Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 January 1902 — Page 6

Nora's Test

BY MARY CECIL HAY

CHAPTER XV. One of the prettiest riverside gardens on the north bank of the Upper Thames, and a party assembled there, as radiant and as varied as the myriad . flowers among which they sat or strolled. A beautiful picture it was. For, , beyond lhe little crowd of idle human forms, the river flowed in wide and calm serenity; apon the dazzling flower banks fell the cool shadows of rare old oaks and elms, and even the dresses caught a new loveliness among the roses on the velvet ■ turf. *’■ *'""? Mrs. Pennington, skillfully concealing the fact that she was in an irrepressible flutter of excitement, went from one la another of the iittiy groups of elder guests already scattered among the’ shady, tempting scats; though, while she talked with each for a time, in her easy, I gentle way, she was seeking one familiar face. ■' “My dear, - ’ observed her husband, speaking low as he passed her, "your old friend, Mrs. Brunton, is in the rose tent, by the river. She would like a few minutes’ chat with you alone, I’m sure, after your long separation." Mrs. Pennington nodded, with a imile •f relief, and hastened her steps a little. “1 fancied you would reach this spot eventually," was the smiling greeting she received as she entered the rose t<»nt, and took her seat beside her old school friend; ""your husband guessed I should like a few minutes with ? vpu.alone. How delightful it will be to have you in London for a time. Cis! I’don’t think Lever was so surprised in my life as when I read your letter, which Was awaiting me •a my ret urn yesterday. Ihave not quite accepted the story, even yet.” “Nor have I,” smiled Mrs. Pennington. “I cannot even yet believe in Nora's fortune, and can scarcely realize the fact that this house is Our present home.” "How beautiful it is!” said Mrs. Brunton, glancing around. "And so exquisitely arranged both within and without! Some one with perfect taste must have selected it for you, Cis.” "Mr. Poynz did. that. He says he chanced to hear of it at once, and had no trouble at all, so I expect he knew the' best agents to apply to, as neither Mr. Doyle nor my husband would have known. We have taken it for the summer. 1 fancy Nora will wish to go abroad after that” , "She likes the house, of course?” "Likes it!” echoed the vicar's wife, with a smile. 'tShe seems happy here beyond all words. She enters into everything with the freshest and heartiest enjoyment; and yet, with all her merriment, she is, so wonderfully soothing.” “No wonder that you look upon her as “No, indeed. The only wonder is that she is so glad to be thought so. No one ever could learn from Nora that I was not mistress of this house, and of every pound that we spend. And she would not consentto anything but an equal aF lowa nee for herself and Celia.” "Is Nora changed by the change in her position?” "Not in the slightest.” said Mrs. Pennington. "She, just goes on in her old, independent, happy, gravely merry way. I’m sure you could) never guess what was the last thing in which she invested. A violin! Yes, you may well smile. She ■ never plays it except in her own roousa but I often listen, and, though” she is : only feeling her way. as it were, and find- | ing out tunes without learning the instru- ; ment. you have no idea how pretty it is. She has a concertina, too, but I think the violin is the favorite.” "But she plays the piano, surely?” Not to content herself, so she never plays to strangers. She plays to herself sometimes, but never really practices as Celia does, and as girls must do now- j •days if they would keep up with the, age.” "1 suppose." said Mrs. Brunton, "Miss' St. George is now to be considered as a suitable wife for the young curate, and ■ to be cultivated accordingly. And prob- ■ zbly a slight hastening of the match, if ' that be possible, would be a wise step under existing circumstances. How long have you knowu Mr. Poynz?" Though surprised a little at the abrupt question. Mrs. Pennington answered without hesitation: and all the more quickly because Mr. Poynz was one of a group coming toward them. "Wen. bear this in mind. Cis," continued the elder lady, in a whisper- "I'm more of a woman of the world than you • re. and, beyond that, I'm familiar enough to be almost in the confidence of each party. Genevieve Foster’s one aim ■nd desire is to be admired; never mind ulterior motives at this moment. Now • nd.then her eyes have !>eeu tardily opened to the fact that another girl could-be •s attractive a* herself; and Miss Foster has not assisted to make life a 4>ed of roses for that'girl. But the effort she is ' making to win her way now is stronger , than all her other efforts put together, and wnoevof■stnrrds in.her way will xrovbe spared. Ah, Celia, I am glad to see you, dear! How yon seem to lie enjoying this first season of yours! I and your mother have l>ecn having a chat about •Id times.”

