THE PEOSEESSIVE PAELIEE : DECEMBER 22. 1898.
5
POETRY.
XTri'tmfor The Progressive FanncrA
GROWN OLD TOGETHER.
VI er love's joun drpam fruition found,
Willi form m.d soul divine,
v., ti..uxht there was tnat either cou.d
p,o nurrtd or chanced by time.
I ike t!ood of lit lit in dungeon dark
tame into my life,
tuT since a ha-en here
sht's matie of earthly strife.
Th ears have passed, ar.d time has done
Us b- t to st-ar and blight
-p.,, ttt-auty of that form and d'm
Timt f-ou1 s ) pure and bright,
lit t s'Ul t-till leaks trom out her eyes
With every loox. frtie gives,
will through them its love outpour
Yiule here the oreathes aud lives.
'Vrt nnial streams of love are there
T. il and, foul or fair,
Tl.o e ; chits are ever full and freth
Ami ever t.ebonalr.
Th'imrh ot tiers see the change that time
ila wro'sglit since havoc cm me
To 1 Lt.-t the b au y oi.iv to fair.
To me she's ju?t the same.
Al n the viVlx of life, with h ind
In nai.d tw-eth'T pressed.
We've i assed aud closer grown through age.
We lit em our portion b.essed
What though 1 er luvr is hite as SuOW,
Her heart is pure as gold
Wiih tee.ings just a waim and true
As iu those daj s of old.
As warm and true as when that hah
Was yo dtn w.th its shetn;
As w hm tLo.-e cheeks were pink a: d plump.
And he u t was frtsh and green;
As fervent now a when I thrilled
With joy at greeting sweet,
N tond an t tiue in tho-e youns days.
Whene'er we ch:tueed to meet.
IVep wrinkles ia her face are worn
To only t-how more pittin
How time has stamped the kindness there
Her Sou will e'er retain.
Oid age hatu com- aud left no drees
Within m cup of b.iss;
file's sweet and beautiful to me
As wnen 1 stoie a kis.
Oar love has grown more fond as time
Scored do.vu the ll cting ye.trs;
A love without an aiteimitli
Of I'aiu. or d uot or fears.
lhe i-ive that once so bouudle.s was
llemaiuh unuit asurj'. sail.
An l utwr jtt has t essed to How
Like ever running nil.
Sine.4 ou:h together we have lived,
snd n w b .weU down with age,
Wi- bro k oUi time serenely while
He turns another page.
The cares we've had a e pat and gone,
e mind them not a leather
.Sit.ce ilt-eting time has le.t us he- e,
V nh -uvt giv.wu old toetiit-r.
U B. Gwvnn.
iO USJEilOJLD.
PUDDING FOR INVALIDS
First mix a dessertspoonful of corn
tl iur with a little cold milk, and pour
into it a pint of boiling milk, stirring
t) prevent lumps. Return all to the
saucepan and boil two minutes, care
fully stirring. Add a beaten egg, su
gar and fl tvoring to taste. Pour into
a greased pie dish and bake for a
quarter of an hour. Serve either hot
or cold.
MEAR PUFFS.
Rjil out any trimmings of pastry,
left over from a pie or tart, as thin as
possible. Mince very fine three table
spoonfuls of cold meat, eeaeon with
Ppper and salt, add a little bit of but
ter, a few drops of ketchup and a pinch
of sweet herb3. Cut the paste in
neat cn it, fold tAe other over, press
and pinch the edges together. Flour
the puffs and fry a nice brown in boil
irg fat.
OYSTERS IN A LOAF.
A muh relished way to serve oya
ters i3 cut the top off a freshly cut
loaf of bread, remove the sponge, and
fill the cavity with creamed oysters;
put it in layers, with intervening lay
era of bread crumbs. When full, re
plce the top of the loaf. Cover the
latter with the beaten yolk of an egg,
and tet in the oven 10 glaze. This
nukes a pretty d:h if served on a
wreath of parsley, placed on tho dish
with their stems turned in, so that the
leaf will conceal all but the leaves.
