HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1897-6-10, Page 6dX WI .L/Rtt RRYr10Nq
"I wish that you had not tamed them;
they frighten people by running up to
see who it is when anybody passes."
"I was rather frightened to -day," said
Audine, "for the bull was there."
"Oh, Audinel"
"He was indeed; close to me. I stroked
his forehead."
"Thank God you are safef Good
heavens,how terrible! Wore you very
muohlfrightened?"
"At first, but he was very gentle. I be-
lieve I could tame him like the others."
"I trust that you will not try," said
Godfrey, earnestly. He looked at Audine
with a grsat deal of ad ire io ; but as
he looked, suddenly every shade of Dolor
fled out of his face, and he turned away
his eyes with a strangely troubled ex-
pression. Mrs. Neville saw it, and gave
a deep sigh. She saw that he recognized
in her face the resemblance to the White
Queen.
more than ten minutes, before the door
opened again; and Roger Girwood re-
turned, He held a oandle in his hand,
and by its light Mrs. Neville saw his • heard so bad a sound. She started for -
bushed and careworn faoe.
"You here, Roger f" she exclaimed. ward, .threw herself on her knees beside
"What brings you here on this horrible the bed, and seizing Mrs: Neville's hand,
putnight?" and she gasped again. Garwood sh"Oh, Aunt Mary, has someting dread -
down the oandle, and drawing the ful happened? What is the matter?"
back of his hand backwards and forwards She turned round quickly.
over his brow, he said— "Audlue, my child you startled me."
"Do not be too much alarmed, ma'am. 'tare you ill?"
aleGtdfrey has often walked in his "No,no; nonsense. Why should I be
sleep." ill? I am quite well; and what should
"Sleep! was he asleep? But the awful o ,
expression of his eyes! "He has vary have happened?' She smiled a strange
fearfnl dreams,' said the old man, sor-
rowfully. gather, and sat upright in bed with
"Arad how acme you here, my good, hushed cheeks, and eyes bright and gilt
kind friend:" tering as if with fever,
"I have been here some days," he an- "I was just thinking of you, Audine,"
swerecl simply. "He knows nothing of she went on.
my presence, and we must not tell hint. Then I am very glad I came, Will the
I have a room in Lealstone, but l have small of the gardenias be too much for
been up here and seen him every night at
you?
the window of his room." "No, they are delicious. Put them
"Has he ever tome out before?" down here on my hands; their cool petals
"Once or twice." are so pleasant to touoh."
"Heaven help us all! Roger,my heart "1 am sure you are feverish," said Au -
Is breaking.." 1 dine, anxionsly.
"Time enough for that when there is "No, my dear, I am as well as possi-
no Lure possible." ble, Do not kneel on the floor like that—
"HeDraw that arm -chair
grows more like his father every it fidgets me. D n up
day," said the poor mother. Garwood by my bed; I want to look at you."
looked at her earnestly. Audine did as she was told.
"Something muse be done," he said.
"But what? what can we do?" I sup-
pose it is still this horrible halluoina-
tion?„
der face turned to the wall and hidden
on her outstretched' arms. She gave a
,deep sigh, almost a moan, as the girl
oame in. Audine thought she had never
CHAPTER VIII.
It was night, a hot moonlight night,
and Mrs, Neville could not sleep. In vain
she tried all the devices well known to
the sleepless—she paced her room, she
drank water, she counted the designs on
the paper on the wail. Sleep, nature's
kind nurse, had deserted her to -night. At
last she rose altogether and went out Into
the passage. The moon streamed in, and
filled the house with pale mysterious
light. She put out the oandle she held
and slowly walked to the window.
All was silent, and she leant her fore-
head against the cold glass and looked
out on the colorless scene. Trees shut in
the garden and hid from view the wide
surrounding landscape with its living
fires and rolling smoke. This little spot
was all cold moonlight and shade. As
she looked, the troubles of her life eeemed
to press heavily on her heart; that yearn-
ing for the past, that agonizing yearning
"for the touch of a vanished hand, for
the sound of a voice that is still," came
on ber, as it comes on those who have
sorrowed, in the night season, when the
body is worn and weary, and the spirit,
strong end unshackled, seems to wrestle
for communion with spirits that have al-
ready found thetr rest.
