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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1896-2-13, Page 6LIFTED BV LOVE; Or, l4ocu the Wharf Waif 13ecarne a princess, PIInL renlhD BY SPCCIAL. AIMANGEME:NT, CHAPTER I. AT THF MARINER'S 30Y. I was lazing on the rotten balcony be- fore the busy front of the Mariner's Joy when I first saw Taros. He came from Ferryboat alley, the passagerunning between the Joy and Baxter's wharf and leading to the steps where the old ferry used to ply, between that part of Shad- well and Rotherhithe, and another man was with him named Drigo. Tarns was a fine, big man, fair, with a long tawny mustache,, and a short beard. He was dressed like a workman in a dark gray suit, a flannel shirt and a blue handker- chief for a tie, but he didn't look like a workman for all that—at any rate not such as you see down Shadwell way. He was too clean and active for that. Drigo was not a bit like him, being mid - elle aged, meager, with a stoop in his shoulders, and having a yellow face, with high cheek bones, a sparse black beard and slanting eyes. Men like him are common enough about Wapping and the Highway. They walked down to the stairs, and Drigo pointed across toward the Com- mercial docks, but I could not make out what he said. Taros nodded, and they turned round and looked attentively at the Mariner's Joy and then at Baxter's wharf on the right and Johnson's yard at the left, Drigo talking with great earnestness in a low voice all the while and ' Taros listening gravely as he smoked his pipe and replying only with a word ora nod of his head from time to time, I couldn't make out what they found to interest them, for Baxter's wharf was shut up—and had been shut up for years—and there was nothing in Johnson's yard but a great heap of rust- ing boilers and old iron. As for the Mariner's Joy, with its broken windows, the gaping planks, of its bay front and the rotten balcony projecting over the muddy foreshore, there was nothing in that to attract attention. They saw me, and Drigo made a joke at my expense, I believe for he chuckled as he stared at me, but Taros smoked on gravely and never smiled. At length they quitted the steps and came up Ferryboat alley, and a minute or two afterward I heard them open the door in Sweet Apple lane and enter the sanded bar. I went in through the bar 'parlor to serve them. "Give us some gin, miss," said Drigo, speaking•with an odd accent. "We ain't got no gin. We're lost our license," I answered. "That's a good sign," said Drigo in a low tone, nudging Taros. "What do you people drink here?" Tarns asked. "Pougelo—four half gen'liy," They decided to have some "four half," and while I was drawing it Taros said: "Can we have a room here for a few days?" 'Taint likely, None of the rooms ain't furnished, ceptin the parlor, and the bloke sleeps in that." "Where is the bloke?" "Gorned out." "When will he',be in?" "Don't know. Preaps five minutes, preaps not afore shuttin up time." All that I know now has been ac- quired since that time. Then I spoke like a savage and was little better than a savage in any way, having lived from my earliest days friendless and utterly neglected. Tarns and Drigo spoke together in a tongue unknown to me, :and that gave me anopportunity of looking at them more closely. Taras was about 32 then, and as I have said a fine, large man. There was resolution and strength in his chin and nose, but great kindness in his mouth and clear, deep blue eyes. I could see then that he was to be loved and feared as well. Not so Drigo. There 'was nothing to love in his face. His deep sunk black eyes were crafty: his mouth was brutal; his mustache was dipped, and bristling out added to the ferocity of the lower part of his face. Two front teeth were missing, and the rest were black .His face was deeply marked by the smallpox. That type of mean was not unknown to me. "I suppose we may wait here till the —the bloke returns?" Taros said. "You ken if you like." "Is he your father?" asked. Drigo, seating himself on the bench facing the bar. e "No." "Your husband?" "No.' "What then?" "What's that to you?" I replied. "What is it to any one?" I asked my- self as I made my way through the bar parlor to my fo mer place on the bal- cony. "What does it matter to any one veto I am or what I am? A homeless dog would find more friends than I; a drowning cat would get more pity. What good am I to any one? What good is life to me?" Such thoughts as these were passing through my mind as I lolled upon the sodden handrail of the platform, looking out at the thick, dun water that slug- gishly lapped the slimy shore, when feeling the presence of some one I turn- ed my head and perceived Taras stand- ing near with a notebook and a pencil in his hands. He had found his way out there bythe passage and was amus • ing himself by sketching me, leaning against the wall, with his pipe