OUR YOUNG FOLKS
[THE LEGEND OF THE STORKS AND THE BABIES.]
Have you heard of the valley of Babyland,
The realm where the dear little darlings stay,
Till the kind storks go, as all men know,
And oh, so tenderly bring them away?
The paths are winding and past all finding
By all save the storks, who understand
The gates and the highways and the intricate byways
That lead to Babyland.
All over the valley of Babyland
Sweet flowers bloom in the soft green moss.
And under the blooms fair, and under the leaves there,
Lie little heads like spools of floss.
With a soothing number, the river of slumber
Flows o’er a bed of silver sand,
And angels are keeping watch o’er the sleeping
Babes of Babyland.
The path to the valley of Babyland
Only the kingly, kind white storks know.
If they fly over mountains or wade thro’ fountains—
No man sees them come and go;
But an angel, maybe, who guards some baby,
Or a fairy, perhaps, with her magic wand,
Brings them straightway to the wonderful gateway,
That leads to Babyland.
And there in the valley of Babyland
Under the mosses and leaves and ferns,
Like an unfledged starling they find the darling,
For whom the heart of a mother yearns.
And they lift him lightly and tuck him tightly
In feathers as soft as a lady’s hand,
And off with a rock-a-way step they walk away
Out of Babyland.
As they go from the valley of Babyland
Forth into the world of great unrest,
Sometimes weeping he wakes from sleeping
Before he reaches his mother’s breast.
Ah, how she blesses him now she caresses him:—
Bonniest bird in the bright home band,
That o’er land and water the kind stork bro’t her
From far off Babyland.
—Ella Wheeler.
[A Chat About Halifax.]
As I promised you I will try and tell you a little about Halifax.
Halifax is, as you all know, the capital of Nova Scotia, which is one of the provinces of British North America, and thus is under the dominion of the Queen. It is just what I should imagine a real old English city to be—very odd and antiquated, and yet picturesquely beautiful, and altogether a most charming place in which to spend a summer.
Never shall I forget the stroll I took alone the second morning after my arrival. The day was one of those rarely perfect ones in July. All nature seemed wrapped in a dreamy repose; the heat of the sun was tempered by the soft sea breezes blowing from the grand old ocean not many leagues away, whose roar sounded like the voice of many waters, soothing, restful, and sweet.
It happened that my wanderings led me in to some of the older portions of the city where the houses are many of them two hundred years old. And such funny, queer old houses. They seemed, somehow, to have a slanting look to them; it may have been, however, that it was because the streets were so hilly, and such a contrast to our flat, level prairies.
Right in the midst of the city, among the stores (shops they call them) and houses one comes suddenly upon the graveyards—some of them not now in use, but still left there. What interested me was the flat tombstones. When a little girl my father used to tell me of how the children would take their dolls to the cemetery and play upon and under the grave stones. Do I hear you exclaim, “What, play under a grave stone!” I do not wonder, for it seemed a funny thing to me, but it was quite clear when I saw how the marble slabs were placed. Instead of standing in an upright position, as you have always seen them, they were laid flat and raised some distance from the ground (high enough for a child to crawl under comfortably) by means of little marble posts. I used often to roam through these cemeteries with a dear old gentleman who would tell me stories of the brave young sailor boys buried there, far away from their own loved English homes.
Halifax is one of the most strongly fortified cities in America, and at every turn one meets the red coated soldiers in the streets—when they are not on duty. What would interest our boys would be to see a sham battle; the officers and soldiers all in uniform, eager and active as for a real encounter with the enemy.
One day I went to visit the strongest fort the city contains. It is called Citadel Hill, and overlooks and commands the harbor; which by the way, is considered one of the finest in the world. This Citadel is merely an immense hill, covering nearly half a mile of ground and situated in the very heart of the city. When you have climbed to the top you come upon a large opening, and looking down see a long flight of iron steps leading to the ground, many, many feet below. The hill is excavated and stored with arms and ammunition of all kinds, and great cannons, that look so cruel. All along the outer edge of this excavation were little rooms in which the married soldiers lived with their families. I pitied the little children that had to live in this way, without any home feeling—never knowing at what moment their father might be called away, for a soldier’s life is necessarily a roving one.
This hill would make a grand coasting place in the winter, and one which I have no doubt the little Blue Nose boys and girls often avail themselves of. In Halifax not only the boys and girls, but the men and women also, make much more of winter sports than we do. The large and elegant skating rink I hear has just been opened and, the regimental band have given a grand concert in honor of the occasion.
Snow-shoeing used to be indulged in largely, but in the city the custom is, I believe, somewhat falling off. I do not think you Western boys and girls could hardly imagine what odd, pretty suits the girls make to go skating and snow-shoeing in. The one I saw was made of two large white flannel bed-blankets, with a bright scarlet and blue border. The suit consisted of a skirt, circular-like cloak, and cap with a long side flap to it, which hung nearly to the shoulder. My cousin dressed herself all up in her pretty rig and then got down her wooden snow-shoes and buckled them on. She looked like a winter fairy all ready for an Arctic expedition.
I must confess I could hardly understand how she could manage to walk in the great unwieldy looking shoes, which were nearly five times as large as an ordinary shoe, but she assured me it was great fun and easily done.
I heard an amusing story there about a minister who wished to be married, but who lived a long distance from the neighboring minister, and the snow was very deep, and there was but one pair of snow-shoes. Not wishing to wait until spring he hit upon a novel plan which was this:
That his ladylove should stand upon the back of his snow-shoes, clasp her arms tightly around her future lord’s waist, and thus be carried safely to the neighboring kirk, which she accordingly did. You see this required no real effort on the lady’s part, only, I should judge, a great deal of pluck and nerve power, as well as love. However the story is that they accomplished the journey in safety and were duly married.
