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A WOMAN'S QUESTION.
Os you knorr that you have asked for the
Ever made by the Hand above
,4. woman's heart and a woman's life
And a woman's wonderful love;
Do you know jou have asked for this rjrice
As a child niiht ask for a toy,
Demanding what others have dlea to win.
With the leeklcss dash ot a boy!
Tou have written my lesson of duty out,
Manlike you have questioned me;
556w stand at .the bar o.r my woman's soul
Until I shall question thee.
Tou require your mutton shall always be hot,
Tour socks and your shirts shall be whole ;
I require your heart to be true as God's stars'
And pure as heaven your soul.
Yau require a cook for your mutton and beef;
1 require a far better thing;
A seauutriss you're wanting for stockings
I look fo:- a man and a king.
A king for a beautiful realm called homo
And a man that the maker, God,
Shall look upoa as He did the first
And say, -'Itisvery good."
I am fair and young, but the rose will fade
From my soft young cheek some day;
XeVl you lov me then, 'mid the falling leaves,
As you did 'mid the bloom of May !
Is your hejrt an ocean so strong and deep
I may launch my all on its t;da i
A loving woman finds heaven or hell
On the day she is ma le a bride.
T require all things that are grand aud true,
All things that a man should be:
If vou give this all I would stake my life
To be all you demand of me.
Iyou ca::n it b this, a laundress and cook
You can hire with little to pay;
But a woman's heart and a woman's life
Arc not to be won that way.
Till: TWO nVSTIIKIKS.
HAXI MAPES DODGE.
We know not what it is, dear, this sleep so
deep and still ;
The folded hands, the awful calm, the check
so pale and chill;
The H, s that will not lift again, that we may
call and call;
Tire strange white solitude of peace that set
tles over all.
We know not what it means, dear, this des
The dread to taKe otlr ffkily way and walk in
it a?ain ;
We know not to what sphere the loved who
leave us go,
Sar why we're left to wonder still, nor why
we do not know ;
Bat this we know : our loved and lost, it ther
ein ,.uJU come this day
Hioul 1 come and ask us, '-What is life!" no
one of us could say.
life is a mystery, as deep as ever death can
be; flf-Y?.,V '
Tet, oh ! how sweet ft is to its, this life we
live and see '.
Tli fa njiit.issv.fay,- these vanquished ones
end blessed is the thought
Siya death is sweet to us. beloved, though we
may tell you naught ;
We may not tell it to the quick, this mystery
' of death;
Te may not tell us, if ye would, the mystery
The child who enters life comes not with
knowledge or intent,
So those who enter death must go as little
children sent ;
Nothing is known. But I believe that God is
And astXe is to the living, so death is to the
Why I Couldn't Sing.
BY GEO. F.
ft was a beautiful Sunday morning
ft May. The birds chirped gaily in
the treetops, bow rally leaved: the
'flowers in the garden and on the lawn
were rich with delicious perfume; and
everybody and everything seemed
blessed with a kind of heavenly sweet
ness. I ;had only recently come to the
'city in which occurred the event I am
about to descr.be, the greatest event
'f rf life. I'll tell you briefly:
fc'resii from college I had plunged
i into business with great zeal and was
succeeding finely. I lived with an
i ancle John and his excellent family,
in tee of-the most delightful suburbs
of the city.' The home was a most
?lcasant one, and so all went smooth
y enough till cousin Violet induced
me to go to church with her for the
first time ;I mean the first t:me since
-f bad been in the city! Before becom
ing so absorbed in entering business 1
'aa.il been a constant church-goer, and
went too, as all college boys do, with
a piiiTSosef;?). "While in sc hool I had
leaned some-credit as a singer and had
'na-ssed it" two years in our chapel
xho r. Knowing this, cousin VioletC a
splend d contralto by the way, deter
m ned tjiat I should sing in her choir.
