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.