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
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f -nil
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