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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1899-3-2, Page 6BETWEEN TWO LOVES. In *WM* M. COAL (Oontioued.) cermet bear me," site wits say. JAM' "I wish he could. Oh, mother, how different he ie to every one else—to all the Men we see herer" "My dear, Daisy, we only eee garne- keepem and shopkeepers, I /hied arnolm the true geutry once, and this peor, wouveled *granger is a gentlerann," "A. „gentleximor" repeated the eoung girl called Daley; I imee oftee thought 1 ehould liee to see a real geutionan," "You 4e Otie etow." said her ;nether. Item thew was silence for ,RAIne tnia- utes. He felt his heed talieu between two sett Witte one; ond gently strutted. "Wbet a white ?laud, mother!" odd the *tante sort voice agate. "Wbyt see! mine is quite brown near ft. Tints trail bee newer worked, itas use been stained with labor. See, how ba - 1 thought such hands as thee eels, beiongel to :lilies." Thea there was euother lithe prime', es though the mother had to think be - tore site ensivered. Then the odd; "Yon must be careful oot to say such things. Misy. we anY one tau loiter vomit "BC eorwee I ettell toot, mother." Thee she raised the elark. eluiterifig curia fent lus brew. eWheet beat:Wel hairneither; it is 6oft nod bee like a well:011ie: whet • e. wave rens :through it. Ah, I wonier whose dariing lie is? Seine mother or sister is weettering wbere be is "Petheee he litIS d wife. Daisy." leaisy looked at him with tuiesi eees. "I do not thini; so, mother. Ile deal rice look as tiwer-th he were- married," "How can you tell. ehila?" "I do not now how 1 can tell. bet X ant matte- eure of it 1 never met 'c- amel why—I know some things by in- veluet. Will Ite get better. Inuthe:7 Poor bowl thee by How hani wonet be for Wen to die, tie le so bandi some and benrtie!" "The ileteer will be here seon—Robirt bee gone to feteh him: then we shill know whether ie lately le !Ow or die.reu must mho for Wm. fl -y; beiieve more in mowers than in. dettora. I ens goieg to einhe the 'lite erly women left the tame, sod sweet, simple Daley, Imetiling by Ida side, began her prayers. He did tot remember that in all his ° lifehe bad ever heard any one pray before, and he listened to thee swetO temple words with wonder that b or - dere) on fear. Praying for him! Had tiny ma* prayed for him, he wondered, eleete his mother died? Then it was fly's Own to look startled, for sudatinly, she felW two dark oyes looking eartmetly n ber own. "Who are you?he widowed. she replied. "I am Daisy Erne." He see! the mune over mid over ngain to trimselt—"Daisy Erne." Ile was not quite capable of collected thought ):et. Hp said, suddenly: "Who is Daisy Erne?" "11 au Daiey," she replied. "aud this is nee home. You weeder how you oune here?" "iYes. flow did 1 ome hese? I do not know you, Daisy Erne. You hare rin wagers thee, but it is quite stranee to rae. Have you come down from the stars?—have you white. swift wings?' "Xo; I an oaly Daisy Erne," Suadenly she seemed to remember that be was holding his hand with both her own. She dropped it as thongli it burned her; then, feneing het would think that unkind, she touched it gently. "You axe vetw Me' she said. "Do you lenow how ill you are?" "No," he replied: "it seems to me that I am in a heaven of warmth and coinfort. Where am I, end how I earns here, is all a blank." Per the time, it was all a blank, to him. He did not remember lite pain, or the cause of it. He could only re- ailze that, efter an intensity of agony, he was at rest, "I found you," said Daisy. in a low vollee--"royself I found you." "Yon toned me! Was I lost? 1Vb.cce did you find me?" "I was going tlarougfh the woods, and row, *ere lying across the path; year itot had caught in the tangled branthee of an old tree. I was afraid at firat that you were dead, and then --e" "And them?" be repeated, for she had pensed. "Then I tried to raise you. and I could not; so •I went to the other end of the wood, where the men were at work, and they carried you here." "'Mint was I dobag in the wood, Daley?" She looked at him half .ftightened. "Do you not know?" she asked. "No; it all seems blank. What brougbt me there? Let me thinte" He buried his face ta his hands, then suddeoly cried out: "1 remember—or, great Heaven! I re- member. I had beett driven tnad!" , CHAPTER XIII. f DAIS'S L'ATIUNT. Daisy looked at hira with frightened eyes. , "fAadr" she repeated. "Ah, me, how tereible! :Have you been mad?" "Not as you know the word." he re - piled. "I was sate enough yesterday. Do not be alaemed at me, Daisy. I have never been- in an asylum—I atn not mad after that fashion; but a great sorrow came to ale, and it dorkeeted my reason ifor a few hours."' "Was the sorrow death?" asked Daisy. a thousand times worse than death—but I comet talk about it. Where am X, Daisy?