- - - S".
SEMI-WEEKLY,
UNION Estab. JIy, 1897.
OAiKTIE Kgtab. Duo. 1882.
j Consolidated Feb., 1899.
CORVALIilS, BENTON COUNTY, OREGON, TUESDAY, APRIL 7, 1903.
VOL. III. NO. 50.
White Hand
i A Tale of the Early Settlers !
X a t
oi Louisiana.
I BY AUSTIN C. BUROICK
CHAPTER. XJV. (Continued)
"Simon Lobois' she said, in a freezing
' tone, ."spare me from your professions
of lore, for they only add to my misery.
Now answer me a solemn question:
Where is my brother?"
"Your brother?" Simon uttered, start
ing in spite of himself. "What should I
' know of him?"
"But do .vou not know of him?" she
asked, looking htm steadily in the eye.
"I do not." But he trembled while he
spoke; he could not help it
"But you know he was seized by the
Indians on the same night that I was."
"How should I know?"-
"Simon, it is strange that you have
never once asked me concerning the event
. of pis abduction!"
"I I a have had enough to think
of without that. My love for you has
engrossed my every thought, and claimed
my whole attention." -v
"Then you know nothing of hiin?"
"I I why", how on earth should I?"
"Never mind. If you do not, then that
is enough. Now, appoint the time for
the wedding when you will."
"It shall be this very day."
"As you will. If it must be so, I care
not for time. Henceforth all times are
alike to me."
"Ay, sweet Louise, all of joy."
- "Yes-Msuch - joy as the lost child feels
' in the deep wood; such joy as the poor
orphan feels when she stands by the
cold corpse of her dead parents!"
"Nonsense! But come; you shall find
better quarters than these."
So Simon Lobois led his promised bride
forth from the prison house back to the
dwelling from" whence she had been tak
en on the- previous night,' and then he
went out to hunt "up some more fitting
garb for her to wear. '" He went to the
Governor, and there he succeeded in pur
chasing a suitable habit. It was a dress
made after the fashion of the times, of
pale blue silk with scarlet facings, and
worked with' silver lace and thread. It
belonged originally to one of Perier's
.- daughters, but. she had never yet worn
'. it, it having been made for her wedding
dress, and her lover dying on the eve of
marriage. v"
The dress fitted Louise to a fault, and
when thus prepared, she suffered herself
to be led to the church, for Simon had
determined that there should be no sub-
sequent question about the legi""liJxjlJUl&;
V marriage. . ' When they entered the rude
church they found quite a number -of
people collected, and the aged priest was
there in his robes. .
'The poor girl's head ached, and when
she stood before the priest she trembled
violently, and even Simon was startled
when he saw how pale she looked '
"Go on," she whispered. "O, go on,
and let me out from here, or I shall die!"
The priest commenced the ceremony,"
and Simon answered the questions dis
tinctly. - Then the holy man turned to
the bride, and he asked her the usual
questions. She looked up, and in a falntT
forced voice, she replied:
' "To the best of my abilities I will do
all this." -
What more could human law require?
. Even Simon" was surprised, for he had
feared she would hesitate. But he knew
" not how sick and faint she was, and that
she might have answered thus promptly
in order to hasten the ceremony, for she
, wanted fresh air. The ceremony was fin
ished, and the nuptial tie had been form
ed, and the marriage, was registered in
. the great parchment book of the ckrk.
. The fee was paid, and then the bride
groom turned away.
"In' heaven's name, my wife," cried
Simon, as they reached the open air.
"what is the matter? What is .it that
thus affects you?"
. "O, I am sick sick as death!" was the
faint . reply. ' ' "Hasten hasten to our
home, or I shall fail and sink by the
wayside!"
Simon saw that his companion spo'.:e
the truth, and with quick steps he hur
ried on, sometimes bearing his bride in
his arms, and'auon helping her to walk.
At length they reached their dwelling,
and Loppa was at once sent for the phy
sician. The old man came, and at a
glance he saw that his patient had a re-
lapse of her fever, and this time he shook
.. his head as he remarked:
"We can't drive it off this time, Mon
sieur Lobois. It. is firmly seated, and
must have its run. 'But the lady has a
: sound constitution, so you need appre
hend no danger. But she has not fol
lowed my directions, I am sure, or she
would not thus have sunk. - Has she had
the nutritious food I ordered?"