The weary woman bowed her head on
her hand. Then slowly began a sound
that thrilled to her heart. a sound unpar—
alleled in nature for its intense sweetness,
tor the joy it brings to the happy heart,
for the balm and comfort to the sorrow-
ful. 'Yet it was only the song of a little
bird, only the wondrous melody of the
n1gtingale,
When God made the world, He be-
stowed upon Day a beautiful harmony,
a chorus of sound, various, joyous, tri-
umphant, full of love and joy and praise.
Then :Night bowed her silver -veiled head
and prayed also for music; and God, de-
nying her harmony, bestowed on her a
yet ohoicer gift—a melody almost divine.
Mrs. Neville listened, and soft tears
rushed to her eyes. She threw open the
window and leant out; but, alas! the too
human sound broke the spell, and, end-
ing abruptly, the songster flew away.
Think clouds scudded rapidly across the
sky, and black shadows quickly chased
each other over the earth; a cold breeze
drove in her faoe, and the trues rustled
with a sough as of coming rain, making
the yellow leaves float sullenly down.
Mrs. Neville was abuut to draw back;
and close the window, when she was
startled by the sound of a door opening
below. She leant over and looked down
with a sudden thrill of fear. A cloud
passed over the moon; when it floated
away she saw the figure of Godfrey stand-
ing in the garden. The sight struck her
"Did you meet Godfrey as you name
in?" she asked, fixing her eyes on Au-
dine's face. "Yes, I did." "And bow do
you think be looked?"
"Yes, always the same. Something 1"Very ill --tired and i11," said Audine,
must be done to shake his faith in it. I "Ali, poor boy: no wonder ne is i11!"
Can :Sir. Castaletti be found? More than "Bet has overworked himself," said
ever am I convinced that it is all a dia-, Audine, timidly.
bolical trick of that Italian scamp, If
he could be found, I would shake every
breath out of his body. but I would force
him to confess it."
"But what motive?"
"Who knows? I tell you what,
ma'am," cried the old man, vehemently,
"something must and shall be done."
`Shall we have the statue destroyed?
That creature I hate,in spite of her extra-
ordinary beauty."
"A thousand times, no ! It seems to
me all-important that she should exist—
exist to prove to him that she is nothing
but a carved piece of stone. No, no; try
to replace her image by a real living,
breathing sweetheart. Bless my soul! all
the poor lad wants is commonplace com-
mon-sense,"
"But his beautiful visionary nature
aspires—"
"Look you here, ma'am, said Girwood,
harshly, "if you encourage or even ooua
y
visionary tenanoe this nature, your son
will end in a madhouse.
"Roger, you dare to speak to me like
this!
"I dare anything for my dear young
master, anything for his father's son;"
and tears rose to the eyes of the honest
stone -cutter. .Mrs. Neville wrung her
hands,
"Ob, I know you are faithful! I can
depend upon you, my good, my only
friend. Make any suggestion; I oare not
what it may be, I will parry it out."
"Can we not persuade hila that the
statue he palls his ideal is only a previs-
ion of some sweet young lady destined to
become his bride?"
Mrs. Neville suddenly clasped ber
hands, exclaiming—
"Dare IP"
"What! do you think you have Mt
upon a plan?"
"18 is too wild, too impossible."
"Tell it to me, ma'am.'
Mrs. Neville lowered her voice, and
they continued to talk together almost in
whispers, until the first streaks of dawn
began to glow in the sky.
