rrs- 1 J5he BondixiLn a J j CMtlWMd C 5 By HALL CAINE. synopsis. Rachel Jorgensen was the onlv daughter f.f the governor of Iceland. She fell In love ami man it d un llu-r, Stephen Urry. Her father haii other hopes for her. ami In his jiiiRcr he dinowiieii her. Orry ran aav l are. Of ,hln nnlon a chili) wa born anil Rachel called him Jaw.ii. Ste phen Orry aj heard from In the Isle of Man, where he was again married and anoiner nm was born. Rachel died a heart-broken woman, but told Jan. in of hli father's acts. Jason swore to kill him. and If not him. then hi son. In the meantime Orry had deserted hla nhlp and ought refiisre In the isle of Man. He wai sheltered by the governor of the inland. Adam Falrhrother. Orry went from bad t, Woi.r mnl rnairieti a dissolute woman, and their child, called Michael Sunlocks. was born. The woman ded and rry gave Sunlocks to Adam Kalrlirother. who adopted him, and he became the playmate of the governor' daughter. Oreeba. "You have been a true wife to me and led a god life," said Adam, "and have holpen me through many trou bles, and we have had cheerful hours together, despite Home crosses." Hut Mrs. Falrbrother wan not to be pacified. "Then let us not part In anger," said Adam, "and though I will not do your bidding, and send away the lad no, nor let him go of himself, now that for sake of peace he asks It yet to show you that I mean no wrong by my own flesh and blood, this Is what t will do: I have my few hundreds for my olfl-e, but all I hold that I can call my own 1 league. Take It It shall be yours for jour lifetime, and our sons' ami their ulster's after you." At these terms the bad bargain was concluded, and Mrs. Fairbrther went away to Lague, leaving Adam with Michael Sunlocks at government house. And the old man, being now alone with the lad, though lim heart never wavered or rued the price he had paid for him, often turned yearningly to wards th.iughts of hs daughter Greeba, ft) that at l'-ngth he said, speaking of her as the child he had parted from, "I can live no longer without my little lacs, and will go and fetch her." Then he wrote to the Duchess at her house In London, and a few days aft-c-rward he followed his letter. He had been a wet k gone when Mi chael Sunlocks, having now the gov ernor's routine work to do. was sent for out of the north of the Island to ee to the light on the Pint of Ayre. whore there was then no lighthouse, but only a flase stuck out from a pole at the end of a standstone Jetty, a poor proxy. Involving much risk for ships. Two days he was away, and returning home he slept a night at Douglas, ris ing at sunrise to make the last stage of his Journey to Castletown. He wns riding Oldie, the governor's little roan, the season was spring, and the morning, fresh from Its long draught if d'W, was sweet and beautiful. Hut Michael unlocks rode hcav ly along, for he "was troubled by many misgiving. He was asking himself for the hundredth time whether It was right of him. and a true man's part, to suffer himself to stand between Adam Falrbrother and Ills family. The sad breach being made nil that he could do to heal It was to take himself away, whether Adam fa vored that course or not. And he had concluded that, painful as the remedy would be, yet he must needs take It. find that very speedily, when he came -up to the gate of government house. and turned Ooldle down the path to the left that led to the stables He had not gone far when over the lowing of the cattle In the byres, and the steady munching of the sheep on the other side of the hedge, and thro' the smell of the early grass there came to him the sweetest sounds he had ever "heard, and some of the queerest and craziest. Without knowing what he did, or why he did It. but taking him jelf at his first Impulse, he drew rein and Ooldle came to a stand on the Tnossgrown pathway. Then he knew that two were talking together a little In front of htm, but partly hidden by a turn of the path and the thick tram ronn that bordered It. Rising In his stirrups he could see one of them, and It was his old friend. Chaise A'Kil ey, the carrier, a shambling figure In a gurn sey and blue seaman' cap, with toi'sled hair and a simple, vacant face, srd larglng lower lip, but eyes of a stionge brightness. And "Aw, yes." Chaise was saying, -he's a big lump of a boy grown, and no prld?,at all, at all, and a fine Eng lish torgue at him, and clever extraor dinary. Him and me's same as broth ers, and he was mortal fond lo ride my ould