._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. '
