College Report, from which we learn of the 
continued prosperity of the institution of 
which Michigan may well be proud. Of its 
students the President remarks that they have 
never shown greater earnestness in study or 
more manliness oi deportment than during 
the past year (188U). Following this report is 
that of the Cattle Commissioners on the best 
means to be adopted to prevent the spread of 
contagious diseases among animals and to 
prevent the sale oi diseased meat and un¬ 
wholesome milk. In Michigan much atten¬ 
tion is paid to Farmers’ Institutes, in which the 
various professors in the Agricultural Col¬ 
lege take a conspicuous part. Prominent 
among those whose names our readers are fa¬ 
miliar with are Professors Beal, Carpenter and 
Cook. Atthese Institutes the various subjects 
connected with agriculture and hor ticulture 
are briefly discussed, and now appear before 
us in this volume as short essays, which are 
of more than local interest. 
Hiram Seblky & Co., 179-183 East Main 
Street, Rochester, N, Y., and 200-206 Ran¬ 
dolph Street, Chicago, 111. There are very 
few seedsmen's catalogues of so costly a char¬ 
acter as this which are sent free to applicants. 
It comprises over 100 pages and is profusely 
illustrated. Among the illustrations are a flue 
portrait of the venerable Mr. Hiram Sibley 
and several colored plates. Five hundred dol¬ 
lars’ worth of cash premiums for the best es¬ 
says on gardening in the Southern States are 
offered. 
Notes from Suni.and, by Samuel C. Up- 
ham, published by the author at Braidentown, 
Fla., and 25 South Eighth Street, Philadel¬ 
phia, Pa. Price, 25 cents. This brochure of 
88 pages, 12mo, gives a full and very favora¬ 
ble account of the country and of the climate, 
soil, productions and people on the Manatee 
River and along the Gulf Coast of South 
Florida— 
The land of the orange and guava. 
The pine apple, dale and cassava. 
Programme of the Western New York 
Horticultural Society. The 27th annual 
meeting of this Society will be held in Roch¬ 
ester, commencing January 25 and continuing 
two or three days. Professors Caldwell, 1 .mi¬ 
ner and Lazenby, J. J. Thomas, P. C. Rey¬ 
nolds, J. S. Woodward and others will ad¬ 
dress the meeting. 
Proceedings of the J oiut Summer Meeting 
of the State Agricultural aud Mechanical So¬ 
ciety of South Carolina and the State Grange 
P. of H., held at Greenville, S. C., July 2(5 and 
27, 1881. T. H. Halloway, Secretary, Porua- 
ria, S. C. 
Addresses of Hon. Geo. B. Louing, Com¬ 
missioner of Agriculture, aud Professor C. V. 
Riley, U. S. Entomologist at the Atlanta Cot 
ton Exposition, on November 2, 1881. 
Report of Chamber of Commerce Commit¬ 
tee on railroad transportation. 
Report of the Commissioner of Agriculture 
for the year 1881. 
•- - 
Next to a New Subscriber — a kind 
word. Remember this Rural friends. 
POULTRY IN MARKET. 
What the denizens of a city have to put up 
with in the matter of stale and often almost 
putrid dressed poultry and diseased and un¬ 
wholesome-looking live fowls, one living in 
the country can hardly imagine. Especially 
during the holidays when poultry is more 
largely in demand, does this evil predomin¬ 
ate. 
We have not far to look for the causes of 
disease which afflicts fowls when they are 
shipped alive. Crowding into cooi s so closely 
that to move about is impossible is the 
first stage of the trouble with fowls, as 
we believe. The shippers wish to econ¬ 
omize space aud lower their shipping 
rates by overcrowding the poultry crates, 
and in this condition, often with insuffic¬ 
ient food and water, the fowls remain, some¬ 
times for several days, before they are 
disposed of at the market. The coops, of 
course, become tainted aud dirty aud the in¬ 
fectious odors and impurities seein to become 
absorbed by the fowls, and this, in connec¬ 
tion with scanty food, necessarily produces 
affections which are shown by banging heads, 
ruffled feathers and staggering gait, when 
they come fiom their prison pens. 
While there are exceptions to this rule, the 
exceptions are made prominent by their infre¬ 
quency. We do not know that there is any 
law whereby shippers of poultry can be com¬ 
pelled to take proper precautions in sending 
live poultry to the city markets. Compulsion 
ought not to be necessary, in this matter. We 
should think it might be for the shippers’ in¬ 
terest to send poultry, as well as every other 
commodity, to market in the best possible 
condition and with the best appearance. 