W ~’ -fCHAPTER XVI. Th* gnm«*s had all lH*vn lost and. won. The lone, plrassnt. dilatory meal, which •Mrs. I 'ennfngton hud already learned to > call "high tea." and which was a neccsaary adjunct to her garden parties, be eauae the guests lingered on. and would hare famished on strawberries alone — wan over: and now those guests who had i not left were tentißf in the seals upon the terrace, talking quietly and Idly, as they looked down upon the river, flowing ' softly on, beyond the trees and the arches and the colonnades of roses. “Nara," whispered Willoughby Foster, stopping her, as she crossed the terrace, after fetching a book which Mrs. Brunton wished to see, “I'va brought a new rord for the rudder of your boat. You will come with me to put- it on, won t you?” “Of course," assented Nora promptly. “Did you forget yoa had it until now?” Tor souk- reason or other. Will did not '

From £ Darkness To Light

answer this question, as they walked down to the river. The little boat was ■ 'out upon the w-ater this evening, swaying softly and enticingly upon the incom-ingw-urrent. “Sit in your own place for one moment, Nara,” young Foster said, “while I stand here upon tlic steps and run the cord through; then you can judge df its length." He took her hand, and held it until she was comfortable in her seat; and then he put the rope through the rudder, and laid the two ends in her Jap. • “Just try it for two minutes,” he said I and, stepping down into the boat, he put off from shore without a pause. But he colored painfully when he met Nora’s questioning, laughing glance, for she evidently thought , just then that the unjnooring of the boat had been a mistake. "Two minutes,” she said, presently, as he pulled hard against the tide, with his head bent and his lips closed. "We have been twice two minutes, Mr. Foster.” "Isn't it a ,lovely evening?" he asked her, hurriedly; “and lovelier upon the .water than anywhere. I will take you badt-im&few..mjnutes. .Nora; but let me have a taste of exercise, and you a taste of rest.” i ' ■. , So, not at all unwillingly, in the calm summer evening time; she leaned "back in her cushioned seat, and looked around upon the peaceful scene onswhich the slanting sun rays lingered; and she never noticed how hard and fast Will Foster worked for his own purpose. But when at last he laid down his sculls, and the boat began to drift slowly homeward with the current, her eyes were suddenljopened. to. ±h<Ljww,.Jntense_earnestii4‘ss. upon his usually happy face. "You are not a very clever oarsman,” she said, quietly, though her heart began to beat as she remembered how fast he had brought her from home, and how she had involuntarily allowed him to do so, while she dreamed the time away, "not at all clever, indeed, Mr. Foster, or you would keep your sculls and sit back upon your seat.” ■ - v “I don’t want to seem clever this evening, ey.en. tg you,” returned Will, with father a forced smile. “I want to seem only what I am. Nora —very much in earnest, dear, in what I am going to say to-night, because I’ve soften tried and failed.” “Please fail this time, too.” “I cannot,” he said, and his hands were tightly clasped as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "My heart is too full to-hight to be silent. Nora. I love you so dearly that surely you will give me one little promise to care for me*in return. I cannot expect such love as I feel for you, though even that may come in time;_but promise me you wlll'care for me a little, Nora.” ’ "I do,” responded the girl, gravely. “I care for you a little how; more than a little, for I never forget what companions we were years ago, both in mischief apd out of mischief,.or ho.wyou, have been iny friend ever since; but I can never care for you more than I do tonight; and that is only as a friend.” "But you will feel differently, Nora, darling. Surely, surely you will accept me some day?” "I shall never change to you. Will.” she said, very gently. "I am as sure that ! I shall never like you more, as I am that | I shall never like you less. Please let I things be as they are. Life is so pleasI ant now.’’ i "But things cannot be as they are." cried Will, with rising vehemence. "It is not* to be supposed that you will not I marry—you of all girls.” "I cannot ye|; perhaps I never can.” Nora said it with a strange, quiet sadness, and her face had grown very white. But when she met her companion's blank, ; incredulous gaze, she smiled a little, and her own friendly, easy manner came i slowly back to her. ; "Of course you will marry," persisted Will. "Why, everybody wants you now.” "I shall not marry everybody.” “I'm sure,” the young man «vent on, ’ heavily, “no one could be so devoted to I you as I am, and have been since—- I was going to say. since 1 went back to I Ireland and found you grown up—but—but I declare,” he added, ruefully, "I don't believWTcan remember a time when I was not devoted to you.” “I do. I remember when you wouldn't carry little Larry Hogan home from Fintona on your back, though I asked you." "1 cannot laugh,” fretted Will, "even at the memory of that truant day of ours, when we stumbled across little Larry in the dark as we came home. No, I remember I wouldn't carry him. for he was a muddy little object; but I would now, Nora, at the slightest hint of yours, i and in my best clothes, too. Do listen, dear, and tell me you will try and like me enough to marry me. Don't always jest.’’

