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! CHAPTER XIH. (CoimuD.V '
! Earnestly pleading with her friend, Clara advances toward the window, She, too, has suffered under the wast ing Influences 9! suspense. Her face has lost its youthful freshness; no delicate flush of color rises on It when she speaks. The soft gray eyes which won Frank's heart In the hy-gone time are sadly altered mow. In repose they have a dim and wearied look. In ac tlon they are wild and restless, like eyes suddenly awakened from startling dreams. Robed in white, her sort, brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, there is something - weird and ghostlike In the girl, as she moves hearer' and nearer to the window in the full light of the moon, pleading for music that shall be worthy of the mys tery and the beauty of the night. ! "Will you come In here If I play to you?" Mrs. Cray ford asks. "It is a risk, my love, to be out in the night air." ; "No! no! I like it. Play while am out here. looklnK at the sea. It quiets me; It oomforts me; it does me good." She glides back, ghostlike, over the lawn. Mrs. Crayford rises and puts down the volume that she has been reading. It Is a record of explorations In the Arctic seas. The time has gone hy when the two lonely women could take an interest In subjects not con nected with their own anxieties. Now, 1 - t fnlllni Vi m nnor when their last news of tho Wanderer and the Sea-Mew is news that is more thnn two venrs old thev can read of nothing, but dangers and disooverles, lopses and rescues, in tne tcrriDie roiar meaa Unwillingly, Mrs. Crayford puts her tcok aside and goes to the piano Mo rart's "Air in A, with Variations," lies open on the instrument. One after an other she plays the 'lovely melodies, ao simply, so purely beautiful, of that unpretending and unrivalled work. At the close of the ninth variation (Clara's favorite) she pauses, and turns toward the garden. ;"Shall I stop there?" she asKs. There is no answer. Has Clara wan flered away out of hearing of the mu sic that she loves the music that har monizes so subtly with the tender beauty of the night? Mrs. Crayford rises and advances to the window. No! there is the white figure stand Ing alone on the slope of the lawn the head turned away from the house; the face' looking out over the calm sea, whose gently rippling waters end In the dim line on the horizon, which is the line of the Hampshire coast. Mrs, Crayford advances as far as ' the path before the window and calls ; to her. "Clara!" .. "-" Again there Is no answer. ' The white fleure still stands immovably in its place. . With signs of distress In her face, but with no appearance of alarm, Mrs. Crayford returns to the room. Her own sad experience tells her what has happened. She summons the ser vants, tnd directs them to wait in the drawing room until she calls to them. .This done, she returns to the garden, and approaches the mysterious figure bn the lawn. ! Dead to the outer world, as If she lay already In her grave Insensible to touch, insensible to sound, motionless as stone, cold as stone Clara stands on the moonlit lawn, facing the sea ward view. Mrs. Crayford waits at her bide, patiently watching for the change which she knows is to come. "Cata lepsy," as some call it "hysteria," as others say this alone is certain, the isamo interval always passes; the same change always appears. It comes now. Not a change in her Icyes; they still remain wide open, fixed and glassy. . The first movement is a mnvomunt nf her hands. Thev rise felowly from her side, and waver in the air like the hands of a person groping In the dark. Another interval and the movement spreads to her lips; they part and tremble. A few minutes more, and words begin to drop, one by one, from those parted lips words spoken in a lost,, vacant tone, as if she Is talking in her sleep. ' . Mrs. urayiora hxjks dock. , m me house. Sad experience makes her sus4 plcious of the servants' curiosity.' Sad experience has long since warned her that the servants are not to be trust ed within hearing of the wild words which Clara speaks in the trance. Haal any one of them ventured into the gar-, dfn? No. They, are out of hearing at the window, waiting for the signal which tells them that their help la needed, ' " Turning toward Clara once, morej MfsV Crayford hears the vacantly-uU tered words falling faster and faster from her Hps. - ' ... ; "Frank! Frank! Frank! Don't drop behind don't trust Richard Wardour, While you can stand, keep with the other men, Frank!" . . ' ' ' ' 1 (The farewell warning of Crayford In the solitudes of the Frozen Deep, repeated by Clara in the garden of her Vnr14oi homa ) - ; A moment of silence follows, and in that moment the vision has changed. Phe see him oa the iceberg now, at the mercy of the bitterest" enemy ha, fcas on earth. She sees him drifting; over the black water, through the ashy jUgb. I IE.KIE. COLLINS; INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION. "Wake, Frank; wake .and defend yourself! Richard Wardour knows that I love you. Richard Wardour's vengeance will take your life! Wake, Frank wake! You are drifting to your death!" A low groan of horror burst from herL sinister and terrible to hear. "Drifting! drifting!" she whis pers to herself; "drifting to his death!" Her glassy eyes suddenly