Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

/ ^ \ \ .k4k:l •• 7 -'M": * IF! IFI I ft.'x ‘i*F Kb it #| I 1 I Jf every boy end every girl, Ariafnir with the ran, r gheeld plan this day to do alonft It The good deeds to be done; r Should scatter smiles and kindly words, | Strong, helpful hands should lend, Jtad to each other's wants and erics Attentive ears should lend; every man, and woman, too, hoair * - ** Should join these workers small-* h, what a flood of happiness Upon our earth would falll How many homes would ennnv be, Which now are filled with card And jovous, smiling faoes, too. Would greet us everywhere, r I do believe the very sun Would shine more clear and bright. And every little twinkling star Would shed a softer light. Hut we. Instead, oft watch to see If other folks are true; And thus neglect so much that God Intends for us to do. —Lutheran Observer, AN EPISODE. Ski HIS is a charming spot—for two,” he said, seating him self comfortably at her feet. “We are lucky to find it itnoccu- : pied,” she said, “especially at ono of Mrs. Gordon's garden parties. She I don’t believe there of the lawn to be Will be pleased, is a square inch seen.” “The whole world is here. I know’, Miss Lindsay; I have shaken hands with ii.” “It is one of the penalties of being ft great author.” “Or of being notorions?” “Yon are too modest, Mr. Holland. Have you not shared the honors of the afternoon with the Prince and the lat- •st lion—just imported from South Africa, was it not?” “And felt like a martyr all the time. Hut there you have the proof, Miss Lindsay. Don’t think I am complain ing. Fame and notoriety mean the game—in London. And in this”—he indicated the screen of shrubbery which cut off the little nook from the Test of the garden, but did not shut out the strains of the Blue Hungarians or the hum of many voices—“in this I have my reward. I forgive the lion- bunters. ” “It is a relief to be out of it,” she Admitted. “Do you know, Mr. Hol- id, that these books—yes, there are i of them—are a pet idea of Mrs. Oft’s?” IIIlo, i laughed merrily, i only an inoorrigible match-maker— nd finds them neeful.” “So she, at least, believes in love?" be asked, picking up the thread of a |»nner conversation. “Or in marriage. It is‘not always the same thing, is it?” _ “It should be,” he replied, with an air of the deepest conviction. He was looking up into her eyes. “What does somebody say?—that in woman love is a disease; in man it is an episode. ” “I seem to recollect that,” ho said. “But it is nonsense; love cannot be cammed up in an epigram.” Again she laughed. “I am afraid yon have a very bad memory, Mr. Hollanc^. The sentiment appears in a brilliant study of society, entitled •Providence ami Mrs. Grundy,’ for which, if the title page is to be trust ed ” “Ah! I remember now. Please “A small affair of outposts,” she re plied, in the same tone. Only, per haps, it was as well that ho was not studying her eyes very intently at that moment. “He held a fort somewhere on the frontier for a fortnight against a couple of thousand tribesmen, with only a European sergeant and fifty Mikhs under him; and he was reduced to thirty rounds of ammunition and no provisions before ho was relieved. It is quite a common thing out there. He told me so himself.” “He is modest—as well as lucky,” said Holland. “You and he are old friends, Miss Lindsay?” “We were brought up together.” “Like brother and sister?” “Exactly. Wo quarrel quite as mnch, at least.” “And make it up, I dare say? Bnt I am sure the quarrels are not serious. Apropos, am I forgiven?” “Was there a crime. Mr. Holland? Really, I have forgotten.” “We were discussing ” “George Meredith, was it not?” “Then I am not forgiven for that unfortunate fault of my youth? You are very hard, Miss Lindsay. You have taught me the error of my w’ayS, and yet you refuse to credit the con version! How can I convince yon? I am quite serious ” “Oh, Ihopo not,” she said. “It is too warm for anything but frivolity.” He reddened a little, and nervously plucked the grass round him. Miss Lindsay watched him with some curi osity out of the corners of her eyes: the symptoms were not unknown to ‘ ’There is a green thing on your on. something to WWW Lindsay—a kind of confession. It is stnpid; but I don’t quite know how to say it. ” “Is it necessary?” she asked inno- cently. “I don’t like confessions, Mr. Wo are Low Church peo- spare me, Miss Lindsay. You don’t know the