13
1
J
SEMI-WEEKLY.
SSSS&ST'Ri&t. Consolidated Feb., 1899.
COEVALLIS, BENTON COUNTY, OREGON, TUESDAY, MARCH 31, 1903.
VOIi. III. NO. 49.
PI ' A r
A Tale of tiie Early Settlers
of Louisiana.
i
I BY AUSTIN C. BUROICK
CHAPTER XIII.
Several times had Louise suggested to
Loppa the idea of her looking out about
the town, but she had been informed that
it would not be safe. The old negress
was firm and uncompromising, but yet
kind and considerate as far as her care
of her charge's welfare was concerned.
Louise had made some examination of the
house in which she was confined, and tjhe
was satisfied that she could not escape
from it without much labor and trouble.
It was on the fifth day of her sojourn
there that she was aroused from a fit of
deep thought by the entrance of Simon
Lobois. He came in with a warm smile
upon his face, and after some remarks
upon Louise's improved looks, he took a
seat bv her side. She did not shrink
from him, nor did she seem afraid of
him, but with a keen gaze she fixed her
deep blue eyes upon him.
"Sweet cousin," he said, in a toae of
extreme softness, "why was it ordered
that I should be the one to save you
from the jaws of death? Why was I
singled out?"
"Surely, Simon. it was because you, of
all others, were in duty bound to save
me." replied Louise.
"Ha! how so?" the cousin asked, with
a slight start, but quickly recovering him
self. "Why, because to you my father gave
me in charge. Because you have received
a handsome salary for taking care of
me."
"I should say that you had shown an
early disposition to throw off the yoke of
my authority."
"Ah, how so?"
"Your own sense will tell you how,'
Simon responded, somewhat bitterly.
"O, I meant no play upon the past, my
cousin. But then you are my near rela
tive, you know and hence you ought to
save me."
"And this is the gratitude you feel for
the service I have done you."
"Now, Simon, you did not ask me how
I felt. You only asked me why it was
you were singled out to save me. Most
truly, for all of good you have ever done
me do I feel most duly grateful. For all
your acts of kindness to me, you have
my deep acknowledgment.
Lobois seemed for the moment non-
- plussed by the off-hand manner in which
he was thus far met, but his forces were
. soon in order again, and he renewed the
"Louise, you remember the conversation
we once had in the study?"
"Perfectly, Simon. And you remem
ber the answers I gave? Replied the
girl.
"Yes I do remember them; I have re-
membered them ever since. And now let
me assure you that I look upon this
strange event as an opportunity granted
by heaven itself for me to ask those
questions over again."
"Simon Lobois!. Are you in earnest?"
"I am. A love such as mine cannot
be cramped by the result of one inter
view. It has been cherished too" long,
' and has become too deeply rooted. From
one less loved I might have turned away
under such a rebuff, but not from you.
No, no, Louise; I have come now to ask
that one question again. Remember now
, thesdebt you owe me; remember the dou
ble claim I now have." -. "
"Double claim. Simon?"
"Ay a double claim. First, the claim
resulting from the care I have held for
you since early childhood; and, second,
this last claim founded in the very sav
ing of your life."
"It was curious that you should have
been the one to save me wasn't it?"
said Louise, looking into her companion's
face with an expression he could not ana
lyze, though he tried hard to do so.
"It was," he replied.
"And that you should have landed just
in that place, too?" pursued Louise, with
out removing her close gaze from her
dark cousin's face. "And how strange
that they should have camped dirct'y
by the boat landing, where -,the whites
would be sure to come if they crossed
the lake wasn't it? especially when we
consider what a repute they have for
shrewdness and cunning?"
Simon Lobois winced at this, and a
perceptible tremor - ran through his
frame. But he recovered himself with
an effort, in a few moments. '
"It is strange," he said, "and I have
.often said so since. But I can see in it
only the opportunity of 'pressing my
claim to your heart and hand now wilh
more hopes of success. I must ask you
now if you will accept the heart and
hand I offer you?"
. "Simon Lobois, you know I cannot do
it," uttered Louise, in a firm, frank tone.
"Beware, Louise! I ask you kindly
now. I confess my love and I beg of
you to accept it."
