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.
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