We were just entering the grand old
shtrrcn that uncle's people nad long
attended, when -Violet first mentioned
the astounding fact that she haddeter-
mined to make my first appearance at
church as remarkable as possible, and
completely bew4d.ered.rae by speaking
bo the usher as follows:
"Sat ns with' the efioir, please," and
he boldly' 'stepped ahead, with a
. gt snos telling1 me to follow.
What cor'I do? In vain d'd I re-
ai ons irate by wild glances an 1 hurried
whisperings the l.ttle hoax led me
stra-gSt down the long aisle, an i r:ght
ap to the awful, majestic, sacred look
ing ckoir. I thought I should faint
aei'er before jyas I so completely taken.
ButT could onl. make the best of it,
and so with a satisfied a'r, but venge
ful look at my smiling cousin, I calmly
of k my place. ... .
I was twenty-three and in all my
roars had not met the girl' whom I
deemed worthy of any serious attest '-on
n My part. In fact 1 was called
Sceptical -as regarded the worth of the
opposite sex, regarded women as
handy creatures about the house, as a
mother, or s:ster: but the thought of
"loving" and "wedding" never entered
my mind. But it is 1 ttle we know to
day what our minds will be to-morrow. "
and it is not infrequent that these cool
headed people (1 pride myself as one
of the coolest) are the more often
changed. Yes, "wise men change
their minds most often."
In a few moments the organist be
gan, and soon the r ch, deep tones of
the great organ caused me to forget
my embarrassment. The first hymn
was announced, and the choir arose.
Although unfamiliar with the mus'c, I
sang with perfect ease, and saw that I
was really attracting attention. In all
that vast aud:ence not one disapprov
ing face did I see as I poured forth the
best bass I could command.
The minister proceeded to read from
the Holy Scriptures, while I began a
survey of his auditors. With calm in
difference 1 adm'red the intelligent
faces before me and was proud that I
could maintain my composure, before
such an assembly, and under such cir
cumstances. The good people listened
intently, devoutly trying to catch every
word as it dropped from their pastor's
lips. Everybody seemed most deeply
interested no! There was a young
lady who was not! She sat near the
center of the congregation, and Oh,
my stars! she was looking my way!
A blonde, about twenty-one I judged,
and very beautiful. My face! Was I
blushing? If so it was the first time
in my 1 fe. But she blushed; her eyes
dropped for a moment, and then
looked at me again. Oh, such eyes!
I sat spell-bound till the choir arose
to render the anthem, and. horrors! I
had to look over my neighbor's shoul
der to get the page, and then awk
wardly fumble my leaves, finding the
place uist in t me to come in on the
last str&'n of the first part.
Where was my voice! And how I
trembled! What could have been the
matter with rue? Well, the anthem
was finished, and I had certainly lost
my credit, for I did sing shamefully.
But those blue eyes in the center of
the auditorium were upon me, and I
The minister went on with his ser
mon, but for mv life I d d not know
what he was ta'king about, and fear,
I cared less.
The same with that little blue-eyed
lady she couldn't keep her eyes on
the preacher at all, and what was she
to me that I should watch her so close
ly? But there was a queer feeling in
my breast I determine! to meet that
And so I "made eyes" at her rnd
she "made eyes" at me till the last
word of the bened'etion. When we
had left the church, Violet presented
me to many of herfr'ends as we pas-ed
through the vestibule, but not one
could I have recognized two nrnutas
afterwards, so far in another direction
was my mind, I turnel upon her some
"Vi, what evil demon possessed you
to play such a game on me?"
"Why, Charley, how do you like
"You are eluding mv question, but
who is Miss Mansfield?" said I.
"She is a beautiful blue-eyed blonde
that sat near the center of the church,
and who couidn't tell for a seal skin
what was the preacher's text. Yes,
the same that completely absorbed the
attention of the new member of our
choir to da', and made him sing the
second verse of the last hymn while
neighbors were singing the third. Ah,
cousin, you did finely to-day!"
"Vi, I don't understand you. You
are talking in riddles," said I.
"Poor fellow, you are to be pitied
for your thick-headedness," said Vio
let, with twinkling eyes.
