j'-lQHTED BV THE AUTHOR,
1890.]
PJIAFTER IX—Continued.
With this the two forms dissolved
back into invisibility. The young man
sould have been none other than old
Ben's master, and if that venerable
black had been on hand he could have
bad the pleasure of embracing his real
"inassa" instead of a person who resem
bled him.
I went up stairs, and seeing the door
»f one of the forbidden rooms ajar, I en
tered. Upon the floor in the corner of
this room stood a s'mall iron safe with
its door partly open. Pulling this door
wide upon its hinges, I saw within a
bunch of papers. Drawing this forth,
a glance satisfied me that it was the last
will and testament and other papers of
the late Montinni. Securing these, I
turned to withdraw from the room,
when I was startled by a slight rustle of
the prauze curtain around the couch, for
the room was a bedchamber. I stood
looking at it for a moment, and was
turning away again, when the curtain
was drawn aside by invisible means.
There, stretched 'upon the couch, prone
and t\AJg, the bed for a bier, lay the
body'-aH^cnor Montinni, in as perfect a
stateJMf preservation's if it had been
embaluSfjI that morning. The curtain
fell back to its natural rest and I walked
out of the room. When I reached the
hall the door closed, seemingly of its
own accord, and I heard the key turn in
the rusty old lock.
CHAPTER X.
AT THE SICK MAN'S BEDSIDE..
I went down-stairs, after the advent
nre described in the previous chapter,
and stepped into the sick man's room to
give a few words of cheer. He put out
his hand feebly to me, and taking it in
mine I sat down by his side. His deep
Sunken eyes and wan, sallow look the
damp upon his lips, scalding and parch
,ng the tender skin, ahd the hot steam
•hat came forth as breath, indicated
that dread disease of the South, yellow
[ever.
Friend Burton, thought I, thou art
near to the sleep that knows no waking,
but which gives to such as thee the
Bverlasting dream of paradise. Thy
spirit will break its earthly bounds to
wander unrestrained in those celestial
regions which it has heretofore seen but
In imagination. Thy fair Zeyna and
thyself will end thy unhappy mundane
courtship at the altar of the Supreme
Thy wedding march will bo down the
fistas Happy Land, whore thou
needs set.lc surcease of sorrow, for
sau'&^SPut joy is there.
'•Hal." said Burton, "I have been tell
ing mother that you would be a son to
lier when I am gone. You will cherish
her for my sake, won't, you, Hal?"
E assured him that, so far as I was able,
would help and bo a friend to his
mother.
Then his mind began to wander in
delirium, a peculiarity of his disease,
and in a rainblins way he told how dis
appointed he was when he came to the
spiritual festival, where all the people
who have been connected with the pro
prietorship of the estate were to be, and
found that his Zeyna was not of the
throng how he had many and many
aimes come and dwelt for weeks in the
old house, alone in its awful dullness.
«hat he might catch but a glimpse of
ner, but all in vain until he had seen
tier in the library th° night before how
Montinni had appeared to him when I
was sick in the hospital, and told him
chat I was to work out the problem of
the haunted house how his almost
constant habitation among supernat
ural beings had cast a shade of the
Supernatural over himself, so that he
seemed unlike his fellow-mortals, and
was oft?n the object of wonderment and
iisinay Ao
superstitious peoplo how ho
iomcMBLtiiuestioncd himself as to his
Jesti^^R- to the nicne he was to fill in
tho graifd sum of the Croator's handi
work, as to whether he was really a
mortal, or a spirit apparently clothed in
llesh: how his tastes and thoughts so
differed with those of others that he
mingled not among men. but sought tho
*rand and beautiful scenes of Nature
and smothered in golden reaches of im
agination the hankering grief for his
loved one. Then his worrying delirium
seemed to pass away, and ho straightened
iown upon the couch and laid quite still
for several hours, during which time I
prepared a letter to Montinni's heir, to
be sent to him to Venice by telegraph
uid cable.
CHAPTER XI.
THE' 'LAWYER'S GHOST.
