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The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, May 25, 1899, Image 1

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'TRI-WEEKLY EDITION
THE SONG
e are the masts of ships,
- Nurtured for centuries ;
-Storm-wind and mountain-breeze
'Taught us our harmonies,
Kissed us with mother lips.
Sec "ow the tender and stern
He as have bidden us rise,
Cr_ ag, "Behold the eyes
Of .ars in the faithful saies:
Lift up your heads and learn !"
Hear how the Sun doth laugh,
"Climb ye thus, sons of mine?
Seek ye for things divine?
Yours is the sunlight wine;
Take of my warmth and quaff."
Cometh our bard, the Wind,
Bringinag us songs, and saith:
"Nay. this is naught but breath;
Striving and love and death,
These I left, far behind!
-Josephin
THE TRAI
A wet, boisterous night. Along a
rain-sodden country road a man, with
his hat brim pulled forward over his
eyes, slowly plodded his way. He
had left the city more than two hours
before, and its lights had disappeared
the oncoming of the storm.
The weary pedestrian suddenly
'paused and leaned on the knobbly
stiek in his hand. No! he was not
mistaken; the light he had seen ema
nated from a cottage window-a cot
tage that stood just off the turnpike.
Surely every heart did not beat unre=
sponsive to the cry of hunger and
e-:arity! Surely he was not doomed
to die of starvation and fatigue in this,
a Christian land!
The grimy fingers closed tightly
about the stick, an.t the starving man
approached the doo; of the little cot
tage. The sound of voices reached
his ears as he stoo-1 for a moment ir
resolute. One was th3 deep, gruff
voice of a man,and the other was that
of a woman. He knocked gently upon
the dbor. It was opened, and a stal
wart yeo-an appeared. The wayfarer's
ees wandered fro n the cozy fire to
the repast on the table before. it and
rom thence to the ruddy face above
"Well, What il'e want?" snappec
the cottager
''A mouthful of food--I'mstarving,"
tpied-the wayfarer.
FoAd, eh! thet's allays the cry,"
Mirled.he othe-. "Why don't yer
ork far itama as Oi do? Ger away,
<fsetite g - on yer!"ind the
r shut violently in the suppli
lc-:against the trelliswork
,ef sror. - When at' length he
-t ned from the cottageandsought the
penaroad'astrange~Iight had entered
his sunkn eyes-the light Of despera
tin madness! Wild, - iitoherent.
wo ds fell from his, lips;. an exultant
augh gurgled in his throat. Hark!
What was that?~ Something was ap
proaehing from behind.
Ahi! that something was a cyclist.
H e could see the small, trembling light
Ijo the lamp and could hear the suck
g sound of the tires on the wet
road- The starving wretch stepped
back .beneath the shadlow of a tree,and
as .the solitary cyclist drew near he
*placed himself directly in his path.
"Great Scott, my man! where the
diekens have you sprung from?" ejac
ulated the rider, a young fellow,as he
dropped lightly from his machine.
I's a go-> job.I was going easy; if
I hadn't either -you or me, or both of
us, would have been fitting snb'e
for surgical research by th" and the
speaker gave his broa shoulders a
shake to dislodge th3 ,rain from his
" wanted you to stop," said the
other, his words coming through his
set teeth.
"Indeed, and for what reason?" in
terrogated the eyclist, trying to see
the features of the last speaker..
"f-I want help," and the knobbly
st.ick wvas lifted, undiscerned by the
cyclist, a few inches from the ground.
"Help, did you say? Then you're
'on the road?' eh?"
-"Call it that if you like, but-I'm
sta,rvingr!"
"Good heavens! Yes, now I see
your face I don't doubt it! Here, old
chap, for goodness sake go and get
something to eat," ani the young fat
low p1 ing d his hand in his pocket.
Suddenly a thought seemed to strike
onywould be no use to
you," he said; "iou want food, and
you can't bay that any nearer than
the t->wn. Stay, Iknow. I am on my
way to a house half a mile further up
the road-the house is called 'The
Hollies'-you can't mistake it; there
a:e two turrets; besides, anyone will
te'l you which is Mr. Templeton's
* house. I will ride on-ah! I see you
know Mr. Templeton; but you have
no oceasion to be afraid of him. He's
ijustice of the peace,I know, but he's
* ot a soft heart-and if he hadn.{, his
laughter has. * ** Well, I'll just
spin along and see there's something
ready for you to eat when you arrive."
