Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 17, 1883)
A BICYCLE IDYL. A Jittl girl, with ye of A little dog of snowy hue) A little wheel, with rider raih; A bark, a iiwli, an awful crash! A little scream, a little awoar; A pretty gynipatlmtic air; A little conversation, leuding To Hube,iiuilti,ucoeiiafulilitding. t A little ehuroh, a little bride; A gallant wheelman by her aide; A little ki, their vowi to seal; . A little rivul fur the wheel. SOBODY'3 HIRO. So hero was he- only plain Roy Mo- n rutio nnv ha waa alwavs called ' tua t: from the very ow aad to tell no wmum " ,, onl.l atrarjo-or. to her warm I5r't, with promise silent, yet true as leaven, of protection against the many . ' .u. I..1 .,at,o,-w1 him all i' la to wniou u uau unuw . 'M Uittingly. Poor little soldier! Thrust '; .to the groat battle of life all unwarned, f narmed, even by the shield of mother J )ve Only Mother Rose, faithful and ' ind held him in her groat, strong arms, H nd 'she wiped many a big tear from 1 niong the wrinkles of her old blaok face ! , she looked at thf little speck of hu- uanity. "Poor Mile juassa noy out ,ere two big bine-eyes opened in pro est and Mammy Rose was strtckon lamb by the wondering gaze. Brave jlue eyes one might have called them, mlr baby was so frail and tiny. Little ot they always called him in the air Sonthern village where his childish ears went by on their laughing, dano rav He was ever a merry, hardy strip if a boy. a11 lih aDd olic but happy? S'o child happiness, without mother to (ratch and nourish it, is a plant that uever thriveB. Little Roy still, even when lie' counted seventoen summers: nd plain, almost to ugliness; naught to .... him that. vAi-dict.bnt the same brave. 'bine eyes that had checkod so effectually Mammy's liearueu puy ejenBvu8 t i ftiR.r ateadv lieht. and above them a broad, open brow, where dwelt a something, indefinable a something, may we say, akin to majesty? Little Roy a. .....v, I,,, ha nnnld remember no 1UUUUU u -- . - , , , dav in his life whon his heart had. been too small ior iw urc.u " a radiant, gleesome maid, who had been Ithe sweetest, wildest, merriest of play mates, in the days wbentney roociimoou trees together, waded barefoot the wood land branches, rolled over the gioen hill sides on the sunny days, and made mud Spies on the rainy ones. iouny ajiuo bad something of the Gypsy in herna sail an in her creat. beaming. ' dark eyes, and as Roy had neither mother nor fatner to say mm uy, uwj it. nil full of uds and downs, and freaks and pranks of the maddest kind. They had played at love making in their simple way when Alioe s i.i.a i,.at. tnnnlind her knee and Roy s UUVBO jiv . - :..i.ai. -,ora as taillAna as his well-worn summer kites or, raiuer, ue um m mo i nn ami nhn taoK IE a a lie line a i;.tiQ nnoan vhnaa risrht it was. and lor- got all about it the next moment in a way Btaunon nine iwj uu uu. an boy though he was. An.i Bn thn iluvs sned on. and the self' same summor that made up his seventeen years traced "sweet sixteen lor Alice A.in;, lint t.lm anmmer was dvinor away. y iiut' " " " 1 slowlv dvine. and Aliie and Roy,' taking at 1-1)11 toAetlu., lid th""" themsoWiM Jon to rest at tb'r old nriiiand sDrintr. t Ann't like it. Allie. not at all! I have a half mind to rebel even now, and just say I won't go." "And what good will that do, pray tell me, Roy?" answered Allie. "You say yourself your grum old guardy is molded out of the granite of the everlasting hills. Besides, it will turn out all right. I dare say we'll have a glorious time, although' we are to seek our respective alma maters bo wide apart." "No doubt you will; no doubt but you will have plonty of friends, and and-" "And what, Roy?" and Alice smiles so archly as she asks. "And sweethearts, too," blurted out honest Roy, in a warm way, his face flushing rod all over. "Yes, sweethearts, too all I can man age to seoure in the midst of eternal vigilance," and the little coquette laughs at the prospect that is making darkness in Roy's soul. But when the inevitable break did really come, and hand in hand they stood, ready to say the first good-bye of their lives, the tears that drowned the great brown eyes were as genuine, if not so bitter, as the two great drops that forced themselves slowly and unbidden from Roy's solemn orbs. Was there ever a parting without a taste of the bit terness and agony of death? What won der that lips trembled over the word, eyes grow full and o'erflowed, and there was a choking way down near their hearts, perhaps that