Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Jf trrnrj boy and otery girl, AiIhIuk with th« sno, T Bfeould plan thin day to do alone § The. good deeds to be done; r - Should scatter smile* and kindly words, I Strong, helpful hands should lend, And to each other’s wants and cries Attentive ears should lend; r If every man, and woman, too, Should join these workers small— Oh. what a flood of happiness Upon our earth would falll .J How many homes would sunny b% Which now are filled with card / And joyous, smiling faces, too, 1 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. But we, instead, oft watch to see If other folks are true; And thus neglect so muoh that Ood Intends for os to do. —Lutheran Observer, “I’m here, Nell/’ he kaid presently; going off to Egypt.”, “Indeed! I thought winter was the proper season. Won't it be rather warm there jnst now?” "That is, if tbey’ll have me,” ht continued, paying no heed. “I’ve volunteered for Doagola. 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 Fuzzy and the der vishes. But you might have the de cency to say you are sorry, Nell. 1 mayn't come back, you know.” “So that is why you told me?” sho asked. Don’t you think it is AGRICULTURAL HIS is a charming ^ «, spot—for two,” he V ' said, seating him- ( j^Vji'||^ self comfortably at her feet. “We are lucky to find it unoccu pied,” she said, “especially at one ■j, of Mrs. Gordon's flUlf garden parties. She ■will be pleased. I don’t believe there is a square inch of the lnwn to be »een.” “The whole world is here. I know, Mins Lindsay; I have shaken hands with it.” “It is one of the penalties of being O great author.” “Or of beiug notorious?” “You are too modest, Mr. Holland. Have you not shored the honors of the afternoon with the Prince and the lat est lion—jnst imported from South Africa, was it not?” “And felt like a martyr all the time. Snt there you have the proof, Miss liindsaj. Don’t think T am complain ing. Fame and notoriety mean the same—in London. And in this”—he indicated the screen of shrubbery which cut off the little nook from the rest 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- bnnters.” “It is a relief to be out of it,” she admitted. “Do yon know, Mr. Hol land, that these books—yes, there are more of them—Are a pet idea of Mrs. Gordon’s?” “I must thank her. She is a woman of genius.” She laughed merrily. “Oh, no, she 1 * "fcJo stW, ai Ieasl[ Veil eves in' love?" he asked, picking up the thread of a former 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; iu man it is an episode.” “I seem to recollect that,” he said. “But it is nonsense; love cannot be Summed up in an epigram.” Again she laughed. “I am afraid you have a very bad memory, Mr. Holland. The sentiment appears in a brilliant study of society, entitled ‘Providence and Mrs. Grundy,’ for which, if the title page is to be trust ed ” “Ah I I remember now. Please 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 your revenge.” “But, really, Mr. Holland, I trusted to your—your knowledge of human nature, shall I my own sake— “For what, if I may ask?” “That, ‘in man it was an episode.’ It makes life so mnch easier to believe •o.” “Yon will let me retract in sackcloth and ashes. Miss Lindsay? Honestly, I have some reason to do so. It is three years since I wrote that able book. Can you guess my cuse?” “It seems to infer a compliment— somewhere,” she said, rather doubt fully. “I am very much iu 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 an epigram if yon like—would never have been written. How could it, when ?’* Here the bnshes were parted, and a face—a tanned, handsome, open face it was, aithongh just now the expres sion was not too pleasant—showed in the interstices. Miss Lindsay nodded brightly. “Come in, Balph,” she said. “Very sorry, I’m sure,” said the new-comer. “I didn’t know, Nell ” ffhen he disappeared. Miss Lindsay smiled. “Captain Havelock seems—out of •orts,” remarked her companion, sit ting down again. “Probably he is looking for iny mother,” said sho, “I told him to Attend to her.” “Ho is a capital fellow,” he said indifferently. “Done something in JLndia, hasn’t he?” say? I was glad, for miser- ex- “A small affair of outposts,” sho re plied, in the same tone. Only, per haps, it was as well that he 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 ami fifty Sikhs under him; and he was redneed to thirty rounds of ammunition and no provisions before he was relieved. It is quite a common thing out there. He told me so himself.” “He is modest—as w«ill an lucky,” said Holland. “You and ho are old friends, Miss Lindsay?” “We were brought up together.” “Like brother aud sister?” “Exactly. Wo quarrel quite as mnch, at least.” “And make it up, I dare nay? But 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 ways, and yet you refuse to credit the con version! How cau I convince you? I am quite serious ” “Oh, I hope not,” she sard. “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 her. “There is a green thing on your coat, Mr. Holland,” she went on. “Thanks.” He flicked the insect off. “I have something to say, Miss “Is it necessary?” she asked inno cently. “I don’t like confessions, Mr. Holland. We are Low Church peo ple.” * 1 “It means n 