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.
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