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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1900-3-1, Page 2MAR? IIRMILION'8 ROMI Ng[ )33" JOIIN STRANGE, WIN'rER Copyright, 1899, by the Author.i '• In the first flesh of yoer maeried Itteppinese, too," Mrs. Hamilton said eaortrefully as she dragged slowly back egaiu to Ler seat by the window, "Of AIO'arse duty is duty, as I said to the dear fellow." "And what did he Einy to that?' ,Iteary asked the question involuntarily. "Oh, be is always so full of his *taint, bluff humorl replied Mrs. Hamilton, smiling tenderly at the rec- -enaction. " 'It's no use keeping a ntill ito turn. mother,' be said in his beartY i way.•'unless one finds grist to put n lit.° Dear fellow Mary sat down at the other side of the window and got out her embroidery erom the mart workbasket, Mrs. 1-lem- elton looked at her with astonished eyes, Lest at her and then at the bit of dainty work in her hands. "Are you not going to help Moen- gey ?" she asked. It was a point of boner evith Mrs. Hamilton that Mary's maids ehould be called by their surnames, al- though both of them detested the cus- tom. "No, mother, Mouncey has all in- eitructions frona Edward." For a moment Mrs. Hamilton kept eltent. But at last she burst out impel- reteely. "You are very strange, Mary!' she creed. "When your poor -father was g:oing away, I always arranged every little detail for him with my own hands, bat you sit there as coldly as if you had been married 20 years instead of this !being your first parting with your hus- band, little more than a bridegroom." it mnst be owned that the girl felt a thrill of disgust go through her at her =other's words. A wild prayer half thorned itself in her heart that this first eetrting might be the last, and an aline- ing picture of a quiet grave, with the inscription "Mary Conway. aged 23,' en the headstone, slipped sweetty elsrough her mind. She even emiled, eerssick as she was, as she answered her another's plaintive and wondering words. "Ab, but you see it was different with yam -mother; you married for lovel aldward •doesn't keep nae to pack his things for him. Mouncey will do it bet - ler than I." "It is naost strange," said Mrs. Ham- ilton. "but of course We express our leelings so differently. You are so like erour poor father and not in the least like ma He was always so quiet and ireserved--just as you are. "One cannot help one's nature," said Mary, trying to speak with indifference. "And of course we have known all along that Edward would have to be away a epee deal. A few days more or less snake little difference." "Ale well, it is all for the best that 7ott do take things like that!" said Mrs. eiamilton, distinct repro:tett in her tones. "I should never have done for a eailor's wife; 1 should have broken my heart every time he went away." "God tempers the wind to the shorn bath." said Mary. She felt that the remark was flippant, etren unfeeling, and yet the effort which else was putting upon herself was so /great that it was only by the most se - gee° determination that she was able to eseep herself calm. The thrill of corn- eametion was, however. thrown away, `ADZ Mrs. Hamilton's shallow mind was iatet capable of taking in two ideas at be stune time. eAb, yes, truer words were never spoken!' ' she remarked. "I often won- -ler what I should have done if Provi- dence had not Beet dear Edward our 'wily 1 sbudder to think what iny life secede have been, 111 and alone all day Sea tbet miserable little house in that &eery, sordid neighborhood.' should have made other arrange- - =tints. I should have done my best,' mid Mary a little indignantly. "Yes, darling child. I know you wool& " Mrs. Hamilton returned in an indignant tone, as one might speak to a ieseble person who had tried to stem the wives' of life and had failed utterly. 