BOILED MUTTON PIE.
For thn take one pound and a half
of Ecrag of mutton or the piece from
under the shoulder. Make a good,
light suet crut, and with it lino a
greased pudding basin. Cut the meat
ioto neat pieces, rfjeting all fat and
skin, add to this two raw, sliced pota
toes; dredge all with flour, season with
P?pper, salt and a minced cnion. Fill
the dish with meat and potato and
pour over it a tumblerful of cold water.
Cver with a piece cf crust, tie over
with a pudding cloth wrung cut in
bailing water and boil for three hours
Sjrve in the basin.
ALLEGED FUN.
Dobson: "It seems to me that gar
ment is too large for the biby." Mrs.
D. : "B it you mast remember that it
will shrink from washing." D. : So
doe3 the baby." Modes and Fabrics.
l,Hubly, what in the deuce did you
mean by letting that note I indorsed
fcr you go to protests1' "Why, man,
there was no other way unless I paid
the thing." Detroit Free Press.
"Uncle Simon, what is old fashioned
politeness?" "It is a way people used
to hive of asking a man about his
health and then listening until he got
.tittough replying." Chicago Record.
ifci-r: "5Vhy did you accept Char
Ji4u among all tho young men who
have paid you attention?" Daughter:
' Because he was the only one that had
toe eoad taste to propose." Detroit
Free Press
Vdbaley : "The truest test of a man's
friendship is his willingness to lend
you money." Mudge: Oh, 'most any
body will lend money. The real test
is when you strike him for a second
ioan." Indianapolis Journal.
Written for The Progressive Farmer.
Ten Years After.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
BY IDA INGOLD MASTEN.
O jo Christmas eve several years ago
a gay crowd of young girls and boys
had gathered at tho pretty home of
Rse Shandon to make merry the dear
old Christmas times. The rooms were
beautifully decorated with ivy and
holly, glistenirg with red berries. And
from the chandlier hung several sprays
of mistletoe.
Tho grates sent fprth a sparkling,
ruddy glow, and everything seemed in
tune for the time cf year.
Outside, the earth was wrapped in a
soft mantle 6t Enow, and the pure
white fl ikes still drifted gently down
from a leaden colored eky.
. Rose Shandon was just eleven years
old, and a very beautiful little fairy
like creature wuh bright golden hair
and big soft, brown eyes. Her gutsts
this evening were all charmed with her
childish loveliness. Especially so was
one Equarely built handsome youth of
fifteen.
This was Hervo R )land, who had
come to this party with his cousin,
R )me Semple, whom he was visitiDg
at this time.
Hence he was a stranger to all this
joyous group of merry-makers except
ing his ccuein, Rome. But, however,
he scon became acquainted with their
charming little hostess and the rest of
the party.
Herve was of a vivacious character
and it was decidedly characteristic cf
him to want to tease girls and bcyp,
especially girls, younger than himself.
No sooner had he become acquainted
than he began to ex-rcise this trait
among them in a very modest way,
which was exceedingly taking for the
most part.
But to Rose Shandon it seemed noth
ing short of imposing To her it seemed
i hat he was too large and knew too
much to associate with the rest of the
party, as it consisted of children whoso
ages ranged from five to twelve years
old.
In his innocent fun making it seemed
to Rose that ho was taking advantage
and acting in a very rude manner. And
once when she had fallen victim to his
caprices sho had of necessity to re
train hersolf to keep from speaking
very unbecomingly to him. In short,
she thought he was a most contempt
iblo being, and she did not like him a
bit.
The other children took his teasing
all in good part and seemed to consid
er his presence a real treat. And the
evening was being passed in high
jollity.
