i nv t - p.r,a.'.i :-i v
IV it
CHAPTEB XIX.
Tbe fiat hat gone forth. Gladys, a!
twenty yearn of as with the mean of
procuring every luxury and pleasure
which money or the world can afford
her. ia condemned to give up everything
and to lie on her back until such time aa
the medical men ahall give her leave to
riae.
Lord Mountcarron -- not disguise the
troth. Sir Franci Cardwell humaucly
withheld it from o young a creature,
thinking it would be hard enough to bear
when the repetition of disappoinred hope
and realised fear bad made it patent to
her.
But the Earl had no auch weak arm
plea. Before the physician had gone an
hour he haa blurted -out in hia clumsy
way, with the unnecessary addition, that
now ahe haa made a fool of herself, he
hopea ahe'a satisfied. Lady Mountcarron
hear the news in otter silence. She i
too unhappy just then to care what hap
pens to her. If she ia sorry at all, it ia
because ahe ia not going to die at once.
A lingering illness, she thinks, will be
very trying. But at all events, it will
keep Mountcarron away. He ia not like
ly to trouble a sick-room with hia pre
eoce. And (Jladys lays her weary young
head down on her pillows, and thinks
that there is balm in Gilend. Of course,
her people have to be written to. Tin
Earl feels it is impossible to conceal the
fact of his wife'e illness from them any
longer, but Gladys plead to be allowed to
aend the news herself, and he leaves tb
task to her. Sbe makes very Hunt of it.
Indeed. She has strained a muscle in her
back from over-exertion, and the doctor
has ordered her to keep to her sofa for a
few weeks.
Her sister Winnifred has a newly-born
little daughter and cannot leave home,
and her darling dad i suffering from a
alight attack of gout. She, therefore. bes
her mother not to dream of leaving the
two invalids for her sake, and it is finally
settled that when General Fuller ia able
to travel, her parents shall spend a few
weeks with her at Carronby.
So the girl lies on her sofa, white as the
snow that is falling outside her windows,
and with a constant heartache that noth
ing will allay. Each day her maid brings
her a bouquet of flowers that has been
left for her at the door. Sometimes it is
a cluster of early snowdrops sometimes
a bunch of rich, fragrant violets, or a few
sprays of rose-tinted cyclamen but it is
always accompanied by the same mes
t -ge: "Mr. Brooke' love, my lady, and
J" would like to know bow roar ladyship
f i Is to-day." And the answer that goes
bu.k is always the same: "My kind re
gards, 'arsons, and I am just the same."
Bu- 'arsons see and understands the
vivid Hush that mounts to her mistress
pale cheeks as ahe takes the blossoms,
though ahe never witnesses the hot tears
which Gladys sheds over them, nor bears
the rebellious cry that goes up from her
heart: "Oh, my darling; my own. own
darling; the only thing I valued in this
world. Why have you ceased to love
me?" , . .
Lady Renton cornea to see her fre
quently,' but her visits generally leave
Gladys worse instead of better. She
means well, but she holds the old-fashioned
notion that the best way to expur
gate an unlawful love is to stamp upon it,
never mind if the heart that cherishes it
breaks in the process. She pities Gladys
and Jemmie from the bottom of her sou!
nities them for the sorrow as well as
the sin and she thinks the kindest thing ;
she can do is to cure them both, as soon j
a she can. of their unfortunate attach- j
ment. So she will not give Lady Mount-
carron the poor satisfaction of thinking j
that her lover shares her regret, but men
tions Jemmie always in a jaunty and uff
hrtinl manner, a if he were perfectly free
from care. Among other things she tells
ber that her brother ought to get mar
ried and thnt Miks Temple was coming
home with her father next mouth. '
- One day, aliout a week after the doc-
ooet of lowers tjnnstma roses- mi
?ime, I " i
and nearrs 01 goiu in uccooiiwuiru oj n
different message. "Mr. Brooke's love,
my lady, and if you feel well enough he
would be glad to see you for a few min
ute this afternoon."
Gladys" answer is a purely feminine
one, ..
"ph. Parsons!" sh exclaims "bow does
my hair look?"
