The Lafayette gazette. [volume], May 06, 1893, Image 1

About The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921

Image provided by: Louisiana State University; Baton Rouge, LA

                
.THE LAFAYETTE GAZETTE
-I. "LAFAYETTE, LA., SATURDAY, MAY 6, 1803. NUMBER 9.
'1Uir Iift E St·
[opyrigh, 1e9,
by the Author.]
RS. LAVINA
ALGAR leaned
back on a can
*as chair under the Branch Bank ver
anda one warm, Australians night
about the end of .December, with the
iull moonlight playing upon and spir
ituallsiae her delicate beauty, and
makihg a silver halo round the outer
edges of her fragrant and massy
golden hair; while Reginald Cleaver,
the new cashier, lpoked. down upon
that radianatvision of dainty and per
fumed womlanhood with a great deal
more of warmth and enthusiasm than
perhaps Mr. Algar, the staid bank
manager and husband of the beauty,
might have cared to encourage had he
observed it. lint as at the moment he
was engaged elsewhere the young nfan
could be as daring as he. well pleased
to be, so long as the object of his pres
ent enthusiasm dlid not object.
-JThey had known each other for four
weeks and a half now-ever since he
had been appointed to his post; and as
his duties were pretty light in this up
country branch established the weeks
bad been spent, with only the neces
sary daily breaks, almost entirely in
the young lady's charming society. So
that being Australian born and bred
Mrs. Algar had grown very familiar
with her gentlemanly lodger, and
spoke to him as if she had known him
from the days of his early childhood;
that is to say, they had long ago dis
pensed with all starchy formalities in
addressing one another, and called
each other by their Christian names of
"Reginald" and "Lavina" which sound
ed much freer and heartier than Mr.
Cleaver and Mrs. Algar.
When John Aligar was present it was
Reginald, or Lavina; but tete-a-tete, as
they were on this night, he called her
by the pet name she had given herself,
which was Nina, as she called him
Volto, so that they might have some
thing different to what the rest of the
world knew them by. It was foolish,
no doubt, yet innocent enough as far as
it went--as was her habit of calling
her husband "Bruno," behind his back
-common enough also with young la
dies who haven't much to occupy their
minds in their intercourse with young
gentlemen friends.
John Algar, the bank manager, was
an angular, loud-voiced, consequential
man of about fifty---gray-haired and
bearded, with small, keen, gray eyes
that generally impressed people with
his business acumen. lie hadn't a very
agreeable manner-these strident, bom
bastic and argumentative men sel
dome have-and for that reason cus
tomers trusted him all the more, and
considered him the right man for the
place. It is astonishing how much
these socially uncomfortable men im
press the world with their honesty.
"Reginald or "Volto" Cleaver was
one of those carefully-groomed young
men who look well under any circum
sttnces, with prettily-trained mus
tache, slender white hands and modu
lated voice; one of the young gentle
men who are turned out wholesale
from nature's modern jerry workshop,
who look as harmless about a drating
-room as tame cats, and are as neces
sary to the idle fair sex as a three-vol
umed romance of fashionable life.
Mrs. Lavina was twenty-three, that
is twenty-seven years younger than her
husband, and the most accomplished and
lady-like female in the township. She
always had her costumes direct from
London, and as up to date as possible;
she was very slender, very fair, and
took great care of her complexion, so
that Volto almost forgot when he saw
her first that he was six weeks' distance
from home; and since she had exhibit
ed those colonial arts and graces, so
much less formal than tl-e home airs,
he had lost all desire ever to again in
hale the yellow fogs and felt that Aus
tralia was quite good enough 'for him.
In fact, for the first time in his young
life, he felt that existence along with
Nina would be delightful anywhere,
and found himself so much engrossed
with her'that he forgot to think at all
about himself.
This was the state of affairs on this
moonlight night, with that green ex
panse of bush and ocean stretching in
front of them, over which her limpid,
gray-green eyes looked dreamily, while
he stood, his face in the shadow, watch
ing her intently. He had come out to
smoke a cigar after dinner, and she
had come to keep him company while
Bruno was, as usual, in the office at
tending to business; all according to
mature's laws-youth in the moonlight
and middle age at the coffer.
"What is wrong with you to-night.
Volto? You are very silent, and have
not lit your cigar yet," observed the
lady, as she turned her large eyes from
the landscape to that shadow face,
speaking in the soft, tender tones which
seem to mean so much more than is 1
uttered.