"I don’t think 1 always jest," said Nora, while, lighted by one swift ray of thought, she saw not only her isolated yon th,-tort a possibility oX-a-sluiniu-d-and. isolated age. "I am not jesting now. But see how pleasantly we glide with the stream. You could not change the bent’s course without nmking everything less pleasant, could you? So why should we disturb tt?" " "But, just looking your future seriously tn the face. Nora, dear?" pleaded the young curate, his voice full of trouble. “In' the natural course of things your drifting will be disturbed, ns you say. So uhy not't'hoosc now who shall —" “Disturb it?" put in Nora, laughing, though her cheeks again had grown very pale. “No, not this summer, please." "I bate loved you always," reiterated Witt, going back to his once strong argument, “though since you have been rich I have not liked to tell you." "I thought not," returned Nora, demurely; "so you are trying now, just to please tne. But I like silence best." "If I keep silence some other fellow—" “I should not listen"*if be did," said Nora, with a simple assurance which solaced him infinitely. “1 want this summer so “Xora, do you really mean this?" whispered young Foster, after he had moored the boat at the garden steps, and was

offering her his hand. “Will no one be—be more successful than I have been until you have bpd all .this summer aa a holiday?” J “Noj.no one.” ( CHAPTER XVIL "Mr. Pofnz,” said Nora, one day, with a little cry of joy, as she stood above the lake, “I have found her at last! I have found Miss Archer! Do you see her there, sitting by the lake? Would you—would you mind going back . alone, please? I must speak to Helen.” He comprehended her wish to go alone, but made her promise not to return without him. Then he stood and watched Tier to the* noticing ' how others watched her, too; but he turned away hurriedly when he saw her greeting to Helen. Yet these two friends, when the girl's glad and tender greeting was Over, fell into a strange, pathetic silenw, while each lookd into the other’s eyes, but* with such a widely different gaze! "Helen,” Whispered Nora, presently, below her breath, "have you been ill?” Then Helen raised her hand and covered her eyes for a moment before she spoke. “No, not ill. How good it is to sec 4 you again, Nora! And you look so happy and —so beautiful. I have heard much of your beauty and your charm, dear; but you are just what you were in the old days, except that you are more ■ ■ But perhaps the dress makes the difference.” "Ami where have you been since the old days, Helen?” Nora asked, trying not to look pitifully into .Miss Archer’s face. "I know you did not receive my letter; but —did you quite forget me, or wish to lose sight of me?” "I wrote once to Miss Foster, asking if I might hear of you,” she said, “but 1 never quite expected an answer. I had gone into Berkshire then—they knew where—and I have been there ever since.” "And have you been unhappy?” questioned Nora, very sadly. "Oh, no, quite happy. They were all most kind to me—most kind. I am only leaving; them now because my pupil is going to finish her education in Germany. I have been very fortunate,” she went on, Tn her patient, grateful tones, broken now and then by a short, dry cough, which struck Nora like a blow. "Don't look so moved, dear. If I seem changed to you, it is only want of rest, and that only through my own fault. My pupil is a very quick and clever girl; so that I have had to work hard to keep in advance of her. It was all night work, of course — A to be done after she had left me —and it tells upon me now, perhaps, more than it would have