The young fellow had placed his
foot on the step of his bicycle to
-aiount when he felt the tramp's touch
on his shoulder.
'Well?--you understand me, didn't
P"Yes, I understood you, but--"
* But what?"
"Who is this Mr. Templeton whom
von just spoke about-is it Robert
Eempleton, the celebrated architect?"
"Yes."
"And is he related to you?"
A shade of annoyance crossed the
* young fellow's face, but only for an
instant.
'No, not exactly-as yet," he replied
with a laugh. "But I may be related
ho him be'ore long - at least I hope so,
* a sn-in-lw.yvou know.'
"Gardens that feared my blasti
Everywhere men, below;
Danger and toif and woe.
Wonders ye may not know,
All these I saw and passed.
"Nay, but new melody
Bring I to greet your ears.
Ye, without doubts or fears,
Not all in vain are the years '
Lo. I behold the Sea!"
Long hath it called to us
Here on our mountain-side.
Patient we wait, we bide.
Dreaming of waves and tide
Do they not murmur thus?
Masts of the ship to be:
This.is the tryst we keep.
Hearing the unseen deep:
And we answer in our sleep.
We shall behold the Sea!
e Preston Peabody, in Youth's Companion.
FtP'S KISS.
"Ah! I had forgotten; he has a
daughter."
The knobbly stick lay on the ground
now, and its owner was trembling like
a leaf. With an agile spring the cy
clist seated himself in his saddle, and
as his feet found the pedals he looked
round over his shoulder.
"Don't forget,"said he; "the house
with the turrets. I will vouch there
is a good, square meal awaiting you."
And.witir that lie rode away through
the drenching rain.
-Robert;Templeton, the world-famed
architect,' sat - in his study deep in
thought. From some distant portion
of the old house the sound of a girl's
fresh, young voice, singing "Love's Old
Sweet Song," reached his ears. Sud
^denly the song ceased, and Robert
Templeton knew the dreaded moment
had. arrived -knew that Harold Frank
li; had called for his (Templeton's)
answer.
He had promised to give it that very
night-that very hour-and Franklin,
anxious lover that he was, had braved
the inclemency of that night to hear
that which meant either life-long hap
piness for him or a dreary drag of
"stale, flat and unprofitab.le" existence.
De le' 'rse 'from hit chair and
a l sla out thb 4em.="
lfe riadi o: tell Harold
in inevitable. How wonlcL,
he receive that story? Would he, in
his great love for Clarice, laugh the
deception.to scorn;, or would he heap.
contuane?y upon .the. narrator's head
and leave thegirl who loved him. for
ever? No, banish the lsattr 7oughtf
Harold Franklin wgs- true . Engliah
gentleman-not r6ne ef the so.nlless
resat o s-ametimes pose as snch
-creatures of~veneer and vapidity
but a man with a heart as sound as
one of the oaks of his native land; a
man who valued his felloiv-creatures
fptiheir true mind-vorthiand not sole
1 account of_ their . wealth. of the
eodd's 'goods.
Half an hour-passed, and Tengpieton
was still pacing about his study,when
a firm step approached, and a knock
sounded upon the deor. Templeton
went across and threw it wide open.
His visitor was Harold Franklin.
"And so you have come for my
answer, Har9ld?"; said the architect,
after their formal 'gree ting.
."Yes,sir,",replied the fouug fellow,
withia quick 1Mbk i the other's face.
Templetoni.1esa ; a chqir for his
visitor and sat.dedi1Tacingi him.
"But where is Ciarice? It is neces
sary she,to:,ssho.uld .hear what I have
to say," he said..
"Clarice is actiigthe good Samar
wi.hinnge;,dso'I presumued to jite
him to bite and~ sup beneath your roof'f
Mr. Templeton. I trust my presumnp-,
tion did not overstep 'the bounds ol
Imy acquaintanceship with yourself
"Yo'u did gefectly iighf, Harald,"
iiterposed the - lder -stn. . "And
C1price, yog say, is:attending to 1tlie
poor fellow with her own hands?"
