vol xxx Jennie E. Zimmerman. Latest Styles, Lowest Prices Wraps, Millinery, Dress Goods, Novelties, Blankets, Underwear, Hosiery and Domestics of all kinds You are cordially invited to call and in %/ sjiect our stock. JENNIE E. ZIMMERMAN, (Successor to Ritter & Ralston.) N. B.—Hot coffee and lunch served free to all our customers every Saturday during the Winter Season. Commencing Saturday, Nov. 4th. ' J. K. Z. DON'T YOU THINK You had better be getting your WINTER FOOTWEAR? The boys and girls are now going to school. The cold, wet weather is here, and they must have boots and shoes that will posi tively keep their feet dry and warm. SHODDY GOODS WON'T DO IT. No one can afford to have cold, wet feet. It costs too much to settle THE DOCTOR'S BILL. It's penny wise and pound foolish. HUSELTON keep* the kind of Footwear you are looking for, boih in quality and price, and wh..t he tells, von can rely on is right. READ A FEW PRICES: MenV Kip Booln, tap sole box-t s."i.(K)Bud Men'* Kip Boot*, wife leather eouutei' 2 s'l'inil 'l.7r Mcn'rt H«-avy Boot*, prime 1 -10 ami 2 0«' He*'* Heavy Bboea 70 anil 1.0 Men'* Fine Shoes, Con'g. and Bals 9o and 1.00 Boy*' Extra Prime Kip Boot* 1.75 aud 2.00 Boy*' Extra Henvy BooU 1.25 and 1.50 Boy*' Heavy Shoes 75 and 1.00 Boy*' Fin* Shoe*, button and lace 1.00 and 125 Boy*' Extra High t'ut Tap Sole Shoes 1.75 an.l 2.00 Women'* Fuie Shoes, button 85e., 1.00 and 125 Women'* Extra Oil Gran Button Shoes I.O<J and 1.25 Women'* Extra Oi' Grain Laee Shoe* 1.00 and 1.2' Women'* Veal Kip Lace Shoes 75 and 1.00 Women'* Kip Shoes, unlined SI.OO, 1.25 and ! .30 Mines' Good Heavy Shoes 75 ac.d 1u„ Mimes Fine I Kid Button 75 Miwe* Fine Doutcola Button, Pat. Kip 1.00 W' men'? and Mif-nes' Kip »nd Calf Shoe? a specialty. Womeu'* Warm Flannel Lintd Sboe* 75 and I.CO Women's Warm Flannel Lined Slippers 50 WE LEAD IN RUBBER GOODS! Men'* Fi r*t Quality Rubber Booi> 2.40 Boy*' RubtK-r Boot* 1.75 *nd 2.00 Ladies' Kubber* 25 Ladies, Fine Go*Mimer Rubber* 35 and 45 Children's and Misses' Robbers 25 and 3"' Men'* and Women'* Piceadilla Rubber* for Narrow toe shoes Men's Hip and Knee Root*, all style*, in Alaska* and Buckle Arctics Men'* Kelt Boot* and Kubb'-rt 0 Boys' Felt Boois aud Rubbers 1.85 I haven't bad time to count the number of pairs I have in all goods, but 1 will ■ay I have twice as many as any other bouse in Butler, aud batter g.tids and lower price* We don't carry our stock in the newspaper. Come and sej us. B. C. HUSELTON. Ho. 102 North Main Street - Butler, Pa. FALL OPENING OF FIXE FURNITURE QUEENSWARE, A sU'ck mperior to anything we liave previously shown, and at prices that will ten m shrewd buyer*. Gold Chairs. Nothing prettier for your l'arlor than one of these Chairs. A lino assortment to select from. Onyx Stands. Exclusive Styles in tbeue good*, and Ihe prices will please you Lamps. In Brass, Dresden China and Glass. One of these will improve the appearance of any Parlor. Decorated China, In all tbe fine waces, such as Royal Wo'cester, Teplolz, Doleton Royal Dresden, Royal Bono, <tc., Ac. Plain x Vhite China. Nothing mnie beautiful for a Present than a piece of this tfaro, nicely decorated. Decorated Dinner Sets. Mmy New Patterns and a large assort.neut at Popular I'r ces B> •ass and Iron Beds. When yon want »n improve the appearance of y> ur Bed-room bt.y one ol these lieils. BED ROOM SUITS. BOOK CASES, CURTAIN' POLES, PARLOR SUM'S, WINDOW SHADES. SIDE BOARDS. G'l RTAIXS, STOVES AND TINWARE. CARPETS. CtMfBEbL I TEHPLGTON. Butler, - Penn a. a f?'f SX* ft/ 0 < / . . . . THE BUTLER CITIZEN. MRS. MILLY FERGUSON, Troy. JT T. The fnUovcina l. to DAXA'S pnicer over OLD i HJROXIC (JO3I PLAIXTS. fa* sent us './ ti"/>'- Groom of the "GBOOJT 9 I'lfAJ.'- AM CIV 120 Congress St.. Troy. X. V.: Grvri KMtv -I hare been troubled with LIVER «OMI*I.AI.\T. C®**TlPA no> and BVSPEPW 1 for a long time-. I employed the best Doctors In the city; j they tolil me Old Chronic Complaints i w»re hard to «m>. Their medicine did me II» cood. I stopped taking it and boupl.t a bottle of I>\n'AS SA K- A PARI L LA. Before 1 had taken half of it I felt belter. I have taken three bottles of DANA'S SARSAPARILLA! eat anj'tliintc I mint and it does not distress me In the least. Your* truly, Troy X. Y. MRS. MILLY FERGUSON. DANA SARSAPARILLA CO,, BELFAST, ME. FRANK KEMPER, DRAI.fiK IN BLANKETS, HARNESS. And everything in horse ivnr3 bu£><>y i'ur- - ness, Collars, Whips Du ster>, Sa-ddles, etc. Also trunks and va I iscs. Repairing done on short not ice. I I he largest assort ment ol r>-A Id or s< blankets in town will be lonnd at Korooer's. piilaiiis inS I PHICES is !be motto a' .>>• JL stote. If you a-e sick find need nn-diciu Ton want u.< BEST. T>.i * • ai tlway* de|j-ud up u gt-Ming : ron: ijb, •«H we Use imiijirn; but sine lv I'D e [lroge in our Prescription DepaM fneut. V'.Q t*n i p«*i ' :.f of every thing in : hp d. ug line hum u*. Uur store i- bi.-o tietdqu.r -r- for PAisis, oils, mm Kalsomine, Alatwoe k Gel our pi ices be ore vou buy aio la, nini *ee wiia we nave . o fler. We can grave vou do a-s on yoar puiui. bill. Respectfully J. C. REDICK, JM am M. in >tt<J <t« I■\ i y BUTLKH, ±*A. Planing Mill AND— . L. 1*1; h V - t' t'l I • S.G.Purvis&Co. MANI PAt ftEEKS AND I>KALEt> iS Bough ana Plaited Lumbe •K KV «; I I fcM.K in KIN, SHINGLES, LATH & SEWER PIPE. I i si W. IJ i! , I'Siicce <n o ■it 0 iJ oil. j Sanitary P umh a rs Ami (i ofcA I. r Sewer Pipo, (-i.is F"ixtur?v Globes :n Natural U.is Apphii > . Jffl'.Mson St .opp. l-uwry FIOIIM RIJTT.HJR. HA It •- WIC K r»K 4 LEK I >1 R iujh 3i;d Wotk d I u-' f' OF ALL XIKDS Doors, - tvh, .is, Hon!, Sniiifies jini : . . 