)
HARVEST.
The reapers sang In the shaded lane,
And the laden wagons came creaking slow,
"While the kind farm mother her table spread:
For the field was oar e and the sun was low
The sun was low and the day was gone
The toil was over and harvest done.
I looked and sighed, as the yellow store
"Was borne away to the yawning mow,
And I thought of the brimming garner floor,
And the harvester's tanned and sweating
brow,
Till I sighed again in the fading light,
While the tiled world slept in the lap of
night.
I sighed for the tender plant that died
"When the cold north wind untimely blew;
I sighed for the grain that never swelled,
For the blighted sheaf that never grew;
I sighed for the harvest days that seem
Like the waking mockery of a dream.
I knelt in the dim sweet summer night.
And whispered a prayer of trembling faith,
That He (who nurseth the sleeping grain
Till life comes smiling from darkest death)
"Would not scorn the scant sheaves I had won,
When life was over and harvest done.
THE LAST STItAY.
"It 13 the last straw that breaks the
camerB back," said Lucy, bursting into
tears.
The pleasant sunbeams came peeping
into the cool, stone-paved dairy, where
pans of milk and cream were ranged in
orderly array; great stone pots stood
under the shelves, and a blue-
painted churn was already placed on the
table, for Mr. Bellendenwas justly proud
of his dairy. Not a chance guest came to
the house but was invited down to see
it; not a house-keeper in the neigh
borhood but had secretly envied its
many conveniences and exquisite neat
ness.
"And it isn't the dairy alone," tri
umphantly remarked Matthew Bellenden.
"And you may go through the house
from cellar to garret, and you'll never
find a speck of dust or a stain of rust.
There never was such a house-keeper as
my wife !"
Mrs. Bellenden was young, too, scarcely
three-and-twenty. She had been deli
cately reared and quite ignorant of the
machinery of domestic life, until she marr'
ried Matthew Bellenden.
"It's very strange," Lucy had written
to her father. "The farm is beautiful.
You never saw such monstrous old elm
trees, nor such superb roses, and the
meadows are full of red clover and the
strawberries shine like jewels on the
sunny hillsides. But nobody sketches
or reads. I don't think there is a copy
of Tennyson in the whole neighborhood,
and no ever heard of Dore or Millais!
All they think of is how many dozens of
eggs the hen lays, and how many cheese
they can make in a year. And' the
woman who has a new reoeipt for home
made pie, or a new pattern for patch
work quilts, is the leader of society."
But presently young Mrs. Bellenden
herself caught the fever and became a
model housewife. Example is all-powerful,
and Lucy began to believe that the
whole end and aim of life was domestic
thrift, money saving and the treadmill
of work.
"My dear," said Matthew, if you
thought you could get along without
a servant this year, I might be able to
afford that new reaper before the oat
crop comes in."
Til try." said Lucy.
And atter that she rose before day
break, and worked later in the night
than ever.
What is the matter with your hands,
Lucy?" her husband asked one day.
"They are not so-white and beautiful
as they used to be."
Lucy colored as she glanced down at
the members in question.",
"I suppose it is making fires," she
said.
And then she took to wearing kid
gloves at her sweeping and dusting and
digging out of a3hes.
"My coat is getting shabby," Mat
thew one day remarked.
"Why don't you buy another one?"
asked his wife.
Matthew gave a short laugh.
"What do you think Mrs. Higgins
has done?" said he. " She ripped up
her husband's old suit and cut a pattern
by it, and made a new one and saved
twenty dollars."
"I could do that," said Lucy, with
sparkling eyes. "I will try it."
"You can do anything, my dear!"
said Mr. Bellenden, admiringly.
And Lucy felt that she had her rich
reward.
Company began to come as soon as
nice weather set in.
All the affectionate relations of Mr.
Bellenden soon discovered that the farm
house was cool and shady, that Lucy's
cooking was excellent, and that the bed
rooms were neatness itself.
Some of them were even good enough
to invite their relations as well ; and so
the house was full from April to Decem
ber with visitors who bought their carpet-bags
and valises with that faith in
human hospitality which is one of life's
best gifts.
