Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1897-8-5, Page 2WHAT SHE IRE Be IAN lifiCLAREN. 1:0 epyright. ISir, by Ian Maelstrom.] Maud Trevor was a gemaine teatime and kept her amounts with the aid of six purses, One was an ancient house- wife a her grandmother's, which used to be equipped with silk and thread and needles and button., aud from a secret place yielded to the third generation a bank uote of value. This capacious re- teptaclo was evident y intended for the household exabequer, whose transactions were leutunerable and whose monthly budget depended for success on an un- failing supply of copper. Aeother had wane from ber mother and was of obso- lete design—a bag closed at both ex- lremities, with a long, narrow slip in the middle and two riugs which com- pressed the gold into one end and the silver into the other. This was marked out by Providence for charity, since it made no provisions for pennies and laid a handieap of ieconvenience on three- penny bits. It retained a subtle trace of an old tashioned scent her mother loved rind recalled her raother going out on some errand of merey—a St Clare in her sacrifices and devotiou. Purse three descended from her father and was an incarnation of business—of chamois leather with a steel clasp that closed with a click, having three compart- ments within, one of which had its own clasp and was reserved for gold. In this bank Maud kept the funds of a clothing eociety, whose more masterly bargains ran eomethaes into farthings, and she was always haunted with anxiety lest a new farthiug and a half sovereign should some day change places, .A pret- ty little purse with ivory aides and sil- ver hiuges—a birthday gift of her girl- hood—was large mania to hold her dress allowance, which Trevor bad fixed at a most generous rate when he had barely .4400 a year and had since forgot- ten to increase. One in sealskin had been a gift of engagement days and held the savings of the year against birthday and Christmas presents—whose contents were the subject of many calculations. A cast off purse of Trevor's had been devoted to Bertie, their only child, and from its resources came, cue way or other, all he needed, but it happened that No. 6 was constantly re -enforced from the purse with the ivory sides. Saturday forenoon was sacred to book- keeping, and Maud. used her bed as a table for this critical operation, partly because it was so much larger than au escritoire, but chiefly because you could empty the purses into little pools with steep, protecting banks. Of course if one sat down hurriedly there was great danger of amalgamation, with quite hopeless consequences, and Trevor held over lelaud's head the chance of his tanking this naistake. It was his way, till he grew too busy, to watch till the anxious face would suddenly brighten and a rapid change be made in the - pools—the household contributing some- thing to presents and dress purse toBer- tie, while private and public charity would accommodate each other with obange. Caresses were strictly forbidden In those times of abstaase calculation, •and the evil one who stands at every raan's elbow once tempted Trevor to roll the counterpane into a bundle— purses, money. and all—but Maud, when be coufessed, said that no human being would be allowed to fall into such 'wiokedness. Trevor was obliged to open her ward.- eobe 14 days after the funeral, and the first thing he lighted upon was the purses. They lay in a row on an old =- want book—a motley set indeed—but so absurd and tricky a spirit is pathos that they affected hinl more svviftly than the sight of a portrait. Was ever any one so faithful aud conscientious, so self forgetful and kind, so capable also and clever in her own sphere? Latterly he had sneered at the purses, and once, being vexed at something in a letter, he had tad Mand she ought to bare done with that folly and keep her accataits like an edueated woman. "A girl of 12 would be ashamed." What a raercile. powereuemory wields./ She only droops, her head—it was on the sealskin purse the ts,ar fell, and be saw the bend of the Wye at Thatern where be had sar- i e ET 1 4 19 Dues las:rifle, row on an.oI1 accoun,tbook. prised bee with that purse. He was moved to kiss trWay that tear, but his heart hatdened. Why could she not be like the women he knew? Wen, he would not be troubled any longer with her simple ways—be could do es he pleased now with the purses. A bitter tetedriess of grief took peeSeSSiois of him, arxd be arrammged them on the bed. One was empty, the present purse, and he underetood—the dress purse, of course, a little silver only—the rest had scale that he mieht have sonsethieg beautiful, 11 keew that it must be done sooner er later, and today was beste foe his heart could be am sorer. Yea here they were, the ungaven gifts, for every poison, from himself to the lanne—alt VrEtpped in soft white Paper