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About Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 13, 1901)
SEMI-WEEKLY, UNION Butab. .Inly, 1897. GAZETTE Kttab. Ueo., 1062 Consolidated Feb., 1899. CORVALLIS, BENTON COUNTY, OREGON, TUESDAY, AUGUST - 13, 1901. VOL. II. NO. 16. IpOORHOUSE TP PALACE I BY MARY J. HOLMES . I CHAPTER XXI. (Continued.) Days passed on, and at last rumors reached Ella that Henry was constant in his attendance tipou the proud Southern beadty, whose fortune was valued by hundreds of thousands. At first she re fused to believe it, but when Mary and Jenny both assured her it was true, and when she herself had ocular demonstra tion of the fact, she gave way to one long fit of weeping, and then, drying her eyes, declared that Henry Lincoln should see "that she would not die for him." Still a minute observer could easily have seen that her gayety was feigned, for she had loved Henry Lincoln as sin-' cerely as she was capable of loving, and not even George Moreland, who treated her with his old boyish familiarity, could make her for a moment forget one who now passed her coldly by, or listened pas sively while the sarcastic Kvron Hern don likeued her to a waxen image, fit only for a glass case! Toward the last of April Mrs. Mason and Mary returned to their old home in the country. On Ella's account Mrs. Campbell had decided to remain in the city during a part of the summer, and she labored hard to keep Mary also. Mary promised, however, to spend the next' winter with her aunt, who wept at parting with her more than she would probably have done had it been Ella. Mary had partially engaged to teach the school in Kice Corner, but George, as suming a kind of authority over her, de clared she should not. "I don't want your eyes to grow dim ' and your cheeks pale in that little, pent up room," said he. "Yon know I've been there and seen for myself." Mary colored, for George's manner of late had puzzled her, and Jenny had more than once whispered in her ear, "I know George loves you, for he looks at you just as William does at me, only a little more so!" Ida, too, had once mischievonsly ad dressed her as "Cousin," adding that there was no one among her acquaint ances whom she would as willingly call by that name. "When I was a little girl," said she, "they used to tease me about George, but I'd as soon think of marrying my brother. You never saw Mr. Elwood, George's classmate, for he's in Europe now. Between yon and me, I like him and " A loud call from Annt Martha prevent ed Ida from finishing, and the conversa- morning Mary was to leave, and as she stood in the parlor talking with Ida, George came in with a traveling satchel in his hand, and a shawl thrown care lessly over his arm. "Where are you going?" asked Ida. "To Springfield. I have business there," said George. "And when will you return?" continued Ida, feeling that it would be doubly lonely at home. "That depends on circumstances," said he "I shall stop at Chicopee on my way back, provided Mary is willing." Mary answered that she was always glad to see her friends, and as the car riage just then drove up, they started to gether for the depot. Mary never re membered of having had a more pleasant ride than that from Boston to Chicepee. George was a most agreeable companion, and with him at her side she seemed to discover new beautines in every ob ject which they passed, and felt rather sorry when the winding river and the blue waters of Fordunk Fond warned her that Chicopee station was near at hand. "Oh! how pleasant to be at home once more, and alone," said Mrs. Mason, but Mary did not reply. Her thoughts were elsewhere, and much as she liked being alone, the presence of a certain individ ual would not probably have marred her happiness to any great extent. But he was coming soon, and with that in antici pation she appeared cheerful and gay as usual. - Among the first to call upon them was Mrs. Perkins, who came early in the morning, bringing her knitting work and staying all day. She had taken to dress making, she said, and thought maybe she could get some new ideas from Mary's dresses, which she very coolly asked to see. With the utmost good humor Mary opened her entire wardrobe to the inspec tion of the widow. At last the day was over, and with it the visit of the widow, who had gathered enough gossiping mater rials to last her until the Monday fol lowing, when the arrival in the neighbor hood of George Moreland threw her npon a fresh theme, causing her to wonder "if 'twas Mary's beau, and if he hadn't been kinder courtin' her ever since the time he visited her school." She felt sure of it when, toward even ing, she saw them enter the school house. and nothing but the presence of a visitor prevented her from stealing across the road and listening under the - window. She would undoubtedly have been highly edified could she have heard their con