"Beautiful, my lady. It couldn't look
nicer. Here, let me put this white wrap
ver your feet, and give you a eles.n
handkerchief. There, now, I'm sure you
are a perfec t picture. And, is Mr.- Brooke,
to be shown op. my lady 7"
"Oh. yes. if he wishes it And, U'
about time for your tea, isn't it, Tuf
sons?" "Tes, my lady: -.d with your leave
I'll take it while Mr. Brooke is here,"
replies the moid discreetly. Id another
minute she ushers Jemmie into the room,
sod they are together again. Gladys does
not raise her eyes from the contempla
tion of ber Christum rosea. She knows
be is standing beside her sofa, but she
dare not look at him. It is not till he has
d.awa a chair toward ber. ami sat dowi,
and taken her hand, and said in a low
voice "Gladys,'" that two tears stealing
down ber pale cheeks, betoken that sbe !
rare of bit presence. It Is the first
flaw they have met since the interview
la) the library.
"Well, ymi see what I've come to. lean
rie." she answers, trying to speak light
ly. "Condemned to be here for th rest
' of my ' Hat nral existence. A pleasant
prsvKjiswt.-Wi it. to know that everything
k W is wr at twenty years of age?"
And she snakes violent oCort to wai
Vfcaw 4 Hysterical bail that has rises to
tt t&IMt.
- lmm iU it U ut mm kmA ia tmm:
mattnto the evtl
A taw
m, , a Caw arstotaa, wta
r MfM 3-VV ,: , ; '
V
,:CJ. CM to IsasTlrt Wi Mt I
know better. Mountcarron told me ex
actly what the doc-tor said that there ia
decided mischief to my spine, and though
I have youth in my favor, it is a very
serious case. I know what that mean.
Jemmie. A life spent on this sifj until
death releases me. Ob! bow 1 wish it
could come to-day!" she exclaim. ol
bing. "Gladys, Gladys, do you know how you
are distressing me?"
"It won't be for long. You will u set
over it. Elinor said the orber day that
yon must marry; that you owed it to your
family to do so and I say so. too. For
you will be the Earl of Mountcarron some
day, Jemmie! there is no doubt of that,
and your children after you."
He does not answer be ia too dis
tressed to speak and sbe goes an rap
idly: "I am giad you came up thia afternoon.
I want to tell you that I see now thnt
what you said the last time we met is
quite right It was niadmnu! It is a
very good thing it was preveuted Fancy,
If I had been on your hands at this mo
ment bow you wonli!have haled me!"
"I could never hate you under uy cir
cumstances, Gladys."
He ia fighting with himself as the glad
iator of old fought for their lives in the
Roman arena, and at each word he utter
hia life-blood seems to oore from bitn
drop by drop. He wants to say so much;
but he dare not give the rein to his de
sires. He cannot tell where they will
carry bim, of what folly he way not be
guilty, urged on by the sight of thia pale,
suffering girl, whom he loves better than
his life. And so his words sound cold to
her, and because he has not denied the
possibility of bis marrying, and begetting
heirs for the earldom, she thinks b ac
quiesces in what she says about it
"What was Mountcarron thinking of to
tell you Sir Francia' opinion?" he goes ou
presently. "Too mnl know. Gladys, that
these doctors always make the very worst
of a case in order that they may gain the
greater credit for curing it It is part of
their trade."
"Did you imagine that Mountcarron
was likely to spare my feelings, whether
the report were true or false, Jemmie?
Has he ever done so? I think he took a
spiteful pleasure in blurting out the new
to me. He had the politeness at the same
time to call me a fool, and to say it was
all my own fault."
"Gladys, yon must not worry yMirself
about what he said. It is not true. Thank
God your illness has been taken in t'me,
and In a few months we shall have you
running about again. I heard Sir Francis
say so."
"Hid yoa see him?" demands Gladys
curiously,
Jemmie colors.
"I have seen him."
"When he came down here?"
"Xo; I saw him In London."
"And did yon go up on purpose?"
"What if I did. Gladys? Do you think
I hr.ve not sufficient interest in you for
that?" .
"It was very good of yon. Jemmie." ahe
answers simply, but she still thinks hit
manner very cool to what it used to be.