'A i ways m ock LIME HAIR AND »tAS"f h Offlce «i|ip<> (• p. ,»■ w. Depot, BOTbICR P BEBKIMER & TAYLOR, Funeral Directors and Embalmers iam cr (' llt< V . next door to Post Office, Butler, Pa., prompt a'tention given to orders, day or I "'ght. fjj m [Copyright, 1393. by A. N. Kellogp N^^rspap«rCo CHAPTER IX AIT.OAT OS THE Missrssrppx It was with deep regret that I parted that evening from good Mrs. Dorion and her auiiublo daughters. In the brief time that I had been under this roof I had enjoyed a sample of homo life at the south that was to me as novel as it was agreeable. When tbesa kind ladies learned that I had de termined to prosecute my journey to Louisiana, they joined their husband and father in urjrinjar me to delay. "We are hardly acquainted with you yet," said the matron. "I'd have yon know, sir, it's not at all the Mississippi way for a visitor to come one day, and go the next." "My curiosity isn't half satisfied," laughed Miss Celeste. "I supposed, from what I had heard, that your New England people were a kind of kangaroo. We sec so little company here that an interesting young man like you is a positive godsend." "And then," added a mischievous younger sister. "Simon Tinsnet doesn't eome over more than once a week." "Perhaps I can furnish you with a pood reason for stopping with us itvhile. Vou want to see slave life down here; you can't half see it unless you witness the cotton picking. We shriM b :lu in less than a month, and the sight will be well worth seeing, ['m a southerner born and reared; yet this is something that is always new to mo and always grand. The section of Louisiana where you are going is all sugar; you'll see no cotton there, only what is piled up in bales at New Or leans. Don't I tempt you now?" Thus Mr. Dorion talked. He assuredly did; so greatly that I realized that my only safety was to firmly decline. To remain here even a week would attach me so to these peo ple and to this home that the thought of Mr. Bostock would cease to trouble me. If I would go to him. I must go at once". There is nothing of the fatalist in me; notwithstanding the strange events of my early life which have been and are to be recorded, I am a plain, matter-of-fact kind of person; I hail at twenty-one no more than the av erage sentiment that belongs to young people. When, therefore, i say that I felt urged, impelled to travei on, it wi-.l probably appear to others, as it does to me, that I had a destiny to ac complish. I tried to say all this to my kind friends in a way that would not seem ungracious. "Well, my lad, BO be it," said Mr. Dorion. "I have forebodings about you, and you must promise to write to me all about Bostock. I have heard something of northern pluck and obsti nacy; I reckon you've got both. If you will go. wait till the <-00l of the day, and I'll drive over with you to Barre's. It's only four miles across, and it will be much handier than to go up to Vicksburg. The Cotton Queen stops there to wood up on her way down the river." Very little passed between us as we rode over to the river that evening. Mr. Dorion was serious and thought ful; and, while I anticipated new scenes and adventures. I could not but be sad with the parting. "I hope we shall meet again. Dorr," he said, as a glimpse of the river ap peared through the trees. "I know we thall," was my answer, de livered with a fervor that startled my self. It was like the voice of prophecy. Wo did meet again, in a situation and under circumstances which romance would vainly attempt to rival. "Barre's" was a place on the low riverbank where stood a solitary store house, and some thousands of cords of dry wood, ready for use. Two white men of the class which had never been two miles away from the river sat and dangled their rusty boots in the water, and with some profanity and a vast expectoration of tobacco juice, hotly argued the unsettled question us to which was the fastest boat, the Cotton Queen, or the S. S. Prentiss. "Thar comes the Queen now," said tho champion of that craft. "Ah, but she's a beauty! If she ever kitchesthe S. S. ou this water she'll walk right off'n her." "She'll never jotch her." "Much you know 'bout boats." "O, you talk! I was sailin' the Mis sissippi when you couldn't tell a pint o' water from a hogshead o' lasses." The discussion was in a fair way to "go on forever," but the near ap proach of the stately Queen put an end to it. Heralded by great volumes of smoke beyond the point, and by that peculiar, deep-drawn coughing of tho pipes that accompanies one of theso river monsters, slio burst into view like a splendid apparition, reminding one of the genii of the Arabian Nights, ller great paddles churned the river into foam. Twilight still prevailed, but the signal colored lanterns were hung out fore and aft and aloft, and lamps were lit in the saloons, state rooms and cabins. Tier upon tier the great height of the steamer rose from tbe water, the light flashing out from every opening. Surmounting tho whole was the "Texas," or pilot's cabin, with the gilded figure of a queen displayed in front