Mrs. Neville, her faoe grey and drawn,
as though ten years had been added to bar
life closed the long windows upon Roger's
retreating figura, replaced blind and our-
tain, and slowly went upstairs to her
eon's room. She opened the door and
stole to his bedside. Godfrey lay sleeping
a sleep so still that she bent down to
listen for bis breathing, and passed her
hand over his heavy hair. For one mo-
ment she looked upwards. She made ti
movement as if she would have knelt,
then her faoe sank into her bands, and
she uttered a low moan, and her heart
sent out a cry of pain. "Oh, my boy, my
boy! my love for you Is idolatry. 1 dare
not, dare not pray, lest God sbould put it.
into my heart that I may not do evil,
even for so inestimable a good. I cannot
pray, I dare not pray."
More forlorn than at any time of her
life Mrs. Neville crept away to her bed.
Every day passed quickly to Audine.
The hours were scarcely long enough for
all the occupations of her bright young
life. Since Godfrey had been in the
house, she had nut seen so much of Mrs.
Neville, partly from a feeling of shyness,
party from not liking to disturb her
friend in the enjoyment of her eon's so-
ciety.
On the morning after Mrs. Neville's
conversation with Girwood, Audine was
up early, long before breakfast, gathering
a handful of gardenias out of one of the
hothouses, She met Godfrey as • she re-
turned towards the house, and stopped to
speak to him.
"I cannot shake hands," she said,
laughing, "for both are oouupiod."
One was full of flowers the other en-
gaged in keeping in order the numerous
doge that surrounded her.
"What a beauntiful Diana you would
make!" cried Godfrey, suddenly.
"Why should' you not soulp—what is
the word?—sculpture me?"
"No, no," be said, very sadly; "I have
done with sculpture."
"You are suffering frbm having
worked too hard," said Audine. "Never
mind; all great men go through the
same; genius always suffers.
Godfrey sighed heavily. He looked so
111 and depressed that Audine was grieved.
"You have indeed been doing too
much," she said, in her sweet sympa-
thetic voider "You must rest .bare, and
only amuse yourself with some little
trifling thing. My Psyche would make
a pretty little statuette " she said, fondly
patting the head of the shivery little Ital-
ian greyhound.
"Rather a pretty piece of Dresden
china."
"Yes. Is your mother up yet?"
"No; I have not seen her. She could
not sleep last night, and she said she was
very tired."
"Ob, I am so moray! Perhaps I had bet-
ter not disturb her''
"L'ou disturb her. Oh,no; you are like
the fresh dew on 'a perished and thirsty
laird."
The oolor mounted into Audine's faoe,
and calling her dogs round her she went
on to the house. Godfrey stood, 'leaning
against a tree, looking after her with a
strange look on his faoe—a - hunted look,
'as of one whowould, fain flee from some-
thing, but sees .no loophole for escape..
Audine entered her friend's room; the
shutters were half closed, and in the dim
"'les, overworked and overstrained for
a mug time and besides—Audine," she
said, veru suddenly, "do you know what
being in love is?"
Audine blushed rosy red. "Of course I
do, Aunt Mary," she said.
"Have you ever painted a vision 1u
your mind of the man you would like to
marry?"
"Oh, yes," she said, eagerly, "My
hero must be liko Gunar the Icelander,
grand and tall, with a long golden beard.
He must be noble and chivalrous; and
must love me dearly."
"A oharming ideal!" said Mrs. Ne-
v111e, bitterly. "A mere great pink -and -
"WHAT BP,/NGS T0U HERE ON THIS HORRI-
BLE NIGHT ?"
with intense terror; bis faoe was white
and drawn, his eyes fixed as though he
saw some vision before him that was
gradually drawing him on; his hands
we -n outstretched before him, as if repel -
lir, nota him that whioh he was com-
1 . e . to follow. In this attitude he was
ly crossing the garden towards the
trees.
She leant down with a sudden cry,
"Godfrey, Godfrey!" but he paid no
heed. Holding her breath, she ootild hear
him utter words in hoarse, broken
gasps—
"I deny it not! an ideal, an ideal! I
deny it not!" Then, as if something an-
swered him, he cried—
"No, nol not false! I am thy slave—I
obey." Another pause, than—
"What 1 I deny thy thraldom? do you
not see that I am Doming, coming with
Oastaletti?" He reached the trees and in
one instant was out of her sight. Once
more she oried out, "Godfrey, Godfrey!"''
then tore open the door and ran down the
stairs. It was pitch dark, and the house -
door resisted all her efforts to open it.