"A husband's love from you I nver
can accept, Simon."
"Think carefully ere you speak."
"But what mean you? I have thought
carefully, and have equally as candidly
told you that yours I can never be. Now,
what more can you ask ?"
"I shall ask but little more," returned
Simon, through his set teeth. "I am now
in a position to command."
"Speak plainly, monsieur."
"Then, plainly you must be my wife!"
"But I shall simply apply to the Governor."-
-
"That will help you none, for Perier
is my friend, and has pledged me his as
sistance." .
"But he will listen to the prayer of a
helpless girl."
"Not when that prayer is prejudicial
to the interest of his friend. He is anx
ious that all the marriageable fema'es
should be married as soon as possible. In
short, my dear cousin, he has pledged
roe his word as a man, and as an officer,
that you shall be my wife. Now what
say you?"
"I should certainly say that, he was a
great scoundrel," returned Louise, re
garding her companion with a fixed look.
"You are cool, mademoiselle?" j
"Because I do not believe that you can
be in earnest, monsieur."
"I am in earnest, Louise! and, more
over, you go not from this place until
you are my "wife! Do you understand
that?"
"If if I "thought you could mean it.
Simon, I should begin to be alarmed,"
said the maiden, in a tone that would
seem to indicate that she did not really
credit the statement she had heard.
"I do mean it!" he replied, slowly and
meaningly.
"Simon Lobois, look me in the eye, and
assure me solemnly that you mean what
you have said." Louise spoke this in an
earnest, eager tone, with her hands" clasp
ed and half raised towards her dark
cousin, and her lips firmly compressed.
It was some moments before Lobois
replied. There was something . in the
deep blue eye that was fixed so earnestly
upon him, and in the calm, earnest fea
tures that met his gaze, that moved him
more than he had counted upon. But then
he was not the man to break down now.
He was not the man to give up the frui
tion of a hope that he had cherished with
his very life for years. He was playing
for a golden stake of immense value, and
now that he held the leading hand, he
meant to use it promptly, and without
compromise of any kind.
"Louise St. Julien," he at length re
plied, "I mean just what I have said.
You go not from this house until you are
my wife! Froril this purpose I will not
swerve."
A quick--flush passed over the girlis
face, and her lip quivered.. A momcat
the thought of spurning- the wretch was
present with her, but the thought most
probably, of her defenseless position kept
her tongue under guard.
"Simon," she murmured, after a while
of silence, "you will not be so cruel?"
"And is it cruel to want a beautiful
girl, whom one loves, for a wife?"
"But what can you want with a wife
who can never love you in return?"
"I'll teach you to love me." . '
"As well might you teach me to love
Ihe great crocodile I saw the soldiers
playing with in the street this morning.'
"Then I'll teach you to fear me!"
"You've done that already, monsieur."
"So much the better then; you'll mind
me the quicker." ' -
"But why why should you do this
thing?"
"I'll tell you," spoke Simon, turning
with sudden , emphasis upon the . girl.
"There is no need that I should pretend
to deceive yeu, nor could I, probably, if
I tried. . For many years I have had
the charge of your father's books and
business. You know he is wealthy more
wealthy than any other ten men in the
colony. When he came here into this joy
forsaken wilderness, I came with him to
help him. The thought came to me, as 1
beheld your mind expanding under my
care, that at some future day I might
possess your heart and hand, and thus
the half of your father's fortune would
be mine. So I strove to make you all I
could, . and the property I multiplied as
fast as possible.- The wealth has grown
in bulk under my care, and now I am not
ready to give all up. I am not willing to
seeeJunst.;JUetimxbla9te4 iost
from the mere whim of a capricious girl.'
'-' "But do you think my father will allow'
his property to fall into your hands when
he knows that I married you from abso
lute compulsion ?" . asked the ; fair girl,
earnestly, . .. .'..-.-
"He cannot well help it. He cannot
cut me off without cutting you off, too."
"But he will demand a dissolution of
the union between us."
"Ha! he cannot gain it if he does. I
am prepared there,- and I know the
ground on which I stand. The king has
empowered the company to frame domes
tic regulations to meet the wants of the
colony, and they have already passed a
resolution that every sane, sound girl, of
seventeen years or upwards, shall marry,
if proposal is made from a respectable
source." : ..- .
