1901 
59 
Bird Neighbors in Elitiville. 
It was just 4 o’clock In the morning 
when Miss Clarissa Steele crept quietly 
downstairs and out at the side door. 
She stood for a moment on the broad 
stone step and took a long, free breath, 
then she went down the gravel walk 
and into the street. She turned away 
from the village, and, as if with a def¬ 
inite object in view, walked swiftly to¬ 
ward the fields and hills to the north. 
It was only since April that Elmville 
had taken a lively interest in birds. It 
had known vaguely that there were 
birds within its borders—English spar¬ 
rows, an oriole or two, and out in the 
country crows, perhaps a few jays. This 
limited ornithological knowledge had 
satisfied Elmville, and when it heard 
that in Boston it was the thing to rise 
early, take one’s opera glass and go 
“birding” it had smiled indulgently. 
That, however, was two years ago and 
Elmville was 200 miles from Boston. A 
hundred miles a year was quite fast 
enough for a fad to travel toward Elm¬ 
ville, but when it finally arrived It was 
received with enthusiasm. 
The little village suddenly awoke to 
the fact that there were birds In its 
trees of which it had never dreamed, 
and birds in its fields and pastures whose 
very names it had never heard. It be¬ 
gan to talk wisely of vireos and warblers, 
red-starts and dickers. Quiet folk who 
had known of birds all their lives sud¬ 
denly found themselves in great demand. 
This popularity might have turned their 
heads had it lasted long enough, but 
when it was discovered that there were 
questions which they could not answer 
they were promptly made to know their 
proper places and to feel like impostors 
who have been found out. 
The newly-aroused interest in birds 
took different forms. There were some 
who made up parties and took long 
walks in the woods, where they talked 
and laughed so loudly that all the birds 
fied before them. This class enjoyed the 
bird walks greatly and went every week. 
Then there was young Mrs. Goodnow, 
who had seen more birds than anyone 
else in town, but who could not tell the 
song of a rose-breasted grosbeak from 
that of a cuckoo, declaring naively that 
she did not care anything about the 
noises the birds made. Others wondered 
how she could know so many birds when 
she did not have her ears to help her, 
but then she had a very fine pair of field 
glasses and unlimited time. There were 
the two elder Misses Steele, who con¬ 
tented themselves with looking from 
windows into the tops of the elm and 
maple trees which grew about their 
their home, and there was their sister 
Clarissa, who on this beautiful June 
morning, was out in the country at a 
little after 4 o’clock. 
It was 7 o’clock when she walked up 
the path to the side door. She was tired 
and very hungry, but she was also happy 
and had a quantity of bird news to tell 
her sisters. Breakfast was ready and a 
delicious odor of hot coffee came out to 
her through the screen door, and she 
went in eagerly. She hung her hat in 
the entry, then passed on to the dining 
room. 
Usually she greeted her sisters with a 
cheery good morning, but this time she 
had hardly crossed the threshold before 
she was aware that something was 
wrong. A quick glance at Elinor and 
Caroline showed her that it must be 
something very wrong indeed. Her 
heart began to beat faster and all the 
happiness seemed suddenly to have gone 
out of the morning. She looked timidly 
at her sisters and they stared at her in 
stony silence. 
■‘What is the matter?” she asked, 
tremulously. 
“I should not think you would need to 
ask that question, Clarissa Maria,” Eli¬ 
nor said in a hollow voice. 
"No, I should not think so,” echoed 
Caroline. 
Now it was only about once in three 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
years that she did anything bad enough 
for them to call her Clarissa Maria, and 
at that moment she felt that life was 
too full of bitterness to be borne. She 
sank weakly down in a chair and waited. 
“To think,” began Caroline, in a tone 
of sadness and reproof, “to think that 
you should disgrace us, and not only us, 
but the good name of our family, by 
making your pretended interest in birds 
an excuse for going out mornings and 
carrying on a fiirtation—” 
“A scandalous fiirtation,” interrupted 
Elinor. 
“Yes, a scandalous fiirtation with Dea¬ 
con Upton.” 
Clarissa started to her feet with a lit¬ 
tle cry. “I—I never did,” she gasped, 
while the color rose in her face. 
“You saw him this morning. You 
don’t deny that, I suppose, though I 
don’t know,” and Caroline shuddered. 
“Yes,” said Clarissa, eagerly. “I did 
see him. It was down in Mr. Ames’ 
meadow, but he was on one side of the 
river and 1 on the other, and we just 
stopped to speak about birds for a min¬ 
ute.” 
Elinor smiled sardonically. “And 
then,” she said, “he kissed his hand to 
you—not once, but several times, and 
you—” 
“You kissed your hand to him,” fin¬ 
ished Caroline, as Elinor paused and 
seemed unable to go on. “Yes, Clarissa 
Maria, you kissed your hand to him. We 
know it because Sally Porter was on the 
hill and heard your voices and saw you 
do it.” 