cut short the un said but deepfelt word. The years sped on, though in their path loomed up tremendous, threatening rhadows, shadows of coming events; on, bringing and taking away just what God willed; on, bringing to Allie and Roy an end to college days that had been bright, yet brighter tban they dreamed they could bo, unshared with each other. Ignorant young things, and oh! how happy in "their" ignoranoe not to know the real meaning of that worn phrase, so oft construed in Latin grammar days, that they knew it by heart; "Tempora mutantur et nos in illis." Roy came back the same little Roy he went away. He bad made no career, nor even a hero in any sense, when it was so easy to win a short-lived glittering fame. Yet he had made many friends, and well they knew his open hand, his spirited way of standing np to those who needed a backer to see them through trouble. But all things else had changed. Alice, the little wild blosom, had bloomed into a radiant, stately flower. She stood be fore him, tall, graceful, reeal, fair as the dream of a poet's soul; full of fire, ro mance, tenderness, sentiment, all that goes to make a worshipping enthusiast at the shrine Fancy erects.and of.the heroes Fancy places therein; heroes vested with the attributes and clothed in ithe garni ture of God. Iloy lifted his hungry eyes up for the vision they bad craved so many days; but he scarce dared look again, for the vision had fled for aye;' lost was his gay, girl ocmrade, the maiden that was "all in all" of his life; and this fair queen bearing his lost love's doar famil iar name ahe was a new experience Yet, all things were ohanged. Tuore was a new-made grave under the Southern skies, 'whore slept Peace, with all iu happy smiles and songs, uud its brow of golden calm. Over the land it had blossed and made beautiful floated the blood-red banners of war. Camp fires flashed out in the darkness of night; the tramp of gathoring cohorts crushed to death the stur-bright flowers of the valley; bugles called and brave men and gallant youths stood up to do and dio for their own. Sumter's guns bad boomed, and lo! another world; Roy McLeod was ever so quiet during these first stirring days, but Alioe Adair was in a forvent glow of grand dreams. "Oh, how I winh I was a man, Roy." "Even more than you once wished to be a boy, Alice, when skirts and aprons stood opposed to tree-climbing and the like." Roy laughed at the memory thus f evoked. "Oh. that was nonsonse. Roy .but this is hearty earnost." "And why would you be a man? There are plenty of thoso rough specimens in the land; whereas such rare and radiant maidens whom the angels-" "Oh! spare mo, Roy. what is beauty now? Woman that I . am, I can onlj dream and talk." "Do that in your own sweet way, and angels could do no more. I pledge me to do all your fighting, Allie." "You, Roy! what folly! You are not the stuff of which heroes are made only little Roy yet my dear, kind friond, all the same," she added, for there wuh such a look of pain in Roy's blue eyes. A moment of silence, and then Roy quietly said: "There may be a post of duty even for me, Allie. The sequel will, show the stuff that is in us all. So, while Alice threw heart and soul into the cause, cheering the brave, sham- ins the weak. Boy kept very still, and she thought no more of him. It was a day for heroes, and he could never be one, he was only "Roy." She was star tled, indeed, one moonlight night in June, when he stood before her on the balcony of her home and said: "I'm come to say good-bye, Allie; I'm off to the war." "When, Roy?" "To-night at twelve." "Don't jest, Roy; you suroly are not going; what good " But the look of pain checked her again; this time there was pride, too, in his eyes. "Yes, Allie, a call for volunteers has been mado; I am in 'for the war,' or for life, as it may be." Roy's voice was firm enough, yet how sad ! Alice fell to . thinking what folly, his going away there were men enough to wage and win the fight, besides, she was sorry to lose Roy; and her white fingers all the while wore mercilessly pulling to pieces the fair blush rose he had laid in her hands on ooming. Sud denly the two fair hands were orushed, rose and all. Roy had seized tbem, and she almost cried out with pain. His courage had come back at last, and in a terribly earnest, eloquent way, he was telling the "old, old story" over again. And Alice listened and wondered how Roy had grown so suddenly eloquent. She did not know that eloquence was but the voice of real, deep feeling. It