- "Ay but the payment of -a .hundred
livres can remove the obligation." "
"So it can. But no power can annul
the marriage tie." -
"Then mark me, Simon Lobois! I will
bid my father that he let me live in pen
ury and want, for, as your wife.my sor
row will have reached its climax; so yon
shall not thus gain the gold you covet."
"And mark me. Louise St." Julien!
While your father withholds the' half of
his fortune from yoiij I will reduce yon
to such suffering as shall force me to bin 1
you to prevent you from taking your own
life to end your tortures!" '.
A few moments of silence ensued, and
theft Simon said, in a softer tone:
"But let us drop this profitless talk.
Yon will consider of this, and I know you
will calmly settle down into a state of
reasonable acquiescence. Now gie me
a direct answer. 'Will you become my
wife without any further act of compul
sion?" ;
"I should judge you had heard enough
to know my mind." -
''But I would know if I mast compel
you. Mind, now! My resolution is fixed.
I have counted the t ost, and am resol , ed
upon the throw. - When we return, yon
may tell your- father, if you please,' that
I compelled you to become my wife, but
I shall not care. He cannot take yo.;
from me. after the church has bound you
to me, and if he seeks otherwise to harm
me, he will only heap suffering upon the
head of his own child. Your father gave
me permission to seek your hand."
"I do not believe it, Simon."
"I care not for your belief. . . That he
told me so is true, and now have sought
you. Will you be my wife?"
"Never!"
"We shall see."
And with this, the wretch strode from
the apartment.
CHAPTER XIV.
It was nearly dark when Simon Lobois
left his captive, and the poor girl waited
in vain for the coming of her supper.
Some time during the night she was
startled from antineasy, dreamy slumber
by hearing a "heavy tread in her room.
Then she looked around and found two
stout, dark-faced men by her side.
"Come," uttered one of them; "we are
in a hurry."
In a gasping voice, Louise asked what
was wanted.
"Never mind only get ready to follow
us as soon as possible. We'l find bet
ter quarters than this for ye." . . .
"But "
"O come!" .,,
Louise asked no more questions, but
quickly putting on her scarf and draw
ing it over her head, she announced her
readiness to accompany them.-- One of
them took her by the arm, while the oth
er, who held the lantern, went on in ad
vance. They descended the stairs to the
street, and having passed the distance of
two squares, they stopped in front of a
gloomy iookiag ouilding, with one small
door on the street, but no window. This
door was Opened, and the girl led in.
Straight on she went through a long,
narrow passage, a distance of over a hun
dred feet, and then she was stopped be
fore a door not more than two feet wide,
formed of three pieces of solid hewn tim
ber bolted together with Iron. This was
opened, and Louise was pushed in, and
the door closed upon her. She listened
until she could hear the sound of her con
ductors' footsteps no more, and then she
searched around for some place in which
to lie down, or, at least, upon which she
could sit down. At length she found a
low pallet with some bedding upon it,
and on this she rested.
vShe slept some, for she was astonished
when she opened her eyes and found a
stream of sunlight struggling into the
place. She looked up and found that
there was a small aperture near the top
of the wall, about a foot square- but
she could ..not look out from in. J.ne
room was small, with walls of. hewn tim
ber, and evidently built for7 a prison.
official assistance in the colony, and hence
she wondered not that Lobois had been
able to. obtain the use of this place.
The forenoon passed slowly away, and
noon came. . Hunger and thirst began to
afflict the helpless prisoner, and the hands
were oftener clasped in silent supplica
tion. At length, towards the middle of
(ie afternoon, the door of the cell was
opened and Simon Lobois entered.
"Simon," uttered the prisoner, "what
means this?" ;
"Can you not guess?" was his calm
ropli'.
"Do you mean this as a means of forc
ing me to marriage?"
"You've hit it." '-', -
Louise sank down upon the pallet and
clasped her hands.
"I cannot stand .this, "-she said. ' -.
"Then become my wife."
"Is that the only alternative?"
"It is."
