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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1900-3-22, Page 6110MiNGT y JOHN El—Tit —A NCa'al WINTER, Seettyreetve use br to ettatatme Evieracaily tee career of a nurse Was disposed of aud pat on one side as an impossible one. 'I:Imre only reanained then open to bur that of a typewriter. The acenunts which she getheied of tele way of makiere a living were woe hopeful. She would pay 10 geineas be taught the trade, and 81N months would see bee in a fair way ef eerning a decent living. She could, until she was proficient, live very cheziply and quietly in her modest little room, and ehe would have every intereet in forcing hereelf ahead as quiekly as possible. There was nothing in the manipulation of a delicate and intelligent machine (this was the way that a young girl, whose acquaintance she made in a tea - ;amp, spoke of hee typewriter) which oduid be in any way revoltinta to bele ,mg eteefe .... ---- It fascinated, enthralled, amazed her. or whiett was in any sense beyond ber powers, "And of course," said the girl, •if you go in for shorthand as well, you just double your value from tbe very kart." "Is it difficult?" Mary asked, rather diffidently. "Yes. it is difficult," the girl replied, "but by no means insurmountable. And the advantages are enormous. Oh, it is a grand life for a woman. Any woman of average intelligence can make a liv- ing at it; and a woman whose intelli- gence is above the average can do more than make a living. She can command her own price. Then it is a free life( I mean in this way. If a Woloan goes in for nursing, she needs years and years of training, and goodness only knows whether she will prove herself a .really :skilled nurse at the end of it. She needs euperlannuin strength, endless patience, antinite tact, and for what? To earn at best 2 guineas a week, to be treated a little better than a servant. to be al- wuys in a position that is entieely tem- porary. A typist, on the other hand, es - pedally if she is also a stenographer, can easily make £1 00 a year, provided thet sbe is really good at her work. She has her fixed hours., her fixed bolidays. Sae has. always her Sundays and her Saturday afternoens. All the tact that Is necessary for her is to mind her own business and hold her tongue. She bas her evenings to herself. and, if she likes, she can get• extra work then so as to put by an extra sum to her ordinary earnings for her slimmer holiday. It is a line fife for a woman—there is no /Ms- -Sea:0 about that. The reeelt of this chance meeting and emeversation with an utter stranger was that Mary went straight away to a cer- tain scbool of typewriting, and at once entered herself as a pupil for the entire canrse, and then she set Iserself to work. She was an ept pupil. Her well bal- anced miner, tinged by disappointment ;and trouble, but uneuffled by the great- er passions of life, quickly grasped the Sutricacies of the curious dots and dashes which seem so myeterioris and coefiasing to the majority of mortals. She -matte rapid progress, and before the eix n)C11ths wbicIl she had allowed h er- aelf Loi her pupilage had come to an end she found herself established in the, eflice of a small firm of brokers at a salary of 1 13 shillings a week. It was of course bet a beginning Still it was a beginning, and Mary had accepted it gladly. both for what it brought her and tee an earnest of better things to come, And each evening when she had left the office end had had tea at the nearest X Y Z ehop she tvent off to the school and worked hard at her shorthand. A few months more saw her in differ- ent cirenrestateces, for :die left the firm of brokers and engaged herself to a lawyer of large practice. who paid her ei0 shillings a week and treated her pleasantly 11)1)0 ±110 bargain. After near- ly a year in this office her employer sud- denly died, and she Was thrown out of work. ' Not that dm we' destitute—by no means. She had lived carefully, almost frugally, keeping always in mind the possibility of a rainy day in titaie to come. She took a week's holiday and epee it at Dovercourt, where she sat by the glorious sea, basking in golden ern- eleine and the keen brisk air, reveling novels nd drieldng in a full simply ef health and strength, which would last her for at le ISL a yeer to come. Among the books she had taken down 'with her was one which , had been lent to her by her one intimate friend, the girl Lucy Chalmers, wlio bad first given ;her information ;thole; the life and ca 1011 of a typist. if 11 had been three golden days by the sea ere eho began to read it. It was called "A Lover's Creed a Love." It is almost iropossible for me to tell rale effect that this story had upon aviary Conway. It was 0 story of passion pas- eionately vvritten. It was fervid, full of life and ritir and color, and it Was clean end wholesome in tone Withal. It Was minaistakebly tbe work of a men rich