touched her to hear his vows of fidelity to Lib country and his love, his dreams n clorv. ' honors he would lay at her teet as grandly as sue would nave nun do. After all it was only little Roy that was talking, and Alice could descend from the grand height where she had set up a grand ideal. So Roy only won a few tender words full of sinoere regret, of real sorrow yes, for at the thought of all his faithful kindness and love she broke utterly down and sobbed out an appeal for pardon; that she could give no more. Then both were quiet, silent. A moment more and Roy raised the orushed palms to his lips, bowed his head and pressod them to his flushed cheeks, kissed them again and again, lov ingly, slowly, as it he could not lay them down, then plaoed them back in her lap and was gone without a word. The days sped on. Alioe wondered and grew warm and tender, over the grand deeds of "the men in gray." Roy had been among cannon and musketry, sabre flash and bristling steel, till it was all as familiar as the flowers of his valley home. Manassas had baptized him in blood and marked him with the sign of carnage; for a deep red scarm his brow had dashed out some of its sunny youth. The thunders of Malvern Hill went echo ing through the mountains; not a man more dauntless than little Roy faced the terrors of that day. Even among the blinding battle flashes he saw his coun try's colors fall; his the arm that reared and placed them firmly, and was crushed and mangled even while he waved tbem aloft. Alice heard it all, and sue said: "Brave littleRoy 1" Then she wrote and begged that be come home and be nursed; but he did not. And well he did not, for ho oould not possibly have been an indifferent ob server of Alice Adair's new-found hero, nor of the all-absorbing way in which she yielded up her very soul to his keep ing. Captain St. John was tall, dark, grand-looking born to greatness, she knew. And indeed ha was not a parlor knight alone, for many a hard-fought field could attest his courage. Most met are brave, but it takes many things on make up a great character. The days of war rushed on with thun derous roar. Stonewall Jackson's men were reddening Virginia's valleys with blood; and making np a glorious histpry for admiring posterity to read. RoyMo Leod was only one of them, but not one to be called a laggard in the brilliant race for freedom or a grave. Young as he was, slender and boyish in his jacket of stained and faded gray, not a veteran in that veteran legion but spoke his name with glow of pride. They leved him, too, and more than one eye grew moist one day the day of Shurpsburg as the tale went round in camps now lie cad fallen in the very face of the foe, fighting as gallantly as the far-famed "Ccsur d Lion, and the enemy bad borne bira off the field dead. "Brave little Roy. We'll see his like no more." So spoke bis com rades all. With a great gulp of some thing like from remorse, Alice Hid down the letter of "Our own correspondent;" it bad told the tale in stirring words. "Dear Roy; God bless him!" she said, almost in a whisper. "Noble little fel low! Brave little Boy!" Ever and anon the words glided involuntarily into her thoughts, yet never once did she think him a hero fit for the podestul whore she had throned the image of her handsome cavulier, Douglas St. John. Months later alio stood urravKil iu brid al white, orange blossom gleaming iu tbo braids of her dark hair, and such a softened yet glowing light in the great brown eyes. Douglas St. John looked aluioht a king, and there they wero, plighting their lives to each other, muuy guests standing silent in the great parlors, taking in the handsome, regal-looking pair, whon up the wido granite steps iu front there hobbled a crippled, haggard man in gray. & small man, young, but his face roughoued and aged by other things, not years; the gray jacket was faded and Uttered. lie only took one glance through the laco curtains of the window opening on the balcony; stood a niounnt, rigid as a statue, then moved away. Next morning a note was handed Mrs. St. John one of congratulation, she thought, and with a smile she read: "I managed to come to life in a Feder al prison; 1 got out aud dragged all these weary miles to boo you, but now I had rattier go back to camp. God bless you, dear. Goodbye. Rov. So Stonewall Jackson's men got back their pet and their pride; they would have killed the fatted oalf, but they had none, only hard tack, and half ra tions at that. Who knoweth what a day may bring forth? More: "Who