-rs
S-Ht K. ",ai,
c -;
V)'.-
V-
BEAUTIFUL FOREVER.
Somewhere there Is a radiant land
All beautiful forever,
A world by balmy breezes fanned.
With skies unfclouded ever.
Upon that storauless ahlning shore
rills ssuslo as in days of yore.
Forever and forever.
There Time can sever dim the light
Of eyes which sparkle ever.
For golden hair, grown silver bright.
Is beautiful as ever;
"While en the brow Care can not trace
A line that Love would not efface
Forever and forever.
.Here, close at hand, before our eyes,
Uavalled by Love's endeavor,
That laad immortal round us lies.
All beautiful forever.
Seek not some distantdreamland shore,
Bat here Love murmurs o'er and o'er.
Dwell ever and forever.
Beautiful forever.
David B. Aitkin, in Once a Week.
MIRIAM.
Tie Runs cfHeatoleiiti Hall
By Manda L. Crocker.
Cottbigbt, 1888.
chapter xxv. continued.
I fancy Miriam Pcrcival Fairfax is one of
these, and so I work away with needle and
gray and black zephyr as if I made my liv
ing by my endeavors In this line, and glance
up about every tenth stitch over my glasses
to note any change in the occupant of the
deep, easy chair.
I hear another rustle of the letter, and
look up to find her doubling itoverbcr
Soger and looking at me with such a re
lieved, sweet expression that I again let the
words slip from my tongue that rise : "Love
la transforming you, Miriam, from a sad
faced, revengeful Pcrcival to a bright,
beautiful woman."
"Hush !" she said, with a smile. "Would
you not like to read Allan's letter) There is
nothing in it that you need not know, and
since you have been so faithful and thought
ful and true, why, it is your due only your
due."
She offers me the missive. I take my
chair and go over and sit down beside her,
and she lays the open letter in my lap. I
adjust my glasses better, lay aside my cro
cheting and read as Allan -Pcrcival has
written:
"Miriam, my love, the unexpected meet
ing with a friend of yours in the park at Heath
erleigh gives me an opportunity of sending you
a letter. The great burden of my life la. dear
one, whether you love me, as I desire with my
whole soal, or not. I remember of giving you
my address when I visited you at the Best.'
but you have not written to me as yet. The
love bora in the dark days of threading the val
ley ot death Is not to be put aside easily, and I
must beg of you, dearest, to say if yon have
changed your mind, or if you have by our long
separation found that you love me even a little.
"I was poor when wc parted, but I am now
in Independent circumstances, having fallen
heir to landed property In and near Tronville
from my mother's family. I tell you this, not
because I merely wish to speak of my afflu
ence, but it may be that you think I am think
ing of your wealth, though I can hardly see why
you could imagine a Percival dissembling.
"If you havo found that you can love mc, oh !
Miriam, darling, bid mo come to you. If not,
keep the locket 1 gave you at the Rest' as the
gift of only a relative. I remain yours,
"AIXAX PEKCrVAU"
"I must answer it," she said, when I had
finished. "Allan will be so disappointed if
I do not. He is noble and true, as you said,"
she goes on to say,'and I find, after such a
long separation, that I can never be happy
without him."
Then that is the problem she has been
trying to solve all these months of separa
tionwhether she could forget her anguish
(or the dead enough to be happy with the
living. She doesn't say this, but I divine it
to be the case, nevertheless. Well, she has
solved it, sitting here in the winter's sun
shine, and the rose will bloom where the
rue hath grown, for love can never forget
bis own.
"1 never have shown you his gift men
tioned in the letter," she says with a smile;
"though, of course, you caught sight of it
uring my illness. Yes, the face inside,"
she adds, with a faint flush.
Drawing the locket from her bosom, she
nclasps the chain which I had restored to
her neck while she was asleep in the first
stage ot convalescence, and touches the
.secret spring as I had done in those days of
DRAWING THE J.OCKET FROM HEB BOSOM.
uncertainty, and again Allan Percival's
face beams up to mine.
"He is very handsome there," I say,
"but I believa he is handsomer over in
England."
