Corvallis gazette. [volume], November 20, 1900, Image 1

About Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909

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GAZETTE.
CORVALLIS
SEMI-WEEKLY.
UNION Egtab. .Tuly, 1897. i
GAZETTE Kstab. Dec. 1863.
Consolidated Feb., 1899.
CORVALLIS, BENTON COUNTY, OBEGON, TUESDAY, NOYEMBEB 20, 1900.
VOL. I. NO. 30.
THE HALL OF WASTED THINGS.
At the Castle of Men's Sorrows, in the
Hall of Wasted Things,
Are broken old betrothals, and old be
trothal rings,
And long-forgotten kisses, and old letters
never sent,
And heartstrings of young lovers that
faithless ones have rent,
And long-since burnt-out 'passions, and
the lires of wasted loves,
And cast-off maidens' ringlets, and pairs
of maidens' gloves,
And smiles that men have treasured, and
sweet glances gone astray,
And broken words of lovers, and hours of
many a day.
Now with these I'd fain deposit some few
things of my own
Some paltry, wasted trifles that some one
has outgrown;
This tiny, battered locket, and this bit
of gem-set gold,
And the love I've left unspoken, and the
love I may have told:
May they lie and be forgotten, where the
gray-robed angel sings
The Angel of Oblivion, in the Hall of
Wasted Things.
Life.
8
THE NIGHTINGALE.
So
m
i HE suburban road was gay with
the plumes of flowering lilac and
the bright promise of laburnum.
The red buds on the May bushes had
not yet uncurled. The water cart had
just gone by, leaving a pleasant scent of
wet earth.
She was leaning her arms on the gate
and looking away from him.
"So it's no use?" he said he also was
leaning on the gate. The road was very
quiet except for passing tradesmen,
hose carts now and then flashed along
ts silence. He had called to bring her
a book, and she had walked with him to
the gate. He had not meant to speak
them had indeed rehearsed many a
time a declaration to be made in very
different surroundings but she looked
so dear in her blue morning gown, the
breeze of spring played so charmingly
with that hair of hers that quite sud
denly he had spoken, and she had said
"No."
"It's no use?" he repeated, for she
still kept silence, and her eyes were far
away.
"No, it's no use," she said. "I couldn't
marry anyone unless I was so fond of
him that I couldn't bear my life- with
out him. That's the only excuse for
marriage."
"Then I'm not to come here any more
.-; I suppose?"
Oh, dear:-' she said, drawing her-ejre
brcvws together with a worried frown,
"why did you go and spoil it all? It was
all so pleasant! Can't you be really sens
ible? Let us go on just as we were, and
pretend that nothing has happened."
;"No," he said, "I shall go away.
When one lives in lodgings they may
as well be in Putney or Kew as here."
She thought how dull tennis and
dance and picnic would be without him,
and said stiffly, "Just as you please, of
course."
Then her face lighted up as the rattle
of hoop and hoopstick and little patter
ing feet drew her eyes to the other side
of the road, where a little girl in a scar
let frock came quickly along the as
phalt, her brown hair flying behind her.
"Here's Vynie "
The child saw her sister and her
friend, for he was a friend to all chil
dren, and struck the hoop so that it
bounded on the curb and flew into the
middle of the road. The little scarlet
figure followed it. Then, in a flash, a
butcher's cart from a side road, a clat
ter, a scream, a curse, and the butcher
was reining in his horse thirty yards
down the road and looking back over
his -blue shoulder at a heap of scarlet
and brown that now had crimson mixed
with it, and over which a girl in a blue
gown and a man in a gray suit were
bending.
"Her leg is broken. They have set it.
It will be months before she can walk.
But they say she will be all right again
then."
The two were standing at the gate
again, but now there was no fresh rose
in her face, and in his eyes no light of
passion.
"My poor dear," he said and she did
not resent the words "let me do any
thing I can. Forget all that folly of
this morning, and let me help my poor
little Vynie."
"I will you shall," she said, looking
at him through swollen eyelids red
with weeping; "but there Is nothing
any one can do. It is horrible! When
told her she would have to lie still for
a time she tried to smile, and then she
said, 'Don't cry, Sissy. I will be as good
as gold;' and then she said she should
sleep all day, and lie awake at night to
hear the nightingale. She lias never
heard it yet."