Mrs. Bellenden's fame went abroad
among the Dorcases of the neighbor
hood in the matter of butter and
cheese ; she took prizes in the domestic
departments of all the agricultural fairs.
and the adjoining housewives took no
trouble to make things that they could
borrow of Mrs.. Bellenden, "just as well
as not."
And one day, when poor Lucy, under
the blighting influence of a horrible
sick headache, was endeavoring to strain
three or four gallons of milk into the
shining pans, the news arrived that her
husband's uncle Paul was coming to the
farm.
"Another guest I" said Lucy, despair
ingly.
And then she uttered the proverb that
heads our sketch.
"Oh, it's only Uncle Paull" said Mr.
Bellenden. "Don't fret, Lucy. lie's the
most peaceable old man in the world.
He 11 make no more trouble than a
cricket. John's wife thought 6he
couldn't have him because she has no
servant just now "
"Neither have II" said Lucy, rebel
lious y.
"And Sarah don't like company."
"I am supposed to be fond of itl" ob
served Lucy, bitterly.
"And Reuben's girls don't want old
folks staying there. It's too much trouble,
they say," added Matthew.
Lucy bit her lips to keep back the
words she might have uttered, and said,
instead :
"Where is he to sleep? The Bed fords
have the front bed-room, and your cous
in Susie occupies the back, and the four
Miss Pattersons sleep in the two garrets."
She might have added that she and
her husband and the baby had sleptn a
hot little den opening from the kitchen
for four weeks vainly expecting Mr. ana
Mrs. Bedford to depart, and that she had
never vet had a chance to invite her
father to the farm in pleasant weather.
But she was magnanimous and held
her peace.
"Oh, you can find some place for
him 1" said her husband lightly. ' 'There's
that little room at the end of the hall
where the spinning wheel is."
'But it is'nt furnished 1" pleaded
Lucy."
"You can easily sew a carpet together
out of one of those old pieces from the
Bedford room ; and its no trouble to put
up a muslin curtain to the window and
lift in a stump bedstead ; and you can tack
together a mattress and whitewash trie
ceiling, and what's that, Lucy? The
cows in the turnip field I Dear me I
everything goes wrong if I step into the
house for a moment. And really, Lucy,
these things are your business, not
mine I" he added irritably.
Lucy could not help laughing, all by
herself as her husband ran up the
steps.
But it was a very sad little laugh, and
soon changed into a sigh.
I wonder," she said in a whisper,
my poor tired-out ghost would haunt
these stone pavements and scrubbed pave
ments if I were to die? I never heard of
a ghost in a dairy before, but
should think that it might very
easily be."
But the little bed -room was fitted up,
fcr all that, as fresh as a rose, and Uncle
Paul arrived, a dried-up, yellow com
plexioncd old man, "with an old-fash
ioned cravat tied in many folds about
his neck, and a broad-brimmed low
crowned hat and fine gold-headed
cane.
lie had a polite way of half a century
ago, and Lucy thought she should like
him very much, if she only had time to
get acquainted with him.
But she was churning ten pounds
of butter a day, and there was the
baby, and the company, and the
young chickens, and the baking to
do.
She was almost too busy to sleep. But
Uncle Paul was watching her quietly all
the time.
lie came out to the barn, one day, where
his nephew was putting a new handle on
a sickle-blade.
" Pretty busy times eh, Uncle Paul?"
said the farmer, scarcely taking the leis
ure to look up.
"Aye," absently answered the old
man. "Did I tell you, Nephew Mat
thew, about the reason I left your cousin
Joseph sf
"Not that I remember," said Matthew,
breathing on the table and polishing it
wixn nis si ik nanaKercniei.
"Dorothy died his wife."
"Oh, yes," said Matthew. "Low
fever, wasn't it?"
"No!" bluntly answered Uncle Paul
"It was hard- work. That woman
Nephew Matthew, did the housework for
eight persons. Joe didn't even let her
have a woman to help her with the wash
ing and the ironing I"
"Must have been a regular-going
brute," said Matthew, tightening the
handle a little.
"All the sewing, too," added Uncle
Pauk" the mending and making. She
never went anywhere except to church.
Joe didn't believe in women gadding
aDout."
