Lincoln County leader., January 25, 1907, Image 3

The Minister's Wife
By MRS. HENRY WOOD
CHAPTER V. (Continued.)
They had always been good friends,
these two, from the time when the boy,
Henry Carmel for it was before his fath
er came to the title would fall Into no
And nf mi t.dnnw ronifd rr uinnM And tflP
little doctor, as far as he could, shielded
him ami hpnnirkf litm Aiif nf thom TllA
Henry's uncle, and the boy spent three
parts of his time with him at Avon
House.
"When did you come down?" asked
Mr. Brice.
"Only this morning. My mother seems
.pretty well, I think?"
"Y es," assented the surgeon, with
slight hesitation. "She would be much
better, though, if she'd let the world wag
its own way and not trouble herself try
ing to set it to rights."
"Meaning the new parson and his ne
ways?" laughed Lord Avon, who talked
more freely with the surgeon than he
would have done with any one else. "She
has been treating me to a history of the
nonsense."
"Well, and It is nonsense; Just that,"
said Mr. Brice. "I ventured to say a few
words of remonstrance to Mr. Elliotsen
one day. 'Oh,' answered he, good-natur
edly, 'but these new ways are all the rage
in the fashionable world now.' 'Maybe
so, sir,' said 1 ; 'but what buuh a iusu
ionable congregation does not suit a rus
tic parish.' 'Not all at once, he readily
answered, "but they'll get used to it, Brice
they'll get used to it.' Perhaps they
may.
"I am sure my mother never will,"
spoke Lord Avon.
"To begin with, she dislikes Elliotsen.
At least, she disliked his coming to Great
Whitton. She wanted Mr. Baumgarten
to have it."
Lord Avon looked surprised. "Did you
know of that, Brice?"
"Most of us knew of it down here.
For several days, I think, it was under
stood that you had actually given him the
living." .
"What understood publicly?"
"Publicly and privately, too. Baum
garten began to make preparations for
moving into the rectory ; he arranged
with old Mrs. Chester to take over some
of her furniture. It was the certainty
ne had shown which made it so mortify
ing for him when the upshot came."
To judge by Lord Avon's face just now,
some of the mortification had traveled to
himself.
"I was sorry myself," said Mr. Brice
"Lady Avon talked to me and Mrs. Dane
talked to me, lamenting your caprice
If I may presume to say it, my lord,"
he added, with a twinkle. "It tried Mrs.
Dane much."
"It was not caprice, Brice. I did give
Mr. Baumgarten the living; that is.
gave my mother a promise it should be
his, which is the same thing; and I af
terward retracted the promise and gave
it to Elliotsen. Of course it looked like
caprice, and very shameful caprice ; but
but," Lord Avon hesitated, you will be
lieve me, I dare say, when I tell you I
was not to blame."
"In my own mind I could not at the
time think you were. It was not like
you. How was it?"
"It is a thing which I cannot explain
Brice, even to you. A mistake was made
In well, let us say In more quarters than
one. It has been put down to my score
hitherto, I find, and it can continue to be
o. I am very, very sorry if it tried Mrs.
Dane."
Mr. Brice recounted the past clrcum
stances in a few words. Lord Avon list
ened.
"So Baumgarten and Edith married on
the strength of possessing Great Whit
ton !" he remarked.- "I wish I wish '
"No; they got engaged on the strength
of possessing it, and were married all the
same when they knew they should not
have it," Interrupted the surgeon. "Thei
prospects are not grand ; the living is
small, as I dare say you know, and there's
no habitable house."
Lord Avon nodded. Little Whitton
was in his gift, but he did not personally
know dir. Baumgarten.
"Naturally Mrs. Dane feels anxious
about their future. When she dies, her
Income dies with her. And two or three
months will about bring the end. I have
just left her sitting under the pear tree
In the garden; she Is out-of-doors most
fine days. And upon my word, I must be
going on," concluded the doctor.
CHAPTER VI.
Lord Avon strolled onward with
clouded face. When staying at Avon
House, a boy, he used to go over to Mr,
Dane to do Latin with him in the day
time; Mrs. Dane was very fond of the
boy, and he was fond of her. He would
rather, now that he was a man, have
brought vexation upon every one in the
two parishes than upon Mrs. Dane.
'If ever Grace gets me again into
bother of this kind, she shall pay for It,'
thought his lordship.
By and by he came in view of Whitton
Cottage. Mrs. Dane was still seated un
der the pear tree. Seeing Lord Avon,
she waved her hand to him, and he open
ed the gate ana entered.