Simon stammered out a reply to the ef
fect that "the negro woman might have
neglected it. - '
The physician dealt out his medicine,
and having given directions for the care
of his patient, he retired. Simon pro
cured for his wife another attendant, so
as to have two of them, and then he in
' formed. Louise that his business called
him np the river. -
"To- the chateau?" asked she; faintly
"Yes. . I was in hopes that you would
have accompanied me, but .that is now
- impossible. However, I must go, though
I shall return as soon as possible."
"And wat will you tell my father?"
"Simply that you are my wife. Of
course I shall explain how I rescued you
from the savages, and how, in return, I
claimed your hand. But I have prepared
- the best of care for you during my ab
sence, and you shall not want for any
thing. The physician will be regular in
his visits, and I hope to find you Well
when I return."
The invalid betrayed no sorrow at the
departure of her husband, nor did she
.exhibit any extended signs of deep affec-
tion at his adieu. She closed her eyes
as he spoke the- parting words, nor did
he open them again until old Loppa came
and whispered in her ear , that her hus
band was gone.
CHAPTER XV.
Up and down the wide walk in the gar
den paced Brion St. Julien and Goupart
St. Denis. The old man was pale and
.wan, and his steps were short and trem
ulous. The silvery streaks seemed to
have multiplied themselves upon his
head, and surely many a deep line of
care was added to his brow. St. Denis
looked not so pale, but a sorrowful look
was upon hia face, and in his dark, rich
brown eye dwelt a melancholy light, such
as could only come from a bruised and
bleeding heart. His hands were folded
upon his bosom; his eyes bent upon the
ground, while within his own stout arm
was locked that of his -companion.
"We can search no more," said the
marquis, in a broken voice. "They must
either have been slain, or else borne away
off to the far homes of the Chickasaws."
"And do you think old Tony's report
can be relied upon?" asked Goupart.
"Yes. He says he is sure, and if he
feels so, then it is so." '
"Then our only hope is in enlisting the
whole French force in our behalf, for
these Chickasaws are a powerful, war
like people, and not easily overcome."
"Ah, we cannot do that," returned the
marquis, sadly. "The Governor, Perler,
is not a warm friend of mine. He had
set his eyes upon this place before I
bought it, and he meant to have gained it
free of cost. He dares not show open
hostility to me, but he would not help
me."
"Then," said Goupart, "I will myself
go in search, even though I disguise my
self in the outer semblance of .the red
man." - .
. But the marquis shook his head dubi
ously at this.
"No, no," he said. "You would on'.y
throw away your own life, and then 1
should be left all alone. I could not
live, Goupart, if you, too, were gone.
Alas! what of life Is left to either of us
now! I had just seen the" opening, of
life's promise the budding of my soul's
great hope when this drear midnight
came!" . -
For a while after this they walked on
in silence. All search had been made
that could be planned with reason but in
vain. Old Tony, who was quick, of wit,
and who had not forgotten the wild, life
of his youth, had followed the trail of
the marauders a" distance? of forty miles.
and there he lost it upon a branch of
the Tickfah. -This trail led. in a south
easterly direction, so tne bereaved ones
had" not a shadow of doubt that Louis
and Louise had been taken to the distant
homes of the .Chickasaws.'
The day was. drawing near, to its close
when one of the female domestics rushed
into the sitting room and announced that
Simon Lobois was coming.v Both the
marquis and St. Denis started to their
feet, and gazed upon each other earnest
ly. " . "' ' '
"O," uttered the bid man, "I wish I
knew that Simon was innocent of all
crime in this!"- The words were spoken
with strong, sudden emotion, and show
ed that the speaker had . been racked with
dark doubts. " ..- -." -;
- "I would not say that he is guilty of
all this," returned Goupart; "but things
rest most darkly against him. However,
we can easily -tell: His face is, very apt
to reveal the emotions of the inner man,
and I feel assured he will betray him
self." '. ....
. The marquis took a turn up and down
the room to compose himself, and by the
time he had done this, Simon's footstep
sounded in the hall, and in a moment
more he entered. , Her moved quickly up
to St Julien and caught him 1y the hand.
"Ah, my good, kind father," .he uttered,
"I have been detained longer than I ex
pected. v But I .am happy to find you
well."
