Corvallis gazette., March 18, 1902, Image 1

CORVALLIS
E
SEMI-WEEKLY.
UKION Eatab. July, 1897.
GAZETTE Eatab. Iec. 1862.
(Consolidated Feb., 1899.
CORVALLIS, BENTON COUNT T, OREGON, TUESDAY, MARCBIS, 1902.
VOL. II. NO. 47.
lgP
CHAPTER XVI. (Continued.)
That night is still as death itself, and
the sparkling brilliance of the slow mov
ing waters contrasts with it in tender
fashion. Strangely attracted by it. Vera
govs forward, moves down the stone
steps that lead to the garden, and with
eager footsteps gains the little pathway,
steep and sudden, that leads to the beach.
Suddenly she draws in her arms, and
a shiver runs through her; she turns her
head to see Dysart.
"You are going to marry Lord Shel
ton?" he says, his tone more assertive
than questioning.
"It is an impertinent question," says
Miss Dysart, calmly.
"You are disingenuous. If he has not
jet asked you, you know he only waits
the opportunity to do so. When he
does " lie checks himself abruptly,
knowing he has gone too far.
A little flame leaps into Vera's eyes.
"Has it occurred to you that I am very
forbearing?" she asks, with a curious
mile. "Does it not strike you as very
remarkable that I do not on my part
question you b:i k again? that I do not
ask you whom .vou are going to marry?"
He looks as if he was about to make
her an angry rejoinder, but she checks
him.
"o don't be afraid, I am not going
to put the question," she says, coldly;
'"and after all, why should I?"
"Do you mean, - he goes on, that you
know of someone I want to marry?"
"Let there be an end to this hateful
hypocrisy," cries she, turning to him with
a burst of passionate anger. "You acted
your part for Griselda this morning most
admirably."
"Vera!" cries he, hoarsely.
She turns as if startled by that, impas
sioned cry, and then, he hardly knows
bow it is, he hardly dares remember af
terward, but somehow she is in his arms,
and he is looking down into her frighten
ed eyes with a terrible entreaty in his
own.
"Do you know what you are doing?"
he says, his miserable voice scarcely
above a whisper. "My darling, my soul,
have pity!" More closely his arms bind
her. He bends his face to hersi nearer,
nearer still, and then, suddenly, a great
loathing of himself fills him. He draws
back with a sharp shudder, and almost
pushes her from him. "Go!" he says, ve
hemently; and in another moment she
has turned the corner of the winding
etnirs, and is gone.
Gone!
With a heavy groan he flings himself
face downward on the cool, sweet, shift
ing sands, that moon-smitten lie trem
bling, waiting for the dawn.
CHAPTER XVII.
As Mr. Dysart takes his way slowly
around the house, the sound of running
footsteps coming toward him from a
side walk attracts his attention. It is
Grunch, wild-eyed, haggard, her thin
gray locks, unbound through her unusual
haste, flying at each side of her lean, for
bidding face.
"More haste, worse speed," says he,
sarcastically. "Is the house afire, or my
precious nieces dead, that you rush upon
me with such indecorous abandon?"
"Hush," says she, sternly, with a
glance behind her, "this is no time for
words like those. Think only of this,
Dysart," pausing and panting for breath,
"that I have seen a ghost."
The old man laughs.
"Be silent!" hisses the woman savage
ly; "cease your gibes, I tell you. The
ghost I have seen is is "
"My worthy father, for example," sug
gests he, with a sneer. "No? Well,
come, who, then?"
"Michael Sedley!" The words fall from
her as though they burn her lips in pass
ing. The sneer dies from Mr. Dysart's lips;
a dark flush suffuses his face, turning it
almost black for the moment, to fade
presently beneath the ashen hue that
makes him look like a corpse a corpse
with eyes of fire! He staggers back
against a tree, and his hands catch con
vulsively at the bark of it.
"You are mad, woman!" he says, in a
terrible voice.
"Ay, may be. So I say. Mad I am.