in his mouth. I thought he was "taking me off." finding something in my face to ridicule like every one else, and Iturned my back ou him. Not that I minded whetherhe made sport of me or not—I was too accustomed to serve as the butt of coarse jest and heartless sarcasm to heed another shaft, more or less, even from one•who seemed less brutal than the rest—but I had no desire to add to the amusement of my natural enemies. "Do you mind standing as you stood just now?" he asked. "Garn aw'y," I replied,; turning on him spitefully. "Who d'ye think y're .a-gettin. at? D'ye think I don't know yer game? D'ye think I'm going to stand. for you to make fun of me? I'm as ugly as sin and not so pleasant— there y'are. I know what I am." • "Ugly." he said, 'with an accent of as- tonishment. "Yes, ugly. Else why do theycall ane the kipper? "The kipper? That is the fish with warm, reddish brown color --the color of your hair." "No, it ain't. They call me `goldin surrup' and 'treacle' when they're gettin at the color of my hair, and they call me 'kipper' because I'm so skinny and fiat, They can call me anything they likes to lay their tongue to—I don't mind, but I ain't gain to 'be drawed and stuck up for all the lot to laugh at—not mel" Just then I heard the front door open, and going into the bar I met the bloke —Putty was his name—who had re- turned. He was all right—quite sober —for a wonder. I gave him the money I had taken, and nodding at Drigo said: ' These parties is a-waitin to see you." He had not yet noticed Drigo, who sat up in a dark corner watching him as if to find out what sort of a man they had to deal with. Patty now examined him in the same way, and then turning to Taros, who had entered from the passage, treated him to a long stare. "We want to know if you can let us have the use of a room for a few nights," said Taros. "For a private purpose," added Drigo, rising, and dropping his voice as he came closer said, with a wink, "unbe• known to outsiders, you understand." Putty nodded, and addressing me said, "Hook it," as he took down a pot and drew himself some beer. Tarns gave me a pleasant nod as I slunk out by the front door. That altered my destiny. It was not an uncommon thing for me to be sent out of the way when Patty had business affairs to talk about with his customers across the bar of the Joy, and I never troubled myself even to wonder what his secret dealings were. but that kindly look in the face of Taros excited a strange feeling of inter- est in my mind, which made me curious to know what business he had to trans. act with such a rascal as the bloke. I slipped down Ferryboat alley to the shore climbed up the rotten timbers on to the balcony, and edged mybelf into the bar parlor, where I could hear pretty distinctly all that was said in the bar. Drigo was speaking, but his broken English and the low, crafty tone of his voice made what he said unintelligible to me. It seemed to perplex Putty also, for presently interrupting him he said with irritation: "Here! It's no manner of use your being so cussed sly over this here busi- ness. I must know all the particlers straightforard afore I go into it. Here, I likes your looks better 'an what I do your pardner's, mate. Lemme hear what you've got to say." "The matter's simple enough," replied Tarns, "Three friends have left their country for certain reasons. To do so they engaged themselves as sailors on board a vessel bound for London. Their contract binds them to return with the ship to their country, and they cannot openly break the contract without mak- ing themselves liable to be taken back by force. But they intend to desert, and our object is to provide a place of refup'e to which we may convey them by night front their ship as soon as it ar- rives, and where they may change their seagoing clothes for the dress we shall have in readiness for them. We chose this inn for that purpose because it is conveniently near the dook and is not open to observation. If you do, not choose to let us use your house, we must find another, That is the whole mat- ter." "Now I tumble to it right enough," said Putty. "I see you're a gen'leman, sir, and I allers likes to deal with gen'le- men. But you will understand, sir, that all this here is agen the law, and I lay myself open to lose my license and get a month or two of hard even for lettin of parties into the house after closin hours." "I will pay you for your risk. How much do you want?" "It's more risky than what you think. It looks a dead and alive hole, as no one comes anigh once in a blue moon but the coppers keep a bloomin sharp eye on us all the same. When do you expect this here vessel?" "To -morrow. But it might be delay- ed till Saturday." "That means a sittin up on the look- out two or three nights. Of course the job would be pullet off when nobody much ain't about?" "Between 2 and 3 in the morning, if possible." "That'd