"I was thinking, Nina," replied the
young man, with a heavy sigh.
"About what?"
"The moonlight and-you."
"Yesl" murmured the lady. echoing
his sigh. "It is lovely, is it not?-the
moonlight, I mean."
"And you?"
"Hush! or Bruno may hear you."
"Then let us go into the garden,
Nina, for I have a lot to say to you."
Mrs. Algar took up alittle lace shawl
from the ground where she had thrown
it, and drawing it over her slender
shoulders she raised herself with a
gracefnl movement, and taking his arm
she went with him down the veranda
steps and into the shadows of the trees
bayond. As they did so, John Algar
came from the French door of the din
ing-room, looked after them for a mo
ment or two, and then with a grunt
went back again to his work.
For the next half-hopr the murmur
of their esbda~d ~'oleda came wafting
in with the plrfue f the exotics, a
larg 'spider compteted'the web he had
begun before they left and which, ere
they could enter agai| they would
have to break through, for he had bar
ricaded the doorway, ,na as the dew
fell upon his web it looked like a close
curtain of- silver and gems.
Inside the bank the manager had also
completed the task which had occupied
him for several of the nights the young
couple had.been. senM.meantsMing out
side, and had carefully replaced the
ca ier's key to hisroom, after locking
the desk where he kept his set of
book,. ,_ delicate task Mr. Algar had
bh i p , wfhich required a
pmal.bottle acid and d deal of
-praeoffe of 2eginaaid's: ]w ritina,
hownv4, it at last airyj~eaatly ac
complished, and the manager reap
pqayed again at the veranda and
called out with those strident, hon
est tones of hIis: -
"Where ar6 yop,. Lad~ing? '"
"'Here, John!" came back the liquid
accents of his youthful spouse.
"All right, dear, don't disturb your
self: I am going into the town for a
little while, but, I'll be back for sup
per."
As John Algar wait out the back
way, "Nina" and "Volto" returned by
the front, and, after ruthlessly demol
ishing that foolish spider's web, they
made themselves comfortable in the
drawing-room, she sitting down to the
piano while he leaned over her tender
ly, feeling as nearly happy as it was
possible for sinful mortal to feel at
any time, while she played soft chords
to him and looked .at him now and
again with the tender glance which
made him so completely her slave.
They did not speak much during that
interval of waiting, and only when the
sound of her husband's loud footsteps
were heard, as he entered the house,
was the spell broken. Stooping
quickly over her, he kissed her and
whispered:
"I love you, Nina; I love you."
"llush! Volto-or LBruno will hear
you."
John Algar came in, loudly slamming
the door behind him, and sat very
grimly all through the supper; so that
Reginald Cleaver hardly dared to look
at him and shortly afterwards retired
to his bedroom in-a tumult of remorse
and passion which kept him awake
nearly half the night He had kissed
her for the first time, and she had not
resisted, so she must love hhn al
though she had not yet said so. How
beautiful she was-on the morrow per
haps she would give him the assurance
he wanted.
At breakfast, however. Nina did not
look at him, neither did she speak, but
kept her lovely head bent over her
plate in a confused, shy way that was
very charming, and when afterwards
he was asked into the manager's room
and found there a couple of strangers
watching him curiously, lie was so en
grossed with that charming picture
that he hardly looked at them or list
ened to the loud coarsevoice of his s-u
"IS THAT YOUR HAND-wVRITIs?"
perior, but gave up his keys and per
mitted one of the strangers to go for
his books without thinking there was
anything unusual in the request and
action.
"Is that your handwriting, young
man?" asked one of the strangers,
blandly, pointing to a portion of the
open ledger.
"Yes," replied poor Volto. promptly.
"Look .more carefully at it, young
man. Now, are you quite sure?" -
"I think so," again replied the cash
or, not so positively as-bfore.
"You are a fool, young fellow, and
might have lagged yourself with that
answer of yours." said the stranger,
contemptuously, "only that you have
had a guardian angel near you since you
came here-"
"Lavina!" murmured the young man.
and then he blushed. vividly.
"No, donkey, your guardian angel
didn't go by the feminine title of La
vina; he's a male, and answers to the
name of Jack Rtidgeway, detective
that's myself."
"Officer, what is the meaning of all
this balderdash? Arrest that young
scoundrel at once," shouted the mana
ger, impatiently, yet with a frightened
glimmer in his small gray eyes.