and ready in good tune. But he must epee it—an inkstaud for his study it 40lid brass, with pens and other ,thinge complete—be noted every detail as if o estimate its value. It came back to him how she had ounulugly questioued him about his needs before he left for Cantles till be grew impatient "Dealt bathe tue about ink bottlee." Yes, the very words and others—the secret writing of memory came out in this fire of sorrow. "Why won't women uuderstand that a man can't answer questions about trifles where he has work on hand?" He could swear to the words, and be knew how Maud looked, although be did uot see. "Dou't go away. You promised that you would sit beside me aten I worked —binder me? 1 suppose you are bidding for a kiss. You know the sight of your face iuspires me." That was ten years ago --be might have borne with her preseuce a little longer. She never would come again—he would have no interruptions of that kiad. Her gloves, sixes—what a perfect hand it was (smooths out the glove). His memory brings up a dinner table. Mrs. Chatterby gives her opinion on Meredith's last novel and helps herself to salt—be seegi a disgusting hand, with stumpy fingers and for impudence a street arab of a thumb, A vulgar little woman through and through, and yet because she picked up scraps trona the monthlies and had the trick of catch words people paid her court. And be had soeuetitees thought, but he knew better today—of all things in the world a glove is the surest symbol. Mended, too, very neatly—that he raight have his hansoms, It was the last thing he ever could have imagined, and yet it must be a diary—Maud's diary. Turns over the leaves and catches that woman's name against whom he hes suddenly taken a violent dislike, "January 25.—Was at Mrs. Chatter- by's—bow strange one does not say any- thing of ber bus band, yet he is the nicsa of the two—and I think it will be bet- ter not to go again to dinner. One can always make some excuse that will not be quite untrue. "'The dinner is in honor of Mr. Fynioal, who is leaving his college and coming to live in London to do literary work,' as Mrs. Cbatterby has been ex- plaining for weeks, 'and to give tone tc the weeklies.' "'The younger men are quite devoted to him, and we ought all to be so thank- ful that he is to be within reach. His touch reminds one of'—I don't know the French writer, but she does not al- ways give the same name. 'We hope tc see a great deal of him. So delightfully cynical, you know, and hates the bour- geoisie.' "I was terrified lest I should sit next M. Fynical, but Mrs. Chatterby was merciful and gave me Janie Godfrey's father. Edward says that he is a 'very able man and will be lord chancellor Saab e day, but he is so quiet and modest that one feels quite at home with him. Last semmer be was yachting on the west coast of Scotland, and be described the sunset over the Skye hills, and I tried to give bim a Devonshire sunrise. We both forgot where we were, and then Mrs. Chatterby asked me quite loud, so that every one looked, what I thought of 'Smudges.' "The dinner table seemed to wait for my answer, and I wish that the book had never come from the library, but I said that I had sent it bach because it seemed so bitter and cruel, and one ougbt to read books which showed the noble side of life. "You are one of the old fashioned women,' she replied. 'You believe in a novel for the young person,' with a smile that httrt me, and I told her that I bad been brought up on Sir Walter Scott. I was trying to say something about his parity and chivalry, when I caught Mr. Fynical's eye and blushed red. If 1 bad only been silent for I'm afraid every one was laughing, ami Ed- ward did not say one word to me all the way home. "February 20.—Another ordeal, but. not so -unfortunate as the last. The Browne-Snaythes are very kind friends, but I do think they are too much con- cerned about having clever people at their house. One evening Mrs. Browne - Smythe said she was happy because nothing had been talked abcrat except translations of Homer. A, certain guest was so miserable on that occasion that I begged Edward to leave me at home this time, but he said it would not be Greek again. It was science, however, and when we came in. Mrs. Browne - Smythe was telling a very learned look- ing person that she simply lived for fossils. A young lady beside me was talking about gases to a nervous man, who grew -quite red and tried to escape behind a table. I think she was wroeg In her words, and be was too polite to correct her. To my horror, be was obliged to take me in to dinner, and there never could have been two people more deserving of pity, for I was terri- fied of his knowledge, and he was afraid of ray ignorance. We sat in perfect si- lence till a fatherly old naan, quite a farmer, on nay left began to talk to me so pleasantly that I described our coun- try people and was really