I
IRENE'S
. .
By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEfAE.
CHAPTER XIII. ( Continued. )
It was : i bi'jintifnl day in Jinn * , suul th <
old city of Romo lay resting in tin
snn. its gorgc-oiis palaces and castles , it ;
glorious mint , all shining in the rays o
thrfairest sun : hat ever shines. The ul
pnlat-o sionrl outside the walls of Rom1
at some little distanre from the cit\
where ( he Tiber runs wide and clear : il
Jsalmost hidden by magnificent trees.
All l .at day , a * he traveled towani
Rome , the duke had been thinking o !
Beatrice ; he had a confused idea thai
Beatrice was wailing for him. and yet lit
repented to himself , again and again , thai
Beatrice had been dead many years.
It happened that when the carriage
Rtoppod. and the dnkc said he could wall ;
through ( he garden and reach the ho.isc
by the grand entrance , the first thing he
MTV in the beautiful walk that led to the
IJetrees \ vjithe sweeping train of a
Jong , black dress ; he saw the figure of
a woman , tall , slender and graceful as
any of ( he world-famed statuea face
FO magnificently beautiful that no man
who saw it could over forget it.et , a face
a story in it.
A figure , the curves and Jiutvs i f which
all harmony. He stood quite silent
for a few moments. Was this what his
dream meant ? was this Beatrice ? Quite
In voluntarily he uttered the name.
"Beatrice. " he cried , and the tMl" . sMte-
ly figure turned to him at once. Ah , no ,
ft was not Beatrice. With all her bounty
the young duchess had not been one-half
o fair. This was a golden-haired wonian
jwith a face like a flower. . _
"I beg your pardon , " he said ; "I I call
ed you Beatrice. "
She came towani him , and he aid to
bimself that grace itself wa * . centered in
very movement.
"It is I who should beg pardon. " she
aid in a low. clear voice ; "I am intrud
ing here. "
"Who are you ? " he asked , with perfect
courtesy , yet with the manner of one who
expects an answer.
She had heard nothing of the duke's
coining , but it was very evident to her
that he was someone who had a right to
ask the question.
" 1 am Irene Darcy , the daughter of
Eanton Darcy. the artist. " she replied.
And then the duke held out his hand.
"I must introduce myself. " be said. " 1
m the Duke of Bayard. "
Irene bowed. All the dukes in the
world would not have lessened her self-1
possession. II < admired her well-bred . '
calm.
"Your father knows I am expected , "
e said. "Ha ? he not told you ? "
She smiled , and the smile made her so '
beautiful that the duke gazed at her in
silent wonder. j
"To toll your grace the truth. " she > aid. '
"my father ami myself seldom < pcak of
anything but art. Sometimes < 5t lo-
cether Cor hours and do uot speak. My
lather is not an ordinary human being ,
pnd he never remembers to tell me any
thing , no matter how interesting U may .
be. "
j
i " 1 ( juite understand. " said the duke. 1
gently ; and Irene continued :
"Since we have lived in this beautiful
old palace , he has lutm more silent , inn re
given to dreams than ever. " j
"I remember now. " said the duke , sud
denly : "your father wrote to ask my per
mission for his daughter to accompany
him. And are you that daughter ? "
"Yes , I am my father's only child , " said
Irene. .
. The duke walked by her side down the
winding path.
"I hopehe said gallantly , "that you
bare enjoyed your visit here , and that
everyone in the place has been most at
tentive to you. " j
* 'I have been happy and well cared
for , " she replied.
If Lord Waldo , the duke's nephew , had
been there to see the lingering glance
admiration that the duke gave to the
beautiful woman he would have called
cut , "Danger. "
Irene was a little puzzled : she had nev
er been vain , and in ail her recent dis
tress the fact that she was exceedingly
beautiful had escaped her thoughts. .She
wondered at the duke's kindness and hN
evident determination to see more of her.
but she did not. as many would have
done , think that it was owing to her own
charms. '
That same afternoon the duke found
his way to the artist's quarters , and over
whelmed him with kindnes.lie would
insist that the artist and his daughter
should dine with him. Long after that
dinner party wav over , long after the < n \
bad set ami the moon had risen o\Vr ; iie ]
broad river. Irene sat watching the blue ;
night skies. I
"My vengeance , " she said ; "oh. heav- !
en , uiy vengeance , and now it seem * near
* t hand. "
CHAPTER XIV.