"What a stranger you are," were her
first words.
He kept her hand In his as he sat down
on the bench beside her. She had a light,
fleecy kerchief thrown over her white net
cap, and a warm shawl wrapped about
her shoulders, tier lace, always a dell
cate one, looked ominously so now ; It
was so changed as to give Lord Avon an
unpleasant thrill.
"Dear Mrs. Dane, 1 am sure you have
hsan vary 11L
I have been, and am," she answered.
You see the difference In me, don't you?"
I confess I do," he acknowledged.
"Cannot Brice do anything better for
yon?"
"No one can in this world," she gently
said. "The last days here must come for
s all, and they are upon me. Ah, my
dear, if we, all of us, can but be prepared
for them. You see I talk to you with the
familiarity of old days," she concluded, a
smile npon her wan face.
I hope you will never talk to me in
any other way," he said, with earnest Im
pulse. "Do you remember how you used
to lecture me, 'Henry, I will not have
you do this' 'Henry, you muBt do the
other !' Why, you know you were as good
to me as a mother.
"I like to sit and think of the days
gone by," she said, "and I very often
think of you. When we old people are
no longer able to employ our time at use
ful work, we find occupation in recalling
the past ; a great pleasure lies in It."
You are not quite old, dear Mrs.
Dane."
"I am not quite fifty yet, my dear, but
am old in one sense that I am close
upon the end of life. Those who are so
may surely be called old. estimating age
you see, by the duration of their time
here. And, do you know," she added, In
low, loving toues, "liial tvueu vvu reucu
this stage, we almost long for the final
change for the better, brighter life
which is waiting for us."
"But you must have regrets," said
Lord Avon.
True. All must have them In a de
gree. .We cannot help regretting this
world, the only home we have known. It
has not been all sunshine ; rather, per
haps, one of storm; yet we know Its best
and Its worst, and we are entering one
which we do not know, and so there must
always lie within us a half wish to stay
here longer. And then and then
Mrs. Dane's voice sank to a whisper.
She paused.
"And then?" he softly whispered.
"And then God's loving presence re
sumes its sway within us with all its re
assuring comfort, and regrets are lost In
a glow of happiness. May it be with
you, my dear, when your own turn shall
come !"
Lord Avon swallowed down a lump in
his throat Mrs. Dane's hand was still
in his; he pressed it gratefully, and there
ensued a silence.
"It must seem hard to you, though, to
leave your children here."
Yes, especially Edith. I have not
seen much of Charlotte since her mar
riage; she Is coming down now to stay a
week or two. Edith is married also. I
feel anxious about Edith. L cannot help
fearing that she Is not strong; that if
the battle of life should prove fierce, she
will not be able to breast it. She is ly
ing flown now. Their income is small,
and they have no residence, as we had."
Let me say a word to you, dear Mrs.
Dane," he Interrupted; 'I used to bring
my secrets to you in the davs of vore.
Do you remember one In particular? A
boy got into the pond of Great Whitton,
and was nearly drowned, and I had the
credit of having pushed him in, and was
punished for It by Mr. Dane."
"I remember it well, Henry," she said
calling nun unconsciously by the old fa
miliar name. "It was Jack Whittaker."
Just so. t,very one fell upon mv de
voted head, reproaching me with being a
wicked and cruel youngster, safe to come
to a bad end. I took their abuse quietly,
and I took Mr. Dane's punishment a
fearful task of Greek, which to me was
punishment in earnest; and when the
thing was all over and done, I whispered
the truth to you one day In your dress
ing room, as you were sewing up a rent
which I had torn In my Jacket sleeve
tnat it was not I who had thrown Whit
taker Into the pond. Did you believe
me t i
"Yes, my dear, I did believe you ; to me
you were ever truthful. You would not
tell me who it was that threw him In
tnough ; I recollect that."
Ill tell you now. It was Jack him
self. He had been at some mischief at
Mr. cnesters; stealing the anricots. T
believe; and he was getting away when
ne neara a nue and cry behind him. In
his terror, for Whittaker was an arrant
coward, he dashed to the side of the
pond, meaning to hide himself among the
rusnes; missing nis footing, he dashed
right Into if. I was standing by and
saw the process. After all, the noise was
not in pursuit of him, but of a bull which
Had got loose from Farmer Uithorn'
field." "
"Why did you take the punishment?"