Surely, the commission merchant and con¬ 
sumer are always willing to pay a better 
price for attractive goods, especially if they 
be in the line of dressed or undressed 
poultry. 
THORNS AND ROSES. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
(Continued from page SO.) 
And then I forced myself to recall the past. 
How he had sought my love, and how 1 had 
given it; how he had changed, and how I had 
seen him last night! We are blind to the 
faults of those we love, and I had closed my 
eyes to his. 1 recalled the words he had used 
last night, and there was a familiar ring in one 
sentence. I thought of the night of my be 
trothal in that ffrclighted room. “A love 
like mine can never change or falter, and time 
will show you this. The devotion of my 
life shall prove my truth.” These were al¬ 
most the words he had used to Edith—a 
stereotyped sentence to him ! Only words 
light as air ! Only words ; but they had been 
very sweet—very dear ; and I could not help 
a blinding rush of tears, for, after all, I was 
a woman with a woman’s heart. 
But I returned to the house with confidence 
in myself. 1 was no longer pale ; the morning 
freshness bad brought back the color to my 
cheek, aud whilst I waited I opened a book 
to read. 
When Edith entered she was perfectly com¬ 
posed, speaking in her usual strain, though 
she addressed herself more to aunt Dorothy 
than to me. No one mentioned Nevil. Edith 
would not; 1 could not. Breakfast ended, I 
returned to the garden, though I knew aunt 
Dorothy was longing to ask me about Nevil. 
But how could 1 tell her, when he had been 
one of her favorites i 
What would Brandon say, or Edgar:' Catch¬ 
ing a glimpse of Edith’s white dress among 
the trees, I went to her, as she stood gathering 
big red peonies, for what no one could say, but 
it amused her. 
” Have you nothing to tell me, Edith 2 ” 
“No; I can keep secrets as well as others, 
Kate! ” 
“You can tell me when Mr. Verner will call 
again 2 ” 
She lifted her delicate brows disdainfully. 
“ To-morrow. You are very anxious to see 
him ? ” 
“I was. He will have something to tell 
me.” 
“ Very probably,” she said, walking away. 
She appeared to be annoyed about some¬ 
thing, and avoided me all day. When aunt 
and I were together, 1 sang, and read, and 
talked, all to prevent her speaking of Nevil, 
and she looked mystified. We had live-o’clock 
tea, and then aunt broke the spell. 
“ Kate, did Nevil explain all ? ” 
“ Oh! aunt, do you think Brandon will come 
to-night 2” 
“ 1 don’t know. Have you quarrelled with 
Nevil 2 1 thought you would have a great 
deal to tell me.” 
“I will tell you soon. What can be the 
matter with Brandon ! ” 
“Oh! he has those new plans to attend to. 
He will be busy until the cottages are com¬ 
pleted.” 
I had forgotten that my kinsman had been 
contemplating some improvements on his es¬ 
tate, but I had turned the conversation effec¬ 
tually. 
CHAPTER XVII. 
MY PROPHECY. 
It did not appear as though Edith would tell 
me of what had passed between herself aud 
Nevil Verner, and 1 shrank from telling her 
that I knew. I was sorry that she avoided 
me, but I resolved to break the silence—not to 
lose my cousin’s affection for the want of a 
kind word; aud with this intention 1 went to 
the arbor where she was sitting, and spoke : 
“ Will you tell me why you are angry with 
me ?” 
“ Angry 2 You are much mistaken.” 
‘ Will you tell nrs what Nevil said last 
night ? or have you lost confidence in me, and 
why 2” 
She threw her b iok aside, and her good- 
humor seemed returning, though she looked 
curiously at me. 
“ I liked you,” she said, in her own frank 
way, “aud I thought you were really ‘frank 
and fearless,' but 1 find you can deceive as 
well as others. You might not like to say 
that Nevil had broken his vows, but you 
needn't have pretended such innocence, de¬ 
ceiving me, aunt, Brandon, and poor Mrs. 
Verner—need you 2” 
“ Let me tell you, Edith, that until the 
night before last I believed that Nevil still 
loved me, and the letter of which he told you 
I never received.” 
“ Then how do you know that there wa 
such a letter 2” she cried quick.y, her brows 
meeting. 