The moon shone as it shines only in r.n
Italian sky. and the pale , pure star . all
bright and calm , studded the heavens.
The duke had asked Irene and her fath
er to go with him to see the Coliseum by
moonlight. They had enjoyed the weird ,
beautiful scene of'their hearts'content. .
Santon Darcy was carried out of him-
pclf : he looked from the siarry skies to
the moonlit earth the grand ruin that
has no equal , and bowed his head , a.s he
paid :
"Verily , the great God is the great art
ist ; we are but shadows. "
One or two mute pictures haunted him.
and he felt that he must immortalize
them while they lived in his mind : and
the moment the carriage stopped in the
court yard where the olives grew. he.
with a half-murmured apology , hastened
to his studio.
"Shall I come with you. papa ? " asked
Irene.
But he answered hastih/ :
"No , I want to be alone. "
The fire of gecand imagination had
been lighted in his soul , and he felt that
he mnst be alone.
Then the Duke of Bayard turned to
her.
her."I
"I wonder if I dare ask a favor from
you , Miss Darcy ? " he said.
"There ran be nothing your grace would
ask that I would not do , ' ' she replied.
"It is a small favor , but it will lead to
a greater one. " he said , courteously. ' 'The
moon is so bright and the stars so clear.
Will you conip into the gardens , and lei
us sco how the water looks under the
light of the moon ? "
"I will go with pleasure , if yon wish , "
she said.
It was n grand old fountain ; many n
! handsome Roman prince had stood there
in the moonlight , and many a lovely face
had been reflected in the shining wnt-
! ers.
j "I like this butter than the Coliseum.
[ I believe. " said Irene. " 1 can breathe
! here ; there I was lost in wonder ; what a
night this is ! "
The duke was smiling to himself. U < r
face , as the light fell on it. was marvel
ous to behold it was like a beautiful
white cameo ; the duke took courage from
i its expression so thoughtful , so gentle ,
j Ihe pa.ssinu and tragedy seemed to die
from it.
I "Miss Darcy. " he began. "I told yon the
| smaller favor yon granted me would give
' me courage to ask for a greater ; may I
| do so now ? "
"Ask what yon will , " said Irene.
The stately old nobleman had a fash
ion , quite his own. of making every at
tention he paid to her seem like a favor
, that she had granted him. She was
startled from her calm when he said. In
a tone of deep emotion :
"I can ask. and you can grant no great
er favor , Miss Darcy. I I loved you
the first moment I saw yon , and 1 want
yon to be tny wife. "
i Even in the moonlight he saw how pale
her face grew , and how her lips trem
bled.
"Your wife ! " she repeated "your
wife ! "
"Yes , pardon me if 1 have spoken ab
ruptly : my most dear and honored wife.
Will you listen to me one minute. Miss
Darcy. before yon decide ? I know there
i- * a irrcat disparity between u > . I am
oldei ( ban your father. I have not the
hot-headed love of youth to offer you. I
have the deepest and most reverential af
fection , that will make you as happy , per
haps , as the most passionate love. For
heaven's sake , " he cried , earnestly , "do
not say that you are going to refuse me.
I I could not bear it : 1 did not think
that I cared so much for you think be
fore you refuse me. "
"I am very sorry " she began.
Buf he interrupted her.
"Think of the power yon would have
of the good you might do. "
He had touched the right spring at
last. The good she might do. ( he power
she would have ah. that was what she
wanted power. All at once a whole vista
seemed to open out to her : she had won
dered so much how. in their divided lives
she would ever be able u influence the
fatof Sir lluibert Estmere. Quite sud
denly a whole vista of ideas were ojencd
out to herif she were Duchess of Bay-
: < rd. holding a position second to none ,
[ iieen of ihe world of fashion , it would he
Comparatively easy she would be his su
perior then.
The duke wondered why all at onto a
> trange. luminous smile seemed to creep j
'rom her eyes to her lips , why her white
innds clinched themselves , as though
hey held .something between them. Oil.
hat she could tear from her heart the j
nemory of that dark , handsome face she
utd loved with such passionate love. She
timed to the duke , the expression of her
'ace quite changed.
"Will you try to think favorably ? * ' he
isked.
"Yes. I think I may promise that , " she
inswered.
lie kissed the white hand that lay on
he marble tone of the fountain.
"You make me very happy. " he said ,
limply.