She smiles at the compliment, and I con
tinue. "A finer looking gentleman than
Allan Percival was when I saw him last
would be hard to find ; well-dressed, courtly
and kind."
She smiles again and slips the locket
Jbackia its resting-place with a sigh of con
sent. "I must write to him immediately,"
she says, caressing the letter, and looking
p for aa affirmative, as I suppose.
"Yes, certainly," and I bring her writing
materials, and once more step out of her
estctxiR tanctorum of thought I am confi
dent that Allan Percival will receive the
answer which he desires and I am content.
A. letter has come to me from over the
.sea; a letter with a big black seal, and I
read with swimming eyes and sinking
.heart that Peggy is dead.
Poor reggy, who wished so much to see
'"the face of her young misthress" once
saore, has left the 'shores of time without
even that boon being granted. Ancil has
gone back to Ireland to end his days, which
can not be many, among bis relations, and
Heatherleigh is desolate now of even a liv
ing sound.
Miriam reads the letter dictated by old
Ancil before he left the Hall with a strange,
far-away expression creeping into her face.
"Well, we all have to die," she says,
handing me theblack-bordered missive, and
her face takes on such a deathly pallor that
J am alarmed. She seems turning to stone,
sad there is the same old haunting look la
her eyes of a year ago.
"Miriam 1" I exclaim la alarm, having an
Impression, somehow, that 1 must call her
back from somewhere whither she was
drifting.
"Don't be alarmed," she says, drawing a
deep, painful breath and looking at me as if
I were a dosen miles away instead of so
7 many feet. "It is only sudden, so sudden
for. me," and she turns away to mae ner
stony face. There is something about her
words and manner which tells me plainly
that it is not the news of Peggy's death
alone which affects Miriam so strangely.
There is such an abandon of wordless de
spair in every action and look that I feel
my very heart stand still in terror.
"What is it, Miriam!" I ask, going to her
and taking her in my arms. She releases
herself gently and sits down in the nearest
chair with that terrible look still on her
face.
"It is nothing," she says, finally, after
a silence which seems to me ages, "nothing,
only a dream I had last night and that
letter to-day, that is alL"
"A dream!" and I drew np another chair
and sat down beside her. I must talk her
out of this. It would never do to allow the
coincidence of a bad dream and that letter
to kill her.
"Yes," she answered, In a dazed way, "a
dream." Then she paused and I said:
"Weill"
"Oh ! you wish to hear it!" she questions,
as one waking up.
"Certainly I wish to if you care to tell it;
but dreams are nothing. They never come
true."
"I had a dream once which came true,"
she says, looking at me with the horror of
a certainty of doom in her eyes. "A dream
of death just before my marriage with
Arthur, and it came true."
She shuddered and was silent. I could
not gainsay that, but I would palliate this
vision if she would let mc, I thought
"And I dreamed last night that Peggy
came into my room and that I was ilL
Bending over me until her cap ruffles
touched my face, she said: 'Miriam, at last
I have found you ! but only to bid you a
long good-bye; such as all those you love
must say before their time, just such a
good-byo as that, Miriam,' and then she
went out, shutting the door quietly, just as
Peggy would."
Miriam's eyes dilated with a horrible
dread, and she continued: "I only wish I
were not impressed with the truth of it.
But the letter coming to-day seems to tell
me that Peggy, in spirit, warned me of sor
row in store for me soon."
"Well," I say, "lean not aaert that there
is nothing in dreams, but I don't believe that
Peggy had any reference to Allan Percival
whatever. She, even in your dream, doubt
less had reference to only the past, with
which she was acquainted. She never
knew of your love for Allan, and could not
have meant him."
Miriam hears me, but she does not be
lieve as I do, for she sits with cold fingers
locked tightly together and gazes into the
future, anticipating the death of one whom
she has learned to love better than life it
self. CHAPTER XXVL
Allan Percival satin his hired apartments
at No. 22 Rue de St. Hclene, Trouvillo.
Trouville across the river, not the grand
sweep of bright beach dipping gently down
into the bay this side.
"So she has written to her solicitors con
cerning the Heatherleigh estate, and desires
tbcm to dispose of it, with the exception of
a few things in the HalL for which she will
send her cousin, Allan Percival, shortly,"
reading from a newly-arrived letter.
