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®he Jttottt§oOTcni Monitor.
VOLUME VI.
Dearest Not Costliest.
Those are vulgar things we pay for, he
they stones for crowns of kings;
AVUile the precious and the peerless are tin*
priced, symbolic things.
Lovers do not speak with jewels—flowers
alone can plead for them.
Ami one fragrant memory cherished is far
dearer than a gem.
[John Boyle O'Reilly.
Next Door to the Church.
It was not the rectory; that was on
the other side. It was a long, iow’-
studded, old-fashioned house, with
wide rambling piazzas, and a lawn
which ran up to the very church win
dows, and preserved its identity as a
lawn, and distinct front a churcli-yard
by the intervention of a low’ iron
fence. A gate in the iron fence, and
a box-bordered walk leading to a littlo
side door in the north transept, ren
dered the church easy of access, and
left not the shadow of an excuse for
any member of the Birch family to
stay away from service. Not that the
Birch family ever desired to stay
away front set vice. Quite the con
trary. Mr. Birch, being senior war
den, took up the collection, and could
not be spared. Mrs. Birch was god
mother to all the babies who came
into the world not sufficiently well
supplied with that necessary article,
and it was incumbent upon her to be
a properly shining example. John
went to chnrclt because his father and
mother and Katherine did, and he did
not like to be left at home alone; at
least that is what John might have
said if he had been asked, but I doubt
if it had ever entered his head that he
could stay at home. And Katherine?
Katherine had loved to go to church
all through her happy childhood and
girlhood; and when site came home
from college this bright summer —a
‘♦sweet girl graduate,” as John mock
ingly called her —she loved it more
than ever. Moreover, Katherine
loved to go into the great dusky church
in the sweet summer afternoons,when
there was no congregation to disturb
the solemnity of the place, and when
she could sit quiet in a corner of a
pew, and think her own thoughts and
plan her own future. A glorious
future it was to be, full of noble self
sacrifice and of toil for suffering hu
manity. And the sunshine falling
iilion the tiled floor in wavering patches
of purple and yellow seemed to her to
symbolize her dreams. The purple
meant the struggles she should have to
make; the gold, the joy which would
result from the brave conquering of
self. It was not very profitable, and
lier color symbolism was certainly all
wrong; but tbe afternoons in the old
church were helpful, happy times to
her.
Sotnelimes Joint would come too.
But John was a useful rather than an
ornamental member of society, and lie
knew that bis proper place was be
hind the organ, where he did not
show, hut where he rendered invalu
able aid to Katherine, who, perched
uiion I lie high organ seat in front,
voiced her ideals and aspirations in the
music she wrung front the heart of the
great organ. These afternoons were
even better than the quiet ones.
The rector of St. Mark’s was young,
and new to the parish. He had heard
much of Katherine before her return
from college; too much, in fact, to
make him look forward with pleasure
to the prospect of such a parishioner.
“Katherine will bring new intel
lectual life into her circle of young
friends,” said her mother. “Kathe
rine will know the reason for thes e
new-fangled notions of yours,” said
her father. “My, but Kilty knows
when a sermon is bad,” said John.
And outside the family it was the
same, until the nvnister groaned in
spirit.
“A paragon in a parish is a positive
pest,” said he to himself, uncon
sciously alliterative in his scorn. “I,
at least, shall not how down to this
intellectual autocrat,”
The day of her arrival came. It
was Saturday. Mr. Carson was a fre
quent guest at the hospitable mansion j
next door, and after iiis lute dinner lie
dropped 111 to pay bis respects. “Bet
ter get it over with,” thought he. He |
was not it man who fled from disa- 1
greeable duties.
As he stepped upon the wide front .
veranda, a figure rose from a barn- I
mock at the end, and came forward—
a little figure, slender and graceful. .
The setting sun behind fell upon the j
MT. VERNON. MONTGOMERY CO., UA. THURSDAY, JULY *>, ism.
golden hair, making a 1 shining halo
about it. The rosy gowil repeated the
colors of the evening sky. It seemed
to the young man that the heart of the
sunset had embodied itself, and Was
coming to meet him. And then the
brilliancy of tbe sky faded, and there
was only a maiden with golden hair
and a rosy gown standing before liim>
holding out her hand and saying:
“This is Mr. Carson, is it not?
Mamina told me to expect you. Shu
will be out very soon.”
Then, bustling, housewifely Mrs.
Birch appeared in the front door,with:
“Oh, Katherine, tny dear, are you
alone? Why, here is Mr. Carson 1
And, Mr. Carson, this is my daughter.
How glad I am to have you know one
another, after all you have heard about
each other! Now do sit down, and
talk and be friends.”
