Corvallis gazette., January 28, 1902, Image 1

ORVA
SEMI-WEEKLY.
SISti,&.is.. Consolidated Feb., 1899.
COR VAIililS, BENTON CO UKTT, OREGON", TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1302.
VOL. IL NO. 40.
LLIS
GAZETTE.
' "
CHAPTER I.
Below, a great broad stretch of ocean,
calm as death, slumbering placidlj be
neath the sun's hot rays; above, a sky of
palest azure, necked here and there by
dainty masses of soft, fleecy clonds; and.
far inland, a background of high hills.
clothed with a tender foliage, a very baby
leafdom, just bursting into the fuller life.
Toward the west the trees give way a
little, lettiug a road be seen, that like a
straight pale ribbon runs between the
greenery for the space of quite a mile or
so, and then reaches the small fishing vil
lage where the simple folk of Glowring
Destley toil from one year's end to the
other, some in careless joy, some in cease
less labor, some, alas! in cruel weeping.
because of those "who will never come
back to the town."
Along the white road, that gleams
thirstily in the burning sunshine of this
hot midday in June, a carriage is crawl
ing with quite an aggravating slowness
an antiquated vehicle of a type now al
most unknown, but which once beyond
doubt ''cost mini y." The carriage, being
an open one, cables the people as it
passes through the village to see without
undue trouble that the occupants of it are
two girls; both very young, both singular
ly alike, though in distinctly different
styles.
"It is charming!" says the younger girl,
with a little quick motion of the hand
toward the sweeping bay, and the awak
ening trees, and the other glories of the
landscape. "All charming, far better
than I ever dared hope for; and yet my
mind missives me. Vera."
She turns a brilliant glance on her sis
ter, full of terrible insinuations, and then
laughs a little. Thus animated, she is a
very pretty girl, half child, half woman,
as fresh as -the morning, and with eyes
like stars. She lifts one slender black
gloved hnnd, and placing it beneath her
sister's chin, turns her face gently to her.
Such a beautiful face! Very . like the
riante one beside it, yet unlike, too. There
is a touch of sadness round the lovely
lips, a mournful curve; indeed, a thought
fulness too great for her years is stamped
on every feature. A tender, loving, yet
strong soul shines through the earnest
eyes, and when she smiles it is reluctant
ly, as if smiles all her life had been for
bidden to her.
"Oh!' that reminds me," said Miss Dy
sart. "I quite forgot to tell you of it,
but the day before we left Nice, Nell
Stewart said that this cousin you speak
of, if be does exist at all, at all events
does not do it here."
"Which means?"
"That cither he won't, or can't, life
with his father. Can't, Nell rather led
me to believe."
"Can't it is, you may be sure," says the
younger girl, restlessly. "Fancy a father
whose son can't live with him! And yet,
after all, virtuous astonishment on that
score is rather out of place with us. I
can imagine just such a father."
"Well, never mind that," says Miss Dy
art, hastily. :
"Yes. Very good; let us then go from
.sire to uncle," says her sister with a lit
tle shrug. "Do you think we' shall gain
much by the change? This old relative of
ours is, perhaps, as delightful as we could
wish him, and yet I wish father had not
left us to' his ender mercies."
"Do not dwell on that," says Vera,
with nervous haste; "do not seek for
faults in the inevitable. He is all that is
left us. You know the sudden decision
arose out of a letter received by father
from Uncle Gregory about a year ago.
When father was was dying " She
pauses abruptly, aud a tremor shakes her
last words.
The younger girl turns quickly to look
at her. There is infinite love and com
passion in her glance, but perhaps a little
contempt, and certainly a little impa
tience. "Do you know," she says, "it may seem
heartless positively coarse, If you will
but I do not think our father was a man
to excite respect, much less love or regret,
or '
"Oh! it Is better not to speak like that,"
interrupts Miss Dysart, in a low, shocked
tone. "Don't do it, darling. I know
what you mean, but "
"And I know that I shall never forgire
or forget the life he led you," says Grisel
da, with a certain angry excitement.