Mr. Brooke feels the difference that has
crppt into their intercourse as well as she
does. He wants sorely to make her
understand that he is still her friend and
lover, though be dares not show it as of
old; but be cannot devise a plan for doing
so until Gladys herself paves the wayfor
him.
'CHAPTER XX.
"Elinor tells me," says Gladys, "that
Miss Temple is coming home from India
nest month with her father."
"I believe so," he answers; "the Gov
ernor Genera!' time bus expired, and
Colonel Temple returns with the rest of
the staff." '
"And that yon are going np to meet
her." continues Gladys, jealously.
"Did Nell say that? She must have
dreamed it, for I never told her so."
"Hut you will spend the season in Lon
don." ' 7 i
"Yes; part of it. at all events. I missed
the whole of last scaaou, yon may remem
ber." he add, with a sigh.
"While I was breaking my back with
those foolish dances," exclaims Gladys,
Ah; how I used to dance, till I could
. , , . .
I hed' Incouid7ro 1
and bow often
drop down dead before
it was over." .
:"You would have been better employed
doing as I did," replied Jemmie.
"What were you doing? Flirting with
Mis Temple?"
"I had not seen Mtxs Temple at t-hat
time. No; I was watching beside the sick
bed of poor Charlie Kenton, and learning
how a brave man can die."
"I don't think it is such a bard thing to
die," say Gladys. "The hardest thing is
to live."
'."You are right: and your words remind
me of a sadder thing I saw while I was
absent how a woman had to live; shall
l tell yon the atory, Gladys?"
"Oh, yes!' tell me anything that will
make me forget I am lying here."
"And yet, how glad this woman a
lady like yourself, Gladys would have
been to change places with you, even
with the prospect of never getting up
again.", ....... .v
"Was she so very unhappy, then?'
"I think she was; more nn happy than
I pray heaven yoa may ever be! I met
ber first upon the steamer going to Alex
andria. She was young, and she had
been pretty, but grief had washed all the
life and color out of her face. Her hus
band, who was with her, seemed to love
her dearly; and 1 could not understand
why she should look so scared and timid,
and start if anyone spoke lo her and
seem as if all she wanted waa to hide
herself in her cabin."
"Had she committed murder T' ask
Glsdy. laughing.
"1 htink she had, dear, and that yoa
will say so who my atory is lalohod. Wa
went to the same hotel ia Alexandria
together this tody and her hoabaad aad
ysoif aad there ber rood act
Ma asors Mjratorloao, Their
ssrat to mkm. ni I swoi
waiktoff aad stow, aad sobWag aa tt
bar boart wwrM broak. aad nntiiii l
mj MMsoyasjeo (for I afcfcj ttto ysjov tofir
greatly), I couVd overhear her huebaad
MLMk i at Laa aaa aasa-4aaBABa. aaaaaal bbWIbbbB
sWfaeTBIsafj w""T VTarVaWVb WaVaT ffATaaasBTf
her she rartri bim.",. .
"But a w.'tiu.ia who is always crying
would weary any man, Jemmie. It Would
weary you, wouldn't it?".
, "Perhaps so." he answer ighlng. "I
do not profess to be better or more heroic
than other turn, still it made me angry.
The next thing that occurred was that
the English ladle in the hotel were rude
to my friend's ife, and she refused to
appear at the public table."
"But what had she done to make them
rude to her. Sbe didn't cry at the diu-ner-table,
did she?"
"Ah, Gladys! there are some circum
stances under which women will be rude
to one another, and the offended person
can do nothing but submit. Cannot you
guess the end of my tory?"
"Indeed I cannot, nnle aa I said be
fore she had committed some crime."
"She bad committed the greatest crime
of which a woman can be guilty In thia
world. Had she been a murderess
you suggested donbtles many would
have been fonnd ready to declare she
was innocent or penitent, and had she
been hung, she would have gone to the
gallows with priests holding her hands
and reading prayer over her to the last.
But for the offense sbe had committed
no one w ill ever read prayer. The world
: it is past praying for. They will
w-ud a redhot murderer to heaven with a
text on bis lips, but for a woman who
love too much there is no mercy."
Gladys understands now, and reddens
to the roots of her bair.
"Wasn't she married?" he whisper.
Jemmie shakes bis bead.
