£ov % gmm0. 
THE STORY OF A DISTRICT SCHOOL. 
A COLLEGE BOY’S DIARY. 
(Continued.) 
Johnny tried hard not to cry. One big tear 
squeezed out over his red cheek, but he bravely 
brushed it away with the sleeve of his .iacket. 
The disappointment was great, but Johnny 
bore it well. His face worked a little, but he 
crept round behind the wood box where no¬ 
body could see him. I was glad to see the 
red haired young woman hand him a big 
doughnut while old Johnson was trying to 
straighten out his false teeth. Johuny kept 
his face in the shadow, but he put the dough¬ 
nut into his pocket all the same. 
We took our seats at the table in response to 
old Johnson’s invitation—“Set by an see ef 
we can’t take some ’o the heftofftn these table 
legs,” he said, and this answered every pur¬ 
pose. 
He filled my plate so full that passing it was 
a dangerous operation. “Now then,” he re¬ 
marked “We won’t call on yon fer no re¬ 
marks till ye clear that up. I jedge you ter 
hev a good idee of the vally ’o vittles. Thar 
won't be no room in your mouth fer no words 
whilst that plate holds out.” 
Bill Johnson could only roll up one eye in 
approval of these remarks. He had already 
beguu a masterly attack upon his plate and_ 
could not talk. Johnny soon forgot his trou¬ 
bles. Ho tried to eat and watch me at the 
same time. This made rather dangerous 
busiuess, for on several occasions he lost the 
rauge of his mouth and nearly ran his knife 
into his eye. 
Mrs. Johnson was very polite. “Will you 
have your tea seasoned, professor!” She 
asked. 1 did not know exactly what the “sea¬ 
soning” might be, but determined to risk it. 
I found that tea was “seasoned” when it con¬ 
tained both sugar and milk. 
Old Johnson stopped his eating for a mo¬ 
ment. “ What be ye perfessor of f” he called 
out in his harsh voice. “ Don't wanter take no 
names thet don’t belong to ye in this deestriet.” 
1 hail no answer to make, so a silence fell up¬ 
on us, broken only by the industrious knives 
playing upon the plates. 
At last old Johnson pushed his plate away 
with a sigh of satisfaction. 
“I guess I’ll finish in the inomin’ ” he said 
after a careful survey of the table. “Ef you 
fellers eats this way right along, I’ll hev ter 
kill another hog termorrer.” 
After supper I took my old place by the 
stove. Bill Johnson put on his hat and tilted 
back in his chair against the wall The la¬ 
dies began to clear away the dishes, Johnny 
got out a broken slate anil seated himself on 
the wood-box, where ho worked laboriously 
at some writing, 
“ Say, teacher,” broke in old Johnson’s file 
of a voice. “ I’ve got au idee for ye. When 
ye git sorter tired o’ wanderin’ round, why 
don’t ye come here an’ make yer suppositions 
to my lured guL Il’l say a good word for ye 
whenever ye need it” 
Here the young woman rushed frantically 
from the room with her apron over her lace. 
Old Johnson’s laugh spurred her on to extra 
speed. 
’•Now Iry, ain’t ye ’shamed? You ain’t 
settm’ no example. What will you do with all 
them things ter answer fer—” said Mrs. John¬ 
son solemnly. She took her hands out of the 
hot dish-water to hold them up on either side 
of her head. The steam from the hot water 
formed a tkiu frame about her face. 
“Jest hark at them Methodist groans,” 
said old Johnson with a chuckle. “Them’s 
gene wine MeLkodist groans, them is. Makes a 
feller fuel sorter doleful, 1 reckon " 
Mrs. Johnson went back to her dish wash¬ 
ing witu a deep sigh. The •’hired gal” did not 
make her appearance again though old John¬ 
son did his best to induce her to come. While 
he was shouting at her Johnny brought his 
slate to me. lie kept his linger in his mouth 
and his eye on old Johnson as I read. This 
is wbul he had written: 
“l reckon iie bile Himrn.” 
As soon as he saw that I understood it he 
hastily rubbed the writing out and went back 
to the wood box. 
Shortly after the table had been cleared 
awuy, there came a loud knock at the door. 
Wilkoul waiting for any invitation, the door 
opened and a strapping young fellow walked 
in. He nodded to the company, hung his hat 
on the nail and brought a chair up to the 
stove. There he tilted back and put one foot 
up against the wopdbox, pusbiug Johnny into 
one corner. There was no formal introduc¬ 
tion, but I soon learned from the conversation 
that this was the redoubtable Jack Brawn 
himself. He paid little attention to me, so I 
had a good chance to examine him. 
