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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (July 23, 1908)
._THE_. Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. CHAPTER XVI—Continued. Cnn guess? Ah, what happiness it, was! Outside the sun fell hotly on the | eteep red roofs, with their rows of casements, find on the sleepy square In which knots of people still lingered, I talking of the morning's events. I , coil'd see below me the guard which j Duke William, shrewdly mistrusting the subdean, had posted in front of the house, nominally to do the duchess | honor. I could hear in the next room the cheerful voices of my friends. What happiness It was to live! What happiness to be loved! How very, very good and beautiful and glorious a world seemed the world to me on that old May morning In that quaint Ger man town which we had entered so oddly! As I turned from the windows full of thankfulness, my eyes met those of Mistress Anne, who was sitting on the tfar side of the sick man's couch, the haby in a cradle beside tier. The risk *nd exposure of the last week had made a deeper mark upon her than up on any of us. She was paler, graver, older, more of a woman and less, much less, of a girl. And she looked very 111. Her eyes, In particular, seemed to have grown larger, and as they dwelt on me now there was a strange and solemn light In them, under which I grew uneasy. "You have been wonderfully pre served,” she said presently, speaking dreamily, and as much to herself as to me. "I have, Indeed," I answered, think ing she referred only to my escape of the morning. But she did not. "There was, firstly, the time on the giver when you were hurt with the ■oar,” she continued, gazing absently at me, her hands In her lap, "und then the night when you saw Clarence with Dymphnn.” “Or, rather, saw him without her,” I Interposed, smiling. It was strange that she should mention It as a fact, ■when at the time she had bo scolded me for making the statement. "And then,” she continued, dlsre Car-ting my Interruption, "there was the time when you were stabbed In the passage, and, again, when you had the skirmish by the river, and then today you were within a minute of death. You have been wonderfully preserved!" “I have,” I assented thoughfully. “The more ns I suspect that I have to thank Master Clarence for all these lit tle adventures." "Htrange—very strange!” she mut tered, removing her eyes from me that •he might fix them on the floor. "What Is strange?" The abrupt questioner was the duchess, who came bustling In at the moment. "What la strange?” she re peated, with a heightened color and dancing eyes “Shall I tell you?" She paused and looked brightly at me, holding something concealed behind her. I guessed In a moment, from the •spect of her face, what It was the letter which I had given to Master Din (Is from In the morning, and which, with a pardonable forgetfulness, I had -failed to reclaim. 9 turned very red. "It was not In tended for you to now,” I said shyly, for In the letter I had told her my •tory. "Pooh, pooh!" she cried. "It is lust »s I thought. A pretty piece of folly! TMo,” she continued as I opened my ' /■mouth, "I am not going to keep your MMcret, sir. You may go down on your 1 knees. It will be of no use. Richard, you remember Sir Anthony Cludde of Coton End in Warwickshire?” "Oh. yes” her husband said rising on Ms elbow, while his face lit up, and 1 •tood bashfully shifting my feet. "I have danced with him a dozen ' times, years ago!” she continued, her • eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, > sir, .'jiils gentleman, Master Francis •Curry, otherwise Von Santonkirch, Is IPrands ■Cludde, hls nephew!” "Sir Anthony’s nephew?” "‘Yes, Hiid the son of Ferdinand Cludde, whom you also have heard of, Mf whom the less”— She stopped and turned quickly, in terrupted by n half stifled scream. It ■was a* scream full of sudden horror and | • amazement and fear, and it came from ■ Mistress Anne. The girl had risen and I wuh gazing at me with distended eyes and blnnched cheeks and hands et retch out to keep me off—gazing, in deed, as if she saw in me some awful j>ortmt or some dreadful threat. She fdd not sneak, but she began, without taking her eyes from me, to retreat toward the door. “Holly, tolty!” cried my lady, stamp ing her foot in anger. “What has hap pened to the gill? What” - What, indeed ? The duchess stopped, ♦till more astonished, for, without ut tering a word of explanation or apology. Mistress Anno had reached the door, groped blindly for the latch, ! •found it and gone out. her eyes, with the same haunted look of horror la them, fixed on