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THE MILKING OF THE COW.
The milk pail used to versif y a mild and mel¬
low metre
When I used to milk old Brlndle in the
yard.
And the shining milk was sweeter unto me
and little Peter
Than oriental perfumes of myrrh, frankin¬
cense and nard.
The sunset flung its banners from the gilded
hills about us,
Ami the odors of the evening seemed to
drop from every bough.
There was peace and glad contentment both
within us and without us,
At the sweet mellifluous milking of the
cow.
And wandering like a memory,. ,<om the si¬
lent past's abysm
I smell the grateful odors of the fragrant
evening breeze,
And I bend to catch the chrism of the twi¬
light’s glad baptism,
And the outstreched benediction of the
trees.
The glory of the summer night, the magic
of the mountains.
And the tinklings of the twilight on the
farm are with me now
But through all the mingling music still I
hear those falling fountains,
The sweet mellifluous milking of the cow.
Still I hear the joyful rhythm of that tittil-
lating tinkle,
And I smell the grateful odora of the placid,
perfumed night,
Odors Mown from glens a-sprinkle with wild-
rose and periwinkle,
And from lakes where lazy lilies loll in
languor for the light,
ntrough the valley of Long Years that is
glimmering behind me
I peer down through the vista that con¬
nects the then and now,
With a youth’s audacious unconcern a care-
loss boy I find me,
At the sweet mellifluous milking of the
cow.
—S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade.
THE PICTHRE IN THE FIRE.
BY FJjAVEL SCOTT MINES.
The fleet of yachts lay 'at anchor off
Newport, swinging idly to and fro in the
gentle wind. It was a peaceful, lazy
way of taking life, appealing to the
higher senses in all externals, and pro¬
moting placid thought. Nothing to
worry, no social or business cares, it was
»u Arcadia replete with all modern con¬
veniences—something truly to be de¬
sired. So Tom Armstrong thought to
himself, as he lay at full length in a
canvas chair and smoked after his din¬
ner. The sun wus setling far beyond
the land in a blaze of golden glory, and
every yacht reflected some color of the
sunset. Yachts on every side of him lay
rolling in a passing swell, and his own
yacht rocked gently (the from side to side. A
little while after sun sank from sight
the the and 1
moon came u® over ocean,
lights began to Apt the shadowy fleet.
There was a new activity among the
people about, and presently a quartet on
one of the yachts began to sing. Then
row boats put off from each of the
yachts, and before long a line of boats
encircled the yacht where the singers
were stationed. The party was a col¬
lege glee club, and the young men, ap¬
preciating the applause which came
from the audience, went on one song
after another, while the half circle of row
boats tossed in the water. Tom Arm¬
strong was among the assemblage of row
boats, he aud his guest having rowed out
from the yacht, and the effect was one
that appealed directly to him. His oars
rested on the gunwale, and ha paid no
heed to the fact that his boat was slowly
drifting toward its neighbor.
“Hullo, there*" said some one, sud¬
denly, almost in his ear.
Tom started, and saw that he was
bearing down upon the boat, and almost
touching it. He put forth his hand to
catch the stranger boat and prevent them
colliding, hut as he did so his Angers
touched another hand that was out¬
stretched. Itwasonlya second before
both hands were withdrawn, but in that
time Armstrong’s boat had gently bumped
against the other.
“I beg your pardon!” he said, raising
his cap hurriedly and reaching for the
oars. “It was very careless in me.”
He looked toward the occupants of the
boat as he spoke, and quick as a flash
the thought darted through his mind
that his carelessness was a blessing, for
looking at him was the prettiest girl im¬
aginable. It was her hand that he had
touched and drawn away from so quick¬
ly, It was not more than a glance that
ho gave, but lie could have picked her
out agnin in any throng. He rowed
away very slowly, aud stopped as soon as
he could. He could just see the form
and outline of the other boat, and could
count the occupants. There were two
ladies and two men, and Tom wondered
who in the world they were and what re¬
lation they were to the girl; he seemed
to be wonderfully interested in her, con¬
sidering the time he had seen her. The
songs had been going on all the time,
but Tom had paid little attention to
them.
The college boys had about exhausted
their stock of new songs and chanced
upon some of the old favorites. When
they sang “Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party”
the occupants of the surrounding boats
took up the chorus, and Tom was certain
that he could distinguish the voice of
the pretty girl when they sang
“And ’twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting
party wasseeiDfc Nelly home.”