"Well, that is over!" says Miss Dysart,
with a quick sigh, heavily indrawn.
"What was this vendetta, this terrible
lifelong quarrel that was kept up be
tween him aud father with such monoton
ous persistency.?"
"Thnt had to do with our grandfather's
will, l'apa was the eldest son, yet the
property was left to Uncle Gregory; and
that for no reason at all. Naturally, papa
was very angry about it, and accused
Gregory of using undue influence."
"Just so, and of course there is a good
deal behind that you don't know. There
always is; nobody ever tells quite every
thing. Aud besides Oh! Oh, Vera!
Oh! what has happened?"
Griselda clutches in an agonized fashion
at the leather side of the crazy old
chariot, which has toppled over to the
left side and stands in a decidedly dissi
pated position. The ancient driver, pre
sumably asleep, had let the horses wan
der at their own sweet will, aud they be
ing old and sleepy, too, the result was
that they had dragged two of the wheels
up on a steep bank and nearly capsized
the carriage.
"Oh. thank you," says Miss Dysart.
leaning forward and addressing with earn
est glance and heightened color the young
man who had risen descended, perhaps,
sounds nleasanter and more orthodox
like a cood ansel from somewhere the
wood on their right, no doubt. A fishing
rod. lying on the road where he had flung
It when preparing for his ignoble battle
with those poor old horses, proclaims the
fact that he has been whipping the stream
that gleams here and there brilliantly
through the interstices of the trees.
"Oh, no," says he, lifting his hat, "you
mustn't thank me. It was really nothing.
Toor brutes, I think they were asleep:
they It is hot, isn't it?" This last he
says hastily, as if ashamed of his ani
madversion on the age of the.sorry cattle
in question their horses, no doubt; and
there is something wonderfully charming
in the faint apologetic color that springs
into his cheeks. As he finishes speaking
he looks at Griselda so hard that she feels
it incumbent on her to return his glance
and to say something.
"We thought our last hour had come,"
she says, laughing softly, and looking at
him a little shyly, but so prettily. tut
for you, one cannot say where we should
be now."
She bows to him, and so does her sis
ter quite as graciously, and then the
horses once more commence their snail
like progress, grinding through the dusty
road at the rate of three miles an hour.
The little episode is over; the young man
settles his soft hat. more finuly on his
head, picks up his rod, regards it anx
iously to see that no harm has come to
it, and disappears once more into the
shelter of the cool wood.
Half an hour later they are at the en
trance gate of Greyconrt, and practically
at their journey's end. Both girls, with
an involuntary movement, crane their
necks out of the carriage to get a first
glimpse at their future home, and then
turn a dismayed glance on each other.
Anything more dreary, more unfriendly,
yet withal grand in its desolation, could
hardly be seen.
"How dark it is," aays Griselda, a
nervous thrill running through her, as
they move onward beneath the shade of
the mighty trees that clasp their arms
between her and the glorious sky thus
blotting it out.
A sudden turn brings them within view
of the house. A beautiful old house ap
parently, of red brick, toned by age to a
duller shade, with many gables, and over
grown in parts by trailing ivy, the leaves
of which now glteten brightly in the even
ing sunshine.
The coachman, scrambling to the
ground, bids them in a surly tone to
alight. He is tired and cross, no doubt,
by the unusual work of the day. And
presently they find themselves on the
threshold of the open hall door, hardly
knowing what to do next. The shambling
figure of a man about seventy, appeared
presently from some dusky doorway, he
waves to them to enter the room, and,
shutting the door again behind them with
a sharp hnste, leaves them alone with
their new relative, Gregory Dysart.
CHAPTER II.
Vera, going quickly forward, moves to
ward an armchair at the upper end of
the room in which a figure is seated. She
sees an old man, shrunken, enfeebled,
with a face that is positively ghastly, be
cause of its excessive pallor; a living
corpse, save for two eyes that bum and
gleam and glitter with an almost devilish
brilliancy.
"So you've come,' he says, without
making any attempt to rise from his
chair. "Shut that door, will you? What
a vile draught! And don't stand staring
like that, it makes me nervous."
