i|.T; ■
; :<
AT THE BAL-MASQUB.
'ofton male oounded through the toll
Andierelry «u ruling ull
With gentle away.
When teaghing eye* were .inutgely bright
With thought* that mill x amt will* excite,
In lexer way
He bent lilt lofty head to Hay:
"Toreror time to dance with yon
Would bring me tenting joy und true,
Nor would 1 nek
Kretn now until life * flnnl end
That fate Khould ever to me eetid
More grateful teak
Then gulc.ug you pray lift your roualt!
She owned It would be pa««lng nneet
ft down tbr ball* of time their root
Together *tr*yod
To meuure* of tho merrv danee.
Tbattrorlth an upward aauey glum e.
"But then." ehn Held,
"Youknow the piper muat lie paid."
Detroit Tribune.
THE MISADVENTURES
OF JOHN NICHOLSON.
Bt KOBKRT I.OI’IH STKVKNHON.
•
CHAITKR III -(’osriM KD.
And suddenly there come upon him
. H mad fear lest his father should luivo
looked him in. The notion had no
grQund in sense: it was probably no
more than,* roralniscentte of similar
calamities in childhood, for his
father's room had always been the
chamber of inquisition and the scene
of punishment; but it stuck so rigor
ously in his mind that he must in
stantly approach the door and prove
its untruth. As he went he struck
upon a drawer left open in the busi
; ness table. It was thu money-drawer,
a measure of Ids father's disarray;
the money-drawer -perhaps a point
ing providence! Who is to decide,
when even divines differ between a
providence and a temptation? or who,
sitting calmly under ids own vine, is
to ]>ass a judgment on the doings of a
poor, bunted dog, slavishly afraid,
slavishly rebellious, like John Nichol
son on that particular Sunday P His
band was in the drawer almost before
his mind had conceived the hope; and
rising to his new situation, he wrote,
sitting in his father's chair and using
hU father's blotting pad, his pitiful
apology and farewell:
. J5';PT ^s'her: I huvr taken the money.
™ *_WJU P»y It bank as soon us 1 am able.
*on will never hesr of mo mtniu. 1 Old not
M v« i«tv itpsivivi. a uiu mu,
mess any'tun by anythin*, so I hope you wHl
totylv# me. I wish you would Suy
try
»»,v www- aw. m. Winn .you wimm
to Atexwnclur und MiiHji, but not it vot
dos t want, so- I tsuld not wait to sen vou
realty. Plrhtetry td foryivc ine. Yum- a'ffec
tlonatr son, JOHN NH'llOLSON."
The coins abstracted and the mis
sive written, he could not bo gone tot
soon frwst tho scene of these trails
gressionsf and remembering how hii
father had qnoe returned from chord
on som«V.sllght illness in the middh
of the second psaltn, he durst not evei
tnffke a packet of a change of clothes
Attired as he was he slipped from thi
paternal doors, and found himself ii
tho cool spring air, the thin sprlni
i sunshine, and the great Sabbath quie
of the city, which was uow ouli
pointed by the cawing of the rooks
There was not a soul in Kandolpl
Crescent, nor a soul in <Jueensferr;
street; in this outdoor privacy ani
’thesense of escape, John took hoar
again, and with a pathetic sense o
leave-taking, he even ventured up thi
lane and stood awhile, a strange per
at the gates of a quaint paradise, b;
the west end of St. George's ohurcli
They were singing Within; and by i
$ strange chance the tune was St
George’s “Edinburgh,” which bear
i the name, and was first sung in thi
; choir of that ohuroh. “Who is thi
King of Glory went the voices fron
within; and, to John, this was lilc<
: the end of all Christian observances
for he Was noW to be a wild man liki
Ishmael. and. his life was to he cas
l in homeless places and with godloa
people.
It was.Jhus, with no rising sens<
of the adventurous, but in men
desolation and despair, that h<
, turned his hack on his native city
and set out on foot for California, witl
; * more immediate eye to Glasgow.
CHAPTER IV.
. The Second Sowing.
