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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.