CORVA If I! T il T A, SEMI-WEEKLY. SJx.WiiT'IfiM.. Consolidated Feb., 1899. CORVJLLLIS, BENTON COUlfTY, OEEGON, TUESDAY, AUGUST 20, 1901. VOL. IT. NO. 17. n: a FROM iORHOUSE BY WARY J. CHAPTER XXII. (Continued.) While the family were making arrange ments to move fr .m Glenwood to Chico pee, Heury for the first time in his life began to see how little use he was to himself or any one else. -Nothing was ex pected of him, consequently nothing was asked of him, he began to wonder how he himself was henceforth ,to exist. His father would be in California, and he had too much pride to lounge around the old homestead, which had come to them through George Xloreland's generosity. Suddenly it occurred to him that he, too, would go with, his father he would help him repair their fortunes he would be a man, and when he returned home, hope painted a joyful meeting with his mother and Jenny, who should be proud to acknowledge him as a son and .broth er. Mr. Lincoln warmly gecouded his resolution, which possibly would have never been carried, out had not Henry heard of Miss Herndon's engagement with a rich old bachelor, whom he had often heard her ridi.-nle. Cursing the fickleness of the fair lady, and half-wishing that he had not broken with Ella, whose fortune, though not what he had expected, was nnsiderable, he bade adieu to his native scy, and two weeks after the family removed to Chicopee, he sail ed with his father for the land of gold. But alas! The tempter was there be fore him, and in an unguarded moment he fell. The newly made grave, the nar row coffin, the pale, dead sister and the solemn vow were all forgotten and a de bauch of three weeks was followed by a violent fever, which in a few days cut short his mortal career. He died alone, with none but his father to witness his wild ravings, in which he talked of his distant home, of Jenny and Rose, Mary Howard and Ella, the last of whom he seemed now to love with a madness amounting almost to frenzy. Tearing out handfuls of his rich brown hair, he thrust it into his father's hand, bidding him to , carry it to Ella and tell her that the heart she had so earnestly coveted was hers in death. And the father, far more wretch ed now than when bis first-born daugh ter died, promised everything, and when his only son was dead, he laid him down to sleep beneath the blue sky of Califor nia, where not one of the many bitter tears shed for him in his far-off home could fall upon his lonely grave. CHAPTER XXIII. Great was the excitement in Rice. Cor ner when it was known that on the even ing of the 10th of September a grand wedding would take place in the house of Mrs. Mason. Mary was to be married to the "richest man in Boston," so the story ran, and, what was better yet, many of the neighbors were to be invit ed. Almost every day, whether pleasant or not, Jenny Lincoln came over to dis cuss the matter, and to ask if it were not time to send for William, who was to be one of the groomsmen, while she, to gether with Ida, were to. officiate as bridesmaids. In this last capacity Ella had been requested to act, but the tears came quickly to her large mournful eyes, and turning away, she wondered how Mary could thus mock her grief! From one fashionable watering place to another Mrs. Campbell had taken her, and finding that nothing there had power . to ronse her drooping energies, she had toward the close of the summer, brought her back to Chicopee, hoping that old scenes and familiar faces would effect ; what novelty and excitement had failed to do. All unworthy as Henry Lincoln had been, his sad death had. cast a dark shadow across Ella's pathway. Hour after hour would she sit, gazing upon the locks of shining hair, which over land and sea had come to her in a letter from her father, who told her of the closing scene, when Henry called for her to .cool the heat of his fevered brow. Every word and look of tenderness was treas ured up, and the belief fondly cherished that he had always loved her thus, else why in the last fearful struggle was she 'alone remembered of all the dear ones' in his distant home? The bridal day was bright, beautiful and balmy, as the first days' of Septem ber often are, and when the sun went down the 'full silvery moon came softly up, as if to shower her blessings upon the nuptials about to be celebrated. Many and brilliant lights were flashing from the windowsof Mrs. Mason's cottage. And now guest after guest flitted down the narrow staircase and entered the par lor, which, with the bedroom adjoining, was soon filled. Ere long Mr. Seldon who seemed to be master of ceremonies, appeared. Immediately the crowd fell back, leaving a vacant space in front of the mirror. The busy hum of voices died away, and