evil effects of phrase-making —it saps a man’s morals until he has not even a nodding acquaintance with the truth. And you have taken vour revenge.” “But, really, Mr. Holland, I trusted to yonr—your knowledge of human nature, shall I say? I was glad, for my own sake ” “For what, if I may ask?” “That, ‘in man it was an episode.' It makes life so much easier to believe •o.” “Yon will let me retract in sackcloth and ashes. Miss Lindsay? Honestly, I hare some reason to do so. It is three years since I wrote that miser able book. Can you guess my ex- ense?” “It seems to infer a compliment— somewhere,” she said, rather doubt fully. • “I am very mnch in earnest,” he said, getting up and standing above her; and he looked it. “I didn’t know you then. If I had, the thing—call it nn epigram if you like—would never have been written. How could it, when ?” Here the bushes were parted, and a face—a tanned, handsome, open face it was, although just now the expres sion was not too pleasant—showed in the interstices. Miss Lindsay nodded Brightly. “Como in, Ralph,” she said. “Very sorry, I'm sure," said the »»ow-comer. “I didn't know, Nell ” Then he disappeared. Miss Lindsay smiled, “Captain Havelock seems—out of eorts,”. remarked her companion, sit ting down again. “Probably ho is looking for my aether,” said she. “I told him to jJ to her. ” » capital fellow,” he said Lly. “Done something in isn’t he?” Holland, pie.” “It means a lot to me,” he contin ued, and again there was silence. Then he rose for the second time, perhaps feeling that an upright posi tion conduces to a proper dignity. She perceived her opening, and rose also. “Itis time we were returning,” she remarked. “Don’t go just yet, Miss Lindsay.” he pleaded, putting out a baud to de tain her. I want you to listen to me for a moment. I won’t keep yon if—” But already she was half-hidden by the shrubbery, and her only answer was a bewildering smile. He had perfofbj to follow. It seems more crowded than ever,” she said as they picked their way through the throng. “Ah! there are my mother and Captain Havelock. Shall wo join them?—I hope you are attending to your duties, Ralph? Mr. Holland and I have been discussiug Meredith—and things. Tired, mother? Oh! you must be. Mr. Holland, will you find my mother a seat somewhere —near the band, if you can? The Hungarians are so good. ” “Delighted,” he replied. Then lower: “I mav see yon again before you go, Miss Lindsay?” “If you can," she repeated. She watched them until they were lost in the crowd, aftd then deliberate ly led Captain Havelock back to the little nook. Some girls have no origi nality. But it was still empty. “Better fit down, Ralph,” she said taking her Old place. “Thanks; I prefer to stand,” he said stiiHy. Vi Fuat ter of taste—or of com- fo 5 T t ” She gave him a swift glance. “Not up to Simla, is it?” “I’m sick of it. Beastly pack. I haven’t had a chance of speaking to yon all afternoon, Noll.” ‘Thilanthropy is its own reward,” sho said. “Its not that—Mrs. Lindsay is nil i ight. But there s that scribbling fellow who’s always dangling after yon.” “He is very amusing—and clever.” “Is he? He doesn’t know ono end of a gun from the other, and I suppose ho thinks that horses were invented to drag the Chelsea ’bus—or wherever ho stays.” “Why, dear l»oy, to be a groom is not mail’s chief end. And you are very rude. Mr. Holland speaks very nicely of you.” “Confound his impudence!” and by way of relief, he proceeded to kick a hole in Mrs, Gordon's turf, “Look AGRICULTURAL T0P1C& Frozen Comb*. When the comb becomes frozen oi frosted there will be an end to the hen so afflicted until the injured member heals, which may require one or two months. Combs usually become frozen at night, when the birds are on the roosts, and it happens more frequently when there is a small flow of air from a crack or nail-hole than when the ( birds are exposed to a large volume i. Bnt you might have the de- , of Sir. The prevention is to provide to say you are sorry, Nell. 1 warm houses at night and wind-breaks * 1 ” of some kind during the day. Should a comb become frozen, anoint it with ichthyol once a day.