|lemo£tuti£WESTMINSTER, MD, SATURDAY, JANUARY 9, 1880.

t the very pendants on the chandeliers; clashed together.

1 “But he would not take the money —

then nor afterwards.0 “ ‘lt is not ours! What can we do withe it? We cannot throw it away!’ the Su-f perintcndent said.; “‘l’lltell you, then, sir!’ said Jack, at

. last. ‘Brakeman Jim Flaherty was killeds last week. lie left a sick wife and six; little children. Give the money to them.”

“And so they did.; “Now you know, sir, what the scars on

1 my boy’s face mean to me. I read in the; red marks, ‘Faithful and true!’ and I would

s not have them changed for the coat-of-arms; of any king on any throne 1”

1 M. Pasteur and Hydrophobia.

The laboratory of M. Pasteur at Parishas become the objective point of pilgrim-

i ages from all parts of globe, his reporteddiscovery or rather contrivance, of a pre-ventive and remedy for hydrophobia having

\ given him a unique position among the, world’s great physicians. The exact limits

, of his power over the terrible disease pro-, duced in the human subject by the bite of

certain rabid animals are not yet perhaps; ascertained, but it is hardly open to dispute

that his three years of study of hydropho-' bia have been productive of very promising

results. Itis perhaps safe to go beyondthis, and to concede that M. Pasteur’s in-

. oculations with portions of nervous matter. taken from animals suffering from rabies. have been followed by results that bear

comparison with the benefits that accrue. from inoeulations with vaccine virus. Hy-

drophobia is caused by a specific poison,which, it is thought, may develop spontan-eously in the dog and some other animals,but not in man. The bite of a mad dog isthe usual origin of the disease in man,though the cat, wolfand fox may also trans-mit it. The fluids of the mouth are com-monly supposed to be the chief source ofthe poison, but according to M. Pasteur, itis concentrated chiefly in the nervous sys-tem. The flesh is not, itappears, affected.A veterinarian recently stated to a horrified

Parisian audience that he had a hundredtimes eaten the uncooked flesh of rabid jcows and horses without bad results. Not jall curs of eccentric demeanor are to be jthought mad. The animal affected by jhydrophobia is shy and irritable, refusesfood, eats bits of straw, paper, Ac., suffer- jing apparently from hallucination. He jmay or may not avoid water. It is onlyby confining and watching a suspected ani-mal that the owner can be sure whether itsuffers from hydrophobia or from some

other of the many ills to which our pets aresubject. The symptoms of hydrophobia |usually exhibit themselves in from thirtyto forty days after the bite; intervals of j

j six months or a year are rare and doubtful, jPrompt cauterization of the wound may at

times prevent the development of the dis-ease, but once developed, it is almost sure :

!to prove fatal. By exposing portions of ithe brain or spinal cord of a rabid animal jto dried air, the minute creatures to whose iactivity the disease is supposed to be due jlose their vigor to some extent, and with |this weakened virus M. Pasteur makes his :first inoculation, increasing the strength of ¦the virus with each successive inoculation, jThe last inoculations are made witha viruswhose strength has been artificiallyincreas-

ed by “cultivation.” This cultivation con-sists in inoculating a rabbit with a particleof the spinal cord of a mad dog, and when - ,after fifteen days, this rabbit dies of hy-drophobia, sixty other rabbits are in suc-cession inoculated, one from another, until,as the virus becomes stronger, the sixtiethrabbit dies on the seventh day. A maninoculated with the weakest virus would not |be protected, but after having been gradu-allyprepared by inoculation with cultiva-tions of increasing dggreesof potency untilthe sixtieth has been reached, he at length,it is held, arrives at a state in which he is

proof against the virus of the ordinary mad

dog. Such at least is the theory. The

experience of the four children recentlysent over to Paris from Newark, N. J., willgo far to show whether it is well founded.

Two Hundred Millions.

Mr. Vanderbilt was worth §200,000,000.

Ifwe say that he was worth §500.000,000or §1,000,000,000, do we get a perceptiblydifferent impression about the bulk of hisfortune? Most people do not. To theaverage mind the conception of enormous

wealth is much the same, whether itbereckoned in hundreds of millions or in vig-intillions. The human mind cannot graspthese great sums or clearly appreciate thedifference between one hundred millionsand two hundred millions.

Let us try and describe Mr. Vanderbilt’sgreat fortune in terms of linear, squareand cubic measurement and of weight.Everybody understands these terms, andthey make a definite impression on men’sminds.

Ifthis sum of 200,000,000 dollars were

in standard silver dollars it would present

such features as this:Put lengthwise, dollar to dollar, it would

stretch a distance of 1,072 miles, making asilver streak from New York across theocean to Liverpool.

Piled up, dollar after dollar, it wouldreach a height of 355 miles.

Laid flat on the ground, the dollarswould cover a space of nearly 60 acres.

The weight of this mass of silver wouldbe 7,100 tons.

To transport it would require 358 cars,carrying 20 tons each (this is the capacityof the strongest freight cars) and makinga train just about 21 miles long.

On ordinary grades it would require 12

locomotives to haul this train. On roadsof steep grades and sharp curves 15 or 20locomotives would be needed.

In one dollar bills this two-hundred-million-dollar fortune would assume such jshapes as this:

The bills stretched lengthwise wouldextend 23,674 miles, or nearly the circum-ference of the earth at the equator.

Piled up one on another, close as leavesin a new book, they would reach a heightof 12 miles.

Spread out on the ground they wouldcover 740 acres, or nearly the whole sur-face of Central Park, including ponds andreservoirs.

Asafe deposit vault to contain these billswould require to be 23 feet long, 22 feetwide and 20 feet high. —N. Y. Times.