He was a strong, well-built fellow, with 
great arms and shoulders that were fairly 
bunched with muscles. I was obliged to ad¬ 
mit to myself that if he should once get hold 
of me, my chances of remaining master of 
Bear Creek school would be decidedly dim. 
Jack was evidently far from being at his 
ease, though he was dressed in the very bight 
of Bear Creek fashion. His boots were well 
greased, t he “store lines” had not been rubbed 
out of Ins clothes and great, cuffs and a collar 
were making his wrists and neck as uncom¬ 
fortable as possible. His hair was well oiled 
and a bright red necktie gave him a very gal¬ 
lant appearance, But in spite of all this finery. 
Jack was ill at ease. He crossed oue leg over 
the ether, pulled at his collar and culls a dozen 
times and sharpened his knife on his boot. 
Old Jolmson seemed to understand matters. 
“Walk in an’ see how things Ls Jack,” he said. 
“Don’t let nobody stand in yer light. Teacher 
here sorter frightened her away, but I’ll lay 
you’ll fiud her in the front room. I’ve set some 
wood iu yuuder, when thet burns up its time 
ter go home.” 
Jack glared fiercely at me during this 
speech. It was like a big dog looking at a 
smaller one. After some futher bantering he 
got up and walked into the other room. It is 
to be supposed that he found the red haired 
young woman as he did not return. 
I went to bed early. I did uot care to listen 
to old Johnson’s harsh voice, and I was tired. 
I had been asleep several hours when I was 
awakened by a step in my room. I started up 
suddenly to fiud Bill Johnson standing by the 
bed. He carried a bag iu oue hand while with 
the other he motioned me to be silent. 
Our drought is over at last. The rain came 
with a rush when it did come. 1 was caught, 
out in it too. It began to rain just as I got 
off the cars to walk home. It was so dark 
that an owl couldn’t have seen auyt.bing. The 
rain came right into my face. 1 borrowed an 
old umbrella ftud started. It was pretty hard 
to keep iu the road. It is almost impossible 
for people to walk iu a straight line when 
they can’t use their eyes—did you know that; 
They are sure to go to oue side or the other. 
1 rau iuto several trees and apologized think¬ 
ing they were men. I guess if 1 had rim iuto 
a mau I should not have said a word. 1 got 
home at last, all right, but pretty wet. There 
is only one thing to do in such a case and that 
is to get dry just as soon as you can. I took 
off my wet clothes and rubbed myself with a 
dry towel. After supper 1 “toasted” my feet 
in the oven. I am all ready for another night 
just like it uow—doubly ready because I have 
brought a pair of rubber boots and u rubber 
coat. If 1 am going to be out iu hail weather 
I mean to he dressed for it. 1 think it is pret¬ 
ty poor economy to try and save some money 
by uot buying comfortable clothes, and then 
get cold or sick from exposure. Every dam 
and rainy night now, you can imagine Uncle 
Mark with his rubber coat and boots walking 
through the mud. 
LETTERS FROM THE COUSINS. 
Dear Uncle Mark: I am 13 years old. I 
live on a farm 20 miles from Pittsburgh. I 
have been reading the letters from the Cousins 
for some time back. 1 would like to joiu the 
Club il you will let me. Please do not put 
this letter in the waste basket. 
i planted the Garden Treasures last Spring, 
but they did not grow very well. I set 30 hens 
last Spring, some with 18 eggs under them. 
They nearly all came out well; 1 raised over 
.250 line chickens. 1 would have had 300 only 
for the rais killing some of them. 1 set two 
hens with turkey eggs. They came out mid¬ 
dling well, but 1 only succeeded in raising one 
turkey. I suppose I killed them with kind¬ 
ness. 
1 drive a buggy to the store every week. I 
milk three cows and do half of the kitchen 
work. I intend going to school to-morrow. 
We had a line crop of apples—1,000 bushels iu 
the cellar aud 500 bushels of potatoes. 
I am trying to learn penmanship. Do you 
think 1 will succeed? 
Yam's truly, lizzie gardon. 
[Yes, you are going to be a very good 
writer. You are a good worker, too. I guess 
you are going to make a business woman. That 
is the kind Uncle Mark likes to see.] 
Dear Uncle Mark: I am a little boy nine 
years old. My Grandpa has taken the Rural 
ever since I can remember. 1 would like to 
joiu tiie club. 1 had a garden of iny own tor 
three years and sometimes the seeds did well 
and sometimes they didn't. 1 saw in the Ku 
Hal May 8, 188b, some Bantams 1 would like 
to have. Will you please tell me where I can 
get the birds, or eggs, aud oblige 
HENRY H. STEVENS. 
[The Bantams were owned by Mr. Belmont 
Perry, of Woodbury, N. J. They were good 
ones, too.—U. M.] 
