Newspaper Page Text
THE HEATHER ON THE LEA.
•Green are the woods, with their gray moss
and lichen.
Yellow are the sands in the sun by the sea,
Dewy is the dale with its fresh fern and
bracken,
®ut, oh! for the heather and the whjn on
the lea.
Pine cones and leaves strew the mould ’neath
the branches,
Sweet is the smell of the balsam and pine,
-Pink the deep flush on the petals of the wind¬
flower,
■Nestling in meshes of tangled woodbine.
Turin the distance the seagulls are circling.
Dipping their wings in the cre 3 t of the
wave;
Down in the green depths the seaweeds float
darkling,
The kelp on the black rocks the wild
waters gave.
Down in the dale blue violets are opening.
Where the fresh grass grows green by the
rill,
Cowslips their cups turn toward the light
laughing
And the white lily floats on the waters so
still.
The bonny purple heather, glinting in the
sunlight,
Prickly gorse and furze, and whin sweet
for bee,
Where the breeze sweeps as free as the cool
air at midnight,
And the lark builds her nest in the heather
on the lea.
—Boston Transcript.
NATHALIE.
1 saw her first carrying a great fat
baby, thin, apparently heavier than herself—
a small-faced girl, looking about
ten years old, but, as I afterward found
out, think nearly Nathalie thirteen. I shall always
was stunted by a per¬
petual whom baby burden, for-her aunt, with
she lived, had a frequent addition
to her family, aud Nathalie had nursed
babies since she was seven years old.
About that time her mother died, and
the little orphan was thrown upon the
tender mercies of her aunt.
Madame Poircn was stout, red-faced,
loud-voiced, that aud with one ruling passion,
all around her should earn their salt
by constant work.
She would have liked to rise at mid¬
night, but and set her household (heir tasks,
as that was impossible, she
contented herself with beginning at
dawn.
Her husband was a farmer and miller
near the little town of Maple ion; her
two eldest sons worked in the fields
with the other laborers, and woe to any
ef them who did not obey the imperious
dame. She did not spare herself, for
constant employment was her religion;
but she had a frame like iron, and the
strength As of a strong man.
for Nathalie, had it not been for
the babies she was required to keep out
of the way, she would have been driven
to the grave by tasks impossible for her
puny frame to perform.
As it was, she ate her hurried meals
with the everlasting baby on her lap,
whom she was expected to feed at inter¬
vals, and attend to the wants of the
twins, about two years old, who sat be¬
side her. She was then driven out, with
<he three children, to be kept out of the
way until dinner-time.
dame “Ha, I treat the little one well 1” Ma¬
Poiron would say to her gossips.
“She is my poor sister's child, and I have
pity for her. I work r lyself, I work my
dp children; but for Nat-a'lie, all she has to
all day long is to play in the woods
with the little ones. It is play, play all
the time for her, aud eat and drink of
iShe best.”
Madame Poiron believed faithfully
What she said.
It was during one of these “play”
times that I first made the acquaintance
•f Nathalie, lhad been walking through
the pretty little woodland which sur¬
rounded the town of Mapleton, where I
# was Suddenly spending the summer with a friend.
I came upon two stout, stolid
looking Butch dolls children, looking more like
than anything else. Their
laps were full of flowers, and in front of
them was lying the baby, crowing and
kicking Nathalie up its heels.
aerobatic performance was going through lor a kind of
the am use -
ment of her charges, while the twins
pressionless gravely stared blue at her with their big ex¬
eyes. I have seldom
seen any one so active and daring as
Nathalie was, as she sprang from one
£ el rape-vine mil to another, them. and danced a kind
• fas on
I was hidden behind a clump of
bushes, where the children did not see
me; but I noticed the little girl’s face
head was pale, and big drops stood on her fore¬
from fatigue. Whenever she stopped
to rest, the Dutch dolls set up a howl.
“' h, hush, Manette, hush, Marie, or
Tante Poiron will come after us! Then
she will not let us come here any more.
I am going to play again for you. Now
look, look, and see me fly!”