of it, seated on a gilt-corded bale of cotton. The lofty smoke-pipes towered from the decks. Everywhere the boat was crowded with people. I had long ere now recovered from the amazement with which I learned that wharves and docks were unknown in these waters, which deepen rapidly from the shore, and that these steam ers are so light of draught that, to use the quaint language of the illustrious man who thoroughly knew the west, they can go anywhere "where the ground is a little damp." The Queen came straight up to the shore; the two loungers who had been discuss.ng her and her rivals took the cables that were thrown out and moored them to the trees; and immediately a swarm of half-naked negroes sprang ashore, and under the urging of the mate, with an occasional oath and blow, began to take in wood for the long passage down the river. It was a work of some time, and darkness succeeded, the moon rising late. An open iron bas ket, fixed on a standard at the bow, was filled with fat pine knots, continu ally replenished as they burned out. The fierce red light flared out over the dusky faces and flitting for. is of the negroes, and gave occasional glimpses of the passengers as they leaned tin the rails and watched the picturesque scene. Mr. Dorion, standing at my side, suddenly pinched my arm. "Look up there on the second deck, just beyond that group of ladies. Do you see that tall tnan with the red vest and check shirt-front?" "Yes." "1 haven't seen that face in twelve year but 1 can't be mistaken in it. That m-tn is Conrad Bostock. Dorr, I hate to have you go on the same boat ItFTLER. PA., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 34, 1893 with him! If you are wise —" The bell rang sharply. "Allaboard!" thecntain sang out. I wrung Mr Dorion's hand, and passed over the plank. There was a great convulsion of the engines and splashing of the paddles as the Queen backed out into the stream. I looked toward the landing, but my good friend was hidden in the darkness. As our boat steamed down the river I went about on this floating palace and observed the curious sights. CHAPTER X. A STIRRING SCENE All told, there were about fifteen hundr oplc on the Cotton Queen that i They were of all sorts and conditions. There were planters and their families returning from an early visit to the north; speculators by the score who liad been up to Memphis and bevond to look over the crop; some, like myself, from the north, going down the river upon errands of busi ness or pleasure; not a few sporting men, who frequented the bar. talked loud and smoked long cigars, and tliere was a Virginian taking thirty sldves of both sexes to New Orleans for sale. I had seen something already of the grand scale upon which the large river boats were constructed; but the mag nificence of this one amazed mo. Everything in the way of gilding, dec orating and furnishing that could be done was there, regardless of expense. Tall mirrors in the saloons and cabins multiplied the crowd. Carpets of gor geous pattern and the first texture were under foot. Profusion and vari ety of viands were at the crowded tables at mealtimes. I walked about and mingled with the passengers, hear ing much talk of the immense cotton TWO MEN- SAT AT THE TABLE i'J.AYrNtt CARDS. and sugar yield which the season promised, and of speculations and bar gains in which less figures than a hundred thousand dollars were never named. The general tone, even in business talk, seemed to be light, buoy ant and confident. Life seemed to be going on, like the boat that carried us, at high pressure. Until ten o'clock did I occupy my self in visiting every part of the steamer, and observing the passengers and their different tastes and occupa tions. In one of the large saloons there was dancing and waltzing, to the music of piano and violin. On the after deck a brass band was pouring fourth stirring strains, and hundreds of couples were promenading. The moon had by this time risen, and the spectacle of her flood of light on tho wide river was grand indeed. Rafts and tlat-boats were passed, as well as smaller freight-boats; and once the steam-pipes of the Queen screamed shrill in answer to the salute of a large steamer going up. "That's the Prentiss," a man near me said. "Some day they'll happen to come together, going the same way; and then there'll be the biggest race this river ever saw. Both captains are eager for it, and there'd be piles of money bet on it. I'd hope to be there that day." "Isn't it dangerous?" a man from Boston inquired. "Dangerous? Well, maybe, a little, but we never think of that down here. Steamboats always have raced, and I reekon they always will. I feel my self just this way about it—that if I owned one of these boats, and she couldn't carry steam enough to beat the other without bursting—why, then let her burst, and be d d to her." "But the passengers?" "I should say they'd better be at home, that trip." I went forward and found a large number greatly interested in the performances of one of the negro hands, who was dancing in a grotesque fashion to the thrumming of a banjo. Then I went below, past the gilded and mirrored mahogany bar-counters, when half-a-dozen men in their shirt sleeves were mixing fancy drinks for a noisy and thirsty crowd. Around a table in an adjoining saloon so many were pressing that I could not see