If it was his ghost I saw. But it I saw
him in the flesh, how then, Dysart? Why,
ane. Well," with growing excitement,'
"shall it be mad or sane?"
- "Mad, mad, mad!" shrieks he, furious
ly. "All my life you have been my bane,
my curse, and now, now .what is this
news you would tell me? Sedley! Why.
he is dead, woman dead, I tell you!
Where have you seen him? Speak, I
command you," cries he, seizing her arm
and shaking her violently.
"On the avenue. I was there watching
Miss Griselda, as you told me to, lest she
should go into the woods again, when he
came slowly toward me through the
trees, prowling about. He's changed,
he's gone to bone a deal; but I'd know
him still among a thousand. Ay, and
you'll know him, too."
It is characteristic of the iron nature
of the man that rose above all petty
cringings to a miserly fear that as he
euters the presence of the one creature
whom ou earth he dreads, he does so
with a calm visage and one expression
less. His step is slow, methodical as
usual; his face, gray in its pallor, a very
mask. His brilliant eyes alone betray
the keen life that still lingers in the
gaunt old frame, and they look through
and through the unwelcome visitor with
an unblinking gaze.
"You!" he says, softly, nay smilingly,
extending a graceful hand, with a good
deal of languid indifference.
"Just that," says Sedley, in a tone so
loud and common as to contrast painfully
with the polished accent that had gone
before. "Years since we met, mate."
"Msny," says Mr. Dysart, sinking care
fully Into a rickety old chair near him.
"And yet It seems like yesterday that
we parted."
"Take it like that! it shows what a
I downy nest you've been lyin' in," says
the large, coarse-looking man. with a
distinctly aggrieved air. "There's the in
justice of it. You've as much right to
mis place as I have, when all s told. And
if I can t get my share "
" 'Sh !" breathes Mr. Dysart, softly,
lining one hand. "And well, so you
have come back? Fining for the old
country, eh?"
"To look yon up," doggedly. "To see
whether you were ia the grave or out
of it, partner."
"Partner?" repeats Dysart, as if in
gentle interrogation.
"In crime!" roughly, as If angered by
the other's tone. "That's what they'd
call it, Dysart, at the Old Bailey, or
wnatever court it might come before. I'm
not particular.
"No no," assents Mr. Dysart, with
gentle encouragement.
"I never blamed you, mind you that.
But a lawyer's a worriting sort o' var
mint. A man should stick to his word.
sez l, and when the old gov-ner refused
to stick to his, after all his promises to
you, why, if you kept him to it, in spite
of him, when he had no longer power
to kick well, who's to say you were
wrong, eh 7 '
"You are very good; very sustaining.
says Mr. Dysart, slowly. His tone is.
perhaps, a little fainter.
"Ay, that's what I am to them as
stands by me. And you and I are in the
same boat, Dysart; never lose sight of
that. 1 don t. I'll back you up as fresh
as though it was only yesterday we'd
agreed on on you know what. Ha, ha,
ha!"
The old man suddenly stiffens himself,
and looks straight at Sedley.
"And now what is it you want?" he
asks, tersely, his tone ringing cold and
clear through the room, though very low.
"Now, I like that. I want part o' the
swag. Five thousand pounds," says the
other, coolly.
"Five thousand pounds! You must be
mad."
"Not one penny less. My silence is
worth that and more. Come, don't im
agine you can impose on me. I tell you,
I would think as little of going into that
room out there and telling your nieces
of that first will, as "
"IIuf?h hush!" says Dysart, in a sharp
tone, wild with fear. "Not another
word, not a breath on that subject here.
Walls have ears. Y'ou know the old ruin
at the end of the far garden? Meet me
there to-night, and I shall see if we can
come to terms."
With a last word or two he succeeded
in getting Sedley to the door, and there
summous Grunch, who in truth is mar
velously handy.
"Grunch! Will you see to Sedley? He
is as old a friend of yours as of mine, I
think," snys Mr. Dysart, in so genial a
tone for him that Grunch Involuntarily
glances at him. "He is tired, and no
doubt hungry. Make him comfortable in
every way."