She made a spring to a high vine,
which hung far above the one on which
she was sitting. She missed it, and fell
to the ground. In a moment I was be¬
side her, and lifting her up.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, rubbing her
head. “My head hurts, but it has hurt
me all day. Oh, Bebe, don’t cry!” The
baby was yelling at the top of its voice,
and the chorus was swelled by the Dutch
dolls, who were frightened by my sud¬
den appearance. “Don’t cry, my dar¬
ling ! Thalie is coming to you. ”
She rose to her feet, and sank down
again with a sharp cry.
walk! “Ah, my foot is broken! I cannot
What will Tante Poiron say?
What shall I do? Oh, what shall I
do?”
“You will do nothing but lie here till
I comeback,” I said, “it is a short
walk to your aunt’s and I will go and
tell her, so that she can send for you.
them Perhaps home.” these children will let me take
But as I approached the
twins, they threw themselyes flat on
their backs, and yelled as if I had been
the Giant Biunderbore, ready to eat
them up.
“ They don’t like strangers!” Nathalie
gasped. “ O madam, I must try to
walk.” But as she raised herself, she
sank back almost fainting with agony.
I walked rapidly to the house, and, as I
neared it, saw Madame Poiron in the
front yard, washing some clothes. I
knew her well by sight, and as I called
her name, she raised her monstrous,
dripping arms from the suds, and turned
to me.
“ Whatdoes madame want?” she asked
curtly.
“ Your little niece has hurt herself
yonder in the woods. She has either
sprained or broken her ankle. She can¬
not walk.”
“Oh, the miserable creature!” cried
the woman. “ Forever and forever doing
something but herself wrong! And nothing to do
amuse all day! Has she hurt
my children?” turning upon me fiercely.
“No, but she is badly hurt.”
“ Saints be praised it is not my angels!
Nathalie is a stubborn, ungrateful girl.
And now to lay herself up, aud leave me
all to do! Pity she hadn’t broken her
neck at once!”
“ You ought to be ashamed of your¬
self, Madame Poiron!” I cried, indig¬
nantly. help “If you do not intend sending
to the poor child, I will do so.”
“ And where does madame think I can
get this help? Call the men out of the field
at hour, and lose so much time? No;
if anyone goes, I must!” •
She strode off, and I followed her, for
somehow the idea of a dove in a vulture’s
claws pursued me when I thought of
poor, the trembling of the little unfeeling Nathalie borne in
When arms I reached them, had giantess.
she the girl
by the arm, and had lifted her to her
feet.
“None of your airs,” she cried. “If
you tending. try to walk, you can. You are pre¬
Stand up 1”
I caught the child as she fell back,
and at that moment I saw a man whom
I knew well coming down the road in
his cart.
cried, “Ah, here is Pisrre Lagrange!” I
the child joyfully. home.” “I know he will take
Pierre was a good, humane fellow,
more than willing to do a kind act, and
lifted Nathalie into his cart at once.
Madame Poiron, growling like a bear,
had taken herself off with the baby in
her arms, and the Dutch dolls toddling
after.
“But then this is a bad business for
you, along. Nathalie,” Pierre said, as he jogged
“That old fire-cat is going to
give you hard times.”
“I never have easy times, Monsieur
Pierre," she answered, with her patient
face. voice, the tears rolling down her white
“I would wish to be dead, and
with mamma, if it was not for the chil¬
dren, but I love them,and they love me.”
“Love you! Just listen to her! The
little vampires that suck her life-blood.
The tyrants that get her more beatings
than I can count! And, madame, you
hear her say she loves them ?”
“Yes, they do love me,” she sighed.
“Monsieur Pierre, they are all I have in
the world. Tante Poiron is not always
cross. She has good days, you know,
and is kind, but then, you see, she has
so many for children, she has no love to
spare me."
“That’s certain and sure,” Pierre
muttered iu his heavy beard, but we had
reached the farm-house, and he lifted
Nathalie out tenderly.
she “Farewell, he madame, and thank you,”
said, as bore her into the house.
