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A World for Wwfte**
Tbis world is good enough for those do
tbeir part while in it,
who find the work they ought to do and
cheerily begin it;
It's far too good for those who spend their
days in mere complaining,
\nd better than, unless they change, the one
they will be gaining,
The honest, earnost toiler gets his share of
joy and money:
The loud-mouthed drones may rant away—
: tis work that wins the honey.
ELFRIDA’S PLACE.
Old Mrs. Galway sat sorrowfully at
her west window, watching the apple
gathering. Above the hills hung a
soft, yellow mist; the great chestnut
tree in the lane was turning to a bou
quet of rustling gold; the asters and
dahlias along the garden-walk were
blossoming in gau ly profusion.
“It’s the first year,” said Mrs. Gal
wa y, “that I haven’t been able to help
’em barrel up the red sweets and the
valler pippins. And I’m helpless with
the rheumatics. Oh, dear, dear, to
think it should come to this! What’s
that noise? I'll bet a carroway-seed it’s
the cat among the milk-pans! And it’s
time the kettle was over for tea, and
Sarah Soper’s forgot to come and see to
it!”
She looked piteously up at the clock,
but just as she was about to lift up her
voice in shrill summons, a footstep
creaked heavily on the doorstep.
“It’s me,” said Sarah Soper, a gray
haired, sharp-feature I spinster, who
lived ia the house who c yellow gable
end was just visible through the maple
trees beyond, “l’m a little late, on
account o’ stoppin’ to buy a paper o’
hair-pins and two cards o’ buttons of a
peddler that came along.”
“I thought you never was coming.”
said Mrs. Galway, petulantly.
Sarah looked sharply at her.
“I tell you what, Mrs. Galway,” said
8he, “you made a great mistake when
you set your face against Zenas’ mar
ryin’ that pretty factory-girl two year
ago! If you’d a nice stirrin’ daughter
now—’’
“Instead of depending upon other
folks to come and help me—yes,” said
Mrs. Galway. “I’m beginning to thiuk
so myself. But if you haven’t nothin’
better to do, Sarah Soper, than to re
mind people of their short-comings,
you'd better go back home again.”
“And there wasn't nothin’ against
Fanny Walters as ever I heerd on, ” re -
fiectively went on Sarah Soper, as she
seta match to the shavings and kindling
wood in the cooking stove, “except her
good looks. Yes, Almira Galway, you
made a mistake there. Zenas ain’t
never been the same man since.”
Mrs. Galway moved uneasily in her
chair.
“Where is Zenas, anyhow?” ques
tioned the merciless catechist, as she
settled the shining tin teakettle in its
place, and slid the dampers to let the
smoke go up the chimney.
“Gone to town,” curtly answered
Mrs. Gal way.
“Eh—what for?”
“To get a hired girl.”
Sarah Soper opened her mouth and
*ye9.
“Well, I never,” said she. “You
come to that—you, as always said
nothin would induce you to keep a
girl!”
“That was before I had the imflam
matory rheumatism,” sighed Mrs. Gal
«ay. “There ain’t no law against
folks changing their minds, as I know
001 * can’t be dependent on neighbors
all the time.”
Miss Soper chuckled softly.
The idee of of Ztmas Galway in one
0 them intelligence offices!” said she.
would like to be hid away and
hear how he manages it! ’
“I guess Zenas can manage well
as
** an ybodyP sharply retorted Mrs.
Galway,
But she was nettled, nevertheless, and
®ore than once whilo Sarah Soper was
u,, 'ng the bread, bringing the butter
from d 0Wn cellar and opening jar of
a
preserved blackberries for tea, she said
t0 herself:
J mo *t wish I hadn’t made such
fuss a
°ver Zenas’ notion for Fanny Wal
ters!”