"Well, let me see. What is it she wants
unearthed from that cursed ruin, any
way!" and he draws forth a slip of paper
from the letter. "Ob, yes; her mother's
jewels, to be found where she concealed
them before her flight from Heatherleigh,
behind the third row of volumes on the
library shelves. 'Behind the third row at
the left-hand end I will find a secret panel;
slide it to the right hand and bring all I
find in the little recess,' " reading from the
slip. "Then there is more in that secret
cupboard than Lady Percival's jewels,
judging frori this," he said, meditatively.
"well, whatever is" there, I will get.
"What a life she has led, to bo sure, dear
girl ! But after this earth shall blossom out
a paradise for my darling," ho added, with
emotion.
Then he fell into a reverie, and slipping
the letter into his desk he sat gazing out of
the window, oblivious of every thing around
him; regardless of every thing excepting
his own speculations, if the chain of
thought traced by his busy brain had been
resolved into words, they would have read
something like the following:
"I don't wonder Miriam doesn't wantto set
foot in Heatherleigh Hall again ! What a lot
of misery has been entailed on the un
fortunate ones of the Percival house. God !
if I only had lived to thrust a sword up to
the hilt in the heart of that depraved an
cestor before he could have uttered that
malediction that has cursed the lives of my
nearest and dearest !
"Poor, dear love! and she bids me come to
her. Happy man that I am! Strange,
wasn't it, that she should come to me first
and nurse me through that terrible illness!
And I loved her passionately before she bad
been there two hours; but she thought it
an infatuation or hallucination of the sick
room. And, too, her heart was sore over
her husband's death, and she was in no
mood to listen to me.
"Well, I was a fool to imagine she might,
but I had always led such a lonely life, even
before my parents died the curse was on
them, too, and I existed in its shadow also
and after that, I was lonelier that ever be
fore. I was poor, too, then ; and there is no
knowing what she may have thought of my
importune love-making. No. I did not
consider, for the very reason that I was
madly in love with my beautiful cousin. 1
never thought of any thing else. But it
was the love of my life, as no one knew bet
ter than myself, and now, after years of
separation, I am called; and I am going to
her, my love, my life, and toe will be very
happy. But I must go to Heatherleigh
first. Armed with my letter of introduc
tion I will see her solicitors, and then go to
the Hall for her.
"1 am glad I am here to go; she must be
spared the pain, the sadness of this visit,
and I will bring the jewels and whatever
else she has hidden behind the panel. Mir
iam was crafty; cunning, wasn't she, to
think of all this in the midst of so much
else. To be sure, what a sly little love I
have!"
And he started up with a smile oa his
handsome fac? to find it nearly dark.
Below the crowd surges past, and some
where tinkles the pretty air of "Lucia."
This rollicking watering-place, Trouville,
seems to-day noisier than ever to the steady
blood of the Percival as he gazes down on
the Parisian-stamped throng.
Well, his estates had been disposed of
also, and he was going over the sea, away
fromitalL And beyond the ocean surges
they, he and Miriam, would begin life anew.
He had a little business yet with his
bankers in London, and this errand of Mir
iam's, and then, ah 1 then, away.
Locking his desk he sauntered down
stairs, humming softly to himself aa old
English sokg, white his thoughts were try
ing to locate a pretty cottage somewhere
near Bay View; or was the cottage itself
all the Bay View there wast He would
shortly know, for Miriam was there, and
he should sail in a fortnight if nothing
happened.
The solicitors haviug Miriam s financial
affairs in charge were writing to see him,
and Allan Percival had no trouble in as
suring them tnat he was no fraud.
Barring tho letters of introduction, it
would not havo been a hard task to have
convinced the gray-haired attorney that he
was a Percival, at least, for that portly eld
gentleman looked htm over critically and
then said: "Why, my fine fellow, you are
the picture of your father, Allan Percival!
I knew him when he and I were young,
and a fino gentleman he was, too. But he
married your mother against the will of
his august father, and that ended the
money business with him,in form of inherit
ance, at least. But! Jpdge your finances
"i knew msi well; so ue is dead?"
are in ship-shape," he added, shrewdly,
glancing ut Allan again.
