Loading...
The Exeter Advocate, 1896-10-1, Page 2BEYOND THC FROTIER BY H. C. ABBOTT. "He's got the legs of the lot!" "Sh'ivaj, William!" "That'sa geed 'un! I believe the beggar's got a ground up near his out- post and plays with those tribes of his!" "When he isn't plaiyng with his own life—just like him." The speakers were by the side of a polo ground at an up country station in India, and wore criticising the play of Capt. William Strachan, a gentleman the nature of whose dubies precluded Man from anything more than an occa- sional enjoyment of the society of his oountymen. It was allotted to him to sit in the gate of British influence, at the extreme outpost of the hill frontier to wit, with an absurdlyly Insuio ent lewasnoin- fringement n- r gem nb force,as d to sea that there re w ' f in a of British interests nor dis- regard regard of governmental authority offered at the hands of the turbulent and treach- erous tribes with whom the indulgence in such misdemeanor was merely a mat- ter of opportunity. It was six years about since his predecessor was done for, and the natives ascribed his protracted existence to the exercise of occult pow- ers. Yet his only expedient in the face of danger, that his friends knew of was that of getting well into themiddle of it without loss of time, so that his fellow -officials, while growing gradually less surprised to hear of his being still alive. were always prepared to hear of his demise. It was difficult to get an idea of the man's appearance while he was dodging about on one of his numerous and noted ponies, but the quality and pace of his play bore out the reputation of his prow- ess. From time to time one caught the glint of the steel -gray eye tbat contrast- ed so markedly with his black eyebrows and mustache, and the tan of bis. hand- some hut severe face, The impetuous character of his play was evidenced by the sound of his voice now and then, and at last led to an incident in the game. The captain had got the ball, and was bringing it down the side of the ground with a good piece of daylight between him and his pursuers, It was his favorite phrase of the game, and he was keenly enjoying it. His run seemed sure of suc- cess, and he was turning the ball to the centre prior to his final drive for the goal, when the head of his stink split in two and the ball pursued an erratic course toward the goal keeper. A full ripe expletive, in consonance with the exasperation of a sportsman, broke from hint, and directly it had done so he saw that he could have touched a lady at the side of the ground with the remnant of the stick. He flushed with unnoyance, for he did not see an English lady so often that be was disposed to insult her when he did. Despite the shame he felt, he no- ticed how handsome she was, and how startled at his unfortunate self -commis- sion, nor was he inclined to make less of his regret when the man standing with her broke into a mocking sort of laugh at her confusion. .fie pulled at his pony's head until he started the blood in its mouth, and, wheeling the pretty little beast round on its haunches, came back to where she was still standing. "Accept my most humble apology, madam?" That was all he said, and then rode baok into the game, but not to play as lie rind done before. He had a further opportunity of quali- fying his conduct a little later on, for the companion of the lady introduced first himself as the newly arrived com- missioner, and then the lady herself as his wife, and the captain, who had been nursing with secret satisfaction the in- tention of kicking this same person for his 311 seasoned levity abandoned bis pro- . ject. "I'm only a poor jungle wallah, Mrs. Norville," he said the first time they were alone, "so any friends make allow- ances for me when I come back into -civilization, and you must, too." And he thought it good of her to listen to him and show an interest when he spoke modestly, but with uncon- scious force of his lonely and hazardous life. Social routine in the cold weather brought the residents of the station a great deal together, but not by any means too much so for the captainas it nearly always entailed his meeting Mrs. Norville. They were good friends from the first, as she naively remarked a few evenings after they first came to- gether, when he hung hack from a game that he jayed in so that he might sit by her in the dusk under the gardenias on the tennis lawn. He dtd not attempt to gauge this friendship until one of his older chums prefaced a conversation with the seem- ingly vague remark "that it was making talk," and then proceeded to explain his meaning, which was simple. The cap- tain grew wroth for a moment, and