BY I
JOHN BEECKEMQBGE ELLIS
ILLUSTRATION S BY'
o-erwin-mfes
✓%
SYNOPSIS.
I ran arrives nt Hamilton Gregory's
home In l.lllloburg. but Anils him absent
cmuhtctlng the elmlr al a ramp meeting.
Hhe repairs Ihltber In search of him.
laughs during the service and Is asked to*!
leave. Abbott Ashton, superintendent of
schools, escorts Kran from the tent, lie ’
tell* her Gregory Is a wealthy man.
•I eply Interested In chnrttv work, and a |
pillar of the church. Ashton becomes
greatly Interested 111 Krnn and while tak
ing leave of het. holds tier Imnd and Is
seen hy Snpphlra Clinton, sister of Koh
ert Clinton, chairman of the school hoard
Kran tells Gregory she wants a home
Will! him. brace Nolr, Gregory's private
secretary, takes a violent dislike to Kran
and advises her to go away at onee.
I'Yan hints at a twenty-year-old secret,
and Gregory In agitation asks Grace to
leave the room. Kran relates the story
of how Gregory married a young girl at
Springfield while attending college and
then deserted tier. Kran Is the child of
thal marriage. Gregory had married Ids
present wife three years before the death
of Krnn’s mother. Kran tukes a liking to
Mrs. Gregory. Gregory explains that
lYan is the daughter of a very dear friend
who is dead. Kran agrees to the story.
Mrs Gregory insists mi tier making her
home with them and takes her to her
arms. Kran declares the secretary must
go. Grace begins nagging tactics In an
effort to drive Kran from the Gregory
home. Abbott, while taking a walk alone
at midnight, finds Kran on a bridge tell
ing her fortune hy card*. She tell* Ab
bott that she Is the famous lion tamer.
Kran Nonpareil. She tired of circus life
and sought a home. Grace tells of see
ing Kran eome home aftet midnight with
a man. She guesses part of the story
and surprises tile rest from Abbott. SU"
decides to ask Bob Clinton In go to
Springfield to Investigate Kran's story.
Kran enlists Abbott In her battle against
Grace. Kran offers her services to Greg
ory ns secretary during the temporary
-ihs'-noe of Grace. The latter, hearing of
Kran's purpose, returns and interrupts a
touching seen- between father and
■laughter. Kran goes fishing with Mrs
Gregory's brother. Abbott, whose reten
tion as superintendent. Is to he decided
tti.al day. finds her sitting stone In a
buggy. He joins her and Is discovered bv
Clinton and his sister.
CHAPTER XV.—Continued.
Kran snatched up the whip, and
leaned over as if to lash the empty
shafts. She had suddenly become the
child Again. "We must drive out or
* Sure-Enough Country, now. Time to get
hack to the Make-Believe World." She
stood up, and the lap robe fell about
her like green waves from which
springs a laughing nymph.
Abbott still felt stunned. The crash
of an ideal arouses the echo—"Is
there no truth in the world?” But yes
— Fran was here, Fran the adorable
Fran," he pleaded, "don't drive out
of Sure-Enough Country. Walt long
enough for me to tell you vvha' you
are to me.”
"I know what l am to you." Fran
retorted -"Git ap!"
"But what am I to you? Don't drive
so fast - the trees are racing past, like
mad l won't leave Sure-Ertough Coun
try until I’ve told you all
You shall! No. I'll not let you take
this whip—”
*‘I will take It—let go-Kran! Bless
ed darling lYan- -" *
She gripped the whip tightly, lie
“We Must Drive Out of Sure Enough
Country, Now."
couid not loosen her hold, but he
could keep her hand In his. which was
just as well. Still, r semblance of
struggling was called for. and that is
why the sound of approaching wheels
was drowned in laughter.
‘Here we are!" Fran cried wickedly
—‘'Make-Believe World of Kvery-Vhty,
and seine of its inhabitants ,
A surrey had come down the seldom
. used road—had Miss Sapphira fol
lowed Abbott in order to discover him
with Fran? The suspicion was not
just, but his conscience seemed to
turn color —or was it his face? In fact,
Fran and Abbott were both rather red
caused, possibly, by their struggle
over the whip.
SCIENTISTS TELL OF THE SEA
Some Facts Not Generally Known,
But of In *re*t to the Man
Who Admires Nature.
