Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 December 1878 — LISBETH’S MISSIONARY. [ARTICLE]

LISBETH’S MISSIONARY.

“ The butcher’s bill, papa!” Outside, the locusts Were piping shrilly among the blue cups of the morning-glory vines; the bland September sunshine steeped everything in yellow brightness. Within, the country parson sat at his desk, with divers and sundry sheets of sermon-paper scattered before him, half a dozen reference books open at his elbow, and his head clasped tightly between his two hands, after a fashion which involved considerable rumpling of his iron-gray hair. ** Eh?” said the parson, letting his head, as it were, out of custody, and coining slowly down from the world of polemics, as he stared at the pretty, slender girl in faded calico and washedout ribbons, who stood beside him with .m ominous-looking piece of paper in her hand. “The butcher’s bill, papa,” Fenn; “and he’s waiting, please.” “But, my dear”—the parson laid down his pen, and took the bill into his hand with a puzzled air—“ we’ve had no buteber’s-meat this month. We have striven to be in the last degree economical.” _ “Yes, 1 know, papa,” said Polly, knitting her pretty brows; “ but we ordered three pounds of steak the day the District Missionaries dined here, and there was the joint for that Sabbatarian Society day; and the evening the Bishop was here—don’t you? remember?”

“Iremember, my child—l remember,” said the country parson, with a sigh. “Hospitality is an agreeable duty, and one that the Good Book enjoins upon us, but it costs money, Polly —it costs money. Put down the hill, child, and tell Neighbor Brisket that 1 will attend to it at my earliest convenience.” Still blue-eyed Polly hesitated. ‘ * And the grocer was here this morning, papa, and the account has really mounted up beyond everything. And he says that he hopes you will please to settle at once, and that hereafter he has determined to do business only on a strictly cash basis.” The Rev. Mr. Fenn smiled a sickly smile. “Then I am afraid, Polly/’ said he, “ that he won’t do much business with me. For as long as the vestry are so dilatory with their payments —” “ Yes, papa, that’s just what I told him,” said Polly; “ but he says that business is business.” “He is right, my dear,”- said the parson, “ and I am wrong; but it is through no fault of mine. Now run away, and leave me to my books.” Polly Fenn silently withdre#, with her pretty brows still knitted, as if she were utterly hopeless of comprehend ing the problem o! the world’s ways. The butcher, white-aproned and burly, stood at the door, a living impersonation of the fate which Polly could neither ignore nor avert. . “Well, miss?” said the butcher.} fj “ Papa will attend to it at his earliest convenience, Mr. Brisket, ’.’faltered Polly. “But his earliest conve njaaoe has been such a mortal long time a-oom-in’, miss,” grumbled Mr. Brisket “ And times is dull, and I’ve got notes to meet.” “I’m very sorry, Mr. Brisket but—" “’Tain’t no good here,” said the butcher, irritably scratching his head. “ I might ha’ knowed what answer I should ha’ got afore 1 crossed the threshold. But it’s hard on a poor man, that’s what it is, and them as calls themselves gentry hadn’t ought to eat if they can’t pay. I’ll cajl again this day week, miss, and then—” And with this the butcher whisked himself to way under the arch of morn-ing-glory vines, where the locusts were singing, and the pink and purple cups swung to and fro in the morning wind. And Polly, with crimsoned cheeks and heart beating with vague resentment, turned back into the great sunshiny kitchen, where Lisbqth was swaying nervously to and fro in the splintbottomed rocker,witl a week-old newspaper in her hand, her yellow hair catching the sunbeams like a coronal of gold as she rocked. “ Lisbeth,” said the elder sister, austerely, “ are the wild grapes ready for preserving?” ’ “Wild grapes?” repeated Lisbeth, Hinging the newspaper into the win-dow-seat; “I haven’t thought of them since you went away. Oh, Polly, how 1 wish w 6 were rich!” subtle perfume, and dusted over with pale purple bloom, and began to separate them from their stems with deft, quick fingers. “Why?” said she. “ I would go |o New York and see this new play/’ said Lisbeth, still swaying back and forth in the splintbottomed rocker. " Olivia was a country parson’s daughter, and so are we. I should like to see my own counterfeit presentment on the stage.” * Nonsense," said Polly. You had a deal better come here and help with these grapes.” , , t' “ It’s such wretched business to be poor!” said Lisbeth. She was a sparkling little creature, after the hummingbird type of damsel, with yellow hur curling low over her forehead, intense hazel-brown eyes, and a small red