imaginatioe who Was yet full of SematMon /setts° anti sound judgment. It fascinetecl, enthreaTett, erntudel tens She event to bed and dreamed of it. She reed it over agein $everal times during tins rest of her tveek's boliday. leaving the other imolai unread after the first glance into their, to her, nneeniug- ! lees Pages, During' those few clays she 1 lived with it. I 1.e.ii 51)0 \'Vent back o sonclon She was feeling stronger and more really free jast then than ehe bad ever dove irt all her 11 10 before. She was ind opentl en t, see steed taea to face with the world, it is true, but it was no longer a world of which she was aireicl She stood firm upon her own toot. She owed not a Uy to to any Mall. Hcr first errand was to go to a great shop where typewriters are sold. "I wish to put my name down oia yorm boolte," she said. "As typist?" "And stenographer." 'What is yeur :mood?" Cue hundred and twenty," said Mary. with qtdet assurance such as car- ried conviction with it. "You are uaed to our machines?" "Yee; I have used no other. "Well, if you will give me yonr name and address, I will let you know if anything suitable °flees itself.'' "Thaek you --Mrs. Conway, 201 Wel- lington street, laloomsbury." The clerk wrote down the mime and address, and Mary turned to go. "By the bye, be said, ‘`.1aon't know if you wouldn't be just the one for a gentle- man now on our list. Let me see,' turning over the pages of a big book-- " `Lady—uot young girl--quiet---inust bave speed over 100.. You nsight go and see this gentleman. I'll give you a card. It is Mr. Alan Stacey, the novel- ist. "The author of `A Lover's Creed of Love!' " cried Mary, breathlessly. CHAPTER VIII. ALAN STACEY, THE NOVELIST. It was with a beating bent filled with nervousness and apprehension that Mary Conway found herself waiting at the house of Alan Stacey, the novelist, in Fulham. It was evidently a somewhat old botts.e and was inclosed in 0 high walled garden. It was at the gate of this „ear - den door that she waited patiently after giving a humble pull at the handle of the bell, snch as she would not have given at the door of a duke. At last she rime again, and then her summons at— tracted attention She heard footsteps on the other side of tbe door, and then it was flung- open, and a male in the usual decorous garb of a servant stood to hear what she wanted. "Does Mr Alan Stacey live here?' she asked. "Yes, ma'am." , "Is he at home?" "Mr. Stacey is not out, ma'am," the man replied. "but he does not usually see any one at this bour Mr. Stacey is in his study, ma'am." "Still I think be will see me," said Mary, eagerly. "if you will give him this card." "Walk- this way, ma'am," Fetid the man. taking the card between his finger and thumb in the peculiar manner of a well trained servant. He led the way down a broad flagged pathway which led to the house. It was covered by a kind of veranda, and on either side a charming garden spread until bounded by the old wall. It was a charming garden. rich in ancient, mossy turf and gay with many flowers. All manner of creepers intwieed them- selves about the pillars which suppoeted the sheltering roof overhead, and great hydrangeas bloomed at the bases of them. The house was long and low, bed long windows opening like doors and a wide veranda running its entire length. This veranda was paved with brilliant colored tiles. OD which were flung here and there rich looking rugs. Huge easy chairs, wicker tables and a hammock made a pleasant lounge. and there were goweriug plants everywhere. "Will you take a seat here, inaMm?'' said the man, indicating 01 largo chair. "I will inquire if Mr. Stacey will see you. Mary sat down, and he disappeared into the house. She sat drinking in the pleasant scene, doubly pleasant after the arid stretches of Bloomsbury brick and mortar. to wbich she was accus- tomed, To her it see.med like a sylvan retreat far, far away from the ruse and turmoil of cities where strife liana. She could hear hes first acquaintance, the servant, speaking nied 0 man's tones answering: "All right. I'll come out. said the man's voice. , The next moment ta tan man in light gray clothing came out by the window Mary was in Alan Stacey's presence. "Mrs. Couwayt" he said. looking at the card in his hand and then at her. Mary sprang to her feet. "Yes, I am Mee. Conway," he said tremulously, "Mesfirs. Bloomillgby thought that I ShOCIld Stilt yon." "As a typist?" "And stenographer," she added quickly. "Pray sit down," said Alan Stacey' kindly and himself pulled a chair near enough to talk with ease: ,"What,is yonr speed as shorthand writer a", 'A hundred and twenty. '! "Good I Yon look intelligent, which is 1110TO to the point. Have you, been with any author beforel'' "No." answered Mhry; "I have been with a solicitor, and that, of course, was work needing great (tare and pre- cision." "Ain yes! And why did yon leave Liam?" "I did not leave him," she replied. "Unfortunately for me, he