Not only Is the sea the reservoir
lato which alt rivers mu. but it is the
ctstern that finally catches all the
rain that falls, not merely upon its
own surface, hut upon the surface of
the land and upon the roofs of our
houses. It has been calculated that
->acb year a layer of the entire sea
fourteen feet thick is taken up into
the clouds. This vapor is fresh, and,
if all the water could be removed in
the same way, none of It being re
turned. there would, it is figured, be
left a layer of pure salt SSO feet high
on the bed of the Atlantic. These fig
ures are based upon the assumption
that three feet of water contain one
inch *f salt, and that the average
depth of the ocean is three miles
At a depth of about S.5dfi feet the
temperature is uniform, varying hut
little between the poles and the
equator. The colder water is below
la many deep bay* the water begins
I
On the front seat of the surrey were
Miss Sapphira and Bob Clinton On
the back seat wus Simon Jefferson
whose hairy hand gripped a halter
fastened to a riderless horse; the very
horse which should have beep bet ween
the Bhafts of fhe Gregory buggy
Miss Sawihira stared at Abbott,
speechless. So this is what he had
meant by wanting the air unstrained
by window-screens. Studying, indeed!
Abbott, In his turn, stared speechless
ly at the led horse.
Bob Clinton drew rein, and grr.sped
his hav-colored mustache. Inadequate
to the situation. He glanced reproach
fully at Abbott; the young fellow must
know that his fate was to be decided
this very night.
Abbott could not take his fill of the
sight of Simon Jefferson whom he had
fancied not far away, eyes glued on
cork, hands in pockets to escape mos
quitoes. sun on back, serenely fishing.
He had supposed the horse grazing
near by, enjoying semi-freedom with
his grass. Now it seeing! far other
wise. Miss Sapphira had even had
him telephone Bob to bring her hither.
With his own hands he had dug his
pitfall.
Fran, suddenly aware of her ridicu
lous attitude, sat down and began to
laugh.
Bob Clinton inquired: "Taking a
drive. Abb?"
Miss Sapphira set her heavy foot
upon her brother’s unseemly jocular
ity. ’’Unfortunately.” said Miss Sap
phira, speaking with told civility:
"Mr. Jefferson had to come clear to I
town before he could recapture the j
horse. We were giving him a lift, and
had no idea—no idea that we should
find—should come upon— We are
sorry to intrude." Had her life de
pended on it. Miss Sapphira could not
have withheld a final touch—"Pos
sibly you were not looking for Mr. Jef
ferson to come back so soon."
“Why." answered Abbott, stej'.ping
to tlte ground, “hardly so soon." At
any rate, he felt that nothing was to
be gained by staying in the buggy. "Is
that the horse that belongs to this
buggy? Lei me hitch’it up. Mr. Simon.”
“This has been a terrible experience
for mo." growled Simon. AH the same,
he let Abbott do the work but not as
if he meant to repay him with grati
tude
"What was the matter with your
horse, anyway?” Abbott cheerfully in
quired.
Simon looked at him sourly. -Didn’t
Fran tell von that the horse got scared
at her throwing rocks at my cork,
and broke from the tree where I'd
fastened it. abd bolted for town?"
Mr. Simon.” said Fran innocently.
T don’t believe the horse was men
tioned once, while you were gone.”
"It would be interesting to know
what was." remarked Robert with
humor so dry that apparently It choked
hint; he fell to coughing huskily.
Miss Sapphira gave him a look while
he was struggling in his second par
oxysm. It healed him by suggestion.
“Turn.'’ said Miss Sapphira with be
coming gravity. Robert, still under
Die influence of her thought-wave, sol
emnly drove, her from the scene.
\\ hen the last buckle was clasped—
”1 came out here for a quiet peaceable
Ashing." said Simon. ’Tvi spent my
time hunting horses, and being afraid
something might happen to Fran "
"Mr. Ashton took care of me,” Fran
said reassuringly.
Simon cried explosively. “And who
took care of him?" He ^imbed in be
side Fran nnd begrudgingly offered Ab
bott the imaginary space of a third
occupant; but Abbott declared his
preference for strolling.
"This has been a hard day for my
heart.” Simon grumbled. as he
snatched up the whip vindictively.
The buggy rolled away,
j ’’Mine, ’oo." Abbott called after them
emphatically.
Fran looked back at him from ever
the lowered top. He saw her hand go
to her bosom, then somethin* fluttered
in the air and fell in the grassy road
He darted after it as if it were a clue!
showing the way to the princess’ cas
tle.