me to the last. CHAPTER XVII. "'Helty, tolt.v!" the duchess cried again, looking from one to another of us when Anne had disappeared. "What has come to th<4 little fool? Has she *onc crazy?" I shook my head, too completely at •ea even to hazard a conjecture. Master Bertie shook his head also, keeping tits eyes glued to the door as If ho could not believe Anno had really K< ne. "I said nothing to frighten her,” my lady protested. '"Nothing at all.” I answered. For how should the announcement that my leal name was Cludde terrify Mistress Anne Brandon nearly out of her •censes ? "Well, no,” Master Bertie agreed. Ills "thoughtful face more thoughtful than •usual, "so far as I heard, you said noth ing. But I think, my dear, that you had better follow her and learn what It Is. She must be 111.” The duchess sat down. "I will go by and by,” she said coolly, at which I was not much surprised, for I have al ways remarked that women have less cympathy with other women’s ailments, especially of the nerves, than have men. "’For the moment I want to scold this hruve, silly boy here!” she continued, looking so kindly at me that I blushed •gain and forgot all about Mistress Anne. "To think of him leaving his home to become a wandering squire of dam«9 merely because his father was a—well, not quite what he would have liked him to be! I remember something about him,” she continued, pursing up her lips and nodding her head at us. "1 fancied him dead, however, years ago. But there! if every one whose father were not quite to his liking left home »nd went astrnylr g Master Francis, all sensible lolk Would turn Inn ke« p era and make their fortur.es.” “It was not only that which drove mt from home,” I explained. ’The hishoj of Winchester gave me clearly to un derstand”— "That Coton was not the place for you!” exclaimed my lady scornfully. “He Is a sort of connection of yours, is he not? Oh, I know. And he thinks he has a kind of reversionary interest in the property! With you and your father out of the way, and only your girl cousin left, his interest is much more likely to come to hand. Do you see?” 1 recalled what Martin Luther had said about the cuckoo. But I have since thought that probably they both wronged Stephen Gardiner in this. He was not a man of petty mind, and his estate was equal to his high place. 1 think it more likely that his motive in removing me from Coton was chiefly the desire to use my services abroad, in conjunction perhaps with some remoter and darker plan for eventually devoting the Cludde property to the church. Such an act of piety would have been possible had Sir Anthony died leaving his daughter unmarried, and would cer tainly have earned for the chancellor Queen Mary’s lasting favor. I think It the more likely to have been In his mind because his inability to persuade King Harry had much enriched us— was always a sore point with the queen and more than onc£ exposed him to her resentment. “The strangest thing of all,” the duchess continued. with alacrity, “seems to me to be this that if he had not meddled with you he would not have had his plans In regard to us thwarted. If he had not driven you from home, you would never have helped me to escape from London nor been with us to foil his agents.” “A higher power than the chancellor arranged that!” said Master Bertie, emphatically. “Well, at any rate, r am glad that you are you!” the duchess answered, rising gayly. “A Cludde? Why, one 1 feels at home again, and yet,” she con tinued. her lips trembling suddenly and her eyes filling with t*ears as she looked at me. "there was never house raised yet on nobler deed than yours.” “Go, go, go!” cried her husband, see ing my embarrassment. “Go and look to that foolish girl!” “I will! Yet stop!” cried rny lady, pausing when she Was half way across the floor, and returning, “I was forget ting that I have another letter to open. It is very odd that this letter was never opened before,” she continued, produc ing that which had lain In my haver sack. “It has had several narrow es capes. But this time I vow I will see Inside it. You give me leave?” <‘h, yes, I said, smiling. "I wash , my hands of It. Whoever the Mistress , Clarence, to whom It Is addressed, may he, it is enough that her name is Clar- . once! We have suffered too much at his hands.” “I open it, then," my lady cried dra- , matlcally. I nodded. Hhe took her hus- ' hand's dagger and cut the green silk ' which bound the packet and opened ' and read. Only a few words. Then she stopped [ and, looking off the paper, shivered. "I in not understand this," she murmured. ! "What does It mean?" "No good. I'll be sworn T” Master ' Bertie replied, gazing at her eagerly. ] 'Read It aloud, Katherine.” "To Mistress A- B—. I am ad vertised by my trusty agent. Master Clarence, that he hath benefited much j by your aid in the matter in which I lave employed him. Such service goetk - always for much, and never for naught, with me. in which belief confirm your self. For the present, working with him ns heretofore, be secret, and on no account let your true sentiments come to light. So you will be the more valu able to me, even as It Is more easy to unfasten a barred door from within than from without.' " Here the duchess broke off abruptly and turned on us a face full of wonder. "What does It mean?" she asked. "Is that nil?" her husband said. "Not quite," she answered, returning to it and reading: " 'Those whom you have hitherto served have too long- made a mockery of sacred things, hut their cup Is full, and the business of seeing that they drink it lielh with me. who am not wont to be slothful in those matters. Be faithful ami secret. Good speed nnvf fare you well. Ste. Winton.' " "One thing Is quite clear.” said Mus ter Bertie, slowly. "That you and I are the persons whose eup is full. You remember how you once dressed up a dog In a rochet and dandled it before Gardiner? And It Is our matter in which Clarence is employed. Then who is It who has been eo-operatlrg with him, and whose aid is of so much value to him?" “ ’liven as It Is easier,’ " I muttered thoughtfully, " 'to unfasten a barred door from within than from without.' " What was it of which that strange sen tence reminded me? Ha! I had it. Of the night on which we had lied from Master Llndstroni's house, when Mis tress Anne had been seized with that odd tit of perverseness and had almost opened the door looking upon the river In spite of all 1 coul l say or do. It was of that the sentence reminded me. "To whom Is It addressed?" I asked abrupt ly. “To Mistress Clarence,” my lady an swered. "No—inside, I mean." "Oh! to Mistress A- B-. But that gives us no clew," she added. "It is a disguise. You see, they are the two first letters of the alphabet." So they were, and the initial letters of Anne Brandon! I won dered that the duchess did not see it: that she did not at once turn her suspicions toward the right quarter. But : he was. for it woman, singularly truthful and confiding, and she saw nothing. I looked at Master Bertie. He seemed puzzled, discerning, I fancy, how strangely the allusions pointed to Mis tress Anne, but not daring at once to draw the Inference. She was his wife's kinswoman by marriage, albeit a dis tant one. and much indebted to her. j She had been almost as his own sister. She was young and fair, and to asso ciate treachery and Ingratitude such as this with her seemed almost too hor I rible. Then why was I so clear sighted ns to read the riddle? Why was I the I first to see the truth? Because 1 had I felt for days a vague and ill defined distrust of the girl. I had seen more ! of her odd fits and caprices than had j the others. Looking back now, I could find a confirmation of my idea in a do.en things which had befallen us. |I remembered how 111 and stricken she had looked on the day when I had j first brought out the letter, and how ' strangely she had talked to me about it. i I remembered Clarence’s Interview i with Dymphna, as I had then thought— ' . but. ns 1 now guessed. Anne, wearing 1 her cloak. I recalled the manner In which she had used me to persuade Master Bertie to take the Wesel in stead of the Santon road. No doubt she had told Clarence to follow in that di rection. if by any chance we escaped him on the island. And her despair when she heard in the church porch that I had killed Clarence at the ford! And her utter abandonment to fear— poor guilty thing—when she thought that all her devices bad only led her with us to a dreadful death! These things, in the light in which I now viewed them, were cogent evidences against her. "It must have been written to some one about us!" said the duchess at length. "To some one In our confi dence. ‘On our side of the door,' as he calls it." "Yes; that is certain,” I said. “And on the wrapper he styles her Mistress Clarence. Now, who” "Who could it have been? That Is the question we have to answer," Mas ter Bertie replied dryly. Hearing his voice, I knew he had come at last to the same conclusion to which I had jumped. “I think you may dismiss the servants from the Inquiry," he con tinued. "The bishop of Winchester would scarcely write to them In that style.” "Dismiss the servants? Then who Is left?" she protested. "I think"— He lost courage, hesitate and broke ofT. She looked at him won deringly. He turned to me, and gaining confirmation from my nod began again "I think I should ask A- B-," he said. “A- B-?" she cried, still not seplng one whit. "Yes; Anna Brandon,’ he answered sternly. She repeated his words softly and stood a moment gazing at him. In that moment she saw It all. She sat down suddenly on the chair beside her and shuddered violently, as If she had laid her hand unwittingly upon a snake. “Oh, Richard," she whispered, “It Is too horrible!’ "I fear it Is too true," he answered gloomily. I shrank from looking at them, from meeting her eyes or his. I felt as If this shame had come upon us all. The thought that the culprit might walk Into the room at any moment filled me with terror. I turned away and looked through the window, leaving the hus band and wife together. "Is it only the name you are think ing of?” she muttered. "No,” he answered. Before I left England to go to Calais I saw some thing pass between them—bet ween her ’lid Clarence—which surprised me. Only In the confusion of those last days It slipped from my memory for the time. "I see,” she said quietly. “The vil lain!" Looking back upon the events of the last week, I found many things made plain by the lurid light now cast upon them. I understood how Master Lind strom s vase had come to be broken when we were discussing the letter, which. In my hands, must have been ;i perpetual terror to the girl. I discerned that she had purposely sown dissen sion between myself and Van Tree and recalled how she had striven to per suade us not to leave the island; then iow she had Induced us to take that unlucky road, finally how- on the road ser horse had lagged and lagged be tilnd, detaining us all when every min ute was precious. The things all dove ailed into one another. Each by Itself was weak, but togethe- they formed a strong scaffold—a scaffold strong snough for the hanging of a man, if she had been a man! The others ap pealed to me, the duchess feverishly mxious to be assured one way or the Pther. The very suspicion of the exist ence of such treachery at her side seemed to stifle her. Still looking out pf the window. I detailed the proofs I pave mentioned, not gladly, heaven snows, or In any spirit of revenge, hut -ny duty was rather to my companions, who had been true to me, than to her. 1 told them the truth as far as T knew t. The whole, wretched, miserable truth was only to become know n to me a ter. ”1 will go to her,” the duchess said presently, rising from her seat. "My dear!” her husband cried. He stretched out his hand, and grasping her skirt detained her. "You will not" — "Do not be afraid!” she replied sadly os she stooped over him and kissed his forehead. "It is a thing past scolding. Richard, past love, and even hope, and all hut past pity. I wilt be merciful as we hope for mercy, hut she can never be a friend of ours again, and some one must tell her. r will do so and return. As for that man!” she continued, ohscurlng suddenly the fair Find noble sides of her character which she had just exhibited, and which, f confess, had sutprised me, for I had not thought her capable of a generosity so uncommon, "As for that mart.” she repeated, drawing herself to h fn|| height. Willie her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew red, "who his turned her into a vile schemer and a shameless hyprocite, as he would fain have turned hotter women. I will show hint no mercy nor grace if I ever have hfm under my feet. I will crush him as t would an adder, though I be crushed next moment myself!" (Continued Next Week.) The Weaver. Only a weaver of dreams am 7— Fabrics of lace from the turquoise sky— Toller with woof from the lidd and brook Painter of arabesque shade and nook. Worker with threads from the sunbeam’s shaft— Tills is the whole of my magic craft: A weaver of dreams'. Looms I have naught, but my dreams are spun Deep in the wood where the dryads run, Bathed hi the scent of the zephyr lieet Lulled by the fragrance of nectar sweet, Hidden away by ambrosial rill. Nodding. 1 rest ’neath the tangled hill— A weaver of dreams! Here, with no loom but the Great Out doors, . Deftly. 