Ifyou want to puzzle people, soak afreshegg for several days in strong vinegar. Theacid willeat the lime of the shell, so thatwhile the egg looks the same, itwillbe soft

and capable of compression. Select a bot-tle with.a neck, a third smaller than theegg. AVith a little care you will have notrouble in pressing the latter into the bot-tle. Fill the bottle half-full, of lime water,

and in a few days you will have a hard-

shelled egg in a bottle with a neck a thirdsmaller than the egg. Of course you pouroff the lime-water as soon as the shell hard-ens. How the egg gets into the bottle wdlbe a conundrum few can answer.

What a man gets for nothing he is veryapt to value at just about what it cost him.

We often unlock the door of fate withour own hand, and throw the key away.

$2 PER ANNUM.ARE THE

-ONLY ESTABLISHMENT-

In Carroll county that is exclusively devoted

to the

Hat, Cap, Boot, Shoe and Trunk

Business.

We have all the latest styles in Derby a,Round and Half Round Crowns; Soft, Furand Felt Hats. OVER SHOES of all sizesand quality. GUM BOOTS for men, womenand children. FINE SLIPPERS. Men’s,Ladies’, Misses’ and Children’s Boots andShoes.

Sole Agents for Slessinger’s Hand Made

Tender Feet Shoes for ladies.

Bixler’s Home-Made Button, Lace and

Congress Shoes.

Ifyoti want'I'firftf-class goods, at moderate

prices, call and examine our stock.

A fine line of

Tranks, Valises & Umbrellas.

All goods are as represented or money re-funded. No fancy prices asked, we onlycharge a fair profit over first cost.

U. L. REAVER & CO.,First National Bank Building, R. R.

WESTMINSTER, MD. oct 3

BARGAINS.

J. T. WAMPLER

Cordially invites his friends and the public

generally to call and examine his

LARGE STOCK OP GOODS,

and compare prices before purchasing else-where. We have

LADIES’ DRESS GOODS

AND DOMESTIC GOODS, &c.,

OF ALLKINDS.

OUR NOTION DEPARTMENT

Is fulland complete with all the Latest Nov-

elties. In our

QUEENSWARE DEPARTMENT,

Which is the largest and best selected in thecounty, we defy competition.

OUR GROCERY DEPARTMENT

Is always complete with all the various gradesof Sugars, Coffees, Teas, Spices, Fruits, Ac.

We keep also a Large Stock of

Japanod Ware, Tin Ware, Wooden

Ware, Glass Ware and Sample

Goods,

Allof which we sell at Rock Bottom Prices. |J. T. WAMPLER,

ap 22-tf West End. Westminster, Md.

QOOD NEWS FOR ALL.

If you want to save money and get good goods

Goto M. C.STRASBURGER’S,

Whore you willfind a full assortment, con-sisting of

Groceries of aU kinds, a full line of

Boots and Shoes, Queensware

and Glassware, a fullstock

of Confectionery, free

from all

adulteration, such as

Glucose, Terralba, or Grape

Sugar; Fruits and Nuts of all

kinds, Limburger and N. Y. Cream

Cheese.

Try the old style Sugar House Molasses at j50c. a gallon; Good Coffee at 10c. a pound; IGood Raisins at Bc. a pound; the best Coffee !Essence 25c. a dozen; Sugars at cost.

LIQUORS OF ALL KINDS.

Come and see

OUR FIVE-CENT COUNTER, |

The largest pieces of goods of any house inthe county for the money. Many other housessell the same goods for 10 cents.

We do not keep trash to undersell compel- |itors, but always

KEEP THE BEST GOODS,

And defy competition in prices. Give us a |call before purchasing and we will convince |you.

M. C. STRASBURGER,dees Westminster, Md.

Earthquake in Westminster.

What is the reason that everybody goes to j—THE NEW—-

-9 9 - CENT STOREOf L. GLADHILL,in Zeiber Building, Main

street, West of Depot, Westminster?

Because they can get better bargains andhave a larger stock to select from than at any

house in Westminster. Just think of it—lo--Accordeons from 99c. to $1.98; GlassWater Sets from GOcts. to$1.98; Vases, 1 am-blers, Colored Sets of Glassware, commonand fine sets of Glassware, Jelly Tumblers,

Pitchers, Cake Stands, Bread Plates, CoalOil Lamps, Globes, Canes, Ac., Ac. The

largest line of Picture Frames in Westmin-ster, consisting of Plush, Wood and Easel;Oil Chromos from 17c. to 99c.; Oil Paintings,Ac. I have just purchased the machinery to

make all kinds of Picture Frames to order at

short notice. Afull line of fiife and commonShirts, Linen, Celluloid and Paper Collarsand Cuffs, Overalls, Looking Glasses, Clocks,Water Coolers, Ac.; Writing Paper and En-velopes of all grades, Stereoscopic V iews,Birtnday Cards, Scrap Books ana Pictures,Autograph and Photograph Albums, WatchChains and Necklaces, Pocketbooks, CigarCases. Alarge stock of Tinware of all kinds.See our 5 and 10 Cent Counters.

I have purchased the stock and fixtures ofJ. M. Wells, Paper Hanger and dealer inWall Papers and Window Shades, and securedthe services of Mr. David Haller, an experi-enced workman, and have Wall Papers of alldescriptions and atall prices; Window Shadesof the finest to the commonest grades, withspring balances and fixtures, the lowestprices. Paper Hanging done in town orcountry at short notice on reasonable terms.

Work done in the country at cft^pricea.augl.tf Successor to J. M. Wells.

AXES, the best in the market, for sale byA. N. STEPHAN.

poeticalNOT AS I WILL.

i Blindfolded and alone I standWith unknown thresholds on each hand;

The darkness deepens as I grope,Afraid to fear, afraid to hope;Yet this one thing Ilearn to know

Each day more surely as Igo,That doors are open, ways arc made,Burdens are lifted or are laid,By some great law unseen and still

Unfathomed purpose to fulfill,"Not as Iwill.”

r Blindfolded and alone Iwait,? Loss seems too bitter, gain too late:

i Too heavy burdens in the load,, And too few helpers on the road;

I Andjoy is work and griefis strong,And years and days so long, so long;Yet this one thing 1 learn to know

Each day more surely os I go,

' That I am glad the good and illBy changeless law are ordered still

“Notas Iwill.”