donkey when he was a slip nf lad. Aw, yes, him and me' mlddllr.' well sequent." Then some linnets that were hldln In the trammon began to twitter, and what was said next Michael flunlnck did not catch, but only heard the vole that answered old Chaise, and that iemed to make the music of the blrdt noijnd harsh. "What Is he llker It Is like It UT old Chaise said again. "Aw. rtralith' as the backbone of a herrln' and tal' and strong; and as for a face, mayb there's not a man In the Island to hold a candle to him. Och, no, nor a woman neither saving yourself, maybe. And aw, now, the sweet and tidy jre'r looking this morning, anyway: a fresh as the dewdrop, my chree." Ooldle grew restlese, began to paw the path and twist his round flank' Into the leaves of the trammon, and t the next Instant Michael Huniockr Wii aware that there was a flutter In front of hlm,t and a soft tread on the llent moss, and before he could catt. tack the lost consciousness of that mo ment, a light and slender figure shot out with a rhythm of gentle movement, snd stood in all its grace and lovely sweetness two paces beyond the head of his horse. "Oreeba!" thought Michael Sunlocks; and sure enough it was she. In the first bloo of her womanhood, with gleams of her child face haunting her still and making her woman's face lum inous, with the dark eyes softened and tn6 ulmpicu Ciireks smoothed out. She was bareheaded, and the dark fall of her hair was broken over her ears by eddies of wavy curls. Her dress was very light and loos, and It left the proud lift of her throat bare, as well as the tower of her round neck, and a hint of the full swell of her bosom. In a moment Michael Sunlocks drop ped from his saddle and held out his hand to Oreeba, afraid to look Into her face as yet, and she put out her hand to him and blushed: both frightened more than glad. He tried to speak, but never a word would come, and he felt his cheeks burn red. Hut her eyes were shy of his, and nothing she saw but the shadow of Michael's tall form above her and a glint of the uncovered shower of fair bnlr that had made him Hun- locks. She turned her eyes aside a moment thpn quickly recovered herself and laughed a little, partly to hide her own confusion and partly In Joy at the sight of his, and all this time he held her hand, arrested by a sudden glad ness, such as comes with the first sun shine of spring and the scent of the year's first violet. There was then the harsh scrape on the path of old Chaise A'Kllley's feet going off, and. the spell being broken, Oreeba was the first to speak. "You were glad whpn I went away are you sorry thai I have come back again 7" Hut his breath was gone and he could not answer, so he only laughed, and pulled the reins of the horse over Its head and walked before It by Greeba's side as she turned towards the stable In the cowhouse the klne were lowing, over the half-door a calf held out his red and white head and munched and munched, on the wall a peacock was strutting, and across the paved yard the two walked together, Oreeba and Michael Sunlocks , Roftly, without words, with quick glances and quicker blushes. Adam I'alrnrother saw them from n window of the house, and he snld with in himself, "Now Ood grant that this may be the end of all partings between them and me." Thai chanced to be the day before flood Friday, and It was only three days afterwards that Adam sent fir Michael Sunlocks to see him In his room. Sunlocks obeyed, and found a strange man with the governor. The strange man was of more than middle ag, rough of dress, bearded, tanned, of long flaxen hnlr. an ungainly but colossal creature. When they rarne face to face, the face of Michael Sunlocks fell, and that of the man lightened visibly. "That Ih your son, Stephen firry," said old Adam. In a voice that trembled and hroke. "And this Is voor father Michael Sunlocks." The Stephen Orry, with a depth of languor In his slow gray eyes, made one step toward Michael Sunlocks, and half opened his arms as If to embrace him. Hut a pitiful look of shame crossed his face at that moment, and his afms fell again. At the same In stant Michael Sunlocks, growing very pale and dizzy, drew slightly bark, and they stood apart, with Adam between them. "He has come for you to go away to hla own country." Adam said falter Ingly. It was Easter Pay, nineteen years after Stephen Orry had fled from Ice land. CHAITRK VII. THR VOW OF PTBI'HENT ORRY. Stephen Orry's story was soon told He deslted that his son, being now of