"When he floundered out, like a drown
ed rat, I helping htm, he begged and
Implored me not to say that he had jumn
ed in. I gave him my word I would not,
That's how it was. Well, you believed
me then, dear Mrs. Dane, and I know you
will believe me now. You have blamed
me In your heart for promising Great
Whitton to Mr. Baumgarten, and then
annulling it by bestowing it elsewhere, but
me iauic uiu not ue wun me.
"No I With Lady von, perhaps."
"No, no, no; she wished Mr. Baum
garten to have it. The whole affair was
the esult of an unfortunate mistake. I
committed it, but in unconscious error,
which 1 ana my motner alike regret,
Suffer this explanation to rest quite be
tween ourselves, please. I should not
have made It but that I cannot bear for
the dear old. friend of my boyhood to
think unkindly of me. I saw Jack Whit'
taker the other day," continued Lord
Avon, bis tone changing to a lighter one
as he rose to depart. We met in Picca
dilly."
"How Is Jack getting on?"
"Very well, I believe. He has his pos
in the Red Tape Office and a good in
come from his uncle's property. He toll
me he had married a charming girl, ask
ed me if I would not go down to see her.
They live on the banks of the Thames,
somewhere near Richmond."
"How long shall you remain here?"
questioned Mrs. Dane, as she held his
hand in parting.
"Only a few days. I am going into
Warwickshire for some shooting. Give
my love to Edith if that's a proper
message to a young lady who is married,"
he concluded, laughing.
As he was walking homeward, a cler
gyman, walking quickly, met and passed
him. A young man, tali and stately,
whose dark, deep-set, beautiful eyes look
ed somewhat inquiringly at Lord Avon,
and the latter knew it must be the Rev,
Ryle Baumgarten. But Mr. Baumgar
ten did not guess that the unpretending,
homely faced stranger was the nobleman
who had served him that cruel trick.
CHAPTER VII.
Mr. Baumgarten came softly forth from
his house In the brightness of the early
summer morning, closing the door noise
lessly behind him, that he might not dis
turb his wife above. She was in delicate
health, and he had left her asleep. lie
was on his way to -a sick parishioner,
now lying In danger.
When Mrs. Baumgarten awoke, not
long afterward, she lay thinking of a
dream she hod just had. So real and
vivid did It seem that at first she won
dered where she was, and looked round at
the familiar objects of the bed chamber
In doubt.
"Why, 'it was only a dream !" she ex
claimed. "I am at home, and in my own
bed."
Presently she got up, and dressed her
self with trembling fingers. bhe was
weak, and languid, and hot ; always in a
fever now. Looking about for the coolest
dress she had, she put it on ; a black and
white muslin. They were in mourning
for Mrs. Dane. She had died the previous
winter. Summer had come round again,
and it was nearly a year now since
Edith's marriage.
When she had quite finished dressing
and reading, and prayers-r-she sat down
in an easy chair before the open window,
letting the sweet morning air fan her hoc
tic face. The sun shone in the blue sky ;
the scent of newmown hay came from
a near meadow, the hum of bees sounded
drowsily in the heat; butterflies fluttered
across the green lawn from flower to
flower.
As the clock struck 8 Mr. Baumgarten
returned, he nodded to Edith from the
garden, came in, and ran upstairs. It
was their breakfast hour. "I hoped to
find vou aslecD. still. Edith." he said. "I
wish .vou would breakfast in bed !"
"Oh. Ryle. I could not; I am glad to
be up ; bed tires me, I think. Ryle," she
said, smiling, "I have had such a lovely
dream."
"Indeed! It is not often you dream,
What was it?"
"When Charlotte nnd I were children,
she used to tell her dreams of a morning.
I felt quite jealous, because I never had
any to tell."
"Well, what was this one?"
"I thought I had a long, long journey
to take, and as I set out from the door
here and walked down the path to the
gate, I looked round and saw you in the
parlor alone. I don't know where I went,
or which way; it was all strange to me.
It seemed as if I went miles and miles
and miles; more than I can reckon; more
than there are miles in the world. ' But,
oh ! the way was lovely. The air was so
light and balmy that I seemed to float
along in an ecstasy. The most enchant
ing flowers, sweeter and lovelier and more
brilliant than we can imagine out of a
dream, grew on each side the way. It
seemed that I had never known before
what happiness was, what enjoyment
meant ; and it was all so vivid that when
I awoke I thought It was reality."
"A pleasant dream," remarked Mr.
Baumgarten. "How did it end?"
"It had no ending. I was still gliding
along amidst the flowers when I awoke.
It took me ever so long to realize that I
was in my own bed and had not gone on
that beautiful, journey."
