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The Exeter Advocate, 1897-2-4, Page 2A Dark Mt lits Wort By Paul IngelOW. (COerregtotre) "That's all right. X can get the order this morning—soma as courtopens." "Very welL " "'You'll have the property in shape?" "Yes, what there it of it?" Ralph Duraed sr teed. There was a strange intonation in the lawyer's voice,a peculiar expression of latent triumph and vindietivezmoss in his face. "What do you mean by that ?" remarked Durand, "I mean what I say." "The deeds for the real estate are in your hands." "That setties that part or it, then. Now, then. as to the hundred thousand dollars le ready money—I get of that"— "Not ono centl" Mr. Munson uttered the words with a thrill of gran satisfaction. "What!" exclaimed Durand, startieg euspicionsly, alarmed at the lawyer's triumphant, satisfied manner, "yod sayee— "Not one rent, Mr. 'Ralph Derand! I must aoknowledge tron as the executor of the estate oe Gideon Vernon, but I fear you will not weleome the trust." "Will not welcome it?" gasped the startled plotter, realizing some latent defeat, disaster, in the lawyer's sphynx- like face, awe., "And wily not?" "Because," replied the lawyer, impree- sively, "the estate oe Gideon Vernon is a complete wreak. I" CHAPTER XXIV.—A MYSTERY. Ralph Durand looked ranch like an sager fox-hunter suddenly checked in his read career of further progress, by an Insurmountable, barrier, with a shook.: "The estate a wreck" he gasped, falteringly. His were the white face, the tremxtbling hip, the dismayed eyes, now. The lawyer locked his bands, pladdly. However much he might deplore disaster to the Vernon interests, he seemed to fairly delight in the discomfiture, and ohagrin of his unweleome client. "Exactly," he murmured. I don't believe it!" Durand flared out like a spitting volcano. He stormed, raved, threateeed. Tbe lawyer calmly awaited his quieting down. "We return to facts," he spoke, with provoking coolnets. "The estate is a trreek. Instead of your beeonaing the free and easy dispenser of thousands, you come into control of a shattered, almost worthless, estate." "I don't believe it!" choked out Durand, white with rage and disappoint- ment. "The records will bear me out." "Trickery—fraud A scheme to defeat =el" "Take (mare," warned the lawyer, a dangerous look in his stern eyes, how you accuse roe. I know how to seek redress.'' Durand coded down, but his whole frame quivered with latent emotion. "Go on!" he panted. "Explain your atainatt" "enamel" iterated Mr. Munson; they are simple facts. The exact status of the ease is as I state." "But old Vernon, a wealthy an, possessed of an enormous estate, as his memoranda show!" "I will explain. Mr. Vernon did own all the real testate listed, but I find that one week ago, unicnown to me, he atxecuted a znortagage on the entire property, the villa included." "A mortgage?" "Yes. It was made to a firm in the "But the ready money you refer to?" "That was it." "What was it?" queried the puzzled. Durand. "The mortgage money. I have extvestigated. He positively made the mortgage. The records show it. He tertainly received the money. The canceled check proves it He converted it into cash. In other words, he loaded ,down the estate with a mortgage for ifully half its value. Its income will not :even pay the interest." If why?, "Do you want a truthful reason?" eyes. I "To provide against the very contin- gency that has occurred—to so cripple the estate temporarily, that whoever beeame executor, would have to work for his salary, keeping the estate In order, instead of pilfering frotn it." • Durand bit his lips with suppressed anger at time lawyer's candor. "But the money" "What money" "The mortgage proceeds." "That," announced Mr. Munson, grimly, "has disappeared." , "Disappeared!' ; "Exactly." "You say he received iv, "Undoubtedly?" "Did he not bank it?" +/nee "How do you know?" "I have inquired?" "Then he hid it." "I do not know." Ralph Durand sat a picture of core aternation, suspicion and chagrin. e All his fond air -castles had been shat - leered at one fell, unexpeoted blow. Instead of being able to handle a royal fortune at will, he would do well if he gob the barest living out of his guardian- Itship tiering its term of existence. The ;Inindred thousand dollars had disappeaed. tThere was no doubt but tbat Gideon '1Venon had raceived the amoun5. There emas no doubt but that the lawyer spoke e truth when he said that he did pot UW what had become of it. Durand left the office a depressed, !enraged man—a baffled schemer. In death, old Gideon Vernon's clever - Amiss had baffled him more than his etleilatice when alive. What had Vernon "done with the money? Ah! & thought pame to Durand's mind with the intensety of a shook, Had Gladys received it? He did 3.tot ktow, but be would know. ' That very day the newspapers that had published the initial advert's:meat that Dr. Richard Milton had shoevu to Jera /40 Britta, received orders to ()entente it Indefinitely. And that evening, as , Durand took a rusted key from his nocket and made his way down the ' rivet shore, bent evidently upon some mysterious mission, he muttered, hope - "Them e,dvertisenient will bring her ; back. She will come le elm thinks her heyee is bal danger. Then for the truth. Gladys Vernon certainly knows what has becorae of that hundred thousand dollars, and I—I must dud it—I must, X will possess CHAPTER XXV.