—where is this hothe of yours?" "It is but a little cottage, and we Cult It Woodside," said Daisy. "I live here, alone with nay mother and Robin." "Who is Robin?" he asked. "My brother," said Daisy, "and he'd gene to find a doctor for you." "I shall not raied a doctor," said Sir 1401%ton. Elie tried to move, end cried aloud stitht.he pale that 1007e3Tlellt COSt "'You must not stir," said Daisy; "You de not know how badly you are hurt. 11 Year ankle is broken--Itobitt says se; but the pain is awn') at itteeent. Do lost try to stir." 'a. lAy quite still, wciaderieg if what _tat*, ,„„ e, • - , 1, xF• - the Dahl were true. Them ati *ought aud reeson became chewer, he began to perceive it. Hot thrills of pain seen - al to clasp him with an iron hand—paitt that deepened and grew greater every - moment. Tt wits se bad, at last,, that it termed a moan from itig lilts. Daley belt her innoemit head over hint "X am so sorry," she said: "1 with could beer half or all of it for VOL" aluxest ehilchlike words; hut they soothed bite. It eves very swoit. after all, to be eared, for—to be spoken so gently to. "If I am very 11,1,, Wart will stay with me?" he said. "Yes—ner mother end I. We Will take tore of you until you are well." The Oleo rime came 10 with the doeter—a ehreeet, kind, clever mem Ile examined bis patient carefully, 4114$ is a bad aecidentOi he :said; "your arikle is broken in two Mame. llow did you fall?" "I do not rementhee," said Sir Clinten. "No," thimed iii Daisy, "be dee e not remember anythiag about it. Ile siaes some great txouble heti driven hina TIte doc-tor loolted attentieeiy at hint. He taw that bis patient was a man of coulitioa. Ile 'noted NVith keeu obs ir ration that he wore an evening drees, and had some atable: diamoud ionds. "You have had a great shoeit," he "Yes," replied Sir Clinton; "it wee' terrible trouble. a great sh whi Ti drove me mita for a few honor. and, tyine to wilier it off. I fell—that is -A very cionentheasive all." ea'e be titeter. Then he ealti to innoolf thet *lie inetbie had botu eaueeil by a wo- ezt—be could not r,'Ile.c.d bow or wh 'thee never ems trouble thought the cynic -al doetor to biewelf, "tut tent wozonn caused it. am itireid," be sail, "Ono you havo met witb a :cery paittful and die:Igoe 'ble cOi Mut. I have a tlieory of my own about pain." "What is It? asked Sir Clinton. think that if any one has severe' reentel pain, that physieei pain re:levee it. flittraets the mint), takee eft the aO tentiole dees gaol in a thwitand ways, Yoe hare had a trouble hoer for a few ie lore luti driven eon mati. Teo tad. Yen will fereet it in the pain of nem LaI aniao. It is levizen in two photo** eeteltemel the deter. "and .:03 Ildre a great *Zeal to enilent. Yt:u were walliiime wen you fell; then you tire, ever hone, I enimesed" Sir Clinton looted at him bele daeed. Near health What a dream it s •*vie!) Ihntlen—Itestwolel! What a whirl ot ogle! Then the rdeinre of that Lone dun drawing:ohm,. Crowded with :won't., all watching, all admiring his prrom:crl eire; and then the picture of that oetteo room, where elle stood uuder the light— fair, proud. natant. "theme." repeated the doctor. not 'no, that vague expreeettn—"you axe near home. I shaeld imaginer eaitt Sir Clinton, "I am fox nongb away." "Would yon like me to send for any frienil;?" he risked. again. "No," was tbe reple; "there is no one for whom I should care to send." "Poor Allow:" thought Daisy. "Mat is the use of his being a gentleman if lm has no owe to care for him? How strange, too—so bonnie and so hand - acme 1 should have thought that many people loved him." "How long