—Farm News. QnalHjr of Corn Fodder. There is much difference in original character of corn fodder as well as in that made in curing. Only that which has matured far enough to tassel should be put up for winter feed, and if it has been planted thinly enough to farrish some nubbins not only the grain will help, but the quality of the stalk will be improved. Farmers bare often noticed that the husked stalks were eaten by cows in preference to the thin, watery and tasteless stalks of corn sown for fodder. The cow knows what is best for her. No corn for fodder should ever bo sown. It should ho drilled, and will be all the better if drilled not so closely as to prevent all earing. At its best fodder corn*is full of water when harvested, and unless the farmer is willing to do n good deal of lifting for nothing ho should make the fodder as nutritious as it can be grown. Feeding Fowls In Winter. One of the reasons why hens do not lay in cold weather is because they then get their food with too little ex ercise. During the summer the fowls are obliged mostly to care for them selves. They get a great variety of food, eating slowly and taking much exercise while they are filling np. In the winter they have only one or two kinds of food, usually grain, and this is pnt in a mass before them so they can fill themselves at once. Then the fowls stand idly by while the food di gests. This would be just what is wanted if the fowls were to be fattened. In fact, the hens thus fed do fatten and thus become unfit to lay. If any eggs are formed they are apt to be with thin shells, the result of fattening and lack of exercise. Give the hens only small grain, oats or wheat, or better still, a mixture of both. Oats only are not heavy enough food for fowls in cold weather. The chaff of oats fills their crops so that they cannot get is Duffcrttmass the hens are obliged to scratch for a living, as they do in summer, instead of being moping and dull, their lively prating will be heard all through the day, their combs will become red, and if kept warmly enough they will lay as regularly as they did in the sum mer season.—Boston Cultivator. here, Nell,” he said presently; ‘Tm going off to Egypt." “Indeed I I thought win ter was the proper season. Won’t it bo rather warm there just now?” “That is, if they’ll have me," ht continued, paying no heed. ‘Tv« volunteered for Dongola. Kitchener is going up to Khartum in the au tumn—at least I hope so.” “In Cook’s boats? What fan!" “It will be—for Fuszy and the der vishes cencyBI mayn’t come back, you know. “So that is why you told me?” she asked. Don’t yon think it is rather crude, Captain HavtlockT” But she was not looking at him, being en gaged in tracing fancy patterns on the grass. Not that it would have mat tered; for he, on his part, was also re garding the point of the sunshade with apparent interest. “Oh, I dare say that writing chap would have done it better,” ho said savagely. “It’s his trade. I sup pose you mean to marry the beggar, Nell?” “His name is Holland,” she sug gested. “Iknow that. You can see his por trait in any illustrated paper for a six pence. It’s in them all.” “Which is really no reason why he shouldn’t be addressed properly, is it? I have some idea that I have seen an other portrait in the same places, with the letters D.S’.O. after the name.” “You need not. get nasty. Besides, yon haven’t told me yet if you are en gaged to him.” “Well, you see”"—hero she ventured another glance—“ho hasn’t asked me yet.” “I suppose yon will marry him, though,” he persisted. “It’s natural enough, perhaps—he’s a genius and all that—aud of course I’m not. Wait a minute, Neill I can’t stand this any longer, and I’m bound to have it out for good. You were always cleverer than I was; but you know what I’ve wished for ever dincel was an unlicked cub at Eton. I wasn’t afraid to tell youthen. You remember, Nell?” “I remember thinking that those lickings—which you did not get— might have done you good. “Well, you didn’t say so! And all the time I was stewing in India it was the same; and when 1 was down with fever in the plains I kept shonting one name—so the doctor told me.” “It was ifl very bad taste,” she mamnred. “Oh! Then with the Wazj not five minu ■I running ont head was to and get home i There, Nell, it^ She was loc iat fort on the frontier, Bs howling round—and on end fpr fear id the only ideg in my it through somehow, ask you to marry me l out at last!” ing at him now, but there was a world of reproach—and perhaps something else—in her eyes. “You haven’t asked me yet!” “she cried. “But, Nell—good heavens!