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About Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 18, 1902)
GAZETTE CORVALLIS SEM1-WEEKLY. c ITflOV Estab. July, 1897. GAZETTE Etab. Bee. 1863. ' " f i CHAPTER VIII. July reicns. vice June, dethroned, but till the roses hold full sway. Seaton Dysart has come and gone many a time to and from Greycourt, and by degrees a little of the constraint that had characterized his early visits has worn away. He has even so far ad vanced as to be almost on friendly terms with Griselda. But between him and Vera that first dark veil of distrust still hangs heavily distrust that, on Vera's side, has taken a blacker hue and merged itself into dis like. Seaton DysartV arrivals being only looked for by the girls at about seven o'clock in the evening just an hour or so before dinner gave them plenty of time to prepare for his coming. Any day on which he was expected, Mrs. Grunch brought a formal message to Vera from her uncle to that effect. Never yet had their cousin come without the announce ment being made; and so thoroughly un derstood was it that he would not put In an unexpected appearance, that when, after a rather h nger absence than usual, an nhuuiifa ovtonrl intr over all last week and part of this, he turns up at half-past two in the afternoon, nis coming causes distinct embarrassment in several quar ters. . "What can have brought him at this hour? London must be reduced to ashes," hazards Griselda, her tone now as genial as usual. For. one instant a sickening fear that it might be air. l ey ton's knock had made her blood run cold. There had . been a short but sharp en counter between him and her the day be fore yesterday, and a wild fear that he had come up to have it out with her now, and here, had taken possession of her. At such a moment the advent of Seaton is hailed by her, at least, with rapture. "Why,, what happy wind drove you down at this hour?" cries she. with the friendliest air, beaming on him as he comes into the room. "It is good of you to call it happy," says he, casting a really grateful look at her as he shakes hands silently with Vera. "In time for luncheon, too, I see, though," with a rather surprised, glance at the table, "you don't seem in a very hospitable mood. Nothing to spare, ehV" "We didn't know you were coming, yon see," says Griselda, mildly. "And it isn't lunch you see, or rather you don't see, before you; it is dinner." "What?" says Seaton, flushing a dark red. He has got up from his seat and is regarding her almost sternly. "Is it true?" asked Seaton, turning to Vera. It is a rather rude question, but there is . so much shame and anxiety in his tone that Griselda forgives him. "Why should it not be true?" says Vera, coldly. "As a rule, we dine early." "She means that we always dine early except -when we know you are coming," supplements Griselda, even more mildly than hofrtTO "And this " with a hurried glance at the scanty meal, "do you mean to tell me that that this is your dinner every "Literally," says Griselda, cheerfully. "This is the chop that changeth not. It la nnt nil that one could desire, of course. but if sometimes it might be altered for " "Griselda!" interrupts Vera, rising to her feet. "Whv should. I not sDeak?" asks Gri col.l n in n meeklv in ill rod tone. "I was iminc tn mid that a fowl occa sionally would be a good deal of moral use to us. I have always heard that to keep the temper in a healthy state, k1i:iiu'a nf food is necessary." 1 1....1 iw if 1 omrht to atioloirize to you for all this," says Dysart, with a heavy siph, addressing Vera exclusively, "and as if. too, no apology could be ac cepted. Rut' I shall see that it does not occur again." 1 "I bog you will do nothing," says Vera, quickly. "Nothing. I will not have my uncle spoken to on this subject. Griselda is only in jest; she speaks like a foolish child." 1." folding her hands tightly to gether. "1 forbid you to say anything about it." "I regret that I must disobey you." says Sea ton. 'courteously, but with deter mination. "My lather's house is in part mine, ami 1 will suffer no guest to endure discomfort iu it." "There".