threatened the talkers with drastic treat- ment, but a little reflection told him 'that this was a poor expedient for silenc- ing people. Then the light in which he really regarded her dawned on him, troubling him greatly, but it refused to grow less on consideration. The necessity for caution was apparent at once, and he acted upon it in a man- ner natural to him, but without toot, for he was not at home in his difficulty and its circumstances, Although he would have to temper his attentions considerably, yet to absent himself entirely from her society would be, he felt, too noticeable, so he com- promised the matter by exchanging formal greetings, and then feasting his eyes on her from somewhere in her im- mediate contiguity. Abstention merely whetted his appe- tite, but despite this he resolutely en- deavored to destroy a sentiment that he held as discreditable both to himself and to ber,uon]. the same friend who bad first spoken to him about her told him her story. "Who she was," said his informant, froth a hammock in the captain's bunga- low, "in the first place, no one out here knows. He married her last year, when on his leave, and brought her out with him. What she is and has been, very few know either, but I do. You've heard of Harman Norvilie's ability and clever- ness, eh? The captain nodded. "Well, believe it all and some more, too; square, the quan- tity, and you may arrive at something of the wiokedness'of the man. lam riot goingto specify his, vices, but he's got all I know of anyway. No one' ever saw him drunk during the day -his court work's ideal—but he's drunk pretty Wel every night of his life by midnight, an I should never have shared that .inform &titin with hits khansama if 'I hada' worked, with him by ourselves once in Badulipur, and found them both drunk together. His loan split over the busi- ness to me when his sahib was off ou one of hie `overwork' trips. As for his other frailties, you and I both know the country, its people and their ways, !ant not half as well as he does. Most of us. thought marriage would cure Mm of those two things at least, but it hasn't, even with that girl. Now you know why Airs, Norville's life isn't a happy one. How much she has found out God knows, but find it all out she must, some day; then I pity her!" The captain, who had been puffing fiercely at his cheroot, threw it away and stood before the speaker. "And I ata to work with that Tuan??" "Yes," said the other, sitting in the middle of the hammock and emphasiz- ing his words with Ms finger. "And re- member this.for all I have said against him, the smartest and most astute ad- ministrator in this or anyv other province in India, but ruthless beyond anything g with hi ed "deal m lis Moral!" be add ,da es. ,,oa officially only, socially keep clear of him, I that t itover, but come n and a his. Think .n conolusion when you've done so, and for- get that Hannan Norville has got a wife as soon as you can. Good night! see you later on at the club bungalow!" And getting into his trap the speaker spun off down the smooth brick -dust road. The cautioned man watched the lamps pass away into the darkness. "Right, I believe. iu all but one detail," he said to himself. "Opium, more than drink, with that blackguard." Then be thought of the wife, and cursed the husband with all his heart and soul. He no longer troubled himself to disguise bis infatua- tion, and stood deliberately scheming in regard to her. He would see, he deter• mined, how far the misery of the case was exhibited in facts; above all, he would see her, and, snatching down a teras hat, matching the dark -colored suit ho was wearing, he sprang out into the night. It was one of those dark, elm - aired nights, without the faintest refrac- tion of light in its dead soft blackness. Risk he never permitted to suggest itself to him in oonnotion with his projects, and he knew the short distance he had to traverse. He avoided the road, cross- ing some open turf by the cantonments till he reached a line of sago palms, whlcli he knew wouldbring him to the inolosure of the bungalow he as seek- ing. When he reaehed it he jumped the fence and passed between Vie tall, flow- ering shrubs over the lawn, until he was close to the veranda. One of the rooms was brightly lit, and under the heavy punkah, ns it swung to nod fro, he could sea Harman Norville lying at full length in a lounge chair, his chin on his chest, in the motionless pose of an•unconscious man. Dazzled by the light, his eyes scanned the gloom of the veranda, at first in vain, but pres- ently to notice a figure in a white dress crouching at the point furthest removed from the open door of the room. He crept silently in the