only a few suppressed whis pers of, "There! Look! See! Oh, my!" were heard, as the bridal party took their places. . Among the first to congratulate "Mrs. Moreland" was Sally Furbush, followed by Mrs. Perkins, who whispered to fit-orse that "she kinder had a notion how 'twould end when she first saw him in the school house; but I'm glad you've got him," turning to Mary, "for it must be easier hvm in the city than keepin school. You'll have a hired girl, I s'pose?" Whrn supper was announced the widow made herself very useful in waiting upon the table and asking some of the Boston ladies "if they'd be helped to anything in them dishes;" pointing to . the finger glasses, which now for the first time ap peared in Rice Corner! The half-suppressed mirth of the ladies convinced the widow that she'd made a blunder; and perfectly disgusted with "new-fangled fashions," she retreated into the kitchen, where she found things more to her taste, and "thanked her stars she could, if she liked, eat with her fingers, and wipe them on her pocket handkerchief." Soon after her engagement Mary had asked that Sally should go with her to her city home. To this George 'willingly assented, and it- was decided that she should remain with Mrs. Mason until the bridal party returned from the western tour they were intending to take. Sally knew nothing of this arrangement until TO PALACE HOLMES the morning of the wedding, when -she was told- that she was not to return to the poorhouse again. "And verily, I have this day met with a great deliverance," said Bhe, and tears, the first shed in many a year, mingled with the old creature's thanks for this unexpected happiness. As Mary was leav ing she whispered in her ear, "If your travels lead you near my Willie's grave drop a tear on it for my -sake. You'll find it under the buckeye tree, where the tall grass and wild flowers grow." . George had relatives in Chicago, and, after spending a short time in that city Mary, remembering .Sally's request, ex pressed a desire to visit the spot renown ed as the burial place of "Willie and Willie's father." Ever ready to gratify her slightest wish, George consented, and toward the close of a mild autumnal day they stopped at a small public house on the border of a vast prairie. The arrival of so distinguished-looking people caus ed quite a commotion, and after duly in specting Mary's handsome traveling dress and calculating 'its probable cost, the hostess departed to prepare the even ing meal, which was soon forthcoming. .When supper was over and the family had gathered into the pleasant sitting room, George asked if there was ever a man in those parts by the name of Fur bush. '- 4.: - - "What! Bill Furbush?" asked the land lord. George did not know, but thought like ly that might have been his name, as his son was called William. . : ' "Lud, yes!" returned the landlord. "1 knowed Bill Furbush well he came here from Massachusetts, and I from, -Vermont; but, poor feller, he was too weakly to bear much, and the first fever he took finished him up. His old woman was as clever a creature as ever was, but she had some high notions." "Did she die, too?" asked George. "No, but it's a pity she didn't, for when Bill and the boy died she went ravin' mad, and I never felt so like cryin' as I did when I see her a tearin' her hair and goin' on so. We kept her a spell, and then her old man's brother's girl came for her and took her off; and the last I heard the girl was dead, and she was in the poorhouse somewhere East. She was born there, I b'lieve." "No, she worn't, either," said the land lady, who for some minutes had been aching to speak. "No. she warn't, either I know all about it. She was born in England, and got to be quite a girl be fore she came over. '. Her name was Sarah Fletcher, and Peter Fletcher, who died 'with the cholera, was her own un cle, and all the connection she had in this country; but goodness, suz, what ails you?" she added, as Mary turned white. while George passed his arm around her to keep her from falling. "Here, So- phrony, fetch the camphire; shea goin to faint But Mary did not faint,- and after smelling the camphor, she said, "Go on, madam, and tell me more of Sarah Fletcher." "She can do it," whispered the land lord, with a slv wink. "She knows ev erybody's history from Dan to Beer- sbeby, "This intimation was wholly lost on the good-humored hostess, who continued, Mr. Fletcher died when Sarah was small; and her mother married a Mr.