'But • mercifully—and truly the ways lee Providence are wonderful: I feel it !lam and more every day that I live ---mereifelly God did think fit to temper 1S wind to the shorn' lamb, or the aliorn sheep, as one might say in my •enset. Mary. what have you done to LS,011r face?' ' She asked the last question le a totally different voice. Mrs. Ham- elton was always two people at one and • sateeeeme—the artificial fine lady, •!Isho was given to preaching little ser- neonettes all in platitudes. and the shal- kw. self centered person, with a keen geeto tbe main chance of No. 1. Mary started at the direct question. She was accustomed to hearing her geotherhabble aittaleesly on from sub- trct to stibject, but a change of tone always called for attention. "My face?' • Said slowly, putting up her hand to tete red mark. "Oh, it got knocked!" FOY half a word she would have burst a!: with the whole stoty, but in her eteeedee upward glance she had noted • Hafnilten's serene, well satisfied empeessiou, the look of care and atten- tion which pervaded her whole pereon, leer rorimet gown, her dainty little co- etetettteh cap. A31 thee thinge meant ;money All these little details were as the breath of life to the shallow and zereew eoul who bad neVer before &town what it was to revel in a fairly !seed i n co in e. As the cony i cti on ca:111e ,Seteant to her Mary's heart failed or her keeter nature prevailed, so that she kept 'eilite truth to herself, "et got knocked," else said evasitely, ssette Mee. Hamilton was satisfied. She 'went into a long diseertation of bow she (settee had run against a closet door in the dark and of hoWfirottr poet father' :add that her fade looked exactly en if /tome one bad struck her, and in the Amidst of this Mary seddenly remem- bered sometimg diet would catry her Stm etaire, end (ewe it) the sheeter of her OWI1 VOOM he f011ght with her Pain and 10 i,sery—aye, 118 deSperately t8 ane etertyv faeglit witlebeasts of old in the aumeitheater of cruel Rome, It N}Its hard work, hare work, this ntarterdom of here, a voluntary saeri- tice for it mother iecapable of appreci- priee e nature finer tben her own; it was nobility thrown away, considers- tiou foe one who never considered any one but herself. Some glimmering—and it was only a glimmering-, for our knowledge of natures with which we have grown up comes but slowly and tremblingly—came to her when she had calmed herself and forced herself to go down again to the pretty drawing room which was part of her prison. "Feozen, poor darling," she heard her mother say, "quite frozen. Be very tender with her, dear boy; she has a highly sensitive nature and feels things terribly, Those wbo can eel) and cry get off very easily in this life, my dear Edward, but it is the quiet, undemon- strative ones who feel. My poor darling! My heart aches for her, CHAPTER IV. PARTED. The actual parting between Captain Conway and Mary was got over more easily than she had feared. She had been afraid that Mrs. Hamilton would be present to the last moment and that she would inevitably discover at least something of the true state of affairs between them. Fortunately, however, Mrs, Hamilton was dominated by a keen desire to spare herself any needless excitement, so that she ensconced her- self in her favorite chair in the draw- ing room window and bade farewell to her son-in-law in that place. "Go to the gate to see the last of the master," she said to the two servants. "Mrs. Conway is feeling the parting terribly, and it will be less bard for her if she has no one to look on." The two girls were not a little skep- tical as to the depth of their young mistress' woe, bet they fell in with cheerful obedience to the wishes of "missis' mother" and went off to the front gate, leaving the husband and wife to part without onlookers. What actually took place was this Captain Conway went into the drawing room to say goodby to Mrs. Hamilton, enduring her tears and clinging em- braces like a true Briton. "I'll take care of her, dear boy," she whispered brokenly. "My poor, poor child!" "Goodby, mother,- he said, briefly. "I haven't a minute to spare. Goodby Take care of yourself." And then he went out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Well, goodby, Mary," he said, hold- ing out his hand to bis wife. "Goodby." said Mary, without look- ing at him, "You haven't changed your mind yet?" he asked. "Not in the least." For a moment he said nothing. "Yon little devil," he hissed at last between his teeth, "you're prettier and more fetching than ever I" He caught hold of her and held her closely to hini. "Do you think you are t'troine to keep me at arm's length forever? Not a bit of it! I love you ten thousand times more for being such a little devil as you are. All the other women I've ever known are as tame as new milk compared th you. There's no mistake about your being like strong drink taa man. You'll kiss me before I go?" "Not Il" "Nol Well, I'll wait for that. Mean- time you're here, my ladybird, and I'll have a few kisses to remember you by