Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 6 September 1894 — Page 2

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Bernardine leaned over the counter, "And you ought not to be here pow," she said, looking at his thin face. He seemed to have shrunk away since she had last seen him. "I am free to do as I choose," he said. "My mother is dead." "I know," Bernardine said geritly. "But you are not free."

He made no answer to that, but slipped into the chair. "You look tired," he said. "What have you been doing?" "I have been dusting the books," ehe answered, smiling a,t him. "You remember you told me I should be content to do that. The very oldest nnd shabbiest .have had my tenderest care. I found the shop in disorder. You see it now." "I should not call it particularly tidy now," he said grimly. "Still. 1 suppose you have done your best. Well, and what else?" "I have been trying to take care of my old uncle," she said. "We are fjust beginning to understand each other a little. And he is beginning jto feel glad to have me. When I first discovered that, the days became easier to me. It makes us into dignified persons when we find out there is a place for us to fill." "Some people never find it out," he said. "Probably like myself, they went on for along time without caring," she answered. "I thiuk I have had more luck than I deserve." "Well," said the Disagreeable 'Man. "And you are glad to take up your life again?" "No," she said quietly. "I have not 'got as far as that vet. But I believe that after some little time I may be glad: I hope so, I am working for that. Sometimes I begin to have a keen interest in everything. I wake up with an enthusiasm. After about two houx-s I have lost it again." "Poor little child," he said tenderly. "I, too, know what is. But you will get back to gladness not the same kind of satisfaction as before: some other satisfaction, that compensation which is said to be included in the scheme." "And I have begun my book," she said, pointing to a few sheets lying on the counter "that is to say, I have written the prologue." "Then the dusting of the books has not sufficed?" he said, scanning her curiously. "I wanted not to think of myself," Bernardine said. "Now that I have begun it, I shall eujoy going on with it. I hope it will be a companion to me." "I wonder whether you will make a failure or a success of it?" he remarked- "I wish I could have seen." "So you will," she said. "I shall finish it, and you will read it in Petershof." "I shall not be going back to Petershof," he said. "Why should I go there now?" "For the same reason that you went there eight years ago." she said. "I went there for my mother's Bake." he said. "Then you will go there now for my sake," she said deliberately.

Be looked up quickly. "Little Bernardine," he cried, "my iittle Bernardine—is it possible that, you care what becomes of me?"

She had been leaning against the counter, and now she raised herself and stood erect, a proud, dignified little figure. "Yes, I do care," she said simply, and with true earnestness, "I care with all my heart. And even if I did not care, you know you would not be free. You know that, better than I do. .We do not belong to ourselves there are countless people depending on us people whom we have never seen, and whom we neve jhall see. What we do, decides ftat they shall be."

He still did not speak. "But it is not for those others that I plead," she continued. "I plead for myself. I can't spare you, indeed indeed, I can't spare vou!—"

Her voice trembled, but she went on bravely. "So you will go back to the mountains," she said. "You will live out your life like a man. Others may prove themselves cowards, but the Disagreeable Man has a better part to play."

He still did not sy eak. Was it that he could not trust himself to woi'ds? But in that brief time the thoughts which passed through his mind were such as to overwhelm him. A picture rose up before him a picture of a man and woman lead ing their lives together, each happy in the other's love: not a love born of fancy, but a love based on comradeship and true understanding of the soul. The picture faded, and the Disagreeable Man raised his eyes and looked at the little figure standing near him. "Little child, little child," he said wearily, "since it is your wish, I will go back to the mountains."

Then he bent over the counter and put his hand on hers. "I will come and see you tomorrow," he said. "I think there an-e one or two things 1 want to say to you

The next moment he was gone. In the afUraoon of that same day

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BY BEA2A1CK HAHKADEN.

PART

II.—CHAPTER III—Continued.

The Disagreeable Man stood at the Bernardine went to the city. counter. "You little thin^," he said: "I have come to see you. It is eight years since I was in England.