“ The night of his return I came down¬ 
stairs unheard, and was just about to enter 
the parlor, when I saw you and Nevil, aud 
heard him speak of the letter.” 
“I never saw you. How* quiet you must 
have been 1 You really did not get the let¬ 
ter 2” 
“No; I came, expecting to meet my lover, 
Edith, knowing nothing of the change.” 
“ I beg your pardon, cousin; I judged you 
rashly. I thought, when he told me about 
the letter, that you had heen keeping it a 
secret from us all, Kate, are you very, 
very angry with me 2” 
“ I am not angry at all.” 
“ Sure?” shesaid, gravely and kindly. “ Yet 
I know you loved him, and yours is an earnest 
nature. How did you bear it 2 Do you love 
him even yet 2” 
“No,” I said, as for a moment she laid her 
cheek against mine; “scorn killed my love! 
Do you think I have no pride 2 I am thank¬ 
ful that I know in time how light was his 
love, and 1 will forget that I was ever any¬ 
thing to him.” 
“ Why i.eed he have gone away?” I asked. 
“ Because he was afraid to face you with 
his tale. He says he wrote to you; whether he 
did really is another thing. Had you been 
more suspicious, had you not measured others 
by yourself, you would have seen what Sir 
Galahad was at once. My de r girl, I read 
him after my first flirtation.” 
“ And he loves you 2” 
“He says so. I assure you I did not know 
what was going to happen when he appeared 
the other night, and before I knew where I 
was, began his tale of love, and went into 
tragics. He said his engagement was broken, 
and that was why he had gone away, and why 
he bad not written to you. 1 began to think 
that his income was not to be despised, but I 
was rather doubtful whether he was serious 
or not. I let him talk Oil, and then I knew he 
daren’t have said so much had the engage¬ 
ment still been in existence. I said I would 
call you, but he begged me not to do so; he 
preferred to go, having seen the only one he 
wished to see. 1 gave him a half-promise, and 
of course I shall take him.” 
“Your feelings have greatly changed, Edith. 
I remember you told me once that you de¬ 
tested him.” 
"So 1 do,” she replied coolly. “I despis 
him and scorn him; and I despised myself for 
listening to him. The more I know him the 
more I dislike him; but I shall marry him.” 
“Not with these feelings hi your heart, 
Edith. How can you bear to think of your¬ 
self bound for life to him 2 ” 
“ I shall he happy enough, Kate. I shall 
have as much money as 1 want and do just as 
I please, aud my lord aud master can go his 
own way. I daresaj- we shall quarrel at first, 
but he will soon find it useless to oppose me. 
If I could ouly have the money without Nevil 
it would be better, but as I can’t, I submit to 
the bitter drop in my sweet cun.” 
“Then it will not affect you very much if 
Nevil treats you as he treated me, Edith 2” 
She laughed, and shook her head. 
“ He will find it rather difficult to do that; 
and I know how to manage him. Even the 
other night, after he made open confession to 
me, i said, “I daresay you will tire of me 
also, for you made all these flowery speeches 
to my cousin.’ Jt cost me something to 
promise an engagement, and lie’s not going 
ti trifle with me ; besides, he’s a little afraid 
of me. What will you say to him.” 
“ I have nothing to say to him.” 
“Tell aunt Dorothy it was a mistake, or 
she’ll break her heart; tell Brandon the same, 
oi- he’ll break Nevil’s head. Do settle the 
thing quietty, and every one will suppose me 
deeply in love with my Esmond. Everyone !” 
she repeated, with sudden gravity; “ there 
is one who will not, poor fellow !” 
“Poor fellow indeed !” I assented ; and to 
my amazement Edith burst into tears, the 
fu st I had ever seen her shed. 
"W hat can I do 2” she continued, dashing 
aside her tears. “ There are all the little 
ones for whom papa must provide, and I must 
provide for myself." 
“ My dear Edith,” I said, “your home is 
here, and-” 
“That will do, dear. It isn’t often I cry, 
but all that annoys me now springs from 
Nevil Verner, and when we are married I 
shall reward him for it.” 
She rose and left mo. I could not help 
pitying her ; but I had neither control nor 
influence over her. 
I had remained indoors at evening to finish 
a letter to Viola Ashton, one of my school- 
friends, and my thoughts were faraway from 
Nevil Verner, when he was ushered into my 
presence. I rose, not laying aside my pen. 
“My aunt and cousin are in the garden, 
Mr. Verner, if you wish to see them.” 
