186 



California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



— a bright, curly-headed little chap, with 

 brown eyes, and hair with the least tinge 

 of red enough to make him look saucy- 

 like. The farmer's wife had one of her 

 own afore the year was out, and they 

 grew up together like twins, but so dif- 

 ferent in every way. Then in a few 

 years more boys and girls came along, 

 and I mind the year I left, after hajdng 

 time, a goodly crowd of small fry begged 

 to help load hay, while staid Frank 

 raked after. 



"The Summer afore the gold fever 

 broke out I chanced to be in that part of 

 the country in search of work, and 

 stopped to see farmer White's folks. 

 They seemed proper glad to see me, both 

 him and his wife, and Aunt Rhody too, 

 who told me how much they all had 

 missed me. And had I come back to 

 slay agin? Times were bus}', the farmer 

 shorthanded, and nothing would do but 

 I must take hold and cany 'em through 

 harvesting. You may be sure that suited 

 me to a dot. The children clustered 

 around, all remembering me, but grown 

 past my recollection. 



"There was Frank, a man gi-own, and 

 Jim, not far behind, while Madge, a blue- 

 eyed, prattling, four-year-old, who had 

 been my special pet, was now a timid, 

 blushing maiden, with hair like spun 

 glass floating over her bare shoulders. 

 I thought she was the prettiest creetur 

 I ever sot eyes on, but oh what a change 

 a few months brought about!" 



" Did she die or get sick?" asked one, 

 while Ned looked up wistfully, not 

 daring to speak. "No," drawled out 

 Dave, "not exactly, but she might 

 better have gone than grieve 'em all with 

 her sad, sorrowful looks. Well, as I was 

 a-sayin', I stopped there that year way 

 into the Fall, apple parin' time. There 

 was lots of fun around the kitchen 

 hearth, and I was duly cautioned never 

 to whisper to Frank or to any one about 

 his not being their own. 



" The little school-ma'am who taught 

 the district school that term boarded 

 around a week at a place, and when it 

 came her turn at our house she ques- 

 tioned considerably about Frank, he 

 being so very different from the re.st. 

 And I had often remarked the same, 

 which to me seemed queer, seein' as 

 how they all had been brought up alike. 

 He'd sit by the hour, studyin'-like, look- 

 ing into the tire, and not noticing what 

 fun was goin' on around, or with a book 

 he'd lie by the half day under a hay- 

 mow in Summer time. Now Miss Shaw, 

 the schoolma'am, was a studyin' up 

 hereditary transmission — the laws of de- 

 scent, or inherited traits handed from 

 one generation to another. You know 

 what I mean, boys. Well, in Frank she 

 could not see a spark of resemblance to 

 any one of the family. Getten' no sat- 

 isfaction out of nobody, she was forced 

 to set him down as a sort of freak of 

 nature, or one of God's peculiar provi- 

 dences. 



"There was a great temperance revival 

 aboTit this time, and folks went from 

 house to house for signers to the pledge. 

 When they came to Frank he obstinately 

 refused to sign, saying he had always 

 loved the smell of wine and liquor and 

 should sometime want to taste it. He 

 never meant to make a promise which he 

 might be tempted to break. The others, 

 from oldest to youngest, signed and 

 urged him to, telling him of the terrible 

 effects of the habit, once formed; how 

 whole families were ruined by a father's 

 indulgence in drink, etc. It was all to 

 no purpose. He insisted that he could 

 keep from forming the habit as well 

 without signing as with it, and he never 

 meant to bind himself by a promise. 

 Miss Shaw looked from one to the other 



of the parents, and wondered how they 

 could have such a child and not compel 

 obedience, as she said to me. 



"This was the first taste we had of 

 Frank's willfulness, and considerable 

 anxiety was felt, you may be sure. He 

 was hot-headed and high strung, but 

 easily led if rightly approached. The 

 mother had governed with a 13rm hand, 

 but gently, influencing by love rather 

 than fear. The boy had a fashion of 

 going to the town on horseback for the 

 mail, and sometimes stopping by the 

 way, as boys will, for a chat with the 

 fellows. One night he came home 

 raving; threw the letters upon the table, 

 and stalking up to his mother's side 

 (Miss Shaw was not there. I was glad 

 of that), said excitedly : 'Now, mother, 

 the time baa come for you to tell me the 

 whole truth. I have been taunted and 

 sneered at all my life; been called red- 

 head, sorrel-top, the red sheep of the 

 family, and such, by pesky rattletraps 

 about town. But when it comes to being 

 called a tuckaway brought to the farm in 

 my mother's band-box, and a red-headed 

 bastard, it is more than human nature 

 can bear. I've just given a fellow a clip 

 for saying that, and expect to be brought 

 up for it. Tell me truly, now, am I 

 really your son, or the miserable tuck- 

 away they call me?' Aunt Ehody here 

 spoke up: ' Tell us, Frank, which is the 

 true mother of the chicks, the hen that 

 lays the eggs or the one who fetches up 

 the brood?' and farmer White looked up 

 from his letters to say something about 

 the ridiculous fashion some folks have 

 of meddling with other folks' affairs, 

 and making remarks if all the children 

 of a family are not exactly alike. 