After that it was impossible to talk ef
nore commonplace matters. Irene shud-
lered as if she wore cold , and the duke ,
vitri his usual politeness , immediately of-
'ered to go indoors.
Irene went at once to her father's room.
? he opened the door and went in without
lidding.
"Papa. I know you want to be alonv. "
heaid. . "and 1 know that you will feel i
imioyed with me. I shall disturb you. j
ind perhaps spoil your inspiration. I I
annot help it I must tell you. Some- j
him ; so wonderful has happenwl to me. i
> ai > a. the .Juke the Duke of Bayard has
isked me to marry him , " she said : and
hen. indeed , the artist did spring to his '
eet. and gave one cry of unutterable '
surprise.
"The duke has asked you to marry him.
rone ? I can hardly believe it. "
"It is perfectly true , papa. " she said.
"What answer have you given him.
> one ? "
"None at all , papa. I have told him
hat I will think it over : and so I will , i
) h. father. " she cried , with passionate !
: ears ; "is it really true that I am no *
, vife ? " i
"My dear child. " he said , sadly , "you |
uiow that there i < no n-'e in uoing over i
hat most miserable story again you j
enow it. "
"What answer shall I make him ? " she
isked : "shall 1ay 'Yes * or 'No' ? "
"You must say just what your heart
lirtite < . Irene. " he replied.
"My heart. " cried the girl , scornfully ;
'what a mockery of words my heart. It
s broken. Oh. heaven. " she continued ,
.vith a cry : "I would give all wealth.
Tornine. title , honors , all my heart's core
: > von. for one true word from the man I
loved. "
"There is one thing certain. Irene. " said
: hc artist : "if you marry the duke you
mist tell him your s'tory first. "
CFIAFTER XV.
The following morning Irenp sent a
note to'the duke by one of the attend-
mts. sa\5ug that before she gave a de-
ided answer to his question she wotilfl
ike an hour's conversation with him.
rhe duke sent a most rapturous reply ,
giving that he thanked her a thousand
times. She found him impatiently pac
ing up and down the velvet greensward ,
where fountains played and the tame
loves came to drink the pure water. He
went to meet her , his face beaming with
Jelight.
How she managed to tell him her sad
story she could uot afterward say. but tell
lim she did without hiding anything ex
cept the name of the man who had de
ceived her. He listened . to her with
.hocked attention and then followed si-
lence. every moment of which seemed lik <
an hour to Irene.
He was the first to speak , and sh <
hardly knew whether his words were i
burden or a relief , a pain or a pleasure
"My dearest Irene. " he said. "I hav <
listened < to your story ; need I say that 1
believe every word , and that I most hon
estly believe I express the opinion thai
everyone in this world would give whei :
I say that you are as innocent as whet
yon were a child at your father's knee. "
In surprise at the words , which she had
not quite expected , she raised his hand
to her lips and kissed it. That kiss sealed
her fate and his : for after it the duke
could no more have given her up than he
could have flown.
' * ! love , revere and respect you a < ? much
as I did before I heard your story ; for I
do not see how bhr.ne could be attached
to you. Unwittingly , and through no
fault of your own. you have lost your
way in life : now let me help you to re
tract your steps. let my love shield you ,
let my name shelter you , let me give you
a position unassailable. As for myself ,
the coulidence you have reposed in me
will never be misplaced or abused ; your
secret will die witli me. and it will never
cross my lips. Xow. Irene , will you be
my wife ? "
She laid her hand in his as she an
swered :
"Kroni my heart I thank you for your
love.our trust , your goodness : from my
heart. I say. 'Yes. I will be your wife. ' "
He was silent for a few minutes , and
then he said :
"Before we close this subject forever ,
Irene , will you tell me the name of the
man who practiced this fraud upon you ? "
Her face paled.
"I could not do that , " she said. "I
have made my vow concerning him. and
I shall keep it ; I could uot tell yon his
name. "
A hot Hush rose to the fine old face ,
and the duke's strong , white fingers were
clinched , as he answered :
"I should like to know his name , be
cause I should like to find the raau ; and ,
having found him. I would crush his face
with my heel. Now. you know. Irene ,
why I would like to hear his name. "
"Vengeance is mine. I have sworn to
pay it. and I will. " she replied. "No
one cau do it for me. and no one shall. "
The week that die Duke of Bayard
spent at the palace was one long act of
devotion to Irene. The grand old city
was ransacked to find presents for her
the most exquisite cameos , the finest
pearls. The duke ordered velvet from
Genoa , lace from Milan , silk from Lyons ,
furs from Russia. One huge packet af
ter another arrived , until Santon Darcy
was amused , and told his daughter that
it was easy to see that she was the af
fianced of a millionaire. The duke urged
that the marriage should take place at
the British embassy at Paris ; he could
not endure that it should be in Rome ,
where he had married Beatrice , or in
England , where Lord Waldo's discon
tented face would make him wretched.