"Yes, sir," says Grunch, respectfully.
She leads Sedley down the passage, and
then, with a muttered word to him that
she should get the keys of the cellar, runs
back to Dysart, who stands staring after
them with an unfathomable expression in
his eyes.
"Your will quick!" she says, in a low
tone.
"Keep him out of sight. Let no one
see him, or guess at his presence in this
house," whispers Dysart, fiercely, after
which he steps' back into his room and
slams the door, and locks it behind him
in a frenzied fashion.
CHAPTER XVIII.
It is ten o'clock, and night, like a heavy
shroud, lies over wood and garden. Tom
Peyton is treading with cautious steps
the upper part of the garden on his way
to the ruin.
Safely he makes his way to the old
house, to get the letter he knows will
await him there. Poor darling, what
will be in it? Further vexations? With
a desire to avoid all risks, he elects to
enter by the back, where a large rent
in the dilapidated walls will enable him
to squeeze through the room where the
letter from Griselda will be.
Voices decidedly, and in the next room.
The speaker at this instant is Mr. Dy
sart. The second voice is strange to him
coarse, vulgar and dictatorial, and
very threatening.
The voices grow in wrath; the un
known one being loud in vituperation.
And now, all suddenly as it were, the
voices cease; there is a strained silence,
as if each man waits with drawn sword
for the other's next word, and then a
sickening sound. A dull, awful blow, as
of oak meeting-flesh and blood, a ghastly
groan, and then silence.
Great heaven! What has happened?
Has he killed that old man? Peyton
springs forward, looks upon the inner
room, he stops short, as if shot, to stare
aghast upon the scene before him.
Upon the earthen floor lies a huge fig
ure, apparently dead, while standing over
it is Mr. Dysart, his face alight with a
ghastly hope, his wild eyes gleaming. A
heavy oaken stick is in his hand. The
murderous bludgeon is uplifted to com
plete crime already begun to finish his
work, to make sure of the helpless vic
tim at his feet, when Peyton, uttering a
loud cry, rushes from the spot where
until now he lay concealed.
There is an instant's hush, a strange
hush, and then a convulsive shiver runs
through the old man. An ashen grayness
has risen from chin to brow.' He flings
up his arms, for a second or two. clutches
foolishly at the air, and then falls with
a dull thud across the body of his enemy,
Peyton runs through the garden, never
pausing or drawing breath nntil the
house is reached. Knocking impatiently
with his knuckles and receiving no an
swer, he so far gives way to the agi
tation that is consuming him as to smash
a pane with a stone. This brings Seaton
to the window ia a minute or two. car
tially dressed.
"It la I, Dysart Tom Peyton. Come
out. come out quickly. Your father,"
panting, "is hurt is very ill !
fMy father!" says Seaton, as if not
believing. "But where how ?
."In the garden up there in the old
ruin. Oh, hurry, man, hurry; you can
hear all afterward !
Seaton hardly dares to venture a re
mark, but, having with trembling fingers
clothed himself, follows Peyton out
through the window in the chill night
air. and soon the two young men are
tearing like hunted things through the
gardens to that fatal old ruin at the end
of them.
Here everything is just as Peyton left
it. The old man lying dead, with a more
peaceful expression on his face than had
ever been there while he lived the oth
er, the stranger, almost as motionless as
his enemy, save for a faint quiver of the
lips and nostrils every now and then.
Who was he? What had brought him
here? Peyton turns to Seaton with these
questions on his lips. It is imperative
that something about the stranger be dis
covered and at once.
Seaton is still holding his father's body
in his arms, inexpressible grief upon his
countenance. The old man had been
stern, hard, begrudging, but he had loved
his son well, and the son knew it. Fey-
ton touches him lightly on the shoulder.
"Rouse yourself," he says, in' a low.
earnest tone. "You know this man?"
"No not at all. I never saw him be
fore."
"What! you can tell me nothing? Oh,
think, Dysart!" says Peyton, with in
creasing anxiety. "If you know nothing
we shall scarcely be able to see how to
act. Exert your memory, man."