Then the black-hearted man turned to
Goupart, and with a' stiff, formal bow, he
said: '. v " .-
"Monsieur Stpenis.I hope you are
weii." . .... ;-; ;
But the noble , youth spoke not in re
ply. He could not. He detected in Si
mon's eye a look of triumph that was not
to be mistaken, and from that moment
his suspicions were all alive again.
"But I doot see Louis. Where is
he?" asked Lobois, after he had taken
a seat
The marquis gazed fixedly Into the
speaker's eye, but he could detect noth
ing there out of the way. -
""Louis Is is gonef the old man ut
tered. ' '
"How? Have you not found him yet?"
"Then you knew, he was gone?" said
the marquis, with a quick glance of fear.
"Ye"s I knew that both your children
were gone from here."
"How?" the old man asked.
"Louise herself has told me the story,"
was the calm response.
Both the old man and the young start
ed to their feet " -'"-.",
"Louise! - Louise told you?" gasped
Goupart "
"Yes, monsieur," returned Simon, gaz
ing upon the youth with a look of malig
nant triumph. "I had the good fortune
to rescue the loved damsel from the hands
of the Indians."
At this juncture the marquis sank back
to his seat,' and Goupart followed his ex
ample. "Andwhere is 6he now?" the stricken
parent asked, in a whisper. ..
"She is at New Orleans. I should have
brought her with me, but the state of her
health would not permit. She has a
fever; but you need not fear, for I have
left the best of care for her."
"But how where -did you find her?"
"It was most strange," -answered Si
mon, assuming a devout look. "While in
New Orleans, I heard that a small party
of Chickasaws were on their way to
wards Lake Pontchartrain with a white
girl a prisoner. I knew, of course, that
the red villains had been lurking about
here; and, moreover, I knew of no other
point from whence they could have
brought such a prisoner, short of the fort
at Natchez. The fear became so firmly
fixed that I resolved to set out; so I en
gaged the services of one who knew the
region round about the lake, and having
hired some men who belonged to a ship
then lying in the river, I obtained two
small boats and set out We crossed the
lake, and landed as near as we could to
the opening of the trail that I had been
informed the Indians . were upon. We
mounted the bank, and almost the first
thing that met my eye was the: form of
an Indian pacing up and down by the
side of an open space in the woods. -I
knocked the sentinel down,. and in a mo
ment the whole party were upon their
feet. At a little distance I saw the form
of a female asleep upon the ground. I
demanded that the prisoner should be
gfven up to me, but I had to use some
heavy threats before they would yield.
At length, however, upon my promise
that I would not cause them to be mo
lested further, they gave the prisoner
up, and , you can imagine my 1 deep joy
when I knew that I had saved Louise St
Julien." - .. T : -
Jj'or some moments mere was silence
in the room. Goupart who was very
pale, but whose lips were firmly com
pressed, was the first to break it
"How long ago was it that you found
the lady?" he asked.
"About two weeks," was the reply -
"And has she been sick ever since V '
"No. I had meant to bring her with
me, but " she was taken down with a
fever on the very day before I started."
"St Julien," cried the youth, turning
to the bid man, "I will away at once
and seek her, and as soon as she is able
she shall be with you. Tony shall go
with me." -
A . satanjc smile 1 dwelt upon Simon's
features as Goupart ceased speaking, and
in a tone of the same nature he said:
"You need not trouble yourself. Mon
sieur St. Denis. I assure, you I should
not have left Louise, had I not seen her
in the care of those who will be faithful.,
She has her own servants to attend her."
"Her own servants!". uttered Goupart,
changing color.
"Yes, monsieur."
"But Goupart had better go downi Si
mon, and come home with her," suggested
the old man. ,' .
"Excuse me," answered Lobois, "if I
object to that. Monsieur St Denis is not
just the man that I should, select as an
escort for my wife!" , " ' ' '
, Goupart St. Denis started half up from.
his seat, and then sank back like a man'
who has received a shot through the
heart. His face was deadly pale, and
his hands were clutchedupon his knees.
"Your wi i ife!" gasped the old man,
starting up and, taking a step towards his
nephew. - v
"Yes, my dear father," Lobois replied.
"I am the happy man. The sweet child
has accepted me as her husband. And
why should she not? She owed her very
life to me, and in gratitude she rewarded
me with her hand."