Perhaps it was. He pounced upon
it—It was the queen of hearts
to free re at the bottom before it does
at the surface
At that depth waves are not felt.
The force of waves Is In proportion
to their height. It is said that the
sea strikes upon certain rocks with
the force of seventeen tons for each
squarfc yard
The pressure of water increases
with the depth. One mile down this
pressure is reckoned at more than a
ton to the square inch—in other
words, more than 133 times the pres
sure of the atmosphere The depth of
the sea presents tome interesting
considerations. It. it is claimed by
one authority, the Atlantic ocean
were towered €,5M feet, it would be
reduced to half Its present width. If
; it were lowered a little more than
three miles the result would be dry
land all the way between Newfound
land and Ireland. If the Mediter
ranean were towered ««# feet, Africa
j ^ould be Joined to Italy, and three
separate seas would remain.
Wins Rich Husband,
j A pretty girt, a bit of banana peel
j a gallant young man to the rascne, and
CHAPTER XVI.
A Tamer of Lion*.
The life of a household progresses,
usually ny insensible gradations, to
ward some great event, some climax,
for the building of which each day has
furnished its grain of sand. Today.
Hamilton Gregory and Grace Notr
were In the library, with nothing to
iudicate the approach of the great mo
ment in their lives, it was Grace's
impatience to drive Fran away • ven
before Robert Clinton should bring
the secret from Springfield, that pre
cipitated matters.
"May I speak to you. Mr. Gregory?"
She rose from the typewriter, slightly
pule from sudden resolution.
Gregory never missed a movement
of his secretary, but now he lifted his
head ostensibly, to make bis observa
tion official.
"It's about Mr. Clinton." said Grace
in a low voice, feeling her way to "that
Fran.” 1
He laid down his pen with a fro»n.
Suddenly l.is missions In New York
and Chicago became dead weights.
Why Grace's "Mr. Clinton” instead of
her customary “Brother Clinton?" It
seemed to equip the school director
with formidable powers, Gregory has
tened to put him where he belonged.
"Oh! Something about Bob?" he
asked casually.
Her look was steady, her voice
humble: "Y'es.”
Her humility touched him profound
ly. Knowing how unshakable were
her resolutions, he made a desperate
attempt to divert her mind: “That is
settled. Miss Grace, and it's too late
now to alter the decision, for the
school board has already voted us a
new superintendent—he has been sent
his notification. Abbott Ashton is out
ot it. and it's all his fault. Bob was
the only one to stand up for him. but
he wasn't strong enough to hold his
friend above the wave of popular opin- ‘
ion. Don't ask me to interview Bob
for Abbott Ashton."
Grace calmly waited for this futility
to pass; then with an air suggesting.
"Now. shall we talk sensibly?" she re
sumed. "i approve the action of the
school board. It did well in dismiss
ing Professor Ashton. May I ask r.bout
Mr. Clinton? He urges me to marry
him at once."
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed.
"It is not nonsense/’ Grace calmly
responded. "He thinks I could make
him a better man. We would work
among the very poor in the Chicago
settlements; maybe it. one of your
own missions. I often wonder tf 1
couldn't do more good by personal
contact with evil, than I can here
with a person like Fran always clog
ging my efforts."
He started up "Grace! You go
away?—And—and leave me and my
work?v »
"Let Fran till raj position You
think she’s the daughter of your boy
hood friend—it would give her posi
tion and independence."
"No one can ever fill your place."
Gregory claimed, with violence His
cheeks burned. lambent frames
gleamed in his bro w a eyes The ef
fect was startlingly beautiful. At such
exalted moments, thinking no evil be
cause ceasing to think, grown all feel
ing, and it but an infinite longing, the
glow of passion refined his face, al
ways delicately sensitive. The vision
of Grace, in giving herself to another,
like a devouring fire consumed tnose
temporary supports that held him
above the shifting sands of his inner
nature.
“Grace! But Grace! You wouldn't
marry him!” *
Because site found his beauty appeal
ing to her as never before, her voice
was the colder: "Anyone's place can
be filled."
“You don't care!” he cried out des
perately. •"
j "For Mr. Clinton? Yes. I admire his
j persistence in seeking God. and his
J *ish to wotk for mankind. God comes
I easier to some than to others and f
believe 1 could help—”
Gregory, aghast at her measured
tone, interrupted: -Bhi i mean that
you don't care—don’t care for me
..^r she ***“ abruptly, men
added in an odd whisper, “for you*"
' ther* you have lhe ingredi
euta of the romance.
