JUNE 42 
THE 
fitearg ®iscfllang. 
DECORATION DAY. 
It came with peace and brightness, 
The ushering of the morn; 
The day of foud remembrance 
To the soldiers who have goue. 
All nature seemed respondent 
To the honored brave, 
For God had sent the sunshine 
To illuminate each grove. 
Hushed, the din of battle; 
Stanched, the flow of blood. 
Instead, the thoughts of thousands 
Went out to the flowery flood. 
These gifts of rarest beauty. 
Wore tributes to the forms, 
Now buried 'neath the dust. 
Away from the beating storms. 
• ’Tie well to thus remember 
And honor duly pay. 
By deed, as well as word, 
The fallen in the fray. 
But spare the costly deed. 
If the widow and the child. 
Bo left in need of food 
Or shelter in the wild. 
Their souls were called away; 
God gives them their reward; 
The livingolaim out' care, 
Stretch forth the hand well stored. 
— Anon. 
-- 
JOHN ASCOTT'S DAUGHTEB, 
BY CHARLES RICHARDS DODGE, 
Author of “ Louise and I.” 
(Continued from page 366 ) 
CHAPTER XIII, 
“ TO BE, OR NOT TO BE.” 
“ A month from to-day” Is a long step Into the 
future, so long a step In this Instance that our 
young farmer friend felt In no haste, particularly 
as It was a very busy season of the year, and there 
was no pressing need of hurry. The money could 
be obtained from the bank a week before the time 
specified, In fact It was as good as promised al¬ 
ready. The transaction would only require one 
day at the longest—days were valuable things 
n0W —and that was the end of It for the time 
being. It certainly was a busy month at Maple¬ 
wood. George was ambitious and anxious to 
make the most of the season—and some money 
too-so, gave little thought to the mortgage till 
within a few days of the dale, for taking it up, and 
then he went about It lri earnest. 
Arriving In town he drove directly to the bank 
and inquired for Mr. Bond, the Treasurer. To his 
chagrin he found that Important functionary out 
for an hour or two on business, and was requested 
to call later. He felt that two hours was a long 
while to wait, hut there was no help for It, so he 
went around to his brother’s to attend to some 
minor matters of business, and fortunately found 
Charlie in. 
"I’ve three days left mo to pay off that con¬ 
founded indebtedness,” he announced upon en¬ 
tering. 
*• Well, have you tne money ?” 
“That’s why I am in town to-day. 1 think Mr. 
Bond Is going lo make it all light for me. l men¬ 
tioned the matter some time ago, and there was 
no objection,” 
“ Have you seen him to-day?” 
“ No, 1 have not. He was out when 1 called at 
the bank, but Is expected to return In an hour 
or so.” 
"1 think you had belter see him as early as 
poaslblo.” 
“ W hy Charles?” 
“ Because two other persons are negotiating 
heavy loans, and you may not bo accommodated. 
French told mo so this morning at the hank.” 
"You don’t say so! Then I’m off at once. I’ll 
see you later,” and the young man started out 
abruptly in search of Mr. Bond, 
“Come around to dinner, George,” said his 
brother as he. quitted the store. 
*• All right, when—It I get the business fixed.” 
Returning to the bank it was ascertained that 
Air. Bond nad been in for a brief moment, and had 
gone out again. Would doubtless be found at 
J udge Coke’s oiliee, though he might be elsewhere; 
Impossible to name any particular time for return. 
With this most unsatisfactory information the 
young man drove rapidly dowu Main street in 
search of the missing Treasurer. Stopping at 
Judge Coke’s he learned the additional Informa¬ 
tion that the object of his search had been gone 
nearly a quarter of au hour, and had left, the office 
In company with Mr. Ashton. Senior. Here was a 
pretty pass, supposing ho should meet Mr. Bond 
in the street; he could not. broach the subject of 
the loan In Ills father’s presence. No, no, not for 
worlds would Ue do that. So ho drove around to 
the bank again, resolving U> wait aud sec the gen¬ 
tlemen In tho privacy of the back office. 
With what anxiety did he watch the clock and 
count the minutes as the long linger Jerked from 
space to space around tho circumference of the 
quaint, old-fashioned dial. Uc was nervous and 
could not help It, and the thought of Charles’ 
suggestion, did uot make him any tho less so. 
