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ri. Ife M't v&W r, v- l- It 7 1 e%'' W' lb A? r.'-1 JV.v ,K p..-'' VPv''-' .-•§ ilNs ®fc* Willistira 4J*ajiIut ft. H. CorxiAVD, Publi»W.|:|f WILUISTON! N. DAK A SOLDIER. Out of the virile north The hale young hero came, .Preamlnr, as he went forth, The siar-brlght dream of fame. He dlnn«d no vaunting cries To plague the sRacious air, But who looked in his eyes Knew fear was stranger there. |»"e nurwd no callous hate, But to his open breast :«»-.£ A wondrous pity sate For them that are oppressed. t^i-To lift them from the mire ri'l. Ot tyranny and shame, This was his high desire, t$ His star-bright dream of fame To strike one sure blow home, And then. If need be, pass I '1 Back to the mother-loam, The sweet, enfolding grass. The long, clear bugle shrilled Across the fervit heat Ah, how his brave soul filled And how his blithe heart beat! Up, up the tangled slope, Where stabbed the cactus thorn, He pressed with comrade hope That cloudless Cuban morn. He struck the one sure blow, He won the guarded steep, Ere It was his to know The quiet house of sleep. And those that gazed upon His form, and named his name, .ix Saw on his face still shone The star-bright dream of fame. r-Clinton Scollard, in Leslie's Weekly. WHY GRADDOGK DID NOT 1 GO TO CHURCH. By W. J. Dawson. sawn***'.* THE SEASONS why Thomas Crad dock did not go to church were, iiKe his supposed reasons for being un married, somewhat inscrutable to the public, though no doubt sufficing to himself. When Nathaniel Dring, who had married this third wife, and had been rendered presumptuous by that circumstance, started out one fine spring morning to convert Craddock to the toleration of matrimony as a social institution of some importance, it was generally admitted that he got the worst of the argument. For when Dring asserted with quite unnecessary effusiveness that he had never had a cross word with cne of his three wives, Craddock merely grunted: "How monotonous," and indicated by a slight emile, which seemed to confine itself to the^corners of his grim month, that he regarded Dring's statement as a cunningly devised fable. "Not as I object to your marryin' as many wives as you like," he added, by way of conciliation, "though when a man has 'ad three wives in seven years, 'tis uncommon like polygamy." "But marriage is ordained for the mutual help, society, and comfort the one ought to have of the other," re torted Dring, with a sudden recollec tion of the terms of the marriage serv ice, with which his acquaintance was intimate anrl unusual. "You'd be a deal happier for a woman to look arter •ycu." "No doubt, no doubt," he replied, with a gleam in his gray eyes which wiser persons than Dring had long ngo recognized as dangerous. "But s'pose she talked when I wasn't lonely, what then—eh?" There was always something pecul iarly irritating in the "eh," of Thomas Craddock. It was something between a malignant chuckle and the sharp explosive click of a secret spring, which one could fancy was ingeniously concealed in his lean throat. Cratl dock's throat was one of his strong points. When he spoke, what is called an Adam's apple shot up and down like the weight on the machine for the TrTal of the relative strength of men's fists at fairs. It possessed a dreadful fas cination for children, and in the minds of older people was curiously asso ciated with ideas of pugnacity. "There ain't enough for us all, any way, an' if you take more'n your share, it stands to reason some o' we poor chaps must go without. We starvin' chaps do it jest to oblige you greedy chaps—eh?" When he had gone, Craddock ham mered vigorously at the boot that lay cn his lap, and said to himself grimly: "He've meekencd two on 'em I mis doubt that the third one'll meeken him before he's done wi' her—eh?" Craddock was a man who suffered from an unsatisfied thirst for knowl edge, which accounted for the circum stance that on the wall of the dingy room was conspicuously displaj'ed a map of the world. When he was very lonely he looked at the map, and was straightway consoled with the sense of the multitudinousness of life when he was oppressed with the narrowness of his career, he reflected on the im mensity of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and repeated the heights of the great mountains which were boldly printed on the map. It caused him a curious pleasure—or at least a nega tion of pain—to reflect on the number of people reported to exist in London, New York, or Chicago, a great many of whom were no better off than himself. Many efforts had been made to in duce him to attend public worship on the Sunday, but none had