One of the prettiest drives in Halifax can be had in a place called the park (what we would call a park proper they call the gardens). This park, situated in the southern part of the city and overlooking an arm of the ocean, has twenty miles of smooth, beautiful roads winding around, and circling in and out among the trees. The roads were made by the soldiers, who received for their work twenty-five cents a day besides their regular army pay. There is also another strong fort in this park. There are, I think, nine forts, strongly garrisoned in and about the city.
I wonder if any of The Prairie Farmer boys and girls have the same desire that I had when living away out West, where I never saw water, much less a ship, to go through a large ocean steamship. If you have I hope that some day you may be able to have your wish gratified as I had mine.
One morning my friend said, “Will you go to a concert this afternoon or go and visit the ships?” “The ships of course,” I cried, and to the ships we went. The “Scotia” was just in on her way from Liverpool to New York, crowded with passengers. It was noon when we went on board, and the long tables were being laid out in the salon. Most of the cabin passengers were out “doing” the city so we saw only the steerage passengers. Now I had heard much of the steerage passengers, but really never imagined them to be such a poor, miserable looking set of beings. They sat around almost anywhere with a plate of soup or a dish full of other unpalatable appearing food and ate as though they did not care much whether they lived or died. I longed to speak to the children and the downcast looking mothers, but they were nearly all of foreign birth, and would not have understood me if I had.
Many of the better class of passengers were in the little side rooms at their private meals, but we only caught side glimpses of them passing through. It was a very pleasant sensation to sit in the handsome saloon and almost imagine yourself to be sailing, sailing away in the great noble ship to the land of your dreams and fancies.
There are many more things of interest about this pretty city I would like to touch upon, but I fear my space is already occupied, so will have to say good-by for this week.
Mary Howe.
[The Little Legislatures.]
Most of these are in session again over the land. I do not mean those law-making bodies which meet annually at the State capitols to undo what they had done before, or otherwise make work for the courts and lawyers. But I allude to those little assemblies of young folks—lads and lasses—that weekly meet in the winter season in all the thousand and one school-houses and rural halls throughout our country. Legislatures did I call them? Not quite legislatures; but training schools in which legislators are made; and it is in these that our rising youth are qualifying themselves to govern the country that is so soon to be theirs.
Little as we may think of it, these assemblies, under whatever name they may be known—lyceums, societies, clubs, or “legislatures,”—are a power in the land; they do far more than most people think in forming the characters and fixing the opinions of the great multitude of boys and girls who participate in them. They are to-day more numerous than ever before, though they have been abroad in the land for more than half a century. Many of the leading actors on the world’s stage at the present day owe their position to the influence of one or more of these little associations of which they formed a part in their boyhood days. The writer of this could not count on his fingers the number of his associates in boyhood, who have risen out of these schools to positions of honor and trust in the country.
But there is a marked feature belonging to them now that did not exist a half century ago, the result of a vast change that has been made in public sentiment within that period. Then they were confined only to the boys; now the girls participate in them almost, if not quite, as freely as their brothers; and it must be confessed that in a great majority of cases the result has been beneficial to both sexes. The fogyism of that day stoutly protested that hens should not be permitted to crow, yet they persisted in learning the art, and conservatism has been forced to acknowledge that they can crow vociferously and to good effect. And these institutions have proven to be good crowing schools to girls.
Let these associations be encouraged in every school district; but care should be taken by the elder class that they be properly organized and conducted in an orderly manner. Youthful zeal and ardor will be apt to break out into rudeness and disorder, unless held in check by the aged and experienced. Let the older, then, wherever these associations exist, see to it that they are prudently managed—else instead of blessings they will become evils in the community.
The points to which these efforts should be mainly directed, should be—first, plain rules for their government; second, a strict adherence to them when adopted; a diversity of exercises—not too much debate, and not too many essays; fourth, the avoidance of all personal matters; and fifth, a judicious selection of subjects. With these points held well in view, and with a serious desire for improvement, these institutions can not but be useful; otherwise they should be discontinued.
Farmers everywhere ought to encourage the formation of these institutions in their respective neighborhoods, and aid their sons and daughters in carrying them forward. Give them your countenance and your counsel.
T. G.
[Walking Canes.]
The material of which walking sticks are made is as various as can well-nigh be conceived of. Many are imported woods—some from the tropics, China and the East Indies. The celebrated Whongee canes are from China, where they are well known and celebrated for the regularity of their joints, which are the points from which the leaves are given off, and the stems of a species of phyllosiachys, a gigantic grass, closely allied to the bamboo. The orange and lemon are highly prized, and are imported chiefly from the West Indies, and perfect specimens command enormous prices. The orange stick is known by its beautiful green bark, with fine white longitudinal markings, and the lemon by the symmetry of its proportions, and both prominence and regularity of its knobs. Myrtle sticks also possess a value, since their appearance is so peculiar that their owner would seldom fail to recognize them. They are imported from Algeria. The rajah stick is an importation. It is the stem of a plant and a species of calamus. It is grown in Borneo, and takes its name from the fact that the Rajah will not allow any to go out of the country unless a heavy duty is paid. These canes, known as palm canes, are distinguished by an angular and more or less flat appearance. Their color is brownish, spotted, and they are quite straight, with neither knob nor curl. They are the petioles of leaf stalk of the date palm. Perhaps the most celebrated of the foreign canes are the Malacca, being the stems of the calamus sceptonum, a slender climbing palm, and not growing around Malacca, as the name would seem to indicate, but imported from Stak, on the opposite coast of Sumatra. Other foreign canes are ebony, rosewood, partridge or hairwood, and cactus, which, when the pith is cut out, presents a most novel appearance, hollow and full of holes.
