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J. F. WALLACE, PI BLIbHgR - AND - PROPRIETOR. | I'll b I ithrri at Winslow. Arizona Farm life Is wnat you make it. The Chicago man who tired a revolver ; point blank at a street car and missed It may get a job on the police force. Chicago anarchists are said to lie emi grating to the Transvaal. Is it possible that they arc going to take the Krueger cure? Three ships at San Francisco have been loaded with 1.1.000 tons of wheat for India. Wot's the llindooseiuent over there? It is what you say in your ad that draws customers. Whether you hold them or not depends on what you de afterwards. Dan Stewart has found a spot in Mexico where Corbett and Fitzsimmons can tight. Now if they could only get lockjaw until the day of the tight. A press dispatch says that a murder er hanged in Kentucky the other day wore a sullen look on the gallows. Per haps he was displeased about some thing. The Ohio W. C. T. U. has voted to quit wearing feathers. Having moult ed. we hope the good members of that excellent organization will now dock together. Banker Rambusch, of .ltmeau, Wis., Is another man who does not believe In trusts. In one Might he has done more to discourage trust than many more pretentious crusaders. In entering upon the work of a pub lic reader, the daughter of the late Eugene Field will have the best wishes of those who appreciated the genius of her father, or enjoyed the pleasure of his friendship. There is no law with regard to eat ing and drinking and manner of living which can be laid down as applicable to all individuals. Each person must And out the law which applies to hint self and obey it. A prominent Rhode Island yachts man is having a steam yacht built that is to have a guaranteed speed of thirty eight miles an hour. That's the way to trot around the coast; but then, they «ay it costs money. Faith and hope in the future, to be sound and permanent, must grow out of the knowledge of the past and re spect for it; and lie who gracefully ac knowledges his obligations to the old is all the 1 tetter fitted to espouse the cause of the uew. There is nothing on earth so beautiful as the household in which Christian love forever smiles, and where religion walks, a counsellor and a friend. No cloud van darken it, for its twin-stars are centered in the soul. No storms can make it tremble, for it has a heavenly support and a heavenly anchor. England is blamed for espousing the cause of the Armenians while guilty of Injustice and oppression toward her own dependencies. But the philoso pher who expects and demands that a nation or individuals should act up to the same standard they demand of their neighbors, lias yet to take liis first lessons in the knowledge of hu man nature. Principal Grant, of Queen’s Univers ity, Kingston, Out., resents having his English mail from Oxford addressed to him “Kingston, Ontario, U. S. A.” Prin cipal Grant should feel flattered. The Oxford dons evidently confuse him with one “Gen. Grant, U. S. A.” As soon as the dons have read up on an cient history they will have time to de vote to the “colonies,” and then doubt less Principal Grant’s letters will be properly addressed. The one quality that is more useful than another in the world, if one wishes to achieve anything whatever, is tact. Brute force may succeed, but then again it may fail, and in either case it leaves ap unpleasant memory behind It; but, if tact fails, nil is still serene, ami one may try again with equanim ity. The very name of tact tells its story, for, although in its first defini tion it simply means touch, it develops the further implication of sensitive touch, thou of adroit discrimination, then of delicate discernment. Discern ment of what? Os the right and fit. of that which gives the desired result in the heat way. Tne hitter cry of the curates of the Anglican Church is again brought to the attention of the public, tins time by the London Times. Many of them, it* is said, receive such miserable sti pends that they are on the verge of star vation. while others are obliged to put their daughters into domestic service. Allowing for a certain amount of rhe torical exaggeration, there is no doubt that the lower clergy of the church are underpaid. Curiously enough, how ever, the Wesleyan Methodists of Eng land, most of whose clergy receive ade quate salaries, report a falling off in the number of ministerial candidates. It is greatly to the credit of the ill paid clergy of the English church that they themselves utter no complaints. It is other people who give voice to their “cry.” The old. eniel check rein has stiffened up the fore legs of more livery horses than all the work they have done. So. too. of many track and driving horse* in the country. The check rein injures the muscles of the neck, and the fore legs are affected. Often the shoer is blamed when it is tlie check rein. The humane societies have the co-operation as the city horse owners, who have taken off the cruel check rein from the carriage horses and work horses. Aside from "lie cruelty, this affection of the usefulness of the horse should induce ‘the thoughtless, kind-hearted people who drive horses to forever banish the torturous check rein as a savage relic that Is painful to the horse and painful for most people to see. In behalf of the ! ho*se, we entreat you to abolish.the 1 check rein if you still thoughtlessly tor j ture your horse with it.