This merry making had reached its
he?ght. Childinh voices rang out in
ceaseless chatter. Peals cf intermit
tent laughter and wild rompings made
the house ring. The chandlier burned
brightly and Rose stood equarely under
the swinging mistletoe. Herve Rjland
perceived this and stepping up from
behind kissed Rose firt cn the cheek
and then on the mouth almost before
?ho knew it. Her anger wag aroused,
and kindled by the dislike she already
bore for him, she turned and dealt him
a stinging blow in the face with her
clinched fiit. Herve staggered back
ward, raised his hand to his face and
groaned. Rose ran from the room
crying and saying she hated that Ro
iand boy.
The remainder of tho evening was
not spent s. joyously. In faet the in
cident acted as a kind of barrier to the
pleasure of the evening. Herve Ro
land's vivaciou3ne&s seemed to bo nip
ped in the bud. besides he was likely
to have a blue spot cn the side of his
nose. And Rose's sprightlinegs all
died out. Sho regrettea that she
should have treated a guest so very un
becomingly, but sho could not sum
noon up courago to ask his pardon.
Soon the hour for departure came
and Rose's little friends scattered away.
She went to bed that night feeling
very much ashamed of her conduct,
yet feeling a bitter contempt for Herve
Roland. She felt that he deserved the
treatment she had given him, but she
was sorry she had lost her temper in
the presence of her many little friends
and marred the beauty of the evening
in such a way.
Christmas morning dawned clear and
cold. Among th9 gifts strewn upon
the little table in Rose's room, was a
neatly tied-up b.x with 'H. R."
marked on tho upper left hand corner.
When Rose espied this the blood
fl jwed to her face and she hesitated a
long time before she decided to open it.
When she did open it, however, she
found inside a single red rose with a
card attached to the stem bearing these
words, "My wild Rose." "Merry
Christmas !
Ten vears passed by. It was Christ
maa eve again. The outside world was
wraDDed in snow, and every limb and
twig wore its garb of pure white, ine
... I
sky was dark and clouded. Every
thing outside looked dreary enough in
the darkening twilight. But there stood
a big castle like house in the midst cf
this snow covered world that gave evi
dence of life and cheerfulness. L''ght
poured from the long windows and
stained glas3 doors out onto the snow
in long red streak 3. Shadows were
constantly flitting by these windows,
and people were coming by twos and
threes and entering this house. Taf re
was great gaiety here. It was Christ
mas eve. Tne Semples were giving a
grand ball to night. Inside this house
there were rosy cheeks, bright eyes,
soft voices, feather fans and lovely
gowns in great abundance. But, a
man, tall and very handsome, with
straight black eyebrows and black
hair brushed back from his forehead,
stood quieJy and watched the new
comers with a somewhat anxious ex
pression in his dark eyes. After look
1Dg good at each new arrival, a kind of
disappointment would spread over his
fine face and he was seen to change
from one foot to the other in an un
comfortable sort of manner.
Rome Semple came up to his side
and putting his hand on his shoulder
said: "Hervo, my'old man, why do you
look so serious? O, I see well, let me
assure you, Miss Shandon is just sure
to bo here yes, some one is arriving
now,
The man with tho black hair gave a
glance toward tho door and his eyes
burned with an intense light. His un
easy manner disappeared and his
t-lcod flowed fast.
The thing that caused this change
was a young girl dressed simply, with
white tow like hair and great lustrous
brown eyes. As she entered the room
was surrounded by a crowd of friends
and she was almost hidden from the
gaze cf this man. But he could see
glimpses of her fair hair, and once
; trough an opening she rested her eyes
full on his face, but instantly turned
away and moved out of his sight.
A little later she was whirled into a
dance. Herve Roland watched the
white floating form in its every move
ment. When the dance was ended Rome
Sample meant to see that Herve met
Miss Shandon. But she excused her
self by merely keeping out of the way,
until the next dance began when she
came into it in the arms of another
man whom Hervo did not know. When
this was ended ho again sought her
presence and came upon her in time to
see her carried off by her partner to
get refreshments.
She never looked in his direction,
and never happened to paea hia way.
