Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 89, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1901 — Page 7

The Doctor’s Dilemma

CHAPTER Xl—(Continued.) • That was my sentence of banishment. She had only addressed me once during the conversation. It was curious to see how there was no resentment in her manner towards my father, who had systematically robbed her, whilst she treated me with profound wrath and bitterness. The report of my father’s illness had spread before I reached home, and sufficiently accounted for our .visit to Jersey, and the temporary postponement of my last trip to England before our marriage. My mother, Johanna and I kept our own counsel, and answered the many questions asked us as vaguely as the Delphic oracle. I wrote to Tardif, telling him I was going for an indefinite period to London, and that if any difficulty or danger threatened Olivia, I begged of him to communicate with my mother, who had promised me to befriend her as far as it lay in her power. My poor mother thought of her without bitterness, though in deep regret. To Olivia herself I wrote a line or two, finding myself too weak to resist the temptation. I said: “My Dear Olivia —I told you I was about to be married to my cousin Julia Dobree; that engagement is at an end. I am obliged to leave Guernsey, aud seek my fortune elsewhere. It will be a long time before I can see you again, if I ever have that great happiness. Whenever you feel the want of a true and tender friend, my mother is prepared to love you as if you were her own daughter. Think of me also as your friend. “MARTIN DOBREE.” CHAPTER XII. I left Guernsey the day before my father and Julia returned from Jersey. Mj* immediate future was not as black as it might have been. I was going direct to the house of my friend Jack Senior, who had been my chum at college. He, like myself, had been hitherto a sort of partner to his father, the wellknown physician, Dr. Senior, of Brook street. They lived together in a highly respectable but gloomy residence, kept bachelor fashion, for they had no wom-an-kind at all belonging to them. The father and son lived a good deal apart, though they were deeply attached to one another. Jack had his otvn apartments, and his own guests, in the spacious house, and Dr. Senior had his. The first night, as Jack and I sat up together in the long summer twilight, I told him everything —as one tells a friend n hundred things one cannot put into words to any person who dwells under the same roof, and is witness of every circumstance of one’s career.

As I was talking to him, every emotion and perception of my brain, which had been in a wild state of confusion and conflict, appeared to fall into its proper rank. I was no longer doubtful as to whether I had been the fool my father called me. My love for Olivia acquired force ffnil decision. My judgment that it w;ould have been a folly and a crime to marry Julia became confirmed. “Old fellow,” said Jftck, when I had finished, “you are in no end of a mess.” “Well, I am,” I admitted; “but what am I to do?” “First of all, how much money have you?” he asked. “I'd rather not say,” I answered. “Come, old friend,” he said, in his most persuasive tones, “have you fifty pounds in hand?” “No,” I replied. “That's bad!” he said; “but it might be worse. I’ve lots of tin, and we always went Bhares.” - “I must look out for something to do to-morrow,” I remarked. “Ah, yes!” he answered dryly, “you might go as assistant to a parish doctor, or get a berth on board an emigrant ship. There are lots of chances for a young fellow. I tell you what,” he suit}, “I’ve a good mind to marry Julia myself. I’ve always liked her,i and we want a woman in the house. That would put things straighter, wouldn’t it?” “She would never consent to leave Guernsey,” I answered, laughing. “That was one reason why she was so glad to marry me.” “Well, then,” he said, “would you mind me having Olivia?” “Don’t jest about such a thing,” I replied; "it is too serious a question with me.” “You are, really in love!” he answered. "I will not jest at it. But I am ready to do anything to help yon, old boy.” So It proved, for he and Dr. Senior did their best during the next few weeks to find a suitable opening for me. I made their house my home, and was treated as a most welcome guest in it. Still the time was irksome. They were busy whilst I was unoccupied. My mother’s letters did not tend to raise my spirits. The tone of them was umfqrmly sad. Sim told me the flood of sympathy for Jul*hud risen very high indeed; from which I concluded that the public ihdignation agnigst myself must have risen to the same tide mark. Julia had resumed her old occupations, but her spirit wns quite broken. Johanna Carey had offered to go abroad with her, but she had declined. A friend of Julia's, said my mother in another letter, had come to stay with her, and endeavor to rouse her. It was evident she did not like this Kate Dultrey, herself, for the dislike crept out unawares through ail the gentleness of her phrases. "She says she is the same age as Jhlia,” she wrote, “but she is probably some yenrs older; for as she does uot belong to Guernsey we have no opportunity of knowing.” I laughed when I read that. “Your father admires her very much,” she added. , There wns not a word about Olivia. Sark itself was never mentioned, and it might have sunk into the sen. My aya ran over every letter first with the hope of catching that name, but I could not find it. This persistent silence on my mother's part wns very trying. I had been away from Guernsey two months, and Jack was making arrangements for a long absence from London aa soon aa the season was over, leaving