"All this time Frank stood looking 

 into the saddened eyes of his mother, 

 who rose, and putting a hand upon each 

 shoulder, asked him if she had ever 

 given him cause to question her love and 

 devotion to him; had she ever shown 

 him less affection than the others — look- 

 ing into his eyes so pleadingly that the 

 boy sank into a seat and covered his 

 face with his hands, sobbing as if his 

 heart would break. 



" That was a sorry time at the farm. 

 The danger of Frank's discovery haunted 

 us like a nightmare, and to .settle matters 

 it was agreed to let him go to New Y'ork 

 to visit a friend of Aunt Ehody's who 

 had been at the farm that year and took 

 a mighty fancy to him. His clothes 

 were packed into a small trunk and he 

 set off' in good spirits, kissing all gaily 

 and promising to send something to 

 Madge, who was fairly crying. 



" It was then I lirst learned the be- 

 ginning of Frank's history. Sqxiire Bell, 

 who lived in the great house down by 

 the meadow, had an only daughter, 

 Fanny, who grew up handsome, and like 

 all the rich men's gals must be sent to a 

 fashionable boarding school. She went 

 to New Haven, where she soon made the 

 acquaintance of half of the students of 

 Yale College. During vacations, when 

 she was at home, there would be lively 

 times at the Squire's between Fanny and 

 her numerous beaux. But there came a 

 time when word was sent; from the sem- 

 inary that Fanny was missing; it was 

 feared she had eloped with a Y'ale stu- 

 dent. The Squire packed his trunk and 

 set oft' at once, leaving his wife to lix up 

 things and close up the house and follow 

 him. For fifteen years and more the 

 family have been abroad traveling, and 

 not a trace of their daughter had they 

 found. 



" There were now great doings at the 

 Squire's old mansion, for word had come 

 that they were to return home to spend 

 their last days. Painters and uphol- 

 sterers wore at work fi.\iu' things, and 



folks began to wonder whether Fanny 

 could be coming vfith them. One day a 

 modestly dressed lady knocked at our 

 door and asked to see Mrs. White. She 

 went into the sitting-room, and long they 

 talked alone together. 



" Then as I was kno-n-in' to the rest, I 

 was told after she had gone that the 

 Squire's daughter had married a good- 

 for-nothing gambler and drunkard. She 

 had been left alone to struggle in a for- 

 eign land; had taken steamer for home 

 with a young babe; came to her native 

 town ; learned that her jsarents were gone 

 traveling ; was taken down with a fever 

 and was expecting to die — so gave direc- 

 tions for the babe to be brought to Aunt 

 Rhody's care at Farmer White's, feeling 

 that she then could die in peace. Her 

 doctor ordered change of air. She rallied, 

 got well; traveled with a former school- 

 mate to her home in Germany, where 

 she hoped to fall in with her parents. A 

 young nobleman fell in love with her, 

 and she was induced to man-y him and 

 live in a castle on the Rhine. Her heart 

 so misgave her for deserting her child 

 that she could have no peace. No tidings 

 af her parents, and she was in a peek of 

 trouble, though her German count was 

 as fond of her as he could be. They at 

 last decided to travel, and at Paris 

 chanced to meet her father and mother 

 in the hotel parlor. A return to America 

 was planned, and this was Fanny herself 

 come to claim her child. 



" He was expected home the next day, 

 but did not come. Another, and still he 

 stayed away. Then they wi'ote; no an- 

 swer. At last, alarmed, the good man 

 started for New York to bring him back. 

 He was nowhere to be found; had left 

 for home at the appointed time, and may 

 have gone to California or the ends of 

 the earth. 



"My story's done." "But Madge," 

 cried Ned breathlessly, " what about 

 Madge?" Then it was that old Dave 

 lifted his eyes, and for the first time 

 recognized Frank in the freckled lad be- 

 fore him. 



" Oh, she's waiting for you still, my 

 lad. I have a letter here from her 

 brother, who charged me if I found you 

 out here to give you a message. 



"And j'ou are really he? Let me see, 

 how old might you be? Twenty-seven, 

 do you say? And yoti came away be- 

 cause of the love you bore her whom 

 you believed to be your own sister? She 

 still lives, so Jim writes, but her health 

 is sadly suffering. How could you leave 

 so good a home? 