His voice is cold, cleafr, freezing. It
seems to the tired girls standing before
him as if a breath of icy air had suddenly
fallen into the hot and stifling room.
"Vera, I presume," says Mr. Dysart,
holding out his lithe white hand to permit
her to press it. "And you are Griselda?
I need not ask what lunatic chose your
names, as I was well acquainted with
your mother many years ago."
. "I feel that I must think you at once.
Uncle Gregory, for your kindness to us,"
says Miss Dysart, gravely, still standing.
"Ay, ay. You acknowledge that," says
he, quickly. "I have been your best
friend, after all, eh?" .
"You have given us a home," continues
Miss Dysart, in tones that tremble a lit
tle. "But for you "
"Yes, yes go on." He thrusts out his
old miserly face as if athirst for further
words. "But for me you would both
have been cast upon the world's highway,
to live or die as chance dictated. To me,
to me you are indebted for everything.
You owe me much. Each day you live
you shall owe me more. I have befriend
ed you; I have been the means of saving
you from starvation."
If so corpse-like a face could show signs
of excitement it shows it now, as he seeks
to prove by word and gesture that he is
their benefactor to an unlimited extent.
The hateful emotion he betrays raises in
Griselda's breast feelings of repugnance
and disgust.
"I have consented to adopt you," tie
goes ou presently, his cold voice now cut
ting like a knife. "But do not expect
much from me. It is well to come to a
proper understanding at the start, aud
so save future argument. Honesty has
made me poor. Y'ou have been, I hear,
accustomed to lead a useless, luxurious
existence. Your father all his life kept up
a most extravagant menage, and. dying,
left you paupers." He almost hisses out
the last cruel word.
Griselda starts to her feet.
"The honesty of which you boast is not
everything," she says, in a burning tone.
"Let me remind yon that courtesy, too,
has its claims upon you."
"Hah! The word pauper is unpleasing.
it seems," says he. unmoved. "Before we
quit this point, however, one last word.
Y'ou are beneath my roof; 1 shall expect
you to conform to my rules. I see no one.
I permit no one to enter my doors save
my son. I will not have people spying
out the nakedness of the land, and specu
lating over what they are pleased to call
my eccentricities. They will have me
rich, but I am poor, poor, 1 tell you. Al
ways remember that."
Griselda's features having settled them
selves into a rather alarming1 expression,
M'ss Dysart hurriedly breaks into the
conversation.
"If you will permit us," she says, faint
ly, "we should like to go to our rooms, to
rest a little. It has been a long journey."
Her uncle turns and touches the bell
near him, and immediately, so immedi
ately as to suggest the idea that she has
been applying her ear t the keynote, a
woman enters.
"You are singularly prompt," he says,
with a lowering glance and a sneer. "This
is Mrs. Grunch," turning to Vera, "my
housekeeper. She will see to your wants.
Grunch, take these young ladies away.
My nerves," with a shudder, "are all un
strung to the last pitch." -
Thus unceremoniously dismissed. Miss
Dysart follows the housekeeper from the
room, Griselda having preceded her.
Through the huge dark hall and np the
wide, moldy staircase they follow their
guide, noting as they do so the decay
that marks everything around. -
She flings wide a door for the girls to
enter, and then abruptly departs without
offering them word or glance. They are
thankful to be thus left alone, and in
voluntarily stand still and gaze at each
other. Vera is very pale,, and her breath
is coming rather fitfully from between her
parted lips.
"He looks dying," she says,, at last,
speaking with a heavy sigh, and going
nearer to Griselda, as if unconsciously
seeking a closer companionship. "Did you
ever see such a face? Don't you think
he is dying?" ' "
"Who can tell?" says Griselda. "I
might think it, perhaps, but for his eyes.
They" she shudders "they look as if
they couldn't die. What terrible eyes
they are! and what a vile old man alto
gether! Good heavens! how did he dare
so to insult us! I told you. Vera" with
rising excitement "I warned you that
our coming here would be only for evil."
A moment later a knock comes to the
door.