Shortly after Miss Alcott’s “Little Women” was published a quiet-looking lady entered a Boston circulating library and asked a lady clerk to pick her out “a good book that would rest and amuse her.” Naturally “Little Women” was offered, and declined. “It’s very nice; you’d like it,” urged the clerk. “I should not care to read it,” said the other. “But at least look at it.” “No,” came the answer, firmly and with an odd smile; “it is not a book that I should care to read.” Then the clerk, pretty angry, walked away to the chief librarian and cried: “There’s a woman down there wants a book, and if you want her waited on somebody else must do it. I won’t.” “Why, why not?” “Why, she says ‘Little Women’ isn’t good enough for her to read.” “Do you know who that lady is?” “No, and I don’t care.” “Well, I’ll tell you. That is Louise M. Alcott. Now go and get her a book.”
A Michigan girl told her young man that she would never marry him until he was worth $100,000. So he started out with a brave heart to make it.
“How are you getting on George?” she asked at the expiration of a couple of months.
“Well,” George said hopefully, “I have saved up $22.”
The girl dropped her eyelashes and blushingly remarked: “I reckon that’s near enough, George.”
The elegant equipment of coaches and sleepers being added to its various through routes is gaining it many friends. Its patrons fear no accidents. Its perfect track of steel, and solid road-bed, are a guarantee against them.
MISCELLANEOUS.
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Literature
[LOGIC.]
I. Her respectable papa’s.
“My dear, be sensible! Upon my word,
This—for a woman, even—is absurd.
His income’s not a hundred pounds, I know;
He’s not worth loving.”—“But I love him so.”
II. Her mother’s.
“You silly child, he is well-made and tall;
But looks are far from being all in all.
His social standing’s low, his family’s low,
He’s not worth loving.”—“And I love him so.”
III. Her eternal friend’s.
“Is that he picking up the fallen fan?
My dear! he’s such an awkward, ugly man!
You must be certain, pet, to answer ‘No.’
He’s not worth loving.”—“And I love him so.”
IV. Her brother’s.
“By Jove! were I girl!—through a horrid hap—
I wouldn’t have a milk-and-water chap.
The man has not a single spark or ‘go.’
He’s not worth loving.”—“Yet I love him so.”
V. Her own.
“And were he everything to which I’ve listened;
Though he were ugly, awkward (and he isn’t),
Poor, lowly-born, and destitute of ‘go,’
He is worth loving, for I love him so.”
—Chambers’ Journal.
[DON’T WAIT.]
If you have gentle words and looks, my friends,
To spare for me—if you have tears to shed
That I have suffered—keep them not, I pray,
Until I hear not, see not, being dead.
For loving looks, though fraught with tenderness,
And kindly tears, though they fall thick and fast,
And words of praise, alas! can naught avail
To lift the shadows from a life that’s past?
And rarest blossoms, what can they suffice,
Offered to one who can no longer gaze
Upon their beauty! Flow’rs in coffins laid
Impart no sweetness to departed days.
[THE CURFEW HEROINE.]
The story that is the basis of the well-known poem, “Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night,” told in prose is as follows:
It lacked quite half an hour of curfew toll. The old bell-ringer came from under the wattled roof of his cottage stoop and stood with uncovered head in the clear sweet-scented air. He had grown blind and deaf in the service, but his arm was as muscular as ever, and he who listened this day marked no faltering in the heavy metallic throbs of the cathedral bell. Old Jasper had lived through many changes. He had tolled out the notes of mourning for good Queen Bess, and with tears scarcely dry he had rung the glad tidings of the coronation of James. Charles I. had been crowned, reigned, and expiated his weakness before all England in Jasper’s time, and now he who under army held all the common wealth in the hollow of his hand, ruled as more than monarch, and still the old man with the habit of a long life upon him rang his matin and sorrow.
Jasper stood alone now, lifting his dimmed eyes up to the softly dappled sky.
The wall of his memory seemed so written over—so crossed and recrossed by the annals of the years that had gone before, that there seemed little room for anything in the present. Little recked he that Cromwell’s spearsmen were camped on the moor beyond the village—that Cromwell himself rode with his guardsmen a league away; he only knew that the bell had been rung in the tower when William the Conqueror made curfew a law, had been spared by Puritan and Roundhead, and that his arm for sixty years had never failed him at even-tide.
He was moving with a slow step toward the gate, when a woman came hurriedly in from the street and stood beside him; a lovely woman, but with a face so blanched that it seemed carved in the whitest of marble, with all its roundness and dimples. Her great, solemn eyes were raised to the aged face in pitiful appeal, and the lips were forming words that he could not understand.
“Speak up, lass, I am deaf and can not hear your chatter.”
“For heaven’s sake, Jasper, do not ring the curfew bells to-night.”
“What! na ring curfew? You must be daft, lassie.”
“Jasper, for sweet heaven’s sake—for my sake—for one night in all your long life forget to ring the bell! Fail this once and my lover shall live, whom Cromwell says shall die at curfew toll. Do you hear? my lover, Richard Temple. See, Jasper, here is my money to make your old age happy. I sold my jewelry that the Lady Maud gave me, and the gold shall be yours for one curfew.”
“Would you bribe me, Lily De Vere? Ye’re a changeling. Ye’re na the blood of the Plantagenets in ye’re veins as ye’re mother had. What, corrupt the bell-ringer under her majesty, good Queen Bess? Not for all the gold that Lady Maud could bring me! Babes have been born and strong men have died before now at the ringing of my bell. Awa’! Awa’!”
