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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 15, 1906)
, ©rlNEW YORK f Sr.GEOCGE fBtfTHBOPNE 0 sH'T/rvor 1 '30VL% OSV* I AZ4SC& I Z2P ~£4ovjrrc CHAPTER VIII.—Continued. 'A “Tell Dr. Girard a member of the American family of Asrorbilt is pres ent, and desires to transact some very important business with him," says the representative of M. Prefect, in French. The man becomes humble, and in vites them in; he looks curiously at Bob. Into whose elbows each of the others has crooked an arm, just as though he is used to such sights, and immediately guesses that it is on this person's account these gentlemen come to the Retreat by night. When he has seated them in what appears to be an office or study, he leaves the room. They pass a few words of caution, but keep their po sitions, Bob standing between the chairs of the others, his arms folded |'n defiance, and with the attitude of Napoleon in front of his judges. Ah: someone comes—probably the proprietor of the Retreat—the three make ready to play their parts—it will only be for a little while, as they in tend to surprise the worthy Girard with some Western tactics of strat egy. The doctor is a man of excellent frame—he has the appearance of a modern Hercules, and no doubt has more than once found an opportunity to indulge in his power, when caught in a personal encounter with a desper ate patient, male or female, made dou bly strong by the malady that robs them of their brain forces. “M. Girard, I believe," says the agent, in French. “At your service, messieurs. I un derstand that one of you is M. Astor bilt. I have heard much of the name, and feel highly honored to have one of the family call upon me," with a bow in the direction of Dick, who can only with difficulty repress a smile as his eyes take in the important atti tude which Colonel Bob has assumed, one hand thrust into the bosom of his coat, the other under his coat-tails, much as an English country squire might stand before the fire on the hearth. It is now Dick's time to enter into conversation, and this he does with the dignity that should distin guish the representative of a great American family, relating an imagi nary story of the affliction that has come upon him. 372C17C SZTIW an ounce of prevention, in connection with these crazy people, is worth much more than a pound of cure. At any rate, he signals to one of his keep ers, a brawny fellow*, w*ho accompa nies them in their rounds. The doctor shows them this sec tion and that, and all comment on the cleanliness that is patent everywhere. Reail> this Is a mol?! Institution, so far as neatness !s concerned. The owner puffs out with pardonable pride under the praise which they bestow upon him. Then comes the crucial test—they pass by a corridor that undoubtedly leads somewhere. Dick makes a move as if to enter. "Not that way, please, monsieur!” exclaims the doctor, laving a hand on his arm, and the man’s alarm is shown on his face. Instantly Dick realizes that this is the passage they seek, and he is de termined that It shall be investigated, no matter at what expense of time and trouble. He frowns, as he says: “M. Girard, I trust you have no se crets from your patrons. I have heard much of the horrors of these estab lishments, but, as yet, I am pleased to state, have failed to see anything of the kind about your house. If I leave anyone in your charge, I must be sure there is no chamber of torture under this roof. Assure me of that.” “Indeed, monsieur, down yonder cor ridor are only some cells that I am re modeling. When they are done they will be the best in the house.” “M. Girard, I have made up my mind to see every foot of this build ing,” resolutely. , "I am sorry to appear stubborn, but I am obliged to refuse your request, M. Astorbilt.” It is evident from the doctor’s man ner that he has already taken the alarm and that nothing can be gained by delay. “1 am a man who will never take r.o for an answer. You w*ill open that gate, M. Girard, you will show us what lies beyond, or it will be my duty to use force.” The signal has been given—Fran cois already has a revolver in his hand, while the Sheriff of Secora County has drawn, his ferocious-look ing bowie, which he flashes before the eyes of the keeper, and puts him into a cold perspiration. “Treachery!” gasps the doctor, aghast at these signs of warlike ac tion. The agent of the prefect opens his Tumbles the Keeper Over in a Heap. “You keep people here who are in the way of others, I believe?” “Sir!” “I mean who are believed to be out of their mind—demented, of course." “That is the object of this noble in stitution. We aim to cater to the mind diseased, but I am sorry to say only a very small per cent ever re cover.” “Your terms, monsieur?” “One hundred and fifty francs a week.” doubling his ordinary price for the occasion. "Is that all? I would not consent to paying less than two hundred.” “Oh, monsieur is too kind.” “I would demand the best room.” “The finest in the Retreat is at your service." “And