1 weave from my shuttle cores; Snatching my warp from the elm tre«’a green, Gently, I bathe It with water’s sheen, Softly. I weave in the rainbow’s blue, Sunrise and sunet and moonlight hue A weaver of dreams! Slowly my shuttle swings to and fro, Catching the hum of the river’s flow. Culling the song of the birds und bees, ’ Gleaning the murmur of forest trees— Now it Us weaving the peace of sheep, Standing knee-deep In a stream, asleep A weaver of dreams! Now It is blending the blush of roses. Weaving It in as the shuttle goes. Tips of the trees by the sunlight kissed Jewels of dew that the sun has missed", God and contentment and love and play— These are the skeins that I weave alway. A weaver of dreams! Only a weaver of dreams am I— Fabrics of lace from the wood and sky— Weaver of cloth from the clover bloom Maker of lace on the Great God’s loom Dealer in dreams and the song of birds, Wrought with a shuttle In woven words— A weaver of dreams! Gladly I offer my wares co you, Woven of Joy with tho dryad crew. Wrap them about you and feel the thr 11 Born of the wood and the babbling rill! Freshen your heart with the filigree Woven of dreams and their ecstasy By a weaver of dreams! —Byron Williams. The Worldly Hope men set their Hear s upon Turns Ashes—or It prospers: and anon. Like Snow, upon the Desert’s dusty face. Lighting a little hour or two—is gone. —FitzGerald’s ”Omar.** PIGS NEED PROTEIN. Professor Wm. Dietrich Tells What Feeds Are Best for Growing Swine. In an address before the Illinois farm ers' institute Professor William Diet | rich, of the Illinois college of agricul i ture, gave some very practical lessons i in pig feeding. Professor Dietrich de ! votes his whole time to the study and ! teaching of swine husbandry. The average market hog should weigh 300 pounds at eight months of age. For the pig two to six months old protein Is the most important feed. Without protein it'cannot build up the lean meat or grow to any size. Protein is found In sklmmllk, clover and alfalfa. Corn Is nine-tenths carbo hydrates. Oats have a little more pro tein than corn, but not sufficient for the pig. Rye contains a little more pro tein than does corn. Barley is one of the best feeds on the farm; it contains more protein than does rye. In clover and alfalfa there is a large bulk for the required nutrients and pigs cannot get enough for a maximum growth. Kven if you have corn and clover it is still necessary for the young pig to have some protein food—cowpoas, soy beans or Canada field peas. There is nothing better grown on the farm to balance up the ration. Rape is a bulky feed for fattening and it is necessary to use some nitro genous feed with it. If you feed clover hay in racks the pigs will not eat as much of it as if It were chopped up as finely us possible, scalded with steam and mixed with slop. You can buy mid dlings (low grade flour); It has protein, hut not enough. Tankage, meat meal and blood meal are very much richer than shorts. Perhaps the most concen trated nitrogenous feed we have is tankage. It was found by test that 60 per cent tankage contained about 40 per cent of digestible protein. There is danger in feeding too much protein; it is worse than feeding too little. During the last two months of the feeding period carbohydrates or fatten ing feeds are of greater importance. We must use feeds that are digestible like corn, wheat, flour or middlings, but bran is practically indigestible for the pig. Oil cake contains as much protein as middlings and ranks with meat meal, blood meal or oil meal; the last Is per haps better because It contains much ether extract. It is much better to mix the feeds than to feed corn at one time and some thing else at another time. Otherwise the pigs are liable to get too much of the protein feed, lose their appetite for com and become stunted for their lives. ... Nine lots or pigs were leu in one or Professor Dietrich’s experiments and he gradually reduced the feed of two lots of young pigs until he had taken away just half the ration and then they were making twice the gain they did before. Dots 5 and 6, which were fed according to the old scientific feeding standard, weighed 270 pounds at nine months, while the two lots fed by Pro fessor Dietrich's method averaged 298 and 305 pounds, respectively. How was this done? By holding the pigs down at the beginning, by feeding less pro tein. The gains were not only larger hut the gain at the close was made off of eornmeat, which is a cheaper feed. If allowed So do so pigs will eat too much protein at first and that will keep their weight down forever afterward. (This is a valuable result, but one must be careful not to misinterpret it. The more common error is to feed too little protein than to feed too much. Professor Dietrich's statement gives no sanction whatever to t.lile attempt to raise hogs on corn and water.) The pigs In lot 1 started in the experi ment when they were 3 months old. weighing 50 pounds, and were fed until they were 9 months old, making a gain of 20 pounds; they had carbohydrates. The pigs in lot 2 were fed the same as In lot 1 on carbohydrates in the form of corn and had