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.