"The old savage!" said Matthew.
" She was fond of reading, but 6he
never got any time for it," said Uncle
Paul. "She Tose before sundawn and
never, lay down until eleven o'clock. It
was hard work that killed that woman
and Joseph coolly declared that it was
sheer laziness when she couldn't dra
herself about any longer. And when she
died he rolled up his eyes and called it
the visitation of Providence."
"Why didn't the neighbors lynch
nimf" cried Matthew, fairly aroused to
indignation at last.
Uncle Paul took off his glasses, wiped
them vigorously, and looked his nephew
nara in tne iace.
"Why don't the neighbors lynch you
said he.
Matthew dropped the sickle and stared
"Nephew Matthew," said Uncle Paul
impressivelv, "thou art the man! Are
you not doing the very same thing?"
"I?" gasped Matthew.
"Your wife is doing the work of
household of sixteen people," said Uncle
Paul. She is drudging as you could get
no stranger to drudge, fane is risin
early, and lying down late ; she is offer
ing up her life on the shrine of your
farm and its requirements. I have seen
her grow thin and pale even during the
few days I have been here. I have
seen her carry "up Mrs. Belford'
breakfast daily to her room, because
Belford preferred to lie in bed ; and
cooking dainty dishes for Helen Pat
terson, because Helen wouldn't eat what I
Al. - J. 1 M -KT 11,.,- ,.1 aiTiK I
worked as she does. And you, with
your farm hand3 whose board only adds
1.110 JCSl( UK.D. 1U tone Y -Did TO cih
to her cares, and your array of labor
saving machinery, stand coolly by and
see her commit slow suicide. Yes,
Nephew Matthew, I think it is a case for
lynching J"
Matthew had grown,pale.
"I I never thought of this," said
Uncle Paul. Matthew . Bellenden rolled
down his shirt sleeves, put on his coat
and went into the house.
He told the Belfords and Pattersons
that it was inconvenient to keep them any
longer. He gave Cousin Susan to un
derstand that her room wa3 needed. He
made arrangements to board out the
farm hands, and engaged a stout dairy
maid and a house-servant to wait on
Lucy. And he telegraphed to her
father to come to Silvan Bridge at once.
" She deserves a treat," he said. " He
shall spend the summer with us."
And then he went to ten Liucy. ,
She had fainted among the buttercups,
picking strawberries for tea. Poor lit
tle Lucy ! The machinery had utterly re
fuse to revolve any longer.
His heart grew cold within him.
"She will die," he thought, "and I
shall have murdered her. "
But she did not die. She recovered
her strength by degrees.
"It is better than any medicine," she
said, "to know that Matthew is thinking
of me and for me."
And Uncle Paul "the last straw," as
she called him had proved her salvation.
"I didn't want her to go as Joe s wife
did," said Uncle Paul.
A Singular Industry.
Singular to say that while St. Louis
has not a single gold or silver beating
industry and Chicago but three, Cincin
nati has four. . An hour in one of the
rooms of the establishments revealed a
fund of curious information. The method
of the Cincinnati gold-beater is a unique
one. A sign over the door declares that
"old gold bought." This "old gold"
usually consists of pieces of jewelry,
6uch as brooches, old watch cases, sig
nets, rings, bracelets, obsolete coins, and
so on,
Upon the purchase of the stuff,
: melted into a bar. then.it eroes
it is first
through a process of ocigenation, which
: it i
usually ta&es irom six io ten nours, in
order to free it from copper and silver.
"How fine do you have to make the
gold before it is fit for leaf?" was asked
of one of the oldest gold-beaters in the
city.
"We have to make it twenty-four
carat before we can do anything with it.
It can not be used otherwise, as it would
be too hard to work. We buy the most
of our old gold from the pawnbrokers.
The fine gold we buy from the East, '
Newark or New York."
"Any new process of smelting?"
"No, the gold is put in sand crucibles
of various dimensions and melted. . The
crucibles come from the old country and
it usually takes from ten to fifteen min
utes to melt, when it is fit for the acid.