succeeded. He was always ready to recieve any sort of embassy on the subject, but no amount of argument made any differ ence to his habits. Every Sunday morning he shaved, put on a pre historic blue coat, then he lit a short pipe, and disappeared in the direction of the moors. For some years he had been accompanied by an old retriever dog, but when the dog died he nevei* got another, and henceforth went alone. The mystery of his proceedings was enhanced by the circumstance that he usually carried in his hand a small black book, not unlike a Bible, care fully wrapped in a big red cotton hand kerchief. People who did not scruple to discuss every sort of question with Craddock had never quite ventured to ask him what was the book he took with him on his solitary Sabbath walks. Perhaps it was because there was a certain something in Craddock's prim mouth which warned them not to go too far with him. It was not until Reckett. the new curate, came that Craddock's doings Attracted wide notice. Beckett was 4 'an indefatigable little fellow, with strong views on the Divine necessity of state churches. He was partly lame in one foot, but his lameness did not prevent him tramping up and down in all weathers in heroic attempts to shepherd a scattered and recalcitrant flock. He never wore an overcoat if he had he would have covered up the silver cross which was conspicuously dis played on his black watch ribbon. Motherly women, with a sound tra ditional faith in the virtues of flannel, were much exercised in their minds on the conjectural subject of his under clothing, and said he did not look strong. But the little curate limped upon his heroic way ignorant of these criticisms no one but himself knew that, according to the best medical opinion, his lungs were not good for more than two years' work at most. One day he met the schoolmaster and asked him if he knew Craddock, "a shoemaker, you know a bony, angular man, with a long throat and a lot of gray hair—lives in Tibbit's row." As everyone in Barford knew every body else, this question was quite un necessary, which fact, however, did not prevent the schoolmaster rubbing his chin meditatively as if that operation helped him to recall the very well known physiognomy of Craddock. When the aforesaid operation had been satisfactorily completed, he admitted cautiously that he might have seen him, pronouncing his words in such a way as to clearly intimate to the curate that it was by ho means his habit to notice such persons as Crad dock. "I find he doesn't go to church on any occasion," said Beckitt, regret fully. "There's a" good many in Barford that don't," said the schoolmaster. "But he doesn't go to chapel, either. It's bad enough to be a dissenter, but he isn't even that." The schoolmaster thought this very likely, and being emboldened by an op portunity of explaining Craddock's character, volunterred, some conjec tural information about the atheistic nature of the book which Craddock carried with him on his Sunday walks. The curate was much shocked. He would at once have gone to Craddock and demanded an explanation, had not the schoolmaster promptly repudiated all authority for his own statement, and further suggested that a lost sheep like Craddock should be treated with tenderness, not to say with diplo macy. "Well, Geake," said the curate at last, "perhaps you're right. I'll tell you what we'll do. I'm going to hold a public discussion on the necessity of a state church in th'e schoolroom next Tuesday. Get Craddock to come. It's not like going to church, you see. I think the man likes me—in a way, and if he comes, perhaps something I may say may bring him to the right way of thinking." When the discussion wasiheld on the following Tuesday, Craddock was there, to the great surprise of every body and the exceeding joy of the curate. It was on this memorable oc casion that Craddock's reputation as a controversialist was finally estab lished. It was generally admitted that the curate spoke with great ability, and the deacons' of the old meeting house were very much surprised. There had never been a rector of Barford with the slightest capacity for public speech, and Beckitt shone all the more bright ly by comparison with generations of fumble-mouthed apostolic successors. The curate's peroration was exceed ingly impressive. He compared all other sects and churchesto ships more or less adrift, whose lights were of an illusory and vanishing character, wlhereas "the church"—he did not con descend to any more exact designation —was like a lighthouse, standing grandly amid the storms, founded on the immutable rock, and shedding a serene, perpetual radiance on the troubled