shadow toward her, and where be was he could hear the sound of her stifled sobbing, as she sat with her hands covering her face. He came closer yet, until he was at her side, and so stood for a few moments. Then she lifted her eyes, and through the gloom that enveloped them both looked into his. The first shock of her surprise died away, and still she uttered no word, only rising from her seat and looking fixedly at him, till at last he held out. his arms to her, and then, with a little choking sob shu let him fold them round hr. Of a sudden the broad beam of light that issued frnm the door of the room where her hnsband lay was dark- ened, and she turned hastily as she noticed the change to the window beside it, and looked in, while her companion followed her and glared over her shoulder. The commissioner had not moved from his position, and still lay to all appear- ance in a state of coma. but standing by the lamp, which she had just lowered, and looking down on him with a smile of quiet triumph, was a native girl load- ed with the jewels end silken shawls that her breed delight in. The captain's anger nearly suffocated him, as he drew the indignant woman at his side away from the sight, but he said nothing, until they were outside in the darkness again; even then his voice was shaking. "Bear it, my darling, if you can, until I can ontscheme the scoundrel, but if it gets past bearing send to me. While Iam in the station you can always reach me; if I go away I will leave my best horse, and a good man, who will ride after me at a word from you. Be brave, my own, and patient, but free ynu shall be if I bring it about with my own hand." He was loath, indeed, to leave her, but at last he went back as he had come. The following morning his friend was driving along the front road of the sta- tion, when he encountered the youngest of the commissioner's assistants similarly engaged, and drew up abreast. "Heard about Strachan?" queried the younger man. "No! What's he up to?" "Gone back to the hills as hard as he can go, with; most of his ponies! Spoil the polo, begod!" "What's happened, then?" "Why, the Duffles has been kicking up a shine over something or other, and you know what he is in such matters. I met him about an hour ago, and pretty wild he looked—riding as if he got a fresh dak every mile. I'm sorry for the beg- gars when he taokles 'em! The kubba (news) only came in at midnight to Norville, and he put the matter into Straahen's hands at daybreak." "Duffias though," said the other man slowly. "His escort are nearly all Duffles." "Yes. but I think they'll stand by him. Maybe there won't be trouble—his influence is pretty thiok up there, you know. So long!" and off he went. In the afternoon, when the game was in fullswing. the commissioner strolled on to the polo ground, and was soon listening to the lamentations over the captain's absence. "Strachan?" he said pleasantly. "Ab, yes,seine trouble with the tribes—bolted off to settle it—didn't believe in such. precipitancy -abut Strachan, fine fellow —impetuous, but knew his ground. Ex- pedition? Oh, no -nothing so serious, Straohau meant," he believed, "to settle the matter by his influence." Then he. passed lightly on to another subject. That game night Harman Norville and hs wife sat opposite each other at dinner. The appointments of the residence were indicative of some affluence, for, in ad- dition to his high position, the commis- sioner Was ommis-sioner,was wortha considerable amount of money. Hardly a word was exchanged by them until the meal was at an end,. and the servants had withdrawn for a time. Then the husband leaned back in his chair, and, toying with a wine glass, spoke to his wife. "It is extremely indiscreet,", he began in a low, even tone, "to conduot en in- trigue immediately under the nose of the y 1 d third person most concerned, and it is also a mistake to imagine that because a loan cannot move or• speak that he can- not also see and listen. These foots may be trusted to come home to yqu,' Mean- while it will interest you to' know that by this time tomorrow, nothing upfor- seen intervening, Capt. Strachan will have ceased to he an object of disquiet- ude to either of us, Remember, in fubnre, that I am good at two things—detecting my enemies and destroying them!" She rose upright, her eyes flaming in ! beside it more open, while the ground contrast to the whiteness of her cheeks, began to rise steadily. This latter change "You have sent him to his death! she I told on her horse, already sorely tried, almost screamed. "For goodnes!' sake, restrain yourself, 1 gad although the grandi_brute stuck You'll be heard in the road. Garrulous gamely to his work, his