He remembered how he had listened
to the nightingale in the copse behind
her house on many a summer night
when he had walked lonely in the fields
to see her light in the window and her
shadow on the blind, and he sighed, and
said:
"The nightingales are singing bravely
In the wood beyond the station. I'm glad
she has thought of something that
pleases her, poor darling."
Vynie, lying still and rigid in her
splints, with wide-open eyes, watched
the day die. Then the lamp was lighted,
and presently in its turn gave place to
the yellow glow of the night light, and
the great shadows it cast.
"Are you asleep, Sissy, y own?"
Baid the little voice.
"No, my darling." Rose bent over the
bed. "Does it want anything. Will it
have some milk nice fizzy milk?"
"No yes; but I want to hear the
nightingale. Sissy. Why doesn't he be
gin? isn't it late enough"
"Yes, my swvetneart: but. perhaps
the nightingale's got such a pretty
home, in the warm country where he
lives, that he can't make up his mind to
come here."
' "Oh, Sissy, he must come: I can't lie
still all the time unless he comes! Do
please ask God to tell the nightingale
how badly I want him. And, Sissy, put
out the night light. Perhaps he doesn't
like to sing till he's sure I'm in.bed, and
he couldn't know I've got broken, could
he?"
"No, my precious, no. Try to go to
sleep, and Sissy will wake you if he
i begins to sing."
But Vynie could not sleep, and by
; morning the fever was high. She talked
I and moaned and laughed, but always
her cry was for the nightingale.
"Master Tom, miss, to inquire."
Rose went down, trembling with
want of sleep, haggard with anxiety.
She took the great basket of roses her
friend had brought, and, holding it, told
him how the night had passed. "They
were singing like mad down by the sta
tion," he said. "Confound the brutes!
I expect your nightingale isn't coming
this year."
"Don't," said the girl. "I believe
Vynie will have no rest if he doesn't.
When she heard the church bells this
morning she told me to send to the cler
gyman and tell him to explain to God
that she couldn't do without the night
ingale. Oh, my own little girl! Oh,
Tom, she's all I have."
Tom was not such a fool as to say,
"You have me." He only said, "Yes, I
know,",and pressed her hand.
"You are good" she said, and went
back to the child.
A little fitful sleep came in the long
night hours of that terrible Sunday, but
it was broken and feverish, and at ev
ery awakening the lKtle voice, growing
ever weaker, said:
"Isn't it dark yet? Won't God send
the nightingale? Oh, Sissy, I do want
to he"ar him."
The old servant, who had been with
the two sisters since Vynie's birth, two
months after the father's death had
cost the life of the mother, insisted on
sending Rose to rest, and sat by
Vynie's side.
"Nursey," whispered the child, "come
close. Will you do what I say?"
"Anything, my precious," said the old
woman, holding the hot little hands in
her smooth, withered palms.
"Well, kneel down and tell God I
shall die if I don't have tha nightingale.
God will attend to you because you al
ways remember to say your prayers. I
forget mine sometimes, even when I'm
not very sleepy. Oh, nursey, I shall
never be sleepy any more. Do tell God
all about it."
L The old woman knelt by the bedside,
and with a faith simple and beatuiful
as the child's own "told God all about
it."
The dusk was deepening. The child
lay with cheeks scarlet' against the
white pillow and shining eyes fixed on
the slowly darkening squares of the
window-. She moaned with pain and
the misery of sleeplessness.
"Open the window, nursey, my dear,"
she said softly when the night had al
most fallen. "I think I heard some
thing." When the window was opened Vynie
held heT breath and listened to a silence
that after a moment was softly broken
by two or three mellow notes.
"Is it oh, is It? Nursey Nursey "
"It's the nightingale, right enough,
my pet," said the old woman, as Rose
crept into the room like a ghost In her
white dressing gown.
"Oh, Sissy, my own! It is it is! God's
not forgotten me. He's going to let me
go to sleep, and I shall hear the night
ingale even when I'm asleep. Listen!"
Again the full notes pierced the soft
darkness.
Rose gathered her little sister in her
arms, and together they listened
Vynie to the song of the nightingale
and Rose with a full heart to the
breathing, gradually more even and
tranquil, of the little child she held
against her bosom.
"She's asleep," said the nurse, softly.
"I won't move," whispered Rose. "I'll
stay here. Oh, thank God, thank God!"