I said no more, but walke i on
thoughtfully. Desp'te my best efforts
I coul 1 not drive those delicious blue
eye-; from my mind's vision, and sonie
how 1 fe t that Providence had a hand
in th:s business, and I began to change
by views of life entirely; and yet I had
not met her.
The next day I was rushed in busi
ness as usual, but to the great amaze
ment of the clerks I gave many dis
cordant orders, more mischief caused
by blue eyes.
Hurrying across the street late in
the afternoon I was startled by cries of
Glancing up the street which led
from Parts Drive. I saw a magnificent
span of blacks dashing at break-neck
speed, the line dangling on the
ground; and something in the screams
of the occupants of the carriage nerved
me to save them, when on most occa
s ons of this kind I wouli have been
the tir.-t to clear the track, and let
folks attend to their own runaways.
Summoning all my courage I pushed
through the scampering crowd and
sprang for the bits of the runaways as
they came tearing along, caught them,
and by a most desperat" struggling, in
which 1 was dragged a long way and
severely bruished. stopped the team.
Just then the careless coachman came
panting to their charge
"Sure, sah, I beg de pah don ob yer,
boss, but de onery fools lit out double
quick down dar, while l'sgibben some
pennies to a poor beggar passm by.
sah. I do, sah, beg pahdon, sah, and
Hebben hang dat beggar."
-f course as soon as the carriage
stopped its occupants were not long in
alighting, and whom should they be
but my blue-eyed Miss Mansfield, and
her mother! Before I could speak she
rushed to me and took my hand
"Oh, Mr. Allerton, we cannot thank
you enough for this! You have saved
our lives. Pardon me, sir, but I can
not forbear an expression of my grati
tude to you, and hence take your
Then Mrs. Mansfield, a kind-looking
noble old lady, pressed my hand also,
and I coul t not but blush in trying to
excuse myselc and in ask'ng them to
regar 1 it simply as an act that any
gentleman wou'd have done.
"But. Mr. Allerton, you are hurt.
Oh, dear! Jeff assist the gentleman
into the carriage, quickly, sir. Come
That's all I heard her say. I- stum
bled and fell unconsc ous to the
ground. The struggle had greatly
fatigued me, and besides one of the
horses ha 1 truck me w.th his i.oof in
mv e.iorts to check him.
When I recovered from my stupor
many hours later, 1 found myself in a
large and elegan'; chamber in a strange
house; a physician was bending over
me, and at the foot of the couch stood
tha' glor:ous blue-eyed girlM ss Mans
field, her lovely face all earnestness.
"Oh. Mr. Allerton. you wer badly
hurt, but I hope you are feeling better.
I'm so sorry "
"Thank you, Miss Mansfield," said
I. 'l am not scriousl f hurt, am 1,
"You will soon be all right, sir. if
you keep quiet and cheerful," said the
phys c an: and then lie bade me good
day, and after holding a ser ous secret
consultation with Miss Manslield. con
cerning myself I supposed, w.thdrew.
Then the blue-eyed little lady, whom,
it appeared, had voluntarily made her
self chief nurse, bathed my forehead,
and arranged some flowers near me,
all the time quietly and earnestly
talking to me. I seemed enchanted,
and for some time did not speak, but
watch'ed her in thoughtful silence. At
length I said:
"Miss Mansfield, you have a pleasant
home, and you have been very kind to
me in caring for me durins those un
conscious hours. How strange it all
"it is you, sir, that has been kind.