Katherine looked at tho minister
again, and there was a twinkle in her
eye and a curious little smile about
the corners of her mouth. Mr. Carson
felt more uncomfortable than suited
his priestly composure. What had
Mrs. Birch been saying about him?
Could it be that lie had been held up
before this charming maiden as a par
gon, until she regarded him as lie had
expected live minutes before to regard
her ?
“But, indeed, Mrs. Birch, you do
me too great honor,” he said. ‘‘l
trust that you have not given Miss
Birch a wrong impression.”
And then he wanted to annihilate
himself for having brought down the
flood of eulogy which kind and out
spoken Mrs Birch proceeded to pour
upon his devoted head. And Kather
ine sat demurely by and tried to look
solemn and awed, as was proper in
the presence of one whom hot mother
so revered, but a most al surd little
smile would play about the corners of
her month, making the dimples come
and go in a fascinating way. Mr.
Carson knew she was laughing at him,
and he, did not like it, but he liked to
watch the dimples.
Katherine had not expected to find
Mr. Carson a paragon, She knew her
mother’s fondness for clergymen of
any sort, and especially for her own
particular rector. She knew equally
well her mother’s habit of seoing and
talking about the best in every one,
and she had come home prepared to
meet a very ordinary young man.
Katherine had a liahit, not inherited
from her mother, of regarding most
youthful meinbors of the stronger sex
as ‘‘very ordinary young men indeed.”
This was not because they did not ad
mire her, but piobably because they
did. Katherine’s ideals, you know,
were very high, and then she was in
experienced.
After that, the happy days flew by
on swift wings; the beautiful golden
summer-time was fast growing into
autumn, and the house next door to
the church had had more than its share
of good times. But it happened that
often Katherine would he missed from
tho gayest of the parties, and would be
discovered in the hammock, with Mr.
Carson on a chair by her side, engaged
in earnest discourse.
“Oh, they’re talking plans,” said
John. “She’s goiiig to teach poor
children in the slums of New York,
and he’s going to he a ‘celebate,’ what
ever that is. i heard them this morn
ing. He’s going to lead a life of stern
devotion to duty, he said; and Kiltie
looked soulful, and said so was she.
Truly, if Kittie weren’t so jolly, she’d
he a stick, and anyway, she isn’t so
nice as she used to he. She’s prettier,
though, only Mr. Carson never no
tices whether a girl’s pretty or not.”
September came, and with it the
time for John’s return to school. The
day before bis departure he was lazily
swinging in a hammock on the porch,
when a voice called to him:
“John, dear John, just one more fa
vor before you go!”
John knew well enough what was
the favor she asked, and, after all,
this was tbe first time, and she was a
jolly sister, anyway; so be came, not
1 ungraciously, down upon the lawn to
Katherine, and together they went
into the church.
Ten minutes after the door opened ;
1 softly and Mr. Carson came in. He
hud brought a new Te lJemn for '
Katherine to try; but Katherine was ;
i absorbed in her music, and had not 1
heard the opening door and the enter- j
ing footsteps and did not look around,
j The minister stood still. Tbe church j
was cool and dim after tho sunshine
outside. The wavering patches of
purple and gold lay in long lines
across the floor. Katherine had not
told him her little conceit aboitt the
purple and gold. She know that it
was silly, and he only thought vaguely
that the colors were beautiful, and
that somehow they reminded him of
Katherine; and then he looked at her.
In the shadow of the great organ sho
sat, grave and still, with upturned
face.
“St. Cecilia,” murmured tho minis-,
ter, and ho too stood very still for a
minute. Then ho gave himself a littlo
shake and came forward. How lie
was tempted to let his fancy wander,
here in the old church! He knew his
duty, the path he had laid out for
himself to walk in, and it was a path
of self-renunciation; but how his de
terminations had been weakening all
through the bright summertime, and
how lie had permitted this paragon
(“for this is a paragon,” said tho
minister to himself; “though not the
kind I had expected to see”) to set his
heart a-flutter.
“1 must not,” he said. And he
walked calmly up the long aisle—up
to her very side. But Katherine
turned and looked on him, and smiled
a grave greeting, her hands still upon
the keys and a soft minor chord tilling
tho air.
“Katherine, my little Katherine!”
said tho minister. And his strong
hand imprisoned the little one on the
white keys. Tho chord became a
sudden jumble, and then stopped alto
gether.
‘•And when he called her little Kath
erine, and she didn’t say anything, I
stopped pumping,” said John, after
ward; “for usually Katherine hates to
be called little.”
The sun streamed in through tho
west window; the soft light fell upon
Katherine’s hair.