what the attraction was. They stood on tiptoe and tried to peer over the shoulders of those in front of them. A large chandelier lighted the room, but the point of interest was concealed by the throng. The pressure soon became so great that I was crowded up against the wall. More to save myself from suffo cation than from curiosity, I reached up to the top of a door-casing, put my foot on the knob, and was at, once able to elevate myself over all heads, and look directly down upou the table. The position was uncomfortable; but I was not compelled to keep it more than ten minutes. Two men sat at the table playing cards. The one facing me I recognized at once as he who had been pointed out to me by Mr. Dorion as Conrad Bostock. The crowd overtopped them, hung over them, but they paid no attention to anything but their game. Piles of gold'and notes were upon the table. I could not see what the game was or how it was being played: but it was apparent that Bostock was largely the winner. The pile of money in front of him steadily increased, aud the light sound of cards striking the table was now and then punctuated by something like an oath from the other player. Suddenly this man made a noise that sounded like a deep growl, and drawing a knife from his sleeve pinned to the table the card that his opponent had just played. And so quickly that the whole seemed to be but a single motion, he drew a re volver, cocked it and pointed it at the other's bead. The crowd fell back in fright; some were thrown down and trampled under foot, • ome were carried back against the wall, and many who could fled from the room. The two gum biers sat motionless. "You wouldn't ,end a man out of the world this way?" the one who was threatened by the pistol said. '"I ought to, you cheating scoundrel I Sir." to a bystander, "just look at this ace of diamonds that he played last. Now look at the trumps he's played there, and see if there ain't another of 'em. 1 ' The man addressed ran over the cards, and quietly threw out another. "I thought so; I thought I was cheated, an hour back, but I couldn't lay my finger on the spot till this min ute. I'm going to take every dollar of that money. Dan Turner, rake it in." The revolver still covered Conrad Bostock's head. The companion of the man who held it proceeded to stuff his pockets with great handfuls of the gold and notes on the table until not a dollar remained. "Now, I've done with yon, you mis erable, clumsy cheat"' the man with the pistol said. "You ought to be lynched. You're a disgrace to the company of all gentlemen; but —' "Lynch him! Throw him into the river! Drown him! Tie him fast to a nigger:" came a shower of suggestions from the crowd. The object of their attentions turned pale. I hail marveled to see his com posure when the muzzle of the re volver was at his forehead: hut he doubtless was thoroughly acquainted with his own class, and knew that there was no danger of more than :v menace from that quarter, provided be sat still antl made no resistance. But when those hostile cries were heard, he realized his danger at once, lie was among gamblers, sporting' men. specu lators and adventurers; many of them had been drinking freely; his offense was something each man. by reason of his own mode of life, was prepared to regard as a personal insult and injury. And he probably knew. too. that no wild beast of the forest or the wild is so cruel in its rage as a crowd of men. No time was allowed him to think about it. A rush was made for him; a dozen hands seized him; spite of his struggles, cries and curses, he was dragged along toward the gangway. The captain came running down, hearing the commotion; and, seeing the situation of affairs, began to inter cede for the endangered man. "for God's sake, gentlemen, what's the matter? Don't have any violence here." "It's only a card-sharp we're go ing to give a ducking." "It's about time we made an exam ple of some of these blacklegs who travel along the river, fleecing honest gentlemen."— "I'd like to have him put down in the furnace-room, till the boat gets to New Orleans." "Save me, Capt. Norris!" the wretch ed man exclaimed. "Ah!—is it you, Con Bostock?" the captain cried. "I know you of old. Gentlemen, just spare him this time, and if he ever dares to come aboard the Queen again, you can drown him or hang him, for all I care. But to-night, please let's have no violence. It might hurt the good name of my boat." The appeal was successful. The captain's interference had given two minutes for re flection; and when a mob can be got to think, there is hope of it. With some dissent, the merciful coun sel was approved. "But you'll set him ashore?" some one suggested. "With great pleasure. There's a landing two miles below; he'll have to walk two miles to find a house." The crowd became good humored at the idea, and sundry coarse jokes were cut at the expense of the gambler's plight. Tbe boat was soon brought to the shore, and he was unceremoniously landed. I did not expect ever to see his coarse, depraved face again; but it was with me as it ever is—"man pro poses, God disposes." CHAPTER XL IN I.OUI3IANA. The ever-changing scenes of tho great river interested ine, and I could have studied for days the varying phases of human nature about me; but as current and stream bore us rapidly down, the object of my journey