Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 August 1893 — Page 6

AN OLD TIME HOSTESS.

' The Strong Minded Woman of - - Bible Timesrrr^fe—: Tho Hospitable Matron Who Entertained Elisha When Ho Journeyed to Shuneni. Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at Brooklyn, last Sunday. Subject: A Great Woman.” Text: II Kings iv, B—“ And it fell on a. v day that Elisha passed to Shunem. where was a great woman." Here comes Elisha, a servant of the Lord, on a divine mission, and he must find shelter. A balcony overlooking the valley of Esdraelon is offered him, in a private house, and it is especially furnished for his occupancy—a chair to sit on, a table from which to eat, a candlestick by which to read and a bed on which to slumber, the whole establishment belonging toa great and good woman. Her husband, it seems, was a godly man. but he was entirely overshadowed by his wife’s excellencies. If a man marry a good honest soul, he makes his fortune. If he marry a fool the Lord help him! The wife may be the silent partner in the firm, there may be only masculine voices down on exchange, but there oftentimes comes from the home circle a potential and elevating influence. This woman of my text was the superior of her husband. Her name has not come down to us. She belongs to that collection, of people who need no name td distinguish them. In the first place she was great in her hospitalities. Uncivilized and barbarous nations honor this virtue. Jupiter had the surname of the hospitable, and he was said especially to avenge the wrongs of strangers. Homer extolled it in his verse. The Arabs are punctilious upon this subject. Again, this woman in my text was great in her kindness toward God’s messenger. Elisha may have been a stranger in that household, but as she found out he had come on a divine mission he was cordially welcomed. We have a great many books in our day about the hardships of ministers and the trials of Christian ministers. I wish somebody would write a book about the joys Qf the Christian minister, about the sympathies all around him, about the kindnesses, about the genial considerations of him. This woman of the text was only a type of thousands of men and wo- • ’men who come down from the man-* sion and from the cot to do kindness to the Lord's servants. I suppose the men of Shunem had to pay the bills, but it was the large-hearted Christian sympathies of the women of Shunem that looked after the Lord’s messenger. Again, the woman in the text was great in her behavior under* trouble. Her only son had died on her lap. A very bright light went out in that household. The .sacred writer puts it very tersely when he says: ’Tie sat on her knees until noon, and then he died.” But, thank God, there are those who can conquer as this woman of the text conquered, and say“lt is well! though my property be gone, though my children be gone, though my health be sacrificed, it is well, it is well!” There is no storm on the sea but Christ is ready to rise in the hinder part of the ship and hush it. There4s no darkness but the- constellations of God’s eternal love can illuminate it, and though the winter comes out of the northern sky all ablaze with auroras that seem to say: “Come up this way, <Up this wav are thrones of light, and seas of sapphire, and the splendor of an I eternal heaven. Come up this way. ” I heard an echo of my text in a very dark hour, when my father lay dying, and the old country minister said to him, ‘’Mr. Talmage, how do you feel now as you are about to pass the Jordan of death?” He replied—and it was the last thing he. ever said —“I feel well: I feel very well; all is well.” lifting up his hand in benediction, a speechless benediction. which I pray God may go down through all the generations. It was well! Again, this woman of my text was great in her application to domestic duties. Every picture is a home picture, whether she is entertaining an Elisha or whether whether she is giving careful attention to her sick boy, or whether she is appealing for the restoration of her property — every picture in her case is a home picture. Those are not disciples of the Shunemite woman who, going out to attend to outside charities, neglect the duty of home —the duty of wife, of mother, of daughter. No faithfulness in public benefaction can ever atone for domestic negligence.