And out on the village green with the solemn shadows of the lichens lengthening over it, a strong man awaited the curfew toll for his death. He stood handsome, and brave, and tall—taller by an inch than the tallest pikeman who guarded him.
What had he done that he should die? Little it mattered in those days, when the sword that the great Cromwell wielded was so prone to fall, what he or others had done. He had been scribe to the late lord up at the castle, and Lady Maud, forgetting that man must woo and woman must wait, had given her heart to him without the asking, while the gentle Lily De Vere, distant kinswoman and poor companion of her, had, without seeking, found the treasures of his true love and held them fast. Then he had joined the army and made one of the pious soldiers whose evil passions were never stirred but by sign or symbol of poetry. But a scorned woman’s hatred had reached him even there. Enemies and deep plots had compassed him about and conquered him. To-night he was to die.
The beautiful world lay as a vivid picture before him. The dark green wood above the rocky hill where Robin Hood and his merry men had dwelt; the frowning castle with its drawbridge and square towers, the long stretch of moor with the purple shadows upon it, the green, straight walks of the village, the birds overhead, even the daisies at his feet he saw. But ah! more vividly than all, he saw the great red sun with its hazy veil lingering above the trees as though it pitied him with more than human pity.
He was a God fearing and a God serving man. He had long made his peace with heaven. Nothing stood between him and death—nothing rose pleadingly between him and those who were to destroy him but the sweet face of Lily De Vere, whom he loved. She had knelt at Cromwell’s feet and pleaded for his life. She wearied heaven with her prayers, but all without avail.
Slowly now the great sun went down. Slowly the last rim was hid beneath the greenwood. Thirty seconds more and his soul would be with God. The color did not forsake his cheeks. The dark rings of hair lay upon a warm brow. It was his purpose to die as martyrs and brave men die. What was life that he should cling to it? He almost felt the air pulsate with the first heavy roll of the death knell. But no sound came. Still facing the soldiers with his clear gray eyes upon them he waited.
The crimson banners in the west were paling to pink. The kine had ceased their lowing, and had been gathered into the rick yards.
All nature had sounded her curfew, but old Jasper was silent!
The bell-ringer, with his gray head yet bared, had traversed half the distance between his cottage and the ivy-covered tower when a form went flitting past him, with pale, shadowy robes floating round it, and hair that the low western lights touched and tinted as with a halo.
“Ah, Huldah, Huldah!” the old man muttered; “how swift she flies? I will come soon dear. My work is almost done.”
Huldah was the good wife who had gone from him in her early womanhood, and for whom he had mourned all his long life. But the fleeting form was not Huldah’s. It was Lily De Vere, hurried by a sudden and desperate purpose toward the cathedral.
“So help me God, curfew shall not ring to-night! Cromwell and his dragoons come this way. Once more I will kneel at his feet and plead.”
She entered the ruined arch. She wrenched from its fastening the carved and worm-eaten door that barred the way to the tower. She ascended with flying and frenzied feet the steps; her heart lifted up to God for Richard’s deliverance from peril. The bats flew out and shook the dust of centuries from the black carving. As she went up she caught glimpses of the interior of the great building, with its groined roof, its chevrons and clustered columns; its pictured saint and carved image of the virgin, which the pillages of ages had been spared to be dealt with by time, the most relentless vandal of all.
Up—still—up—beyond the rainbow tints thrown by the stained glass across her death-white brow; up—still—up—past open arch, with griffin and gargoyles staring at her from under bracket and cornice, with all the hideousness and mediæval carving; the stairs, flight by flight, growing frailer beneath her young feet; now but a slender network between her and the outer world; but still up.
Her breath was coming short and gasping. She saw through an open space old Jasper cross the road at the foot of the tower. Oh, how far! The seconds were treasures which Cromwell, with all his blood-bought commonwealth, could not purchase from her. Up—ah—there, just above her with its great brazen mouth and wicked tongue, the bell hung. A worm eaten block for a step, and one small white had clasped itself above the clapper—the other prepared, at the tremble, to rise and clasp its mate, and the feet to swing off—and thus she waited. Jasper was old and slow, but he was sure and it came at last. A faint quiver, and the young feet swung from their rest, and the tender hands clasped for more than their precious life the writhing thing. There was groaning and creaking of the rude pulleys above, and then the strokes came heavy and strong. Jasper’s hand had not forgot its cunning, nor his arm its strength. The tender, soft form was swung and dashed to and fro. But she clung to and caressed the cold, cruel thing. Let one stroke come and a thousand might follow—for its fatal work would be done. She wreathed her white arms about it, so that with every pull of the great rope it crushed into the flesh. It tore her, and wounded and bruised; but there in the solemn twilight the brave woman swung and fought with the curfew, and God gave her victory.
The old bell-ringer said to himself: “Aye, Huldah, my work is done. The pulleys are getting too heavy for my old arms; my ears, too, have failed me. I dinna hear one stroke of the curfew. Dear old bell! it is my ears that have gone false, and not thou. Farewell old friend.”
And just beyond the worn pavement a shadowy form again went flitting past him. There were drops of blood upon the white garments, and the face was like the face of one who walked in her sleep, and her hands hung wounded and powerless at her side. Cromwell paused with his horsemen under the dismantled May-pole before the village green. He saw the man who was to die at sunset standing up in the dusky air, tall as a king and beautiful as Absalom. He gazed with knitted brow and angry eye, but his lips did not give utterance to the quick command that trembled on them, for a girl came flying toward him. Pikeman and archer stepped aside to let her pass. She threw herself upon the turf at his horse’s feet; she lifted her bleeding and tortured hands to his gaze, and once more poured out her prayer for the life of her lover; with trembling lips she told him why Richard still lived—why the curfew had not sounded.