"And in no other way can I get clear
of this place?"
"In no other."
"Bring me water." '.
"Will you be mine?"
"I will allow the marriage to be sol
emnized.' .
"And you will go before the priest and
be legally married to me?
"I will!" - : .
Simon Lobois started with demoniac,
selfish joy.
"You shall have food and water now!"
he cried. "And you shall have a faith
ful, loving husband. O, Louise, you
"But I am famishing now, Simon."
Away flew the man, and in a short time
he returned with some cold milk and
bread. - - i...- '
"You take it more calmly than I had
exDected. Louise." Simon said, as he
gazed inquiringly into her calm, pale face.
"If I am calm, monsieur, it is not be
cause I am happy. I find myself in your
power, and I have assured myself that
I am powerless to escape you. . I have
reflected and , nondered-deeply,- ;pQn"vtfiis,
and 'now that my mind is made "up, I
am not the woman, or the girl,' to make
myself -uselessly miserable. But,- mon
sieur, you do not see my heart;; you do
not see the .utter wreck yon have made
there. A deep, dark sorrow, such as the
soul utterly crushed, and the heart all
broken, can only know, is mine. ,. rf you
can'be happy in knowing the work you
have thus wrought,I shall not envy you.
I can look with hope to-the life of the
emancipated spirit; "you know . best
whether you can do the same."
There was a deep, touching pathos in
this speech that moved the hard-hearted
man more than he dared acknowledge,
even to himself; and he tried to banish
the emotion.-- ' " -.
"Pooh!" he uttered. "There is-no need
of your speaking so, for you shall be as
happy as a princess. I will always love
you always be faithful." - . v
A look of utteir contempt stole over the
fair girl's face as she gazed into the evil
features of the bad man, for she knew
how hollow all his pretensions were; and
she knew now, too, what wicked means
he had used to bring her within his pow
er. -
(To be continued.)
London Is improving.
Year by year London becomes not
only more and more a city of flowers,
but also a city of doves. Around every
building where it is possible to keep
pigeons one sees constantly increasing
flocks of these pretty creatures,, and
there could not be a more ornamental
and delightful addition to town popula
tion. In the sunlit spaces where they
alight and feed the soft rush of their
wings and the peaceful sound of their
cooing make the most restful contrast
to the harsh noises of the streets.
?'akin the Point PI in.
"Why 'do. you call your sister 'Mis
ery,' Johnny?" asked Mr. Tarrier, the
little boy's big sister's-beau.
" 'Cause," said Johnny, "she's your
comp'ny." . '
'Yes er but I don't se what that
lias to do with it, you know."
"Don't y'?" and the small boy grinned
all over. "What! 'Ain't y' never heard
t 'Misery loves comp'ny,' eh?" Phil
Kielphia Bulletin.
A Clever f-cheme.
Harold I'm goin' around and sere
nade Miss Jones with this mandolin to
night. -
Jerrold Didn't know you could play
it. " ." -
Harold Can't but while I'm pre
tending to tune it up, her dad will
chase me off the lawn, and that'll make
me solid with the girl, anyway. Judge.
Premeditated Disability.
"I'm afraid of this half-ripe water
melon." "We've all eaten some of It"
"Well, I'll eat some too; I don't pro
pose to be left in a condition to nurse
the rest of you." Chicago Record-Herald.
,
Appliel the Wronar Word.
"Some people say," remarked the
talkative barber, "that barbers are too
fond of conversation." -
"Oh! that's all wrong," replied the
man in the chair; "it's soliloquy they're
fond of." Philadelphia Record.
If all hearts were frank. Just anS
honest, the major part of the virtues
would be useless to us. Moliere. -
Butterflies In the Bottle.
Get a wide-mouthed bottle and into
I I , 1. it.. ; . i.ilr,wl
, " "l a W1 ,vllu .l"c - ""J"
oui enougn to aamu tne stem or a
omau gutss muuei. jtiuviug pui. iue
funnel In place, make the whole thing
air-tight by putting melted sealing
wax all around the stem of the funnel.
and aiso all aroun(j the cork In the
mouth of the. bottle, i
Pour water into the funnel until the
bottle ,s half ful1' and that part of the
I work Is done. Now get several pith
balls or cork balls and, paint them dif
ferent colors. To one 'or two of them
glue a-piece of tissue or cigarette pa
per, cut In the form of butterfly wings.