That’s the way it happened Us the
i case of fighteen-year-old Rita jacobs
! of 9 w est One Hundred and Twelfth
i street, the prettiest o! a bevy of pret
> ty sisters, and *Billy" Wallace, a
wealthy merchant of Salisbury. S C.
> It all happened way down in South
* S,ar°‘iaa a Utle roore than a year ago
1 Cupid, disguised as a hnngry ciUien.
r tossed the banana peel in front of Miss
; wbo visiting friends in
Salisbury. She slipped, but never felL
t The strong arm of her future husband
' KM U»«re in the nick of time.
» A few days later they left town and
s got married without telling anybody
f Now they're planning to go back to
i the Sunny South. Meanwhile, thev're
r at home at 134 West One Hundred and
-j Sixteenth street—New York Ameri
j can.
M
i Cruel and Inhuman.
“How dare you advertise that you
do painless dentistry?” 'Did I hurt
you, miss?” "Absolute torture. sou
talked for five minutes at a time when
1 I couldn't interrupt”—Puck.
' (COPYRIGHT 1912
^ EOBB5-MERRILL CO.)
"Yes, for me . . . don’t' care
liow much 1 suffer, or whether I suf
fer at all—I mean my work, if it suf
fers. If 1 lose you, Grace—’’
"Oh, you will always have Fran.”
"Fran!” he ejaculated. "So you
don't care, Grace ... it seems in
credible because I care so much.
Grace!” His accent was that of utter
despair. “How can I lose you since
you are everything? What would be
left to live for? Nobody else sympa
thizes with my aims. Who but you un
derstands? Oh, nobody will ever sym
pathize—ever care—”
"But, Mr. Gregory!” she began, con
fused. Her face had grown white.
"Grace!” he caught her hand, expect
ing it to be snatched away—the hand
he had hourly admired at its work; he
could feel its warmth, caress its shape
liness—and it did not resist. It trem
bled.
.He was afraid to press it at tirst,
lest it be wrenched free; and then, the
next moment, he was clasping It con
vulsively. For the first time in her
life. Grace did not meet his eves
“Grace!" he panted, not knowing
what he was saying, “you care, I see !
you care for me—don't you?”
"Xo," she whispered. Her lips were
dry. her eyes wide, her bosom heaving.
Boundaries hitherto unchangeable,
were suddenly submerged. Desperate
ly, as if for her life, she sought to
cling to such floating landmarks as
duty, conscience, virtue—but they were
drifting madly beyond reach.
"But yon can't love him, can you?”
Gregory asked brokenly.
Grace, with closed eyes, shook her
head—what harm could there be In
that confession?
“You won't go away, will you.
Grace?" he pleaded, drawing her
closer.
She shook her head, lips still part
ed. eyes still closed.
"Speak to me. Grace. Tell me you
will never leave me.”
Her lips trembled, then he heard a !
faint "Never!" Instantly neck and i
brow were crimsoned; her face, al- !
ways superb, became enchanting. The
dignity of the queen was lost in the
woman's greater charm
"Because you love me!" cried Greg- j
ory wildly. "I know you do, now, I ;
know you do!" His arm was about j
her. "You will never leave me be- i
cause you love me. lx>ok at me. I
Grace!"
It seemed that her eyelids were held I
down by tyrannous thumbs. She tried
to lift them, and tried again. Her
face was irradiated by the sunrise
glow of a master passion. Swiftly he
kissed her lips, and as she remained
motionless, he kissed her again and
again.
Suddenly she exclaimed blindly:
"Oh. my God!" Then she threw her
arms about him. as he drew her to his
bosom.
It was at that moment, as If Fate
herself had timed the interruption,
that Fran entered.
There was a violent movement of
mutual repulsion on the part of Hamil
ton Gregory and his secretary. Fran
stood very still, the sharpness of her
profile defined, with the keenness of
eyes and a slight grayness about the
lips that made her look oddly small
and old.
Fran was a dash of water upon
raging fire. The effect was not extin
guishment, but choking vapors Be
wildered, lost to old self-consciousness,
i it was necessary for Grace to readjust
herself not only to these two. hut to j
herself as well.
Fran turned upon her father, and
pointed toward his desk. "Stand
there!" she said, scarcely above a
whisper.