mineral matter in the form of nlr-staked lime, charcoal, ashes and a few loads of dirt. They gained' 70 pounds. The pigs in the remaining lots had protein in addition to the min eral matter. The pigs in lot 3 weighed 240 pounds. This hunch were fed straight com on clover pasture and they made a gain of two and a half times that of lot 2. Pigs can he overfed on skimmilk. In an experiment last year pigs which were fed three times a day made much larger and more economical gains than pigs that were fed twice, hut the former were not given alt they would eat each time. A 2-month-old pig will not weigh much over 30 pounds; at 3 months, 50 to 60 pounds. At 5 months the pig has gained 50 pounds in about three weeks. At 7 months lie weighs about 250 pounds and lias put on 150 pounds of pork In three months. It takes two months to put on the next 50 pounds, and the pig gains only 50 pounds from 9 «o 12 months. When the pig (!n a certain experi ment) is 3 months old it eats 2.2 pounds of food per day; when 7 months old he weighs five times as much, hut eats only three times as much. Between 4 and 5 months of age, the pig makes 50 pounds gain in 30 days from 120 pounds of feed. But after the pig Is 9 months old it takes three months to put on 50 pounds of pork from 630 pounds of feed. Which is the more economical? The only way to figure feed Is In roportion to ihe live weight. -a ^ a - --- FOR THE HOG BREEDER. The brood sow can he made a source of profit In every feed lot. Where the aow finds an Important place ' on the farm, the pig thrives the best. Young hogs will not mak»* a profitable growth in a dry lot without a variety of food. The hog to thrive best, must be given food that will build up the system evenly. An even lot of pigs cannot be expected from a choice lot of sows bred to different: bears. Never breed to a boar that Is excessive ly I..., or that has had his powers of re production overtaxed. The breeder to receive the greatest pos sible profit with hogs, must have them reach a marketable weight as quickly as possible. In nearly all cases too early breeding of the sow stunts the growth and prevents a proper development of the frame. See that they are not obliged to eat their feed in tilth or mud, and what is still worse, in the dust. A race or family of hogs kept on the same farm will improve or degenerate ac cording to the ability or shlftlessness of the owner. When the hogs have the run of a good HOW TO TREAT WOUNDS. The following advice on how to treat wounds of farm animals is given by Dr. George M. Giover, veterinarian, of the Colorado Agricultural college, and is worthy every farmer’s attention. Such advice should be kept where it can be referred to when needed: Animals on the farm are continually being injured by accidents that happen in a thousand different ways. Barb wire cuts are most frequent and a word or two of advice as to the proper treatment in the hands of farmers will not be amiss. The first thing to gain a correct understanding of a sane and effective method of treating wounds is to remember that nature does the heal ing and that remedies applied are sim ply for the purpose of assisting nature. The right mental attitude in this re spect will tend to eliminate a thousand and one nostrums whicfi are tried in rapid succession in the belief that there is somewhere, if it could only be found, a Specific remedy with magical influ ence to bring about the desired recov ery in a marvelous way. Mankind has been diligently seeking such remedies for thousands of years and is still keeping up the search. It is time that such a view' of the situation, which is based purely upon superstitution, should be eliminated and that we get down to principles based upon scientific research, and in stead of groping blindly in the dark seeking the "where” let us always be ready to inquire "why." The ordinary wound will heal of It self if not interfered with. This in terference may be from germ infec tion. parasites or too much meddling with applications on the part of man. Now, let us suppose a case. A horse has a badly lacerated leg from contact w ith a barb wire. The first thing to do, of course, would be to stop the bleed ing. This can be accomplished by a tight bandage of clean white muslin tied directly over the wound or above it. Often the bleeding artery will pro trude and a thread can be run under it with a needle and the artery tied. Do not use flour, dirt or cobwebs or anything of that sort on the wound; they are unnecessary and may produce dangerous Infection'. Having stopped the bleeding, remove the clots of blood and cut off the rag ged edges of muscles with shears. A