Tom came every day to inquire, and
it seemed to Rose that he grew paler
and thinner in this anxious time, and
every night the notes of the nightingale
sounded from the dark wood through
nights radiant with clear moonlight,
and through the black darkness of
night wild with wind and rain. And
Vynie grew stronger and ate and drank
and played dominoes, and was on the
high road to well-being once moreT
Then came a night when the nightin
gale did not sig. Vynie did not miss
it; she slept so sound V nights now.
And on that night followed a day when
Tom did not come, and then another
day. and another. Rose missed him
miserably. On the first day she was
angry at his absence; on the second,
anxious; on the third she sent the old
nurse to see whether he was ill.
"You'd best go round," said the old
woman when she came back from her
mission; "he's more than ill. Pneu
monia or something, and he keeps ask
ing for you. Go you; I'll stay with the
child. He's got no one-with him but
his landlady, a feckless body, If ever
there was one. Go now, my lamb."
So Rose went.
His face showed ghastly in the frame
of his disordered hair and of a three
days' beard.
She came to him and took his hands.
"That woman says I'm dying," he
whispered; "but Vynie's all right, isn't
she?"
"Yes, yes; but what have you been
doing? Oh, Tom, it isn't my fault, Is It
Tom? I didn't drive you into folly?
That woman says you've been out all
night every night since Vynie's been
ill. Say it wasn't my doing."
"It was for Vynie," he said. "I was
the nightingale, dear. Don't you re
member how I used to call the robins
for you In the winter? It was a shly lit
tle thing, but it was all I could do for
the dear. And it did her good. You
said so."
He turned aside his head, exhausted.
'Rose's eyes were full of tears. "You
stayed in that wood all night, every
night? You imitated the nightingale
in all the wind and rain? And now "
She had crouched by the bed, and lay
ing her head on her hands she sobbed
aloud.
"Don't," he said, feebly; "it was
nothing. Just a little thing to please
the child."
She lifted her face, flushed and dis
torted by her violent weeping, and laid
it gently against his. He put up a fee
ble hand and touched her neck!?
"You're sorry for me," he whispered.
"You needn't be. I can't even be un
happy after this. Your face your dear
face I don't in the least mind dying
now."
She sprang up. "Dear Tom my own
dear Tom! You're not going to die. I
shall send nurse to take care of you.
Now promise me at once, that you will
get well, because Vynie and I cannot
possibly live without you. My dear,
dear, dear "
Tom did not give the promise,, but he
did what was better. He got well:
When first he saw Vynie, now walk
ing cheerfully with the crutches that
would soon be laid aside, she told him
about the nightingale.
"And, do you know," she said, "Sissy
says he never sang after you got ill. I
suppose God was so busy taking care
of you that he hadn't time to bother
with naughty nightingales that
wouldn't do their singing. The night
ingale sang very nicely, though, when
he was made to. Only I thought after
a bit he seemed a little husky."
"Perhaps he caught a cold," said
Tom. "Some of the nights were very
wet."
"Ferhaps he did like you, you
know," said Vynie cheerfully. "Well,
he was a naughty nightingale. But if
he had a cold I hope he had some one
as Nursey and Sister to look after him,
like they did you."
"I think he had," said Tom. -
"Anyway, I shall always love him,
even if he was naughty, because he
helped me to get well."
"It would make him very happy if he
knew that" v
"Do you think he does know?"
"Yes, I think so."
" "Well, whether or no," said Vynie.
comfortably, "I'll go out Into the wood
and tell him all about it if he sings In
that wood next year."
But the nightingale never sang in that
wood again. Collier's Weekly.
THE AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE.
Awful Suffering: of the Victims of the
Traffic in Humanity,
Every one knows how wearisome it
is to He for any great length of time
in one position, even on a well-made
bed. We must needs turn over wh n
we are awakened in the night. But
the slaves were chained down naked on
the planks of the decks and shelves
planks that were rough just as they
came from the saw, and had cracks
between them. No one could turn from
side to side to rest the weary body.
They must lie there on their backs for
eighteen hours at a stretch even In
pleasant weather in port.
Hard as that fate was, new tortures
were added with the first jump of the
ship over the waves. For she must
roll to the pressure of the wind on the
sails, so that those on the weather side
found their heels higher than their
heads, and when the ship's angle in
creased under the weight of a smart
breeze the unfortunate sometimes sag
ged down to leeward, until they were
stopped by the Irons around ankle and
wrist. They were literally suspended
crucified in their shackles.