Thou Ills mind turned lo May—ho could not help 
flunking how anxiously she would watch for his 
return, and as he fidgeted In his chair It seemed 
as though flic old clock was saying, with every 
swing of its great brass penaulum, “.fore-clu.se, 
fore-clorr.' 1 lie jumped up, strode upon tho side¬ 
walk, ami approaching Dolly, standing quietly 
and patiently where ho had left her, st roked her 
nose a moment and then walked Into the bank 
again, it was fully half an hour after when Air. 
Bond made his appearance. George stated his 
business In a few words, and with palpitating 
heart awaited the Treasurer’s answer. 
“ I am very soitj-, my boy, that you did not 
come two or three days ago; ail tho available 
funds of tho hank have been loaned since that 
time, r presented your case to the trustees some 
weeks ago; there was no objection to letting you 
have the amount asked, and 1 would have reserved 
It had T known positively that It. was wanted. I 
am truly sorry George, but there Is no help for it 
now." 
“ The young man dropped his head, but only for 
a moment; then he arose to go. 
" Have you any Idea, Air. Bond, where I can get 
It. I think Maplewood Is safe property to loan 
money on.” 
“ None better. You have made a splendid place 
of It, even in the two years. How much time Is 
there left you.” 
" Three days-" 
“ Oh, dear me 1 I was hoping It was longer. A 
week later I might be able to help you get it in 
another quarter. Who represents the Stone es¬ 
tate.” 
“ Old Skinner, 1 think.” 
" Then you will have to work lively, for he will 
not give you two days of grace. If he can help It. 
Let me see—ah!— you might try Darkness, though 
he will want seven or eight per cent.” 
“ I could afford to pay that for » short time.” 
"You can’t a.from to pay It, George, though It 
may he necessary under the circumstances.” 
“ I mean that fhe season promises well, now. 
and I hope to make a good margin this year.” 
“ Y'ou may tell Darkness, from me, that he 
ought to let you have t he money at six-seven at 
most—If he has got It; and If he hasn't, I don’t 
know where you will get It. Atoney is In demand 
just now.” 
Old Mr. Darkness was as kindly disposed as Air. 
Bond bad been, but he had nothing to loan at any 
Interest at the present time; nor could he offer the 
least suggestion as to where such an amount could 
be raised on such short notice. Disappointed and 
sick at heart, the young farmer now made his way 
to his brother’s store, meeting him almost upon 
the threshold on his way to dinner. 
“ well, what luck? ” 
*■ No luck, and no money.” 
The deuce! I feared It would he so. Why don’t 
you swallow your pride and go and see father, 
have a talk with him, and borrow the money 
In a business-like way, as you would from a 
stranger?” 
“ 1 could’nt do that, Charles/ 
“ Well, It seems to me you had better do that, 
RDd keep a shelter over your wffe’s head than to 
turn her Into the highway.” 
" Oh my God, don’t lisp such a thing—No, no, 
no. I will try elsewhere. With such a farm as 
mlue to offer as security It is a loan anybody 
ought to jump at.” 
"None have jumped to any alarming extent 
this morning.” . 
“ Can William help me ?” ^ 
Dow a drowning man catches at a straw! George 
asked the question almost knowing it\to be a 
hopeless one, and Charles answered It precisely 
as It was thought he would, william Jjad some 
money, It was true, but whether he wwftS ehoose 
to assist his unfortunate brother was aSlit¬ 
ter even If it waa to he spared. The remln^rtftut 
“he always was a queer devil, his father's <^vn 
boy” did not help the doubt In the least. Never¬ 
theless George decided to make the effort and a 
little after two o'clock called at his brother’s place 
of business. He was to be seen and appeared 
quite sociable and much more talkative thamipon 
any previous occasion since May had "become 
an Ashton.” The subject of the loan wa* Intro¬ 
duced, followed hy about the same measure of 
success that had attended the two former efforts. 
“ What kind of a mood did you find him in?’ 
asked Charles as hts younger brother again ap¬ 
peared before him. 
"Amiableand unaccommodating.” 
“ Humph, 1 feared It would be a still hunt,” 
“Oh curse It all!” George exclaimed vehe¬ 
mently “ Is my father trying to ruin mo 7 ” 
“Why what do you mean?” Charles asked anx¬ 
iously. 