- , I don't justly remember his name r" . "Temple?" -suggested Mary. : -'"Yes, Temple, that's it. He was rich and cross, and broke her heart by the time she had her second baby. - Sarah was adopted by her Grandmother Fletch er, who died, and she came with her uncle to America." "Did she, ever speak of her sisters?" asked Mary, and, the woman replied: . "Before she got. crazy she did. - One of 'em, she said, was in this country somewhere, and t'other, the one she re membered the best, and talked the. most about, lived in England. She said she wanted to write to 'emjbut her uncle, he hated the Temples, so he wouldn't let her, and as time went on she kinder forgot '.em, and didn't know where to direct, and after she took crazy she never would speak of her sisters, or own that she had any." . : ;: ,. ' - "Is Mr. Furbush buried near here?'' asked George, and the landlord answered: "Little better than a stone's throw. I can see the very tree from here, and may be your younger eyes can make out the graves. He ought to have a gravestun, for he was a good feller." The new moon was shining, and Mary, who came to her husband's side, could plainly discern the buckeye tree, and the two graves where "Willie and Willie's father" had long been sleeping. - The next morning before the sun was up Mary stood by the mounds where often in years gone by Sally Furbush had seen the moon go down, and the stars grow pale in the coming day, as she kept her tire less watch over her loved and lost. - . "Willie was my cousin your cousin " said Mary, resting her hand upon the bit mill. .' v ti i j f icoimg 1.1 . uauuilluu IlltS UIV ' of board which stood at the head of the little graves. George understood her wishes, and when they left the place, a handsome marble slab marked the spot where the father and his infant son were buried. ' , CHAPTER XXIV. Bewildered, and unable to comprehend a . word, Sally listened while Mary told her of the relationship between them; but the mists which for years had shrouded her reason were too dense to be suddenly cleared away; and when Mary wept, winding her arms around her neck and calling her "aunt;" and when the elegant Mrs. Campbell, scarcely less bewildered than Sally herself, came for ward, addressing her' as "sister," she turned aside to Mrs. Mason, asking in a whisper "what .had made them crazy?" . " But when Mary spoke of little Willie's grave, and the tree, which overshadowed it, of the green prairie and cottage by the brook, once her western home, Sally listened, and at last, one day, a week or two after her arrival in Boston she sud denly clasped her bands closely over ber temples, exclaiming: "It's come! If s come! I remember now the large gar den the cross old man the dead mother the rosy-cheeked Ella I loved so well "That was my mother my mother," in terrupted Mary. - For a moment Sally regarded her in tently, and then catching her in her arms, cried over her, calling her "her precious child," and wondering she had never no ticed how much she was like Ella. And don't you remember the baby Jane?" asked Mrs. Campbell, who was present. ' - Perfectly perfectly," Answered Sally. He died and you came in a carriage, but didn't cry nobody cried but Mary." It was in vain that Mary tried to ex plain to her that Mrs. Campbell was her sister once the baby Jane. Sally was not to be convinced. To her Jane and the little Alice were the same. There was none of her blood in Mrs. Campbell's veins, "or why," said she, "did she leave us so long in obscurity, me and my niece, Mrs. George Moreland, Esq.?" This- was the title which she always gave Mary when speaking of her, while to Ella, who; occasionally spent -a week in her sister's pleasant home, she gave the name of little cipher, as expressing exactly her opinion of her. Nothing so much excited Sally, or threw her into so violent a passion, as to have Ella 'call her aunt. If I wasn't her kin when I wore a six penny calico," said she, "I certainly, am not now that I dress in purple and fine linen." When Sally first went to Boston George procured for her the best possi ble medical advice, but her case was of so long standing that but little hope was entertained of her entire recovery. Still, everything was done for her that could be done, and after a time she became far less boisterous than formerly, and some times appeared perfectly, rational for days. True to her promise, on Mary's twenty first birthday, . Mrs. Campbell made over to her one-fourth of her property, and Mary, remembering her intentions to ward William Bender, immediately offer ed him one-half of it.' But he declined accepting it, saying that his profession was sufficient to support both himself and Jenny, for in a few weeks Jenny, whose father had returned from California, was coming and already a -neat little cottage, a mile from the city, was being prepar ed for her reception.' Mary did not urge the matter, but many an article of fur niture more costly than William was able to purchase