- is no discomfort now. There will be if you try to alter matters in our favor." "You mean that you will accept noth ing ,.t niv bunds: is that it?" exclaims he. .,.,'..;., t li.it will not be renressed in his tone; the colduess seems broken up, there is tire in his eyes and a distinct anger. You have had that time' you spoke of; has it fulfilled its missions has it taught you to detest me? No!" detaining her deliberately as she seeks to leave the room. "Don t go; you should give me a real reason for your studied discourtesy, for I won't believe that I am naturally abhorrent to you. There must be some thing else." "If you must know," says she, looking back detiantly at him, her blood a little hot, "you are too like your father for me to pretend frieudship with you." "Oh, Vera, I think you shouldn't say that!" cries Griselda, now honestly frightened at the storm she has raised, but neither of the others hear her. Vera, with one little slender white hand grasp ing the back of a chair near her, is look ing fixedly at Seaton, whose face has changed. An expression of keen pain crosses it. "Has he been so bad to you as that?" he says; and then, with a profound sigh: "My poor father!" There is something so honestly grieved in his whole air that Vera's heart smites her. "Why will you bring up this discussion again and again?" she says, with re morseful impatience. "Why nqt let me go my way unquestioned, and you yours? What m I to you when all is told? I am outside your We 1 ever snau (Consolidated Feb., 1899. 1 yet it seems to me as if you were bent ' on compelling my likes and dislikes." i "Vr.n are riiyht " savs he. eoine closer to her, his face very pale, "I would com pel you to to more than like me." "Compel!" She has drawn back from him, and her eyes, now uplifted, look de fiance into his. "If I could." suDnlements he. gently. lie turns and leaves the room. I r I 4 r I r. n I .v While the two crirla were discnasing. in a frightened way, the result of Griselda's imnmulence. Seaton was having a tussle. fthurn find severe, with his father. They are all alone in the world,' he says. "Yes. tps." acknowledges, the old man witn a rrown. except ior me, nusuiy , "I I alone came to their rescue." "That is true. It was nnite what I ... - . . ,, i ... . fihntild have exnecterl of von!" Why shvuld you expect it; mere was no reason," says the old man. sharply. "Tt wan nf mv own free will that I took them. Do von nuestion-mv kindness to themr What more am 1 to do ror tnein: Wnnlri vnn have me kneel at their feet and do them homage? Have I not ex plained to you how desirous 1 am or mafc- me one of them mv daughter Hal l have vnn there. T think! Is not that af fection? Am I not willing to receive hep? Von should host'lrTinW." 'Yes," says the young man, stonily, his I eyes on the ground. "Why, look you; I would give her even you! You! My son! My one possession that has any good in it!" You must put that idea out of your head once for all. I could not combat n- dislike Active as hers " "Her dislike? Hers? That beggar!" his face working. "What d'ye mean, sir? T tell vnn it shall he! Shall!" "Talking like that will not mend mat ters. It certainly will not alter the fact that I myself personally am objection able to her. I can see that it is almost as much as she can do to be civil to me to sit at the same table with me. I en treat vou not to set your heart upon this thing, for it can never be." "I tell you again that it shall shrieks the old man, violently. "What! is. the r-horiahml ilrpnm nf a lifetime to be set aside to snit the whim of a girl, a penni less creature : rhe snail ne your wire, 1 swear it. thouch I have to crush the consent out of her." He falls back clum sily into his chair, a huddled heap. Seaton in an agony or remorse ana rear hnn us over him. compelling him to swal low a cordial lying on the table near. "Here, sir. Re patient. All shall be us von wish. I iinnlore you to think no more of this matter. Yes," in answer to the fiery eyes now more ghastly than ever in the pallid, powerless race, i shall trv mr best to fulfill your desire." Ifo foola sick nt heart as he savs this. and almost despicable; but can he let the man die for want of a word to ap pease the consuming rage that has brought death hovering with outstretcn nhnve him? And vet-, of what avail is it all? A momentary appease ment. Even as he comforts and restores his -father, there rises before his mental vision that pale, proud, sorrowful face, that is all the world to him, and yet, alas! so little. V&.B hflpinw mnde tin her minrl to fo , 1. 