died." "I see. Do you think you teeneld like my kind of work?" "Yes." said she promptly. Sal ant not very easy to Work with. I'm as crochetty as most other literary men," Mr. Stacey wild. "I have jest get rid of a men, an excellent fellow, for no reason than that he sat on the edge of his chair and Waited. I would bare tergiven many thinare but bie \vetting 0;) 0(1.' oppressive. It ltilled every idea I had. Licaure that 1,1111(1 a young lady. Slut 13)1) \Y Sltakespeare by ;mare and ('1)21 121 quete Xenophon, but she would mend eity copy as sho went en" -- "Oh, hoev daiettl she?" Mary lmrst out. Mr. Stacey looked at iser with a vague sense of arnueement. "I assure yott, IWAS--well, never Mind her llame; it is immateriel, but lafiss 131ank we svill call her—thortgla very small pota- toes of me. I ttata't write by hand. I've got writer's (tempt), and I have al- tvays a terrible lot of work in hand. If I bad gone 011 With 111iss Blank, I elsoulai have been as dead as a doornail by this titne. She Gould not do my work without ironing it out as she went along, so that every vestige of style and indtvidnality WitS eliminated completely." Blau gave a little gasp, "But, I thought site took down what you dic- tated," she mid almost breathlessly. "Yes, but if she saw what she thought Wes an. error slie was always kind enough to mend it for me," said Alen Stacey, smiling at tise remembrance. 'She knew -test a little tod much for me. She meet have been overeducated or something My last helper had, on the contrary, no ideas. He had a nete- book and a sharp pointed lead pencil. When I was in form, he was excellent. Wben 1 had to get a certain anseunt of cony 1(111190 out 131 a certain time and I l'escln't so much as the gbost of an idea be my head, he used to sit on tile edge 01 11 chais• waiting till 1010 get an idea. If he would have read the newspaper, gone to eleep, walked about'the garden; If he would have yawned even, I should not have minded, but he never did. He said orme it WrIS till in the day's. work whether he worited or waited So, when I -couldn't eyork, be waited. 11100 to get rid of him. I found him an excellent billet and swore I would never have an- other helper of any kind. Then my band earns in and said'No; I'M hanged if you shall use rue delicate.' So I sent to Bloonsingby's. So now, airs. Cos - way, you see what kind of ' naan I am to deal with—nervous, irritable, alinost eccentric. "I ain not afraid," said Mary, mil - mg. This man was wholly delightful to her, surrounded by a halo of ro- mance, still young, strong, unconven- tional and wholly human. "Ilave you seen any of my work?" he ask -ed. "I have read the `Lover's Creed a dozen times at least." she answered. "Ah I Then you will to a certain ex- tent understand me. I should need you from 10 to 5 80011 day. Well, not on Saturday afternoons. That goes without saying. • ''1331111 ready," said Mary. , 'aYou would lunch here—by the bye, where do you live?" "In Bloomsbury. "That's 0 far cry. "I should seelt for rooms in this neighborhood," she said quickly, "I am not wedded to my present mearters. "Still better. You are married, Mrs. Cosway ?'' "My nanse is Conway," she said gently "I am a widow." "00, forgive me! One likes to know everything. Have you children?" "None—nor a single relative in all the world." 'Poor little sol I'The words slipped out unconsciously, as if lse were think- ing aloud. "Theis about terms." "I will take what you Etre accustom- ed to pay," said Mary. "I have, let us say, 2 guineas a week; " he returned hurriedly. "Brit won't you try me first?" said Mary, ratatit.3r taken aback by this un- ceremonious way of arranging the mat - "No, no. Your speed is 120, and you look as if you would just suit use." "But my references!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Conway," said the novelist, turning rend lookine directly and taxed- **40t:IN ' "My name is Conway," she said gently. ly at her, "I would just as soon not see your references. 1 know too well the lies one tells when one wants to pass some one on to one's friends, I know too well what they are worth. Your /est employer died, yon tell me"— "But it mightn't be true," she fal- tered. "I would really rather"— "Do you want a character with trier , he broke "But everybody knows yota" she cried ingenuously "Everybody has read your books." "I wish they did. I should tustke a decent income then. No, no, Mrs. Con- way. I know what I am and what I'm not. I know my own limitations and exactly what I am capable of. It's my' business to read character. Yon may not suit me as a secretary, but only time can show and prove that. So far 98 you yourself are concerned, honeety is the dominant note of your life." Mary could not help starting. Alan Stacey continued: "You give yorreself away continually because you cannot conceal your real feelings In 0 sense yon are bad for yourself because you cannot dissemble. You couldn't tell a downright lie if you