do." Then after a little con- sideration Putty said: "Here I'll tell you what I'll do with you. You shall have the use of my room for a dollar a night while you're on the lookout, and you shall hand over five quid the night the job is pulled off and your mates get clear. Now I can't say fairer than that, can I?" Tarae accepted these terms, and after some further discussion he and Drigo left the Joy, saying they would return the following afternoon. I slipped out of the Joy by the way I had entered it and hurried round to the front, impelled, I think, by some un- recognized hope that Tarns would nod to me again. I know that I sank down upon the steps of Baxter's wharf dis- consolate when I saw him in the dis- tance turn the corner of Ferryboat alley and disappear without looking back. I had been sitting there in dull apathy, my elbows on my knees and my chin in my palms, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, when I heard a step in the alley and turning my eyes saw Drigo coming back. Just before he reached the Mariner's Joy he stopped and facing about waited a couple of minutes or so, looking up the alley as if to make sure that he was not followed. Then he dived quickly down the two steps. and entered the house. I had ta- ken a dislike to the man from the first. There was an evil, wicked look in his face. There was treachery in his fur- tive glances, in the very stoop of his shoulders. Why had he come back. alone? What further business had he with the bloke which he could not have. done when Taros was with him? These questions aroused my faculties into un- wonted energy. Once more I slipped round to the back of the ' house and up the balcony into the room behind the bar. .urigo was talking to Putty, but in such a low key that I' could make noth- ing of the sounds that reached me. I caught a glimpse of them through the crack of the door -their two villainous• heads close together over the bar -and drew as near as I dared, yet still I could distinguish no words. "But what are you going to ' do with him then?" Putty asked, and his voice, though low, was distinct enough—per- hales because I was more used to it. "I could not gather the reply; but, raising his voice to give emphasis to the offer, I heard this clearly:. "He offered you £5; I'll give you double, and you can betray us to the police if we don't pay up." "And a termer won't pay me to be a haccessory to murder"-- Drigo silenced him with a long "hist," and stepping sideways to cast a glance into the parlor he caught sight of me. He gave the alarm to Putty in a hurried tone of terror, and the next moment a pewter pot flew at my head. I was quick enough to duck and avoid the missile, but I only escaped falling into the savage hands of the bloke by fling. ing myself over the balcony and falling into the mud below. "Don't let me' get nigh you this side of next month, you --, or I'll pull the weazaud out of you," he cried, shaking his fist down at me as. I slunk of around a stranded barge. CHAPTER II. A MYSTERY. I lodged in Baxter's wharf. There was a hole in the side of the wall, under the stairs, for ventilating the cellers, closed with an iron grating. One of the bars was gone, and through the narrow opening I could just manage to squeeze —thanks to being a kipper. Once inside I had the whole run of the warehouse. It was quite empty, but on the, top floor some old sacking had been leftand this served me for a bed, It was dry and good enough for an' outcast like me, who knew nothing of comfort and still less of luxury. I blept there that night, and the next morning I was lucky enough to get work (sail mending) at a ship chandler's in Cable street, for which he gave me my dinner and tea and paid me sevenpence halfpenny into the bargain. It was dark when I left there between '7 and 8, and feeling safe with regard to Putty I hurried down to Ferryboat stairs as quickly as .I could—running part of the way. I was anxious to know what was going on at the Mariner's Joy. I had been thinking about it all day long —feeling a strange emotion within me such as I had never felt before, accom- panied with a yearning to see Taros again—to get another kind look from him. I resolved if I could to tell him of Drigo's second visit to the Joy and all I had overheard, that he might be warn ed against the treachery which it seem- ed pretty clear his companion intended. Putty was lounging against the door- post of the front door of the Joy, in Sweet Apple lane, under the flickering light of the gas lamp at the corner of Ferryboat alley. He had a long clay pipe in his mouth, and I judged he was looking out for Taros and Drigo, who had not yet arrived. I waited in the shadow of an archway until he knocked the out of his pipe and turned into the house, yawning and scratching the back of his head. Then I slipped down the alley to the stairs. There was no light to be seen at the back of