found its. way into the cot tage, which, with its overhanging vines, climbing roses and profusion of flowers, seemed just the home for Jenny Lincoln. . And when . the flowers were in full bloom, when the birds sang amid the trees, and the summer sky was bright and blue, Jenny came to the cottage, a joyous, loving bride, believing her own husband the best in the world, and won dering if there was ever any one as hap py as herself.. And Jenny was very happy. ' Blithe as a bee, she flitted about the house and garden, and if in the morn ing a tear glistened in her laughing eyes as William bade her adieu, it was quick ly dried, and all day long she busied her self in her household matters, studying some agreeable surprise for her husband, and trying for his sake to be very "neat and orderly. There was no place which Ella loved so well to visit, or where she seemed so happy, as at the "Cottage," and as she was of but little nse at home, she fre quently spent whole weeks with Jenny, becoming gradually more cheerful more like herself, but always insisting that she should never be married. The spring following Mary's removal to Boston, Mrs. Mason came down to the city to live with her adopted daughter, greatly to the delight of Aunt Martha, whose home was lonelier than, it was wont to be, for George was gone, and Ida, too, had recently been married to Mr. Elwood and removed to Lexington, Kv. -- 'v.:- . And now a glance at Chicopee, and our story is done. Mr. Lincoln's CalKornin adventure had been a successful one. and not long after his return he received from George Moreland a conveyance of the farm, which, under Mr. Parker's effi cient management, -was in a high state Of cultivation. Among the inmates of the poorhouse but few Changes have taken place. Miss Grundy, who continues at the helm, has grown somewhat older and crosser, while Uncle Peter labors indus triously at a new fiddle, the gift of Mary, who is still remembered with much af fection. : v . -. Lydia Knight, now a young lady of sixteen, is a pupil at Mount Holyoke, and 'Mrs. Perkins, after wondering and wondering where the money came from, has finally concluded that "some, of George's folks must have sent it!" - (The end.) Men Who Chase After-Fires. The latest thing for fire-' -Insurance agents to do is to be on the sj)ot look ing for new business while the old busi ness Is burning up. One of the can vassers of a New England company be gan to make money so rapidly a, few months ago that some of his competi tors tried to find out how he did it. - They learned that he made a spe cialty of following the fire engines, and If the fire happened to be In a teue. ment house or flat he waited uutl the flames were subdued and reaped a har vest by insuring the other tenants and neighbors. Hosts of people are apt to be so badly scared by a fire near their home that if not Insured they are glitd to take out policies on the spot. It didn't take the other agents long to catch on. and it is said that the other day. after a fire twenty-one agents wrote seventy policies in the immediate neighborhood. " : ' v r : - "It is a great scheme," ' said "one of these agents yesterday. "All one has to do is to hit the iron while It is hot. Don't talk insurance to any of the ten ants or neighbors while the fire Is go ing on, because they are likely to be too excited to ( think of anything but tneir personal saiety. W hen every thing is quieted down and the fire en gines are going away Js the time to Jump in with your proposition." Chi cago Inter Ocean. . A Profitable Pwib HtT. ' i Solomon Shall we pay that bill to day, Ikey? . ,-.-'-: vv'.;--; ... Isaac Not to-day, Solomon, We may die before to-morrow. Somerville Jour nal. . .,. A roll-Party. A "sick party" I called it, because it happened when I was sick. I had a fever, and when jyoto have a fever it takes a long time to get welL . First I could sit up against my, pil lows, and then I could have the bed made, and have on he beautiful blue dressing-gown my aunty made me for a birthday present. 'After that I had to lie down again, but I could have the pillows up high, and nave my pictures, papers and books to look over for a while. . " f . W ' ' I always have a party on my birth day, but you can't have parties when you are sidf, only sick parties. But they are very nice when you can't have a real one. .- - ! 