There has been many a mother who by indefatigable toil has. reared a large family of children, equipping them for the duties of life, with good mantiers and large intelligence and Christian principle, starting them out, who has done more for the world than many another woman whose name has sounded through all the lands and through all centuries. When this prophet wanted to reward her for her hospitality by asking some preferment from the king, what did she say? She declined it. She said, “I dwell among my own people” —as much as to say: “I am satisfied with my lot. All I want is my family and my friends around me. I dwell among my own peoHow many there are who want to get great architecture, and homes furnished with all art. all painting, all statuary, who have

not enough taste to distinguish between Gothic .and Byzantine,and wKo could not tell a figure in plaster of paris from Palmer’s “White Captive,” and Bierstadt’s “Yosemite”— men who buy large libraries by the square foot, buying these libraries when they have hardly enough education to pick out the day of the almanac! Oh, how many there are striving to have things as well as their neighbors, or better than Ifheir neighbors, and in the strugglejvast fortunes a#=e exhausted and business firms thrWh into bankruptcy and men of reputed honesty rush into astounding forgeries! Yea, the woman of the text was great in her piety. Faith in God, and she was not afraid to talk about it before idolaters. Ah, woman will never appreciate what she owes to Christianity until she knows and sees the degredation of her sex under pagan ism and Mohammedaqism. Her very birth considered a m&fortune. She like cattle in the shambles. Slave of all work, and at last her body fuel for the funeral pyre of her husband. Above the shriek of the fire worshipers in India and above the rumblings of the jugger nauts, I hear the million, voiced groan of wronged, insulted, bre kenhearted, downtrodden woman. Her tearshave fallen in th* Nile land Tigris and the La Plata, and on the steppes of Tartary. She hasbeeriidishonored in Turkish garden and Persian palace and Spanish alhambra. Her little ones have been sacrificed in the Ganges. There is npt a groan, or a dungeon, or an island, or a mountain, or a river, or a lake, or a sea but could tell a story of the outrages heaped upon her. About eighty-seven years ago and just before their marriage day, my father and mother stood up in the old meeting house at Summerville,N. J., and took upon them the vows, of the Christians. Through a long life of vicissitude she lived harmlessly and usefully and came to her end in peace. No child of want ever came to her door and was turned empty away. No one in sorrow came to her but was comforted. No one asked her the way to be saved, but she pointed him to the cross. When the angel of life came to a neighbor’s dwelling she was there to rejoice at the starting -of another immortal spirit. When the angel of death came to a neighbor’s dwelling she was there to robe the departed for the burial. We had often heard her when leading family prayers in the absence of my father say, “O Lord. I ask not for my children wealtn or honor,but Ido ask that they all may be the subjects of Thy comforting grace!” Her eleven children brought into the kingdom of God, she had but one more wish, and that was that she might see her long absent missionary son, and when the ship from China anchored in New York harbor and the long-absent one passed over the threshold of his paternal home she said, “Now, Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.” The prayer was soon answered. It was an autumnal day when we gathered from afar and found only the house from which the soul had fled forever. She looked very natural, the hands very much as when they were employed in kindness for her children. W hatever else we forgot, we never forgot the look of mother’s hands. As we stood there .by the casket we could not help but sav, "Don't she look beautiful?” It was a cloudless day when with heavy hearts we carried her out to the last resting place. The withered leaves crumbled under hoof and wheel as we passed and the sun shone on the Raritan river until it looked like fire. But more calm and beautiful and radiant was the setting sun of that aged pilgrim’s life. No more toil, no more sickness, no more tears, no more death. Dear mother! Beautiful mother!

THAT DREADFUL DITTY.

‘•A lit-tie maiden climbed an old man's knac"— That is the tune, now, from which we flee— Sung by our sweetheart, hummed by her ma, Howled by her brother, whistled by Pa: Thumped on Plano, thumbed on guitar. Driven to madness, where'er we are. •T.ist to my story. I'll tell it all" How we have suffered—" After the ball. " Brickbats a-flashing under the moon. Teeth are a-gnash ng, caused by thia tune: Cats are a-tlghting. dogs howl with pain. Street cars a-smashing. pleadings ate vain. Dong hours have passed, pet: I've gone to bed, Still that cursed jingle batters my head, Hor-ri-ble torture, dainna-ble squall. We can't esehpe it—" After the ball.” When will this bawl be over? When will the daylight dawn? When will the singers perish? When will the plague be gone? Wh»n will relief come, if come at all? Shall we go crazy. "After the ball"?

The Only Theory.

New York Weekly. Housekeeper— I think you charge a perfectly awful price for salt pork. Dealer —It’s worth it mum. housekeeper—lt is, eh? Then you must have bought that salt at a drug store.

The Conscientious Dealer.