“The gold is the color of your hair,
and the other is t he color of your eyes;
and that is why I love it, dear heart,”
said (lie minister.
“And the purple doesn’t mean sor
row,” said Katherine, very softly; “it
means glory.”—[Harper’s Weekly.
Country Idle in the Argentine.
In a new country the traveler must
not he particular, much less exacting;
above all, he must not expect to find
refinement among the inhabitants,
whose whole efforts barely suffice to
sustain the combat against the ele
ments. Still, I cannot refrain from
noting the impression of sadness and
disgust produced by the sight of the
towns and colonies of the pumpu, and
by a glimpse of the life that the in
habitants lead. Verily the majority
live worse than brutes, for they have
not even the cleanly instincts of tho
beasts of the field. Their houses are
less agreeable to the eye than an Ksqui
liiau’s hut. The way they maltreat
their animals is sickening to behold.
Barely do you sec the face of a man,
woman, or child that does not wear a
bestial and ferocious expression. In
the villages there are no clubs, no li
braries, no churches, no priests, rarely
even a school. The men and women
work, eat and sleep, and their only
distraction is the grossest bestiality,
gambling and drinking in the pulperia,
with occasionally a little knifing and !
revolver-tiring. During my whole
stay in the Argentine, and in all the
centres tiiat i visited, J was struck by
the utter absence of moral restraint,
and by the hard materiality of the
faces of the people, from the highest
down to the lowest. [Harper’s .Maga
zine.
An Obedient Soldier.
Tn the confusion of the engagemen
r> o I
at Shiloh the captain of a federal bat- i
tery was commanded to stop tbe ad- ,
vance of a column of troops dimly '
seen through smoke and dust.
“General,” be said, “those are our
own reinforcements.”
“You are mistaken, sir,” said the j
general tartly; “do as I bid you,”
The captain promptly opened fire,
smashing the head of the column and
j driving it to cover. He sighted one
J of the guns himself and did all the
i damage lie could. He knew he was
: killing friends, but when obeying or
| tiers it was bis habit to obey them in
\ letter and in spirit. When he had -
slopped the column he seated himself
j comfortably on the trail of a gun and
j lit his pipe. [Sail Francisco Exam- .
j iner.
A GOLDEN HARVEST.
Picking Oranges From the Trees
in Southern California.
Gangs of Pickers Busily at
Work in tho Groves.
The first picking of oranges in SonHi
ern California is made about I lie mid
dle of December in (lie San Gabriel
Valley, anil from Hie first "f .lanuary,
for a month or so, and the gatherin';
continues unabated. A few weeks
previous tlie wholesale shippers go tho
rounds of the groves. Many of them
have arrangements from year to year
with the owners, while many pro
ducers prefer to make new contracts
each season. The agent inspects the
grove aild oilers so much per box or
so much for the fruit oil the tree, and
hero tho responsibility of the owner
ceases. Tho shipper puts on ids pick
ers, Hie grower receives his cheek and
another year Is begun.
The picking of tho orange in large
orange centres, such as the San Ga
briel valley, is announced by an addi
tion to the limiting population. Gangs
of pickers—Mexicans, Chinese, Amer
icans, men and boys—gather from far
and near, and tho groves are tilled
with gay laughter and song. Every
body is at work, and if tho crop, as it
is this year, Is largo, everyone feels
cheerftil and coulldcnt. The orange
grove of the imagination is a fit retell
of trees tilled with golden fntit.
Where one can lie in the soft grass and
luxuriate in the sight. The actual
grove, while beautiful to tho eye, is
not a place for lounging, as Hie ground
is or should ho kept ploughed continu
ally and Irrigated often by floods of
water. Hut tho trees are attractive;
ever green, often showing ripe and
green fruit and white blossoms at tho
same time, they are an enigma.
A gang of men under the head of a
leader or overseer takes possession of a
grove bright and early in tho morn
ing, two or three men being appointed
to a tree, and the picking begins. Tall
stepladdors enable the pickers to roach
the top branches, and each orange is
carefully cut from the tree, as if it is
pulled and the string broken it will
soon decay. The picker wears a bug
into which the fruit is dropped, which
when filled is handed to the washer
or scrubber. The latter, generally
a Chinaman, washes the black stain or
rust from the fruit, polishing it with
a cloth, after which it is passed to an
assorter. Sometimes a simple machine
is used, a runaway, so that tho or
anges of tho same size will all collect
together. This accomplished, each
orange is wrapped in variously colored
paper and placed in the box ready for
shipment. A counter keeps tally of
1 the boxes, as sometimes the owner is
paid by the box, as well as tho picker.
in some groves various machines
are used 'Thus one patent is a knife
on a long polo, which is connected
with a canvas tube. Tho orange cut
in this wuy drops into the chute, and
by an arrangement of traps drops
from one to another, and finally rolls
into a box uninjured. Tho ordinary
method of picking, however, is by
hand.