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was not unhappy she had been making plans for herself. She would work hard and fill her life as full as possible. There should be no room for unhealthy thought. She would go and spend her holidays at Petershof. There would be pleasure in that for him and for her. She would tell him so tomorrow. She knew he would be glad. "Above ali," she said to herself, "there shall be no room for unhealthy thought. I must cultivate my garden."

That was what she was thinking of at 4 in the afternoon how she could best cultivate her garden.

At 5 she was lying unconscious in the accident ward of the New Hospital: she had been knocked down by a wagon and terribly injured. "She will not recover," the doctor said to the nurse. You see she is sinking rapidly. Poor little thing!"

At 6 she regained consciousness, and opened her eyes. The nurse bent over her. Then she whispered: "Tell the Disagreeable Man how I wish I could have seen him tomorrow. We had so much to say to each other. And now—"

The brown eyes looked at the nurse so entreatingly. It was a long fime before she could forget the pathos of those brown e}res.

A few minutes later she made another sign as though she wished to speak. Nurse Catherine bent nearer. Then she whispered: "Tell the Disagreeable Man to go back to the mountains, and begin to build his bridge it must be strong and

Bernardine died.

THE BUILDING OP THE BRIDGE.

Robert Allitsen came to the old bookshop to see Zerviah Holme before returning to the mountains. He found him reading Gibbon. These two men had stood by Bernardine's grave. "I was beginning to know her," the old man said. "I have always known her," thq young man replied. "I cannot remember a time when she has not been a part of my life." "She loved you," Zerviah said. "She was telling me so the very morning when you came."

Then, with a tenderness which was almost foreign to him, Zerviah told Robert Allitsen how Bernardine had opened her heart to him. She had never loved any one before but she had loved the Disagreeable Man. "I did not love him because I was sorry for him," she had said. "I loved him for himself."

Those were her very words. "Thank you," said the Disagreeable Man. "And God bless you for telling me."

Then he added: "Thcr^ were some few loose sheets of paper on the counter. She had begun her book. May I have them?"

Zerviah placed them in his hand. "And this photograph," the old man said kindly. "I will spare it for you." "The picture of the little thin, eager face was folded up with the papers.

The two men parted. Zerviah Holme went back to his Roman History. The Disagreeable Man went back to the mountains, to live his life out there, and to build his bridge, as we all do, whether consciously or unconsciously. If it breaks Wn we build it again. "We will build it stronger this time," we say to ourselves.

So we begin once more. We are very patient. And meanwhile the years pass.

THE END.

JUDGING BY APPEARANCES. London Fun.

Little Tommy, being taken to the theater for the first time, and seeing from the pit the ^ell-known Lady Dashe in a private box, afterward refers to her as "That woman whn was on the first floor taking a bath."

Senators Quay and Vest are the closest of friends for men in hostile camps, and a scheme of one usually gets the support of the other by system of comity which prevails in higher politics. Both are good sto-ry-tellers, and have a quiet, dro.l way of putting things that carries point with little difficulty.

Dr. Kuno Fischer, the famous pi-o fessor of philosophy at the University of Heidelberg, celebrated the seventieth anniversary of his birth the other day. The freedom of the citv was conferred upon him, and tin Grand Duke of Baden gave him tin golden chain with the Grand Cilr* of the Order of the Zahringer Lun

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SALTATIOFS FREE.

'"Without Money and "Without Price."

Paul's Advice to tlie Pliillpplan Jallnr— Dr. Talnmge's Sermon For the .• l'resa.

The Rev. Dr.*Talmage, who is still absent in the south Pacific, selected: as the subject of last Sunday's ser-. mon through the press "The Rescue," the text chosen being Acts', xvi, 31. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."