We owe our lives to you. What would
papa say if he knew of our narrow es
cape! Papa is in New York now, but
will return soon. But. Oh. Mr. Aller
ton. we can never thank you "
"Pardon me, Miss Manslield," said
I, "but how came you to know my
"I saw you at church 3'esterday,
sir," she replied, blushing, "and I was
so bold as to inquire of our pastor th's
morn'ng who you were. You'll excuse
me, sir, for being so prying, but but
but how came you to speak to me so
"I also saw you at church and asked
my cousin, Violet Rowland, your
name. You'll excuse me I trust, for I
I couldn't help it. And now that 1 must
call you nurse, may 1 know your
"Yes. sir, you may call me Annie,
and I will but pardon me if 1 pre
scribe sleep to on now, and when you
And blue-eye 1 Annie floated out of
the room, an angel if nry eyes were re
sponsible. I almost felt glad of the ac
cident already, although it meant loss
to me by absence from business. But
my shock was a severe one and for
weeks 1 lay in a critical condition. In
all this time there was no one who
could possibly be so kind and so sooth
ing to me as Annie. Of course my rel
atives and friends from both far and
near came to me. But none were, so
faithful as Annie, and, in fact, I didn't
wish them to be. So long as Annie was
in the room, so long as I could look
into those dear blue eyes, just so long
was I contented and happy.
1 recovered slowly, and was finally
able to sit on the piazza a few hours
each day. Annie was alwas with me,
or near at hand when not in my pres
ence. I grew passionately fold of her,
and manv were the long happy chats
we enjoyed. Uncle John's from the
first had urged my removal home, but
Annie's papa on his arrival soon after
the accident refused to give me up un
til I should fully recover.
It was a beautiful night, and the
stars twinkled in the heavens, the half
full moon smiled over the tree-tops,
and all earth and heaven seemed
peaceful as I sat alone in a little arbor
in the Mansfield gardens. I was hum
m ng one of Schuman's Impromptus,
when the familiar and beautiful ligure
of Annie appeared. She was strolling
in the garden, and well, she strolled
as usual to this quiet spot where w-.
had for some time been wont to si'
and talk the evening away.
"Well, Mr. Allerton, you seem hap
py, and I'm glad that it is so.'
"Now, Annie, how do you know that
I am happy?" said I.
"Oh. you wouldn'tbe humming such
an air if you were not."
"Come and sit here, Annie. Do you
remember the time I first saw your
blue eyes the time I sang a hymn
while the others of the choir were ren
dering the anthem, or something like
''Yes: what of it?" said she.
"That day I was a changed man.
Never till then did I ardently admire
woman. Since then, and partly, I
suppose, through a power of e'reum
stances. I have learned to love woman.
To morrow, Annie. I return to Uncle
John's again. But, oh, what will a
home b3 to me without you. There,
there, I mean it Annie, dear blue
eyed Annie, I love you; aye, I feel that
you are all in life to me. But but,
Annie, do I love in vain?"
"No, Charles." and she thoughtfully
gave me her hand, while two great
tears stood in those happy blue eyes.
We satin silence a long time, for Cupid
is dumb as well as "blind" I believe.
At length Annie looked up and said:
"I know now why I couldn't sleep
one Sunday night, the same evening
of the dav mv dear bov couldn't sing!"
I met her merry blue eyes, and as
they looked so much sweeter, even
than ever before, I couldn't refrain
from meeting her lips Annie is mine
Good Usage as an Authority.
If a discussion arises or a bet is
made in regard to the pronunciation
of a word the usual authority consult
ed is a dictionary, and generally Web
ster's or Worcester's, but why should
they always decide? In matters of et
iquette or orthography general usage
should be the accepted authority. Ta
ken all in all, there is no guide like
good usage, and the man who is most
perfect in his choise and use of words,
as well as the details of good breeding,
is either one "to the manner born," to
whom it comes as natural always to do
and say the right thing as it does to
breathe, or one who has the good
sense to observe closely and a ready
intellegence thai enables him to grasp
qu'ckly, the true standard, and to be
out of danger of perpetuating solecisms
or social blunders. But for those who
continually make m'stakes, which they
know to be mist kas. and yet do not
take the trouble to correct them, there
is no excuse or hope.
The wages of operators in the VP am
sutta woolen mills at Fall Kiv.-r verc
advanced lately 10 per cent.
Reports from Tonquin say that 10,-
000 Christians have been massacred in
the provinces of B.endinh and Phi yu.
FOB THE OliO LOVE'S SAKE.
DDIB DAY BA1.STON.