Gregory burst forth in blind wrath:
"How dare you enter the room in this
manner? You shall leave this bouse
at once, and for ever. ... I should
have driven you out long ago. Do you
! hear me? Go!"
Fran's arm was still extended.
"Stand there!" she repeated.
Quivering in Helpless tury. ue
stumbled 10 his desk, and leaned up
i oil it. His face burned; that of O.race ,
! Noir was ghastly white
"Now. you.” said Fran, her 'oice
fibrating as she faced the sectary,
"go to your typewriter!”
WpRTHY OF EMPIRE BUILDER |
Cecil Rhodes’ Magnificent Tomb Near
Spot Which Was Scene of His
toric Meeting.
After Cedi Rhodes death, on March
26, 1902, his body was taken to the
Matopos hills in South Africa and in
terred there near the spot known as
World s View. By the terms of his
will the land adjacent was set aside
as a burial place for men who had de- '
served well of South Africa.
The Rhodes tomb is near the spot
where he had his famous meeting
with the chieftains of the Matabele
tribes on August 24. 189« At that
time the Matabeles were about to go ;
to mar against the British, and
Rhodes, fuly aware of this, rode into ,
their territory, accompanied by only
two men. The risk that he took was
enormous, but the result fully justified
it. When the Matabeles heard of his
coming their chiefs sought him in his i
camp and laid their grievances before
him. He promised to do what he
could to have them righted
“Now. is it peace or war?" he
-
Grace did not move.
Fran's eyes resembled told stones
with jagged points as her steady arm
pointed: "Go! Stand where 1 tell
you to stand. Oh, I have tamed lions
before today. You needn’t look at me
so—I'm not afraid of your teeth ”
Grace’s tear was not inspired by
dread of exposure, but by the realiza
tion that she had done what she could
not have forgiven in another. But for
the supreme moment' she might never
have realized the real nature of her
feeling for her employer. She stood
appalled and humiliated, yet her spirit
rose in hot revolt because it was Fran
who had found her in Gregory’s arms.
She glared at her defiantly.
’’Yes,” said Fran somberly, “that’s
my profession. Hop-taming. I'm the
■World-Famous Fran Nonpareil.' Go
to your typewriter, Grace Noir, I say—
Go!”
Grace could not speak without fill
ing every word with concentrated
hate: “You wicked little spy. your
evil nature won’t let you see anything
but evil in the fruits of your eaves
dropping. You misjudge simply be
cause it would be impossible for you
to understand."
“I see by your face that you under
stand—pity you hadn’t waked up long
ago.” Fran looked from one to the
other with a dark face.
“I understand nothing of what you
imagine you know,” Grace said stam
meringly. “I haven't committed a
crime* Stop looking at me as if I had
—do you hear?” Her tone was pas
sionate: "I am what I have always
been—” Did she say that to reassure
herself? “What do you mean. Fran?
I command you to put your suspicions
in words. ’
“I have had them roar at me before
today," cried Fran. “What I mean is
that you’re to leave the house this
day.”
“1 shall not leave this house, unless
Mr. Gregory orders it. It would be ad
mitting that I've done wrong, and I am
what I have always been. What you
saw ... I will say this much, that
it shall never happen again. But noth
ing has happened that you think. little
impostor, with your evil mind . . .
I am what I have always been. And
I'm going to prove that you are an Im
postor in a very short time."
Fran turned to Hamilton Gregory.
“Tell her to go," she said threatening
ly. “Tell her she must Order it. You
know what I mean when I say she
must go, and she needn’t show her
“But You Can't Love Him, Can You?"
Sregory Asked Brokenly.
claws at me. I don’t go into the cage
without my whip. Tell her to go.”
He turned upon Fran, pushed td ut
ter desperation No—you shall go!”
he said between clenched teeth.
•Yes!"-exclaimed Grace. It was a
hiss of triumphant hate.
Fran lost control over herself 'Do
you think, knowing what I know, that
I’ll stand quietly by and see you dis
grace your wife as you disgraced
. . . Do you think I’ll let yon have
this Grace Noir for your . . to
be the third— Do you think I’ve come
out of your past-life to fold my hands?
1 tell you plainly that I’ll ruin you
with that secret before IH let you
have this »om»a”
<T< > BE CONTINUED >
asked, and the chiefs, as one man,
cast their spears on the ground,
signifying that they were for peace.