shall I be ill?" asked Six Clintom "I am afraid," said the doctor. grave. ly, "that it will he many months befoia you will be able to walk again." "It aerie not matter." e.aid Sir Clinton, with a deep sigh. "If it bad not been for Daisy here, 1 sbould have lain ten ixor fnee and died in the woods." "It was an esixiebil mercy from Heai 'ren," snid the doctor, reverentite "and Ile must itnainne that as your life has been so shongeltr preserved, it has been Preserved that you may live to work that purpose out." They little dreamed, an that fair sum- mer's day, while the sun shone, the birds 343111^4, and the lovely woes peeped in, what shape that life would take. Then came an interval of intense agony for him, while the shattered boles were reset—pain so great that while it Meted he forgot the pride and seorn, the love of Lady May. When it wns over, It. has been in our family for away '.ellSder8e-nrhalf raised bint in her earettO, white erns as she spoke. He felt that be could have rested his head on that kindly shoulder, end have wept like , °11Thilden, an hour tater, she brought hint , tea, She bathed his hazels and face in the most clear, delicious spring water, and she placed a great vase et owes 'where he could enjoy their fragrance. "You axe a capital sick nurse" he saidA‘mi'adill;"17;s1ted Daisy, with a pleased little smile. "1 thiuk aU women axe he Indere." "Nay." he replied, "all women are not. I know some too proud and too lofty erer to thluki of sueh things," "Tlien they are not true womee.," said Daisy, naively. As she stood there, blushing and smilime, her pure, fair tae brightenrd with his few worth: of pralee, beeon- tratted ber with that other womaiiwh had broken his heart—the oue all tendtoneo, simplicity and sweetness: tOe other all pride, hauteur, and beauty. The very extremes of womanhood— sweet, simple Daisy, and mold 14.10 May. 1 "I Melo Daisy," said Mrs. Erne, one zooming,* -that you would ask tbe g tlemaa his name; it is eo awkward al- w:.ys saying .ho. arid lath Do „tit 1 $4. Clintou was very ill that morning: Ole exects ot pain hail made Iten fever - o bh, when Daisy bent over him toil, in her soft eeeieg voitte. astted lzza : eonid be tell bee his name, lie said, "riir *Tinton." ; Daisy knew nothing of tf,t1,:s; ev,:a the ww;t1 er,init.ii was new to her. S •e thonght he "seta :Ale thifton, and tO:d 111.4ier Ciat their Intik:II:A mine was a very pretty one—it w.ef air, Cat ton. ; "I should not have been surprised,' ) solid Mrs. Erne, "if lie had beau a nohle- ! manome leeks like me." "that he is not a Heideman. he wtolia "1 glad." to'd muelneer. halo. .itineid so very far :there lie "So be is mow, eleid." said Mrs. Hole —"as far ;is hezhee Ohm earth." Sir Claitozt was siightly :mewed wit :ta he hd chat hew moue giveu to lien Mr. Caten. lietleintly dime, It ;el whe weie aduite so much r hen, had no teem a•s rusk; the t*feie h was nut thou hoexteme. tither te eine titie. Cleo limy were zoo libel. 'then, in his owa meta. he footled a , romaritie Lite pia.—he would never tell them %tie,* O.: helte• was. bet he voield ahler ti emileto benefits thelnl t119y 1.z,l niw.)y?t think of h in :sIr, Cho* a. Tihi 0,,./i3ientitu they la d nursed and cared ea. lie grew to like the name. it fell so sweetly froza liaise"s I:Ps; it was pretty and matted. , Ile liked it, too, betause it never r uteided him of kis pee: life. To have littera himself celled Sir Clinton by the sweet lips of a. imete gat would heve been a Amok to bine So he tie,hied in us ONCU mind to ro- main unlotowa. :elere than tam the dtotor asked, eurionely, etheiher he would not like to communicate with his fritiuds. The ammo was ninhes—liet be preferred being ;them and in loam Ile saw that Mrs, lerue and her devote ter were poor. He. tolled the zit alter te h's side one day whea they were ai and made arangeni nits with her. Iie told her that the doter thought it prob- able he should be there for .one mouths yet, and he Should like to st her mind at ease. Then he nutde such a liberal offer that the, poor wo- man's eyeshone with wonder. "idhat is a great deal to give we ev iry week," she said, Then a shadow of au- x:ety come over her face, "Prey eecuse me, sir, but are you quite sure you oem rently