The wedding took place with all the
pomp and splendor imaginable. The only
request that Irene made was that it
should not be put in the papers , and for
this request she had her own motives ,
and the principal onewas that Sir Httl-
bert Estmere should not hear of her mar
riage , lie would know that the Duke of
Bayard was married ; . thfc marriage of
uch a mighty person must be known to
til the world : but no > one need know
ivhom be had married. The fact that he
tvas married in Pariswould naturally
ead to the conclusion that he had mar-
ied a French ladj. Soall that the Eng-
ish papers had to say about the marriage
A as thi' * that the Duke of Bayard and
lis beautiful young duchess were spend-
ug their honeymoon inParis , and that
he marriage ceremony had been solemn-
zed at the British embassy with the
greatest privacy.
Lord VValdo's anger was great , al-
hougb he was courteous enough not to
ihow it. The duke wrote himself , tell-
ng him of the event a few days before
t happened ; but the anger of Lord Hurst
jimself was as nothing compared with
he indignation of his wife. Lady Waldo
Turst was a heartless , , brilliant woman
f fashion , who had married Lord Hurst
mtirely for the reason that she should
iltimately become Duchess of Bayard ,
ihe had never made any secret of it. and
low her indignation was great. Bur ,
icting upon the adviceof her husband ,
; be decided to conceal her indignation
ind disappointment from the duke.
"Take my advice. Ada. " said Lord Wal-
lo : "instead of making the young duchess
our enemy , refusing to meet her , , or any
lonsense of that kind , make her your
rienrt. and then , should there be any pos-
ibility of learning auythiug about her ,
on will probably find it out : " and Lady
Inrst saw at once how sensible that ad-
ice was.
CHAPTER XVI.
The chief of the great ancestral homes
f England. Saxonhurst , stands unrival-
id for its magnificence and picturesque
> eanty. This September it presented a
> icture not often seen. The climatis was
ill in flower ; the gardens were a mass
f gorgeous blossom. In compliance with
he wish of the beautiful young duchess ,
here was no rejoicing over the coming
lome. She had wished it to be so , and
he duke had written to hi j agent. Mr.
> trettou , saying that he wished the time
> f his return kept secret , and that the
[ estivities given in honor of his marriage
voufd take place soon after his return.
When Irene reached the luxurious suite
> f rooms prepared for her , she sank on
> ne of the couches quite overcome. In
his magnificent room , her maid awaited
ler. and she was at length at home. It
vonld be long to tell how , slowly and by
legrees. she became accustomed to the
; plendor of her surroundings ; grand as
hey were , they seemed only fitted for
ieiSanton Darcy had not come home
vith his daughter. He preferred return-
ng to Rome , to finish the work on which
ic was engaged.
After a few days the whole country
ang with the fame of the young duchess :
ler wit. her glorious beauty , her won-
Irous grace , the silvery sweetness of her
roice. the music of her laugh all the-e
nade her the subject of conversation. Bv-
ry one hastened to call upon her , and
'veryone came away charmed , delighted
ivirh her.
The favorite roqm of the young duchess
vas her boudoir ; si gem of a room , where
irt had exhausted itself ; a room that
lad been built with an especial eye to
ight and sunshine. There , one bright
September morning , sat the duchess
ilone. On her knees rested a book. She
vas not reading ; the book had fallen
'rom her hands , and she was playing
dly with the jeweled rings on her fin-
The door opens and the duke enters thp
room. He stood in silence for one min > Ui <
while he admired the beautiful p ture ;
then he went to his wife , and b nding
over her. with all the grace of an ac
complished courtier , he kissed her
jeweled hands.
hands.To
( To be continued. )
THE MEMORY OF HER BOY.
How the Empress Eugenie Wna Af
fected by an American Poem.