Even that-was not the worst of their
sufferings that grew out of the motion
of the ship, for she was rarely steady
when heeled by the wind. She had to
roll, and as she did so the slaves some
times slid to and fro, with naked bodies
on the rough and splintery decks.
There was never a voyage even in the
best ships where the slaves did not
suffer tortures from mere contact with
the slave-deck.
To the sufferings due to these causes
were added other torments, when the
weather was stormy. For then it was
necessary to cover the hatches lest the
waves that swept across the deck pour
down and fill the ship. The slaves
were confined in utter darkness, and
the scant ventilation afforded by the
hatchways 'was shut off. Serious as
that was, still worse musfbe told. The
negroes were made violently seasick
more readily than White people even
they sometimes died in their convul
sions. The heat and foul air quickly
brought on more serious Illness; but
there the slaves were kept In their
chains for days at a stretch, wholly
helpless and wholly unattended.
Scribner's.
He Addressed the Jury.
A man who had never seen the in
side of a courtroom until he was in
troduced in a case pending in one of the
Scottish courts, on being sworn, took
a position with his back to the jury and
began telling his story to the judge.
The judge, in a bland and courteous
manner, said:
"Address yourself to the Jury, sir."
The man made a short pause, but,
notwithstanding what had been said to
him, continued his narrative.
The judge was then more explicit,
and said to him: "Speak to the jury, sir;
the men sitting behind you on the
benches."
The witness at once turned around,
and, making an awkward bow, said
with perfect gravity:
"Good morning, gentlemen." Buf
falo Courier.
A woman's wrongs are of more im
portance than her righto.
FOR LITTLE FOLKS.
A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR IN
TEREST TO THEM.
Something; that Will Interest the Ju
venile Members of Ever y Household
-Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings
of Many Cute and Cunning Children.
In the Palais des Industries Diverges,
at the Paris Exposition, there was a
wonderful alcove where all the French,
as well as visiting foreign, children
shouted with delight, and could scarce
ly be pulled away.
For there one saw St. Nicholas him
self, setting off on his Christmas
rounds with his big sledge loaded down
with toys and gifts. The gray but
merry old saint was in full dress, and
held the ribbons of such a team of
ponies as boys and girls dreamed of,
but never before seen. The gorgeous
magnificence of that wilderness of
Prench toys on the sledge quite dazzled
the eyes of the gaping youngsters who
pressed eagerly forward to be as near
as possible to such delightful treasures.
Hard by, too, there was a house, a
children's Christmas house, furnished
a-ltogether with toys. We may conclude
that it was St. Nicholas' residence, and
that he was just driving away on his
gladsome mission.
And what were the toys, these mar
velous, Parisian toys? Everything that
one can think of: Glittering beribboned
drums that beat; guns, with bayonets,
that shot; cannons that went bang! dolls
that walked, cried and said "Papa!"
and "Mamma!" elephants that swung
their trunks, shuffled forward and
trumpeted; tigers and lions that growl
ed and gnashed their teeth; little pigs
that came running forward, squealing
for food; goats that bleated, and lower
ing their heads butted at dogs that
barked; dear little pussy cats that
mewed in the most natural manner;
bunny rabbits that popped up out of
burrows, raised their ears and looked
all about them, chewing a little mouth
ful of grass all the while; wonderful
bears that got up on their hind legs,
wagged their beads, rolled their eyes,
and extending their paws offered to
hug you.
No wonder the children shouted, for
even the grown-up visitors gathered
about in a great crowd, and one could
see by the puckers in their faces that
they were greatly amused.
A little way off there was a kind
of broad counter, where a French girl
stood all day long, winding up these
bears, goats, elephants, rabbits, cats
and pigs, and setti! thean. going. As
fast as they ran down she wound them
again, and so kept up an animated kind
of circus performance all along the
counter. The squealing and the growl
ing and the trumpeting and mewing
constantly attracted a laughing throng.
Indeed, the girl who wound them up
was the only one there who looked
bored. I tried to ask her if It were not
a little tiresome winding up pigs and
elephants all day long, and seeing to it
that they didn't run off the counter.
She did not -quite understand me, my
French was so imperfect, and gave a
little hopeless shrug as if my sympathy
wasn't worth the trouble of compre
hending it. Youth's Companion.
The Duel.
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'Twas half-past twelve, and what do you
think! -
Neither of them had slept a wink!
And the old Dutch clock and Chinese
plate
Seemed to know, as sure as fate,
There was going to be an awful spat,
(I wasn't there I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese
plate.)