"It is useless. I swear I never saw
him before." He compels himself to look
again at Sedley, and a shiver of disgust
shakes him. "I know only this that he
has killed my father.
"You forget," says Peyton, very quiet
ly. .He would have been thankful, glad,
to be able to leave his friend in this be
lief, but he knew it would be impossible.
"I saw the whole thing. There was a
quarrel, about what I did not hear, but
it was your father who knocked that
fellow down.
"Well, it killed him," says Seaton, ex
citedly. "The excitement of that quar
rel was too much for him. I still main
tain that that man caused his death."
He covers his face with his hands.
"Nevertheless, we cannot leave him
here to die. Come, Seaton, take your
courage in your hands. Think if there
be no way to avoid the scandal that must
necessarily arise out of all this. For
for the sake of your poor f ather s mem
ory, bestir yourself."
It is a potent argument. Seaton flushes
hotly, and the old touch of power returns
to his face.
Together they carry the two bodies into
the house, under cover of the silent
night. Mr. Dysart to his own room, and
then up the stairs, and through the end
less corridors, that other groaning,
scarcely living burden; np always until
a disused chamber in a remote corner of
the old tower is reached, where it is be
yond probability that any one in the
house save these three who know, will
ever seek to penetrate.
(To be continued.)
HATS OF OUR ANCESTORS.
Changes that Have Taken Place In
Manufacturing: Headeear.
"Speaking of the hat business," said
a veteran of the business to the local
historian, "most wonderful changes
have taken place since 1830. In olden
times soft felt and derby hats were not
known, and it was as late as 1843 when
silk dress hats were first introduced in
this country, this being a French in
vention, and all silk plush used for
hats tn the world was, up to this time,
made In France. When Kossuth came
to America he introduced the soft felt
hats, wearing one himself. It dad not
take American hatters long to take up
the idea, and In less than one year old
and young Americans covered their
heads with Kossuth hats. They were
in shape nearly the same as tourist
hats now, only being trimmed up with
a nice, long ostrieih plume. Along about
1858 an English tourist came along
with the derby hat, and In a very few
years they became the general head
gear In the country, and up to the pres
ent date the demand for soft hats and
derby hats Is nearly evenly divided.
"In those days all the best class of
soft hats were imported from France,
and stiff derbies from England. This,
however, has taken a material change.
as American hats are now sold in all
parts of the globe, and It Is a known
fact that we produce the most tasty
and best hats made. Before the arrival
of Kossuth and the English tourist,
however, the Americans did not go
bareheaded, but contented themselves
with napped otter and napped beaver
hats, for the more expensive, and the
so-called scratch-up or brush hats for
the cheaper. Brush or seratch-up de
rive their name from the fact that nap
was raised on them by means of a stiff
brush constructed of whalebones. The
first manufacturers who made Ameri
can production in those goods popular
and world-renowned, and who forced
French and English hats out of thi9
market, were Rlnaldo M. Waters, John
B. Stetson, J. D. Bird and B. J. Brown.
'During the early periods of 1840
and 1S50 a dealer was a hatter In fact,
else there would have been no room for
him, as all made the hats they sold, all
handwork, no machines of any kind.
and one who knew how to make a nap
ped otter or beaver hat was an artist.
earning 540 to $G0 per week being
nothing unusual, many making from
$73 to $100." St. Louis Globe-Demo
crat.
tUJffCI
Pnllv'a Lesson.
Polly was sitting !if the orchard un
der the old apple tree, f Its pink and
white blossoms were sending her their
sweetest fragranee'jipI ;the little bob-o-link,
as he flew abopt, sang his sweet
est sang to her. .? '
But for all this, EolIySwas not hap
py. She knew that very soon her mam
ma would call hereto "get ready for
school. ,. ' f
"Oh, why did jiuone ever think of
having schools!" ejtiaJpjid she at last.
"I wish I were that fweuy little bobo
link, with nothing; t do but sing and
be happy all the daS-long,
Just then a slight ',j noise attracted
Polly's attention, and, looking around
she saw a beautiful ifiry.