soften, then close. A long shudder runs through her. A faint flush shows itself on the deadly pallor of her face, and fades again. Her limbs fall her. She sinks into MrB. Crayford's arms. The servants, answering the call for help, carry her into the house. They lay her Insensible on her bed. After an hour or more, her eyes open again this time with the light of life In them open, and rest languidly on her friend sitting by the bedside. "I have had a dreadful dream," she murmurs faintly. "Am I ill, Lucy? I feel so weak." Even as she says the words, sleep, gentle, natural sleep, takes her sudden ly, as it takes young children weary with their play. Though it is all over now, though no further watching is required, Mrs. Crayford still keeps her place by the bedside, too anxious and too wakeful to retire to her own room. On other occasions, she Is accustom ed to dismiss from her mind the words which drop from Clara in the trance. This time the effort to dismiss them is beyond her power. The words haunt her. Vainly Bhe recalls to memory all that the doctors have said to her in speaking of Clara in the state of trance. -"What she vaguely dreads for the lost man'whom she loves, Is min gled in her mind with what she is constantly reading of trials, dangers and escapes in the Arctic seas. ; The most startling things that she may say or do are all attributable to this cause, and may be explained in this way." So the doctors have spoken, and thus, far; Mrs. Crayford has shared their view, it is only to-night that the girl's words ring in her ear with a strange prophetic sound in them.' It Is only to-night that she asks herself: "Is Clara present, in the spirit, with our loved and lost ones in the lonely North? Can mortal vision see the dead and living in the solitudes of the Frozen Deep?" CHAPTER XIV. HE night 1 has passed. Far and near the garden - view looked its gayest and brightest in the light of ihe noonday sun.- The cheering sounds which . tell of life and action were audible all round the villa. From the garden of . the nearest house rose -the voices of chll dren at play. Along the road at the back sounded the roll of wheels, as carts and carriages passed at intervals, Out on the blue sea the distant splash of the paddles, the distant thump of the engines, told from time to. time of the passage of steamers, enterfng or leaving the strait between the island and the mainland. ' In the trees the birds sang gayly among the rustling leaves. In the house the women sery ants were laughing over some jest or story that cheered them at their work. It was a lively and pleasant time a bright enjoyable day. The two ladles were out together, resting on a garden seat, after a walk rcund the grounds. They exchanged a few trivial words relating to the beauty of the day, and then said no more. Possessing the same consciousness of what she had seen in the trance which persons in general' possess of what they have seen in a dream believing in the vis ion as a supernatural revelation Clara's forebodings were now, to her mind, realized as truths. Her last faint hope of ever seeing Frank again was now at an end. Intimate experi ence of her told Mrs. Crayford what was passing in Clara's mind, and warned her that. the attempt to reason and remonstrate would be little better than a voluntary waste of words and time. -The disposition which she had herself felt, on he previous night, to attach a ' superstitious Importance ' to the words that Clara had spoken In the trance .had , vanished with the re turn of the morning. Rest and reflec tion had quieted her mind and had re stored the composing influence of her sober sense. Sympathizing with Clara in all besides, she had no sympathy, as they sat together Jn the pleasant sunshine, with Clara's gloomy despair of the future. She who could still hope had nothing to say to the .sad com panion who had done with hope. So the quiet minutes succeeded each other, and the two friends sat side by side in silence. . ' i An hour passed and the gate-bell of the villa rang. They both started they both knew the ring. It was the hour when the postman brought their newspapers from London. ' In past days, what hundreds on hundreds of times they had torn off the cover which enclosed the newspaper and looked at the same column with the same weary mingling of hope and de spair! There to-day as it was yester- mm XuS?1 J . " "-'ml. ' '.A ill ' tm IL 1 I ... J ' day; as ll WOUia db, 11 vney nveu, W morrow there was the .servant .witn Lucy'a newspaper and Clara's news paper in his hand! Would both, of them do again to-day what both of them had done so often in the days that were gone? No! Mrs. Crayford removed the cov er from her newspaper as usual. Clara laid her newspaper aside unopened, on the garden seat. In silence Mrs. Crayford looked where she always looked, at the col umn devoted to the latest intelligence from foreign parts. The instant her eye fell on the page she started with a loud cry of Joy. The newspaper fell from her trembling hand. She caught Clara in her arms. "Oh, my darling! my darling! news of them at last." Without answering, without the slightest change in look or manner, Clara took the newspaper from the ground and read the top line in the column, printed in capital letters. THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION. She