1 u uu uD K ea , to her uncle and fully explain to him that neither she nor Griselda desire any change in their way of living, waits pa Hontlv for Seaton's departure from his father's den, and now, at last, seeing the coast clear, goes quickly forward. "Uncle Gregory, I wish to say some thing to you," she is beginning, hurried ly, hating her task and hating her hearer. when suddenly she is interrupted. "Hah! For the first time, let me say, T am .ri..,i to see von." savs the old man. & ..... n . - grimly. "Hitherto l nave Peen remiss, T fr in such minor matters of eti quette. Sit down. 1. too, have something to say to you. lie nxes nis piercing eyes on her and says, sharply: "lou have met my son several times "Yes." savs era. You like him t ' with a watchful glance. "I can hardlv sav so much." 'coldly. "He is neither more nor less than a com ,!.to stronger to me. I'" - - . a - - - "As yet. Time will cure that; and I speak thus early to you, because it is well that you should make up your mind beforehand to HKe mm. - 'Whv'" shp Asks. Because in him you see your future husband. Thorn is a dead nniise. The old man sits with bright unblinking eyes fixed upon the girl, who has risen to her feet ..ml ia ctnrint. liable at him as if harrllv daring to understand. From red to white. frfm white to red sne irrows: ner nreatn fails her, passionate indignation burns hot within her breast. "Absurd!" she says, contemptuously "llnll it so if von will." with an offend ed flash from his dark eyes, "but regard it as a fact for all that. You will marry your cousin, let me assure you. "That l certainly shall not, decisive ly 'That vou certainly shall. Did you not know that your marriage with my son was the last wish, the last commauJ of your father?" He is lying well, so well that at hrst tha CMrl fnrirotQ. to doubt him. My father? she says, with much amazement: He never so much as men- tiling mr .villain name to met" "To me, however, he did. Do you wish ie coa tha lottfr? This is a bold stroke. Vera hesitates then "Vn" aava she. steadily. "Even if my father -did express such a wish, I should not for a moment accede to it. i shall not marry to please any one, dead rr limine oxcent mvself " "So vou now think, u e shall see, re turn. h In an icv tone. "Mar I ask if if your son is aware of this arrangement?" COKVALLIS, BEOTOK 'My son is willing," says Mr. Dysart. slowly. At this moment the door is throwa open and Seaton himself enters. "You know!" she cries. Her tone is low, but each word rings clear as a belL "You know! Oh, coward!" she Dreatnes very low. her slender hands clinched. Koused from his lethargy and stung by hr onntpmnt he wnnld now have made his defense, but with a scornful gesture she waves him aside and leaves ue room. -" - ' - "Great heaven! how did you dare s to insult her?" cries the young man, in .ter rible agitation, addressing his father. He casts a burning glance at him. Dysart cowers before it. "Out of evil comes good," he says, sul lenly, "and I did it for the bert." He stretches out his hand to his son. "See, then," he cries entreatingly, "I did it for Trrtn fnr von!" v . j . "fur me! Yon rnin the one hope 1 had, which meant silence time ah4 you say it was for my good; "T thought to comnet-'her:' to-friehten her into a consent, and I will yet," cries he, eagerly. "Nay, Seaton, do not loo a thus nnon me. I have not betrayed you without 'meaning, and all for the fuJfill- nr rt Tnnr desire And mine "Yon misunderstand me." savs Seaton, curbing 'his passion with difficulty. "I would not have her s a girt ,on.-sucn terms. Is it a slave; I want, think you? No. not another word! I cannot stand it to-night. Forgive me, father,, if :1 seem aDrupt, out : TTe Keems heartbroken as he turns aside and disappear through the door way. . . ... ....... ... .... Long after he has. gone.. the old man sits motionless, his head bowed upon his breast. ' - " "Curse her!" he savs .at last: he same hloorl all thrmifrh. and always to my undoing! Cursed be her lot indeed if she comes between him and me I Rut that shall never he." IroiEtAntlv he nflssas throilfirh a door OD his right hand, gropes his way along the unhghted passage. Unlocking and enter in a- an anartment here where the strange -old cabinet , stands he fastens the door securely behind him, and goes quickly up to it. Kneeline down beside it he unlocks the secret door, and taking out the withered parchment opens and reads it witn .a feverish haste. It seems as though he hopes thus to slake the raging thirst for revenge that is tormenting him. Long he kneels thus, conning each word with curious care, gloating over the contents of . that mysterious document So lost is he in his perusal of it that he fails to hear the annroaeh of Mrs. Grunch until she lays her hand upon his shoulder. 