“Oh!” cried Clarissa, her face light¬ 
ing up, “he did not kiss his hand to me. 
How could you think he would be so 
silly? He was just showing me how to 
call the birds around. You just put your 
fingers to your lips and make a smack¬ 
ing sound, so,” and she illustrated, “and 
somehow it makes the birds come.” 
The elder sisters looked skeptical. 
“That is a very ingenious excuse,” said 
Caroline, coldly. “And how do you ex¬ 
plain your conduct?” 
There were tears in Clarissa’s eyes 
now. “I just tried to see if I could do 
it,” she said, with a little sob. 
“Well,” said Elinor, “I don’t know how 
many people will believe you. You know 
what Sally Porter is like. You’d better 
eat your breakfast and start right out 
and see and explain to all the people she 
has told the story to. Come sit down, 
things will be stone-cold.” 
“I—I don’t want any breakfast; I’m 
not hungry,” and Clarissa went out of 
the room with her handkerchief held to 
her eyes. 
An hour later Elinor tried Clarissa’s 
door and found it locked. “You’d better 
come down and eat something,” she said, 
but there was no answer and she went 
away. 
An hour after that she came again. 
This time she shook the door vigorously. 
“Clarissa,” she called in a subdued tone, 
“come downstairs at once. Deacon Up¬ 
ton is here and wants to see you.” 
“Oh, I can’t!” cried Clarissa, in a 
frightened voice. 
“You must,” said Elinor, emphatically. 
“He says he will wait any length of time 
but he will see you.” 
When Clarissa entered the parlor Dea¬ 
con Upton rose to meet her. 
“Good morning. Miss Steele,” he said. 
Then both remembered that they had 
met before that morning and there was 
an awkward pause. She looked down at 
the carpet and he looked at her. 
“I think. Miss Clarissa,” he said, des¬ 
perately, when the silence had become 
unendurable, “I think that you have 
heard the same thing that I have.” He 
felt that he had expressed himself 
vaguely, but she understood and nodded 
her head without looking up. She tried 
to keep her lips steady, but she could 
not prevent the tears from coming. 
When the deacon saw them they seemed 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
to give him the courage of desperation. 
“I cannot express to you my regret 
that I was the cause—the innocent cause 
—of giving you pain. I would do any¬ 
thing in my power for the privilege of 
living over this morning and omitting 
that scene. But only on your account, 
remember,” he went on, impetuously, 
“only on your account. For myself, I 
would not care who knew or saw. I 
would not be content with merely kiss¬ 
ing my hand to you, either, and I would 
be willing to—er—do it on the green in 
front of the postoffice in sight of every¬ 
body.” 
Clarissa was looking at him now, and 
the deacon moved his chair nearer. Her 
eyes made him think of drowning vio¬ 
lets, and he had a strong desire to save 
them. 
“Clarissa,” he said, “did you ever want 
something very, very much, but, know¬ 
ing that it was far beyond your reach, 
after a time almost forgot that you 
wanted it, and deceived yourself into 
thinking that you were happy without 
it? Did you, Clarissa?” 
She nodded. 
“Well,” he went on, “that has been 
my experience, and this morning some¬ 
thing happened that brought it all back 
to me, and—oh, Clarissa! I don’t see how 
I can live without you any longer.” 
She was silent for a moment, then she 
said softly, “I don’t think you will have 
to.”—Chicago Record. 
Staining Floors. 
There is an excellent stain for those 
who cannot afford hardwood fioors, 
says a writer in the Chicago Inter- 
Ocean. It is inexpensive and easily 
cared for. First, if there are cracks be¬ 
tween the boards they must be filled be- 
foi’e the stain is applied. You can use 
putty for this purpose. The stain is lin¬ 
seed oil and burnt umber, in the pro¬ 
portion of a tablespoonful of the burnt 
umber to a pint of oil, or a little less 
oil if a lighter shade is desired. Apply 
with a paint brush, rubbing it in well. 
A second coat after 10 days will give 
better results. The preparation for the 
fioor (which is very necessary) is to get 
it perfectly clean, so that the paint will 
adhere firmly and not show an uneven 
or clouded appearance. I always had 
my fioor wiped up with a warm cleans¬ 
ing suds of pearline, as the washing 
powder is not so strong, and the traces 
of soap or lye will injure the stain that 
follows afterward. In wiping up the 
dust after staining it I used a damp 
cloth, or an oiled cloth. Try a little of 
the stain upon a piece of wood before 
painting the fioor, so as to get the right 
color. An oak stain is made by mixing 
a pint of boiled linseed oil, a gill and a 
half of turpentine, three tablespoonfuls 
of whiting. Some prefer the cak, but I 
like the rich brown color of the burnt 
umber stain best. 