pane gradually but undiscerning people already report slackened until it was little better than "but I have all I need here," showing him. a revolver that she had hidden in her dress. "Get back to theford, you oan help cue uo' further." "Allah be with you,mem-sahib." Then he salaamed and stood watching her till she passed the next bend iu the road; then this white -spirited native went book sorrowfully to the ford and to safety. She rode on until the power of the sun told her that it'was nearly .noon. The road became stony, and the country that I drink; do you wish to. be included in the (Marge? Perhaps, in keeping with your usual habit, you will spare me your presence for a little?" • She was perfectly quiet by this time, ra her auguish, her face land betraying au ui 1 o a s y g g , r i her boo - on hi she and, inn o m n . turning boon out of the room. When she silently went n was gone her husband turned in his chair half f 1 f some to take a liquor glass, Cull o dark liquid from a salver that a servant was offering him. "Fill it up, Lalmobun," he said. "I can afford to sleep fast to -night!" And thus unconsciously showing that even the sharpest wits can be sometimes at fault, drank it off, and lay back in the same place, and much in the same way, that he had done the night before. Outside amid the trees Florence Nor- ville was standing in an agony of dis- tress. Every moment made more plain to her the malignant cunning which was saorifloing the one man she loved, the only elan who might have stood between her and the humiliation and misery of her future. Presently she grew conscious of some one approaohing, and she saw at her side a native, who salaamed and handed her a note. "Who are you?"she asked under her breath. "Strachan Capt. Sahib's sake," was the reply. She thrust the paper hurriedly into her dress without trying to look at it. "Did your sahib leave a horse with you?" "Two, mem-sahib." "Arefast?" theystrongand f fit. a "Very strong—very fast." "Listen. I must follow the captain sahib to wherever he has gone. Da you understand? Will you do as I say?" "Whatever the mem-sahib orders I will do. That was Capt. Sahib's 'hookham' (command), But there is danger—the Sahib has crossed the border and I must ride with the inem-sahib, who knows not the way." "True; return now, get ready the horses and bring them here at once. Be careful none see yon; cross behind the palm trees. How long before you are here again?" "In half an hour I will be ready, and none shall see me." And he made off swiftly and noiselessly. Her desperation bad developed a de- sign that an hour before she could never have even thought of, for she had deter- mined that if she could not live with the man she loved, she would follow him, at least, and die with him. She went to the side of the bungalow, and by that way into her bedroom, where she hastiily read his note, which, though meaningless in her new difficul- ties, yet put heart into her. Then she rapidly changed the white, dress she was wearing for a darker riding gown, and going stealthily to n rook at the end of the verandah took from it her saddle, and. went out again with it into the com- pound. In a few minutes she heard the salce bringing the horses toward her. One of them without a saddle, and the man taking the one she gave him fastened the girths, and a moment afterward they were galloping quietly over the turf to- ward the outskirts of the station. There were no European residents on the road they were taking; moreover the night was so dark that they could only faintly distinguish the sky between the tops of the trees at either side of the way, so there was little fear 'of their being ob- served. They rode steadily on through the darkness, sparing the horses as little as they dared, but after a few hours the disparity between the two animals be- came manifest, and Florence had con- tinually to draw rein to admit of the saice keeping up with her. Pursuit she had little dread of, and the break of day removed her last apprehensions, for when the sun rose from behind the heavy purple of the Himalayas they were hard upon the border line, formed at that point by an upper reach of the main river of the province. As they neared its bank she noticed that the road bad dwindled to a blidle path. and there was but little evidence of anyone having re- cently used it. A vague suspicion of treachery crossed her thoughts and she turned to the native, noticing as she did so that his horse was nearly used up. The man seemed to divine what was in her mind before she began to speak. "The guard would not have let us pass the main ford, mem-sahib. This is a secret passage known only to the Capt. Sahib and