waters of Time. He sat down amid loud and continued applause. It was then that Craddock rose from a form at the extreme end of the room, and asked permission to say a few words. There was general feeling of dismay, which was not lessened when he ignored the chair, and most point edly addressed the eloquent curate simply as "Muster Beckitt, sir." "Chair, chair!" cried the audience. "Oh, I forgot the cheer, did I?" the old man went on serenely. "Well, then, I'll say Muster Cheer, sir, if so be that'll suit you better. I ain't a man as is give to public speech, an' I wouldn't hev got up, only I thought maybe as Muster Beckitt would like to hear the views of a—a sorter out sider." Here the curate nodded assent, which, as several of the motherly wom en remarked, showed, "a angelic tem per" on his part. 'Now what was it as Muster Beckitt did say? If I heerd aright, he did say as church were a lighthouse, which by all accounts is a very respectable sort of place, but not one as folks is par ticular anxious to live in—eh? There's a lighthouse down to St. Colam, as you may know, an* I know all about it, 'cause my brother was a keeper there. Well, 'twas uncommon resky work a gettin* to it, to begin with. 'Twas only fine days you could go anigh it, an' when .you got there you didn't see not'hin' to make you wish to stay an' Muster Beckitt, 'e says as church is a lighthouse—eh? "But that isn't all. A lighthouse is a cold, draughty sorter a place anyway. Them as lives in it sees the ships a goin' past, an' oftentimes wishes they was on 'em, an' is sorry enough they ever give up the sea to start livin' on a bit o' rock. It may be as the ships toss up an' down a bit, an' sometimes one on 'em goes down, an' her lights is dowsed but 't is ten times happier work a-livin' on a ship than it is on a lighthouse. An' half the winter through the lighthouse is in a fog. Muster Beckitt—or. I beg pardon, Mr. Cheer—and parson said as church were a lighthouse—eh? "But I ask further, what do that there light upon the lighthouse mean when so be it does shine? What do that there bell mean when they ring it slow and solemn in a fog? Muster Beckitt didn't tell wc that. P'r'apshe forgot. Well, I'll tell him, though I be only an outsider, so to speak. The light an' bell both do mean the same thing. They say: 'Beware o* me there's danger here.' And Muster Beckitt, 'e said as church were a light house—eh"'" -iisfc 4 tyry £"#•*.»? «/,^ O Having fired this last gun over the grave of an unhappy metaphor, Crad dock smiled benignly on the audience, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and, with a final cluck of the instrument in his throat, sat down amid roars of general laughter. Now it happened that about a month after this famous controversy, the curate went to St. Colam to spend a quiet Sunday with his friends. His winter work had tired him out and, brave as he wa«, he was beginning to doubt if he could live through another winter. It was a day of ethereal brightness, with a suave and sparkling air, and in the afternoon he was tempted to walk along the cliffs toward a little desert ed church that stood on the cliff's edge about midway between St. Colam and Barford. It was 20 years or more since it had been used. Its graveyard hung for lornly over the sea on a gentle slope, and quiet sheep were feeding on the grassy barrows of the dead. Beckitt came softly over the crisp turf, and was about to pass round the chancel to the little graveyard, when he was arrested by the sound of a voice. It was speaking in a low monotone. Pres ently it rose into a clear, mournful cadence, and his ear recognized the sublime phrases of the burial service: "Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts shut not Thy merciful ears to our prayer: but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour. Thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not at our last hour for any pains of death to fall from Thee." There was a long pause, and a si lark could be heard singing over the sea. Then the voice began again: "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take unto Him self the soul of our dead sister here de parted—" "No, no. Oh, my God, I can't say that," the voice broke forth in sudden agony. "Oh, 'Lizabeth, why did you leave me?" The curate knew not what to do. At first he had been ready to suppose that an interment was going on, but that thrilling cry: "Oh, 'Lizabeth," re vealed not the solemn priest, but the human mourner. He stepped softly out of the shadow of the chancel, and looked over the huddtled stones. A man was kneeling be«ide one of them which looked'more cared for than the rest. It was Crad dock. In