—VOUND AND Lon. ,Tera Le Britta had faced some start- ling surprises in his eventful caner, but the scene that greeted els senses in the studio where he had been engaged in photographing his fellow -knights, early electrified One glance at the lady in the ohaie, one penetrating'half-frightened look in return, and, as has been sad, the woraan sank fainting to the floor. It was the peotographer, and, not Le Britta, who sprang to her rescue. Tee latter was too overoome to net for the moment. Overwbeltned, ho stared fixedly at the white, beautiful face of the fair creature, who had gone down under some severe mental shook. Then his surprised lips framed a single word— "Gladys!" Yes, it Was she, Gladys Vernon, the heivess of Hawthorne villa, the refugee— victim of Ralph Durand's cruel power; the heart -broken twice° of Sydney Vance! How had she come here? What fate had sent her across the path of the man who had sought so vainly, taco to face, at a critical moment in the deetiny of all concerned in the strange ease, where villainy and avarice were waging a merciless battle against innocence and right? Before Le Britta had fully regaieed his wits, the photographer had same maned a lady assistant. The insensible girl was removed to an inuer apartment, the exalted and breathless Le Britta sank." to a obair. He could only wait, The photographer, immersed in business, had ordered his assistant to do all in her power to resuscitate the insensible girl. From the waiting room two other ladies had also gone to the aid of Gladys, and from excited, disjointed bits of coneersation, Le Britta comprehended that Gladys Vernon was a new subordinate member of the dramatic company whioh was being photographed. and to which his friend had previously referred. "I see it all," he murmured. "She fled tetra home—she sought to earn her own Ming. She hoped to put to account het rare elocutionary powers in the dramatic) line, she hoped, doubtless, under a new guise, an assumed name, to hide her ide.utity;" and as Le Britta learned that the company was on its way to Cali - ferule, be discerned that Gladys deter- mination to hide herself was a fixed one. "She ventured to remain somewhere near to Hawthorne .villa disguised on the stage, veiled on the street, She probably reluotantly consented to have her picture taken, because she could. not very well evade it. She saw me. The shock of recognition overcame her, and she fainted away. Thank heaven I have found her, though," ruminated Le Britta. "I will save her front a life of drudgery and loneliness, she shall come under nty wife's gentle ministrations until it Is safe for her to reappear to her friends—she shall hear all I have to tell, I will win her to realize the folly of fiegbt, I will protect, advise her as a friend, a brother." Half an hour went by. Le Britta began to grow impatient. The photographer was too occupied to talk evitit bine At last, Le Britta advanced to the door of the room into which Gladys Vernon had been caxried. He tapped lightly.. No reply. He pressed the knob. lee room beyond was untenanted. Startled he entered. it. A door at its other end stood open, At Its threshold the assistant confronted hint. "The girt—the young lady who was bere?" spoke Le Britta, hurriedly. "Wince one?" "Tbe lady who fainted." "She is gone." "Gone I" eyeeh, "When—where?" "Fully twenty minutes since. She recovered, begged of her friends to get her away from here, and—they went." "What way? To the street, while I sat dumbly waiting!" exclaimed Le Britta, concernedly. "She wishes to evade me; she is determined that she will not see her friends. Poor child! Amid her terror and uncertainty, she flies frota those who have her interests at heart. But I must find her, and at once!" "Easily said—diffloult of execution! It took jera Le Britta an hour to find out at which of the crowded hotels the dramatic) company was stopping. He learned that it had disbanded temporarily, to reorganize in Sea Fran- cisco in two weeks. Departing in sections, by different routes, for different cities of visitation, ere the journey began, he was utterly at loss•to trace Gladys and her new-found friends. Speciaatrains were being TUJ1 for the day to the conclave, and the railroad officials were busy, confused and unsatis- factozy in their answexs to his anxious queries. "It is useless to follow the many blind trails -suggested," he