before we part." "No—no." "Yes—yes." he persisted, and being like a frail reed in the hands of a giant she could not prevent him from cover- ing her face with kisses. He set her free as suddenly as he had caught her, and, turning, went out of the house and away down the garden path without once again looking at her. Mary, as &ODD as she was free, fled to her own room and locked herself into that sanctuary. Her first act was to run to the dressing glass and to look at herself, and somehow the .sight of her eet,„ She could not proent ibini from, govertne her face with kisses. ecariet face and blazing eyes but gerved to fan tbe fietce flame of bitter resent- ment which was burning so passionate- ly in her heart "How dared he hew . , dared he?" she burst out. "Dries be think 1 etta a toy to be flung down one minete and played weth the next? Oh. how dared het" She was quivering with rage, but there was no suspicion of tears ebout her eyes. Otttragee pride, anger, wom- anly letry, poeseseed her, bet grief had tit) pittee in that tumult of emotions. She felt more deeply insulted than if some strange matt had seized her irt the street tied had deliberately kissed her 4 withOtt to tnitch at) a with yonr may° or a be Your lettere, Stteh a ereeeedieg !ter thoughte might leave put down to I a dozen motives, admiration, daring or a NA!!02;er. but to think that the man e ho (July that morning bad raised bis hend and struck bee to the tloor—to think that be bad dared to force his loathsome kissee tenon her and in spite of her absolute refneall It wtte horrible —it was all outrage, no more, no less. She WaS still raging when the bell rang in the hall, and after a minute or so Mouncey came up and told her that tea was served in the drawing room. With the best intentions in the world and believing then:nighty in a cup of tea as a nniversal panacea for every 'woe, Mrs. Hamilton had' ordered the SIDall repast to be served a full half bone earlier flame , usual, and when Mary, slit1 flushed and full of ire, came down she entered into a voluble expla- nation of her reaeons for so doing. "Come, my darling; a cup of tea will do you all the good in the world. I sug- gested to Mouncey that she should let us have it at once. There are little hot bun, dear child. Come, try to eat some, for fretting will not bring our dear boy home one day earlier." A reply rose to the tip of Mary's tongue, one which would have relieved her mother's mind forever as to the likelihood of her fretting. She choked it back, however, and sat down before the tea table. Mrs. Hamilton looked at her furtively. "Evidently she is bdttling it all up, poor darling! There's not a sign of a tear Such an intense yet reserved na- ture. My poor, poor girl!" And then Mrs. Hamilton helped herself to a lit- tle Lot bun with a virtuous air, as one who is conscious of having done her whole duty in every relation of lifa From that moment • the household went on with the regularity of clock- work and in all respects as if no absent master was in existence. Mrs Hamil- ton assiduously studied the daily papers for news of the Arikhama, and she bab- bled from time to time of "our dear boy." After several days she, however, gave up even that much, and, as Mary did not divulge the contents of several letters which she received from her husband, Mrs. Hamilton was positively afraid to question her on the subject, but contented herself with seeing that extra good things were provided for Mary's meals. "Yes; see that there are little buns, Mouncey," she said each morning. "And tell Foster to make them very hot and with Plenty of butter What would Mrs. Conway like for a sweet? Well, let me see. She used to love a trifle with almonds, ratafias and straw- berry jam. You might tell Foster to make a nice little dish of trifle and per- haps mushrooms on toast for afterward. We must take care to keep Mrs. Con - way's strength up. She is feeling the parting terribly." "Which --commented Julia Moun- cey as she repeated the conversation to the neat cook in the kitchen—"which, between you and me. Alice, I'm more than doubtful about It's my opinion that naissis married master out of con- sideration for her ma. 