"But not yet, Simon! You are not mar-'
ried?"
"Most assuredly we are." j
"No," no; that is impossible! Louise
would never have done " .' .
"Hold, sir! " We will have no argument
about it Here is .the document that will
satisfy you." x. '
' Thus speaking, Simon took a paper
from his pocket, which he opened and
handed to the marquis.' It was a, legal
certificate an attested copy of the rec--ord
bearing the seal and signature of
the colonial clerk, and vouching for the
legal marriage of Simon Lobois ondj
Louise St" Julien. The old man read it,
and then, with a deep groan, the paper
fell from his hand. Quick; as thought,
Goupart picked it up. The hope had
flashed upon his mind that the document
might be a forgery; but as his eye rested
upon it the hope passed away,"' for he
knew it was a legal transcript of the rec
ord. The paper dropped from his hand,
too, and he sank back into his chair. The
thing had come with a thunder-crash up
on him, and for the moment he was un
able to speak. But one look into the face
of Lobois started his heart to life again,
art (To-be eontinu
A Question of Bills.
, A traveller In England rested at noon
at a wayside Inn and took luncheon.
'j.ne landlord was a social person and
after presenting his bill sat down and
chatted with his guest. - -. . . x.
"By the way," the latter sald after
a while, "what Is your namer
"My name," replied the landlord, "Is
Partridge." ; ,
"Ah," returned the traveller, with a
humorous twinkle In his eyes, "by the
length of your bill I Bhould have
thought It was Woodcock!"
This story, as it appears In a recent
book .by a distinguished English diplo
mat, is credited with having amused
Bismarck..- .
The J oke on the J oker.
A Long Island justice has decided
that to send a worthless package by
express to a person, requiring the -recipient
to pay charges, comes under the
head of petty larceny and is punishable
as such. In the case the justice decid
ed one man had sent by express a
worthless package to another as a joke.
The express charge was 85 cents. The
man who got the package couldn't see
anything funny "In the business and
complained to the magistrate, who en
tered a charge of petty larceny and ex
tortion and fined the joker $5 and costs.
- Siy Mr. Med lerjjran.
"As to this here plan to kill moskee
ters with coal oil," said Mr. Medder
grass, while the grocer was filling his
can, "I don't know that It Is fatat to
them Insects, but If they are anything
like about a dozen hired girls that has
started the breakfast fire In this town
and subsequently gone out through the
roof, it will be hard, times for them Je
sey biters when the coal oil campaign
sets In - in dead earnest" Baltimore
American. -
Reformed.
"Willie, didn't I see you matching
pennies with Willie Blimmer?"
"Y-yes, mamma!"
"Well, don't you know It's very
wicked?" -
" 'Deed 1 do, mamma!" ;
- "Then don't you do so, again.' -.
"I w-won't, mamma I'm busted!"
San Francisco Bulletin.
The Alaernet. .
"Look here, Dunwell, how do you
manage to bring out all your apart
ment house debtors? When I ring the
bell no one shows, up"
. "Itvs dead easy! I go down disguised
as a health-food sample distributer. In
two minutes every occupant of the
house Is in the hall." Chicago News." ;
Not SUterj.
Mrs. Passay (who imagines she is
youthful) I understand -Mr. 'Browa?
whom we met yesterday, said he would
jiever take me and my May for. mother
and daughter. v " - , . . ;
Mrs. Pepprey Yes. V believe he said
you looked like mother and grandmoth
er. Philadelphia Press.
Hope is a lure. . There . Is no hand
that can retain a wave or a shadow.-
Victor Hugo. ; - ;
White blackberries and green rosea
haye been propagated In Louisiana. ,
In the Other Window.
"Ten days is a long time to be sick.
You can keep pretty patient the first
six of 'em, but the r last six" Roberta
stopped and reckoned. ; Were there
two sixes In ten? She shook her head.
It is not always easy to reckon when
you are sick.
"The last fl er four of 'em you have
a perfect right to be cross," she went
on. So she was cross.
"I'm just the mis'ablest little girl
there Is 1" she scolded, aloud. "There
can't be anybody hi the world as sick
an' an unfortunltlas I am, so there!
Did I want to be sick at this house?