decided. "If I found her, would she consent to abandon her evident determination to remain away fawn home while that villain Durand is in power? To San Francisco she is surely gone. There she can be found later. It would take belg- a-dozen detectives to hunt her up just now. I am worried, but she is compara- tively safe. I have no right to control her movements. I will work at the case until I get a dear deck for action—until she oan safely return; then she will not refuse. Thus Le Britta tried to decide, but an hour later his anxiety for Gladys Veruon overcame his former judgment. litquiry had given him a new clue. Be had met the manager of the drat:oat° company. By describing Gladys' two lady compan- ions at the photogra,phe studio, he was enabled to learn that they were the soubrette and the leading lady of the 00133PaDy. "They started for St. Louis ail hour ago," spoke the manager. "Is it SOIX10- thing important?" "Yea I have a very vital message for the lady who is with them." "Ob Miss Regent the new lady who has engaged to play some mlner parts," Teat meatat Gladys, and Le Britta nodded aferraatively "I don't think she went with them to St. Louis. I am quite certein not" "Came you And. out?" asked Le Britta anxiously. "Yes. Come back in two hours." In two hours Le Blitta returned. The manager had word for him. "I telegraphed to the leading lady on the train—bad., fa despatch scot and delivered at a junction," he explained. "And eer eeply. "Here it is. aou can read it for your. Le Britta surveyed the reply message attentively and with expectatiee. It blighted his Lopes, and made the Whereaboats of Gladys Vernon more a matter of doubt than ever. For it rend "Miss Reveal 616 not leave city with as, She stated that she would leave oont- pauy sold return to her home," "Revere to her home?" repeated tbe mystified Le Britta. "That cannot ba— the would not do that—where can she have gone?" The long day through be sought for Gladys \teepee but did. not find, her, Eventide brought no solution to the znestery of her whereabouts, and that evening ;Tem Le Britta appeared. at the hotel that was the beadquartees Of his friends, with a wearied, and a heavy heart, he had disnamissed the thought of personally tracing down Gladys Vernon for the present, and had gone to a local detective agency late in tho afternoon. Le Britta had no idea of mixing up the police with a case where secrecy aasd family respectability were important elements, and he had so informed the hu. oletiteer who was detailed to consult with "I come to you on a complicated case," Le Britta had said, "but I ask you only to consider one phase of it. A young lady has disappeared. I wish to learn where Michas gone—how and neum she left the city." Le Britta therewith detailed the con- nection. of Gladys 'Vernon with the dram- atio company, and. gave a description of her. He told the officer where he would be found until the following morning, and then nand° his way to the hotel. His friends greeted hint with re- proauhes fur bis negleot of them, but good-naturedly, and soon the influence of friendly banter and jovial, companionship dispelled the clouds of anxiety that oppressed Le Britta's rain& For the thee beleg, engaged in discus - sloes of art and of conclave matters, he forgot Gladys Vernon. He was the enthusiastic artist once more, in love with his profession, and ably defending his thenries in regard to the best lines followed in producing and perfecting pictures, as he talked with several toilet -a -- members of his craft (quite a coterie bad gathered about item in the lobby of the hotel, as he became engaged in an interesting, argument regarding sensitive printing, Then lodge matters supervened, and the evening drifted away, industriously and satisfactorily spent. Le Britta had gone to tale room, and was about to retire for the night, when there was a tap on the door. He answered the summons, to end one of the servants o the hotel in wait- ing, with a card. "Riohaxd Dunbar," Iie ead, and he remembered that to be the name of the detective he had eneeged. Le 'Britta burrietbelow. Re found the brisk, busbass-like dicer awaiting him. "You have sone hing to report?" queried Le Britta, anxiously. ft yeee "You have found. n clue?" "We have accomplished what you 'wished. We have traced the girl." "And found her?" "No. Our labors end with learning, how she left the eity—where she wena" "Yes, I understand that" "Miss Raven, as you call her, after leaving the photographer's studio, returned to the Paltmee hotel." "Where the dramatic conapanY was staying?" "Exactly tt "And then?'' "She took her satc,hel and hurried to the railroad depot." "Which one?" "The Gentral line. She purchased a ticezet;" and in a few concise words the detective developed tbe fact that she had secured transportation for .the station nearest to Hawthorne Villa. Le Britta could scarcely credit the