New York Weekly. Indignant Female -That lairipydu sold me exploded, and burned down the house. Dealer—Well, mum I'll- give you a new one. “A new house?” “A new lamp.” Citizen —How long will it take you to drive to Park place? Cabman (tentatively) —Are yeh goin’ to pay by th T mile, or by the hour?- • .

In a Measure Prepared.

Chicago Reoord. - ■ ■ Maud—l don’t see how men can bear to watch a prize fight.. Ellen —Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen a session of the board of lady managers.

MUSINGS OF A MIRROR.

Chicago Newt. ‘ ~ Here I stand in this old shop, surrounded by all sorts of east-off furniture. The carvings on my frame are etched in gray with the dust of many years and the brilliancy of my face is partially gone, giving me an appearance anything but like the reflective beauty of-my youthful days. My owner’s customers do not speak of me in enthusiastic praise, as they do of these bld spinningwheels and grand-father’s clocks around me, for lam not quite old enough to be considered valuable as an “antique,” and still my history may be as interesting as that of my-fellow-objects. Away back in the years I stood in the boudoir of a beautiful maiden. Daily she looked into my face and I in return scanned her closely and saw that her sweet face was the truthful outward indication of a beautiful mind and true heart. I watched her progress from girlhood to womanhood as one would note the gradual unfolding of a bud into the half-blown blossom. My Gladys was one of those magnetic creatures who unconsciously attract everyone with whom they come in contact; her friends were innumerable and her girlhood passed with only happiness and freedomfroffi care. It did not seem strange to me knowning as I did the beauty and goodness of Gladys, that many /lovers should come to woo her. One May day when all nature/s creatures were awakening with new life and the trees and vines about the old home were donning new coats of green, she came to me and as the beautiful eyes looked into my face I saw that something unusual had happened. Always bright and happy, Gladys was never more so than now; a tender light shone in her eyes. I saw her take from her bosom a letter, which she read slowly then pressed to her lips. “Ah!” I thought, “I have seen tnls experience come into other maidens, perhaps to mark the beginning of their greatest happiness and again. * * Well —my prayer is that this dear girl may know love only as a blessing.” As time passed my wish was most abundantly fulfilled. I could see the expression of perfect trust and content upon her face and knew that her lover was in every way worthy of her. ? That summer passed with a fleetness never before known by those happy lovers. From the window opposite which I stood I could see them, now strolling through the shady wood on the other side of the road’ again on horseback, cantering along the shady bridle paths; sometimes with a gay party of young friends, but more often those two alone. But, alas! there came a day when trouble forced his unwelcome presence upon them and wove about them his threads of suspense and perplexity, until their meshes were so closely latticed there seemed to be no way out. Hope forsook them and the happy light died out of her eyes. War, cruel war, whose muttered threats we had long striven to forget, had at last begun to execute his terrible promises. For months complications had been arising and our once peaceful country was transformed into a woful state of dissension. Even in our quiet little village, so secluded from the noise and turmoil of the world, we began to hear mutterings of terrible things. Before we realized the terrible truth that war was upon us, mustering officers came and after a day or two left, bearing upon their rolls the names qf our brighest and bravest men. Gladys’ lover was among the number of loyal men who are willing if necessary, to sacrifice all for their country’s sake. One gloomy day she came into her room and as she passed me I saw that her eyes were heavy and tremulous with tears; the look of misery on her face I shall never forget. She seemed to be in the deepest despair. I knew at once that the day of sorrow had come —Gladys and her lover had parted —perhaps for ever. “I would not have you otherwise than loyal, dear,” she had said to him; “but it is agony —this struggle between our patriotism and our love for each other.”