an og- that suited it, nhould go to the Latin school at Reykjavik, to study there under old Rlshop Petersen, a good man whom all Icelanders venerated, and he himself had known from his child hood up. He could bear the expense of It, nnd saying so he hung his head a little. An Irish brig, hailing from Pelfast, and bound for Reykjavik, ws to put In at Ramsey on the Saturday following. Hy that brig he wished his on to sail. He should be back at the little house In Port-y-Vullln between this and then, and he desired to see his n there, having something of con sequence to say to him. That waa all. Fumbling his cap, the great creature shambled out, and waa Rone before the others were aware. Then Michael Sunlocks declared stout ly that come what might he would not go. Why should he? Who was this man that he should command his obe dience? Ills father? Then what, a a father, had he done for Mm T Aban doned him to the rharlty of other. What was he? One whom he had thought of with shame, hoping never te set yes on his face. And now, this man, this father, thl thing of shame, would have him sacrifice all that was near' and dear to him, and leave be hind the only one who had been, In deed, hi father, and the only place that had been, In truth, hi home. Hut no, this We thing he ahould not do. And,' aaylnr this, Michael Bunloeka tossed hi head proudly, though there waa a great gulp in his throat, and his shrill voice had risen to a cry. And to all this rush of protest old Adam, who had first stared out of the window with a look of sheer bewilder ment, and then gat before the fire to smoke, trying to smile though his mouth would not bend, and to Bay something more though there seemed nothing to say, answered only in a thick under-breath, "He la your father, my iad, he Is your father." Hearing thia again and again repeat ed, even after he had fenced It with many answers, Michael Sunlocks sud denly bethought himself of all that had so lately occurred, and the idea came to him In the whirl of his stunned senses that perhaps the governor wished him to go, now that they could part with out offence or reproach on either side. At that bad thought hlg face fell, and though little given to woman's ways he hud almost flung himself at old Ad am's feet to pray of him not to send him away whatever happened, when all at once he remembered his vow of the morning. What had come over him since he made that vow, that he was trying to draw back now? He thought of Oreeba, of the governor, and again of Oreeba. Had the coming of Greeba altered all? Waa it because Greeba was back home that he wished to stay? Was it for that the governor wished him to go, needing him now no more? He did not know, he could not think; only the hot flames rose to hla cheeks and the hot tears to his ej-es, and he tossed his head again mighty proudly, and said as stoutly as ever, "Very well very well I'll go since you wish It." Now old Adam saw but too plainly what mad strife was In the lad's heart to be wroth with him for all the ingrat itude of hla thought, so, his wrinkled face working hard with many passions sorrow and tenderness, yearning for the lad and desire to keep him, pity for the father robbed of the love ot his son, who felt an open shame of him the good man twisted about from the tire and said, "Llaten. and you shall hear what your father has done for you." And then, with a brave show of com posure, though many a time his old face twitched and his voice faltered, and under his bleared spectacles his eyes blinked, he told Michael Sunlocks the story of his Infancy how his father, a rude man, little used to ways of ten derness, had nursed him when hia mother, being drunken and without natural feelings, had neglected him; how his father had tried to carry him away and failed for want of the license allowing them to go; how at length in dread of what might come to the child, yet loving him fondly, he had concluded to kill him, and had taken him out to sea in the boat to do it, but could not compass it from the terror of the voice that seemed to speak within him; and, last of all, how his father had brought him there to that house, not abandon ing him to the charity of others, but yielding him up reluctantly, and as one who gave away In solemn trust the sole thing he held deur In all the world. And pleading In this way for Stephen Orry, poor old Adam waa tearing at his own heart woefully, little wishing that his words would prevail, yet urging them the more for the secret hope