An American woman , a noted reader
and elocutionist , relates a touching in
cident in which she had a part during
her stay in England. The present
queen , then Princess of Wales , g ive a
luncheon on board the royal yacht. The
elocutionist received an invitation , and
accepted. Among the royal personages
present was the sad-eyed , beautiful
Eugenie , the dethroned Empress of the
French , who still grieved for her son.
killed by the Zulus of South Africa.
"After lunch , and during the idle
hour before tea was served. " says the
elocutionist , "the princess asked me if
I would recite something. I had often
recited for her royal highness before ,
but on this occasion she wished me to
do so especially for the Empress
Eugenie.
" 1 asked the princess if she had any
choice as to what 1 should recite. She
said no. but suggested'one of the many
characteristic little American poems
she had heard me recite before. So I
decided to give 'Kentucky tyelle. '
"Most Americans know the poem ,
with its pathetic story of a thorough
bred horse which a woman gave to one
of Morgan's riders , a sixtoeu-year-old
boy whom s'he had nursed from death
to life , to carry him back to his home.
"The empress was close to me. I saw
the tears gradually gather in her great ,
sad eyes , and fall silently down her
pale cheeks. 1 had touched , ami touch
ed deeply , a chord. Her memory took
her back to Africa , where her dead boy
lay pierced to the heart by the spears
'of the savages.
"When the poem ended the empress
rose , nnrt coming up to me. folded me to
her heart , and with a voice trembling
with emotion , said : 'Hod bless you. my
child ! Vow have made me feel as 1
have never felt since my poor boy was
killed God bless you ! I shall never
forget this day ! ' Then she kissed me ,
and drawing me to a seat by her and
holding my hand in hers , she talked to
me for a long time. "
A Moorish City.
The sun never touches the ground in
Fez. except iu a few isolated spaces ,
owing to the narrow streets , the height
of houses , and the habit of stretching
trellises covered with vines across from
side to side. The consequence is that
its naturally dark-skiuued citizens , be
ing rarely exposed to the full light of
day. have complexions resembling .par
tially decomposed potato sprouts in a
rlark cellar. The so-called streets run in
straight lines the vutire length of the
town , and are all paved with round
stones the size of cocoanuts. worn
smooth by the tread of generations of
slippered feet. As these lanes are never
s\vent , and every householder throws
tils slops and. refuse out of doors , one
must pick his way with exceeding : care.
The Wed el Jubai ( "River of Pearls" *
Ilvides the city into two parts , the new
md the old. The "River of Pearls" is
tordable In every part , the resort of ev-
> ry four-footed , and two-legged beast in
he place : it receives all the drainage of j
he city , and is the general source of ,
: drinking-water supply. Detroit
B'ree Press.
A JLost Idol
The-papers say that n New York law
yer is suing a steamship company for
S2.HOO damagesfor the loss of an Egyp-
ian idol which he shipped to New York
'rom E'alermoi Times have changed i
iince the hymn-writer sang of "the !
'
lea rest idol I have known , where'er
hat idol be. " and pleaded to be re- (
ieved of it. Here's a man who wants (
lis idol back a pretty dear one at that. ,
Setter for him to be content with his j
lamages. The average collector's at-
Itude toward a good old Egyptittn god
mist be almost too worshipful to be en-
ouraged in a Christian country. Tha
lymn-wrlter's sentiment was safer.
; Weekly.
,
A Beautiful Paradox.
"Actress Lillian Russell had a birth-
lay party the other day. "
"How old Is sheV"
"That's not polite. They say a worn-
in is only as old as she looks. "
"Well ? "
"Well , if Lillian Russell were twice
IK old as she looks she wouldn't be' ' l
lalf as old as a good many women who
ire a great deal younger. " Cleveland
. lain Dealer. [
Ungrateful. '
"Your constituents have arranged to
. . . i i
rive you a serenade. |
"Well. " said the member of Congress
vho has grown irritable. "I suppose it's
he consistent and proper thing to do. ] T
Uy constituents always seemed to de-
ive a good deal of satisfaction from' '
: eeping me awake nights. " Washing-
on Star.
Handsomest Prince.
Prince Waldetnar. youngest brother of
he English queen , is said to be the' ' r
landsoraest of all the royal princes in ' '
Surope.
Japan's Foreign Trade.
Japan's foreign trade has in thirty
'
ears increased from less than ? 1 to j
learly ? 7 per capita per annum. I
Negroes in the Cities. ' |
Baltimore has now fewer than 80.000 ]
lolored inhabitants and Louisville few
T than 40,000. St. Louis has 5,000.