knoweth the many, many things a year, especially a year of war, may bring forth ?' A year has gone by since Roy's laHt look at Alioo Adair ; he would not have known her now. Douglas St. John had proved him self " a king," as in her fond heart she had crowned him ; but a despot of a king, a coward of a despot, who could delight in crushing so weak a thing as a woman, helpless and in his power. Alice was too full of romantio nonsense about love and U that; a fow oold sneors put it all to flight. She had a will, aud a woman should have one; he put it under his foot and kept it there, to all appearancos. She expected a husband to be a lover; he taught her there was a time for all things under the sun aud what .'tempora mutuntur meant in married life. lie was brave in battle, and Alice was glad to know it she oould honor courage still, even with a heart that was strangely quiet and empty. Ah! this year had brought forth many things things that had made her think, with a sorrow and regrot sad as death, of the the truest and noblest heart she had ever known. The year left her a widow a saddened, sub dued, disappointed woman. Her dreams of life had all gone wrong. Did Roy see in her freedom a star of hqpe alive for hiinsolf? Never! He hail noted the proud, happy light in the brown eyes that wore lifted to the royal-looking man who stood at her side that night one year ago. Well he knew the eye could never look that way on him, and ho never oould have 'brooked, little Roy though he was, any other than a man's true place in his wife's regard. So he went his way, and Alice, thinking of him as she could not holp but do, said, in her heart, he has forgotten all the old days. Ah, well, 'tempora mutantur.' " The war was dying out in blood and tears; oftener now their soaring shouts of triumph were heard the low-breathed voice of despair.the weary, weary cry of pain. The ranks of Stonewall Jack son's men had grown so thin, tuore were so many red scars and empty sleeves among the stanch fellows left, and the hardest battle was to be fought on that lost day at Appomattox. What wonder that eyes which had never quailed amid all the thunderous uproar and mad car nage of the fonr years, were drowned in bitter tears when Lee gave tbem his last order.not "Forward on with the fight!" but "Lay down your arms; disband and away!" Little Roy had vowed he would never surrender, and he did not save to the great God of Battles. The last man seen to fall in the last day's strife was a crippled member of the old Stonewall brigade. And when aching hearts and streaming eyes, all over the stricken South, wero welooming baok in tears and smiles, all sad alike, the war-worn "boys in tattered gray," Alioe St. John watched and waited for one that came not. It was only one of MoLeod's old comrades that came to her. He brought Roy's trusty musket and laid it at her feet, plaoed in her hands two folded papers one, a few short lines on a soiled and torn scrap of brown paper: "Keep it for my sake, Alice, ' and ask Stonewall Jackson's men if it has done your fighting ill or well. This time 'tis good-bye forever." The other was a legal document and made Mrs. Alice St. John heiress to all the possessions of Leroy McLeod. The lawyers told her it meant something like $100,000. One hundred thousand, but poor Alice, in deed ! Her droams had) come to naught. There seemed but one true fact in her vole existence; that was Roy so faith .u. -nd fond. She knew now he was the stuff of which heroes are made; but it had taken many and terrible things to convince her. A Funny Hole in ibe farouad. In Castle dsstrict, at a point about five miles north of this city, is a tunnel that may be called an ex-tunncl. It is a tunnel that remonstrates against being a tunnel. It was run about four years sgo into the side of a steep bill and origin ally about 40 .feet in length. When in about 15 feet, the tunnel cut into a soft swelling clay, very difficult to manage. After timbering and striving against the queer, spongy material till it had been penetrated some 25 feet, the miners gave up toe ngut, as tney lound it was a los ing game. Being left to its own devices, tue tun nel proceeded to repair damages. It very plainly showed that it resented the whole business, as its first move was to push out all the timbers aud dump tnotn down the hill. It did not stay at that, but projected from the mouth of the tun nel a pith or stopper 'of clay the full size of the excavation. This came ont hori zontally some eight feet, as though to look