the best of care. If my poor cousin could be brought to reason, I would pay fifty thousand francs.” “H'm!” grunts the soldier on pa rade. which sound is meant for his comrade, thoueh he does not venture to look that way. “But I suppose he will always re main what he is now. a crazy, love sick fool,” with an emphasis that makes Bob wince and shake his fist at Dick behind the doctor’s back. “Ah! you are indeed liberal—it is a pleasure to work for such a master. You may be surprised if I claim that reward some day.” exclaims the de lighted M. Girard, who has readily fallen into the trap. “I shall be, indeed,” returns Dick. “And now a favor.” “Eh?” “We are naturally interested in your great establishment—we would look around and see what arrangements you have for the reception and enter tainment of your guests.” “Willingly, messieurs. While we do this I shall have your unfortunate rel ative confined in a cell near by.” says the doctor, and Bob again winces, though not by the quiver of an eyelash doer, he betray the fact that he hears. Df'tk does not appear too anxious about this. “Perhaps it would be just as well to allow him to accompany us, doctor. ■He is never violent, and often talks of crazy people, for whom he has the utmost contempt. It will do no harm, and may bring about good to let him rt go. “As you say. Monsieur Astorbilt— you best know his abilities and his weakness. If you will follow me. gen tlemen. I will show you the model establishment of Paris.” It looks as though M. Girard might be suspicious of Bob—perhaps he thinks it best to be well prepared, for coat and discloses the magic symbol of his power. “You see we are backed by the ma | jesty of law. M. Girard. I come direct from the office of the prefect—Fran cois is my name—Number Eleven. Now you will open that gate?” “I refuse.” replies the doctor, sul ! lenly. “Very well. M. le Colonel, watch this man, please,” and Francois turns 1 to the keeper. The sight of the stiver badge setk i the fellow to trembling as though he had the ague, and when the same or I der is given to him he obeys, in spite of the doctor's counter-commands. Now that the corridor is open to them, Dick turns to the others, ready ; to advance. “Remain here and look after the prisoners—I will examine the place alone, and 1 believe those we seek are beyond.” he says, quickly. . M. Girard looks black in the face— he may have a fit before long unless appearances are deceptive. To be thus bearded in his own den is a new ex perience to him. “Wait for me.” cries Dick, and with that he immediately plunges c>wn the { corridor that M. Girard wishes to keep sacred from invasion, the corridor 1 that undoubtedly has some secret con nected with it which he is bound to unearth Dick keeps his eyes about him, and i as the corridor is lighted he can see his way. A thrill of expectancy per vades his whole being at the antici pation of doing Miss Pauline another tavor, which she will of course put down to his credit. Already he can hear terrible sounds that grate upon the nerves: from one cell comes bubbling, fiendish laughter, from another shrieks as of a lost soul in the grasp of Satan, while here and there at the crating* appear hideous faces with disheveled locks, that look like demons from beyond the Styx. Earnestly, eagerly, does Dick push forward, his eyes turned to the right and the left in search of some clew that will bring him nearer that which he seeks. He has probed the corridor half-way when a man suddenly rises before him, a man who is evidently a keep er, judging from his appearance, and the lunch of keys dangling from his girdle. Dick has neither the time nor in clination to parley with the fellow, who, seeing a stranger thus Invading the most sacred recesses of the Insti tution. shows signs of war, but. rush ing directly at him, he tumbles the ( keeper over in a heap, much as a squall might throw a vessel on her beam-ends. A sudden inspiration causes Dick to tear loose the belt from which are suspended the keys, and armed with these, he continues his forward move ment, determined to find Miss Pauline if he has to open every door in |pe house. In the midst of his hurried search he is suddenly electrified by hearing his own name called in accents of sub lime entreaty. “Mr. Denver! o!l Mr. Denver! this way. come this way!” Thus speaks the voice that can only belong to the irrepressible but now thoroughly terrified Dora. He whirls instantly, to see her face behind the wicket of a stout door; she beckons and still calls, but there is no danger that Dick will pass on. He is immediately at the door—it is fastened, but the key is in the lock— he turns it and pushes open the door. As he does so. the figure of a man, who has a demoralized appearance, ; bounds past him with a cry of satis- I faction, as though glad of an oppor- : tunity to escape from what has been ! a tight place. Dick, in that one glance, recognizes the Mexican hidalgo, but he has not the time to pursue the mine-owner, his attention being whol ly taken up with the interior of the ■ cell and