information. Gladys gone home; Gladys returned to Hawthorne villa! Wby, if that was her destination, a deoision undoubtedly forced by Le Britta's recognition of her, had she fled from him? With all her dread of Ralph Durand, why should she return to the place where he would at once enforce his power of guardianship? "I cannot understand it," murmured. Le Britta, as he paid the detective and walked out thoughtfully upon the street. "There is some nlystery here." Be tried to analyze the motives that would actuate Gladys in a resolve to abandon her dramatic career, and go back to face the fate from which she had so recently fled. For over an hour be reflected seriously over the case. He oteld not get it out of his mind. More than once be told bimself that he was exeeeding his duty to himself and others in assuming s) reach anxiety and trouble for a comparative stranger, but his better nature discarded the sngges- don, and he resolved to figure out the difficult problem, to find Gladys Vernon if possible. . Was it not probable that, fearing she would be followed by Le Britta, Gladys had purchased the ticket for home to throw him off the trail? Scarcely. Her candid ingenuous nature was too guileless for that. "The case is oertainly arriving at a eritical climax," soliloquized, Le Britta. "There must soon be some developments. The tramp in charge of Dootor the secret regarding the treasure in the ravine—these are formidable interests in the affair, bat this girl, a refugee, homeless, affrighted—oh! I wish could find her, to explain that frieuds are acting in her behalf, that her absence complicates the matterand places us at a disadvantage. Mercy! that is the key to the enigma." Le Britta started violently. Of a sudden a quick suggestion had come to his mind. In a filth he discerned the truth. "Why!" 3ae exclaimed, with a gasp of comprehension, "I never thought of it! Gladys Vernon has returned home—she saw Ralph Durand's advertisement CHAPTER XXVI, —BLOCKED. The rest train on the Central left In two hours. Le Britta's decision bad been quickly suggested and formed—he would go to Hawthorne villa, There he was certain he would find Gladys Vernon. Thither he WAS positive the homeless- orphan bad returned. When Gladys had lied from her home, she believed her lover Sydney Vance, to be a fugitive. The advertisement Inserted in the newspapers by Ralph Durand proved that he was in the - power of that villainone plotter, at least that Durand knew of his whereabouts. ' That carefully avorcled brtl4al adver., tisement contained a terrible threat for the frantic fugitive. If she would save her lover's life, she had better return at once to hawthorn° villa, it suggested, What more naturaltherefore, than that she had so decided to do. Unequal to a trife where villainy held the whip - band, Gladys had ,heart brokenly aban- doned the contest BeforeLe Britta could reach Hawthorne villa to intercept her, to warn her, she would have plaited herself under the baleful power of the miscreant, Ralph Durand I (ro BR CONTINUED.), - RUSSIAN SABLES.• fereething About Hudson Bayand Other Fees. Russian sable heads the list oe valuable furs. It ranks with the most precious stones and will last a century, and is the oely fur that will bring its value iu any season of the year. It has been for genera- tions the favored fur of tee oroweed heads of Europe and is in greater demand than ever. The darkest and best, "imperial orowe sables," are caught On Lena river in the Alec!: wilderness, between the arotio circle and the Arctic ocean. Prices range from $200 to $250 oath. Other beautiful tpecimens are caught on the Obi river, prices ranging froin $100, $125 and $150 to $200. Handsome specimens are also caught ots the Volga river, prices ranging from 13130130 $1e5, the tight colored as low as tie. nose prices embrace all grades of natural colored Russian sable. Hudson bay sables are next in value. Prices range from $5 to $85 for the very best. Twenty dollars will buy a handsome, durk, natural oolored Hudson bay sable skin. The light colored Russian and Hud- son bay sable and pine marten skins are bionaed to imitate the genuine dark color- ed Russian sable. The work is so skill. fully done that it takes a good judge to de- tect the difference; but, like other dyed furs, the blended sables will not hold their color as well as the natural. The best blended sable skins can be purchased for $20. From this maximum figure they range down to $15, $10 and $5. America surpasses all other countrles in dressing natural furs, This was clearly demonstrated as the World's fair, where the Russian sable, mink, otter and other natural furs in the Shayne exhibit were itwarded highest prizes agalest the world's competition. America), supplies otter, Hudson bay sable, miek., seal, beaver, bear, fax, chiza- chilla and many other furs. Russia supplies ermine, silver fox, Rus- sian