the house. The passage door was shut, and the rickety shutters of the bay window were closed also for the first time in my remembrance. Under the stairs I found a dry timber where I could sit secure from observation, and there I waited for Taros. He was not likely to come for five or six hours, having fixed the hour for the escape of his friends at 2, but I didn't mind that. It was a mild, still night. I had noth- ing else to do after dark but to think, and I might just as well sit there and dream as anywhere else. I heard Putty put up the shutters about 11, and when I went up the alley an hour later I saw by the glimmer of light through the dirty fanlight over the side door that he was still sitting up. A little after the clock had struck 2 I caught sight of a boat coining across the river from the Rotherhithe side. As it drew in to the steps I made out one man at the oars and two men in the stern seat. Then my heart beat quick- er, for I felt that Taros was there before I heard his voice. "We shan't want you any more to- night," he said as the boat ran ashore, "but you will be at the same place to- morrow at the same time." "I'll be there. master, no fear. Good night, gentlemen." "Good night." The boatman pushed off, while Taros and Drigo groped their way up the dark and slippery steps over my head. I knew the other was Drigo by the sound of his harsh, guttural voice cursing as he stumbled. As soon as I dared I slipped from my hiding place and ran up the stairs like a cat. When I reached the top, I saw their figures standing up sharp and black against the light farther up the alley—Taras, square and erect; Drigo, with his head buried in his shoulders. They stopped at the side door of the Joy and rapped lightly. The light from within fell upon Taros' fair beard as the door opened. A few words were inter- changed in a low tone, the door closed, and the two men went on, turning the corner under the gas lamp into Sweet Apple lane. I did not attempt to fol- low them, dreading to pass the door where Putty might still be standing, but stood there with a feeling like the craving for food in my breast until the impulse to overtake Taros and speak to• him, even though Drigo were still with him, overcame my fear. Then I ran swiftly up the alley and along the lane, straining my eyes with mad desire to see him again. They were gone; the lane was empty. When I reached High street and stopped there, panting for breath, not a soul was to be seen to the right or left; not a sound broke the dead silence. I gave. up the pursuit in dispair and returned. slowly in dejection. The light was out in the Joy when I passed. I crept into. the cellar, felt my way through the storerooms to my corner in the loft and lay down to sleep, comforting myself with the reflection that I should cer- tainly see Taros again the next night. When I looked out in the morning, I saw Drigo and Putty on, the balcony, giving directions to a carpenter who was patching, up the window shutters. When that job was done, the man put some screws in the bolt of the passage door, Drigo and Putty looking on all the. while. Taros was not with them, nor did I see anything of him all day, though I only left the spot once to buy some food with the money I had earned the day before, creeping under the stairs and behind the barge and so round by Johnson's yard into Sweet Apple lane that I might not be seen from the Joy. When the carpenter had done his work, they all went in by the passage, bolt - d ing the door after, and I saw no more of them. As soon as it was dark I went to my hiding place under the stairs, .but I was less patient than 1 had been the night before, and I could not control my agi- tation as the time drew near ' for Taros to come again. My teeth: chattered, my body and limbs trembled and shook with feverish excitement, yet I knew not why.'' As the clock struck 2 the' police boat passed by About five min>,ltes later another boat came, out of the murky distance and drew toward the stairs. As it pulled into the stairs I counted five men packed in the stern, and I knew by the number that Tains had found his friends. My heart sank in bitter disappointment, for I had made up my mind to speak to him if he came along with Drigo. Now, there was no pretext for speaking to him—he was not in danger, With his three friends he was more than a match for Drigo and Putty, supposing they had evil intentions toward him. TO BE CONTINUED. BURNING. BUtSH. That Marvel of Moses Said is Have Been Discovered by English Travel- ers and Drought to London. This is the Bible story about the burning bush : "And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him (Moses) in a flame of 're, out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed. "And Moses said, I will now turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush is not burned. "Aird when the Lord saw that he