SAK shyly in .Wght*|| Ito tyM* n g 0 0 *** .washing and riD-' bons, and counting every pound of rice and every •potato! Even these tottd grapes, Polly, that you and I gathered clown Ihy ..the edge qt the sfrapMat’Mto of preserving tntea, fl Mrs. Deacon tUodgau»dia,’t / M>flfcrtoft to roily the *Q<>lado jaje <5 life!' Even Brisket the butcher thinks “we mustn’t order any more nauat at beth. Lisbeth looked up with sparkling e, increase papa’s salarer* Six hundred Polly shook her head over the grapes.

modern in his ideas as Mr. Crocus.” „ “But he is such a learned muu2’ cried out Lisbeth/teaking the yeltaw mart into one’s heart so! Sijr hundred dollars a year, Polly, for such work and study as thatP B L F .“There is no* dbufcVl- saki-FcUy, soberly, “ bat that clergymen are, as a general rule, very much underpaid marry a clergyman," cried Lisbeth, with energy. “!No, Polly, never!] I’d marry a dust-man first! For dust-men get their pay, and clergymen don’t, and—” - Lisbeth - stopped short, scarlet and confused, in this rhapsody of hers, for, chancing tbgiadce up; she bhheld in the doorway a taR and solemn-faced young man, with an umbrella in one nandand a traveling sachet in the other. “We don’t want anything, please,” said she, jumping at once to tue conclusion that she beheld a book agent, or a vendor of Patent polish, -or some such itinerant tradesman.

. beg your pardon,” said the gentleman, apparently as much embarrassed as was she harteH; y B‘I must have mistaken the house. I was looking for the Revqrend Francis Fenn!” “ My good gracious! another missionary,” munnured Lisbeth «<Uto voce, as “ You are nftt misteksn, sir; this is the house. Please tb walk into the parIqr, and I will speak to papa.”, drawn down, a jar of frMjrant dried rose leaves id the tife-piace, tend- a home-braided rug of party-eolored eloth Wd carefully down before the sofa to hide the darned spot in the carpet. . . ’ ’ . . “Not thatchair, please,” said Polly, coloring up to the roots of her hair, as the unwary stranger advanced toward a certain corner; “the leg is broken, and we’ve glued it, and I’m afraid it’s not quite safe. This One is better.” While Lisbeth, hiding her face in her apron, murmurs to herself “Is there no end to our humiliations? Is our world always to be full of glue and patches, and mends and make-shifts?” “ Lisbeth,” said Polly, returning, “go and call papa?’ ’ : “It’B another missionary,l’m sure,” said Lisbeth, unwittingly pulling down the sleeves of her brown calico dress. “And I know he’ll stay to dinner, and he’s get a hungry glare in his eves, and there’s nothing lor dinner but barley soup and a cabbage. Oh, dear!” with a grimace which made Polly laugh in spite of herself, “ I wish the race of missionaries was extinct.” I tor '

