YOU OUT there:,
You, out ITieve! watching, watching,
Of me, above me, within me, enveloping me Soul!
hat do you make of this perverse breathing Self of mine
Groping ahout for the Light, feeling its way like a child,
turned hither and yon, 8omstiint3 liutt'eted, sometimes repelled,
Oiten driven headlong as before a hurricane.
Often excited, aroused, yea, even glorified, deified, for the instant.
Then blind as a bat! You, out there!
Where am J. what am J. why am 1?
, Whither lies the Light?
-T. L. IT., in Christian Register
M
rD Skinner's Skeleto
V
By PHILIP
"Dear Sir," 'ran the letter, "owing
to the fact that we are making con
siderable reductions in our office
staff, we regret to Inform you that
we shall not require your services af
ter this day month, the 27th pro.
.We shall, of course, be pleased to
give you any testimonials you may
desire in the future, and you have our
best wishes for your subsequent ca
reer." Kimber read the note three times
before he was able to realize exactly
what it meant. At first he had be
lieved that it was a sort of joke on
the part of the correspondence clerk;
the fellows were always having what
they called a "game" with him, be
cause he happened to be the oldest
man in the office. He had reached the
critical age of forty-five and the in
verted values of the twentieth cen
tury demand that the last thing on
earth to be respected shall be the dig
nity of age.
But, although, in the beginning, he
had been inclined to regard the letter
as a "jest, further observation proved
that he was quite wrong. The note
bore the signature -of "James Skin
ner," the head of the firm, and even
Dixon. the correspondence clerk,
would hardly have had the audacity
to forge that august gentleman's
name.
"So I'm to be kicked out," he mur
mured, "and I can guess the reason.
I'm too old. That's it. Too old! I'm
punctual, I'm quick, I'm everything
they want, but my hair is going gray,
and people don't refer to me any lon
ger as that 'young fellow.' "
A feeling of violent resentment
seized his soul, shutting cut the mild
er sensation of sorrow. That would
come later, of course, but just now
he could only feel enraged. It was
scandalous, brutal, altogether unjus
tifiable, he reflected. What right had
they to use the best years of a man's
life and then fling hiri away on to
the dust heap when the whini seized
them?
He glanced around the deserted
office, whence the clerks had depart
ed to their Saturday afternoon foot
ball or music hall. Jove, how at
tached he had become to the place!
The (clock, the dingy desks, the rick
ety Jtools all these things were part
-rrnte life and had twined. themselves
' into the routine of his days. Some
how, he could not imagine himself
-working in any other room. It was
true that he had often disliked the
monotony of his toil, but now that
there was the prospect of something
new and strange he shrank back into
th niPTrinrv of that hanDV monotonv
with something like the gratified shiv
er with which the disturbed sleeper
returns to the warmth of the sheets.
It was Skinner's doing, of course.
The manager had always like him
(KImber), and would never have sug
gested his removal. Skinner, how
ever, was prejudiced in favor of
young men; doubtless that trip to
.New York last year had developed his
prejudices. Often had he heard Skin
ner say that young blood was what
the modern business man wanted.
Yes, it was Skinner's doing, and a
feeling of passionate resentment
.against the smooth faced, brutal head
-of the firm rose in Kimber's soul. If
Skinner had entered the offic3 at that
moment, he would not have been an
swerable for what happened.
Suddenly he conceived the idea of
going round to his chief's private
house and demanding an interview.
On Monday, at the office, it would be
impossible, for the stream of callers
-was Incessant, and at most he would
be able tu snatch a few minutes only
of the busy man's time. But if he
went to the house he could say his
cay undisturbed.
"Yes, I'll do it."he resolved, and,
haying brushed his hat and straight
ened his tie, he climbed on a 'bus go
ing westward. His heart beat more
swiftly than usual, but his face was
calm. He was even able to listen with
a vague interest to the conversation
jf two men who sat in front of him.
"Yes," said the elder of the two,
"it's what I've always said. Every
man has a skeleton in his cupboard.
Sometimes it's the skeleton of a wom
an, sometimes of a drunken father,
sometimes of a lunatic brother. But
there it is, and although he keeps the
key of that cupboard in his most
carefully buttoned pocket, somebody
steals the key at last. That's what
happened to poor Bennett."