"Your cousin is a sort of curious-minded
lady," began the solicitor in anot hers train;
"for it was some months before she al
lowed us to find her. She has a world of
animosity somewhere in her soul toward
those old ancestral balls ipr some reason."
"Most likely," answered Allan, rather
evasively.
"Well, if she has I suppose it is really no
business of ours," rejoined the barrister;
"but it's a fine old place, or was some years
ago before your aunt, Lady Percival's
death; and it looks mighty strange to me
why your cousin should choose a homo on
the other side of the water and rid herself
of Heatherleigh. But then every thing you
do not understand is strange until you find
out its mystery, and then every thing is
easily understood."
After this most logical sneech the old man
dipped his pen in his ink and wrote some
thing on a slip of paper. Handing it to Al
lan he said, jocosely: "There's your pass
word, friend of ours." Then gravely: "It
seems to me that I am with your father, my
boy; you are 60 much like what he used to
be when I knew him. So he is dead! Well!
well ! we all must die."
Then some one claimed his attention, and
he must go. After having bidden the old at
torney a friendly good-bye, Allan drifted
out and mingled with the steady-going
throng of the world's metropolis, for Lon
don isn't England no more than it is any
thing else, that is, iu make-up. From every
nation on earth almost they gather, gather,
gather and affiliate, and no one feels
abroad, either.
Allan Percival felt as much "abroad,"
perhaps, as any one in Rotten Row, for be
seemed present only in the flesh as he
threaded the motley crowd.
"Business will all be settled up to-morrow,"
he said, as he lighted a cigarette in.
the seclusion of his lodging-house, "and
then for my jewel's jewels. But let me
see," he said, fumbling in his pockets.
"Where is that slip the garrulous old fel
low gave me, and what is it, anyway? I
haven't thought of it since he gave it to me
until this blessed moment.
"By the way." continued Allan, search
ing for the paper, "he thought I was the
counterpart of my unfortunate father.
Well, I have no desire to be, only in feat
ure, for he was undeniably handsome.
Poor father!" and he sighed audibly.
"There it is now," he ejaculated, drawing
forth the long-sought-for slip from the
diary in which he had placed it for safe
keeping and had so soon forgotten. "Oh !
I must present this to the jolly old Ban
croft, and 'obtain the keys and a guide.' As
if I needed 'a guide' to explore Heather
leigh! That isn't it, however. I need a
fellow to keep an eye on me while I ex
plore. I understand it. Ah! yes. Then
the smiling old squire has the keeping of
tho Hall, eh! I remember of having heard
that he was, or would have been, a staunch
friend of my uncle, Sir Rupert's, if that
curious old curmudgeon would have stooped
to recognize his betters."
A baleful glow crept into the fine eyes,
and the cigarette was tossed into the open
grate spitefully.
"I am afraid I am not so much the child
of my mother as I havo always imagined,"
he resumed, as if in apology to his better
self, "for I feel as Miriam must have felt
when she talked to me of the Hall when I
was ilL How well I remember the flash of
her beautiful eyes as she rehearsed to me
how Sir Rupert waved her off from his
presence. Away in the cold world he sent
her in her sorrow! No wonder she even
wishes to sunder every tie binding her to
the roof that sheltered nfm"
He walked back and forth the length of
the little apartment, savagely, restlessly.
It seemed that the spirit of the Percivals
had given Allan a fresh baptism of the
rankling hate, which could carry its victims
into the detperato on short notice.
"I don't know," he ground through his
set teeth, and he shivered; "I don't know
but that the evil brooding in tho accursed
halls of our ancestors reaches out for its
victims even here, for it seems to me that
the nearer I get to Heatherleigh the more
unlike myself I become."
He paused before the diminutive mirror
over against the window and surveyed him
self for some minutes in silence. Then he
went back to the mantel and, resting his
elbow on the corner of it, tried to con
trol his hatred of the dead. The pitiful
tales of cruel, angry treatment told him by
his father as enacted toward himself by
Leon Percival, his father, rushed hotly
across his mind; and the cruelty of Sir
Rupert to bis beloved dared him to forget
them, or to remember them kindly.