that, In spite of all, Michael Sunlocks, like the brave lad he was, would after all refuse to go. Hut Michael, who had lis tened Impatiently at first, tramping the room to and fro, paused presently, and his eyes began to (ill and his hands to tremble. Bo that when Adam, having ended, said, "Now, will you not go to Iceland?" thinking In his heart that the lad would fling his arms about him and cry, "No, no, never, never," and he himself would answer, "My boy, my boy, you shall stay here, you shall stay here," Michael Sunlocks, his heart swelling and his eyes glistening with a great new pride and tenderness, said softly, "Yes yes, for a father like that I would cross the world." Adam Falrbrother said not a word more. He blew out the candle that shone on his face, sat down before the fire, and through three hours thereafter smoked in silence. The next day, being Monday, Oreeba was sent on to I.ague, that her mother and brothers might see her after her long absence from the Island. She was to slay there until the Monday follow ing, that she might be at Ramsey to bid good-bye to Michael Sunlocks on the eve of his departure for Iceland. Three days moro Mlchaul apent al government house, and on the morn ing of Friday, being fully ready and his leather trunk gone on before In tare of Chaise A'Kllley, who would suffer no one else to carry It. he was mounted for his Journey on the little roan Ooldle when up came the gov ernor astride his cob. "I'll Just set you us far as Ralliisala,' he ald. Jauntily, and they rode awaj together, (To be continued.) EASILY EXPLAINED. "Pa?" "Well?" "What the difference between wage and salary?" "If a man Is working for V a day running a machine of some kind, or laying brick or doing something else that makes a white collar and cuffs un comfortable, he gets wages. Do you understand what I mean?" "Tea, air." "Uut If he sit et a desk and usen pen and get fit a week and has soft hands he receive a salary. Now, lo you aee the difference?" Small Iloy Whst do they call a king, pa? Father-"HI majesty." Small Iloy-Well, If they call a king hi majcity,"' what do they call an acT LADIES' COLUMN. SWEF.TUEAKT3 AND WIVES. .f sweetheart were sweethearts always Whether as maid or wife, No drop would be half so pleasant In the mingled draught of life. But the sweetheart has smiles and blushes, When the wife has frowns and sighs, and the wife's have a wrathful glitter, For the glow of the sweetheart's eyes. If lovers were lovers always, The same to sweetheart and wife, SVho would change for a future of Kden The Joy of this checkered life? But husbands grow grave and silent. And care un the anxious brow ft replaces the sunshine that perished With the words of the marriage vow. Happy is he whose swetheart Is wife and sweetheart still; Whose voice, as of old, can charm him; Whose kiss, as of old, can thrill, Who has plucked the rose, to find ever Its beauty and fragrance Increase, as the flush of passion is mellowed In love's unmeasured peace? Who Bees In the step a lightness; Who finds In the form a grace; Who reads ,n unaltered brightness In .he witchery of the face? Undlmmed and unchanged ah, happy la he crowned with such a life; Who drinks the wife, pledging the sweetheart, And toasts, in the sweetheart, the wife. Queerquill, THE BEST WIVES. At a recent talk Max O'Rell gave In England on the women of the world, he remarked that he had found only two countries where men were in lead ing strings and women were the lead ersFrance and the United Stales. The lecturer manifested a keen admi ration for the French women, who, he went, on to say, under all the varying circumstances of life, freely offered her husband advice which he generally took. She advised him in money mat ters. That was why he retained his money. The French woman, too, al ways remained Interesting. She never even wore her hair more than three weeks in the san e way. She knew that the same dishes became insipid If eter nally served with the same sauce. In business, she was her husband's ad viser, and shared all his afairs. English and American women often did not know their husbands were on the road to ruin or wealth. Mr. O'Rell then spoke at length of the American woman. In America, Mrs, Jonathan was a distinct type. An American girl, from the age of sev enteen, had almost every liberty, yet American women Inspired respect ev erywhere. The different positions which women occupied in America, as compared with England, was due, he thought, largely to education. American