—you don’t mean to say—" And then—well, in tome mysterious fashion he managed to gain possession of her hands, and to say the rest with out words. As for her: “You might have seeu it, you foolish boy!" she said. And that was all. Except that, a little later, she met Mr. Holland. “I have been looking for you, Miss Lindsay,” lie said: “I have something to say. Not going already, surely? I may call to-night, then? I need not tell you what it is—perhaps you can gness—I—I hope so.” “I think it would bo better not to come, Mr. Holland,” she replied, giving him her hand. “I am sorry, bnt— will you oblige me by considering the episode as closed? I am engaged to Captain Havelock.”—David L. John ston, in Chambers’s Jonrnal. A Curlouz Freak of Nature. Gus Frisch, who lives near Thirty- seventh aud Market streets, is the owner of a curiosity for which he has received many tempting offers from museum managers, but which he re fuses to sell. About three months ago Mr. Frisch received frpm his brother, who is a missionary in India, two eggs that were joined together. A note ac companying them explained that they were peacock eggs and a great curios ity on account of their strange form. Now, Mr. Frisch has a friend in West Philadelphia who is a poultry farmer, and the idea struck him to have the eggs hatched in an incubator. In the course of a mouth the shells fell apart, and, instead of two separate birds stepping out, the pair came forth joined togethor by a thick band of what appeared to be gristle. By dint of extreme care and careful feed ing, the strange pair were nnrsed through babyhood, and are now be ginning to get pin feathers of various colors. Their odd appearance excites no end of curiosity* and they are inter* esting for another reason. Jack, the right-hand bird, is very fond of Mr. Frisch, while Ned, the other, shows an extreme aversion to Uia master. Whet Mr. Frisch returns home from work hi gives a shrill whistle, and then a fight ensues. Jack tugs toward his master, while Ned pull the opposite way. Things arc only settled by one or the other being whipped, when the victor follows his inclination, dragging the vanquished bird with him.—Philadel phia Record, Meal and Bklm Milk. The Iowa station has been making experiments in adding different kinds of meal to skim milk in fattening calves and have apparently had ex cellent success. The meals used were oil meal with a cost of 2.8 cents per pound of growth; another oatmeal costing 2.1, and with cornmeal and ten per cent, flaxseed costing 2.2 per pound of growth. They do not seem to have tried flaxmeal alone. From the account I have in the Rural New Yorker, no statement is made of the age at which the calves are put on the skim milk and meal. This is a vital point in counting the cost, and espec ially in adapting the young calf to the new feed. If meal of any kind is fed to the calf before it is a month old, great care must be taken to see that it does not upset the young thing’s stomach and bring on scours. Pure flaxseed is the only one of the standard meals that the authorities have been willing to recommend for the right young calf. After they are two months old and are in good, thrifty condition, other meals may be added, but the question of cast in raising a calf depends prin- ' cipally upon how mnch full milk it has drunk. For this reason the prime point is how to get the young thing of!' of fall toilk and well started on skim milk and meal. In this article from the Rural great stress is laid upon the virtue of oatmeal, and the Rural goos so far as to recommend it for raising dairy calves. With ordinary oatmeal, with the hulls included, I found it very irritating to young calves. There is too much starch and too little oil in it. XVhat wo want is something to take the place of the butter fat removed from the milk, and so far as I can see, flaxseed meal is the best substitute. This meets the theoretical require ments, and has proved the best in practice according to the testimony of those who appear to be the. best able to settle the question. I fear there is a want of careful data in the Iowa ex* periments.