"Her husband I always looked npou
him as her husband told me the whole
story. He had run away with ber. She
was a married woman the wife of an
influential county magistrate and land
owner and she bad been miserable ever
since. All hi love couldn't make ber
happy. She had been accustomed to the
esteem and respect of society, and the
loss of it bad broken her heart. I don't
believe myself that the poor woman will
live long. She wa nasted to a shadow
when I last saw her."
He waits for Gladys to say something,
but her lips are fast clotted. md sbe will
not speak. I'rttis:!j he i,rtiuur:
"Oh, Glady! when I used' to see her
frightened, hunted look, and Ijsteu to her
tears- I am Dot a religious man, yo't
know that but I nsed to thank heaven
from the bottom of my heart, she was not
yon. It would have killed me to see you
in such a position. I should have blown
out your brains and my own."
Still she make no remark upon what
he says.
"Is it not a sad story, Gladys? Cannot
you picture ber tears, her misery, her
despair? Speak, dear! You would have
felt for her as I did, would you not?"
"Perhaps! She had not run away with
you "
The logic of love. How weak, and yet
how strong! It completely shuts orn
hero up. He feels that he has nothing
more to say. .
"Was the man miserable, as well a the
woman!" demands Gladys presently.
Jemmie doe not at once perceive the
drift of the inquiry.
"Wry miserable," he replies eagerly.
"1 think the sight of her tears must hav
driven bim half wild, for he was scarce
ly ever at borne. He uwd to wander
about the town all day, and played at
cards, or billiards, in the evening. 1
scarcely ever saw them together after
we landed, except at meals. I supioe
the thought of what he had done tor
tured him, and her presence was a con
tinual reproach."
"Just like a man," remarks Gladys,
sententiottsly. "Doubtless, he was al
ready sick and tired of ber. They usual
ly are after a month."
"It is the citre that follows an tin
lawful attachment' says Jemmie, aoftly.
"Nonsense. It is the nature of men.
They get just as tired of their wives as
they do of their mistresses. For my part
I ihh to hen vi a I bad never seen one
of them."
"Does that iu nn you wi.h me to go?"
asks Mr. Brooke, rixing.
"I don't care if you go or stay. There
Is nothing but nnhappincss for me any
way. You have made me wretched, with
your horrible story, when I thought you
were going to amuse me. What do I enre
if that woman suffered or nol? We all
suffer. It i enough to be a woman lo
insure thnt."
"1 thought " he commence.
"Then don't think," she iutcj-pown, im
patiently; "what g'tod can thinking do?
If I hadn't stopped to think "
But here she pauses, and leaves the
sentence unfinished.
"Gladys," says Mr. Brooke, after a
short internal, "when I asked the other
day to be your friend yotl rejected my
friendship. You will not do that again,
will you, dear?"
"No," she answer.
"And you will forgive tne the pain i
have caused you. Oh! let me have at
least that consolation., for sometimes I
feel as if I could not live ttiis life, with
out it." "
"There is nothin'g to "forgive, Jemmie."
''You know there is. Only don't let me
have the misery of thinking I have ruined
the happiness of your life by my un
worthy conduct. Gladys, there may be
so much still in -store for you, even a
Mountcarron' wife. I do not believe this
cloud will last forever. He will see hi
folly lie fore long, and awaken to a sense
of y6ur "alue. Try and conciliate him a
little more, dear, and I feel sure you will
win him back to your ide. You know
bow much be used to admire you. as he
must do still. How can he help it? Yon
see, Glady," Mr. Brooke goes on, with a
sickly smile, "that I am talking to yoa
already like a friend; but you will do me
the justice to believe I have nothing but
your welfare: at heart."
"Oh, yes," sbe ay. Indifferently, with
ber face turned away.
He rises and walks toward the door,
but before he can reach it be la arrested
by a plaintive cry of "Jemmie."
"What is itr he inquires, without re
tracing hi footsteps.
wsnt yon! Come heref"
He return to the sofa, where Gladys
is lying with the tesrs In ber eye.
"I didn't mean to be cross. Don't leave
me like this! Kiss me before yoa go,
Jemmie 1 Yoa haven't kissed tne once
since yoa came back to Carronby." She
holds ber mouth up to him lib a penitent
child as she speaks, and Mr. Brooke
feel aa If a doata devils were dragging
blot toward bar.