waited and looked at Mrs. Cray ford. "Can you bear it, Lucy?" she. asked, "if I read it aloud?" Mrs. Crayford was too agitated to answer in words. She signed Impa tiently to Clara to go on. Clara read the news which followed the heading In capital letters. Thus it ran: "The following intelligence from St, John's, Newfoundland, has reached ua for publication: The whaling vessel Blythewood is reported to have met with the surviving officers and men o the Expedition In Davis Strait. Many are stated to be dead, and some are supposed to be missing. The list of tin saved, as collected by the people of the whaler, is not vouched for as being absolutely correct, the circumstances having been adverse to investigation; The vessel was pressed for time, and the members of the Expedition, all more or less suffering from exhaustion, were not in a position to give the necessary assistance to inquiry. Fur ther particulars may be looked for In the next mail." The list of the survivors followed, beginning with the officers In the or der of their rank. They both read the list together. The first name was Cap tain Helding. The second was Lieu tenant Crayford. There the wife's joy overpowered her. After a pause, she put her arm round Clara's waist, and spoke to her "Oh, my love," she murmured, "an you as happy as I am? Is Frank's name there, too? The tears are in my eyes, Read for me I can't read for myself.' The answer came, in still, sad tones "I have read as far as your husband's name. I have no need to read further." Mrs. Crayford dashed the tears from her eyes, steadied herself and looked at the newspaper. ' On the list of survivors the search was in vain. Frank's name was not among them. On a second list, headed "Dead or Missing," the two first names that appeared were: Francis Aldcrsley, Richard Wardour. In speechless distress and dismay Mrs. Crayford looked at Clara. Had she strength enough, In her feeble health, to sustain the shock that had fallen on her? Yes! She bore it with a strange unnatural resignation; she looked, she spoke, with the sad self- possession of despair. "I was prepared for it," she said. "I saw them in the spirit last night. Rich ard Wardour has discovered the truth, and Frank has paid the penalty with his life and I, I alone am to Maine She shuddered, and put her h&ad n her heart. "We shall not long be part ed, Lucy; I shall go to him. He will not return to me. Those words were spoken with calm certainty of conviction that was terrible to see. "I have no more to say," sho added, after a moment, and roso to return to the house. Mrs. Cray ford caught her by the hand, and forced her to take her seat again. (TO BE CONTINUED.) BRIDE'S SENSIBLE TROUSSEAU Clothes Should Be Chosen Suitable to Iler rosltlou In Life. Isabel A. Mallon writes of "A Bride'f Moderate Trousseau" in the Ladles' Home Journal. "The girl who has. s fortune at her command needs no sug gestions," she says, "but the girl whe has to think out the wisdom of everj dollar spent on her trousseau is the on who asks for advice. Taking it oi granted, then, that you will live a mon or less social life, having your day al home and visiting your friends, and go ing occasionally to hear good music, you can decide exactly what you will need. First of all, freshen all the gowns you possess, then you know their possi bilities; then I would advise one hand some silk dress, combined, perhaps, with velvet,-and having, to go with it, two bodices one for wear when you are visiting, the other to be used when wool dress for street wear; if required, Have one simple, but smart looking wool dress for street wear; if requireed, you might better omit your visiting cos tume than this. A black skirt, either of moire, silk or satin, will be useful, since with It there can be worn any number of elaborate bodices. Then you you will want, also, a comfortable wrapper, to wear in no place except in your own room; two pretty, well fitting house dresses; a coat suited to the sea son; a wrap that is a little more e'aor. ate, if you can afford it; but do not make the mistake, so often made, of buying clothes that are not suited to your position In life, or, what is equally as bad, of buying such an elaborate wardrobe that It will go out of fashion." With most people nothing is so firm ly bf!!eved aa that which is least known.-Monta!gne. The iumaa heart refuses to baSlevi in a unlver without purport la manuel Kant. ' . " . , DAIRY AND POULTRY. INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR OUR RURAL READERS. Oow Successful Farmer Operate This Department of the Farm A Few Hints as to the Care of Lire Stock r and Poultry. Car. of 1'oultry. ERHAPS it would not be amiss to add a few words about sitting hens. When I have a trusty hen that is broody; and I can sit her where Bhe is undisturbed by the others, I give her eggs the first night she stays in her nest not porcelain, but the sure-enough eggs.and she thanks me for it by tucking them under her with her bill and giving her body that peculiar Bhake that la un mistakable proof of settling down to business. If she is a young hen, and I can not leave her where she is, I get a box and fix a nest, putting in the eggs I want hef to sit on. take itto her nest late in the evening, gently remove her and feed her well, placing the box in her old nest. She will soon