With this idea (for it was all imagina¬
tion on his part, no doubt) he called
loudly for an encore, and sat still, trying
again to distinguish her voice in the
score of others. When this was done
the singers were evidently getting tired,
for they started “Good-night, Ladies,”
and the people, acting upon the gentle
hint, began to move off in all directions,
looking, in the pale moonlight, like a
lot of gigantic water spiders. At least
that was what Tom’s guest and friend,
Will Townes, suggested; but Tom
sneered at the idea, and seemed to get
really angry over it. He lost sight of
the particular boat that the girl was in,
so he went directly to his yacht Asquam,
bemoaning his hard fate that he had
been unable to find out which her yacht
was, so that he might find an opportunity
to meet her.
Tom went on deck very early the next
morning, and he was no sooner there than
a voice hailed him.
“Ahoy, Asquam!”
It was from the yacht Phyllis that had
come to anchor a few lengths from him
the night before.
“Hullo 1” he answered.
The gentleman who stood on the other
boat put up his hands to his mouth, and
called, slowly: “Don’t you want to go
outside to-day and have a little brush?
There’s a beautiful breeze.”
Tom hesitated a moment, and looked
at the sky. He wanted very much to
find the girl that had taken his fancy
the night before, but as he looked around
at the fifty or sixty yachts he realized
the hopelessness of his task.
“All right,” he replied; “I’ll go.
When shall we start?”
“Right away, if you are willing,”
shouted the other. “By-the-way, you
don’t appear to recognize me. My name
is Quincy.”
“Why, oh yes! It’s such a time since
I saw you I had forgotten it for the mo¬
ment,” answered Tom, as he recognized
a friend of his elder brother. “How aro
you?”
“Fine!” called back the other. “This
is rather a distant greeting, but we’ll see
more of you, I hope. By-the-way, Arm¬
strong," he added, as a second figure
came up from behind him, “let me in¬
troduce my niece, Miss Quincy, Mr.
Armstrong.” And Tom was face to face
with the girl whom he had seen in the
boat on the previous evening. “The
yacht’s named after her.”
Tom bowed low,for a minuted he could
not reply, and then he made some com¬
mon place remark, wondering if the girl
remembered him.
That all happened in July; and through
the summer wherever the Phyllis went,
there was the Asquam to be found also.
Whenever Miss Quincy needed an escort,
Tom Armstrong was on band; and when¬
ever the young man indulged in any of
his day-dreams, there was Miss Quincy to
be found. Her unde, who was older
than Tom, was very glad to have pleas¬
ant company for the girl, and she did not
seem to object particularly. In fact, she
was not an impulsive girl, and gave no
signs when her dislike was not deep,
neither showed she any deep interest
when she wished to hide her feelings.
Tom, as it might be imagined, grew
more and more devoted day by day. He
was very ephemeral in his tastes, but he
was free to confess that he was more
deeply interested with Phyllis Quincy
than he had ever been before in any
other girl. He, of course, regarded her
through glasses of rose, but an outside
observer would have acknowledged her
to be a girl of much sweetness and
strength of character; and she was beauti¬
ful as well. Not above medium height,
with brown hair, and dark eyes of won¬
drous depth, it was no wonder that the
young man was so deeply smitten. As
for Tom Armstrong, ho was one or those
fortunate individuals who are blessed
with a great talent in art and music, and
yet so well off in worldly goods that he
did no more than gain a mediocre success
in the various lines—a mere dabbler, in
truth. But yachting seasons have an end,
and when the two yachts sailed into New
York Bay, and the parties went their
different ways, there was much regret on
both sides. They had lots of mutual
friends, however, in the city, and
they met at outside entertainments
so frequently that it seemed strange
they had never met before in their
lives, though it must be confessed that
their meetings were not altogether
chance. Miss Phyllis lived with her
uuele, and Tom was soon at home there.
Months passed by, but brought no defi¬
nite results, for Tom, who could not be
termed faint-hearted, was not sure of
winning his suit, however sure he was of
himself, and he dared not risk his hopes
by a premature confession. They were
seen together in society a great deal, and
sharped-tongued gossip had them en¬
gaged, but Tom had to visit his family
in Boston during the Christmas holidays,
and society kindly broke the engagement
during his absence.
“Has it been ten weeks or ten days
since I went away?” asked Tom, upon his
return shortly after New Year’s.
“It depends altogether how you
reckon time,” she had answered, quickly.
Phyllis had been glad, indeed, to sec
him again, but he could gather no idea
of her feelings toward him, and he was
terribly slow about proposing, so con¬
trary to his usual reckless way of going
at things.