boys and girls fit together in the same schools, and the girls took a majority of the prizes. He also paid a compliment to the chiv alry of American men to the opposite sex, which, he said, he had found in no other country. COOKING RECIPES. Sour Cream Pie One cupful sugar, one cupful of thick, sour cream, one egg, one scant cupful of raisin stoned and cut tine, one tublespuunful of vin egar, two tablespootifuls of flt'ur, and a pinch of salt; mix thoroughly, season with nutmeg; bake with two crusts, same as mince pic. Tomato Scallops In making tomato scallops, place alternate layers of bread crumbs and tomatoes In a buttered bi.klng tin. The tomatoes may be either canned or fresh. Sprinkle pieces of butter and salt and pepper over each layer. Cover the top with buttered bread crumbs and bake until brown. Cucumbers a la Parlslenne Pare the cucumbers rather thick and let them He in Ice water. Shortly before serving, cut lengthwise into four or six por tions, according to the size of the cu cumber; arrange upon an oblong dish and cover with French dressing. Pass with the fish course, says Good House' keeping. Curried Rice Boll one cupful of thor oughly washed rice In two cupfuls of bulling salted water. Boll for ten mln utes and strain; add a tc-aspoonful of curry powder that has been rubbed smooth In cold water; boll the rice thus seasoned In a cupful of stock until ten der. Strain, place in the center of a platter, cover with the liquor and pprin kle with rhopped parsley. Salad A very pretty form of salad may be made by lining a border mould with asple Jelly and then filling It up wllh finely shred salad, lettuce, rad ishes!, cress, cucumber or tomatoes, well mixed with either a plain French or a mayonnaise dressing; pour some liquid aKpIc over the whole, then put it aside till set. When firm, turn it out Into a dish and fill up the center with marin aded lobster or crab, piling this well up. SHADOW POTATOES. Wash and pare potatoes, and slice thinly Into a bowl of cold water. Let stand two hours or over night, chang ing the water twice. Drain, and plunge Into a kettle of boiling water, and boll one minute. Again drain them and cool with cold water. Take from the water and dry. them between towels. Then fry In deep fat, dry on brown paper, and sprinkle with salt. prepared in thl way by first boiling, they are much more delicious than when fried without boiling. It Is more work, but thtise who have eaten agree that It Is labor well expended. FILTERED COFFEE. Put one cupful of ground coffee In strainer, strainer In coffee pot, and pot on range. Add, gradually, six cupfuls of boiling water, and allow It to filter. For black coffee use three cupful of boiling water Instead of six, and serve Without cream. .. . . FRILLS OF FASHION. A very strong movement is again be ing made In favor of reviving the wear of the odioua hoopsklrt, In direct con trast to the present clinging Btyle of clresg. Squares of oriental cloth make stylish and inexpensive trimlmng for cloth gowns, If artistically used in combina tion with gold buttons, buckles or braid. Velvet flowers and shaded foliage 'n deep green and also in brilliant autumn leaf effects combined with masses of black ostrich plumes, will constitute the leading garnitures on felt and vel vet hats for the autumn and winter sea sons. There has arisen a sudden fad for the wearing of bright grass-green tulle or grenadine veils. They are worn fre quently as a rather conspicuous halo around the hat and are seldom pulled down over the face. The upper ends are fastened with a single pin and the lower portion of the veil flutters In the breeze. Shirt waists of soft sheer veiling, cashmere and wool barege will fill up the interval between the linen and cot ton styles of the summer and the cloth and French flannel waist for cold weather wear. These light-wool gar ments are of plain fabric or striped or dotted with white, red, black or blue, in several distinct shades. The French felt hats for next season are as soft and fine as velvet. They are fashioned In many ways, some be coming, others less so. The Ladysmith and Rough Rider styles are still prom inent. Crown, grey, gold red and black, are among the leading colors, white felt models being retained lo wear until cold weather, with costumes of white cloth, mohair, serge and cashmere. Women have revolted from- the com monsense shoes to which they went over unreservedly a few seasons ago. Even on the golf links this summer a moderately pointed and dainty