"Will you be pleased to come down
stairs or to have your tea here?" de
mands the harsh voice of the housekeep
er from the threshold.
"Here" is on Vera's lips, but Griselda,
the bold, circumvents her.
"Down stairs," she says, coldly, "when
we get some hot water, and when you
send a maid to help us to unpack our
trunks."
"There are no maids in this house,"
replies Mrs. Grunch, sullenly. "You must
either attend to each other or let me help
you."
"No maids!" says Griselda.
"None," briefly. ,
"And my room? Oh is this mine, or
Miss Dysart's?"
"Both yours and Miss Dysart's; sorry
if it ain't big enough," with a derisive
glance round the huge, bare chamber.
"You mean, we are to have but one
room between us?"
"Just that, miss. Neither more nor
less. And good enough, too, for those
as "
"Leave the room," says Griselda, with
a sudden, sharp intonation, so unexpect
ed, so withering, that the woman, after
a surprised stare, turns and withdraws.
CHAPTER III.
A few days later the girls are sitting
in the garden. It is a beautiful day.
Even through the eternal shadows that
encompass the garden, and past the thick
yew hedge, the hot beams of the sun are
stealing.
"A day for gods and goddesses," cries
Griselda, springing suddenly to her feet,
and flinging far from her on the green
sward the musty volume she had purloin
ed from the mustier library about an hour
ago.
"Perhaps I'll never come back. The
spirit of adventure is fall upon me, and
who knows what demons inhabit that un
known wood? So, fare thee well, sweet,
my love! and when you see me, expect
me." She presses a sentimental kiss up
on her sister's brow, averring that a
"brow" is the only applicable part of her
for such a solemn occasion, and runs
lightly down toward the hedge.
She runs through one of the openings
in the hedge, crosses the graveled path,
and, mounting the parapet, looks over to
examine the other side of the wall on
which she stands, after which she com
mences her descent. One little foot she
slips into a convenient hole in it, and thea
the other intoa hole lower down, and so
on and on, until the six feet of wall are
conquered and she reaches terra firma,
and finds nothing between her and the
desired cool of the lovely woods.
With a merry heart she plunges into
the dark, sweetly scented home of the
giant trees, with a green, soft pathway
under her foot, and, though she knows it
not, her world before her.
It is an entrancing hour. She has stop
ped short in the middle of a broad, green
space encompassed by high hills, though
with an opening toward the west, when
this uncomfortable conviction grows clear
to her that she is lost. She is not of the
nervous order, however, and keeping a
good heart looks hopefully around her.
Far away over there, in the distance,
stands a figure lightly lined against the
massive trunk of a sycamore, that most
unmistakably declares itself to be' a man.
His back is turned to her, and he is bend
ing over something, and, so far as she can
judge thus remote from him, his clothing
is considerably the worse for wear. A
gamekeeper, perhaps, or a well, some
thing or other of that sort. At all events
the sight is welcome as the early dew.
To be continued.)
To a Poet. .
To learn poetry "for repetition" Is
doubtless a means of cultivating a
knowledge of literature, but schoolboys
sometimes regard the authors of poems
learned as taskmasters and personal
enemies. This view is amusingly ex
pressed in a letter which was found
among the papers of the venerable
German poet Geibel. It was written
to him by some schoolboys of Lubeck,
and Is signed "Karl Beckmann, II.
Klasse." The letter is printed in Lit
erature. After stating that two boys
had been flogged because they could
not learn Herr Geibel's "Hope of
Spring," the letter reads as follows:
We suppose you did not think of such
things when you wrote the poem. The
Heir Lehrer says it is a very beautiful
poein. but there are so many very beau
tiful poenis aud w e are obliged to learn
them. Therefore we beg and entreat
you, esteemed Herr Geibel, make no
more beautiful poems. And to make
it worse we have to learn the biog
raphy of every poet, what year he was
born in, and what year he died in. We
write to you because you are the only
poet still living, and we wish you a
very long life.