"Yes,sir; .sh preferred to dG so."
A few minnttes later Clarice Temple
ton entered f,h-e room, arid' both its
male occupatfts ere suryjrihed to see
her eyes. werf teari.at CYou have
been weeping:.:phi,ld?" said- her father,
as she sa'ak dow~n gu the has sock at
his side. -
"Yes," shi said' softly; "it was
something that poor man did and said
when he was bidding me good night
and thanking me f<r' the food I had
place&lefore ian
Robert. T.empleton was too much
engrossed'with ihis own thoughts to
reply to what Clarice was saying.
"My. chi-ld,'-he::said, after a short
pause, "it is:- only 'right that you
should hear what I am now about to
say. It is only . right that the man
who desires to make you.his wife, and.
whods here -tonight for my answer,
should know youiihistory-and mine."
The young lovers gazed wondering
ly upon the speaker, and their hands.
sought .each other's -instinctiVelf
".Hitpry, ,sir!- . I ascarcely under
stand. you,'-said''Franklin. -"I know
alreatdy- that you;-tlie most' illhstrious
architect of the time, were, in your
younger day., -far pooret' than you
noy Mre.. Hav'e you ibt told me often
thatlyour early ttruggles were fraught
with: privation? Your history, sir, is
one -that redouhds to y'our. credit."
"I do n6t rete to the -struggles of
my youth, H,ar'd; ..t is something.
else-2-somnething which concerns Clar
ice. It is' this:QClarice is not my
daughter!"
The wor.dls wogeaoken at, last...
"Not your .daughter?" whispered
the girl, her face blanehing' deatlily
pale.
"Sit down agai'n,my child, and-listen
to my story. It is an old story-.a
common theme for novelists, but true
in my case:
I"Two brother,s fell in. love -with one
sti
non
requit
cominonp
who had un
heart; but in the sot
his thoughts would ever w
his books to the dream that had. bet
shattered.
"He left his native town and settlt
for a short time in Manchester. O:
day he received word that the brothi
who occupied the place he himself ha
often dreamed to fill had been a
rested on a charge of foigery. Ti
charge was well-founded, and eventua
ly he was sentenced to 15 years' pen
servitude.
"This was two vears after his ma
riage and one year after his child wi
born. His wife never recovered fro
the shock, and when the husband ha
served but one year of his impriso
ment she was laid to rest. I reacht
her side a few hours before she die<
She begged that I would take care i
the golden-haired prattler she w:
leaving behind-take care of her unt
he had served his period of imprisoi
ment. I promised, and when ti
earth closed over the body of her
had loved I took the child away-tl
child that resembled the mother
much. You were that child, Clarice.
A silence fell on the itttle group f
Templeton finished speaking, and t1
golden head of Clarice had droope
forward untiti,und rest on the a
chitect's knee.
"And what do you expect mie I
say, Mr. Templeton?" asked Frankli
at length.
"I expect to hear you say what you
heart prompts you to say."
"My heart prompts me to say th:
nothing you have told me tonight ha
altered my love for Clarice, and I r<
peat again-I love her dearly, and sh
loves me; we ask your - consent to ou
inarriage."'
"And I give lit, Harold," said Ten
pleton, ' taking Franklin's hand an
wringing it. The' young fellow stoope
and raised Clarice from her dejecte
attitude, kissed he' streaming face, an
they passed slowly, side by.side,froi
the room.
An hour later the' lovers stood a
the end of the wooded drive biddin
each other good night. The rain ha
,ceased falling.
"And to think, Harold, that I, wh
have always felt proud of my pareni
ige, should be so disillusioned; t
think- that I am the' daughter of
felon!" and as the word i,froz
Clarice. Temipleton'-lis.g .ougl
to check the sobs that filleci.er bosom
Franklin drew her throbbing for
closer. to his side.
"Nay, sweetheart,, let not the new
trouble you so. You are not to blam
for what your father did, and he,pet
haps, by this is sorrowing for his pas
cruelty and wickedness. Howevei
let us try to forget him and the pas
and be happy in our mutual love an,
the golden days to come."
Engrossed as the lovers were, neithe
of them were cognizant of the proxin
ity of a third person-a man, wh
crouched in the shadow'of the tree:
"Yes, forget him and the past,
murmured the latter; "it is only righ
that you should. As for him!
and the crouching figure stole softi
away.