The morning sun smiled placidly
through the fast evaporating fog that a
iight breeze was lifting from its night's
rest upon the bosom of tho bayou, and
She usual solumn hush reigned about
she deserted old house. Four days had
elapsed since the arrival of the Senora
Arold. These four days were unevent
ful in interest. Dull monotonous days
they were, of watching by the sick man's
bedsiijg.i_a.nd examining legal documents
belong^fr to the estate. Upon the
uornijjpp:'! question Old Ben had o.omo
noislt&Sy to the door and handed in a
sealed envelope directed to me. It con
tained a telegram from Montinni's heir,
stating that ho would most graciously
submit to my demands in behalf of tho
Senora Arold, and that he would ship
for New Orleans by the steamer Don
Juan, due at that port in fourteen days.
After absorbing this intelligence I went
to Burton's room, and, after his mother
had withdrawn for a moment, laid the
whole matter before him. The sick man
raised himself to a sitting posture In the
bed and extending his hand for a glad
fhake, said, with a pleasant smile upon
ftis lips: "Hal, I'm the happiest man in
the world, although I am On my deatn
Ded. My only trouble was about
Mother. Now I know that she will bo
ible to live comfortably. He laid down
again and I called his mother back, so
that I could retire and think matters
»ver. I always like to saunter about
nrherc In a reilectivc mood, and upon this
^ccasloc 1 went out- ao« walked wound
,z—V'yv
the shade and fruit trees that surround
ed the house.
After a half hour of walking and
thinking turned toward tho house when
I felt a touch upon my arm, and upon
turning around saw a dapper little gen
tleman, who tipped his bright silk tile to
me jauntily and said:
"This is Senor Mala, I believe. Well,
business is business, whether it's a
wholesale funeral or a chattel mortgage.
To be candid with you, I am a ghost—a
downright spook—but you've seen plenty
of them lately, so you won't be scared.
was formerly the lawyer who settled
all the little legal quibbles arising on
this estate. The worthy proprietors,
who are in another state—or rather ter
ritory—of existence, want a little busi
ness done. It will perhaps be agreeable
to you to learn that there are five
corpses up stairs that need to be in
terred down there in tho burying
ground. They are those of El Muza
and wife, El Zegal and wife, and Mon
tinni. The whole family died of the
yellow fever epidemic some years ago,
myself among the rest, as I came down
with tho disease while up here on busi
ness. Nearly all of us were buried, but
we were dropping off so fast the niggers
all got scared and ran away, leaving the
persons whose names I have mentioned
to pass away in a lonesome sort of style
that was very unpleasant to the
participants. The bodies ware laid
out and embalmed by the spir
its that had inhabited them
in their original existence. The bodies
have been here ever since, and things
were left in such a dire state that we
have had to stay around here and guard
the place and frighten people away and
resort to all manner of:-slchemes to pre
serve the secret of our dead all these
years. Until we found you we knew of
no medium that we could consult with
to the end of getting our dead taken care
of and the estate straightened up. As
soon as those remains are buried the
house ceases to be haunted. Old Ben
can dig the graves, and with your aid as
a medium we can do everything all
right. Have tho graves and caskets
ready by to-morrow night at twelve
o'clock. We'd have buried these bodies
long ago, but it was impossible for spir
its to dig in tb'e ground. Excuse me if I
haven't handled this subject quite so
delicately as you mortals customarily do.
We of tho spirit world attach no ro
mance or sanctity to the matter of death.
With us it is something that has past,
and therefore of little conscquence.
Good day:"
CHAPTER XII.
TITE WEIIlD'FCNEnAn.
Five rusty-hinged doors swung creak
ing open on the north side of the old
hall up stairs, and shadowy forms in sa
ble covering Hoated to and fro in the
rooms of mystery.
In each room a pale corpse lay still
and cold upon the beir awaiting to be
deposited in 'the dark casket that sat so
grimly beside.
No tear of sorrow came to call for sym
pathy at this weird funeral. The mourn
ers wore happy smiles and spoke cheerful
words for they were not the frail be
ings known as mortals. Each and all
had undergone tho earthly death, and
the spirits of the corpses then under
charge were present with the throng.
El Zegal and his wife, whom I had not
seen before, came forward from the
crowd, greeted me kindly, and thanked
me for my solicitude in behalf of their
daughter and her lover. They had done
wrong in parting the two, but earthly
judgment is ever apt to'err. All sorrow
between them would soon bo over. El
Muza and his wife also came to me and
spoke gladly of the means which were
bringing about a reconcilliation between
them and their eldest daughter, and
were pleased at the provisions being
made ior her maintainance.