Senator Mark Hanna wears as a
watch charm a gold nugget which is
worth several hundred dollars. It was
presented to him by a number of Meth
odist friends who reside in Cleveland,
Ohio.
' "- !
1
RUT"!
TOUN
Lively Game for Indoors.
The painter and the colors Is an
amusing indoor game. The leader is
the painter. The rest of the players
are colors, each taking a name orange,
blue, green, etc. to which he must
respond directly, it 4s mentioned. Be
yond this there are four "words which
must be answered in various ways. :
When the painter names the palette,
all except the painter cry out, "Colors,
colors!" When he speaks of colors in
general, all cry, "Here we are!" Wnen
of his pencil, the answer exacted is,
"Brush! brush!" Finally, when he
names turpentine, general consterna
tion is excited and the colors with" one
accord exclaim, "Help, help!"
Any "color" mentioned by name must
Immediately name another "colof' of
the party. The latter replies simply,
"Here, sir." Any mistakes or hesita
tion in giving replies is punishable by
a forfeit.
- Here is an example of the game:
Painter I am commissioned by my
noble patron, the Marquis of Carabas,
to paiut a picture of Hamlet and Ophe
lia. I have made my design and shall
begin to set my palette.
All the colors Colors! Colors!
Painter I intend astonishing the crit
ics by the brilliance of my colors.
All Here we are! -
Painter I can't employ you all at
once too heavy a task for a single
pencil.
All Brush! Brush!
Painter Silence, or I'll exterminate
you with a dose of turpentine!
All Help! Help!
. Painter Be quiet, or I won't employ
one of you! I'll begin with the jeyes of
Ophelia. They otight to be black. (If
the painter names a color not in the
collection he pays a forfeit.)
Black Green! Green!
Green Here, sir!
Painter No. She was called "the
fair Ophelia." Her eyes must bave
been blue.
Blue Orange! Orange!
Orange Here, sir! .
Painter As she was in trouble, her
cheeks ought to be"pale, almost white.
Whiter-Purple and cherry color!
Purple and cherry (together) Here,
sir! - .
Painter All the colors
All Here we are!
Painter of the rainbow shall be
employed, etc.
And so the game goes on, another
member of the party taking the place
of the painter when one of them makes
a mistake.
An Amusing Match. Trick.
Procure a box of matches, out of
which select 14 as perfectly cut as pos
sible. Take one of these and lay It on
the match box, placing it so that one
of the ends protrudes over the edge
as shown In the. accompanying Illus
tration. They lay 12 matches across it
in the manner shown, being careful to
make both sides even. When you have
done this lay the fourteenth - match
right on the top of the bottom one, only
it will not rest on the latter, but on the
12 upper ones, being careful not to let
it protrude over the edge of the box.
Then carefully catch hold of the bot
tom match, lift it gently, and if you
have done the trick correctly you will
find that you have been enabled to lift
13 matches with one.
An Explosive Fruit.
A very curious fruit has been discov
ered growing wild in Batavia, and a
sample has been sent to a French pro
fessor of botany at Paris. It appears
to be a species of bean, resembling a
cigar both in form and color, though
only about an inch in length. But it
has a peculiar characteristic that ren
ders it a very unique and interesting
object, and this is the exceedingly en
ergetic manner in which it scatters Its
seeds. If one of these little fruits be
thrown into a basin of water it will
rest quietly on the surface for from
two to five minutes, then it will ex
plode with violence, hurling most of its
contents into the air with a noise and
splash for all the "world like a small
torpedo. It is hardly necessary to say
that this phenomenon is caused by the
pressure of the elastic substance of
its interior, which overcomes the re
sistance of its hard outer shelL
The fruit usually splits open length
wise. If plucked before maturity and
allowed to ripen In a warm spot, .t
opens gradually from' apex to base,
making, as it were, a pair of diverging
horns starting from the same point. If
left to ripen on the plant, since the pro
cess is quicker and the internal mois
ture greater, the opening Is sudden and
accompanied with a slight , noise,
though this Is much less than that
which takes place when it has been
placed in water. In this case the dry
but porous tissue of the surface of the
fruit quickly absorbs the liquid,, es
pecially at the grooves caused by the
junction of the two valves or outer
shells of the fruit. The internal tissue,
being very elastic, exerts upon the lat
ter a tension that soon results in the
violent bursting already described. The
curious property of explosion, is-given
the little plant for the dissemination
of Its seeds, which would otherwise
stand a poor chance of propagating Its
species. Montreal Witness.