M bile those domestic preparations
* fre 8°iog °n in the Galway farmhouse,
Zenas, th e son and heir of the estab
'shtneut, was sitting, in a despairing
attitude, on a hard, unpainted settee in
itr - Cummings’ “Headquarters for Do
>nestic Aid,” interviewing long suc
a
0S8 ’ otl hopeless incapables, of differ
fnl »gos and nationalities.
SCHLEY COUNTY NEWS.
it Pretty hard to suit, ain’t you? ’ said
Mr. Cummings, lifting his spectacled
i
eyes above the line of his ledger at last.
“It s no use,” said Galway, in de
jected a
way. “I don’t think my mother
w ould have one of these women in the
house.’ *
Well, look here,” said Mr. Cum
mings, ‘‘here s a gal just come in.
Mebbe you can come to terms with
her.”
i i But, ’ spoke a soft voice, “I want
ed a place as companion.”
“M ell, this is a place as companion,”
said Mr. Cummings, doggedly, “to an
old lady up country—only she’ll expect
you to do the housework.”
A silence followed; apparently the
candidate was considering.
“You’ve been cornin’ arter this com
panion place for a week,” urged Cum
mings; “and you ain’t had a chance
yet, nor the ghost of one. Come! bet
ter take what you can get.”
A slight figure came out from behind
the curtained rail and confronted Gal
way. She was a pretty, fair-haired
girl, with timid, hazel eyes, aud a check
flushed with nervous excitement.
“What wages do you give?'’ said
she.
“Eight dollars,” answered Zenas.
“l’il come,” she decided, after a
brief hesitation, “I must get some sort
of a situation.”
“But I must take you home at once,”
said the young man. “My wagon is
waiting down below.”
“I must go home after my clothes,”
said the girl. “I’ll be back here in
half an hour. Wait! ’
And she vanished.
“Now,” said Mr. Cummings, turning
over a new leaf in his ledger, “I call
that a stroke o business for both of you.
They all want to be companions, or sec
retary, or somethin’ o’ that sort. It
sounds more high-toned, you know.
But, arter all, good honest housework’s
the thing!”
Mr. Cummings here paused to talk
with a stout young man, who desired a
position as porter in a store.
Zenas Galway sat staring at the check
ered reflection of the window panes on
the floor, ns they moved slowly along
with the westering sun. And little
Elfrida Howitt fied swiftly down a nar
row street, up a winding stair to a close
little apartment, where lay a pale,young
convalescent, trying to while away the
weary hours with sewing cut-jet beads
on silken gimp for the nearest fancy
store. She looked up, her bright ej03
all inquiry.
« « Well?” she said, eagerly.
“I’ve got a place, darling, at last!’
The invalid drew a long breath.
“It’s only eight dollars a month,’”
pursued Elfrida; “but I’ll send every
cent of it to you, dear, until you’re
well enough to get back to the store.
And it’s quite a small family—only one
lady. And I’ll try so hard tosuither!”
“But, Frida—oh, dear little Frida!—
what shnll I do without you?” cried the
pallnl convalescent, clasping her thin
hands.
“We mustn’t think of that, said
Elfrida, resolutely. “You’re going to
get well, and then we shall both do
splendidly. Kiss me, dear. 1 ve got
to pack my little bag, for the—the car
riage is waiting at the ‘Headquarters. f ft
“The carriage! They must be very
grand people,” said the elder sister.
‘•But you haven* t told me the address,
Frida.”
Elfrida stopped packing and regarded
her sister with eyes of puzzled amuse
ment.
“I forgot to ask it,” said she, “but
I’ll send it by mail, It will all be
right, dear. Now one more kiss.
Good-by!”
And Elfrida ran away, blinded by
the tears she was too brave to shod in
her sister’s presence.
“Is it very wicked, I wonder,” she
asked herself, “to let her think I’m
going to be companion to a sick lady!
But something had to bo done, or we
both should have starved.”
It was twilight when Zenas Galway
assisted his companion to alight at the
door of the farmhouse under the yel
lowing maple boughs.
4 » My mother is sitting there by tho
window,” said he. 4 « Go and speak to
her; she can’t come to you. She has
no use of her limbs.”