Burton and the Senora knew nothing of
the arrangements going on up-stairs,
and were both sound asleep when mid
night had arrived. Precisely at 13
o'clock the spectral procession filed si
lently out of tho old house, and bearing
the coffined dead wended its way to the
cemetery in the valley.
Old Ben had performed his work well
the five graves were ready. Down into
them the caskets were lowered, and the
startling, hollow sound of the falling
dirt as the faithful old nogro plied the
shovel, looking around dazed and scared
upon the phantom crowd, awoke the
solemn echoes of the night
When all was done, tho Senor Mon
tinni stepped forward and warmly
thanked us for our help, assuring us
that we would not lack in reward then
bade us good night, and disappeared
with all the rest.
It had been dark and cloudy, but as
Old lien and I turned to go from the
spot the clouds in the zenith broke away
as if cut in twain, and the full round
moon and twinkling stars illumined the
whole landscape round, and revealed to
us that the new-made graves gave no
sign of fresh earth, but were covered
with moss and grass growing flowers.
Old Ben looked curiously at me when he
had noticed this, and said: "Massa, dis
am queeah," I answered: "I like it it is
well."
CHAPTER XIII.
THE MYSTIC -MAKRIAGE.
The Villa Montinni was a haunted
house no more. Every door and window
was open, and the pleasant air and sun
shine wandered through the house as if
searching out the gloomy corners to
brighten and cheer them up.
There was one sad shadow though
that air and sunshine couldn't brighten
up. The shadow of death was resting
on the brow of the widow's son. Not
that ho saw it, for he looked beyond to a
scene brighter than poor earthly sun
shine but tho mother, she saw and felt
that cloud.
It was in the fore part of the day and
I had sat at the head of his couch for
some hours keeping the cooi, damp
cloths upon his brow, that they might
fill as much as possible tho grateful mis
sion of soothing tho fever in tho brain.
His mother sat upon the couch by his
side holding both his hands in hers and
watching every movement of his pale
tlrin lips as each breath went forth
upen its last mission. Ho had not
spoken for some time,4, and we were al
most startled when his' feeble voice
gentty broke silenco with the exclama
tion: "Mother. Hal seel" He had
raised his head from tho pillow and was
pointing toward the large folding doors
attheondof the hall. Wo followed his
direction and a wo ga .od the great
doors swung abroad, and ft oreath
of flowers floated in then gentle
music, snch as we hear in dreams,:
came whispering along tha ftir &8 if it'
were too holy-glad to speak its happiness'
aloud.
A haze of perfumed atmosphere fille®
the room, lighting it with a phosphorj
escent glow that rendered dolicatelw
throughout the rainbow's almost in-1
imitable tints. "Sho comes, mother,'"
whispered Burton, as he raised still
higher, and stepping upon opposite
sides of the couch we held the pillows to
his head.
"Senora," said I, "the hour is here,
'the spirit and the bride say coma'
A bright and happy light came to his
eyes as heard me say this, and he
stretched out one hand to me. Ho turned
his face toward his mother that she
might take the farewell kiss, and as he
did so the fairy vision floated in that
was to bear his soul away upon its up
ward flight. Wo saw not the death
gasp, we heard no moan, for the per
fumed, rainbow-tinted vapor settled
dense about the couch, and the music of
an angel host swelled sweetly in, to
charm away the anguish of that last
moment. We knew the softl had left
its earthly house, the body, for there
under an archway festooned with roses
and hung with dreamy drapery wo saw
standing, smiling happily upon each
other, the spirit forms of the lovely
Zeyna and noble Burton Arold, sur-'
rounded by the host of angels and spir
its fair that had glided so beautifully
through that very room on the night of
mystic revelry.
SOL-mingly in obedience to a motion
from Burton, the fair Zeyna bent for
ward and kissed the brow of the
mother, whose saintlike beauty as she
gazed upon tho happiness of her son
was a true representation of her kind-j
ness of heart, inexpressible in its holy(
significance. This fond salutation done,'
the lovers joined in spiritual marriage
floated out with their angel escorts, and,
UD to the realms that knew no death or
shadow.
CHAPTER XIV.
CONCLUSION.