1 " - It was such a surprise! " I was sitting there with: my dear-ld Fluff cuddled up beside me. , I had smelled of the cologne, touched theilovely flowers in the vase, and had some nice jelly, but it was lonesome. - r . I was missing my real party, when my sick party began.. Mamma came in "with Dell Allen's new doll. Dell had sehtit over to spend the afternoon with me her new doll! Wasn't she good? Then nurse brought In Freda Wallace's baby doll, in its long white dress and the sweetest blue knit ted sack and cap. Freda had lent her to me for the afternoon, too. When aunty brought In Jenny ,Mayo's doll, I just squealed. . , i. "It is a doll party she said. "We couldn't have the little girls, because they would laugh and talk, and tire you too much. ' But they said they would send their dolls, and so you could have a -quiet party." ." - Mamma and aunty kept bringing in more dolls. At last they brought in Freddy Bond's horse, a fine, big, hair- covered one." Freddy hadn't a doll, of course, so he asked if he might send his horse to spend the afternoon with toe.'. Didn't I .laugh?; ;V; " - Horses don't usually go to parties, except to take people there, but this horse was as quiet and nice as the dolls. Mamma and aunty said the best thing about a doll party was" that you didn't have to give them real things to eat, and so it couldn't hurt me. But we had a supper just the same. We had -tbtucutting table .jipraa2B?lth.-a, big towel and my new dishes. f i. And aunty made the things to eat right there.-. " It was great fun watching her, for she made me guess them. They were mostly tissue paper things. Yel low pieces crumpled- -into little balls were oranges, and white pieces rolled Into sticks, the ends snipped Mke fringe. were celery. Green paper made lettuce for the salad, and little snips of red scattered on them was lobster. . The dolls seemed to like them, and when I could see the girls I told them it had been a beautiful party, Freddy Bond's horse and all! Youth's Com panion. --ij, J'jV '..'--.,' Give tne Boys Tools, - Almost all boys are naturally mechan ics. The constructive: and imitative faculties are developed, In part, at very early age. All boys are not capable of being developed, into good, practical, working mechanics,' but most of them show their bent that way.- There are few cases in which the boy has no com petent idea of the production of a fabri cated result from inorganic material, but such cases are rare. Given the prop er encouragement and the means, and many boys whose mechanical aptness is allowed to run to waste or is diverted from, its natural course,-would become good workmen, useful, '.producing mem bers of the industrial community. The mechanical boy ought to have a shop of his own. Let it be the attic, or an unused room, or a place in the barn or woodshed. Give him a place and tools. Let him have a good poeketknlf e, gim let, chisels, gauges, planes, cutting nip pers, saws, a foot rule and material to work. Let the boy have a chance. If he is a mechanic it will come out, and he will do himself credit If he fails he is to follow some calling that does not demand mechanical skill. . . Very. There was a lad named Terry, - Who began with clumsy touch - -, To play Vienxtemps'-" Air Varie" In mistaken manner, such - -That his listeners fell to guessing, And this thought began expressing: "Wfll Verry vary 'Varie' very much?" Chicago Record-Herald. . V HARVARD'S GREAT SONS Twenty-five Selected for the Uni-ver- : aity's Hall of Fast-, : The1 great living-room of the new Harvard Union, which is to be the gen eral social club of the whole university, is to be a kind of memorial to famous Harvard men, graduates or instructors. The dimensions of the room are to be about 90 by 40 feet, with oak paneling to the height of fifteen feet, and two oak mantels. One of these mantels will carry a bust of Washington, who received his degree of LL. D. in 1776 while he was besieging Boston; the oth er an ideal bust of John Harvard, of whom no portrait Is known to exist The paneling will contain tablets with space for the name of 200 Harvard men, which will -be inscribed In gilt in raised letters. The first selection of twenty-five . names has already been made and is as follows: John Adams, 1755; James Russell Lowell, 1838; Louis Agassiz (hon.), 1848; Ralph Waldo Em erson, 1821; Joseph Warren, 1759; Cot ton Mather, 1678; Joseph Story, 1798 Benjamin Peirce, 1829; .Edward Ever ett 1811; Asa Gray (hon.), 1844; Henry Dnnster; Charles Bulflnch, 1781; Charles Sumner, 1830; John Quincy Ad ams, 1787; Henry Wadsworth LongfeL- iow inon.), lSo; Oliver Wendell Holmes. 1829: John Winthron. 