Lady Maud looking out of her latticed window at the castle, saw the great protector dismount, lift the fainting form in his arms and bear her to her lover. She saw the guards release their prisoner, and she heard the shouts of joy at his deliverance; then she welcomed the night that shut the scene out from her envious eye and sculptured her in its gloom.
At the next matin bell old Jasper died, and at curfew toll he was laid beside the wife who had died in his youth, but the memory of whom had been with him always.
—Bulletin, Haverhill, Mass.
Work every hour, paid or unpaid, see only that thou work, and thou canst not escape thy reward. Whether thy work be fine or coarse, planting corn or writing epics, so only it be honest work, done to thine own approbation, it shall earn a reward to the senses as well as to the thought. No matter how often defeated, you are born to victory. The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.
No one loves to tell a tale of scandal but to him that loves to hear it. Learn, then, to rebuke and silence the detracting tongue by refusing to hear. Never make your ear the grave of another’s good name.
There is nothing by which I have through life more profited than by the just observations, the good opinions, and sincere and gentle encouragement of amiable and sensible women.
Self-control is promoted by humility. Pride is a fruitful source of uneasiness. It keeps the mind in disquiet. Humility is the antidote to this evil.
Those beings only are fit for solitude who like nobody, are like nobody, and are liked by nobody.
A noble heart, like the sun, showeth its greatest countenance in its lowest estate.
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| Boston Pilot (Catholic) | 4 50 | 3 50 |
| American Bee Journal | 4 00 | 3 50 |
| Florida Agriculturist | 4 00 | 2 75 |
| Breeder’s Gazette | 5 00 | 3 50 |
| Witness (N.Y.) | 3 50 | 3 00 |
| Methodist (N.Y.) | 4 00 | 3 50 |
| Chicago News | 3 00 | 2 50 |
| Globe (Boston) | 3 00 | 2 75 |
| Youth’s Companion, new subs. | 3 75 | 3 00 |
| Youth’s Companion, renewals | 3 85 | 3 25 |
| Weekly Novelist | 5 00 | 4 25 |
| Ledger (Chicago) | 3 00 | 2 90 |
| American Bee Journal | 4 00 | 3 25 |
MONTHLIES.
| Harper’s Monthly | $6 00 | $4 50 |
| Atlantic Monthly | 6 00 | 4 50 |
| Appleton’s Journal | 5 00 | 4 25 |
| The Century | 6 00 | 4 50 |
| North American Review | 7 00 | 5 50 |
| Popular Science Monthly | 7 00 | 5 50 |
| Lippincott’s Magazine | 5 00 | 4 50 |
| Godey’s Lady’s Book | 4 00 | 3 00 |
| St. Nicholas | 5 00 | 3 50 |
| Vick’s Illustrated Magazine | 3 25 | 2 25 |
| Am. Poultry Journal (Chicago) | 3 25 | 2 75 |
| American Bee Journal | 3 00 | 2 25 |
| Gardener’s Monthly | 4 00 | 3 00 |
| Wide Awake | 4 50 | 3 00 |
| Phrenological Journal | 4 00 | 3 00 |
| American Agriculturist | 3 50 | 2 50 |
| Poultry World | 3 25 | 2 75 |
| Arthur’s Home Magazine | 4 00 | 3 00 |
| Andrews’ Bazar | 3 00 | 2 40 |
| Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly | 5 00 | 4 00 |
| Frank Leslie’s Sunday Magazine | 5 00 | 4 00 |
| Frank Leslie’s Ladies’ Magazine | 4 50 | 4 00 |
| Our Little Ones | 3 50 | 3 00 |
| Peterson’s Magazine | 4 00 | 3 30 |
| Art Amateur | 6 00 | 5 00 |
| Demorest’s Magazine | 4 00 | 3 00 |
| Dio Lewis’ Monthly | 4 50 | 3 50 |
For clubbing price with any publication in the United States not included in the above list send us inquiry on postal card.
MISCELLANEOUS.
“FACTS ABOUT
Arkansas and Texas.”
A handsome book, beautifully illustrated, with colored diagrams, giving reliable information as to crops, population, religious denominations, commerce, timber, Railroads, lands, etc., etc.
Sent free to any address on receipt of a 2-cent stamp. Address
H. C. Townsend,
Gen. Passenger Agt., St. Louis, Mo.
SCRIBNER’S LUMBER AND LOG-BOOK
OVER HALF A MILLION COPIES SOLD. The most full and complete book of its kind ever published. Gives correct measurement of all kinds of lumber, logs, plank, cubical contents of square and round timber, stave and heading bolt tables, wages, rent, board, capacity of cisterns, Cord-wood tables, interest, etc., and has become the Standard Book throughout the United States and Canada.
Be sure and get the New Edition, with Doyle’s Log Table. Price, 35 cents, by mail, postpaid.
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING. CO., Chicago.
FOR SALE.
Pure bred Bronze Turkeys and Pekin Ducks. Also eggs in Season.
MRS. J. F. FULTON,
Petersburg, Ills.
HUMOROUS
[OLD SHOES.]
How much a man is like old shoes!
For instance, both a soul may lose;
Both have been tanned; both are made tight
By cobblers; both get left and right;
Both need a mate to be complete,
And both are made to go on feet.
They both need heeling, oft are sold,
And both in time all turn to mold.
With shoes the last is first; with men
The first shall be last; and when
The shoes wear out they’re mended new:
When men wear out they’re men-dead, too.
They both are trod upon, and both
Will tread on others, nothing loath.
Both have their ties, and both incline
When polished in the world to shine:
And both peg out—and would you choose
To be a man or be his shoes?