his head men." The water was low in the stream and the crossing was not a difficult one; but, notwithstanding it was as much as the weaker horse oould do to accomplish it, even when Florence interposed her own animal athwart the current. At last they reached the other side, but were oom- pelled to wait there while the tired beast gathered strength. The splendid turoo- man Florence was on had a good few miles still in him, but with his compan- ion it looked a matter of yards. Shortly after they started again they readhed a more distinct path that gave evidence of regular traffic. "This is the road the force has taken," said the saice, "but who knows how far they have gone forward? See, mem- sahib," and he pointed to a broken girth lying in the dust. Encouraged even by this, they pressed on, and had gone an- other mile or so when the eaice'shorse stumbled, tripped, and came downlieev- ily under him, and when the rider had extricated himself, made no effort to scramble up again; his troubles were. over, beyond all doubt. "He's finished," groaned the seam. "What will the mem-sahib do?" "I shall follow the road until I over- take them;" she said calmly. "Xf she overtakes them the mem- sahib will say I carried out her com- roandsV" "I will say so --you have been a true man," and she took' a; bracelet from ,her arm, all'she had of value with her, and held it out to him. He would not tale it at first, till she bade him do so the gecond time, then he offered her a long knife that he carried..'' ''Should the mem-sahib meet the Duffle dogs she will not sfall into their hands alive? he said significantly., "I understand," she said, 'quietly, a walk. She was pretty well past fear of any kind, but her hearb sank as she re- membered the fate of the other horse and the country that she was in. About that time, however, her poor beast, who had been oraning at hs bridle, suddenly y lifted his head and whtnnied faintly, tly .. and a little furtheron the road ran into ti an open sparse on the slope of the hill, with the white touts of an encampment, which she knew could he no other than that of those she was seeking, in ibe midst. Till that moment, she had never thought of how she should greet biln, of what she should say, but the mere aot of being near him drove even that away from her. She made her way along the grass beside the track as fast as she could, an- ticipating a challenge of some sort from the occupants of the camp, but all was silent as the grave when she rode up. There were the tents, but there was no sign of any living thing being in them. As she came closer she saw the ashes of dead fires, and the turf was trampled and brown all around, but there was neither sound nor person about. 'I'he ensigns of the regiment from whioh the men had been drawn hung on a staff where the guard before the officers' tent sboul have been, batt no guard was there. The little camp, its white canvas flaunting under the glaring sun, seemed empty and deserted. As she rode between the tents a ter rible dread seized her, which a moment later found beliof,for sitting in the open- ing of the last tent she reached was the captain, his elbows on his knees, sterna before him, his face lined with rage n disappointment. He heard her approao when she was close upon him, au jumped to his feat, catching up his arm which were lying near; but when 11 saw who it was before him, he droppe his hands to his side and stood looking at her as if he thought his ayes were mocking slim. His doubt was brief, for she slipped from her saddle, and totter- ing toward him, put her arms round his neck. He kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair, and held her long and tenderly before the terrible nature of their -position came home to him. "Oh, my darling!" be cried at last, "you have come here to your death in seeking 110. My men have deserted me!" She smiled up ipto his face. "It is well, dear one," she said, softly. "I ask nothing better than that!" "But you must ride back," he said, wildly "The horse"—but a glance at that dumb hero, standing with his lege straddled wide, his head down, and a sightless gleam in his eyes, told him that he would never carry another rider. ."No, Ivy love," she said. "There is no return for me. When death comes we will meet it together. Life has no room left for me!" Then, as she lay in his arms, she told him the story of her reproach and desper- ation. When she had finished he drew a long breath. "He knew from the first how platters were up here, and planned it all. I would to God I had killed him before my day was over! Now, darling, listen! Heaven knows when these rascals will be bank for my life, but when they have taken it they