—Western Agrt j culturist. They now and then do a thoroughly j good thiug in Colorado. The other j day three men went into a bank in the j town of Meeker and robbed it in the i rather brusque fashion practiced by : some professional gentlemen on Chi cago shops not long ago. They got through with the robbing process all right, but they had to <io some shoot ing therein, and the noise brought out the citizens of the little town, who were so urgent in protesting against tlie free distribution of their money in that way that they shot all three of the gentlemen who had checked out funds from the bank with revolvers, leaving all of them as proper subjects for tlie undertaker. Evidently the Meekerites are far from being any meeker than other folk and it will be a long day before any more gentry of that kind make a call on them. It looks like going backward in civiliza tion for citizens to feel that they must stand ready to defend their own with the strong hand, but perhaps if it were generally understood that they are so ready most of the professors of the art of “holding up” would seek some other means of making a living. American apples, when the crop is good and the various kinds are of per- ' feet growth, are the finest fruit in the world. There is no fruit of the tropic or subtropic regions as good for all pur poses as apples. Apples are superior to oranges, bananas, lemons, tamarinds and all other fruits in their taste for tlie palate and their wholesome effects as food. Their flavor is as various as human tastes. From tlie sweetness of honey they range to the sharpest acid ity. They till every need of the stom ach for the vegetable juices which pro mote health. There lias not been in a generation ns prolific a harvest of ap ples as that of the present year. All ; (lie branches of all the trees in all the orchards have been overburdened with their wealth of fruit. If the product ! of this year could have been distrib uted over five years of partial produc tion or of famine the average would have been sufficient for the entire pe riod. In recent years the choicest va rieties of apples have been scarce in : quantity and of inferior quality. They have lacked form and flavor. They have been deteriorated by various causes—from attacks of insects, by i drouths, late or early frosts and sea sonal influences for which there was no apparent origin. This year all the soil and climatic influences have been favorable. In tlie fruit belts of the East and West the apple crop is pro digious. The quality is of the best. The very culls and refuse this year are superior to the choice fruit of some previous years. The shipments of American apples to Europe have begun and are likely to be enormous in ex tent. The great crop this year will cause the fruit to be distributed at a lower price in Europe than ever before. In the past American apples have been a rare and expensive luxury to Euro pean consumers. This year they will have an abundance at low cost of the j most delicious fruit that the soil pro duces. Suicide of a Rattlesnake. The question as to whether the rat tlesnake's vAiom is poisonous to itself has often been discussed, but if any satisfactory conclusion has ever been arrived at we are unaware of the fact. Dr. W. J. Burnett, formerly a member of the Boston Society of Natural His-: lory, says that there are good re a sous for believing that the action of the rat tlers’ virulent poison is the same upon all living tilings, vegetable as well as animal. Other eminent naturalists com bat this theory and deerare that tlie idea of an animal poison killing or in juring a vegetable is really preposter ous. Burnett says: “It Is even just as fatal to the- snake itself as to other ani mals.” Then he relates the experience of one Dr. Dearing. The doctor had a specimen of the prolific rattler which he kept alive in a cage. One day lie irri tated the reptile so as to study the ef fect of the anger thus provoked. Tlie snake struck wildly about a few times and then buried its fangs in its own body. Almost instantly, tlie experi menter says. the reptile rolled over and died. If this story is true, and we have no reason to doubt tlie story, we see in it the remarkable and unique physiolog ical fact of a liquid secreted from the blood whic-li proves deadly when intro duced into tlie very source from which it is derived. —St. Louis Republic. Great but Poor. Poverty seems to have been the lot of most of the world's great musicians. Beethoven was always poor. He was the son of a rough, drunken musician, who drove him to music with blows. He afterwards followed his pro fession for the love of it, but it repaid him very badly. Ilandel was the son of a coachmaker, and liis mother had been a servant. Al though he had a place in the choir of tlie church as a boy, he was dismissed when his voice changed, and