versation. The interest which George had felt in Mary when a little child was greatly increased when he visited her school in liice Corner, and saw how much she was improved in her manners and appearance; and it was then that he conceived the idea of educating her, de termining to marry her if she proved all he hoped she would. He had asked her to accompany him to the school house, because it was there his resolution had been formed, and it was there he would make it known. Mary, too, had something which she wished to say to him. She would thank him for his kindness to her and her parents' memory; but the" moment she commenced talking upon the subject George stopped her, and for the first time since they were chil dren, placed his arm around her waist and, kissing her smooth, white brow. said, "Shall I tell you, Mary, how you can repay me? She did not reply, and he continued "Give me a husband's right to care for you, and I shall be repaid a thousand' fold." Until the shadows of evening fell aro'ind them they sat there, talking of the future, which George said should be all one bright dream of happiness to the young girl at his side, who from the very fullness of her joy wept as she thought how strange it was that she should be the wife of George Moreland, whom many dashing belle had tried in vain to win. The next morning George went back to Boston, promising to return in a week or two, when he should expect Mary to accompany him to Glenwood, as he wished to see Rose once more before she died. CHAPTER XXII. The windows of Bose Lincoln's cham ber were open, and the balmy air of May came in, kissing the white brow of the iick girl, and whispering to her of swell ing buds and fair young blossoms, which bis breath had wakened into life, and which she would never see. "Has Henry come?" - she asked of her father, and in. the tones of her voice there was an unusual gentleness, for just as she was dying Rose was learning to live. For a time she had seemed so indiffer ent and obstinate that Mrs; Howland had almost despaired. ". But night after night, when her daughter thought she slept, she prayed for the young girl, that she might not die nntil she had first learned the way of eternal life. And,' as if in an swer to her prayers, Rose gradually be gan to listen, and as she listened, she wept, wondering, though, why her grand mother thought her go much more wicked than anyone else. - On her return from the city Jenny had told her as gently as possible of Henry's conduct toward Ella, and of her fears that Tie was becoming more dissipated than ever. For a time Rose lay perfect ly still, and Jenny, thinking she was asleep, was about to leave the room, when her sister called her back, and bid ding her sit down by her side, said, "Tell me, Jenny, do you think Henry has any love for me? "He wonld be an unnatural brother if he had not," answered Jenny, her own heart yearning more tenderly toward her sister, whose gentle manner she could not understand. - "Then," resumed Rose, "if he loves me, he will be sorry when I am dead, and perhaps it may save him from ruin." The tears dropped slowly from her long eyelashes, while Jenny, laying her round, rosy cheek against the thin, pale face near her, .sobbed out, "You must not die aear nose. - xou must not die, ana leave us." ; - .. ,,,..-...".". -" From that time the failure was visible and rapid, and thongh letters went'.tre- quently to Henry, telling him of his sis ter's danger, he still lingered by the side of the brilliant beauty, while east morn ing Rose askedr "Will he come to-day?" and each night she wept that he was not there. - - -- Calmly and without a murmur she had heard the story of their ruin from their father, who could not let her die with out undeceiving her. Before that time she had asked to be taken back to Mount Auburn, designating the spot where she would be buried, but now she insisted up on being laid by the running brood at the foot of her grandmothers garden, and near a green, mossy bank where the spring blossoms were earliest found, ami where the flowers of autumn lingered longest. The music of the falling water; she said, would soothe her as she slept, and its cool moisture keep the grass green and fresh npon her early grave. One day, when Mrs. Lincoln was sit ting by her daughter and, as she fre quently did, ottering invectives against Monnt Holyoke, etc., Rose said, "Don't talk, so, mother. Mount Holyoke Semi nary had nothing to do witk hastening my death. I have done it myself by my own carelessness;, and then she confess ed how many times she had deceived her mother, and thoughtlessly exposed her health, even when her lungs and side were throbbing with pain. "I know you will forgive me, said she, "for most se- verely have I been punished." This, as she heard Jenny's voice in the room below, she added, "There is one other thing which I would say to you. Ere I die, yon must