turned. aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I. "And he said, Draw not nigh hither : put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." Now comes an English foreign officer's report with the account of a newly -discovered stunted tree, called the chapparo, that appears to fill the bill and reproduce the miracle, minus the voice of God, however: In a huge conflagration this strange tree seems to start into life, as an ordin- ary plant does when it is wet with rain after a long drought. Amid the swirling reds and yellows of the flames it takes on a new life, and after the fire has swept past it is seen with new shoots of vivid green springing out of it. At such times the chapparos stand alone, sturdy and strong, amid. the surrounding blackened trunks, the only living things in a land reduced to sterility. It is not accurate to say that the en- tire tree comes out of a forest fire un- scathed. While the body of the tree is incombustible, its smaller branches and twigs burn. They burn very slowly, while the rest of the woodland is going up in smoke. The London scientists who have looked into the matter believe that the trunk of the tree, and its branches in a smaller degree, exude under the in- fluence of great•lheat a moisture that is sufficient, owing to its peculiar chemi- cal properties, to protect the wood. Commenting on the chapparos, the English Foreign Office report says : "It is very remarkable that these fire -be- gotten plantations are nowhere crowd- ed to excess; on the contrary, the trees are so regularly placed that their aspect vies with that of the most carefully formed gardens." A specimen of chapparo bark is on exhibition in. the museum of the Phar- maceutical Society in Bloomsbury Square, London. A comparison of the description of this remarkable tree with that given of the "burning bush" shows that it was probably the thorny acacia of the Arabian Peninsula, the stunt of Egypt, and was akin to the shittah tree and senna. Hence the mountains on which it grows derive their name, Sinai ; and the trust is called the "Wilderness of Sin," or the "Semis." The woodof the shittah tree furnished the material for the Ark of the Covenant and various parts of the Tabernacle. It is hard, tough and durable, and susceptible of fine polish. BIRDS VERSUS INSECTS. Wonderful Speed on the Wing of the Ordinary Rouse Fly and the Dragon Fly. It is the popular belief that the flight of birds is much swifter than that of insects, but some European scientists who have been making a study of the matter think that such is not the case. A common housefly, for example, is not particularly rapid in its flight, but its livings make 800 beats a second and send it through the air twenty-five feet, under ordinary circumstances, in that space of time. 'When the insect is alarmed, however, it has been found that it can increase its rate of speed to over 160 feet' per second, If it could continue such rapid flight for a mile in a straight line it would cover that distance in exactly thirty-three seconds. It not an uncommon thing, when traveling by rail in. the summer time, to see a bee or wasp keeping up 'with the train and trying to get into one of the windows. - • A swallow is considered one of the swiftest of flying birds, and it was thought until recently that no insect could escape it. Yet Prof. Leunwen- holk tells of an exciting chase he saw in a menagerie, about 100 feet long, be- tween a swallow and a dragon fly, which is among the swiftest of insects The insect flew with incredible speed ' and wheeled . and dodged with' such :ease that the swallow, despite its ut- most efforts, completely failed to over- take and capture it. Row Dan Caine To Himself. An Irishman by the name of, Dan H., who had worked through the summer clown in the valley and drank up his wages, later in the season was at Pine Lake, stud when it began to growcold. one day he expressed his feelings in this way "The; wind came up from below and telegrafted through me over halls, and it says, 'Dan ! what did you do wad your summer's wages?' Albany, ' N. Y., has an area of', nine square miles and a debt of $3,202865. Chicago is the greatest lumber center,. the second being.. Tonawanda, N. Y. off, Indianapolis is well being worth $103,000,000 and owing but ;$1,884,500. its WINTER CARNIVAL. A Great Palace of Ice and Snow---Tleautlful Architectural and Other Designs. With many years of experience and al- ways famous for their success in this line the citizens of Quebec have erected an- other palace of snow and ice. The glit- tering wonder is completed, and those who see it readily pronounce it the most unique and beautiful thing of its kind which has ever been erected in Canada. The main building is surrounded by smaller ice forts and snow houses innum- erable, making the whole scene a magnifi- cent one. The prinoipal structure is a novel spiral. tower rising from the top