In his reply there seemed an effort to be hopeful. “Sweetheart, I will surely return. Then think of our joy in a future together.” “I cannot believe it. My heart tells me that I shall never see you again," she sorrowfully replied. His words of hope and comfort were of no avail, and with her heart crushed with haunting forebodings the last sad words of farewell were spoken, vows of eternal fidelity exchanged, and he was gone. None but I knew of the nights of grief she passed in secret. How in utter hopelessness she would moan: “Oh; my heart is broken!" I often wished that I might lose my brightness so that I could not reflect her sad, sweet face and remind her of her trouble. So often I have beard old people say to the young. “Now is your happy time. You will never be as free from trouble as you now are.” What a mistake! Youth has its troubles and they fall so heavily. Ripened years and their attendant experiences teach the lesson of rest ignation. Youth struggles to escape the learning. i I hoped so earnestly that Gladys might again be the happy girl of yore, and that even the memory of

her grief might be effaced by the joyful return of het soldier lover. Now and then cheering Tetters would come, and for a long time she seemed more like her old, happy self.. , .. Oh, that I could blot from my iny memory that awful day when the news of a terrible battle reached us and we read the names of our noblest men among the killed and wounded. The words spoken by Gladys, so sadly prophetic on that day of farewell, were realized. She would never again* see her loVer in this world. True, she might look upon his earthly body, but his soul and heart, plighted to her, she must not know again until in “the life to come.”

They brought his poor, wounded body home wrapped in the colors which he had so bravely defended. Sind in the village churchyard, where he and Gladys had so often strolled on the peaceful Sabbath, they buried him. After the first great wave of anguish had swept over her face she seemed greatly changed. The radiance was gone forever from her face, but in its place was an expression of gentle resignation.

-The thought of a day to come when she and her lover would be reunited in that happy land where death, the cruel separator of loving hearts has no power to enter, was a sweet and comforting one. It was this belief that made her life worth living and heaven a more tangible, realistic thing than her former visionary idea of the hereafter.

Sorrow did not make Gladys selfish; her time was spent in devotion to others. How many weary, sick and poverty stricken people were helped by her gentle words of encouragement, tender sympathy and substantial aid none will ever know but God. Often when weary with her labors of the day I would see her reading and musing over an old letter. I noticed that there were curious reddish stains upon the paper; then I knew that Gladys was living over in momory the happy and sad times before this unfinished letter had reached her in the unexpected sad way. They had found it on the bosbm of her dead lover and these last penciled words were words of undying affection for her. Of later years I saw Gladys but rarely, for I had been removed to an attic chamber, whqre, for want of communication with the present and its happenings, I was left to ponder on the past. At last a day came when I was rudely awakened from my reverie and I gradually realized that I was to leave the old home forever.

Then I was carried down-stairs into the hall I remembered of having passed through when I was brought into the house years before —a handsome new mirror then, and very ornamental. As the men were taking me out of the door I again saw my Gladys and I rejoiced greatly, for I had feared I was never to see her again. In the fleeting glimpse of her I saw that her beautiful tendfer eyes were still the same, but the dusky tresses I remembered so well were changed. Time had whitened them with the touch of his frosty fingers, but the change had only enhanced her beauty. I thought I saw an expression of regret pass over her face. Was she thinking of the days of her youth and happiness and how closely we had been associated in that glad time?

I love to think so and believe she was sad to see me taken away. Well they brought me to this dusty shop. People as they pass me say: “What an old-fashioned mirror!” and do not hesitate to remind me that my days of usefulness are gone forever. But I do not mind it, I have been accorded a great privilege in my time, one not often bestowed upon these animate objects that pass me by so indifferently, but if bestown the priviis not appreciated. I have beheld one of the rarest attributes of the human soul —constancy.

Rain’s Horn Wrinkles.

When men stop climbing they begin to fall. Some people talk most about what they know least. No good man ever dies without making people rich. Vinegar in a jug is a good thing, but in people it is a nuisance. c Conviction means nothing until it expresses itself in conduct. You can not tell how sharp a dog’s teeth are by the way he barks. The man who loves right loves God, whether he knows it or not. There is no sinner more dangerous than the highly respectable one. A woman sometimes says more in a look than a man can do in a book. When we look at the mountain it •grows, but when we look at God it goes. A fanatic is a man who takes a burning interest in something we don’t like. " There are sermonff in stones only for the man who knows how to break them np. Christ ate with publicans and sinners, but he never took a meal with a hypocrite. When a woman throws a stone or drives a nail she does it as though her life depended on it. Many a man would find that a window in heaven would soon open, if he would but stop grumbling and begin to praise his wife. If some Christians were as anxious to get out to prayer meeting on a wst night as they are to show off in a procession, how soon the devil would begin to run.

FARMS AND FARMERS.