The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "me-ow!"
And the air was streaked for an hour or
so
With fragments of gingham and calico.
While the old Dutch clock in the chim
ney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind, I'm simply telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is
true.)
The Chinese plate looked very blue
And wailed: "Oh, dear! what shall we
do?"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way a-a tumbled that
And utilized every tooth and claw
In the awfulest way you ever saw
And. oh! how the gingham and calico
flew!
(Don't think that I exaggerate
I got my news from the Chinese plate.)
Next -morning where the two had sat
They found no trace of the dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away;
But the truth about that cat and pup
Is that they ate each other up
Now, what do you really think of that?
(The old Dutch clock, it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)
Eugene Field.
Fin line a Lone-Lnst Penny.
Jabez Alvord of WInsted, Conn.,
hunted for a penny for sixty-three
years. He found it recently just
where he hid it. It is of the vintage
or mintage of 1818.
It is -the first penny Jabez ever earn
ed. He was 10 years old. The cop
per, the foundation of the fortune he
dreamed of, looked very big, indeed, to
him. He hid it in a crack in the floor
near the hearthstone of the house of
his father, Deacon James Alvord.
Weeks passed and the thrifty young
Jabez went to get his hidden treasure.
He could not find it. His father, moth
er, sisters and brothers all truly de
clared they had not seen the penny.
"I'll find it If It takes me the rest
of my life!" cried the earnest Jabez.
The old Alvord homestead Is being
demolished. Jabez, now aged, but still
thrifty, has been on hand looking for
his penny. When the floor was re
moved from around the hearthstone
there, imbedded In dust, was the pen
ny. Amateur mathematicians are amus
ing themselves by calculating how oft
en the penny would have multiplied in
sixty-three years at 6 per cent com
pound interest It would amount to
42 cents and 4 mills.
Built with Toothpicks.
With a few toothpicks and a piece of
wax a great many objects can be form
ed, chairs, sofas, tables, houses and
many other objects that it is fun for
A SKELETON CHCRCH.
the children to plan out for themselves.
By breaking some of the toothpicks in
two It will be found that a far greater
number of articles can be made.
Doing and Not Point:.
"Sir," said a lad, coming down to one
of the wharfs in Boston and address
ing a well-known merchant, "have you
any berth on your ship? I want to
earn something."
"What can you do?" asked the gen
tleman. "I can try my best to do whatever
I am put to," answered the boy.
"What have you done?"
"I have sawed and split all mother's
wood for nigh on two years."
"What have you not done?" asked
the gentleman, who was a queer sort
of a questioner.
"Well, sir," answered the boy, after
a moment's pause, "I have not whis
pered in school once for a whole year.
"That's enough," said the gentleman.
"You can ship aboard this vessel, and
I hope to see you master of it some
day. A boy who can master a wood
pile and bridle his tongue must be
made of good stuff." Christian Lead
er. Buckwheat Cakes an' Gravy.
Of In when we git to dreamin' o' the hap-
&g$m.:yj days ' yoe, mmm ii m
When our lifeboat was a floatin' out from
boyhood's golden shore,
Treasures that were half-forgotten come
a-saiiin into sight,
Startin' all the soul to danciu' to the mu
sic of delight!
An' there isn't one - among 'em puts a
yearnin' in the breast
For another joyous season in the sacred
oV home nest
Like them fragrant, smokin' jewels, diff'-
rent from the modern fake,
Buckwheat cakes an' sassige gravy like
our mother used to make!
Used to of'n stand an' watch her beat the
batter in the crock,
"Comin'! Comin'! Comin'! Comin'!" was
the way she'd make it talk;
See her grease the smokin' griddle with a
piece o' bacon skin,
Then pour on the brownish batter with
a dipper made o' tin.
There 't'd lay with holes a breakin' out
like measles from the top,
Till she'd loosen it an' turn it with an
ol' case knife, "kerflop!"
Oh! there ain't a modern angel top o' all
the earth kin bake
Buckwheat cakes an' sassige gravv like
our mother used to make!
Eppycures may chin till doomsday o' the
toney styles o' food,
Modern chefs may work on dishes that a
god'd think was good,
Fancy printed menu programs in the
taverns an' cafayes
May be full of kitchen triumphs that'd
win a angel's praise,
But if they should spread a banket
that'd make a god rejoice
Side o' that "oT kitchen table an' 'd tell
us take our choice,
You would see no hesitation in our action
as we'd take
Buckwheat cakes an' sassige gravy like
our mother used to make!