The country parson looked mildly ujj from the Second paragraph of his, “Thirdly” as Lisbelh came in, smelling of wild grapes, withan aureole of yellow hair about her race. , “ Pqpa,”>miid she, “ there’s a gentlemanjh that parlor to see you, with a carpet-bag and tuwhite neck-tie!” itar/> supneje. aHere mist jkjicdme. But I am just at present deep in the thread of a complicated polemic theory. Make mfr compliments to ■k£entleman, Lisbeth, and beg his indiflgWice for a quarter of an hour or so.” And the parson dipped Ms pen resolutely into the time-stained woolen standish, .as if he was determined to settle the Lisbeth had naught at his coat-cuff. to* reclaim him, temporarily, from the abysses of theological Argument. h<j ” looking absently at “Doyon think he’ll stay to dinner?” “ I aha& invite him, my dear, moat Lisbeth’s countenance felt “But, “ We Wist SeiWlt with the good oldfashioned sauce of welcome, my dear,” said the Reverend Mr. Fenn, with a grave, sweet smile, “andl doubt not. ft vyiU suffice.”, Lisbeth flounced out of the room she, to herself; “ but angels never were adapted to get along in this work-a-day world.” She put her golden head into the parlor-door for an instant.' “ Papa is very busy with his ‘Thirdly,’ ” said she, with a roguish twinkle in the deep haaeleyes, “ and he begs youmbe good enough to wait until he"s through." The stranger bowed, and looked more embai+assed than ever, as he answered, “ Oh, certainly, certainly. lam in no haste whatever.” wont back Pdfffr* mudThe7”whatsltallwe do? Company to dinner, and nothing to give thepi,” , r■ “ But we must have something,” sal<> Polly. “ Put on your things, Lisbeth. Go out and buy a fowl, and a quart of potatoes,, and a loaf oi*. bread. And stop at Mr. Dakin’s for an ounce of his best tea and a quarter of a pound of butter?* Lisbeth opejjed her eyes very widg at this extravagant order. “OH, you reckless Polly!” said she; “and where are all the funds to come from?" ’ 1 Pony sighed softly. “ I shall have to take the driedjsdMMVMWOMf,” said She, “that I was. saving op for my fall hat and gloves. But it, isn’t . much matter. I dare say I can manage very well with the old ones for a little, while I longer.”

“ It’tejVMafilUcried Lisbethjj'eheAn<||®think how ywgMkd aKatioSMM sufiKer days to pnVand 1 * *tf’he<toWno S®li> tor 'L deart”Laid| time to lose.” AJM U BtMtolsiwMM,” nrotesMr Li “ beth. “Why should all the traveling ’pebaChdfran d book agents and mission collectors come here and eat us out of dfx »U»to yjfto dpe<”iaid tfe.~l “ldq wonder,” cried Lisbeth, imisterKare? Ifmduro wards, Polly, I her sister’s straw fiat, and twisted a market-basket In her hand. nlMlwwNkl of girlfahod, to »h<> •deposited a plump chicken oiuhe tabto, for » Wily, that they’ll give the missionary the worst kind of a dyspepsia,” ’tbefgirlf la she turned to putkwai her hat. Polly turned around with a start, at the changed tenor of her sister’s voicex “What is it, Lisbeth? Wou’re not Ulf*’ Lisbeth, with a glowing face, pointed to the little wqpden cupboard in the wall, whieh. aeatendtag through fro* parlor -to kitohen, in butler’s pantry fashion, was used as a general repositor the lirst time, J olly pereetvetrthat both doors were slightly ajar. —uttered -the girl, hoarsely, “he lias heard every, word! He coulfeW help’dt.” her woodra sSIB to «Sr oSh Voon,; ind “It’s myHongue,” sobbed Lisbeth, “ mg jhftochdpi.'' chattering tongue, loose to jt; Polly always.told me it ever look liim ift the fape?” ; And with thiiydoMful-resume, I&beth buried her hotWtln Ue pillows, anderieißiarddr thamever. w