Jails-are dark, dull, damp, loath-' some places even now, but they were worse in the apostolic times.' I imagine today we are standing in' the Phillippian dungeon. Do you not feel the chili? Do you not hear the groans of those incarcerated ones who

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sunlight and the deep sigh of women who remember their father's house1 and mourn over their wasted es-j tates? Listen again. It is the cough of a consumptive or the strug-. gle of one in the nightmare of a great horror. You listen again and hear a culprit, his chains rattling as he rolls over in his dreams, and voui say, "God, pity the prisoner." But' there is another sound in that prison., It is the song of joy and gladness.. What a place to sing in! The music, comes winding through the corridors! of the prison, and in all the darkwards the whisper is heard. What's that? What's that?"

It is the song of Paul and Silas.. They cannot sleep. They have been' whipped, very badly whipped. The long gashes un their backs are bleeding yet. They lie flat on the cold grouud, their feet fast in wooden sockets, and of course they cannot1 sleep. But they can sing. Jailer, what are you doing with these peo-' pie? Why have they been put in here? Oh, they have been trying to* make the world better. Is that all? That is all. A pit for Joseph, a lion's! cave for Daniel, a blazing furnace for Shadrach, clubs for John Wesley, an anathema for Philip Melanchthon, a dungeon for Paul and Silas.

But while we are standing in the gloom of the Philippian dungeon,, and we hear the mingling voices of1 sob and groan and blasphem}' and hallelujah, suddenly the doors swing open.

Then I see the jailer running thi'ough the dust and amid the ruin, of that:prison, and I see him throwing himself down at the feet of these prisoners, crying out: "What shall' 1 do? What shall I do?" .Did Paul answer, "Get out of this place before there is another earthquake. Put handcuffs and hopples on these other prisoners before they get away?" No word of that kind. His compact/ thrilling, tremendous answer, an-, swer memorable all through earth and heaven, was, "Believe on the: Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."

There are some documents of solittle importance that you do not' care to put any more than your last name under them, or even your ini tials, but there are some documents of so great importance that you write out your full name. So theSavoir in some parts of the Bible is, called "Lord," arid in other parts of: the Bible He is called "Jesus," and in other parts of the Bible He is' called "Christ," but that there mightbe no mistake about this passage all three names come together, "the Lord Jesus Christ."

Now, who is this being that you, want me to trust in and believe in? Men sometimes come to me with, credentials and certificates of good! character, but I cannot tr«st thern.j There is some dishonesty in their, looks that I shall be cheated if I con-j fide in them. You cannot put your' hearts confidence in a man until voui know what stuff he is made of, and! urn I unreasonable when I stop to ask you who this is that you want' me to trust in? No man would think1' of venturing his life on a vessel go-: ingoutt-o sea, that had never been inspected.

When, then, I ask you who is this' you want me to trust in you tell me he is a very attractive person. Con-| temporary writers describe his whole appearance as being., resplendent. There was no need for Christ to tell1 the children to come to Him. "Suffer little children to come unto Me," was not spoken to the children. It? was spoken to the' disciples. The? children came readily enough with-j out any invitation. No sooner dicf Jesus appear than the little onesi jumped from their mothers' arms,' an avalanche of beauty and love, in-, to His lap. Christ did not ask John: to put his head down on His bosom John could not help but put his head there. I suppose a look at Christ was just to love Him. How attract-^ ive His manner! Why, when they! saw Christ coming along the street, they ran into their houses, and they! wrapped up their invalids as quick as they could and brftught them out', that lie might look at them. ]n addition to this softness of ehaiv aeter there was a fiery momentum.. How the kings of the earth turned) pale! Here is a plain man wit'n al few sailors at his back coming off the Sea of Galilee, going up to fhe palace of the Ca3sars, making that pal-: ace quake to the foundations and ut-v tering a word of mercy ahd kindnessj which throbs through all the earthi and through all the heavens, and through all ages, Oh, He was a lov,'ing Christ. But it was effeminacy! |or insipidity of character. Tt was 'accompanied with majesty infinite |and omnipotent. Lest the world (should not realize his earnestness, 'this Christ mounts the cross.

I think there are many under the'^ I influence- of t.he spirit*# God

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saying, "I will trust Him if you wii only tell me how," and the great question asked by many is, "How, how?" And while I answer your question I look up and utter the prayer which Rowland Hill so often 'uttered in the midst of his sermons, "Master, help!" How are you to trust in Christ?