must not find you alive. You mind me, darling? That must never be!" "1 know—I quite see. We 'will wait for them together here, dear, and when they are near, and all is at an end, your. hand shall set me free from them, as you have already freled me from such another." He looked dazed for a moment, and then in a low, broken voice, "I cannot, my God, I cannot!' he groaned. "You musn't think of it like that," she pleaded, kissing him tenderly. "Life would have been sweet—ah! how sweet— with you, but death will be least like death at your hand. It is my prayer, my wish, my longing! Take my life, dear love, before your own is taken—I could never look on that" "Then it shall be so," lie answered slowly. "And may the God of our future pardon Ina." An hour or so passed, and then across the open they saw one of the tribe that threatened thein approaching. When he was within 50 yards of the tent the man held up hie arm, and the captain went out and faced him as be began to speak loudly in the tongue of his tribe. "My people have sent me." he said, "with a message to you, oh! Capt. Sahib. Promise that the men who have left you shall not he pursued and pun- ished; give up to us ,the arms you have, leaving the woman with you as a pledge of faith in our hands, and you shall return unhurt to the border. What say yot;?" "Go back, you son of swine, to those who 'sent you. Tell them that there's a gallows in my cantonments for every man among yon who has left me, and that the roofs and crops of the rest shall be blazing before another moon is past! Off with you—you ing!" • "And," went on;;`'':. envoy calmly, as TH[ r7I M n t1111- h s TWO POULTRY COOPS. FaU1ts to Cnllfitructlen described and ltx- pla'lned by Certs. The first (Fig. 1) shows how not to make a coop. It has two faults. '1'he front is open to tap, whereas it should have a shield of solid beards one-third of the way down to keep out ties wind and rain. If this shield was made in the �I I 4I . It I , •�..�a•) `ie �, to ' 1 tl1 I I 1 .5'. Y 'i , l x • •i5 lS1 e ill I ri form of a projenting hood it would be still better. The other fault is that the floor projects outside of coop. Rain will fall on this and run down the roof and sides and surely find its way inside and thus keep the floor damp. The object of the floor is to secure dryness, and this construction promotesthe opposite -con- dition every time, and we know it. Tho floor should always fit inside of the walls of the coop. The second (Fig. 2) illustrates a con- tea ?411 •�r ,ai 4 lIY ,\ a+.; 1.,•Ull FF r % c C r e C ''F -_ if he heard nothi .t on refuse these things we will re, slay you where you are. To nigh '; ha11 think of this; in the moan will do as I speak." ",rx He dropped his e,3 sight almost at once. The captain turned{add found. Florenoe at his elbow. ' • "What' didbe say?, Are,they coming?" she asked quickly.: haaas- . "No, love," he seiii,> gently. "It is,a respite. To -night we shall bis alone in peace—to-morrow our troubles will be ended." So all the uncertainty was over, and only their love and its penalty remained to them; but that love was strong enough to light them on the darkest journey that man is called upon to make through the valley of the heaviest of all shadows, which, like the night itself, - was -close upon them. "Darling," he said,, "our love has cost you very dearly. It has brought you_ by the roughest of roads to the hardest Oen fates." 'Let us forget the past, dear," she whispered, "and cease to think of to- morrow. You and I are together now, at last, and we shall never pat any more. We shall be with one another to the end." THE lam. 'd was out of venient coop for common use. It may be made from 21 to 24 inches deep, the three sides of the triangular franks being 80 inches. The construction is shown by the out, and does not need description.— Farm Journal. Rust and Rainfall. The rust problem is just as serious to- day as it has been in the past. Various experiments made with fungicides have shown that these are in no way proven- tive. Then, too, spraying would probably not prove practical. The only hope seems to be in obtaining varieties that are re- sistant, but in a climate like ours, the most resistant varieties will be attnbked by rust. A study of different seasons shows that raiufall and humidity play an important part in the rust problem. Rust has been so destructive to oats and wheat in many parts of Iowa this season, that it will prove instructive to compare that period with those of I894 and 1895. In 1894, rainfall at Amos in May amounted to .93 inches, distributed on seven days. lune, 3.37 , inches, dis- tributed on twelve days, but 2.86 fell on the 28d. In .July only .04 inch on