Elfrida Howitt advanced boldly to
the kind-faced little old woman in tho
cushioned arm chair.
Mrs. Galway held out her hand with
a smile.
“Who are you?" said she, pleasantly.
“I am the new girl*”
“I am glad to see you, my dear.
What is your name?”
“Elfrida Ilowitt.”
“What can you do?”
Elfrida colored to the roots of her
glossy, chestnut-brown hair.
“I can sing,” said she, “and paint a
little in water-colon and play the
piano; I can real aloud and em
broider—’’
“Land alive child!” cried out Mrs.
Galway, “what on earth do you sup
pose is the use of all that? Can you
churn? Do you know how to cook,
aud wash, and make soft soap, and—’»
i K No,” said Elfrida, her fringed
lashes drooping aud her lip quivering.
i l But I can learn—I’m sure I can learn,
if only you’ll show me how. Please—
do try me!”
And Mrs. Galway found herself cry
ing for sympathy before she got
through.
“Do you think I’ve done right,
Zenas?” said she the next day. “The
child knows absolutely nothing about
housework, but she’s strong and will
ing. She’s broken two of the blue
willow-pattern cups already, and she
let the clam-soup burn this morning
while she stopped to play with the
kitten. But she’s such a sunshiny bit
of a thing, and she really does want
to learn.”
“Right? Of course you are right,’
said the cheery Zenas. “Never mind
the clam-soup and the willow-pattern
cupss She’ll do first-rate when she’s
learned the A B C of the thing.”
“And Zena—”
“Yes, mother?”
“She told me so much about that
invalid sister of hers in the tenement
house down in the city—the one that’s
had typhoid fever, you know—that I've
most a mind to send you to bring her
here. She’d get well a deal faster on new
milk and country breezes, and think of
the company she’d bo to Elfrida!”
“It’s a cnpital idea, mother,” said
Zenas. “I’ll go!”
“Because, you know,” said Mrs. Gal
way, laying her hand on her son’s arm,
“it’s somehow borne in on me that I’ve
been sort o’ hard and selfish all my life,
and haven’t thought of other folks as
much as I ought. And mebbe this
affliction's been laid on me on that ac
count. ”
“Nonsense, mother!”
“It’s true Zenas. IVe been too set
in my way. Things might have been
very different if I hadn’t stood up so
obstinate against your bein’ engaged to
Fanny Walters two years ago. If I
could only undo that mischief now!”
Her lips quivered; she looked up to
his face through a mist of tears.
“That’s all past and gone, mother,”
said Zenas. “We won’t fret about it
now. Tell Elfrida to w r rite to her sister
that I’ll drive into town for her next
Tuesday with the easy carryall, and she
must be ready to come back with me.”
When Zenas took tho letter to carry
it to the postoffice, he gave a little start
of
“Why, Elfrida. ” said he’ “your sis.
ter’s name is not the same as yours!”
i t No,” said Elfrida, innocently.
“We arc only half-sisters; didn’t you
know that? But we love each other
just the same.” •
Zenas Galway drove into town on th*
following Tuesday, with the easy carry
all and plenty of wraps and cushions.
Once more, in the yellow glow of twi
light, he brought back a passenger, and
led her up to the arm-chair where Mrs.
Galway sat knitting with half-closed
eyes. mother dear,” said
t t Here she is, he
exultantly, ‘•Elfrida’s sister—and th*
daughter-in-law you aro longing for ia
your secret heart!’’
“Why, Fanny Walters!” cried Mrs.
Galway.
Fanny burst into tears on the eld
lady’s shoulder.
“But not unless you bid me wel
come,” she sobbed. “I’m too proud
for that."
“You are welcome—a hundred time*
welcome—my daughter /” solemnly spok*
Airs. Galway, “But—but—I don’t ua
derstand.”
» » Nor I either!” cried Elfrida, who
had danced joyously into tho room.