about and see what had become of the miners, when it broke off and rolled down the slope. In this war it has been going on until there are some hun dreds of tons of the clay at the foot of the bill. At first it required only about a week for a plug to come out and break off, then a month, and so on nntil now the masses are ejected but three or four times per year, yet the motion continues and to-day the tunnel has the better of the fight by abent four feet. f Va. O. Chron, Jrroverb! Abont Woman. An o!d Kpaniah proverb express churnctriHtuully the high bred courtli nnw which was once peculiar to the raeo: "Tbo counsel of a woman is not worth much, but he who does not tako it is worth nothing." Iu ruttonhara's "Arte of English Poetrv," a curious and inter esting work, published about the end of the sixteenth century, tho anthor ipoak ing of the tender-heartedness of tho fo male sex in genoral, alludes to the com mon proverb, "A woman will weep for pity to soe a gosling goe bare footo." There must have been a touoh of real humor abont tho originator of this ancient proverb, ridiculing, but never theless loving, tbe prodigality of tender noss, which caused him such amuse ment. The prcforonoe gonerally given in tho seventeenth contury to the gray maros of Flandors over tho finost coach horses of England gave rise to the vulgar pro verb, "The gray mare is tho better horse." George Herbert gave tho world many proverbs which are dosoriptivo of the lives and qualitios of womon. Among others we select the following: "Empty chambers make foolish maids," a pro verb vjhich, of course, like so niuny others, only expresses a half truth; for we are willing to believe that some very wise little maidons have grown into womanhood like moorland blossoms, which only the grouso and the adder and the humble bee have lookod on; but foolish is no doubt used bore in its slighter significance of bashful, in which case the proverb is a true one. "A fair wife and frontier castle brood quarrels" reads like the sigh of some baronial benedick who fruitlessly thirst ed after quietness in the weary agos of warfare. "Mills and wives ever want" was no doubt the miserly conclusion of some modiieval Uarpagon; one ean almost recognize tho snap with which it was uttered; in tho laconic brevity of the phraso: "Who lets his wife go to every feast and his horse drink at every water, should neither lwve good wifo nor good horse," to this day aooords with the sentiments of many married men. "Choose a house made and a wife to make," said somo strong-minded gentle man, .who flattered himself that bo had moulded the character of the girl whom he had married, who very probably all the while had gained entire ascendancy over him in essentials by flattering his weak point of moulding her in non essentials. For that is the way these dainty creatures have. IIow He Got Ills Hire. The Philadelphia Times thus briefly presents a romance that many writors would have made a book out of.' A rat tlesnake was the inciting causo of the culminating event in the romance by which a young woman was led to choose a husband from imong many suitors. A party of young people, retiring from a basket-picnio, stopped on the hillside to gather wild flowers. Two young men and a young woman sut down on a large rook to rest. In reach ing out his band to a bed of moss, one of the young men toaohed something cold. Instinctively ho knew that he had placod his hand upon a rattlesnake. At the same moment the snake was discovered by tho other young man and the young woman. Both screamed and ran from the spot. It was a oritical mo ment, but the first young man proved equal to the emergency. Knowing that if he removed his hand the snake would sting him to death, he pressed his arm downward with all his strength, at the same time reaching into his pocket for a knife. Before he could open tbe knife with his teeth the snake had wound itself about his arm. "Run and holp him!" screamed the young woman to the young man by her side. "Go kill tho snake!" The young man, however, had no de sire to die, but remained at a safe dis ianoo and shouted lustily for help. "I'll go myself !" exclaimed the young woman, springing forward. Her services were not needed. Pale to the lips with the pain caused by the tightening folds of tho snake, the voung man cut off the snake's head with the knifo which he had opened between his meth. The snake was nearly six feet in tength, and was so strong that the young lean's arm was black and blue for a month afterwards. The