its inmates. A lamp hung in a bracket illumi- i nates the apartment. He sees a table, upon which lie pa- j per, pens and ink—some sort of a doc- : ument has been drawn up for the New ' York girl to sign, but it looks as though Senor Lopez must have met ; with a more stubborn resistance than i he expected. (To be continued.) I -. ! SPREADING OF SCARLET FEVER. Infectious Agent Retains Its Vitality For Incredible Time, In a farmhouse in one of the New England states a case of scarlet fever unexpectedly developed not long ago. On seeking for its origin, the physi cian found that some old cotton quilts, laid away in the garret for years, had ! recently been taken down and aired and put to use by the family. These bed coverings, it was remembered, had been put away after a siege of this disease. This is only one of many instances that could be related to show how long the infectious agent retains its vitality and how common a thing it is for scarlet fever to be dis seminated by bedding and other ob jects. These quilts should have been burned as soon as the first patients ; had recovered. The children of a certain physician were one day allowed to unlock an antique secretary that had not been j opened for years. In it they found tresses of hair that had been cut from the head of children who had died twenty years before of scarlet fever. In a few days they were both stricken with this dread disease. The ease with which this disease is dissem inated is appalling. It has been known to be spread to a neighboring house simply from the airing of bed clothing in a window. Infected bed clothing should never be washed with any oth er. The disease has been transmitted in this way. A bouquet of flowers that was sent from a scarlet fever room to a hospital carried the disease. —Emma E Walker in Good House keeping. FAILED TO MAKE HIS “POINT.” Prompt Reply of Judge Disconcerted Lawyer. Some years ago there arose in Lynn, Mass., an important law case bearing upon the right of a labor union em ploying a “banner boy” to patrol at the front of Patrick Sherry’s shoe factory on Munroe street. Upon the banner was printed a “warning” to workmen to keep away from the Sherry factory, as a strike was in progress. Mr. Sherry reasoned that the work of the “banner boy” was an invasion of his rights, there fore the boy was arrested. The case was appealed to the supe ■ rior court. The Hon. John R. Baldwin i was counsel for the labor union. Judge j Aldrich was hearing the case. Mr. Baldwin sought to make a ludicrous ! point of the very diminutive “banner j boy,” and said to the court: “Your honor, look upon the culprit!’* The judge promptly responded: “I ' am looking. What of it?” Mr. Baldwin was so suddenly taken i aback at the sharp response of the judge that it was some little time be fore he recovered his usual compos ure. Mr. Sherry won his case. The Language of Cards. “My Queen!” cried the enraptured swain, pressing her to his heart. “Jack, my own Jack!” murmured the maiden. “One, two three,” chimed the clock. “Diamonds are lustreless beside your eyes," whispered the lover. “They are all yours, my King!” came the cooing response. “Four!” said a bass voice on the floor above. A flush crimsoned the maiden's cheek as “six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” she counted the kisses straight. “I wish I had a club,” said the bass voice on the stairs. “The deuce!” cried the lover as the parlor door opened. And, as he cleared the garden gate, old dog Tray, follow ing his lead, came within an ace of his calf. Gen. Wheeler'* Dreams. Several days before Gen. Joseph Wneeler died and at a time when he was occasionally irrational he sat up in bed one evening and said to the nurse: “When does the firing begin?” To humor him tbe nurse replied: “The firing will begin at 9 o’clock, general.” Gen. Wheeler leaned back in his bed, apparently resting. At five minutes to 9 o’clock he reached over for his watch, noticed the time and took from the table near his bed a small bunch of absorbent cotton. The nurse was watching him, somewhat puzzled by his actions. Very deliberately Gen. Wheeler plugged both ears with the cotton. Then he leaned back in his bed again and went to sleep. Expressing His Feelings. Hewitt—I see that there is crape on Gruet’s door. Jewett—It must be that his mother in-law is out of danger. The Boys of *61. (Dedicated to the soldiers of Franklin county who fell on the fields wheie we fought.) They sprang to the fray when their country said ,Come!” They marched to the sound of the bugle and drum In the flush of their youth went the man ly and brave To stand by the banner our forefathers gave; They throttled rebellion, our heroes in blue. And showed to the world how its hearts could be true. Some never came back from the dark battle lines. But are camping to-day in the shade of the pines. Go look for their deeds on the ’scutcheon of fame. Go read in the sunlight each glorious name. Old Round Top is crowned with their glory to-day. And Shiloh's invested with splendor for aye; Where bravely they struggled