Now drop separately into the bottle
through the funnel two of the powders
that druggists sell to make seltzer wa
ter; one of them is tartaric acid and
the other bicarbonate; of soda. The
action of the acid on the soda liberates
carbonic acid gas, and that makes a
pressure on the bottle, and will seek
to escape through the funnel.
But you must prevent its immediate
escape by dropping the balls into the
funnel, "when the pressure of: the gas
will make , them dance up and down
in the liveliest fashion.7 The balls with
the butterfly wings attached will fly
about like- real butterflies hovering
over ja. flower, w , : : -
. The reason why ther balls, dance up
and , down is that sthe. gas pressure
throws them up and" their own gravity
brings, them back. N
Who Told the Story?
It was after tea. Aunty May sat
by the library window looking out Into
the beautiful night. Morton ran in
from the dining-room. . '
"Won't you tell me ; a story?" he
pleaded.
"I think it Is high time you told me
a stdry," answered aunty. "Think of
the hundreds I've told you!" "
"But I don't know any."
"Make one up out of your head, same
as I do," laughed Aunty May. '
t'Oh, I never could," replied the little
boy. - - . x
Across . on . another street shone a
light from the window of a house.
Every now and then somebody would
cross the room between the window
and the lampK and for an instant the
light would, seem to be gone. Then it
would show again. ,
"I wonder who lives in that house?"
said Aunty. May.
Perhaps , a little boy about as big
as I," guessed Morton.
"What do you suppose his name is?"
"Maybe it's Willie; and, oh, what if
he's got a little baby sister like Toot-
sie!" said Morton. "And .p'r'haps he
has a grandma and an aunty, 'sides a
papa and mamma!" . . - -
I wouldn't wonder a bit," replied
aunty.
, i. x '
1 guess ne s just, got luruugn sup-
per, and is playing on the floor with
his building blocks-yes, he's making
a church, 'way up high! Now his little ;
sister is knocking it over my, how
those blocks did scatter!"
"I hope Willie isn't cross about it,"
ventured aunty.
No," said Morton. "He's just as
pleasant. He's going to build It up
again. . Now his mamma is taking
Baby Annette-that's her name up
stairs to bed, so she won't tumble the
church down any more."
"Willie must be glad," said Aunty
May.
"Yes, he Is. But now he's got to go
to bed. His mamma's come after
him."
"She undressed the baby quickly,"
aunty remarked.
Oh, It doesn't take long," said Mor
ton. "Now Willie's said his prayers,
and hopped into bed. Now he's kissed
his mamma, and now he's fast asleep."
Dear me, he must have been very
tired!" was aunty's comment.
Oh, he was' so tired he Just couldn't
stand up," said Morton. "He'd played
all day long! I'm 'most tired, too!"'
"Then - perhaps .I'd - better undress
you,'! ventured aunty. "That Is a good
story to go to bed on."
"Oh, It's a beautiful story!" said
Morton. "You do tell such lovely sto
ries, aunty. I wish you'd tell me one
just like it every night T'Youth's
Companion.
The Boys We Are Proud Of.
Last winter some localities in the
West were visited by a snowstorm 'of
almost unprecedented severity. In one
city where the storm had continued all
day and all night people awoke in the
morning to find themselves shut in. All
street car lines had been blocked before
midnight, cabs and drays had stepped
running, and business was at stand-
j
THE FLIGHT.
'
Little Stones and I
Incidents that Will
Interest and Enter
tain Young Readers
i still. Porch floors and steps had en-
tirely disaDnearPii nnd.r ,iiH.
I , ....
j arms, ana the streets were called im-
passable by those accustomed-to pay
little heed to the weather.
But that morning, In all the widely
scattered homes of the town, the local
morning paper was delivered as usual.