Pear Uncle Mark: I am a little girl IS 
years old, and would like to join the Cousins. 
Mamma has taken the Rural for four years. 
I live on a farm of 80 acres. I live three miles 
from school. My riding horse (lied this Bum¬ 
mer, so I have to walk now. The seeds that 
you sent us came up, but were killed by hail. 
The rest of the flowers did uot do very well, 
because it was so dry. I have 15 ducks aud 
oue turkey. Your Niece, 
Warrensburg, Mo. ella lamb. 
I have been wondering if Uncle Mark would 
give old Aunt Geruslia a chair for a few min¬ 
utes iu the Cousins’ corner. 1 would like to 
tell them I have been surprised t hat they have 
uot been more successful with the Garden 
Treasures from Uncle Mark. Now ihe seeds 
we get more than pay for the Rural every 
year, If 1 don’t want a hotch-potch of a 
flower gnrden, 1 just pour the seeds on a 
paper, take a pen-knife aud in a few minutes 
separate them. 1 wish you could see an even- 
ine primrose that came from these seeds. It 
is a lovely lemon color and is tiie admiration 
of every one. In the afternoon it is covered 
with lovely lily-like blossoms which last uutil 
the next day. when new clusters appear. I took 
a slip last Fall which blossomed nearly all 
Winter in our city home. [We leave the farm 
and go home in the Winter.) You ought to 
see the admiring glances turned to our parlor 
window iu the cold, stormy Winter at this 
beautiful flower. I have others very hand- 
» 
some, but fear my letter will be too long if I 
tell you about them uow. I thiuk 1 must say 
something about Uncle Jonathan’s seed, else 
he will look cross. He has quite a field of 
thousandfold rye, which he saved from last 
year’s yield, which is just splendid. The 
farmers come to look at it, and you ought to 
hear him brag. He sowed it the same day 
with the old kind, and it looks three weeks 
ahead of it. The Angel of Midnight Corn is 
also nice. I think that a queer name, don't 
you? but it yields well, aud “what is iu a 
name.” 
I fear if I tell about the peas and melons my 
letter will he too long aud Uncle Mark won’t 
let me visit you again? aunt gerusha. 
[Why, yes, Auut G., we are glad to hear 
you talk. Come again and bring Uncle Jon¬ 
athan with you.—u. m.] 
Dear Uncle Mark: I would like to join 
the Y. H. C. and become one of the Cousins. 
I live on a farm of 320 acres, so there Ls lots of 
work for me to do. Our potatoes are not dug 
yet, so 1 will have to pick up potatoes, a job 
which I do uot like to do. We have 05 sheep 
aud lambs, 22 cattle aud 10 horses. 
YGUI's truly, 
Brockway Centre, Mich. Joseph foster. 
[Your letter came some time ago. I hope 
the work is over.—U. M. 
Dear Uncle Mark: 1 wrote, to you once 
before and 1 saw it in your paper so I thought 
I would write again. My sister planted the 
flower seed. They were nice. We got one 
hive of bees last Fall. They swarmed iu May 
then again on the first of June and the last of 
June. Our grapes arc ripe. I want you and 
the Cousius to get some to eat. We have got 
300 or 40l) vines of different kinds. W e have 
got the Concord, Pocklingtou, Niagara and 
two or three other kinds. We have a clover 
lot but musk-rats have just ruiued it. 
Your nephew. 
Green Co., Pa. Alfred p. btevenson. 
Dear Uncle Mark: I thought I would 
write again. 1 am seven years old. I am go¬ 
ing to school and rending in the Third Reader. 
Corn husking is at hand. Crop good. We 
have been having considerable company; some 
from Walla Walla, W. T., Iowa, Illinois and 
Indiana. We are having fine weather now. 
We have no bearing apple trees, but Pa has 
some coming on, and I hope they will bear 
soon. We thought the Gul den Treasures were 
treasures indeed. Pa likes the Rural very 
much. Which do you thiuk the most profit¬ 
able chicken? From your niece, 
E dinburg, Iud. alpha a. deufree. 
[That is hard to say. 1 like Wyandottes and 
Plymouth Rocks pretty well, but the neigh¬ 
bors think they cau make more out of Whito 
Leghorns.—u. M.] 
We had a great time here at the celebration. 
The parade passed directly in front of our 
office. 1 shall say more ubout. the Statue of 
“Liberty” next week. Perhaps, though, you 
all know about it now. We can’t know too 
much about.such things. 
IttiiSU'Uflttfo utf % Am rising. 