four days towards the end of the month. In 1895 the rainfall for May was 4.28 in- ches, distributed on nine days; 5.28 in- ches distributed on thirteen days; July, thefirst half of the month, .40 inches on the 14th and 15th. The early part of July was dry. In 1896 the rainfall for central Iowa was little over six inches, distributed on thirteen dayt. -tune in central Iowa between two and four In- ches. In this month there were twelve clear days; thirteen partly cloudy days and five cloudy days. The average pre- cipitation for the whole state was 8.11 inches. The rainfall, according to Mr. J. R. Sage, was 1.84 inches below the June normal. Mr. Sage further gives the mean temperature for the state in June, 1896, at 69.1 degrees, which is normal. The nights were cool. On the whole, the month was favor- able for vegetation, and it seems to have been extremely favorable for rust infec- tion.. July, 1896, up to the middle, was dry, but since then we have had nearly 9 Inches of rain in central Iowa. This, of course, has had no iniluence on rust, as grain had approached maturity'. The cool, moist and rainy season of the latter part of May and June are alone responsible for the great damage done by rust to our cereals. If the soil were poorer there would have been less rust. In Iowa the best grain crops can only be produced in droughty years, such as 1895, in which rain is ditributed evenly and in not too great quantities. The great drouth year, 1894, was better for small grain than 1896. Variety in Cattle Feed. Good results are obtained from a mix- ture of grain when•the rise of one kind may not be satisfactory. Variety in feed, especially in the summer season, enables the farmer to produce meat, milk and butter at the lowest cost, because the condition of the animals is always butter when thy receive a variety. It is not ad- visable to change from one kind of food to another,but to reduce the one and add something else. During the summer it is more essential to supply a full ration of green food than to allow grain, as concentrated food is heating and may cause disease in the flock or herd. TiLE DRAINING. Tlies'Are Cheaper Than Stones. and Muth Better. Prof. W. I. Chamberlain, of Ohio, adovcates tile draining, where needed, as follows: With good tile properly laid we can expect them to do 'their duty for a cen- tury or more, which is about as long,as the most of us will bo interested in drainage or agriculture. Stone and tim- ber drains were used largely years ago, but their usefulness proved short-lived. Tile stone drains soon became filled with sediment, the work of the crawfish in many oases, and the timber drains soon decayed. The wonderful improvement in tile -making machines and the increased number of itlotories has lessened the cost of tile very much. This, with the improved methods in . laying them, makes it possible for the farmer to tile more extensi el thann formerly without augmenting thP cost. Many farmers 1cost; n ao sun t of the to tile o account they forget that money invested in that way is invested in permanent improve- ment and enhances the value of the property to that extent, and pays from 5 to 25 per cent, interest on the cost every year besides. Of course the work should bo done as economically as pots- sible, and thoroughly well done, If the old adage, "What is worth doing is worth doing right," applies to anything, it certainly does to tile draining. So par- ticular am 1, that I lay all my file per- sonally. But tiling‘is not necessarily very ex- pensive. No high-priced maobinery need be purchased and kept in repair. A pick, two or three shovels and a level are about all the extra tools that need be bought The whole outfit need not cost over five dollars. A team and plow,prop- erly used, will save a great deal of hand labor, both in opening and filling the trench. Where the ground is not too swampy we always plow two or three furrows, and work in the last one. Or, throw several furrows apart, making a "dead" furrow. With an extra long double -tree, allowing the horses to walk on the sides of the trench, the furrow can be made still deeper with the plow. Wo have put in many thousand tiles and know that the judioious use of the team anti plow will save about half the ex- pense. When the tiles are laid, cover slightly with a. shovel, to prevent the tike being misplaced, or broken by fall- ing stone, and throw the balance in with the plow. The ground ought to be thrown equally on both sides of the trench; it is more convenient for filling. Wo turn the plow beam to one side, and use but one horse, ,allowing him to walk far enough from the trench to prevent ie slipping in. With an assistant to lead the horse I