became really destitute. A poor woman gave him a home in tlie attic of her house, and in after and more prosperous years the musician was able to return tlie favor twico-fold, which he did heartily and cheerily. Rossini was also poor, and while in Venice lie wrote in bed during the cold weather, in order that he might save tlie expense of a fire. A Ho-me-Keeping Inhabitant. “Lived here thirty years, and yet never saw the city?” “Never.” “Did you ever have a desire to go to town?” “Well. yes. I reckon 1 has. But you see, ’fore the railroad come hit wnz too fur ter travel on foot, an’ the mule wttz too busy plowin': an’ arter the rail road come, they went ter chargin’ peo ple fer traveling an’ so I jest thought I'd stay home an’ not bother 'bout see in' the world. But what do you reckon happened ter us ’tother day?” ••Don't know.” “Well, sir, my son John aekeliully bought a ticket, jumped aboard o’ the railroad, went ter tlie city an’ sub scribed fer a newspaper!”—Atlanta Constitution. Wliat a blessed thing It is that even those of us who are reliable, don’t have to prove all we say! _ THE STEERSMAN. The fore shrouds bar the moonlit sand, The port rail laps the sea: Aloft all taut, where tlie kind clouds skim, Alow to the cutwater snug and trim. And the man at the wheel sings low; sings he: “Oh, sea room and lee room And a gale to run afore; From the Golden Gate to Sunda Strait, But my heart lies snug ashore.” Her hull rolls high, her nose dips low, The rollers flash alee — Wallow and dip and the untossed screw Sends heart throbs quivering through and through— And the man at the wheel sings low; sings he: “Oh, sea room and lee room And a gale to run afore; From the Golden Gate to Sunda Strait, But my heart lies snug ashore.” The helmsman’s arms are brown and hard, And pricked in liis forearm be A ship, an anchor, a love knot true, A heart of red and au arrow of blue, And the man at the wheel sings low; sings he: *Oh, sea room and lee room And a gale to run afore; From tlie Golden Gate to Sunda Strait, But my heart lies snug ashore.” —Bookman. i - THE MORTAL COIL. These two, Allan and David, were brothers; and. what is often more than brothers do, they loved one another. While they were mere boys they liad been left orphans, friendless, alone with the world and with necessity. They were industrious and frugal, their purse was common, and working thus together they managed to keep off star vation and debt. They were now in the period of early manhood. Allan, tlie elder, was 23 years of age. and David 20. They occupied two pleasant rooms in a respectable lodging-house, lived well, and had some money saved in the bank. “At first I used to be afraid that we could not make it,” Allan would say to his broth er, when they talked in the evening of their life and their affairs; “it was such a hard struggle. But there is no longer any doubt that we are going to succeed in the world.” To this prophecy, which Allan rejoic ed to speak, David would always as sent, with an enthusiasm that came not from any confidence in his own powers, but solely from his belief In his elder brother. The difference between the brothers was more than that of years, as each of them well understood. Allan was strong, keen, and determined. David was gentle and sympathetic, but a little dull. They were alike, however, in their intense devotion to one an other. It happened in the midst of this which they regarded as prosperity that Allan was suddenly beset by a grievous ill ness. It had been written down in the pitiless law book of nature that he should pay for the sins of some ances tor, of whose very existence he was ig norant. The disease ran its slow course through many weeks, and there were now and again critical times when the heart of the younger brother, watching by night, stood still. At last it Paine to an end. The sen tence of nature was fulfilled. The life of the young man was spared, but the disease left him blind and a cripple. As Allan began to recover his strength, and the dumb consciousness of suffer ing gave way to active thought, he de-' manded to know how soon the ban dages were to be taken from his eyes. To this and to other questions of a sim ilar nature, the doctor who attended him returned evasive answers. There upon. Allan, half guessing the truth, became silent. In the meantime, David, also silent, clung desperately to a frag ment of hope. One morning the doctor, as he was about to leave, motioned across the sick man’s bed that he wished to speak with him alone. They went out into the hall, where the physician sat down upon a chair and David leaned back against a corner of the wall. Presently Allan heard tlie confused murmur of their talk. He climbed out of tlie bed and dragged himself with difficulty across tlie floor into the sit tyig-room. Placing liis ear against tlie hall door, which was not quite closed, he heard all, unseen and unsuspected. “It is useless for me to continue these daily visits,” said the physician; “here after I will come only when you send for me.” “Well, what shall we do übout it— about liis eyes?” “They will .probably not pain him ; any more. You can take