sable, etc. Neither England, France nor Switzerland produces anteof the fur bearing animals, and the only advantage England bas is in the character of the dye of sealskin, and Germany in the character of the dye of Persian arob, astrakhan, eto. —New York Advertiser, WIDOWS PREFERRED. They Frequently Make Better Wives the Second Time. "There are many obaraoteristios of wid- ows," says an observant writer of the mas- culine eersuasion recentlyr" which make them mally pretcrable as wives. They are not so exacting for one thieg. Their first pbauge, if it bus taught them anything, Kis taught them to be forbearing. Besides they are not so detestably romantic.. If they drop theix gloves in the street, they pick them up wttimout any fuss and do net wait for you to bend your knees to theta, And—a very strong point—they know what mon are and don't have to learn their lessons with sed tears and sighs. Teey are not so prone to be extravagant either—another excellent feather in their nmature caps, In short, if you marry, claret pass over the widows as if they were just the alloy of humanity." . There is a great des/ of 'common settee in this. Even in wooing a widow a man Is sure to be saved much trouble. The dear lady can meet him balf way without any sacrifice of modesty. This, to a hem - hie minded bachelor, is much. She is, moreover, nearly sure to be quicker of in- telligence than the average unmarried girl. Again, marriage often changes a young woman in the most alarming manner. The pretty, blushing girl of one year is often hardly recognizable in the assuming, naughty young matron of a year later. Sbe doesn't show balf so attractively ase full blown flower as she did in the bud. Tee number of men who have thus wed- ded only to be disillusioned! You can tell some of them by the wrinkles in their foreheads within a year of two after their marriage or by the otherwise inexplicable babib of taciturnity that they acquire. One may form a tolerable idea of a wid- ow's merits in some respects by her de- meanor early in Iter vvidowbood. Tact is the supremely useful quality in the aver- age widow. In the long run it is better tban beauty in a wife; better even than money. By it a woman may guide her husbond towarcl happiness while minister- ing to the harmless pride in hian which makes him think he is doing it himself.— Philadelphia Times. aithftd. In Mrs. Moulton's "Lary Tours" le an amusing incident typical of the too literal German handmaiden. These madchen are honest as the day and absolutely faithful, but they are of a placid stupidity vvhiob it would be hard to match. I was about to leave Carlsbad, and there- fore rules were somewhat relaxed for me; but, as I had a slight headache last nigbt I thought I would take a little longer rest in the morning. • "Teresa," I said, don't went to get up at half past 6 tomorrow. Don't call me. Order a warm bath for me at 8 o'clock and call me then." "Yes, madam, at 8 o'clock." She de- parted, and as the went out of the door I called, "Not until 8, Teresal'a She vanished with a Jinni, "Yes, madam." I read late; I was to have a good long sleep inthe zuorning. Had morning come when my door opened? It was so dark could hardly see Teresa. "Is is 8 o'clock, Teresa?" "Oh, no, madam; it is half past 6." "But -I told you not to call MB until 8 o'clooka" ' "But I don't call madam!" And snots o hurt look came into .laur eyes. "I only bring the hot water teat madam has said Is alwae a to come at half past 61" When a znan's collav goat unbuttomed in ehurcb and begins to climb the back of hie meek, he might as well get up and go out —the sermon will not do him reach good. Very ehio are the new beaded band - kerchief pockets to wear with house dresses. Tines) come in COiOril to Snit the gown and are fastened on the side with a peculiarly shaped chatelaine.—JeWel era' Circular. crArAmitRi( BREEDING UP A HERD. 80/V10 r0 Worth _Knowing by hp to Date Dairymen. In starting a dairy herd breed for the best and the best only. If you have not ranch money, get as good common cows as you can and put at the head of your heard a pure bred dairy bull, the best available. In selecting the bull observe tbie particular poiat—get an animal whose female ancestors as far back as you are able to traoe have been famous milkers. Tbe qnality will descend to the bull's female progeny. The bull in the illustration was se. Jested on the principle of being descend- ed in the female line front generations BOLSTERT-FIZEISIAN SIRE. of deep milkers and rich milkers. The neat head, slim tail and delicate legs show his female points. The theory is tbat the bull thus de- scended will transmit to heifers of his get the deep milking qualities of his female aucestors, and the theory is one that works every time. The female an- cestors of the animal here pictured aver- aged neatly 20 pounds of butter a week. Several of them gave over 21 pounds a week. When