promise that Jenny shall marry William Bender. ' He is poor, I know, and so are we, but he has a no ble heart, and now, for my sake, mother. take back the bitter words you once spoke to Jenny, and say that she may wed him. She will soon be your only daughter, and why should you destroy her happiness. Promise me, mother, promise that she shall marry him. Mrs. Lincoln, though poor, was proud and haughty still, and the struggle in her bosom was long and severe, but love for her dying child conquered at last. Ana, motner, continued nose, may he not be sent for now? I cannot be here long, and once more I would see him and tell him that I gladly claim him as a brother." . ' A brother! How heavily those words smote upon the heart of the sick girl Henry was yet away, and though in Jen ny's letter Rose herself had once feebly traced the words, "Come, brother-f-do come, he still lingered, as if bound by a spell he could not break. And so days went by, and night succeeded night, until the bright May morning dawned, the last Rose could ever see. Slowly up the .eastern horizon came the warm spring sun, and as its red beams danced for a time npon the wall of Rose's chamber, she gazed wistfully npon it, murmuring, "It is the last the last that will ever rise for me." William Bender was there. : He had come the night before, bringing word that Henry would follow the next day. There was a gay party to which he had prom ised to attend Miss Herndon, and be deemed that a sufficient reason why he should neglect his dying sister. "If Henry does not come," said Rose, "tell him it was my last request that he turn away from the wine cup, and say that the bitterest pang I felt in dying was a fear that my only brother should fill a drunkard s grave. He cannot look upon me dead, and feel angry that I wish ed him to reform. And as he stands over my coffin, tell him to promise never again to touch the deadly poison." Here she became too much exhausted to say more, and soon after fell into a quiet sleep. When she awoke her father was sitting across the room, with his head resting upon the window sill, while her own -was pillowed upon the strong arm of George Moreland, who bent ten derly over her, and soothed her as he would a child. Quickly her fading cheek glowed, and her eye sptfrkled with some thing of its olden light; but "George- George," was all she had strength to say, and when Mary,, who had accompanied him, approached her she only knew that she was recognized by the pressure of the little blue-veined hand, which soon drop ped heavily npon the counterpane, while the eyelids- closed languidly, and . with the words, "He will not come," she again slept,-but this time twas the long, deep sleep from which she would never awak en. .'-".' " r Slowly the shades of night' fell around the cottage. Softly the kind-hearted neighbors passed up and down the nar row staircase, ministering first to the dead, and then turning aside to weep as they looked npon -the bowed man, who with his head npon the window sill, still sat jnst as he did when they told him she was dead. At his feet on a little stool was Jenny, pressing his hands, and cov ering them with the tears she for his aake tried in vain to repress. At last, when it was dark without, and lights were burning upon the table, there was a sound of some one at the gate, and fn a moment Henry .stepped across the threshold, but started and turned pale when he saw his mother in violent hysterics npon- the . lounge, . and Mary Howard bathing her head and trying to soothe-her. - Before he had time to ask question, Jenny's arms were wound around his neck, and she whispered, Rose is dead. Why were you so late? He could not answer. He had nothing to say, and mechanically following his sister he entered the room where Rose had diedr. Very beautiful had she been in life, and -now, far more beautiful -in death, she looked like a piece of sculp tured marble, as she lay there so cold and stilt, and all unconscious of the scald ing tears which fell upon her face as Henry bent over her, kissing her lips and calling npon her to awake and speak to him once more.1 ' : . ' When she thought he could bear it Jenny told him of all Rose had said; and by the side of her coffin, with his hand resting upon, her white forehead, the con science stricken young man swore that never again should ardent spirits of any' kind, pass his lips, and the father, who stood by and heard that vow, felt that ltl. it were kept, his daughter had not died. in vain. - - .. . v. The day following the burial George and Mary returned, to Chicopee, and as the next day was the one appointed for the sale of Mr. Lincoln's farm and coun try house, he also accompanied them..