of the fortifica- tion wall to a height of 100 feet above the level of tho street. This tower is sur- mounted by an immense snowball 3 feet in circumference, up to which a spiral stairway loads, and from the top a com- manding view will be obtained of the city of Quebec and Levis across the St. Lawrence. The icy structure is 120 feet high and is built upon the fortification wall near the St. Louis Gate. The walls are 40 feet high, and the surroundings are such as to make it an ideal location both as a place for sight-seeing and for the operations of the armies of offense and defence which will storm this stronghold in one of the most effective spectacles to be witnessed at the carnival. The tower cost $1,438, and $2,000 worth of fireworks will fizz and sputter from it. Singular ingenuity is displayed by the Quebec people in preparing the program for this carnival. Viceroyalty. in the person of the Governor-General of Canada and the Countess of Aberdeen, will smile upon them, and the Lieutenant -Governor of the province unbends to participate in the frolic and sport of this one week of rollicking jollification. Sir Henri Gus- tave Jolt? de Lotbiniere, 'K.C.M,G., is the honorary president of the executive com- mittee, and other persons of little less dis- tinction in the social world aro identified with the carnival promoters. Tho winter carnival is to Quebec what the Horse Show is to New York and Toronto, and society embraces the opportunity to mingle with the crowd, and he natural. Two years ago, New York, Boston, Phila- delphia, Buffalo and other northern cities were well represented at Qubee's first carnival. Mr. and Mrs. John Jacob Astor spent the week there, skating and dancing and sleigh riding, and many other wealthy people from the United States were regis- tered at the Quebec hotels. It was con- ceded that Quebec had eclipsed all previ- ous winter carnival records, but this year it is the ambition of the • committee to lower the record several degrees. Nearly 2,000 snowshoers in blanket costumes and carrying torches will aid the military in the assault upon the tower or in repelling it and subsequently they will man the tower and the spiral stair- case surrounding it,as wall as the various outlying structures, watch castles and battlements connecting them, all of which are of ice.• The ice palace is not, however, the only attraction of Quebec at this season. There is much to interest in the quaint old town, half buried in snow; the rosy- eheeked, dark -eyed, laughing French• ;.;anadian girls clad in their warm furs or gay blanket suits; the gorgeous, rol- licking snowshoers and their merry French songs, and the social festivities, all of which are unchangeable. The same good-natured carters will be there to drive visitors. around in their low sleighs, luxuriously smothered under piles of the warmest furs. The same mimic war will be enacted on the Plains of .l braham in the attack, and defense of 'the ice fort; the same programme of winter sports will be carried out on the ice or over tha snowy hills, and, the same gay see no will be witnessed at the balls and 'masquer- ades, the rinks, sledding slides, toboggan slides, and even on the streets. The grand carnival drive, or allegorical parade, and the Tandem Club drive will be 'features also of this second carnival, just as in 1894, but they promise to be of greater proportions and proportionate magnifl• cense. HOW TO MILK A COW. To milk the cow intelligently, a man must do so from the side of the question that has to do with the animal as a mother. To milk the oow is to usurp the plane of the calf, and secure for cora- mereial purposes the substance called milk that nature provided for the off- spring. This operation, then, becomes a !teethed of treaty with the cow, and the inducement for her to continue the sup- ply of milk, and even prolong it beyond the time set by nature. The operator should so proceed that the milking is a pleasure to the cow, and one in which she realizes as nearly as possible the emo- tions of pleasure that she exhibits when the calf draws the milk in nature's way. The kest nhilker is the man who estab- lishes a sort of sympathy with the cow and bestows a form of caressing that appeals to her, in turn, to bestow in her way a form of bovine affection. If the milking is a quiet, painless manipulation of the udder, and a soothing sensation follows the relieving of the glands in connection with it, nature pours out its abundance alike to calf and man, and the cow is well milked. It is now pretty well settled that milk -getting is a result of nerve force, and that all the nerve energy expended in other directions than the elaboration of milk causes a proportionate loss of milk, and the worried and fretted cow gives less and even inferior milk to what she would if she had quiet and rest- ful conditions. Thus the milking should never be of a character