1732: James Otis, 1743; Wiiliam Ellery Chan- ning, lias; Nathaniel Bowditeh (hon.), 1802; George Bancroft, 1817; Samuel Adams, 1740; Washington Allston, 1800; Francis James Child, 1846; Jeffries Wy man, 1833. The names of manv men are.' of course, conspicuous by their absence Francis Park man for examnle. and Phillips Brooks and" the Harvard heroes or me war for the Union. These names will be added later. -; Of those now chosen four received only the honorary degree Longfellow, ixray ana Agassiz, who were closely connected with Harvard as teacher. and Bowditeh, the famous writer on navigation, who was a fellow, or trus tee, of the corporation. - Of the lessnoDularlv known n amps Bulflnch was the architect who built the capltol at" Washington; Prof. Child, the chief authority in this country on Chaucer and in the world on ballad literature; Dunster, the first Harvard president; Peirce, the famous mathe matician; Winthorp, the Harvard pro- tessor or natural philosophy at a time when physical research was in its in fancy in America, and Jeffries Wyman, the well-beloved Cambridge physician who was the companion and teacher of so many of the famous men who what they are. . - THE HORSE PLAYED A JOKE. Walked Up to the Country Store in Spite of Everything. "You may think horses haven't any sense if you want to," remarked a lady from Mississippi to a group of friends seated around one of the tables, in the Peabody cafe, according to the Mem phis .Scimitar, "but I had an experience when I was a girl that taught me they have sense enough to get one in all sorts of predicaments. "I carried a friend of mine driving one afternoon. We had to pass through a town where there was a young man from New 'Orleans serving as a clerk in one of the large supply stores that were a feature of the country town a few years ago. He had paid me a great deal of attention, and, to tell you the truth, I ; liked him very much, and, though I was not willing to admit it at that time, and denied the accusation with true feminine promptitude in such matters, I always made it a point to go to that store for something every time I went to town. 'On -this occasion, however ! bad no excuse to go to see him and did not in tend doing so, as he had caught on to the fact that I never came- fo town without seeing him. But as we crossed the railroad, right in front of the town, the bridle bit came In two an I, of course, lost control of the horse, and he", finding that no one was guiding him, turned himself around and march ed as straight back to that store as if I had driven him with the utmost pre cision. - ;'And that's not the worst of it" said she in conclusion, "No sooner had he got to the store than he gave one of those little 'nickers peculiar to him self, and familiar to the young man. The young fellow was there in a jiffy, and I well, I wished that I j wasn't My "face turned all the colors of the rainbow and wound up in ; the most delicate touch of crimson. I ex plained to him in my confusion that I had not intended to come to see him. but that the horse just would bring me, and he didn't object." ' - v Versatile Coloradoan. The town of Dolores, in Montezuma County, boasts of the most versatile man in the State. He has six different trades and five . professions, and he practices them all. In most of them he has a monopoly of the business of the town. The distinguished individual Is Frank Kramer. He is the town blacksmith, the town dentist, the town barber, the town veterinary surgeont and the town painter and decorator. In these lines he has no opposition whatever. : - During the morning Kramer shoes horses and administers treatment to sick animals of all kinds.' In the rear of his blacksmith shop be has a dental chair with all the newest appliances for drawing and filling human teeth. -As a dentist he is pronounced one of the best in that section. . -i.. If he has-any-painting contracts on he does the work along toward ". twi light The evenings he devotes to shav ing and hair-cutting in a barbering es tablishment which he runs himself without help. '' Kramer also does odd jobs at carpen tering, acts as a notary public . and lawyer, assists the town marshal in running down ; bad boys, works as a gardener, drives an ore team, and gives lessons In stenography and typewriting, .Kramer's industry has netted him some money, and he is said to be piling up a fortune. The population of Dolores is but 108, and in bis various business enterprises the blacksmith-barber-den tist is about the whole thing. He does everything well, according to those who have patronized him, except'barbering. Denver Post. -y- The Way to Please Him. - "They say the way to please a man is -to talk to him about himself." : - "No; the way to please him Is to let him talk to you about himself." Lon don Tit-Bits. - , - HtlaatflginTri Convict Plantation The penitentiary board of Mississippi has purchased 13,000 acres for a State convict pianiauou. .A crust and a kind word are better than a feast ana indigestion. - But little knowledge can be acquired In an easy chair. Value of Irrigation. The universal use of irrigation in the West has practically revolutionized farm values in many