While riding away from the scene of
this historic meeting Rhodes is said
to hare remarked to his companions:
"It is such things that make life
worth living."
Glass ii# Japan.
It is only during a comparatively
short time that the Japanese have
glass as occidentals know it- When
the first railroads were built, passen
gers !u the coaches often put their
beads through the glass, supposing
the frames of the windows to be
pasted pictures on the glass to call
attention to the fact that a solid sub
stance was behind them. The masses
of the Japanese today do not know
the mirror as it is known in the
west. The richer people have one
mirror, indeed, bat usually the glass
used in the mirrors sold to the popu
lace is not quicksilvered, being mere
ly well polished. As tor cut glass, it
is practically unknown in the island,
and glass drinking cups are rare.—
Harper's Weekly.
FARMERS OVERSTOCK THEIR PASTURE LANDS
I_L_ ____
Cattle Being Fattened on Forage From Which Farmers Will Derive High
Prices.
<By M. rOVERDELU
Through that thief of time, pro
crastination, carelessness, and a zeal
to keep every hoof of live stock pos
sible—ninety-nine out of every one
hundred farmers overstock their pas
ture lands, and by the time the most
trying portion of the season comes
on. their stock are without sufficient
pasturage to keep them in even fair
shape, and while the detrimental ef
fect of such management is most no
ticeable on dairy cows, it is prac
tically the same with all other stock,
since it stunts them in their growth
by depriving them of proper nourish
ment for a most important part of
the season.
Another very discouraging feature
of such a course, is. live stock that
thus have been deprived of ample pas
turage during the summer season,
will be in poor condition to meet the
rigors of winter, for, once they fall
oft in flesh at this season, there is not
apt to be any more luxuriant
growth of grass spring up that year,
with the result that the animals not
only are unfit to start through the
winter, but they will consume more
high-priced grain and roughage, and
yet not regain the loss of flesh sus
tained by poor or insufficient pastur
ige at the proper season.
It is imperative, then, that the
farmer do one of two things: Dispose
of his live stock till he has only what
his pasturage will keep in prime
shape through the entire season with
out taxing it to the limit, or continue
to sow forage crops to supplement his
pasture till the latter part of July. To
those who think this too late to sow
such crops, we would state that we
have sown as late as August and
the crop not only made a good
growth for pasturage, but reached a
height that made it a most desirable
winter roughage. With proper man
agement, such as crop might be util
ized for light grazing early in the
fall: then mown for roughage, but. of
course, one must be governed in each
ease by conditions.
One of the most commendable fea
| tnres of sowing crops for late sum
mer and early fall pasturage. Is, that
! in many cases they can be grown
where some other crop has failed
earlier in the season, or the first
growth has ripened and been re
moved from the field. Where wheat
or any other small grain shows that
it will not make a first-class grain
?rop, it should be harvested just as
soon as possible—either bound or
mown and stacked for winter rough
age. The field may then be sown any
Df several crops, and will produce an
abundance of excellent grazing in a
very short time. Spots which were
| too wet or too dry at regular plant
ing-time may be utilized to a good
advantage in this manner. One can
even well afford to cut a few rows
of corn near the pasture-lot, toss It
over the fence to the stock, and sow
some sort of a catch-crop on the
! ground from which it was taken.
i Then, there Is sure to be some parts
of such pasturage left in the soil, and
this will serve as a fertilizer to off
set the double drain on the land.
As to the different sorts of crops
that may be sown for this late pas
turage, one must be partly governed
by such agencies as weather condi
tions, conservative handling of the
soil, rapidity of the crop’s growth, etc
Data will make a rapid growth and
fine pasturage, but if the lateness of
the season makes it risky to sow them
on account of early frost falling, they
should not be sown, as frost ruins
them the first time it touches them
t0 any great extent. Millet would
not develop quite as rapidly as oats,
but it is not so pervious to the dam
aging effect of frost, and for this rea
son it is liable to prove quite satis
factory in the majority of cases.
Cane and kaffir com are also excM
>nt for pasturage, but should be
sown or drilled very thick, so that
the plants will grow up in a crowd
ed condition, which causes them to
be small, tender and juicy for pas
turage. Rape will make a quick
i growth, and is excellent as pastur
age. especially for hogs, sheep and
! cattle. Wheat or rye will also make
good pasturage, but both are some
what slow of growth in the earlier
stage of their development, which is
apt to throw them too late for this
season's grazing The cost of these
seeds is also to be taken into coo
sideration, as they are higher than
most others. However, either of these
plants will form the finest of pastur
age early next spring. All of these
forage crops will reach a stage of
A New Currant.