I thought often of Nathalie during
the next few weeks. I heard her ankle
was well. sprained, I did but that she was doing
not venture to call, for it
was evident that Madame Poiron had
taken an inveterate dislike to me. But
I was glad to see the little girl walking
out one morning with the baby in her
arms. I hurried forward aud inter¬
than cepted them. Nathalie was thinner
ever, but her eyes—lovely eyes
they were—brightened at sight of me.
“Are you quite well, Nathalie,” I
asked.
“My foot hurts me a little, madam,
but I can walk. It is the first time I
could carry Bebe—sweet Bebe!” kissing
enthusiastically We going the pasty-faced infant.
are to have a fete in the woods,
Bebe and I, ” showing me a little package
she held in one hand. “There is a slice
of pie and a piice of cake, and oh,
madame, will you not come to our fe'et"
I said I would, but I must run home
for something. That something was an
addttion to the tea-party in the shape
of some fruit I had just received. It
was good to see the delight in Nathalie’s
eyes when I laid my contribution before
her
“Oh.Bebe! Bebe!” she screamed,clap¬
ping Oranges!and her hands. “Bananas, Bebe!
they beautiful lovely white grapes! Oh,
are too to eat 1”
When the repast was over, Nathalie
wrapped Be what remained in her apron for
e and the twins.
“You look quite happy, Nathalie,” I
said.
“Happy? happier ah, yes, madame, there is no
one than I am to-day. Only
think, I can walk again and nurse Bebe.
1 love all children, but Bebe is a real
angel of heaven 1”
I sat there wondering over that starved
young life whose only modicum ot sun
light happiness was putty-faced Bebe. What was
after all? A poor, ill-treated
waif, whose daily bread was flavored bv
harsh words, sat there under God’s
blessed sunlight and called herself
happy. Several I gave up the problem.
weeks passed, and although I
was olten on the watch, I saw
of Nathalie. The house where my friend
and I boarded, commanded a full view
or the Poiron farm; for some days none
of the men had been working in the
fields, and the loud voice of Madame
Poiron was silent.
“What is the matter overatPoiron’s?”
I asked our landlady, Mrs. Blake.
Mrs. Blake turned very red.andlooked
confused.
“Well, the truth is. I didn’t like to
tell you, ladies, for I thought you might
get scared, aud there ain’t a bit of dan¬
ger, for there's no communication be¬
tween the farm and any house in town.
They've got small-pox there bad. Nearly
ail the family are down with it. Old
Poiron caught it from a tramp. Two of
the children will die to-night, and they
say the old madame can’t live. There
is no one to attend them but one of the
boys and little Nathalie.”
“She is not sick, then?" I said, re
aeved.
“Nathalie? no. Old Dargan, who has
.been there—lie’s had small-pox himself
—told Mr. Blake, the child goes from
one to the other, with Bebe in her arms.
Bebe has small-pox, too, and she never
puts it down.”
I cannot express all I felt when the
next day I saw the funerals leave the
cottage—one of the sons and one of the
smaller children, Mrs. Blake did not
know which. Then a few days after¬
ward the hearse stopped again, and two
small white coffins were brought out.
They held the poor little Dutch dolls.
After that I heard of the gradual re¬
covery of the other patients and that
Nathalie did not take the disease.
Nearly a month elapsed, and I was pre¬
paring of to leave Mapleton when, in one
my walks, I came suddenly upon
Nathalie leading her aunt by the hand.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you, madame-!”
she cried. “We are takinga little walk,”
Tante Poiron and I. She is getting
quite strong again.”
“I am glad to see you out,” I said.
“I heard how ill you were."
“Is it the American lady, ’Thalia?”
she asked. “I am blind, madame. I
live, yes; but never to see again! Help¬
less, useless 1 ahl” With a groan she
threw up her gaunt arms, and her face,
torn and ploughed by the dread disease,
was full of despair.
“Oh, hush, Tantel” Nathalie cried.