regions. These methods of supplying the crops with water are many, but they all show an amount of adaptation to conditions that proves the existence of Yankee genius here yet. There are more varieties of windmills for pumping up water than one could describe In a week. These windmills are not expensive affairs, but In most cases are built of ordinary arti cles picked up on the farm or In second-band shops. They perform the work required of them satisfactorily, and that is all one can ask of them. The construction of a good working windmill on any farm, and a pumping attachment, with irrigation canals and reservoir, adds a hundred or two per cent to the value of a farm in a region where'summer droughts are heavy drawbacks to farming. With a little extra work during the winter season it is an easy matter to make such im provements on almost any farm. The system can be enlarged and extended season by season, and the farm grad ually enhanced in value. A farm that has a fair home-made Ir rigation plant is practically independ ent of the weather. The farmer is then sure of his crop no matter how hot or dry the season may prove. The great benefit derived from an irrigation plant is so apparent that it seems strange that so few are in existence. It Is not always necessary to "build a windmill for irrigation, for there are often nat ural" ad vantages which any farmer can avail himself of. When brooks flow through farms they furnish In the win ter and spring seasons an abundance of water, but when summer advances they often dry up and prove of no earthly good. The question of import ance is how can such a stream be con verted into use for irrigating the plants, It would not be so difficult if a reser voir was dug and built on the farm, so that the w ater could be stored. Such a reservoir could easily be increased in size each year, and with the water stored in it, what would prevent dig ging ditches to carry the water to the fields when needed? "Borne " will say that such work represents an immense amount of labor; but if the farmer in tends to live permanently on his farm. will It not pay him to do a little toward tne improvement each year, even though it may take ten years to com plete the job? He can rest assured that he is increasing the value of his farm fully 10 per cent every year, a fact which he will realize when he comes to sell it Professor James S. Doty, New York- Poultry House for Larcre Chicks. When the chicks are about one-quar ter grown and have left the mother hen they should be provided with some sort of a shelter for night use and for use on stormy days. A coop for these chicks may be built for very little money. One side of the coop is formed by the side of a building or a fence. and at the lower end comes within two inches of the ground. The roof of rough boards is covered with tarred or waterproof paper. An opening is cut in one side next to -the fence or wall. Inside, roosts are arranged, and In one corner is placed a dust bath. The roosts will have to be put in before the roof is put on, as the house-is not designed in any way so that one can even reach the inside except through the small hole provided for the entrance of the chicks. V - '.... r Indizeition In Horses. " - It is difficult to give causes of Indi gestion iu horses, lor it may come from improper water, as . from . improper foods, although the latter are usually at the bottom of the trouble. . A proper variety in the foods will do much to keep the digestive organs in good con dition, particularly if In the variety there is considerable green food of a succulent nature, as most root crops are. When indigestion is caused by Improper water, it is usually the case that the water is foul in some way, although very hard, water often pro duces Indigestion, or, what is worse, stone in the kidney or bladder, the lat ter being a disease quite common among horses in districts where the water is hard. . If the food Is of the proper kind and hard water Is being used, attention should be given it be fore a valuable animal Is lost If pos sible,' give rain water, but if this Is not convenient add a Bmall quantity of caustic potash to the hard water, which will materially Improve it Feed Instead of Breed. ' 'The famous dairy expert, Black- well, once gave ten rules for the care of dairy cows,' and of this number six referred in some manner to the feed given them, showing that, In his mind at least, feed was much more Import- r GOOD POULTBY HOUSK. ant than anything else in the handling of the dairy. Much complaint Is being: made by dairymen that some of their cows are not profitable, and while, In many cases, the trouble is due entirely to some poor in dividuals in the herd which may be discovered