The next gentleman on her card was
R )me Semple. She saw him coming
toward her with Herve R land and in
stinctively turned her head from them
When they came up, Rome said,
"Mies Shandon, allow me to present
Herve Roland "
She bowed to him without raising
her eyes, and a pinkish tinge over
spread her face. As they stood talking
she looked every way but at Herve Ro
land. Never occe did she raise her
eyes to his faco. Then the lovely
strains of a echottischo began and
Rome led har into the dnce.
A half hour later Rome and Rose
Shandon were in a small drawing
room, when Herve joined them. Al
most as soon as Herve came in, Rome
excused himself and left them together
and alone. They were standing in the
bay window. Tho chaadalier burned
dimly and there were branches of mis
tletoe hanging from it.
"Miss Shandon Mis3 Rose, I believe
I remember meeting you once long
ago " She colored and became em
barraosed, but he appeared to not
notice this and kept on. "It was
Christmas eve, too." He came closer
to her. "It was just ten years ago to
night." She drew back a little. He
kept on. " you were quite small then.
I wa3 a lad of fifteen " And, apparent
ly, unconsciously, moved toward her
again.
Sho had got better possession of her
self by this time and raising her head
and moving back a step or two, said ;
"Yes,I romember this evening ten years
ago very distinctly, and I owe you an
apology for my cruel treatment of you
at that special time. But as you know
I was a mere child then and I have not
seen you since, so I hope you can par
don what was done in a moment of "
At this she flashed painfully and looked
down at the carpet and began to move
her white slippered foot in a fidgeting
manner. He moved nearer and looked
down at her with pll the love cf his
passionate being beaming in his eyes.
4 Yju beg my pardon? There is noth
ing to pardon you for. The memory
of the blow you gave me with your lit
tie white fist has been ever sweet to
me."
He was moving still nearer, when
she took a step backward, and a glitter
came in his eyes, for she was uncon
sciously standing under the chandalier.
"Ten years ago I found the one Rose
that will ever blocm for me and in my
boyish enthusiasm I pounced down J
upon it too hurriedly, and it stung me
with its thorns." He came near to her
but she stood her ground. Resistance
had gone out of her power.
"My pretty Rose! My sweet, wild
Rose 1 How I love you! You remem
ber what my offense was when I re
ceived the imprint of your little fist in
my face ten years ago this evening? If
I commit that same offense if I do the
same thing to night, but do it better
will you wound me again?"'
There followed a silence. At length
Rose lifted her pink face and a smile
flitted across her mouth while she
frankly replied, "No."
TOM WATSON'S FIDDLE.
H on Tom Watson ia a busy man. AU
days aro his busy days. H not only
runs a large farm, but he edits a news
paper, keeps up an immense corres
pondence aud devotes much time to
writing a history of France, which he
is now engaged in preparing for the
presa. Despite all these labors, Watson
finds time for sentiment. He is a lover
of music and plays tho violin. While
ia Dallas a correspondent had a talk
with Mr. Watson, and gives the fol
lowing report of it:
"Tom Watson plays the violin. In
one of the rare intervals of quiet dur
ing the rush of his visit to Texas, he
was sitting, with his feet in the win
uiw, looking out into the starlit night.
From a house near by came the mo
notonous sawiEg of a fiddle. High
toned musicians shudder at the word
fiddle, but it is a good word in Georgia
and Arkansas. There was not much
music in the sound that drifted in
through the window. The player was
evidently an amature trying his hand
a$ eimple things. Watson sat for awhile
in silence, the hard lines of his face
softening a bit and a suspicion of ten
derness stole into the cold black eye.
He turned around and said :
'Do you play the fiddle?"
You could tell by the tone that the
man was talking of something near
and dear to him. He was assured that
the writer had never eDj yed the con
solation of that instrument.