off the bandage ! whenever you are ready to tell him the i whole truth.” David's lips grew very white. “You i mean that lie will never recover?” he said. The doctor looked up at him sudden ly with a frown. “Really,” lie said, “I thought I liad made the state of things pretty clear to you.” “Yes,” said David; “I know—but I kept hoping.” “My dear boy. I am sorry, but I can not even let you hope. If your leg was cut off would you expect another to i grow iu its place? A part of the eye is j gone—and that ends it.” “And the lameness?” “He will always walk with crutches.” Perhaps it was well that no mortal eye saw the wan face pressed toward 1 the opening in the door. There was a shuttling across the floor, and Allan drew himself upon the bed again, where he lay motionless and silent, though all his body seemed to quiver and liis thoughts to cry aloud. Presently the footsteps of the doctor ' sounded on tlie stairs and the lower door opened and shut. But nearly an i hour passed before the younger brother 1 <ame back to the room. When lie came • it was with the belief that he was pre • pared to speak to Allan and ten him all. • He looked for a moment at the figure : curled on tlie bed and shook his head. • He would wait. i Several days passed. Then in the evening Allan said suddenly to liis brother: “David, what is the matter? Perhaps > I imagine it—but is there uot something that you want to talk to me about?” i “Yes,” said tbe other, startled. “It is about my eyes and my lame ness, is it not?” “Yes.” The time had come. He sat down by the bed and took his brother’s hand. His own trembled v'plently, but that of the sick man was qinet. “Poor boy,” said Allan, as though not he but David were, the one upon whom misfortune liafl fallen. He stroked his broth gently for a moment, and thou whispered: “You need not tell nuVDavid. I know all. I listened when and the doctor talk ed about me.” David spoke also in a whisper: “I could not bear to think of it—and so I : could not speak to you.” "Poor, dear brother,” said Allan, but with perfect calmness. They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Allan said: “Now, David, we have looked tlie worst of it in the face; let us examine some of the smaller trou bles. Wliat about money matters? | “Oh, Allan,” cried the other, "don t ask about that yet.” “Yes,” said the elder brother firmly; “you must tell me all. Be frank and fair, as I would be with you.” So David told. The money in the bank was all gone, of course, and there were debts—to the doctor, the chem ist, and the landlady. Having explained thus far, David hung back, and it took determined questioning on the part of Allan to bring out the rest of the story. Their friends at the club, knowing the trouble of the brothers, had raised some money—a considerable amount — for their benefit. "It just paid the nurse,” said David. The proud lines iu the other’s face deepened to harshness. After a mo mentary struggle he managed to say aloud: “It was very kind of them.” But to himself into his pillow lie mut tered: "My God! This is the beginning!” “I atn afraid,” said David, “that it will be some time before we can pay up these debts. Everyone seems to be good about it. The doctor says he will wait years if need be.” “Yes,” replied Allan absently. “Os course, you know what my pay is,” continued the younger brother, “aiul you also know what our expenses are. Well, they don’t fit. I’ve been thinking about It. We must move into one room and must economize in vari ous other ways.” “Yes,” said Allan. “The worst of it is,” David went on, without looking at his brother, “that we cannot get the things you ought to have. It is so hard for you to be all alone here ” “Nevet mind about that, Davy,” said Allan quickly; “what we must think about is how to clear up those debts and how to live on your pay.” After this the old confidence seemed to be restored between the brothers. What small part of the day David was not at work lie spent with Allan, and they talked of their affairs just as they liad done before the misfortune came. Yet there was one thing David failed to understand, although he studied over it a great deal. Why was Allan so calm and undistressed? It was not like him. “Can it be that he does not really ap preciate what it means to be blind and helpless?” thought the younger broth er; “he was always so proud, ambitious and full of hope. And lie is sensitive. I thought he would stiffe-r.” The sick man’s strength gradually re turned. Presently he was able to move about the room, and then, accompanied by the landlady’s little daughter, he managed to make short excursions into the street. He wore a dark shade over his eyes and walked on crutches. The various economies which the brothers had talked over were prac ticed, and yet every day they ran more into debt. David’s pay was very small; it was not enough to keep two people in comfort —one of them an invalid needing medicines and a physician’s care. Yet Allan remained apparently unconcerned. At last David found work to do in the evening. He now earned enough to cover their necessi ties, but Allan was left alone most of the time. One