pan of antiseptic solution should be provided. One of the best and cheap est antiseptics on the farm, good for man or beast, is creolin. Add a tea spoonful of this to a pint of water that has been boiled. Place the knife, shears, etc., in this solution and wash the hands before beginning. After having cleaned out the wound wash it thoroughly with the antiseptic solution. See that there.is good drain age from the wound at the bottom. | Do not allow it to start healing with i a pocket that will hold pus. As it Is practically impossible to keep a wound on a horse antiseptic, it is not advisable for the farmer to tie up the wound; leave it exposed to tire air and apply the antiseptic wash several times a day. Three good antiseptics are cor rosive sublimate, which can be pur chased at the drug stores in tablets all ready for use; formalin- is good, as is also a solution of boracic acid. After about a week it is well to change to dry dressing; a powder com posed of equal parts- of borat’ic acid, charcoal and iodoform makes a very good dry dressing. Glean air-slaked lime, powered over the wound twice daily, fs very satisfactory. The so called “proud flesh" is only unhealthy j granulation. It is- seldom advisable for the farm- j er to interfere with this condition by I using caustics; the results are usually ! disastrous: better In this case to call in a qualified veterinarian. If mag gots should get into ihe wound a little turpentine or chloroform will help ! bring them to the surface, where they ! may be picked out. I did not mention ' sewing up the wound, for the reason I that in case of the ragged' barb wire I cut ft is very seldom worth while to do sec A wound to heal properly must bo i gotten perfectly- clean and free from j germs front the start and then kept ] i lean. Remember that it is largely a matter of keeping dangerous germs out 1 and giving nature a chance. Too much interference is-often the c .susc of tardy healing of wounds. HIGH MEAT IN SCOTLAND. Dispatches this week from Glasgow.' Scotland, indicate that high meat prices are causing much agitation there, says the National Provisioner. Tire members of the Glasgow United ioieshers* society have resolved to raise Ut* retail price- of butcher meat by one penny per poarrtl. With the opening of the St. Lawrence sea son it waa expected that, as in farmer years, Canada would He able to export large numbers of fat cattle, but tiw- im ports at Glasgow t'nocn Canadian ports show a falling off of tidily 25 per cent dur ing the past five montibs as compared with the same period last yenr. The present state of the live st*M-k mar ket is attributed to, the great scarcity of fat caul* In the United States. Home supplies have been, almost up to the av erage, but owing to tile failing off in tho imports home stocks have been used up to an unusual extent. There is therefore not much prospect that prices of live stock will fall until the autumn, when the home fed lots will be ready lor the mar ket. j The following are the numbers of cattle landed at Merklands Wharf, Glasgow,! from Canadian and United States ports for tho first live months of the present year, together with the tigures for the corresponding period of MQi: 1903. 1907. January .1,4135 3,899 February .2,431 2,839 March .1,744 1,989 April .1.532 l,u*i3 May .1,317 l.i.i Totals .8,539 11,391 Decrease for 1908, 2,855 cattle. OF INTEREST TO FARMERS. A New York commercial authority thinks that the power of the "beef irust” Is Increasing and It is able to "manipulate prices subject only to fluctuations of demand and supply” he would have had it about right. Both these old standard Influences have been very clearly shown In the meat and live stock markets o? the past winter and current spring, and control that is subject to them or either of them is no control at nil. A little common sense about our animal and meat in dustry Is very much needed In the journalism of this country, especially In the East. — ----^_1.