By Hesba Stretton

me in charge, when I received the following letter from Johanna Carey: “Dear Martin —Your father and Julia have been here this afternoon, and have confided to me a very sad and very painful secret, which they ask me to break gently to you. You must come home again for a season. Even Julia wishes it, though she cannot stay in the same house with you, and will g\to her own with her friend Kate Daltrey. Your father cried like a child. He takes it more to heart than I should have expected. Yet there is no immediate danger; she may live for some months yet. My poor Martin, you will have a mother only a few months longer. Three weeks ago she and I went to Sark, at her own urgent wish, to see your Olivia. I did not then know why. She had a great longing to see the unfortunate girl who had been the cause, of so much sorrow to us all, but especially to her, for she has pined sorely after you. We did not find her in Tardif’s house, but Suzanne directed us to the little graveyard half a mile away. We followed her there, and recognized her, of course, at the first glance. She is a charming creature, that I allow, though I wish none of us had ever seen her. Your mother told her who she was, and the sweetest flush and smile came across her face! They sat down side by side on one of the graves, and I strolled away, so I do Hot know what they said to one another. Olivia walked down with us to the Havre Gosselin, and your mother held her in her arms and kissed her tenderly. Even I could not help kissing her. “Now I understand why your mother longed to see Olivia. She knew then—she has known for months that her days are numbered. When she was in London last November she saw the most skillful physicians, and they all agreed that her disease was incurable and fatal. Why did she conceal it from you? Ah, Martin, you must know a woman’s heart, a mother’s heart, before you can comprehend that. Your father knew, but no one else. “Do not come before you have answered this letter, that we may her for your return. Write by the next boat,

and come by the one after. Julia will have to move down to the new house, and that will be excitement enough for one day. Your faithful, loving cousin, “JOHANNA CAREY.” I. read this letter twice, with a singing in my ears and a whirling of my brain, before I could realize the meaning. Then I refused to believe it. No one knows better than a doctor how the most clever head among us may be at fault. My mother dying of an incurable disease! Impossible! I would go over at once and save her. She ought to have told me first. Who could have attended her so skillfully and devotedly as her only son? My mother had consulted Dr. Senior himself when she had been in London. He did not positively cut off all hope from me, though I knew well he was giving me encouragement in spite of his own carefully formed opinion. He asserted emphatically that it wns possible to alleviate her sufferings and prolong her life, especially if her mind was kept at rest. There was not a question ns to the necessity for my immediate return to heP. But there was still a day for me to tarry in London. “Martin,” said Jack, “why have you never followed up the clue about your Olivia —the advertisement, you know? Shall we go to those folks in Gray’s Inn Road this afternoon?” It had been in my mind all along to do so, but the listless procrastination of idleness had caused me to put it off from time to time. Besides, whilst I was absent from the Channel Islands my curiosity appeared to sleep. It was enough to picture Olivia in her lowly home in Sark. Now that I was returning to Guernsey, and the opportunity was about to slip by, I felt more anxious to seize it. I would learn all I could about Olivia's family and friends, without betraying any part of her secret. Of course there was not the smallesrt difficulty in finding the office of Messrs. Scott and Brown. There did not seem much business going on, and our appearance was hailed with undisguised satisfaction. The solicitors were two inferior, common-looking men, but sharp enough to l/e a match for either of us. We both felt It, as if we. had detected a snake in the grass by its rattle.-I grew wary by Inetinct, though I had not come wMi any intention to tell them what I knew of Olivia. My sole idea had been to learn something myself, not to impart any information. But when I was face to face with these men my basinet, and the management of it, did not seem quite so simple as it had done until then.