It was an evening in March. The
great logs blazed in the open fire-place
and filled the room where Tom sat with
a rosy gleam. He was in his library at
home, and he watched the great black
shadows that rote and fell ay the fitful
flam* shot suddenly to life and as quickly
died. That evening he was more than
ever conscious of that love which had
entered into his life, something higher
and purer than he had ever dreamed be¬
fore. Imagination had never pictured
such a perfect state, and yet it was so
imperfect in its semblance to a dream.
He searched his heart honestly and tried
to banish the dream, striving all the
while to retain the ideal. It seemed as
though two forces of his nature were
alert as he reviewed the past. He had
no assurance that she loved him, and yet
that evening had waked a feeling of
reality in him, and he felt as though he
had received her whispered “yes.”
One of the great logs in the fireplace
fell asunder, sending forth a puff of
smoke, which floated out into the room,
and as he gazed at it he suddenly
started. The red glow of the fire lit up
the room with straDge effect as it spread
wider and wider until it formed a thin
veil, and pictured through it he saw a
wonderful sight. He saw a musi c-room,
one that he recognized,and seated before
the piano lightly runniug her finger over
the keys was Phyllis. Stopping, she
looked in his direction, and her beauti¬
ful eyes were filled with sadness, and
the quiver of her mouth told of deep
feeling. He felt her eyes look into his
for a moment, and then turning to the
piano she began softly to sing. He list¬
ened attentively, and as she touched the
keys the music sounded softly through
the room, and he caught the words she
sang. The melody was new and strange,
but full of a gentleness and sweetness,
while the words sounded as though
heard in a dream—the tender words
which Mrs. Browning wrote:
“ Unless you can think, when the song is
done.
None other is sweet in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by one,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when upraised by
his breath,
Unless That your beauty swear—‘For itself wants proving; life,
you can for
death’—
Oh, fear to call it loving 1”
For life—for death! there was some¬
thing so sweet in the deep minor strain
in which they sung. There was no
printed page before her, and she sang
with her eyes half closed, while the ac¬
companiment was an inspiration.
“Unless you can muse in a crowd all da
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love as the angels may,
With the breath of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behooving and unbehooving; is
Unless you can die when the dream past—
Oh, never call it loving!”
The picture slowly faded, and Tom
bowed his head. He did not think of
it as a delusion, it was real to him.
Suddenly starting up, he lit the gas,
and drawing out a box of colors,sketched
swiftly on a paper before him. It was
the picture that he had seen. Dim, un¬
defined, he drew the background, the
piano, and with a few steady strokes be
barely outlined the sweet face so dear to
him. And when it was done he printed
underneath a line of music—that air
which she had sung. He wrote no
words. Would she understand? he
wondered.
He decided to deliver it in person the
next day.
Phyllis was somewhat surprised at his
morning call, but greeted him gladly.
He placed the picture in her hands
without a word, and going over to the
piano, ran over the music that he had
heard accompanying the song, When
he turned the girl was standing gazing
at the picture iu wonder.
“Phyllis,” he said, at her side, “is it
true?”
She turned to him with a wonderfully
sweet smile. “Tom,” she hesitated,
“how—how did you find it out? How
could you have heard it?”
“Ah,” answered he, laughing, “some
have said that ‘love is blind,’ but love
has second-sight, my Phyllis.”
“It is true,” she said, simply, holding
out her hand.— Harper's Bazar.
The Beautiful Blue Danube.
Among the most important rivers iu
Europe is the Danube; in fact, it is the
second river. It has a length of 1700
miles; it and its tributaries drain a val¬
ley having an area of over 300,000
square miles. Many natives live along
its banks and those of the rivers which
flow into it, and nearly thirty dialects
are spoken from its source to its mouth
It rises iu the Black Forest, to the north
of Switzerland, and almost in sight of
the French frontier. Through Bavaria
and Austria is its course, through Huu-
gary, past Servia and Bulgaria, Rou-
mania and Roumelia, which tributaries
flow in from Bosnia and Macedonia od
the south and Poland on the north, so
that practically the valley of the Danube
comprises the most important portion of
Eastern Europe. It runs through the
battle-ground of civilization and sav-
agery. Here the Romans contended
with the Scythians and the Huns; here
the Greek Empire strove to maintain its
supremacy over the hordes of savage
tribes which came down from the steppes
of Russia; here, after the Empire of the
East faded away, Charlemagne contended
with savage tribes of semi-Asiatics; here
all Europe fought the Turks for genera¬
tion after generation, until, by a great
battle fought under the walls of Vienna,
the flood of the Mohammedan invasion
was rolled back toward Asia.—Detroit
Free Press.