'What, don't you know it by heart yetr asks she, derisively. (To be continued.) WHERE TO LOSE TREASURE. Best and Safest Place Eeems to Be In a Paris Cab. If a man must lose his. purse' some where. Derhans the oest mace is m a Paris cab. Major Arthur Griffiths, writing in Cassell's Magazine, tells some wonderful stories or money re covered after being thus left, lie says that the cabmen of Fans are honest enoueh-possibly in spire of them selves, for they are a rough lot and are carefully looked after by the police. A a a result, some curious instances of self-denial on the Dart of these poorly paid servants of the public have been recorded. One night a rich Russian, who had cone away from his club a large win ner, left? the whole amount, ten thou sand francs, in a cab. He was so cer tain that he had lost it irreparably that he returned to St. Petersburg without even inquiring .whether it had been civen up. Some time later he was again in Par is, and a friend urged him at least to satisfy himself as to whether the miss ing money had been taken to the lost property office. He went and asked, although the limit of time for claiming lost property had almost expired "Ten thousand francs lost!" said the official. "Yes. it is here;" and after the proper identification the packet was restored to him. What a fool that cabman must have been !" was the- Russian s only remark. The comment spoke ' ill . for public morality in liussia. On another occasion a jeweler in the Palais Royal left a diamond parure worth eisrnty thousand francs In a caD. The nolice. when he reported his loss. gave him little hope of recovering the treasure. Not only were .diamonds worth sixteen thousand dollars a great temptation to the cabman, but worse still, the loser did not know the num ber of the cabman, having picked him up in the street instead of taking him from the rank; and more unfortunate yet, he had quarreled with the driver, for which reason he had abruptly left the cab. The case seemed hopeless, yet the cabman brought back the diamonds of his own accord. The quaintest part of the story is to come- When told at the nrefectiire to ask the ieweler for the substantial reward to which he was clesrlv entitled, he replied: "No. not I: he was too rude. I hope I may never see him or speak to him again." All cabmen are not so honest as this. yet a great deal of treasure finds its way to the prefecture, whither every thins? found in streets and highways. In omnibuses, theaters, cabs and railway stations. Is forwarded, in one case an emiornnt. who had made his .fortune in Canada, and carried it in nis pocKet in the sharte of fifty notes of ten thou sand francs each, dropped his purse as he climbed on to the outside of an om nibus. The conductor nicked it up and re stored it with its one hundred thou sand dollars intact- To be sure, he was rewarded with two thousand five hundred dollars, but the temptation he overcame was great. The Fir-t Thine. Munson What do you think we rnrht to do with the Philippines? Brisbe I'm thinking that it might be a good idea for us to capture them. COTJOTT.; OKEGOK, " 'omer How to Make a Croas-BowT t.vo B nine board that.ls 2 feet 3 inches long by 6 Inches broad and of an inch thick, and cut oat a stock ii.e Fig. 1. The end A mast' be 1 inches broad; from A to B most be 11 inches, and the notch B must be of n men nn Now. take a gouge, or, railing that mnr knife, and cut f groove along the top of the stock aboutU of an Inch deep, which is for the arrw to ue -m. ,i Siir von have l it perfectly straight. This will finh the stock, which you had better sanapaper ? to Next, take a barrel-stav and split off a; piece1 inches bToaa ana wmrxie it down till It tapers from VA inches in . , mil y l on tnHi At the ends. me uuuute . w -73 . nod notch the ends at both sides as in Fig.2. ? Also you -migW sandpaper it or scrape it with glass till It is thinner at the-ends than in the middle. . Now lay the stock" on. its side "and make a mark of an inch from the top at the end A,. and f ror) - that mark measure off of an Inch lengthwise oa the stock. Then at the bottom of the end A, measure off of n inch along the stock. .Draw a line from the second mark to the last one and cut this piece out as at C, Fig. 1. Then take your -otir ani nut 3i inch iscrew in the end about of an inch" back from the notch C: as at E, Fig. 1, ana let it stana out about of an Inch. Turn the stick over and put another screw In, aoout l in oh from the notch C, so the