4 
SEED-TIME km HARVEST. 
arid you will be like one to me, I am sure.” 
Uncle Cuthbert kissed her again, and 
walked away as abruptly as he had come. 
“He’s a very funny old gentleman,” 
thought Lizzy, “but I know I shall like 
him.” 
Rosa contemplated the present state of 
affairs very coolly—a little contemptuously, 
in fact. 
“If you choose to adopt all Clarence 
Hyde’s poor relations, why, I can only 
wonder at your taste,” she said, loftily. 
But Lizzy only smiled, and doubted to 
herself whether Rosa could really ever have 
loved Clarence. 
“No, no, no!” echoed her heart. 
The day of the wedding drew near. Liz¬ 
zy’s white dress was nearly finished, and 
modest little presents were beginning to be 
sent in from friends and neighbors. 
“Here’s my present,” said Uucle Cuth¬ 
bert, walking in one day and tossing a little 
box of carved wood into Lizzy’s lap. “I 
cut out those wooden flowers myself, when 
I was in California.” 
“Oh, Uncle, what a dear little box,” said 
Lizzy, smiling her bright thanks, while 
Rosa elevated her nose rather scornfully. 
“Well, but open it; it’s lined beautifully,” 
said the old man. 
Lizzy obeyed. 
“Why, there’s a parchment chart in it, 
uncle,” cried the astonished Clarence, who 
was leaning over Lizzy’s shoulder. 
“Of course there is—a deed making over 
$50,000 to Lizzy Eldon the day of her mar¬ 
riage,” answered Uncle Cuthbert, dryly, 
“and I’ve got just another one for you at 
home, Clarence, my boy! Aha! the old un¬ 
cle was not so very poverty-stricken after 
all. You mustn’t think, my young lady,” 
he added, turning abruptly to Rosa, 4 ‘that 
gold isn’t gold because it’s a trifle tarnished 
and rusty. Appearances aren’t anything 
in this world!” 
And so Clarence and Lizzy began the 
world with the fairest of prospects, and 
true love enough to float the bark of life 
into the sweetest haven. 
Rosa Eldon was somewhat chagrined in 
in her secret soul, but she wisely kept her 
feelings to herself, and old Uncle Cuthbert 
was quite satisfied with the choice his 
nephew had made. 
“She is worth twice $100,000 in her owt* 
sweet self, Clarence,” he said confidentially 
to Mr. Hyde, junior .—The American Cul¬ 
tivator. 
THE SEED AND THE FLOWERS. 
Ever so little the seed may be, 
Ever so little the hand, 
But when it is sown it must grow, you see, 
And develop its nature, weed, flower or tree; 
The sunshine, the air and the dew are free 
At its command. 
If seed be good, we rejoice in hope 
Of the harvest it will yield; 
We wait and watch for its springing up 
Admire its growth and count on the crop 
That will come from the little seeds we drop 
In the great, wide field. 
But we heedlessly scatter wide 
Seeds we may happen to find, 
We care not for culture or what may betide, 
We sow here and there on the highway side. 
Whether they’ve lived or whether they’ve died. 
We never mind. 
Yet every sower must one day reap 
Fruit from the seed he has sown, 
How carefully, theD, it becomes us to keep 
A watchfnl eye on the seed, and seek 
To sow what is good, that we may not weep 
To receive our own. 
— Selected . 
We are told that even the small hair 
throws a shadow. And so it does. It throws 
a shadow over your appetite when you find 
one on your plate. 
“Did you say I was the biggest liar you 
ever saw ?” fiercely asked a ruffianly wit¬ 
ness of the lawyer who was cross-ex amin- * 
ing him. “Yes, I did,” said the lawyer, 
nervously. “Well, all I’ve got to say,” 
returned the other, with suppressed pas¬ 
sion, “Is that you never saw my brother 
Jim!” 
Rose Comb Brown Leghorns. 
Our engraving represents as accurately 
as a single color can, a trio of these beauti¬ 
ful fowls. On a recent visit to the city of 
Binghamton, N. Y., we called upon Mr. W, 
N. Croffut, the noted breeder, and were 
shown the identical fowls from which this 
engraving was made and can vouch for its 
accuracy. 
The Leghorns are of medium size, and are 