In Yorkshire the English peasant if he
happens to see the new moon without
having a piece of silver money in his
pocket immediately turns heels over head
to .change his luck.
THE FARM AND GARDEN.
PREPARING SHEEP SKINS.
Make a paste with fresh lime in water,
thicker than whitewash, and spread it
over the flesh side of the skin, and then
fold it together so as to leave the wool
out. In a day or two, or more, it will
be ready to pull; try it by examining.
Sometimes fresh wood-ashes is added to
the lime in making the paste, and some
persons use wood-ashes wholly. This is
the old method .—Country Gentleman.
BALING HAY.
The baling of hay does not add to its
feeding value in any way, and would not
pay for mere ease of storing it. But for
transpoitation it is indispensible. The
best machines are those presses known as
continuous—that is, they take in hay at
one end and turn out bales at the other
without stopping. A press worked with
two horses and costing about $140 will
turn out ten tons or 100 bales, in ten
hours, with three men. No. 16 wire of
soft iron, made specially for this purpose,
is used. The fastenings are hooks and
eyes, which are purchased ready made.
—New York Times.
WHEN TO SELL HOGS.
Sell your hogs when you can get the
most money for them at the least outlay.
The ups and downs of prices we cannot
readily control, but by careful attention
to feeding and the use of the scales we
can tell closely whether we are making
corn into pork at a profit or not. If not,
there ought to be a change of ration or
an immediate sale of marketable stock.
It does not pay to hold beyond the time
of profitable growth and fattening. Most
successful feeders believe it pays best one
year with another to sell the pork when
the highest point in gain has been
reach, letting the question of probable
higher prices alone. Corn used in keep¬
ing over-fattened hogs will make twice
as much pork if given to other animals.
It is a losing game to hold for an in¬
crease of price as a rule. Make all the
pork you can out of your corn in just
as little time as possible.— Western
Swineherd.
CHANGING EGGS.
One of the practices among farmers is
changing eggs with each other in order
to avoid in-breeding. In the first place,
the eggs themselves are a risk, as no one
can tell what they may produce, perhaps
no two chicks from them being alike
and no breeding of value in the stock.
In the next place, the changing of eggs
makes the flocks iu a community all of
one blood, so that really nothing can be
gained by the practice after it has been
persisted in for a while. Get pure-bred
males from some source, or eggs from
some breeder of pure breeds. If you
must cross, do it correctly. Do not
waste time in the attempt to better your
flock by changing eggs for some nonde¬
script stock that has no merit nor pos¬
sesses any advantage. To improve a
flock, one should know the kind of stock
he is using, and what can be expected
from it. The changing of eggs is a
practice usually pursued by those who do
not know the value of the breeds, and
such persons should not be encouraged.
—Farm and Fireside.
IMPORTANCE OF CORN HUSKS.
Doubtless to most farmers the busk on
corn as well as the chaff of grain seems a
useless appendage,though apparently un¬
avoidable. But when all corn and other
grain grew wild the husk was a very neces¬
sary part of the plant,to preserve the seed
from vicissitudes of weather until the
time came for it to grow again. Corn in
the husk and on the stalk dries out be-
fore its vitality can be injured by severe
freezing. The lightest frost nips the
husk, which thereafter dries up and
forms a dry covering over the grain. It
is for this reason, rather than from mere
shiftlessness and laziness, that many
Western farmers who grow Dent corn
leave it until nearly spring before they
husk it. If they threw bushels of wet
ears in a heap they would either rot
down if the weather was warm or freeze
so as to kill the germ during weather
when the thermometer went down to
zero. But the husk in cultivated corn
each year grows of less importance as
better means are devised for drying coru
artificially. It is likely that improved
much less difficult .-Boston CuttiraUrr.
EFFECT OF IRREGULAR SHEEP FEEDING.
One of the defects of a large quantity
of wool which finds its way to our mar¬
kets is an unevenness in the size and
strength of its fibre. This greatly re-
duces the value of the wool for manufac-
tiring . purposes, and , necessarily dimin- .
ishes the price which it will command.
The cause of this defect is usually to be
found m irregular feedyig, or in undue
exposure of the animals, with consequent
injury to their health. If the sheep are
well fed part of the time and poorly fed
at other periods, the fibre of their wool
will certainly be uneven. Anything
which injures the health or reduces the
strength of the animal will have the same
effect. Not a few farmers who have
been obliged to sell their wool at low
prices have blamed the purchasers for
paying so little, but the latter have been
merely acting for self-protection. The
sheep from which the wool was taken
had been badly kept, and the wool was
of an inferior quality because of thi9
want of skill in feeding and caring for
the flock. No way has yet been discov¬
ered by which sheep, or any other uni-
mals, which aie neglected can be made
to return as large a profit as those which
are well fed and properly tended.—
American Dairyman.