"It means that I have been watching
your hlittle game for a long time now,
Mr. John Algar, bank manager and
thief, and that this person may thank
his lucky stars that I was on the spot,
otherwise his flirtation with pretty
Lavina might have cost him dear
enough. Jifi, look after the lady while
I attend to the master."
Elephanotlae Joke by Dante.
Dante, meditating apart one day in
the Church of Santa Maria Novella, was
accosted by a bore who asked maany
foolish questions. Aftervainly endeav
oring to get rid of him, Dante at last
said: "Before I reply to thee, answer
me this. Whiheb is the greatest of all
beasts?"
The gentleman replied that on the
authority of Pliny be believed it to be
the elephant.
Then said Dante: "0, elephant, leave
me in peace!" and so saying, he turned
and left him.--N. Y. Times.
THE DARK CONTINENT.
Grand Mountaies and Romantlo
Landsoape Soenery.
A Twin Waterfall In Southeasters Atriea
Fally a Hib ma NIragaF -Tthe Gates
of st. John's River-A arf
falo Iifnt.
[Special South African Letter.]
In a great majority of the narratives
of African travel little mention has
been made respecting the natural scene
r.y of regions through which these re
spective authors journeyed. Whatever
the cause of this omission may be, it
THE TSITZA WATERFALL.
ans certainly -not arisen .from the ab
sence of ample material worthy of the
most eloquent pen.
The greater portion of what opoe
was Kafirland, .but is now commonly
known as Kafftraria and the Trans
Keian territories, is distinguished alike
for its fertile valleys and grassy glades
and its grand and picturesque moun
tain scenery. WVithin this area the
famous Drakensberg chain assumes its
most sublime proportions. The wild
confusion of fantastic shapes and forms
here presented could not be more ap
propriately described than by the Kafir
name "' Quathfalonma,"-heaped up helter
skelter-by which the region is known
to the natives. During. the winter
months many of these taller peaks are
not iinfrequently clad with snow, pre
senting a quaint and interesting con
trast to the dark-green verdure which
flourishes at the base.
Numerous water courses have their
sources in this wild region and flow on
ward to the lower plateau, half way to
the Indian ocean, where their volumes
are increased and united until several
pretentious rivers are formed, such as
the Bashee, Umtata and the Umzim
vubu. Dotted along on these river
valleys on their way to the sea, are
seen numerous huts and kraals of the
natives, with hordes of sleek-haired,
long-horned cattle lazily grazing on the
grassy slopes-a picture of pastoral
beauty and contentment rarely seen in
other lands.
All along the eastern border of Cape
Colony waterfalls are numerous. One
of the most magnificent of these is on
the Tsitza river, not far from the Shaw
burg mission station and half way be
tween Umtata and Kokstad. Some
miles below the falls the river makes a
bend to the left, and, after running
through some charmingly picturesque
gorges wooded to the water's edge, it
passes across a flat stretch of country
until it reaches the edge of a dizzy
precipice over which it leaps, with a
roar resembling distant thunder, to a
secthing depth of 375 feet below. The
rift or chasm through which the river
plunges is about 150 yards across; and
during the rainy season, when the
mountain sources are flooded and seek
ing outlet in this direction, the scene is
grand and beyond the power of any pen
to describe.
Then it is that the entire space be
tween the walls (150 yards) forms one
continuous, unbroken sheet of water,
which flows faster and faster till it
reaches the precipice, where, foaming
and seething, wave seeming to sti-nggle
THE OATES OF ST. JOLN"'S RIVER.
waith wave in a mad rush to reach the
depths, the whole surgin, writhing,
liquid mass lands in weird con
fusion below, where it forms a huge
basin-shaped lagoon, which makes a
favorite habitat for tribes of hippopot
ami, crocodiles vand other amphibia.
But perhaps the grandest and most
romantie landscape scenery on the
continent of Africa south of the equator
is to be found on the St. John's river,
as the Umzimvubn is known from the
eastern border of Pondoland to the
sea. At the mouth of the St. John's,
were itdebouchesinto the Indian ocean,
the view is a notable object of interest
for all who are so fortunate as to trim
the coast near enough to observe its
outlines, and those who once view it
waill scoartely fail to recognize its picture
afterwnrd. Hiere a lofty table-topped
ountain appears to have been cleft to
its base, leaving a wedge-shaed pi
thsmgh which the river fows to the
see. The edtes of the gap near the
river's mouth lie about 2,000 feet apart
and gradually approach each other un
til near the top of the first reach, when
they are about 1,500 feet asunder. They
rise in abrupt forest-clad steeps, and
fiehi the edges on both sides of the
river plateaus extend until on either
side other precipitous cliffs rise and are
visible from ships' decks leagues away
at sea. This is known as the "Gates of
the St. John's River." Inside the
"Gates" the river is broad, with scarce
ly a perceptible current, and the banks
dir covered with forest" trees iid tani
gled undergrowth of vegetation.