take possession of the new nest and be- comn nuiet. After dark I move her where I want her to stay during in cubation. Dlacine a cover over her till the next evening, then remove and let her see where she is and become fa miliar with the surroundings, and she seldom falls to get off and eat and go back. to her nest without further trou ble. Treat them kindly and they will unnreHntn It hv hehavlne nicely. I have set them and moved them three miles on the nest, and they did well. As a general rule early pullets will give you more eggs during the winter, but old hens will get broody first and make the best mothers. It is better to set three or more hens at the same time, and when the eggs have been sat upon ten days, examine them between the eye and a strong light, or take the lamp after dark. If the egg looks clear It will not hatch. If it looks dark, with the air sack large it contains the embryo of a chick. After the fertile eggs have been separated from the clear ones they will probably go under two or more of the hens which will bring out full broods, and you will have one hen that can be given fresh eggs. If the hen is sitting off the ground in a dry place, sprinkle the eggs with tepid water a few times the week before hatching, and you will not find so many chicks dead in the shell. When she is through hatching let her re main on the warm nest with her brood for twenty-four hours. The chicks will not eat before that time, and they are gaining strength all the time. Then feed them light, nutritious food, al ways cooked. Hard boiled eggs and oat meal or bread crumbs rubbed up to gether are excellent, ' coarse corn meal mixed with sweet milk and baked is eood. Feed often and a little at a time, with a good drink of sweet milk two or threo times a day, but never let it stand by them. When a month old they can be given cracked corn or wheat, but always that which is good; wheat is better and cheapar than screenings for chicks. It is a mistake to underfeed the growing chicks. They require more solid and varied food in proportion, while growing, than at any other period of their lives. Like any growing animal, they require plenty of good, wholesome food, supplied often and bountifully, to enable them to grow rapidly and develop properly. ' If you have the Asiatic fowls and have prop erly mated and cared for them, at two months old, you will have some in each brood large enough for broilers. Then as the "early bird gets the worm," you will receive the best prices for your early chicks. Another advantage is that they are off before the hot weather comes on and the poultry's pests begin to multiply by the million. In the hot summer comes the hard work to keep your breeding stock for the next year healthy and free from vermin, always remembering that poor shelter, care and feed will in a few generations make scrubs of the finest thoroughbred ' stock. Thoroughbred scrubs are little better than native scrubs, and the farmer who raises either will always be poor. Breeding the best stock and keeping it in the best condition possible pays the largest profits. About the first of June I shut all the chickens out of their houses and let them stay, night as well as day, in cool sheds prepared for them adjoinglng the house. It is no trouble to change them, and they are far more comfortable of warm nights. There they have plenty of shade, and clean, cool water twice a day, and it the yards get foul take a plow or spade and turn the earth over, and it will give the hens plenty of employment to level it according to their own notion. I now close the house perfectly tight and fumigate with brimstone, and leave shut up for a week, or perhaps all summer. Then it is whitewashed, and in October, when the nights grow cool, I open it and let the fowls and chicks In for the winter, first seeing that they are free from vermin. Feed them well, as before said, and as soon as they are through moulting you will have an abundance of nice fresh eggs. Gather them regularly every evening, and, if you want to sell them, yon can get five cents above the market price, if you have the Asiatics, as their eggs are larger than those of smaller breeds. Winter Dairying. The situation in the dairy line may be greatly helped by progressive dairy men making winter dairying their principal line of work. At the present time there are so many that produce batter In the summer that the price Is always depressed in the summer mosths, and depressed, to, to such a point that the profits are entirely wiped out, except where butter is pro duced under exceptional conditions. pi? slater dairying' would decrease " tha amount of butter that is thrown on the market in the summer time. It wouia help the dairymen in a number 01 ways. Tho amount being lessened, there would be in summer no time whfin thn hutter would be exceptional ly low. This would prevent speculators from buying up cheap butter ana put ting It in cold storaee to be brought out and sold in winter in competition with winter-made butter. Thus m nricpB would ho kent at about an aver age the year round. This condition of affairs would yield the greatest prom u butter makers. Fluctuating prices are a detriment to any business, except that of speculation. Stable prices eliminate the speculator. Stable prices have the effect of Btimulating the consumption