and died for the free. Chickamauga flow's on with a song of the sea; And other proud fields have extended a crown To the boys of the Northland, the sons of renown. They came from the battle all shattered and torn. Not as they went forth in the flush of the morn; Their standards were riddled with shot and with shell. They’d borne them four years through the carnage of hell; Their ranks were depleted, their com rades afar Slept peacefully under the Southern star; But proudly erect marched the immortal few A hero each man in his garments of blue. Who hailed them? A nation they’d saved by their might. The welcome was great that came after the strife— The kiss of the mother, the sweetheart, the wife; The drum became silent, the bugle was still. They echoed no more on the red battle hill; And the Angel of Peace, with her pin ions outspread. Looked down on the living and w*ept for the dead. The land that we love honors still every son Who rusned to its aid at the flash of the gun; on many a field seeks the column the sky. Enriched with a record that never can die; So long as our banner invincible waves Memorials will rise to the worth of our braves; Ana ever the country to which we are true ill laurel the brow if the soldier in blue. —Read at Dedication of Memorial Hall. Columbus. Ohio. Jan. 4, 1906, by the Author, W. L. Curry. Seeks Long-Lost “Bunkie.” Among the strange quests that men have undertaken in an effort to satisfy an uncontrollable desire to know is the search which is about to engage the time and money of Richard Duvall, this city, says the Los Angeles Times. Duvall served with honor in the civii war and during the awful strug gle was enable to assist a comrade in dire peril. After the war had closed all efforts to find the comrade proved fruitless, and, while at intervals word had been received that the man is alive and well, for some unaccount able reason his whereabouts has re mained a mystery. Moved with a consuming desire to find the man, the old soldier, who is in business in Los Angeles, will pass the remaining years of his life trying to find his long-lost “bunkie.’' Without any attempt to gain noto riety, Duvall tells of his desire to see his old friend and relates some of his experiences during the bloody strife. "I entered the Confederate army at the commencement of the war.” says Duvall, “some time in April, 1S61, and was a member of company F, 17th Mississippi infantry; was engaged in the battle of Bull Run or Manassas, the battles of Ball's Bluff or Leesburg, was all through the Yorktown cam paign, and saw some hard service in the battles in the defense of Rich mond. Owing to physical disability and exposure 1 was honorably dis charged from my regiment and soon thereafter entered the local forces in defense of the confederate capital. “For some time I was in charge of Castle Thunder hospital, where the political prisoners were confined. While there I had opportunities of lending aid to the union prisoners and others who were in sore need of help. “One case in particular I well re member, that of a man named W. W. McChestnay. whose home address was 62 South street, New York city. He belonged to the Masonic order of which I was a member. He longed for liberty and fretted so that I thought he would die. By a persistent effort I succeeded in obtaining his release and sent him north to rejoin his friends. The man was a prince of good fellows and I esteemed him highly and missed him much when he was gone from the gloomy prison. I was in New York several months after the war and tried to find ‘Mac,’ but he had gone West. Since that time all efforts to reach him have failed. “During my stay at Castle Thunder 1 made many visits to Libby prison. On one of these visits 1 met a prisoner who made himself known to me as a Freemason. Her was a tall, fine look ing man, weak and emaciated from hard service. I told him I would try to obtain his release, but he said there was no hope for him, as all ef forts had failed. “My plan was to interview every officer of the prison with whom I was acquainted, and after three weeks of persistent effort the release was se cured and the man was sent home to his friends. I saw him safely on board the confederate exchange steamer, and remained with him until he sail ed homeward on the union exchange steamer. I gave him a basket of lunch and some money, and was richly re paid with his overflowing gratitude. "I have lost the name and address of this man, but If he or any of his friends read these lines I would most earnestly ask them to communicate with me. “I have been asked why I am so anxious to find comrades in the war, but it is difficult to give an intelligible answer. The associations were sacred to me, and if they could be resumed, even for a brief day, my heart would be glad.” Mr. Duvall is a southerner with a fund of experience and rare knowl edjte of human nature that will .doubt less serve him well In the search he is soon to undertake. He still has many years of active life before him, and his friends say he is not easily dis