"Do not fear, little girl; your fairy
mamma heard your wish and has sent
me to tell you that 16 Is granted," she
said kindly.
Then, before Polly aad time to think,
the fairy had gone, add she found her
self changed into a pretty bob-o-link.
She flew into the air and down into
the meadow among "the sweet clover,
mingling with the rest of her kind, al
ways giving forth the richest music.
The days came and went, but the
little bob-o-link never; sighed to return
to her former lif e. i The beautiful
spring changed into summer; the clo
ver blossoms disappeared; the little
bob-o-link sings her ; sweet" songs no
more. 'i"?-'"'.
She has changed her beautiful black
glossy dress into one of a dusky russet
color. ;.
She has no time now to think of any
thing but eating. She, perches herself
upon the weeds where before she
lighted tinkling forth? her sweetest
notes, only to devour their seeds.
Then, becoming tired of the homely
fare around the home; which a short
time since she thought so beautiful and
where she had been so happy, she flew
away in search of a better living. This
she found among the reeds along the
Delaware. "
As she was banqueting among the
reeds one day she heard the loud re
port of a gun, and looked up in time
to see four or five of her companions
fall bleeding to the ground. She was
thoroughly frightened and did not
know what to do or wjiere to go.
Just then Polly rubaed" tber sleepy
ye-ad-end thatae4M
calling: ."XletunPollr,tlie sun-ia -shin
ing brightly and thelittle birds are
singing their sweet morning songs."
Oh, how happy Polly was to find It
had all been a dream.
I do not think I should care to
change places with a bob-o-link, or
even grow to be an Ignorant woman
with nothing to think of but eating and
sleeping," she said as she trudged
cheerily to school that bright spring
morning. Farmer's Union.
Principle of Magic Sqnarea.
Magic squares of odd numbers In
which the figures added in perpendicu
lar, horizontal or diagonal rows make
the same sum are found in books of
puzzles, but the principles on which
they are based is never given.
There is a principle, and it is ap
plicable without limit, from one square
to any odd number of squares Indefi
nitely. For illustration, twenty-five
8
7$
33
7?
76
73
ZO
22
ro
72
79
at
77
78
2
2
squares are given and the sum of each
of its rows of figures perpendicularly,
horizontally or diagonally is 65.
Now for the rule. Always write your
numbers consecutively, diagonally, up
ward, to the right. If that direction
carries you outside of the squares,
then go to the opposite end of the row
at which you stand. If you reach a
-square that is occupied, or the upper
right hand corner, then drop to the
square below the last one used, and
proceed as before. Begin with 1 In
the upper center square. Now try It
For Busy Hands.
According to a Chinese legend, says
the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune,
there lived in Canton 200 years before
Christ an artist named Lim-Kao-Poung,
who won an immortal reputa
tion owing to the fact that he was able
to fashion out of a bean pod a boat,
complete with rudder, sails, mast and
all other necessary appurtenances.
Moreover, on the exterior of the boat
were engraved various maxims by
Confucius. For this masterpiece, it is
said, the Emperor Tsl-Fou paid him
1,000 taela.
In these days pretty baskets are
made out of hazelnuts and chestnuts.
and heads of peacocks and parrots are
deftly fashioned from the stones of
apricots. It is with orange peel, how
ever, that the most attractive, though
not the most durable, work can be
done.,
With a few skillful incisions of the
pen-knife, the eye, nose and lips of a
man or woman can be cut out of such
peel, and by placing a suitable cap on
top the oddity of the countenance Is
remarkably increased. Furthermore,
much fun may be obtained by placing
this- head on a handkerchief which
rests on a tumbler; for. if one of the
four corners of the handkerchief be
then gently pulled, the head will wag
most comically to one side, and as It
has no neck the effect produced is most
ludicrous.'
A Little Helper.
"My father says I'm a great helper
Said little Miss Dorothy Gay.
"There's just only us and our Bridget,
So I have to work ev'ry day.