Blindly she rushed to the morning -room ;
an the darkness her hands strayed wildly
over the panels; she could not find the
bandie. At last .succeeding, she rushed
1n; one of the long windows was wide
epee; and through it, she saw two men
entering. The foremost was Godfrey,
walking still with his oyes fixed straight
before him. Keeping tight hold. of his
arm carne the other, who put Mrs Ne-
ville aside with hie free hand, muttering,
as be did so, in the 'familiar voice of
Roger; Girwood--
"Wait!"
And the two passedstraight on and
upstairs, and the unhappy mother sank
down on the sofa, while gasps,almost
convulsive, shook her from head to foist.
It seemed hours, thoughinreality not
SHE FOUND GODFREY IN SIS OWN ROOM.
white doll, with no genius and hardly
any intellect."
Intellect I should certainly require,"
said Audine, smiling; but genius makes
its possessors so unhappythat I do not
think it a very enviable gift."
"Do you know that you are talking
nonsense, child?" oried Mrs. Neville,
with her cheeks now flushed, and her
hand trembling, "Who are you that you
should deny the advantage of such a
heaven-sent gift?"
"I do net, indeed I do not deny it. On
the contrary, I admire it beyond any-
thing in the world. But, Aunt Mary, it
makes me think of those beautiful Indian
insects which shine more and more when
they are in pain, and whose brilliancy is
the greatest when suffering is at its
height."
"A very fine sentiment, AndineI"
The color rushed to Audine's cheeks,
the tears to her ayes, at the sarcasm.
Mrs. Neville went on—
• "And do you mean to say, that if an
angel oame to you with two gifts in his
band—one Genius, with its crowns of
fame, glory, triumph, and path; the
other Happiness, with its attendant peace
and calm, domesticity and repletion—
yon would choose Happiness?"
"If both came from God, and I might
serve God equally with either. 1 would,"
said. Audine, seriously.
"I had thought better of you, you
tame -spirited little thing!"
"Aunt Mary, why are you so harsh to
me to -day?" and Audine bid her face to
hide the tears that would come.
Mrs. Neville sighed impatiently. "If
happiness is so pleasant a thing," she
said, suddenly °banging her tone, and
speaking with a sort of forood lightness
that puzzled Audine, "I want to talk to
you about a scheme for amusing our
neigh bore. "
"Do tell me." Audine looked up again
brightly.
"I want to
vents!"
"Quite delightful! I should enjoy it of
all things. We will ask the very prettiest
people."
"I have thought of several good sub-
jects." said Mrs. Neville, speaking very
fast. "What do you think of a scene from
the Huguenots, and. Rebeooa and Row-
ena, and Nydia and Glauous. One thing
-I have quite set my heart on." She
stopped as if out of breath.
"Yes, dear Aunt Mary?"
"I want to dress you up like Godfrey's
White Queen."
Mrs. Neville fell back upon her pil-
lows, watching Audine's face.
"Verywell, said the girl, laughing,
"If you do not think it too bold and pre-
suming."
"No; it will make a pretty tableau. I
have photographs. Besides, 1 know the
drapery so well, I am sure I oan manage
it. Now, if you go, dear, I will get up,
and we will begin our programme after
breakfast." •
'Oh, what fun! what fun! I must have
out the oestume box and see what I oan
find." She stooped to kiss Mrs. Neville,
then rose up with a little cry, Oh, my,,
poor flowers!"
Theywere quite .crushed, bruised, and
broken.
CHAPTER IX„
Audine and Mrs. Neville spent some
days entirely.' in the preparation for their
entertainment. .