It is no pert of mine to narrate the
“ adventures of John Nicholson, which
were many, but simply his more mo
mentous misadventures, which were
f, more than he desired, and, by human
standards, more than he deserved;
how he had reached California, how
he was rooked, and robbed, and
, beaten, apd starved; how he was at
5* last taken up by charitable folks, re
S; stored to some degree of self-oom
placency, and installed as a clerk in a
j bank in San Fraucisco.it would take
; too long to tell: nor in these episodes
Were there any marks of the peculiar
Nicholsonlo .destiny, for they were
just such matters as befell some
thousands of other young adventurers
in the. same days and places. Rut
. once posted in the bank, he fell for a
time into a high degree of good for
tune, which, as it was only a longer
. way about to fresh disaster, it be
hooves me to explain.
' It was his luck to meet a young
jnaa in what is technically called a
“dive,” and thanks to his monthly
.wages, to extricate this new acquain
tance from a position of present dis
grace and possible danger in future,
litis young man was the nephew of
one of the Nob Hill magnates, who
run the San . Francisco stock ex
change, much as more humble adven
turers, in the corner of some public
/park at home, may be seen to perform
the simple artttiee of pea and
thimble; for their own prolit. that is
to say, and the discouragement of
U public gambling. It was thus in his
ppwer—and, as he was of grateful
tempe r, H Iras among the things-that
he desired—to pat John in the way of
growing rich, and thus, without
' Thought or industry, or so much as
^understanding the game at which he
; played. but by simply buying and
• selling what he was told to buy and
sell, that plaything of fortune was
present)y at the head of between
eleven and twelve thousand pounds,
or. as he reckoned it, of upward of
sixty thousand dollars.
How ho had come to deserve thin
wealth, any more than how he hod
formerly earned disgrace at home,
was a problem beyond the reach of
his philosophy. It was tme that he
had been industrious ut the bank, but
no more so than the cashier, who had
seven small children and was visibly
sinking in decline. Nor was the step
which hud determined his advance —
a visit to a dive with a month's wages
in his pocket —an act of such tran
scendent virtue, or even wisdom, as to
seem to merit the favor of the gods.
dizzy sec-saw —heaven high, hell deep
—on which men sit clutching; or per
haps fearing that the sources of his
fortune might tie insidiously traced to
some root in the Held of petty cash;
lie stuck to his work, said not a word
; of his new circumstances, and kept
| Ills account with a hank in u different
quarter of the town. The conceal,
ment, innocent us it seems, wus the
first step in the trugi-comody of John's
existence,
l'rom sorao sense
Meanwhile ho had never written
homo. Whether, from diffidence or
shame, or a touch of anger, or more
procrastination, or because, as we
have seen, he hud no skill in literary
artN, or because, as I am sometimes
tempted to suppose, there is a law in
human nature that provents young'
men, not otherwise beasts, from the
performance of this simple act of
piety, months and years had gone by
and John had never written. The
habit of not writing, indeed, was al
ready fixed before he had begun to
eome into his fortune, and it was on
ly the difficulty of breaking this long
silence that withheld him from an in
stant restitution of the money he had
stolen, or, as he preferred to call It,
j borrowed, in vain he sat before pa
j per. attending on inspiration. That
heavenly nymph, beyond suggesting
the words “my dear father,’’remained
obstinately silent ; and presently John
would crumple up the sheet and de
cide, as soon as he had “a good
chance,” to carry the money home in
porson. And this delay, which is in
defensible, was his second Step, into
the snares of fortune.
Ten years had passed and John was
drawing, near to thirty. lie .had
kept the promise of lu» boyhood, and
was now of a lusty frame, verging
toward corpulence; good features,
good eyes, a genial manner, a ready
laugh, a long pair of sandy whiskers,
a dash of an American accent, a close
familiarity with the great American
joke, and a certain likeness to a
lt-y-1 P-rs-a-ge, who shall remain
nameless for me, made up the man’s
externals as he could be viewed in
society. Inwardly, In spite of his
gross body and highly masculine
whiskers, he was more like a maiden
lady than a man of twenty-nine.
It chanced one day, as he was
strolling down Market street on the
eve of his fortnight’s holiday, that
his eye was caught by certain railway
bills, and in very idleness of mind he
calculated that he might be home for
Christinas if ho started on the mor
row. The fancy thrilled him with
desire, and in one moment he decided
he would go.
There was much to be done; his
portmanteau to be packed, a credit to
be got from the bank, where he was
a wealthy customer, and certain of
fices to be transacted for that other
bank in which he was an humble
clerk; and it chanced, in conformity
with human nature, that out of ail
this business it was the last that
came to be neglected. Night found
him not only equipped with money of
his own, but once more, as on that
former occasion, saddled with a con
siderable sum of other people’s.