It is fit to end this story now, as I
have followed the two chief characters,
to the end of my knowledge of them
but there are a few things left in con
nection with the haunted house of
which the reader may demand to know
as to the conclusion of affairs concern
ing my mission there. They can be told
in a few words. The legal papers of the
estate were in a bad plight. I employed
an honorable and competent attorney to
help mo straighten them out and get
them in order. At the end of my stipu
lated time 1 opened the roll of parch
ment which had been placed in my
charge by tho phantom lady, and found
that it contained a will bequeathing to
El Muza or his heirs the disposal of a
one-eighth portion of an estate near
Madrid, Spain. The Senora had been
disinherited by her father, but the at
torney, who was a good Spanish scholar,
upon looking the matter up, found that
in Spain a man cannot without action
o: tho Government disinherit the last
heir in his legitimate family line, in a
matter wherein any considerable real
estate is concerncd. We communicated
with our minister plenipotentiary at
Madrid concerning the matter, fully
establishinc the Sonora's identity. We
received answer that the property,
along with the whole estate to which it
belonged, was held by the crown in de
fault of many years' taxes due, but if
the Senora would throw off forty per
cent, of her claim she could at any time
demand and got the balance, which
would yield her an ample competency
for life. A settlement was soon effected
and tho Senora given her portion.
The Don Juan landed in New Orleans
near the time expected, and Montinni's
heir came up to sec his property. He
was a gentleman and a business man,
and we soon settled everything satisfac
torily. The young man had not been
there a wook before he had lumber up
on the grounds, and carpenters, masons,
and painters fixing over the old house.,
Somewhere or other he picked up an en
ergetic farmer and installed him as over
seer, and in less than two months the
erstwhile haunted villa and weed-grown
plantation was all bustle and life.
The Senora has a fine home at the
villa, and kind friends and attendants
among whom to spend her declining
yeare Her only care is to attend to two
vine-hung graves down in the valley
burying ground, and her joy is to make
her presence a pleasure in time of health
and a comfoit in time of illness to every
tenant of tho place, and to ineditato up
on the time in tho future life when she
will be with her boy and his spirit bride.
[THE END.]
Theory ami Practice.
It is quite likely that many an ob
servant person has witnessed a similar
scene to tho one described below, since
the characters are types that are dis
tributed world-wide. In this case the
dialogue occurred in a thriving Western
city, and the particular place was a cor
ridor of the postoffice. A large, fleshy,
indolent-looking maivcame in, opened his
lock box, and was glancing over his mail
when his attention was attracted by a
wordy dispute among a group of men
near by.
A very small, bright-looking, and chip
per man was doing near.y all the talk
ing, and evidently having everything his'
own way.
"The situation is like this," said the
small man, with great vigor. "1 care
not how much money a man makes, ho
must use brains in investing it or he will
die poor. Isn't that so. Colonel?"
The large man nodded indolently.
"Any fool can make money, but it
takes a wise man to keep it," observed
tho small man, oracularly. "A man must
read up and keep posted on finance and
business, especially if he ventures on
speculation."
"Yes," assented the large man, mak
ing a movement to go, but the small man
would not permit it.
lie backed the large man up against
the wail, took him by the button of his
coat, and held him there for several
minutes while he gave his views on busi
ness ami finance. During tho disserta
tion the largo man was manifestly un
easy, answering "Ves," "No," and "I
shouldn't wonder." almost at random.
AVhen he finally escaped, the small man
marched away with an air oi' impor
tance, and a stranger inquired who ho
was.
"Oh, that," replied a bystander, "is
Ben Storms! ilo's a shoemaker, and a
miahty Door one. Kich'.' Oh, dear, no!
Failed so many times that he can fail
any more, because no one will trust
him."
"And tho large man?"
'•That is Colonel Duval, Vice President
of the D. U. II. Road, owner of tke marble
quarry, and one of the biggest capital
ists iu the St&ta."
HOME AND THE FARM.
A DEPARTMENT MADE UP FOR
OUR RURAL FRIENDS.
How to Preserve the Fertility of tho Land
-Symptoms of tump Jaw—Oil Meal
for Stock—Simple Methods ot Grafting—
Household and Kitchen.
Maintaining the Farm's Fortllty.
["T has always
seemed to me,
says a writer in
the Practical
a a
the farmers of
it
States used less
reason in their
treatment of the
soil, than in any
other thing they
do. Few, in
a re
farmers who will
work a horse for
any length of
time without
giving it some
thing to cat. That man who would
expect a .cow to supply his family
with milk and butter, without allow
ing her to have access to a pasture or
feeding her, would be considered a
flfc subject for a lunatic asylum.