“Notas Iwill”—thesound grows sweetj Each time my lips the words repeat.

“Notos Iwill!"—thedarkness feels

More safe than lightwhen his thought stealsLike whispered voice to calm and blessAllunrest and all loneliness.

“Not as Iwill”because the One

i Who loved us first and best has goneBefore us on the road, and still

For us must allHis love fulfill—-“Not as we will.”

Jfeltd J^torir.A MOTHERS STORY.

From the Youth’s Companion.

“The young man you met at the gate,| sir? “Yes, that is my son—my boyI Jack.| “You noticed the sears on his face, sir,

1 j and thought, maybe, that those spoiledj features meant to be handsome ?

“Ah, sir! that was because you did not

I know ! Why, those red marks make him• more beautiful to me now than when, aj baby in my arms, with yellow curls andj laughing eyes and a skin like a rose-leaf,j the people hurrying inand out of the trains

would turn to look and smile at him, and

j to each other, speaking low, maybe, butnot too low for a mother’s quick, proud

: ears to hear !

I “For we lived in a little house close bythe station, and when I heard the whistle

j of his father’s train, I used to snatch the

boy from his cradle, or off the floor wherei he sat with his little playthings, and run

down to the farther end of the long depot,where the engine always halted, to get the

| smile and loving word that my heart lived

on all day.“.Not the least bit afraid was the baby

of all the whistling and clanging of bells,the groaning of the wheels and puffing ofthe steam. Pie would laugh and springsoin my arms that I could scarcely hold him,till his father would reach down sometimes

and lift him up into the engineer’s cab,and kiss him for one precious minute andthen toss him down to me again.

“When he grew a little older, he wasnever playing horse or soldiers, like theother little fellows around; it was always a

railroad train that he was driving. Allthe

smoothest strips out of my billets of kind-lingwood went to build tracks over thekitchen floor, hither and thither, crossingand recrossing each other.

“‘Don’t move my switch, mother, dear!’he used to cry out to me. ‘You’ll wreckmy train for sure !’

“So Ihad to go softly about my work,' with scarce a place sometimes to set my

j foot. And all the chairs in the housewould be ranged for cars, the big rocker,with the tea-bell tied to its back, for theengine; and there he would sit perched upby the hour together, making believe he at-

tended the valves and shouting to the fire-

man.“Ishall never forget the first time his

father took him to ride on the engine.Jack had begged over and over to go, huthis father always bade him wait tillhe was

older. So I had said:“‘Don’t tease father any more, Jack

dear,’ and like the true little heart he was,[ he had not said another word about it fur

I a matter of six months or more.

1 “But that day such a wishful look came| into his face, and he pulled himself up tall| and straight, and said, quite softly, his| voice trembling a little. ‘Father, do you

j think I am grown enough now ?’

| “Lookingat him, I saw two tears in his

pretty eyes. Ithink his father saw them,j too, for he turned to me in a hurry, and

I said he:j ‘“We meet the up-train at Langton,Mary, and Will Brown will bring the littlechap back all straight, I know. What do

j you say ?'

“What could I say hut yes? At sup-

per-time ho was back again, but he could| not eat. His eyes were like stars, and

there was a hot, red spot on each cheek, so

that I feared he would be ill. And I hadthought lie would never be done talking,

j but now he said scarce a word.! “‘What was it like, Jackie? ’ I asked

I him.! “Oh, mother!’ he said, ‘it wasn’t like

| anything 1’ He sat for a moment think-' ing, then he said, ‘Unless it was like| that you read last Sunday.’

“‘And what was that, Jack ?’ I asked! for I had quite forgotten.

“‘Don't you know, mother? “The; wings of the wind!” ’

i “That was not his last ride on the en-gine by many times, for, as he grew older,

j his father would take him often on Satur-i days or other half-holidays. He was per-

fectly trusty and obedient. Ibelieve hewould have had his right hand cut off soon-

j or than have meddled with anything; buthe knew every valve and screw and gauge,and watched every turn of his father's

hand, and learned the signals all along the

line, so that my husband said to me more

than once:“‘I believe in my heart, Mary, that if

I was to bo struck dead on the engine,Jack eonld run her through without a

break !’

“He was in school and learning fast, but

out of hours he was always poring over

books about machinery and steam. Suchan odd child as he was, with thoughts far

beyond his years 1 Sometimes, sitting hereby myself, I go over in my mind thestrange things he used to say to me inthosedays.

“I remember that one evening he had

been reading for a long time in some bookthat ho had got out of the public library;but by-and-by he stopped and leaned his

head on his hand, looking into the coals.All at once:

“ ‘Mother,’ said he. ‘isn’t it a wonderfulthing that God could trust men with it ?’

“ ‘With what, Jack?’“ ‘With the steam —the power in it, I

mean ! Itwas a long time before He did.

But when the right time came, and some-body listened, then He told.’

“‘Oh, mother,’ said he, with his eyes

shining, ‘what must it have been to beJames Watt, and to listen to such a secret

as that? 1“In a minute he spoke again :“‘And it’s never safe to forget to listen,

because we can’t know when He mightspeak, or what there mightbe to hear !’

“I could not answer him for a chokingin my throat, but I laid down my knittingand put my arm around him; and he lookedup into my face with something inhis eyesthat I never forgot.

“We were getting on well then. Thelittle house and garden were almost paidfor, and we thought that nowhere in theworld were happier people than we, or abrighter, cozier home. My husband andIwere always talking of this and that tobe done for Jack as soon as the last pay-ment should be made. But before themoney was due my husband came homesick one day.

“‘Don’t be frightened, Mary,’ he said.‘I shall be better to-morrow.’

“But he only grew worse next day. Itwas a lung fever that he had, and for manydays we thought he must die. Yet he ral-lied after a time —though he kept his

hacking cough —and sat up and movedabout the house, and at last thought him-self strong enough to take his place again.But that was too much, for at the end of

the first week he came home and fell faint-ing, on the threshold.