'Tain't likely a grizzled, gruff, unreasonable beast such as hirxes going to break any young girl's heart when he goes away." "I shouldn't wonder but what you're right, Julia," returned Foster wisely. Meantime in Mary's mind only a huge sense of relief from an obnoxious presence dominated every other feeling. She heard her. mother's remarks about "our dear boy,- it is true. but she sim- ply endured them as so much babble which it would be useless to answer. Her one idea was to think out some plan by which she could be rendered free of her husband's purse at the end of the time of his absence. She had fully made up her mind that she would never under any circentstances live with him again. She told berself that it Was 130 part of a wife's duties to live with a man who had used personal vio- lence toward hen She went over the situation many times in her own mind, and she had deliberately come to the conclusion that in striking hergto the ground Captain Conway had forfeited all further right to her consideration. "I knew," bee thougets ran, "that he was elderly, or at least of advanced middle age, that he was rough and plain in ways and manners, but I did not know that he was a brute, an unmiti- gated brute. If I had known it, even for my mother's sake I could not and would not have married him. Now I feel I am perfectly justified in carving out the rest of my own life independ- ently of him." But, though it is an easy thing to say that one will carve mat a life for one- self, it is another thing to do it. It is one thing to declare for independence; it is another thing to free oneself from a dependent position. And when Mary Conway came to weigh herself in the balance against fate she found that she was not able to press down her side of the scales so much as a jot. Her own career, in which she had been doing so well al the time of her marriage, was irrevocably closed to her, even had she been willing to begin again at the lowest rung of the ladder, and no other one seemed to be opento her. She thought of many ways of earning a living, but the very first queetion which common sense put to her always brought her up sharp like a bird tied by the leg, which, when it would flutter away, 18 brought up eharply to a stand- still by the string that ties it, The ques- tion was, "What do you know about ilet" The anewer was always the eallie and came with uncompromising curt- ness "Nothing!" (TO oaOONTINUED.) nem Miion of Priendm, "1 think it's so nice to have ever and ever so many friends," said the enthusi- astic young woman. "Yes," aeswered Miss Cayenne. "It's quite desirable. If you have ever and eVer so many friends, you are quite sure that no one will say anything disagreea- ble about you without its being repeated to You "—NVaehington Star, FEATHER BEDS AGAIN. Qt'eult Citkant4;.eo ilk Theory and Practice of nettatal.illg. "The science and practice et bed making have undergone a radical (Waage In the past few yeaes. lu newly done OVer and dei..•orated houses u`+tning could be more impt!essive, wore luxurious and more radical in their departure froin the hitherto ac- cented laws of hygiene thee the new hods." So says the New I'orlc Sun. which adds a few detaile as follows; The model just IlOW in the houses where antique untleogane sweeps everything before it is the Georgian bed. Three could sleep. with an abundance of stretching room. in the area inclosed by the four massive carved posts of one of these big couches, and three mattresses are re- quired to bring the sleeping platform up to the required height. One is of hair, one of cotton, and in winter on top of these reposes a mighty tick, stuffed full of the best white goose feathers. eYben these requh!ements are fulfilled, the full fledged Geot•gian bed is dressed witti great attention to detail and elegance. Old brocade edged with bullion fringe is used for the hangings and eounterpane that sweep the floor, and the coat of arms of the owner is carved on the headboard of the couch. It is not everybody who rly hands ou genuine carvedGeorgiau bed or dress it in antique bt•oettde, but even with the modern brass and iron bed curtains about the bead and big revil- er stuffed mattIV$SeS for winter use are no longer a mere fashion, but are a general custom. For half a century the feather bed has been looked upon very coldly by experts in hygiene, but recently, both with regard to tbe hang- ings and the feather- mattress, a change of heart has come, and delicate, nerv- ous, neuralgic, rheumatic women, and particularly elderly persons and those afflicted with inentunia, have been rec- ommended to take the feather bed cure In the winter. Queen Victoria is one of the shining proofs of the efficacy of the