- Suppose you . buy .. it," said he - to George as they rode over the premises. I'd rather, you'd own it than to see it in the hands of strangers." . ' intended doing so, answered George, and when at night he was the owner of the farm, house and furniture, he generously offered it to Mr. Lincoln rent free, with the privilege of redeeming it whenever he could. This was so unexpected that Mr. Lin coln fit first could hardly find words -to- express his thanks, but when he did he accepted the offer, saying, however, that he could pay the rent, and adding that toe hoped two or three years of hard labor in California, whither he intended going, would enable him to purchase; it back. On - his return to Glenwood he asked William, who was still there, ''how he would like" to turn farmer for awhile. 'Oh, that'll be nice," said Jenny, whose love for the country was as strong as ever. - "And then, Willie, when pa comes back we'll go to Boston again and prac tice law, you and I! - Jenny looked up in surprise while wii- Jiam asked what he meant. : Briefly then Mr. Lincoln told of George's generosity and stating his own intentions of going to California, said" that in his absence somebody must look after the farm, and he knew of so one. whom he would as soon trust as William. ... William pressed the little fat hand which had slid into his, and replied that. much as he would like to oblige Mr. Lin coln, he could not willingly abandon his profession in which he was succeeding even beyond his most sanguine hopes. "But," said he, "I think I can find a good substitute in Mr, Parker, who is anxious to leave the poorhouse. He is an honest, thorough-going man, and his wife, who is an excellent housekeeper, will relieve Mrs. Lincoln entirely from care. : "Mercy!" exclaimed the last-mentioned lady, "I could never endure that vulgar creature round me. First I'd know she'd want to be eating at the same table, and I couldn't survive that." Mr. Lincoln looked sad. Jenny -smiled, and. William -replied that he presumed Mrs. Parker herself would greatly prefer taking, her meals quietly with her hus band in the kitchen. . - ; 'We can at least try it," said Mr. Lin coln in a manner so decided that his wife ventured no further remonstrance, though she cried and fretted all the time, seem ingly lamenting their fallen fortune more than the vacancy which death had so re cently made in their midst. (To be continued.) , " Proof Positive. - Briggs -Bertler Is an ass, that's what he Is. He is always on the wrong side of every question. uarieign But . he says the sumo thing of. you. - Briggs-Well, and doesn't that prove what I Bay of him? Boston Transcript. .' An Il-Kxnre;e.l Idea. "How much is that employe short?" Inquired the commercial acquaintance. "Short!"' echoed the bank director. "We re the ones who are short He is away ahead of the game." Washing ton Star. Not Her Way. "I suppose that woman orator spoke her mind freely on the subject?" "Not much. She "demanded half of her $50 in advance before she went on the platform." Philadelphia Bulletin, - Goot ai He Penh Mr. Smart Well, you know vou fish ed for me. ' Mrs. SmarU-Yes;" and what did catch? A lobster! Philadelphia Bulle tin. TOW fOLKS v - Neighbor? . -Jacky and Janie live side by-side; They're neighbors close n a cozy way. And oh, what pleasure tbiy have indoors Or out In the street at playl ' . Ah, deary me! If they'd always agree, What fun they could har in their play! For Jacky and Janie keep "house" and "school," - ; ',- . And sometimes they set tip a store and trade; - . ;:- j But once in a while things don't go right, And they quarrel then, I'm afraid. Yes, deary me! -These two disagree And quarrel at times, I m afraid. .. : '" - .' ". ' i Then they . play apart for the morning . . through,-- . 5 " And never a neighbor's. word they say; But they don't seem hapy I wondej . . wny : . . - And it isn't a pleasant day. " " . Ah, deary me! Why can't they agree. Aiid make it a pleasant day? , But after luncheon they sidle out. And Janie, perhaps, has piece of cake, " - And she stands close up to the -garden fence. - . -- ; - . So Jacky a bite can take. . 7'". For, deary me! - They soon wonld" agree tTf Jacky a bite would take! ; She holds it ont with a sidelong glance, And Jacky moves up and takes a bite. And then the trouble is past and gone They will play together till night. Yes, deary me! They now can agree, And they 11 play together dill night!" Youth's Companion. ' J The Shadow Dance, - . Money Earning for Little Fo'ks, It may be a help to. those who are teaching little people to earn and save an Important lesson to read the fol lowing list of ways In which children have earned money, as compiled by the Congregationallst : . Washing windows. Picking apples and other fruits. . Raking up leaves. ; " Doing errands. Picking over raisins. Weeding in the garden and the paths, Picking up pins at a cent a dozen. Raising vegetables. . Caring for animals. Washing and wiping dishes. ' Ironing. . : . Singing for the old folks. Hemming papa's handkerchiefs -. Dusting. ' Beating rugs and mats. Stoning