Papa's Idea of Heaven.
"Mamma," said small Tommy,
"hasn't papa got a queer idea of heav
en?" "I'm sure I don't know, dear," replied
his mother. "Why do you think he
has?"
"Because," answered Tommy, "he
said the two weeks you spent at grand
ma's seemed like heaven to him."
' Wanted the Lord to Persevere.
Much to the astonishment of her
mother, a little 4-year-old miss recent
ly concluded her evening prayer as fol
lows: "Please, Lord, make me a good
girl, and if at first you don't succeed,
try, try again."
Financier in Embryo.
Mamma Now, Willie, here's your
medicine, and here's the dime your
papa left to pay you for taking it.
Willie (aged 5) Mamma,, you take
the medicine and I'll give you half the
money. .
Ethel's Moist Eyes.
One day little Ethel was watching
her father grating horseradish, when
she suddenly exclaimed: "I can't
watch you any longer, papa; it makes
my eyes sweat."
. A New Definition.
"Mamma," said little Willie, as he
w-atched her transforming one of his
father's old coats Into a new one for
himself, "is that what they call a cuta
way coat?"
WINTER FUN IN THE OLD DAYS.
Reminiscences of Good Times Boys
Used to Have.
"Boys don't see fun in winter nowa
days, as we used to," an elderly farmer
lawyer, xv lawyer-farmer, maintained.
"Why. when I was a boy, out in the
country, we used to set snares .and
catch as many as twenty rabbits ev
ery night. I remember one prank I
played with rabbits' heads about that
time. My uncle had a blacksmith's
shop and I had to work nearly all day
in it just making horseshoe nails
awfully tiresome work for a boy who
would rather be out in the woods set
ting rabbit snares.
"One day I had thirty rabbits' heads
the proceeds of two nights' snares;
not quite as many as usual. I had
heard my uncle say that Farmer
Hobbs was coming in the afternoon
to get his horse rough shod. So at
the noon hour I slipped off down the
road, out of sight of the shop, taking
my bag of rabbits' heads with me.
In the road I made a big pyramid of
those heads, the long ears all sticking
out 'every which-a-way.' It didn't look
like anything that human eyes had
ever beheld it rather scared me, I re
member, although I knew I had made
it myself. Then I hid in the fence
corner old rail fence, mind you and
waited for Farmer Hobbs. I knew
he rode a rather skittish little black
mare Kitty. .
"Well, sir, Kitty came pacing along
very decently, and all of a sudden she
stood on her hind legs and pawed the
air, then jumped off the road side
ways, then whirled around and tried
to run away. Farmer Hobbs had a
hard time of it. He whipped Kitty
and he said bad words at her, but
go ahead she wouldn't and didn't. He
had to dismount, tie her to the fence
the very corner behind which I
crouched, snickering in a whisper.
Then he walked up the road to the rab
bit monstrosity, which he inspected
and then kicked all to pieces, saying
more bad words. Even then he couldn't
lead the mare past the scattered rab
bits' heads, so he had to tie her up
again, until he had picked them all up
and hidden them In the woods.
"Of etrarse," continued the farmer
lawyer, according to the Detroit Free
Press, "I slid off through the bushes
and was hard at work making horse
shoe nails long before he got to my
uncle's shop."
Beyond Classification.
The dodo will bite, the worm will
turn.
At one fashionable boarding house a
young lady who daily ate hash with
the other guests acquired quite a repu
tation for odd table manners. They
were unique. She would haul any dish
she fancied up to her place and eat it,
regardless of the ugly glances of the
others. They might cry out, "Help,
help, help, or help wanted," despair
ingly, but they never got it- One morn
ing at breakfast her mamma saw a
stern look of disapproval on the face of
a new boarder, a swell young man.