Angu»t on the Farm. Philadelphia Record. The crop grown on a field this fear takes only a portion of certain plant foods and almost wholly appropriates some other elements. A different crop next year may find an abundance of plant food in those substances which were not used by the previous crop. Plant food may ilso exist plentifully, yet be in such 1 condition that the crop cannot draw upon it. The farmer can change the form of the food, and also add to the fertility of the soil, by a system of rotation. He can also perform a large share of the duty of increasing fertility by preparing his land in the fall and growing green manurial crops to feed his soil for the next season. When a field is turned over to weeds it is still growing a crop and exhausting the soil. It is better to grow a crop for manure and at the same time destroy the weeds. Rye can be seeded down in the fall and plowed under in time for corn in the spring. The difficulty in the way is that farmers will be tempted to allow the rye to mature and cut it as a crop. All unoccupied land should be plowed, harrowed and left untouched for two or three weeks, when it should be worked over with the cultivator, broadcasted with twenty bushels of lime per acre, harrowed and seeded to rye. This will kill the weeds on the land, and the rye may be used for late pasturage, and also as the first early green food before grass appears in the spring. But, above all, turn the rye under in' the spring, first allowing it to grow as much as possible, but not to produce seed. If preferred, it may be turned under during an earlier stage of growth. The object of the crop is to destroy weods and to add vege-. table matter to the soil.

By fall plowing and seeding down to rye, two crops will be turned under —weeds and rye. There may be little or nothing added to the soil, as the green food is derived from the soil itself during growth, though something may be gained by the appropriation of the free nitrogen of the atmosphere, but the roots of the various kinds of weeds draw upon both the soil and the sub-soil, converting insoluble substances into plant food, and also feeding upon the nitrogen brought down by the rains as ammonia or nitric acid, which are returned to the soil when the weeds are plowed under, while the stirring of the soil permits the seeds of the weeds to germinate and be destroyed when the rye is seeded down. As rye feeds on different foods from that preferred bv many of the weeds, it will also convert inert matter into plant food, by storing it in the stocks, so that when corn is planted on top the rye, in the spring, the land will have increased in fertility and the yield of corn will be larger. The greatest benefit, however, will be secured by the destruction of the weeds, and the lime will exert a chemical effect on the soil that will greatly assist in changing the character of the plant food. Dairy Testa at Chicago. / The public tests of the Jersey cattle at the World’s Fair, though conducted with the object of securing a record for the breed, are none the less interesting to all who are engaged in dairying. There is a large herd of them at the Fair, and it is composed of selections from the best cows on the farms of many breeders, quite a number of States being represented. It is true that these cows do not give the results boasted of in the private tests of their owners, or when the tests were made under the auspices of the Cattle Club. Nevertheless, the Jerseys are performing grandly, and are making creditable records. Attention is attracted to the-work at Chicago because the facts can not be refuted, and also because there is a great comparison between them and the scrubs.

It is not claimed that the Jerseys excel as milk producers, nor have they succeeded in defeating the Holsteins as butter producers, but they stand forth as a warning to dairymen that the time has come when only the best breeds can be used. While each cow at Chicago has differed from her companions, a selection of any one of them may be safely made as a model for farmers to study, so far as her product is concerned. The herd records show that on one day 870 pounds of milk containing 126 pounds of cream, stood as the performance. From this was secured 50 pounds of salted butter. The cows average about two pound of butter per day, when doing Well, and yield about fifteen quarts of milk daily. The fractions are here omitted, but the figures show that while the quantity of milk yielded is not above the average of some choice herds, yet the richness of the milk is great, and the production of butter far above what any farmer would expect from his herd. Some of the cows at the Fair, however, have given larger yields of both milk and butter. If a whole herd of cattle —25 in number—can fully demonstrate the advantages and value of breeding it is a lesson to farmers that they are losing time, money and labor in allowing themselves*to be held to cattle that have no recommendations or characteristics. The cow that produces 14 pounds of butter per week is more valuable than two cows each yielding T pounds, as she requires only one-half the room, labor and expense. The test demonstrates that the cows are doing just what they pre bred to do and tfcat they are fulfilling expectations which could only be realized when an object Was sought and desired to be obtained. Public