done when I was a girl.” "You are a girl now,” said Nora, tenderly, "and yoq will soon be strong, Helen—so strong! And you shall not have a care in the world if I can prevent, or anything to do except enjoy yourself; and all your time shall be leisure; and we will go wherever it is most healthy, and travel easily. And you shall have, sea air, and such care and love, Helen! I’ve looked and waited so long for you. Say you will come with me now.” "No; that cannot be,” said Helen, quite firmly, though the tears had gathered in her eyes while Nora spoke. "On Monday, when I leave this pupil, I have an--other..Xo found for me. She is a little girl—an only child —so the teaching will be easy and light.” "How soon may I go to thsi lady, Helen, and beg her to excuse you?”

“Oh, no, that must not be,’’ Miss Ar--cher'answcfell, hurriedly; "I must go.” “Then you shall go just for a month,” said Nora, with regret; “and you will leave them then and come to me. I shall fetch you when I come back from Ireland. Where are the rooms you have taken, Helen?” “I will give you the address,” said Helen, writing it as she spoke. “You—you will not give it to any one else, dear?” “Not to any one,” said Nora, making the promise readily, and resolving silently that.these two rooms should be made comfortable before Helen went to occupy them. "Who is with you here, Nora?” inquired Miss Archer, after a little silence, during which she had found it hard to realize, even yet, the fact of Nora’s tender, loving attachment to her. “Mrs. Pennington and Celia ” “The little friend you left behind in Ireland, and loved so well, and from whom you were always expecting long letters?” “You haven’t forgotten, then?” exclaimNora._delightedly. “And Mr. Foster is here.” “I thought so,” smiled Helen. “You are to marry him very soon—his sister says. My pupil's sister told We this. She told me many things of them and of you, when she came home after this season. And how did you evade Mr. Foster to come to me, dear?” “He was not with me. We came on Captain Graham's drag, and Mr. Poyns was with me when I saw you, and he will come forme again. Helen—oh. mydear, I wish I could give you a little of my health.” “It is nothing,” said Helen, losing the sudden pallor which had startled Nora. “I—l cannot expect”—with a faint smile —“to look healthy idi'my life, dear. And —but I must go. Good-by, dear little friend.” Her eyes were quite dry, though a little feverish, when, with the gentle kisa of her pupil on her lips, she turned away, and felt that all the world was better and brighter, and more faithful for tiiut lidiir she ha<T speffF resting by~tire lake. And Nora stood for a <few minutes looking after her and thinking, while Mark came slowly up. Bhe repeated to him, as they went back to the palace, much that Helen told her, and her own plans to make Miss Archer happier for that month, and then to win her to stay with her; but, remembering her promise, she would not tell him where Helen's home was to be. . , ■ J, I hope you nre immensely hungry; Norn,” whispered Will, as he seated him? self beside her in the dining hall. “Yop are to enjoy everything to-day, you know, and dinner is a special item.” They jeated all throngh the meal, in a > quiet, grave way. which -took from none of the fun; and then they spoke lazily of leaving in anotherhour's time, and strolled out to hear the band in the central hall. They had all walked on to look for scats, except Mr. Poyns and Nora, when, as they sauntered idly on the edge of the throng, Mark was met by one of his grooms. (To be continued.) Poverty may sidetrack a man. but it never blows him up.