The angry flush he had noticed so plainly
in the mirror surged up to his noble brow
and his soul burned for revenge. But they
were dead all of the maledictive ones and
were, perhaps, getting their dues, while he,
Allan Percival, was standing there 'giving
vent to the spirit which had dragged them
down. Ah! this would never do, his soul
whispered, warningly. No; this giving
way to the vanity of useless wrath would
never bear to be dallied with. By a power
ful effort he choked down the rising anath
ema and betook himself to assorting some
papers he had brought with him from Trou
ville. Seated at the table, arranging the coa-(
tents of a heavy leather-bouad portfolio, he
beat eagerly to his task la order to over
come the tumult within. A sigh of relief
escaped him. "I am glad," he said, with a
tremor in his voice, "that my mother was a
mild, sweet-souled woman, and that I par
take of her nature greatly, else how should
I ever come through it all with unstained
hands.
"But, after all," he continued, while his
face paled with sorrowful emotion, "after
all I am not to forget that I am a Percival!
and that if I should be able to change my
name a thousand times, the blood trou.'d
tell!"
He looked for a moment as if he would be
glad to slip from his identity, even though
he might evolve a mere slave.
"If when Leon Percival in his wrath die.
inherited my father he bad only taken from
him the arrogance, the senseless, passion
ate spirit, and the unforgiving, relentless
soul of the house, what a blessing his disin
heritance would have been! But it was only
the property and the honor of being named
as one of them that he missed, that is alL
"Oh! I am glad," he exclaimed, tri
umphantly, "that 1 haven't a farthing, no,
not a farthing of the Percival wealth!"
He looked up as he finished his exultant
sentence and caught sight of his face in the
tell-tale mirror. Then he laughed softly to
himself. "Pshaw!" said he, and the evil
feeling had ebbed out its last tidal wave,
and ho was left in possession of his sweet
mother's nature to which he so often re
ferred with fondest pride.
Three days after we leave Allan Percival
at bis lodgings in London we find him
standing in the library, the dimly-lighted,
ghostly-looking library of Heatherleigh.
He was alone; the good-natured, portly
squire was poking about the gallery on the
second floor, imagining he could read the
soul by tho countenance; and so was very
busy reveling and romancing among the
portraits. He had no idea that the hand
some, well-dressed cockney, ashechosotc
mentally dub the fellow down-stairs, was a
scion of the ancestral line he was viewing.
"No," Squire Bancroft was saying to him
self, "that's a young strip of ha barrister
the solicitors 'ave sent down 'ere to tfiij
spc:t the books hand take ba list of therri,
hi reckon, so hi won't bother 'im. Hi will
just henjoy myself hup 'ere, hand kill twe
birds with one stone by looking the pictures
hover w'ile 'e's taking 'is hinventory."
So the easy-natured squire turned the
portraits this way and that to get sufficient
light, and adjusted the heavy curtains on
their dusty brass rings to suit himself, and
persuaded his speculative soul that it was
having a holiday treat.
Down in the dim semi-twilight of "the
room of the books" stood Allan, saying in
an undertone: "To the left-hand end ot the
shelves, and the third row. Ah! now 1
have it," and after removing several vol
umes he placed his hand on the panel indi
cated in her letter.
"To the right, now," and he gave the
panel a shove in the direction named by
Miriam, aud it slid bark noiselessly, but
sending up a cloud of dust nevertheless.
"By Jove!" Allan ejaculated, stepping
back and brushing the dust from his face
and eyes, "it is worth a ransom to be
smothered in this way."
Then he listened to reassure himself that
Bancroft was not coming now at the su
preme moment to be inquisitive and vex
bim with words and looks of distrustful
questioning, perhaps.
lTO BE CONTINUED. J
PUSSY AS A WITNESS.
How
a Law-Suit Was Decided
by
Thoughtful Woman' Cat.
A valuable Newfoundland dog, named
Major, having strayed from his owner'!
house, was claimed in all good faith bt
another gentleman who recognized the doa
as his own lost Newfoundland. Argumenl
and persuasion falling, suit was brought tc
recover Major, and the case was regularly
brought into court and came to trial about
Christmas time, before a judge and a jury.