, angel. “ Lisbeth.” saidnhe, ‘^darling,<dp»’t fret—you meant no Mror Get up and braid your hair trad come down-stairs. Binder will be oh the table directly, is asking for you.” Lisbeth sat tip and pushed the damp fringe of ydllbw hair out of her eyes. “ I shall not cbmq down, Polly!!” “ But yonhiutt, defir; papa would be very much vexed.” , “Never!” cried Lisbeth,with afresh burst of tears; “ nevpr!* But the country parson himself presently hame tb the rescue, with mild eyes and a firm, genfle voice. “No member of my family must be lacking in courtesy to a guest,” said he, taking Lisbeth gently by the hand; and the poor child was led shamefacedly into the kitchen, where the table was spread, and Ppllv stood smiling at its head. Mr. Vincent,” said the parson to the tall stranger, “this is my youngest child.” “I am the black sheep of the family,’’ said Lisbeth, hanging her head, “ and I’m very sorry, sir, and I beg your pardon.” “Pray don’t mention it,” said Mr. Vincent, in genuine distress at the sight of the mortification of this yellow--haired lassie with the deep hazel eyes and the rW,-sensitive mouth. And when dinner wpp over—and here let US mention ThatTMi. Vhrneut ate and drank with an excellent appetite, as if no lurking shadow- of the threatened dyspepsia disturbed his digestion—and the country parson had taken his guest .into the study, Polly put her arm arotnd Lisbeth’s waisU and drew her out undeg; the morningglory vines, wbfirft by this f time, the blue and rosa-tinted cups had all folded themselves irttp tight little parasolettes, and hidden behind the leaves. “ Lisbeth,th® shft ’’l’ve got good news for you.” “Nothing can tie good hews any more,” said Lisbeth, with afresh burst ot . c (j t ; .1 “Oh, Bht listen,” soothed Polly. “Do you know who this Mr. Vincent is?" “A—missionary, I suppose.” And poor Lisbeth spoke the word as it was a dose of quinine. “No,’dear, he’s the .Bishop's stcreItary. And he hM heard of papa’s learning and zeal and talent, ana he has come to ofiur him a parish near New York, with twelve hundred dollars—only think of it, Lisbeth—twelve hun-dred dollars a year, and an assistant. We shall be rkh, darling, and dear, dear papa will have a little rest and ease in his old age. “It can’t be true,” said Lisbeth, vagttely. “But it is,” cried Polly; and then Hie two sisters began to cry and sob, with happy incoherence, in each other’s arfos. “Is it possible,” cried Polly Fenn, “ that it is a whbfeyear since we came to Moreham Rectory?” It was a year. OnCe more the wild grapes were scenting all the woods, once more the golden-rod held up its torches of flame along the course of awfes-g lightly along the garden path, with the yellow sunshine tangled in her hair, and an unwonted moisture in her deep eyes. g j ’‘What have you done with Mr. Vincent?” asked-Polly, demurely. “He is walking dbwn by the falls, with papa,” said Lisbeth, coming up to her sister’s side, and slipping one arm through Pole’s- Polly—” "I—l have somethingto tell you.” “ Couldn’t I guess it?" said Polly, Jaughing. /‘No, Lisbeth, don’t turn •your face away-I know it all, darling. Zfe-te«myou. and ymj.„.baY,fi...promiaed. to be his wife.” " Polly,Y said Lisbeth, “ I think you must be a fortune-teller. But, oh! I am so happy! and.l can hardly believe Vlhat it isn’t all a dream.” . ;