by weighing the milk of each cow and keeping a record of it. there Is no doubt but that poor feeding is at the bottom of the trouble In many cases. It is frequently found that an animal which is a loss in the hands of Brown is profitable when Jones gets hold of the cow. In such cases it la evident that the method of feeding or the food Itself was wrong in the first case. Dairymen who are complaining of their cows and thinking of bringing about improvement by changing the breed will do. 1I to study the ques tion or reed and see If they are not making some mistakes in that direc tion. Four Horae Evener. A correspondent sends to Iowa Homestead a sketch of a four horse evener for a binder which, he says. Is In almost universal use in his section of the country: . Take a com mon evener off from your disk, buy a 15 cent pulley and about ten feet of stout rope or chain, which will cover all the expense. Take a piece of 2 "by 6 and bolt on tongue A FOCB HOBSB XVKKBB. with one bolt where the evener goes to serve as prop for the evener, pass the rope through the pulley and tie on each end of the evener. This gives free play to both sides of the evener. There is no-side draft but put the heaviest team on the outside. This device can be used on either a right or left hand binder and gives perfect satisfaction. The illustration is self explanatory. There should also be a clevis from the center of the evener to fasten the even er to the outer end of the prop. Protect the Farm Well. Tests made at experiment stations show that water from farm wells is frequently contaminated with some im purity drawn from surrounding stables. pens, etc., and a lack of drainage to carry off surface water. Wash and dishwater, both filled with animal mat ter, is thrown around the house, year in and out, until the ground is alive with the poison, which eventually finds Its way into the well. The fields are tiled to produce healtHy and abundant crop life, but seldom is a tile or ditch put down around the house to protect the welt . When the water begins to run low In the well that is not driven below rock, is the time to begin to boll It for .drink ing purposes. Heat of water or sun destroys the typhoid bacillus. Enough water should be boiled at a time to allow it to stand several hours before drinking. It is the heat driving the air out of it makes it so sickening to taste. In a few hours the air will again get Into it and restore the taste. Put it In jugs, and set the jugs upon the cellar floor, or In a cave prepared for this. pur pose. If you have Ice, put it around the ves sels, but never In them. There are high and specialized forms of life that Ice will not kill, and some of the lower forms It preserves in all force, it seems. The contents of slop bowls from the room ot the patient sick with typhoid had, if the sun is shining hot, better by far be thrown upon the ground than buried. A log heap is the proper dis infectant hi these cases, kept burning night and day as long .as there Is any thing from the sick room to throw Into it Indianapolis News. - Inffwrfect Flum Blossoms. - - Fruit growers have met with a diffi culty in the successful cultivation of the native plum in the fact that some varieties are seif-sterile; that is, thejr do not fertilize themselves. - Isolated trees and large orchards of Wild Goose and Miner have proved shy bearers, .while when planted intermingled with other varieties blooming at the same time and furnishing an abundance of pollen they have borne many crops. Hence it is important to determine the most suitable list of varieties for an orchard so as to insure the most perfect pollenatlon of all the blossoms'. New man is considered a good polleulzer for Wild Goose, while De Soto, Wolf, and Forest Garden are regarded as good fertilizers for Miner. Isolated trees of the self-sterile varieties may be made fruitful by top grafting some of the limbs with suitable varieties, or by planting trees of these sorts adjacent Mixed planting of self-fertile and Im portant varieties in hedge-like rows or in alternate rows is now advocated and practiced by our best growers. Some growers prefer to confine their choice of varieties to those that are self -sterile. Farmer's Review." Dairy Thermometers., A good dairy thermometer costs less than $1, and tons of butter go into the grease vats every year because thou sands of farmers' wives do not use a thermometer In churning. A noted dairy Instructor once told the writer that he firmly believed that the average price of all the butter sold In the United States could be Increased at least i cents per pound in two years If the thermometer was used at every churning and the cream churned at the proper tempera ture. Land'and a Living.