Just as you trust anyone. You itrust your partner in business with important things. If a commercial house gives you a note payable three months hence, you expect the payment of that note at the end of three 'months. You have perfect confidence in their word and-their ability. Or, again, you go home today. You expect there will be food on the table. You have confidence in that. Now, I ask you to have the same confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ. "Oh." says some one, in a light way, "I believe that Christ was born 'in Bethlehem, and I believe that he died on the cross." Do you believe it with your head or your heart? I will illustrate the difference. You are in your own house. In the morn:ing you open a newspaper, and you read how Capt. Braveheart on the !sea risked his life for the salvation of 'lus passengers. You say: "What a .'grand fellow he must have been! 'His family deserves very .well of the [country." You fold the newspaper |and sit down at the table and perhaps do not think of that incident again. That is historical fath.

But now j'ou are on the sea, and it is night and you are asleep, and you arc awaked by the shriek of "Fire!" You rush out on deck. You hear amid the wringing of the hands mid the fainting, the cry: "No hope! No hope! We are lost! We are lost!" The sail puts out its wing of fire, the ropes make a burning ladder in the night heavens, the spirit of wrecks hisses in the wave and on the hurricane deck shakes out its banner of Smoke and darkness. "Down with the lifeboats!" crk the captain. "Down with the lifeboats!" People rush invito them. The boats are about full. Room only for one more man. You arc standing on the deck with the captain.

Who shall it be? You or the captain? The captain says, "You." You jump and are saved. He stands there and dies. Now, you believe that Capt. Braveheart sacrificed himself for his passengers, but you •believe it with love, with tears, with Tiot and long continued exclamations, with grief at his loss and joy at your deliverance.

Oh, was there ever a prize proffered so cheap as pardon and heaven are offered to you? For how much? :A million dollars? It is certainly worth more than that. But cheaper than that you can have it. Ten thousand dollars? Less than that. Five thousand dollars? Less than that. One dollar? Less than that. One farthing? Less than that. "Without money and without price." No money to pay, no journey to take. No penance to suffer. Only just one decisive action of the soul, "Believe ou the Lord Je{sus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."

Shall I try to tell you what it is to be saved? I can not tell you. But I can hint at it, for my text brings me up to this point, "Thou shalt be saved." It means a happy life here, and a peaceful death and a blissful eternity. It is a grand thiug to go to sleep at night and to get up in the morning and to do business all day, feeling that all is right between my heart and God. No accident, no sickness, no persecution, no peril, no sword, can do me any permanent damage. I am a forgiven child of 'God. and Pie is bound to see me through. He has sworn Pie will see me through. The mountains may depart, the earth may burn, the light of the stars may be blown out by the blast of the judgment hurricane, but life and death, things present and things to come, fare Mine. Yea, further than that, It means a peaceful death. Death is •loathsomeness and midnight and the 'wringing of the heart until the tendrils snap and curl in the torture unless Christ shall be with us. I •confess to you an infinite fear, a con--suming horror of death unless Christ 'shall be with me. I-would rather go down into a cave of wild beasts or a. jungle of reptiles than into the grave unless Christ goes' with me. Will you tell me. that I am to be carried out from my "bright home and put away in the darkness? I cannot: •bear darkness. At the first corning jof the evening I must have the gas lighted, and the. farther on in life I get the more I like to have my friends round about me.

And so there are hearts here that are utterly broken down bv the bereaveinents of life. I point you today to the eternal balm of heaven. Oh, aged men aud women who have 'knelt at the throne of grace for threescore years and ten, will not your decreptitude change for the leap of la heart when you come to look face to face upon him whom having not :seen you love? Oh, that you will be Ithe Good Shepherd, not in •the night and watching to Ikeep off the wolves, but jwitn the larb reclining on the sunlit thill. That will be the captain of our 'salvation, not amid the roar and [crash and boom of battle, but amid 'his disbanded troops keeping victorious festivity. That will be the bridegroom of the church upon his arm while he looks down into her face and isa.ys: "Behold, thou art fair, my Hove! Behold, thou art fair!"