FARMS AND FARMERS

Convenience in Swine-Keeping. For a door which may be attached to any hog house whose Inmates are In the habit of breaking down the usual barriers, nail heavy planking to cleats placed on the inside and use strong Strap hinges. For ordinary fastening, strong iron hooks at top and bottom will answer; although, if necessary, added security may be had by placing a strip of heavy planking across the door resting in strap iron slots. A small house has been found useful and comfortable where numbers of young pigs are raised, and it is desirable to let them have all the exercise they wish. A number of these small houses may be built of rough lumber and covered with building paper. They are placed at convenient places and covered, on the windy side, with coni stalks, waste straw or other handy material to make them more comfortable. A good arrangement is to construct a rough fence so that the straw covering placed on the

SWINE-KEEPING CONTRIVANCE.

sides and top will be inside the fence and the opening of the house into the yard. Ten or a dozen small pigs can occupy one of these small houses with comfort and will thrive.—lndianapolis News. Using Abandoned In many sections of the coimtry, but perhaps more largely in the -East, one will find on the farms fields which had been used for pasture until they were iro longer profitable for that purpose and not thought worth breaking up and re-seeding. Eight out ofeverytenof such pastures could bo turned into fertile fields by proper handlAg. One excellent plan for doing this is to break Up this pasture, manuring it as heavily as one can afford, and plant to corn. Cultivate the corn several times during she growing period and sow, in August or September, to some cover crop. The following spring plant to potatoes. Future crops should be according to fertilizing and whajf one wishes to grow. The main point in this item is to call attention to the value of these abandoned pastures for the first crop of corn. Eniugh corn may be grown to carry a herd of pigs to a profitable market and at an expense that will hardly be felt.—Exchange. Feeding Sugar Beets. In sections where sugar beets can be grown at comparatively small expense they should form one of the crops for stock feed even if not grown for factory use. In many localities sugar beets will form a fair part of the ration thia winter when grain is scarce and high in price. Some complaints have been made about the sugar beets, but, in most cases, this is due to using them too freely. No green fflod or root crop should be used at the expense of grain or roughage, except in part, although they may be more freely used than they are, especially sugar beets. They are especially desirable In the early spring for sows that have farrowed, and for new milch cows, greatly increasing the milk flow. All farm stock is fond of sugar beets, and If they are on the farm or cah be bought at a fair price they should form part of the ration as long as they may be bad or until the stock is turned out in the spring. Breed Mature Sheep. Don't breed the lambs. This is a bad mistake so frequently permitted or purposely made as to call for earnest remonstrance. Theree Is no surer way to run down a flock than this. If persisted in, It will annually lessen the size of the lambs, so. that in a few years the average of a flock of breed iftg ewes may go down to sixty pounds. >Good lambs are the progeny only of mature sheep. And If one is desirous of preparing some show animals he should breed four-year-old sheep on both sides. A sheep is really in its prime at five years naturally, this being an average of tWo-thlrds or half Its useful possible life under good care.— American Sheep Breeder. Old Principles in Firming. While undoubtedly true that farmers 'have learned much about farming during late years that has materially helped them In making U>e farm pay better returns. It is also true, in many cases, that they are getting away from some of the fundamental principles of correct farming. The tendency to sell . —»• yyn*ii 1 W l ** -weri;