__:-i Keeping Dandelions Prom Lawns, From the Denver Post. There are those who say the dande lion cannot be killed. I know better— I've tried it. 1 have a lawn 200 feet by 1 no feet without a dandelion, and I didn’t rip up my lawn either. How do 1 keep the dandelions out? 1 dig them out carefully every spring and keep a close watch for their re appearance during the summer, thus avoiding the seeding. Every spring I scatter plenty of blue grass seed on my lawn and thus supply it with seed I hat is lost by reason of frequent cut ting. Not only that, but when 1 am digging dandelions i have a pocket full of seed bandy and drop a pinch of seed'in each hole I make when I extract the dande lion from the sod. New grass grows up quickly, fills the hole and chokes the dandelion. AH There but the Tail. From Answers. Dressed in the latest and most ap proved motor cycling costume, with goggles all complete, the motor cyclist gaily toot-tooted his way by Regent park toward the zoo. Suddenly he slackened, dismounted and said lo a small, grubby urcl , ■ "f say, my boy v« I right lor th» zoo ?” The boy gasped at so strange a sight and thought it must be some new ani mal for the gardens. "You may be all right if they have a spare cage,” he said, when he could find his tongue, ‘"but you’d ha’ stood a far better chance If you’d ’ad a tail." Production of Precious Stones. The total’ value of the precious stone* produced In the United States during 1907 is placed by the geological sur vey at $471,300,- as’compared with $208. 000 in 1906. This great increase 5s du* chiefly to a very large output of sap phire In Montana, of both the blue and the variegated variety. The total pro duction of sapphire in the United State* for 1907 is estimated at $229,800. Tour maline Is second in importance, and is placed at $84,120. Among other im portant gems produced were clrjyso pras®, to the valtie of $45,500'; cattfor nite. $25,000; turquoise, $23,840; spod umene gems (kunaite and hiddenite), $14,540; variciite, atahlite, and ama trice; $7,500; rose quartz, beryl and acquamarine and garnet, each over $0,000. A mew gem mineral—benitoite-—has been added to the list of known pro clous stones. This' is a titanosificata of baariium, having a blue color and a high refractive index. It is found In San B'enito county,. California. Tha reopening of the cmcrakl-hiddenita mine fir Alexander county. North Caro lina, during 1907 is of interest, since the supply of hiddenite for jewelry has become very low. It is difficult to obtain figures that adequately represent the value of tha production of precious stones. It Is the aim of the geological survey to gjvo statistics that show the- value of the output in the rough state. This is often impossible, since it cannot be known what a certain lot of mineral will yield when selected and cut. Someof the figures furnished are evi dently the values Sot elaborated gems, while others may represent but littla more than the cost of mining. An advance chapter containing tha survey’s report on the production of - precious stones in. 1907, by D’. B. Ster rott, forming a part of the annual vol ume of mineral resources of tha United States, will soon, be ready for Jiata-lbution. "Has Ranter a leaning towards th* stage?” “When I last saw him about 1 a. m., ha- was leaning against a lamp post.'*' DROPPED COFFEE. Iloclur Gain*. go l*ouml/* an l‘"Ntan*. A physician of Wash., 1>. C., says of Ills coffee experience; “For years I suffered with periodical 'load-aches which grew more frequent until they became almost constant. So severe were they that sometimes I was almost frantic. I was sallow, consti pated, irritable, sleepless; my memory was poor, l trembled and my thoughts were often, confused. “My wife, in her wisdom, believed coffee was responsible for these ills and urged me to drop it. 1 tried many times to do so. hut was its slave. “Finally Wife bought a package of Postum and persuaded me to try it, but sbe made it same as ordinary coffee and 1 was disgusted with the taste. (I make this emphatic because 1 fear many others have had the same ex perienee.) She was distressed at her failure and we carefully read the direc tions. made it right, boiled it full 15 min- **" utes after boiling commenced, and with good cream and sugar, I liked it—ft invigorated aad seemed to nourish me. “That was about a year ago. Now I have no headaches, mn not sallow, sleeplessness and irritability are gone, aiy brain clear and my hand steady. I have gained 20 lbs. and feel I am a new iiinn. “I do not hesitate to give Postum due credit. Of course dropping coffee was the main thing, but 1 had dropped it before, us lug chocolate, cocoa and other things to no purpose. “Postum not only seemed to act as an invigoraui, but as nn article of nourishment, giving mo the needed phosphates and albumens. This is no imaginary tale. It can be substantiat ed by my wife and her sister, who both changed to Postum and are hearty women of about 70. “I write this for the information and encouragement of others, and with a feeling of gratitude to the inventor of Postum.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Crock, Mich. Read “The Rond to Well ville,” In pkgs. “There’s a Reason.” Ever read the above letter? A new one appears from time to time. They are genuine, true, and full of human interest. '