No one cares to try the experiment
of fattening hogs or cattle without
food of any kind, except air and
water. Yet these unreasonable ac
tions would not be anything more or
less than what is practiced by many,
very many farmers in regard to their
land. Year after year, immense
Crops of corn, wheat, hay, etc., have
teen placed on it to compensate for
the plant food carried off. Ia other
words we allow Mother Earth, from
whom all the wealth of the Nation
must come, only air and water as
food. All do not do this, but. the
practice is common all over the
Union, and those who follow it are
more numerous than those who do
not. Probably the cause of this de
plorable condition of affairs can be
traced back to the days when the
white population of the country was
confined to the eastern tier of States.
Then it was easier and cheaper to
move to the boundless West and set
tle new land there than to maintain
the fertility of that already settled.
But now all this is changed, and we
are compelled to turn our attention
to improving the soil already in cul
tivation for many years.
First on the list of soil-restoratives
is found stable and barn-yard manure.
In the North, where manure sheds
and covered barn-yards preserve the
elements of fertility contained in it,
and in the South, where the milder
winters allow open stables to be con
structed, from which the manure is
seldom removed until io is scattered
on the fields, and which preserve to a
great extent the good qualities of it,
stable manure gives more satisfactory
results than any other fertilizing
material. But it is a question
whether, where the manure is thrown
from the stables out under the eaves
and allowed to leach there until it is
hauled away, the benefits derived
from its use are such as will pay for
the labor of drawing it out. When
properly cared for, barn-yard manure
will always prove satisfactory, and
the only thing that can make its use
unprofitable is improper care. Yet
care for it as we may, the fact still
remains that the supply of barn-yard
manure is totally inadequate to meet
the demands of our farmers for fer
tilizers, and necessity causes other
means, of supplying plantfood to be
considered. This has led to the
manufacture and use of an immense
quantity of commercial or chemical
fertilizers. Some of the best farmers
condemn in unmeasured terms the
use of these, while others, who are
equally as successful in their farming
operations, advocate them. With me.
they have always given very good re
sults when used on wheat or grass,
but not when used on corn or oats.
Last year on thin soil, wheat to which
150 pounds of raw bone meal was ap
plied, yielded four times as mucli to
the acrc, as it did when none was ap
plied. This certainly paid us well for
the use of the bone meal. But there
can be no doubt that on many farms
and in many localities, commercial
fertilizers do not pay. So we are
compelled to seek further yet for an
ideal method of restoring fertility to
worn lands. Pleading guilty to the
charge of being a "clover crank," I
think in the growing of clover this
may be found. Go where we may and
ve will Und nine out of ten clover
growing farmers to be prosperous.
Clover seems to possess to a remarka
ble degree the power of making those
who grow it, happy and contented.
As hay, it has few equals and no su
perior. A clover pasture is excellent.
Turned under when green or dry, it
will raise the productiveness of a
farm faster than anything else.
I am convinced that the best use
we*here can make of barir-yard and
commercial manures, is to aid in se
curing a good stand of clover and
grass, depending upon them to bring
up the fertility of the land.
LIVE STOCK AND DAIRY.
Tlie Symptom* of Lump
JAW.
Farm and Home says, lump law or
actinomykosis usually begins with a
swelling somewhere about the face or
the lower jaw. This swelling, which
is hard, increases in size slowly and
if not iniured in any way or opened
with the knife may continue growing
for along time as a hard, more-or-less
painful swelling. As the growth in
creases it encroaches upon the sockets
of the teeth (the teeth may fall out)
and so interferes with mastication
this in turn affecting the animal's
general health and condition. Sooner
or later the matter (pus) that has
been fotming within tho spongy
-rt?y:.t- '."'jj*.^' **?&f
:_r
jJ-T,^
tisnuc of tho bono makes an opening
for itself, cither through the mouth
or externally at some point on the
jaws, and from this time on, the case
is one of a hard tumor of more or less
irregular outline and discharging
matter mixed with fragments of bone.
The foregoing description applies to
actinomykosis affecting the bones of
the face and jaws but the disease
may attack any of the intern al or
gans, or in fact almost any part of
the body the symptoms varying -with
the attacked in a given case. The
disease, when thoroughly established,
is practically incurable and inasmuch
as it may be transmitted from one
animal to another, and from animal
to man, cases should be isolated and
handled with caution.
Oil AT«al for Stock.
