is the matter!” be asked, with the urgent sharpness of strong feeling. “What is the matter!” “Ds you care!” She seomed sur. prised. “‘And yet 1 kaew you were kind-hearted, for all that way you have, Brother Hinson. It's only that I don't know what—l-" Bhe crept a little nearer, 8 hunted expression in her eye, “There's a man named Hatton has been coming to our house a my sunt liked it; and day. velous fidelity, the pillars, the arohes, delica Just for a | ninute it seemed to me as if it would be | sweet to have a home where I b slonyed | -1 can't stay with my aunt any more; | might | woman he loved to their wide | believe | end to | THE FARM AND GARDEN, AN ITEM ON CARBAGE CULTURE. A French gardener tells that be had two fields of cabbage that were covered with caterpillars. He sprinkled over them some mineral superphosphites and 8 few days afterwards all the caterpillars were found to be destroyed upon the | leaves which they were eating, He has vot had the sae result with the means ordinarily used,—New York World. CORXMEAL FOR COWS. There is no danger of drying up a | cow by giving cornmeal to her for the improvement of the milk. But it is quite possible that the cow may be given to make fat rather than milk, as is the : " | habit with some cows, and in such n case | there might be danger of the anim al fat. tening instead of milking, In such n case any kind of good feeding would have the same effect. The writer has been feeding cows for making butter for over thirty years, and has never found any difficulty in this way, the cows be- ing fed from eight to twelve pounds of | the meal daily, as they could digest it profitably, If the cow f{attens instead of milking, it her get fat and sell her and pet a milk ing one instead. food for milk—-it be give ground oats with the meal, might be a good thing to let Shorts is not a good better | 5) Apples In any way are beneficial to cows that are milking, New Yori would Times. THUNDER STOLN AVFIECTING MILK. It is a very old belief of our and at one time quite thunder likely to farmers, general, that dur. sweet milk was ing a storm ra sour very rapidly, and that this change was due to the some unexplained electrical force, is, however. ich wore. ust this m truth ir idea or belief, and non season of thunder storm usually warm, sodas is + de Yeo temperature ve ps n milk and haste ns separ Lion cheesy matter from the whey, either thunder « rect effec i DY our direful : will fade AWAY ! YE (7 wi fummer Sun, STORING 7 A farmer in On stores his turnip following m five or six feet inches deep, anner trenches he puts is three six-inch boards ns often as once in eight trenches ho piles they will stay without ro making the sides of the and even, and the top tw peak fs possible together, as In t feet, r the turnips as He with ab as evenly as he can { dry straw and covers this ches of earth, wi Mang straw and earth it uses bunches The roots come from the cell lar } CCIIAr Ww runs #0 that much he finds that tom of ir much « rattios off them, but llects pear the bot hie move the roots back so as ¢ A system which preserves roots in a climate as cold as that of On the spout, and is careful to ti get them out of this, tario would surely prevent freezing in New England. — Boston Cultivator. HOW TO MAKE CHICKENS GROW RAPIDLY There is no reason and very little profit in allowing chickens to be slow in com ing to maturity. The small biped starts iats life all ready to grow rapidly, and only lack of proper food will keep it from foraging ahead. Whether chicks are reared in brooders, or by hens, they must have plenty of warmth, pure water and cleanliness, and when these are se cured we come to the important matter of 1o0:d, which is one of the chief factors in rapid growth. This should contain just the clements that a growing chick requires, in such shape as to be readily digested. Raw eggs beaten into bread crumbs are excellent for the first few days. For this purpose tho sterile eggs that have been removed from the incu. bator, or from under the hens at about the tenth day, will serve very well, The chicks will also delight to piek at rolled oats (which are steam-cooked), and this is excellent for growth. Very soon they may have bolled wheat, and one can xl most see his chickens grow while they are eating it. A little cooked potato, or cooked vegetable will not come amiss occasionally as they grow older. What ever is given them should be thorougly cocked until the chickens are eight or ten weeks old, if the most rapid growth is to be secured, an abundance of tender grass and other stufl, but if confined, there Is noth- ng better than bruised clover loaves, scalded or cooked into a little bran or middlings. Some bulky food is neces. sary, or Indigestion will ensue, Clover 1 = H When they can run at | large upon the ground they will obtain | meal Lo growing chicks until it is de- sired to fatten them, Corn is essentially a heat-producing and fat-producing food. There is one other essential to rapid | growth and that is exercise, Chickens will get this if allowed to run with a hen, but if reared i= brooders they must { be made wo scratch, or good food will avail them but little, — American Agricul- { turist. EFFECT OF WATER UPON HORSES. A horse can live twenty-five days with. out solid food, merely drinking water; seventeen days without either esting or | drinking; and only five days when ecat- ing solid food without drinking. An ides prevails among horsemen that a horse should never be watered oftener than three times a day, or in twenty-four { hours, This is not only a mistaken ides | but a very brutal A horse's | stomach is extremely sensitive, and wil suffer under the least interference, caus- { ing a feverish condition, Feeding a horse principally and driving it five hours practice, on grain without water nackerel for him to drink is like giving a maa salt dinver and until for the man. If you know anything not allowing supper time about