feather bed. for wbere she goes a big tick full of feathers in its leather traveling jacket goes. too, and always the curtains are drawn about the head of the bed to shut off any drafts. Queen Victoria and her doctors believe that the proper way to sleep in winter Is in a cold room luxuriously lapped in a nest of feathers that preserves all the heat of tbe body and necessitates in the coldest weatber a covering of only one pair of blankets and a down quilt. Tbe modern bed, so called hy- gienic, requires more heavy covering than a pair of tired shoulders can stand, and tbe hair mattress Constant- ly dissipates the buman heat instead of conserving it, besides drawing away that priceless force, human electricity; at least, that is what advocates of the Leather bed say. All this drain the feathers prevent, and the easily yielding surface they present permits a perfect relaxation of the muscles that can never be gained on a bed of even the best hair. With the coming of the eighteenth century type of English bed the feather mat- tress was introduced, and now there are numbers of women who have not only learned their virtues, but, like the queen of England, travel about with their beds done up in leather cases. Some of tee rheumatics and sufferers from cold feet hetet pronounced them- selves free frow their afflictions when luxuriating among the feathers. Featber beds are coming into use as well in nurseries. and, though for chil- dren the Georgian four poster is not yet the fashion, the gayest beds are made to chime in with the schemes of nur- sery decoration. Baby's Crocheted Mittens. A baby's crocbeted mittens, for which The Designer gives instructions, re- quire as materials one skein of white saxony and a skein of pink silk for the edges of the wrists. Begin with a cb of 40 st joined to form a ring. Make a h d in each st of the eh and work i•ound and round, making a la d each h beneath, catebing botb sts each time. Make six rows for the wrist and the seventh row BABY'S DitoCIIETED MITTEN. begin to widen for the thumb. Widen one a in the seventh row, then 2 in every alternate row until 13 et have been widene.d. Leave 18 st for the thumb alli.1 NVOV1 10 VOWS round the re- maining portion, then narrow off the end. Take up sts for the thutnb and welt rotted until it is the desired length, narrowing off the end quite abruptly. Finish the wrists with a row of sltells and edge them with a chain of pink. 'elie teifien may be made any size and is tensily worked. Am Art 'Vitra interemtm. A pereon who eel) dreev well will find eomething to laterest him In the hum- blest thing. 1 do not know anything connected with dt!ftwitig that has not Somh eting In tereeting abOut IL—John ,ne a • Duettist, 4/401/4e4seetteeettleee,eereeleeeeteseteeetetteeteee. 1111ii PRICES FAR 1001. J U u AN ERA OF SlilliS'EANTIAL AND LASTING Pitosinitnexry Volt • SIIEEP ultiot(r)Etts. •4440.....444100.000414.44440 Extremely prosperous conditious ex- ist in the wool market, and optimists In the trade are positive that higher prices and an increased demand will continue this year. Theve eas beeu steady rise in tho prices of all grade' of the finer WOO1S and in many of the wools which tire known as "medium' during the last 12 mouths, says the New Yoelt Evening Post. At the close Of August, 1890. wool was cheapel than it had been for nearly 20 yetu•s til the niareets of Americo. On the 1st oi January, 1899, Australian combing whicb is, all things coasidered, the tin est commercial wool 1r:town. Liati vanced from 42 to 65 cents, a gain al ▪ \( 4 r 4 *0)44 049 . Ago 11 LONE 12A111, more than fie per cent. At the begin ning or last Decewber, according to thoroughly authentie egures, the sant! wool was quoted at 85 ceute, a gain 01 over 100 per cope 'Iles is agalust a price of 70 CelltS It pound which existee at tbe beginnine of 1893, wbich time was eonsidared the "bonanza" period by wool men. On the prices of -Kentucky quarter bloo(1. clean," which is the staple among what are known as the "medium" wools of American origin, prices were as fol lows: January. 1893, 40 cents; August. 1890. 