sequol need not be detailed. The young woman aooepted the brave young man, and both have lived happily togeth er ever since; the snake-sin, cured and stuffed, occupies a shelf in their parlor. The other young man, driven desperate by the young woman's choice, wandered away westward. He is now serving out a term in the Kansas legislature. A Financier, He was a bouncing turkey, and they had him hung by the hools, so that his nose almost touched the walk just out side of the butcher shop. A little girl was standing there watching it. You could soe that she was a hungry listle girl, and worse tban that she was cold, too, for her shawl had to do for a hood and almost everything ebe. No one was looking, and so she put out a little red hand and gave the torkey a push, andheswuDg back and forth, almost making the great iron hook creak, be was so heavy. "What a splendid big turkey this is." The poor little girl turned around,and there stood another littlo girl looking at the turkey, too. She was out walking with her dolls, and had on a cloak with real fur all around the edges, and she had a real muff, white, with black spots all over it. "Good morning, miss," said the butcher. You see he knew the little girl with tbe muff well. "That's a very big turkey, Mr. Mar tin." "Yes," said the poor little girl, tim idly. "He's the biggost I over saw in my life. He most be eplendid to eat!" "Pooh !" said the little girl with the muff, "he isn't any larger than the one my papa bought for Christmas to-morrow' "Could I have a leg if I came after it to-morrow ? asked tbe poor little girl softly. "What, haven't yon got a whole tur kev?" "Never bad one in my life," said the child. "Then you shall have this one," sad the little lady with the naff. "Mr. Martin, I have some niouoy in my sav ings bank at home, and my papa said I oould do just as I wanted to with it, and I'm going to buy the turkoy for this little girl." I haven't room room to toll you about it, but tho poor girl got tho big turkey home, "What's this?" said papa, whou be got the bill; another turkey, eighteen pounds, 83.00. "That's all right," said the littlo miss who had the muff. "I bought him and gave him to a poor little girl who nover ato ono, and the money is in my iron bank." The bank was opened and thore were four largo pennies in it. Tenement Life Id Mew York. ' A reporter who oallod at the Fourth avenue oflioe yesterday, opened a conver sation with Mr. Bowne, tho secretary of the association for the improvomont of tho condition of the poor, with an in quiry as to the extent of the existing need for sanitary work among the tene ment houses. "It is very neodful, indood," said Mr. Bowne. "Tho goneral condition of the tene ment houses is very bad, and the land lords will assuredly never make improve ments unless they are oompelled. Thore are thousands of poor people who pass their lives, year after year, summor and winter, amid dirt and misery such as the genoral publio nover imagine, and what is more serious, constantly breathe an atmosphere which is directly conducivo to disease. I may go a step further, and say that almost all those who live in tenement houses are unfavorably 'situatod from a sanitary point of view. Such a thing as a really well kept tenement house is rare. As a rule they are neglected and out of repair. The landlord trusts the management to an agont, seldom sees whnt state they aro in himself, and, above all, grudges to spend a cent on tho most necessary work." . "But how do they keep thoir tenants?" asked the roporter. " If the proprietor of private dwellings or flats suffers bis houses to become dirty, or unhealthy, or fall into ill-repair, he loses his tenants. Self-intoroBt makes him take care of the occupants' interest." "Ah, the oase is different. The poor families that inhabit tenoment houses are at the landlord's mercy literally so. They are afraid to make repairs or abate nnisanoes; they are afraid to complain to the board of health, and half the com plaints they send to us are anonymous. Why, our inspector, Mr. Bootn, tolls us in bis last ! report that these unfortunate people will deny the existence of a defect which at the same moment lies plain to their eyes and bis," New York Herald. L'arly Marriages. Early marriagos are nowhere as com mon as in the prosperous manufacturing districts of Lancashire. Boys and girls not out of thore teens, but earning big wages and feeling independence prema turely developed by the absence of homo life, get united in holy wedlock at a time when, in the