His companion acquiesced, and
then attempted a feeble joke. This
led the conversation into a lighter
vein, and the subject of skeletons was
dropped. On the brain of KImber,
however, the chance words had made
an impression. A gleam came into
his eyes and a spot of color glowed in
his cheek. His mind worked with
feverish energy.
The 'bus paused at Lancaster Gate.
He alighted, and walked swiftly to
Westbourne Terrace, where the great
man lived. He hesitated for a mo
ment at the dor, asking himself
' whether he shoariUL(Kk or ring, for
CEAUFOY.
he was not used to visiting at "swag
ger" houses. Eventually, with a
touch of bravado, he resolved to do
both.
A man In quiet livery opened the
door.
"Is Mr. Skinner at home?" he
asked, boldly.
The servant stared at him, guess
ing that he was from the office and
accordingly favoring him with the
contempt which all right minded flun
keys feel for mere clerks.
"Don't know, I'm sure," he replied
carelessly.
"Then be good enough to inquire,"
said Kimber, sternly.
The tone was brutal and produced
the desired effect. The man asked
him to step inside, and inquired his
name.
Kimber took out his card and
wrote on it: "May I see you, sir, for
a few minutes on a very urgent mat
ter?" "You will please give this to Mr.
Skinner." he said. "I am sure he
will consent to see me if he is at
home."
The servant went away and re
turned a moment later.
"Just step in here and wait a bit,"
he observed, as he pointed to a room,
the door of which was open.
Kimber obeyed. There was a mir
ror on the mantelpiece. He walked
to it and surveyed himself. Jove!
how wonderfully young and well h
looked. The years seemed to have
rolled from him during the last ten
minutes. The dominating impulse
which had seized , his brain had
brightened his eyes and brought a
glow to his cheek. He felt that he
was ready to achieve anything. Any
thing! "Er what do you want, Kimber?"
asked a voice, lousing him from his
reverie. Facing round abruptly, ho
saw that Skinner had entered the
room.
"I took the liberty of calling, sir,
in reference to this letter," he replied
as he took the note from his pockst
and handed it to his employer.
Skinner read the letter as though
he was not aware of the contents.
"Well!" he said, as he returned it.
"Well! -What about it?"
"I have come here to ask you to re
consider your decision, sir," he an
swered, "and to tell you that I think
you have no right to dismiss me after
my long service "
"Indeed! Such things are done
every day. You must excuse my say
ing so, but er you are getting a
little too old for us. We want young
er men."
"Yes, that is what I thought. But
all the same, sir, I don't admit the
justice of it. I can do everything that
a younger person can do and perhaps
do it better. As to salary, I'm only
getting a hundred a year, and I doubt
if even a man half my age would
take much less."
Skinner shuffled his feet impa
tiently. "My good fellow," he said, "I
really can't waste time arguing with
you about the ethics of commercial
efficiency. 1 suppose I have a right
to do as I choose in my own office.
Now be sensible and take your gruel
like a man. Otherwise I may change
my mind about furnishing testimon
ials when you want them!"
Kimber realized that the hour had
struck for action. He pulled himself
together and approached his em
ployer. "Mr. Skinner," he said, "you are
an ambitious man. I know that you
have just been elected to a city com
pany, and I believe that you contem
plate standing for Parliament at the
next by-election."
Skinner stared at him as though he
believed his clerk had suddenly gone
mad.
"What, the mischief has all that
got to do with you and your dismis
sal?" he asked, abruptly.
"More than you think," replied
Kimber, as he fixed his eyes upon the
other man with a very acute glance,
"much more. For 3'ou must remem
ber, Mr. Skinner, that I have been in
your office twenty years and that dur
ing that time I have kept my eyes and
ears open."
"Well?"
There was just a touch of uneasi
ness in the exclamation. Skinner
again shuffled his feet, but this time
anxiety and not impatience impelled
the mechanical action.
"Well, an observant man can learn
many things in twenty years. He
can learn other things besides mat
ters which concern the office. You
understand?"
"What do you mean?"
Skinner's hands were now engaged
with his watch chain. He was twirl
ing it nervously. A shade of pallor
deepened in his heavy face.
"I think," said the other man,
coolly, "you can guess what I mean.
I ion't want to hurt your feelings
and to go into needless details. But
I daresay you will call to mind that
there is a certain circumstance which
you would not like to be brought ta
light, either now or in the future.