screws tan pass each other in the wood. - Now take two pieces of wire about s mcnes A Th Cr-Bow Compute THE PROCESS IliUSfcBATED. lonz and twist one end of each around the screws." Then nut the barrel stave bow fen the-notch G, bo tiiifc the middle or tne dow wui come in me ctuim the notch. Then take one of the wires and pass it around the bow from under nentH. and back around the screw again, and pull it as tight as you can Then twist it around the screw, which vou must screw down tight, and cut off the projecting end of the wire, do tne same with the other wire and the dow will be in place. The notch C is cut on a slant so that the ends of the bow will be high enough to keep the bow string from pressing too hard on the top of the stock. Bore a hole througn D. Fig. 1. with a small gimlet Cut the head off a nail that will fit the hole very tightly and drive it through so that it sticks out at each side of an inch Then take a piece of thick wire about 8 Inches long and double It up till it makes a long U. with the sides of this TJ of an inch apart inside 'measure ment, and bend both ends at right an gles 2 inches from the bottom of the U, as in Fig. 3, and leave the ends 1 inch long from the bend. Put this piece of wire on the stock with the loop un derneath and the ends, which must be over the nail D, .pointing towards the butt of the stock. If this has been properly made the ends .will be. on a level with the bottom or tne notcn a, nnd when the Iood is pulled as if it was a trigger, will lift' a match out of the notch. ' - To make the arrows, take a pine stick 11 inches long and whittle it down to the size of a lead pencil. Cut a notch in one end and tie a piece of feather on. a little back from the notch. Drive a small nail in the other end till It pro jects of an Inch, cut its head off and sharpen It with a file. Then tie one end of a piece or strong cord to one of the notches in the bow, put that end of the bow against the wall and press on the other nil the bow henris somewhat, and tie the other end rr h vrd to the other end of the bow. Then draw the cord along the top of the stock till it snaps Into the notch r. Pinna an arrow in the groove with Its notch almost touching the cord. Take oim ann null the loop off the trigger. Trir a. The two ends of the trigger will push the cord out of the notch, and it, on being released, wm striKe tne arrow and send it to its mark. Fig. 4 shows the cross-bow complete. Montreal Herald. Birds that Walk. nnes it not seem strange that " al though we cannot fly like the birds, no matter how much we try, some birds can walk like human beings? Watch vour pigeons or a qualL lark. hinokhirri or snlne walk or run proudly and quickly along the ground! Don't you suppose they thnm us very stupid not to be able to do both.' And now sorry thev must be for their cousins. the woodpecker, thrushes, sparrows null n-n Thiers, who can only hop! Of all the awkward waiters among birds the graceful swaiiow is tne worst Perhans he realizes it himself. for he very seldom uses nis reet at an. 'The Hill of the Cellar Door. t tuns a hill not far away ci.i-D ohiMren always love to olav: The hill is straight and smootn and low; For little folks 'tis Deuer so. The coasting there is very nice, , i Fig I ' 5"""ij. ' 'fkstMk. ng.Z Th. Bow. ::, TUESDAY, Wifhnnt tha viM of Kniiw and ice; You slide in summer, fall or spring, . But need aot bother sleds to bring. It is the safest hin I've found; Sometimes you tumble to the ground, ' But 'tis not far. you have to fall J ; Ana would not nurt a cniia at au. Tt's ho verv near vnnr home, and so Your mother'll always'' let you go, For then she knows you're right near by, And she can hear you if you cry. , ; ; " So "up $ou scramble, down yon slide, And, oh, you have a jolly fide!-: You always want to play some more . Upon the hill of Cellar Door. - ..' Annie Wills McCullough. " ; To Marry a Title. "Mamma," said 5-year-old Bessie, "I'm going -"to be a duchess when- -1 grow up." ; - .v....: "How are you going to acquire the title, my dear?" asked her mother. "Just like other ladies do." replied Bessie.. "I'm going to marry a Dutch man." Renairinar Hia Trees. . Small Willie one day asked his moth er who made the trees and was told that God "made them. A few days la ter an old colored "'man came to trim the trees and the little fellow seeing him at work ran to his mother and ex claimed: "Oh. mamma, God's out in the yard repairing his trees!" What Spunk Is. : Papa Tommy, if you had a little more spunk you would stand better in your class. ' Now do you know what spunk is? Tommy Yes. sir. Its the past par ticiple of spank. Why Margie Was Glad. Margie (aged 4) Mamma, what made our washerwoman black? Mamma She was born so, Margie. The Lord made her black. ' ": Margie WelL I'm awful glad the Lord wasn't around when I got born. Definition of Pride. ' 'Can you tell me what pride- is?" asked the Sunday school teacher of a small pupil. 