On Monday I help do the washing
By wiping the plates dry and bright,
On Tuesday I help Bridget iron -
By folding the towels just right;
On Wednesday I help do the mending
By threading the needles up, fast.
And Thursday I help clean the silver
By counting it over at last;
And Friday I help with the sweeping
By dusting as hard as I can,
And Sat'day I 'most do the baking
By buttering every pan;
And Sunday well, Sunday, my father
Sava hp doesn't actn'lv know
Bui he'd break right down in his sermon
At meeting if I didn't go!"
Youth's Companion.
Doks in Cold Storage.
Dogs are now being shipped from
Russia to the antarctic regions in a
cold-storage ship. They are worth $150
each and must be kept in a cold at
mosphere. This was made necessary
because the dogs are used to a very
low temperature, and the heat of the
tropes through which they will have
to pass would enervate them and unfit
them for the hard work which is
planned for them. These dogs are
wonderfully well trained, and- are
strong and willing to drag heavy
sledges over the snow and ice. Their
diet is dried fish.
Before God Learned How.
Small Georgie was looking at a book
containing pictures of various animals,
"Mamma, who made camels?" he
asked.
"God, my dear," replied the mother.
"Many years ago people used them in
stead of horses." '
"That must have been before God
learned how to make horses," com
mented the little fellow.
Jonah's Own Discovery.
Teacher Johnnie, can you tell
me
who first discovered whalebone?
Johnnie (promptly) Yes'm.- Jonah.
WHITE ANIMALS.
facts Abont Polar Bears, Arctic Foxes,
Ptarmagan, Bine Hares.
A polar bear would not have a chance
in stalking seals if it were of a darker
I A., j.,.. - .-. . m i : t , I
Lilt? llF Ui I IB UUBC. -1 OaUlHB
first landed on various unknown arctic
shores and bays stated that the bears
used to take them for seals, and begin.
to stalk them at a considerable dis
tance, lying down flat on their bellies
in the attitude in which the well-
known photograph by Gambier Bolton
shows the' old polar bear at the Zoo,
and wriggling along in that position
until they came up to an ice hummock.
when they would get up, peer over to
see if the "seals" were alarmed, and
wriggle on again. The sailors added
that they could always see the black
nose when the bear got near, and vow
ed that the bear put his paw over his
muzzle to hide it.
The arctic foxes, the "blue" hare, the
ptarmigan, ryper, and ermine all un
dergo the seasonable change to white
bv an identical process. The hair or
feathers, as the case may be, lose color
and turn pure white by what may al
most be described as an instantaneous
process. In the foxes and birds the
white comes in patches; but the speed
of color change is remarkable. There
are many stories of people whose hair
has turned white from shock "In a
sinsle nisht." Judging by the birds
and foxes, these stories must be true.
No one ever sees the process of fad
ing goingon. The feather or patch of
fur which was brown or smoky-gray
suddenly whitens. Yet no one has ac
tually seen the color going. The ex
planation usually given is that It takes
place by night. There seems no "half
way" tint between the white and the
original color. Spectator.
Didn't Relate Any More.
"Miss Paraffine," said Mr. Golightly,
who wanted to relate another personal
reminiscence, "were you much im
pressed with that tale I told you re
cently concerning the way I detached
myself from the main body of the
British army and threw myself direct
ly in front of the long knives of the
Afghans?"
"Yes, Indeed," Eaid Miss Paraffine.
"I told mamma what a wonderful deed
of bravery it was."
"You didn't either," cut In her bright
little brother. "You told mamma that
'winged with pain, a coward's fears
take flight, and 'fools rush in where
wise men fear to tread.' "Indianapo
lis Sun.
On tbe Bargain Counter.
A well-known society woman was
taking a drive in the park, says the
New York Times. The coachman was
too lively in his use of the whip, and
nearly ran into another vehicle.
"James," said the lady, after they
had returned home, "you were very
careless to-day. What was your head
given you for if not t use?"
"Pardon, mem," replied James. "If
I had any head I'd not be workin' for
thirty-five dollars a month!"