This is a very censorious country, Mr.
Skinner, and people insist on their
Parliamentary representatives having
unspotted records, or, at least, rec
ords where, the spots are decently
covered up. Need I say more?"
Skinner did not reply for a mo
ment. Then, with a sudden anger,
he burst out:
"So you're going in for blackmail,
are you?"
"Pardon me, but I'm doing nothing
of the sort. I'm not asking for
money. I'm asking for mere justice.
All these years I've kept silent, when
if I had liked, I could easily have
wrung money from you by hinting to
you of the exposure which a few
words of mine would bring about."
"And had you done so I should
have sent for a policeman," muttered
Skinner.
"Hardly, for if so why don't you
ring that bell now and call In a con
stable?" observed Kimber, trium
phantly. "I can promise you that I
shan't try to escape. But, really, Mr.
Skinner, I doubt if you would have
been foolish enough to ask for police
assistance. There are cases where
compromise is the best plan and the
safest. This case is one of them."
The two men eyed each other, as
though they were measuring their
relative strengths. Kimber stood tha
gaze of his employer unflinchingly.
Until that hour he had never dreamed
that he possessed so much courage.
The hour had called it forth, ami lo,
it had come.
"Now, look here," said Skinner, af
ter a pause. "All this may be mere
bluff. Where are your proofs of you?'
absurd statements?"
"The proofs," replied KImber,
calmly, "lie in the mouth of the per
son who confided to me the story."
Skinner swayed back, a slight foam
on his lips.
"Great heavens!" he gasped, "then
she "
"Yes, she is still alive and very,
very anxious to be kicking as well,"
returned Kimber, quickly, "but as it
happens she does not know exactly
where to find you. I do. Now do
you understand?"
Skinner sat down and burled bis
face in his hands.
"Confound you," he said, thickly,
"I thought it was all over and for
gotten." "Most men do comfort themselves
with that belief," observed Kimber,
"but they find out their mistake soon
er or later. But, believe me, Mr.
Skinner, I have no wish to cause you
any distress. I have merely referred
to the episode to show that I speak of
what I know. The skeleton is locked
in your cupboard, and I happen to
have a key as well as you. That's
all. But I don't want to use the key
if I can help it."
A pause followed, during which
various emotions throbbed through
Skinner's poor, sordid little soul.
Rage, fear and surprise held the high
place there, and it was easy to see
that the words of his clerk had pro
duced a terrible impression.
The clock struck 4.
"I'm afraid," said Kimber, "that
I'm taking up too much of your time."
"No, no, wait a moment."
Kimber smiled and sat down again.
Presently his employer looked at
him intently.
"Mr. Kimber," he said, and the
fact that he used the word "Mr."
struck the clerk as being significant,
"I suppose that you are not a vindic
tive man."
"I hope not."
"You cannot really have any
grudge against me except that you
think you have received an unjust
dismissal."
"That is my only grievance."
"Suppose that the dismissal were
to be withdrawn, the grudge, I im
agine, would be withdrawn alsu?"
"Of course!"
A deep sigh of relief issued from
Mr. Skinner's throat. He rc se and
almost smiled.
"Then," he said, "you may con
sider yourself reinstated."
"Thank you very much, sir."
KImber reached for his hat and um
brella and went toward the door.
"One moment," murmured Mr.
Skinner, "you told me just now that
you were getting a hundred a year.
That is certainly not an inflated sal
ary. I think I shall give you the
charge of an additional department
and raise the salary to 150."
Kimber bowed.
"Thank you very much, sir," he
said again.
The contemptuous looking footman
showed him out, wondering why the
caller smiled so expansively as he
went down the steps.
"I should like to know," reflected
KImber, as he climbed on bis 'bus.
"what Skinner's skeleton really is."
Black and White.
Infant Mortality.
In connection with the awakening
of public attention to the neglect and
waste of infant life in the United
Kingdom, it is satisfactory to note
that the rate of infant mortality in
England and Wales during 19 07 did
not exceed 118 per 1000 births regis
tered. This rate was considerably
below the rate recorded in any pre
vious year since the commencement
of civil registration inl837. Lancet.
There are only 104 miles of street
railway in England still holding to
horse traction. There arc sixty-four
on which motive power i3 steam,
twenty-five cable and four gas.