evening David had an unexpect ed vacation. An accident caused the establishment where he worked to close early, and he hurried to the room, eager for the pleasure of a few hours with his brother. When he came to the street door he said to himself: “I will go up quietly and surprise him.” He ascended the stairs with a quiet tread. The door to the room was open, and he saw Allan seated at the table, moving a pencil slowly over a large sheet of paper. “The poor fellow is trying to write,” said David. Then he noticed that the edges of the sheet were notched at intervals, and that it had not been folded in creases. As the blind man wrote, he felt for these notch es, and then ran liis finger along tlie crease iu advance of the pencil. Full of tender sorrow and pity David crept up behind, that he might put his hand on Allan’s shoulder and thus make liis presence known, but happen ing to glance down iq>on the paper he saw the words, “My dear brother,” and he knew that the writing was for him to read. He did not give himself time to wonder that Allan should be writing to him, but began instantly to decipher the misshapen characters on the paper. In a few moments lie liad overtaken the pencil. This is what he read: “My Dear Brother—Y'cu will find this note fastened on the outside of the door. Please read it through to the end be fore you enter. Perhaps you wilt then think it best not to enter alone. “David, my brother, these words come to you from the dead. I have de stroyed the pitiful fragment of life which fate left mo. Y'ou were wont to be so strong and brave—can you read on calmly now, and try to understand me when I tell you my reason? Can you love me and trust me as you always have done? I believe that you can and will, and that is why I have dared to take this step. “Several days ago I procured some poison which I have kept concealed from you. Through it death comes swift but painless.” David watched the slow, laborious making of the last few words, and it gave him time to think. Where was the poison? He glanced across the room to a chest of drawers. There was a small drawer at the top which Allan had used exclusively, and which was now Half open. With noiseless step, tlie younger brother crept over the floor to this chest of drawers. The guess was correct. Hidden, under some handkerchiefs lay a small vial, filled with a colorless fluid. David took it up, shook it mechani cally, and then turned it over and ovet iu his hands, while he tried to think what he had better dd- At any moment Allan might finish his writing and eome | In search of the poison. It would then | be necessary for David to speak aloud and explain, and his brother would j suffer the torture of humiliation. That j would not do. Better to carry away the j vial and make no explanations, unless they were demanded. He was about to steal out of the room when the thought struck him that his brother, If determined, could secure death by other means than this one bottle of poison. There was a loaded revolver in the * drawer—that must be taken away. But what was to prevent Allan from obtain ing more poison? He was accustomed to buy his own medicines, and now he was strong enough to get about. Ah, there were so many ways! The blind man seated at the table wrote on, feeling his way carefully | along the folds in the paper. David j crouched upon the edge of the bed, watched him and thought: No; merely to remove the means of death would not save Allan. The only hope lay in appearing to him, in plead ing with him for his own life, in conjur ing him by the love which held them together, not to do this terrible wrong. What should he say? David was not easy of speech. His very thoughts were blunt, ill-assorted and confused. Deep in his soul he felt that his brother was about to make a mistake—one of the most awful of which life contained a possibility. This feeling was inde pendent of religion or of superstition; it was a part of David’s very existence. But how was he to speak of this to Allan, who seemed to understand every thing so much better than he? And now it suddenly occurred to him that he really did not know his brother. Evidently this desire of self-destruc tion had been in Allan’s thoughts for many weeks, and yet he, nearest to him of all beings on earth, had never been allowed to suspect it. This was why Allan had been so calm and had accepted his misfortune so lightly. Tor tures of sorrow there must have been, unspeakable agonies of ruined hope, all endured in secrecy and silence. It seemed to David that he himself, and not Allan, must have lacked the power of sight. But what was to be done now? The pencil was still moving slowly over the paper. David rose from the bed, and resuming his place behind the blind man read on: “This concerns you and me and no one else; is it not so, brother? The world is far away from us; we are alone together.” “Now, what has existence for me? When first I learned I was to be always blind and a cripple there came with the knowledge an impulse for death. But I put it away and said: ‘No, let me think of this more fully. The calamity seems now to sweep over all of life. Perhaps when I am more calm I shall find that much remains untouched.’ So I waited and thought, and In the end I found one thing, the happiest of being with you. That is real and lasting, and for a time I asked myself if it were not enough. But I remembered that my existence, wretched and useless as it was, meant more of labor and hard ship for you, and I thought, too, of what sorrow you must feel for me, and the pleasure of being with you turned to bitterness. There was nothing left. “But you—you love me and you have a right to my life. It is for your sake that I have spent these long weeks in silent, solitary debate, after every other doubt was cleared away. At one time I had almost decided to beg my life of you, as I might any other favor, but I dared not. Yet I am begging it now after I have taken it. “Dear brother, I know that you are unselfish. I believe that for my sake you would give up the greatest happi ness which life affords —as I would for you. Can you not, then, allow me the little that I take when I deprive my self and you of my existence? If, now, the conditions were reversed—if I were the one to be strong and well, while you were crippled and blind—l try to think of It in that way, in order that I may understand it better and judge more fairly—l should, of course, feel an intense sorrow ” What was the matter? The pencil was moving slower and slower. At last it stopped. David looked up at his brother's face and saw it working with strong emotion. Then, after a moment the pencil went on: “ that you should suffer so, and it would be an unspeakable happiness to help, to work for you—you would be dearer to me than, ». thousand times, than if ” “Oh, what am I saying!” exclaimed j the blind man. aloud. The pencil drop- i ped from his fingers altd he threw him self back in his chair. “I could not let him go,” he cried; “It would be cruel in him to leave me. But I—what will he—oh, Davy!” He leaned upon the table with his face resting in his open hands, while David stood watching almost breath less in the struggle to keep silent. At last Allan caught up the sheets of pa per on which he had been writing and tore them to fragments. “It is over.” said David. He restored the l>ottle to its place and crept past his brother out of the room. Presently Allan heard the street door noisily open and shut and David's tread sounded upon the stairs. That night, as the brothers were about to retire, Allan said: “David, there is something that I want to promise you. I have already pi*omised myself, but I want to assure you of it also.” "Yes,” said David; “what is it?” “I think I had better not tell you what j it is. You would be distressed, perhaps, j But I promise you.” “Very well,” said David; “let it re main a secret, then. But I accept the promise.”—Spare Moments. Beware of Tight Garters. Bicyclists, male and female, should beware of tight garters and of stock ings which are too thick. A garter which is wide and has little pressure is just as effective as a narrow one very tight. The result of wearing the latter is bound to be bad, it being a fer tile producer of varicose veins. Lamp .Thrown In. “I don’t want the wheel. It is too ; heavy.” “Say, I’ll throw in a lamp. That’ll j make it lighter.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. How tantalizing heaven will be to the women, to see so much gold lying | around, anu no chance to spend itl THE FARM AND HOME I ' MATTERS OF INTEREST TO FARM ER AND HOUSEWIFE The Broom Corn Crop and How to Care for It—Suggestion for Farm Schools—How the Times Are Made Worse—Farm Notes, Caring for Broom Corn. The broom corn crop is of vast im portance and it is quite proper to give some consideration as to how the crop may be best cared for, says a writer. Quality' and condition control the value of broom corn as well as other com modities, and best condition can be es pecially obtained by following certain rules and methods in caring for the crop. Cutting should be done before the corn is bleached out, as color is es sential, and when green the brush pos sesses advantages both in attractive ness and for working. When corn should be, as soon as possible, hauled under cover, aud have the seeds remov ed by running through the scraper. This done, it should be placed on shelves so arranged as to admit of a free circula tion of air. In about ten days, if the weather is dry and all conditions are favorable, the corn will he ready to bale. It should be thoroughly exam ined, however, to see that it is dry and cured. After the broom corn is thor oughly dry the next step is to bale and this operation should receive great care and attention. There are too many shaky and lop-sided bales received an nually aud it bothers those who handle them to keep them from falling apart. It being of great importance to keep the ends of the bales square and smooth, the brush should be handed to the packer in small lots, the butts of which, having been evened by striking down upon a table or other smooth sur face, and the one who places the brush iu the box of the press should take care to keep the butts Up close against the ends of the box and the brush properly lapped In the interior. Use No. 9 fence wire, five to the bale, and It is not a bad idea to have a tighter wire to tie at each corner, and press sufficiently to have a good, compact, tight bale which will endure the long journey and the handling. No matter how carefully aud successfully every step in the produc tion of the brush has been perfoi*med, the profit of the crop will depend, other things equal, upon proper baling. Great care and attention should be given to having the seeds removed, there being too much fraud practiced by baling up trash, seeds and crooked corn in the bales with straight brush. Bale the crooked by itself.