Owing to the abundance of water and
the constant siappl~ of fresh vegeta
tion and succulent .grass throughout
this portion of Ponlolan4d t,is natural
ly a favorite resort for wild game.
Nearly every variety of wild animals
peculiar to southern-Africa--with the ex
ception of the elephant-is found here
and consequently it is. much frequent
ed by the class of hunters and .sports
men who are not averse to roughing it,
for luxuries beyond what nature affords
are unknown in this wild region.
It was here that the writer had his
first full view of a wild African buffalo,
and he has ever since devoutly prayed
that it might be the last. In company
with an Englishman named Phillips,
we landed from a small coaster at the
mouth of the St. John's, bent on a tetn
days' hunt. Phillips was familiar with
the country, and for two or three days
we worked our way back from the
coast, meeting with good sport in
shooting small game. One afternoon
we spied a native hut in a thickly
wooded copse, and entering it found the
entire family, consisting of father,
mother, two grown-up daughters and a
son of about '20 years, squatted around
a big wooden basin filled with an
odorous stew of buffalo meat and
green Indian corn. Phillips, who spoke
the Pondo dialect, soon placed us on
good terms with the household by pre
senting the old native a plug ',f tobac
co and a clay pipe. We soon learned
that a herd of buffaloes had been seen
in the vicinity a few hours before, and
the old man and his son had bagged
one. We were further assured that if
we chose to rest over night the entire
family would accompany us on a buffa
lo hunt on the morrow.
Biefore daylight the next morning we
sallied forth in f ill force, and at sun
rise had reached the spot where the na
tives had killed the buffalo the day be
fore. Hero we found a plain trail, and
we stopped long enough to lay out a
plan of campaign. The natives de
ployed so as to act 's a sort of skirmish
line, while Phillips and I stood close
PONDO PAMILY.
together as we proceeded in the diree
tion the herd had taken. We followed
a sort of blind trail along the side of a
mountain which rose on our left hand
at an angle of about forty-five degrees.
We had proceeded thus far about thirty
minutes when Phillips, who was a little
in advance of me, suddenly stopped,
raised his rifle and quickly fired. Simul
taneously with the report of the gun
I heard a loud snort and then a crash
ing noise like a tornado rushing down
the side of the mountain, and then I
saw, not more than seventy-five yards
away, a huge, dark-colored beast, bear
ing right down upon me. I did not
hesitate, but sprang for a tree a few
steps away, and, seizing a lower branch.
was rapidly launching myself out of dan
ger, when the branch snapped from the
trunk and I fell heavily to the ground.
Then, hearing Phillips laugh, I looked
up and saw the dead buffalo lying
about twenty yards from me. Phillips'
shot had penetrated-4ts heart, but the
savage brute had charged in the direc
tion of its foes till the last throb was
stilL J. W. SILER.
Strange Selection.
It is an easy and very profitable busi
ness to smuggle rifles into Morocco. A
weapon may be bought in Gibraltar for
ten dollars and sold in the interior for
five or six times that sum. Smugglers
are continually running over in feluccas
and beaching these arms somewhere
between Cape Spartel and Tangier, and
* curious are the devices by which they
accomplish their transport.
One smuggler told a traveler that he
ran his cargo into Tangier bay after
dark, and unloaded the rifles on the
beach, not a quarter of a mile from the
custom house.
"Who assists you in unloading?" asked
the traveler.
"I generally employ the porters of the
custom house," was the innocent reply.
Then, noting the surprise and amuse
ment of his hearer, he added:
"They are more skilled in unloading
than other laborers."
It had evidently neither occurred to
him nor to the porters that they might
betray him.-Youth's Companion.
fladlesily DIirelit.