[An Obstinate Wife.]
The other night a policeman who was patrolling High street east, heard a whistle blown, followed by shouts for “police!” and after a run of half a block he came to a halt in front of a house where a second-story window was raised and a man had half his length over the sill.
“What’s the row?” demanded the officer.
“Some purglars vhas in mein house!” was the answer.
“How do you know?”
“I hears ’em make a noise more ash six times!”
“Where are they?”
“Down in der kitchen!”
“Have you been down to look around?”
“No! no! I tells my vhife to go, but she won’t stir! She shumps into bedt und covers oop her headt, und I vhas left to do all der fighting und be kilt! Dot’s der kind of a vhife she vhas!”
The officer investigated, to find that cats were responsible for the noises, and as he retired the householder was calling to his wife:
“Mary, if you go down I shtand on der stairs mit a light und a shot-gun und shoot eafery burglar like tunder.”
[Wanted Weather-Strips.]
“Didn’t I leave an order here three days ago for weather-strips?” demanded an indignant citizen of the proprietor of a Woodward avenue store yesterday.
“Yes, sir, you did.”
“And didn’t you say you would send a man to put them on?”
“I did.”
“And he was sick, I suppose?”
“No, sir; he went up there two days ago.”
“And put on the strips?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“On the front and side doors, of course.”
“On the doors—of course—who in Halifax ordered them on the doors of the house? I wanted them strips for the barn doors!”
“You did?”
“Certainly I did. Do you suppose I want draughts of air sweeping in on my poor horses this kind o’ weather?”
[It’s a Telephone.]
A well-to-do but unsophisticated back-woodsman was in the city lately, attending the Fat Stock Show, and brought along his wife and daughters to see the sights and do some shopping. Among other places they visited was Mandel’s new store, and after wandering around the first floor for a while the party came to a stop near the elevators.
One of the daughters was first to discover the cars moving silently up and down, receiving and discharging their cargoes of passengers. She jerked her father’s coat sleeve to direct his attention to the phenomenon, and in a tone that was audible to the clerks in the neighborhood asked:
“What’s that, paw—that thing going up and down, with sofys in it?”
The old man gave the elevator a long, calm, deliberate, scrutinizing stare, and exclaimed with joy:
“By gosh! it’s a telephone! the first I ever saw!”
[An Emergency.]
A few days ago a man with a weak and humble expression, and wearing a summer suit of clothes, applied to one of the railroad passenger agents for a dead-head pass to Toledo.
“Why when do you want to go to Toledo?”
“To get married.”
“And you haven’t any money?”
“Not above twenty-five cents.”
“Hadn’t you better be worth your fare to Toledo before taking a wife on your hands to support?”
“You don’t understand the case,” protested the man. “I’m going to marry a widow worth at least $5,000, and the first thing I shall do will be to remit you the price of a ticket. I’m poor, and the widow knows it, but she marries me for love.”
He protested so long and earnestly that he was finally passed down the road. Two days elapsed, and then a letter was received from him saying:
“Heaven bless you for your kindness? Reached here all right, and married the widow according to programme. It turns out that she isn’t worth a copper. In this emergency may I ask you to pass us both to Detroit, where I have hopes of striking a job?”
The fellow who went into a sink hole clear to his nose remarked that it wasn’t much, as he had only gotten in up to his sneeze, and he had gum boots on.
“We have struck smoother road, haven’t we?” asked a passenger of a conductor on an Arkansas railway. “No.” replied the conductor. “We have only run off the track.”
Has it ever occurred to you that the initials N. J. stand not only for New Jersey, but New Jerusalem? There’s the same uncertainty of significance in certain words beginning with H—one of which is Heaven.
“You are the most stuck-up chap I ever saw,” remarked a young lady to a youth whom she met at a taffy pull. To which he replied: “And you are just as sweet as you are candid.” Another leap-year horror.
“Rebecca,” said Mose Schaumberg, an Austin merchant prince to his wife. “I vants you to gif me your photograph.” “Und vat in the vorld do you vant mit mine photograph?” inquired the wife. “I vants to paste it on mine pipe. Times vas so pad dad I vants to preak mineself of smoking,” answered Mose.
“Your visits remind me of the growth of a successful newspaper,” said Uncle Jabez, leaning his chin on his cane, and glancing at William Arthur, who was sweet on Angelica. “Why so?” inquired William. “Well, they commenced as a weekly, grew to be a tri-weekly, and have now become daily, with a weekly supplement.”
They were returning home from the theatre and had nearly reached her home, when the young man observed: “Isn’t the weather cold and raw?” She must have misunderstood him. “Raw,” she said, rather hesitatingly. “Yes, I like them raw, but,” she continued, looking sweetly in his eyes, “don’t you think they are nicer fried?” What could he do?
One more unfortunate: Mamma (a widow of considerable personal attractions)—“I want to tell you something, Tommy. You saw that gentleman talking to grandmamma in the other room. Well, he is going to be your new papa. Mamma’s going to marry him.” Tommy (who recollects something of the life his old papa used to lead)—“D-d-does he know it yet mamma?”
“Doctor,” said our young man to a jocular dentist, “I hear you’ve been saying that I’ve got a mouth that always reminds you of the mouth of the Mississippi. Is that so?” “Of course not, my dear boy,” said Burton. “I never said anything so cruel. All I said was that when I was reaching for one of your rear snags I always felt safer when I had a life-preserver around me.”
Queen Victoria took the second prize at the York show with a yearling heifer from her Balmoral farm, and she kicked like a steer because she didn’t get the first. The heifer did, not Victoria. Er himperial majesty kicked too, because the first prize is one shilling thruppence, while the second is only one shilling tuppence happeny, but her protest of course was made in a most majestic and lady-like manner.—Hawkeye.