“Do yon wish to consult my partner or me?” asked the keenest looking man. “I am Mr. Scott.” “Either will do,” I answered. “My business will be soon dispatched. Some months ago you inserted an advertisement in the Times.” “To what purport?” inquired Mr. Scott. “You offered fifty pounds reward,” I replied, “for information concerning a young lady.” A gleam of intelligence and gratification flickered upon both their faces, but quickly faded away into a sober and blank gravity. Mr. Scott waited for me to speak again, and bowed silently, as if to intimate he was all attention. “I came,” I added, “to ask you for the name and address of that young lady’s ‘ friends, as I should prefer communicat- ! ing directly with them, with a view to cooperation in the discovery of her hiding ; place. I need scarcely say I have no ! wish to receive any reward. I entirely 1 waive any claim to that, if you will ‘ oblige me by putting me into connection \ with the family.” “Havfe you no information you can im- [ part to us?” asked Mr. Scott. “None,” I answered decisively. “It is some months since I saw the advertise- , ment, and it must be nine months since , you put it into the Times. I believe it is nine months since the young lady was

mi^yng.” “About that time,” he said. “Her friends must have suffered great anxiety,” I remarked. “Very great indeed,” he admitted. “If I could render them any service it would be a great pleasure to me,” I continued; “cannot you tell me where to find them?” “We are authorized to receive any information," he replied. “You must allow me to ask if you know anything about the young Idßy in question?” “My object is to combine with her friends in seeking her,-' I said evasively. “I really cannot give you any information; but if you will put me into communication with them, I may be useful to them.”

“Well,” he said, with an air of candor, “of course the young lady’s friends are anxious to keep in the background. It is not a pleasant circumstance to occur in a family. Of course, if you could give us an ydefinite information it would be quite another thing. The young lady’s family is highly connected. Have you" seen any one answering to the description?” “It is a very common one,” I answered. “I have seen scores of young ladies who might answer to it. lam surprised that in London you could not trace her. Did you apply to the police?” “The police are blockheads,” replied Mr. Scott. “Will you be so good as to see if there is any one in the outer office,

“KISSED HER TENDERLY.”

Mr. Brown, or on the stairs? I believe I heard a noise outside.”

Mr. Brown disappeared for a few minutes; but his absence did not interrupt the conversation. There was not much to be made out of it on either side, for we were only fencing with one another. I learned nothing about Olivia's Triends. and I was satisfied he had learned nothing about her. At last we parted with mutual dissatisfaction; and I went moodily downtsairs, followed by Jack. We drove back to Brook street, to spend the few hours that remained before the train started for Southampton. “Doctor,” said Simmons, as Jack paid him his fare, with a small coin added to it, "I’m half afeared I’ve done some mischief. I’ve been turning it over and over in my head, and can't exactly see the rights of it. A gent, with a pen behind his ear, comes down, at that ortice in Gray’s Inn Road, and takes my number. But after that he says a civil thing or two. ‘Fine young gents,’ he says, pointing up the staircase. ‘Very much so,’ says I. ‘Young doctors?' he says. ‘You’re right,’ I says. ‘I guessed so,’ he says; ‘and pretty well up the tree, eh?’ ‘Ay,’ I says; ‘the light-haired gent is son to Dr. Senior, the great pheeseeciau; apd the other he comes from Guernsey, which is an island in the sen.’ ‘Just so,’ he says; ‘l’ve heard as much.’ I hope I've done no mischief, doctor?” “I hope not, Simmons,” answered Jack; “but your tongue hangs too loose, my man. Look out for a squall on the Olivia const, Martin,” he added. My anxiety would have been very great if I had not been returning immediately to Guernsey. But once there, and in communication with Tardif, I could not believe any danger would threaten Olivia from which I could not protect or rescue her. She wns of age, and had a right to act for herself. YVith two such friends as Turdif and me, no one could force her away from her chosen home. (To be continued.)