the same instant the two men recognized one another. The curate was about to turn away, when Craddock beckoned him. "Look," said Craddock, grimly. The stone had been freshly scraped and lettered. It bore no memorial verse—two names only and a date: ELIZABETH CRADDOCK and her Infant Child July 18, 1845 There was a lilac bush in full blos som on the grave, and beside it lay a worn Book of Common Prayer, open at the burial service. "You're a good man, Muster Beckitt," said Craddock, slowly. "You —you understand. I lov*d her—my 'Lizabeth—an' 40 years don't make no difference. I've covne here every Sun day these 40 years, and read them same words over her, an' I can't yet say that prayer 'bout tfhankin' God it hev pleased Him to take her— "This is the Prayer Book we read together the night before we was mar ried. That's why I don't come to church. I come where she is, an' Godi'U understand, an' not be hard on me. You'll keep my secret—eh For answer the curate took Crad dock's rough hand iti his. "God bless you, Craddock," he said softly. He picked up the Prayer Book, and read the prayer for all sorts and conditions of men, laying special emphasis on the words, "those who are in any ways afflicted or distressed in mind, body or estate that it may please Thee to com fort and. relieve them, giving them pa tience under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions." The lark sang orerhead, and the sound of the sea and the fragrance of the lilac mingled in the spring wind. Craddock stood with bowed head, and felt for one hushed instant the pas sage of an angel of peace upon the air. Editor's Note—This story Is taken from William J. Dawson's volume of short stories, entitled Thro' Lattice Windows. Published by the Doubleday & McCliire Company, New York. GOSSIP FROM A "DIARY." Some Humorous Blta Taken from the Notebook of a Titled Englishman. Some one blaming a little girl for her extravagance, said: "You should not burn the candle at both ends." "Why, is not that the way to make both ends meet?" retorted the child. Hon. Sir M. Grant Duff, who noted down this repartee in his "Diary," men tions also the following good riddle: When the day breaks, what becomes the pieces?" "They go into mourn ing." The following are among the items of pleasant gossip to be found in the "Diary:" An English peer coming out of the house of lords, met Disraeli for the first time since he bccame Lord Beacons field. "How do you like this place?" asked the peer. "Well," was the reply, "I feel that I am dead, but in the Elysian fields!" At a meeting in Exeter hall Bishop Wilberforce spoke eloquently, and at the close of his address the people be gan to go away. A gentleman, who ac cording to the programme was to speak, said to the bishop: "I need not speak. I hardly think they expect me." "To be sure they do," retorted the prelate "don't you see they are all go ing?" An English duke, while being shown the collection of birds in a museum, asked the name of one of them. "That's a howl," said the attendant. "A what?" exclaimed the duke. "A howl," repeated the man, with even more distinctness, whereupon a bystander, seeing the cause of the duke's mystification, said: "Your Boyal 'Ighness, 'e says hit's a howl."— Youth's Companion. Couldn't Be His Boy. Indignant Citizen—I say, your boy threw a stone at me just now and barely missed ine. Mr. Grogan—You say he missed you? "That's what I understood myself to remark." "It was not my boy."—Stray Stories. A LITTLE NONSENSE "I had to let my French lessons go." "Why was that?" "They were simply ruining my golf accent."—Chicago Record. She—"Now, dear, we must begin to economize." He—"All right. Begin by making the bread lighter."—Yon kers Statesman. "Do you really think there can be jealousy without love?" "Did you ever know a married woman who was not jealous?"—Indianapolis Journal. Jorkins—"What are you thinking so Lard about?" Perkins—"I am trying to decide which a man derives the most real enjoyment from, laziness or conccit."—Town'Topics. Wife—"John, is it true that you in vited our cook's soldier lover to my birthday dinner?" Husband—"Cer tainly. I did not want him to get the best morsels of every dish."—Flie gende Blaetter. "Mamma," said Dot, "do all the rivers empty into the sea?" "Most of them, my dear." "Then why doesn't the sea run over is it because there are lots of eponges in it?"—Philadel phia North American. The Leading Question.—"Dat poet Valkin Meeler has arranget all de de tails for hees funeral pyre." "Funeral pyre? Votvosdot?" "Hevillhafhim self set on fire ven he ees det." "Vot insurance does he carry?"—Cleveland Plain Dealer. He—"Carrie^il saw., you flirting t$wi,tli Tom Sweeper YiA'Crt.