The New Word "Ho!(."

PhiitKlclphiu Press.

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The new word for tramps,' 'hoi a corruption of "hoe-bovs," a rphr^se used" in the South for "the {peripatetic agricultural laborers" employed in the South during tbo Sanson when cotton is growing.

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FARMS ANp FARMERS.

FARM rcONOMIES.

Mr. Asher M^.ttison, in an institute paper upon "Farm Economies," says: "Farming being no longer the simole business of raising grain and selling it that our fathers followed, but now having manufacturing and merchandizing added to it, is more complex, and requires, therefore, different management and a much greater attention to the details, and caiis for a more systematic and riirid economy. By economy I do not mean mere saving of money, for that is not always economy but the spending of money so that it produces an increasing return and leaves a profit upon the investment. What a farmer now most needs to study is how to produce more from the same amount of land without materially increasing the cost. All farmers that I have known to be successful have not only favored producing the greatest amount from their farms in the year, but to leave the ground in a condition to produce a greater amount the next year and the year after and so on. "In all other forms of production there must be the same plan of the getting the most one can. for the least expenditure of labor and fertilizer. Use labor and fertilizers as long as'they bring good profits and then quit. ..

"As to farmers' horses and machinery, it is economy to have irood enough to do the work in proper time and to keen them in good condition. Poor horses cost as much to keep as good ones, aud are less able to do the work. Poor machinery breaks at the time you need it most, entailing loss of time and waste. "Having grown the crops, the next thing is either to turn the coarse fodder and straw, and ail unsalable material, into some more valuable product, as for instance, milk, pork, lambs, eggs. etc.. or to waste it, which a very large number of farmers do. I have found that in marketing crops it is good economy to have a first-class article to sell. Have your hay cut in time and free from weeds, then you can charge your regular customers a little extra price because it is a superior article. Try to grow smooth potatoes if you can, those that look well, as they sell better, and there is as much in selling as growing things. Many farmers get about 10 per cent, above the average price because they have good goods and and know how to sell them. The extra price is generally received without extra expense and shows good economy.

Study the feeding of your stock, so that each one receives about what can be profitably consumed. I have often seen one animal have too much feed and one close by not nearly enough. Sell unprofitable stock as soon as possible, as they are a constant drain upon the profitable ones. "The financiering methods of most farmers are bad. do not suppose there is any one thing that would be so great a benefit to them as to pay for things when they are bought, as they would then buy for less money. It is poor economy to give notes for merchandise in any form, for you pay from 12 to 20 per cent, interest, which no farmer can afford. If you need to borrow money go to the bank for it, as it is their business to lend it, but it is not the business of millers, storekeepers, fertilizer and machinery men to keep a bank account with customers, and if they do the customer pays roundly for it, if he pays at all. "Avoid public sales unless you want something special. They are a waste of time and money, and even if you go late you will be in time to indorse some one's note, who will, perhaps, forget to pay it. "I have not said anything about that part of the business that farmers' wives manage, for they are not only better looking and more agreeable than their husbands, but also more economical."

TIMBER cm,TURK.

A Kentucky correspondent of "Meehan's Monthly," has three acres of black walnut, planted from nuts some six years ago, in marked out rows, as if for Corn four feet apart. As they will naturally be too thick for permanent forest, he inquires if every other one could be transplanted. It would probably be better to sow another lot in eight-feet squares.

It has never been decided in American forestry what is the best width to make the original planting. Eurppean works recommend to plant thickly, and make profit out of thinnings. But this will not do in 'America. The removal of the "brush" from the thinnings would be costly—and to leave it to rot furnishes food for forest fires. On the other hand, if set too wide apart,the side branches grow too strong, and thetrunlifurnishes timber too knotty. What is just the medium distance to plant so that thinning shall not be required, and yet have the trunk grow tall and staight, with few strong side branches to make knots? Does anybody know?