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 wo were returning,” she remarked. “Don’tgo just yet, Miss Lindsay.” he pleaded, putting out a hand to de tain her. “I want you to listen to me for a moment. I won’t keep you if—” But already she was half-hidden by the shrubbery, and her only answer was a bewildering smile. Ho had perforce 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 we 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 yon can? The Hungarians are so good. ” “Delighted,” ho replied. Then lower: “I may see yon again before you go. Miss Lindsay?" “If yon can,” she repeated. Sho watched them until they were lost in the crowd, and then deliberate ly led Captain Havelock back to the little nook. Some girls have no origi nality. But.it was still empty. “Better dt down, Italph,” she said, taking her old place. “Thanks; I prefer to stand,” he said stiffly. “It is a matter of taste—or of com fort.” She gave him a swift glance. “Not np to Simla, is it?” “I’m sick of itr. Beastly pack. I haven’t had a chance of speaking to you all afternoon, Nell.” “Philanthropy is its own reward,” she said. “It’s not that—Mrs. Lindsay is all right But there’s that scribbling fellow who's always dangling after yon.” “Ho is very amusing—and clever.” “Is he? He doesn’t know one end of a gun from the other, and I suppose he thinks that horses were invented to drag the Chelsea ’bus—or wherever he stays.” “Why, dear boy, to bo a groom is not man's chief end. And you are very rude. Mr. Holland speaks wery nicely of you.” I “Confound his impudence!” anfl by way of relief, he proceeded to kick a hole in Mrs. Gordon's turf, “Look crude, Captain Havolock?” But she was not looking at him, being en gaged in tracing fancy patterns on the grass. Not that ii wonld have mat tered; for he, on his part, was also re garding the point at the sunshade with apparent interest. “Oh, I dare say that writing chap would have done it letter,” he said savagely. “It's his trade. I sup pose you mean to marry the beggar, Nell?” “His name is Holland,” she sug gested. “I know that. You can see his por trait ia any illustrated paper for a six pence. It’s in them all.” “Which is really no reason why ho 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, you haven’t told me yet if you are en gaged to him. ” “Well, you see”—hero she ventured another glance—“he 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—and of course I’m not. Wait a minute, Nell! I can’t stand this any longer, and I’m bound to have it out for good. Yon were always cleverer than I was; but you know what I’ve wished for ever since I 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; aud when I was down with fever in the plains I kept shouting one name—so the doctor told me.” “It was in very bad taste,” she murmured. “Oh! Then that fort on the frontier, with the Waziris howling ronnd—and not five minutes’ sleep on end for fear they should rush us—and Ahe grab runnini„ ’ ^us'juu liti mwff There, Nell, it’s out at last!" She was looking at him now, but there was a world of reproach—and perhaps something tlse—-in her eyes. “You haven’t asked me yet!” she cried. “But, Nell—good . heavens!—you don’t meau to say—” And then—well, in some mysterious fashion he managed to gain possession of her hands, and to say the rest with out words. As for her: “You might have-seen it, you foolish boy!" she said. Aud that was all. Except that, a little later, she met Mr. Holland. “I have been looking for you, Miss Lindsay,” he 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 guess—I—I hope so.” “I think it would be better not to come, Mr. Holland,’’shereplied,giving him her hand. “I am sorry, but— will you oblige me by considering the episode as closed? I am engaged to Captain Havelock.”—David L. John ston, in Chambers’s Journal. Frozen Combs. When the comb becomes frozen oi frosted there will be an end to the hen so afflicted until the injured membei 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 of air. The prevention is to provide warm houses at night and wind-breaks of some kind during the day. Should a comb become frozen, anoint it with rather ichtbyol once a day.—Farm News. Quality of Corn Fodder. There is mnch difference in original character ol 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 furnish some nubbins not only the grain will help, but the quality of the stalk will be improved. Farmers have 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 be sown. It should be 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 haivested, and unless the farmer is willing to do a good deal of lifting for nothing he should make the fodder as nutritious as it can be grown. Feeding Fowlz 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 up. Iu the winter they have only one or two kinds of food, usually grain, and this is put 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 enough nutrition. Then if this grain is buried KNOWS. When Bertha gets the checkers out And lays them for a social game. She'll 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. nrjpv Full well, Indeed, this game sho plays, • And many players fall before her: Some conquered by her skilful ways And some because—they halt adorn her. If chance she makes a hapless move She’ll "take It back" to dodge disaster And lift appealing eyes to prove That in such winning ways she’s master. Then, when the final move draws near. And dire defeat she can surmise. Her bands will shield the board In fear. And she will vanquish with her sighs. Thus Bertha playb the game of draught, Nor needs the science of the wise; In this, as in some sweeter crafts, Shu conquers by her wits—and eyesi —Chicago Recon\ HUMOR OF THE DAY. along -“Ad- Friend—“How do you get with the cooking?” The Bride- mirably! I blame it on the range.”