^ evening." 'She—"Well, it was all for your sake." He—"For my sake? How do you make that out?" She—"You wanted me to learn to love you, and I was just prac ticing on Tom."—Boston Transcript. Bride—"I'm so afraid people will find out that we're just married that I've made Will promise to treat me in public just as if he had no thought for anyone but himself." Matron—"I adopted that plan when I was married and my hu«band never got over it."— Tit-Bits. TRAVELS OF COINS. Some Old Pieces Could Tell Remark able Stories of Their Wan der I nflfa. "If an old coin could only talk what ..strange adventures it might tell," re marked a Canal street druggist, twirl ing a silver piece he had just received frcm a customer. "Now, this half dol .lar was coined in 1848, the year the gfeat gold craze began in California, ^ind I sliouid say by its looks that it 'has been in pretty constant circula tion ever since. Think what a volume of trade that represents. If it pur chased its face value only once a day, which is certainly a modest estimate, it. has done well on to $10,000 worth of business in the half century it has been going the rounds. That's quite a record, isn't it? And I dare say that curious things have happened to it in its journeyings. It has been borrowed and stolen and lost and lent it has been hoarded by misers and squan dered by prodigals, and who knows how often it has been the last coin in the pocket of a suicide? It. must have lain on gaming tables and rat tled in church boxes and held down the eyelids of the dead. There is no tell ing in what far countries it has trav eled, and what fantastic foreign things it may have bought. I never finger one of these old coins without a certain sense of awe and an inclination to stop, no matter how busy I may be, and do a little day dreaming over its history." "All that reminds me," said a gen tleman who had listened to the drug gist's homily, "of a queer experiment I made years ago. I was speculating cne day on the possible wanderings of coins, and just to test the matter I had a small steel punch made with my Initiais cut in the end. By bringing it down sharply on a coin I could leave the letters indented on the surface. Well, for a long time—over a year, in fact—I stamped every scrap of hard money I got hold of—nickels, pennies and all. I suppose at the very lowest estimate I turned adrift 400 or 500 sep arate pieces wearing my sign manual, meanwhile keeping my eyes open for the return of any of the wanderers. It was in 1881 or 1882 that I began work with the die, and in all these interven ing years I have never yet received a coin bearing my stamp. Looking for the initials has become such a habit with me that I do it instinctively al most every time I receive any change. Several years ago I was a cashier in a good-sized retail hciise here, and handled a great many fractional coins. Hundreds of them had been marked, but none had my particular stamp. This certainly shows how widely money becomes scattered. A young friend of mine tried the same experi ment, and after a considerable lapse of time found one of his coins'in some change given him in a store in New York. He had a ring put in the piece and wears it on his watch chain."— N. O. Times-Democrat. A Doubtful Reformation. I feel like a man who had escaped from bondage," exclaimed the com muter, who had slid deftly past the bundles he bad piled on the car seat, without upsetting one of them. "I feel lik: man who had had an aching tooth pulled or who had had an unex pected legacy just as a note came due.M "What's the matter?" inquired the neighbor. I've conquered my besetting weak ss." I didn't know you had any." Yes. It was superstition. I'd wor ry about whether I saw the new moon over my left shoulder, and if I saw a horse shoe I'd drop everything I was carrying in order to pick it up. I'd get my feet wet and catch cold hunt ing four-lea? clovers, and turn pale if 1 forgot myself so far as to trim my finger nails on Friday." "And you gave them all up?" "Yes, sir.' "Well, there's no doubt you are bet ter off." "I should say so. Why, I've noticed the difference already. I was abso lutely compelled to call a halt. I no ticed that every time I paid attention to these superstitions I had bad luck.** —Washington Star. What Better Proof "Confidentially," said the family friend,"tell me, does your husband pos sess good judgment?" "Well," said she, "I am his wife."