higher ranks of society, they have not loft school nor bogun to think of a calling. Saturday is a favor ite day to get married, because it is a short one, and tbe ceremony can be got through with a minimum of loss a thing cortain to be considered by a thrifty operative. The town is paraded for a few hours with achoap tawdry finery of glaring colors, which can never serve any useful purpose again; porhaps one of the watering places visited if it be fine, and on Monday morning by the stroke of six the newly married oouple can be found at thoir looms, in defiance of all poetry and romance, and the wear and tear of life begins with them once more in real earnest. Marriage makes no alteration in the position of a wife so far as mill work is concerned; she puts in her ten hours a day as she did Wore. Indeed she has incomparably the worst of the bargain, for whon her day's work is over it is her privilege to light the fire at home, get the supper ready and do the necessary household work, while it is the prerogative of the husband to use his leisure according to his own sweet will. When the time oomes for the baby to be born tho mother-expeotant withdraws from the mill a few weeks, and when she is well enough to resume her plsoe at the loom the baby is plaoed in the care of some old crone, who is past work herself and ekes out sufficient to live on by taking oharge of five or six of these luckless babies for the con sideration of a shilling or two a week, according to the age. Sacramento Bee. Cattle Ftedtng. Most animals eat in proportion to thoir weight, under average of age, tempera ture and fatness. A good guide for a safe qnanity of grain per day to maturing cattle is one pound to each hundred of their weight, thus an animal weighing 1,000 pounds may receive ten pounds of grain. Never give rapid changes of food, but change often. Give fattening cattle as much as they will eat and often five times a day. Every salt feeding in the fall will make the winter progress more certain by 30 per cent. Give as much water and salt at all times as they will take. In using roots, it is one guide to give just so much, in association with other things, so that tho animal may not take any water. In bnildings bave warmth with com plete ventilution, without currents, but never under 40 nor over 70 degrees Fahrenheit. A cold, damp, airy temporatare' will cause animals to consume more food without corresponding result in bone, muscle, flesh or fat, much being nsed to keep up the warmth. Stall feeding is bettor for fut making than box or yard management, irrespect ive of health. The growing animal, intended for beef, requires a littlo exercise daily to promote muscle and strength of consti tution, when ripe, only so much as to be able to walk to market. Carrying daily is equal to 7 per cent, increase. Enquiror No, we don't believe in taking tbe bull by the horns. We tried taking a goat by the horns onoe.anj that was exoitement enough for QS. Boston Post. MRS. MCLLICAS'8 BL1SKETS. The mort noticeable fact in my history is that I am a married man, and it is a consolation for me to admit that Mrs. M. is one of the lovliost of her sex. When she condescended to unite her lot with mine I was poor, and it was my understanding that her circumstanoos were also humblo; but upon the strength of having made me the proprietor of thirteon dollars, a cow and a pair of blankets daring the first seven years of our weddod life, my companion mado semi annual accusations that I had mar riod her for her fortune. The time came when I found myself in easy circumstances and ablo to pro vido for Mrs. Mnllican any quantity of blankots of the finest wool and best quality; but, with a perversity which is, I trust, not common to women in gen eral, she obstinately persisted in. using, in our sparo room only, the blankets which she had brought with hor upon the occasion of her marriage, and to whioh she ofton alludod most foolinglv as "tho gift of a doparted mother. Figuratively speaking, the blankets bo oamo a bone of oontention between us, for sho cluimod tho right of determining who should repose beneath the flecoy folds. I dUputed it, and the result was mutual nnhappiness. Finally hor blankots came to griof in such a manner that my peace of mind was roBtored. I shall relate the history of their downfall, and remark, as an ex ordium, that, in case this should meet the eyes of my wife, I wish hor to dis tinctly nnderstuud I mean no disparage ment to hor, and desire her to notice that when she is alludod to it is