couraged. Death of “Boy Veteran.” Edwin F. Cushing, the youngest musket carrier of Massachusetts in the civil war, died suddenly Jan. 16 at his home, Somerville, Mass., of heart failure. He was only 13 years old when he was mustered into the service, and was a little more than 17 when he was mustered out after serving quite four years in the war. He had been a resident of Somerville for about twenty years and served in the com mon council in 1898 and 1899. He leaves a wife. Mr. Cushing was a popular member of the G. A. R., having held various offices in Willard C. Kinsley post 139, G. A. R., of Somerville. He was looked upon as the “baby” of the vet erans. Regarding his war experiences Mr. Cushing once told the following story: “I was mustered into the service at camp Chase, Lowell, on Sept. 3, 1861, and, as I was born at Dover, N. H., on May 29, 1848, my age at the time of muster was 13 years 3 months and 5 days. My final dis charge was given me at Gallops isl and in Boston harbor, on Aug. 26, 1865, thus making the official dura tion of my connection with the regi | ment just one week less than four j years. “Of course,” said Mr. Cushing, ! “there were a great many more boys in the army. But the larger part of j these under-age youngsters got in during the last years of the war, and as I began with carrying a musket and kept right on in that sort of duty during the major part of the time I j was in the army, the claim has been made in my behalf that I am the youngest soldier, with four years of active service to my credit, who en I listed from Massachusetts. V\ hether or not that is so, and the record may be duplicated several times in this as in other states, I am , satisfied,” said Mr. Cushing, “that I I became a soldier full early enough, and but for some ‘hardening’ I had | just received on a New Hampshire farm, my experience in performing the duties of a full-fledged enlisted man might have been much more dif ficult than it proved to be. “When New Orleans was taken our regiment was ordered to the city for provost duty, and I was specially as signed as an orderly at Provost Mar shal Bowen’s headquarters. This duty also brought me to Gen. Butler’s headquarters, and when I told the general I had lived in Dracut before enlisting he at once took an interest in me, recalled an acquaintance with my grandparents, and he also knew my father, who was an actor in the regular company at the old Lowell museum, the institution which Moses Kimball bought and moved to Boston as the nucleus of the old Boston mu seum. “As I remember Gen. Butler before the war in Lowell, he was in the habit of wearing the old-fashioned blue swallowtail coat with brass buttons. “Col. Jones resigned from the regi ment before we left New Orleans, and our first fight was at La Fourche, six ty miles west of New Orleans, which was but a skirmish compared to what we had to face in Virginia. In Janu ary, 18C4, the regiment, or 546 men of the regiment, re-enlisted for the war, the largest number, as it was ! stated at the time, that was secured from any regiment of our department. After a furlough home we were at : tached to the new 19th corps, and by | July, 1864, we were in the Shenan i doah valley under the command of i glorious Phil Sheridan, getting all the ( real fighting we wanted, and partici i pating in the Berrvville and the Ce | dar creek battles. At Berryville the i regiment had eleven officers wound ed and thirty-eight men killed, and we met with a like loss at the more decisive contest of Cedar creek when Early was sent ‘whirling through Winchester.’ ” — Entitled to His Opinion. “It was toward the end of the civil war.” said the veteran, nodding rem iniscently, “and I was home on fur lough. One day I happened to be in Cincinnati and was standing in front of a hotel talking with a crowd, when the conversation turned to the likeli hood of the war ending soon. The general opinion was that it would be some time before the country was at peace, but finally an old man spoke up and said: ‘Mv son thinks it will be all over in a few weeks.’ We all smiled, for I suppose that the rest thought as I did, that ‘my son’ was in the greatest probability a high private in the rear ranks and knew as much about when an armistice or final peace might come as we did, but finally 1 asked the old man who his son might be, and you can imagine the astonish ment of the crowd when this reply came: ‘Why. Gen. Grant.”’