Denver Post.
Hit Torpedo with Hammer.
A sergeant who returned from Manila
a few days ago was asked by a friend
whether he saw any of the work of
pneumatic guns and aerial torpedoes
while there, and said:
"I saw just one shot fired, and the
effect was great."- The long missile flew
through the air and fell right in the
enemy's trenches. We waited five or
ten minutes for the explosion, and then
the air seemed to be filled with dirt an
rocks and chunks of Filipinos. We
mshed to the trenches then and learned
from one of the wounded prisoners that
they all wondered what the strange
thing was, and thought it carried some
kind of a comforting message from
sympathizers, so they tried to open It
with a hammer.
"With the aid of a curious enemy, I
think aerial torpedoes will be a great
success.
"The long brass case contained twelve
pounds of explosive gelatin."
Children Buried Under Bridges.
Indian Engineering, published in Cal
cutta, says" that the kidnapping of chil
dren to bury under the foundations of
railway bridges, which has often caused
trouble in India, has spread to China,
and a bridge is now rarely built in that
country without the disappearance of
Several children from the neighbor
hood. A dry sermon is excusable on a we
Sabbath.
Barn for Forty Cows. 1
Here is a plan for a barn for forty
tows and having double stalls for
horses and a pen for a bull. It is to
be built in a hill side with about four
feet in the rear and yet Is not a base
ment. The barn Is in the form of an
L and has two silos.
The ground is dug out all along the
back and end, which are supported by
a stone wall. The barn is then built
in the usual way, of timber. The silos
are placed as shown,- with a bridge
over the open space, so 'that the silage
may be moved by a slide right on to
the main floor, and frdm thence be dis
tributed to the. cows below through
trap doors in the main floor. Every
convenience has been studied. The
.DRIVE WAY
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height of basement is nine feet and
there are plenty of windows for light
and ventilation; the basement floor is
of cement, and is fully drained, the
drainage from the gutters being carried
to a manure shed in the covered yard.
The dotted lines show the trap doors
above for feed and litter. The water
from the main roof Is run into a cistern
at the side of the driveway and the wa
ter from the front is collected in a cis
tern near the yard, where cattle may
be watered when desired. If desired,
drinking bowls may be fitted In the
stalls and supplied with water from a
pipe made to connect with each of the
bowls, by the simple turning -of one
cock under the driveway. The two
pens C.C. are for young calves and if
desired a hospital pen, or two, may be
made under the driveway at the end
of the open passage. The whole cost
is estimated at from $1,200 to $1,500.
Hand-Operated Stump-Puller.
A stump-puller, which can be easily
operated by the man and which will
do its work without straining the user
will always have a ready sale in the
farming districts and new land of the
country, and the device which we show
in the picture seems to have these ad
vantages to recommend it. It has been
patented by Theodore H. McCain of
Monroe, Wash., and Is light enough to
be carried on the shoulder of the man
who operates it. As will be seen, the
connection between the stump and a
solid tree or more firmly set stump is
made by means of ropes and pulleys,
with a chain connecting one pulley to
STUMPS HEMOVKD WITH EASE.
the winding drum. This winding drum
has external teeth over which the links
of the chain fit to prevent slipping, af
fording a much firmer hold than if
the ropes were wound directly on the
drum. A long lever Is used to rotate
the drum and a ratchet device locks
the drum against backward revolution
while a new hold is being taken with
the lever By working the lever back
and forth the chain Is gradually drawn
through the drums untilthe stump
roots give away.
' The Cost of Making Butter.
Tne creamery conducted on the right
principles is one of the best friends of
the farmer, and if it can be started it
should receive the Intelligent support
of those who raise the milk and cream
for it. Too often there Is an antagon
ism between the creamery owners and
the farmers, and the latter, to show
that they have the power to close the
creamery, may very easily destroy a
profitable industry In the vicinity. It
certainly pays farmers better to raise
their milk and cream for the creamery
than for most of the city markets. In
tpse latter places the price for milk Is
often so ridiculously small that dairy
ing does not pay. The remedy often Is
for more farmers to encourage the erec
tion of creameries. In parts of the
West and East where creameries have
been established farmers get more re
turns from their farms, and are better
contented, than In dairying regions
where the milk Is all shipped to cities.