The conditions o" the Arctic atmos
phere are so favorable for the trans
mission of sound that it is possible
for two persons to converse through
a mile of space.
RHUBARB MARMALADE.
When rhubarb is plentiful, a good
preserve may be made by adding one
grated pineapple and five pounds of
sugar to five pounds of rhubarb.
Place in preserving kettle on back
of range until sugar is dissolved, then
allow it to cook moderately for one
hour. Pour into jars and seal. Good
Housekeeping.
TURKEY STUFFING.
Boil sweet potatoes with skln3 on
until tender, then peel and mash.
To each pint add one teaspoon salt,
three shakes pepper, two tablespoon
butter, three tablespoons sweet
cream, one teaspoon sugar, one cup
pecan nuts, chopped fine. Mix and
fill turkey, but do not stuff too full
New York World.
SOUTHERN POTATO SALAD.
Cut up as many cold boiled pota
toes as desired with a generous
amount of onions eut up fine and one
or two stalks of celery cut up fine;
mix all together Into a large bowl.
Cut up one pound .of bacon in cubes
and fry nice and brown. While that
is frying mis one teaspoon of salt,
one of mustard and one heaping
tablespoon of sugar; mix with half a
cup of warm water and add to bacon
and fat; then add one cup of cider
vinegar and mix with bacon, fat and
all. Then pour over potatoes, onion
and celery. New York World.
PERFECT RICE.
Few housewives understand how
to cook rice so that it puffs into a
snowy mass, each kernel distinct. I
have found a way. First wash it
thoroughly through several cold
waters, rubbing the kernels between
the hands. This is to remove all the
loose flour on the outside of the.
grains. After the water runs clear,
turn the rice into a colander, and
drain; then put it into a deep stew
pan, allowing one quart of boiling
water to a cup of -washed rice. Add
a teaspoonful of salt, and allow it to
come to a good boil. Cook steadily
for twenty minutes, lifting the rice
occasionally with a fork to prevent
Its sticking. Shake the kettl9 also
for the same purpose, but never stir
or mash with a spoon. Take it
from the fire, pour off the water if
any is left, and place it on the back
of the stove, in the oven, or even
ever a pot of hot water until it fin
ishes swelling. Cooked in this way
you will find the rice plump, light and
white, each grain distinct and sepa
rate. New York Globe.
Put small orange and smalt'onlon
beside duck while roasting to im
prove flavor.
To successfully bake a pie crusl
without its filling, line it with a
paraffin paper and fill with uncooked
rice.
Enameled ware that become
burned or discolored may be cleaned
by rubbing with coarse salt and vine
gar. A teaspoonful of lemon juice to a
quart of water will make rice white
and keep the grains separate when
boiled.
If eggs are to ba boiled hard have
the water boiling when the eggs are
dropped in. This will prevent the
yolks from turning dark.
Warm your discolored earthen
ware or granite baking dishes well,
then rub them with damp cornmeal
It cleans without scratching.
More coal is burned than neces
sary by not closing the dampers
when the fire is not being used. Ic
the same way gas is wasted or anj
kind of coal.
In putting on the bands to skirtj
make them long enough tn turn 1b
about an inch. Make tre buttonhole
in this, and bein doubly strong it
will not pull out.
Never keep a person that has faint
ed ia an erect or sitting position. Lei
him or her lie down and they wil,
usually come out of the faint without
further assistance.
When the pretty bunches and bas
kets of sweet-scented gras3 begin tc
lose their fragrance, plunge them foi
a moment into boiling water and
they will be again as aromatic as
when first gathered. Dried lavendei
may be similarly treated.
For -warmed over boiled potatoes,
cut them into dice and put into a
buttered baking dish in alternate
layers with grated cheese, bits ol
butter, pepper and salt. When the
dish is full sprinkle the top with
grated cheese, turn over it a cupfu!
of milk cr cream and bake for hall
an hour.
In camp or at home, when the fire
Is slow of starting because of lack oi
shavings or otherwise, cut into some
of the kindlings, making little slivers
without separating the latter froiz
the sticks. It the kindlings happer
to be damp on tha outside, the cuts
win expose littla dry places to the
Cams.
wta Hold
$3A I SINTS
Fofihe
Younger
Children....
FAIRIES.