cherries. . Making and selling paper pillows. Gathering and selling wild flowers. autumn leaves, etc. . . Mending. " , ; J - : Caring for the baby. Hemming towels, etc. Waiting on grandpa and grandma, Reading aloud. Caring for the table silver. - Making and selling lamp-lighters and iron-holders. Self-denial of candy, sugar, butter, etc. - How Paper Will Float. i I fancy that if questioned most people would say that a sheet of paper would not float for any length of time on water, and certainly would not bear any weight. But experiment proves the contrary. Indeed, the number of things that can be done with floating paper will not only surprise old people, but will furnish amusement for children. A sheet of ordinary writing-paper, if pro perly adjusted, will float for an ap parently Indefinite period. :. Four half- sheets - which I floated by way of test were as dry on the upper surface after having been on the water for ten days as when I first placed them on the liquid. ! Bat what surprised most of all was to learn the weight these floating pa pers can carry. One day while I was experimenting with them I rather care lessly placed a large wooden spool on one of the half-sheets, expecting, of course, to see the paper go to the bot tom immediately. This did not happen. however, andniy aroused curiosity prompted me to add greater weight. Recklessly I laid my four-bladed pen knife on top of the spool; to my aston ishment the paper still remained float ing; and even when I placed on more freight, in the shape of four one-cent pieces, It obstinately refused to-sink. Woman's Home Companion, ; v- Got the Job. A young man Who is now well up the list of high-salaried officers of a big manufacturing company said sev eral days ago that he owed his first opportunity to show his ability to the fact that he was not afraid to soil his clothes. He was one of half a dozen young men just graduated from scien tific schools who entered the shops of this company as students. - They -were expected to show that they were practical workmen, but most of them preferred theory to. practice. The manager of the company was a self-taught man, and he didn't take much stock in scientific schools. The young man who has succeeded took his measure accurately, and, put ting on old clothes, went to work In the -shops, Whether by accident or de sign he was noticed by the manager one day stretched out on his back un der a heavy casting, with "a hammer and . cold chisel in his hand working away as If he had no higher ambition. A week later the manager summoned him to the office. . ; "Didn't I see you under' the casting several days ago?" he asked. , "Yes." ' - ; ; Well, I find thaf we have a vacancy on our staff now, and you may fill it If you choose." ". " ' The young man did choose, and his progress lias been rapid. He does not have to soil hls- clothes; now to prove his ability. - ? r Tit for Tat. "Mamma," jaid 3-year-old jMaggle, I love grandpa so much that when 1 grow up I'm going tb marry him." "Why, dear," replied the astonished mother, "you can't do that He's my father." .. : "" Well, what if he Is," rejoined Mar gie, ''xou married my. ratner, aian't you?" : - 7 Proved by the Book., "What did Columbus discover?? ask ed the teacher of the Juvenile class. The Atlantic Ocean," answered the small 1boy"at the foot of the class." How do you know that?" asked the teacher. . . - Because," replied the youthful stu dent "my book says he came across - Little One Wanted to Know. 'But you know, children," said the Sunday school teacher, who had been talking of the soul's Immortality, "that when we die it is only our bodies that are burled." . - : . '' " . "Please, sir," queried a small pupil. "what do they do with" our heads?" Worse Than Whipping-. Tommy Does your mamma ever whip you? t Johnny No; but she does worse than that ' - ' - ' - Tommy What does she. do? - Johnny washes my neck every morning. . - " - ' . - ' Sacred Hash. ' Succotash was a new dish at small Bobby's house, but he evinced a decid ed fondness for It and, passing up his plate for a second portion, said: "Mam ma, please give me some more of the sacred hash." - -"... -GREAT RIVER OF SIBERIA. Floating; Down the Anlonr la the Ex perience of a Lifetime. A traveler In Siberia had the novel experience of floating down one of the greatest rivers In the world the Amour which Is practically unknown to geographers as yet "At Khabaroffsk,' he says, "though we were more than 500 miles from Its mouth, It was fully a mile and a half wide and flowed in strong, full current which. fact we real ized for many a, day thereafter as we made our slow and ' ; toilsome' way against it The Amour is one. of the; few greatest rivers of the world. In length It Is equaled by no river In Eu rope and Is surpassed only by . the Yang-tse-Kiang and Yenisei in Asia, by the Nile and Congo In Africa and by the Amazon and McKenzie In America, though