A Smith Center (Ivan.) subscriber
of the Stockman writes: Will it do
to feed breeding stock ground oil
meal? It is claimed here that it will
not as it will cause pregnant animals
to loose their young. I would like to
feed some but if there is danger will
not. Also will feeding the threshed
straw and chaff have the same effect?
Authorities differ on this subject.
We are feeding it to cows but are care
ful not to give as much to those with^
calf as those that are not. Have
never fed more than two pounds a
day to those with calf and never had
any bad results so far. Would rather
feed oil meal than turn a cow loose
to flax chaff where I could not tell
how much she would get in the way
of small seeds. While the question
is unsettled would go slow in the
amount fed pregnant animals. To
growing and fattening stock give
plenty.
Red Polled Cattle.
Red Polled cattle have been gen
erally classed among the beef breeds,
6ays an exchange, but there seems to
be evidence now that they have some
claim to be recognized as dairy ani
mals, or at least, as good "general
purpose," uniting good beef and good
milking qualities. At the Ohio State
Fair last fall a Red Polled cow took
three first premiums in the milk test
—for the largest amount of butter
fat, and other solids, and for the
largest amount of milk, butter fat,
and other solids.. We believe this
breed is bound to gain in popularity,
both because of its intrinsic worth
and because many people are begin
ising to favor hornless cattle, yet do
not want to practice dehorning.
Notes.
AFTER calves learn to be held it
•loos not take long to teach them to
1-iad.
GAIL YES should have a yard where
t.h.s.y can exercise to themselves every
day.
ECONOMY of production is as impor
tant as maximum of product when
prices are high.
UNDER all conditions young ani
mals make the gain in proportion to
the food eaten.
CALVES reared on skimmilk can
readily be made to make a very satis
factory growth.
IT is better to give a scrub thor
oughbred care than a thoroughbred
scrub care.
INCREASE in weight with cattle is
most cheaply secured with good pas
turagb during the growing season.
DON'T think because your neighbor
has bought a stallion that he has been
necessarily cheated and has bought a
failure. Give the horse a chance to
show by his progeny what he is.
ON general principles it is an un
profitable thing to get "stuck" on a
horse. The breeder who does this is
pretty apt, in the long run, to find
himself the sole admirer of a very or
dinary piece of horseflesh.
A CONNECTICUT man whose sheep
get tic.cs uses this plan to get rid of
them: He lays the sheep on her side,
opens the wool, skakes snuff on the skin
three or four inches apart, and closes
the wool. In about three days the
ticKS and nits will all be dead.
ORCHARD AND GARDEN.
How to i:raft.
Anyone possessed of fair intelli
gence and a good degree of care may
practice some of the more simple
methods of grafting and with good
I success, says a corrc
jI spondent in Farm and
I Home. A grafted tree
FIG. i. will usually beaV in
from two to five years, which, with
the certainty that the fruit will be
true to name, gives it a great ad
vantage over nursery stock.
Scions are cuttings from shoots of
the previous year's growth, and should
be ta'ken from a thrifty vigorous tree.
They may be cut in
December or Febru
ary, or, indeed, any
time in early spring
before the buds begin
to swell. Or the cut
tings may be made at FIG. 2.
the time they are set, if the grafting
is performed before the leaves appear.
If they are not to be used at once,
they may be kept for an indefinite
period by placing them in a box of
sand or sawdust in a dark, cool cellar.
Good wax is made of four parts
resin, two of beeswax and one of
/tallow, which should be sim
mered together and poured into
water to cool. Pull and work it
until thoroughly incorporated
and of good color, and then make
into rolls of convenient size.
Waxed cloth is made by dipping
strips of strong cotton cloth in
the melted wax and hanging
them across small sticfes to
harden.
Grafting may be done at al
most any time when the weather
will permit the wax to spread
FIG 3 freely. I haye done the work as
early as April 1 and as late as July 4.
A beginner will do w.ell to graft about
iurlL*i
plantlnf time. There are many dif
ferent methods, such as saddle, side,
splice, whip or tongue, cleft and
crown-grafting. The last two are the
most simple to practice, the most
common and the most likely to bs
successful in the hands of a novice.
In tleft-grafting, a branch is sawed
off and the stump so
formed split longitudinal
a a I
1 illustrates a grafting
hook which is useful for
this a is the blade, the FIG. 4.
wedge and the hook to hang it by.
