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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1898-9-2, Page 6THE diRlitilE orat DEVA2MIW JVLE5 CLARET! ' ceeereice err. aeee tee aeaeeeet ea• eeteNO&C CHAPTER 1. "Where does Bernardet live?" "At the pessage to the right,. Yes. that house wbieh you see with the grat. In and the garden behind it.'' tri man to whoen aasserby bei given this information hurried away be the direction yeinted out. Although gasp, ing for breathhe tried to run. ba order ro more quielay reach the little house a the end 0 the pieeetige of the Ravesee dee Beaux Arts. This paesege. a sort of eel de sac, on either side of which were black buildiugs, strauge old houses seed dilepielated storehouses opened upon boulevard tiled 'with life and move- ment, with people promenading. with itie noise of tramways, with gayety and lett. Tlae man wore the dress and had the Oearing a a workman. He was very evert, very at, and his bald, head was aired to the warm October rain. He was a wore -man, in truth, 'who worked bis coneierge Iedgee making over and •vending garments fee' his neighbors, wbile bis whet leelteel atter the house, wept the stehreees aud oemplained of eer alma Meniehe fveud life heed and neagree-alle anal a glare a that it Lae sot given Ir wear it e.roltdese Neel, n. 0 18, aud very envy, elle Lad eter et- al we:tenting Letter than te wanes Leeiale lailOr IA= In over his week in a eenta,e, ree.'e date. Into her lite a tregedy had era, eerily et -entente -a itsa ef. cavi eines lefentelee liana tiese kvmate mine, t erighten ensi r ante mete lagetine, a aaoraeur le-feee tee eq.:mile.= s..". LII:e 4: ey 'M. Revere, axe- Lea f•^L'Oik:, ;:kr r iaing eu hie la• et. Lie ey.•s trees fanee elle welt a geelz acre-, :e- late. at. TA, Revere Lee lived ee, ne locee f• -r nietee eve itei „.; *yen' ,ere er-see. e. • • ,ceee :ear lee erae ieee lisi1? eva;V A. acereasays. ;eel . pernees. t • „my tee.. mael tee Cede: Nees, ea ev "eh Law, ie oaten innreer, !". it ee 1 • • sat: Lie lee- a la e ,e. pursuire: r eut ae tee e, the eeelaite. el: "The liee—go a for el ie -1.!,e-!'' This word "eiiiice" weakened iu ilor's mind uet the tea -eget tft" teighboring conneiesaree but thought of the men to 'Mean le 1. a that he ought toapp, whom h-kZ Jo consult. This man was the good lite le • Bernardet, who passed for a emu of genius of his kind at the Surete stud ler whom Moniebe had often repairea cotev and reheramed trousers. From tbe mareden in the Bete yard Clichy, where Moniche lived. to et, Eternardet's house was Lett a abort di. Mine, and the concierge knew the wey very well, as be had often been there but the poor nian was so stew& tl, s overwhelmed, by the sudden tiprearter ase of his wife in his room, by the brutal revelation which came to him cis the blow of a fist by the horrible nenneer of • Rovere'sdenth, that he loet Itiebeaa. Horrieed, breathless, he aeked the Ili st passerby where Bernardet lived, and 1:# ran as fast as be could in the directiou pointed out. Arrived at the grating, the worthy man, a little confused, stopped :boa t. He was very strongly moved. It seemed to him that he had been cast into tlit agony of a horrible nightmare. .An t.-- sassinatioia in the house! A murder ir the Boulevard de Clichy in broad day- light, just over his head, while he was anietly repairing a vest! He stood looking at the house wither!: ringing. M. Bernardet was, DO (10111.t. breakfasting with his family, for it was. Sunday, and the police officer, meeting Moniche the evening before, had said to him, "Tomorrow is my birthday." Moniche hesitated a moment. Then he eeng the bell. He was not kept waiting. The sudden opening of the grating star- tled him. He pushed back the door and entered. He crossed a little court, at the end of which was a pavilion. He mounted the three steps and was met cei the threslaold by a little woman, as reel and fresh as an apple, who, napkin ix head, gayly saluted him. "Eh, M. elonicher It was Mine. Bernardet, a Burgundi- an woman, about 35 years of age, trill; and coquettish, who stepped back se that the tailor meld enter. "What is the matter, M. eloniche?" Poor Moniche rolled his frightened eyes around and gasped out, "I must epeak to M. Bernardet." "Nothing easier," said the little wo- man. "M. Bernardet is in the garden. Yes, he is taking