pressed upon my thoughts, and it was with eager alacrity that 1 stepped ashore at Donaldsonville, at the head of Bayou La. Fourche. With a few others and with my small luggage I was trans ferred to a small steamer, and the last few miles of my journey we followed the course of tbe bayou. For the first time I was in that land of wonders, lower Louisiana. I was floating on one of the multitude of streams, which,, more than one hun dred miles above the Delta of the Mississippi, help to carry off the great pressure of waters to the gulf. Other rivers receive tributaries to swell their flood; ns the mighty Father of Waters approaches salt water he is compelled to send off other rivers to relieve him self. I was in a region entirely allu vial, a land doubtless manufactured, as might be said, by the continual de posit of soil brought down by the tire less water giant and thrust out into the gulf. As the poet Longfellow finely says of this strange phenom enon, he "Seizes the hills In his hands ar.d drags them down to the ocean." I was in that region which is actu ally at most seasons below the level of the streams, where great levees or banks are built upon each side to con fine the water to its own bed. Upon the summit of these levees, high abovo our heads as we steamed along, we saw negro inon and womeu walking, carry ing immense bundles aud even jars full of water upon the bare crown,with out a touch of the hand. At times tho bends of the bayou enabled us to look beyond the levees over a section of th# country and see vast plantations green with the miniature forests of the sugar-cane. It is here, in this rich, black soil, that the most prolific sugar country in North America is found. The population was almost evenly divided between white and black; the larger part of the former was of French de scent; the French language was much spoken, and French names of persons and places were the most common. To me this was all new and strange, and I was asking many questions about these strange features of the land when the boat stopped and the captain announced "Bostock's." I was the sole passenger landed here. Engaging a lusty and lazy negro to carry my trunk and show me the way, I took the last steps of my journey with throbbing heart. All that Mr. Dorion had related, all that he had put into his warnings, recurred to me. I stopped. I shrank from the test that I had come two tiiou and miles to make. "Dar am de house, tnaussa," said my guide. It was a large frame house with verandas above and below. It stood not two hundred yards back from the bayou. Stately oaks, beautiful mag nolias were before and around it, through which were seen glimpses of wide plantation lands. The day was hot. the sun oppressive. As I advanced toward the house I saw a man seated in the shade, while an other was speaking earnestly and with much gesticulation to him. I stopped, fearful of intruding, but 1 was already within earshot. "A lazy, idle, sulky nigger, sir, I tell you: He don't earn his salt. I'd have whaled him long ago if you hadn't for bidden me; and I must tell you, sir. if he ain't to be whipped, he'd better be sold. Mayn't I send him over to New Orleans?" The answer was inaudible. "Yes, sir, I know you don't like it; yonvineed it's the only way.to manatre- Well, tben —if here ain't the lazy devil right here now! The sassy dog: Look lu re, you Jeremiah! Didn't I tell you to keep to the cane-hoeing all day? Where you been?" My attendant, balancing mj trunk upon his head, and spreading out his hands in a deprecating way, replied: "O! so yo' did. Mans a Le Feere. an' I meant to stay—'deed I did: —but I hear de boat a-comin' down de bayou, MY ATTENDANT BALANCED THE TRUNK ON HIS HEAD, an' I went down to see urn, an' I'm totin'updis yeryoungmaussa'strunk." lie put down the burden, and not waiting for the silver piece that I wished to give him he made a quick movement in the direction of the fields. The overseer abruptly withdrew. The man who was seated had his back to me, but by the looks of the overseer he must have known that there was somebody beside the truant negro behind him. He rose and turned round. It was a thin, bent figure, in a flowered dressing-gown and slippers. His hair presented that singular ap pearance caused by turning white in patches and streaks. His face was hollow and wrinkled; his eyes were lusterless. With the most apathetic expression he looked at me. and seemed to think that my appearance did not call for question or remark. At least he made none. "I beg your pardon, sir." I said. "Is Mr. Pierce Bostock at home? Can I see him?" "The overseer attends to all busi ness," he said, peevishly. "Go to him; there he goes." "I have no business that he can at tend to. I must see Mr. Bostock per sonally." "Must you, indeed?" He began to rouse a little at the word, and show irritation. "Where do you eome from, anyway, young man. that you think a La Fourelie planter can be made to at tend in person at the beck and call of every interloper who fancies he has business with him? What—" His own talk, delivered in a feeble, broken voice, excited him and brought on a fit of coughing. He stamped with vexation, and sat down on a bamboo settee through sheer weakness. "I am Pierce Bostock." he said, when lie could find voice again. "What the devil do you want?" I ought to have expected this an