"But tell me, Clanice," said Frank
lin, "tell me the cause of the tears
saw in your eyes when you joine
your father (I shall always call hit
such) and me in his study."
"It was the poor man-the tram:
"He did not frgten vn .rok
in Franklin.
eme, Harold! No, somt
thing quite different. He' said I rt
minded him of one he loved-a daugl
ter who is lost to him forever-and
and- lie asked nie to-to kiss him,Hil
old."
"And you,.did?" queried i Franklit
smilingly.
*"Yes, I couldn't refuse. Besides
he was an old man,Kyou know."
The following'day there was foun
in a pool some ndfeTs away the dea
body of -an-An)cnown m&n: It wa
Bangkol4 an Eastern 'Venice.
Bangkok, Siam, is -variously calle
by those people who revel in~compai
isons, the "Venice.of thre East" an
the "Constantinople of- Asia;" in th
first instance, because of the man
canals that run through the~city, an
in the second, because of the hui
dreds of wretched iiid owvner less p:
riah dogs that roan~ .itsi stree ts wit
impunity. There-s is..much -tr uthi
both comparisons. Certainly, Bang
kok is the home of the~gatint ani
ugly pariah'dog, w'hich spends its lii
foraging and getting just eno.ugh t
keep life in its mangy carcass, mult:
plying meantime with the fecundit
of cats aind a tropical clime, becaus
Buddhist's doctrine forbids its kil
.ing. Outcast dogs* are not the onI
pests whose .imitiplication in Bant
kok may be pharged to Buddhisni
more noisy ~cro* perch of an ear]
morning on your window-casing a']
the tree immediately beyond it tha
in the space of a day hover near tl:
[Towers of -Silence at Bombay awai
ing the pleasure of the vultures the
feed on the last earthly remains<
those who have died in the faith<
the Parsee.-Harper's Weekly.
Domestic Thrills.
"Have you ever experienced the e:
citemilt of being aroused from slee
in a house at night when it was c
fire?"
"No, but I have several times got
through the excitement upon n
wife's announcement of her belief th;
the baby had swallowed her thimble,
- -Chicago News.
AAx
And tried to whistle some.
d He thought perhaps he'd go to war.
And fire an awful gun.
3r He wouldn't ride his hobby-horse,
"d Ile called .lack Spratt "a fib!"
He sat at meals in father's chair,
And scorned his gingham bib.
tE
His mother mustn't spread his bread,
Nor cut things on his plate;
She mustn't say, "No more, my dear!"
No matter what he ate. .
She mustn't kiss him when-he fell
And bumped him on the stones,
o And she must say. "Dear sir," just as
,d She did to Mr. Jones!
1- So hard to please this gentleman
d His loving mother tried,
1 It quite enlarged his dignity,
And swelled his lofty pride.
0 And all was brave, and all .Was well,
it Until that mother said,
At eight o'clock, "Of course, dear sir,
You'll go alone to bed!"
I Ah, would you have me say what then
e Befell the great big man?
For if you undertake to gdss
I hardly think you can.
Ls He turned the corners of his moutn
ie Most fearfully awry.
d He rubbed his grown-up fisawhile
Across his grown-up eye,.:
Then bnrying in his mother's lap
Both pride and manly joy,
0 He said in just the littlest voice,
* 1 "I guess I'm just abov!"
-Cstharine Young Glen, t sYouth's Com
r "'anion. ,.
'OnelBoy 's
L Wise men tell us that one of the
s secrets of success is deterniination of
character that will not- ie datinted by
e repeated rebuffs and opposition.' At
r least one young. man in Chicago has
learned by experience that persistence
d pays. Only a few years ago hQ was a
messenger boy - in one of the largest
t- wholesale dry goodi establisliments in
I the world, .and certainly the largest in
d Chicago. The-boy -determined that his
n 33 it week salary was not enough, so
he complained to the head messenger.
"'Why, I can't raise your wages; I
don't have anything to- do with that,"..
explained the heed messenger.
''Well, who shall I go to?". asked
w the boy.
"Try the head floorman," was-1'he
reply.