“ ‘lt’s no use, Mary,’ he said, after hecame to himself. ‘Ican’t run the engine,and ifIcould, it isn’t right for people’slives to be trusted to si eh weak hands as

mine !

“He never did any regular work after

that, though he lived 'or a year.- “Consumption is a terrible disease, sir!

To sec one that you would give your heart’sblood to save slipping, slipping away be-

fore your eyes, and you helpless to hold himback by so much as a hair’s breadth fromthe black gulfof death ; ah, sir! I trustyou have never learned how hard it is!

“Young as he was Jack was my stay, and comfort through that dark time. My¦ poor husband had matters in his mind that

he longed to speak to me about, but I al-, ways put him off, for I could not bear to

1 listen to anything like his going away fromus.

“But at last, the very day before the endcame, as I sat by ins bed holding his hand

i in mine, he said, very gently hut firmly,

I ‘Mary, wife, I think you must let me speak, to you to-day 1’

“Ifell to crying as if my heart wouldbreak, and he drew a pitifulsigh that wentlike a sword through my breast; yet I could

1 not stop the sobs. Then Jack rose up fromthe little stool where he had sat so quietlythat I had almost forgotten he was there,and came and touched me.

“‘Mother! dear mother!’ he said; andi as I looked Isaw his face perfectly white,

but there were no tears in his eyes., ‘“Mother!” he said again, ‘please go

! away for a little while. I can hear whatfather wants to say.’

“You will think me cowardly, sir, but I

did as the child bade me. I left the doorajar, and I could hear my husband’s weakvoice, though I could not understand thewords, and then my brave boy’s answers,clear and low; not a break or tremble inthe sweet voice. And at last Jack said,‘ls that all, dear father?’ and, ‘Yes, Iwill

be sure to remember it—every word !’

“Then he came out and kissed me withi almost a smile, and went through the outer

door. But an hour afterward, when I. went out to the well, I heard a little chok-

ing sound, and saw him lying on his facein the long grass under the apple-tree sob-bing his very heart away. So I turnedabout and went into the house as softly as

I could, and never let him know.“After itwas all over and we had time

to look about us, we found some debts left

and very little money. It was a hard

thing for me, that had had for so long astrong, loving arm between mo and everycare, to have to think and plan how tomake both ends meet, when I could not

even start evenly at the beginning. ButJack came to my help again.

“‘Father said that you were never towork hard, dear mother, because you werenot strong, but that I must take care of

you some way. He thought you could lettwo or three rooms to lodgers, maybe, andthat the best thing for me just now would

be to get a train-boy’s place. He said themen on our road would be sure to give mea chance for his sake.’

“Ido not know that Ihad smiled before

since his father died, but when Iheard him

say ‘our road,’ in that little proud tone hehad, Icaught him to my heart and laughedand cried together.

“ ‘And Ispoke to Mr. Withers about itonly yesterday,’ he went on, ‘and he saidthat Tom Gray is going to leave, and I canhave his chance and begin next week, if Ilike. What do you say, dear mother ?’

“‘O Jack 1’ I said, ‘how can Igetthrough the long lonesome days withoutyou ? And if anything should happen to

you, Ishould die!’“ ‘Don’t, mother!’ he said, gently, for

the tears were in my eyes again. But Iwould not heed him.

“ ‘And you to give up your school 1’ Icried. ‘And all our plans for you to cometo naught!’ .

“ ‘Father thought of that. too, t he an-swered. ‘But be said that the whole worldbelonged to the man that was faithful andtrue. And I promised him. You cantrust me, mother ?’

“Trust him ? Ah, yes 1 he had struckthe right chord at last, and I lifted myhead and dried my tears. Whatever un-

seen dangers Imight fear for my boy wouldbe of the body, not of the soul. ‘Faithfuland true !’ I thanked God and took cour-age.

“It was wonderful how he succeededwith the books and papers, and the otherthings he sold. There was something inhim that made him a favorite with every-body. Ihave been told by more than onethat the sight of his frank, handsome facewas like sunshine; and that people boughtof him whether they wanted anything or

not.“Well, the years went by, and he grew

up—working his way from one position toanother, on the road —trusted everywhere.He was my own boy still, though he was

so tall and strong, with his bright curlsturned chestnut-brown, and a silken fringeshading the lips that kept their old, lovingkisses for me alone.

“Itwas not very long that he had hadthe place of engineer, which he had wantedso long. He had a day off, and was doingsome little things for me about the houseand garden, when one of the depot handscame running up thejpath calling for him.

“‘Mr. Harding wants you instantly,Jack 1’ cried the man. ‘The Jersey ex-press should have left the depot five min-utes ago, and the engineer has just fallen

down in a fit. Curtis and Fitch are bothoffon leave, and Mr. Harding says there’snobody left but you that he’ll trust withthe train.”

“ ‘l!’’cried Jack, ina maze. ‘The Jer-sey express! And Inever drove anythingbut a freight-train!’

“ ‘Well! well!’ cried the man, impa-tiently, ‘don’t stop to argue! Orders isorders, and here’s a minute and a half gonealready!’

“Jack seemed to come to himself at that.He darted one smile at me, and was offlikea shot, drawing on his coat as he ran. Inless time than I take in telling it, I heard

the signal of the out-going train, and knewthat my boy was trusted with a task thatwas to be given only to the most intelli-gent and careful men in the service.

; “They brought him back to me that’ night, sir, and laid him on his father’s bed;1 and, by piecemeal, then and afterwards, Is learned what had happened that day.

“The train starting out so late, they were

e forced to make up time somewhere on the1 line. So, on that long, straight stretch of2 track through the valley, they were makingi sixty miles an hour. The train fairly flew.