That meant that the newsboys had
broken their way through the untrod
den streets, plunging breast-high
through drifts in the cold and dark
ness before the dawn, and had' toil
somely made their long routes at the
cost of an exposure and fatigue that
stay-at-home humanity could scarcely
realize. They were schoolboys, almost
without exception ' from comfortable
homes. Tfiey left cozy beds and shel
teerd rooms to brave the storm : that
had stopped all traffic; but there seems
to have been no question of being ex
cused, in the minds of any of them,
for the newspaper office reported not
one absent.
The incident is nd mean commentary
on the American boy his courage, re
liability and fidelity to obligation.
yf.hy Cats Wash After Eating.
You may have noticed, little friends.
That cats don't wash their faces
Before they eat, as children do,
In all good Christian places.
Well, years ago, a famous cat,
The pangs of hunger feeling,
Had chanced to catch a fine young moust
Who said, as he ceased squealing,
"All genteel folks their faces wash
Before they think of eating!"
And, wishing to be thought well-bred,
Puss heeded his entreating, '
But when she raised her paw to wash.
Chance for escape affording,
The sly young mouse said good-by.
Without respect to wording.
A feline council met that day,
And passed in eolemn meeting
A law forbidding any cat .
To wash till after eating.
The -Outlook.
Her Hearing Was Acnte.
Little Lillian, who lives in a large
city, was spending a few days with
her grandma in jthe country. One day
she, beard a - hen cackling out in the
fence corner, and turning , to her
grandma, she said? - : .
"Ohr'grandmar there Is" an" egg out
by the fence." '.
"How do you know?" .asked her
mother.
"Oh, I heard the hen laying," replied
the little tot.
Unwritten Thanks.
When I was a very little boy, my
Uncle Jose came to visit us, and at
dinner was asked to "return thanks."
As this was something new to me I
was considerably puzzled, and after
dinner was over my mother found me
in the pantry carefully looking over
the plates. - ' vi"
"What .are you doing?" she asked.,
"Why, mamma, I tan't find weadin
on any of dese pates." - .
Mama Wonld Have Known Better.
Willie's papa was very busily" writ
ing when the small boy came running
in to him, . holding up a pinched fin
ger for his Inspection. .
"Run away, Laddie, papa' cannot
make it any better J' said napa.
Willie looked disappointed, and then
1;I ,
,riseu auu Bam "m
A Timely Warning,
Mamma was baking pies one day
and was Interrupted by company. Not
wishing to leave her guest, she sent
iher little girl to look in the oven. 2it-
tie May came running back saying,
"Oh, mamma, the pies are all getting
,Nia4--iT "
Limps of Faith.
A little four-year-old tot was gazing
intently at the stars one night, and
Anally said to her mother:
"Mamma, I know what the stars are
for; they are" so that we can see heav
en through the sky."
A Diet of Chestnuts.
In many districts in Italy and Spain,
the chestnut takes the place of oats,
rye and rice. Chestnut groves are
abundant In all the mountain districts When the nail has been removed, fol
of Italy and Spain, and the season of low the Pncture through the sole or
chestnut gathering is the harvest f es-
tival of those countries. In the old " ttV" . . yuai
times chestnuts were the common raa?s of gnm camphor and carbolic acid
tlon provided for the soldier, and when and witQ c?"on: ,s treatment
there was a probability that a castle
was likely to be besieged, out went
the soldiers and laid violent' hands
on all the stores of chestnuts within
. . , . T, , ,
easy reach. Chestnuts in Italy, dourra
In Egypt, sweet potatoes in many in
land districts in Africa, bananas, rais
S?2SnE. whlt rS T
lZhltZeZ
is a luxury.
, Afreed.
"If I Were 'you, MoggS, I Wouldn't
be a fool,?' said Johnson, during an
argument. ;
"You are right; if you were I, you
wouldn't be a fool," replied the latter,
London Tit-Bits.
me juuuui ui reuriurj, - i
February, 1903, began on , Sunday,
n nil each dav of the week occurs fnur
times.' This happened only fifteen
times in the last 132 years, and in the
next fifty years it . will happen only
five times.
You .can almost see the cracks in the
average man's voice when he attempts
to warble. -
Economical Fertilizing.