nouncement. and to have been prepared for it; but I felt very much at that in stant as though 1 had been following a chimera. To be exact, I felt cold and sick, and the hopes of long years van ished as a puff of smoke. And yet it seemed incredible. This Mr. Bostock —this the hearty, ruddy, happy planter who bad crossed our stony New Hamp shire fields ten years before, and pushed out my horizon everywhere— this feeble, testy, drooping invalid? My hopes were all turned to ashes on the spot; yet I resolved to speak out, and end the farce. Ile would not recog nize me, or would bid me begone if he should. No matter—l would see which he would do, and then tear this cruel leaf out of the book of my life, and turn to other scenes. "Well —are you dumb? What do you say for yourself?" "Mr. Bostock, lam Dorr Jewett. Do you not know me?" A very faint appearance of interest came to his face. "Jewett?" he repeated. "I believe I used to hear that name. Why, yes; Amos Jewett was my schoolfe'low when I was a boy. Dorr —Dorr? That was my father's name." I saw that his mind was groping for memory, antl I waited. He motioned me to sit down with him. He looked at me, but was silent. "Amos Jewett was my father," I ventured. "Don't you remember com ing to our poor New Hampshire home ten years ago, sir? Don't you remem ber how kind you were to us? I was the boy you took so much notice of." He heard me, and the mists seemed dispelled from his brain as by magic. A look of surprised intelligence came to his face. ••You Dorr Jewett? little Dorr? Bless ine, IKHV you liav« grown! I'm not often glad to see anyone but my child, in these days; but I am glad to see you. Is your father well?" "Why, he died, sir, more than a year ago. I wrote to you about it." "I never read letters now —nor pa pers —nor books. Not now. \etldo remember a nice letter you wrote ine once, years ago, before —" The change that came over that woe ful face terrified me. It was literally black with rage, with fury, called up by his own speech. "Yes, sir." I hastened to say, "and you answered it so kindly." "Did I? That is well; 1 atn glad to hear it. So you've come to look up a wretched and lonely old man like me, have you, because I was kind to you? Do you know, my boy, 1 don't think there's another man in Louisiana, or out of it, could soften me tho way you have. I'm going to have you flay here, now you've come. Oh, yes, I do re member now all about the time I went to Boston, and back xunong the hills where I was born, and how I found you and poor Amos out in the fields, and ate your good mother's mush and milk —" Ilis face seemed recreated. It ac tually wore a gentle smile. "But it was long ago, and life has been hard and cruel with me sluce,and I had forgotten all these pleasant things. Why, boy, it seems to me as if you'd come to me from another world." lie took ray hand in his own thin hand. "You'll stay with me, Dorr Jewett, won't you?" I believe the tears came to my eyes | at the question. It was asked in a j voice which was the ghost of that J hearty, resonant tone that had long j sounded in my dreams. I told him | that I would stay awhile. "Always, Dorr; I want you with me. | I remember, now. I asked you long | ago to come. lam rich, my boy; I've got money, and plantations, and slaves; but I haven't any friends. Well, who j would I be kind to, if it wasn't to Amos Jewett and his boy"? Ol Amos was my chum; he d wrestle with mo anil throw me; but he'd fight any boy that tried to put upon me. I want somebody to talk to; my girl can't al ways be with me. Le Fevrc is a good fellow, but he's never happy unless, he's driving the niggers round. He shall show you the plantation when you've rested to-morrow—yes, that will be time enough. \\ hen you want to go to New Orleans he shall go with you; I never stir off the place. You'll see how the cane grows—the old cane , and the new cane. Le Fevre says he s j got more than a hundred acres now i planted. Ue'll show the sugar mill, and maybe he cau figure up what the crop will be this year. Good black soil this, Dgrr. This is better than planting corn in the cracks of the rocks up north, eh? No. you won't talk about going away. Dorr Jewett." So he rambled on. a wreck of mind as well as body, continually striving to struggle out of the gloom in which he was involved, and to reach back ward to familiar faces and scenes. A burst of melody shook the air: a clear, pure voice, singing a merry French song. Mr. Ilostock raised his head, and a new intelligence gave mo mentary luster to his eyes. "Ah. that's Cornlie!" he said. "Yon shall see Coralie. Here she comes." |TO BE COSTISUXO-] ISw DEVELOP THE YEARLINGS. How It Can lie Hone Without injury to the Vonng Animal*. To leave the colt alone or to only halter break him until he is three or four years old is a serious mistake which many make. The time, expense and trouble of breaking these mature animals, as well as the danger incurred, are convincing breeders every year that the wisest and best way for all classes of horses, whether for speed or family use, is to begin training them at six months old or younger. I recently saw a choice filly when six months old thoroughly broken to drive siugle or double, and that appeared perfectly at home in every situation in which 1 saw her placed. The question is asked, how develop these young colts without injuring