1 Jack could feel the air strike his face like) a sharp wind, though it was abalmy spring

¦ day.“Then an awful thing happened! The

i great connecting-rod of the driving-wheelon the right of the engine broke. Jack

. seemed to live all his life over in that oneterrible instant when he saw the end of the

t rod swing upward. It struck the cab un-j der him and and dashed it into a thousand- pieces, and he knew no more till a horrible

s agony awoke him where he had fallen sense-

-1 less on the engine.“Burned and almost blind, with the flesh

. scalded and torn from his hands, he remem-

f bered his engine, with its open throttle,- leaping on to certain destruction. He

seemed to see the passengers inside the3 long train, as so many times in the old days, when he called the morning papers throughi the cars.

j “He knew how they looked and whatthey were doing—the men reading, smok-

r ing, talking of the elections, the price ofgrain, or how stocks went up last week;

! women, with crowing, dimpled babies in

i their arms; little children crowding to the• windows, vainly trying to count the whiz-

i zing telegraph poles; young, happy peoplei going on wedding journeys, maybe, and

; others coming home who had been longaway.

r “He remembered that, as he hurried tohis place at the front that day, a little girlwith a cloud of golden hair had leaned¦ from a car-window, to give one more good-

i by kiss to her father on the platform.: ‘Take good care of mamma, darling!’ he

had heard the gentleman say.I “The fireman—no coward, either, was

1 Tim Harbrook, but with wife and babes at

, home —let himself down from the tenderand escaped. So might my Jack havedone. But he crept along the side of the

i leaping engine, carefully and painfully he. swung himself into his place, and with

I every motion of his hands an untold agony,he reversed the engine and put on the air-

biakc.“Then the train stopped, snatched back

from the pit’s mouth, and they took myboy from his post —‘faithful and true.’

“Itwas a long time before Jack’s burnswere healed. The road-people came oftento see him—no men could have been

, kinder—and every week his wages camein full.

“But one evening, after he had begunj to get out a little, one of his mates came jin. ‘Come, Jack, old fellow, you’ll bemoped to death here!’ he said. ‘Youwant a change. There’s a big meeting of jthe road-folks over at the hall to-night, jI’m just on my way. Come along.”

“ What sort of a meeting?’ said Jack.“Oh, Ican’t say exactly —something in-

teresting, they told me, and everybody in-

vited.’“He stole a queer look at me, and I

knew he wanted me to help him. So, asI really thought it might do Jack good, Isaid:

“Yes, Jack, go along with Tom.’“ ‘But I’m not presentable with this

face,’ said Jack.“ ‘Pshaw, man! it’s evening, and no-

body’ll notice. Leastways, they needn’t 1’“With a little more coaxing, Jack set

offwith him. Ihad hardly heard the gateclick when the door opened again, andJenny Brown came in like a sprite.

“ ‘Quick ! quick, Mrs. Burton ! Put onyour bonnet!’ she whispered.

“ ‘Where? What do you mean ?’ Isaid, for Iwas frightened.

“ ‘To the meeting ! Hurry, or we shallbe late!’

“She was tying my bonnet-string undermy chin as she spoke, and she had thehouse-door locked, and me down the gar-den path and out of the back gate, fairlywithout my will. She hurried me acrossthe square and pushed me through thecrowd around the hall entrance.

“I was out of breath with nervousnessand fast walking,so we sat down in a backseat. The room was full. There were agreat many ladies there, and on the plat-form sat the Superintendent and several ofthe Directors of the road. Everybodyseemed to be whispering and smiling andlooking backwards towards the door, and Ilooked too, though Ididn’t know why.

“Then the door opened and Jack camein with Tom. I heard somebody on the

other side of me whisper, “That’s he !’ andanother and another, and a rustle creptthrough the place, and then, all at once,such a cheer went up as, Ican truly say, Inever heard in all my life before. Thepeople stood up, and the ladies waved theirwhite handkerchiefs.

“The Superintendent tried to speak, andrapped on his little table, but all in vain,until the crowd had had their three timesthree. And through it all I watched myboy. He looked around him, dazed at

first, by all the tumult,and trying toknowwhat it meant; but wherever he might turnhis eyes he met a hundred others smilingon him, and a score of hands stretched outto him as he passed, and, all at once—heknow 1

“Osir, Icannot tell you about it! Howthey carried him up the front, though noton the platform—there he would not go —

how they found me out and made me sitbeside him; how there were speeches andhand-shakings and laughing and crying.

“And, at last, the Superintendent saidthat there was a little child there, thegrand-daughter of the President of theroad, who had been with her mother onthe train that day, and that she had beenselected by many grateful friends to pre-sent a little token to the man whose faith-ful courage had saved so many lives.

“Then a beautiful lady, all in soft, rust-ling silk, came up the able, leading theloveliest child I ever saw, with a greatglory of golden hair around her head, likethe picture of an angel. I felt Jack start,for it was the very child whose face hadcome to him in that awful moment on theflying engine.

“The little thing let go her mother’shand as she came near, looking up withshy blue eyes, and in her small fingers was

a purse of gold. You could sec the greatcoins shining through the silk netting.She held it up to him, and all the roomwas still as death. I heard one great sobrbe in my boy’s throat, and then he liftedthe child in hb arms, and stood up, bold-ing her, straight and tall.

“But he did not take the purse. ‘No,darling,’ he said, in a low, tender voice, soclear that everybody beard. Then hekissed her, and lifted one long curl fromher neck.

“‘Thb b the onlygold I want!’ he said,and looked at the child's mother with aquestion in hb eyes.

“The lady nodded, and my boy took outa little pair of scissors from hb vest pocketand cut the curl offgently, and put itcare-fully away.

“And, sir, if they had cheered before,what was it now ? The arched ceilingrang, the gas-jets flared and flickered, and

farmer.Ensilage for tho Dairy.