Some of the richest men in Austin started in life in a very modest way, and are still plain, unpretentious people, but their sons put on a great deal of style. One of the latter, who was better posted about other people’s affairs than his own family’s remarked sneeringly to an acquaintance: “Your father was nothing but a simple stonemason.” “I know where you got that information,” quietly remarked the other. “From whom did I get it?” “From your father.” “How do you know that?” “Because your father used to be my father’s hod-carrier.”
It is a base slander upon the goat to say he eats tomato can labels and circus poster and old hoop skirts and things because he likes them. He is driven to this coarse, and not very nutritious fare, by hard times and destitution. When he can stand on his hind legs and eat his luxurious way along a clothes-line, all the circus posters in the world can’t lure him away from the night shirt and the par boiled sheet. Be just to the goat. And how he does love a coil of manilla rope or a rubber door mat. The fact is, the goat is gifted with a fine rather epicurean taste, and if we could afford to feed him the things he is fond of he would never touch a tomato can.—Hawkeye.
SPECIAL OFFER.
$67 FOR $18!
A Superb New Family
Sewing Machine!
Combining all the most recent improvements, and now selling for $65, is offered by THE PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING COMPANY to subscribers to THE PRAIRIE FARMER
FOR $18,
including one year’s subscription to the paper.
This exceptional offer will remain open for a few days only.
STANDARD BOOKS.
NOW READY FOR DISTRIBUTION
Volumes One and Two
OF THE
NATIONAL REGISTER NORMAN HORSES
The most reliable, concise, and exhaustive history of the horse in general, and by far the most complete and authentic one of the Norman horse in particular, ever published in the United States.
PRICES:
| Volume I | $2 00 |
| Volume II | 1 50 |
When the two volumes are sent in one package to one address, $3.00. Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price.
Address your orders to
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago.
QUINBY’S
New Bee-Keeping,
The Mysteries of Bee-Keeping Explained
Combining the results of fifty years’ experience
with the latest discoveries and inventions
and presenting the most approved
methods, forming
A COMPLETE GUIDE
—TO—
SUCCESSFUL BEE-CULTURE
By L. C. ROOT, Practical Apiarian
With 100 Illustrations.
By mail, prepaid, $1.50. Address
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago.
WINTER GREENERIES AT HOME
By Rev. E. A. JOHNSON, D. D.
A Work on Winter Gardening, giving the Results of Actual Practice.
The author for several years past has found recreation in beautifying his study with plants; his work has resulted in so much enjoyment to himself and his friends that he has been induced to tell what he did and how he did it. The book is not a mere dry set of directions, but its teachings are presented in the pleasant form of letters to some young ladies, who, having witnessed the author’s success, have asked his instruction, and this allows a genial personality to pervade the work, and makes it withal readable as well as instructive. It is a most excellent guide to successful winter gardening, as suited to American homes, with our peculiar domestic surroundings, and those who follow its teachings will reach a satisfactory measure of success. The engravings include several representations of the author’s study. Finely illustrated 12mo. Price, postpaid, $1.
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago.
MISCELLANEOUS.
ONE CENT
invested in a postal card and addressed as below
WILL
give to the writer full information as to the best lands in the United States now for sale; how he can
BUY
them on the lowest and best terms, also the full text of the U. S. land laws and how to secure
320 ACRES
of Government Lands in Northwestern Minnesota and Northeastern Dakota.
ADDRESS:
JAMES B. POWER,
Land and Emigration Commissioner,
ST. PAUL, MINN.
MEDICAL.
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Without Medicine.
A Valuable Discovery for supplying Magnetism to the Human System. Electricity and Magnetism utilized as never before for Healing the Sick.
THE MAGNETON APPLIANCE CO.’s
Magnetic Kidney Belt!
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When any debility of the GENERATIVE ORGANS occurs, Lost Vitality, Lack of Nerve Force and Vigor, Wasting Weakness, and all those Diseases of a personal nature, from whatever cause, the continuous stream of Magnetism permeating through the parts, must restore them to a healthy action. There is no mistake about this appliance.
TO THE LADIES:—If you are afflicted with Lame Back, Weakness of the Spine, Falling of the Womb, Leucorrhœa, Chronic Inflammation and Ulceration of the Womb, Incidental Hemorrhage or Flooding, Painful, Suppressed, and Irregular Menstruation, Barrenness, and Change of Life, this is the Best Appliance and Curative Agent known.
For all forms of Female Difficulties it is unsurpassed by anything before invented, both as a curative agent and as a source of power and vitalization.
Price of either Belt with Magnetic Insoles, $10, sent by express C. O. D., and examination allowed, or by mail on receipt of price. In ordering send measure of waist, and size of shoe. Remittance can be made in currency, sent in letter at our risk.
The Magneton Garments are adapted to all ages, are worn over the under-clothing (not next to the body like the many Galvanic and Electric Humbugs advertised so extensively), and should be taken off at night. They hold their POWER FOREVER, and are worn at all seasons of the year.
Send stamp for the “New Departure in Medical treatment Without Medicine,” with thousands of testimonials.
THE MAGNETON APPLIANCE CO.,
218 State Street. Chicago, Ill.
Note.—Send one dollar in postage stamps or currency (in letter at our risk) with size of shoe usually worn, and try a pair of our Magnetic Insoles, and be convinced of the power residing in our other Magnetic Appliances. Positively no cold feet when they are worn, or money refunded.
MARSHALL M. KIRKMAN’S BOOKS ON RAILROAD TOPICS.
DO YOU WANT TO BECOME A RAILROAD MAN
If You Do, the Books Described Below Point the Way.