We use about one part nitric and two
parts muriatic. After it is refined, it is
put through a rolling machine till brought
out to the thickness of writing paper. It
is then cut into strips one inch square
ana men put mu cuwu, mue u U1
kVfmh tianor in nvnpr TO bfiflt it to thfi
rw, -
proper uuusistcuujf. u w .uu
put into a shoder, and beat out into
sizes lour ana a nau incues square.
is next put into a mold five inches square
and beat out the size of five inches, then
finally given to the girls to cut and put
into books." -"It
is sometimes put to some very
novel uses?"
"i; pieces oi uu, veiy guiu wmcu
nrolmhlv nncfl snarklen in the earrings
1,17... Al.- 1J l.St-
-- . o-
--F (laAfwA Wochin rrtrTa ttti t a m o TT ha coon
glittering on the sign-board ot
some
milkman's wagon or attached to a circus
calliope car. It is curious what a passion
some people have for using it not merely
for the gilding of statues, or the edging
of mirrors, but it even finds its way into
the epitaph letters on the cold tomb
stones of the cemeteries."
" How long does it usually last, say
on church steeples?"
Oh, from ten to twelve years. It de
pends, of course, on the exposure. The
tarnish is due to the dampness more than
anything else. The sunlight has but
little effect on it."
" Actresses use it very plentifully, I
believe?"
" Yes, it is used by actresses for mak
ing gold ' hair. Forty cents worth will
cover three girl's heads, and leave some
for waves. Some women go in for
golden curls. It i3 usually put on by an
artist. The hair first has to be oiled, and
then placed on in layers. Of course it
doesn't stay on any length of time, prob
ably for only one or two acts, and is then
washed off with lukewarm water."
" How much does it take to gilt a cir
cus car?"
"Oh, from ten to twenty dollars. It
depends upon how much you put on."
Cincinnati Times.
A New Scheme to Drive the Blues
Away.
Let any one who feels limp and out of
sorts go to some hilly place where there
are woods to fill the air with oxygen,and
there sit in a sunny spot with a narrow
bag of ice on the spine. The chest will
expand and the lungs put forth all their
power to inhale. If there be a microbe
in the system (so copiously is oxygen let
in) it must almost directly be. burned
up. The sense of vitality is so great
that one is under the illusion of
being youthful again. A gentle warmth
Eervades all the body; the skin, looks
luer, the trees greener. London
Truth.
Since 1875 the number of newspapers
and periodical publications of all sorts in
Japan has increased from 156 to 2,000.
There are five important journals, .but
only one contains literary articles.
FOR HILARITY.
HUMOEOUS STOBXES DRAWS' rSOM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
Gave IliinseH Away A Telephone
Fraud lie Waa t n, iiene
. Speaker and Chaplain, Etc.
"I tell you what," airily exclaimed
Perkins, as he sat down to the supper ta
ble, "I was in a tight place this after
noon." "Yes, I know you were," interrupted
bis wife, ( in clear, cold utterances that
cut bike a knife, "I saw you coming out
of it."
And then it flashed .across Perkins
that he had incidentally stepped into a
saloon with a friend for the purpose of
examining a doubtful political statement
with the aid of a magnifying glass, and
his contemplated anecdote slipped from
his grasp like money at a summer resort,
while the supper was finished amid a si
lence so profound that he could plainly
hear a napkin ring. Rockland Courier
Qazette. A Telephone Fraud
Irate Customer "Why, can't you fel
lows be honest? That telephone you put
In my store is a fraud. You said that
words could be distinctly heard for twen
ty miles."
. Telephone Man "Well.they can."
"They can't, I say. They can't be
heard five blocks."
"Oh, you are mistaken."
"But I am not. I yelled myself hoarse
at a man last evening only five blocks
Bnd he could not hear a word I said.
He said so."
"Queer, very queer; but, by the way,
what was it you said to him?"
"I asked him when he would be
around to square up his account." Phil
adelphia vail.
lie Was Not a Home.
"I have heard, Mr. Wright," said a
man who had traveled extensively, ad
dressing a nentuckian ; "that you are
going to move to Cincinnati."
"Yes, I am. What do you think of
j the change ?"
"I think it's a bad one."
' 'Vnnr AK-inHnno rklaaaa 9" oqVj
anable Kentuckian.