the bull Was used for breeding purposes, a large number of his calves were females, and they displayed the same splendid dairy qualities as the bull's ancestors. Twenty of his heifers have a record of over 12 pounds of but- ter in a week when they are 2 years old. Sixteen of them at 2 years old give milk which tests 4.08 pet cent butter f at. it,is systematically breeding and feed- ing to such an end year after year that produces animals of both sexes like the above described. American Cheeses. The cheese most traded in, so far as this country is concerned, is known as cheddar, which is a new world adapta- tion of an old English produot. This is the plain yellow casein seen under the big glass globes or in the wire netted boxes on the counters in the grocery tons. In its best developed form it is the basis of the( popular Welsh rabbit. Americau producers, however, do not confine thetnselves entirely to the man- afacture of cheddar. They now produce in large quantities all of those soft aheeses which for centuries have borne a foreign birthmark. On excellent an- tborily it is stated that ut least 90 per cent of the cheeses which bear the most celebrated foreign names are made either in the states of New York or Wis- consin. 15 18 almost impossible to tell the difference between the imported ar- ticle and the American imitation. A well known cheese buyer, an ex- pert, in speaking on this subject yester- cley, talked most entertainingly. "I do not understand," said he, "why it is that Americans, as a rule, prefer and will pay a higber price for table cheese when they believe it to be im- ported. The fact is that 'soft cheeses,' by which are meant cheeses made wholly of cream, are better for the American table than the same cheese made in the localities from which they derive tlaeir various names. The reason for this is that such cheese does not improve to any extent with age, and the attendant de- lay in its shipment from European to American markets detracts from rather than adds to its value. "Take Roquefort, for instance. It is prepared from ewes' or goats' milk, of which the quality is just as good in .America as it is in France. After it has 'attained the curdled state it is pressed into shape by band. It is then placed in cool caverns, for which the locality of Roquefort is famous, and allowed to remain until it becomes coy- exed with a tbick coating of green mold. This is removed with a dull knife every day, until at the end of two or throe xflontims tee mold assumes a reddish hue, which indicates that the cheese is Atte and ready for use. The sooner it is used after this condition has been reach- ed the baler, and the additional ten days or two weeks eeeded to ship it Zoom Europe detract from its value. Brie cheese may possibly be eonsidered an exception, as it pleases some palates in its old state more than in its neW. New brie manufactured in America is more palatable and better cheese than etv brie made in France but by reason of the different naethods of ouring them American brie as it gets old becomes dry, hard and tasteless, while the French brie softens until it , almost re- solves itsele into its original creamy state, and in that condition is considered by neatly epicures far preferable to any other cbeese made. Neefohatel, d'Isig- ny, Bricquebeo and Caruenabert can be and are made in this country just as well as they are in France, their only inferiority lying in the fad that they cannot be kept as long as the cheeses of foreign xnanufacture. But even Anaeri- can imitations can be kept long enough if a tittle care is used. They should be kept in a damp place. If they become covered with mold, as is sometimes the case, that can be easily remedied by washing them in strong salt water, which restores to a great extent the original taste and freshness and imn. proves the appearance of the cheese."... Philadelphia Times. ABOUT ICE. mr*I Ciniting, Backing and Covering Require 111. Be Bone tat So. It is most important to lay in a Sup- ply of ice for the dairy. In the hot days of summer great care is required to keep milk and its products in a sweet and wholesome condition, but with abun- deuce of ice at band the task becomes pleasant and easy oneItt private dairie8 ice ls almost a necessity, and even when milk is sent to a factory it must be coo/. tcl and kept cool all the way fpm the milk pail to the vat. V7Iteu cutt lug ice, it is important to secure it before it is too thick, as then the blocks] are much raore easily handled in cutting, 20 pack- ing and in removing from the icehouse. The icehouse need not be large. For a dairy of ordinary size 8 feet square and with 8 feet posts would be ample. The icehouse may be made simplf of logs, put up in log cabin style, or of rough timber. Hemlock is excellent. Boarded on each side of 2 by 0 stud- ding, 8 feet apart, is considered best, but siegle boarding on inside of studs