as much as possible from the farm is too strong and too far-reaching. Time was when sales from the farm Were made only after provision had been made for the living and Comfort of the occupants, hutffan and animal. Then, too, the soil was considered, and if it needed anything produced on the farm it was furnished. These things well provided for, the surplus, if any, was sold. As*a result the stock was well fed and the manure went to Improve the soil. True, there was not so much ready cash handled as now, but there were fewer things for which cash was needed, for everything needed that could be produced on the farm was so produced. HJs admitted that in this agf£ when things are deemed necessl-. ties that were formerly thought luxurlesTtnore ready cash is needed, but, at least, we can so arrange things In farming that the cash is not obtained at the expense of the animals or the vitality of the farm. An Economical Ration. Where there is a fair stock of clover hay on hand, and an abundance of corn stover, cows may be fed very economically on a ration of ten pounds of clover hay, fifteen pounds of corn stover, cut or shredded—if the latter, the clover ration may be reduced onequarter—four pounds of wheat bran, four pounds of corn meal arid one pound of oil meal a day. This is not a heavy ration, and probably would not do for a large animal, or one whose milk flow was heavy, but It will answer very well for the average farm cow, keep her in good milk and bring her out in the spring in good shaper If it is possible to have the corn stover shredded by all means do it, whatever stock is fed w'ith it, for the butts ai‘e very rich, and all animals will eat them greedily if they are cut and shredded so that they may be readily chewed. With the above ration, plenty of pure water, and a warm, sunny and well ventilated stable the average cow will fare well, and the farmer who suffered from the drought will have a comparatively small feed bill at the close of winter.

Fruit Assorting Table. The cut shows an assorting table for fiult or roots, which is about 3 by 12 feet and nearly 3 feet high, with a four inch rim all around so as to bold about six bushels of apples or potatoes and bring them right up so that the men can stand up straight In sorting. Speaking of assorting potatoes in the cellar, a correspondent says in reference to this table: With a wire scoop shovel we scoop them up from the cement bottomed cellar, leaving all dirt and dust on the floor to be swept up and taken out. The table stands in a good light, and the sorting is far more rapid, easy and accurate than when you kneel down and sort from the big pile. The legs should be well braced both lengthwise and crosswise. We have two of these tables, and they are a great help arid a great saving of backache and

kneeache in assorting several thousand bushels of apples and potatoes in the course of a year.—Ohio Farmer. Facts About the Silo. Silage is as valuable in summer as in winter. Thirty pounds a day is enough silage for an average sized Jersey cow. Larger cattle will eat more. A Cubic foot of silage from the middle of a medium sized silo will average about forty-five pounds. Fifteen feet in diameter and thirty feet is a good depth. Such a silo would hold about 200 tons of silage cut in halfinch Silage comes nearer being a perfect substitute for the succulent food of the pasture than any other food that car be had In winter. Corn just passing out of roasting ear stage is the best single material for silage. Corn and cowpeas are the best combined material. A larger amount of healthful food for cattle can be preserved In the silo in better condition, at less expense of labor and land, than by any other method known. The circular silo, made of good, hard wood staves, is the cheapest and best. For 182 days, or half a year, an average Jersey cow will require about six 'tons' Of silage, allowing for unavoidable waste. Treatment of Old Orchards. Many an old and apparently worthless orchard might be made of value by encpuraglng the growth of the young shoots. One orchard of the kind described was supposed to be too old to be worth anything. The large branches were cut back freely and where a young shoot with much vigor was found the cut was made so that this shoot was not Injured nor the flow of sap in the main branch retarded. Grafting was done In some of the smaller branches and the trees bore several good crops of fruit; more than enough to pay for the work and the after cars of the soil. True, It was taking a chance, but the labor was not great and the trees were valueless- unless treated In some such manner. About Cream. It is claimed that the cream of two skimmings mixed will not yield the bntter as well as one.