“Am I not here to help you and do all
you want?”
quietly. “les, it is so," the woman cried,
“The one to whom I was cruel
and unkind. God has given me as my
sole stay. I tell her to go and be happy.
She shall have money to live where she
chooses, but she says: 'No! No!’ ”
“Leave you and Bebe!” Nathalie
cried; “Never! With you is my home
as long as you want me.”
The woman, still weak and nervous.
burst into tears, and her little niece led
her away. My problem was solved.
serving If Nathalie little was child, happy what in wiil loving and her
degree a be
of felicity to find herself neees
sary to a whole family—her duties mani¬
fold, but sweetened by the love and
trust for which her faithful little heart
hungered .—Marie B. WLUiam », in- You tic's
Companion,.
Thirty Prehistoric Men.
The people of Floyd county, Iowa,
have often speculated as to the contents
of a group of forty curious-look n g
mounds on the farm of John Scrpnger;
but none of them had curiosity enough
to investigate until Professor Webster
took the work in hand on liis own ac¬
count last week. The Sreimger farm lies
just north of the pretty village of Charles
City, and is one of the most beautiful
sections of the State. On the eastern
part of the farm is a long, low ridge, run
nin which g directly north and. south, oh top of
are the mounds, some forty in
number, about three feet in height, and
ranging in length. from fifteen to twentv-tive feet
Thus far Professor Webster
has opened fourteen of these mounds
and found the skeletons of thirty people,
he thinks of a different race from any of
the this prehistoric remains yet unearthed id
country. Just how long the ridge
and mounds have been therc'Mr. Scrim
ger can’t say. Neither can the oldest
settler, and neither can the Pottawato¬
mie Indian traditions which run back
many centuries. That both ridge and
mounds wore built by human hands is
plain, from the mathematical regularity
with which they are arranged, and the
hardness of the soil composing them,
which is packed firm, like a stone, while
that of the virgin prairie in the neigh¬
borhood is soft and yielding.
The skeletons found by Professor
Webster are in various stages of preserva¬
tion, some quite solid and others crumb¬
ling nothing to dust, while in one mound there
was but a bed of ashes. All the
dead had been found in a doubled up
position, the knee* being crowded on the
lower jaw, and the head of each care
fully iaid toward the east. While the
femur bones show thatmost of theskele
tons are people about five feet seven
inches tall, there are four the original
owners of which must have been fully
seven inches tall The skulls are those
of a race of very inferior beings. The
tops are abnormally thicK, and the frontal
bones slope abruptly back from the eyes,
while the lower jaws protrude forward so
that the under teeth come outside of the
upper ones. In general contour the
skulls resemble those of the prehistoric
mound builders found in Ohio, Indiana
and Wisconsin. Most of the skeletons
found by Professor Webster show marks
of fire, as if the flesh had been burned
from the bones before burial. Another
strange anything thing like trinkets, is the entire absence of
of the chase, or implements of
found war or in Eastern mounds. as are The generally
bones
of animals, showing that the -friends of
the deceased had celebrated their inter¬
ment with funeral feastsare also missing.
The only things thus far unearthed iu
the Iowa mounds, aside from the skele¬
tons, is a lot of broken pottery of crude
design whole and make, including one nearly
vase or urn of archaic workman¬
ship, which Professor Webster now has.
—New York Sun.
Shavings for Deadening Noise.
A variety of materials—such ns saw¬
dust, dry ashes, cork-chippings, etc.,
have been used uader floors for deadening
noise. A late French suggestion is' the
use for this purpose of wood-shavings
which have been dipped in thick white¬
wash. It is claimed that this substance
has combustible, the advantages of being quite in¬
an excellent non-conductor
of sound, inexpensive, and of light
weight. When desirable to disinfect the
space between floor and ceiling, as in
hospitals, chloride of zinc may be used
to saturate the shavings or added to the
whitewash.
The output of copper from nine Lake
Superior mines for the first half of this
year was 24,537 tons, equal to 37,75(^00*
pounds ef refined copper. - .