—Colum bus (O.) Dispatch. Seeks Owner for Buckle. Frank Sonner of Strasburg, Ya., son of Mrs. John H. Sonner, whose place is in the Shenandoah Valley and near the Cedar Creek battlefield, has found a Union army buckle, on the leather part of which is plainly written the name of W. H. Smith, Brooklyn. The boy has been trying for several months to find the owner or relatives of the soldier who wore the belt. W. H. Smith was in a New York regiment, which is also indi cated on the belt. Unearths War Time Tragedy. While making cuts through Klngs boro Heights, a Suffolk (Va.) sub urb, for the Tidewater railway, a steam shovel unearthed the body cf a Union army officer in the civil war. The epaulets are in a fair state of preservation. Kentucky Blue Grass. (Poa prateasis.) This is one of the very fttmous grasses of the United States and one of the most valuable. In different parts of the country it is known by different names, among which are: Green Meadow Grass, June Grass, Common Spear Grass. The grass attains a good height, sometimes being 30 inches tall. The leaves are narrow and long and are easily distinguishable from Canadian blue grass, which has a broad leaf. The roots are perennial and creeping, and a pasture of this grass, if taken care of, will last for many years. The grass starts to grow very early in the spring and flowers in the North ern United States in June. It likes a limestone soil, and on a soil rich in lime it establishes itself by forming a very compact sod. This grass is better adapted to pas ture than to hay meadow, for the rea son that it does not work well into the rotations. It takes three or four years for it to form a compact sod. When a pasture has been once taken by blue grass, the farmer has something that will stay by him through cold and heat, flood and drouth. In Kentucky the farmers pride themselves on the luxuriance of their blue grass pas tures, some of which are more than fifty years old. It flowers but once In the season, but after being grazed or cut it quickly sends up a new vigor ous growth. The grass does well in rather dry soils, but will adapt itself to almost any soil, even to the wet meadows. In Kentucky and other states in which the winters are mild it is used for winter pastures and it is not infre quent that herds are kept on it the year around. It does particularly well where trees are scattered about to give it a partial shade during the hot days of summer. Saving and Using Manure. We do very little milking and do not tie or stanchion our cattle. Our manure is made mostly in sheds or barns, we having two barns for hay j and stock; the hay is in the center and stock at the sides. We bed these cattle sheds heavily all winter, which J is necessary where hogs work over the manure. If the winter is severe or stormy the sheds fill fast and we are compelled to hitch to the spreader and clean them out, hauling direct to the fields, usually cornstalks. This is usually done in February before the ground breaks up. With a mild winter, the cattle are out more and then the manure is made alongside the high board fence, where we have mangers and bed heavily. The manure made here is hauled before plowing for corn if the spring’s work will permit of it. The manure made In the sheds and not hauled before the cattle are turned to grass is allowed to remain until fall, and is usually spread on grass land. We do not make any calculations on saving liquid manure. Of course all liquids left in the sheds are saved. We use plenty of bedding, not so much as to make the manure all straw, how ever. We do no composting. We have used a manure sp/eader three seasons and like it, for many reasons. Jo Daviess Co., 111. W. G. Curtiss. Man Is Master of the Land. There are no soil conditions that cannot be overcome by man if those conditions are such that they inter fere with the growing of crops. What seisms impossible now will be possi ble iater, when the value of land has risen to the point where great oper ations will pay. The sandy, leachy soils can be covered with a layer of clay and the heavy lands can be sand ed. The swamp land can be drained and the arid lands watered. The time will come when man will put into use every foot of land not closed up by the eternal ice around the poles. E’-en in the far north, glass gardens will yet become numerous and beat back the frost line. The Small Farm la the Home Farm. William Smythe in his book on the Conquest of Arid America, says: The great farmer of California is the suc cessor of the gold hunter. Both were speculators. Both looked with con tempt upon the matter of making a living and dreamed only of making a fortune. Of homes and institutions they were neither the architects nor the builders. They sought only to take the wealth from the soil and s]>end it elsewhere. The miner leaves nothing to commemorate the place where he gathered gold save the crumbling hovels and empty tin cans. The five thousand-acre wheat farmer leaves no monument beyond fields of repulsive stubble and the shanties of his “hoboes.” Regular attention to all live stock and especially to fattening ones is very important. With regularity nothing is forgotten and nothing is done twice over. Anticipating the Spring Hatches. My experience has been that the nearer we keep to nature the better success we have. I usually mate my birds the latter part of February or the first part of March, and commence to set the eggs to hatch the last week in March or the first week in April. Even then, if the weather should be very cold for the season or stormy, the chicks will have to have extra care, or some will die from exposure if allowed to run at large. Chicks never do well if