And then he said, still musing, "You
have miesed a great deal. The fladle
is the most delightful of all instru
ments. Somehow or other it comes
nearer speaking the language of the
heart, those things we feel but cannot
express, than any mechanism of human
hands. There is wider range and more
volume to it than to the cornet or the
guitar or the piano. There is a subtle
melody in a fiddle that none of the
others contain, a shade of expression
not to be found anywhere else." I
The man was in earnest. Having got
away from the dusty and atony ways
of politics and put aside the asperities
of the campaign, the thoughts of home
tender memories of those left behind
were uppermost in his mind and he
was silent.
So the writer asked him: "Do you
play the fiddle?"
Wut-scu blushed and continued to
gazo at the stars. Finally he said:
"Ye3, but I am not mu(jh of a player.
I have never mastered what you might
call classical music, but I reel off some
plain tunes fairly well. Ia the winter
when the evenings are long and we are
compelled to stay indoors I get down
the old fiddle, my wife takes her place
at tho piano, one of the girls has a gui
tar and we pass tho time with music,
old fashioned homely things like "Old
Rosin th Bow," "Way Down Upon
the S'wanee River," "Arkansaw Trav
eler," "Home, Sweet Home," "Ben
Bolt " "Kathleen Mavourneen," "The
Bonnie Blue Fiag" and others that
everybody knows. Perhaps we do not
play them perfectly from a technical
standpoint, but tho audience is never
hypocritical and the sentiments of all
the songs find their way to the hearts
of those present. We play for our own
amusement more than for any other
purpose. We seldom have any visitors
to our impromptu concerts and never
inflict ourselves upon strangers."
"How did you come to take up fid
dling?" "In the old days long ago, when I
was as poor as a church mou?e, strug
gling to keep myself fed and clothed,
the evenings were almost intolerably
lonesome. I had no taste for the dis
sipations and amusements with which
men ordinarily dispose of time which
hangs heavily on their hands. So I
bought me a fiddle and I can never tell
you how much comfort and consila
tion and satisfaction I got out of it.
When the outlook was gloomy and
clients were few once in awhile I would
strike a bright chord which would fill
me with hope and the vexation and
trials of the day would vanish. When
business was good and money was
plentiful the fiddle was quiet and re
flective, reminding me of the vanity of
pride, hope and ambition. It was al
ways a faithful friend alike in gray
days and sunshine and I grew to love
it and to appreciate its companionship
When I got married, I took the fiddle
with me and I have kept it ever since,
and I expect to keep it till I die. It is
IEL JVC A
Fuiiiture, Carpets,
one of the things I have clung to and
that has clung to mo."
"Do you prefer a Stradivarius or a
Cremona?"
"Neither. I like best the plain old
$40 fiddle. It was good enough for me
when I was in need of its strorg ra
straint. You know I did not play by
note at first. When I heard a tune
that pleased mo I just kept sawing
away till I had got it down to suit my
taste. Many of the old ballads I al
ready knew, so I had considerable cf
a reportoire to start with. Now I can
struggle through almost anything,
having learned something of music
and having possibly cquired what the
professors call technique. Anyway, I
get just as much satisfaction out of it
as I did years ago, and that's all I play
for."
Oace again there was a pause. When
Watson returned to speech the mem
ory of other days was still with him
"As I was saying," he began, "you
cannot compare the violin to any other
instrument any more than you can
compare the emotions and sentiments
of the human heart to the original im
pulses of the beasts cf the field. No
other instrument has its quality of
strenuous insistence knocking at the
door till it is opened. There are chords
in an old fiddle which seem laden with
tears and others which ring out in glad
acclaim. And you feel that somehow
the thing sorrows when you sorrow
and is glad when you rejoice."
Soon after that Watson went to bed.
The writer sat and wondered that a
man who in politics is all vitrol and
vinegar, whose principal weapon is a
butcher knife when other men prefer
the rapier, who is intensely bitter and
bitterly intense in dealing with a foe,
should have so soft a spot in his breast
for au old fiddle dented and battered
from contact with the years. But it
seems that he has.
LETTER OF MISS FRANCES E.
WILLARD.
To The Press.
Castile, N. Y., D cemberll, 1835.