tried, and you are so honest that you wouldn't try." "I do hate lies," said Mary in a tone tee if such a fact \Yee° rather to her detriment, than otherwise. S'Lot sue loolc at your hand. Yes; it 18 capable—preeiee, upright and highly nervous We shall be able to work to- ttethet- very well, I am certain At all tweets, let us try tomorrow moniing." "ale. Stacey," said Mary, rising as she epolse, "I will ao Illy very best " "We shall got on splendidly," he re- plied, twirling out hie hand. "1 fop do- ing a particularly difficult piece of work just 11011, a most difficult subject, in which the bundling is everything, the whole difference bettven sttecess and failure. I was writieg with iny fist -- yes, doubled up so—in deepair, vvhere nsy servant told me you were here. Look tit this"—sprearling ont his hand and showing an angry stvollen red rage of muscle which rose between the first and second fingers and extended beyonr1 the wrist. "That means the intensest and most exquisite agony It seems to disappear above the wrist and to rise riemin in the underside of the arm, frosu where it runs i11 a rope of pain to the very armpit. VE4L) PE CONTINUED.) THE BITER BITTEN. 46. Trick That 'Didn't Work Out Josi as Was ifoipected. There were three of them, and as they entered the German saloon on the corner the tall young man, who wore razzie dazzle clothes and posed as "fast," remarked in an undertone to his companions that he would --show them something good." They lined up at the bar, and the tall young man ordered three 5 cent drinks. Ween these were disposed of, he laid down 10' cents on the bar, at which the Gorman proprietor remark- ed, "Nein; "lifdeema The tall young man repocketed the coin and thus ad- dressed the German: "1 just gave you 10 cents, didn't I?" "Tab," responded the German. "Well, here's 10 cents. Tbat makes 20, so you owe we 5," added the young man, again depositing the dime on the bar. The German looked bewildered,. but placed the dime in the money drawer and handed the tall young man a half dollar, with the request tbat Ile deduct therefrom the 5 cents due him. The tall young man bad just the correct change, 45 cents, left in his pocket. This he promptly handed to the Ger- man and received the bait dollar. Then the three companions repaired to the street and indulged in a mighty laugh, while the tall young man swelled up like a prize turkey on parade. . Every- thing went lovely until they parted company and the tall young man boarded a car for his home in the suburbs. Imagine his feelings when the conductor banded him back the 50 cents which be tendered in re- sponse to the request for fares with the information that the piece was "bad." It was all the money he had, and he could not persuade the con- ductor to trust him, so be was eject- ed at the next corner and had to walk the remaining Eve miles to his home.— Chicago JournaL TRAINING OF ANIMALS. Only Accomplished, it Ix Said, by thn Use or tbe Whip. The populartheory rhat aninaals can be taught tricks by firmness and kind- ness is a grins error, according to a vet- eran circus man who has sent forth the dictum tbat no animal was ever trained to do anything unnatural ex- cept by punislarnent. 11' it knows hun- ger or pain will follow disobedience, it W111 obey. It takes the whip to break the colt to harness or saddle, but the end justifies tbe means, and tbe tinimar s intelli- gence when once it has learned its les- son does av•ay with 11(11 (11.) uee of tbe whim But IS 1 borse is taught -tricks, such a.s one sees in it circus, the con- staut use of the whip is necessaiev, and the little pat on the neck the train- er gives the animal iu public is not be- stowed io private. l'hure is never any let up in their training. Trained clogs always appeal to wom- en and ehildrenfor the little animals appear to thoroughly enjoy their work. But the barking and frisking are only the natural joy of the poor beasts at being let out of the cramped quarters! where they stay when they are not in the ring. Moreover, they know the trainer does not whip them In public. There is scarcely a trick a trained dog does tbat he likes or that he will do at order unless punished. Willis Cobb was the first dog trainer to make a reputation, and when he was middle aged be abandoned bis profession be- cause, be said, he had not the heart to go on making a living by whipping dogs. --Cleveland World. Why 'rimy Keep tu the Right. "It is a rare treat for a person to go through Europe the first time," said a returned tourist "I visited ono old palace in Scotiend and was walking down a long corridor when 1 crime to a sentinel, who told tile to keep to the right. I could not see any reason Why 1 sbould keep to the right and nesked him why, but he said be could not tell. I finally asked the custodian, and he said he had looked it ttp in the 1.11'elliVOS of tbe palace and l'oond that pearly 100 years ago the floor was painted, ano some people wanten over tee fresh paint. 