The Prairie Farmer, Vol. 56, No. 2, January 12, 1884: A Weekly Journal for the Farm, Orchard and FiresideVarious
Science
The Prairie Farmer, Vol. 56, No. 2, January 12, 1884: A Weekly Journal for the Farm, Orchard and Fireside
Various
Agriculture -- United States -- Periodicals; Farm life -- Periodicals; United States -- Rural conditions -- Periodicals
L.P. WHEELER. Quincy, Ill.
* * * * *
SCOTCH COLLIE
SHEPHERD PUPS,
--FROM--
IMPORTED AND TRAINED STOCK
--ALSO--
NEWFOUNDLAND PUPS AND RAT TERRIER PUPS.
Concise and practical printed instruction in Training young Shepherd
Dogs, is given to buyers of Shepherd Puppies; or will be sent on receipt
of 25 cents in postage stamps.
For Printed Circular, giving full particulars about Shepherd Dogs,
enclose a 3-cent stamp, and address
N.H. PAAREN,
P.O. Box 326, CHICAGO. ILL.
* * * * *
HOUSE PLANS FOR EVERYBODY.
By S.B. REED, Architect.
One of the most popular Architectural books ever issued, giving a wide
range of design from a dwelling costing $250 up to $8,000, and adapted
to farm, village, and town residences. It gives an
ESTIMATE OF THE QUANTITY OF EVERY ARTICLE USED
In the construction, and probable cost of constructing any one of the
buildings presented. Profusely illustrated. Price, postpaid, $1.50.
Address
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago
* * * * *
MAP
Of the United States and Canada, Printed in Colors, size 4x2-1/2 feet,
also a copy of THE PRAIRIE FARMER for one year. Sent to any address for
$2.00.
* * * * *
AGENTS
WANTED EVERYWHERE to solicit subscriptions for this paper. Write
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago, for particulars.
LITERATURE
THE WRONG PEW.
There's one who wrote in years gone by in clear and ringing rhyme--
A poet of an elder day and of a distant clime--
Who sang of mortal misery, of sufferers long and lorn,
"Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn!"
The hand that held that golden pen--that golden tongue--is dust;
A dust that's dear to hearts that hold his homely truths in trust;
And you who read this simple tale of wrath, and ruth, and wrong,
May hear the echo of the sob that breaks upon my song!
I sat upon the Sabbath-day within the sacred fane,
The sunlight through the windows poured like rainbow-tinted rain;
While maids and matrons passing fair, and men of high degree,
All fashion's proudest votaries, knelt low on bended knee.
And there was one of stature tall, whose robe of silken sheen
Draped quiet grace and courtesy that might have shamed a queen,
Save only that her pallid face, and drooping, tear-dimmed eyes,
Looked like the Peri's, waiting by the gates of Paradise.
What is it moves that jeweled throng of dainty worshippers?
Their hearts have probed the cruel wrong that rankles sore in hers;
For she who sat beside her there--ah, heart of hardest stone!
Swept forth with stern and haughty stare, and left her there alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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