COWS CLEAN BY COMPULSION
To ‘ 'board up mangers so high that
stock cannot reach forward far enough
to soil the platform on which they
stand” is well, but it does not always ef¬
fect the purpose, writes O. 8. Bliss. I
have had cows that no shortening of
their stalls, before or behind, whether in
stanchions or otherwise held, would re-
strain from not only soiling the platform,
but themselves. One which was so val¬
uable that I very much disliked to part
with her tried my patience for a long
while, and I adopted various expedients,
only to be beaten every time. She would
arch her back and crowd her hind feet
almost to the fore ones,in spite of every¬
thing in front of her. I finally, as a last
resort, with a view to turn her out if she
failed, hung a frame down from the ceil¬
ing over her back. The plank across
her back was six inches wide. This she
contrived to get down by vigorous lift¬
ing ancj swaying herself from side to
side. I then put up another, the cross¬
piece of which was made of good tim¬
ber, but five-eighths of an inch thick
where it came in contact with her back
about six or eight inches behind the
shoulders. It was placed about an inch
above her back when standing in her
natural position, and was firmly braced
in its place. It accomplished the pur¬
pose most effectually. She was later on
given much more freedom of action in
her place, and from being always soiled
on legs, flank and udder, became as neat
and cleanly as could be desired. The ef¬
fect was in no wise harmful. She was
simply compelled either to abandon the
bad habit of doubling herselt up or to
back away from under the sharp edge of
timber and step down from the plat¬
form. She tried both, and eventually
accepted the first, and has since been all
right. It should be added that she is
fastened in her stall beside another cow
on the opposite side by a strap around
her neck with a running ring upon .—New an
upright stanchion at her shoulder
York Tribune.
FARM AND GARDEN NOTES.
Artificial stimulants are rarely needed
by fowls.
Warm, dry quarters are essential to the
laying hens.
Fat is a better protection for fowls
against cold than pepper.
Dry or whole grain should never be
fed exclusively to laying hens.
The queen cells are elongated and are
the ones in which queens are reared.
Sunflowers and sorghum can always be
fed to advantage without threshing.
Remember that the Lyringas will
thrive and do well in almost any soil and
situation.
A tablespoouful ot ginger in a quart
of water is a good remedy for scouring
in poultry.
“Ripe” honey is honey which has by
evaporation become sufficiently thick to
be sealed in the cell.
Sprinkling fine ashes or lime over the
walls and roosts is one of the cheapest
and best remedies for lice.
Soft soap rubbed on the legs and al¬
lowed to remain on a short time is a
good remedy ior scaly legs.
The Polyantha roses, which bear their
small double flowers in clusters, are what
is known as perpetual bloomers, and are
a good sort to have in one's garden.
At a recent meeting at St. Catherine s,
Canada, a vote was taken on the ques-
tion of outdoor versus iudoor wintering
of bees. The majority favored packing
on summer stands.
Seeds should always be planted in
fresh, most soil. If the soil is dry, it
draws the moisture from the seed, if it
contains any, and the seed has to lie aud
await the necessary moisture before it
can sprout.
A ca]f can be prevented fr0lu having
] lorns by an application of crude potash
the spot where the incipient horn
can be felt. The cost is next to nothing,
The plan o{ dehorning is gaining in
f avor a ud done in this way has much to
coulmend it.
.
at tho a S™ ul ural /««. “ <l gives some
very good reasons for so doing. There
is no doubt about the attractiveness to
the average fair goer of bees in glassed
hives atl( } honey in glass crates,
A herd of eighteen cows in Vermont
produced 163 pounds of butter per year
for each cow. The amount is not a large
one compared ‘ with the records of noted
co ; bu t it ia excelleut {or a herd ’ and
sbow what dairjmen ' can do by sin °r
well . bred C0W3 a d ° ivi ° themprop r r
care.
A New York farmer raised an acre of
sunflowers for seed, and found that the
seed was an excellent addition to grain
for the use of hogs and poultry, a small
mill being used to grind it for hogs.
The stalks made excellent kindling-
wood and the heads and seeds were
ground together.
If you cannot grind or pulvarize the
old bones you can reduce them by laying
them in wood ashes, and keeping the
mass damp, not wet. A small quantity
of urine, poured over the bones and ashes
occasionally, will hasten the decomposi¬
tion of the bones. If you cannot do this
bury the bones around the fruit trees
and grapevines.