shoe has appeared more often than the dumping, bulldog-toed, extension-soled calf-skin shoe of last season. The re sult Isn't rational, but It is becoming, and makes the reign of short skirts more endurable from an artistic point of view. Picture hats are evidently the ac cepted keynote for autumn and winter millinery, and it Is to be hoped that if women will affect picture hats they will take them seriously. Such a hat should be made especially for the wearer and every detail of its effect studied with the utmost care. The droop of a feather, the curve of a line may make all the difference between a ravishlngly booming hat and a fashionably hide ous picture hat, and the brim must be bent, the trimming adjusted to suit the individual wearer's face and head. A great deal of the color of pressed sea mosses, ferns and flowers just now being used for various decorations on silk and satin sachets, cushion covers, etc., appears to be taken from them during the pressing process. A cele brated chemist says that if the sheets of blotting paper used for drying the flowers and mosses are first dipped into a weak solution of oxalic acid and then thoroughly dried before laying the flow ers between them, the result will be much more satisfactory. TALK ABOUT WOMEN. The memory of Miss Mary Klngsley, the African traveler, Is to be comem orated by a Mary Klngsley memorial hospitai. It is to be uaeu piiumii! for the treatment of diseases peculiar to the tropics, and it will probably be erected In Liverpool. MIbs Rose Cleveland, sister of the ex-presldent, is arranging to enjoy her self thoroughly next summer. She has purchased a farm at Islesboro, Me., and is about to erect there a handsome summer cottage. The whole will be one of the finest pieces of property In that section. . ,.. ..j. ,;.,,... Mrs. Clemen plays a very Important part In her husband' (Mark Twain's) literary life. All that he writes passes under her severe censorship; she Is the most acute critic, and if there is anything In what he has wrftten which does not meet with her entire approval it goes straightway to the waste basket or is held back for revision. Mrs. Laura A. Alderman owns the largest orchard In South Dakota. Ac cording to W. N. Irwin, chief of the division of pomology of the department of agriculture In Washington, she has, near Harley, Turner county, 150 acres In which are 8,000 trees, two acres be ing given over to plum. Resides the trees there are 1,000 currant bushes, 1,000 gooseberry bushes, BOO grape vines I and three acres of strawberries. A little 13-year-old girl of Canton, 0 named Vera Berliner, who was anxious to play her violin before President Mc Klnley, stole around to his house one evening while the president and hi friends wi re on the porch, and began to play "Old Folks at Home." Mr. Mc Klnley brought her on the porch snd had her play several tune, ending with "Nearer, My Clod, to Thee." The child Is ambljlou to become a great musi cian. Mrs. Henrietta C. Oldherg of Albert Iea, Minn., has Interested herself for many year In the cultivation of flax, and la now nt the Paris exposition look ing Into this matter. Mr. Llppon. a Belgian manufacturer of linen, visited Mrs. Oldberg at her' home, and wn much struck with the suitability of the place for manufacturing the flax fiber for llnenmakers, and ha offered lo es tablish a factory there If she will assist him and offer to pay all the expense of Mr. Oldberg and her entire party If she will visit Ms manufactory and other place In Belgium where Uan in made. FARM NEWS NOTES. RAISING CALVES WITHOUT MILK. The oldest method known of ratal nT calves without milk, and one that la practiced with good success at the pres ent day Is by means of hay tea. Good clover hay which has been cut early Is taken; cut five-eighths of an Inch long and boiled for one-half hour. Three pounds of hay are allowed for each calf. After the hay is boiled th short hay is placed on a wire cloth, sieve and strained, while the flaxseed, and middlings to be mixed with It ar put into the kettle with the hay ex tract and boiled to a Jelly. Two gal lons of the tea, In which one-quarter pound of flaxseed and one-quarter pound of wheat middlings have been, boiled, are given each day to a calf 3V days old. At the end of 60 day th wheat middlings are Increased to one half pound per day. A bulletin from the Ontario Farmers' institute says the boiling extracts to soluble nutritive constituents of the hay, and thia em tract contains all the food