"You will find in Cincinnati, "explain
ed the man who knew, "but & moderate
supply of ram water for washing pur
poses, and as for fresh, hard water for
drinking purposes, that's out of the quos
tion." w ..
"Water for drinking purposes I" ex
claimed the nettled Kentuckian, scratch
ing his head. Then as if suddenly com-
prenenamg the remark, he turned red
with anger at the supposed insult, and
exclaimed :
"Do you think I drink water ? Do you
take me for a horse ?"
Ana lie staikea away like a man in
jured to the very core. Scissors.
Speaker and Chaplain.
Says the Charlottesville (Va.) Chrom
cle: Some one tells a good story on a
former chaplain of the University (Dr,
William S. White, we presume). The
cTrrT rrnna n a '-i-illrtra-o. Wlicn T T. rwm
was Speaker of the House he spent
' i . , . . r
saori ume ac ine varm SDrings, in
, Nortn Carolina wbere Dr WMto was
als0 The fwo had been sitti for a
time fc each engaged with fa own
knot immediate tofrfend and b d
! b thft dnrtnr ftnd ... ' aa
. the room with the old-time limp in his
j gait. Mr. Orr immediately recognized
him, and asked him if he were not the
. MU
i;uupiaiu ui me uuivuiaiijr ui v iiyiuict at
8UCn ft t; naming the year,
' - t It t . J
The doc
r0r repuea mat ne was.
I . . -
"I was there." said Mr. Orr. "astu
dent at the time, and I knew you by the
peculiar limp of your step."
"Well," said the doctor, a little se
verely, though with a twinkle which told
he spoke jokingly, "it seems that my
limping made a deeper impression on
you than my preaching."
" Ah, doctor," quickly replied Mr.
Orr, " I deem it the highest compliment
we can pay a clergyman to say he is
known by his walk rather than by his
conversation."
From Jumping' Creek,
" Say!" he called, as he walked across
the street to a policemau yesterday at
the circus grounds, "have you seen a
slim, little chap, with a red mustache and
a diamond pin?"
" I don't remember."
"Well, I want to hunt him up. If
you'll help "me find him I'll give you a
voke oi two-year-old steers."
" What'ft he done?"
"Say! I'm mad all over, but I can't
help but ha! ha! ha! laugh at the
way he gumtuzzied me half an hour ago
I'm a flat, I am I I'm rich pasture for
cows I I'm turnips with a head of green
topsi"
"What's the story?"
"Well, I was over there under a
wagon counting my money.' I brought
in $13. I was wondering whether I'd
better keep it in my hind pocket or pin
it inside my vest, when the little chap
comes creeping under and says. Part
ner, there's a wicked crowd around
here. Pat that money in vour boot!'
Say!" "
"Yes."
"Struck me as the sensiblest thing I
could do. It was in bills. And I pulled
off my right boot and chucked 'em in.
Say! d'ye see anvthing green in that?"
"No."
"Well, I hadn't walked around long
before a chap come up and remarks that
he has $5 to bet to a quarter that he can
outjump me. Say, d'ye know me?"
"No."
"Well, when I'm home I'm the tall
jumpest of Washtenaw county. I jump
Vnorrifir and further than anvfhinor animal
I or human. I kiver Bkore ground than a
DF A Q(WS
E anther; I sail higher than a jumpin
oss. I am open to even bets day or
night, and I go out and iump 'leven feet
jost to astonish the children. When that
ere stranger offered sich odds I looked
at his legs for a minute and remarked
that I was his huckleberry. n
"1 see."
"Say! up went the stakes, off came my
butes, and I outjumped him by three feet
six"
"And what?"
"And when I looked around for my
butes that little hornet with the sandy
mustache had made off with the one the ,
cash was in. Sayl"
"Yes."
"I live on Jumpin' creek. Tm th
creek myself. I'm called a daisy when
I'm home, and every time I trade hosses
or shot-guns or dogs I paralyze the other
fellow. I'm previous. I'm prussic acid.
I'm razors. Say I"
Yes."