“William has been advised by father not 
to loan me a cent should I ask It, on the ground 
that there was too much risk In taking the farm 
for security. W hat do you think of that ?” 
" 1 think that knocks a big hole In your kite, 
as far as getting any assistance from the family 
Is concerned. 1 know he swore all sorts of things 
when you bought the place and married May In 
spite or him, but l supposed he had In a measure, 
gotten over it. Well, don’t worry, brother, per¬ 
haps It can be fixed up In a day or two, though 
bless mo It I see a glimmer of light now. Trust 
mo If 1 can be of any assistance to you, 1 shall 
he on hand.’’ 
" Father la deucedly down on George," Charles 
remarked to his wire, that evening.” l vow I 
think the tiling has gone about far enough; its 
getting unchristian now. But ono thing is cer¬ 
tain, If something ls’nt done within three days 
Maplewood goes under the hammer.” 
CHAPTER XIV, 
“ A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED." 
It was an anxious day for Alay, but she tried to 
busy herself with her duties as usual, watching 
the clock, hour by hour, and going to the window 
a hundred times, it seemed, to soe if her husband 
was returning. As tho day wore on, her anxiety 
grew to positive nervousness, and the sound of 
every passing carriage made her bean flutter In 
her bosom, beyoud control. It was between four 
aud five o'clock In the afternoon when George re¬ 
turned, as she saw him drive around to the barn, 
without stopping a moment at the door, she knew 
Intuitively that his mission had been hopeless. 
“ It was Just as 1 feared It would be.” said she, 
" though 1 hoped you would get it at the bank. 
When you did not come to dinner I knew you had 
been disappointed.” 
“Yes. the first day’s disappointment, my dear 
girl, but It should not discourage us—there are 
two more you know.’’ 
“Two thousand dollars Is so much, money, and 
friends are so few.’ 1 
“Yes, Alay, It Is the way of the world; fr tents 
are few when tfaetr help Is needed. It is only 
when we stand upon the top round of the ladder 
of prosperity that friendship is warmest. We 
mu st be our own friends In the future, If we ever 
get out of this scrape; ami then we may value 
friendship for what ft Is worth, asking no favors 
and bestowing them only where love prompts." 
“ if talking would only help present needs, you 
might talk all night long—what will you do 
now?” 
"Sleep over It to-night, and try It again to¬ 
morrow, and to-morrow-” 
“And, then, ff you—fall?” 
“7 must not t ” 
if human win were only law, what great deeds 
would be accomplished, deeds that would electrify 
the world ! To wish to perform—to will to per¬ 
form—and to do are such widely different things 
that when we come to the sticking point, we are 
very apt to show ourselves mere creatures of cir¬ 
cumstance. IIovv many title pages have been 
written to volumes existing only In ambitious de¬ 
sire, castles-w-Spaln, methluk6, thought-reared— 
never to he attained. I think Shakespeare ex¬ 
presses the sentiment more strongly where he 
says, “ ff to do were as easy as to know what were 
well to do, chapels had been churches, and poor 
men’s cottages princes’ palaces." 
George had plenty of will, and plenty of energy 
too, especially where there was so much at stake, 
hut he was not able to overcome Insurmountable 
obstacles, and as he felt the time lessened to so 
small a compass, he almost lost faith In himself- 
He had spent another weary day, unsuccessfully, 
and could not understand why the money was not 
forthcoming from some source. The season was a 
most favorable one for hla farming operations, the 
crops thrifty, and promising a golden harvest. His 
stock were m splendid trim, everything In thor¬ 
ough repair, and the ram generally in a prosper¬ 
ous condition, yet no one would advance him the 
amount he desired even with such security. 
At one time he could have raised half the amount, 
but with a slogle thousand he was no better off 
than before. Time had been winging, and but 
one day remained In which to save the farm. 
Could he do more than had already been done to 
avert the calamity that was Inevitable ? 
After breakfast the young man ordered Dolly 
harnessed and was preparing to go to town to 
make one last effort, when his old neighbor made 
his appearance In the stable yard. 
■ Good morning, Air. Wilkins." 
“ Good mornln” George. What’s this I hear 
about the form bein’ sold? It’s sum thin’ new to 
me. I didn’t know there was a mortgage on It.” 
“Well, I know it, Uncle Silas, to my sorrow.” 