sorry when the ladies had to leave. Edward says that he is one of the greatest discoverers In the world and has enkindle of honors. We became so friendly that he has promised to take tea with me, and I think be does not despise my simplicity. How 1 long to be cleverer for Edward's sake, for I'm sure he must be ashamed of late among those brilliant women. gannet blame him. I am proud of my husband. "May 16,-1 am quite discouraged-atcl have resolved never to go to any chari- table committee again. Miss Tabitha Primmer used shameful lauguage at the Magdaleue meeting today, and Mrs Wood -Ruler showed me that I had bro- ken law 48 by giving a poor gime per- sonal aid. It seems presumptuous on tay part to criticise sucb able and dili- gent workers, but my mother never spoke about certain subjects, and it ie agony for me to discuss them. When the vicar insisted on Sunday that thoughtful women were required for Claristia.n service today, and that we must read up all kids of books and know all kinds of painful things, nay heart sank. It does not Rena as if there was any place left for simple folk like me. Perhaps it would be better to give up going out altogether and live for Edward and Bettie. I can always do something for them, ancl their love will be enough reward. "Novenaber 80.—I have net slept all night, for I made a dreadful mistake bout a new book that every one is read- ing, and Edward was so angry. He did not mean all he said, but he never call- ed me a fool before. .Perhaps he is right and it is bard on him, who is so bright. Sometimes I wish"— And then there was no writing, only a tear mark. Afterward he opened the letters that had come since her death, and this is What he read: NE DEAR Talvolt—The intelligence of Mrs. Trevor's death has given me a great shock of regret, and you will allow me to express my sympathy. Many men not given to enthusiasm had told me of her face and goodness, and be- fore I had seen your -wife knew she was a very perfect type of womanliness. The few times I met her Mrs. Trevor cast a certain spell over me—the nameless grace of the for- mer days—and I felt myself unworthy en hor presence, Once when a silly woman referred to one of the most miserable examples of do' cadeut fiction, your wife spoke so nobly of true Literature that I was moved to thank her, but / gathered from her face that this would net be acceptable. It seemed to me that the mask had fallen from a beautiful soul, and one man at least, in whom there is too little reverence, took the shoes from off his feet. Pardon me it I have exceeded, and believe me, yours faith- fully, BERKARD FEbucum. The next was from the F. R. S.: tr Dsait 19 quite wrong far me, a stranger, to intrude on your grief, but I an compelled to toll you that an old follow who only spoke to your wife once had to wipe his spectacles over The Temes this morning. it came about this way. The lady I had taken in to dinner at the Browne-Smythes gabbled about science till I lost my temper and told her it would be a good thing if women would keep Trevor's fortttude was fettling fast. to their own sph.ere. Your wife was on'the other side, and 1 turned to her in despair. She delighted. nae by confessing utter ignorance of my subject, and then she won my heart by some of the loveliest stories of peasant life in Devoaelere I had ever heard, so full of insight delicacy. If the parsons preached like that, I would be in. church next Sunday. She put inc In mind of a sister I lost long ago—who had the same low, soft voice and honest, trusty eyes. When she found I was a lonely man, your wife had pity on me and a,sked me to call on her. But Thad to go to America, and only returned two days ago. I intended to -wisb.her a happy New Year, but it's too late. I cannot get yon out of my mind, and, I thought it might comfort you to know how a fossil like myself was melted by that lthad heart. Believe me, my dear sir, your obedient servant, AROEXRALD elD11E0RE, The third was also from a man, but this tirae a lad in rooms whom Trevor had seen at the house: Dna Mr.. Tezvon—You perhaps know that Mrs. Trevor allowed me to spend an hour with her of aix evening when I felt downhearted or had any trouble, but no one will ever know how much she did fax me. 