The cost of making a pound of butter
has been steadily decreased by means
of the Improved creamery, and it is pos
sible for creameries to make and sell
butter at a profit when farmers cannot.
Country butter does not seil well in the
large markets. Creamery seemsto have
a charmed name for .consumers, and
they demand this every time. Country
butter to-day is a drug In many mar
ketsas low as 8 and 10 cents per
pound. The farmer making his butter
cannot make a living at any such prices.
The day of the country butter has gone,
and the farmers of any dairying region
should recognize this and not waste
their time in making it. The milk
should either be raised for a creamery,
or the farmers should join together and
run their own creamery. As a rule, the
man who will put up the creamery and
run It himself will do better than an
association of farmers where too many
heads are apt to cause disputes and
bickerings. Milk sent to the creamery
pays all the way from 12 to 22 cents a
pound, and at this price the farmer is
making far more than by making his
own butter. This comparatively high
price is made possible because of the
better prices received for creamery, and
for the low cost of manufacturing it.
This latter varies because the size of
the creameries vary. The larger the
creamery the cheaper the butter can be
made, and this varies all the way from
1 cent a pound to 7 cents. 'The two
extremes, however, are exceptions, and
somewhere between them the actual
cost could be placed, say from 3 to 5
cents. S. W. Chambers, In American
Cultivator.
Profit from Cows.
It Is estimated that the cost of a cow
for one year for food alone Is about
$25, says the Farmers' Journal. This
amount she must return to her owner
before she can make any profit, and
yet there will remain the cost of the
labor and shelter, for which she will
pay with the manure, as it possesses
value, as well as the milk. If the
farmer cannot get enough from the cow
to pay for the food she eats he will
keep her at a loss. At $25 per year
the cost is about 7 cents per day. The
price of the milk In market will deter
mine the value of the cow. If she pro
duces 2;500 quarts of milk In a year,
the cost of each quart will be reduced.
All cows cannot be kept for one year
at so low a cost, but as there must be
an expense for the cow whether she
proves valuable or not, the dairyman
should seek the best, in order to reduce
the cost.
Fodder Shock Finder.
An Ohio Farmer reader sends the ac
companying description of an appliance
that he uses to tie corn fodder in the
shock: A is a piece of hard wood three
feet long, round and tapered to a point.
A crossbar is solidly fastened upon the
large end, and to one side of the middle
of this crossbar Is stapled a half Inch
DEVICE FOR TYING CORN FODDER.
rope, with a ring in the free end. Op
posite the staple is a strong iron hook.
To bind, insert sharp end into shock,
put rope around shock and fasten ring
in hook. Tighten by turning as you
would an auger and bind with corn
stalks or twine.
Spraying Fruit Trees.
A correspondent of the Prairie Farm
er says he has been spraying fruit trees
with more or less success for eleven
years, but only for the last, four years
has he obtained results entirely satis
factory. He now slakes lime in the or
dinary manner and strains it. Then
for apple and plum trees he adds to a
gallon of this two gallons of water and
two teaspoonfuls of London purple, and
sprays the trees before the bloom comes
out, and again after the bloom is gone.
Gives a third and fourth application if
necessary, which is not often the case.
Never spray while the bloom is on, as it
drowns, poisons or kills the pollen.
Uses the same on currants and goose
berries before they bloom and after the
fruit has started. For peaches and
pears he weakens it, using one-half
gallon of lime water and one teaspoon
ful of London purple in two gallons of
water. Uses lime water without Lon
don purple to spray trees after fruit is
fair size, to prevent fruit rotting on the
trees, and has succeeded iu saving it by
shaking slaked lime from a can. attach
ed to a pole, riglit on the ripening fruiL
Location of Poultry Houses.
John M. Wise, in American Poultry
Journal, says, if possible, locate poul
try houses on high, dry ground. Select,
an elevated site, protected by trees on
the north and west. If the yards in;
front are exposed too much to the sui,
plant trees. If you are afraid the fowls'
will destroy them by scratching afiout
the roots, place stone about the trees
or make a board frame, which can be
cheaply and easily made from any 6OT
lumber. This will also act as a muIcV
and keep the ground cool, and moist.
Trees and fowls are good friends andj
should never be separated. . ;';
Sheep for Special Places. 3"tfll
As regards the sheep, it is true tha1:
for every breed there Is one especlaJv
place in which it does its best. . Even-,
the marsh has its special breed suited
to its damp soil and coarse herbage,
Sheep Breeder.