Mr. John Gould, of Ohio, writes thet Country Gentleman as follows respecting

j the use of ensilage as a cheap, but excced-c ingly valuable food for the production of

i milk. The cheapness by which it was putinto the silos b surprising, and indicates

, that these Ohio dairymen are demonstrating, that ensilage cannot only be grown abun-

[ dantly, but preserved so cheaply that the, rough fodder for a cow need not exceed a

mere nominal cost for the winter months.The letter says:

“I have been investigating to some ex-tent the cost of fillingthe silos about here,

i and Ifind that with different methods from

¦ those originally practiced, the cost b sur-

l prbingly small. Near me are three silos¦ holding not far from 400 tons each, and; these are now filled and weighted ready for

! winter. That of Mr. Wing has 550 tonsi pitted, at a cost of 14 cents per ton. Mr.¦ Blair, another neighbor, has 400 tons inthe

pits, at a cost of 13 cents. Mr. Emory bI counting on about 15 cents and Mr. Rice,i with a small silo, will probably get offwith

an outlay of not far from 10 cents per ton.; These figures do not include any compensa--1 tion for the labor of the owner and hb

teams, but exactly what it costs for hired

¦ labor andbreakage,thesamorulethefarmeri applies to cutting hay or grain, or other¦ farm work hold good.

The idea of slowly filling the silo b theexplanation of the whole matter. Thehaste b avoided, and in its place—-whichmeans a great army of extra men and teams,at a price far above regular wages—onegets along with the ordinary farm help, andan extra man or two for three weeks, atregular month wages. The employmentof an engine, which, ifthe farmer docs not

' own, and few do, b by slow fillingunneces-sary, and a single tread horse power willput its twenty tons of fodder into “chop”quite as well. Then if two teams are fur- jnished, one for each man, and a fifth horse 1for the tread, the matter of f Ilinggoes ex- ;

j peditiously forward. One of the teams can j; early in the morning be put ou the reaper,

j and the day's “cut" is soon down, and thedrawing then commences. During the

week the horses are changed about, so that

each one has hb turn upon the power.

By building the silo with three parti-tions, the filling can be altorated to eachday, and by the third day the fodder inthefirst pit willbe up to nearly or quite 125°,

| and ready to receive its quota of fresh cut

fodder.- ’By thb means, hurry and worryare wholly avoided, sour ensilage has nopart or lot in the question, and as in the

case of Mr. Wing, or Mr. Blair, the em-ployment of not to exceed 845 worth of

labor each, has put the feed for each sixtyhead of cattle into the silos. Ifthree tons

of ensilage are worth a ton of good hay,then these men will feed a coarse ration

thb winter, costing them less than one cent,not counting interest on land or owner'slabor. The produce of each of these silosgrew upon about twelve acres of land, andwilleach amply winter G 5 cows, aside fromthe grain, and their equivalent in hay would -have required at least that on more than |200 acres of average Ohio meadow land. :As to the licalthfulness of ensilage one has

only to look at the stock of Mr. Rice, who

has fed it fivewinters, Mr. Jos. Breck four,and Mr. Wing four, to decide that it bgood feed, as well as cheap, aud as the lasttwo gentlemen arc largely engaged in the

production of winter milk, their advocacyof it, enlarging their boundaries, and in-crease of stock, tell better than any otherargument in its favor.”

Care of Implements.

Cultivators, mowing and harvesting ma- jchines, and all summer implements arenever past the season of use. How many ¦remain in the fields or yards exposed to the ,weather ? More than one-half, it b esti- ;mated. How many arc partially taken iapart to be stored, and all bright surfaces jproperly protected immediately after the jseason of use ? The estimate is one ma-chine in ten. Are you one of the greatarmy who whollyabuse or imperfectly care

for your machines? Ifso, and your otherfarm operations are after the same slipshodmanner, you arc doing what would swampany man who so neglected hb business iu

any other calling in one year.The average life of a mower or reaper is

three years. Properly cared for, it willbea good machine at the end of ten years, and jwith less cost for repairs during that time

than illy-cared for machines will cost in a isingle year. Water quickly rots wood-work. The sun shrinks the joints. Iron jand steel quickly corrode if left inthe dew, jrain and sun. Hence you lose not only in jthe decay, but such machines never do good ;work. You can not afford to allow thb.The remedy is a cover where they may be !carefully stored away and protected. Thefarmer who, before using an instrument, b jobliged to spend half a day or more cuttingthe rust with oil of vitrol, washing it offwith water, and then scouring it bright,does not understand hb business. Suchan implement never thereafter does perfectwork. Every farmer should be able to take

part and properly put together every im-plement he uses. Itb one of the first les-sons he should learn, after the machine is

bought, at least so far as the working partsto be protected are concerned. The gum-med perilous should be cleaned with kero-sene or turpentine, dried, and these andall bright surfaces painted with kerosene

and lampblack of the consbtency of paint.Then if carefully laid away where the cov-ering will not be brushed or washed off,the whole will come out perfect and readyfor use when wanted. No gummy sub-stance like Unseed-oil paint should be used.It takes time to clean when the implementb wanted.

For plows, hoes, rakes or other brightsurfaces an ounce of camphor dbsolvcd inturpentine or alcohol, four ounces of lardoil, and one ounce of black lead stove-polbh,intimately mixed, make in this preparationone of the best and cheapest perfect pre-ventatives, which b quickly removed bysimple use, but it b no better than the ker-osene and lampblack paint. Some very

careful farmers have a can of the lampblackand kerosene mixture in the field, and everyplow-share and mould-board is painted withitevery night, and then turned upside down.

The first furrow in the morning cleans itperfectly. The same b true of cultivators.Ifthb pays, and it docs, it certainly willpay with more costly machinery.

When peaches inDelaware don’t pay to

ship to the cities they are turned over tothe evaporators or made up iuto wine. Ifthe latter, the produce b sold to city cus-tomers as “pale old sherry,” and b pronounc-ed superior to its adulterated and importednamesake. Strawberries are treated in thesame way, and produce a beverage that bsaid to take the place of apple jack.

One good team, if properly bandied, will

do more work without injury than half a

dozen teams are . squired to do on somefarms. Surplus horses are quite frequentsly the cause of the profit being small infarming.

VOL. XXI.-NO. 9.

The American Beef Supply.