of any article. A sudden rise of prices generally curtails sales till the people get used to paying the advance. The efforts of the dairymen should be to bring about uniformity so far as pos sible. The men that must begin the win ter dairying are our most progressive men, the men that have silos, or at least that know how to provide their cows with succulent food in winter and feed in a way that will keep up a con stant flow of milk. We cannot expect the men that never read and seldom think to make a success of winter dairying. It requires more skill than it does to do summer dairying, or, we should say, reckless dairying, letting things take their course. One objection to winter dairying has been that it requires too constant work, the sowing of special succulent crops in the spring and summer, the gathering of them in the fall, and the care of the milk and butter and their sale in the winter, making twelve months of work. It is much easier to work seven or eight months in the Bummer method of dairying and have a few months of good, solid rest. But who can fairly expect to thrive on working part of the time during the year? Because winter dairying makes it possible to put In twelve months oi solid paying work Instead of eight Is one of the reasons why it should pay a greater profit. Few can hope to get as much profit out of eight months work as out of twelve. It has been figured out that milk and butter in the winter are worth on the average about 60 per cent more than in the summer. Added to that is the asserted fact that the total milk production for the year is often 30 . per cent more, and you have a considerable advance. The rea son for this increased flow of milk is found in the fact that during every summer there is a dry period when the pastures get very short and the grass very dry. During this time the cows are not generally fed on succu lent fodder to keep up the flow of milk. The supply falls off, and, as all dairy men know, never gets back to its for mer abundant flow. The loss from this cause is very great, when we take into consideration the millions of cows in the country. By a proper course of feed the winter dairyman avoids this pitfall. If he feeds silage the preven tion of any such falling off is easy. Even If he feeds other succulent feed with abundance of grain food the suc cess is generally assured. He there fore avoids anything corresponding to the summer drouth, and keeps up the flow of milk from the time of the cow coming in fresh to the time of drying up previous to calving again. Some use the argument that if all rush into winter dairying there will be no profit in it for any one. That is a contingency that need not be guarded against. Winter dairying is too much like work for everyone to run into it. Most men care so much for ease that they will take the easiest route, wheth er it pays or not. Then there are a great many men that are beyond the reach of this propaganda, and they will never think of changing. Alto gether, there is no danger that the number in this particular line will be come so great that profits will drop to nil. A Plan That Failed. Some years ago, says Hoard's Dairyman, we ran across the following terse bit of dairy experi ence, from a Wisconsin local paper: A friend appeals to us to suggest some thing for the fly tormented milkers. It's no use, my veteran friend, we've tried it Once, when a boy, we thought we would fix a frisky heifer, and so tied her tail to our boot strap. The heifer gave two or three jerks, and then got right up in meetin' and lit out. We well, we managed to keep up with the heifer with the assistance of the tall, but there was altogether too much con tusion about It to make it Interesting. We are certain it was no time for read ing the scriptures, or family worship. It is much safer to let a cow switch her tail than to switch a boy. Varying Components of Milk. Dur ing the first five months of milking the salts in the milk are In excess, and then progressively decrease to the eighth month, when they Increase slightly; the casein and extractives diminish up to the second month, and then remain nearly constant, but from the tenth to the twenty-fourth month the casein de clines; from the eighth to the tenth month the sugar increases, this body being in small proportion during the latter part of the first month, and in the fifth and sixth - and tenth and eleventh months the butter fails In pro portion, progressively diminishing from tire first to the eighth month, and then increasing slightly. The Right Cow. Stick to the special purpose cow. Do not get it Into your head that your milkers must be large in order that by-and-by they will make more beef. Remember that this extra weight must be fed all the years until she is sold. Let her be a good milker, bringing her profit every year she lives. Ex. When a woman says of another wom an: "She is very pretty." she expects her husband to speak up promptly and ay: "She is not halt as pretty as yon are." Atchison Globe. w-Corn for riV ' "' A anrrpivnondant who In. writing re-' fern to the fact that everybody who speaks upon the subject at all is ad vlaine aeainst the large use of corn in svlne growing, wishes to know to what extent corn should, in our Judgment, be fed to hops.' navs Blooded Stock. To make a pretty good western hog, tak ing