After the cleft is made, keep it open
with the wedge (Fig. 2) until the
scions are inserted.
The scions should be cut wedge,
shaped in two ways, as in Fig. 3 and
also in Fig. 4, which show a cross
section of the scion. In this cleft one
or two scions are set, and the whole
wound waxed over
carefully. The scions
should be the length
^"loriof two or three buds,
and fitted to the
cleft in the stock, so
that the inside or
white bark of each
Fig. 5. will unite with the
other. If the limb is large, a small
chip may be placed in the center of
the split, that the scions may not be
pressed too tight. A bud should not
be left on the top of a scion, or it may
shoot up and bear fruit the first year,
after which it would be good for noth
ing. Cut off such and place a bit of
wax over the end to keep it from dry
ing up. A horizontal view of the
completed cleft graft is seen in Fig.
5 and a view in perspective at Fisf. 6.
The important poihts to
secure success are 1, a clean
smooth cut upon the scion
2. the perfect union of the
two inner barks 3, rapid
work, that the cut parts/
may not long be exposed to I
the air. The only tools W
necessary besides the graft
ing hook, are a fine-toothed
saw to cut off the stock, a
sharp knife to smooth the cut and fit
the scions and a small mallet. A
little tallow used occasionally will
prevent the wax from sticking to the
operator's fingers. In crown-grafting
no cleft is made across the stump. A
small stiletto or bodki-n is generally
inserted between the bark and the
sap-wood of the tree and when it is
withdrawn the scion is pushed down
in its place. The scion is cut very
thin and sloping, the cut beginning
opposite a bud where a shoulder is
left to allow it to rest more firmly
upon the stock.
It is not profitable to graft very
large branches, as it takes too long
for the wounds to heal over, and too
much of the tree ought not to be cut
away at one time. The cuts should
be kept waxed over for a year or two
and all suckers removed. Crown
grafting may be done later in the
season, when the bark might be
'stripped from the stock by the other
method. Another advantage is that
no wound is made across the stock, as
in cleft-grafting.
HOUSEHOLD AND KITCHEN.
Care of the Cook Stove,
No cook stove, though it is in con
tinual use, says the New York'
Tribune, should have afresh coat of
blacking applied oftener than once a
month, though every stove should be
polished off with a stove brush every
morning before the cooking begins.
When a fresh coat of blacking is
applied monthly, remove the old coat
by rubbing off the stove while it is
warm, but not hot, with a rag dipped
in kerosene oil. This removes all
grease stains. Apply the new coat
of blacking when the stove is cold,
using cold coffee instead of water for
mixing the blacking. Be careful not
to blacken any of the stove edges
which are of polished iron, or any of
the knobs and other nickle work, but
polish these by using the a scouring
soap or brickdust for the polished
iron, and whiting or any silver soap
for the nickel work. After the stove
is thoroughly polished, wipe it off
with a dry, clean rag, to remove any
dust of the blacking. After this
polishing, all that is necessary is to
keep a stove cloth at the side of the
stove to wipe up spots of grease be
fore they are burned in and make a
more enduring stain, and to go over
with a polishing brush in the morn
ing wllile the fire is coming up.
Thus with little care a stove may
be kept in prime order, unless the
cook is one of those unhappy slovens
that spills or boils over everything
she takes hold of There is no surer
indication of a household sloven than
an ill-kept cook stove.
IMnts to Uotinekeeper*.
ALWAYS use a wooden spoon or fork
to stir salads.
THE best way to fry apples is to
halve them, remove core, put some
butter in frying-pan and put in the
halves, the cut side down then add a
little-water and let boil dry: then fry.
WHILE baking do not open your
oven doors only on a crack, as fanning
in cold air makes the cake fall.
To FRINGE celery, cut it in p^ces
two inches long, stick several need.es
into a cork, and comb the celery with
it, or split it down into several parts
with a sharp knife. Throw into cold
water to curl. This is a very appet iz
ing relish, also, with vinegar, pej -r,
and salt.
THE order of washing dishes is of
some importance. Glass should be
taken first, then silver, then china.
If there is a specially choice dish,
search it out, wash and wipe it by it
self, and immediately set it away,
that the chances of breakage may be
reduced to a minimum. After the
dishes are done, carefully scald, rinse
and dry dishcloth and towels. If they
can be dried in the open air, so mucb
the better,
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