There were very few people invited to
act; the two handsome daughters of a
neighbor; .twocoueins of the Fitzjameses,
who lived about tweave miles off; God-
frey Neville and an old Indian colonel,
with , a picturesque white beard, who
lived close by;—but Audine resolved to
actors, as Rebeooa and Rowena, Minna
and Brenda, eto. Godfrey made a hand-
some Gimlet's, with fair little Ella Fitz-
james for a Nydia; Mrs. Neville herself
made a splendid Vandyke. When the day
oazne the carefully darkened room was
crowded with guests; and Audine peep-
ing through the thick baize ourtain, felt
her heart beat fast.
The first scene was a great euoeess: the
performers stood admirably, the lights
were perfectly arranged, and a storm of
clapping followed.
The pauses were filled up by, musio,
picture succeeded picture, and tbo even-
ing began to draw towards a olose.
"Godfrey," whispered his mother be-
hind the scenes, "I wish you would go
among the spectators now, for I want
your artist -eye to judge of the effect of
this last tableau, whioh I have arranged
mv9elf.''
Godfrey looked at her affectionately..
"Flow pale you are, mother! do not
overtire yourself." And be went out and
seated himself among the audience,
(To be continued.)
SHORTHAND CONFIDENCES.
Two Stenographers Exchange Stories at
to the 'Blunders They Have blade.
They were both old time stenographers,
employed somewhere by the week, but the
consciousness of being able at will to pro-
duce pages of hen's tracks which only they
could decipher—and sometimes even they
failed to do so—invested them with a feel-
ing of intense superiority to the rest of
mankind.
But this normal feeling was for theno-
ment usurped by one of humility, as they
sat on the sofa, the light turned gently
down, and the soft radiance of the flicker-
ing jet in the street alone illuminating the
apartment. It was an hour for confession,
and he paved the way by saying:
"The first job I ever struck I lost through
carelessness. My employer dictated a letter
tea client asking him to meet him at a
hotel oalled the Seven Ravens. I wrote it
out the Seven Elephauts."
"A wholesale chemist was my first em-
ployer," she murmured. "He used to
keep a diary. One day he dictated to me
the fateful words: 'Bought a carload of
sulphuric acid. • Quite a good day's busi-
ness.' "
"How did you transcribe it?" be in-
quired eagerly, for he bad registered a vow
in his inmost soul that he would never
marry a perfect idiot.
"I didn't get it quite right. `Bought a
carboy of sulphuric acid. Good God! It's
pdsonouss' "
He moved a little way from her,but re
membered his own early struggles and
edged back again,
"Dearest," he whispered, "do you re-
member the convention which nominated
Garfield?"
She thought he was trying to find out
how old she was, but curiosity got the bet-
ter of discretion and she confessed to a
dim memory of that occasion.
"I was hired then to report the speeches.
A New Yorker got up and said tho dissen-
sions among their opponents were very
timely, for they bpde lair to create a break
in the ranks of the Democratic party"
"Oh, tell me," cried the fair girl, with
a sudden accession of interest, "how did
you got it?"
His bead fell on his breast.
"I cannot. I dare not toll you."
Rising, she turned the lamp down still
lower, "This man said the dissensions
among their opponents bade fair to create
a break in the ranks of the Democratic
party?"
"He did! And I transcribed it `pants
of the Democratic party,' and what is
more, it was printed in the papers that
way the very next morning. "—Chicago
Dispatch.
have some tableaux via -
THE SHEEP OF LEBANON.
Famous
They Are Fattened Like the
Geese of Strassburg,
Harry Fenn, the artist, has written for
St. Nicholas an account of his visit to the
famous ceders of Lebanon, which place is
also noted for its silk. Mr. Fenn says:
Wherever a handful of earth can be made
to rest upon a ledge, there a mulberry
plant grows. It is a picturesque and thrill-
ing sight to see a boy lowered by a rope
over the precipice, carrying a big basket of
earth and cuttings of mulberry twigs to
plant in his hanging garden. The drop of
leaves, fodder for the worms, is gathered
in the same way. By such patient and
dangerous industry have these hardy
mountaineers been able to make their wil-
derness of rock blossom into brightly col-
ored silks. Not a single leaf is ]eft on the
trees by the time the voracious worms get
ready to spin their cocoons, but a second
Drop comes on later, and a curious use is
made of that.