—Prairie Farmer. A Suggestion for Farm Schools. The agricultural college is undoubted ly the best place for a young man to learn the science of farming, but there are some who will not attend because they think that the college is not prac tical enough. Would it be practicable for large farmers to establish farm schools iu connection with their farms? They could employ young men who do not wish to attend an agricultural col lege. but who wish to learn the best farm methods, have them work eight ox ten hours a day, the evenings to be em ployed in reading, studying and attend ing lectures, the farmer to quest-or. aud Instruct them lu their studies; alsft to give occasional lectures, supplement ed by lectures by other capable mexv, The young men. by having the advant. age of such Instruction, could afford to work for less than ordinary wages; they could thus get a very good educa tion, while otherwise the would be spent in idleness. The farmer would be benefited, too, because he would get a good class of help and could afford to spend some time in in structing them because be would not have to pay so high wages.—Exchange. If there are no large farmers to open up such a school there are plenty of farmer boys in a neighborhood who could profit by such a school, which might be established by a number of farmers able to talk on agricultural topics and to impart practical knowl edge in that line. Where this is iuu practicable some competent instructor could be hired at a small expense to those attending.—Rural New Yorker. Makes the Times Worse. It is a fact without doubt that too much talk about hard times helps to make them worse. A farmer who is an j occasional caller at the Rux-al North j west, but never complains of hard 1 times, was asked the other day why it was that lie never had anything to say on the subject. His reply was that it could not do any good to complain about the hard times, and if everybody would keep a “stiff upper lip” and say nothing about the matter times would not seem half so hard and pretty soon they would not be so hard. The com plainauts’ talk of hard times has a great effect in preventing people from engaging in new enterprises and pre vents many people from spending money who could well afford to do so.— Rural Northwest. Bottled Grape Juice. Pick the grapes from the stems and mash them. Strain the juice into a ket tle. boil it, remove the scum, strain it into bottles and seal it as you would canned fruit. The bottle may be tight ly corked and sealing-wax put on above the cork. If only a small quantity of juice is to be used at one time, small bottles will be more convenient than larger ones. But it will keep sweet sev- I eral days after being opened in ordin -1 ary weather. Lay the bottles on their sides in a cool, dark place. It will do no harm to strain the wine when the bottles are opened. Don’t use sugar; it Is unnecessary, and there is some danger of making grape jelly instead of wine. Thus made it will keep for years. Another way is to pick and wash the grapes; add sufficient water to start them in cooking, boil until the pulp is ! tender, and strain as for jelly; add a small amount of sugar, sufficient to make it palatable; bring to a boil and can in glass. —The Horticulturist. Making Tile Forouf. 1 In city sewers there is obvious advan tage in having the outside of tile or pipe j glazed, and having the pipes closely fit ■ Ted, so that no water from outside can j eome in at the joints. But for farm drainage the more porous tile is the bet- i | ter. The burned clay out of reach or 1 ; frost, aud coming iu contact only with j j pure water, Is practically indestructi ble. The more porous the tile is the more easily will drainage water leach through. Laid with porous tile, the pipes may be closely fitted, aud yet ef fectually drain the land around them. The porosity of tile is easily increased by mixing sawdust with clay before the latter is burned. The heat required to harden the clay sufficiently for use f , burns out the particles of sawdust, leav- I ing a vacant place, and making the tile 4 j much lighter, while being even better for use than that of solid clay. Iu mak ing brick especially for use In buildings i tlle should he as little porous as possible. Brick buildings <need paint ing every year or two to prevent the bricks from cracking, as they will when a sudden freeze occurs after a storm j beating against them has filled their surfaces full of water. Sowing Rye After Turnips. Turnips will continue