element re quired to make the animal grow and la. moreover, as digestible as milk. G'iin per day of two pounds per head and over have been reported in calves up to two months old that were fed on the extract of tea, flaxseed and mid dlings. To Insure success, however, the hay must be well cured, bright and ot good quality, and the tea fed at temperature of 90 to 92 degrees F. Very often the extract Is weak In albuminous and fatty matter on account of being made from late cut or poorly cured hay, or the mistake Is made of adding too much water. Under the circum stances it is not surprising if the calves do not make a good, healthy growth. The hay tea may be fed to calves until they can do without it, Its place being then taken by pasture or green, feed in the pen. Some discontinue it when their calves are three months old, but continue the oil and bran in a dry state all the summer, or these can ba mixed with water if this is considered, advisable. The steeped hay after the tea is extracted is greedily eaten by horses and cattle; but, of course, muca of Its goodness Is removed in the bolU Ing. CORN AND HOGS. The United States is the treat hog growing country of the world. No other country can compare with it in producing healthful pork at so low a cost. In producing pork the great es sential Is a cheap, healthy feed. The American maize or corn Is the basis for the cheap fattening feed in pro ducing pork. No other country lg so situated for producing corn as tha corn belt of the United States. The great profit with the American farmer is in the use of allt he grass and corn, that can be safely done In growing and) , fattening his animals. There are vari ous by-products on the farm- that in the economy of pig feeding are useful. Nothing Is more so 'than milk from tha dairy after having the cream separated from it. Skim milk and corn meal mixed together is a better feed than either one separate, as has been de termined by the experiment stations time and again. It would be Impossi ble to raise hogs for pork purposes on so extensive a scale as is done in tha United States if it were not for tha great corn fields and immense crops that can be grown so easily and profit ably. Secondly, if we did not havs the means of feeding corn it would ba an almost worthless production, as tha quantities raised would be so largo there would be no other way to con- sume It. We are now in shape to an nually oonsume a two-billion crop ot corn In the United States. DANGEROUS BREEDING. One of the tendencies of breeder to day is to produce a fine pedigree. A noted name In Its pedigree helps to sell an animal; if it appears more than ones the pedigree Is still "stronger," and It an easy course or reasoning to the con clusion that the more times this namf appears the better the pedigree, hence the more desirable the anlmal.Of courss such pedigree building means In-breeding, one of the most common sources of disaster to breeders. It is true that Inbreeding has produced wonderful re sults in the hands of a few masters, but it was necessary with them to pro duce their type. Nowadays it is not necessary. Type Is not confined to ona family or branch of that family, it can be had and Improved without resort to the dangerous methods of earlier breeders. Another mistake closely allied to the above Is to give undue Importance to certain strains of blood. In Shorthorns, for example, the presence of Scotch top has such an Influence that It often sell an Inferior animal for the price of at good one. The buyer of such pays too much for a pedigree that somebody has built, he pays too much for family. He departs from the rule of Cruick shank himself, who founded the useful families now so popular on the best In dividuals he could find regardless of "fashion" In their pedigree. He work ed upon the principle that the surest Indication of good breeding I a good Individual. The Individual was the Im portant thing with him, and It ahould be with all breeders; then the fancier the pedigree the better. A FUTURE MARKET. It i a very common thing for ftoutb American buyers to figure In Krltlsb auctions of pure-bred stock, and ha been for a number of year. At th same time there are no buyers' for South America at American sale. Ths reason I very clear, and It lie wholly In lack of transportation faculties. When the difficulty of shipment Is over come American breeder should And m good market for pure-bred stock la tht southern continent. ; 5 i 1 i i ' I if 1 1 ' i 1 1 i ',.i ' ' A.ii,