— Stray Storiefc THE ART OF GRINDING. How to Pat an Edge on Mowlag Ma chine Knives and Other Bevel Bdged Toole. There is propriety in all things, and the grinding of mowing machine knives is not to be excepted. Most farmers, however, hold the knives out at arm's length and grind them on the top of the stone, similar to the way that the scythe is ground, thus not only making the process a slow and la borious one, but producing a very poor edge indeed when compared with that which is obtainable by the method shown herewith in the illustration. In order to achieve the purpose at issue one should have a good stone— a stone so hung that it will run true. It is preferable to have it mounted upon common friction wheel bearings. Why? Because these raise the center of it just high enough from the frame to admit of the inch-board rest on each end and make it about right for grinding the mowing machine knife when the back of the knife section is held in position against thiyrest. Thus constructed, hold the4cnife sec tion as described, but with the point pitching a little toward the stone, and HOW TO MOUNT A GRINDSTONE. at such an angle to the face of it as will result in producing the requisite cutting bevel—a position easily ascer tained by the operator after a few trials. Grasp the section bar with one hand and with the other press the knife against the stone. Then let the stone revolve toward the knife, and when that is ground, which will be sur prisingly soon, try another, and so on consecutively until all the knives on one side have been served alike, where upon change the other side onto the other side of the stone (a thing neces sitated by the crank being in the way of the end of the section bar), and in a very short time you will have all the knives in the most excellent condition. It is advisable, however, to grind a few of the end knives occasionally on that side of the stone next to the crank, for this, together with the scythe and other grinding that there may be, will tend to keep the surface of the stone worn off evenly, which is of the utmost importance. When once a person has acquired*the art of grinding bevel-edged tools in this manner it will afford him a world of pleasure, in that he can thus grind chisels and all such tools to perfection, his greatest care being to give those that do not reach across the face of the stone a sidewise motion, so as to wear the stone off evenly. Indeed,it will encourage much the sharpening of tools, and this is just wliat ought to be desired, for nothing is more out of place than one's endeavoring to use advantageously a dull implement of any kind.—Frederick O. Sibley, in N. Y. Tribune. AGRICULTURAL FAIRS. Too Many of Them Have Degenerated Into a Sleeting Place for Sports and Fakirs. Too man j- of the fairs are degenerat ing. The evidences of this are plenti ful and striking. True, here and there a local fair shows improvement, and state fairs are generally progressive but the most of the local fairs are in a decline. Members of our office staff have visited many fairs this season, and in a majority of instances have found stock pens and agricultural halls nearly empty and the attendance of farmers and their families material ly decreased. As we aim at truthful ness in our leports, the kindest thing we could do in many cases was to say nothing whatever in the paper about fairs of this class. The fact is that most of the fairs have practically ceased to be agricul tural and cater wholly to the tastes of the sporting community. In too many instances "fair" has become syn onymous with the same word with "k" inserted in the middle, and the farmer is compelled to stand around with his interests under his arm and watch the honors and profits of the occasion being divided between the jockey and the fellow with the game of chance. We have a few fairs in mind which have been striking exceptions in the matter of success this season, but these have every one been clean. The fair which would be long-lived and continuously successful must be de cent in tone and decidedly agricultural in character. The handwriting is on the wall for every other kind.—Na tional Stockman. How Sot to Kill a Pis. A great many breeders upon having a hog or pig overheated and very warm attempt to reduce the temperature be dashing a bucket of cold water over it, says the Indiana Farmer. Very often the result is a dead pig in a very short time. The proper way to cool off a pig just received in a crate or one that is overheated is to let it lie still and commence pouring water gradually on its nose and continuing for the space of two minutes on the nose up to the top of the head. Then when the head is thoroughly cooled proceed backward gradually, not pouring too rapidly at first, till you have reached the tail. In this way the hog will be cooled off without dan ger of any bad effects from the over heating. Land Plaster on the Farm. Land