“ Mortgages are unhandy sort o’ things to have 
a’ top of a house, that’s sartln. Can’t ye raise the 
thlbg ?” 
“ No, a man’s friends always desert him when 
there is any money wanted.” 
“ That depends on the kind of friends, my boy. 
But Dever mind that now; I’ve come over to see if 
l can be of sarvlce to ye In any way ?’’ 
“ I truly thank you for your good Intentions, but 
> » 
“ I’m a plain sort of man, and I ain’t used to fine 
speeches, but I've got five hundred dollars In my 
breeches pocket that the old lady and I sa ved to 
bury us with, and you are welcome to It tf you 
want It. Give me your note for a. year, and we 
won’t take any account ot the Interest, that's all. - ’ 
“ 1—I feel grateful to you. Air. Wilkin's,” the 
young man answered, a sudden moisture gather- 
tug In his eyes. 11 Your kindness touches me-but 
—that amount alone would not do.” 
"It's none of my business, but may I ask how 
much of a mortgage they hold agin ye?” 
“ 'Two thousand dollars." 
" Two thousand dollars? why, you taruel little 
too—. Excuse me, George, but It's my opinion 
some of ’he improvement money orter have gone 
in another direction.” 
“ 1 know It now.” 
“ I’m sorry for you, and I shall hate to lose a 
good neighbor, if it comes to that, but If 1 can be 
of any sarvlce to ye, just rely on old Silas Wilkins 
every time. If your father wasn’t such a eross- 
gralued old nununy, he’d have pulled you out of 
the rut himself, in spite of your doing the best 
thing you ever did In your life agin his wishes. 
A'ou’ve got grit-, aud you deserve a better fate.” 
“ I feel sure of your friendship, U ncle Silas, and 
I am deeply grateful for your kind words." 
” Wal, guess I’Ll ttudge back across lots. It you 
want the five hundred you know wnere it is. Good 
day!” 
As Air. Bond had suggested. Old Skinner gave 
no grace at all, and the sale was announced 
at once. It was a memorable day to the little 
household, and ono they might remember al¬ 
ways. The red flag floated defiantly at tho en¬ 
trance of the Ataple drive-way, from an early 
hour in mo morning. The yard was filled long 
before noon with Idle men, sitting around lu 
groups talking and laughing while awaiting the 
commencement of proceedings, aud there was no 
privacy anywhere. The appurtenences of the farm 
were examined, the barn and out-buildlugs In¬ 
spected, and even the sanctity of the house was 
Invaded by prospective buyers, or others drawn 
thither by Idle curiosity. It was for the young 
farmer’s Interest to have everything appear to as 
good au advantugo as possible, and ho lost no 
opportunity to explain the value of the Improve¬ 
ments aud to call attention to the splendid con¬ 
dition of everything about the rarm. It was cer¬ 
tainly a lino piece ot property and an unusually 
large number of bidders had been attracted by 
the sale. . 
George had Indulged himself In the hope that at 
the last moment, if not before, some one would 
come forward and help him over his present em¬ 
barrassment. He had Indeed worked hard to save 
the property In the limited time that circumstance 
had left to him, and he could not become recon¬ 
ciled to the thought that Maplewood would soon 
slip from his possession. When Air. Skinner ap¬ 
peared with the auctioneer, hope had uot wholly 
died within his bosom, but with the reading of 
the schedule of farm property, came the unwel¬ 
come conviction, that all Indeed was lost. 
The bidding waa spirited from the outset and 
considerable rivalry was manifest as the sale went 
on. After “ five thousand five hundred ” bad been 
reached there were only two or three bidders lu 
the field, and the figures crept slowly upward by 
hundreds and fifties until "six thousand” was 
taken. 
“ Twenty-five " fifty ” «• seventy-five—” 
“ Will It stick there?” George queried mentally. 
“ Aunt Jane’s little fortune Is barely covered.” 
“Six thousand one hundred —going—going— 
Shall I have the twenty-five? Sis—thousand- 
one—hundred,—all done, once, twice—thr—” 
There was a stir at the outer edge of the crowd, 
a middle-aged gentleman, a stranger, stepped 
from his carriage and made his way hastily to the 
spot where the auctioneer was standing. There 
was a look of purpose In his face, and a lofty bear¬ 
ing lu his manner that commanded attention and 
respect. As he approached there was a momentary 
pause In the proceedings. 