incident ally and in a highly respectful manner; so that, in case she should evor beoome a candidate for divorco, this article may not be brought forward in proof that I lacked solicitude as a husband or integ rity as a man. We made a fair test of love in a cot tage (I oan't say that Mrs. Mnllican liked the cottago), and we bad an or chard and a gardon in tbe bargain. Our oow was allowed tho freodom of the for mer. One duy my amiable and devoted spouse visitod a neighbor to inspect a pair of Chester whitos, rare animals of the porcino tribe, whioh were so cap tivating in thalr general appearance as to win the susooptiblo heart of my better half, so that for a time even her blankets were overlooked, and nothing would do but I must convert a oorner of our gar don into a pigsty, and stock it with a couple of Chester whites immediately. She waxed eloquent upon tbe economy of such a proceeding; the cow, she said, gave tar more milk than we oould possi bly nso, and our vegetables were ooming on and would go to waste. Thore was also a largo amount of swill, which would be bread and butter to the awino she had determined I should purchase. I loved my wife, and for her sake re solved to tolerate even pigs; so at some trouble and cxpensu I proeurod a pair of young shouts such as sbo desired. They came, ami during tho first night after their arrival they squeulod almost incessantly. Toward morning my Wife, who was wakeful, and, I think, nucom fortublo, inquired what I thought of them. I replied, "It is my candid opin ion that since the herd of swine which were possossod of demons ran down into thesna, suoh villainous pigs -nover ex isted." For the remainder of the night Mrs. Mullican kept np a profound si lunoe, and I enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that it was impossible for her, evon in her own mind, to reproaoh me. Morning came, and my wife with her own fair hands turned the pigs into the orohard. They turned their attention to rooting, of course, and, after a day of two, became on much more intimate terras with the oow than was at all desir able to the fair ownor of the quadruped. They actually mistook the cow for thoir mother, and we found that they milked her, and did it well, too, as our supply of lactoal was roduoed to even less than that usually doled out by a milkman. One evening when I wont home, I was aooompanied by a friend whom my dear wife considered a very unsuitable com panion for me, but whom I had invited to spend the night, notwithstanding. After be had rotirod I was called to account for my hardihood in bringing bim, and Mrs. Mullican mentioned most pathotically that hor "doparted mother's blankets" would be contaminated by con tact with his filthy carcass. 'We had a glass plot before the door, and Mrs. Mul lican ''added insult to injury" by putting her blankets cut to air before they were yet cold from the hoat generated by my guest, and the grass was wet with dew. This she did that I migbt be edifiod by a sight of them as I departed to my daily business. That evening I went home alono, and upon entering the yard I beheld a sight that made my heart leap for joy, and in duoed me to cry out with malicious sat isfaction: "Maryanne! Maryanne! ootuo and see how j our pigs are wallowing in your de parted mother's blankets!" She came in hot haste and screamed for my assistance, but I was so convulsed with laughter that I was obliged to re main a spectator while she ran for the broomstick, whioh she used so vigor ously that the belabored pigs beat a hasty retreat into the garden from which they were finally driven (with my assistance) after having made sad havoo among the vegotublos. The next day the wife gave one of the pigs to a poor neighbor of ours "ont of charity," as she said, and the other was killed and eaten by ourselves. I relished it very much. Upon the subjoct of her "departed mother's blankets" my wife is retioent of late; and I think hor weakness for those blankets has subsided into a weak ness for me. The moral of this story is, that uni form kinduess and consideration will fin ally receive the reward they deserve. In other words, the woolen blankets and white Chester pigs bring their own reward. The defaulting and absconding Treas urer of Tennessee is a one-legged man, a Colonel, and of coarse a Democrat, and the St. Louis Globe-Democrat cheerfully remarks: "When it oomes to running away with publio money a one legged (Democrat can carry more and run faster and farther than any two-legged Repub lican that ever lived."