Didn't I want , to be sick at home,
where , there's room enough mercy I
did I want to be sick anywhere? Did
I do anything to be'sick? No, L'dldn't"
She almost laughed at herself then
not quite. But perhaps it was that
which made her look up just that min
ute and see the Strange Little-Girl at
the other window. They had put up
the curtain at last? if For days Roberta
had been wondering what was .behind
that curtain, but she had not once
thought it might be a little girl and a
sick one, too!" , ;
The two windows were quite near to
gether, just across a tiny, narrow back
yard. She could see the Strange Little
Girl very plainly, indeed.
"She's thinner anf , whiter than t arn,
anK she's got more pillows behind her,"
thought .Roberta. "I wonder if that's
as straight as she can sit up?"' -r
Suddenly the l.Strarige 1 Little Girl
nodded a. shy little - nod. Of course
Roberta nodded back. If they could
only have opened the ' windows, they
would have been acquainted In a few
minutes. But of course sick folks
"I know whatrj Roberta exclaimed,
Interrupting her "own ; thoughts. - "If
that little glrlT:nows how, we can talk
deaf-an'-dumb. t 'm going to try and
see!" '. , N y, ' ...
She hitched up a little nearer the
window and held np her fingers In
plain view. Then she made them spell
out words slowly.
"How dd you do?" they spelled.
'The Strange Little Girl knew how.
Her fingers began to spell: "
After that, as Roberta" said, they reg
ularly talked. . . ', J ' '' " ' -
"I've got the measles. ' What have
you got?" Roberta said.'
Hip disease." '
"The Strange Little Girl said . very
short things, as if her weak little fin
gers got tired very soon, v -
"I don't know what that is, but the
measles are awful."' I am afraid Ro
berta's fingers said "orftd." "Ever had
them?" j Y r
"No, Inever.rt .- :'
"Then you ought to be thankful. I
don't have my curtain up for days,
sometimes."
Weeks I don't" : '
: Roberta gasped a little.
"One day I ached." . '.J
1 "I always do." ;
Mercy! Roberta thought hard.'
"I've had the mis'ablest time."
"Why, I haven't!"
"1 didnt have a thing to do."
"Why didn't you sing? I do."
It was a long sentence for the weak
little fingers, and they sank wearily
into the Strange Little Girl's lap. But
the Strange Little Girl was. smiling.
" Roberta tried again. This ' would
surprise her. . ' -!
"I've been sick ten days."
"Ten years," spelled the" tired little
thin, white fingers. And then some
one came and drew down the curtain
at the other window. There was Just
time to nod and spell "Good-byl"
Ten years! Ten years! Roberta sank
back on her pillows and shut her eyes.
She was trying to think how It would
feel to be sick ten years to ache al
waysand sing, i
. ."Oh, -I can't! I ; can't make b'lleve
It!" she cried, softly. "An' I thought
I was the unfortunitest one in the
world. Oh, that poor, that brave little
girl in the other, window!"
Then there were new, soft sweet
sounds In Robertas window. Roberta
was singing. Youth's Companion.
v A Good Pnzzle.
Draw three straight lines across this
square, in such a way that there will
be seven separate sections, each sec-
- ' CAN YOU DO IT?
tlon containing one dot and no more.
The lines may cross each other, but
each one must be drawn at one stroke.
.; Bobbie's Original Definition.
Teacher What is a cannibal? Can
anyone tell what a cannibal is? .
Bobbie Please, ma'am, a cannibal Is
one who eats each other. Kansas City
Journal. ' - .
WATERS OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
They Are Inconstant, Shifting
and
Not to Be Depended Upon. (
There Is little reason, however, for a
settlement In these parts to bestir it-1
self . Its future Is too uncertain, says i
Viot ir.n T7- rm. I
iuc iicn xvia-iunu auu J.vyL caoa j.ug
town that Is on the river this year may
be on a useless swamp the next; the
town that is five miles Inland, ' with
no dream of the Mississippi, may be
awakened any morning by the roar of
a steamboat whistle. There are many
points in desperate straits to-day. Tlp
tonville, Tenn.; a town of more than
ordinary prosperity, depending alto
gether on the steamboat service, once
on the main channel, now finds her
self, because of a cut-off, on a shallow
backwater, which goes dry as her
streets in low season.