DIXON’S "Carburet of Iron” Stove Polish wot 
established hi 1S27, uml In to-day, au II was then, the 
neuteut and brlghim In the market; u pure plumbago, 
giving off no poiuuuouB vapors. The size in uow doub¬ 
led and cake weighs nearly hall a pound, but the quali¬ 
ty and price remain the same. Ask your gooeer for 
Dixou’s big cakv. 
A NEW VIEW' OF CONSUMPTION. 
And one which Appeals to Common Sons*. 
Many Curable Cases. 
f Medical Slilys .1 
“Many persons die of Consumption who 
could easily be cured,” says Dr. S. C. Clark, 
of Watertown, N. Y.. “if they should go at it 
right. I have a uew view of the disease. 
Consumption is not always of lung origin.” 
“How so? What is it then?” 
“Many cases of consumption are secondary. 
The disease itself prevails everywhere, but 
the best practitioners refuse to attribute it en- 
tirely to inheritance or the weather. If a 
person lives iu the most favorable climate iu 
the world and has any tendency to lung weak¬ 
ness, if certain conditions exist in the system, 
that climate, however favorable, will not. pre- 
vent development of the disease. The disorder 
in such cases is only a secondary symptom in 
the lungs of some other ailment, and can 
never he cured until approached through its 
source.” 
“Yes, doctor, but what is the method of its 
approach ?” 
“If you dip your finger iu acid you burn it; 
do you not?” 
“Yes.” 
“If you wash this burnt finger every second 
with the acid, what is the result?” 
“Why, constant inflammation, festering and 
eventful destruction of the finger.” 
“Precisely I Now then for my method, 
which commends itself to the reason and judg¬ 
ment of every skilful practitioner. You know 
certain acids are developed in the body. Well, 
if the system is all right, these acids are neu¬ 
tralized or utilized aud carried out. If ti e 
system is run down by excesses, anxiety, con¬ 
tinual exposure or overwork, these acids ac¬ 
cumulate in the blood. If there is any natural 
weakuesB in the lung, this add attacks it, hav¬ 
ing a natural affinity for it, aud if the acid is 
uot neutralized or passed out of the system, it 
bums, ulcerates and dually destroys the lung. 
Is this clear?” 
“Perfectly 1 But how do you prevent the 
accumulation of these acids iu the system?” 
“Irregularities of the liver and kidneys cre¬ 
ate this excess of acid and the supply can be 
cut off only by correcting the wrong action of 
these organs. The kidneys alone should carry 
out iu quantity, in solution, enough of this 
acid daily, which, if left in the blood, would 
kill four men. When the stomach, the liver 
ami the kidneys are all conspiring to increase 
the acid, the wonder is that weak lungs resist 
death as long as they do]" 
“But you have not told us how you would 
treat such cases.” 
“No, but I will. The lungs are only dis¬ 
eased as au effect of this acid or kidney poison 
in the blood. After having exhausted all 
authorized remedies to correct thisacul condi¬ 
tion, l was compelled, in justice to my pa¬ 
tients, to use Warner’s safe cure; though a 
proprietary remedy, it is now recognized, I see, 
by leading physicians, by Presidents of State 
Boards of Health and by insurance physicians, 
os u scientific aud the only specific for those 
great organs in which over ninety per cent, 
of diseases originate or are sustained." 
“Is this form of treatment successful?” 
“It is wonderfully so, and for that reason I 
am only too willing that you should announce 
it to the world of consumptives.” 
Note by the Publishers: —We have received 
the above interview from H. H. W aimer & Co. 
Rochester, N. Y., with the request that we 
publish it for the good of suffering people. 
iu u foot note to their letter they say; 
“The experience of Dr. Clark Ls not strange 
to us. In our correspondence we have found 
that many thousands of people are suffering 
from what they thiuk is Consumption, whereas 
the real difficulty is with the liver and kidneys, 
proven by the fact thut when those organs 
are restored to health by the use of Waimer’s 
safe cure, the consumption disappears, and so 
does uremic or kidney poisoning, which causes 
so many symptoms of diseases that the human 
system is subject, to. The -same muy be said 
of rheumatism, caused by an acid condition of 
the system. Wo insist upon what we always 
have claimed, if you remove the cause, the 
the system will soon perfect the work already 
begun. Mrs. Rev. Dr. Theodore Wolf, of 
Gettysburg, Pa., wife of the editor of the 
Lutheran Quarterly, said her friends thought 
her “far gone with Consumption,” but after a 
treatment with Warner’# sale cure, she says: 
“1 am perfectly well.” We etui cite thousands 
of such cases, but one is enough. If you puu- 
lishthc abovearticle, kindly send us a marked 
copy," 
We gladly give place to the article, for if we 
can iu any way stay the ravages of Consump¬ 
tion, which carries away so many millions 
yearly, it is our boumdenduty so to do.]—Pf», 