Now it chanced there lived in the
same bourding-house a fellow-clerk
of his. an honest fellow, with what is
called n weakness for drink- though
it might, in this ease, have been
called a strength, for the victim hud
been drunk for weeks together with
out tlie briefest intermission. To
this unfortunate John entrusted a
letter, with an enclosure of bonds,
addressed to the bank manager.
Kvon as he did so he thought lie per
ceived a certain haziness of eye and
speech in Ills trustee: but lie was too
hopeful to be stayed, silenced the
voice of warning in his bosom, and
with one and the same gesture com
mitted the money to the clerk, and
himself into the hands of destine.
1 dwell, even Hi tlie risk of tedium,
on John's minutest errors, his case
being so perplexing to the moralist;
but we have done with them now, the
roll is closed, the reader lias tiie
worst of our jxior hero, and 1 leave
him to judge for himself whether ho
or John has been the less deserving.
Henceforth we have to follow the
spectacle of a man who was a mere
whiptop for calamity: on whose un
merited misadventures not even the
humorist can look without pity, and
not even the philosopher without
alarm.
That same night the clerk entered
upon a bout of drunkenness so con
sistent as to surprise even his inti
mate acquaintances. He was speed
ily ejected from the boarding-house;
| deposited his portmanteau with a
perfect stranger, who did not even
: catch his name; wandered ho knew
i not where, and was at last heve-to,
| all standing, in a hospital at Sacra
| mento. There, under the impenetra
ble alias of the number of his bed,
the crapulous being lay for some more
cays unconscious of all things, and of
one thing in particular: that the po
lice were’after him. Two months
had come aud gone before the «*onval
eseent in the Sacramento hospital was
identified with Kirknian, the abscond
ing San Ti’anciseo^ clerk; even then,
there ranst elapse nearly a fortnight
more till the perfect stranger could
be hunted up, the portmanteau re
covered, and John's letter carried at
length to ita destination, the seal still
unbroken, the enclosure still intact.
■ :r ■ ■■ 1- ■ ; ■ .. ■ - *■-..
| Meanwhile, John had gone upon
bis holidays without a word, ■ »hich
w»s irregular; and there had disap
peared'with him a certain ram of
money, whiuh was out of all bounds
of palliation. But he was known to
he careless, and believed to be hon
est; the manager besides had a re
gard for him; and little was said, al
though something was no doubt
thought, until the fortnight was lin
ally at an end. and the time had
come for John to reappear. Then,
Igdoed, £he affair began to look
black; and when inquiries were made
and the penniless clerk was found to
have amassed thousands of dollars,
and kept them secretly In a rival es
tablishment, the stoutest of his
friends abandoned him, the’ books
wero overhauled for traces of ancient
uid artful fraud, and thougli none
wore found, there still prevailed a
general impression of loss. The tel
egraph was set in motion; and the
correspondent of the bank in Edin
burgh, for which place it was under
stood that John had armed himself
with extensive credits, was warned to
communicate with the police.
Plow tnis correspondent was a
friend of Mr. Nicholson’s; ho was well
acquainted with the tule of John's
calamitous disappearance from Edin
burgh; and putting one thing with
another, hasted with the first word
of this scandal, not to the police, but
to his friend. The old gentleman
had long regarded his son as one
dead; John's place had been taken,
the momory of his faults had already
fallen to bo ono of those old aches,
which awaken again indeed upon oc
casion, but which we can always van
quished by an eiTort of the will; and
to have the long lost resuscitated in
! a fresh disgrace was doubly bitter.
“Macewen," said the old man,“this
must bo hushed up, if possible. If I
give you a check for this sum, about
which they are certain, could you
take it on yourself to let the matter
rest?”
“I will,” said Macewen. “I will
take the risk of it.”
“You understand,” resumed Mr.
Nicholson, speaking precisely, but
with ashen lips, “1 do this for my
family, not for that unhappy young
man. If it should turn out that these
suspicions are correct, and he has
embezzled large sums ho must lie on
his bed as he has made it.” Aud
then looking up at Macewen with a
nod, and one of his strange smiles:
“Good-by,” said he; and Macewen,
perceiving the case to be too grave
for consolation, took himself off, and
blessed God on his way homo that he
was childless.
CHAPTER V.
The Prodigal's Return.