He stood hesitating looking at me in silence. 
He might have expected me to meet him with 
reproaches and tears, hut he little knew Kate 
Lovel if he had. 
The silence began to be ridiculous, and I 
Poked at him, expressing, I hope, the wish I 
felt that he would leave me to finish the let¬ 
ter. 
“ Miss Lovel,” he raid, with a sudden effort, 
“ may I say a few words to you in private2” 
“ If you think it necessary to do so.” 
“I—1 suppose, Edith has told you all; 
and-” 
“ If it be on that subject you wish to speak,” 
I said, “ there is no necessity for it, for I know 
all that I wish to know. We have made a 
mistake—that is all.” 
“I must speak to you,” he said, coloring, 
deeply, and so confused that I pitied him; 
“but it is very painful.” 
“ Then spare yourself. I ask no explana¬ 
tion.” 
“Yes; but our engagement. I wrote to 
you whilst I was away, K—Miss Lovel, tell¬ 
ing you that—a—circumstances—in short, re¬ 
leasing you from your engagement, and only 
last uight I discovered the letter was still in 
my desk. I felt—I do feel—in a very painful 
position, my conduct must have seemed so un- 
courteous, and the letter would have explained 
all.” 
“ I understand without the letter. This is 
your ring, Mr Verner; thank you. We need 
say no more; you are only giving yourself 
needless pain,” 
To do him justice, he seemed ashamed, and 
fixed his eyes on the ground. 
“1 thank you, Miss Lovel, for your mag¬ 
nanimity. Will you accept my apologies for 
the unfortunate mistake? You will admit 
that I did right in releasing you—that 1 acted 
honorably in not concealing the change in 
my feelings? It was only right that I should 
break an engagement which could not termi¬ 
nate in happiness for either you or me.” 
Lived there ever a man who could not jus¬ 
tify himself, aud no matter what his deeds 
have been, prove liimsclf to have been actu¬ 
ated by motives the most noble? 
“You were very honorable,” I returned; 
“alwayssupposing the letter hail been sent. 
That is all. The subject has no further biter- 
est for us.” 
He drew his glove on carefully; then pulled 
it off as slowly. 
“You are aware of my engagement to Edith! 
I fear that I—that your aunt will not-” 
“Our engagement was a mistake, and it is 
broken. Aunt will understand that; and we 
need not enter into lengthy explanations, be¬ 
cause it is not worth while." 
“Thank you. I may see Edith 1 Under¬ 
standing that my motives were unselfish, and 
having accepted my apology, you will permit 
me to visit her 2” 
“ Certainly,” I answered, “ No one w-ill for¬ 
bid you t.ho house; though w-hether, under 
the circumstances, your visits are either well 
timed or gentlemanly, I leave for yourself to 
decide.” 
I resumed my seat, as an intimation to him 
that our conversation was onded, and lie re¬ 
tired. 
I finished my letter, then went out to aunt 
Dorothy, as she sat aloue. 
“ Kate,” she said, as I placed myself beside 
her, “ what does all this mean 2” 
“ All what, aunt Dorothy 2" 
“ Edith has been telling me that she is en¬ 
gaged to Nevil Verner, not you. She explain 
ed, but I did not understand very clearly.” 
“ Nevil loves Edith, aunt, not me.” 
“Are you at enmity with him 2” 
“I spoke to him a few moments since, aunt; 
aud it is all settled.” 
She looked mystified, little knowing the 
resemblance between my love story and her 
own. 
“I’m glad it is settled, but I thought you 
loved him 2” 
“Not now, aunt Dorothy; but I did not 
know of his love for Edith. You see, he en¬ 
gaged himself to the wrong Miss Lovel.” 
“What, did lie mistake yon for Edith when 
he spoke to you in that dark room 2 I thought 
such things did not happen out of stories, 
Kate. It is better, in that case, for the en¬ 
gagement to be broken, only I am sorry for 
yon.” 
Her glance wandered to where Edith and 
Nevil stood in the sunset-light, the echo of my 
cousin’s laughter floating to us. 
“ They look very happy,” said aunt Doro¬ 
thy, “ and you, Kate, are alone! Never mind, 
your real lover will appear some day.” 
I smiled as I met her wistful eyes. 
“ Aunt, the lot has fallen on me.” 
“ Don’t say that, Kate, I shall see you yet 
loved and loving; I may live to see you like 
your mother, a dear and happy wife.” 
To be^Continued 