The tree owner purchases one of those
queer big tailed Syrian sheep, the tail of
whioh weighs 20 pounds when at the full
maturity of its fatness, and then a strange
stuffing process beigns, not unlike the fat-
tening of the Strassburg geese. When the
sheep can eat no more, the women of the
house feed it, and it is no uncommon sight
to see a woman going out to make an aft-
ernoon call leading her sheep by a string
and carrying a basket of mulberry leaves
on her arm. Having arrived at her friend's
house, she squats on the ground, rolls a
ball of mulberry leaves in her right hand
and slips it into the sheep's mouth, then
works the sheep's jaw up and down with
the other hand till she thinks the mouth-
ful has been chewed enough, when she
thrusts it down the throat of the unfor-
tunate animal. The funny part of the
business is that probably half a dozen gos-
sips of the village are seated 'around the
yard, all engaged at the same operation.
Of euurse the sheep get immensely fat, and
that is the object; for at the killing time
the fat is tried out and put into jars as
meat for the winter.
BLACK LANGSHANS.
A Profitable .Fowl .For tate Farmer ono
iiiarlcet Poultryman.
The Langshan is the smallest of the
Asiatio class. It is a prolific layer and a
practical fowl in every sense. Langshans
have dark legs aucl white flesh, The
flesh of the Langsban is fine graiued,
tender and nicely flavored. As layers
they rauk among the best, averaging
from 12 to 13 dozen a year, and as win-
ter layers they are to be recommended,
The chicks are hardy and mature early.
Langshans are good sitters and mothers,
being of gentle disposition; they are
easily kept in confinement or on free
range. Being excellent foragers, they
are ideal fowls for the farm, and will
gather during the year a considerable
proportion of their food.
The Langshau is a stylish, medium
sized bird, not overgrown or gawky in
appearance, of active nature and lively
light she saw Mrs. Deville lying in bed ,'do wonders. The: Davenports, who were
in alt attitude of the deepest dejection, tall and dark. appeared in various ohar-
n '
4i
rauts-
PAIR OF BLACIK LANGSIrANS.
disposition. There are two varieties, the
blank and the white. The black in
plumage of neck, bank, saddle, sickles,
is a'glossy metallic black, with greenish
sheen; breast, primaries, secondaries,
tail, fluff, shank and toe feathers, blank.
The undercolor is black or dark slate.
The white Langshan is pure white
throughout. The standard Weight of
cooks for both varieties is 10 pounds;
bens, 7 pounds; cockerels, 8 pounds,
and pullets, 6 pounds.
In disposition, the Laugshans are
gentle, friendly and very sociable, like
to be about people and have little fear
in their composition. While not a noisy
fowl, many persons have remarked
that their Langshans could almost talk.
Many times, they say, they think visit-
ors are approaching and go to the door
only to find a bevy of Langshans chat-
ting sociably together out on the grass.
On the farm we make pets of all our do-
mestic animals, and Langshans take tc
this sort of treatment very kindly; they
return, too, every attention with most
generous interest. In malting their nests,
they are not at all secret hearted, pre-
ferring to lay on your back porch, if
you will let them.
DRESSING POULTRY.
Best Methods For Fowls, Broilers and
Dukes..
The following is quoted from the
book "Broilers For Profit;"
The birds, prior to the pinking, are
caught and weighed, and those that are
up to the desired weight (1g or 2
pounds, as the case may be) are put in.
a cage, and those short of the weight
are returned to the pens and held back
for another week. The dresser takes the
work on contract -6 cents each, out of.
which, he pays the pickers (Italian wom-
en) 2 cents apiece. These women aver-
age from 15 to 50 birds in a day, their
work being to take out:the pin feathers,
so as to have the carcass perfectly clean.