Witnesses testified that it was Major,
and that it was 'nor Major the animal
meanwhile, going freely to cither of his
claimants, seeming quite indifferent as tc
which might finally secure him. A week
was taken up with conflicting testimony,
and neither judge nor jury were the wiser,
or better prepared to render a decision.
At this point a woman living in the same
house with Major's owner declared thai
her cat could settle the question, since the
cat and Major were on terms of great
friendship, eating and playing together,
and sleeping on the same rug, while the cat
was the sworn foe of all other canines, and
had worsted many in fair fight.
Here was a solution by which all parties
to the controversy were willing to abide,
and a formal writ was accordingly issued
in the name of the people of the State, com
manding "all and singular, the owner or
owners of a certain Maltese cat to produce
the living body of the said animal before
Hon. So-and-so, a justice duly and legally
commissioned by the people of the Common
wealth aforesaid," at a given time and place
duly specified in the writ, and "thereof fail
not at their own proper periL"
At the time appointed the momentous cat
was duly produced before the honorable
court. The record does not state whether
puss was duly sworn to tell "the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
nor whether his owner was required to act
as proxy for bim in this respect.
However this may have been, he pro
ceeded to vindicate bis mistress assertions,
first with regard to his fighting qualities,
for, on the introduction of some strange an
imals of the canine species, brought by di
rection of the dignified court, he dilated his
tail to most majestic proportions, arched
his back in monumental style, and gave bat
tle to the satisfaction of the spectators if
not to that of his adversaries, clearing the
room in fine style and in an exceedingly
brief space of time. Next, Major was
brought in, whereupon Pussy's warlike
mood and demeanor were speedily changed
to demonstrations of acquaintance and good
fellowship, tho animals recognizing each
other to the satisfaction of all concerned,
and immediately terminating by this con
clusive evidence a suit which, except for
the shrewd thought of a woman, might
have dragged on interminably and led to
rancor and strife. Thomas W. Chittenden,
in St. Nicholas.
Patronize th Printer.
A sensible merchant says: "It is well
worth any shoe merchant's while to use
writing paper in sending orders or writing
business letters instead of postal cards.
And now that writing paper is so cheap,
and we have ounce instead of half-ounce
postage, I would advise that they use post
size instead of note, and good paper Instead
of poor. I would recommend every mer
chant to have his name and place of busi
ness distinctly printed at the top of each
sheet. It would prove a very great con
venience to wholesale houses in fillins;
orders and the like if the writer of a letter
would leave a margin of an inch on the left
hiid aide of tbe paper."
m
Taa v.-ells on the farm should be cleaned
out evury fall. Despite all precautions,
but few wells are free from toads. It is not
safe to wait until the water becomes af
fected before cleaning, but do it before the)
late rains come on, so as to reader the work
easier.
AGRICULTURAL HINTS.
WIND POWER.
W Mere
id Camming A
Hard Task
Made Easy.
There is no more need of turning the
crank or lifting the dasher of tho churn,
says a contributor to Farm and Home,
for the little arrangement which I illus
trate does away with this manual labor.
The cut explains itself. A balance
wheel must be arranged at one end of
an axle and a four or six-winged wheel
to catch the wind at the other. In the
center the rod must bo bent in the shapo
of the letter U. As the axle revolves
this plays the pitman up and down, and
WIMHPOWKU DEVICE.
being attached to tho dasher of tho
churn or the handle of tho crank it will
do tho work effectively.
Tho churn stands safely in tho box.
which must be of adequate size. A holo
must bo bored through tho upright, just
above the rim of tho balance wheel, and
a heavy pin kept handy to insert through
the wheel into tho holo which it fits to
hold the sails from turning when it is
necessary to look at the butter. Handles
arc provided at tho bottom of tho box
for turning it into the wind. When not
in use tho wings may Ik? taken off and
housed until needed again. Tho re
mainder of the crudo machine can bo left
out o f doors. Any boy can make one and
eo help out the work of women who have
to chum by hand.
FAST WALKERS.