confined any great length of time. The chicks must have a great amount of exercise. The mother hen should be confined, but the chicks should have a free run The question is asked, “Are early birds as good layers as those hatched a little later and pushed forward?” I have never had facilities for hatching and caring for chicks earlier in the season than about April 1, but my early birds were my best winter lay ers. I find that the number of eggs placed under a hen should not be too large. I have used hens mostly for hatching, and it is my experience that I can get a great many more chicks with thirteen eggs under a hen than with more. With thirteen eggs I have sometimes had every egg hatch, while with fifteen or sixteen I would get only seven or eight chicks. Where there are so many eggs, some of them are not properly covered and they get changed about and in that way half the eggs will be spoiled. I keep my sitting hens in a room away from the others. Each one ba3 her nest and number, and is confined on the nest, but is taken off, fed, wa tered and allowed a dust bath every day. It is best to have the room not very light, but well aired and dry.— G. E. Thomas, Kandiyohi Co., Minn. Turkeys in Winter. Turkeys do best housed in a shed partly open to the south. Board down from the roof to four feet of the ground and one foot up from ground, covering remaining three feet with netting to keep turkeys in during very severe and very stormy weather. Place perches high with ladder for them to go up on. In open country they get frosted in open trees and on top of buildings, and warmish wet weather, followed by cold snap, in jures them. Close confinement and close houses for them to rooBt in often causes roup and other diseases of that character. Feed should be given them in their shed only. They will get considerable outside. The Protected Feeder, placed about fifteen to eighteen inches high, is the best device for feeding them in. A gallon bucket hung fifteen inches high is all right for water. They require but little attention after they get able to fly. Before that time they must be protected from rats, minks, etc. We have lost very few. a few by minks while young, and a few by thieves after they were grown. Roomy, well ventilated mink-proof coops are best protection against former, and well directed No. 10 shot against latter_ Fred Grundy, Christian Co., 111., in Farmers’ Review. Mating Birds. In the mating of birds care most be taken that the fowls employed in making up the breeding pens are of & character adapted to the work they are supposed to do. If a man Is mat ing his birds for the production of show birds it will be a mistake for him to select good layers on the pre sumption that good layers and good form go together. A high-scoring bird is more than likely to be a poor bird, provided that she is old, as the act of egg-producing puts the body out of shape for the shows. Breeders find that the best looking birds are sometimes the poorest layers, and that If they are to select birds for breeding up a strain of egg producers it Is necessary to take birds that are not good producers of eggs. The man that Is trying to build up a large flock of egg producers will have to select for breeding birds those that have shown themselves great producers of eggs. Vet we know that many that are trying to get strains of birds that will be more than ordinary producers of eggs are depending on the score card for their results. Cement Floors in Poultry Houses. Cement floors have not been very popular with poultry raisers Stone and cement are very good transmit ters of heat, and in the winter the cement floor very quickly takes on the temperature of the ground below it. The great thing to be said about the cement floor is that it is clean. If built it should be laid upon cinders or some other material that will pre vent the temperature of the earth be ing transmitted to the cement. In any case it should be covered with cut straw in winter. The Bone of the Horse. Few realize the great difference in the quality of the bones of horses. The bones in the legs of some horses are compact, almost like steel. The bones in the legs of other horses are very porous and can sustain a great weight, but are not able to stand the strain that comes on the more com pact bone. The Arabian horses are noted for the strength of bone found in their legs. Those bones seem in some cases to be almost as hard as steel. They enable the Arabian horse to cover vast stretches of territory in a short time. Every leap is a great strain on the bones of the ankles and feet, especially when the horse has a rider on his back and is clearing ob stacles at every bound. The horse built for speed must have the compact steel-like bone found in the Arabian, as that kind of a bone gives great strength with little weight. This ac counts for the speed of the Arabian. The manure in the horse stable Is sometimes very injurious to the horses’ feet, when it is left for days at a time. In most of our markets the demand for cherries is not supplied.