Which brings me agafi to the river's
vagaries. To begin, its crookedness
Is something appalling. Approaching
Cairo from the north by boat j the
stranger, seeing the city's elevators
and church spires within a stone's
throw, is pretty certain to rush Into
the cabin to assemble his belongings
when he has still before him a tortu
ous ride of two hours. Yet this phe-
; nomenon Is , not wholly without ad-
vantages. - The citizen of before-mentioned
Tipton ville, who misses the up
, bound boat at breakfast time, does not
I worry over the accident He calmly
spends the morning at home, then,
; after dinner, trudges four or five miles
across country to Slough landing, ar
j riving there in plenty of time likely1
within an hour or two to spare to
catch his boat, which, in the interval
since leaylng Tiptonvllle, has been
j wandering through some, thirty miles
or Denas. Down in. tne Great Bends
country, below Memphis, the south
gobag steamer at the end. of a half
day's travel may be farther from the
Gulf of Mexico as the erow flies than
she was at the beginning. One may
go from Memphis to Orleans by rail
the distance is 400 niles in a single
night. . By steamboat It Is, at best, a
four days' run; the Mississippi dilly
dally s' through "exactly. 800 miles, of
twists ' and turns between the two
cities. ' ' ...v .y ..
5,000 HYMNS
WRITTEN
BY BLIND WOMAN.
Though she has been blind since she
was six weeks old. Miss Frances Jane
Crosby, as she Is generally called.
though her real
name is Mrs. Alex
ander Van Allstyne,
has written more
ma n y o f them
known all over the
world. And though
she is now 83 years
old, rather feeble,
and totally blind,
. she still travels to
trances cbosbt. evangelist ' meetings
in various cities and gives readings
and lectures. Her home is In Bridge
port, Conn.
Among the most famous Gospel
hymns written by Miss Crosby are
those beginning: "Safe in the Arms of
Jesus," "Pass Me Not, O Gentle
Savior," "All the Way My Savior
Leads Me," and "I Am Thine, O Lord;
I Have Heard Thy voice."
Save for the heavy green glasses she
Is compelled to wear, there Is little in
Miss Crosby's manner while lecturing
to indicate her sightlessness. She reads
her notes, printed in raised letters,
with almost imperceptible movements
of her fingers, and turns her head as
though glancing about the audience.
"Hymn writing is my life work,"
says Miss Crosby, "and I cannot tell
you what pleasure I derive from it
I believe I would not live a year if my
work were taken. from me. A great
many people sympathize with me, but, j
although I am grateful to them,
really don't need their - sympathy.
What would I do with It?"
Low-Studded Pacific Islands.
We frequently hear of those lovely
little groups of islands in the southern
seas. They are described as earthly
paradises. Some. of them sit unoccu
pied, and might well be coveted by one-
idea people who would like to see some
hobby enthroned.
But on reflection, a prudent American
would prefer to live a little farther
above water. The Society group, which
came near being washed overboard re-
cently, were barely twenty feet above
' '
the water, so that those- of the inhabit
ants that were saved managed to keep
alive by climbing to the tops of trees,
and where the trees did not prove tall
enough the perchers were swept Into
the sea In the great gale some eighty .
,? 7 !hHeVT'
tated and in all over 1,(X)0 habitants
found watery graves. The United
States has some Island possessions ta
the southern seas, and it is -sometimes
suggested that we might plant our dv-
ilizatlon-and our flag there. There is
no question mat many oi xnese lsiano.
gems are paradises, but It would be bet
ter to roost higher. The land Is too low,
even to plant the flag, says the Boston
Globe. Life is too precious to wake up
some morning and And one's self miss-'
lng, and tidal .waves and volcanoes
have become very Impudent of late.
Tho Desert of Gobi.
The great desert of Gobi would fill
the entire Mississippi valley from the I cauBe he did not apply for it, for they
Alleghenies to the Rockies. Upward are nearly all'turned over to the mem
of 300,000 square miles of Arabia are j bers of. Congress for free distribution,
an uninhabited waste, while the terri- There Is hardly'a subject In which
ble Sahara Is vast enough to cover the farmers are interested that Is not dls
whole United States. - - I cussed in some one of the various bul
. World's Supply of Gold.
It is anticipated that the world's sup
ply of gold, will be doubled In the' nexf
ten years.
- Folding Skeleton Stairs.