A Quality the Farm Horse Should Posse.
In purchasing or hiring a plow horse
stako off a mile of road. Mount tho
liorso and sec how many minutes it will
take him to walk a mile. A horso that
will walk three miles an hour is worth
at least three times as much as a horso
that walks but two miles. The three
milo hors? not only does as much work
In two days as the two-mile horso does
in three, but ho enables the man behind
the plow to do fifty per cent, more work
in a day than ho can do behind tho two
mile horse. And the man and horso con
sume with tho slow team fifty per cent.
more rations in doing tho same work
than tho fast walker does. In twelve
months the man would do no more cart
ing and plowing with the slow horse
than he would do in eight months with
tho fast walker.
Suppose a farmer to hire a man and a
two-mile horse to do an amount of plow
ing and carting that it takes thrco
months to perform, and pays S3 a month
for the horse, S3 for his feed, and S18 for
tho man, who boards himself; $24 a
month, three months, $73. If he hires
the samo man at S18 a month and pays
$3 for horse feed and $4 for a fast
walker, he can do in two months what
the slow team would do in three. Two
months, fast team and feed and plow
man, at $25 a month, $50. Direct loss
by slow horso, 22. Besides, the work
done by the slow horso is not so well or
seasonably done the seed may be put
in the ground too late, the grass may
get ahead of the plow, and the indirect
loss by the slow team may be serious.
besides the $22 loss, as stated above.
N. O. Picayune.
THE HOT BED.
Direction for Constructing Sheald
Be
Well Located.
Please give directions for a hot bed. I
proposo to get information upon this
matter in time this year, writes a corre
spondent to the Western Rural. It is a
good plan to seek information early.
Locate tho hot bed where it will be free
from the wind. Give it protection on
tho north, if possible. A board fence is
a good protection. Build the frame of
boards, the rear a foot lower than the
front in order to give the proper start.
Construct it so that the sash will not
need to be too largo for convenient
handling. When the manure is put
into the frame have it hot and moist.
You can construct tho hot bed wholly
above ground or partly under ground.
If it is all above ground, however, and
tho bed is made very early, you must
bank up with manure on the outside to
tho top of the frame. Pack the manure
evenly in the bed. This may be done
by placing boards on top and slipping
from one to another and moving them
about as may be necessary. If you want
an early bed put in a foot and a half of
nanure and six inches of soil.
Guard against cold by placing in a
sheltered place, as we have already
directed, by banking up with manure,
and cover the beds at night with mats or
straw. Guard against heat by opening
the beds a little when the sun is warm.
A cold frame, we may say in this con
section, is the same as a hot bed except
the manure. You construct the frame
and cover with sash as you do a hot bed,
but the sun furnishes the warmth.
Tite ivy-leaved geranium likes plenty
of sun, but it is one of those plants that
appear well adapted to the many wants
of many people, and thrives in hanging
baskets and in pots under verandas, in
vases fully exposed in the open air, in
pots in windows or in window boxes, or
in the greenhouse. Give it good soil
and a fair supply of water in the growing
season aad plenty of sun, and it thus has
the best coBdjtioaa It demands, Vick's
Magazine. r
SELECTING BREEDING SWINE.
Aa Interesting- Paper Kead Before the
Americas Poland Chios Kecord Com
pany by President H. M. SIod.
The first indispensable requisite of a
good breeder is the possession of a good
constitution and inherited good health.
You know Bob Ingersoll said that if ha
had arranged things in this world ho
would have made good health catching
instead of disease. We want good health
"catching" in our hogs instead of "hog
cholera." In order to accomplish this
wo must select our breeders that are
active, hardy, vigorous and capable of
reasonable endurance. If we expect to
obtain these desirablo qualities we must
select those that have proper frame as a
foundation. The bone must be of good
quality, shape and size; hard, fine
grained and strong. Coarse, soft, spongy
bone will not answer. Nor can you ac
cept bone too small or fine.
The framework of the breeding stock
we select should be of such size and
form that all the vital organs can havo
ample and harmonious devolopmont.