The b oy went.to the-head.Aoori 'n.
and made.his wants knuivn." The '
Wlorman ,,dicn' carctZbe bot :e~d
with the boy's affairs,so 'heremaLAed,
a off-hand, "Oh, I guess you w uld
better see Mr. So-and-So," naming e
proprietor of the vast . establishment
But the.boy was not dauMed by the
knowledge that he was the least of
thousands of employes whose names
even were probably not known to the
t proprietor. The first time he saw
that gentleman -walking down the
great centre aisle'of the main floor of
r the.building he stopped him and asked
for a ratise in salary.
0 "How much are you making, my
, boy?" asked the great man,-'kindly.
"Three dollars a week, sir," replied
,the boy.
"How old are you?" was the next
Squestion from the proprietor.
"Fourteen years," responded the
"vson"sadrvr
adidn't t5ke that much." -
Ve.'ll, sir, perhaps you weren't
~ orth it then," replied the boy with
great earnestness.
e The proprietor laughed in spite of
himself and the boy was given a better
position and more pay. Today he is
at the head of one of the departments
in the great store, and.the story was
told by one who* 'irnows him well.
~Chicago Record.
Oddlities of Shoemakers' War.
SOne of the most apt illustrations
ever made by Lord Kelvin was his
likening the luminiferous ether to a
mass of shoem.akers' wax. What Lord
d Kelvin said of shoemakers' wax may
a be tested by ing boy ih a me~nner thai
s will astonish his playniates.' First,Iet
it be said that the ether pe,atrates all
space. It is as rigid as steel, a,nd yet
so flexible that'it does not ret'ard the
passage of planets through space in
the least. It is an invisible substance
~which travels in waves through all
e things. Now, to illustrate the nature
y of such a paradoxical material Lord
d Kelvin searched everywhere, and at
last concluded that shoemakers' wax
represented it best. He made tests,
n and this is what he found:
n He melted sonie wax in,a common
P .glass tumbler. After iAhad hardened
d .he tried to thrust a lead pencilthrough
e it. it wo.uld not go:.' Then he placed
o a coin on the surface of The wax and
left it for several days. When he
Y' \again visited it the cdin had :sunk to
e thie bottom of the glass. . The wax had.
'deosed over it, 'and by lifting the glass
Y 4ud looking through the bottom he
could see the' coin lying ther'e. -Had
:the wax been its deep.as, a well the
Y cini would hav~e gone on sinking uin
d til it reached the bottom. This proved
n that toe wax would conform only to
e slow mov-ements. If he had tried to
t- pus it too fast it would have resisted
i. him. .
E. An idea struck the scientist. If the
Swax acted like this toward the coin,
how would it treat an object which
floated? He accordingly placed a cork
in a tumibler and poured hot shoe
- makers' wax upon it. The wax hard
P ened, with the cork. at the bottom.
n Yet when Lord Kelvin looked at the
bo'ttomn of the glass lin a day or two
e8 he found the cork had disappeared.
SIt wvas romiewhiere in the mass of wax,
9 and probably rising very slowly, but
' surely, toward the top.'t Sure enough,
after a given perior1 o time theo cork
sudden or quica,
highly suceptible to v.
prolonged pressure. If you pi
flatiron hard down on a lump o'
on a table it is probable you would
make no impression on it, but if you
left that iron resting on the wax for a
day or two you would find the lumi:
flattened out under the iron. So
curious is this property of the wax
that tuning forks have been cast from
-pieces of it. These forks were capable
of vibration,giving a musical note an
being set going by vibration from
another tuning fork, yet when one of
them was laid across the open mouti
of a jar it slowly collapsed and fell in
to the jar in a shapeless, sticky mass.
Any boy may perform these experi
ments, and the lesson in physics to bE
got therefrom is no less valuable than
the amusement which the performance
affords.-Chicago Inter Ocean.
Mozart's Fight for Lift.
After his travels and artisti<
triumphs as a child,the great composei
Mozart returned to Germany, and at
the age of twenty-three began his real
work. His struggles witiuo;crt
have never beenhu--lfoc
Always pursued by the spectre of
wa$;not always able to get medicine.