—Home and Farm. A Remarkable Stone. One of the most curious stones in the world is found in England. It is a natural barometer, and actually fore tells probable changes in the weather. It turtas black shortly before an ap proaching rain, while in fine weather it is mowed with spots of white. A CAME SHE KNOWS. When Bertha gets the checkers out And lays them for a social game, Bhe’U improvise, beyond a doubt. Some rules to regulate the same; For Bertha cannot bear to lose. Yet cannot hope to always win. Save by a system that pursues A plan bewildering as sin. Full well. Indeed, this game she plays. And many players fall before her: Some conquered by her skilful ways And some because—they half adore her. If chanoe she makes a hapless move She'll “take it baok’’ to dodge disaster And lift appealing eyes to prove ' That in snob winning ways she’s master. Then, when the Anal move draws near, And dire defeat she can surmise. Her hands will shield the l>oard la fear. Ana she will vanquish with her sighs. Thus Bertha plays the game of draught t Nor needs the science of the wise; In this, os in some sweeter crafts, , She conquers by her wits—and eyesi —Chicago Becon\ HUMOR OF THE DAY. Friend—“How do yon got along with the cooking?” Tho Bride—“Ad mirably! I blame it on the range.”— Pack. “Pounder has had to go out of the band.” “What was tho trouble?” “He has got too fat to balance tho bass-drum.”—Chicago Record. “They have discovered a lake up in Alaska that is teeming with fish.” “Eh? I thought they did all their teaming with dogs.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. He—"I suppose if your father found me here he would kick me out of the door?” She—“Oh, I don’t know; papa’s punting is wretched.”—Detroit Journal. • Hall—“What are you doing now?” Gall—“Oh, I’m making a house-to- honse canvass to ascertain why people don’t want to buy a new patent clothcs- wringer.”—Chicago News. “Tho horse has another point of superiority over the wheel.” ^‘Wbat is it?” “When a horse is getting ready to shy at anything, you can tell it by bis oars.”—Chicago Record. Hungry Higgins—“As fur eight hours being enough fer a day’s work ” Weary Watkins—“It ain’t. Any man who'll do a day’s work orter git six months.” — Indianapolis Jonrnal. “Darling,” he cried, “I can notlive without you.” “But,” she replied, “my father is bankrupt.” “In that case,” he despondently replied, “I guess I’ll go and shoot myself.”—Chi cago News. Teacher—“Don’t any of you know how to find mountains on the map? -ax—‘M* mao of Alaska. What is that row or chain of dark, ronnd spgts?” Class (in chorus)— “Nuggets!”—Puck. “Boswell,” said Dr. Johnson, meet* ing the biographer on the street, “I have been reading your manuscripts. There is a great deal about yourself in them. They seem to me Vo be Yon- moirs rather than Memoirs.”—Pack. She—“Bnt snrely you believe that the sins of the father are visited on the children?” He—“Rather. My gov ernor promised to let me have a fiver this morning; but be lost it at poker last night, so I didn’t get it!”—Poncb. Miss Youugly—“So you’ve only known him a month? Don’t you think you’re taking a great many chances in marrying him?” Miss Oldwai e (can didly)—“Dear me, no. It’s the only chance I’ve had in ten years.”—Judge. “I'm afraid,” said the candidate gloomily, “the other side has me. beaten, and they know’ it.” “Why do yon think so?” asked his friend. “Well, there are very few campaign lies being circulated about me."— Puck. She—“If you could have one wish, what would it be?" He—“It would be that—that—oh, if I only dared to tell you what it would be!” She— “Well, go on. Why do yon snppose I brought up tho wishing subject?"— Chicago New’s. Suburbs—“I guess we’d better giro up keeping chickens. Wo don’t seem to have any luck.” Mrs. Suburbs— “How can you expect to have any luck, my dear? When you set a hen you invariably put thirteen eggs under her. J udge. “Seems to me it costs you a good deal to study,” said the father, as ho handed his son money to bny books w ith. “I know it,” replied this youth, pocketing gratefully a teu-dollar-bilf. “and I don’t study very hard either.” —Harvard Lampoon. Miss Qu ickstep—“What part of to w n aio wo driving through, Mr. Fibble?” Fw-cddy—“I haven't the least idea. * Miss (Quickstep—“I was aware of that. Still, I thought it possible you might know what part of town we are driving through.”—Chicago Tribuhc. He—“They say that George Hartley has been talking a good deal behind yonr back lately. ” She—“I’d like to know 4 what he’s been saying.” He— “Oh, you know w ell enough. It was all done on his tandem.” Then she drew a long sigh of relief.—Cleveland Leader. Miss Ancient Wantiman (suddenly awakening)—“I see you have my pocket-book; but there’s very little money in that compared with what I have • in bank.” Burglar (gruffly) “Well, there ain’t no way to git that!” Miss Ancient Wantiman—“S’ml Are you a single in sin?”—Puck.