25 ceuts; January, 1899, 37 aunts: Dec. 1, 1899, 44 rents, a gain of ee per cent. It will be uoted in this case that tbe wool has ten yet reached the figures which it commanded in 1893, a fact which serves as it text for the bulls of the wool market. The situation SIIONVI3 by these cow parisons is due to a curious combine tion of eircurnstauves which, according to a local wool dealer who has soon 35 years of wool trading and is therefore qualified to speak understandingly ot the past, is prat:deafly unique. The chief governing factor Is the situatiou abroad. The gain in the price of wools in the last Loudon auction was about 20 per cent on the average over previ- ous quotations. Isiue wools. such as are produced in Austi•alia, South Afri- ca and South America, showed the heaviest gain, on account of the ex- treme scarcity of the supply. r The shortage in prodnetion in Australia last year was estimated at 143,000,000 pounds. due prineipally to dt•ougbts. Incidentally it is asserted by the Na• Veinal Assodation of Wool eIanuface turers that there will be a further sbot•tage this year of over 100,000.000 pounds. In South Atnerica there was a shortage of about 107,000,000 pounds last year. The American clip last year was 272.• 000.000 pounds. or 53.000.000 pounds less than it was in 189-1, and the best estimates made for this spring show a probable increase of only 10,000,000 pounds, so that there will be very little gain here to offset the foreign shortage. The second important coliditioe and the one which makes the situation a peculiar one Is the heavy demand for goods wincb is beginning to be appar- ent and which well undoubtedly be tbe leading feature of the spring buying. A successful mennfacturer of woolen goods recently in the city said that aft- er a thoroug,b canvass of the jobbing and manufacturing markets he was convinced that the country Is practical- ly bare of Iseavyweigbt woolen goods. This is the class of goods eyelid) the mills are about to begin work upon and of which the heaviest orders are regis- tered about this tittle. It is ex- tremely improbable that American mills will be able to manufacture more than G5 to 75 per cent of the woolens which will be called for. A manufacturer of clothing, wben questioned about possible advances in price, seid that tbere might be a saving effected by the use of shoddles and other substitutes for wool, but he thought this would not be feasible, be- cause it was becoming laarder every year to sell anything but all wool goods to the average American. In time shoddy clothing and shoddy piece goods would become important ar- ticles of export, but the tendency from now on would be to do away with them as articles of merchandise for domestic consumption. Steeping Oates For Hordes. The nutritive power of oats, Herr lialet, a German agriculturist says, may be considerably augmented by steeping the grain In water before giv- ing it to horses. This Is his plan: Fie has three troughs, each of which lfolds as 'much oats as will be required for one day's feeding. The first day the first trough, Is filled with oats and wa- ter at a temperature of 8' degrees 0. poured over It, and tbe whole mass is well stirred. The watet Is left in the trougb about SIX hours, after which it is strained off through a hole in the Mitten) of the trough. The next day the operetiott is repeated, in tett eecond trough, and again on the follow, • Ing day the third trough. The oats thus steeped In bot water get up l'er mentation.and at the eeph•ation ot' 48 hours are ready to be given to the horses and will then, according to Herr Kalif, produce the MILXIMUM 111.1tiltiVe fICSOt). SEEDS ANI) Pt -ANTS. Buy Seed Early For ext Season., Pointers on Nursers' Stock. The prospect is that prices win tuts high with inauy varietiee of fario seeds and nurseey stock the coming season. Therefore special value atteches to suggestions such as the following freni Orange Judd Farmer: Fraud can be so easily pra.ctleed with so little chance of detection in the packing and sale of farm and gar. den eeeds and nursery stock and plants that our readers should be 'careful where and of whom they buy. There Is no svay in which one variety ee turnip seed may be told from any ee half a dozeu others except as the crone - grows. Neither is there any inetheilt7' of detecting whether the variety is true to name, whether seeds' of some entirely differeut species have been substituted or if a tiller ,of old and worthiee,s seed has been used to make bulk and weight. The latter may be quickly discovered by planting a few seecle in a flowerpot and counting how many sprout. The only assurance which a buyer has of the honesty, purity and quality of goods is through bie trust and con- fidence in the se.lier. All firms of es- tablished reputation are