I HEBE part forever with all the cyni¬ 
cal and saturnine. I do not want to live 
on the same street with them in Hea¬ 
ven. They will always be singing out of 
tune, and searching for fractures in the 
amethyst and finding fault with the 
country. Give them a world to them¬ 
selves where they can have an eternity 
of pouting, a sky full of drizzle-drozzle, 
an owl in each tree to hoot away the 
hours and a kennel of snarling rat ter¬ 
riers to nip the robe of every angelic in¬ 
truder.—Christian Herald. 
When you write advertiser* mention Thh 
R. N.-Y. and you will get a quick reply and 
“a square deal.” See our guarantee 8th page. 
Cut a Figure 
in the World 
A farmer’s boy or 
girl can take a 
position in 
town or city 
at a fair sala¬ 
ry after a 
few months 
study at 
home. By 
our plan their 
education 
pays for itself 
while they are 
studying. Every¬ 
thing they learn 
is turned into money 
at once. Our teaching 
Is practical. 
By our method 
FARMERS’ BOYS 
have become draftsmen, electricians, 
surveyors, engineers. 
FARMERS’ GIRLS 
have become stenographers, book¬ 
keepers, designers. 
Write, stating subject which interests you. 
International Correspondence Schools, 
Box 1510> Scranton, Pa. 
Giant Pansies, Sweet Peas, Mayflower. 
nid you ever see 7 straight or circular rows of Pansies 
or Sweet Peas side by side, each a different color! If so, 
vou know that the effect is charming. Did you ever see 
Childs’ Giant Pansies and Sweet Peas, marvels in beauty 
and true to color! If not, you have not seen the best. 
As n nPrlnl OflTer we will mall for 80c., 
14 Pkts. Giant Pansies and Sw’tPeas ns follows: 
Pansy Giant—Snow White 
“ “ Coal Black. 
“ “ Cardinal. 
“ “ Yellow. 
“ ** Azure Blue. 
“ “ Violet. 
“ “ Striped. 
Sweet Pea—Navy Blue. 
» “ Black Kniokt 
“ “ Gol’n Yelfow 
» “ Orange Pink. 
“ “ Cream. 
“ “ Scarlet. 
“ “ Pure White. 
One Packet of each. Tub Mayflower Magazine until 
1602, (devoted to Flowers and Gardening, Elegant Cuts 
and Colored plates), and our Great Catalogue, all forSOc. 
Oiir Catalogue for 1801.— New Century Edi¬ 
tion-Greatest Book of Flower and Vegetable Seeds, 
Bulbs, Plants and New Fnilts, 152 pages, 500 illustra¬ 
tions, 12 colored plates, will be mailed free to any who 
anticipate purchasing. Scores of Great Novelties. 
John Lewis Childs, Floral Park, N. Y. 
I A n IC 0 listing Disiies? 
I UlllraVour Dlsh-Drler will save you 
kll V I half the timeand lalsor. Sent by 
express for $1. Your money hack If dissatisfied. Send 
for circular. 8. B. Di vine & Son, Loch Sheldrake. N.Y. 
WATrH rUAPM -AU fanners interested 
W altn Lilaulfl rKuu good Fanning Mill* 
will receive a nice watch charm by sending 4c. stamps 
to JOHNSON & FIKLl) M'F’<51. CO., Baclne, WU 
Elgin Watches 
are sold by jewelers everywhere in various sizes 
and styles, at prices to suit. Send for free booklet 
to the ELGIN NATIONAL WATCH CO., Elgin, Ill. 
Neglect of a Cough or Sore 
Throat may result ia an 
Incurable Throat Trouble or 
Consumption. For relief use 
BROWN’S BRONCHIAL 
TROCHES. Nothing excels this simple 
remedy. Sold only in boxes._ 
RHEUMATISM. 
The Dr. Von Post great Holland remedy, “QUICK 
KKLIEF,” in capsule form, QUICKLY CURBS 
UHKUMATISM IN ITS WORST FORMS. No free 
doctors No free samples. No free humbug, but an 
HONEST and special miick relieving remedy, as 
thousands will testify. Don’t wait and suffer. The 
price Is $1 per hundred, or send 25 cents in silver and 
get 25 capsules for trial and be convinced. 
JOHN fl. POST. Deep River, Conn. 
THE LIGHT THAT NEVER FAILS" 
'T'HE ANGLE LAMP ought to be in every home where 
good light, genuine comfort and real economy are appre¬ 
ciated. It Is being Installed all over the country In place of 
all other systems. More brilliant than gas or electricity; 
never smokes, smells, or gives any trouble: Is lighted and ex¬ 
tinguished as easily as gas, may be filled while light, and 
costs but 18 cents per month to burn. It proves a revelation 
to those who are accustomed to the smoky, ill-smelling, 
troublesome thing, usually called a lamp, which is no better 
now than it was ID years ago. Our catalogue, N. N., tells all 
about this wonderful light, and shows all styles from $1.80 up. 
Free on request. THE ANGLE LAMP CO., 76 Park PL, N. Y . 