"Mr. Hightone," she began, suavely,
"I trust you will pardon my daughter's
bad manners."
"Bad manners," exclaimed the indig
nant dude, "why, she hasn't any man
ners at all!" Louisville Times.
Conld Not Stand Cigarettes.
An educated Indian girl has left her
husband and returned to savagery be
cause he would persist in smoking ci
garettes. How curiously does the fem
inine mind work! Buffalo Express.
Only a cowardly painter would desert
his colon.
Throwing the Bull.
Put a halter on. Take a sound or
dinary cart rope, make a loop at one
end and nnas it- over the head and let
it rest close around the neck, low-
down, like a collar; bring the rope to
the near side, pass It over the back
just behind the shoulders, bring It un
derneath the chest and pass It under
and then above the rope, so as to make
a loop around the chest; carry the rope
back, pass it over the loins and bring
it underneath the belly, close to the
flanks; make another, loop as before
and carry the rope straight behind the
animal and tighten up the loops, one
close to the elbows, the other close to
the hind flanks. All being ready. In
struct the man who holds the halter
shank to pull forward, and. at the same
time the men who have hold of the
loose end of the rope to pull straight
backward, and down the animal goes,
generally without a struggle. Keep
the head down and the rope firm, and
as a rule the animal lies quietly until
such time it is desired he should get
up, when slacken the rope and up he
gets, none the worse for the casting.
The heaviest bull may be cast in this
way, but of course no one would think
of casting- an In-calf cow or heifer
either this or any other way. Ex
change. Effects of Freezing; Seeds.
Prof. A. D. Selby of the Ohio station
has tested the effects of extreme cold
upon certain seeds, including corn,
wheat,- rye, Rax, sunflower, castor
bean, cucumber, mimosa, yellow lupine,
sain foin and pine. They were taken
right from the temperature of the room
and immersed in liquid air, for six,
twelve, twenty-four and forty-eight
hours for each lot. The liquid air rep
resents a, temperature equal to 310 de
grees below zero, certainly an extreme
test, for it Is not often that the cold
est portion of the United States reaches
much more than 50 degrees below zero.
The seeds we're germinated by the side
of lots not subjected to treatment, and
there was no essential difference in the
proportion that germinated. The -corn
was not of high grade, and the starchy
portion cracked badly, but the germ
did not seem to be affected. The ex
treme cold seemed to be -favorable rath
er than otherwise to the flax and rye.
Of course the seeds were properly
dried, that is air dry, before being sub
jected to the test, but with this precau
tion the farmer need not fear injury
to seeds from freezing 'weather. If the
castor bean, native of a tropical cli
mate, could endure such cold, our gar
den beans and peas should do so, and
we see no good reason why squash,
pumpkin and melon seed should not en
dure cold as well as cucumbers, or
clover, cabbage, turnip and others of
the same size as well as lupine and
flaxseed. American Cultivator.
Growing Corn.
Secretary Wilson said, after return
ing from his inspection of the corn
crop last fall, that there were many
fields Injured by the heat withering
the tassels so that they failed fertilize
the silk; but this was much less no
ticeable where there was an abundance
of organic or vegetable matter from
plowed-under grass roots. Shallow cul
tivating frequently, so as to maintain a
dust mulch of two or three Inches on
the surface, also seemed a benefit
where it was practiced, as It prevent
ed evaporation of moisture below, as
also the organic matter helped to re
tain moisture In the soIL Much of
the bottom land Is too wet in the
spring, causing the corn roots to spread
out too near the surface, and also to
dry up when the drought came. Such
land should be underdrained, that this
surplus moisture may be carried away,
the ground be ready to work earlier,
and the roots to strike down deeper.
Meeting Farm Competition.