'Yes'm." was the reply. "It's walk ing with a cane when you ain't lame." TRICKS UPON TRAVELERS. English Tourists in Ireland the Vic- ; tints of CunninK Natives. The poor Saxon "towrist" what he may suffer in the Emerald Isle! There is a story on record of three Irishmen rushing away from the race meeting at Punchestown to catch a tra.iu back to Dublin. At the moment a train from a long distance pulled up at-the station, and the three men scrambled in. In? the carriage was seated one other passenger.' As soon as they had regained their breath one said. "Pat have you got th' tickets?" "What tickets? I've got me loife; I thought I'd have lost that gettin' in th thrain. Have you got 'em, Moike?" "Oi! Begorrah, I haven't." "Oh, we're all done for, thin," said the third. "They'll charge us roight from the other side of Oireland." The old gentleman looked over his newspaper and said: ' ; . "You are quite safe, gentlemen; wait till we get .to the next station." They all three looked at each other. "Bedad, he's a dlrecther we're done for now entoirely." ' ' But as soon as the train pulled up the little gentleman jumped out and came back with three first-class tick ets Handing them to the astonished strangers, he said: "Whist, I'll tell ye howldidlt I wint along tne tnrain 'Tickets, plaze; tickets, plaze,'. 1 caueo, and these belong to three Saxon tow rists in another carriage."-Harry Fur- ness in the' Strand. ' Did Not Keep a Horse. The voiinp woman who entered the wrocerv store the ' other day had but recently entered upon the sea of matri- monv nnd. like all sensible Driaes, naa hesnin housekeeping at once. 'But she did not know a. : little bit about either housekeeping or shopping, and she was giving her first order. It was a crush er, but -the grocer was a clever man and was used to all kinds of orders and could interpret them easily. .' "T want two pounds of paralyzed su gar,", she began, with a business-like air. ' ' : "' "Yes'm. Anything else?" "Two tins of condemned milk.". "Yes'm."- ' ' :':'' He' set down pulverized sugar and condensed milk. 'Anything more, ma'am? 'A bag of fresh salt. ' Be sure it is fresh." "Yes'm. What next?" "A pound of desecrated" codfish." He wrote glibly, "desiccated cod." "Nothing more, ma'am? We have some nice horseradish just in." "No." she said. "It would be or no use to us; we don't keep a horse." Thon the c-rocer sat down and fan ned himself with a patent washboard. although the temperature was nearly freezing. A Kinsr's Bactr Answer. T eonold King of the Belgians, was recently holding a conversation, after a Tinhlio reeeDtion. with one or his ramii a-' . . iora known to be on easy terms wnu ftie extreme sections - of socialists. "What impression,", asked the king. laughingly, "do I make on tne social nn. of the leaders observed to me," wn the reply, "that If you had not been king of the Belgians you might have been president of the Belgian re- nV.li "Thanks, very much," said the king lnna-h. "but tell me, yea, who are a medical doctor, how would, you, is-. t ha made a "veterinary sur- AAIft. W ' " geon.' "London Answers. There's no fool like an old fool who marries a young fooL 1902. MBKISPlll Hoof Window in the Barn. There are thousands of barns scat tered throughout the country the roof snace in which is but little, u at au, utilized, largely for the reason that the roof space is Inaccessible. A barn was secently seen in which this aimcuuy was solved; by the Insertion of a roof winilnnr elmllnr TO tDSI 8DOWU 111 cut this gives a chance to unload hay into the ldft from the outsiae, enuer by hand or by a hay fork, and where as the loft before was dark and poorly ventilated. It Is now light and airy. The style of window that Is shown is much better than the pitched roof dor mer window that is sometimes put up on roofs. The style shown admits of having a large square window in front -especially useful If a hay fork is to be used. The ndvnntasre of thus changing a hh ta that the loft can be floored over and the hay and straw stored in me '" - . . , second