'When I came up to London, nip faith began to go, and I saw that in a short time I would be an agnostic. This did not trouble me so much on my own ac- count as my mother's, who is dead, and. made me promise something on her deathbed. So I bought books and heard sermons on unbelief till I -was quite sick of the whole 'business. Mrs. Trevor took me to hear your own clergy- man, who did. not help me one bit, for he was too clever and logical, but you remember 2 came home with you, and. after you had gone to your study I told Mrs. Trevor ray allfioul- ties, and she did me snore good, than all the books. She never argued nor preached, but when I was with her one felt that religion was a reality, and.that she knew more about it than any one I had met since I lost my mother. It is a shame to trouble you with my story when you are in such. Sorrow, and no one need tell you how noble a woman Ma's. Trevor was, but 1 could not help letting you know that her goodness has saved one young fellow at least from infidelity and worse. You will not mind my having sent a crose to put on the coffin. It was all 1 could do. Yours gratefully, GEORGE Bassos. There was a:wither beginning nor end to the fourth letter, but it -was written in a lady's hand: I am a clergyman's daughter, who left.hel father's house andsvent astray. I have been In the inferno and have seen what I read in Dante while 1 was innocent. One day the old rectory repo up before my eyes, the roses hanging over my bedroom window, the birds flying in and out the ivy, my father on the lawn, aged and broken through my sin, and 2 resolved that my womanhood should no longer be dragged in the mire. My home was closed years ago, I had no friends, so I went in my desperation to a certain institute and told my ease to a matron. She was not unkindly, bu.t the committee were awful without either emnpathy or manners, and when an reeler - pied woman wished to pry into the details of my degradation—but I can't tell a man the OhD111b they would have put upoa me my heart turned to flint, and I left the place. 1 woulki have gone back to my life and perished lead it not been for one Woman who follov ed. me out and asketi me to go home -with her for afternoon tea. Had she said ene word about ma' Past 1 had flung mYsolf away, but because she spoke to sue as if I were still in the rectory I could not refuse. Mrs. Trevor never once mentioned my sin, and. ehe saved my soul. I in now a nurse in one of the hospitals, and full of peace. As long as 1 he 1 shall lay White flowere on her grave, who surely was tie wisest and tenderest of W0111012. Trevor's fortitude was failing fast before this weight of unconscious con- demnation, and he was °ally able to read one more, 413 aniaZing 133:0ClaCtiOtkr that had cost the writer great pains: EGNOMTD STE—Bin says as it's tylting too much on the likes o' me to be addressing you an yen): reissue' (loath, but it's not her hus- band that will despise a pore working woman oo's lost her best friend.. When 13i1l 'ad lite rtimatiks and. couldn't do no work, cod Byby wos a -growing that thin you could see thro' 'lin, Mrs. Bytes says to 1110, 'Awkes, you goes to Inc Society For the Horganizatioit of l'emele Toilers." Says I, "Wail is that?" Dud she declares, 'It's a set of ladies oo wards to "elp women to work, laid' they'll see you gets So 1 goes, and I saw a set of ladiesesitting at a table, and they looks at me, and one with speetaelpa and a vtice like an 'anclsaw arsks me, "Wot's your name?" and 'Ow old are you?" Rad " 'Ow many childreis have you?" and "Are your 'alias temperate?" and then she say-% ' `If you pay a Shilling, we 'ill put your /lyre down for work hes an unskilled worker." 'I 'a ina't got a shilling, and Byby's dying fax want of food." "This ain't a poor'ouse," says she. "This is a Booro." When I was a -going down the stairs, a lady comes after fee. 'Don't cry, Mrs. Setwires," for she had picked up my flame- , 'I've some chasing for yea, and we 'ill go to got something for Byby." If ever there was ahaes gel in a sealskin jacket and a plain little bon- net, but the trne lady hall hover, 'or name wos Mrs. Trevor. Bill, he looked up from that day and wos OD his koh in a week, and little 7im is the biggest Byby in the cotut. Mrs Tre- vor never rested till I got three Italicise to clean, to say nothing of 'elping at oleauings and parties in 'oases. Sho wos that kind too and. lice, when she'd ooine bin with noes of some hoifice. "We're horganizing you, Dlissus lAwkes, just splendid," witli the prettiest bit smile. Bill, he used to say, "'Er "usband's a proud man, for I never saw the like o' her for a downright lady in 'er wys," and 'e knows, does Bill, being a kebinan. When I told. 'ins, he wos that bad that 'e never put a match to pipe the 'ole night. "Ittaiettr "e says to mo, "you and me 'as seen somethilt of her, but you bet nobody knew web a saint she wos 'xcept 'er lusband." Trevor could read no more, for it' had dawned at last upon him that Christ had lived with him for more than ten years, and his eyes had been holdee. Wilt BIM. The Story of a Capture. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," said the old forty-niner, "I wouldn't be a-tellin it. In our canape's° had got kinder civerlized an unless a feller was strung up immediate fur lift - in dust what didn't belong ter him er ridin off with a boss not haviu title ter th' same we locked him up an held him fur a fair trial. We had reg'ler officers an guards au th' convicts bad ter work gettin in wood. an cleanin up round camp. "One fine lookin feller came in there with his wife, an she war finer lookin nor he was. I never know ed yet whether he done it or not, but it war charged that he was cauglat orawliu out from a tent with his pardner's swag. We otrught him an put him inter th' work- in gang till the gran jury could set on him. He had a mighty fine boss that a lot of us wanted ter buy, but hip wife wouldn't sell him, an took care of him as good as a man could do. "On a Saturday night that faller broke guard. While we was °basin round a Chinerman noterfied us as how th' man was at home with his wife. They must have head us melba, fur there was a rush frnm th' back door, there was as purty a spring inter th' 'addle as you ever see, an all of us went olatterin after th' big hose while his rider waved a hat an mocked at ns. We follered fur miles, droppin out one by one, till me an th' sheriff had th' trail. We could change bosses, but fur ten hours that there big black kept th' road an showed TIS bis heels. Then his rider jist coolly got oil an set down on a log ter wait fur us. We galloped up with guns in both han's an ordered a sur- render. Darn me if it wasn't th' party woman an we never see either of 'ena ag'in."--Detreit Free Press. • True to Instructions. My friend the newspaper man told nae a funny tittle story which bappened during the last election in a certain newspaper office in this oity. They were pressed for men and had to take on sonae of the old printers that went out of office with the arrival of the typesetting machines, One of the edi- torial, writers wrote what he considered *fine effort of rhetoric on McKinley. Every page was sorely crowded; and the fiat had gone forth that nothing should be leaded, not even editorials. In the midst of the editorial effusion occurred - the following sentence: "McKinley's name led all the rest." , This piece of copy was turned over to one of the old discharged men. To everybody's astonishment half of the editorial in point was leaded, making a very offending column to the eye. The old printer was sent for. He de- clared he had followed copy exactly. Asked to bring the proof, he hurried up stairs and from a bnndle of written sheets extracted what he wanted. In the meantime the editorial writex had discovered that "led all the rest" had been omitted entirely, and he was madder than ever. "Where is the rest of that sentence?" he growled when the ancient fossil ap- peared with the copy. "You've chopped this off at `McKinley's name.'" "There is the copy," said the aged file. "Right after McKinley's name you wrote 'led all the rest ' and I leaded it, of course." The editorial writer had nothing more to say after that, —St. Louis Republic. Pazzling the Royal Society. The proceedings of the Royal society of London were not taken so seriously 150 years ago as they are IloW. A sail- or who had broken his leg was advised to send to the Royal society an aceOunt ofetbe remark -able manner in which he bad healed the fracture. He did so. His story was that, having fractured his leg by falling from the top of a mast, be had dressed it with uothing but tar and oakum, whichhad proved so wonder- fully efficauious that in three days he was able to walk just as well as before the accident. This remarkable story naturally caused some excite/tent among the members of the society. 'No one had preveously suspected tar and oakum of posseesing such miraculous healing powers. The society wrote for further particulars and doubted, indeed, wheth- er the leg had been really fractured. The truth of this part of the Story, how - Ryer, was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt. Several letters passed between the Royal society and the humble Sail- er, who continued to assert most solename- ly that his broken leg had been treated with tar and oakum, and with these Iwo applioatious only. The society might have remained puzzled for an in- definite period had not tee honest sail- er remarked in a postscript to his last letter: "I forgot to tell our honors that the y leg was a wooden one." — Harper'* Round Table. CATTLE FEEDER. au Arrangement Useful to Those Who ratten Steers In Lots. Mr, 3. 13. Piloher of Iowa cmatributes to The Breeder's Gazette the accompa- nyieg diagram of a self feeder for cat- tle. He writes of it thus: 1 inclose berewith diagram of a self feeder for cattle which I ana using in CATTLE ?FEEDER. any feed lots, It oan be built on posts, as shove in drawing, or built ou run- ners of 4 by 8 pieces so ygu eine move it easier if you want to. one troughs ought to be 2 feet wide and have a space of 13.g hushes at the bottom of feeder for the corn to run out into the troughs. The 2 by 4 .pieces on , the side ought to ' be '8 feet apart <------8 - -> at the top and END 'VIEW. 4 feet at the bottom so the sides will be sleeting, as will be seen in the dia- gram. Lambs In Summer. As soon as the lambs are