"Glady! my doar girl, don't ask me.
To don't kaow yoa cannot tofl what h
woaid be to mo! My duty to yoo and
and to ether forbid It War baarsst's
sake! lot wo go bafora I tot aMtfal of
snraK."
Co wrtoga ber baad Xko a ttot a to
ross-lodea, aad tuning from her. rasbea
Vrwa the vtatrcsasi
How she tries me." be
a he
'Wheo
wipe the drvpa from hia brow,
shall I ever be brave enough to aland ia
rV04.001 T""- wt" ,U
mignt have beeu to oer
"n bile Lady Mountcarron is sobbing oa
her pillow and saying: ' "Oh! he doesn't
love me any longer. He has forgotten
me. I caa see it o plsiuly. He aid hi
his duty to other forbade hi kissing me.
Oh, heavens! what others, anles it is
that odious Mis Temple. 1 understand it
all now! Elinor wa right. He is going !
to marry her. and I Oh, how I wish 1 i
could die. and forget him and everything
for evermore."
(T.b ront.nned.1
Literary A.ricall.re,
A literary woman who has a farm In
New England, aud who has derived
much more revenue from" ber humor-
ou accounts In print of ber attempts
at agriculture than she haa from tbe
soil, was recently riaited by a practll j
farmer. She took bim out to see her
garden.
lie was somewhat astonished to see ;
the whole tract heavily overgrown with (
weeds. j
"Why." he exclaimed, "I don't see
how yon can tell the vegetables from
the weeds!"
"Easiest thing In ibe world," said the
literary farmer. "I have a method of
my own. and I think It Is destined to
work a revolution In gardening meth
ods. Come around here, please."
She led the visitor out Into the vege
table beds and there showed him a lot
of struggling and pallid plants, each j
aeu
""J
one of w hich was tied about with a
the strip of white cotton cloth
"There." (die said, "instead of taking i
the trouble to weed thwe tteds contlnu- I
ally. I just tie white strips of cloth .
around the vegetables.. They dlKtlu- j
gtiish the vegetables from the wevbt j
every time, and save a great deal of i
labor." j
This lady had a iiolsteln calf given 1
her by a neighbor. Slip was very fond
and proud of It. One day li heari! thai I
the State cuttle Inspector was nt tie
farm lielow, examining cattle for !
symptoms of tulx'rculindH. The psi-
blllty of the test being applied to her I
pet calf was something she could not
cu.iure tne inougui or, ho sue pm a
halter on the little animal and led It
off Into the depths of the woods.
There ahe sat all Any with the coif,
almost devoured by , mosquitoes, hot
happy lu the confidence that the In
spector could never find her precio'is
pet there. Nor did he emerge' until
she wax sure that the Inspector w.lx
out of the neighborhood.
Author and President.
All the ti-stlmouy In regard to Haw
thorne la that he was not only shy. but
very reserved. Frank Preston Stearns
says that on the occasion of Haw
thorne's lilKt visit to (lie Isles of Slionli.
In company with his friend, ex-President
I'lcrr. there was alo a party of
New Hampshire lmirK-nsi men who
tried to make hi acquaintance, but
without much success. Their after
comments were very amutslng.
"Nathaniel Hawthorne i a very re
served man," said one. "There's Frank
lin Pierce, lie's Ix-en President of the
United Stntes, yet any otic could go tip
and speak to him. We found Haw
thorne very different."
This conversation was repeated to
Hawthorne's acquaintances at the
Shoals, and the poet Whit tier was
among those who laughed heartily.
"Heserved Is no word for it." aid
Mrs. Thaxter, mid WhlHlcr added, lu
words which not only wemed to de
scribe the case, but were lu themselves
rpigrunitnatlc:
"Hawthorne was a strange puzzle. I
never felt quite sure whether I knew
him or not. He never seenipd to lie
doing anything, and yet he never liked
to be disturbed at It!"
A Give-Away.
Wife (at breakfast-Oh, John! I'll
bet I know whom you gave your scat
to coming home In the car last night.