This way, he said, is smooth and green and
Thero are no thorns to wound and bruise
Where summer reigns, and starlike blos
Bend to the wind's low call: thy path is
And mine! Alas, no downy mornings break,
Across the valley where my path hath lain.
And yet, though youth be dead and faith
I keep this token for the old love's sake.
Above the urn that holds no hidden flame
Of altar fires that long have pas ed away,
I yet may pause, and in the ashes gray
Bead with dim eye3 the old familiar name.
And if.some shadowy memory should awake,
If once again my eyes with tears grow wet,
If in my heart should spring some vain re
gret, Nay, do not scorn me for the old love's sake '.
As one who sees in old remembered nooks,
With eyes that have grown sad with cease
The same glad beauty of the long-lost
And hears again the song of summer brooks,
So if from troubled dreams I could awake
And feel thy warm, soft kisses on my face,
I think the sweetness of thy winsome
Would touch me only for the old love's
FARM, GARDES AND HOUSEHOLD.
The great essentials of a good road
ster are endurance, gameness and
speed. Without these qualities he can
never be a first-class road horse;
though, of course, if you superadd to
these qualities beauty, docility and
style, ou materially increase the val
ue of the animal. Experience, the
best of teachers, has shown us that no
horse can possess endurance, speed
and game without being well bred.
Starting, therefore, on this theory, that
no horse is fitted to get, and no mare
is fitted to bear, a colt intended for a
road horse, unless he or she be well
bred, let us inqu re what are the qual
ities most to be desired on the part of
each. A horse, to be a mover of the
right sort, must have his me.hauisni
as perfect as a chronometer watch. A
certain style is necessary to go fast
and to stay. We all know that those
horses which have gone fastest, and
been noted stayers, have been possess
ed of wonderful power across the
loins. 1 have never seen a successful
trotting horse in this country without
a powerful quarter, and I have seen
most of the famous ones. Oi course it
is necessary to perfection to have
with this powerful lever behind, a
sloping shoulder, deep chest, a good
rib and good legs; but unless you have
the powerful quarter, all these good
qual.ties are of no avail. 1 would,
then, endeavor to have both dam and
sire provided with this essential, and
and if not both, at least one of them.
Then the attempt should be to get the
sloping shoulder, blood I ke neck and
head. It is true with an upright
shoulder ahorse may be fast, but there
is not the same ease of action which is
essential for endurance, as in the slop
ing shoulder. Dr. S. H. Adams,
Vermont Hints on Breedlns.
In no country in the world is the
keeping of horses for the purpose of
pleasure as well as utility, more large
ly disseminated among persons of all
classes, than in the United States: and
the desire and ab lity both to keep
bred horses, of a high grade, is daily
gaining ground both in town and
country. Among all classes the desire
to raise valuable stock is on the in
crease. It was said in former t mes
by a farmer, concerning some miser
able, broken-w.nded, r.ng-boned aud
spavined old mare, "Oh, she vill do
to raise a colt!" But it is now well
understood that the breeder had better
shoot such a mare at once, than to un
dertake to raise a colt from her, so fat
as his own pecuniary benefit is con
cerned. If you get a colt from a poor
old worn-out mare, the foal will be
nothing but an abortion and a d's
grace. The mare should have size, symme
try and soundness, as well as beauty
and good blood. She should have a
heavy frame, and a little more
than the average length from hip to
shoulder, sloping hips and wide chest.
She should be gentle, free from vicious
habits, and free from all constitutional
diseases and deformities. Never breed
from a sulky, balky or vicious mare,
unless you wish to perpetuate the
In the choice of a stallion for breed
ing good horses, the more blood, com
patable with the size required, the
better. The pure blood and h:gh-bred
has greater quickness, strength, health
and vigor of constitution, as well as
freater courage. The blood should
e on the side of the stallion. Breed
up, not down. Never put a mare to a
stallion of inferior blood. The stallion
should also be free from vices of tem
per and disposition, as he will surelv
transmit them to his progeny. He will f
mat transmit aisease ana niattorma
tions. and therefore these should be
avoided. Joseph E. White, Rutland,
The Cause of Garget.