Tommy—Tell me a story, uncle. Uncle—A story! But I don't know what to tell you a story about. Tommy—Oh, tell me a story about a little boy who bad a good uncle who gave him a quarter.—Mirth.

Before 1880 little waa known In China of kerosene. In 1890 more than 100,000,000 gallons were Imported.

A Good Story.

China's Kerosene Imports.

FARM AND FARMERS

Mi'kinsr a Permanent Pasture. Oh many farms It »would certainly pay to abandon the old pasture as soon as possible, and do the work necessary to get the new field in shape. Most farmers are not inclined to take for pasture fields anything but such meadjws that no longer yield profitable crops of hay. This is a mistake, for they are, often times by this practice, turning land into pasture fields that is too valuable for that purpose, and which might be reseeded after the proper manipulation, and be made to yield large crops of hay. One of the best growers of hay In the country recommends the following mixture for permanent pasture: Red clover, 6 pounds; Alsike clover, 4 pounds; Kentucky bluegrass; 3Vi pounds; orchard grass, 3% pounds; meadow fescue, 3% pounds; redtop, 3% pounds, timothy, 5 pounds. These seeds ire well mixed, and the quality given is the seeding for an acre. The seeding is done about the Ist of September, after preparing the ground thoroughly during the summer. If started at once the ground may be plowed now and sowed to buckwheat, which should be plowed under when in bloom. This would add the desired humus to the soil. After plowing under the buckwheat, just before the sowing of the grass seed mixture, the ground should receive the following fertilizer: One hundred pounds of acid phosphate, thirty pounds of dried blood, twenty pounds of nitrate of soda and thirty pounds of muriate of potash. This gives 180 pounds of mixture to the acre, to be well harrowed in before the seed is sown. After the seed Is sown, the ground should be well rolled. The first season after seeding, the grass might be cut, but the cattle should not be turned into the field until the second year. Longfellow Bush Bean. The bush bean that is early is very desirable, especially for the market gardener, and the Longfellow bush bean seems more* nearly to meet the desires jf the market gardener than any of the sorts now In cultivation. The pods are often six and one-half or seven inches In length, pale-green in color, straight ind round. They are entirely free from the tough Inside skin usually found on string beans. The flavor is delicate, [n season it is often a week earlier than my other good sort. The vines yield

LONGFELLOW BUSH BEAN.

t r —; •rolifieally, ana the crop ripens uniformly in size and nearly at the same time. Infertility of E?es. There has been much complaint the fast season among poultrymen of the imall portion of chicks batched from yach setting of eggs, whether placed In the Incubator or with the old hen. Naturally there are various reasons given for this loss, but mainly under the general heading of infertility of the eggs. Every one who has handled poultry knows there are various effuses for infertility. There may be a weakness In the structure of the hen or of the cock. &.lso the feed has a great deal to do with the fertility of the egg. A hen that is overfed or kept very fat is not is likely ttxlay fertile eggs as one that a thinner. The food given to the laying hen has also something to do with the Infertility of eggs, for liens kept largely »n a diet of corn will produce eggs that ire much more likely to be Infertile than those from hens fed o<n a variety of foods. Meat foods and green foods are absolutely essential for lqying fowls, }f we would have from them eggs strong In fertility. The head of the flock should also receive careful attention, as he must be well fed and not permitted to run with too many hens. Visit Successful Farmers. Nothing will contribute more toward success In any vocation than enthusiasm which is founded upon faith In your own abilities to succeed In your own undertaking. If anyone anywhere near you is making a success In your adopted line of work, or specialty, you should by all means visit him and see lust how he manages, and why he succeeds where others have failed. Farming In all Its branches as now profitably pursued needs constant study, and luring the comparative leisure every one should review the past and plan for better results In future. There Is no other method of learning about any farm subject equul to being on tbe farm where such work Is practiced, and having It explained by thoffe who bavt made It a success. It may b« the