John (who had bit-n out all night hav
ing a quiet Utile game with the Iniysi
Oh, don't lie so foolish. How could you
everguiws? Are you a mind reader? I
don't Isiieve 1 gave my seat tip at all.
Wife Yes. you did. You dear old
boy, you Id a ioor old Irishman have
it. For I heard you say In your eicep:
"Oh, that's all right, I'll stand pat."
New York Jouriml.
An Lffectlve One, Too.
Miss Kllduff-How did Blanche man
age to get a husband'.'
Miss Kittlsh-She utilized a matri
monial agency. - -
Miss Kllduff-Shp surely didn't!
What matrimonial agency did she ntll
iae? Miss KlrtMiA, ' bajntnoki New
York World.. , ,
Weii odr
She Are a naJorl(y of cyclists people
of mean?
He I don't know If tbey all are, but
I saw a woman and man sitting In t In
road at the bottom of a hill and a tan
dem bicycle lying broken some yards
away, and I think any one won Id have
been right In saying they were well off,
-Jtidy.
Tit for Tat,
"They my your father used to drive
a mule."
"Who told you so?"
"One of my ancestors."
"Just what I expected. I always told
father that mule waa smart enough to
talk." Cleveland Plain Dealer.
At the Vaaorai.
Office Boy I would like to go to my
grandmother's funeral thia afternoon.
Employer If ftuaio were going to
pitch I'd go myself. Town Topi on. ,
People to lore do lota of maJUnc u
witbowt tarretlng, tad low of auar
rottof ftftor atontaft wltkowt nUknTic
, Tr t( 13rp a t LWjlp HIV V
-A t I-Uiiiauii'wni'
fEgT LOCATION IS ON HIGH LAND
, FACING THE SCUTM.
I
Direct ion to the Proper Fertilise
to I'm -It Ja Beet to Grlad the
Cora tor fcticK-Ta r"rr's ol
Cat at.
Mellow doll la Ntassr.
The ground for the garden should
lha ,. ... .,ulh aud should
be blgb and dry Uud. If the ground Is
Mi hg dralW. Tue
soil Is a aandy loaiu for the
wirly "fgiablea, aud a clay loam for
; nild-sumiuer and late vegetable, and a
i um rr U,!J ""'"' nd J,,f f""
j "KeUbles. Sandy binds are easy to
"urk, have fewer weMs. and are quick
l
ly wanned up; but tuey quicny
fertility and suffer ladly from drouth.
Such laud cmu 1 greatly Improved by
spreading a thlu (t of clay over the
ground In the full, and by keeping the
oil covered with a crop of rye, to 1
plowed down early In the spring. By
fulluwlug thia system for a few years,
the ground can lie declined every fall
about half an Inch, and the rye will fur
nish a good part of the vegetable mat
ter that will lc needed In growing the
crop. After such crops are filled with
vegetable matter, the fertility of the
soli can lie maiutalued by a yearly ap
plication of fHU pound of dhuwlved
boue and 400 pounds of kaluit spread
to the acre. The lione should In used In
the drill, and the kalnlt spread broad
cant lu November.
Clay loama are particularly suited to
growing' late peas, cabbage, tomatoe.
pole beans, and all the root crojm.
Grouud that has never levn In garden
should first have an Inch coat of long
manure spread over the sdl. The early
fall la best. If the work Is delayed un
til spring, have the manure well rotted.
The manure should le plowed down
with a Btrong team of boraew, plowing
the land at leant six lnrbe In depth.
Ix-t the ground be well harrowed both
ways, and after each harrowing give
the land a good rolling. The secret of
,,rofltat)p vegetable culture Is In hav
, , .,,, ..,. intltlng
the crops that suit that soil and cli
mate, putting the seed In at the right
time, with the proMr quantity-of ma
nure, and giving frequent and thor
ough culture.
Grind the Corn for Hock.
(Jround itsrn Is more- easily, and
much better, digested than whole corn.
Where the corn is grown on the place,
and most of it Is to lie fed out at the
barn. It will pny to buy a good borsc
Kiwer mill. The steel weeji mills that
can be had for $.10 will grind two thou
sand biuihels of ear corn with one ft
of plates. With two heavy horses four-
; teen butdiela of car corn can be ground
per hour. If the corn I sent to the mill,
half the day Is lost going ami coming,
: and the grinding has to le paid for In
addition. Tbe same time spent In going
j to and from the mill would do the
grinding. Where twenty cows and
young stock are wintered, anil corn
commands $1.40 jier barrel, It will pay
to grind the com and uilx it with bran.