Two things may look very similar on
the surface, but be entirely unlike at
bottom, as in this case reported by the
Memphis Appeal-Avalanche:
The landlady of a boarding-house in
this city has an eight-year-old son who
is remarkably precocious. Not long
ago he went uptown and had his head
shaved. Among the boarders is a gen
tleman whose hair long ago bade him
farewelL This gentleman caine to the"
table the next day, and maid:
"Why, Charley, you haven't any more
hair now than I have."
'"Yes, sir," said Charley, "that's so:
but you see I have a lot more roots Sha
lou have."
AGRICULTURAL HINTS.
ROAD CONSTRUCTION.
Some Suggestions Concerning Impreving
Country fllghways.
James M1elville4 C. E., writes to the
Orange Judd Farmeri With good roads
a farm fourteen miles from a town wtr.ll
be nearer than one which is five miles
removed and has the present poor
roads. No times of famine would oc
cur in cities from lack of farm prod
ucts during the season of bad roads.
The farmer will deliver his crops when
they are needed. Mlueh time is lost
waiting for passable roads. ~armers
living near towns will have opportun
ity for more social pleasures. Good
roads will make economic delivery of
mails in rural districts possible.
Fluctations in markets will be known
in the country as early as in the
towns, giving farmers an opportunity
of selling and buying to best advan
tage. If our roads remain in their
present form the .condition of rural
classes will not improve materially
during the present generation. "What
shall be done with our roads?" is a
common question. It is useless to talk
of a national system of roads at.pres
ent. A national movement requires
time, labor and patience, and comes
't. " - $ý - •
VIEIVW OF A TYIC'AL COUNTRY ROAD.
after years of waiting and unrequited
labor. It may be good in theory
but I fear it is utterly Utopian in
practice. A state system is but little
more feasible.
State legislatures move slowly and
in a very conservative way, even
in so important a matter as road im
provement. Practical road reform
must begin with the individual. The
man who talks road improvement
must be in earnest to the extent of be
ing willing to give time and money to
it. I have in mindl a case which well
ilustrates this. I visited acounty where
all the main roads were in fine
condition. It seems that a young
German farmer became enthusiastic
on this question. He studied road
making wherever he could find any
thing on the subject and asked ques
tions of everyone he thought could aid
him. lie quietly secured the good willi
of a few influential men and when the
town meeting was held made the fol
lowing proposition: "Give me the
road taxes expended yearly on the por
tion of road between my farm and the
village, a distance of nearly six miles,
for a period bf ten years and I will
build a single graveled track and keep
it in repair." To his surprise the prop
osition was accepted. After signing an
agreement that the road should at no
time thereafter be in a worse condition
than it was at that time the tax was
turned over to him. The expenditure
of four years' taxes completed a single
track, well graveled the entire dis
tance, and before the expiration of the
seventh ycar hlie had a double track for
the entire distance in such good con
dition that the annual expenditure of
his own road tax kept it in repair.
Other towns adopted his method and
the result is good roads throughout the
county. Don't attempt too much. If
gravel is convenient, use it; if not, use
the best earth along the line of road.
Put it in place, arrange for thorough
surface and under drainage, round up
the road bed and compact it. Repair
breaks as soon as they occur. Earth
roads made in this way will be vastly
superior to the unimproved highways.
Road building needs intelligent super
vision. Select a man to supervise the
work who knows something about
roads and not just because he is a
"good fellow."
"CANDLED EGGS."
The Name of a Separating Process Em
ployed by Commission Men.
This terrn is often seen in market re
ports, but few people probably know
its meaning. Candling is the process
eggs are put through by commission
men who separate the good eggs from
the rotten. Many systems for detect
ing good eggs from bad are going the
rounds, lut the most and in fact the
only reliable one is that of candling or
utilizing light for the purpose. A box
about one foot long and six inches
wide is taken and two holes are cut in
one side, each about the size of an egg.
A candle is placed inside the box with
the flame resting opposite the two
holes. A dark room is now sought,
the candle lighted and the eggs, two at
a time, are placed in the holes in the
box. If they are semi-transparent and
exhibit no spots they are good. If,
however, they are the least bit tainted,
or slightly hatched, black spots from
the size of a pin's head to that of a
half dol.ar, wviii be distinctly seen. An
incandescent light is better than a
candle where such is obtainable.
Gardens for Utays sad Girls.
It is an excellent plan for the boys
and girls to have a vegetable garden of
their own and sell the vegetables to
the family, as is the custom very fre
quently in good English families.
This should not be a mere matter of
play. The vegetables should be pur
chased on their merits alone and at.