“Is it true? Is Zenas to be my brother?
and are wo all to live here together?
Ob, Fanny, Fanny, I am so glad!”
“And so am I,” murmured Fanny,
hiding her face on Elfrida’s neck.—
Saturday Night.
A cat may look at a king, and it had
bettor keep an eye on his majesty, too,
it may not be able to dodge the boot
successfully.
FOR FARM AND GARDEN.
TO MAKE HENS LAY.
Put two or more quarts of water in a
kettle, advises an exchange, and one
large seed pepper, or two small ones,
then put the kettie over the fire. When
the water boils, stir in the coarse Indian
meal until you have a thick mush. Let
it cook an hour or so; feed hot. Horse
radish chopped fine and stirred into
mush as prepared in the above direc
tions, will help. We hear a good deal
of complaiht about not getting eggs.
To such we would warmly recommend
cooked feed fed hot. Boiled apple
skins seasoned with red pepper, or
boiled potatoes seasoned with horse rad
ish, are good for feeJ, much better than
uncooked food.
Any such warm stimulating foods are
valuable aids in producing eggs. Clean
nests are another help. Anything that
puts the fowl in good physical condi
tion, as pure water and warm houses in
winter, will pay for itsel f four fold.
Corn, when fed the hen by itself, has
a tendency to fatten rather than produce
the more profitable egg laying. A
spoonful of sulphur stirred with their
feed occasionally will rid them of ver
min, and tone up their systems.— Farm,
Field and Stockman.
SEEDS AND SEED SAVING.
The first step in seed saving is to
start with a good selection, the labor of
another’s hand. Whether you have
made such must be determined by ob
servation and comparison. If your
plants are inferior to those you see else
where, do not save seeds from them,
but cast them aside and commence
anew.
If your several strains are superior to
others, carefully select the best flowers
for seed; do not choose the first, neither
the last, as the most perfect forms and
positive colors will be developed in the
intermediate s age of the plant's ex
istence, as it is then that the plant has
the greatest vitality and power of re
production.
Do not allow the plant to ripen
more seed than you may require for the
next year’s planting. This will allow
the plant to throw its whole strength
into the perfection of the seed you de
sire to save. Cut off all others as soon
as the flowers fade. If the plant is al
lowed to ripen seed freely, it will soon
cease blooming, having accomplished
its mission. If not allowed to ripen
seed it will continue to flower the whole
season. As a means of reproduction, a
single capsule of petunia, or of balsam
of any desired color, will be amply suf
ficent for the next year s stock, and the
same is true of most other flowering
plants. —Americv t Cultivator.
MULCHING CROPS.
With crops that are to be kept
ing during the summar, it will often
found quite an item to mulch after
last cultivation is given. The principal
gain in mulching is that it keeps the
soil cooler, and retains moisture already
in the soil, so that a growth will be
maintained even when the weather is
dry and hot. Potatoes, vines of all
kinds, tomatoes, melons, cucumbers
and squash are often materially bene
fited by applying a good mulch, giving
thorough cultivation while it is con
sidered necessary, aud then mulching.
One of the best materials that can be
used for mulching this class of plants is
partially-rotted bagasse. Apply a good
layer around each plant after thoroughly
stirring tho surface. Old wheat straw,
corn-stalks, or even weeds and grass,
are good materials to use for mulching.
All of this class of plants require
considerable moisture in order to make
the best growth and yield, and in many
cases it is a choice between supplying
moisture by watering and mulching,
and if thorough work has been done in
giving clean cultivation, and the soil is
in a good tilth, the more economical
plan is to apply a good mulch; while,
in addition to this, it is possible to
plant and grow a crop much later than
could be done otherwise, Ia some lo
calities the risk of drouth is much great
er than in others; and where a locality
is subject to drouth, it is difficult to se
cure profitable crops when planted late,
unless artificial watering or manuriug is
supplied, in order that the plant may
obtain necessary moisture.