It Is often desirable to have the stairs
In the wagon house or barn so arranged
that they may be removed quickly. As
this Is not often practicable, the next
best plan Is to have them so constructed
as to fold up out of the way. A good
method of doing it Is shown by the
sketch, In which a shows one side of
the stairs, the dotted lines representing
the various steps. The steps should not
be less than three feet in length and
eight Inches wide. The upper end of
the lower portion of each side is hinged
to the side of the building at f, while
the lower end Is booked to the floor at
g. A rope, b, is attached to the stairs,
PLAN OF ""FOLDING STAIRCASE.
passes over two pulleys, and is there
fastened, to a weight, c, which is Just
heavy enough to raise, the free end of
the stairs up to the ceiling. When the
lower'end of the steps Is released the
whole folds up closely against Its up
per floor and is entirely out "of the
way. Two or three feet of the rope are
allowed to dangle as seen at d, by
which the whole appartus is - again
pulled down into position. The weight,
c, should slide up and down close to
the side of the building, so as to be en
tirely out of the way. -D. E. Smith, in
Farm and Home.
BomcHada Carriage Jack.
While the heavy Jacks used on wag
ons answer very well for the carriage
as well, a lighter Jack, such as Is shown
tn the illustration, Is easier to handle.
It will take but a little time to make a
. ... f
aaiJSXXMyTOJis4a! thl3-k!n4byiny;onJvlioH9i8t
all handy .with tools. The standard Is
made of lnch-and-a-quarter stuff, three
inches wide and tapered to two inches;
it is thirty inches long. The lifter is
also one and a quarter Inches thick,
five feet and six Inches long and four
inches wide. Twenty Inches from the
bottom cut a notch and seven Inches
above another notch; six Inches farther
up bore a hole for athree-elghths-Inch
bolt and bolt the piece on to tho stand
ard, so it will swing freely. To use the
appliance) place the notched bar under
the axle of the carriage, lifting the
1 S wheel clear from the ground, and the
standard will swing into place and hold
securely. Easily made and light, such
a Jack should be owned by every man
who has a carriage to olL
The Fordnat of Pole Beans.
The forcing of dwarf or bush beans
under glass has been a favorite practice
at certain seasons of the year with most
gardeners, but the use of the pole, or
running varieties is just beginning to
receive attention. The pole bean, like
cucumbers? tomatoes trained to one
stem, sweet corn, etc., must have plen
ty of head room or space above the
" r?, . , - u rk
doubtless this accounts for its not hav-
tag been .eapsldered heretofore. The
t modern le&ife ,and cucumber houses
with thtSfis directly on the ground
aja wall aAaraA ?t 1ilci finn 'PTlA
n d, enrlcned contalnlng
ftQ abundance of avalIable piant food,
Preferably a sandy loam composted by
lx, ual of r,ch Jo
d and manure The beds be
made djrectly upon the gronn(L wlth
the prepared tolI averaging about seven
,nche8 m depth.-Denver Field and
parm
' For the Farmer.
Six million two hundred thousand
farmers' bulletins on 140 different sub-
Jects were printed for the Department
of Agriculture during the past fiscal
year. As there are about six million
farmers, exclusive of agricultural la
borers,. In the United States, this' Is
nns nnmnhlet for each one. If anv
farmer did not eet his codv. it was be-
letins. Information Is contained in
them about the feeding of farm ani
mals, hog cholera, how to kill weeds,
tha Mpa onrl faoAintr nf fr-lron a Vint.
GOOD CABBIAQB JACK.
jter-inaking and the care of milk, the
vegetable garden, good roads, breeds
of dairy cattle, bread-making, how to
raise apples, rice culture, tomato grow
ing, sugar as food. Insects ' affecting
tobacco, cotton and grapes; diseases of
potatoes and apples, how to detect '
oleomargarine and renovated ' butter,
tree-planting on rural school grounds,
the Angora goat, and scores of other
things.
It would be difficult to estimate with
any degree of accuracy the financial
benefit which has accrued to the farnw ,
ers from the perusal of these bulletins.
Such men as believe they must be con-'
tinually studying to keep abreast of
the times and to understand the possi
bilities of their business have been tn
most diligent readers of. the publica- .
tlons of the Department of Agricul
ture. It is the benefit which these men
have derived that justifies the contin
ued expenditure of money by the gov
ernment for free, education of , this
kind, an education almost as necessary
to national prosperity as that provided
for the children In the public schools.