'he prevailing market prices, inferior
ones being thrown back upon the
young gardener in order to teach him
practical methods of business. Such
simple vegetables as radish and lettuce
may be easily raised by a young
nardelner, -Rural IWorld.
DAIRY COW FEEDS.
How to dbtain the eset Besults at the
Least fpeuase.
It is fair to say that a cow must pay
for the feed she eats, and return a liv
ing to the owner; but after all it is
more profitable for the owner to raise
the feed. and make yet another profit
bettreen the actual cost of the cow
feed, as faised on the farm,-and what
the same feed would cost if another
man raised it, and his living and profits
came from its sale. Oats, at forty
cents per bushel, are too expensive a
feed, when the results are compared
with good bran, or, what is yet better,
with seconds, the grade of bran that
has quite a showing of flour in it, and
is yet in most markets cheaper than
the bran. Corn meal, at sixty cents
for fifty-six pounds, is a good food in
part. for a butter dairy, and especially
so. if it is to be fed with clover hay,
which is largely albuminous, and
needs the starchy foods, like corn meal,
to balance it, rather than more albu
minous matter, which is so largely
represented in bran.
When I can get clover hay in abun
dance I feed largely of that, for from
every ten dollars' worth of the hay
there is made nine dollars' worth of
fertility. To balance the clover hay, I
would get corn in the ear, and have it
ground fine and feed with the clover
hay, rather than buy more albuminous
matter. Ear corn should be ground on
the cob, and not shelled. For milk,
the fourteen pounds of cob in a hun
dredweight of meal are worth more, as
a promoter of digestion, than would be
the fourteen pounds of pure meal in its
place. A cow in good flow of milk will
need from twenty-two to thirty pounds
of clover hay each day, with eight
pounds of the meal. In my dairy
I reverse this by feeding fifty
pounds of silage, made from fairly
well eared corn, and five to six pounds
of seconds daily, and what clover hay
the cosrs will consume-some five
pounds daily to each cow. In the same
way cows, to do their best, seem to
need a bulky food, largely on the
carbohydrate side of the ration, as
mixed hay, well cured corn fodder, and
the like. The albuminous matters
should come in smaller amounts,
though clover hay is an exception, as
it is a loose, bulky, stomach-distending
food, and the corn meal balances it in
starch to some extent. Cows eat as
they were born to do, some more, some
less, and to produce milk the same rule
holds good.
The amount of food a cow will con
sume is no indication of what she will
produce in milk solids, so that the
good dairyman has to feed as circunm
stances indicate, the milk pail being
the indicator. Wheat straw is not a
good promotor of milk yield, nor an
economical factor in the feed line.
Wheat straw is far better under a
milch cow than in her stomach. A cow
needs to eat so much straw to obtain a
minimum amount of nutriment that
the stomach is overtaxed, and there is
a shrinkage of the milk. If the straw
is cut fine, and moistened with a small
amount of water, and then fine mid
dlings mixed through the mass, the
straw will be improved and made
more digestible. Cut straw and linseed
meal are useful foryoung stock.-John
Gould, in American Agriculturist.
SETTING CUTTINGS.
The Device Here IUtntrated Will Expe
dite the Operation.
In setting grape, currant, or other
cuttings in the open ground a trench is
often plowed or dug, the cuttings
placed in position, and the earth thrown
back. Many make the ground as mel
low as possible, and with a pointed
stick or sharpened iron rod make a hole
of the proper depth and inclination,
and insert the cutting. The operation
can be greatly expedited and cheapened
by the handled foot dibble shown in
the illustration, Fig. I. A blacksmith
FIG. 1. rlo. 2.
FOOT DIBBLE. GUIDING BOARD.
can make one from an old fork. Cut
tings are usually placed about four
inches apart in the row. Hence, have
a three-tined fork made with straight
tines four inches apart, five inches in
length, three-eighths of an inch in
diameter and pointed at the ends. The
operator walks by the side of a line or
mark and forces the fork into the
ground, four inches apart, at any in
clination desired. If the ground be
hard the foot is used to press the fork
down. A uniform depth can be secured
by running the tines through a light
strip of wood shown in Fig. 2.
After the cuttings are it place, the
dibble should be again pressed into the
earth within two inches of the cuttings,
and moved slightly to press the earth
firmly against the cutting at the bot
tom. Test this by trying to pull out
the cutting. IValking along both sides
of the row fills all interstices, and
growth is assured as far as proper set
ting is concerned.-American Agricul
turist.