afford it?" Ile smiled at her simple notiens, re- membering that the housekeeper at Eastwold had just such a sum for her wages. So it was settled: Mr. Clifteu was to bare the sole use af the little Parlor and bedroom, and the mistress of the house was to ge him all the care and attention tme,sible. "I should be quite willing," thought Sir Clinton, "to live and die here:" but Otte had something else in store for him, great drops of agony fell from his brow. The doctor, looking on, thought to him- self, "Which pain does he &nd it most difficult to bear—a broken heart or * broke u ankle, I wonder?" He gave him a sleeping draught; then, when his patient had fallen into a deep slumber. he turned to Daisy and her mother. "I must not disguise from you," he said, "that you will have a long, ter- rible task. This gentleman will be ill and heipless for months;eirial had bet- ter have a nurse for him., "No," seid Mrs. Erne; "it seems as though Providence had sent hint es- pecially to as. We will nurse him— Daisy and I." "He could not be in better hands," said the doctor. "Do you know any- thing about leim—who he is, his nome, or where tie cornes from?" "No." replied Daisy; "we know noth- ing, except that I found him lying thete In the woods, and when I asked him what took him there, he said that trouble had driven him toad." "Perhaps he has lost his fortune," said Mrs. Erne. The doctor smiled quietly, with a surer divination of what his trouble* had been than those simple women pos- seseed; then he said: "Even if he has lost a fortune, he has still a email one left, in the shape of diamond studs and a diamogad ring. You will not let him want for aner- thing, Mrs. Erne? He seems to have money, but we -will not touch that unlit he gets better." "We are very poor ourselves," said Mrs. Erne; "but we will do OUT best for him." Promising Co be there to-naerrow, the doctor left them to their task. Midnight had long passed, and the dawn of aeortber day brighteued the skies, ehen Sir Clinton awoke—awoke to find the fair, pure face of Dilsy Erne bending over him. He felt ill int deed, then; the pain of his broken lirab was great, the fever high, his lips parched with thirst "Give me something,' to drink," he asked. She gave him something in a glass that refreshed him wonderfully. "That is my mother's favorite lemon tett," she said; "the recipe for making CHAPTER XIV. ' .1 1 h. DANOSIUMS INTIMACY. The months that followed were like a Tedting-polut iii Sir Clinton's lite; he suffered terribly, and was quite tumble to walk. How meny long weeks he spent in that little ivaikte room he soon ceased to count. 13e watched the flow- ers fade, the red roses droop one by one and die; he watched the woodbinto fall, he saw that the tints ,of the sky grew more dull; he watched the bright sem- rner fade into autumn—the song of the little birds ceased. He knew that the corn was growing ripe in the fields; he heard Daisy speak of the fruit that was ripening in the Mem and still he was unable to move. The autumn faded, and the winter set in. Lying there, he 'leached the snow fall, he heard the wailing of the wind among the great forest trees; he knew that outside all was bleak and cold. It was not until the spring began to come that he could walk out, and much had happened be- fcre then. Lying there. often alone, thinking of his own thoughts, indulging his own dreams, he was better able to ereimate his love fax, Lady May. He saw that it had indeed been his life— the t of his love slain, so cruelly slain, nothing remained to Wm.; he saw that he had loved her with a devotion prais- ing the love et men. He had staked his whole life on this one issue, and it had failed. He felt little interest in getting well. What NVIIS he to do? fie did not care to go out into the world and take his place in it again; the lit- tle room was a raven Of rest. He won- dered hiluself that he could not, in some measure, forget her; every min- ute sleeping or waking, her face was before him; every minute her voice sounded in his ears. Once he startled Daisy; it was in the mummer Omit:when be lay so very ill. She stood near the window, where the sunbeams fell oh her, and seemed to OTOwn her with gnIci; they breghtered 'her fair hair and face until they xtro.de her look like the pi hot lady be bad seen under the light, with her golden lade and shining gems. "Daisy! Daisy!" he cried, in a voice of sharp_pain, "come away from there!" THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. LESSON X, FIRST QUARTER, INTER- NATIONAL SOME% MARCei 6. Text oT -the Lessons John. 31.- 33(3—Meutorr Verses.. 34.30--floldeu John rill, ao Commentary orepored or tbe gee. D. DI. Stearn*. pyright, 1599. by D. 1. Stearns.] When spoke Jesus agein onto them, eayinet 1 ani tho light of the world, lie that paloweth tie shall not walk in dark- ness, but shall have tbe light of life." 33y reading the first verse Of' hbis chapter with the last one of the provious chapter we see something of the bamelessness of our Lord many a time. While all go to thele owe totnes He goes to the Mount of Olives, probably to Cietlasemare, for He ofttimea resorted thither with IDe diseiples (chap. ter xviii, 2). Early in the meriting He was again in the temple and teaching the people. Now the self righteous Pharisees bring to Him a woman, whom they say was Olefin while committing sin, hoping that lio will condemn ber or proving ilim to *we what He will do, but Ile, bir writing on the ground, would tell them where their mimes were written Weans() they bad forsaken God (Jer. evil. 13). 31. "Then said Jesus to these Jews whit+ believed on Eine If ye continuo in My word, then are ye My Maniple; in- deed " Tim evidence of True eiseipleettip Is vontilnimwes patient coetinunnee in weil doing tiema. ii, 7). ile Is able tit Row uz in»» failing and to preeent as favirless, anti De who bath le:gun ii goad wort. In as will perform it mail the dile of Joint Cbrist. Nei power:Can tahe as OM in His baud, but if we are truly there, truly His. there wiil be tho freit of tight- antowee nutnitt:,,t in our livcs, there will be outward twirler:ea of the life %within. The eght will slava= unless 11 is Only a paintea light (Jude xx, 21; Mil. 1, di meet s, tot it tire' will wozit In as Mote athlete clew are pleasing in ills eight (Neb. xiii, ei). There aro thee° who have a name to live, but are dead (Rev. iii, 1), 'there may be et) little life that it tetteely manifett, but where there is abitielititee of life (Jelin x, 10) it (outlet bt lihitien any t:or.' teen you can keep o brieta, haat by Mold still. t;.:. "And ive Ault know the trittle and the trial* than maim you free." Teen stela we hilcsw if wo tollow on to hnoW vi, :se Ily nature we toe hz leemaito to ein. the werld, the flesh anti the &ell. Mitt only lie who Is the Traub van set le, free, tut lie is ;tido and its wiii. In, ;pi einiale. He dorm it by ills eerie by ebbe; we are not Imly horn, again Otis. le. let. 1, but by the same word we ;miser. tilled, eh:anted, built up (John hvii, 17; 1iitz. v, eti; Acts xx, 32). Fenn hen 1 1-1 where tee et irit urnved and, ova. svelte and light came, all that is ae- cowrie:lied is done by tho Spirit of God, anti the Word of God. From 1110 Ileir birth, when we began to live until we shun he made eke Him, all is wrought by tho Opirit znzd the Word. Many a Chria- Can is in bondage to some besetting sin or Weight, mid only the Word of God Nut eet him too, even as it is written, Where withal shall a young man clennse his way, By taking lard thereto according to the word fIke exix, 0, 11). 03. "They answered Elm, We bo Atom: hana's seed end were rover In bootago to any man, How tayest Thou Fa thrill be made free?" Their statement will not agrso with E. 1, 33, 14, triter° it is raid that the Egypt:tam made their lives bitter with hard bendrige, nor with their con- fession in John six, 15, "We have 3/0 Icing but Chlorin" .After the &eh they were aileron of Abraham—that is, they were descended from him—but if they were true children of Ala:ail= tbey would do the works of Abraham and not go about seek- ing to kill Christ. Their eoneuet nettle It manifest that they -were of their halter, the devil, who was both a nar and a mur- derer (verses:1h 44) Cain and Abel were brothers, both sons of Adana and Eve, but Abel was a true son of Adam saved by: grace, while Cain was of tbe wicked ono (I John 111, 12). 84. "Jesus answered them, Verily, veri- ly, I say unto you, Wbosoever connratteth sin is the servant of sin," In Rom. vi, 16, it is written, "Know ye not that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, serworts ye aro to whom yo obey, whether of sin unto death or of obedience unto righteausnese?" The teaching of John 111, 6-10, and similar passages seems to be that the new nature in the believer, that which is born of God, cannot sin, but the old nature or carnal mind cannot but sin. If one professing to be born of God continues in sin, then it is manifest that he is not a child of God, but of the devil. A Christian may, under temptation, stum- ble into sin, but he will not continue in it, while a mere professor, or.e not born again, though he mitt* run well for awhile, will turn again like a dog to his vomit and like a sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire (II Pet. 11, 22). We are slaves or servants to that which con- trols us, whether it be sin or innocent pleasure or the life of righteousness. Our Lord did nothing of Himself. He only spoke what the Father taught Him and did only those things that pleased the Fa- ther. Ho was a perfect servant of God. 35. "And the servant abideth not in the houee forever, but the Son abideth over." In chapter xv, 15, Ile says to His disciples, Heuoeforth I call you not servants, but I baits called you friends, for all things that I have beard of My Father I have made known unto you. In Rom. viii, 15, 16, we read, Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have re- ceived the spirit of adoption whereby we ory, Abha, Father!" The Spirit Himself beareth witness with our spirit that we aro the children of God. It is truly a great thing to be a servant. in the family of God and to losable to say, Thy servants aro ready to do whatsoever my Lord the King shall appointl (II Sam, xv, 15.) But to be a child of God, an heir of God and joint heir with Christ—who can es- timate this? Behold what manner of love the Father bath bestowed upon us that we ebould be called the sons of God, and then to think that we shall be like Him and sit with Him on His throne and come with Him in His glory. 86, "If the San, therefore, shall make you free, ye shell be free indeed." No one Can make us free but the Son, and He does It thorougbly. Tho law of the spirit of life in Cbrist Jesus makes us free from the law of sin and death, and this only by God sending His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh (Rom. vfti 2; 8). How much it cost to set 118 free, Be also frees us from tbe fear of death, for He mune to deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage (Bch ii, 15). He frees from besetting gins and every- weight and all time is un- becoming in a child of God. .All those who are willing to be delivered He is ready to free. Re does 11 when we trust Him and 'yield ourealites to Him that Ile mar do R. SEE LORE„ Points Worth Noting About winter - • tied Serino, Core, -- • ,• ATI% a P. Dadant, the well known authority in beedont, has been giving ae feries of iuteresting artiolee • in Aineri- too Bee So -areal front one of wilicle 50 fegard to the care of bees for wintering, toe following is selected; - number of apiarists say that they pay no attention, to tile spot occupied by the bees when rernoved,laand that -When they take there era in the spring it does uot oaotter touch where they are plae,ecl, whether on the exact spot they occupied before Winter or in the place of one an - ether. Once or twice we heel conSider- able trouble from changing the location a hives, and have positively aecertain- ed that many of the bees remember their former location, after three months a wintering. PO 'till take particular • _ - r• -,t CEIVLIZ 1314in•—eaft; WITHOUT -worm, pains to mark each hive's stand. To do this without trouble. wo leave the cup Or carer witli the roof over it in the ex - set epot occupied by the hive and reeve only the brood chamber to the :eller. In taus manner the LINTS ocenliy much statelier space, and it is easier to give them good ventilation, whieh is abselutely necessary to keg) the couths from molding, if the cellar is at all di p. • We pile the hives in the cellar, two or three or t yen four tiers high, visually putting the lower tier on Webers raised a foot er so from the ground. We have always notierd that the eekenies nearest tbe ground were the outs that suffered, if any did. After the hives are in, darkness, quiet- ness, a proper temperature and a admit amount of ventilation are ell that are necessary. For these hives, as well as for those that aro out in cold days, it is a. great point te have every- thing perfectly quiet. The man who will disturb his bees every other day, iust to see whether they are still alive, will be unsuccessful, rf the circum- stances are at all unfavorable, for it is very easy to hill the bees with too much kindness of thie sort. To give air without light to our bee cellar we have devised a sort of blind, a picture of which is here shown, taken from "Langstroth Revised," The time of removal of the bees in the spring is of utmost importance to consider. If they are taken out too early, they may not have occasion to fly much, and their power of endurance during a late cold seems to have been taken away from them by their pro- longed stay in the cellar. They are very much like a horse that is kept in a warm barn, He is mores apt to be fret- ful of the cold and to suffer than one that stays all winter in a cold stable. Yet our sympwthies are all bathe direc- tion of the softer treatment. With the bees there was on our past, as in the fall, it tendency to be too much afraid of a long confinement. I believe it was Dr. Miller who said the best time to re- move the bees from the cellar was in March or April, at the opening of the first buds of eoft maple bloom. This is a very good criterion. But, above all things, it warm day must he selected to remove the bees from their confinement. If you take thent out on a cold day, their anxious desire to take a flight will induce them to venture when the temperature is too /ow for their safety, and many of them will perish. If the day is wenn and CELLAR BLIND 111 PLACE. pleasant, they will take a cleansing flight within a very few minutes after they have been brought out, and are thereafter ready for their habitual du- ties. I have often been asked whether it is advisable to take the bees out on a warm day during the winter for a good flight and put them back again. I have never tried this, but from all that I ever heard I do not believe such a co -arse is successful. The bees after their flight begin to rear some brood and remain less quiet than if they had been kept indoors all winter. American Versus English Statistics. In reply to Sir William Crookes' state- ment that practically no uncultivated prairie land remains in the United States suitable for wheat culture, Ed- ward Atkinson has been thtzs quoted: "In fact there are now fully 100,000 square =Bee of land in the :United States, hilly Emited to the production of wheat at 15 bushels to the acre, prac tically unoccupied in any branch of agriculture, which would be devoted to wheat en an as,sored price of $1 per bushel in Mark lane (London) yielding 960,000,000 bushels. EARLY LAMBS. PreietienI Suggestion In Regard to Their Care and IiseedilaK. When early lauthe are expeoted, says the St. Louis Republic, provision should be made for there in advauce. The ewer; should have warm, dry quarters, and be well fed, so as to keep in thrifty condition. This is necessary it the lion be tire to be strong and vigorous. If the best pro4t is obtained from early iambs, they west make a rapid growth, so as to be of good eize and weight in good smote and they mast make a good growth from the start, The ewes that are expected to lamb should be separated from the rest of the flock and put in a smell pen by tbeui- selves. If the ewes have been fed largely ou corn, it will be best to lessen the amount of corn and feed a little bran and cilmeal. This will tend to loosen the bowels and lessen the tendency to fever. Liee that the lambs suck. Sometimes the teats get covered with dirt or the wool around the udder gets matted to- gether $o that the lamb cannot sack, A little attention in good $aason win save the lamb& With dry, comfortable guar ters, proper feed and care, there should he very little JOSS of lend*, even in %iota. Afttr tbe Iamb sucks well there is Stile ihiliger, Whin u tla,y er two ol11, hey may he turned in IA itil tbt reet of the MI'S mid hones Feed tiii• lightl,v for a day or two and gradually inenese satyr the milk comes wen. It F110111a be temembered that the Iambs tuust depend for their szzp rt ood growth uPou the dant's zniih. lf the (INVO is to furnielt, a suilivient supply of milk to nraiutain a thrifty growth of the lamb, i41ze must be wt 11 OIL and her ration litu.st RA a good milli produe- hag ozze. l401310 vont or vellum:al may be given, but it t•hould not be metie an ex • ratite. r.411ip stuff mad bran with it little til - can always be fed tiA advalitege. Cone cf the clwapest leet i for Atop amine tho hint*. r itton: ia otoe eats run through a euttieg bol. zihly datuecei d anal tetiiita a with LW% arake up a 'had- re f* 4 i peal clover Lay, Witll Iran tore te rent. tiTall is (zit, of the test midi tie:, teat san be fed vslth other 31134f Iii.1S 1 the produetion of inilk. If otu iteetie al- ways he made apint Gf tin:evet,yilay tai tion of this elaes aide ;do Feed liberally, giving ell that thoy will eat up clean. Water every day find keep a supply 01 5011 where tbey ean htltz Opens:bee When 6 wielts old, the lambs ran be taught to eat I.y placing it little win at bran and COrtilimi ill A trOtnill Mikan they cau readily get to it. Int mate the quantity us they gt.t aceustonzed to eat- ing. The llog`s Vois and Downs. The hog trade jatt Pow furnishes an- other illustratiou of the tendenoy of A:merit:an farmers to increase produc- tion beyoud the line of prafit after a period of remunerative prives. It 1ms not been many years since brigs were So low as to be unprofitable. Then we saw hundreds of sucking pigs competing with poultry and gtune in our city mar- kets, end thousands of brnod sows in the slaughter pens. There was suelt a rash to "steed from untla" the profit- less swim) busiuess that pricea went even below their legitimate level, III a few yeare this waa followed by a vio- lout reaction. The tide turned, And ev- erybody wanted hogs. Brood sows were good property, sucking pigs were too dear to figure in the market, and those who had been most anxious to get out ouly a few years before were paying good prices to "get aboard" again. Now there is another reaction or low tide in the swine iudustry. Brood sows are be- ing marketed by thousands. Tens of thousands of pigs are sent to market be- cause hogs are low and corn is compar- atively high. "Hogs don't pay" is the seutimeut again. What will be the re- sult? What has always occurred in such affairs i3 very likely to bappen again. The reaction will come sooner or later. The ebb aud flow of the tide of price and production are inevitable. But there is a lesson herein for the sagacious man who can look ahead to the next turning of the tide.—National Stock- man. The South For Cattle. Texas bas tienioitstrated the value of the cattle iudustry for the south and now the other southern states are fol- lowing up the cattle industry with the introduction of the improved breeds. The 'whole south, with its perpetual grass and warm climate, is an ideal cattle country, and as the improved breeds are introduced prosperity and suocees will follow. Louisiana is going into the cattle raising business on a large scale, They olaina tbere is no profit in growing cotton at 4 and 5 cents per pound. The sugar industry is at present their ruainstay, but with cattle raising and feeding the state will enjoy wealth and happiness. And why not? The vlintete of Louisiana is mild, winters are seldom rigorous, grass is plentiful, tied the soil all that could be desired for the growing of an abundance of millet, alfalfa, timothy and other forage crops. — Western Live Stook Journal. Sheep The use of lime and sulphur as a sheep dip will cute scab, ime it is very injurious to sheep, often killing n great tunny, especially if they are dipped too soon after shearing, and to use these in- gredients as a dip when the wool is long is almost equal to throwing tbe clip away. What Angoras Are Doing. PTOSiderit C. P. .Bailey of the Cali- fornia Angora Goat Breeders' afoot -de - tion has sold $8,000 worth of 1110hair and $8,000 worth of breeding Angoots Within the past MT. Ile says there is no danger of an oversupply of raoltairt for many years to come.