plaster should be kept handy where it may be sprinkled at frequent intervals on stable floors and about sinks from which foul odors may arise. Besides being a deodorizer it is a good fertilizer, so nothing is lost by using it, while much is gained. ,v ?l'*t J- rMfnaS VITALITY OF SEEDS. Experiments at the Indiana Station Prove That Freeslns Does Not ASeet .lt. In case seeds are well dried before freezing weather sets in, common ex perience has shown that the vitality is not destroyed by freezing weather. This has been repeatedly shown in corn from the crib of the experiment station. Although exposed to all the vicissitudes of our variable winters we have frequently found that 95 to 100 per cent, of the corn would germi nate. The corn grown at this sta tion is a medium variety which ma tures and driesv. out before severe freezing weather begins. In case par tially cured corn is subjected to severe freezing the vitality of the germ is injured and frequently destroyed. The sad experience of many farmers at tests the truth of this statement. Careful, observant farmers have long noted the ill effects of freezing on par tially cured corn, hence they gather their seed corn early so that it may become well dried out before setting in of very cold weather. It is well known that dry seeds will bear exposure to low temperatures without losing the power to germinate. Whether such low temperature injures the vitality without entirely destroying it, is a question I am not as yet prepared to answer. The injury, if any, to dry seeds from freezing is at least imper ceptible. There are those who be lieve that the exposing of even dry seeds—especially seed corn—to a freezing temperature, will injure the vitality of the germ, but I do not re call any experimental tests that dem onstrate this to be true. For all prac tical purposes it is quite sufficient for the farmer to know that if his seeds are well cured before very cold weath er begins, he may expect them to re tain the power to germinate even though exposed to severe freezing weather. In many instances seeds thus cured and exposed have been found to germinate 100 per cent, and with a satisfactory degree of vitality. •W. C. Latta, in Prairie Farmer. A GOOD PLANK DRAG. It'a a Very Effective Implement I,*' r' jM*'v and One That Any Farmer Can Make In a Few Honrs. For some kinds of work this drag is better than a roller. Any farmer can make one in a few hours. The one I use is made of three boards, seven feet long and eight inches wide. Place the plank eight inches apart, take two pieces of two by four, long enough to bolt across each end to hold the plank in place. Fit on the two by fours or crosspieces by first sawing into the upper and front edge of each plank and split off a triangular shaped picce, so that when the crosspieces are bolted on the front edge of the bottom of each plank will be about A GOOD PLANK DRAG. three inches from the ground. The crosspieces should be bolted on with two bolts through each board. Some old drag or harrow teeth are put through the front board four inches apart, the holes being bored so the teeth will slant back, which prevents clogging. An old mowing machine scat is fastened to the center of the middle plank. The drag can be drawn by a tongue fastened similar to a wagon, or by a short, chain in such a manner that the draft is from the center. This implement works as well on any kind of ground when first plowed, and will fit it in good shape for the harrow or cultivator. It will leave the surface more level and finer than a roller. I keep one in the field while plowing, and with it go over what is plowed each day. This levels and fines the surface so that the mois ture is retained.—John Jackson, in Farm and Home. FACTS FOR FARMERS. Soils rich in humus hold the mois ture longer against evaporation, and a humus soil, when dry, probably makes the most effective soil mulch. We do not always make repairs when we should, do we? We make nothing by not doing such work promptly, do we? Some one has said: "The frying pan is the curse of the American nation. The poor, hurried housewife would bake her biscuit or boil her coffee in it if she could." Subsoils rich in iron are usually re tentive of moisture. For this reason a red subsoil, if not too sandy, is usually a good foundation for the sur face soil to rest on. Isolation is not always immunity from contagion, and, while our towns show the greater number of infectious diseases, country places frequently show a greater per cent, of fatality from want of prompt attention or im possibility of getting it. It is sometimes noticeable that the farmer who has grown old has lost ambition, and he permits