born a sep- orate provision should lamed° for their feeding until the end of the lamb's ex- istence. This is indispensable just now in the midsummer. The appetite begins to fail in these hot clays. The heat drives all the animals into the shade for coolness and rest. Not so much food is really needed at this time as at others, but still the growth must be pushed, and this is to be done by giving some more nutritious iood than mere grass, which is bulky and heavy far the lamb to car- ry about. Some grain food is tweded, small in bulk, but highly nutritious. An excellort food is cottonseed naeal, but Ou acconnt of its excessively nutri- tious charecter 11 18 fed in small quan- tities mixed with oatraeal or bran, or both. There are some so called lamb meals in the market manufactured for this express purpose. They are very rise - fah but the basis of most of them is lin- seed oil meal or cottonseed oil /nee]. The bran and oafs dilute the stronger oil meals and make them safer to feed. Equel gnantities of linseed oil meal and bran are a good mixture, an d. half a pound a day to a 4 -month-old lamb and less for a younger one will show a groat effect in a few weeks. .A small quantity of these extra feeds will help the stock sheep as well, and the lambs that are not fed to a finish should by all means have a moderate taste every day while on pasture. The effect will be a smaller consumption of pasture, so that by times additional food one-half more sheep may be kept on the same pasture. This improves the land as well as the semeep, for the land gets its share after the sheep are supplied, and thus the sheep's foot under such circumstances becomes golden, as the old proverb tells us. But whatever helps the sheep helps the fleece, which is a part of it. This good feeding thus adds to the value of the sheep in two ways, for the fleece will be largely increased in value, so ranch so by this summer feeding as to fully repay the whole cost of the addi- tional food given.—Montreal Herald. Lean Meat and Other Points. There is a great difference in hogs as regards the larger proportion of lean meat. TheDuroo-Jerseys are par excel- lence in that respect. .As to feed, the hog is the best judge. I think that na- ture has endowed him with intelligence enough to know what he likes, and if given the privilege to roam in good clover—crimson or led—he will show the most skeptical that he knows what he likes. Then give him the orchard, and he will eat apples until be is so full that be le uneasy and will ge and stretch himself out on the ground in the shade and lie there until he wants more. If fed wheat middlings with the clover and apples it will make a great difference as regards the growth of lean meat. This is nay experience for the last num- ber of years. Then, when I wish te harden bis lard the last few weeks ecald cornmeal with the appleS and middlings and always have my lard al- most as hard as tallow. ' I have prheate customers who paid me 7 cents a pound for my dressed pigs last fall because they knew that they were getting just what they clesieed,In regard to the cost of feeding this fall: Clover, apples and milk, middlings Eli $11 a ton and cornmeal at $16, to in al: e pigs at 6 months weighfrom 150 to 200 pounds, are not very expensive at 7 cents a pound for dressed pork. I have found that a boar pig that is to be kept for service should never be pet- ted, for after he has served a few times be will get ugly and vicious, show fight and be dangerous to handle. The one I have at present is 14 months old. I used to pet and handle him and talk to him, but DOW when I let him out to serve4he will come at ate with all the force of his brute nature, EllK1 I have to keep him at bay with a pitchfork and drive ,hinm back in his pen. Give the hog exercise to give him muscles and lean meat,— A. M. Lagrange in Rural New Yorker. Societies for time prevention of cruelty to animals ought to take in hand the question of docking horses. FEEDING HORSES. Do Not Keep Them Always Stuffed Fall of Cern and easy. The old way that the farmer bad of feeding all he raised and buyiug sloth- ing is no Imager advisable. Corn is ae excellent elemeut in the horse's food ratiou, as is timothy bay, but an excIut sive cliet of these two is not only ex- trevagaut, but hurtful to the animal. It is tot worth while for ate to say any- thing about the balanced eatiou. If half of the timothy hay that is fed to the average farm horse were exchauged for linseed meal aud half the corn for bran, horses would not oely look much bet- aen ter, feel more comfortable, but drive and work more satisfaetorily. A. horse that is stuffed full of corn and timothy bay is sluggish, don't want to move, and while he may do slow, heavy work is not at all fit to drive. We have al- ways hacl our bey at lest half clover and like it much better than all thnothy, It took us several years to learn that it was not necessary to keep the manger full all the time. The average horse eats twice as rauch hay as is necessary, as he cannot digest it, and it is not the quantity consumed, but the amouut ap- propriated, that makes him fat. A steady corn and bay diet may answer for hardworking geldings, but brood mares and young growing animals must have a variety of foods, and the greater the variety the better they seem to thrive. After a number of years' experiment- ing with feeds and maxaagiug of horses on our farm we have arrived at what seems near perfeation. All auimals not at work during whiter are kept in a lot with mulles water and have access at all times to a barn shedded all arotmd except the south side, which is open. The main part of the barn, which is 80 by 40 feet, is filled with the very choicest article of shredded earn fodder. Salt is kept withie reach of the horses, awe they are given a grain ration twice per day in addition to the shredded fads' der. The feeding of 40 bead of horses with this arrangement does not take more than an hour per day, as the fod- der is so dispoied of in the barn as to fall into self feeding racks. There are mo mangers to olean out, very little bedding to do and no daily handling of manures, as is the case in the ordinary barn. For the past tvso years potatoes have been so cheap that we have been feeding them to our horses, and they have proved to be very valuable as a succulent feed. There is perhaps as much differ- ence in feeders as in feeds. A care- less, ignorant or indifferent man has no busines, in a, horse barn in auy cas pacity, much less as a feeder. He may eat actually spill or strew the feed around tied waste it, but there are oth- er ways of getting rid of it in a waste- ful manner. There is no rule I have., found by which one can feed. Matting' animals need to be treated and fed dif- ferently from youngsters. Tbe mere be- fore foalieg must be fed differently from when she is with a foal by her side and working animals from idle ones. Occasionally an aniraal gots off its feed and naest be coaxed a little bit with dainties, another perhaps bas not a good digestion and will grow poor on the same feed that others get fat on, and a rawboned, large animal will re- quire much more food than the e0m- pact, pony belle one. A .good feeder will see and know of these differences and govern himself accordingly, but when depending upon hired help -one does not always get this. In the ten years that I have had the horse business under my supervision 1 have had all kinds of feeders. Some would get away with enormous quantities of feed and have poor horses, while others would keep them entirely too fat. I found the 3110St satisfactory way for me was to have each borse weighed regularly each month and the weights recorded. By. this I could see which one needed extra feed and which one was not getting enough. Our scales are near the barn,. and there is not much trouble in doing this, and the feeder gets interested in his work, is anxious to have each one up to the eequired staudard, and he as well as I, in looking at each individual animal separately and critically, sees just what is necessary.—Mrs. W. W. Stevens in National Stockman, Live Stook Points. A joist frame isarn requires les& mate., rial to build it than the solid timbet barn does, and that ahaterial itself is cheaper. The joist frame barn 'can be framed more easily and built inc shorter time. Then, too, joist frames, when they are put together right, are stronger than pin and mortise frames. tete Freaks, fakirs and bunko eide shows have no place upon a respectable fair ground. Remember that Last summer at ane of the State fairs there were al- lowed upon the ground disgusting shows „ "for men only." Let managers of fairs see to it that in the interests of decency no obscene deuces, s»icle jewelry sales- men, snake clews double headed women or monstrosities of any other kind are permitted iuside the fair inclosure. Such things are demoralizing and rain- ous to naen, WO2E0n and children. They leave a deeper thee the mere passing impression epon the minds of those who behold them. Fashionable city people would as soon peSmit satau bodily; hoofs and horns, to be eelsibited at a oity horse show as any of these freaks and fakes mentioned. Why, then, should they be permitted at a gatheriug of re- fined and vespectable farnaees and live stock men who with their families cora stitute the very best people of this land? Freaks and fakirs detract immeasurably from the dignity and tone of a countres fair. Shut them out. This, of course, clooe not include moral and artistic at- traotjons or inosio, lectures, eta. A farmet chewed bits of oats straw. Some of them stuck in his throat aed could not he removed, even by time play- sician. The result was blood poisoning. When there iS Overrrod actiOn of any Quo aivea these tre acenothina else* ^