By a little after noon on the eve of
Christmas John had left his portman
teau in the cloak-room, and stepped
forth into Prince’s street, with a won
derful expansion of the soul, such ay
men onjoy on the completion of long-*
nourished schemes. He was at home8
agaiu, incognito and rich; presently
ho could enter his father's house by'
means of the pass-key, which he had*
piously preserved through all hirf
wanderings; he would throw downr
the borrowed money; there would be
a reconciliation, the details of which
he frequently arranged; and he saw
himself, during the next mouth, made
welcome in many stately houses at
many frigid dinner parties, taking his
share in the conversation with the
freedom of the man and the traveler,
and laying down the law upon finance
with the authority of a successful in
vestor. But this programme was not
to be begun before evening—-not till
just before dinner, indeed, at which
meal the reassembled family were to
sit roseate, and the best wine, the
modern fatted calf, should flow fo»
the prodigal's return.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
- A H«1UU aud Its Story.
The famous ballad of “Auld Robin
Gray was written by Lady Anne Lind
say, daughter of the earl of Bal
carres, when she was twenty-one
years old, but it was not for fifty years
later that sho told how she came to.
write it. Robin Gray was a shepherd
on her father’s farm, and for some
thing he had done she wished to im
mortalize him. So she began this
ballad, but before she finished it she
asked her little sister for her advice
about it. She said she was making a
ballad about distress in humblo life;
she was briuging sorrows upon her
heroine's head; she had sent her
Jamie to sea, broken her father's arm.
: caused her mother to fall ill.and given
her auld Robin G ray for a lover. • *But
I want her to have a fifth sorrow.
S Now what shall I do?” “(Steal the'
; coo, Annie,” was the little girl's re
: ply. And accordingly 1-ady Anne
| completed the round of Jennie's trou
I bios by having the cow stolen away.”
Legal Lora.
John Jones recently passed HU ex
amination and is now a member of
the New York bar. His strong curd
is in getting the truth out of wit- •
nesses. The following is a sample of
his system of cross examination:
“Are you a married man?”
“No, sir; I am a bachelor.”
“Will yon please tell the oouVt and’
jury how long you have been a bach
elor. and what were the circumstan-'
ces that induced you to become oua?’
—Texas Siftings.
Kleetrlu. Light Baths. •,1
Klcctric light baths are among the
latest inventions. The necessary
parts of such a bath are a cabinet
which will enclose the entire body
except the head, aud fifty electric
lamps of sixteen-candle power, or lid
volts, arranged about the body in
groups, - with a separate switch for
each group. The light is thrown on.
a section at a time', making the pa
tient frisky, and browning the skin'
like an ocean hath.
j THE AGRICULTURAL WORLD
j SOME INTERESTING SUBJECTS
FOR RURAL HEADERS.
j How to Clear Timbered Land—
' Have you an Ice House?--When
Bees Need Feeding—Breed
ing and Rearing Horses—
Instructive Pointers.
How to Clear Tlaktr I.aad.
The first tlilns to be done after all
the valuable timber baa been taken off
is the “underbrushing,"which may be
done as well in winter when the grotuid
is Ir$>7,eu» gs the bushes will then cu$
easily. The' usual way to to cut all
saplings up to five or six inches in di
ameter, but I only cut the brush and
smallest saplings, because the ax to
liable to become dull from coming in
contact with the ground, and It does
not pay to chop large timber with a
dull ax.
Chop the piece in summer when the
leaves are on and full grown. July to
about the best time. The advantage of
chopping at that time is that the brush
will burn much more readily with the
leaves on. and the sprouts will not
sprout so badly as If chopped In winter.
In order to insure a good burn It is best
to pile the brush well. Oue that Is In
experienced is sure to pile the brush
too carelessly, because the leaves make
it look as though it was mueh thicker
than It is. Leave it until it is dry
enough to burn well, which will prob
ably be some hot day In the latter part
of August. Log and burn it off as soon
as possible, taking a little pains to
make the log heaps on the grassiest
places when it can be done without
much trouble. Plow thoroughly with
“jump-shovel” or a new ground plow
and sow in winter wheat.
In the spring seed down and leave In
grass three or four years, when the
stumps will be sufficiently rotten so
that the most of them may be pulled
and the grojund plowed In good shape
for corn or other crops. I think this
will be found the best way when It is
necessary to hate the use of the ground
right away.