zealous to maintain their standing and the confi- dence of their customers, so that the greatest pains are taken eo insure the quality of their goods. In these re. spects leading American seedsmen are far in advance of European dealers. Buyers should insist upon a guara0 tee that the seeds shall be not only true to name, but that they, shall be fresh and of a given percentage of ger- mination. Most of the responsible seedsmen will give this guarantee to customers who buy any considerable quantity. Early buylbg will be necessary where certain_varieles are wanted, for seeds - men must do much substituting later In the season. Nursery stock Is 50 per cent higher than two years ago. There was no money in growing apple trees at 5 cents each and peaches at 3 cents, so nurserymen met, organized and agreed to maintain prices at a living profit. More attention will be given to quality than was possible heretofore, and buy- ers will be benefited in the end. All nursery stock runs light and small, owing to the extremely dry sea- son, and three-quarter inch 2 -year-old apple trees are scarce. Buyers will have to take lighter trees or older stock If they want size, and the year's tree business will probably be an unsatis- factory one all around. The only way to be sure of securing varieties true to name is to buy good stock and top work it. Northern Spy apple, Kieffer pear and Lombard plum make good stocks. Graft the next year or set buds during the summer of the varieties wanted. Such trees will come into bearing earlier than trees worked - In the nursery. Peaches, cherries and grapes are more difficult to work, and not so much is to be gained by this method as with the kinds mentioned. ' Trees and plants grown in a st heavy loam or clay produce m short, fine roots, while those grown on light soil have fewer roots, which are • longer a,nd larger. When buying, re- member this and get trees greeen on soil somewhat similar to your own. • A Good Outlook For Spring Pork. There are Some who consider clover fattened spring pork better than the corn made fall supply. • The result is that extra prices are often paid for recall, sweet spriug pork which can- not be obtained for the corn made fall pork. There is at present an excellent outlook for next spring's hogs, and it will pay to carry pigs along so that they will be in fine condition for spring fattening. So says American Cultiva- tor and adds: Quick and rapid growth is neces- sary for the success of this work, and both the feed and the protection or the animals must be considered. We can- not feed them too liberally up to the point where they do not waste any or the food. It should be seen that the an:I:eels are not exposed too much to inclement weather. In very cold mouths a good deal of our food is sometimes required siroply to make animal heat. An ••xcess of this waste of heat to keep the bodies warm is a great loss in the end. The amount of actual food required to keep the pigs geowiug rapidly depends to a degree upot the protection the animals re- ceive. Turn them loose In the cold' pens in all kinds. of rough weatek without good sleeping pens and warTri bedding and they will reouire fully 26 per cent more food just to keep etp to the normal standard of animal heat. Bent Winter Feed Poe Sheep. , Sheep are not robust animals. On 1 the contrary, they need every possible , attention and conformity with their habits and ,constitution. This Is most , applicable totheir feeding. They are...,_ naturally adaeted as to their teeth andAMII digestive organs to short, fine food. To , graze on short herbage, and to clip the tender shoots of bushes 18 their voca- tion. Hence the roughness of as farm is not desitable or even suitable for them. It will not do to throw a bunch of stalks of corn to sheep, as it may do I for cattle or horses. The bladeof corn even are too rough fodder for :them. '.'he best possible dry reeding of sheep et! early cut, tender clover I hay, with the addition of sliced roots.' This ie the best possible dry, coarse feeding tor the winter. Ewes may be kept in the best condition on this feed without grain. The ttddition of somel grain later, when the lambs are to be! thoughti0f, will be necessary, but only - i a moderate ration need be given. Sheep are naturally herbivorous, and mis- ehlef is frequently done by overcrowd- ing them with grain when their digest- ive appatatus is suitable only for her. , baceccus iodder.—Shccu Breeder. 1")