Grain Foods, Good and Bad,
Among the hundreds of feeds inge
niously combined from the ground
grains, or containing portions of these
grains left as byproducts In the man
ufacture of malt and spirituous liq
uors, of starch, sugar and glucose, of
breakfast foods or of vegetable oils,
the feeder finds a wide range of puz
zling compounds. Led only by his
eye, touch or taste (helpful as these
are to the purchaser who Is guided by
good understanding of principles) he
would find it exceedingly difficult to
make a sure selection of the feeds best
suited to his needs. Oat hulls, corn
cobs, coffee hulls, vcottonseed hulls and
other materials are very skillfully used
as adulterants, so that In some feeds
now for sale the percentage of fiber is
so great that nearly all the energy rep
resented in the food must be used to
masticate the material and pass It
through the animal's body., Of corn
and oat feeds on the market at least
ten brands examined by the Jew York
station contained from ten to nearly
sixteen per cent of fiber; while a mix
ture of equal parts of corn and oats
should contain less than six per pent
Good oats normally contain less than
ten per cent of fiber, while several oat
feeds examined contained from twenty-two
to twenty-nine per cent and
sold for from $20 to ?30 or more a ton.
Prices of feeds of equal value also
vary remarkably In markets lying side
by side. One dealer in New, York sells
a certain brand for $30 a ton, another
dealer In the same city asks $40. Good
bulletins for those who feel the need
of. studying the subject are Nos 217
of "the station at GenevaTN." Y. and 85 :
of the station at Amherst, Mass. Some
of the new feeds are desirable, and
some are decided frauds. Fortunately
the States are Investigating so Josely
and testing so many samples that It Is
possible to size up the various products
at pretty nearly their true feeding val
ueAmerican Cultivator.
Movable Fences for Sheep.
It would pay grain farmers .to have
a movable' fence, or, as they are called
in England, hurdles, to inclose a flock
of sheep where they have taken off
oats, rye or wheat and do not want to
put In another crop at once to keep up
the "fertility of-the soil, says American
Cultivator. In England they are5 used
not only for this, but they often break
such fields and sow them to the Eng
lish or fiat turnip and then hurdle the
sheep on them to eat the turnips after
they are fairly well grown. This doubly
enriches the field, which Is one reason
why the fields in England have' a heav
ier turf than we often produce here,
and why they carry more, cattle and
sheep to the acre than we average. .
Management of Steep Slopes. N
' Some very good land Is located on
rather steep slopes, but goes as pasture
because the owner fears to break it up
and run the chance of serious Injury,
by washing. - Such fields, when cultl
vated, should be covered with some
thing all the time. Rye sown early in
fall will do much to hold the sol! dur
ing the, season -of heavy rain. : The
land should be kept in sod much of the
time to supply vegetable matter, which
makes the soil like a sponge to take up
and hold the water. Clover Is a grand
crop to follow a hoed crop and rye on
these steep fields.
Farm Notes. '"
Sow part of the clover early and part
late. That Is, 60w the same ground
twice. This makes double work, but
also oftentimes Insures a double crop,
and sometimes a crop against no crop.
Cold water will absorb about 38 pecj
cent of Its own weight of salt, and boil
ing about 40 per cent This makes what
is known as a saturated brine, which
always means all the salt that the wa
ter will absorb. In salting butter the
brine is seldom made stronger than 30
or 84 per cent of salt
The cost of weeds to the farmers In a
community Is enormous compared with
certain other expenses. Weeds rob the
soli and entail labor from spring until
falL If the farmers in each community
"would 'unite and determinedly fight
weeds for three years, not allowing a
single one to grow if possible, they
would find their expenses greatly re
duced, owing to the cost of production
of weeds and their destruction being re
moved. Subsoiling Is a matter which has its
advocates, but many scientific agricul
turists oppose it If Is claimed that,
although, the subsoil plows break the
soil to a low depth, yet it destroys the
channels which admit the flow of air
and water below the surface. .That is,
as plant roots penetrate deeply and die r
they leave channels, which are namer-'
ous and which are increased every year.
Breaking the soil, It: Is ; claimed, de
stroys them and lessens the supply of -moisture.
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