that irritates the cow or distracts her attention front the fact of milking; the milker should, with quiet movement and assuring way, take his plane at the side of the cow, and, after a preliminary handling of the udder, take firm and square hold of the teats, without tugging or jerking, and with a gentle pressure draw the milk. The plan of milking out all the milk of the quarter before changing over is not a good one. The four quarters should be as nearly even as possible—a sort of round and round movement, until the udder is emptied. The milking should be performed with a full hand, and never with the thumb and finger, and should be continued until the udder is emptied. The operation should close with milking round twice withethe other hand. The gentle hand- ling of 'the udder stimulates the nerve glands to renewed action in milk secre- tion; and it is thus that one gets yet a little more milk. It is this that helps to prolong the milking season, a fact that is emphasized by the poor milkings and faulty milking out of the strippings by the indifferent owner or help, which re- sults in the early drying off of the cow and puts her, often unjustly into the non-paying class of coat's. Cows, of course, should be milked at regular in- tervals and in regular order. While milking, the cow shed should not be a place of strange noises, or of strange peo- ple, and one person should at each time milk the same cows, only on extraordin- ary occasions milkers being changed or new ones substituted. The Individual- itg^,.and heredity of men are not more marked than in what are known as dairy animals. He who deals with men has not greater need of mastering the peculiarities of those with whom he is brought in contact than those who have a herd of cows to care for, the perfect care and handling of which constitute what is called advanced dairying. The dairyman who recognizes these peculiarities in his herd best ministers to these notions and whims, and turns each and all of them to profitable account. In no place is greater judgment to be used thein when man, cow and pail are brought into oontact.—Ex- change, Cream Cheese. A writer in Farm, Field and Fireside gives the following recipe for making cream cheese: "Take half a pint of very rich cream and a cheese cloth. Pour the cream into the cloth and lay it over one of your dairy pans for an hour to drain. Then take a prefectiy clean knife and scrape off any cream that may have stuck to the cloth and lay it on the top and sides of the mass. Tie it up somewhat loosely and hang it up to drip; open it from time to time and remove any cream that has stuck to the cloth, placing it as be- fore. When it stops dripping the cheeee is ready and will turn out easily. The cheese should always be used the same day as it is made. In summer a few hours will suffice. If you tell your dairy- woman the day before she will have a thicker cream for the cheese by keeping some of the milk that is used for cream twelve hours or more beyond the usual time for ordinary purposes before skim- ming it, The quantity of cream de- pends, of course, upon the number of your, party; half a pint is enough for six to eight people. If the cream be rich and the cheese well made, it will be. soft, but without losing its round' shape in the least. Though tied up loosely at first it should be gradually tightened, after being opened from time to time as directed above," Milk Studies. In an investigation and report on the milk of sixteen Dutch cows, during an entire season, by Professor W. Fleisch- mann, many interesting facts are brought out. First, it confirms what has been claim- ed, that milking three times a day usual- ly gives an increase of both milk and. fat: In the case of this herd the increase. of fat was 13.08 per cent. over that given when milked twice a day. In an official test, therefore, milking three times a day should not be allowed unless all the cows are milked so. Second, in the observation of this herd, the individual charaoteristics.of cows, as to flow of milk and quality, were' found to be largely transmitted to their off- spring. . During 1895, 96,564 cattle, 215,508 sheep and 12, 485 horses were shipped from Montreal to British ports, says the. Montreal Gazette. This is an increase over 1894 of 8,960 cattle, '75,715 sheep and 6,845 horses, The average price paid to farmers for cattle shipped was $60, where- as in 1864 it was $55. The farmers have therefore received $5,793,840 for cattle shipped during 1895, compared with $4,818,220 in 1894.: It is stated that ` the quantity of hay shipped to 'feed the cattle was 16,000 tons, at an average price of $10.50 per ton, or $168,000 for the season. The insurance on the cattle amounted .to $96,564 and the sum paid out for freight was $965,640. It is believed that the farmers received $1,077,010 for sheep sold, while the insurance was $54,000,and the freight $239,450. '