.- his sick wife, generous with whal
.he had to all in need, allowing himseli
no indulgence or extravagance, hE
worked day and night,- pouring oui
symphonies, operas and sonatas ai
an almost incredible.rate. Presentf
of watches, sniff lo es, , and ring,
were showered +uypn'him; which hE
often had to pawn-fort dinner. ' Hii
audience often casiied him hone or
their shoulders,?. when a igdod pei
would have beeh rmore welc9m' '
The score 6f the "Magic FLut&-P thc
first German dpera of great prerit; wa,
composed at the request of a ViennesE
manager who paid a trifle for it, th'ougl
it enabled him to build a fine opert
house and lay the foundation of g
great fortune. At the time of Mozart'f
death, when-his half-crazed wife could
not pay for a coffin, ' this managei
rushed about,ienna with sentimental
tears for the loss to music, but would
'ot"gee ber4oae;)treutzer for funeral
expenses.
Mozart's. eerfulness only deserted
him in his.last few months. His wifE
had. been er.~.ed by friends to go t<
Baden for the, waters. He was alone,
when one night a mysterious stranger,
all in gray, came with an order foi
a "equiem to be composed within t
mo h. Mozart felt that this was s
visitor -rom the other world, and thai
the requiem would be his own. Hi:
wife returned to find him workinf
with intense absorption over thi:
funeral mass, sitting over it till h<
swooned in his chair. The mysterion:
visitor afterward proved to bea noble
man who had lost his wife.
Now the musical world rang witi
the fame of Mozart's last opera. Thb
dying man wasi offered the rich ap
poitment of organist in St. Stephen't
cathedral. Flattering proposals fron
many managers flowed in-too late.
At his funeral, in St. Stephen's
only five musicians were present, be
~ides the priest and the pallbearers
herain and sleet, the little grouj
of mo a~ shivered under umbrellai
as the hear ~8Lthe church door.
Evening was fast ~ ~ ~~,'en i
reached the graveyard of St. Mari
where, among the "third class'
Mozart was laid to rest. The weathe:
was too much for the mourners, wh<
dropped off one by one, till only th
driver accompanied the body. The
grave digger and one old wonma'.-th<
official mendicant of the place-re
ceived him. Being told there were n<
mourners, and this was only a "band
master," she'said, "Then I've n<
more money to look for today. Mu
sicians are a poor lot. Better luck to
morrow." Then the coffin was dis
mounted, and shoved into the top of
grave already occupied by two paup
ers-for this wasa the third paupe>
funeral of that day. So lived ani
fought and died a child of genius!
'he New Voice.
A Clever Thief.
Budapest, or one of its suburbs, hal
one thief of whom the baffled polic<
force but for professional scruple;
would be really proud. A real estatt
agent, unable to rent for the winte
ths suburban cottage which he ha<
occupied during the suimmer, locket
the gates and doors and moved bacd
to Budapest. One day not long ag<
the city architect approached hit
with reference to the sale of his prop
erty, which was desired as al site for
public building. The agent name<
his price.
"'But," said the architect. "is no
that a little high for i acant property?
"Vacant property! Bless you man
it isn't vacant. There's a brick col
tage on it, and a good one."
"Really," returned the other, "yol
are mistaken. I was there but yester
day, and there is no sign of a lions
on your land." The owner investi
gated, and found that he was, in faci
no longer a householder. During th
fall a gang of bricklayers had am
peared, demolished the house-a tas
that consumed about a week-loade
it into carts and- departed.-Corre
spondence of Chicago Record.
The Exception.
"Any man can become rich by pe:
severing, persistent effort."
"1 don't know; I've never yet ru
across a millionaire book agent,"
Chiago Record.
Some reauc
cient space for a grass run, u . -
to keep their birds in small, confined
pens, will benefit them if they adopt
the following plan: Obtain from a
grocer one or two empty egg boxes,
which are usually nine inches deep.
Place these in the pen and fill up with
the soil, well pressed down to within
four inches of the top. Then sow
wheat, oats, grass or mustard seed,
and cover with another inch of soil,
and complete by stretching over top
of the box as tight as possible, half
inch wire netting; fastening with
staples to the edges to prevent thi
fowls from scratching the seed up.
As it grows the green stuff will appear
through the netting, aid the birds
will eagerly pick it off. I have tried
this plan in gravel pens and find it
answers well. -Poultry (England).