Length, breadth and depth should b
considered. We can not too strongly
recommond the necessity of good, rough,
solid feet, short pasterns and good,
straight legs of only medium length. It
is hardly necessary to look at the feet
as many times as Shep advises. In
ordinary cases five or six times will 1m
enough, as we will need a little time to
examine other parts of their organiza
tion. It is equally necessary that tin
covering of the framo bo of good ma
terial. Strong tendons, well-developed
muscles and firm flesh are required.
Such animals as I have described aro
tho result of long and intelligent selec
tion through many generations, that
have had all the advantages of proper
food, excrciso and general good treat
ment. It seems to me absolutely neces
sary that the two kinds of food carbon
aceous (or fat forming) and nitrogenous
(or flesh or bono forming) should havo
bc,en used in proper proportions in order
tkat tho desired result may have been
produced. Consequently in making a
wise selection of animals for breeding
purposes only such should be chosen as
aro descended from a long line of ances
tors that havo had the advantages of a
substantial compliance with the abovo
conditions.
Wo should not only select pigs of
proper form, but they should show suf
ficient indications that they aro
growthy and will attain tho proper size.
I am not in favor of overgrown, coarse
hogs, ana uo not beuevo they are as
profitable or sell as well in the market
as those of medium bone. I am awarn
there is 'a great demand for large and
coarso pigs for breeding purposes. This
is largely due, probably, to the fact that
corn (which is not a bone producer)
forms so large a portion of their diet to
tho exclusion of food that is bone pro
ducing; consequently the bone is always
decreasing in size, hence tho demand
for pigs of largo bono to correct the evil.
The remedy for this is tho substitution
of sufficient nitrogenous food, as rye,
oats, bran, shorts, middlings, oil-meal,
grass and clover, not forgetting also an
ample supply of wood ashes, which is
one of the best bono builders and worm
destroyers, and may perhaps have a
favorable and ameliorating influence on
"swirls." Breeder's Gazette.
Take Care ot the Toola.
Whether on large or moro limited
farms it is of great importance that all
implements and machinery be kept in
good working order, and this is es
pecially necessary where two or moro
men work in conjunction. A broken
machine stops tho whole work. The
best and most durable tools should,
therefore, be selected and purchased,
and as soon as their season of uso
passes, they are to bo cleaned, polished,
oiled, or otherwise fitted for stowing
away, that they may be ready without
delay for future uso when the time
again comes round. For example,
after spring work is completed, the
plows, harrows and other pulverizing
tools should be put in the best condi
tion, and after haying and harvest tho
rakes, forks, mowers and reapers should
receive the same attention.
If the suggestions which we havo
made in tho preceding remarks are
efficiently carried out, if tho machines
and arrangements aro made to fit tho
size of the farm and the amount of farm
force employed, and if the tools, build
ings and fences are never allowed to be
come broken or defective, thero is noth
ing to prevent tho whole year's routine
of farm operations being carried on
with very little interruption, with satis
faction to the owner or occupant, and
without the annoyance and vexation at
tending the use of broken tools, delayed
work and confused operations.
Hos-IIolder.
Mr. H. L. Mendenhall, of Henry Coun
ty, Ind., sends to Farm aad Fireside an
illustrated description of a box for hold
ing hogs while ringing them. The box
is made about ten feet long, six feet
wide at one end and three feet wide at
the other, and made high enough to
prevent hogs from jumping over.
The
IIOG-HOLDEC
Harrow end is made with one
and one movable board.
stationary
which is
fastened by a single bolt at the bottom,
so that the top end will work back and
forth easily. A man standing at tho
narrow end holding the movable board
can catch the hog, just behind the ears
and jowls, as it is driven in, and hold is
firmly while it is being rung.
Cut straw as bedding for sheep keeps
the dirt out of tho wool, and affords a
dry place for the sheep at night. Tho
shed in which sheep remain at night
should be frequently cleaned in order
to avoid accumulations of droppings. As
the fall rains approach, and the weather
remains damp, sheep easily take cold,
which is accompanied with discharges
at the nostrils. Dry shelter and bed
ding will greatly assist in warding off
this difficulty. .
SB1 . BTjBll lat-nMp"IiS '
a
i
f ' ;.
:
.-.
iWw!