to grow after ! light frosts, and If the laud is filled with weeds easily killed, the turnips will sometimes make a more vigorous growth in warm weather following a frost than they did before it. There is a great deal of nitrogenous plant food in the soil late in the fall, and even the turnips cannot save it all. Rye can be sown, and will get some growth even after the turnips havg to be gathered. It is much better to have iu the soil over winter than it is to leave the soil naked. It is better for this purpose late iu the season than is crimson clover, which will live, and by its growth then i help to dry out land that is too wet and j fit it for plowing. Setting Currant Cuttings iM Fall. The currant roots more readily from cuttings than most, other fruits. Its wood l.?. however, very soft, and if set i late in fall the cuttings will l>e consid -1 erably injured before spring by freez ing an-4 thawing. While the currant bush it reasonably hardy on its own root, its cuttings will not get r«/ot to hold them from being thrown out. They should V>e heeled in during the winter, and bo planted where they are to re . main in spring. Grapes for Winter Uae. Grape* need to be ripened wholly on 1 the vice. They will not, like pears aud 1 apples, ripen in the cellar. The really ripe grapes will endure several de- grees of frost. If this occurs early, so as to warrant some warm weather after • it. some grape growers leave the grapes on the vines for some time after most of the leaves have been frosted. The ’ grapes will ripen thus, but very slowly. : It is a risky business, for a heavy frost * sometimes comes and spoils those grapes left to ripen late. Odds and Ends. When an artery is severed compress above the spurting surface. Blood from the arteries enters the extremities. If a vein is severed compress below the spurting surface. Blood in veins re turns to the heart. To freshen tan-colored Hioes, dissolve a tablespoonful of salt in a little warm water and add to a pint of cold water, in which an ounce of salts of lemon has been dissolved. Wash the shoes with this, and, when thoroughly dry, polish with soft flannel or a bit of silk. “ i Move your pot plants, into winter quarters. Clean the pots, trim away rank growth, decayed leaves and keep , everything about the plauts scrupu lously clean to prevent decay. See that windows near the Howers close tight, as draughts are death to flowers. The drain pipe should be disinfected at least once a week in warm weather. Dissolve a nickel’s worth of copperas iu half a pailful of water, and gradually pour it down the pipe. An irou sink may be kept from rusting by applying with a brush a quarter of a pound of asphaltum in spirits of turpentine. If the bottom crust of fruit pies is glazed with the white of an egg it will not be soft aud soggy. The top of meat and all kinds of raised pies should he glazed. Beat the yolk of an egg for a short time and add one spoonful of milk. When the pie is two-tliirds done remove from the oven, brush over with the glaze, return to the oven and finish baking. Farm Notes. Michigan lias a new turnip disease. It drlesuptheleaf.lt Is a fungus, which I accompanies wet, muggy weather. The remedy, or preventive, is to burn all the affected tops. When salt is kept where the cows can help themselves there is no danger of their eating too much. It is only when it is kept from them for some time that there is any risk of their doing so. Peach trees can be cut back very low, which makes them stocky, but such trees when two or three years old are not as easily cultivated as trees that are higher. The low trees stand heavy winds better, however, and shade the ground around the trunks from the sun. Where it is desirable to keep the dirt in place on any situation where the dirt may become loosened and fall away, it has been suggested by one who has test ed them to use the Japanese honey suckle or Virginia creeper, as the vines root as they grow, forming dense thick els of growth and take the place of sodding. Ticks uot only keep sheep poor, but enfeeble them. Experience has shown that late dipping of sheep in the fall, which destroys ticks, not only improves the condition of the flock, but the gain in growth of fleece is very marked. When free of ticks sheep will not only he more contented, but also escape dis ease to a great extent. The roads would be much better if wide tires were used on all wagons, as they do not cut up the roads, but rath er serve to pack the gravel. The State of Pennsylvania lias a law exempting from certain taxes those who use wide tires, and as metal wheels are largely coming into use it is, probable that in the future nearly all wagons will have wide tires. Prof. E. B. Voorliees. of the New Jer sey experiment station, is of the opin ion that the higher readers used iu the country schools should contain mostly articles devoted to farm matters. The characteristics of breeds, soils, foods, cultivation of crops and ott* 1 ’ subjects would prove not only ?M/rest -Bame time instruct them in vt ‘o' i ing reading to pupils, but a^ o at the 1 lines which will iu tlie futare be most j beneficial to them.