the care sympathy for they want By wu will not only be merciful Paar of hors 8, and have ALY them, water them as often to drink- is -Onee an ho ir, if p sible, doing this, y« to your animals, but you will be a bene. vi JOUr animais, put you Wii D¢ a8 Den factor to VOU if, | work; they will be 1 better; and do as thes healthier wil maore wii + they VOOR ORS lab oe to coughs and colds, and + If about horses thao any ’ y nad Know more y you YOU Bro 8 sie Hl i posi CHUM a 13 that the fore havi had iv em Loo 1 3 5 : De seen DY the change in medical pra Twenty FEATS AZO & person of any k tice YW man. imviog a fever i OF pneu : n was allowed but a little water to drink nd then it had to tLitioners proscrib ! ! Lh What is applicable to man J Use «¢ ymmon sense and human feeling. Don't think it is & horse and capable of enduring any and all things Ad sits in a and lashes his worn-out, half. watered team will never ir who river his wag curried, hall-fed an should abuse h Dever com ny ais master or employer, naracter, harder in brug te i ] than the AXD © ity FARM \RDEN NOTES, wk to tw hens will that ¢ to unruline 1" well I animals, | food they would re This i poultry. ike men, had salt in thels ttle to lick. ald not be a bad fall for ™ is plenty of dust surely, aere J Ure Raise as many chickang as possible and | as early as poss They represent » much money. Trials at the Vermont station indicate | : that there is nothing to be gained by milk ing cows three times a day. The quality of the wool you sell dom. inates the price received, and good wool will pot grow on starvation rations say more than good meat. Sell off the surplus hens now before the turkey season fairly opens to depress prices. Select the young ones for pext year's breeding pens, Don't allow your dogs to run down your flock of hens. Hunting dogs, os pecially, if not hunted will sometimes worry poultry by chasing them. Farmers and villagers who handle pe. cial breeds usually find it profitable if they are so situated as to keep the blood pure and free from coutact with badly kept fowls, In buying breeding fowls be careful that the flock from which selected is free from roup or cholera. If buying from a distance oblain a guarantees of | these conditions, Calves need the best attention, especi. ally in winter, The growth they have | attained during the summer must not be allowed to stop, nor must they be per | mitted to become poor now, Do notexpect any breed of hens to | lay equally well in summer and in winter, | If you insist on a good supply of eage | from November till February, then select | a breed noted for the ability wo lay in the | winter. Do not expect everything of Fruit mon say that when fruit 1» bar. | ii i 25 I i Ness sats niroas sere——————— Jerked Beef, Jerked beef was formerly much used by herders and travelers in the South. west. It is preserved Ly drying in the sun, The cattle are slaughtered when in good condition, and the fleshy parts dexterously pared off in such s manner as to resemble a taken from the These sheets of flesh, when « xposed to the hot sun and dry air of the plains, are dried or sun-cured tion sets in, and in that state can be J ept almost any length of time, The l times dipped into brine or rubbed with alt before being dried. Jerked beef is of Chilian orgin, and ‘s made in large quantities in other pasts of America, It is to feed the colored people who work the cane and cotton plantation of Cuba.-—5t. Louis Republic . succession of skios same animal, before dee O11 {posi seed 1% some. M now South much used very unsatisfactory | {| Ohh | Wake pleasure In Prev Ins better an cure, and § ph ti nd poopie who ure biject to rheumatism, fae | Mood pure the Alacra parila, unguestionsidy (4 Which has boer Yery purpose ty Hood's Barssgert of ri powerful effect in + and enabling the k move Lhe Hood than waste of the [] Marsa par a Buyihing else that Fooom Fruowwex Mua Latierick Hood's Sarsaparilla Bold by all dr terms Esta. § L HOOD & CO., Ag ox for § Fregure uly by « aries, Lowe Masa, Sheridan's Condition Powders LaY i you can’t get 1t send to us, We ms pack 30. Five Bl A214 ne 8100, Six, $h Ex reid J y Fa Puide, free : r Balm CURES | E's Cream QUICKLY FREE 0 (ENTS Apply Balr ELY Hrom “All she lacks of beauty is a little plumpness,” This is a frequent thought, and a wholesome one, All of a baby's beauty is due to fat, and nearly all of a woman's — we know curves and dimples. What plumpness has to do with health is told in a little book on CAREFUL LIVING: sent free. Would you rather be healthy or beautiful? “Both” is the proper answer, 1) on "Warren St it as Sore & B wr, Chemist, vee South orb A vere, New York Your dragpint keeps Sconr'y Emuinon of cod-liver oll all drugs everywhere co. . ". : | NY N Ui ADWAY'S READY RELIEF. CURES AND PREVENT Colds, Coughs, Sore Throat, Influenza, Bronchitis, Pneumonia, Swelling of the Joints, Lumbago, inflammations, Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Frosthites, Chilblains, Headache, Toothache, Asthma, DIFFICULT BREATHING. CURES THE WORST PALNS in from one to twenty sinates, NOT ONE BOUR after remding this ede Fertisement boed any one SUFFER WITH PAIN Radway's Hoady Relief is a sure Cure tor Every Pain, Dit nian, Breises, Pains ta the bh, Chest oF Limbs, It was the Kirst and Is the Only FAIN REMEDY That tustastly stops the most «x wocisting patos, alinye Inflammation, and cures ( ongeetions, whethee of Lungs, Momach, Dowels, or oer shane ar TY one apd cation, 3 walt wa Yenspoonlul im ball a tember of water will na few Bales OUP Crampe, Spasms, Sone Stomach, Heartbure, Ner _ Sick Headache Diarvhoms, Dywstery, Uoile, Piste whey and all terasl the wortd that will There Is Bot & rome eure Pover and Ague and all other Malarious, Billo YS FILLS, RELIEY, other aided by Bt Ww "oie a MADWA Vr READ ¥ cents per bottle, Sold by Deungginia, “ ne SURE TO GET RADW A rs. CI Buin Fd TR Ww
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