Better feeding results can Is- had, and
the full value of the corn aud bran will
lie utilized by whatever stock to which
It may lie fed, and a far richer manure
made ftotn tbe tK'k so finl.
j Home of the small dairymen allee
thelr car corn, and then Isill It for sev
eral hours; it Is then mixed with mill
feed and cut hay and thrown into a
heap tu ferment for a few hours liefore
, feeding. The grain and cob is made
' quite soft, and Is very palatable to thf
stock. The corn and Ihe water that It
la boiled In lieing mixed with the bay
and mlllfeed Is easy of digestion, and
j there Is scarcely any waste. Those
('farmers far from a mill, and having a
mill of tliclr own. will find thht method
of preparing their ear corn a very wife
one.
Farmer's Tool Cbeat
No giwd farmer, especially among
the younger ones, should do without
a suitable work liench, furnished with
the common kind of tools mnt wanted
' for use. Have a place for these where
work can readily be done as wanted.
Have a supply of hardwood sawed In
different dimensions for whifHelree.
. evencr or iimny other things that will
be wanted In the way of repairs or olh
, erwise. Have also receptacles for nails
of different sizes, as well an for screws
aud bolts. These are all cheap, are
often wanted on the Instant, and, If at
j hand, will save vexation and expense.
' A aupply of copper wire, rlvetn, clout
nails or tacks should be kept constant
ly on hand, and will lie found of great
j convenience. A combined anvil and
vise, weighing forty pounds, canr
j could once be twilight for $5, and will
J be found one of the handiest appliances
j In tbe ahop. Thus equipped at little
j coat, the farmer will be able to do
' many small Jobs that will effect a con
' slderable Mvlng In time, travel and
money that would, necessarily, other
wise be Incurred. . Beside this, the
moral aud d urn t tonal effect tipou the
boys on the farm will be of a beneficial
kind and mould ne.ver be lost sight of.
Practical Fanner.
Kiperlsact la "ors-baaa.
Laat spring I sowed three acres of
aorghum for fodder. . It yielded be
tween four and Ore tons per acre and
makes one of tbe beat feeds obtainable.
Horse and cattle like It, and In the
winter whenever no other green stuff
can be obtained pigs will eat It. Bow
four or Ave pecks ier acre. It will then
grow thickly and be fine and ea to
handle. It It stand until rlpe.-as tba
tunr will be formed and the fodder
reUabed by tbe otock. It to very dlffl
ealt to rare. Home time It will He In
tbe Hold throe or four weeks while tbe
tbor to comparaUTtly dry and yet
. too vreea to to pat Into oucfc.
j iflat eottlaf, allow it to reasaia aUI
wilted, then rake, leartof It la the
Windrow a couple of aaya, wbC If win
1m? ready to shock and ua. If not want
ed until late In the winter or spring
W may be stacked after II haa stood to
the shock for all or eight week.
Orange Judd Farmer.
Tbe Tsaesrt Horn.
Thl British breed ba beeu coming
forward rapidly tbe past two years.
Tbe agricultural papers cry that scrub
must go. and they ought to, but what
breed of swine will be put In their
place? Tbe majority of tanner waut
a breed which wiU develop rapidly,
and will raise with Utile care more p"r
In a brief time, with lesa reed, than
the present standard breeds. I believe
that between tbe fancy breeds and the
scrubs lies a large field, which is claim
ed for the Tarn worth bogs. They are
red In color, have long, straight bodies,
well spruug rllJ. full neck, full Jaw,
are wide between the eye, have good
backs, good hams, good Isme and stand
straight on their feet. With ordinary
care they are quick growth, can be fat
tened at any age, and reach large alae.
If kept to maturity, at nine or ten
montlw. Tbey are very vigorous, al
ways ship well, and will rough It better
In any kind of weather than any other
known breed. Agriculturist.
Aa Electric Farm.