story, utilizing the space wear THE EMPBOVED BABIT. to the ridge pole. This leaves the first floor clear for a silo and quarters , ror the stocky giving more room for the latter, and affording a warmer barn, since many buildings are kept cold al most wholly because of the big, empty space In the top heated air always ris ing because Jghter than cold air. vv un a window in each end of the barn above, and the new window in front the loft will be as light as the first floor. ,. . Care of Roots. ' ." Not only those who -expect to -.sett their surplus of potatoes and other roots, but those who Intend to use the tubers for seed purposes, should be careful to guard against the cold weather. When It gets so cold that froat enn be seen upon the inside .of the cellaY "walls, it is tod -cold in the cellar for nearly all roots, out espe ciallT for potatoes and such others as may be intended for seed purposes. The Cooper system -of cold storage places the proper temperature of potatoes In storage at 34 degrees, or two above the freezing point, while carrots may ue kent at 33 degrees, onions and parsnips at 32 d9grees, or Just at freezing. We have seen onions kept well at a mucn lower temperature than that, but an essential requirement -was . that they should thaw out 'gradually, -and . with out anv exposure to sunlight or arun- cial :heat How onions so kept would have proved if they had been set to grow seed we do not know, as we never tested them.-- But it is said that tne po tato which has been in cold storage, and even not lower than 34 degrees, has been so chilled that It is unfit to use as a seed. Its vitality has been re duced, and while we have had. sprouts come from potatoes that were-partially frozen, the yield was not such as to lead us to -advise any one to freeze their seel potatoes. We are also told that a long term of chilling at a . tem perature near the freezing point . is worse for. them than an actual quick freeze. American Cultivator. Saving the -Forests. At nn Iowa farmers' institute one -of the mostardent. speakers in favor of a hin before the State Legislature., for the preservation of the forests .was 3 fanrier whom the writer rovmq iater.;u the year hard at work in his wood lot cutting down trees for fire wood. This man was not a fraud by any means. but he failed to see the slightest lncon- sistencyln .his action, and yet it seems plain that the only way to -preserve tne forests is for every farmer. tp taJie:gQQa care of his own little forest if he has one; if he has not, then he should make haate und start the trees. It is, all. very well to talk about the preservation of the few remaining great forests of lit tle value compared the nve, ten ana twenty acre wood lots If such a one could 'be found on every farm in the country. If you have a wood iat, friend, take care of it; keep stock ana fire out of it; scatter a few seeds of forest trees over the ground every few years and do everything possible to preserve your small forest If there !s no wood lot. on your farm, set our tne trees or sow the seeds next spring on that twenty-acre worn-out pasture. rion't continue to rob nature; give her a chance and she will return to you a hundred fold. " Cooking Food for Stock. There is but little doubt but that with potatoes or other starchy foods there is a gain in cooKing mem over foenMnsr them raw. and among . the starch foods we also include corn and wtjeiat, and that gain has been esti mated at .from ten to twenty per cent It not over ten percent It will scarce ly nav to take the trouble or cooaing nnloca it can he. done without using: extra fuel, or there are a large number to cook for. A gain of twenty-per cent in 'feeding value would' come nearer lea vine- a profit to- Day for the labor. but that must depend greatly upon the' amount of grain and the kinas, mixea with the potatoes. Fod beets, turnips VOL..IL. NO. 43.; and pumpkins, we do not think it pays to cook them, as they are too watery when boiled. Exchange. Straw and Corn Fodder. It is not many years ago that farmers : in the Western States were burning their straw stacks to get them out of the way. There was apparently no market for it excepting at points where the cost of transportation was likely to exceed the price for which, they could sell it Now at nearly every market in the States the price of good straw Is as high as that of No. 1 hay. ana m some places it is higher. There wera some who would not burn it but put it in the yards for the farm animals to pick what