'When it is known that those women
must pink 'out every little stub, done
with the fingers and a small knife, and
all for 2 Dents a bird, their work can
certainly be appreoiated,
Everything being ready, the bird's
legs are fastened to a stout cord suspend-
ed from the ceiling, and a large hogs-
head or barrel is plaoed underneath to
patch their blood and feathers. Then
the operator gets in front of the bird,
placing it ander his left arm, and with
a knife made expressly for the purpose
(sold by dealers in poultry supplies) he
runs the knife batik in the mouth, and
then bringing it a little forward, outs
crosswise, severing an artery, The
mouth during the operationis held
open with the Angers of the left hand.
Great care is taken not to out too much,
for fear of the bird dying before the
feathers are all removed, in which ease
it would be difiloult to pick.
While the lifeblood is still in the
chicken the rapid work of feather pull-
ing is begun. The feathers of the breast
are first taken, then the nook, then the
back, then the tail and wing feathers,
and finally the feathers on the legs. It
is a sight to those who never saw the
work before,
After the women have completed
their part, they hand the bird back to
the dresser, who gives it a critical ex-
amination before it gets the first bath
of cold water. If the akin should be
torn, whioh occasionally happens, it is
sewed up with common thread..
Having all the feathers removed, the
birds are then put in cold water, to
After re-
maining
little salt,
is tt
which addada
in this water for some time,
the clotted blood in the mouth o1 the
chicken is removed with the finger and
the carcass is placed in another tub of
clean cold water.
That ends the work of the dresser, the
shipping being done generally by the
owner.
For the Chicago and western markets,
either the dry picking or scalding meth-
ods can bo employed for Iowls, but the
latter sell best to home trade. For scald-
ing the water should be as near the boil-
ing point as possible without boiling.
Pick the legs dry before scalding. Hold
by the head and legs, and immerse and
lift up and down three times. If the
head is immersed, it turns the color of
the comb and gives the eyes a shrunken
appearance, making buyers think the
fowl has been sick. The feathers and
pinfeathers should then be removed im-
mediately, very cleanly and without
breaking the skin. Then "plump" by
dipping ten secouds in water, nearly 01
quite boiling hot, and thea immediately
in cold water. Hang in a cool place un-
til the animal heat is entirely out.
Ducks at 10 weeks of age should be
shipped to market. After that time the
pinfeathers will begin to grow, and the
docks will lose weight. The plan adopt-
ed on'the Long Island duck farms is the
same as advised above for poultry, only
that more water must be used, as it is,
harder to penetrate and loosen the feath-
ers on ducks than chickens. It is a mis-
take to wrap them in cloths after being
scalded, as such a method gives them a
pale, sickly appearance.
Begin picking as soon as the carcase
is sufficiently cool. Start with the breast
feathers. Leave the feathers on the
head and about a third of the neck; also
the flights in wing and the tail feathers.
Remove all the rest. When finished
picking, first plunge the duck in bot
water and then in ice cold having some
salt in it. Leave in this ice water until
they axe thoroughly chilled. The above
will fit the average eastern and western
market, with the exception of Boston, •
whioh wants the dunks dry picked, with
tail feathers removed and pinfeathers
shaved.
Geese are dressed the same as ducks.
In turkeys, do not deprive them of
food for longer than 12 hours, or they
will begin to mope, lose flesh and spoil
their appearance. Rill by bleeding in
the mouth or neck, but do not bleed in
the mouth unless you fully understand
the operation, for to half do it will oc-
casion blood to follow every feather you
pinok. Some farmers market turkeys
with their heads cut off. This can be
done in a great many markets, but the
necks should be left as long as possible,
and where the heads are taken off the
bird should be killed by beheading.
DUCKS.
Among the Most Profitable of All Fowls
if Properly Oared For.
Your young ducks should have free
access to green grass. If short, it is
their best green food. If you acid a
small quantity of coarse sand to their
feed, which should be largely of corn-
meal, it will aid their digestion. If you
intend to fatten them for market, in-
crease the cornmeal until, at about 8
weeks old, you are giving them about
90 per cent of it. At 10 weeks they
should weigh five pounds apiece and
will give yon the finest, sweetest roast
you can desife, or if sold in market will
bring you a large price and a handsome
profit.