advantage of the beau- tiful day. He is taking a group"— "What group?" "You lmow very well photography Is his passion. Come with me." And Mme. Bernardet pointed to the end of the corridor, where an open door gave a glimpse of the garden at the rear of the house. M. Bernardet, the in- spector, had posed his three Slaughters with their mother about a small table, on which coffee had been served. "I had just gone in to get ray nap- : kin, when I heard you ring," Mme. Bernardet said. Bernardet made a sign to Moniohe mot to advance. He was as plump and as gay as hs wife. His mustache was red, his double chin smooth shaven and rosy, his eyes had a sharp, cunning Zook, his head was round and closely crenated- • The three daughters, clothed alike in Swath plaid, were posing in front of a lphotographio apparatus which stood on it tripod. The eldest was about le yeas of age, the youngest a child oe 5. Teiey were all three strangely alike. M. Bernardet, in honor of his birth- day, was taking a picture of his daugh- ters. The ferret wile from morning till night tracked robbers awl malefactors into their hiding places was taking his recreation in his damp gardeu. The sweer idea of this laddeu life repaid leess. euse aehe: etseasessina investintions, for his trouble and fatiguing man bunts tbrough Peri% "There," be said, clapping the cap over the lens. "That is an, Go and play now, my dears. I am at eater serv- ice 110W, Moniche." He :but up his photograph apparatus, pulliug out the tripod from the deep soil in wItich it was imbedded, while bis daeghters joyously ran to their mother. The youug girls stood gazing at Moniebe with their great blue eyes, i piercing and clear. Berneardee unwed to look at Mite mid at ouee divined that eamethiug had happened. "You are as white as your ha/Alter- chief, Moniehe," he said. "A murder?" "A murder, yes, :ea Bernardet. M. Rovere—you did not know Irina?" tkico.2, "He was an original, a recluse. and sv be bas been assassinated. My wife went to his room to read the papers"— Beruardet interrupted him brusquely: "When did it happen?" "Ab. dame, monsieur, I do not know ! An I know is my wife found the bcaly gill warm. $1te Was noa afraid. Slift teuehed ft." warm!" Vitae weeds struelt Bernareat. Ile re- fle, ted ailea-anent. Thee he Se4A: "elan% kr us go to your bouse." Thee, struck with a suede% idea, he adeal, "Yee 1 will talte it." fl uutoNtenua his camera from Tee trip "I bare three plates het while I am use," he Fahl, elat.e.Th rnardet, who was etanaline a it nine clistituee. with t be elineesee iiJZg ti bur slates, perceivea teer tea, ea :release betel erought 1111Fri:eat me. , ratireetes militia face Lea eueda ely , langed. The exereesion leaeatie glietice fixed and bin. -art nee going with Wee" alma • t il!-hk a as he raw lieuelaed leather bandolier. 1 doe /Anew( "Ali, men tt e 1 :Tr peer auneley, dee eeeniteg ! t'an we le r ro tele i'ttneatsr arNA.DIM:Arta fais ewe. , ner anew." be ra • er, al. The re, e el.laera 44i.t.ri telai them to tee tea - .d e Genera" "1 a annet tell. I do net. :knew. I evil set," the little mau add. "My di ay "Fee are as 'white as ?tour handkerchief, .11-oniche," he said. Mi niche, today is my fortieth birthday. I promised to take them to the theater, but I must go with you." Turning to his wife, be added: "But I will come back as soon as I can. Come, Moniche, lee re hasten to your M. Ho -ere." Tie kissed his wife on the forehead atid each little girl on both cheeks, axel urapping the camera in the bandolier, Le went out, followed by the tailor. A • they walked quickly along 14..41101e kept repeating, "Still warm—yes, 24. lernardet, still warm." CHAPTER II. Bernardet was quite an original char- acter. Among the agents, some of whon were very odd, and among the devoted subalterns this little man, with his singular mind, with his insatiable cu- riosity, reading anything he could lay his hanas on, passed for a literary per- son. His chief sometimes laughingly said to him: "Bernardet, take care. You have lit- erary ambitions. You will begin to dream of writing for the papers." "Oh, no, M. Morel! But what would you? I am simply amusing myself." This was tree. Bernardet was a born hunter. With a superior education hc might have become a savant, a irequent. er of libraries, passing his life in work, big on documents and in deciphering