if we reckon the Mississippi and Missouri as one river it Is longer than any of them except' the Nile. . Its water is somewhat muddy at Yladivos tock, but nothing like the consistency of tbe Mississippi at St. Louis. It can not be said to be 'both food and drink.' As we ascend its swift current It con stantly grows clearer, until 1,000 miles further up it is about tbe color of white wine and is sweet and wholesome to the taste. : -r. ; V "Its shores are still" In their "vTrgln greenery. For hundreds of miles at a time one sees not a cultivated field, though doubtless some such tilled land lies back from the river and out of sight , Great wood piles for the use of the frequent river steamers are the most common objects that show the hand of man, but even these are often in desperately lonely spots, so that one can scarcely believe that they were ever visited by human- beings.; And yet all this Immense river basin of . 500,000 square miles is apparently fertile and .habitable and when we saw It Is was glowing In rich and brilliant verdure. Surely the world Is not yet overpeopled while such a lordly domain Is waiting for the plow and the reaper." t-- Home-Made Milk Cooler. On every dairy farm, large or small. there should be a ome arrangement made for cooling the milk. The illus tration shows a home-made milk cool er which has been In operation on a large dairy farm for several years. The size can be varied according to clrcum stances. A shows the little box In which the ice is placed. This is hinged at the- end so .that the cover . can be thrown entirely back and not. interfere In any way with the person who- is putting In the ice. B shows the height In the box to which the water can go before It reaches the overflow pipe which goes out of the box. Into a trough, shown at C, and thence is car ried to any point desired. This over flow pipe is a piece of rubber hose. The larger box in which the cans , of milk are set has a cover on either side GOOD MILK COOLEB. of the ice chest, these covers being raised and thrown back against the ice chest whn open. The cans of milk are placed in this large box in the "water. Indianapolis News.- For Destroying" Graaahoppera, By all odds the best method for de stroying grasshoppers after they be come half grown Is the use of " the hopper dozer," or kerosene pan, which is shown herewith. This is made of stovepipe Iron by turning up the sides and ends about four Inches so as to make a long, flat pan about four Inches in- depths This Is then mounted on runners varying in neignt according to requlrements. On the frame back of the pan Is stretched a piece of cloth to prevent the insects from Jumping over the pan. When ready to begin work, the pan is partially filled with water, and some coal oil Is added. If the ground Is level, no crosspieces are nec- essary, but If the pan Is1 to be used on, sloplng ground it should be made as In dicated In the Illustration to prevent the oil and water from running to one end. ' The height of the runners will necessarily vary from-two to eight or ten Inches, according to the crop to be protected and tbe age of the insects to be captured. The machine may be of JL HOPPKB DOZER. any length desired up to sixteen or eighteen feet., If small, it can be drawn by hand, but when larger a horse or two is desirable. When full. the Insects can be removed, a little more oil added and the machine start ed afresh. In this way a number of bushels of hoppers can be captured and destroyed In a single day. The cost of running this machine is trifling and the remedy very effectual. . Nebraska Farmer. - Alfalfa for Horses. Concerning tbe action of alfalfa hay on horses, a farmer says in Breeder's Gazette: For more than fifteen years I have had experience in raising horses from birth to sale, from youth to age, on alfalfa pasture and hay, except may be giving them some variety in winter, consisting of corn fodder and straw. All animals and man like a variety in diet I feed no grain except to horses in harness, and my horses are noted for their size, strength and beauty. I sold two Percheron colts In March, 3 and 4 years old, weighing L700 and L800 pounds, that did not know the taste of grain. I nave wintered horses from the city, as many as twenty-fiye at times, exclusively on alfalfa to the per fect satisfaction of the owners. I have never noticed nor known any injurious effect from well-cured, good hay put at first bloom. . -.., " . : Feeding; Half-Grown Chick. The usual custom of turning young chicks on to the range to shift for them selves as soon as they are large enough to leave their mother Is not conducive to the best results. For chicks that are to form the layers In the late fall and winter this plan will do very well if they are grain-fed once a day. Chicks that are to go to market as soon as they are large enough will need a lib eral quantity of cracked corn and wheat placed