Cloud-Covered Mountain.
Mount Rewenzorl, in equatorial Af
rica, is about 20,000 feet high, has
twenty miles of glaciers and is nearly
always cloud covered.
Cost of Ocean Cables.
The cost of a cable from San Fran
Cisco to Honolulu is put at $3,000,OOOl
Protecting Stable Windows.
To ventilate a stable without expos
ing the animals to direct drafts of air,
take three half -inch boards and arrange
them at the bottom and slides of a win
dow. These side boards will cut off any
side drafts and enable one to leave the
window open a considerable space.
Then take another half -inch board and
hinge it to the top of the window cas-
1,1 1 4
Hi..
PBOTECTIOW FOB STABLE' WINDOWS.
ing inside, after boring a number of
holes In it When the wind ia blow
ing strongly, drop this shutter, after
sliding the window to one side far
enough to admit what air is desired. In
the strongest blows a small amount of
air only will be forced into the stable,
but always enough to give the animals
a supply of pure air. Indianapolis
News.
Horse for the Farmer.
Speaking on the most useful horse
for the farmer before the West Vir
ginia Live Stock Breeders Associa
tion, C. E. Lewis said in part: The
heavy horse has a signal advantage In
some farm operations. In plowing or
operating a manure spreader or. haul
ing the crops to the barn or to market
fthe'fieavy horse' Is Just What Is "want
ed, but In harrowing he does not have
an advantage proportionate to his size.
Fer drawing a mowing machine the
lighter horse is better. Hitch a heavy
horse to the shovel plow or cultivator
and start him up and down tbe corn
field, with scarcely room between the
three-foot rows for him to put his pon
derous feet, walking on two rows at
once and breaking down more corn in
each than a little horse could in one,
and you will quickly decide that he
was not made for that kind of work.
Besides, to carry 1,000 pounds of sur
plus, useless horseflesh over the soft
ground of the cornfield takes a great
deal of energy, and that energy has to
be supplied by an extra amount of
feed. Then through the long winter
months of idleness It requires a great
deal of grain to keep the heavy horse's
huge body in repair.
Early Plowing for Corn.
Some of the best corn crops of last
season, a season of poor crops In all
corn sections, as a rule, were from soils
plowed in March or early' April. Ex
perience has shown that this early
spring plowing Is to be preferred to
fall plowing, for corn. The stable
manure Is hauled to tbe field during the
winter as made, and in March, as soon
as the ground can be worked, it is
plowed, the plowing being rather shal
low. This plowing Is done in the regu
lar manner, but nothing more is done
until corn-planting time, when the
ground is further prepared for the crop.
The seeding is done with drills and
the summer system of cultivation start
ed with the weeder early and continued
as long as possible. The plan is com
paratively new in some localities, but it
has brought good result, and Is well
worth trying.
Three-Horse Kvener.
To make a good three-horse evener
take two pieces of hickory or red elm.
or any tough wood one lncbjhiek, six
inches wide and thirty-eight inches
long, for the main pieces, and a hook
with an eye large enough for the cen
ter bolt to pass through. Then get two
sticks one inch thick, three inches wide
and eighteen inches long and a single
tree eighteen Inches long. A single
tree with aa iron pulley will answer for
the middle horse. A short twisted link
chain should pass from the two ends
ef the eveuers over the pulley. The
illustration shows the manner of con
struction better than can be described.
Iowa Homestead.
Cotton-Seed Meal aa a Fertilizer.
The plan of using cotton seed in vari-
our forms as a fertilizer is not a de
sirable practice. It is generally ad
mitted that we may add to the soil's
fertility by the direct application of
several crops, the legumes, for exam
ple, but In very many cases these crops
ceuld be made te answer a donble pur
pose. This is the case with cetton seed
meaL If fed to the stock in small
quantities together with roughage of
- 38 .
THBEE-HOBSE EVEXER.
almost any kind, it will be beneficial
to the animals and still lose none of its
manurial value." All sorts of plans may
be tried in soil fertilization, but the fact
still remains that the best results are
obtained, all things considered,- when
stock is used in connection with farm-,
ing. That many dairy farms do not
pay is admitted, but, on the other
hand, there are few farms that are
profitable if stock Is not kept on them.