“ But. Lisbeth-” fiF “SB’W* ll, |fcri>ver, TviiMJ.fflMfflßft littlekniidptbssrai Over her aistertoMiouth. <Md her pleaik I Wfly B<| tondjrPfeasfMjyHy. dou’t,”. supped ulPTOntencenwAt vriuTfflr ishea. And Polly 'was merciful, and didn't. —Harper's llazar. ■t ■galstokx agriculture ymd when wo, think now edge enougblQglo the wtrnre jt does to-aay; and when we, aww: 0 ! o #® wßfth cultMltftTOmrit re sonrmOTe of HUWS are those who will persist in shutting .along #s fathers did. It is to The farm is no place for a man who does not know anything. Usually he would fl’ove as vnccessful, and more ' * feiA'er sbctold be educated in the truest sente of titoltym. Certainly no one wiil deny_ should be familar wiwi the sciences wmeh especially pertain to the soil and the growth of 7til ww enA i HSwtH-ntouta"w arcmdHM Books of science are.. tAa result of experiwent. the tWMT totMsMMM uMAteWof growth, the requirements of the soil for specif purposes, and rery mupto*of pose to go ovewttoe'sama ground tjrat tnSE Tt TacKS Tnose itfgr&tnenls which wouldme foSy tokeep on experimentwhich Jis lacking. There are fortunes izers which are almost worthless, as io vii© piOdi.i’uviOii oi Tii© crop NVnicri soil lacks and the crop needs, and so to fertilize the land with our breath. Fanning without a knowledge of the science of farming, which includes varjou# sciences, is simply a game of chance—it is the walk of a blind man on strange ground. If such a man should attempt to practice raedicflie he would be called a “quack.” and if to practice law, a “shyster.” The farmer should be pre-eminently a well-read man. ; He should read the gist of all that is freshly written on agriculture, which he can find in any first-class agricultural journal. / If what he reads is not sound, he can still profit by it by permitting the truth to be more firmly fixed in hre mlnfl" by contrast. No one should attempt to conduct a farm without being 1 something of a veterinarian. Knowledge of veterinary science is almost constantly required on the farm, and the lack of it is frequently not only very inconvenient, .but it Is expensive. -Regularly Educated surgeons are often, and in the great majority of instances, difficult to get at, and many a sick animal must necessarily die, or be beyopd the possibility of regovpry, befqre the services of one can be' obtairie'd. We sometimes see expressed in the columns of our county exchanges, Jhe wish, that the regular physicians would fecldde veterinary in their prilotleo. Tlila Would be of little advantage. The doctori, do sot know anything, or scarcely anything, with reference to the diseases of animals. Veterinary is essentially a separate scieuoe. in theteiSPc*pf medicine as applied toman and the brute, bit not enough to enable the family physician to be a good “ horse doctor.” Fir better would if be for theTarmer to qualiA’’iftnnMfc* tri rorWttfry? cases, m least.' And nbMihMotr Industrial colleges have ODurwa its veterinary scinnce,it isnot vevyi difficultfor our young num to »qqpire*W»P edge in this ffirecMpn. , 4 ,

~ But beside being a chemist, botanist and veterinarian, the farmer of all men in the world should, be a general mechkhlc. He should know something of all the Common mechanical arts,* from that of building a house to hooping a barrel. Such knowledge would prevent i ,'ffoen |t was necessary to employ a mechanic,, but 4 would save a great deal, of needless expense, not only in the.,aqtual outlay fdr many descriptions* ts repairs, but in th* 1 destruction of implements, resulting often from a neglect to regard the old adage, “ a stitch in time saves * r w t ’C/iS!il h F n T ßl O kor ’ 5’ something nreaKS.mqd Xue negiefft is frequently the causy the total destruction of the thing inquired. In this brief?omßiW, therefore, we show that ndMwtfW’Mtftem no place for stupidimWrothat the farmer should really ha ft universal genius, and such*, mamwill al ways be successful as alarm, er. yestem Hural. “ An’ is ho out, Mrs. Murphy “Ye ye’im *ye knew lure, Mr. ihlferty.' “ An’ an. 1 out, Mrfc'Mmphy?” “ Via; au* be the loikesvMf i», ye T il'‘staw there, MrRafferty!’! aniftlM door swung to with a bang. ... When a man is hanging by his toes from the coMUMkoUthignTnuUding, and expects mcmebtwfly #WB3?<*ti|jkK ' ■VTUtOAnWTB3TX38 a , * - Jwo little Georgia negroqs btirhed would riot Irit them go goober grabbing. ■ Pass or cbargb. Tour druggist will refund your money, if Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup does I not give you satisfaction sad cure your cough.