“ I hope l am not too late,” said he, rapidly 
glancing over the group of men gathered around 
the auctioneer—** will you please repeat the last 
bid ?” 
"Six thousand, one hundred dollars, sir,”spoken 
In an undertone- 
“ Thank you. ” 
“ All done—once, t wice—” 
“Six thousand .five hundred,” called the new¬ 
comer. 
A murmur of approval swept over the company, 
and all eyes were turned toward the bidder, while 
the previous “ taker ” showed evident dissatisfac¬ 
tion at the new turn of events. Of course the 
property was knocked down at the figure called, 
aud the gentleman stepped to the side of the 
auctioneer. 
No one knew him or could tell from whence he 
had corne. He had secured the property, and that 
was all that was known concerning him. Every¬ 
body was astonished and the auctioneer grew 
quite deferential, while the little lawyer became 
so obseqxdously polite as to make himself ridic¬ 
ulous. 
The sale affected, the company dispersed as 
It had come together, the stranger rode away with 
the lawyer, without as much as looking at the 
farm he had purchased, and the unhappy Ashtons 
were left to their reflections.—[To he continued. 
THE OLD BARN. 
"Was ever perfume sweeter than that all-per¬ 
vading fragrance of the sweet-scented hay ? was 
ever an interior so truly picturesque, so full of 
quiet harmony ? 
The lolty haymows ptled uearly to the roof, the 
jagged ax-notched beams overhung with cobwebs 
flecked with dust of hay-seed, with perhaps a 
downy leather here add there. The rude, quaint 
hen-boxes, with the lone nest-egg. In little nooks 
and corners, llow vividly, how lovingly, I recall 
each one! 
In those snow-bound days, when the white 
flakes shut In the earth dowu deep beneath, and 
the drifts obstructed the highways, ami we heard 
the noisy teamsters, with snap ot whip and ex¬ 
citing shouts, urge their straining oxen through 
the solid barricades; when all the fences and 
stonewalls were almost lost to sight imhe uni¬ 
versal avalanche; and. best of all, when the little 
district school-house upon the hill stood In an 
Impassable sea of snow—then we assembled la 
the old barn to play, sought out every hidden 
corner id our game ot hide-and-seek, or frolicked 
In the buy. now stopping quietly to listen to the 
tiny squeak ot some rustling mouse near by, or it 
may be creeping cautiously to the little hole up 
near the eaves in search of the blg-ej td owl wo 
once caught napping there, la a hundred differ¬ 
ent ways we passed the fleeting hours. 
The general features of New England barns 
are all alike. The barn that we remember Is a 
garner rull of treasure sweet as new-mown hay. 
Y'ou remember the great, broad, double doors, 
which made their sweeping circuit in the snow ; 
the ruddy pumpkins, piled up lu The corner near 
the bins, and the wistful whinny ot the old 
farm-horse as, with pricked up ears aud eager 
pull of chain no urged jour prompt attention lo 
your chores; the cows, too. In the manger stalls— 
how sweet their perfumed breath l outside the 
corn-crib stands. Its golden stores gleaming 
through the open laths, and t he oxen, reaching 
with lapping, upturned tougues, yearn tor the 
tempting feast, " so near aud yet so far.” Tho 
parti-colored heus group themselves In rich con¬ 
trast against the sunny boards of t he weather¬ 
beaten shed, and the ducks and geese, w 1th rat¬ 
tling croak and husky hiss aud quick vibrating 
tails (that strange contagion), waddle across iho 
Mushy snow, and sail out upon the barn-yard 
pond. Here Is tho pile of nusks from whoso 
bleached and rustling sheaths you picked the lit¬ 
tle ravellngs or brow n for your corn-silk cigarettes. 
Did ever “ pure Havana” taste as sweet?— Har¬ 
per's Magazine. 
-*-M- 
MAGAZINES FOR JUNE. 
Sr. Nicholas, has an out-door, summer-y char¬ 
acter sustained throughout, In the poems, the 
prose, and the seventy-two pictures. 
Among Its striking features is an account, by 
Olive Shorne Miller, ot the Children's Aid Society’s 
delightful charity, The Summer Home for poor 
city children, at Bath, L. I., with seven pictures 
made by Jessie Curtis from sketches taken on the 