Regular farming is meant, not truck
raisiug. Further, and this has been
demonstrated time and again, there IS
no farm used for general work that
would not be more profitable If more
stock was added up to the number that
could be supported from the farm.
Soil Culture in Fruit-GrowlnK.
A few years ago there were few
farmers who had any faith in tbe
efforts of skilled experimenters to in
duce them to conserve tbe moisture ia
the soil by a system of shallow culti
vation during the summer. One by
one they tried the plan, many of them
in desperation during a season of
drought, until now thousands have
proved its great value. Fruit growers
are becoming interested in tbe question
and realize that with fruits that absorb
immense quantities of water from the
soil It is absolutely necessary that ev
erything possible be done to keep in the
soil for tbe use of the tree during the
summer all that is possible of the
water that falls during the fall, winter
and spring. Nothing will accomplish
this better than the system of surface
culture during the summer. Then if
this plan is followed by a cover crop
during the winter to be turned under
in the spring, the trees have every in
centive to thrive, provided, of course,
the soil is properly fertilized.
A Humane Stanchion.
The old-fashioned, rigid stanchion,
consisting of two uprights, keeps an
animal from moving backward or for
ward, but It also
confines the head
so closely that very
little movement of
this is possible,
while the fact that 1
the stanchion has no
"give" in any direc
tion causes a good
many bumps upon
the animal's horns,
ears and shoulders
when it is gettiny
up or lying down. It
is possible to make
use of a stanchion,
however, and yet
have it admit of
considerable move
ment or tne ani
mal's head, while
stjll confining its
forward or back- stanchion.
ward movements to very small limits.
The cut shows the construction. The
upright post turns freely at the base
and at the top. Two iron L pieces hold
the swinging upright at the bottom, as
shown, while a swinging iron clamp at
the top holds it when shut With such
a stanchion the cow can move back and
forth but little, but can move the head
about from side to side with great free
dom, while the swing of the stanchion
causes it to "give'' a little "When the
cow is lying down or getting up.
Tribune-Farmer.
Heat in Bee Culture.
While It is possible to do many things
with artificial heat all attempts to
hasten activity on the part of the beea
by artificial heat have proved failures
more, have been fatal to the colony.
Prominence is given this now In view
of several items going the round of the
press advising the packing of hives in
stable manure to furnish the artificial
heat In experiments brood rearing
was hastened, it Is true, and more bees
hatched, but they were weak, and suc
cumbed to the weather when they left
the hives, and many of the honey gath
erers started out earlier owing to the
artificial heat, and never returned.
The hives should, of course, be packed
with some material so that the bees
will not suffer during the winter, but
all attempts to force them to gather
honey before settled weather will re
sult In disaster.
Feeding Skim Milk.
There is no doubt that skim milk
will bring the greatest returns when
fed to laying hens, provided one can
get twenty cents or more a dozen for
winter eggs, and if one has but few
hogs and many hens the latter should
have the skim milk by all means. On
the other hand, it may be fed to hogs
with profit, and if fed with corn meal
will easily be worth twenty cents a
hundredweight The trouble Is that
not one feeder In a hundred feeds skim
milk properly. It usually goes Into the
trough at any time when convenient;
and is often mixed with other slop that
Is not so clean, and It is made to take
the place of grain to some extent
Care of Stock.
Feed and management have much to
do with the health as well as thrlfti
ness of stock. Young and growing ani
mals require feed which will make
bone and muscle rather than fat Bed
ding liberally with some dry material
will add greatly to the comfort of the
animals during the winter. Kansas
Farmer.
.
Sore Throat in Calves. - -Put
one ounce turpentine in a pail of
boiling water, and hold this nnder the
animal's head for twenty minutes; re
peat three times a day; also give a
teaspoonful of the compound syrup-of
squills at a dose three times a day
in a tablespoonful of common syrup.
J