There are many farms throughout
the country whose owners cannot af
ford to fertilize them heavily or even
to give them the quantity needed to
keep them In fair condition. As a re -
suit such farms are running down be-
cause the crops consume more fertiliz
ing material than is supplied by the
farmer; In other words, the crops are
drawing too heavily upon the stored
up . fertility of the soil Just as men
sometimes draw too heavily on the
stored-up or surplus vitality of their
bodies. -Any
soil to do the work required of
it should be fertilized so that it will
be as nearly fertile after the crop Is
taken from It as it was before, hence
fertilizers must be-supplied in excess
of the needs of the growing crop. - To
bring up a rundown farm is not -an
easy task, especially when one Is ham
pered in thefree use of - fertilizing
material, but it may be - done and in
expensively : by the combination of
green manures, commercial fertilizers,
stable manure and tillage.
Rely mainly on the legumes such as
cow peas, crimson clover and the vel
vet bean for humus and nitrogen; use
stable manure scattered thinly over
the ground, and for commercial fer
tilizers use mainly those richest in
potash and phosphoric acid. Supple
ment these fertilizers by frequent and
thorough tillage and the farm will
gradually Improve. In growing any
crop one should have all the knowl
edge possible of what plant food that
crop will take from' the soil In the
greatest quantities, -and in fertilizing
apply that particular food In excess
of the needs of the crop at least to
the extent, that is. taken from the soil.
This Is a complex study, Tut one
which surely needs close attention, for
upon It depends largely the future re
sults from the farm. -
- Clever for Iossing.
A. very convenient logging arrange
ment for use In the wood lot In -the
winter time is a travoy. It is made of
two crooked tree trunks about 5 or 6
u. tues la ammeter, a reet long. 'X ne
crooked ends are bolted together, as
Shown In tha flit Tho hunt hnletnr
- ..1 I . r . i. , . 1
- . i
d rii-kTt-O1 QKAnf -.T.rt -1.4..7 m-n-wr
back. This piece should be strong and
nc-bted a little in the center to form
a hollow for .the log to rest in. The
log is held on,by a chain, which is
hooked around one end of the bolster
at a, passed over the log and under
the bolster at the other side of the
travoy. From there it is carried over
the front crossplece, b, then under the
crook at the point, c.
To load the travoy, it is laid bottom
up on top of the log, or leaned against
J jts side, according to convenience. The
chain Is put into place and the team
hitched on, drawing sideways. v This
turns the travoy over and the log
comes up on top. The team is then
unhitched, the chain passed through
under the point and rehitched to the
double tree and the log is loaded ready
to haul to the skid way. H. L. Smith,
in Farm and Home. -
Nail Pnnctnres.
We are frequently asked the best
treatment to pursue for nail wounds In
the foot of a horse, says an exchange.
frog to' the soft tissues,' then fill the
"vu. , T Z . . "
ery Is complete. Where this treatment
3 promptly and properly carried out
nail wounds In the foot of the horse
rarely result In abscess and suppura-
' w. Ko -JL v..
occurred remove all loose horn and
8lntIon Siven. Thecotton should be
beld in place by a bandage around the
foot.
i Hnmni tn In the Orchard.
- It is Important to preserve humus in
th nnH whor thfr in hnmns. nnd tn
supply it where there is no humus,
Humus has a value distinctive from
that of the fertility it contains. It
holds moisture in and holds some forms
nf fprtllirv. To increase it in the or
chard grow legumes of some sort and
plow them under. Not only does the
cultivator thus Increase the humus in
the so11' but the nitrogen is increased
as .it is caught from the air by these
plants. Some follow the practice of
not plowing or spading under the green
crop, but of mowing and leaving it on
the ground. But this is an inferior way
of getting the good of the decaying
humus. The air must in that case rob
HAUUKU XOQS MADE EASY. I
the crop mown of' a. "part of its fertility,
especially the volatile portions. More
over the roots In the ground cannot
get hold of this decaying vegetation
and we see little chance of their bene
fiting by it. We "believe that" the crop
should be turned under. The soil will
then grow more perfect in mechanical
structure and the roots will always be
able to get into touch with the humus
and the fertility and moisture, contain
ed in It. Farmer's Review.
' How to Harvest Clover.