they wished to of It, and to trample tha rest into manure. After a few" years it was found that the farms of these men Increased In fertility and productiveness, and the . practice of burning straw was nearly discontin ued, even before the common use Q the baling press made It profitable to ship It to Eastern markets, a. cnange almost as great has taken place in the opinion of the value of corn fodder. It is but a very few years since the corn growers of the Western States cut no corn fodder, but after picking oft ears, let the cattle and hogs In to pick and break down the fodder or what they would of it and then it was a task In the spring to break down the rest so that it could be plowed under. Now It Is nearly all being put through the shredder, and made so fine that any stock eats it and it Is thought as val- uable as the average Western bay. New England Homestead. Pushing Yonae Pig. The best food for pushing pigs It milk mixed with shorts placed in a trough close to the pen, where the mother cannot get at it The little pigs quickly learn it is for them, and as soon a they eat it up entirely add a little cornmeal with it, and when thres months old I put as much oats ground fine as I have shorts and ' ' cornmeaL Then soak shelled corn and feed it for slops. ' Make the slop thick. Just so U pours readily; put a little salt In it; it aids digestion and Is relished more by the pigs. As a substitute for milk I use oil meal, old process, and soak slop tor twelve hours. I can get more growto from this mode of feeding than any thing I have tried yet Pigs, wnen Do ing; pushed heavily, should have lota of exercise. Exchange. Building Up the Dairy Herd. In breeding, only healthy or vigorous females should be used, and they should be In the prime of life not too young nor too old., It Is equally import-! ant that the malei should be perfectly healthy and sound and free from all constitutional and hereditary diseases' or imperfections. As a general rule the A good milker. riairvmnn must rely .upon the common ' stock of the country on the one hand ' ami the thoroughbred bull on the other for the base of his operations. It is use less to talk about the exclusive intro duction of pure thoroughbreds to meet the present wants of dairymen. Tha nnimnls would be altogether too ex pensive, even if it were possible to find them. Again, it may De aouDtea whether any advantage would be gain ed in the mere production of milk over crossing of common stock with thor- oughbreds. The grade animal as a milker may prove equal to or even bet ter than the thoroughbred. The only course for the most of dairymen is to start with a good fherd of native cows having good dairy typed, use a; thoiv oughbred bull . and breed up to the qualities desired. Kansas Farmer. Pack Butter with Care. ' Butter for shipment or for the home market should have much greater care than is usually given at the farm dairy. nt course the size and kind of package . - I Ml will depend upon the demands of the..,, customers. If tubs are wanted, see that the butter Is put in solidly. The top may be smoothed off evenly by means of a straight edge or wire. A' cloth Is then spread over the top of the- tub, and a light layer, of salt ,1s sprinkled oyer the cloth.. If prints are wanted. see that they are carefully and .neatly' made, are wrapped In parchment paper and carefully packed. Use special care with small packages designed for cus- , torn trade. New England Homestead. . Variety of Stock. Stock-raising should include all kinds for the reason that "mixed stock,' in cluding sheep, gives the farmer more advantages and permits of. more eco nomical use of food, says Wool Mar kets and Sheep. If the market should be low for cattle, good prices may pre-' vail for sheep, swine or horses, and the ; farmer can more confidently expect to ( sustain less loss than when he depends fi upon one kind, a"s disease may not af fect all should It appear.- Food that some animals reject will also be util ized by others. V Indigestion in Horses. ' ' ' t -j Feed the animal regularly and not too , much, and water before feeding; also mix four ounces sulphate of iron, four ounces nitrate of potassium and two-' ounces nux vomica. Divide into twen-; ty-four doses and give one at night in '. small bran mash until all are taken. jr Cattle Lice. . Fot cattle lice jase chloro naphtha-,, I'eurn according to directions on pack- ' age. It leaves no bad effects and freea your cattle from the lice. x - f -nil is1'-'. 'of ? . v'i