Time was when the farmer needed
only to keep close watch ofwhat other
farmers in his own county or State
were doing in order to meet competi
tion fairly. Now he must keep his
eye on competitors in every State in
the Union and even then he frequently
finds himself running behind. The
remedy lies largely in change .f meth
ods and the building up of soil fertil
ity. Many of the farms in the West,
and in the great corn-belt sections at
that, are not producing corn to com
pare in quality and yield per acre with
many of the cornfields of the East, on
farms that have been worked, some of
them, for more than a century, because
the owners of these Western farms
HOW TO THROW A BULL.
have taxed the fertility of the soil and j'
returned little to it. , The farmers of
the South learned the lesson of over
taxing the soil by the constant crop-
ping to cotton, and a bitter lesson it
was. They are wiser now, and are
realizing the value of stock, of legumes -and
of the judicious use of commercial
fertilizers. The soil of every farm is S
the factory of its owner aud to pro
duce the greatest crops possible for an
indefinite period it must have constant t
care, study and improvements, other- ,
wise, like any wornout machine, it will
fail, to produce results. Indianapolis
News.
Use of Preservatives. ;
The committee of the British Local
Government Board has been for two
years Investigating the subject of pre
servatives and coloring matter in
foods, and their report does not Indi
cate the danger from their use that
had been feared by the alarmists. They
name as these preservatives four
classes, borax or boric acid and its
compounds, sulphurous acid and sul
phites, salicylic acid or its soda salt,
which is more soluble, and formaline
or formaldehyde (made from wood al
cohol). Of these the last is the only
one In which they could find any proof
of Injury caused by their use. Yet as
milk that Is clean and properly cared
for needs no preservatives, they would
run no risks in an article of food so
largely consumed, by young children
and recommend that the addition of
preservatives or coloring matter to
milk offered for sale in the United
Kingdom shall be an offense under the
"sale of food and drugs" act. They
would have the use of formaldehyde
and its preparations absolutely prohib
ited, and that salicylic acid should not
be used to . over the amount of one
grain In a pint or pound of food. There
is no evidence that it Is hurtful in
this small quantity. For butter,
cream and margerine only boric acid
or borate of soda should be allowed
to be used, and that only to amount of
one-fourth of one per cent in cream
and one-half of one per cent In -butter.
Handy Feeding Box.
The feeding box will prevent the
greedy or stronger Individuals from
getting more than their share of food.
Chopped roots, cabbage, etc., are
placed in the box and by the shape of
the backboar-1 kept in motion as the
supply at the bottom is eaten through
FEEDING BOX.
the narrow opening of the front board.
The box is supported on a low, table
like structure with a narrow cleat
around the edge, to prevent the food
from falling to the ground. A cover
should be attached so that the fowls or
sheep can not get at the contents of
the box from the top.
Comfort for Swine.
A model sleeping room for swine may
be cheaply constructed by using heavy
lumber and covering it with- tarred
paper. The house should be set up from
the ground the height of a brick laid
flat at each corner and the space be
tween the corners filled in with boards
to keep out the wind. The floor should
be of plank or cement, and there should
be some division between the portion
where the animals are to sleep and the
clear space in the house. This division
need be nothing more than an eight
Inch plank set on edge. Plenty of straw
should be used for bedding, and when
it is broken up so that it is too fine for
this purpose it may be scattered over
the floor in the clear portion of the
house.
Make the Cow Comfortable.
A cow is a great deal like a person.
She enjoys a good and comfortable
place to eat and sleep as well as any
man. Do you think that you would en
joy standing out on the south side of a
barbed wire fence to eat your meals
when the wind is blowing at the rate
of forty or fifty miles an hour from the
northwest in the winter? No, I guess
not! Can you expect a cow to make
you money when served in that way?
Then, summing up all of this, the cow
must be at perfect ease and comfort
ably situated and have kind treatment
in order to give good results.
How Much Grain.
The amount of grain fed should vary
with the individuality of the cows, says
Prof. D. H. Otis. A cow giving tliirty
five to forty pounds of milk daily will
need from twelve to fifteen pounds per
day, while a cow giving fifteen to
twenty pounds of milk will probably
not need over six to eight pounds of
grain. The amount of grain should
vary with the yield of milk. Give the
cows all the grain they will consume at
a profit
0
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