Dear Mothers and Si's-ers of America:
My hOd.rt is deeply stirred by the
eacrei ministry to the hapless little
orphans of Armenia. Anything more
piteous than their condition it would
be impossible to conceive, and I pray
with all my soul that our good and
true people, Whito Ribboners and
everybody else, may give their Christ
mas money not to fiil the etockiDgs cn
the bleeding little feet of pitiful Christ
ian children who have no roof but the
sky, no bed but the ground, and no
food but the ground roots, except as
we who are surrounded by every com
fort reach out hands of help toward
them and their heart-broken mothers.
L-t U3 ennoble and enlarge the hearts
of our little ones by showing them
how they can on this loved day carry
out the Christ spirit. What wo do
must be done q'lickiy. One dollar will
feed, ehelter and care for an orphan
for a month. Twelve dollars for a
whole year.
The above suggestion is cq ialiy ap
propriate for New Year's gifts.
Send contributions for this object di
rect to Brown Bros. & Co., 59 Wall
street, New York, marked: For the
Orphan Fund of the National Ameri
can Relief Committee.
I sometimes fear least I plead too
long, so I will make this short but none
the less earnest, devoted and tender.
God bless you one and all and make
your Christmas sweet in the happy
homes that He has given you ; and,
better still, may it be hallowed by the
knowledge down deep in your souls, ,
ONLY
This Beautiful
;4oS(Q)
Rattan Rocker.
A bi- lot of them
to be sold at
No more can be had
at above price when this
lot is sold. They will all
be gone by January 1st.
Send your orders at once,
The Largest Stock of
FUKNITURE
in theState at Bargain
Prices !
Write for Catalogue !
Pianos and Organs,
that you have touched the keys of
poer that are vibrating in stricken
Armenia, so that forsaken little child
ren have food, clothing and shelter
from the winter's cold. L9t U3 re
member the words of the Master, how
He said: "Inasmuch as ye did it unto
the least of these ye did it unto me."
Bjlievo me ever with brightening
hop,
Your Christian Sister,
Frances E. Willaed.
TABLE TALK,
Table Talk for December has for ita
leading article, "The Rmd to Christ
mas" by Lucy Elliot Keeler. It is full
of the Yule tide spirit and reminiscen
ces of ail countries and their represen
tative peopl. Following it is "A Hard
Times Diet," by E izabeth Grinnell, a
spicy little article giving hints as to
thej idieious expenditure and serving
of what you can afford to place upon
your tabl3. "The New Bill of Fare,"
by Mrs M. C. Myer, is sparkling with
the prevailing holiday spirit and its
suggestions are most timely. The
"Housekeepers' Inquiries," the New
Menus for the Month," and "Season
able Recipes," by Cornelia 0. Bedford,
are all full of help for the housekeeper
and thoroughly up to date. A number
at choice recipes for the chafing-dish
are contained in this number also,
given by a practical woman who uses
them herself and feels they will be of
usfto others. Tue Fashion article by
Tillie May Forney is in her usual enter
taining vein and in a condensed man
ner, gives the dainty directions neces
sary to make one's dreas all that could
be desired. The name and address of
any of our readers will secure them a
sample copy of the magazine free, if
they write to Table Talk Publishing
Qo , Philadelphia, Pa.
Teacher: "What part of speech is
kis3?" Eitirechoru8 of girls: "A con
junction. "Detroit Free Press.
Allianceman, if you receive a sample
copy of this paper, it i& to remind you
that you should send us one dollar and
get it one year.
are a source of comfort. Thcv
"y- " oun-c u care, also.
Ileal th. CPtlrl fni- i-j
book on the disorders to which
children are subject, and
which Frcy's Vermifuge
has cured for 50 years.
vuo uuuie ry mail for 25 cenU.
J3. &, S. PREY.
IX "i Baltimore. WT.i
w
FREE TO F A. M. An Enpravinpr of the
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torn prices. .New IliuntratHl lliatory of
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V
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