buildings and fences to fall to the ground. It is better from every standpoint to avoid getting into a condition like that, even if it does require an effort. If six inches deep of fine, dry soil is moistened with 20 per cent, of water and then thoroughly cultivated it will be raised up two or three inches higher, making a depth of eight to nine inches. If heavy rains should follow and fully saturate this soil it would settle down to six inches of depth again, but if light rains followed it would not settle more than one inch. —Western Plowman. Save Dust and Leaves. If you do not rake up the leaves and lay in a supply of dry earth before win ter you will make a mistake. Dr3 earth is an absorbent and a disinfectant, as well as permitting of easily cleaning the poultry house. If a large supply of leaves are obtained ia which tht hens can scratch in winter the result will be less liability to disease and more eggs. Leaves on the floor make ex cellent protection from the cold drafts cf air that come from below, and thus assist in keeping the poultry house warm and comfortable.—Farm and Fireside. a' :--3, Aetlvlty Catarrh nm. of Vesuvius. Much anxiety has been caused in Naples by the renewed activity of Mount Vesuvius. An overwhelming danger of this description produces universal terror. As a matter of fact there is little likelihood that Mt. Vesu vius will do any serious damage. On the other hand thousands die daily from stomach and digestive disorders, who might have sur vived nad they resorted to Hostetter's Stom ach Bitters. It is the greatest of known ton ics for stomach and digest^ organs. It cures kidney, liver and blood disorders. In the Head Is aninflammation of the mucous membrane lining the nasal passages. It is caused by a cold or succession of colds, combined with impure blood. Catarrh is cured by Hood's Sarsaparilla, which eradicates from the blood all scrofulous taints, rebuilds the deli cate tissues and builds up the system. Hood's Sarsaparilla Is America's Greatest Medicine. $1: six tor IS. Hood's Pills cure sll Liver Ills. 25 cents. There is more Catarrh in this section of the country than all other diseases put to gether, and until the last few years was supposed to be incurable. For a great many years doctors pronounced it a local disease, and prescribed local remedies, and by con stantly failing to cure with local treatment, pronounced it incurable. Science has proven catarrh to be a constitutional disease, and therefore requires constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure, manufactured by F. J. Cheney & Co., Toledo, Ohio, is the only constitutional cure on the market. It is taken internally in doses from 10 drops to a teaspoonful. It acts directly on the blood and mucous surfaces of the system. They offer one hundred dollars for any case it failB to cure. Send for circulars and testi monials. Address F. J. Cheney & Co., To ledo, O. Sold by Druggists, 75c. Hall's Family Pills are the best. Not the Dame. Baggs—It is said that Dame Fortune Knocks once at every man's door. Jaggs—Well, it was her daughter, Mis Fortune, who called on me.—Boston Trav eler. You may be sura Neuralgia will be cured by St. Jacobs Oil. The Sprangles have been boasting a long time about their horseless carriage. It turns out to be only a baby's perambulator.—Bos ton Transcript. Will it cure? Use St. Jacobs Oil for lame back and you'll see. Mr. Oldchap—"Are you interested in fos sils, Miss Gushley!" Miss Gushley—"Oh— er—this is so sudden!"—Tit-Bits. vMjfflg Every cough makes your throat more raw and irritable. Every cough congests the lining membrane of your lungs. Ceasetearing your throat and lungs in this way. Put the parts at rest and give them a chance to neal. You will need some help to do this, and you will find it in Ayer's Cherry Pectoral From the first dose the quiet and rest begin: the tickling in the throat ceases the spasm weak ens the cough disap pears. Do not wait for pneumonia and con sumption but cut short your cold without delay. Dr. Ayer's Cherry Pec toral Plaster should be over the lungs of every per son troubled with a cough. Write to the Doctor. Unusual opportunities and long ex perience eminently qualify us for Riving you medical advice. Write freely all tbe particulars in your case. Tell us what your experience has been with our Cherry Pectoral. You will receive a prompt reply, without cost Address, DR. J. C. AVER. Lowell, A perfect type of the highest order of excellence. WiitolaMs Breakfast gcoa ABSOLUTELY PURE. Delicious—Nutritious. COSTS LESS THAN ONE CENT A CUP. Be sure yon get the gen trine article made at Dorchester, Mass.* by WALTER BAKER & CO. Ltd.! CtTAIUtMID 1TM. r: