The Exeter Advocate, 1896-1-16, Page 2all things for her sister's departure on.
the Atlantic voyage.
HE H OUSEdepression,
ban
d remarked
d upon bertacit
u
rni
ty and d
deassion she once o twice glanced
when Dorothy and Dorothy's hus-
mournfully
at her sister, and strove to
say some words attributing this gloom
to the separation that was about to take.
!) D place. But the effort did not well suc-
b
m
them. There were no
lulu .
in deceiving (l!� �j � cued d G
:._. Ull Elf
t� Oa
t"' r return ; in-
ns as to thei ,
eager. goes ill,
deed, it almost seemed that Laura would
have been content never to see her sister
(CONTINUED.) again. She would not accompany them
When Laura revived to a crushing on board the ship, and her last embrace
sense of danger, her eyes sought as was so cold that Dorothy went away in a
eagerly for that harbinger of trouble as stupor of astonishment, and, thinking of
her sister's had done for the self -convict- j it as she was being rowed down the
ing letter addressed `Captain Dundas— i river, broke suddenly into tears.
only for him," and with the same eager I "You ain't quarrelled with Laura,
dread she questioned Dorothy of its have you, lass?" whispered the Captain
whereabouts. But neither she nor her as he drew his sobbing wife to his side.
husband had seenthe paper, and both'; He had been a pained observer of the
remained ignorant of the cause of Laura's sister's altered manner.
fainting -fit. With a face set in stony "No, Ben, no," answered Dorothy very
lineaments Laura went about the house. earnestly. "She is the best, the dearest,
hold affairs, not daring to bring back the kindest sister in the world ; she al-
with questions the vision of that which ways has been. But something has come
between us, I feel it, but I do not know
what it is."
Dundas did his best to comfort her.
"Cheer up, little one," said he. "Wo-
men have their fads and fancies. This is
only a shadow."
He guessed aright: it was only a
had so terribly affected Dorothy and
wondering more and more, as she watch-
ed her sister's peace and light-hearted-
ness, at her power to dissemble and to
dismiss an experience of such horror,
But Dorothy seemed to have forgotten
all that had so recently brought her to shadow that had come between these
the point ofrenzy, and grew day by soay two, but it was the shadow of a crime.
more joyous and sportive, as if the so
recent past liadbeen smugly dream ; and CHAPTER
Laura began to feel assured that the
XX
vision which had been described to her AN ALIBI.
of a dead facepturned in the moonlight In the early hours of the morning im-
had been indei only a dream begotten mediately following the tragedy on the
of the fierce i'essure of Ralph KestreI's Underground, a constable, tramping
personaYity; upon the tempted woman's heavily along the road that skirted the
imagination, and the truth of that dream house at the corner, cast the gleam of
was simply an instance of those strange his lantern upon the gate in the wall,
forebodings which are not uncommon in tested it with his hand, and passed on-
generalexperience. ward upon his beat. Scarcely had he
Her task was, therefore, to keep Dor- turned the corner when a muffled figure
othy in oblivion; so she wrote to Muriel approached that gate with swift, silent
O'Connor, excusing herself from atten- steps, and, after furtively glancing
dance on her; and remained by hersister's around, let itself in with a pass -key.
Bide, to keep from her all knowledge of
the sensation of the hour. It was no
easy task, bat "love will findout away,"
and she succeeded in her purpose.
Five days passed.
The happiness of Dundas and his wife
seemed confirmed, and in the contem-
plation of their peace Laura found the
reward for her part in it.
Nor had she been without the comfort
and delight of reunion with her lover.
Willmore had written the kindest of
letters, and subsequently they had met
again and again, he always refraining
with true generosity from exacting any
confidence she did not voluntarily be-
stow.
r 1 as it pained her
stow,
And, soy sorely
have secrets from him, she dared not
breathe a word that night by chance
imperil her sister's happiness. A. secret
is no secret when it is no longer locked
fast in one person's bosom. For herself,
she would trust Willmore with her
honour and her life, but the safety of
Dorothy was surest while the past lay
buried and Laura herself held the key
of its tomb.
So Willmore waited in vain for relief
from the vague anxiety which oppressed
his love for this girl with the eyes of
truth and the face of purity; and the as-
sassin of Ralph Kestrel went still um
tracked, while the references to the crime
gradually faded out of the newspapers.
The time seemed to have come for
Laura to return to the house in Regent's
Park. She had written several times to
Muriel O'Connor, but no reply or mes-
sage of any kind had come from her,
and Laura felt an increasing desireto go
back and banish all misunderstandings,
so far as regard to Dorothy's secret
would permit. But Dundas was very
loth to have Lauraleave her sister. The
good ship Wanderer which he command-
ed had received a new cargo, and her
sailing -papers were made out for New
`York- It would be a short voyage this
time—his last in the Wanderer—and he
thought it best that Dorothy should once
more be left at home, if Laura would
stay to keep her company.
"You sea, little wife," said he, "the
Wanderer ain't kinder fitted for women-
folk. She's a tub to the Neptune, which
I shall be part-owner of when I return
from America, and I wouldn't have my
lass take a grudge against the life she'll
have to share with me for many a long
year. You wait for the Neptune, Dolly,
and I'll have such a state -room rigged
up for you as'll beat for prettiness and
snugness any home ashore."
But Dorothy felt a singular dread of
seeing her husband set sail once more
without her—a dread that surpassed that
which as a landswoman she held for the
cockroaches, which the Captain freely ad-
mitted would be found in swarms on
board the old Wanderer.
She referred the decision to Laura,
who was at work in the little flower -
garden below. Looking down from the
bedroom window, Dorothy called softly
to her sister, who was standing motion-
less by the group of hollyhocks and sun-
flowers, contemplating a gleaming ob-
ject she was holding in her hand which
she had found in the flower -bed.
"Laura, Laura dear!"
Softly as the summons came, Laura
started with strange agitation; instantly
she hid the treasure-trove in the folds of
her gown; her back was turned to the
window from which her sister had
spoken- She answered without turning
round. or looking up:
"Yes."
Her voice sounded strangely hoarse
and hollow.
"The Wanderer sails to -night. We.
want to consult you whether I shall go
toAmerica with Ben."
uaptam donnas put urs great rea race
by the side of his wife's pretty one, and,
with one arm round her neck, hailed her
sister through what he called the port-
hole.
"It ain't any use, Laura; I ain't - got
the heart to persuade her not to come,
and she kinder don't know her own mind.
She hates the blaekbeetles, but, by
thunder, I do believe she loves me! You
shall take an observation for us, my
dear. Shall she go or shall she stay?"
Then Laura spoke again in that hoarse
hollow tone.
"Take her with you," she said.
Then, turning, she raised her eyes and.
saw the fond picture - smiling upon her
from the window above: the soft cheek
of the pretty little wife nestling in
the sailor's great curly beard, and the
afternoon sun dancing in the happy eyes
of both; and she repeated:
"Take her with' you, Ben," this time
with a passionate . assionate entreaty in her
voice.'
Choosing the dew -spread lawn and the
sheltering darkness of the shrubbery, Later in the day Mrs. Donovan, the
Dennis Donovan—for it was he—crept ostensible mistress of "the house at the
steathily into the arbour, and was lost in corner," departed on a visit of indefinite
its opaque shadows. duration to some friends in Dublin,
The blackness of the night slowly
turned to gray, and from gray to a rosy
mellow dawn -radiance. The birds twit-
tered among the opening blossoms and
in the branches that swayed gently in
the fresh morning air. The day grew
stronger, bolder, happier, and the risen
sun struck its gay beams slantwise upon
the windows of the room where Muriel
O'Connor lay in restless slumber upon
the couch where she had flung herself
some hours before, to sob out her humil-
iation, bitterness, and despair. As the
hours passed, and the house remained
closed and lifeless, Dennis Donovan,
peering from a recess of the garden
arbour, grew more and more impatient
the powers! but that's just the truth of
it."
"He was with Laura?"
"He was so—on the platform of the
railway station. She saw me stab him,
and ran skreeling away. I took to the
tunnel, and managed to dodge pursuit;
but, for sure, she'll e
'll u the police
on
the
track of him that killed her lover."
"You would have me silence her? I do
not know where she,: M. It will be too
late,"
"Not too late to contradict her evi-
dence. No one saw me leave this house,
No one saw me return to it. Sure, it's
an alibi I want of you, Muriel O'Connor."
She regarded him coldly, stonily.
"Do you know what you ask?"
Dennis Donovan gave a sinister leer,
half -triumphant, half -supplicating.
"It's your illigant white hand in mar-
riage I'll be after asking, my swate
Muriel, if you'll have me,"said he, "and
then not a man or woman can reproach
you for not knowing where your hus-
band was during the whole of one par-
ticular unlucky night."
Muriel turned from him pale with
loathing,
"I shall not take an assassin freshly
blood-stained for a husband," she said
coldly. "Nor will I lend the shelter of
my roof to a fugitive from the hang-
man. What you propose is an insult,
and you have only yourself to blame if
the degradation you intended for me re-
coils upon yourself."
She rang the bell, apparently for the
cons ose of irator�desired to the alibi
; which thenn
p Pi
a servant responded, the voice of Don-
ovan only came from the, inner room,
giving some trifling order in Muriel's
name,
"The girl started back from the door of
her mistress's bedroom as if the roar of a
beast of prey had sounded thence. Too
much amazed to make any reply, she
rushed down to the kitohen,and, exclaim-
ing to the astonished cook, "0 Mary,
Mary I It's all true what you said—it's
all true!" covered her face with her
apron and burst into tears.
CHAPTER XXI,
A LOVER'S LIFE.
Days passed on, and in Muriel's house
Dennis Donovan was lord and master.
He came and went as he pleased, seldom,
however, leaving the premises until
nightfall; he directed the servants and
assumed sole authority, and Muriel re-
sisted his domination in nothing but the
privileges of an intimacy which he strove
in vain to carry to its consummation.
Rejecting with loathing his repeated
offers of marriage, she shut him off
rigidly from the realization of that con-
dition of things the existence of which
he pretended and she dared not openly
and apprehensive, and raged against deny,
the sluggard habits of Muriel's house- 9 Laura's letters were unanswered, for
hold. At length, however, there were Muriel remained bitterly resentful of
signs of awakening. An upper win- the supposed treachery of her friend, and
dow blind was drawn, and a little reference to the night of the railway
later there were sounds of bars and bolts tragedy was barred by the danger it im-
being withdrawn. Presently a maid- plied to a member of the 'revolutionary
servant threw open the drawing -room brotherhood. Donovan for some days
windows, flung some mats on to the stood in constant apprehension of arrest
lawn, and Passed round the house to the upon the deposition of Laura Kingdon;
kitchen premises. As she disappeared, but as her first letter to Muriel contained
Donovan glided from the arbour and no hint against him, or reference of any
entered the drawing -room with a wolf- sort to the crime, and, further, as the
like stealth and celerity. Unnoted he newspapers reported that there was no
ascended the staircase, and, opening a clue to the murder—except the fact that
door upon the floor above, fqundhimself an hysterical woman, unknown, of whom
in Muriel O'Connor's boudoir. He turn- a very vague description was given, had
ed the key in the lock inside, and tapped fled from the station just as the last of
several times at an inner door. The the lights was being extinguished that
sound awoke Muriel. She started up, night, and escaped in the darkness—he
and for themoment wondered at having grew to believe that Laura had not re -
lain there fully dressed, But the tap cognized him, and that he was virtually
ping was renewed, and she responded to safe from justice.
it by going at once to the door. I The Hon. Cecil Chester made frequent
It was not without amazement that calls upon Muriel O'Connor. On each
she stood face to face with Dennis Don- occasion he asked himself what business
ovan, and beheld him mud -stained, hag- he bad there, and always he silenced the
gard, pale, and unkempt, with a glare of warning voice within him by the assur-
mingled ferocity and terror in his eyes. I ante that he came in the interests of his
"What has happened?" she exclaimed friend, Lord Willmore, who was throw -
with a horrified misgiving at her heart. i ing himself away on a dangerous woman.
"Justice," be answered simply, and The said "dangerous woman," Miss
placed in her hands the letter written Laura Kingdon, had the dark side of her
by Kestrel on the railway -platform. She life associated with the house at the
read a denunciation of herself as a wo- ' corner, and into that mystery Chester
man of treachery and intrigue—one who felt it the duty of a true friend discreetly
for treasonable stratagems would abuse to penetrate. Discreet penetration in-
hospitality and make a mock of an hon- volved a diplomatic expenditure of time,
ourable,trusting man. She read Kestrel's and no investigator with the least pru-
warning to Cecil Chester, that she :would dence or tact would be forever dwelling
win his love only to disgrace and destroy upon the matter to be investigated. Such
him. course would alarm the source of infor-
In truth she had been unconscious that motion and seal her lips. Then what
her conduct or designs had borne so evil more natural than that, in refraining
a complexion in dealing with Chester, or from dwelling too much upon his friend
with any other man who had frequented and his friend's sweetheart—the latter
her drawing -room. Her sentiment wasclearly a distasteful subject to Muriel
one of high indignation against the O'Connor—he should investigate Muriel
traitor whom she had befriended. How ' herself, and lure her confidence by pro -
ship is constant in all other things save
in the office and affairs of love,' If I
were to marry I should love, and if I
loved—ell
oved "
"Well? If you loved—"
"Au unlikely thing with me,"
"You are a cynic.'
"I have thought myself one."
"But if you did love?"
What spell was upon him that set his
heart fluttering, and made .hint falter
like a boy? His eyes were riveted on
hers, and wild words came:
"If I were to love I should forget
friendship, duty, even honour, I almost
fear."
She answered thoughtfully, still gaz-
ing
azing into his face:
"How fortunate for you that you do
not love!"
He forced a light laugh,
"Ha, ha! A politician has no room in
his thoughts for amatory projects."
"But you have projects of your own
that will interest me, I'm sure. I con-
fess to being a little weary of the subject
of your friend. Tell me about yourself
—about this new appointment that has
been offered you -what changes are to
take place in the Ministry. Tell me
something of my poor Ireland; and
whether all the cruelties I hear reported.
of Lord Furborough's Administration
are well founded."
(To BE CONTINUED..)
ELECTRICITY IN THE HEART.
A HOGHOUSE AND;.YARDS.
The accompanying illustrations repro
sent an easily -constructed hog house
and system of yards which I find to be
quite convenient Fig. 1 is an exterior
view of the house, only a portion being
shown, which is covered with boards
and battens. Toe outer posts are three
feet high ; the rafters are 24 feet long,
and meet at a common point, Fig. 2
shows the ground plan of the house and
Ingenious Instrument to Register its Eleo-
tro-lliotor rower.
Dr. Waller, in London, announces new
discoveries about the electro -motor capa-
cities of the human heart. It has been
known that enoh heart beat is accompan-
ied by an electrical vibration, the
strength of which has escaped measure-
ment on account of the lack of a proper
medium to register the electrical vibra-
tion.
But the newly -in yenta Lippman
quicksilver electrometer does this. It in-
dicates by the rising and sinking of the
mercury the volume and direction of
electro -motor power coming within the
sphere of its influence, and it has turned.
out to be the long -sought -for elcetro-
scope applicable to this phase of medical
science.
It depends for its action on the ele-
mentary law that bodies charged with
like electricity repel, while those charged
with unlike electricity attract each
otr.
The
man who wishes to test the elan-
tro-motor power of his great central
muscle, which regulates and compels the
circulation of the blood throughout the
o basins
body, places both hands in two
containing water and holds between his
fingers the wires of the electro -meter. By
this means the circuit is closed, and the
quicksilver, obedient to the wire, regis-
ters in Inn toly the hearts' electro -motor
power.
This looks simple enough, but it took
a great many experiments to arrive at
this point. Dr. Waller first tried to close
the circuit by bringing both feet of a
man in connection with the wires. This
failed to work. After that he tried one
foot and the left hand, then the right
band and the head, bu t in both instan-
ces the quicksilver remained stationary.
It responded, however, when the right
band and one of the feet or both hands
were connected with the electroscope.
These failures established another
truth. It is well known that the heart
did he dare write thus of her ? What fessions of sympathy as cordial as they
lies, what foul, cruel lies were these! were—though he would not admit it to
"Is this justice?" she asked of Don- himself—veritably sincere? Many a
ovan. valuable hour did he steal from the
"It is treachery," replied he; adding affairs of Great Britain and Ireland to
significantly: "justice has been'done." follow up these investigations ing the
"Yon have denounced him to the so- palm -shaded conservatory, or the dainty
ciety?" drawing -room. whose large French win -
"I have anticipated the sentence." dows opened on to thevelvet-green lawn
"Yon have killed him?" backed by crest upon crest of rhododen-
"Hush! 'Yes, I have killed him." dron bushes.
Muriel stared at the assassin in horror. Surely inclination—"interest" he call -
"The society winotuphold you. You ed it—as well as duty led him to the
had no right to kill Ralph Kestrel with- presence of this other woman, whom his
out an order from the council." instincts marked "dangerous," but in
"There is exception for emergency recognizing the risk he gave the more
cases. This man was dangerous. It was credit to his friendly devotion to Will -
my duty to stay him from doing mis- more. It was a noble thing to incur
chief." danger for the sake of friendship, he
"But not to kill him," told himself; any sacrifice would be well
"Yes, to kill him." repaid if he saved Ernest from making
"I tell you, no! I am a,member: of a fool of himself. But his true motive
the society; I am on the council. Iknow was a craving for the society of this
our law restraining private vengeance. glorious woman with the bright hair,'
You must have the consent and author- whose mellow brogue charmed his ear,
ity of, at the least, one member of the and whose sweet frank eyes enslaved his
council to entitle you to strike down even soul.
such a wretch as this." He became reckless not out of friend
"Sure, I had that same consent and ship for Willmore, but from love of
authority." ea ` Muriel O'Connor.
"Ha! From whom?" One afternoon, as lie lounged almost at
"Fromy our own self, for sure?" her feet the while she reposed in a shell -
shaped
"From me? From me?" chair of pearl and silver -green.
" me, whenyouletme lush lookingin the swathingfolds of
Sure, you towldp
out in ,saycret, to follow him and take moss colored silk and yellow Irish lace
care that he didno harm. I was to act that composed her tea -gown like a fabled
'foryez as seemed best to Dennis Don- sea -goddess, she asked after Willmore..
ovan, for sure, "By the way,. Damon," she said—it
"I did not mean—" was a sobriquet which she had given
Yegave me the nadeftel authority of him—"where is Pythias? Why does he
a member of the council. " have done . not come here with you? Your friend -
what samed best, aud'it's safe and dead ship is, I hear, quite a proverbin society.
he is this miiiute" People say you are always seen to-
"Why are you here?" gather."
"For protection of the council. The "I should be glad to have a few words
police arafter me, and it's yourself that with you about; him."
p'
must stand between Dennis Donovan "And I shall be glad to listen, but in-
Presently she crept steatbily to the and hanging this day." deed, I think there is not much fear that
attic) where she was accustomed"You to sleep, were seen to strike. him down?" he will be forgotten. If you should one
and there, with the door locked and "Seen face to face in the broad light day take a wife, Hermia might grow;
ed against interruption, fell to byone who knows me jealous of her husband's affections for his
bariicad g' of the moon, and
and dpolishing a rusty dagger of.the best of reasons' to be- friend.
cleaning u .well and has
Oriental workmanship, concealing it at
tray me." "Women are apt to come between the.
where no one would
"You mean—" most attached.' friends, but'
length ea a crevice Yon cannot m an perhaps
. --11 one would seek to fina. „That hewas with Laura Kin iron `should not give my wife cause for jeal-
faard.a o That g ,
And in nervous haste, crept silently
and with a face' of stone, she prelOared 76 .13' friend—his ewatelieart? Yes, bypus of Willinoro. You know, 'friend -
PERSPECTIVE VIEW OF PIGGERY.
yards; a a, etc., are 4x4 posts reaching
from the ground to the roof; b b and o c
are the doors to each pen. The sizes of
pens and lots aro represented in the outs.
For roofing I used 1x12 boards; 1,636 feet
were required. To avoid waste in outing,
got one-nalf of this in 16 -foot lengths,
one-fourth in 14 -foot, and the remainder
TESTING THE HEART'S ACTION BY ELEC-
TRICITY.
GROUND PLAN OF PIGGERT AND reams.,
12 -foot, Fur partitions and yards use
16 -foot fencing. Food bins can be made
over each pen.
FRUIT TR1BVTES,
The Up -to -Date Young Man'. L*t I
Offering. to Hie Lady Love,
The latest requirement laid upon the
pocket and. affections of the generous
young man is the offering of fruit to
the lady of his admiration. She is
going' to expect it, and the; very up-te-
date #ruiteier is no more the swain'ri
good friend than is the florist or con-
fectioner
To send a modest present of fruit this
winter will be a test of affection, is
deed, since the dealer has taken coun-
sel with himself and learned the virtue
of offsetting his wares with ribbons ant
baskets of wondrous manufacture -
It all happened because a finicky
young man ordered several pounds of
luscious hot -house grapes, golden pearl.
pears and late Virginia peaches to be
sent to his betrothed on her arrival
from Europe. He refused to have these
delivered in the usual plain but honest
and inexpensive paper bag. So. the
fruit dealer bought a rustic cornucopia
basket, woven of green and brown
cedar bark, supported on three talk
legs. This he lined with autumn
leaves, heaped in the fruit with no
inartistie hand, droped around in the
nooks English walnuts and chestnuts
still in the half -open burr, and tied all
the curled end of the cornucopiawith
masses of russet brown and purple
ribbons. The basket met with se
many compliments and approval, that
both the girls who saw it and the
fruiterer himself were delighted. The
exacting young man paid out just 5111
for his gift, and so implicated all his
fell ow -men.
The way to a maiden's affections new
lies by the way of a fruit basket, and
some of theta are really worth having.
Until the very latest moment in the
season peaches will be the one desires
contents for those, made of gilded and
silver oat straws, woven in with differ-
ent colored satin ribbons, lined with
big green silk leaves, the peaches ar-
ranged in a pyramid, wearing ribbon
belts and bows around their fat, rosy
bodies.
Next in order are countrymen's hats„
of a curious sunburnt straw, filled with
pears; and prettiest of all, round,
rough fiat baskets made of brown
wy hes, with big
loophandles and.
piled with green and deep purple
grapes. These baskets are in imitation.
of those the grape gatherers use in Bur-
gundy. They are tied with red and
green satin ribbons ; somewhere amid.
the bows is caught a pair of cunning
little grape scissors, and already, with
the arrival of early oranges, have come
lovely green palmetto baskets, woven
in big broad concave platters, the
handles of twisted orange satin rib-
bons, ono of them holding a, little fruit
knife.
I•'.very basket of oranges is picked
specially with a stem and one green
leaf attached, and though these baskets
cost $10, $12 and $113, the really ex-
pensive ones are trimmed with bon-
bons. The confectioners make cunning
imitations in papier mache of pears.
peaches and apples and fill them with
assorted chocolates. A handsome bas-
ket has at least half a dozen of these
pretty bonbonnieres set amid the other
fruits, and one gift of fruit made re-
cently by a New York swain was a
Chinese mandarin's hat filled with wee
mandarin oranges, some of which fell
open to show Japanese persimmons in-
side, candied currants, sugared
cherries, or crystalized citron.
'W inter Stable Brune gement of Cows.
Arrange the stable with convenience in
feeding and Dare of the stock as a central
idea, Visit the best dairy barns and uti-
lize all their good points. A stable having
two thicknesses of boards with tar paper
between is dryer and warmer than a stone
basement. A rectangular barn, with
two long rows of cows facing each other,
is the most desirable. Have sufficient
room for driving on the feeding floor and
also behind each row of animals, for re-
moving the manure, Make the building
larger than is needed, or plan so that
additional room can be easily provided,
By all means have a silo conveniently
situated. Put in plenty of windows.
The south side of our barn is largely
glass, The stable must be tightly made
so that when the temperature is 30
degrees below zero very little freezing
occurs on the inside. Don't, however,
keep it so warm that; it will fairly steam
when. the doors are opened. For keeping
the air pure, box ventilators reaching
from near the floor to the roof, are excel-
lent. They can be made by boarding up
between the silo studs down to within a
foot or two of the floor Choose some
kind of a fastener that will keep the cows
clean. The stanchion is most generally
used and will answer in most eases. Ar-
range the floor 4 to 5 feet in length, as
there will be that much difference in
length between the smallest heifer and
the aged cow. Let the gutter be 16 in,
wide and 6 in. deep. If possible have the
walk behind the gutter wide enough :o
allow a wagon or sled to be drawn over it.
Make the manger 24 in, Wide and the
feeding floor 6 in. above is. The ceiling
should be 6% or 7 feet high.
Among the necessary implements
about a cow stable is the broom. Get
two, one for sweeping the feed floor and
the other to clean the walk behind the
gutter. Keep the floor clean, and occas-
ionally go over the walls and ceiling to
remove dust and cobwebs. Use plenty of
straw for bedding. if it is out, so much
the better, as it is then superior as an
absorbent. Be sure the gutter is water
tight, and use road dust, sifted goal ashes,
sawdust or land plaster to absorb the
liquid the straw does not take up. Plaster
is also first-class for keeping down bad
odors, Sprinkle a few pounds in the
bedding before each milking and note
the beet. It will also enhance the value
of the manure.
Have regular hours for feeding and
milking and rigidly adhere to them.
Plan your work so the' cows can be left to
their dreams a part of the time. Be kind
to them; do nothing that will excite.them,
for it will always result in a loss of milk.
Salt every day, or better still, have salt
where they can have constant access to it.
Our cattle are out of the barn a short
time each day. They go about 60 rods
and get water from a spring and I have
seen no ill effects from it. However,
they are not out long—not over 30 or 40
minutes on stormy days. Yearling and
dry cows are given more exercise. Of
course this takes a little more feed, but It
pays. Exercise the hull in a' tread power.
RULES FOR WELL-BEHAVED CHIIL-
DREN.
has an imperfcet resemblaue to a cone,
the base of the cone being uppermost,
the apex being situated downward and
to the left. This is the normal con-
dition andposition of the organ. In
experimenting with the electroscope the
scientist found that the human body is
divided in two very uneven parts by an
imaginary perpendicular line that outs
through the base of toe heart.
One of the points marked A and one
of the points marked B in the illustra-
tion will affect the quicksilver when
brought simultaneouly in contact with
the electroscope; a circuit cannot be
closed by joining two A's and two B's
together.
There are certain ' conditions of illness
or disease which cause the apex of the
heart to be turned towards the right.
In such abnormal oases—as Dr. Waller's
investigations h ave proved—the two
halves, each of which is susceptible.
to the electroscope, run in an opposite
direction.'
Dr. Waller argues that the -contraction
of the heart's chambers is not simul-
taneous, as has been believed, but that
it involves a progressive motion begin-
ning, in warm-blooded beings, at the
apex and progressing to the base. In
cold-blooded animals: the process occurs
vice versa.
"If," says he, "the two ventricles
contracted simult.abeously with the two
auricles, the two halves of the body
would be alike affected, and, a circuit
not being closed, the quicksilver would
remain stationary."
Dr. Waller's discoveries will give a
new impetus to the application of elec-
tricity in medicine. It is at all events
highly important to know that we are
able to measure the heart's action by
such simple means.
In the country there is no bettertree
for the roadside than our American white
oak. It is truly a tree of slow growth, but
when grown and allowed a chance to
spread nothing is more worthy of the room.
Ash, elm, black walnut, sheilbark and
hickory nut commend themselves to our
attention for, Arbor Day. The black Wal-
nut is not an easy tree to transplant. It
depenit so much on its long tap root,
ri}ic;la is get to be injured in the removal
front ice ground,
rate, e, rf.i8'u
Little Sins.
Many appear to think that it is only
important to keep one's self from
grievous sin. If one does that he is
white enough, they say, for this world.
The little sins which are so common,
what matters it whether we endeavor to
guard. against them or not? God is
lenient. He will not treasure them up
against us. He knows we are human,
and do not the little sins, these almost
colorless acts from which angels, and
angels only, of all created. beings, are
free, simply show the weakness of our
humanity? This is dangerous plead-
ing. Sin can never be anything but
offensive in the sight of God. and the
heavenly host. The greater and more
continuous, the more offensive ; the
less grievous, the less offensive. There
are no white sins. If an act or thought
is white it is not a sin ; if it is a sin it
is not white, If we are to give an see-
count
scount for every idle word, if we are to
keep ourselves unspotted from the
world, if we are to have pure religion
and undefiled, we must not indulge
loose notions about sins which are
allowable and sins which are not
allowable. If there is a divine law
against an act, that act is sin ; and if
we hold to the contrary we impeach
the wisdom of the Almighty law -giver
and accuse Him of making laws arbi-
trarily and without reason. It may be
that, 'with all our watchfulness, we
shall not always avoid these lesser
offenses ; but it is certain that we can-
not expect to live lives pleasing to God
if we excuse ourselves fromobedience
to the jots and tittles of the law on the
ground that obedience or disobedience
makes little or no difference.
Shut every door after you, and . with-
out slamming it. .
Don't make a practice of shouting,
jumping or running in the house.
Never call, to persons upstairs or in the
next room; if you wish ,to speak to
them go quietly to where they are.
Always speak kindly and politely to
everybody, if you would have them do
the same to you.
When told' to do or not to do a thing
by ''either ' parent, never ask why you
should or should not do it.
Tell of your own faults and misdoings,
not those of your brothers and sisters.
Carefully;. clean the mud or snow off,
your boots before entering the house
Be prompt at every meal hour.
Never sit down at the table, or in the
sitting room with dirty hands or tumbled
hair.
Never interrupt any, conversation, but.
wait patiently your turn to speak:
Never reserve your good manners for
company, but be'equally polite az; home
and abroad.
Let your first, last and best confidant
be your mother—EL
One on the Lawyer.
Some ' time ago he had under cross-
examination a youth from the country,
who rejoiced in. the name of Samson,
and whose replies were, provocative of
much laughter in the court. "And so,"
questioned the barrister, "you wish the
court to believe that you are a peace-
ably disposed and inoffensive
kind of
person?" "Yes." "Ansi 'that you have
no desire to follow in the . steps -of your
illustrious namesake and site Phili-
stines?" "No ;, I've not," answered
the witness. "And if I had the desire:
I' ain't got the power at present."
"Then you think you would be unable
to cope successfully with a thousand
enemies and utterly • ..
ly lout them with
the jawbone of an ass?" "Well," an-
,wered the ruffled Samson, "I 'nigh,+
have a try when you have done ,v::lt
the weapon." —The Grab >13aa,