A TEST OF SOBRIETY,

Original Scheme Adopted for Ganglne Capacity in Missouri. f Kansas has produced the magistrate who decides on a man’s condition of sobriety, or the reverse, by miking him walk a crack Cape Girardeau, Mo., has done better and produced a flight of stepping stones along which Supposedly intoxicated persons must walk to injure their freedom from incarceration. “Coon Hollow” is a bit of low ground lying south of the Court House at Cape Girardeau. Beyond it live the poorer ( darkies and the less useful portions of the local population. The hollow is something of a sink hole, and in times of heavy rains becomes considerable of a. morass. To the Inhabitants of the transhollow region the stepping stones across have always been a source of trouble. They were so necessary that their removal has never been seriously considered, for without them any man who attempted to walk through the hollow In the mud would probably stick fast till help came. Even with them there enough of tlie inhabitants fall off in

the mud and have only the Stones to cling to foi safety. Charlie Armgafd is town marshal of Cape Girardeau. He has many a bit of trouble With the settlers beyond the stepping stones, and has ofen debated with himself whether or not to “run in” some of them who see'med to have bad a drink too much. One night he was escorting home one who pretended he was sober They reached the stepping stones all right, but there the assistee’s trouble began. H.p could go a couple of steps and then lie would miss, sway off and pitch into the mire. Marshal Armgard’s patience was soon exhausted. After the fourth of fifth attempt he hauled his prisoner away to jail. That was how he got the idea. Now when he has a questionable prisoner from beyond Coon Hollow be takes him forthwith to the stepping stones, stands him on the first block, and sits down on the bank to watch him go home. If the suspect goes steadily across the line he Is all right and can stay on other side. If he wavers a little, and still keeps on the stones, be Is all right. But If he staggers and plunges off, If he misjudges the distance between his foot and the stones and falls or trips—woe to him, for the marshal comes after him and leads him back to the lock-up.

Educating Young Indians.

The work of educating young Indians in the West is at times difficult, but it is seldom dull. If the teachers must confess to a feeling of doubt as to their success with boys bearing such names as Daniel Red Eyes and AndrewYellow Thunder, they can at least console themselves with the fact that the correction of “compositions” is more diverting than in some Eastern schools. The superintendent of the Lemhi Reservation in Iddho is Mr. Mackey. He has preserved proofs of his pupils’ work In English, in The form of various essays written by the Indian boys, and in several notes of excuse. Here is Daniel Red Eye’s idea of the school in which he is a pupil: “We learn how work In garden, and cut wood, make fence and many bard tyork. The girls in hous sew and wash dress and cooking dinner. 1 don’t like go to school because my father he tell me I don’t want to go to school. That all I have to say or want to say about a school.” Daniel had a reasonably good opinion of himself, as this excuse, sent to bis teacher, indicates: “I wish you excuse me this afternoon. My horse all run away yesterday evening and I didn’t find. I hunting my horse this afternoon. Well. I guess that all I toll you about. Your good boy, Daniel Red Eyes.” Rather more promising Is the attitude of young Mr. Yellow Thunder, who expreses contrition for a fault: “Dear Teacher, 1 am sorry that I ran away from school yesterday, but 1 was crazy boy. I will copie to school Monday and not run away any more. Andrew Yellow Thunder.” So, In spite of truants and runaway*, and the various vexations of school tdAChing In a wild country, the good work goes on, and the reward is happily not confined to a mere sense of duty performed.

Toothbrush Plant.

One of tbe most curious plants In the world is tbe toothbrush plant, a species of creeper which grows In Jamaica. By cutting a piece of the stem and fraying the ends tbe natives makes a toothbrush, and a dentifrice to use with It is prepared by pulverizing the dead stems.

Sultan's Pet Eions.

Among tbe pets of the Sultan of Morocco are seven Hons. These be permits to range tbe courtyards of tbe * palace at night, to act as guards to the royal harem. - What has become of tbe old fashioned mother who allowed her children * to boule to tbe breakfast table in tbelr night gowns? - A man who frankly admits that be io prejudiced never really believes IL .. ; , n._ . .