'If I kin lav my handa on that little
chap, I'll make every bone crack. But
it was a good one on me I Eh I Ever
see it beaten? Played me fur a fool and
hit me the fust time. Say! If you see
me ha! ha! ha! laughing, don't think
I'm tirht : I'm mad. But sav I old Jump
ing Creek was too smart, wsn't he? Need
ed something to thin his blood, and he
got it from a chap who didn't seem to
know putty from the band-wagon I Bay I
Hal ha! ha I" Detroit Free Press.
now Eclipses Impress Savages.
Notwithstanding the frequent recur
rence of eclipses, wieh nothing particu
larly bad after -them, most primitiv
peoples associate with them an omen oi
some great danger to the earth or the
moon. The Greenlanders have a per
sonal apprehension in the matter,and be
lieve that the moon rummages their
houses for skins or victuals, and destroys
those persons who have not observed
due sobriety. The South American Chi-
quitos try to help the darkened star
against a dog that has worried it till
its light has been colored re'd. and ex
tinguished by its streaming blood : and
they 6hoot arrows into the sky to drive
away the dog. Charlevoix give a simi
lar account of the Guarani, except; that
with them a tiger takes the place of the'
dog; and in the language of the Tupis
the literal translation of the word forjm
eclipse is, "The jaguar has eaten the
sun." So, in Asia, the Tungueses be
lieve an evil spirit has swallowed the
earth's satellites, and they try to fright
en it away by shots at the darkened
disk. In Sumatra and Malacca the fear
is aroused that a great snake will swal
low the sun or the moon ; and the Naga3
of Assam set up a great drum-beating,
as if jn battle, to frighten awaj;
the devouring moniter. Among
the American tribes are some
who believe that eclipses are a warning
of the approaching disappearance of the
sun and the fall of the moon at the end
of the world. The Pottawattamies tell
of a demon in tne shape of an old
woman, sitting in the moon wt aving a
basket, on the completion of which the
world will be destroyed. A dog con
tends with the woman, tearing the bas
ket to pieces every once in a while, and
then an eclpse of the moon takes place ;
others' imagine that the moon is hungry,
sick or dying at these times ; while the
Alfuras of Ceram think he is asleep, and
make a great uproar to awake him.
These superstitions are not so remote
as they may seem at first sight from the
impressions which the heavenly phenom
ena make upon many persons who con
sider themselves civilized. Circles may
be found in nearly every nation upon
whom the appearance of anything un
usual in the sky carries an apprehension
that something dreadful is about to hap
pen; and by whom even the most ordi
nary phenomena are invested with occult
influence upon things that we know have
no connection with them; and it is only
two or three centuries since the dire por
tents of comets and eclipses were prayed
against in all the churches. Popular
Science Monthly.
How He Became a Blood-Drinker.
"Yes, I'm a confirmed blood-drinker
now," remarked a ruddy, merry engineer,
"and it is quite a funny story how I
happened to start at it, too. About
three years ago my health was pretty
bad, and my folks were very much wor
ried about me. I got thin and hollow
eyed, and had a few night sweats. The
fact is, I had consumption, and I knew
it. I hadn't any other expectation than
that in a year or so I'd have to give up
my engine and soon after that part from
my wife and little ones. I don't know
that I ought to say it, but the thought
of leaving my engine gave me about ai
much trouble as the idea of parting
from my family. People kept advising
me to drink blood, and cited alleged
cures to me by the' dozen. But there
was something abhorrent to me about
that kind of beverage, and I couldn't
go to it. Two or three times I made an
effort to down some of it, but 'twas no
go. Well, one day I was running along
with No. 7i as usual, and feeling pretty
well down in the mouth, too. I had
begun to feel weak, and I had heard the
boss was making inquiries about my con
dition with a view to laying me oil. It
made me blue as my boiler jacket. Sud
denly, at a country road-crossing, a fool
heifer jumped right in front of us. We
were going lively, and as the pilot struck
her it cut her up fearful and landed her
right up on the smoke-stack. I hope .1
may never touch my throttle again, if a
stream of warm blood from that heifer,
didn't take me right in the mouth. My
month was open, too, and in two sec
onds I had unwillingly become a blood
drinker. There wasn't anything disa
greeable about it, either, and I've been
drinking blood ever since. That heifci
saved my life."