the whole animal s life from wean ing until market, and speaking in a general wav. It would be no bad idea to make one-fourth of the pig with clover, one-fourth with oats, Dran, shorts and other food of growth, and one-half of corn, the bulk of the latter to be fed late in the latter's life and chiefly after the preparation for mar ket has been decided upon. This would mean very light feeding of corn dur ing the growing period, the bulk of the food then consisting of feed stuffs more appropriate for growth making; and while there is no better finishing feed than corn, and it can hardly be crowded too fast in the latter part ot the feeding, the present tendency ot market demands would indicate rathei a smaller proportion of it than is above suggested, as compared with the total amount of feed given from weaning to slaughter, as suitable to make the kind of hog the market wants. The tenden cies are all in the direction of llghtei and growthler and more musculai swine. The cuts of which the packer'i goods must now consist in order to fill his orders, weigh very considerably less than the same cuts used to weigh He has nothing like the demand and can obtain nothing like the price fof lard that he used to receive, and henc more food of growth and less corn it necessary to make the kind of hog which he says he wants. One of thes days the packer will discriminate be tween the two kinds of hogs and pay a premium for those that suit the mar ket demand. When that time comes he will get what he wants, for th western farmer can make it if it i made an object for him to do so, but it the meantime while the margin be tween the lard hog and those that mon nearly approach the bacon hog is nar row and fat is only slightly discrim inated against, the lard hog will con tinue to be made, because it is mon easily made. The Rocky Mountain Sheep. The Rocky Mountain sheep inhabli the lofty chain from which they derive their name, from its northern termi nation, in latitude 68 degrees, to about latitude 48 degrees, and perhaps fur ther south. They also frequent the el evated and cragged ridges with which the country between the great moun tain range and the Pacific coast is in tersected, but they do not seem to have advanced further eastward than the declivity of the Rocky Mountains, nor are they found in any of the hilly tracts near Hudson's Bay. They col lect in herds of from thirty to forty young rams and females, herding to gether during the winter and spring. Mr. Drummond informs us that the Rocky Mountain sheep exhibited the simplicity of character so remarkable In the domestic species, but that where they had been often fired at, they were exceedingly wild, alarmed their com panions cm the approach of danger by a hissing noise, and scaled the rocks with a speed and agility that baf fled pursuit Some naturalists have supposed that this variety of the sheep family is substantially the same as the Asiatic Argali, but of diminished stat ure. Others dissent from this opinion, not only on account of its size but of a difference in the curvature of the horns. Those who maintain it imagine that some of the Argali originally pass ed Behrlng Strait on the ice to the American continent j 1 1 T .1... Eradicate Tuberculosis. ' The demonstration that tuberculosis i nn mid the same disease in both animals and men, has opened up a new - field for useful work on the part 01 botn iival and state boards of health. Here tofore the attempt to eradicate tuber culosis from the dairy herds has been undertaken by state cattle commis sions. The most extensive work under state control has been in the eastern states, and has, for various reasons, tt.,19 far resulted in only partial suc cess. The need of absolute purity in th milk suDDly makes the eradication of tuberculosis a necessity. It is claim ed here that this is practicable only by the local boards of health controll ing their own milk supply by issuing licenses to both producers and vend ers, after a thorough inspection of the dairy and cattle by the veterinarian ot the board. This plan is now being carried out in our own city, under a lo cal inspection ordinance made possible by a special act of the state legislature. The constitutionality of this measure has been confirmed by a decision of the supreme court of the state of Min nesota. Charles E. Cotton. Icelandic Sheep. "The Iceland sheep," says Zouatt, "that have come u;ider my personal observation, are of tolerably large size and strongly built Their fleece consists of coarse hair ex ttrnally, with an under layer of close wool. Their horns are generally four in number, sometimes six, or even eight and this is the more remark able, as the Iceland cows and oxen ara mostly polled.-' Sediment in Milk. Halt the milk sent into our cities will deposit a vila sediment after standing. When stables are ill-kept and milkers careless there Is a decided "off" flavor to the entlra milking. Offensive dust collects upon, the udder, and finds its way into the pall. Part of It settles after passing tha coarse strainer, and part will be found floating on the cream. Ex. rm that the cows In pasture hara gome shady place, either under trees or buildings, where they can shelter themselves from the fierce heat ot tha summer buu. It Is said that 60 per cent of tht cases ot short-sightedness are heredi tary.