Will do. In the first ease fill space with sawdust, and in latter case leave a greet- er space inside for sawdust. The roof should be tight to exclude warm rains itt summer. Where a door is to be placed leave the space hetweee two studs with- out boarclizag, allowing, however, a space on eaoh stud fax lengths of board which will form the door, The icehouse must be well drained, as water melts ice, and for this reason do not dig dawn for a 13oor, but rather mire it above the surrounding level. This raay be done by laying a floor of poles, placing the larger ones near the walls and time smaller in the center to make a slant inward, This gives drainage and causes the ice to press against itself, ineteacl of against the walls. The tools abscilutely necessary for out- tiug and handling ice are very few, be- ing simply a pair of grips, an ax and a crosscut saw ttd th one handle. However, a frame for lifting blocks from the water to the sleighs is very convenient and may be made thus: Procure two poles, one long and the other shorter and forked at one end. Drive the short polo, forked end up, into the mud somewhere near the hole from which you are cuttiug and. fasten the long one across it, large end to the hole. Hang your grips to the large end and with aropepull down the tmall end and swing the blocks on the sleigh. In packing the ice, first throw several inches of sawdust or straw upon the floor and then place a layer of ioe blocks, leaving a space of eight or nine inches between them and the wall all the way around. Now fill every crack and crevice with finely broken 100. Break it thus: Lay a block bottom up on the pileand strike it with the fiat of Your ax, W,hen it will be found to pow- der easily. Follow this layer with oth- ers siteilarly treated, always leaving a space clear next tlao wall. e The door of the icehouse must be put A in as you fill it by laying in the places left for them lengths of board on the inside. The space between the ice and the walls should be filled with sawdust as you go up, but this may be doee later. The pile may be covered with sawdust, tau bark, straw, hay or cornstalks, The outside dbor should swing on "tinges and be tight In removing the ice for use, take off from the top volways and cover well what is left eaela time. Several tumors may work together in putting , up ice with great advantage to each, for once the tools are procured end a hole out the labor of securing it Li compara- tively easy. These few points should be remens- bored particularly: Cut early so as to easily handle the blocks. Have a pile in icehouse not smaller than 6 by 6 by 6 feet. Pack tightly. Fill in with sawdust, cover the pile and shut the door as soon as filling is 13"13PeeliPetdhe $ pile covered well all slim- mer and the door tightly closed. In cutting a block of ice cut a deep notch and then strike sharply with the as and in the center of the notch, when the block will split clean, and waste will thus be avoided..—Montreal Herald. Dairy and Creamery. The imported Holstein -Friesian cow Tette Janseu of the Curnaliorn herd has a record of 30 pounds 9 ounces of butter in a week. This is 4 pounds 5 6-7 ounces a day. Where is the cow that can beat , it? Tette Jansen has else a record of 7 pounds 4 ounces of milk in one day. „ ' The impossibility of making a lave ! .., that Will fit all forms of dishenesty, even in a class of people so correct and generous in their tendencies as milk- men, is illustrated in the statute that requires milk delivered to consumers to be up to a certain standard of richness. If the standard is made so low as to take in pure milk that isnot partipular- ly rich, then the retailer who receives , milk rich enough to be above the stand- , ard is tempted to water it down to the lowest notch necessary to escape the law, this, too, though he 18 a church n2ember and considers himself a moral, respectable mate which he certainly is not, tmeder the circumstances. We would ; suggest a remedy for both sides. It is 1 that farmers theraselvea raise the stand- 1 ard of richness of their product. It le 1 easy enough now to get cows that not j only give great quantities of milk, buil likevsise rich milk. It costs no more to I feed audit cows than the animals that I give bine milk. Let farmers themselves urge the adoption of a high standard of , richness for the milk they offer. Then 1 when this is fixed by law no dealer oan weaken the milk down without being I detected. Two or three ye4r€1' breeding I up the standard of richaess win products the desired effect., t Pasteurized cream is thinner than tem) article in its eatural state. Timis is the result of the pasteurization and there is eo help for it unless a chemical is add-, ed, vallieh is under no circumstances to be recontraended. Better let patrons get used to the slightly thinner creara Which has exactly as muce biltter fate* the unpasteurized article.