At a recent meeting of cattle-growers ats Chicago the lion. Norman J. Column,j Commissioner of Agriculture, addressed the

3 convention upon “The American Beef3 Supply.”i When the first accurate statistics of the

, cattle in this country were collected in 1850i itwas found that we had inround numbers

. about 17,778,000; in 1860, 25,620,000; in: 1870 this number had been reduced to

i 23,820,000; in 1880 there were 35,925,000,. while in 1885 there are not far from 45,-

, 000,000. If a solid column should bes formed twelve animals deep, one end rest-i ing at New York city, its center encircling

San Francisco, and its other arm reachingI back to Boston, such a column would con-

tain about the number which now forma; the basis, the capital stock, so to speak, of

1 the cattle industry of the United States,

i The value of these animals is not less than

i 81,200,000,000.But insidious cattle plagues exist in the

. country. To protect from these diseases’ State regulations and State restrictions upon

, the movement of cattle have been fortnu-i lated, which during the last year have been! the cause of the most serious disturbancei and loss to those engaged in this industry

1 in a considerable number of State? Thereare also annoying restrictions on our foreign

. trade. And contagious diseases are not

confined to cattle alone. The swine indus-try is at this time perhaps the very greatestsufferer from them, and from all parts ofthe country comes up the cry for relief.Nor are these restrictions upon our foreigntrade confined to cattle alone. Our sheepand swine are also slaughtered on the Eng-lish docks with an even more destructiveeffect upon the traflic. The prohibition ofour pork is only too well known; and theinterest in a settlement of the range ques-tion is shared by the breeders of cattle,horses and sheep. With you are directlyinterested the breeders and owners of the

13.000. of horses and mules, of the50.000. of sheep, and of the 45,000,000of swine. In 1880 our railroads carriedtwo and one-half times as many tons oflive-stock as of cotton. The product ofour animal industry in 1884, includingmeat, and labor, and dairy products, andwool, and lard, and tallow, and hides, etc.,was four times as much as the gross earn-ings of all the railroad companies in theUnited States. Take the greatest cropproduced in this country—the corn crop—-and 72 per cent, of that is dependent uponour animal industry for market. Take thegreat hay crop, and there is no other wayto utilize it; and the oat crop, which mostlygoes for animal food. The value of thesethree crops, which are marketed as animalfood, of itself reaches 81,000,000,000 ayear. A contagious disease among cattlewillhave a double effect. It will increasethe price of meat or other animal productswithout benefiting any one, because it willbe more expensive to produce it. It willalso reduce the value of these enormouscrops I have mentioned, because they cannot be fed to the same advantage.

There is an impression throughout thecountry that the cattle business has beendeveloped far beyond what is necessary oreven prudent, but this is not the case.Notwithstanding the wonderful increase ofthe last fifteen years—an increase which itis safe to say willnever be repeated in thesame time in this country, for the lack of

, territory—we have just about the samenumber of cattle per thousand inhabitantsthat we had in 1850, and less than we had

in 1860. In 1850 we had a population of23,191,876 and 17,778,907 head of cattle,or 766 cattle to the thousand inhabitants;in 1860 we had 814 cattle to the thousandpopulation; in 1880 we had but 716 headto the thousand; and if we estimate ourpopulation in 1885 at 57,000,000 and ourcattle at 44,000,000, we would only have772 to the 1,000 at this time. In otherwords, although our cattle have increasedin an almost fabulous manner, our popula-tion has increased with equal rapidity. Itis, however, only this new region that hasso recently been developed west of the Mis-sissippi that has enabled the increase of ourcattle to keep pace with the population.In 1850 we had in the States cast of theMississippi 722 cattle to the 1,000 inhab-itants; in 1880 we had but 521 to the1.000. And if we take the oldest settledStates, like New York and Connecticut, wecan see still more plainly what we are com-ing to in the near future. In 1850 New

j York had 606 cattle to the 1,000 inhab-itants; in 1880 she had but 460. In 1850Connecticut had 575 cattle to the 1,000inhabitants; in 1880 she had but 380.Let us compare the figures for our oldsettled States with some of the Europeancountries according to the latest statistics:New York 460 cattle to the 1,000 inhab-itants, Connecticut 380, Germany 367,France 306, Great Britain and Ireland297. This shows that our eastern Statesare rapidly approaching the condition ofthe European countries in the proportionof cattle to population, and if this propor-tion continues to decrease in New York inthe future as rapidly as it has in the lastthirty years it willbe as low as in Germanywithin twenty-one years and as low as inGreat Britain and Ireland in less thanthirty years.

Eov to Select a Boy.

A gentleman advertised for a boy, andnearly fifty apprentices presented them-selves to him. Out of the whole numberhe selected one and dismissed the rest.“I should like to know,” said a friend, “onwhat ground you selected that boy, who

had not a single recommendation.” “Youarc mistaken,” said the gentleman; “he has

a great many. He wiped his feet when hecame in and closed the door after him,showing that he was careful. He gave his

seat instantly to the lame old man, showingthat he was thoughtful. He took off hishat when he came in and answered myquestions promptly, showing that he wasgentlemanly. He picked up the bookwhich I had purposely laid on the floor and

replaced it on the table; and he waitedquietly for his turn instead of pushing and

crowding, showing that he was honorableand orderly. When I talked to him Inoticed that his clothes were brushed, hishair in order; when he wrote bis name Inoticed that his finger nails were clean.Don’t you call those things letters of re-commendation? I do; and I would givemore for what I can tell about a boy byusing my eyes ten minutes than all theletters he can bring me.” Little thingsshow character, and frequently determinea boy’s whole career. It is the boy whodoes the kind, polite and thoughtful actsunconsciously that wins his way to employ-ment and success. Success docs not meanwealth or fame. True success means thedevelopment of a character that is worthyof example—a character that is honest to

every duty, faithful to every trust, and thatis unselfish enough to find time for kindlyacts that are not forced, but the simple ex-pression of a warm and generous principle.True success is fidelity to every relation inlife.