"I hope trie journey has made you
hungry," he lightly said. "Breakfast must
be waiting."
That dream occurred on Friday morn
ing. It was the last Friday in June.
On the Tuesday morning following, Edith
Baumgarten was lying in extreme peril ;
the doctors giving little hope of her life.
Mr. Baumgarten was sitting by hor
bedside, holding her hand in his ; his tears
were kept back, his voice was low with
suppressed grief. "Do not say we 'have
been happy,' my darling; say 'we are.' I
cannot part with you ; there is hope yet."
"There is none," she wailed "there is
none. Oh, Ryle, my husband, it will be
a hard parting !"
She feebly drew his face to hers, and
his tears fell upon it. "Edith, if I lose
you, I shall lose all that Is of value to me
In life."
(To be continued.)
"mall Ad" Joke,
The honeymoon had. Just finished
waning when he meandered home at
2 n. in.
"I suppose," he remarked to his bet
ter half, "you will class me as a brute?"
"Oh, no," she answered calmly. "You
are too late to classify." Columbus
Dispatch.
TouKh Luck.
The pedestrian lin fust staggered tu
his feet after being knocked down by
a runaway horse.
"It's Jui-t my measly luck," he growl-
ed, "to be run over by a horse when tne old turkeys as well should be plen
there are --0 many nutomohlles In town." tlfully pr0vlded with a grain supply to
And he limped slowly uud sadly Jguurantee their continued growth with-awQy-
: I ,ut being stunted or retarded when
Tuberculosis causes some 12,000 "ey should be growing every day.
deaths annually In Paris, (Country Gentleman.
HomeOIade Drill.
On our farm we have a shop for re
pairing machinery. It Is an essential
factor In farm management to be able
to repair breakages and keep the ma
chinery In good working condition,
writes a contributor In Orange Judd
Farmer.
The accompanying Illustration shows
a drill made to drill holes for repair
ing purposes. This machine will drill
a hole through steel or wrought Iron
as quickly ns a drill we have tbat cost
several dollnrs. The main piece upon
which the drill rests Is a 4 by 4
2 feet 0 Inches long mounted upon four
legs ninde of onk 2 by 4 materials.
The legs are worked down to two
Inches square at the bottom to secure
neatness and make the drill as light
as possible.
The ninln standard Is a 2 by 4 two
feet high mortised Into the main 4 by
4. The stub standard Is nlso a 2 by 4
eight Inches high and mortised In the
same 4 by 4 an Inch from the end and
two and a half Inches from the main
standard. The shaft to which the lnrge
wheel Is attached Is a three-quarter-
inch bolt fifteen Inches long. At the
head a hole Is drilled into the bolt, heat
ed and then squared In order that the
HOME-MADE DRILL.
drill may be securely held. To feed the
drill a steel spring sixteen Inches long
Is bolted to the top of the main stand
ard and attached to the drill bolt by a
slot In the spring. The small wheel at
tached to a threaded bolt does' the feed
ing. The piece upon which the pressure
is put while drilling Is a 4 by 4 mor
tised Into the m-aln 4 by 4 In the form
of a sliding slot In order that any dis
tance can be procured according to the
size of the Iron Intended to oe drilled.
A bolt passes through this piece from
underneath the 4 by 4. By loosening
the bolt It can be moved to any re
quired distance.
The General Purpose Farm Horse.
Very many Of our farmers get the
idea that all they have to do Is to breed
their nondescript mares to the leggy,
coarse type of so culled coach horses
being peddled through the couutry to
get the general purpose farm horse. I
have seen hundreds of colts from this
kind of breeding and must say that not
5 per cent of them are even fair speci
mens of the general purpose horse,
while CO per cent or more are failures
from every point of view.
I have seen much better results
where the coach stallion has been a
finer and more compactly built one or
where a hackney or American trotter
of a compact, smooth, muscular type
has been the sire. These observations
have led me to the conclusion that this
latter plan Is the surest one to bring
some measure of success In producing
the general purpose farm horse. Geo.
McKerrow, Wisconsin.
Oatu for Honrs.
Oats may be a portion of a ration for
hogs, but they are much more satisfac
tory If they are ground. Mixed with
corn, oats and shorts, they add materi
ally to the value of any hog feed. They
should not constitute more than one
fourth of the grain ration. A mixture
of oats and pens ground and fed as a
swill Is exceedingly valuable. Ameri
can Agriculturist.
Carina: for Turkey.