them? Nothing is more natural than for the sucker to run beside his dam. Of course the young animal must not be given too much exercise, but he should be early accustomed to a light harness which may be made of an old harness, or even of tarred rope that is well dried. After adjusting it carefully fol lowing the colt's thorough acquaintance with it, ho should first be allowed to run loose, as with colts generally. A day or two later a thoroughly halter broken colt should be tied loosely to tne end of the shaft of his dam. Sti.l later a strong light line should be fastened to the outside bit, run through the turret ring to the driver's hand, and the colt gently guided at the same time his ma ture mate has the lines pulled. In this way the youngster will become accus tomed to all sights and sounds and at the age of six to eight months will make no objection to going between the shafts alone. His young muscles can also be gradu ally developed for considerable speed while he is not drawing a pound, and his action improved from day to day by the careful oversight of a discreet owner or driver, who should always re member that a young animal is easily fatigued. After a short trot in the morning he can be left to rest and given his dinner, after which he can be driven a short distance in the after noon, the mare being driven all day if necessary. To prevent contact with the wheel have the blacksmith drill the I fV A nut of the axle aud wagon wrench which fits it, and pin both together with a piece of malleable iron. After turning on the nut, bind the wrench firmly to a snooth hickory pole with tarred rope. This pole must be l»w«l just right, and extend to the end of the shaft, where it is firmlv bolted. (See cut.) If the little greeny should crowd the wheel on first starting out, this pole will keep him away from it, and he will soon learn to trot clear of both. The value of the contrivance will be readily seen. The youngster is thor oughly trained while going on short errands beside his driver and never needs breaking.—Farm and Home. PIG PEN POINTERS. HUSK yourcorn for the hops when the hogs quit chewing the stalks. YOL'R sows are not liable to become cannibals if you feed them properly. A LITTLE experimenting in hog feed ing will not cost much. It may be worth a good deal to you. THE man who has put his trust in hogs fcr the past twelve months has not had cause to regret it. IT will soon bo time for butchers to use a few hogs each week. This will help the demand for roughs. GIVE the runts of the litter particu lar attention. They will make good hogs if they live long enough. Do vou know what the hogs are cost ing you that you raise? This i:i a ques tion that you ought to figure on. A SQUEALING pig never svts fat, is as true as the old proverb about the bat k iug dog. Xo matter whether he squeals from hunger or from sheer perversity, as some seem to do after they have been well fed, if he eats enough to gain his two pounds a day he will squeal away one-half of it. Beware of buying such or breeding from such. They are un profitable and as uncomfortable to get along with as a grumbling farm hand. fcilieep anil I log* on thn Farin. In answer to an inquiry as to how many hogs and sheep can be kept on a farm of 150 acres, the Ohio Faamcr says: An acre of good pasture will keep five to ten sheep the summer through, depending upon the season and kind of sheep. Stephen Powers says he has kept twenty-three sheep in good con dition on three acres, nearly all sum mer. You will need two pounds of hay per day and say a pound of grain, per head, for winter. From these data, and taking into consideration the ca pacity of the land to produce grain, the area in orchixrd, woodland, etc., and the amount of other stock kept, you can estimate pretty closely how many sheep you can keep. On liOacrcs, with SO acres plowed, 'JO acres in wooeland, 6 acres for buildin;Ts, garden. etc., keeping 'i horses, 3 or 4 cows, and rais ing a litter or two of pigs, 100 large sheep or 100 Merinos are enough. lHdn't It.-IU-vr In Shootinr- H C _ Wonderful score t hat of Henry's! Why, he hit the bull r s-eye nine times in succession yesterday. She—Yes! but just think of tlx-suf fering of that poor bull Men :ire so cruel! —lsoston <*lobc. On the Other SUIR. Mrs. Henry l'ock (looking up frotn her paper)—Ah! •well, |>oor Hyson is rid of his trouble ctnd misery at last. Mr. Henry Peck t'ju astonishment) Why, I didn't know* his wife "*HS sjjlt. \V hen did she die?— Tuck. Couldn't say JX-flnlWI). 'MXhJ'OU take tJiit* for better or wo|>c?" asked the minister. "I tell until I Jiave had him a little? while, Upturned the bijde.