A farmer In Germany does all hia
work by electric power. A small brook
furnishes all of the yower needed to
run the dynam, which. In turn, drive
all iji his farm machinery, pump hia
water, and light his house and out
buildings. Every operation for which
eteam or horse power was formerly
used Is now performed as well, or
better, by this electric plant, which ba
also the advantage of being always
ready for any call upon It. The brook
Is dammed, and. with a six-foot fall,
drives an eighteen home power turbine,
the prime mover in the circuit of ma
chinery. Massachusetts Ploughman.
HiacV Walnnta for r'ow'a.
Take a hammer and mash up a buck
etful of black walnuts, throw them
In the poultry yard and you will se tbe
fowl leave any other food to get at the
walnuts. A bushel of tlnwe walnut
In the hull Is worth as mmb aa, or
more than, a bushel of oats for poultry
food, yet the farmer will allow tweuty
five bushels of them to wash away
down the hollows and at harvest will
"skin around" among the briers and
bushes to get the last head of bis oats
crop. Port land Transcript
Kaffir Corn.
Indian corn lias a foreign cousin that
Is coming to Ihe front rapidly in the
West Kaffir corn. Over a hundred
thousand acres will lie garnered thia
year In Kansas twice the average of
hist year. It grows where the old va
riety will not, and Is sure to make a
crop If It him half a chaix-e. It makes
fine feed, and the cattle are fattened
on It urn easily as ou the Indian malic.
It bids fair to help revoluH'ju!i the
farming of the srml arid region. Aud
It strengthens the power of the princi
pal ruler strengthglvl'u, prosperity
bringing King Com.
Inciter for I'lwa.
The Kana experiment stat'on has
been experimenting with hogs shelter
ed and without shelter. The sheltered
hogs made a gain of one pound of flesh
for every five potitnUi of corn fed. but
(he unsheltered hogs mflde no g.tln at
all. The station also refers to the ne
cessity of having shelter In summer.
as the animals suffer as well from too
much heat a from too much cold.
Agriculturist,
Odda and Knda.
Sprinkle coni lllM-rully with n!t, as It
Is put Into the aitove or furnace; it will
burn more evenly. Inst longer, aud
there will lie fewer clinkers.
To clean a sewing maiiilne, cover all
the Is-arlnss with kerosene, run the
machine rapidly a few minutes, then
with a soft dutli remove all the kero
sene and apply ui'tchlne oil,
I'se a candle In a lrkrooro In place
of the kerosene lamp, which emits a
dlaagrcvabli odor when turned low. A
ainall. steady light may lie secured by
placing finely powdered salt on the
wick until the charred art Is reached.
Table dot Is that show signs of
"wearing through" near the center can
lie prepared for longer service by cut
ting several Inches from one end, re
hcmiulng and using the piece cut off
to put under any thing places. - Those
places should then be darmil with the
raveling raved wh. n d:aw ngs threads
for open work ur hemming.
To remove iron rust apoU in the ab
sence 0f etinshliie, soap them well,
place a wet cloth ou a very hot Iron;
when the steam rises lay the spots on
the cloth and Immediately rub with a
crystal of oxalic add or a damp cloth
dipped In powdered crystals. When the
poU have disappeared., wash at once
In several waters. Guard the acid well,
as It is a deadly poison.
Where there Ut no Imthrooin and the
Isith must lie taken In the bedroom a
bathing ru.t will prove a great con
venience. It should 1m? almut a yard
and a half square. The upper side Is
made of Turkish toweling and the un
derside of heavy colored cotton flannel.
The two are tied together here and
there, the tie coming ou the underatde
with colored linen floss. Tbe edge can
be simply bound with braid or worked
around In buttonhole atltcb with yarn,
or a scallop can be crocheted.
Table linen of course should . be
hemmed by hand, A very satisfactory
way la to fold aa for ordinary hem
ming, then fold once more In auch a
manner tnai ute edge or the hem cot
against the body of tbe doth, and tl
Bern aa ir aewing aa overaxad over i
IB thia wa the thread nasal In
mtng Ilea the name way aa those woven
In the cloth, and hardly show at aJL
A latter In old Cogllah or script caa
be worked la the corner of each nap
Ua. It ahoatd b abovt aa h -toac.
aad dose with ltaoa floaa.
1 '.'.y-.-