Preparing Land for the Orchard,
The North Carolina station claims
that the preparation of the land before
planting'an apple orchard is of the
greatest importance, for any lack of
preparation before planting can hardly
be remedied after the trees are set.
If one does not intend to prepare the
land well, manure well and cultivate
well, he had better let the planting of
an orchard alone.
The chief point in the preparation of
the land is deep plowing of the soil.
This is especially needed on our red
clay uplands, where trees set in shal
low plowing are apt to be stunted
by droughts. The land for the or
chard should be prepared early in tte
fall, by plowing as deeply as a pair
of horses can pull a plow, and >e
hind this team another team in same
furrow, with a subsoil plow to break
the clay still deeper, till the' whole
land is broken to a depth of fifteer
inches. This deep prepai-ation will be
the best investment the -planter can
make in setting the or017R.
Care f Milk and- cs.
My.milking s .done, rrning a7d
evening. I have neve tied a -mlk
ing machine. As sooni- as iossibe
after the milk is drawn it is strained
into cans of a creamer and cooled to
45 degrees with ice.. The creamer is
kept in a room under the elevated
water tank, connected by pipes and
faucets so that~ water may be kept
running through the creamer or shut
off at pleasure. Butter is my only
product, and it is only for private
trade. Milk is hanIled in winter by
being set in cans 18 inches high by
8 inches in diameter, holding abofi
three gk.llons, and are k,ept in a room
which in winter never freezes. I
much prefer .deep setting of milk.
These cans are allowed to stand. 36
hours,when the cream is removed and
placed in tin cans holding five gal.
lons, which after being warmed to a
proper temperature with an occasional
stirring will soon be found properly
ripened for churning.
I use a barrel churn, holding tem
galions. After churning five to fifteem
minutes, if the temperature .is jusi
right the butter globules will appeat
like so many small grains. Do nol
ar-ee, but draw off the butter
milk. Add i~little salt and plenty o1
clean, fresh water, give the churn a
few turns; this removes all the re
maining milk and leaves the butter in
grains. Never use the hands to work
the butter, only the ladle to padl
with. I use ash kits of the cleanesi
and nicest make.
Concerning the cost of milk. My
cows have tested two pounds of buttei
per day, but I have placed it at one
pound. I have charged market rate
for ration and milking, which gives us
cost of producing one pound of buttei
at 9 1-2 cents. I consider thge - mili
and manure ample remunerati,on foi
all other labor. Here are the figures
Three pounds oats .019 cents, th.rei
pounds corn .013 cents, two pounds
oil cake .023 cents, three pounds bran
.013 cents, twenty-live pounds ha)
.012 cents, milking .01 cent,'- tota
.09 1-2 cents. The milk from the
above ration has made by actual ex
periments seven pounds of butter tc
each 100 poundls of milk. I have usec
a separator, but never found its use o:
any advantage, as I have never beer
able to produce any more butter thai
,by the ordinary method.-E. A. M11
ler in Orange Judd Farmer.
H ogs and Corn.
From present indications the prici
of corn is going to be higher. Afte:
tseveral years of excessively depressei
markets the great Ameriaan croi
promises to ieach a point where it:
culture will prove very profitable t<
the farmer. It will be more profitabl4
Stheu to sell corn than to feed it t<
hogs. Under such circumstances thi
ebreeder of swine must prepare-for the
future. Ujltimately the price of hog:
would go up if corn became scarce an<
Stoo high price. L)provided some sub
stitute for corn could not be fovnd.
kIt is in ant:icipition that the farmel
Sor breeder reap~s success. The mal
who is loaded down with a drove- o
swine might suddenly find corn ad
vanced so high that it would 1 ay him
to dispose of his hogs at once, and t4
.sell his corn in the open market. Bn
there would be thousands of othe
abreeders looking at the question i;.
the same way, and the sudden man
ketinaofgno many bees wnnida us
anut .
price? If no
you must sell youi .
maintain them a little wh
outlay of money.