manner of feeding stock, or a plan of preserving roots, ensilage or other fodder. A farmer may contemplate a system of underdrains for his wet fields, in which case nothing short of a visit to some farmer who has thus drained his lands will enable him to gain so many valuable hints and suggestions regarding this important work. Such visits not only give new ideas, but are a wholesome recreation, and many a farmer who at first thought may say, “I can’t afford it,” will find by experience that he has spoken too soon. Take a day to go and visit some of the best farms in your county, and the way will open for further visits and a wider knowledge of the best methods of carrying your special line of work to a successful termination.—Farm, Field and Stockman. A Hanriv Milk Ftoo’. The little stool shown in the accompanying illustration is unique in the

MILK STOOL THAT WON’T UPSET.

way in which the legs are inserted, being spread over a large space, and it is impossible to turn the milk over. Thfc drawing is out of proportion. The stool should be 12 inches long and 8 inches wide. The seat is made of two inch pine boards. Holes are bored almost through the board, but not quite. These are in slanting directions, so that the legs when fitted will occupy the position indicated in the drawing. Now take a pair of old broomsticks, whittle the ends so that they will fit ihto the holes, drive them in tight and saw them off any length desired.—Exchange. The Swill Barrel. The swill barrel, Into which was turned all the skimmilk, buttermilk and the water used in Washing utensils, the dishwater and the waste from the family table, both raw and cooked, and in which these were allowed to stand and ferment, though probably originally established from motives of economy, that all these waste materials might be utilized in pork production, has been much more a nourcc of loss than of saving to the farmers. Cases of what were called hog cholera often resulted where these were kept, if the milk which went into them was not in much larger proportion than all else. The fermented food was not wholesome. There Was often too much salt went into the barrels when salt meats were cooked, causing diarrhea, and of late years the soap powders used in the dishwashing has been found to be a frequent cause of disease w'hen used in such Quantities as it was at summer hotels and boarding-houses. But the loss frfim sick or dead hogs is not the whole. Many a hog has been killed whose flesh was no more fit for eating than if would hate been if it had died of the disease which filled its entire systerfL—American Cultivator.

Cold Storage on Farms. There are few farms where a sufficient quantity of fruit or vegetables is to warrant the erection and operation of a cold storage plant; on the other hand, the suggestion that such a plant could be built and operated profitably In any section where the fruit crop of a dozen growers was very large Is worth consideration. Such a plant could readily be operated on the co-operative plan at comparatively small expense to each shareholder. With apples, for instance, it is only possible to get the highest'prices for winter fruit by holding the crop In cold storage until late winter. As this Is now done the grower obtains but a little more than he would In the fall sale of his crop when tbe storage charges and shrinkage are taken out. Export* of Live Stock. When we look at the reports of the live stock sent out from this country to England each week we can scarcely realize that this trade has grown up within less than a halt-century. Yet It began in 1852 or 1853, when a dealer in Toronto, Canada, tried to make a shipment on the return trip of the Great Eastern, and as she refused to carry them they were sent by a Dutch tramp steamer. The trade in dressed beef In refrigerator steamers began much later,, but now is nearly as large in number of cattle represented or In money value.—Exchange.

Clipped "Work Horse. I have worked a clipped horse two summers and think I shall never work him another summer without being clipped. He used to sweat profusely, and the hair would twist up and make him look bad, and it would take a man an hour to clean him off and make him look decent. After clipping he hardly sweat at all, stood the work better, kept easier and wns always clean.— Michigan Farmer. Raspberries and Blackberries. Head back the young canes of raspberries and blackberries to three feet, and tbe laterals also when they ge* longer. They may l>e pinched with the thumb nail and finger in a small patch, but this soon makes the fingers sore, and where there are many bushes to go over It Is better to use a paly of shears or a sharp sickle.—Exchange.

HOW A COACH WAS SAVED.

Here is a view of the railroad wreck on the Wabash system at Cass station, six miles from Logansport, Ind. The picture shows the narrow escape of one of the coaches. While the rescuers were at work this coach was a constant menace to their lives. Fifteen were killed and many injured in the accident, which was caused by a culvert being washed out. Conductor Brownlee, who had charge of the wrecked train, tells a story of how his life was saved by taking warning from the apparition of a hand thrust in front of his face a few minutes before the accident. Instead of commencing at the front of . the train to collect tickets he began at the rear as result of the warning given f>y \the phantom hand. Brownlee says he expected something was going to happen.

CURRENT COMMENTS

The emotional and almost hysterical state of the popular mind throughout those* sections of the West and Southwest that have been suffering from a total or partial drought of more than three weeks’ duration can be better understood and appreciated by city residents, perhaps, if the situation be stripped of all sentimentality and presented in a purely business light. vast areas in the Mississippi and Missouri valleys in which the main dependence of the people in town and country is corn. Corn means more to them than cotton to the people of the South or wheat to the people of the Northwest. It means more to them than all the other products of their farms put together, because, in addition to its market value, corn meets practically every necessity of man and beast. It answers the purpose, on occasion, of wheat, oats, barley and rye, and in the absence of these can be substituted for them. And it can be put to uses for which the other grains individually or collectively are unsuited. In the matter of fodder and feed for live stock alone, corn is almost an essential in the cattle and hog raising and fattening region. The total wheat crop of the United States might fail and the other nations of the earth would and could contribute toward making the shortage good. When the price of wheat flour in this countryadvances beyond a certain point the wheat of the world is directed toward our ports, and if the price remains excessive the bread eaters of the woTld turn to corn flour. They have done it more than once, and their doing of it has brought several wheat corners to an inglorious ending. Wheat furnishes a staff of life for man, but corn furnishes a staff of life for man and beast. * Although corn will grow in every State and territory in the Union, the recognized ,corn belt —that is, the area in which corn is produced abundantly -is limited. The great State of Maine raises cor*, for example, but in 1899 it produced only 427,428 bushels, as against 242,249,841 bushels raised in lowa. Ten of the States fall short of the 1,000,000-bushel mark; thirteen fall short of the 2,000,000-bushel mark. While twenty-seven of them exceed the 10,000,000-bushel mark, some of them rising to nearly 100,000,000, only six of them pass the latter figure and only four produce beyond 200,000,000 bushels. The six great corn-producing States of the country, with their production in bushels and the farm values of the same for 1899, are as follows: States— Bushels. Value. Indiana 141,852,594 a35.300.ax) Illinois 247,150.332 64,259,0*8 Missouri 162,915,064 46,874,519 Kansas .2157,621.222 69.405,306 Nebraska 224.373,2535 51.605,852 lowa 242,249,841 55,717,463 Total value for the six States. .>318,162,426 The same States produced in 1900 1,278,238,072 bushels of com, valued at ,$391,042,085. The total value of all the com produced in the United States for 1899 was $029,210,110, and for 1900 $751,220,034, so that the six great States of the corn belt named above produced in both years more than all the other States combined. And it is in these States that the effect of the drought has been most severely felt. It is reported that the Kansas crop is practically a failure, but this is doubtless an exaggeration. The loss in Missouri has been put at from 50 to 75 per cent. In Illinois it is thought the crop will show a loss of from 25 to 40 per cent. The same estimate has been applied to the other States in the group. If these estimates be cut down so that the average loss by reason of the, drought will appear to lie 25 per cent, which is a very conservative figure, the money loss in the six States reaches the enormous total of $80,000,000. A good rainfall a week ago would have saved all this. A good rainfall now would save fully as great a loss in the States named. This saving would not be to great firms or colorations, but to individual farmers, whose ail is involved in the outcome of the drought. Every day of the drought means the loss of millions to these people. Every inch of rain that falls means a saving of millions. It will be seen that, as a matter of dollars and cents, the farmers of the com belt have reason for the emotion they are exhibiting when the clouds exhibit signs of gathering or breaking above their withering com fields.— Chicago Inter Ocean. Cubans want better safeguards in coining election.