The young turkeys suffer more than
do other fowls at this season of the
year if they are not looked after and
carefully fed. The supply of nature's
food which so largely sustains them
during the summer and early fall be
gins to dwindle and lessen with each
;,. av. The voumr turkeys and
Value of a Good Cow.
Whnt are the cows worth that pro
duce 400 pounds of butter per atmtrm?
Here I am going to make a statement
and undertake to prov- It correct, says
a writer In Successful Farming. When
a cow that produces 200 pounds of but
ter per annum at a food cost of $39
and a labor cost of $12.50 Is worth $35,
the oow that produces 400 pounds of
butter annually Is worth $400, nnd the
owner can make net $10 more from her
after paying Interest on the $400 than
he can from the cows that produce 200
pounds of butter. There Is no more
labor connected with the 400-pound
cows thon there Is with the 200-pound
cows. The price at which butter hna
been credited, namely, 20 cents a pound,
Is the net price from the creamery after
the making has been paid for. In this
herd the Increased cost of feed for the
400-pound cows was more than offset
by the Increased amount of skim milk,
so we have the 200 pounds Increase of
butter as net profit over the 200-pound
cow. Two hundred pounds of butter at
20 cents Is $40. We have $400 Invested
in these cows, which at 0 per cent In
terest Is $24, which we will deduct
from the $40, and we hnve left $10 to
the credit of the 400-pound cow.
The Fall liowtns.
The question of fall plowing Is a de
batable one In the minds of most farm
ers. The practice seems to grow more
common upon trial In some neighbor
hoods and to fall into almost total dis
favor In other sections. Upon the roll
ing lands which are so common there
Is little question that It Is justly con
demned, If, indeed, It Is good practice
anywhere, says an exchange. Some loss
of plant food from washing and blow
ing of the surface soil upon fall-plowed
ground Is Inevitable, although Its me
chanical condition may be Improved
somewhat by the action of the frost
upon the freshly plowed ground. Of
course, the condition of the labor mar
ket affects the amount of fall plowing
undertaken or accomplished to a very
considerable degree, but Independently
of any and all of the factors mention
ed, fall plowing may be expedient In
some cases. The writer has done very
little fall plowing during recent years,
but this year the plow will be kept go
ing as long as the weather will permit
after the crops are all secured. (
Best Not to Sell Early.
For years farmers have beeij grow
ing sheep In a small way, and general
ly have sold their lambs when they
weigh 00 to 70 pounds for from $2 to
$2.50 each. Even at theso prices one
makes a nice profit out of his sheep.
It has cost little to grow them mid so
he Is well paid, but It Is possible to do
better. For several years Westera
lambs weighing from 50 to 00 pounds
have sold at from $2 to $2.50, and after
being fed sixty or ninety days,
or up to 80 to 00 pounds, they
sell for almost twice ns much. As a
rule the farmers, who sell the young
lambs have feed enough to finish them
and get the additional price. Although
this extra feed had to be bought at
market prices there would be no loss,
for feeders are buying both sheep and
feed and making a profit. More profit
Is made from farm products when ani
mals are properly finished, and lambs
are In this class.
Saltlnar the Batter.
For those who prefer to salt out of
the churn the following Is the best
method: Remove the butter when In
the granular state, weigh it and place
It upon the worker, spread evenly nnd
salt to suit the tuste. Sift the salt
evenly over the butter, pass the work
er over It, then run the butter nnd
work again or until the salt Is thor
oughly worked In. It inny then be set
away for a few hours, nfter which It
should ho given a second working.
American Cultivator.
Chemical Weed Killer.
A chemical weed killer hns been de
veloped or tested by the Wisconsin ux-
perluient station In attempts to kill
wild mustard, cocklebur, yellow dock,
etc. The peculiar thing claimed for tbla
poison Is that when sprayed on a grow
ing grain crop Infested by weeds It
kills the weeds without Injury to the
cultivated crop. The solution used
consists of 100 pounds of Iron sulphate
dissolved In fifty-four gnllons of water,
which amount will spray an acre.
Kill Free Reed Dlatrlbutlon.
The free seed distribution by the gov
ernment costs $212,000 a year, besides
the cost of handling In the malls, which
costs about as much more, or half a
million dollnrs n year, total. This sum
of money wisely used would teach
farmers the correct plan to market and
build the machine for marketing, which
will compel a profitable price for ev
ery farm crop grown anywhere In the
country. The mnchlne once built will
not cost the farmers anything directly
to run It, but will pay great dividends
every year. Up-to-Dato Farming,