in a trough where they can get at It easily; do this every other day. The chicks will not over-eat for they will get enough exercise on the range to counterbalance any heavy feeding. The grains named, together with what the chicks will pick up on the range, will constitute nearly a per fect balanced ration. Flllinac the 8ilo. It used to be thought that rapid fill ing of the silo was all Important It -must be filled so fast that no layer of fodder could wilt before It was covered with another, and thus the fermenta tion beginning at the bottom must gradually work up through the mass until It reached the surface,- where oxi dization or rotting began, which again worked downward until the decayed matter on the surface prevented any more -air from going down. Naturally we accepted this idea, as it was sent out by learned chemists and scientific men, but opinions have changed since those days in the light of positive facta. The farmers who have not been able to fill their silos as rapidly as they wished to, or have been obliged to wait for help, for weather or for some later field to attain maturity, or those who from lack of facilities for rapid handling have been obliged to fill slow ly, have found that their ensilage was In no way Inferior to that which was all put in practically at one time, or without pause excepting for the night's rest And some have learned that It does not injure it if a part of the water In it dries out before It is cut The moisture Is enough unless the fodder has become dry-before cutting by rea son of being overripe, suffering from drought, or being frost-bitten. Either of these causes may make fodder so dry that It will be benefited by a wet ting before. It is pressed into the silo. New England Homestead. ' The Colorado Beetle. " i If those who desire to kill the beetles and slugs on their potato and tomato vines would mlx their paris . green with an equal amount of slaked lime, or one pound of it to two pounds of land , plaster, -and -dust the ...vines with- the mixture l wnen they are a little damp from dew or rain, they would de stroy the Insects better than they do by spraying with the paris green In water. The poison would not wash off as eas ily in a shower, and it would be easy to tell when It washed off, without wait ing to learn it by seeing the vines half eaten up and no slugs killed. The lime or plaster would, like the lime In Bor- aeaux mixture, prevent Injury to the foliage, and they are also supposed to , nave some effect In preventing blight In the days before the Colorado beetle came around almost every farmer used to put plaster on his pototo and squash vines, first to keep off the little striped squash or cucumber bug, next to pre vent Wight, and not least because it was supposed to attract moisture to the hill. Probably the fact was that It ab- sorbed some of the ammonia that was escaping from the "shovelful of ma nure in the hill," which most of them used for growing potatoes, and they used to talk about growing "a peck in a hill" then, but we never saw such a hilL Evolution of the Apple. Apples are new in the economy of the world's use and taste. At the begin ning of the last century few varieties were known, and we can go back in history to a time when all apples were little, soiir and puekery crab apples and nothing else. The crab apple was and Is in Its wildness nothing but a rosebush. Away back in time the wild rose,, with its pretty blossoms that turn to little red balls, apple flavored, and the thorny crab had" the same grand mother. General Farm Notes. Dig out tbe peach tree borers and Jar the curculio.. Bone is the thing to use on peach trees every time, says one grower. In orchards badly Infested with can- -,T-riwr lnfA snrnvlner with snmA form of arsenic, which is most safely used in bordeaux mixture, may do good if the worm Is still feeding. Cultivate the sweet potato ridges af ter rains to break the crust and keep the soil mellow. Making the ridges narrow the last cultivation will cause them to mature early. For field culture for the canneries good strong tomato plants should be ready for the field from the middle to the latter part of June, the time which they are usually set in New Jersey and Maryland. A great deal depends upon how wat er Is put on. If you begin your irriga tion before It is very dry, you don't need so much water, but If you let your ground get very dry and then put on your water you need a great deal more of it Often on the farm, harvest or thrash ing hands find it Impossible to be at home for dinner, and it is a vexing problem bow to haul dinner cn the wagon without Jolting It Into a inosh. If the dinnpr bucket is placed In a grain sack, and each end of the sack Is booked or fastened In some way under the hay rigging, so that the sack will hang loosely, swing back and forth, the dinner will jar very little, though carried on the wagon all tbe forenoon.