Grubbing all bushes and small trees
and clearing ground at once of all
stumps and roots Is impracticable for
all except those of almost unlimited
capital.
If a man is in no particular burry to
have the use of the land, a still cheaper
way to to chop iu winter when not busy
with other work. Pile brush fairly well,
but covering as much ground with it as
is consistent with having It burn well.
Leave four or five years, during which
time pasture a flock of sheep on the
piece to keep down sprouts, weeds, etc.
Bum some very dry time, and you will
be surprised to see how much will
burn, not only all brush but many of
the logs and stumps, hog and burn
and pull all the stumps left.
A piece of land treated in this way
will plow up like an old meadow, and
be In excellent condition for corn or
any other cultivated crop.—Farm, Field
and Fireside.
' Have Yn aa lee Hoaaef
We hope none of our agricultural
readers are so unwise as to have neg
lected to provide for laying iu a store
of lee for the coming summer, provided
they live where ice is procurable. But
if any have been so improvident, let
them-be so no longer. There is time
enough yet to build a house and fill
it with Ice.
It does not require much of a build
ing to keep Ice In. A rough structure
of common boards, say sixteen feet
square, with good drainage at the bot
tom to prevent an accumulation of wa
ter, will give an ample supply for fam
ily and dairy use where the family to
not unusually large and the herd does
not exceed twenty or twenty-five cows.
Board up on the Inside of the studs
with single boards, leaving a window
four feet square In each gable end for
ventilation. When packing the Ice
cover the floor with a foot of sawdust
or hay. Leave a space between the
ice and the sides of the building six
teen to eighteen inches wide and pack
with sawdust, tanbark or hay as the
ice to put in. On top of the ice put a
layer of sawdust or bark not more than
six or seven inches thick. Ice packed
In this way will not melt much. A
weather boarding on the outside of the
studs will, of course, give the building
a more finished look, but It isn’t essen
tial, and so much may be saved in the
cost of the house.
The three essentials are drainage,
ventilation and exclusion of heat. W
the house is built on a hillside the first
condition may be easily secured, even
If the house Is partly underground.
Ventilation is a mere mater of having
two openings through which the air
can circulate freely, and the packing of
sawdust between the Ice and the board
ing secures a protecting, though invisi
ble. wall of cold air to repel heat. Only
a shiftless laxy bones will be without
ice in the summer when it can be so
'aslly and cheaply provided.
Management of Sheep.
One day of the Wisconsin Institute
«J|s given to sheep. In speaking of
the management of breeding sheep.
Robert Miller of Brougham, Can., said
a sheep raiser should know bis sheep
and carefully watch them dally. The
flccW should not be too large, and
should be sorted according to age, size
and condition. The change from win
ter quarters to spring Helds should be
carefully made, with a gradual change
of feed at the same time. There waa
a great deal to be learned about the
care of sheep in very hot weather. At
all times they should be fed so as to
drink as small a quantity of water as
possible.
Mr. Miller uses as a winter ration
Swedish turnips, clover liay, oats and
bran. He keeps twenty sheep In a
nock and lets them have all the turnips
they will eat, making them do their
own “pulping." That is, he feeds the
turnips whole.
George McKerrowr, Sussex. Wis.,
mid: “Success depends upon feeding.
Balanced rations are necessary to get
a good return In silver for the food ex
pended. Iu summer mixed pastures
should be used, renewing them as often
as necessary. A sheep pasture must
not be cropped too short or allowed to
grow too long. In dry times the past
ure must be suppleuicuted by other
■food. sitiU as clover, green oats, white
turnips anil rape." .
He feeds wheat and onts with clover
the main ration for the winter. Good,
green succulent clover hay would carry
the sheep through the winter without
* great deal of grain. «• rtc-.
'V >
During the discussion, ensilage ana
rape both came to the treat as sheep
foods. Ensilage in proper proportion
was excellent Mr. Miller, when called
upon to give his experience with rape,
sold that he had never lost a sheep by
gorging on rape. He let them stay In
the pasture continuously, and they
seemed to thrive on it
Breeding Mi Inrlif Horses.
There is a tendency among stock
raisers to breed the class of animals
most In demand on tne market at the
particular time. Ordinary horses have
not sold well during the past year.