The orange pickers are iihi ally a
| jolly lot, Micro being something about
| the business apparently that enlivens
: the spirits and imparts an air of jollity
I to the party. The Mexicans and Ameri
cana labor in harmony, but an orange
picking team composed of Chinamen
and Americans appears to work the re
verse. The Ghinoso picker finds Hint
I ids ladder gives way without warning,
j dropping lifii< into the thorny tree or
I upon the ground. He is bombarded
i with oranges from unseen quarters, or
j fin Is his pigtail fastened to a brunch;
in other words, as a rule, ids life in
tlie orange grove is not as pleasant as
it might be. He is strongly suspected
i by ids fellows of working at rates that
will not support a white man of fam
ily, addicted to taxpaying.
At Hie orange picking time the coun
try in a marvel to the Easterner. While
0
standing among Hie oranges the picker
looks away over grove after grove,
fields of flowers, acres of golden csch
ciioltzias, patches of wild daisies, blue
bells and yellow violets, and finally
ids eye rests upon the Sierra .Madres,
or mother mountains, rising but four
or live miles distant, the garden wall
of this modern Hc-j,el ides. Ilis no-.
I tills inhale tho odor of the orange
blossoms, while his eyes greet the ]
snow banks of a vigorous winter. The
great peaks aro capped with snow,
and the upland blizzard is raging with
Unabated fury. From the vantage
ground of the orange grove the wind
can be seen on Mt. Sun Antonio whirl
ing aloft tho snow in gigantic wraiths,
tossing it upward in huge clouds that
rise hundreds of feet, to he borne
away over the lowland and dissipated.
With eyes on this arctic scene the ob
server can searco believe the facts,
scarce realize that lie can by a single
glance encompass winter and summer.
The orange pieker, however, has no
time to spend on (lie leslhoties of the
subject; ho is picking against time,
and an eager East is waiting. — [Mew
York Bun.
Grass in the Nile.
The grass . barriers through which
I>r. Junker passed measured 100 feet
to a mile and a quarter in width, and
frequently delayed him for hours on
stretches that he might otherwise have
put behind him in a few minutes.
Dr. Juliker directs attention to tho
fuel, however, that even grass harri
ers are not an uuini\jul evil, since at
high water their thickly mailed sub
stance serves the purpose of a filter in
clarifying the stream, says fiold
thWflite’s Geographical Magazine. Suit
happens that the While Nile is “the
clear/’ while the Blue Nile, in which
tlio conditions are Unfavorable to the
formation of grass harriers, is “the
dirty.”
The grass is swept into tiie stream
at high water from Hie swamps and
stagnant ponds along the banks. This
grass grows together in great musses,
Which, oneo floated into the stream, lie
come welded hy nets of innumerable
roots and smaller writer plants, till a
barrier forms across the channel. Tho
force of tho current increases the com
pactness of the harrier thus formed,
and brings It now material from above.
1 lie harriers differ greatly as to com
pactness; through some tho Isimtilia
cut her way slowly, merely with her
prow. Others were tramped down,
cut and loosened before her by na
tives. Others, “like felt,” us\ Dr.
Junker says, wore firm against such
simple devices. Wire cables were
made fast to each of these massive
harriers near its edge, and at the sumo
time to the prow of the isinailiu.
The steamship then backed water
w ith all her power and thus lore loose
and set adrift down stream great
chunks of the harrier. To thus clear
a river of a large harrier Is a huge un
dertaking. Ernst Mai ne, for instance,
with four steamships and several hun
dred men, was busy from .September,
1 H7!l, till April, 1 HMD, clearing his way
in the Balirel Gabel. The piercing of
a harrier by a steamship bound down
stream is frequently exceedingly peril
ous, as the loosened masses of matted
grass, instead of floating oil behind
the boat are often driven hack against
tier stern till she becomes as firmly
imbedded in tho grass as she would ho
in an ice field.
(fne of Nature’s Wonders.
Naturalists say that the feet of the
common working bee exhibit the
curious combination <>f a basket, a
brush and a pair of pinchers. The
brush,the hairs of which are arranged
in symmetrical rows, are only to bo
seen with a high grade microscope.