The varied diet is always best for
hogs and all other animals. The
varied ration is also the safest to de
pend upon in every way. Clover, al
falfa and other grass crops for sum
mer feeding are indispensable for the
swine. Cow peas, Canadian field
peas, dwarf Essex,rape and so;a beans
1all-h ve their particular virtues, and
they shoul ted moie on e
farm iere hogs are on a large
scale. The root crops cannot be neg
iected. Store enough of them ahead -
for an emergency. Then with an
abuzidant ciop of such varied articles
of food it will not matter materially if
prices do $u8taate for corn or any
other food rop. You can then reap
th 'lefit of another man's short
coming6.
Hints on Booting Slips.
In the saucer system of rooting cut"
tings, the vessels are filled with, sand
simily. The cuttings should be small
and several can be put in one saucer.
The sand must be kept so that it is
like mud, and the saucer must be
placed- where it will get plenty of ann.
Ner shade.from the sun, but pro
tect from the wind. This is all that
is necessary to insure successful root
ing with good slips. When- pouring
water oa, care must be taken to do it
very gently, so as not to throw down
or evell-un~settle the shp~s.
The professional makes great use o
tiny pots, tigo inches in diameter at
the top and two inches deep. Roote
slips do far better in dmalt- than in
-large'pots, where they are apt to -be- -
code 1aterlogged. They should. b,e
potted-in $ne - sandy soil andkd pt
shaded for two or thres diaysn the
roota' have time . into the eoh "
In froi four to eight asi rc
ing to the nature-of
the heat it ba. had, the iftle '.
beiled th-a nestof.rots
repottiag, bit do-not use too
pot. - .i
Swa p moss is so useful tlt
comm greenbouse would
ti o getting along witholiit. --
smal pots haif an inch at the t -
is filled iit6 this moss for .drain4&~<
In six-inch pots and larger a lhyer. of
an inch or more of charcoal is used'a
the bottom and this covered with
moss. I have used dried grass in
place of moss witit good results. It
surely pays to use moss or grass. An- -' *
6 ther item of drainage much mote -
important than the above, and no.t'
universally known, is to keep the pots - _
on rough material, such as cinders, so
that air can get 'under them and water
pass off more freely. Pots placed on
little blocks of wood do nicely. he '
drainage question is especially fim
portant with roses, as they especially
dislike excess of water at the roots.
There is one simple rule for getting
cuttings at the proper stage. If on'
beniding the slip it breaks off short it
-is good. If it bends without break
ing it is too dld. One -of the most
certain methods, and one which d.oes
least injury to the parent plant where
-many slips are wanted, and especially '""
good for foliage plants that are liable
to rust under common treatment, is
called "layering in the air." The
shoot is cut, but left hanging, to the
plant by a bit of bark, and is allowed
to hang there for 10 or 12 days. The
wound heals over, and if the plant has -
been kept in a moist atmosphere, the
slip will already have begun to root -in
the air, buit even if no roots have been
sent out, the healed suriaee is the first
step toward rooting, so all that is nec
essary is to detach it and plant it in a
tiny pot. I have also rooted begonias,
geraniums, wax plant and oleanders in
a bottle of water. Fill the bottle up
to the neck with warm water and in
sert the cutting a half inch in the
water, letting the top ext.end out from
the bottle neck. Place in the sun and
keep the bottle filled with water.
After the first roots start, leave it
alone several days before potting.
Begonias an:1 geraniums will root in-'
a week in either sand or water if kept.
warm enough. Some plants require
longer. Verbenas and petunias also
root quickly. Watecr with warm
water, use small pots, protect .from
winds, supply good drainage, furnisk
rich, porous soil, then with good. cat- ,."'
tings, onlookers will say you have
magic in your fingers as iegards your
success in rooting gr'owing slips.-E.
Clearwaters in New yngland- Home
stead. . .
A Description of' a Meter.
The Breckinridge (wy.) News .thus.
describes the meteor that :recently fell
in that locality: "It. is composed..of
nickel, iron and cov'At, and wagat.
white heat when it struck thes,ear'th.
It was very much like a,e babble;-and
the air inside made it thollowr. 'It is
about eighteen inches' -long -an'd teti
inches wide and weighed -twelve
pounds. It was found iii the gravel
pit at Skillmnan, fifty feet below the
surface of the earth, -showing the
fearful velocity it had 'attained 'in its
travels:. In cooling off ithe3 meteorite
cracked, and the crevices in it are
-clearly defined. The outside is oxi
- dzn by exposur to the' elemnents."

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