Compositioen of Orafting War.
The bulletin of the experiment
farm at Ottawa in Canada, where
much grafting is performed, especially
of the cherry, gives the composition of
the grafting wax there employed. A
wax for outdoor use is made by melt
ing together five parts of resin and two
parts of beeswax; to this is added one
and a half or two parts of linseed oil
For winter use in the grafting-roonm
less oil and beeswax make a more t ruit
able composition.
A Frobaem.
Mr. Daddy-I wish our baby could
talk more plainly; Brown's baby is a
month yipnger, and one can under
stand almost every word it saya
wonder why it is?
Mrs. Daddy (offended)-I'm sure I
don't know. (To the baby.) Comesey
tooty mommy itte sweety. Does 'oo
wicked popper scold 'oo dear Ittle popsy
wopsy dodkins?-Puck.
Order CountermandedL
Foreman (job office)-Vhat are you
working at now?
Boy-Runnin' oft some business cards
of a young woman who wants to do
-mending for gents and families.
I Foreman-tGee whizz! Didn't you get
word not to print 'em? The order is
countermanded. Quick as the boss saw
that girl's card, he rushed off and mar
ried her.-N. Y. Weekly.
Ite Was Up.
The tooth puller was right up with
the times in youth, style and cheek.
"Have you all the latest appliances?"
asked a patient in the chair, holding on
to his jaw.
"Oh, yes," replied the artist, "I'm
fang do siecle," and the tooth flew out
against the window pane and smashed
it.L-Detroit Free Press.
A NATURAL DEFECT.
"Be careful, Mr. Snobly, that is the
fifth glass of punch I have seen you
take."
"Ah, my clear M\iss Winston, you don't
know me; I can drink any quantity of
liquor and never have a head on me."
"Oh no; no one would ever aecuse
you of that."-Truth
Unadulterated.
The Buffalo News has an old joke
with a slight variation:
Nimrod-Any good hunting round
here?
Farmer-Yes; oceans of it.
Nimrod-What kind of game mostly?
Farmer-Never seed any game. Just
plain hunting.
A Lesson In Etiquette.
In a kitchen:
3Mother-You shouldn't dip your '--.
ers into the gravy that way. Mary.
It's very vulgar.
Mary-But how else can I taste it,
mother? You surely don't want me to
soil one of the plates!--La Lanterne de
Cocorico.
Honesty Pays.
Jim-Honesty is the best policy arter
all.
Bill-Hlow?
"Remember that dog I stole?"
"'Yep."
"Well., I tried two hull days to sell
'im, an' no one offered more 'an a dollar.
So I went, like a honest man, an' guy
him to th' ole lady what owned 'im, an'
she guy me five dollars."-N. Y. Week
ly.
The Warruig Taken.
Jack Billings-Do you think it right
for a fellow to kiss a girl suddenly,
without warning?
May Cooings-No; I do not.
Jack Billings-N'either do I. But how
Is he going to war her?
IMay Cooings-I don't know of any
better way than to ask some question
like yours just now.--Puck.
To Resuscitate Drowning Persons.
There are many prescribed methods
for the resuscitation of drowning per
sons, but one of the most efficient means
is the pulling of the tongue. This as
also applicable to asphyxiation from
gases. The tongue must not only be
pulled out of the patient's mouth, but it
must be twitched rhythmically in imita
tion of the breathing rhythm. The
effect of this method was recently veri
fied in the province of Orel, Russia. A
peasant named Sophron had been drawn
out of a river; all methods to revive him
were fruitless. Then an old peasant
named Petrucha resorted to this meth
od, and in five minutes the man was vw
stored to consciousness.
THOSE FOBS.
*U,10TNEV
Miss Tootyfrooty - Mistah raswe'
strope, you reck'n I's gwine wars wid
a gem'man wid his 'spender hangla'
outen his dloes dataway?
Mister Raszzerstrope - 'Deed, Misa
Tootyfrooty, yo's m'staken 'bout dat.
SDas no 'spender, das msh new fe%
chain
Both sides of the halnlo.
She-I took the present you gave mt
to my aunt and she thought it w.
lovely. But she wants to know what
we will do with it after r w~r are at
ried.
He-That's very simple,. dearet. Le:i
her I shall take it to my pt~
.lrn F. ..LifeJ