Garget may be due to one of several
causes, or to a comb nat on of them.
These may be divided . a: o causes oper
ating from without the ana mal ex
trins e causes - and those having w th
in the animal intrinsic causes. While
the foregoing div.sion comprehends all
cases or simple inflammation of the
udder, we may have to do with what
may be considered specibe mamit s. i. 1
e., inflammation due to infection, or
the transm ssion torn one cow to an-
other: and. again, to garget due to the !
eruptive diseases, such being the vac- j
cine of the. coir, epizoot.c eczema, i
- . .
Extrinsic causes are comprehended i
nrd r 'njuritis of various k nds, as
from k ok. m ss too g ea. draughts :
of air. t 1 t'.le t dd n:r. cuts. W'e.. I
o 'h . ih sudde i weather c'.ange-,. j
faulty n.ak aacl oo '-stojk jg. Tha I
intrinsic cau-es are those set in action
by sudden and unwise food changes,
as from a spare indoor feed to a flush
pasturage, or from a light grain feed
to a full ration of o 1 cake, etc. Tu
berculosa often manifests itself in a
severe garget, defying all remedial ef
fort. hese, together w.th the predis
position which exists in all deep m lk
ers, may be said to comprise the in
trinsic causes of garget.
The svmptoms of s mple garget are
so fani'l ar that little need be said of
them. There is every gradation from
the case with no general symptom, the
slightly increased temperature of the
udder, together with a hardly percep
tible hardening of it. as the only man
ifestation of the disease, to the case
w.th well marked general and local
symptoms, such as high fever, gener
al rigors, quickening pulse and respi
ration, loss of appetite, cessation of
rumination, together with extremely
hot and painful udder, with milk flow
stopped or continuing only as a much
changed, thin yellowish fluid, or as a
half solid and blood-tinged mass. Dr.
F. E. Rice, Hartford, Ct.
How IHnch Grass Seed Per Acre?
Prcf. Beal says some practical far
mars sow five times as much seed as
others; he doesn't know which is
right. Prof. J. W. Sanborn recom
mends six quarts to six bushels; the
poorer the farming and the more dis
honest the seed dealer, the more seed
will be required. On a rich so 1 in
fine tilth, with seed known to be of
good quality, he would use six qts. of
timothy and six pounds of clover per
acre; on a course, poor soil, with seed
thought to 1 c impure or damaged, an
unlimited quantity of seed will be re
quired: for general purposes, 12 qts.
of timothy and 10 lbs. of clover per
acre, are desirable. Ex-Commissioner
Le Due figures out that (3 lbs of t'm
othy and 8 lbs of clover will furnish
the proper number of spears of grass.
Ma or Alvord: If a mixture is de
s'red for hay, tall meadow oat grass
and clover are the best for maturing
with the orchard grass. If for pastur
age, us3 one bushel each to the acre of
orchard gl ass and Kentucky Blue, to
which sis or eight quarts of medium
red clover may well be added. Sow
half a bushel per acre of timothy in
August, with no other seed. A late
crop can be obta'ned from mixing red
top and Kentucky bluerass, a bushel
of each, and if the land is somewhat
light aud moist, alsike clover (say four
quarts) mav be added. But alsike
varies so with locality that it seems
necessary for every farmer to be gu tied
by a trial of it. Of all the clovers, the
medium red is the most satisfactory,
but on account of its early blossom ng
and drying, I would not use it w.th
any of the grasses except orchard and
tall meadow oats. Clover, like t mo
thy, is most profitable unmixed, and
may be sown on fall or spring gra n,
i) or 80 lbs to the acre. Then cut on
ly one year and turn under for corn rr
some grain crop. We succeed well in
sowing clover with oats, but prefer to
cut ot the oats and cure as hay, while
early in the milk.
Phil M. Shniger, Illinois: Nine lbs
each of clover and timothy. Prof.