manuscripts. The son of a ditiryniae. brought up in a Lancastrial school, reading with avidity all the daily pa- pers, attracted by everything mysteri- ous which bappened in Paris, having accomplished his military duty, be ap- plied for admission to the police bureau, as he would have embarked for the new world, for Mexico or for Tonquin, in order to travel in a new country. Then he married, so that he might have in his checkered existence, which was dan- gerous and wearying, a haven of rest, a iireside of peaceful joy. So he lived a double life, tracking malefactors like a bloodhound and cul- tivating bis little garden. There he de- voured old books, for which he had paid a few sons at some book stall. He read and pasted in old odd leaves, rebound them himself and out clippings from papers. He filled his round, bald head with a mass of facts which be investi- gated,,classified, put into their proper place, to be brought forth as oocasioe demanded. He was an inquisitive person—a very pre the most fatiguing and repulsive tasks that fall to a police offlaer's lot. They satieaed the original need of hie nature and permitted him to see every- thing, to hear everything, to penetrate into the most curious mysteries—today, in a dress suit with white tie, eareleesly glauoing over the crowds at the opera to discover the thieves who took opera glasses,. which they sent to accompliees in Germany to be sold; tomoreow go - lug ite raved clothes to arrest amur- tierer in some eurfaresZ. :as ts11.,f.ile- elere. M. Bernardet bad taken possession of the (Ace of the most powerful bankers, seized their books and made them go away with hiin in a cab. Ile had fol- lowed, by order, the intrigues of more than one fine lady. Nebo owed to him her ealvation. What if af. Bernardet bad thought fit to speak? But he never spoke, and reporters came out worsted from any attempt at an interview with him. "An interview is silver, but si- lence is gold," he was wont to say, for he was not a fool. • He bad assisted at spiritual seances and attended secret meetings of an- chists. He had occupied himself with occult matters, consulting the magi- eiane of chance, and he had at his tongue's end the list 0 couspraters. He knew the true names of the famous Greets who shaded cards as me scout* about under an assumed name. The gambling bells were all familiar to aim. Ile knew the churches in whose dark corners associates assembled to talk of affaire, who did not wish to be seen in beer shops or spied upon in cabarets. Oe the millieue in Paris lie anew the secrets of this whirlpool a humanity. Oh, if he bad ever become prefect of poliee, he would have studied his Pari", not at a distance, loolthig ap genetics in bolts, or from the windows of a pa - lice bureau, but in the streets, in wretele ea lodgings, in eovele, in the whale of misery mad of crime, Bur Eereuirelet wee not embitious. Life suited bine yeey well as be found it. His good. wift had brought to bini a small dower, aue Bernardet, content with this poor little forme. found that Lobed all the pewt he wanted—the power, when oceasit demanded, of putting his band on elaulder et* a former minister and '1 taking a murderer by the throat Oue day a fineueler, threateued vete irapreaune ea in .elatere, pleased eet, very tatieh. Bernardet entered his Wes to ;levet, bine Has anal not wish to bar, a rem in tee Vault. The pence (Alla r teed Laulte r e email theeuee Wee ae,see face t1.1 lace, in a very email roue. te private deka with healer curtaies ICA thiek carpet, whieli stilled all noise. • 'Fifty thousand francs if yen \via let me escape." said the banker. "M. le Cemte jeers." "A bemired thousand!" "The pleasantry is very great, but it is a pleasantry, ' Then the count, very pale, said. "And what if I crack your head?" "My brother officers are waiting ft I me." Bernardt t simply replied. "Thu know that our interview does not prone ise to be a long one, and this last prove. sition, -which I wish to forget like the others, would only aggravate, I believe, if it became known, M. le Conate's case." Two minutes afterward the bunker went out, preceding Bernardet, who followed him with bared bead. The banker said to his employees, in an eaty tone: "Goodby for the moment, mes- sieurs. I will return soon." It was also Beenardet who, visiting the Bank Hauts-Plateaux, said to bit chief, "M. Morel, something very seri- ous is taking place there." "'Mat is it, Bernardet?" "I do not know, but there ia a meet- ing of the bank directors, and today I saw two servants carry n man in there in an invalid's chair. It was the Baron de Cheylard." "Well?" "Baron Cheylard, in bis quality of ex -senator of the second empire, of ex, president of the council, an ex -commis- sioner of industrial expositions, is grand cross of the Legion of Honor. Grand croes—that is to say, that he cannot be pursued -only after a decision of the coeneil of the circler. And then, you un- derstand—if the Bank of Hauts-Pla teaux demands the presence of its vice president, the Baron of Cheylard, para- lyzed, half dead"— means that it has need of a tbuu- derbolt?" "The grand MOSS, monsieur. They would hesitate to deliver up to us the grand cross." "You are right, Bernardet. The bank must be in a bad es, and you are a very keen observer—the mind of a literary man. Bernardot. "Ob, rather a photographic eye, M. Morel—the habit of using a kodak!" (TO BB CONTDILTD.) After the War. Hewitt—These guessing contests have even reached our schools. Jewett—How is that? Hewitt—They -let the pupils guess where Spain used to be on the nap.— New York Journal. Held In. "What is a noncombatant, Uncle Ab- ner?" "A noncombatant is a man who thinks he would go to war if his wife would let him. "—Chicago Record. Professional Pride. Friend—You haven't volunteered, have you? The Pugilist—What? Me fight for $18 a mont'? I'd rose me reputation.— New York Truth. A. ,Financial Prescription. "Doctor, why do you advise me to do so much walking in ha weather?" "I thought if you saved car fare you might pay it on my bills."—Chicago Record. The Taxgatherer Won't GAT. Credit. inquisitive person indeed. Curiosity Some men demand credit for paying filled his life. He performed with pleas, their taxes.—Atchison Globe. CURRANT JELLY. Zasily Made and of Delicious Flavor—The. New Way of Seeking It, Pick over the currants and. mash them in a porcelain or granite kettle with a wooden po(a.to masher. Pat them in a flannel bag to drain over- night. Do not squeeze them, Measure the juipe and boil it five minutes, count- ing from the time it boils all over, Re- move the seem as it forms. Have the same measure of granulated sugar (not the blue white) in a bowl, and wine the juice bas boiled e,ve minutes pour it into the sugar or remove from. the fire and stir the sugar into the Juice if more convenient. Stir quickly till the sugar is dissolved, remove the froth and pour at once into the glasses. Roll them in warm water or place a Riven he be- fore ening. Pour in till they will bold no more. Set them in tbe sun and the next day cover with paper. Oat soft browu paper into rounds half an loch Jaeger than the tumbler. Dip them feta water and our mixed to the consisten. ey a thick milk. Drain and spread them on the toe, role them dowel smoothly, and wben (17 they will be airtight Label with the date and name of the jelly. After the juice has drained from. the cements squeeze them and use the juice thus obtained in the eame way. It will be lese clear, but answers as well for cake or puddings. Sugar, when boiled with the juice, is thanged to grape sugar, which is less sweet thtua cane sugar, This explains why jellies and rich preserves often have a strong acid taste. jelly made in this manner is elear as crystal and Las a delicious flavor, It may be eaten freely without cloying. It will not al- ways be firm enough to leeep in shape, but the improved flavor is more impor. tont, according to a 'writer who gives this recipe in ne American gitcheu Magazine, where the use of paraffiti for tovering eellies is oleo Aged. Paraffin for this purpose is growing more and more in favor every year as the simplicity, economy and good re- mits of the method become anown. Pereira:a wax can he obtained at an drug stores at a, moderate cost. Whet) preserving is done, the wax is melted awl a layer of a quarter of nu inch or less is poured on top of the jelly. Thie hardens at ailee and being perfectly air- tight keeps the jelly front molding or growing tough on top. It is easy and only to apply aud to remove, and artleng persons who have tried all meth- ods it is agreed to be the mat satiefae. tory. When the wax is taken cc after eight or ten mouths have elapsed, the jelly is found as colt and fresh At the top of the glas$ as at the bottom, and the wax eau be saved and used for the eine purpose again. It may be added to the foregoiug recipe that many housekeepers insist that tbe sugar should be thoroughly heated in the Well before mixing it with the =rant juice and the 'whole allowed to just come to boiling point. This is believed to insure a firmer jelly. ea, »sew Vise Nor *ho Drum. Now comes another war iuspired and inspiring object into the household— the drum eerapbaskee Any size is ai. lowable, and the adornment nifty be un- limited, but the New York Herald warns fair enthusiasts to be careful how they go about constructing it. The first step is to cut out one end—not knock it ant, mind you, as that would loosen the strings and break up the drum's en. tire structure. This excision should be done carefully and with judgmeet. Tben the interior should be lined with silk, sateen or cretonne. Bands of rib- bons should he tied around the outside in the same fashion as ribbon is tied around any basket, and the metamor- phosis should be finished off with huge bows, tied in the most artisbic manner, 'What are known as "baby drums" are made in the same fashion into very tiny scrapbaskets to stand on the feminine writing table. Beautiful 'Wash Gowns. Without doubt many beautiful -wash gowns are being worn this year, and tbere is perhaps more style in these than in any other garment. They are the most costly style of dress there is—a pride that apes humility. A rose tinted linen of the most exquisite coloring is made with three rounded flounces on the skirt, piped with white, covering the back and diminishing at the side. The jacket has revers of white linen over the pink and is trimmed with the fasbionable Bee crochet on the epaulets, a high collar and a large jabot of white chiffon. It ends at the waist, and the skirt fastens over it. Stewed Lobster. Out up the lobster as for salad. Put it in one -hale pint of lank, and let it boil up once. Add a tablespoonful of butter, pepper and a small pinch of salt end let it simmer gently. Serve on trackers. A Nice Summer Arrai2geraent. A. summer arrangement that is nei- ther a swing nor a hammock, but a tak- ing combination of both, made out of 1:tree ropes and a rug or a strip of car- pet or strong sailcloth is illustrated by elhe Standard Designer. It can be swung In a much more limited space than a „edee fie /i A swIDOING SEAT. hammock. Across the back and front edges of the piece of carpet that forms the seat are attached on the underside stout sticks to keep the material taut and another is fastened across the top of the back. The ropes pass along these sticks and are wired to them at inter- vals. IMetteedemit • PRACTICAL. HORSK BREEDING Anteiaeo ,sevanave roe .eituer. Purpose* . .T4424 ReSinti ' 1 The Hereon= igia gone ton great deal expense 0 late to secure information Which would tend to show the theme - ter ot 4 horse that sells on the epee market for other purposes .than racing. 'Every breeder is anxious; to possess this, knowledge became no Metter bow enc.1 cessful he may be enbreeding reliable me home lee is sure to beee some that are not suitable for' this nee or be may be fortnuateeuough to raise an animal that will bring more in the market for carriage or: coach purposes than it eould earn on the traek, itt tbe horse that is disposed of in the genera market breed - beg goes for but little as a gelleeal thiva, or tbe reason that the buyers look to the iudividual rather than the breeding. The Ilerseman makes it a point to ascertain the breeding as far as possible, however, of the horses whieh eell for a good price, se that owners and breeders can profit by the eperience of others and learn the lines that produeed theeelahle horse. Itt an eIlustration is repreelueed a pito- tograph of a borse tbeteold on the epee market recently at Moises City for $880. This is not a eensational price, • bat it wepreseuts a figure at which breed- ers cau :afforcl to raise a -horse and sell him at a profit, It. should -be borne in mind, too, that this price represents the figure paid by a dealer who bought the4 hersAS au insesteueut reed etho iet turu Goon TYPs OF nOriSE. doubtless turned him over at a respect- able advance as soon as he foutul one of the many buyers who are always look- ing for a well turned animal. This horse came into the market with his breeding absolutely unknown, and nei- ther the consignor on consignee cared .0 rap how he was bred. They were practical enough to see at a glance that 1m had the style, conformation and fui. ish of a horse that could be sold. on any market et a good figure, and bis breed- ing was uot a matter for consideration. It is unfortuuate, however, that bis blood lines are a mystery, because if it was Imam 'Mint happy aross produced such satisfactory results others could follow these same lines with profit. Haphazard breeding of horees for ear- ring° aucl coach purposes will result as disastrouslyas the same method applied to breeding for speed. Little Horses Vet Wanted. For years the standard of the market for horses has been steadily advauciug. It takes a better horse nowadays to be called a good one than ever before. He must have more quality, more style and, above all, more size than ever. The last is especially iraportant. A borse must be of good size for his class to bring a good price. A little draft horse is a chunk and maybe a poor one at that. A small driver is not wanted by men who can afford to pay good prices for driving horses and is too small to work. If a man is breeding drivers to sell, he must get the size. Be cannot afford to risk getting ex- treme speed one time and losing the other things nine times. He must breed for quality, style and size, and all the speed he can add thereto will profit him. But a farmer cannot afford to breed small horses on the chance of get ting speed, for too often he doesn't get it or doesn't know when he has it. Get them good and big, and they will sell. —National Stockman. The Same Old Plan. Beyond question more mares have been bred this year than in any soar since 1898. A good many of them have been bred to a very inferior class of horses, just as they were in the palmy days of horse breeding, when every thing was bred and every stallion' book was full. Go into any locality in the country, and farmers will be found who are pursuing the same old plan— the plan that produced colts that went to market owing their breeders more than they brought. Some have learned the costly lesson, and large breeders have mostly learned it, but too many have failed to profit by their losses in the past. There will be no scarcity of scrub horses in the future, whatever may be true of other kinds.—National Stock- man. Buck Lanibs. We hear less kicking about buck lambs in market than of yore. This is not because the buyers think any more of the lambs, but because they get few- er of them. Still there are too many bucks, and those who ship them must not expect ta get ewe and wether prices for them. Buyers will not have them unless at a discount, and some will not take them at all. It will pa tocastrate the buck lambs. and usually within ten days after they are dropped. eire GRASS FOR HOGS. Ends AccomPlished by Funalittize. Swloe With Pasturage. VS hog by nature is a graZing ant - mal, and I believe thet pasturage for bipe is not only a lexury,but a necessi- ty. By a succession of bluegrass, clover and rye we can at all times have geed easturagafor our hogs, mad by furnish - tag theiu with pasturagewe accomplish two ends—we leanest the crops With- out any expense or labor, and at the atrae time the bags in hatrvesting it take the necessary .exercise and become .fully developed ha bone endue:mole. I believe. that the failure of many breeders is dee ore to this one fact than to any other the leek of pasturage. Sorne breeders feed what is called properly balanced rations, feed regularly two or three .eiceoronetanitns_. bottle: anilid"e'suneas(.1cAlen. pro y, hog eats awl lies dome and repeats this as often as he is fed, scarcely ever•141.c.• titIngerane is nexoethreiinse,asgforbhsooniemiu Itililieseeslottheza, eept wbat is put in bis trough by hie master—and then the breeder can't aus dentate' why lie has failed to raise a properly developed hog. You miglit jeep as well attempt to get a race horse or to make an athlete by feedbag only. While nature demands certain feeds she also malice other dewed% As to the oheaps ness of pasturage :there can bona doubt. By a late experiment .made by tho. Ws- CQttCItt station an acreof mete Wee. foand to be equal to 47 bushels of green. Jest bow Mnell grain an acre of clever ear blue grass is equal to I Me not prepared to say, but we ell know that Nelsen we feed grain iucanuection with good pas- turage - we eaVe myth grain, and the, hogs aro bealtbier and better. I don't believe the raost ardeet advo- cates a rape claim for it a superiority over clover- .and blue grass, and 1 1.10P Seine of our stations will giveus the full feediug value, as they bave done la the vase of rape. In the fall, when we gettemlly base: a drought, artichokes come in well to fill the gap between the summer glazing and the rye, With plen. ty. of geed pasturage we need to have very little fear of fee:klieg too much of that cheapest of all graius—corn. With good paeturage you can steely feedfreely of grain. In feet, it never pays to feee. , sparingly. Heals should always be feel lievailly. The Riney feeder and tee hose an- nor very geed friend% I lately vieited two differeut brecelers. Otto of them bad his ilteg,s on plod grass and rime of graiu, emit there I taw a splen- did hat of .youngiaters, and the breeding ineluditaga e00 round boar, were as letive tie aittens. Tin' other breeder . had some fame- lead gaiter, bought et high prices, with -.plenty (.4' bran and ship stuff, hut no sign of guise of any kind, and be had hardly a Angle good indiyideale-ele L. Lisle, Beare° Rene Welty Swine Breeden. • . saimallia Pox, Pio. A 'writer ha n western farni paper de. Wares that the /ergo proportion of wa- ter which skim:lank contains makes it of too little white to be worth carryieg home from the creamery or kei•larator after its butter fats Lave been extraet- ed. This is not the experience of ent- eral farmers, who Iliad that skin:milk when combined with grain feed makes the very best ration both for growing and fattening hogs. It is easy to see wby skinimilk should be good for grow- ing pigs, as what nutriment it contains is mainly its Mehl, which is another name for albumen and ono of the best foods to make growth and. musele. But fattening hogs (meals° equally benefited by having some ekinunilk with their grain food, No animal can digest a ra- tion that is wholly carbonaceous. Na- ture demands the material for making muscle and bone. Appetite fails if they are not furnished. Yet years ago, we remember hearing of hogs which bad been fattened until they were so weak that they could not stand up and had to have wbat food they ate brought to them. Such hogs would not eat much, as they got no exercise and made small gains in weight, and that not of healthy pork. If good skinunilk with scene wheat middlings in it had been fed to such bogs, they would bave gain- ed in weight much faster, and the hogs would have had the raaterial for bone - making so as to keep them on their feet until ready for killing time.—Amer. lean Cultivator. Put Your Wool In Condition. The time will soon be here for the flock master to prepare Itis clip for market. During recent years of low prices an increase in careless handling is seen in the condition many farmers send their wool to market. See that the sheep are tagged early, before getting on the fields of fresh grass. We would like to see the practice of wash- ing generally abandoned, yet if wash- ing is attempted either wash well or don't wash at all. Choose a day when the water is flush and the wool is sof- tened by a warm spring shower. Then the grass and dirt will come out more easily. Washing in cool weatherand in cold, hard water should be avoided, as it does not olean the wool and colors and injures the appearance of the fleece. Higher prices are likely to pre- vail than flock owners have enjoyed for some years, and with them will comt more careful scrutiny of the condition by the buyer and the casting into the lot of discount wool more of those fleeces that are off conclition.--National Stockman. The Lime Sulphur Dip. Some of our valued exoba,nges are again publishing the old liMe sulphur formula for sheep dip and advising its use. We do not. It is not a raatisfactory dip to the wool manufacturer, and the woolgrower cannot afford to neglect the requirements of the man who furnishes him a market. Fer the average Man the best plan is to buy a good dip and use it according to directions. It may cost a little more in cash, but it will save time and trouble, and it will kill the ticks and the scab without hurting the sheep or the wool,