Courtship is a game in which a girl
> lays her heart against a man's dia-
nond.
It's a waste of time to repeat hair-
aising stories to bald-headed men. o
Treating Hot in Peaches.
The brown rot of peaches is generally
familiar to growers of this fruit , but
many are careless in ridding their or
chards of the pest , probably because
they do not appreciate the damage the
fungous growth does. The illustration
fairly shows how the mummified
peaches look when attacked with this
disease. Not only is the fruit attacked
by this disease , but the twigs are also
affected , and the growth is much more
formidable during a damp growing sea
son than a dry one.
It seems unnecessary to say that
much of the trouble from this difficulty
could be avoided : that is. the disease
might be checked , if these mummified
specimens were picked from the trees
before the buds appear in the spring.
As with most fungous disease * ' of
fruit trees , this brown rot may blarge {
ly overcome by spraying. It would oc
cupy too much space to go into the de
MtMMIKIED ! PKACHKS.
tails of this disease here and tell how
to combat it. hence the reader , if a
peach-grower , wherever located , is ad
vised to send a request to > the director
of the Georgia Experiment Station , lo
cated at Experiment Station Postottice.
Ga. If not a resident of Georgia ,
send a 2-cent stamp for the bulletin .vna
ask for Bulletin No. oO.
Repeated Trials of Crops *
Every fanner who has tried , the plan
knows that he frequently failsto get
a satisfactory crop of some graiti or
vegetable , and does not always suc
ceed in getting a stand of the crops
sown for stock. This is often , the case-
with crimson clover , and sometimes
ivith the < * ow pea and with alfalfa.
Several recent communicatio-as from
correspondents who have adopted the
suggestion offered in this column , re-
rarding alfalfa state that they tried
: he plan , but did not get a satisfac-
: ory stand , and hence would give it
ip. This is wrong , as the writer can
estify , for on several occasions he has
'ailed to get a satisfactory stand with-
foitho fail-
> ut any apparent cause -
ire except in one instance , when the
: eed was poor.
On the other hand , other sowings
mve brought good stands , and addi-
ional trials on the same land where
Hvvlous failures had been , made re-
inlted in success. If tests on small
> Iots show that certain crops can be
rrown on the farm , one ought not to be
liscouraged at a singlefailure , espe-
ially with such a crop as alfalfa ,
vhich promises so much to the Amer-
can farmer. < ]
Mil king : in AiiKtralia.
In Australia they have a novel way
if milking in sonic of the large dairies ,
vhich precludes the access of dirt and
ilth to the milk pail
vhlle milking. It is
i milking glove or
ube. Thevalve ts
n-er the teat and is
ounected w i t h a
o n g narrow tub.1
ivhieh leads to a
-overed pail. The
mtices in the lid of
he pail are just
r
a
I ;
n
c
V
arge enough to admit the tubes into
he pail and are not attached to them ,
'he plan seems to be the most feasible
if any of the devices for * he purpose of
'xcluding foreign substances from the
nllk pail. It is very important that all
leleterious substances be kept from the
nilk pail in any way that can be em-
rtoj'cd consistent with economy.
Price of Binder Twine.
Binder twine is higher this year than
'or the past twelve years , with the ex-
eption of 1898. Wholesale prices are
ibout one-third higher at the present
irne than a year ago. and there has .
lot been a time for years past when
n
wine was as scarce in the Chicago
narkpf. If the harvest should be light
> r if the growth of straw is not heavy ,
here will probably be no material ad-
rance over present prices and the sup-
ily of twine will be ample. If , how- .
ver. we should have seasonable rains
hroughout the country , resulting in a
ank growth of straw , there is likely
01
o be a twine famine , for the simple 01n
eason that there is not twine enough
n the country to bind a heavy harvest.
-Farm , Field and Fireside. tcb ;
To Destroy Potato Pi
Hand-picking of potato bugs is a tl :
low process , and"if the spot is a large in
ne many of the plants will be to 01
the ork
beetles before
jured by the
,
of th <
'finished. ' On the appearance
and spray wit *
I pests go over the plot
paris green , which destroys the *
meJiod.
! quicker than by any other
I Delay In so doing , even for a day , nmy
result In the vines being so seriously
It Impossible for
injured as to render
them to recover their vitality , tha
yield of the crop being consequently
duced to a certain extent
Utilize Waste Places.