William Brown, Ontario: 15 lbs of
grass seed and 8 lbs clover. Other
contributors to the Rural New Yorker
express equally varying views. The
fact is, every farmer must use h;s own
pract cal judgment in this matter,
based on h s experience w'th his own
soil, and his knowledge of its capacity,
aid of the variety of seed sown.
Thorough preparat on of the seed-bed
is a most important matter.
Stacking Corn Fooder.
Fcrm and F.resiue.
I long ridiculed the idea of stacking
corn-fodder, believ ng that the advant
age ga'neu would fa 1 to compensate
the extra labor involved. I had been
in the habit of cutt ng into 12x12
shocks, on the ground in a sharp, con
ical pde. and stack one or two others
around it, secur.ng the tops w.th twine
or stalks. When "properly put up. I
found the fodder kept well, except the
outside lay er of stalks, wh ch would,
of course be bleached. Of course there
came a storm, occas onallv, which tore
open many of the shocks and filled
the tops with snow; and I have found
no part of my larming work more' dis
agreeable than wading through mud
and slush, ankie deep, to get a shock
of fodder thus torn about, with the re
sult of having the wet snow soak my
hands and arms and crawl down mv
neck, laying the foundations for a rer
manent "catarrh: or even worse, after
the thaw had been followed by a hard
freeze, to have the stalks to tear loose
from the frozen ground in the face of
a bitt ng blast, spending time and la
bor enough upon one shock to have
handled three or four in good condi
tion. All this I bore with equanimity
for vears, as well as the still greater
vexation of occasionally beinr com
pelled, during a long continued "soft
spell." to go upon my growing wheat
with team and wagon and witness the
ruin wrought by hoot's and wheels.
Fortunately, a few years ago. I was
compelled to remove the crop from a
certain held before winter set in. I
had it bound with twine and found
the expense much lighter than I ex
pectedand then set two men to haul
ing it off and stacking it. The fodder
was laid in two courses, with the tops
inward, and the middle kept high
enough, with bundles laid lengthwise,
to give sufficient pitch to turn the wa
ter. The stack or rack, was built in
sections, each about twelve feet long,
and the whole was carefully topped
out with bundles, set quite step, and
then covesed with straw and weighted
down. In feed njr, but a single sect on
was opened at a time, thus reducing
the exposure to a minimum.
The expenseof stacking wsts found to
be much "less than was ant c.pated.
The work was. done when both ground
and fodder were dry. consequently th
grow.ng "rain was not injured by the
team. anSth fodder wasooniparative
lv esy to handle. The bundles had
been made of medium size, and were
easilv handled with a two-fined fork.
The stacking beipg doae so early, the
fodder had not been damaged by the
the weather, beyond the necessary
bleach nz that occurred before husK
in". and whe t once in the stack, onlv
th" huts were exposed. This tirst stack
was fed (,ut during an except oaally
Voftf pell, 'and every bundle came out
bng n aid frisit a joy both to feeder
a: d fed.
It would be impossible to say that
stacking w.ll pay, in a pecuniary
sense, in every case; but my experi
ence in th's and subsequent years has
been snoll thnt T cfinulil hd rpn- enrru
to be caught at the setting in of winter
Franklin county, O. F. M.
Farm and Fireside,
The great injury done to the wheat
crop of this year, 'by the drying winds
of March and April, lends a new in
terest to the que tion whether this in
jury may not be largely obv ated by
covering the grain during the winter
with a light mulch of straw or liht
manure. Th:s question is one vvell
worthy of investigation, and one which
might quite as well be settled by nhe
ordinary farmer as to be referred to
the experiment station; but it is one
which cannot be decided by a single
season's test, for the rea'on that dur
ing the majority of our winters no such
protection seems to be necessary. It
is only in exceptional seasons, like the
present, that its use seems apparent.
The following test is recorded in the
report of the Ohio Exper.ment Station
"The winter of 1882-3 was very se
vere on the wheat plant. In Decem
ber one plot of one thirty-second acre
was covered with a light coating of
straw. This seemed to protect the
plants from further injury, and the ex
periment resulted so favorably that if
was thought best to test the matter
more thoroughly the next season.