The most promising field for men of talent and ambition at the present day is the railroad service. The pay is large in many instances, while the service is continuous and honorable. Most of our railroad men began life on the farm. Of this class is the author of the accompanying books descriptive of railway operations, who has been connected continuously with railroads as a subordinate and officer for 27 years. He was brought up on a farm, and began railroading as a lad at $7 per month. He has written a number of standard books on various topics connected with the organization, construction, management and policy of railroads. These books are of interest not only to railroad men but to the general reader as well. They are indispensable to the student. They present every phase of railroad life, and are written in an easy and simple style that both interests and instructs. The books are as follows:
| “RAILWAY EXPENDITURES—THEIR EXTENT, OBJECT AND ECONOMY.”—A Practical Treatise on Construction and Operation. In Two Volumes, 850 pages. | $4.00 |
| “HAND BOOK OF RAILWAY EXPENDITURES.”—Practical Directions for Keeping the Expenditure Accounts. | 2.00 |
| “RAILWAY REVENUE AND ITS COLLECTION.”—And Explaining the Organization of Railroads. | 2.50 |
| “THE BAGGAGE PARCEL AND MAIL TRAFFIC OF RAILROADS.”—An interesting work on this important service; 425 pages. | 2.00 |
| “TRAIN AND STATION SERVICE.”—Giving The Principal Rules and Regulations governing Trains; 280 pages. | 2.00 |
| “THE TRACK ACCOUNTS OF RAILROADS.”—And how they should be kept. Pamphlet. | 1.00 |
| “THE FREIGHT TRAFFIC WAY-BILL.”—Its Uses Illustrated and Described. Pamphlet. | .50 |
| “MUTUAL GUARANTEE.”—A Treatise on Mutual Suretyship. Pamphlet. | .50 |
Any of the above books will be sent post paid on receipt of price, by
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO.,
150 Monroe St
Chicago, Ill.
Money should be remitted by express, or by draft, check or post office order.
MAP Of the United States and Canada, Printed in Colors, size 4×2½ feet, also a copy of THE PRAIRIE FARMER for one year. Sent to any address for $2.00.
[GENERAL NEWS.]
Boston people propose to have a crematory.
Michigan fruit buds are reported but little damaged by the late freezing.
Ex-Governor John Letcher, of Virginia, is dead.
Kansas corn is being shipped to Wabash, Ind. It sells for 65 cents per bushel.
Gould is reducing the pay of employes along his Southwestern system fifty per cent.
The Virginia House has passed the joint resolution asking Senator Mahone to resign.
The Russian authorities have refused to allow a monument of Luther to be erected at Riga.
The lines of the National Telegraph Company have been absorbed by the Baltimore and Ohio.
Last Saturday night Europe experienced one of the severest gales ever known on that Continent.
The issue of silver dollars for the week ending Jan. 26, was 110,000; corresponding period last year 263,000.
E. M. W. Mackey, the Republican Member of Congress for South Carolina, died at Washington, Monday morning.
Mr. Blaine has introduced into the Senate a bill for the free circulation of newspapers within the States where published.
Fred Douglas, the eloquent African, has astonished the natives by marrying a white woman. He is about 70, she 46 years old.
The bodies of the Jeannette victims have reached Moscow, where the American residents placed flowers and wreathes on the biers.
The Chicago Opera-House Company, with a capital of $600,000, has been incorporated at Springfield by Charles Henrotin, Edward Koch, and others.
The Brigham Young Academy, at Provo, Utah, valued at $30,000, was burned Sunday evening. There were four hundred students in the building. No lives lost.
There are now 7,794 ocean steamers belonging to the different nations. About one half the ocean sailing vessels belong to England. Their total number is 36,194.
The famous Smithson college building at Logansport, Indiana, which is said to be the handsomest structure of its kind in the State, is to be purchased and turned into a normal school.
Articles of incorporation have been filed at New York for the Merchants’ Telegraph and Cable Company; capital stock $13,000,000, with power to increase that sum to, but not beyond $20,000,000.
The discovery of tin at King’s mountain, Cleveland county, N. C., is announced. This is the first discovery of this metal in the United States. The State chemist will make a careful examination.
O. A. Carpenter, suspected of the murder of Zora Burns, at Lincoln, Ill., has been indicted by the grand jury, and is now in jail. It is said that sufficient new evidence to convict him has come to light.
It is believed that an agreement has been reached at Pittsburg between the striking glass-workers and the employers. Great concessions are said to have been made on both sides. The strike has lasted five months.
The sergeant-at-arms of the House of Representatives presents bills for $3,461 for escorting the remains of Representative Haskell to Kansas. Among the items is one of $201 for a lunch before starting from Washington.
The newspapers say that one of the jurors in the Emma Bond case spends considerable time in crying; another runs from his house when visitors approach it, and a third has been dismissed by a beautiful woman to whom he was engaged.
The Hay-Shippers’ Association is getting up a petition to the Canadian Government in regard to the excessive duties charged on hay exported to the United States. It is understood that the Government will present the matter to the Washington authorities.
In the French Chamber of Deputies, Monday, Minister Ferry expressed the opinion that to ameliorate the labor crisis in Paris would be a difficult task. The exports were 1,200,000,000 francs in excess of the imports, he said, and within five years 6,000,000 francs had been expended on buildings for which tenants could hardly be obtained.
Young James Nutt was acquitted of the murder of Dukes on the ground of insanity. An after examination of his condition resulted in a declaration that he is no longer insane. The case is one of wide celebrity. Public opinion justifies the verdict. The President, Secretary Chandler, and ex-Secretary Blaine, also indorse the action of the jury.
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