— Puck. , “Pounder has had to go out of thn hand.” “What was the. trouble?” “He has got too fat to balance the 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 ia wretched.”—Detroit Journal. Hall—“What are you doing now?” Gall—“Oh, I’m making a housc-to- house canvass to ascertain why people don’t want to buy a new patent clothes- wringer."—Chicago News. “The horse has another point of superiority over the wheel.” “What is it?” “When a horse is getting ready to shy at anything, you can tell it by his ears.”—Chicago Record. Hungry Higgins—“As far eight hours being enough fer a day’s work ” Weary Watkins—“It ain’t. out—and the only idea in my is buried in a mass of cut straw, and w:wMicy vttf nr grmmn;r-, iu<■ uemr of being moping and dull, their lively prating will bo heard all through the day, their combs will become red, and if kept warmly enough they will lay as regularly ns they did in the sum mer seasou.—Boston Cultivator. A Curious Freak of Nature. 6us Frisch, who lives near Thirty- seventh and Market streets, is the owner of a curiosity for which he has received mauy tempting offers from museum managers, bat whioh he re fuses to sell. About three mouths ago Mr. Frisch received from his brother, cipally upon how 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 month the shells fell apart, and, instead of two separate birds stepping out, the pair came forth joined together by a thick baud of what appeared to be gristle. By dint of extreme care and carefnl feed ing, the strange pair were unrsed throngh babyhood, and are now be ginning to get pin feathers of vai ions colors. Their odd appearance excite* 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 his master. Whet Mr. Frisch returns Inline 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,jwhen the victor follows his incliuatiofa, dragging the vanquished bird with §iim.—Philadel phia Record. Meal and Skim Milk. The Iowa station has been making experiments in adding different kin\!s 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 cornmcal 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 whioh 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, gfeat care mast 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 mqnths old and are in good, thrifty condition, other meals may be added, but the question of cost in raising a calf depends prin- much full milk it has drunk. For this reason the prime point is bow to get the young thing off of fall in ilk 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 aud too little oil iu it. What we 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. Any man who’ll do a day’s work orter git six months.” — Indianapolis Journal. “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 yon know how to find mountains on the map? Now, look at this map of Alaska. or chain of dark, — ■ *-»- •- A Itcinarknhio Stone. One of the most curions stones in the world is found in England. It is a natural barometer, and actually fore tells probable changes in the weather. It turns black shortly before an ap proaching rain, while in fine weather it is mottled with spots of white. ‘ Nuggets: —ruck. “Boswell,” said Dr. Johnson, meet* ing the biographer on the street, “I have been reading your manuscripts. There ia a great deal about yourself in them. They seem to me *.o be You- moirs rather than Memoirs.”—Puck. She—“Bnt surely 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; bat he lost it at poker last night, so I didn’t get it!"—Punch. Miss Yonngly—“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 you think so?” asked his friend. “Well, there are very few campaign lies being circulated about me.”— Pack. She—“If you could have one wish, what would it be?” He—“It would be that—that—oh, if I only dared to tell yon what it wonld be!" She-~ “Well, go on. Why do you suppose I brought up the wishing subject?”— Chicago News. Suburbs—“I guess we’d better give up keeping chickens. We 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.”—Judge. “Seems to me it costs you a good deal to study,” said the father, as ho handed his son money to bny books with. “I know it,’’replied this youth, pocketing gratefully a ten-dollar-bill, “and I don’t study very hard either.” —Harvard Lampoon. Miss Quickstep—‘ ‘What part of town me we driving through, Mr. Fibble?” Fweddy—“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 Tribnhe. He—“They say that George Hartley has been talking a good deal behind youi’back lately.” She—“I’d like to kuow/what he’s been saying.” He— “Oh, you know well 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 yon 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 thatl* Miss Ancient Wantiman—“H’m! Are you a aingle man?”—Puck,