With lids brush of fairy delicacy the
bee brushes its velvet robe to remove
be pollen dust with which it becomes
oaded while sucking up the nectar of
flowers. Another delicate apparatus
is the spoon-shaped appendage which
receives tho gleanings that tho bee
wishes to carry to the hive. Finally,
by opening the “brush” and the “bas
ket” by means of a neat little binge,
the two become a pair of pinchers,
which render important service in con
structing the cells for reception of the
honey. [St. Louis Republic.
\ Nice Scheme.
Grafton What do you think, T om?
Bill Bluff, who we all thought so at-
I ten live to Miss Giddy, lias gone oil
and married iicr mother!
Wiggins Well, that was a nice
scheme indeed for getting rid of a
mother-in-law 1
Not Disturbed.
“Store robbed last night.”
“You don’t say. What was taken?”
••Nearly all. In fact, the only thing
I not disturbed was the watchman.”
I [Philadelphia Times.
NUMBER HI
How She Lost Her l over.
‘Tivas a summer ago when he left me here,
A summer of smiles with never a tear.
Till I said to him with a sol) My dear!
(Joed bye, my lover; good-bye!
for I loved him, oh, as the stars love night!
And my cheeks for him (lashed red and
white
When hr first railed me his heart’s delight;
(iood-hve, my lover; good-bye!
The touch of Ids hand was a tiling divine.
As he sat with me in tho soft moonshine
And drank of my love as men drink wine;
(lood-hye, my lover; good-bye!
And never a night as I knelt in prayer,
sea gown as white as our own souls were,
But In fancy he came out and kissed nm
there.
Good-bye, my lover; good-bye!
But now, oh God! what an empty place
M v whole heart Is! Os the old embrace
And the kiss I loved, there is not a trace;
Good-bye, my lover; good-byel
He sailed not over the stormy sea.
And he went not down in the waves, not
lie;
But oh, he is lost, for lie married me;
(lood-hye, my lover; good-bye!
(J. W. Itiley, in Chicago Herald.
HUMOROUS.
There are no pieces left of broken
silence.
The heart of a city is probably
where its beats come from.
No matter what tho season may be,
it is always spring with frogs.
“Is your wife lecturing now?”
“Well —uli —not on tho platform.”
At tho present rate of legal fees
none but a wealthy man can “keep
liis own counsel.”
A boy whose leg was repaired in
New York by grafting some skin from
a dog, complains now that his skin
barks easily.
When little Sallie bumps her nose
and goes to mamma for words of com
fort, she may bo said to consult a
sootlie-saycr.
Men may bo just as willing to liato
you for your virtues as for your
faults, but they seldom have Hie sumo
opportunities.
Josio — And even with a cross baby
you do not find marriago u failure.
Jessie —No; you see John is a profes
sional pedestrian.
Mrs. Noear—Do you think my
daughter will boa musician? I’ro
fessor I gan’t zay. She may. Stic
tell me slie gome of u long-lived fam
ily.
Folsom (at conclusion of orchestral
overture)— That certainly was rnro
music. Critious —l agree with you;
nobody could truthfully say it was
well done.
“Then,” lie said, after she had re
jected him, “this is the end of all?”
“Oh, not necessarily,” she replied,
cheerfully. “The world seems to bo
going yet.”
Rose—l think I’ll say yss. it is
belter to marry a man you respect
Hum one you adore. Holly—But it’s
i so much easier to love men than to re
spect them.
“Another ‘tic-up’ on tho road,” ex
claimed a Western conductor, as tie
caught sight of a victim of Judge
I.ydangling from a wayside tele
graph pole.
i Mary—Mebbo I’m ugly now, mum,
: hut in my day I’ve broken a good
many hearts. Mistress Well, Mary,
i if you handled the hearts the wav you
do my best china, I believe you.
! If there is such a tiling as real,
downright mortification on this earth,
1 it is in the feeling of the man, who,
himself intending to cheat, finds that
lie lius picked up the small cud of a
horse trade.
Fond Father (to Bohby, aged s)
Now, Bobby, wliat is the hardest stone
in the world? Bobby—Don’t know.
Fond Father—Can’t you think?
Bobby—Yetli, tlilr; but l can’t think
hard enough.
Mrs. Just wed —Good morning, Mr.
T. I wisli you’d send me up a quart
of potatoes; Eyonnaise ones, if you
> 1 please, and a small mock turtle. My
husband expects company for dinner,
| and ho just dotes on mock turtle soup.
Mamma—You naughty girl! You've
» eaten every eookey there was on tho
i plate. 1 told you you might liavo
three. Little Edith—Yes, but you
didn’t tell me which three; so to be
sure I’d get tlie l ight ones I eat them
, uli.
The stuil'-nt hums tlie midnight oil,
4 Pursuing wealth mid fame.
And every month he lias to pav
A gas bill just the same.