tests are public indicators and point unerringly to the great improvements that a’ fe being made in our various breeds of cattie. H«rrMtfa>r Potatoes. The harvesting at the potato crop cannot be made simply a matter of convenience, as is the case with many farmers who raise only enough for home use, but there is a proper season and time for • their gathering which must be observed. By postponing the season until the cold rains of autumn set in we often invite the potato rot, which is caused by the accumulation of mud on the tubers. The ordinary crop should be dug, as a rule, not’ later than the end of August. When growing in dry, gravelly soil they should be dug a day or two after an shower of rain, so that the soil will not adhere to them; but on muddy, loamy soil it is better to dig them when the ground is very dry. One can easily select a time when the soil is in the right condition to fall away from the potatoes when turned up either with the plow, potato digger or fork. By harvesting a clean crop in this way the labor of harvesting is greatly lezsened. Potatoes should not be wasted as a rule, yet they must if we dig them up with the soil adhering to them. A dirty crop of potatoes will not keep well. Sometimes, however, potatoes will get muddy from necessity, and then some place to keep them while they are washed should be provide!. It is not such an easy job to wash potatoes, for the mud is only loosened and not washed off by throwing water over them. If they are piled up in a heap and then washed with a hose for some time, the tops will be as clean as a whistle, but down toward the bottom the mud has accumulated. -

The easiest way to wash them is to make a temporary lattice work on the top of four barrels. Lay bean poles across the four rails, so clofte that the potatoes can not slide through. On top of this place one bushel of potatoes at a time, and then turn the hose on them. The water and dirt will drip through the lattice work to the ground and leave the potatoes bright and clean. As fast as cleaned the potatoes should be spread out on a canvas or boards to dry before sorting. They will dry in a very short time in harvesting seasons. They must not be stored away in a damp, cold place while wet or the rot will surely set in. A good drying and storing place for potatoes should be provided beforehand in the barn. A latticed floor should be made somewhere on the north side of the barn, and either stretched from mow to mow or constructed on a cheap framework. The floor can be made of bean poles or cheap scantling. , The spaces between the slots should only be about an inch. If such a storage place is provided the potatoes can be placed there even when they are wet, for the dry air circulating through them soon carries away the moisture. All through the rest of the summer and the early fall the potatoes can be kept in this cool place in the best of condition. If potatoes are to be kept until late in the winter for sale they will turn ont 50 per cent, better if cared for in the summer in this way. All of the moisture is dried* I out of them, and heat has no chance to rot them.

The Plum Knot. The Rural New Yorker states that a correspondent paints portions of his plum trees, on which the plum knot appears, with coal oil, and that this eventually stops the growth of the swelling known as “the knot.’ By taking it in time he says that the disease does not spread, and that the knots eventually peel off, leaving only a scar to mark the spot, As this disease is caused by a minute fungus, there can be no doubt of the accuracy of this observation. Oik of all kinds are well known to be fatal to all fungus organisms. It it more than likely that if the plun trees were to get a painting of pure linseed oil, or any other vegetable oil once a year, they would continue at all times healthy—as in this case the ■ spores from whieh the fungut germinates would be destroyed be fore they had the opportunity to de any damage at all. 4 Peach Growing Under Dlfllcnltlee. In countries unfavorable to the outdoor cultivation of the peach glass houses are built for their ac commodation, and great success fol lows this method of treatment; ii fact, it has oeen asserted that undei proper management a house of no particularly large size would groi as many peaches as one would get it an ordinary orchard, covering hal an acre of ground. This, however must be under .extremely favorahi circumstances; but still it cannot b denied that remarkable and wonder ful success follows this artificial sys tern of culture. They are not on! grown in the open ground, or in bor ders, as the practice is technical!; called, but are often made to prt duce enormously when grown in pots Illustrations frequently appear i horticultural papers, showing th method of pot culture and what ei cellent results can be had frqm it. j number of growers, however, i America have them in this way—nc so much because of any in outdoor culture, as to have thei early; in other words, for forcing They can be produced in this mat nor so as to have the fruit ripe i April and May; and, indeed, it said that some ‘have been gathere under extremely careful and intell gent culture as early as Marc This, however, it is presuined'not be very often the case.