can replace the ground very quickly and easily. Beeping the Breeding' Ducks. After the young ones are sold the ducks intended for next year should be turned on a grass plot and made to get their food wherever they oan find it. They will be all the better by such treat- ment, and :will give but little care to their Owner. One drake for six females should be retained, but it is advisable to also keep an extra drake to replace one should a loss moor in any manner. After the dunks have ceased laying they should. receive no food, as they will only be- come tat and also liable to disease. A Good Way. "Sometimes," said the busy merchant, "I feel like the poet who wanted a lodge in some vast wilderness. I, yearn for solitude and silence." "Well," replied his friend 8ympatheti- sally, "it's an expensive taste to gratify. But you might commence by taking your advertisement out of the newspapers." Mr. Clay—I say, old fellow, isn't Mrs. De Bangs a grass widow? Mr. Pine—Yes. Mr. Clay—Introduce me I have the 'hay fever. Ergs and Butter. If we compare the Manchester markets as quoted on May 14 it will be gratify- ing to those interested. Eggs were quoted at 13 cents, wholesale, for choice. Such prices may be considered low, but the highest quotation for butter was 19 cents per pound. When we consider the work required to make a pound of butter, and notice how easily the hens are kept at this season, the showing is largely in favor of the hens. The cows must be fed and milked early in the morning and turned out on a pasture. The milk must be cooled, set for cream (if there is no separator,) skimmed, and the cream also churned and the butter worked and done up nicely for the mar- ket. Then there are the stalls to be cleaned, the beds prepared and the cows milked again at nigbt, fed and the milk eared for. It may require a large or small gnnntity of milk to make a pound of butter, and the farmer goes to work early in the morning and works until late at night every day and Sunday. And butter sell ng at 10 cents per pound. In the meantime th hens are foraging .nr their food and paying eggs while the farmer is working with the cows. Hints About the horse. In cleaning them, if they will not stand the currycomb well, get a five or ten cent brush made of broom corn, used for scrubbing in the house; they are very stiff, writes 7. W. Palmer. If hr,rses are troubled with the scratches, mix two parts lard and one part gun- powder thoroughly, and apply on the place affected; it is cheap and effective. So manage your stable as to save all of the urine, as it is very valuable; have cement floors if possible. Do not hang harness in stable if you can avoid it. Do not feed too much hay, and avoid water- ing immediately after feeding a horse much of a dinner. If you have whole rye, you can feed a little, and save ex- penses and trouble of grinding it, to young horses only. Use good :snaps on lines and side straps at least, and by so doing save time, which is money on a farm. Farmers need to be cautioned about watering horses when heated. /cotes About Sheep. The dipping of sheep twice a year is a law in New Mexico. , The ram should be changed every two* years and improved. Twenty-five per cent. of Great Britain's beef and mutton is imported. The sugar beet is great sheep food. The fleecy innocents thrive on sweets. Roots, bran and oats make an excel- lent ration for ewes with young lambs. As a metalline for turning weeds into fertility, the sheep goes a long way to- wards paying its way. Put ground oats before the lambs at an early age. They will soon learn to ea; and will greatly profit thereby. C. P. Bailey has a flock of Angora gnats in California and Nevadaaggregat- ing 10,000 head. He has on exhibition at the home ranch a fleece of mohair weighing 12 pounds.. Language Too Cold: Little Dot—Oh, I just love oaks. it's awfully nice. Manama (reprovingly).—You should not say you "love' cake, say "like.", Do not say "awfully," say "very." Do not say; "laice," say "good." And, by the way, the word "just" should be omitted, also tht' "ob." Now, my dear,' 'repeat the sentence correotly. Little Dot -I like cake, it's very good. Mamma—That's better. Little Dot (with an air of disgust)— Sounds as if I was talkin' about bread. -Pearson's Weekly. He Drakes Her sap. Sato Maine Gerson is terribly„ mashed on Charley Sweetser. ' Edith—What makes you think so? Bate—Why, he has been three weeks trying to teach het to ride a wheel, and she isn't . making the least progress. The very instant he lets go of her she falls off. High and Low Degrees. Shorty—Sir, I would have you know, sir, that I have been well brought up. Longfellow—Possibly; but you have not been brought up far.