"But come, lads, cheer up. My tale 

 has brought about a queer state of things. 

 Bring on the ale, boys; let's drink to his 

 health, and the little girl he left behind. 

 The mail goes out in the morning; write 

 to her and give her fresh life." 



"That's so, Ned," .said another, slap- 

 ping him on the back; "I alwaj's thought 

 j'ou the luckiest fellow of the crowd. 

 You think nothing of panning out a 

 couple of ounces a day; and, now if old 

 Dave's yarn be true, ye have a Countess 

 for a mother, with a castle on the Rhine, 

 and a fair-haired maid dying of love for 

 ye! 'Taint no small luck you're 

 born to." 



The ale was brought, and though all 

 drank to his health, never a drop passed 

 Frank's lips. He had made a vow with 

 himself never to taste it, since ho had 

 learned the danger of loving it too well, 

 and sitting apart from the others while 

 they sip|)ed and passed away the time, 

 he poured ont his heart npon paper to 

 those ho had once resolved never again 

 to see. He would be with them by 

 Christmas time, he wrote. The letter 

 was sealed and sent. Before it reached 

 its destination old Dave had another let- 



ter from Jim. "Too late," sighed he, 

 as he read on; "Madge died on Thanks- 

 giving day." Frank never went home. 



(S^jmnpMmu. 



LETTER FROM NEVADA COUNTY. 



BY CAEEIE F. YOUNG. 



Ed. Aoeicolturlst : The early rains 

 have washed the dust from the foliage 

 and the mist from eyes and brain. With 

 the cool moi-nings ambition revives, and 

 we remember our promise to the AOKI- 

 cnLTUEisT. This 13th day of November, 

 in Nevada City, California, we plucked 

 from the vines 



KIPE STRAWEEREIES, 



Large and luscious. Since October 1st 

 nine pounds have been picked from the 

 same vines. About fifty hills bore 

 autumn fruit. The owners do not know 

 the name nor, where they originated. 

 The fruit is dark-colored, long, and rich- 

 flavored; the same plant bearing both 

 long and short stems. They have been 

 set three years; are cultivated by hand 

 in hills. The soil is decomposed or 

 rotten granite, very adhesive and com- 

 pact; the yield of fruit so large it is not 

 best to tell it. Red clover, sweet corn, 

 apples, plums, peaches, pears, do full as 

 well on this soil, but root crops cannot 

 be as successfully grown. Water from 

 springs is abundant all through the 

 dryest seasons. We do not mean for a 

 hundred, but for one, two, five or ten 

 acres. The choice little homes are 

 usually made on the remnants of old 



WOEKED OnT MINING CLAIMS. 



Sometimes an acre of rocks can be 

 covered with the " tailings" of a mill or 

 a placer mine. The owner of the rocks 

 hurriedly levels oft' as much as he can; 

 then at the lowest end of his acre piles 

 up brush and gravel, to confine the 

 stream until the precious cement— clay, 

 sand or mould — can settle. After a few 

 weeks the rocks are covered. In from 

 one to two years the new soil is ready 

 for spade or plow. The yield of vegeta- 

 bles, blackberries or clover is sometimes 

 worth more in a single year then all the 

 gold obtained by the original owners. 



Some of these old-time miners, after 

 their visions of gold vanished like the 

 "baseless fabric" of dreams, have 

 gathered enough cash to go home and 

 return again with the girls they left in 

 '49 or '52. These thrifty Yankee girls, 

 by their economical habits and industry, 

 are worth more financially than the best 

 jilacer mine. The reason is obvious, is 

 it not ? The mine gave rich promise, 

 but little gold. Y'ears passed away. 

 The promises were not fulfilled; the 

 cabiu was cold and cobwebby; bushels of 

 sacks and torn garments accumulated; 

 youth and vigorous early manhood were 

 fading; old dreams and young hopes 

 mocked and taunted the disappointed 

 toiler.s. Very few, in comparison with 

 the whole number who ought, have the 

 courage to chall'iUge the old sweethearts 

 to share their poverty. We are ac- 

 quainted in the mountains with several 

 who did. The challenge was accepted. 

 ".\h!" said the glad husband of six 

 years, "poverty is nothing with sjich a 

 wife as I have!" "Seek ye first the 

 Kingdom of Heaven," wo thought. 

 After all they were not poor. The thrifty 

 Yankee girl suggested clover and cows. 

 The debris was caught, soil formed, 

 clover sown, cows bought, good stalls 

 provided, and 



OII.T-EDQED BUTTEK 



Is the product all the year, worth 