The National Farmers' Congress will hold its fourteenth annual session in Parkersburg, W. Va., Oct. 3-6. The congress is composed of delegates from each State and Territory, named by the governor thereof, each State and Territory being entitled to as many delegates as it has United States Senators and Congressmen. Besides these each State Board of Agriculture sends a delegate. Amopg the speakers thus far named is Hon. Will B. Powell, member of the Pennsylvania State board from Crawford county. .n

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WORE BLOOMERS LONG AGO.

The Woman After "Whom the Drew Was Named. Living in Iowa.

Not many people know how th^ name of bloomer came to be applied to the style of woman's dress some-i times called the divided skirt, Mrs.. Amelia Bloomer, after whom the* garment was christened, lives with! her husband in Council Bluffs, their residence to-day being the one ia' which they took up their abode forty) years ago, when Council Bluffs, nowj a city of 25,000 people, was a somewhat straggling village of 300 souls.} Mrs. Bloomer, now seventy-six,

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years old, carries her years easily, her fifty-four years of married Ufa having been unmarred by any other than the fleeciest of temporary clouds. It was iti 1S')1 that she began 10 \»ear the costume which is now known throughout the Englishspeaking world as the bloomer. Slnj was then living at Seneca Falls, N. Y., where she was publishing a temperance paper cailed the Lily. In addition to being a prohibition advocate the paper also devoted considerable space to t.he subject of woman suffrage. A Mrs. Miller, who in 1851 paid a visit to Seneca Falls, appeared in the bifurcated dress, and Mrs. Bloomer published a description of it. She and Elizabeth Cady Stanton adopted the style and advocated its general adoption. Mrs. Bloomer wore th? costume on several lecture trips, and in this way it became associated with and finally known by her name. By and by Horace Greely took the subject up, and was followed by other editors, the result being that the bifurcated dress became known all over tliti country as the bloomer.

.JOHN BULL IX AFRICA.

The Crafty Old Gentleman Now Owns 1,400,000 Square Miles.

Omaha Bee.

The latest acquisition of African territory gives Great Britain an unbroken line across the length of Africa from the Mediterranean and the Nile to the extreme point of the continent. In all, this territory, held in various ways, from Cape Colony up to the "occupation" of Egypt, is in extent about 1.400,000 square miles, and has a population of 30. 000,000. In the Nile valley it includes incomparably the best of north Africa. In Uganda it holds: the key to the lakes of central Africa, nearly as large as our own lake system. The new treaty gives it the high land west of Lake Tanganyika, considerably higher and healthier than the eastern, in German hands. The new conquests of the BritishSouth Africa Company add the great tablelands to the interior of subtropical Africa, in much of which whito men live. Lastly, there is Cape Colony, the only vital European settlement in all Africa. As it stands, this great highway holds two-thirds of all of Africa in which Europeans can live and carry on efficient administration. It' has the most fertile tract, in the continent in Egypt, its healthiest in Cape Town, its. greatest gold mines, and the only region from which tropical Africa can be controlled. Still more important- is its relation to African water courses. A steamer can start' at Alexandria and run, when the Mahdt's successor is cleared away, to a point on Albert Edward Nyanza one hundred and twenty-five miles from Lake Tanganyika. This runs to within seventy miles of Lake Nv-/ assa. From this lake the Shire riverbroken at Merehison Falls, descends,, to the Zambesi and the Indian ocean. From a navigable point on the Congo it is less than one hundred miles to Lake Tanganyika. The Aruwina runs as near the Nile. It is possible to start at the mouth of the Zambesi and reach the mouth of the Congo or Nile with less than two hundred miles of land travel, and the key and&f center to this great system is now in English hands.

Well Known.

White Plains Weekly.

Poet—That's all right. My name is known wherever the English language is spoken. "Ah, indeed! "What is your name?" "John Smith."

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"T want you t^ publish these poems in book form," said a seedy looking man to a New York publisher.

Publisher—I'll look over them, but I can not promise to bring them out unless you have a well known name.

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