I never saw the fairies
That sister reada about;
I've looked around the orchard
And up the waterspout;
I've peered within the coal-bin.
And searched mamma's clothes-press;
I've hunted through the garret,
And everywhere. I guess:
I've climbed up all the apple-trees,
And searched the garden nooks;
I think the only fairies are
Just those within the books.
James P. Webber, in Youth's Com
panion. A BRAVE LITTLE COWARD.
The boys called Nannie a coward,
and it is true that she was afraid of a
good many things, but it made her
very unhappy to have the boys hold
such an opinion of her, and she tried
hard to be brave.
One day father and the boys went
s way to stay a week. The very next
day there was to be a baseball game
in the vacant lots across the street,
and even before dinner the men and
boys began to gather. Some of them
had walked from other towns and
had brought their lunches, which
they ate as they sat around on the
grass. Many of them were rough
and rude, and Nannie's mother kept
glancing anxiously out of the window
at the noisy crowds passing. The
roses were In full bloom, and oh, so
beautiful. Next Sabbath was Chil
dren's Day, and every bud and blos
som was being treasured up to use in
decorating the church.
All at ence they saw a boy dart
across the yard and break off a great
red rose. Sticking It Jnto his button
hole he ran off, laughing, as though
he thought he had done something
very brave, Indeed.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed the mother,
"I'm afraid that they will take every
rose. What shall we do?"
Then Nannie came to the rescue.
"I'll stay out and watch them," she
said. "I won't be afraid if I can take
the kittens with me."
At first mother did not like the
plan, but Nannie was so anxious to
save the roses, and there were bo
many people around that no harm
could really come to her, and at last
it was decided that she might do as
she wished.-
"You will be my private police
man," said mother, "and you will be
such a polite one that nobody will
ever suspect what you are doing."
She took the tall rosebush nearest
the street for a playhouse, and there
she stayed all the afternoon. For a
while, whenever a crowd of strange
boys passed her heart beat very hard
for a minute, but she did not run
away.
So it happened that on Children's
Day there was a whole wheelbarrow
load of roses for the church, and Nan
nie was happy, and she was still hap
pier when Torn whispered, "Say, I'm
never going to call you a coward
again." Tom kept his word this time.
He learned for the first time that a
girl need not be a coward even if she
is a girl. In fact Tom began to see
that there were many ways in which
a boy could be a coward. Laura M.
Oglevee. : , ,
r SMOOTHING THE WAY.
"Why, Auntie, I thought that you
were all through."
"So I am with my work," returned
Aunt Carrie, as with a smile she went
on threading her needle. "I am only
trying to smooth the way for the
next one."
"Who, for instance?" questioned
Will, curiously.
"Well, supposing that just as papa
is starting for business to-morrow
morning he discovers that he is about
to lose a button from his coat, and he
can spare only about two minutes in
which to have it sewed on. Don't
you think it would be a relief to mam
ma to find her needle already thread
ed?" "Of course, for I shouldn't think
one could find that bit of an eye at
all if he were in a hurry. I had a
dreadful time the other day when I
wanted to mend my ball. I'm sure I
should have been glad to be your
next one then."
"Suppose again, Will, that whoever
dropped that piece of wood upon the
cellar steps had stopped to pick it up.
remembering that some one else
would be coming that way soon. Just
think how poor Bridget has suffered
from her fall, and how the household
has been inconvenienced."
"Yes, auntie; and if I had wiped
up the water I had spilled this noon,
sister wouldn't have been obliged to
change her dress when she was in
such a hurry to get back to school;
but a fellow will have to keep pretty
wide awake to remember every time."
And with a thoughtful expression on
his boyish face, Will passed out of
the house and toward the front gate,
leisurely munching a banana as he
went, but apparently engaged in deep
thought. Reaching the sidewalk, he
threw down tin banana skin, and pro
ceeded on his way; but presently he
turned and looked hard at the yel
low object lying on the pavement,
and then, quickly retracing his steps,
he picked it up and flung it far Into
the road, where no one would be
likely to slip up on it. Home Her
ald. A STRANGE RIDE.
"O, dear," sighed Bessie, "I can
never, never write my composition
to-night! Miss Barrow could not
have chosen a harder subject than
this A Strange Ride.' And it must
be a true story, she said."