—liar MO 51 THE AMERICAN FARMER. Why Ills Putoro look* More rromUlnf Than Crer ISefore. At no time in the history of the coun try has the future of agriculture been more promising. There was a time,not long ago, when the soil and the farmer were not on friendly terms, when there was a conflict between them. But that time is pa.st, or is passing with the pro gressive farmer. He has learned, is learning every day, that the fault was with him and not the laud. Thosoil, lacking certain in gredients, could not produce good re sults. The horse cannot be expected to work at the plow all day, many days, if fed only on dry hay. To-day the farmer is coaxing his land very much as he does his stock, or ho ia providing food for his plants with al most as much care as he feeds his ani mals, if he expects to be successful. The farmer tests his land for himself; he does not wait for the chemist, or prefers to be his own chemist in his way If potash, nitrogen or phosphoric acid are wanted, he adds them, and he has come to the stage of independence when he mixes his own fertilizers, and knows exactly with what he has to work. That's progress. Commercial fertilizers are the farmers' aids, but the government analysis and inspection has opened his eyes, and he sees now that he may prepare his own fertilizers and save money. The farmer no longer pLants haphaz ard; he has begun to see that agricul ture is an art, a science more intricate than any other; that to be successful in its prosecution ho must know several sciences. No longer does ho merely drop a potato in the earth, cover it up, keep down the weeds and dig the in crease in the falL He studies the soil and the fertilizer and then the potato. Shall he plant large or small potatoes, cut or uncut, one eye or more, the stem end or the seed end? Thus throughout the range of agri culture every step is thought out and practically made in advance. There are muny croakers about agriculture, some editorial croakers in newspaper offices who, possibly, might be able to tell a hay-cutter from a grindstone, who rise up periodically to say with a loud voice (more or less, according to their circu lation) that agriculture has a black eye; that it is limping along on one leg, and not a very strong leg at that, and that the whole fabric of agriculture, like the sheep, is going to the dogs. If these croakers had attended some of the "winter meetings" that have been held in the different states last winter and seen the interest and enthu siasm, seen the men—aye, the women, too, assembled and spent two or three days in asking each other questions and comparing notes, the agricultural pessi mist would admit, if honest, that there is a force l>ehind agriculture that will not let it stand still. Let every farmer keep his shoulder to the wheel. It turns easier than it did, and does not have to be helped out of so many ruts and quagmires as it did. Let erery farmer be proud of his calling, stick to it, dignify it and swear by it (not pro fanely). Why, it is not long ago when the farmer at gatherings of any kind took a back seat; it was rare to see a farmer on the platform. All the speecnes were made by the lawyer, the clergyman and the "good talker" of no calling or profession. That has changed. The farmer got nearer and nearer to the platform, and now, forsooth, he is on it and doing the talking, and taking no odds of anj' man. This is not idle talK; it is fact Agriculture is alive.—George Applcton, in Farm and Fireside. CHEAP HUSKING PIN. If Von Don't Want to Buy One, Male® One at llome. To make a homemade pin for corn husking take a piece of common thin leather and cut into a strip four inches long, one-half inch wide, and in each end cut a hole. Take a piece of hard wood the size of a pencil, and cut a groove near the end. Cut ,another half way between the middle and the point end of the pin. Put the leather over the second finger between the knuckle and first joint and hold the ends be tween the tirst and second and second and third lingers. Slip the pin through the holes cut in the leather so the point will pass beyond the first finger. The tension of the leather, if it is tough and does not split, will hold the pin iu place. A strong husking piu may be bought for thirty cents, with curved end and point and held in place by a leather cushion adjusted round the finger and riveted on an iron pin. These are easy to handle and a great improvement on any pin I have ever seen. A number of different styles are on the market, hut any one of them is good if substantially made. —Farm and Home. What farmers .Must I-earc. Until the farmers, as a class, learn that for every dollar spent in real road improvement they will receive a ten fold return in the advanced price of their acres, iu ability to market their products at all seasons, and iu the in numerable advantages that come from easy transit and frequent communica tion between farms and villages, there is not a flattering prospect for the issue of Ikjdc'.s for scientific and permanent road improvement. Such instruction must come from rural centers. The farmers seem to be suspicious of sug gestions coming from the cities. Mean while, the importance of the road ques tion cannot be overestimated, nor very much longer suppressed. The com munities that have made good roads arc preeminently the prosperous com munities; the light shining from them must, sooner or later, illuminate the darker regions in which bad roads pre vail —Chicago Inter Ocean. A Rebuff. Cholly (seeking to be friendly)— Wather cloudy to-day, isn't it? Her Father (gruffly)— Great Caesar, young man! haven't you got sense enough to know whether it is or not without asking?— Judge. ANOTHER EVOI.I'TION. I fi f j n ? &- I -.-3 4 1 juu j u The cigarett ■ and the dude.—Judge. Preliminary lnfurmit too. Fond Father—ln giving you my daughter, Mr. Wilhvcd, 1 pass into your keeping the dearest thing I have on earth. Mr. Willwed (anxiously)— How much does she cost you a year, may 1 ask? — Town T<afe>. . _. _
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers