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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1899-11-16, Page 2tr I�• re'ae. heehl eler *1*t***i•**********i*r***** i*t l iri�a1t Miss Caprice ce ** BySt. Geo. Rathbun. t* �: y******a*a********** ** let* *--k* ********** fllir 0.4-**fit*skit***-0c "Ah! I)oeiar Chicago!" ."You here, Pauline Potter?'" The presence of the actress on board the steamer gives aim a sudden 'thrill. It is no mere accident that brings her, but a. part of a deep -laid plan; which perhaps not only concerns ham, but one in whom he has taken the deepest in- terest—Lade Ruth. That is why he cries out, and his words have more than an ordinary amount of :astonishment in them. "Yes, 1 am leaving Malta. I here no reason to remain there longer; But tell site the worst, John Craig; are we doomed to go down?" The vessel does not toss so wildly now, and the wails at the alarmed Pass- eugers grow less in volume. "I hope not. The captain .assured me There was no &Inger whatever, and told lme to get some sleep, if I could. I am on my way to my berth now. Be of good cheer. the morning will see us safe enough, I believe'" Then he leaves her, and the stater rt%om door closes. This encounter makes Bolin think et the anter ladies. Are Aunt Gwen and Lady Ruth amongst those whose ciao :nor arises from the cabin witheach lurch of the ship? As the thought flashes upon his mind, come one clutches his arm, and, turning, lie beholds the little prcafesssor; There is a wild look in Philander's eyes, and his teeth rattle like castanets. Really the satiation is terrible enough to ap- pall any one. "When do we go down, John?" be asks. "Good Heaven! I trust not et ail," aced he cheers the ether with what the captain has told him, "I wish you could tell the ladies that." "Where are they?" asks John. "Come with me.' Its a few seconds the dotter aeeu the ladies, who have a state -room together. They are fully dressed, and look woe- begoate. At :each lunge of the vessel they gasp, and. when it particularly big one occurs, fall into each other's arms. Both are brave enough, and yet the situation is sueh that a strange feeling creeps over the stoutest heart ellen Jahn appears and tells them what the captain has said, It reassures them oonsiderably, and they feel better. Presently he leave's them, and seeks his berth, 'where he actually goes to sleep, Tired nature will assert ber power. even under the most discourag- ing conditions. During the night the storm abates. Jahn Craig is awake early, and can tell that all is well from tbe easy mo- tion of the steamer, for her plunges are few anal of small moment. A silence broods over the scene; the tired passen- ears have gone to eleop: ail holm ea+n hear as he lies there is the dull throb of the engines and the swish of the wa- ter against the stele of the vessel. CHAPTER XII. Algiers! The sunset gun is just booming over the African hills as the steamer Chops anchor off the wonderful city where the French have gained a foothold and !neem determined to stay. John Craig is in a fever to go ashore. lie has had news that from Malta his mother went to Algiers we a mission, and bas one object in life is to follow her until the time comes when he can see face to face the woman to whont. he owes his being, toward whom his heart goes out, and whom he believes to have been dreadfully wronged. Most of the passengers are going far- ther, but as the steamer will remain in the harbor until morning, there is no need of any going ashore. John. however, cannot wait. lie engages a boatman—there are e o4tiro. many who at once eome out to the 1't' mow'- eeeh „friendssteamerfor where theys ay find him,shis and `'' oe. -ilO e$ with his luggage is away, just before ' eehpe lee Bette eetee darkness sets in, for it comes very mer �+> count after sunset in this country. . , 4 `v 5 Iran landing, John secures a guide, eh - e' ,eee.oPeish. hmakes for the central square, e \he see b k#iaen as the Place du Gouvernement, 40.0 eseot s`- oche knows of a good hotel, recom- 1sen h u a h ibypant thefragrzn. with the odor of ,o ' 'c ffi+Ulters. 4 041> <td;7n h• is walk he meets strange people, '" 'c rebs, Moors, Kabyles from the des - `''.e .mei 10� "-1learded Jews, Greeks, ne- ,groel I't'af ms, and, of course, French aiershe'ee ti tlZoleez re as the natives call their tes•,,` capital, *nnoubtedly the most inter - ;1 eating city WI a traveller's eyes, exceed- ing even C'enteent£nople and Cairo. t ext Part of the city is modern, the rest ,lc�•,. just as it might have been 'a century ▪ !b(e 1 ago, when the Algerian pirates made a a e. g reignnoffnterror sweep over the Medi- • tijg Omnibuses are seen, and even street k''i cars run to Birkadeen, a suburb. The 5c houses on the terraces of Mustapha Su - bee a pperieur are peopled with the nicest of French and English families, who spend the winter in this charming place. Still, if one enters the native quarter, ascending the narrow streets where no vehicle can ever come, where the pall, white houses, with their slits for windows, almost meet above, shutting cut the cheery sunlightt,where one meets the Moor, the Arab, the gypsy,, the ne- gro porter, the native woman with hex face concealed almost wholly from, view, tt would be easy to believe the city to !be entirely foreign and shut off from European intercourse. Within a stone's throw how different the scene—the wide streets, the fine pauses, the people of Paris and Lon- don mixing with the picturesque cos- tumes of the natives, the basaars, 'mu- sic in the air eoming from the gas- bah, once -the stronghold of the mterci• leas Janizaries, now the barracks for Feench zouaves, the bric-a-brac mer- chant with his extraordinary wares spread out, While he calmly smokes ' a. cigarette ' and plays the mandolin. 1 ' No wonder the pilgrim' uta Algiers iR charmed, andlingers long beyond his time. 1 John has glimpses of, laiese,:tlune* sPet, tee e his way to the hotel, and aitnough Lis meld le hardly in a condition to take t n nt h notice of such matters, they nev- ertheless impresshim to a certain de- ghee. egree. Dull, indeed, must be the man who cannot grasp the wonderful beauty of sten a scene. At another time John w,,uld have been charmed, ale reaches the hotel and at once ee* gages a room. Supper is ready, and he sits down to o. meal one caw hardly procure outslde of Paris itself, and *err. ed in. French style. If any one were watching John, his nervousness would be perceptible,, From the table he seeks the office of the hotel. "What can I do for monsieur?" asks the polite attendant, seeing him stand- ing there eepest .stlee "I desire to procure a guide." "To -morrow?" "New—at once." The clerk looks at him curiously. He cannot understand what such impetn osity means. He realizes that he Is dealing with one who is different from the usual ran pi travellers. "lidonsieur does not. perhaps, know the danger involved inthe night; Ler- eigners do not often invade the old town after dark," "Pardon me, my business is very im- portant Can you procure me a ten- able guide, one who speaks English?" "It can be done. First, I would re- commend that you seal up your watch and valuabless in this envelope" "A good idea. You will keep them, In your safe," suiting the action to the word, ow, monsieur wilt write bis name." "Done." "Also the address." Ph? I don't quite understand," "To which he would have them sent." "Sent?" "In case we see monsieur no more," "Ah! Now I eaten on," with a smile, ae he adds the words; "Chicago, 111,, U.S.A." "Chicago, I have heard of It; quite a place," remarks the clerk, "Rather," dryly. "The cicerone, please." Then the clerk beckons to a man who has been lounging not tar aawy. John sweeps his eyes ever been He sees an Arab gypsy, aswarthy fellow of stalwart build, dressed in the attractive costume of his race. John reads human nature fairly well, and he believes he sees a man who can be de- pended on. "Tina, Monsieur is Mustapha Cndi. You can depend upon bine always," and the clerk goes to his regular work, The .Arab makes the ordinary salu- tation, crossing his hands over his breast, and bowing. These people are very ceremonious, never eatering a room or being seated before a guest. "Yon speak English?" asks John - "Oh, yes!" sniffing. "I want to engage you in any service for some days, elustapha Cada" "I have just come with a party from the wine caves of Chateau Hydra and the cemetery on Boltzmann. I am now free, and in monsieur's service." "Good! Your terms?" ,.Two duros a day.:" "I will make it four." "Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. I shall not complain." "There is one condition." "Name it." "I am very anxious to see some one whom I have reason to believe is in this city." "Of course." "Yaru must take me to 'him to -night." Mustapha Gadi looks a little anxious. "Does this illustrious person live in new or old Al Jezira?" "I cannot say, it is for you to tell." "His name?" "Ben, Taleb." The Arab shrugs his shoulders, a. French thick that follows their con- quests, and so is very suggestive. "The Moorish doctor; he lives in the heart of the old town." "But many Europeans visit him. he has a reputation abroad." "They never dare go at night," "I am willing to take the risk." Mustapha Codi looks at dee young man admiringly ---curiously, for he can- not imagine what would cause such haste. He sees a specimen of healthy manhood, so that it can hardly be for medical ,advice he takes such chances to see the old. Moor. "Monsieur, I consent" "It is well." "L too, have conditions." "Ah! that may alter the case," sus. piciously. "My reputation is dear to me." "Naturally." "It is my means of earning much money. - Listen to me. I have taken Franks everywhere through this coun- try, to Oran and even the far -away lead mimes of Jebel Wanashrees; yes. once even to the city of Fez, in Moroc- co: yet never has anything serious hap- pened to those in my charge. We have been atacked by robbers in the desert, but we dispersed them with gun and yataghan. Here in Al Jezira, manly times, beggars for backsheesh have be- come impudent, and tried to enforce their demands, but I have taken them before the oadi, and had them punish- ed with the bastinado. Ah! they know Mustapha Cada, the guide, and give him a wide berth by daylight. But mon- sieur, what might happen in •the streets of the old town should a Frank go there at night, I am afraid to say." "Still, you promised." Ay, and will keep my word, if the monsieur agrees to the condition." "Let me hear it I" "I wall procure a burnoose, you shall put the robe on, and be an Arab for to- night." John draws a breath of relief, he smiles. "1Villingly, Mustapha. Let tau lose no time,, I beg of you!" ,"Then, monsieur, come." As he passes the clerk than worthy bends forward to say: "Does monsieur know these people who have come from the steamer?" John sees a lint of namesunder his own. "Professor Sharpe and wiles "Lady Ruth Stanhope. "Oolonel Lionel Blunt. "Miss Pauline Potter." 'Mere they are, all present, and he kens the 'Peke' of .&unA eeweo #. the eee dining -room, even at the moment et 1de reading her name, gently chiding a waiter for not serving the professor more promptly, always in a hurry, but generally good-natured withal. "They are frieuds of mine," he says, and then follows his Arab guide. Once on the street Sohn observes what is passing around hint, and the scene on the grand square is certainly lively enough, with the garrison band discoursing sweet music, the numerous. lights from cafe and magasius de non restates, and crowds moving about. 1'rently they cone to a ba- zaar, where every article known. to Oriental ingenuity, from Lran- r^bar carpets, embroideines of Tu- nis. Damascus cutlery and odd jewel- lery to modern novelties can be found Here they enter. Phe guide selects what he needs, 5,nd John pays for it, wondering what sort of clumsiness he will display in the wearing of an Arab eostume. Until they reach the border of the old town upon the bill -side, there is attic need of itis donning the ridiculous af- fair. He casts many inquisitive glances 1111, - on his guide and other Aruba whom they meet to see how they wear the burnoose. "I reckon John Craig won't disgrace Chicago, if he isn't to the manner barn," he concludes '"low, monsiew' will allow nae," says the tall guide, leading hale into a dark corner. There is some little dimenity experi- enced, but in the end John turns Arab, "Say not a word—if saluted, I will reply," is the last caution he receives, Then they move on. Now their road ascends.. They are in. Al Jezira, the old .Arab town. Thy passage is so narrow that At times John could easily teueh the walls of the spectral houses on either side by extending his arms. Every little while there is a short step. Now and then an arch. from which hangs a queer lantern burning dimly. Over a door, here and there, a light nu vks the residence of some Moor or Arab of note. But for these tine passage -way weuld he totally dark, even on the brightest moonlight night. They meet bearded and turbaned Arabs, who stalk niajest£cslly along, proud as Lucifer, even without a pi- astre in their purses; even women veiled as newt), wearing anklets, and with tbeir nails stained with henna. The men salute, and Mustapha re plies, while the disguised young Ameri- can merely bows his head, which be has hidden after the manner of one who mourns. Thus they advance. Presently tbey tarn sharply to the left, and enter a. dark passage. "We will wait bore a few minutes." "But why?" asks the impatient doc- tor: "You saw the group descending, mon- sieur?" !"Yes.,, "I recognized them as rival couriers. It they saw me, they would glance sharply at my eompaniom•. Perhaps fol much duros they have some time taken a Frank through Al. Jezira at night. That would not count. If they believed I did the same thing, they world spread the news abroad,aud I am afraid we would have trouble. Better a little delay thee that," and he draws a fin- ger across John's throat to signify the terrible stroke et a vengeful yataghan. "I think you are right," replies John. They hear the group go by. laughing and joking, and the passage is again clear. "Again, forward, monsieur," whis- pers the faithful courier, and leaving their hiding -place they push on. They are in the heart of the old town, and a moat singular sensation comes over john, as he looks all around to see the white walls, the solemn fig- ures moving about, and hears sounds that never before greeted bis ears. It is as if he were in another world. While he thus ponders and speculates, his companion comes to a sudden halt. They are at the door of a house a lit- tle more conspieuous than its fellows, and 3lustnphahastily gives the rapper a resonant clang. CHAPTER XIII. His manner gives the man from Chi- cago to understand, that he has cause for sudden anxiety. "What is it Mustapha?" he whis- pers. "Monsieur did not notice. Two Arabs, one a -muezzin, or priest, just passed us. They brushed against you. Perhaps they disturbed the burnoose; at any rate, their heads go together; they appear excited; they stop below; see, you can yourself notice; two more join them; they point this way. Ahl there is trouble, monsieur. Nay, do not draw a weapon; it comes not now, but later. I bear footsteps within, the bolt is withdrawn, the door opens." What Mustapha says Is true; the heavy door, still secured by a. stout claim, opens half a foot, and by the dim light a Moorish lad is seen. To him, the guide addresses himself. Whatever he says in the Moorish tongue, it must be directed to the point, for immediately the door is opened wide enough to admit them, after which it is shut and the heavy bolt shoots into its socket. • John follows his conductor. For the time being, he loses sight of Mustapha, and must depend upon his own abili- ties. Trust a young man from Chicago to be equal to nny occasions, no matter hone extraordinary. In another minute he is ushered into a large room, which is decorated: in an Oriental way that John has never seen equalled. Rich colors blend, soft lightfalls up- on the many articles of a oonnoisseur's collection, and, taken all in all, the scene is dazzling. He gives it one glance. Then his attention is riveted upon the figures . before him. A couple of ser- vants wait upon the owner of the house, Ben. Teeeb, the Moorish doctor. He is a venerable man, with white hair atind a long snowy ben -•d -his costume is simple black; but beside him sitar his daughter, and she presents a spectacle John never saw equalled. Silks of the loveliest hues, velvets that are beyond description, diamonds that flash and dazzle. strings of milky pearls that cause one's eyes to water, John sees the beautiful dreamy face,. and thinks, as he c�omgares ,it with the rcsy-cheeked, laughing -eyed English girl's, that these Moors make veritable delehhhhi{Ilr daughtg leo BE CONTL'!TIIBD.] l,000 TO i AGAINST. Soldl.er's Chances of Being Killed .on the Battlefield. It is certainly a crumb of comfort to a man about tp fight for his coun- try to know that in battle not more than one in every- 1,000 projectiles of all descriptions dud wei ht g take effect,' Competent authorities 1;tete that on the average it takes a ton of shot to kill one man. For instance, it has been estimated that in the Crimean War the British and French troops fired between them theenormous amount of 45,000,000 projectiles, re- sulting in the death of only 51,000 Russians, while on the other side the Czar's adherents killed some 46,000 of the Allies with an expenditure of ever 50,000,000 projectiles, this represent- ing a death for every 1,087 shots fired. The American Civil War returns, Which were got out with vary great care, showed that the loss to both the Federals and Confederates was about 7 per cent, of the forces engaged, to bring about which involved the ex- penditure of nearly 22 owt, of mumu- nition per man. At the seige of Mezieres, in the Franco-German War, the Prussians threw no fewer than 197,000 projoo- tiles into the ill-fated town; but, strange to say, less than 400 people were killed by them. Then at Trou-. villa, two people only were killed after some 27,000 odd shells had been discharged. At Sedan, however, the aim of both the Germans and French showed, a marked improvement, for after 240,000 projectiles bad, been. fired nearly 0,000 French and k'russ- sians were killed. For tbe Spanish-American War the returns showeda tremendous amount of shot and shell fired for very meagre results. Of course, in this case, although the mortality was not great, tho damage to earthworks, for- tifications, and Government buildings genercally was enormous, and there Can be little doubt that if the Span- iards had not made themselves scarce the death roll would have been appal- ling. ,Again, when. the American marines landed at Santiago, during a fusilade upon. the enemy, lasting two nights, the machine guns and rifles along accounted for the consumption of over 25,000 pounds of ammunition. Sixty- eight dead Spaniards were found as a result of this enormous expenditure of ammunition. Our own experience in our "little wars" has been very little, if any, better than the results just recorded. Take, for instance, the Chartered Company's expedition into Matabele- land. Every one will remember how the warriors of Lobengula were mow- ed down by the Maixm guns, but even in this instance, which, per- haps, is the most effective on record, as the impi advanced on the British lines in solid masses, it would have puzzled a blind man to have missed shooting some of them The mortal- ity was very small considering the vast number of cartridges expended, but this is accounted for by the fact that on. examination some of the dead bodies contained more than fifty bul- lets in each. On another occasion, at an attack on a laager some twenty miles south of Bulawayo, 14,000 rounds of ammunition were disposed of with a result of 346 dead Matabele. Military authorities now 'regard rapidity of fire as being more essential than range and precision, and content themselves with giving general orders to aim low, and this, perhaps, ac- counts for the fact that most wounds are inflicted on the enemy's lower ex- tremities, statistics showing that on the average 45 per cent. of wounds occur in the legs, 83 per oent. in the abdomen, 21 per cent. in the arms and chest, and only 1 per cent. in the head. It will be interesting to learn how many Boer bullets it takes to kill a British soldier, and vice -versa, if only for the sake of really ascertaining whether the Transvaal burghers' abil- ties as crack shots have not been con- siderably overrated. Still ma Stilts. Few imagine that stilts are regu- larly used in Scotland, where they are still used in some parts for fording rivers, says the London Daily Gra- phic. Mr. J. M. Barrie, in the "Little Minister," refers to the stilts for crossing the Qtiharity, and the farmer .of Waster Lanny crosses on them to have a crack with the dom- inie, the nearest bridge being some miles off. They are actually used in Invermark Deer Forest in Northwest Forfarshire, near the foot of the "Ladder," a path over the hills to Braemar. Each stilt is formed of a stout birch sapling leaving a fork to grip the foot and prevent it from slip- ping off, the ordinary horizontal step being scarcely secure enough when bumping and sliding over the stones and boulders in the bed of the stream. No Intention to Defraud. It was one of his first experiences in a dry goods store. He had purchased some collars. Suddenly the giri'yelled, "Cashi° "Hold on thar, young lady!" he cried, diving into his pocket. "I'm a-gettin It es fast as 1 can." _ IMPROVEMENT OF HERDS. S A 6gbj.e96 the Value of Which Mould. ltold Highest heel. There is no subject more interest- ing to agriculturists than the im- provement of tie animals on the farm; the study of them in conse- quence holds the highest rank. We think a, report upon this question should bedeveloped in a very pre- cise method, We would consider, first, the im- provement of the herd in general, its interests and its profits. Second, the way to succeed in the improvement of the herd. The first question to which the at- tention of the farmer . is directed should be the constitution of Itis herd, and we do not hesitate to say that an incredible nuraber of culti- vators occupy" themselves very Tittle with this question. They consider the animals necessary things. They forget that an animal with many qualities gives to its product the best, and that it costs no more to nourish a good animal than a bad one. We see every day in the vil- lages the farmer conduct the cow to the bull at his neighbor's, because: his stable is convenient or tette price of breeding ischeap, although the reproduction be of mixed race and deplorable form, In almost all the country the same apathy appears, and certainly our etlorts should: be especially directed to persuading those interested that the improvement of the animal is one of the Arse conditions of a good. culture, The form of the anlsnala. should be the first consideration, not only because it should be beautiful to the eyes, but because the animal with. the best conformation gives the hest profit. We should seek to pro- duce the most flesh and the least bone to render the rnerebandise use- ful. An animal badly constructed gives defective prices, and experience demonstrates to the contrary --that when his lines are regular it is al- ways more profitable for the seller and the butcher, when he terminates his career and accounts: are settled. It must be admitted, then, that the animal well constructed is ad- vantageous to the breeder, and that greater care in breeding gives in- creased profits. In many cases the milk is the most profitable feature of the farm. The i'AYNE'S LADY D tVIUIES OF ROCHESTER II., 32SS3 I3. 1". E. B. Born April 23, 7802. Last calf lefay 4, 1802. The total yield for the seven days, May 17-23, was 570.25 lbs. milk, containing 17,05 lbs. fat; equivalent to 21.375 lbs. SO per cent. butter,—hoard's Dairyman. making of butter and cheese, the utilization of the milk and cream for the workers on the farm, and, also, for the nourishment of calves aaid hogs—for none of these should be neglected. We conclude this point with the following resume: The util- ity of the improvement of the ani- mal, in its form, in its construction, in its qualities, in meat sad in mills, cannot be doubted. This is evident to those who are at the head of progressive farming, but a long ex- periencehas convinced me, with cer- tainty, that it is exceedingly diffi- cult cult for these new ideas to gain ad- mittance among the agricultural classes, and that it is only by un- ceasing efforts that any good effect can be produced. This should all be thoroughly dis- cussed, and in order to penetrate un- der the thatched roof of the small contractor, the first attempts at Im- provement should be of the most ele- mentary character. Second, the way to succeed in the improvement of the herd. This is the question: Hoer shall we improve the herd? The first thought that pre- sents itself 'to us is selection. It is evident` that in countries where the races are of good quality, the most natural way of improvement is to always eliminate the bad animals and preserve for reproduction only the choicest. This is tho first pro- cedure and in every case is always imposed, but it is often inefficient in the sense that it rarely succeeds in correcting the principal faults that are developed in a race by long breeding, and must disappear slow- ly. In order to produce a real and true effect, efforts must be applied with great spirit, not only among individuals the more cautious and intelligent, eliminating without mercy the bad and mediocre animals, but it is necessary that the whole mass of breeders join their forces in Improving their herds, and continue during several generations. It is very rare one finds a com- munity with the courage to give up the old habits and accept and apply without hesitation the new proced- ure. The selection is therefore ex- tremely important, and should be made with the greatest care and at- tention by those who understand well its importance. It is not by judicious crossing that one can operate happily and readily, The crossing of two distinct races should never be made at hanard, but should be a serious study and with profound examination. We often hear these expressions: "My herd has such faults! I will take a bull of some other race hav- ing the qualities desired." This is the gravest of errors. AU the at- tempts imaginable that have been made have only affirmed, in the most peremptory manner, that races can- not' be mixed without greatest pru- dence, or the result may be most de- plorable. We repeat, then, that the most of-. festive way of improving stock is by careful selection. --Journal d'Agri- cuitue Pratique. rer Flying Fowls. Fowls will fly ever a high fence If there is anything at thetop for them to fly at. .Don't put out a top rail: Vs. a small wire, THE SCRUB COW. Its Xvoledo e1C Passe* Thr ousts u. A:ricutturhl Cutler+ )5duentlou That. Asir Farmer Chu Give. Recent experiments undertaken by the Kansas Experiment! Station to test the value of the ordinary cows ashen given a kind of treatment that ould do justice to their milk -pro. lensing powers, have given some wonderful results. The most* import- ant feature of these tests was the demonstration that this liberal style of treatment was only able to bring out the best that was possible for those cows by a gradual process. This told first on the cow stud in due course on her capacity to make money out of the food with which she was provided. Through the.., courtesy of Professor D. II. Otis we are now able to give photos of one of the best cows of the lot as she came from the hands of her scrub 4". i'". ,! ,. ZACo\A ENTRIat tt GOI.I.FGE. owners; a typical specimen of a. far- nur's scrub cow, and as she appear- rd after a year's education in au in- stitution 'Where her tetfia.city could! be fostered by intelligent mauagh.,, ment and skilled feeding. 'iVe can- not do better thou shote from whit Professor °tis has written for Tl Kansas 1''ru'n,er on the development of this particular cow: "We hear a great deal about young mon and women going to col- lege, but it is rather seldom. that IVO think about the cow being bene- fitted by an elocution. We !present our aweless this week with cuts of the scrub cow,l,.ieona. '1'lte first is from a photograph taken soon af- ter her arrival on tho college grounds. '111e :woad, after site had leen at college one year. 'I'he aver- age Kansas vow is said to produce Ile pounds of butter ytvu•h', :1n in- vest r, .0 isut by ilue Kansas l:xpere. mint Station of the patrons of one of our Ie:titling er.'autliry commute. ties skatvs'd that the average cow of $e herds lame:ct'ti 123 pounds of- butter per annum. "'i'lte education of Zacena consist- ed of good feed and good eare. On arrival at college she would eat a li: ale whole corn Siad seemed to rel- ish a straw stack,but had to be taught to cat meal and alfalfa. The first month on the college farm Za:- conn yielded 28.8 pounds butter fat, the second month 82.8 pounds and the third month :17.1 pounds butter fat. Duette; the 12 months .site pro- duced 3S3.7 pounds butter fat (451 pounds butt ere Valuing skin -milk. at. 15 cents per 100 pounds she. yiel.(led $7:1.17 worth of dairy pro- d ttots, But tltc• aalue of her educe - then does not all show In the first year, for (Writer that time her di: restive app'.r;tius. her udder, and her ability to convert feed into milk has undergone it course of develop- ment. This is shown by the fact that the first month of the second year's record shows a credit of +4,S pounds butter fat, an increase of 21 per cent. over the best month of last year. '"Phe ellen uraging feature about Zacona's education is that it is the kind that ally farmer can give bis cows at house on the farm. Unlike 454 * iw�10' zetd't"Mit ja iii!ji ZACONA AFTER ONS YEAR AT COLLEGE. the young men and . women at col- lege the cow does not get her train- ing directly from books, but -she does get it by her owner having a suffi- cient knowledge of books toapply scientific principles to practical feed- ing, and the man who ignores books, bulletins and papers as a potent fac- tor in increasing the contents of his pocketbook is ignorant of one of the prime elements of success. There is no doubt but that experience is the bast teacher, but the experience of two men is better than one, and likewise the experience of age number of the most successful en in any industry is worth a thousand- fold more than one self -conceited man who thinks he knows it all. I''irst educate the man; then it will be possible to educate the cow." Feeding fez. moos. It is difficult to give a general formula that will suit all conditions, still we believe in the morning mash, winter and summer. It is composed of one-half ground corn and oats, • one-fourth bran, and one-fourth boil- ed vegetables or soaked beef scraps, or cut clover hay steamed; mixed with boiling water at night, .cover- ed up and left to esteem and fed warm in winter. In summer; etYrtir water is better. Whether to feed this mash every day or every other day °alternating with wheat, or wheat and cracked corn mixed in winter) can be decided by experi- ment. Meat in some form, either raw or cooked, should be fed two or three times a week, and green food every day, • winter and summer, if fowls are confined in yards. Green cut bone is an excellent feed, Dither separately or mixed with the mash. Our manner of feeding for eggs is to give the mash every other morn- ing in summer and every morning in late fall and winter. Care should be taken, however, not to give a full meal, but sufficient to satisfy hell - ger, and thus compel hens to' hunt around for wvhateverthe they" may find in the yards . or .litter of the crops. We feed nothing at midday but green food, such: as cabbage, and at night, wheat, oats and cracked corn, separately or mixed together.. The heavy breeds being generally less! active than the light, need to be carefully fed and kept soratchint