Samples of the new currant. Red
Cross, hare been received from
Green’s Nursery company, who add:
“On our grounds at Rochester, N. T.
the Red Cross entrant is as large aa
Cherry or Fay. Its peculiar advan
tage over either of the above varieties
is that it makes twice the growths
having made from IS to 24 inches
from last fall set plants up to July 1,
The fruit is often so dense upon the
stalks as to hide the canes entirely
*rom view; jolor bright red; berries
growth that will admit of their being
used as a supplementary green feed
during the shortage In pasture, and
where this method is practiced, such
spots or fields should be chosen as
near to the regular pasture lands as
possible, so that the product may be
cut or pulled and thrown over the
fence to the animals, without haul
lng it out. This will in many cases
prove more satisfactory than any
other plan, since one can feed prac
tically the same amount every day,
and by gauging this amount accord
lng to the number of live stock he is
pasturing, the condition of the pas
ture growth, etc., this supplementary'
feed may be made to last much long
er than If the animals were given
free range of it.
UNUSUAL SUCCESS
IN RAISING PLANTS
Beefsteak Fed Occasionally to
Ferns and Palms Brings
Good Results.
‘By ALICE MAY DOUGLAS.)
A friend who has unusual success
in raising ferns and palms has given
me her secret She feeds them beef
steak occasionally. Abont every six
weeks she plants a bit of raw meat
close to the roots and it is literally
eaten up.
Some of our potted ferns were droop
ing so I hastened to try the new plant
food. A single dose of the steak
brought them back to health and their
growth since has been surprising.
Then in pure curiosity I experimented
with some outdoor ferns last summer,
and after a few weeks I dug up the
place to see how the meat and plant
were getting on together. 1 found
the decaying steak literally ciuched
by innumerable roots that had en
twined themselves about it like so
much wire. How hungry they
seemed.
It is said to be a common thing
for people living along the gulf coast
to feed oysters to their ferns and
palms. This wonld be somewhat ex
pensive for as poor inland people,
but they frequently buy a load of
shell-fish as we buy coal, simply dump
ing them in a pile in the back yard
and keeping them alive by occasional
dousing with salt water.
Watering the plants with nnsatted
beef tea has also been successfully
tried by my neighbor. Hearing these
things, "How little we know of our
house-mates, the fern family! Who
would have dreamed that they, too.
have carniverous tastes? Could they
have caught it dwelling so near our
dining tables."
Advantages of Press Drill.
During the past two years we have
frequently called attention to the ne
cessity of thoroughly compacting tin
ground for wheat—and. In fact, an.'
crop—especially when the season
promises to be dry. The last bulletin
of the Iowa experiment station cor
roborates these statements. Adjoining '
plats were seeded to winter wheat
and giTen similar treatment, except
that one was seeded with a common
drill and the other with a press
drill. Threshing returns showed that
the plat seeded with a press drill
yielded at the rate of 541* bushels per
acre, while the common drilled plat
yielded only 44 bushels. A similar
test in 1854 gave a yield of 48 bush
els for the press drill and 30 for the
common drill. The press drill com
pacts the soil over the seed, the mois
ture is retained, and a more vigorous
plant results.
Soil Renovation.
The cowpea is a wonderful reno
vator of soil, the value of which is not
yet generally recognized, even in the
south, where It has been most largely
grown and experimented with. At the
Louisiana station (bulletin 401 63 v*
rieties have been tested. For vines
and tor green manuring f&e best vs
rieties are the Unknown, Black, Clay
and Red. while the strictly bunch v*
rieties. Whippoorwill, Blue, Blackeye.
etc,, give larger returns in peas
Shade of importance.
The importance of shade for the
fowls during the hot summer months
cannot be overestimated- The best
method is to plant fruit trees in the
poultry yards, as this will furnish
ijpuif as well as shade
set in compact cluster, with long
steu* of which to pick. This is the
first variety introduced of a large
number of seedlings, the result oi
scientific crosses by the veteran hy
bridist, Jacob Moore, originator of
the Brighton grape. Diamond grape
Bartlett Beetle pear and other new
fruits” The quality is fine.
-%
Irrigation in Australia.
Australia to irrigating more thaa 2.
0®6,0®# acres of grating lands oath
artesian media
