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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.