It is best in applying a mulch to sup
ply in time before hot, dry weather
fairly sets in, as much better results can
be secured than if this is delayed until
later in the season. In addition to aid
to retain moisture, a good mu'ch
prevents the growth of weeds, avoiding,
to a considerable extent, the necessity
of late cultivation .—Prairie Farmer.
A FEW HINTS ON MILKING.
Milking is a work that should be un
derstood iu order to successfully man
age a dairy, says an Ohio farmer in
Prairie Farmer, or the dairy portion of
the farm; yet how many ever think of
the most successful way of extracting
the milk? We have seen milkers take
two teats and milk them dry while tho
others are untouchod. This is a clear
case of cruelty to the cow. The udder
of a cow will not hoi l the milk that is
carried by a fair milker, and since the
milk is given down into the udder from
all the glands at the same time it must
necessarily follow that those from which
none has been taken must bo filled to
the utmost possibility, and cause the
cov/to suffer from the pressure of the
milk in the udder. Many persons di
vide tho milk into “fore-milk” and
i i strippings,” thus having two grades
either to sell or churn, skimming ths
fore-milk, and churning the strippings
with the cream of the fore-milk, thus
dividing the milking of a cow into two
periods. Even this is not enough.
The milk should bo taken from each
teat as fast as can be done, and uot allow
the udder to become too full in any sec
tion.
Train the' cow to stand as quiet as.
possible while milking, so that the
milker can have both bands to use fit
the same time. A cow will never rn.ill
so well when she is allowed to suffer
from over-crowding of udder. Another
point is to have all excitement cease
while milking, and allow no stoppage
until you have finished, A cow be
comes restle 5 s if she is kept longer than
necessary, consequently will uot give
the milk down freely, By all means
use both hands, and extract tho milk
evenly from the teats; accomplish thi*
by sitting on the side most convenient
to you. The best result is what ii
wanted; use your judgment in accom
plishing this. You will find it ahvayz
pays to do your work right.
HEMLOCK HEDGES.
H. A. Miller writes to tho American
Agriculturist that he set out a hemlock
hedge last year, that many of the
plants have died, and now he would
like to know how to proceed in order
to replace them and secure a good
hedge. The thing to be taken into
consideration is tho soil, and if it is a
heavy clay there is little use in plant
ing hemlock, for who ever saw a hern
lock forest grow on such soils, unless
overlaid with a heavy deposit of vege
tablo mold? If the soil is loam, or
even sand, it is well adapted lo the
hemlock, an 1 may be enriched if neces-
sary, by the addition of any old and
thoroughly decomposed manure. It
would be useless to undertake to set
tho plants in the spaces where others
have died out, for it could scarcely be
done properly, and the better way is,
take up the entire hedge, throw away
the dead and feeble plants, and reset
the healthy at one end of the line of
the hedge, and fill out with fresh plant*
of the same size to be obtainod at
some nursery. When all are in place,
prune away at least one-third of the
entire top with hedge shears, aa l in –
straight lino on looth sides and top. The
first pruning of a hedge should be given
as soon as possible after the last
plant is secured in place, and that is
also the time to decide upoa the proper
form in which it is to be trained, ami
which should bo rigorously adhered to
in after years. Evergreen hedges should
be trained in a conical form, with \
sharp point, in order to prevent the
lodgment of snow on the top in winter.
The pruning should be done early in
spring, or just before the buds push
into growth, and at no other time. If
large fruit or forest trees are permitted
to grow near a hedge, the latter will
sooner or later suffer from the crowding
of the roots, or shade, and [>erhaps
both. As a rule, no tree of large growth
should be permitted within twenty feet
of any hedge, and fifty feet would be
still better. Plants one to throe feet
high arc large enough to begin hedge
with, and if these have been trans
planted once or twice in a nursery, not
one in a thousand should be lost whoa
removed to the hedge-row.
EOR FARM AND GARDEN NOT US.
Ship the ducks as soon as ready for
market.
Take in the plow before commencing
another job.