Compliments and congratulations costnothing but pens, inkand paper—or words.

Serve a great man and you will knowwhat sorrow is.

Cellar Ventilation.

The American Agriculturist for Decem-ber says: The ill-health which prevailsmore or less uniformly towards spring, maybe accounted for to a great degree, by the

; lack of ventilation of cellars. Farm house; cellars are often filled in December, with

• cider and vinegar in barrels, beef barrels,’ pork barrels, apple barrels, potatoes in bins

. and other articles too numerous to mention,

i Besides, flowering plants taken up for the

; winter, are here stored away to be safe fromfrost, and leaves from them fall and decay.

: There are boxes, old timber, boards, etc.,which become moist and mouldy; and thereare shelves and corners, that anyone cansee to have been only half cleaned, and lia-ble to be, if not already, damp, mouldy andunwholesome.

The thing to be is, to provide outsidecellars as soon as possible, for fruits andvegetables, and all those things liable todecay; but before that is done, we must doeverything possible to have our cellars un-der the dwellings sweet and clean. Firstthe cellar should be swept (hoed out ifnecessary,) once a week. Decaying things,whether fruit, vegetables or boards, shouldbe removed. Then quicklime, or halfslaked lime, should be scattered freely incorners, under shelves, under bins, andaround and among the barrels of all kinds.When the lime has slaked to a powder, it

may be swept about over the floor. Ifthefloor be of earth, itwill harden it; if it beof wood or cement, it willhelp to keep itsweet. Finally, on every suitable day,windows and doors should be thrown open,and fresh air allowed to pass freely through.The ceilings and walls ought to be white-washed not less than twice a year, for thesake not only of having the cellar light andneat but to purify it and kill the fine moldwhich attaches itself to stone, brick andwood, in warm, moist places. Inbuilding,it is important that there should be a fluein one or more chimneys, going directlyfrom the cellar to the top of the chimney,so that there may be a draft to carry awaythe inevitable exhalations. These do littleharm in summer, for our houses are thenopen, and the air draws more or less through

, them at all times. Whereas in winter, wetoo often shut ourselves up, and the cellarexhalations draw up through the floors, audgradually, but surely, poison those mem-bers of the family whom we most loveand cherish, and would screen from everyharm.

Fertilizing by Feeding Stock.

A recent work treating of agriculturalmatters, suggests feeding stock as one meth-od of restoring a farm to a good condition.

| Thousands of farmers, it says, in Pennsyl-vania, New Jersey, New York and Ohio,and even further west, where the land isnot as rich as it once was, and where farm-

: ers are learning the value of manure andthe advantage of good farming, practise a

i regular system of feeding animals to feedtheir land. They make hay, grow corn,

! roots, wheat, rye, potatoes, and make but-ter; sell the grain, potatoes and butter, and

j feed bay, corn fodder, roots and straw,and even purchase feeding stuffs, and buylean stock in the early fall to consume all

1 these. The cattle or sheep are turned onto the stubbles and pasture as long as thereis good feeding. They arc then fed dur-ing the winter on dry feed, and as they be-come fat and fit for market are turned off,so that by the spring they are all disposedof. A steer weighing 1,200 lbs. and cost-ingS4O, is thus made to weigh 1,600 lbs.and sell for 880, or even more; because

there is not only the increased weightmade for the profit, but the increased valueof a fat animal for every pound of itsweight over the value of a thin and unsal-able one. The feed is thus disposed of ata good price, and there is a profit besides

jto pay for the labor. In addition, there5 is a large quantity of manure, which is

worth much more than common barnyardr manure because of the high feeding of the

; cattle. In a similar way the owner of poor

i land may buy cattle, and all the fodder andi grain, and feed them, and make an equal! profit as the farmers above mentioned; be-

cause they charge the animals with the feedat market price. There is then the manureleft to go upon the land and increase thenext year’s crop, which makes less purchas-ed food necessary. As the land improves,and the crops increase in yield, the profitsof the business are larger. Ina few yearsit will be unnecessary to buy fodder, andthe income from the farm will then bemore satisfactory, because the expenses

j will be lessened.

The National Stockman enters a properprotest against the almost universal unhan-diness and inconvenience of the water sup-

ply of farm houses. With abundant water

about him and abundant means to secure

i hydraulic conveniences the farmer too oftenallows his wife to make a paekmule of her-self in carrying water for ordinary house-

hold and culinary use. Hundreds of mileswalk these uncomplaining women lugginggreat buckets when the water could be hadin kitchen and sink by turning a faucet.The farmer buys a reaper and mower andhorse-rake, but he never thinks how thework in the house might be lightened bythe expenditure of a little thought andmoney.

It is very poor economy to starve younganimals. Too often they lose during thewinter what flesh they have made in thesummer, and come out in the spring nobetter than when they were weaned; besidesusing up time and food to restore their

strength the next summer. We have seen

I young stock which were worth twelve dol-lars in the fall, sold inthe spring for sevenor eight dollars, after having been fedthrough the winter. It is this sort of badmanagement which has no doubt givenrise to the general complaint that “farmingdoes not pay.”

Cattle have increased more than three-fold in the United States during the pastten years. Ours is the greatest cattle pro-

ducing region on the globe. On farmsthere are now about 42,000 ; on ranch andrange property west of the Mississippi about

10,000,000 cattle graze.

No better food can be found for horsesthan well cured corn fodder, and everyprudent farmer should have a good supplyexpressly stored away for winter use.A great deal of hay can be saved in thisway.

Be gentle, patient and persevering intraining horses, but don’t fail to be firm.A horse with a bad disposition and inclin-ed to be unruly and vicious will soon findout whether you are capable of handlinghimor not.

A London paper states that a Germanobserver has found that cows milked threetimes a day give much more milk than whenmilked twice only, and that the proportionof fat is the same in both cases.

Chloride of lime is recommended byChambers’ Journal as a rat-riddance. Thepests are not killed but they “make them-selves scarce.”