Water to swim in is not necessary. In
fact, it is rather an injury to a soft,
green duckling, as it develops too much
muscle and renders the carcass tough.
As a rule, ducks are not subject to
disease, their ailments being slight and
easily prevented. They are not troubled
with vermin, and, unlike chickens, do
not have gapes. The lack of coarse sand
in the food will give them indigestion,
and damp quarters at night will cripple
them with rheumatism. Bowel trouble,
the scourge of the brooder chick, does
not trouble the duckling. The dunk in-
dustry, from a small beginning a few
years ago, has now reached vast propor-
tions, and plants which turn out 20,000
ducklings annually are becoming nu-
merous. The demand is ever increasing,
and the prices in the early spring sea-
son are very high, and consequently the
profits are very satisfactory.
An unreasonable Mother.
Two small and lively urchins were
attired in their best the other afternoon
to attend the matinee with an auntie,
and in the interval before her appear-
encs escaped just a few seconds from
nuclei the watchful eye of their careful
mother: When they reappeared after
this brief absence, the youngest boy,
Donald, was in a condition not to be
described, but whioh necessitated at
once a change of linen and general re-
furnishing before he could be seen in
polite society, again.
"Donald 1 Donald!" exclaimed his in-
dignant and long suffering " mother,
"What do you mean? Where have you
been? Now, I shall have to keep auntie
waiting while. 1 dress you all over
again. You are a naughty, naughty
boy. ,,.
"Psbawt" retorted Donald in an in-
jured, defensive tone. "That ain't noth-
in. What y' niakin such a fuss about?' 1
on'y crawled through the sewer twice."
---Louisville Courier -Journal
A Few Freak Fowls.
Turkey bas produced a variety of
fowl known as the Sultan, which has a
head closely •resembling the bearded
Turk, and is really a very comical look-
ing bird indeed. Nevertheless, its chief
claim to being is based on its good looks.
It is, however, a very excellent layer,
but is hardly large enough to be raised
for the table.
One of the most remarkable products
of careful breeding is the Buff Cochin
cock, the feathering of whose legs is a
real curiosity. The Cochin is a hand-
some fowl and is very popular. The
breeders are very careful to keep its leg
covering of downy softness, uo quilled
feathers being admissible. Another
freak is the crested black Polish fowl.
These are good, practical ohiokens, as
are the Cochins, and have heads that
look like huge white chrysanthemums.
Some of them .have beards as well as
crests. •
Age For Breeding.
A mistake is in breeding year after
.year from year old hens. The custom of
selling off the .old hens because they are
a little heavier than the pullets of the
previous season is a most reprehensible
one, as young turkeys from pullets'
eggs are; never as hardy as those hatch-
ed from the eggs of mature hens. Tur-
key hens should bo kept until 4 or 5
years old, as they continue to produce
eggs for several years.
A Matter of Selection.
In every flock, no matter what the
breed may be, there are certain hens
that are better layers, bettor feeders
and better looking than others of :the
same, flock. It is in the selection of
these that skill is shown. Any one oan
acquire the skill if he has the pa-
tience.
Don't Overfeed.
More flocks are overfed than underfed.
A fat ben gets lazy and sits around un-
til, she gets broody, while one that is fed
just a little less than she will eat is
rustling aroundforthe amount her ap-
petite calls for, and is healthy' and pro-
ductive.
There is no medioine for poultry like
pure food, good care, comfortable guar
tars and all the sunshine possible, in,
and out of doors. The beauty of all this
is that it is the kind of medicine that is
at the disposal of every one, without
money and without price.
Partly True Only.
xit 1s just as easy to keep 1,000 hent
as it is to keep a dozen, after you know
how• No man without experience would
try to keep 7,000 hogs or cattle. Ho
world only try to do this after having
tried a smaller number. It takes just as
Much good acus° to keep a large flock of
poultry as it does to keep a. large herd of
hogs or cattle, no more, no less.
But 1,000 hens require just ten times
as much land to run on as 100 hens do.