Fence corners and waste places
be utilized for the purpose of planting
shade trees for windbreaks , or eve
fruit trees. Where these places bars
weeds or brush a
grown up with large
them up Is t
simple plan for ridding
feed animals their fodder during th
winter in these vicinities. In slough *
where ordinary crops will not thrir
willows may be planted , as these will
furuish a large amount of wood aftee
a few years. When land was worth
$5 and $10 an acre a little wast
around fence corners was of small sig
nificance , but now that land has rtse
to ? T 0 and $100 per acre one cannot
afford to give up the use of four
fivf acres of land on every quarter sec-
linn. One writer iu Iowa Homestead ,
estimates tin amount of waste land
due to fences in a State like Iowa t \
be 222,000 acres. This , it is claimed
might be made to produce protitablf
crops.
COWH ,
There is always more or less font
plaint regarding the bloating of cowi
dtr.-iug tintirst weeks after they bav
hi n turned out to pasture. Doubtless ,
a part of the trouble is dueto the an
imal , long deprived of green food , orer-
loading her stomach and at the sam
time drinking copiously of water.
Oftentimes , however , the trouble is
cither due to improper feeding or else
the animal has an attack oC indiges-
tir n. In either case the remedy Li in
flu entire change of diet , avoiding auj
food that is not of the best quality I
; ind confining the grain rations toucb
us arc of easy digestion. i ; -i
The quality of the water drunk by
Hie animal should be looked into care
fully and particularly If the water n
from a stream in the pasture. If there
s ihe slightest doubt about the quaHty
if the water , the source of. supply
should be changed.
Grain atie Uuiry Farming.
Arr important difference between
lairy farming and grain farming1 Is-
: he amount of the farm that , is sold
, vitii the product that is of the fertility
j i
> f the farm. The man who sells *
on of wheat sells in it about $7 wortli
> f fertilizing elements , and if he doei
lot buy something to replace them hls-
arm is so much poorer. Thedairy -
nan who sells a ton of butter has sold
> ut HO cents' worth of fcrtilixing ma-
erial. and if he is a good dairyman ,
e has probably added much more than
hat , or twenty times that to the value
if thp farm iu i.ebran , oil meal , cot-
OTI seed , or other food that he pur-
hised while feeding his cows for mnk-
Qg that ton of butter. It is in thi >
ray that the dairyman's farm , iscon. .
inu.iy growing more productive , and
f he iloes not make much from his ,
airy , he should from the crops that X
e can grow on his much enriched soil
-American Cultivator.
I > airy Note * .
that each cow eats her
lean.
Cows fed on rich food make rich , ma-
ure.
Better five cows on full feed than , te *
n scant rations.
Try an increase in rations before eon-
em n ing a cow.
Skill in feeding will make a vast Alt- '
rence in ihe profits. \ }
If butter is overworked It will show
n oily or greasy look.
Do not M the cream get thick sour ;
jurn when slightly : c-id.
A good separator does wonderfully
ose skimming if intelligently ban-
led.
One essential to success in dairying
a cow fitted for a special purpose.
Fall and winter calves will makf
illy as good dairy cows : is spring
lives.
Rich food will make rich milk and
t-li milk will make the most cream
id butter.
In dairying especially , economy of
ml means the fewest acres and tha.
ost cows. iii
k
One of the host
ways to
judge a-
'
w's worth is to milk her : the result
ill usually he more satisfactory
Much of the
butter made
on the farm
ses much of its value before reachiu
arket by. improper handling
If you are after a
good dairy COw it
not desirable to lay too much stress
i having a good beef animal too
There is no
complicated
work about
aking gilt-edged butter , if one will
ily follow the
right principles in the
A pound of butter can le produced so
to give a better
profit than
a quart
unlk. if
proper
management ia
ven.
A thorough wasln,1
? with a warm
: -ak solution of salsoda , followed bv a'
t water bath , will effectivelv clean
ptal milk vessels. *
I > uring the summer considerable care
list be exercised ,
as the
cream bein-
little too warm or a trifle too acid
ill injure the quality of the butter
It is often found that the animal -fv
z the most milk is not the one that
res the most butter fat. v smaller
ld of milk with a higher
per cent
butter fat may make
the cow the
ill leader of the herd.
: t is often that the color of the but
is injured to a more or less *
e.\
I
too much working. The
forcein -
ed breaks the globules
and exposes
, hard , white stearine and margarine
their centers , which is on their
ter parts when they are whole.