Farmers are often at the mercy of
local buyers who fall to make reason
ble distinctions in the prices paid for
different grades of animals. Breeders
who have given the care and expense
necessary to build up a good stock of
horses feel discouraged when obliged
to sell their animals at the prices paid
for inferior ones. High merit is occa
sionally found in animals of compara
tively unknown breeding. When three
or more generations of ancestry pos
! sess nearly all the desirable qualities,
do not hesitate to claim excellence.
Horses can be kept on grass and hay
mainly after two years of age if they
are not worked. Do not sell a good one
for a poor price; it will pay to carry it
over a year. Worked stcndilv and mod
erately they Increase In value until
eight years old. It Is economy to hold
desirable colts this year, working them
two or three times a week. They will
be in a good condition to sell a year
hence. There will be a great decrease
In breeding in 1893-4 and In 1895 and
the following, years the effects will
probably be seen. There never was a
better outlook for careful horse breed
ers than at the present. High stallion
fees are as a rule not desirable, but if
they restrict breeding to only sound
mares of good disposition, this appar
ent bar to progress may prove a bless
ing to the business.
When Bees Need Feeding,
How can you tell whether or not
bees need feeding?—C. G. K.
The question, doubtless, refers to bees
In winter quarters. As a rule, there
should be no need for such a question
to arise, for bees should go Into winter
quarters with more than enough stores
to qarry them through, so that there
need be no attention paid to the mat
ter until spring.
Still, there always has been, and
probably always will be, cases In which
there is danger that certain’ colonies
may exhaust their stores before leav
ing winter quarters. If, among 100 col
onies, there are two or three that need
feeding, and yon don’t know which two
or three they are. but must overhaul
the w'hole hundred to find out, then if
they are in the cellar, it may bo best
to let them entirely alone and run their
chances, but if outdoors, and a good,
warm day comes in which they fly
freely, you can look to them.
Ton will tell whether they need feed
ing in winter Just as you would in sum
mer, and that is by actual Inspection.
Lift out the combs and see whether
they contain honey; but be sure you
don’t touch them when it is too cold
for the bees to fly. in the cellar. If ab
solutely necessary, you can examine
them, disturbing the bees as little as
possible.
If, on glancing over the tops of the
combs, without lifting them out, you
see quite a little seated honey near the
top bars there is no immediate danger.
—American Bee Journal.
1 Instructive Pointers. *
Many losses are made by not getting
all the cream out of the milk and by
not getting all the milk out of the feed.
Start a few plants in the house If
yon have not the means to make a hot
bed.
The manure and calves are part of
our profits, but we must make a clear
profit without counting these.
How long shall we milk our cows?
There Is no rule as regards age, It all
depends upon how long the cow will
pay a profit on her cost of keep.
Successful dairying consists in chang
ing feed Into such a quantity of milk
that we get paid for the feed and labor
and have a fair profit besides.
Do you get all the cream there Is in
milk? It is easy to lose a pound or two
of butter a week from each cow bjr not
setting the milk properly.
One advantage with the better grades
of cattle is that there is less competi
tion from overproduction with these
.than with the lower grades.
In breeding native cows to a pure’
bred bull, it is rarely the case that he
does not strongly impress his good
qualities upon his offspring.
Get things in as compact shape as
possible about the bam and outbuild
ings and be ready for the soft time of
spring.
Don t stop tbe winter rations off
short as soon as you see the first glim
mer of green grass In the pastures.
There is not a great deal of nutrition
in the very young grass.
There are two favorable factors in
the outlook for the cattle trade. The
opportunity for establishing great
Western ranches is continually narrow
ing and our exports are growing.
Feed contains just so much milk: to
get this milk we must use the feed in
such a way that it will be readily eaten
and digested; then, if the cows eating
the feed are of the right kind we wifi
get all of the milk.
An abundant supply of pure water
on the farm is essential both for health
and profit. If you have not such it
might pay to invest some of your sur
plus earnings toward securing it. While
you are about it get a supply that will
amply suffice for the house, the stock
and the garden.
No branch of agriculture, demands a
higher intelligence on, the part of its
followers that1. does successful horti
culture. Such ns feel their ability to
rise above the ordinary level could
hardly do better than to take up tf|l.s
work.
A small farmer can hardly offord to
load himself up with expensive ma
chinery for cultivating every separate
crop. Very often the furmers of a
neighborhood can unite to advantage in
such purchases. Practice co-operation
when you can.
One of the surest methods of con
serving the fertility of the farm is to
observe the proper rotation of crons.