The proper way to harvest clover is
the proper way and there is but one
. proper way. In the first place do not
, cut it too green, nor allow it to get too
j ripe. When about half the top blooms
get ripe and brown and some of the
leaves begin to brown then it is the
time to cut it for hay if the weather is
dry; otherwise let it stapd a few days
longer for its better to' let it grow
than to get it wet in the swathe. It
does not ripen fast In rainy weather,
but continues to grow. -..;
Do not begin mowing until, the dew
has gone off In the morning. Never
cut it when wet or the hay will .be'
damaged. It Is best to cut for only a
fewhours and If the clover is not unusually-heavy
it can.be rajjed late in
the afternoon in windrows r and shock
ed, when It can stand several .days be
fore Stacking. This is the" best way
if the weather is favorable, as the hay
cures brighter and better. Otherwise
let it stand in the windrow, and spread
out the next day to cure, and stack in
the afternoon.
By putting It in the windrow it saves
It from getting wet by the dew. which
is almost as bad on It as a rain.
Should it rain on it, spread out and
dry thoroughly never stack it green,
as.it will mold. Remember to have it
cured as thoroughly as it is, practicable
to handle It without the leaves falling
off. "A gallon or two of salt to the load
sprinkled over It at the time of stack
ing improves it in color and prevents
it molding. It should be stacked in the
barn, or, if outdoors, covered with
straw or something that will turn wa
ter. If there are weeds in it, more
time will be required to cure it. Never
put it in the stack until the stems are
dry enough that you can't wring water
out of them. The hay should rattle.
Missouri and Arkansas Farmer and
Fruitman.
The Stocky Wyandata.
In several Eastern States the Wyan-
dots lead in popularity, ;as 'Shown by
their great majority in the entries at
i : fj
' . ij;
' V I 'I
poultry, shows.
says,, a writer in
Farm and Home.
They ;' are good
layers, " have light
plumage in the
buff and.white va
rieties, . and are
. heavy enough to
. I I
ZnS make good market
wtandot cockebex p o u 1 try . The
blocky build, as shown in the illustra
tion, gives compactness, abundance of
breast- meat, and a weight greater
than the apparent size.. In the at
tempt to produce extra large speci
mens for the show room some breed
ers have developed a more rangy type
at the- expense of one of the most
practical qualities of the breed; its
blockiness, which also goes, with early
maturity of growth, and "adaptation
to the broiler business. : '
.' ".' '-Farm Notesi'--'-; j-
Asparagus tops should Jbe cut off
close to the ground and burned. The
soil should then be covered with rot
ten manure. This, fall treatment will
help to prevent' the rush next year and
to insure. . an early -growth of grass.
A spring , dressing of nitrate of soda
will be an additional help. '
Llae, sulphur and salt" nialte a dead
ly mixture for scale insects in climates
so dry . that. the-coating ;wiir not wash
off. -, In : the California climate this
wash slow jy. decomposes. and gives off
poisonous vapors, which destroy the
insects under It. Rains spoil this ef
fect and" leave on the trees only a coat
of ordinary whitewash.
Trenching is done in lrelind in this
manner: - Remove the top soil from a
strip one yard wide and a. foot deep;
then spade the subsoil well and spread
plenty of manure over It;"throw the
top soil from the next row on the sur
face soil of the first, ; aad sow for
seed until the whole plo.t - has been
trenched. It will produce heavy crops
for several years.. . .. ...
A barn or stable should be kept be
tween fifty and sixty degrees tempera
ture in order to derive the best re
sults. In some cases thisXcannot be
conveniently done, but as. .the animal
heat Is about ninety degrees, the tem
perature of the stable will have more
or less influence on the quantity of
food required, and hence, the warmer
it can be made in the stable in winter
the better. . .
It Is sometimes cheaperjto restore
an old orchard than to plants new ono
and wait for the young trees to grow.
This may be done by Judiciq.us pruning
and removing all of the "cfead wood,'
then manuring the ground 'in the fall
and applying fertilizers Jn-the spring.
The manure must t be used liberally,
fikst lightly stirring , the surface soil
and then applying" tne" manure," which
should be well worked in when spring
n.m rj hzj r i a
111
opens.