Bessie's father heard her. "You
are tired," he said, gently, "but I
gues3 father can help you this time.
I .will tell you about the strangest
ride that I ever took, and you can see)
If it will do."
"Why, papa," cried Bessie, "did
you ever take a strange ride?"
"Yes, indeed," her father answered,
"and you shall hear all about it.
When I was a little boy I stayed out
coasting all one fine winter day, and
when night came I was so tired I
could hardly eat my supper.
"Your grandma tucked me In my
bed, and said, as she kissed me good
night, 'I am afraid my little boy will
go coasting in his sleep to-night.
About 2 o'clock in the morning I
woke up, and where do you suppose I
was? At the foot of the stairs In my
mother's clothesbasket. My father
and mother and my brothers and sis
ters stood round, looking at me anx
iously. I rubbed my eyes and remem
bered I had been dreaming that I was
coasting. I must have jumped out of
bed in my sleep, gone down stairs and
brought up the clothesbasket instead
of my sled, got into it and coasted
down the stairs, waking up the whole
family, who were very much alarmed."
"Did you have any clothes on?"
asked Bessie.
"I had on my night-dress, my little
fur cap and my overshoes," laughed
her father. "I felt decidedly foolish."
"And it didn't hurt you any?"
questioned Bessie.
"Not a bit," her father answered.
"People who walk in their sleep- of
ten escape uninjured where they
would be severely hurt were they
awake."
Bessie got her block and pencil and
began to write.
"Then that will do?" her father
asked. "It fs certainly a true story."
"Yes, indeed," Bessie replied. "And
I don't believe anybody will have a
composition just like mine, do you?"
Christine Gleason. J
BOYS AND GIRLS OF THE PAST.
If you boys and girls had lived a
century ago, this is what would have
happened to you:
When you were babies you would
have worn no nice, warm, comforta
ble undergarments. No; you would
have worn low necked and short
sleeved dresses, and have been kept
in houses so cold you shivered. You
would have cried, wouldn't you?,
Well, that's what the babies did; but
it didn't do any good. You would
have been given a dose of bitter med
icine instead of any warm clothe3.
The mothers and fathers wore velvets
and furs, but they didn't think such,
things were good for babies long
ago.
Long ago just as soon as you
outgrew your first clothes you
would have been dressed just like
your parents. An old book tells ns
that a, little tot of two years old was
dressed- in this fashion: "Yellow
brocaded satin over a petticoat of
crimson velvet. It touched the floor
in front and trailed behind." How
would you enjoy a dress like this If
you -intended to go out coasting or
skating or to fly a kite? i
Boys w'ere dressed just like their
fathers long ago in doublets
leather breeches, fancy waistcoats,
and, what do you think of this, boys?.
after seven years of age all boys of
aristocratic families wore white wigst
School was most uninteresting. Na
kindergartens or play or music. The
children were put at their lessons by
the time they were two or three years
old. At five they could read and
write and answer correctly any ques
tion in the Catechism.
Long ago children had almost no
toys. They were very few and very
expensive. If a little girl and boy ot
that time could peep into a modern
nursery and see its beautiful dolls
and dishes, furniture, mechanical en
gines, .toys and books, they would
surely think they were in fairyland.
Despite all these hardships, the
children of lone ago were happy. Let
us not be sorry for them because
their ways were different from ours;;
let us, rather, learn from them In
dustry, system, simplicity, orderli
ness and piety. It is well to remem
ber the lines of Oliver WendelJ
Holmes:
Little of eld we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth;
year
Without both looking and feeling
queer.
Washington Star.
WTITII AN OBJECT.
Tim helped his father in his house
painting and decorating business.
Usually the boy worked rather slowly.
but his parent one day found hira
painting away with tremendous
energy.
He paused a moment to investigate
so strange a matter.
"What's come over ye?" he said.
"It ain't like you to work that fast."
"Whist," said Tim. "Stand out o
the way and don't stop me. Oi'nx
sthrivin' to get through before the
paint gives out." Chums.
Newspaper Advertising the Best. '
The newspaper is the best adver
tising medium, and the more we era
ploy that and boycott the other the
better for the community. Advertis
ing devices and the bill-board are ut
terly hideous. Professor Zueblin, In.
a Lecture at TSoston.
" "t
Jreat opportunities exist In Spal
for American farm implements. a