No farmer can afford to neglect this
no matter how rich his land*may be
Where it has been attempted the re
aults have always been disastrous “
THRIVING CITY Op u>»
BRASKA AT TH| |
Cltaurt. Uk* *h« „
Mntriai -- - ^
Aaatfjr.
• Goiinnvn. w*v •
climate of Central H
itoonr point thathUw^
In r*Ta.ff*w» it.
in Ratine the ^eU^C
great State. .„c la.
been reduced to the irtrT*!1**
mg climate as one 1
This was called vividly to ^2
by the remarks ofaJ^u*
has spent many veaiS8*0**!
TexasT y yeMs >»
Houst^aHotriWkfnffiwit^l‘
strangers. Everyone**^
on the magnificent suiuhii.12
tying air and the beautif^ ’i
of valley and river in siah* ¥
“The climate of UotheaL*1
be a delightful surprise tojL
the or&nge and magnolia iL*
south. It is refreshing,
bracing. Instead of reduci*
cre*s's ,™er?y- Instead
out life it builds it up. t
just humid enouglf
enough for robust, inspirin. |
Every word was true tL
ful days of warm, joyous you*
that we are having was nerwl
m any tropical country. If rv
had the same she would sm2
sands of dollars calling aUn
***«{“• f v?^ting to 8611 then
highest bidder. *
xne stream of strangers !m
New houses, new factories
blocks are the only topics of
tion. If three men stand
one of them is sure to
new building.
Mr. David Kemlo of New y
here to arrange for a strs»
paper mill. i
Mr. A. 8. Hills of PhUadelpo
made a proposition to the water
company to build i 00 houses.
Mr. l«'red II. Holton of
rived yesterday. His copper,
'mill will be the only one wsi
troit, Mich. Five of th« last t,
live cars of machinery for hh
foundry are on the way and will
this week.
The surveying corps of tlieS
burg, Broken Bow &. Velasco li
were surveying the crossiar
Union Pacific to-day.
The members of the Comments
are making preparations to gire
attention to Green's farmer net
ists, who are to arrive here osWi
day, April 18.
' Gothenburg business' men i
estate men pride' ‘thetasehes
fact that no stranger, visitor or
sionist is ever importuned to
property. They are proud of the
the thrift, the business and the
water power, and wish it were pt
for fifty places in our State to kt
great or greater powers sswe lw
assures our prosperity.
Four new brick buildings hsu
decided upon this week. They i
be built by our own merchant!
any traveling mau, and hewil
you tfeat Gothenburg's busiw
splendid and growing.
Here's • Question.
“Has the Jew, with his repnl
the champion of prosperity, not
in tlie Yankee more than his ■
Has he not in reality been ontdi
does not his future in these psrto
bnt a dreary one?” The foregot
quiry appears in the American Bd
and the inquirer is Max J. Hina"
New Bedford, Mass.
U tcmMl:. Sn*i. *.'• CnfJ
WkM^at Cwji. IraoUSla ul sftaJJ
kr Cwatapdia h Int iImm. Mi • M
ra»d men. Cm it mm- Tb
«lMt (ftWMtkea* M iMt
Mil
rkn LuptaWM StcMti uitl-n
MOTWITH8TANWI
■» reported hotel e*H
Ion, the practically JJ
proof “Great
proof
CRN.*'
at 60th
Lawrence Av., Chi
the largest in the soi
Will book guest* «
on the luropean pl»"
61.60 each, two I"
room. Write for •»
matlon to Cope'*
Townsend, (™rr
Palmer Ho
mgr
Manager, Chicago*
NSURE talk. Timm
i CnBMin* nf I.iioolE OOP!**1 M,£* 11K**
paid to NMrulu
YOURflMEN
HP
*»o4 •Uaations. Writ* j. O. 1
*l«hty-KI*ht D.,r.M ««10* %
The coldest known spot on ^
surface is on the Eastern s'0!*' _ ^
ing mountain that runs ^
the water's edge, on the ess
of the I.enn river, in Kiustern
The spot inquestion is nines ^
miles from Scrkcrclioof, s]*0 . 9
87 north and longitude 1 . _ ad
Woikoff, director of the Bossu^
orological service, ipves tn. 1
temperature of the place <0fi
degrees below zem it is » P a**
most perpetual ealm. 1“
tains near by, where windy *
the rule, it to- not nearly so «°