"Accordingly three plots were set
apart to be treated with straw mulch.
One plot was covered very slightly;
another was covered about twice as
heavy, and upon the third three times
as much was used as on the first.
"The yield for the uncovered wheat
was at the rate of 38.9 bushels per
acre; for that lightly covered, 45.5
bushels; for the medium covered,
32.y bushels; and under the heavy cov
ering there was a total failure, the
mulch and snow together evidently
smothering the plants. el
"The winter of 188;5-i was quite dif
ferent from the preceding one. in
stead of the ground being bare most
of the time, and the temperature ex
ceedingly variable, there was an un
usual amount of snow, and the weath
er was quite uniformly cold. Under
these conditions, the straw mulch, ex
cept where sparingly used, proved an
injury instead of a benefit."
This experiment, it will be seen, is
very defective, in that the actual quan
tity of straw used is not given, and
that in the use of such small plots the
errors arising from accidental varia
tions of so 1 are liable to be so multi
plied in reducing the results to acre
age ratios that they may wholly ob
scure the results obtained. Moreover,
the plots for experiments of th:s char
acter should always be duplicated, in
order that the errors arising from va
riations of soil may be corrected by
comparison of duplicate results.
Nevertheless, the results of the experi
ment encourage further investigation
in this line.
During the similar winter of 1874-5,
the writer spread a load of coarse ma
nure, fresh from the stable, on a por
tion of a wheat field peculiarly ex
posed to the west wind. At the liar
vest there was a very wide difference
between the yield on the mulched and
unmulehed ground, that where the
manure was spread be ng apparently
double the other. This experiment
was still more defective than the one
just quoted, and is only mentioned
here to introduce the suggestion that
a portion of the coarsest of the manure
which may have been intended for top
dressing, be left until immediately af
ter the wheat is sown, and then ap
plied as a mulch over the more ex
posed portions of the fields.
This'work mi"ht be done in Janu
ary with still greater advantage to the
wheat, if the manure could be so pre
served as to be accessible at that time.
Where the manure is kept under the
shelter there will be no trouble on this
point, the only care needed being to
prevent it from freezing in large lumps
on the field. We hope this matter will
receive more attention than it has yet
had, and that those who may have ac
quired auy experimental knowledge on
this-subject w.ll communicate it for
the- benefit of others.
Romanization in Japan.
Japan otiers perhaps the only his
torical nstance of a nation voluntari
ly abandoning its manners, customs,
belief's-and learning, within the short
space f a generation, in order to
adopt a foreign civilization, of which
it recogaizes the overwhelming su
periority. Japan has just made anoth
er great stride in progress: she has
adopted the Roman alphabet. The
old ideographic characters have been
a serious obstacle to study, ever since
their acBsipt'on to cast type. As each:
new word required new signs, and as
the number of these were enormously
inc reased by the expansion of learning
in Japan, the strain entailed upon the
student's memory became something
indescribable. An ordinary public
school student was obliged to com
mence his task by loading his memory
with at least 4.000 ideographic char
acters. But if he wished to graduate
in a higher college, be had to learn,
not 4,000. but at the least 8,000 char
acters to familiarise himself with
which required six yea?s of constant
The reform has begun not so rap
idly, perhaps, as canld be wished, butt
upon a very solid basis. A society
has been formed called the "Soc;ety of
Romanization,"' with a meniAership oA
more tihan 1,000 persons, many ot
whom are princes and government
officials, and the government warmly
supports this reform.
K Hotel Clerks in Persia.
You travel in Persia on horses don
kei s and camels. The are no rail
roads and no hotels, excepting a small
one at Teheran and $ne good one at
Casbus. In traveling one takes h's
cook aion and pwts up at TacanS
puhlio houses built lor tho. purpose and
called "chappah. hane.,'' Thev are
very dirty and fn'I of vermin, and your
servantshave to c ean, them out b:fore;
thev are inhabitable,