'TIM offieer of the day was or- dered to station a sentinel there to keep people off frotri the fresh paint and have them walk to the right. The order had Dever been countermanded, and from that day to this a sentinel stands there and tells everybody to keep to the right,"—Indfanapolis Peees. Ile '.Von. She—Yes, love you, hitt I always said I was goirig to marry a rich mai1. ale—Well, do. Marry me, are] then 111 Pc 'tile richest man in ttm 'Avorld,-1)10111.- delphis Bulletin. offswrommwesimeastmes,r,o, HOW TO HANDLE BEES. A Beekeeper's Ideas of Safe and Sat- isfactory "firays. ' Tbe prospective beekeeper will natu- rally be interested In "how to handle bees." A theory of the operation is thus set forth by a writer in Rural New Yorker: To become familiar with the habits and life of the honeybee in an intelligent and practical way it is of course necessary to use a movable frame hive of some sort. In order to meet their needs we must know what Is going on inside the hive. When bees are in the field gathering honey or when swarming, they will never volun- teer an attack, because they are then filled with honey, but when their little home 18 molested they will then act in self defense and resent the attack. It Is therefore necessary to use a smoker of *erne kind. Before opening a hive sena in a few'puffs of smoke at the en- trance to alarm them, and they will immediately rush for the combs and fill thenteelves with honey. skfter smoking them it is well to wait ft minute or two that they nmy gorge themselves. The cover can then be lifted off and a little more smoke blown HANDLING Bans. In on top of the fealties, and the bees will adhere nicely to the -combs. With screwdriver or tack puller tbe division board can be removed and the combs pried apart and one by one examined without danger of being stung. In an apiary where there are many bees flying it is always best to be on the safe side and wear a veil, but gloves are unnecessary and cumber- some. A beehive should not be pulled apagt every few days for more curiosi- ty, but should be examined occasional- ly to ascertain the needs of the bees and condition. If the colony is weak, it can be strengthened by adding it frame or two of sealed brood taken' from some other colony strong enough to spare it. It is well Mo select one kind of hives and frame, so that all the furniture of the hives will be inter- changeable, and not have two or three kinds of hives in the apiary, which will surely cause it great deal of vexation and annoyance. Bees should always be handled very gently. They seem to dislike qnick, jerky movements. In early spring or autumn, when tbe days are cool, it is prudent not to open the hives until near midday, when the. field bees will then be out gathering honey. OD cloudy or rainy days it is best not to open hives, for the field bees are then at home and are erose, being deprived o± the privilege of gathering the precious At night is the very worst time to molest bees, as some pilfering persons liave found out to their sorrow. It is true that bees do not fly at night, but they crawl and sting. By injudicious handling bees Call be made very irrita- ble and cross, so that they will sting everybody near and far and will re- main angry and vicious for weeka. Formulas For Cotton Fertilizer, Ieive formulas, all good for making fertilizers for cotton. the total amount in each formula being for all acre, 9.10 given by Home and Farm: First, ni- trate of soda, 330 pounds p acid phos- phate, 100 pounds; muriate of potash, 100 pounds. Second, cottonseed meal, 100 pounds; dissolved South Carolina rick, 200 pounds; kainit, 300 pounds. Third, cottonseed meal, 150 pounds; basic slag phosphate, 300 pounds; kai- nit, 100 pounds. Fourth. 'filtrate of soda, 250 pound 4; acid phosphate, 150 pounds; muriate of potash, 75 ponnds. Fifth, nitrate of soda, 130 pounds; dissolved South Carolina rock, 408 pounds; muri- ate of potash, 78 pounds. A Favorite Lettnce. When planning a garden, the many varieties of lettuce may well puzzle the nctvice. Prize Head is apparently an Ameri- can type and a favorite, being quite generally grown for family us/a. The . .. . . PRIZE READ LETTUCE. plants are unusually vigorous and en- dure hot weather better perhaps than any other kind of equally good quality. They also do well in early spring and late fall. The heads are large sand loose, Sometimes two feet across, the leaves green, with reddish or brown tinge. TILE DRAINAGE. Views of a Ill'arnier Who FInili In It Many and Lasting 31.3,enclits. Some farmers appear to think the one ly gain from underdraining is that the eoil is dry enough to work sooner after hard rains and will yield better Grope when the season is wet. But this is by no means all tbe benefit, according te all Obio Fenner correspondent who is an enthusiastic advocate of tile drain- age. ,He names and comments upon the foliovving additional reasons for his faith: First, a better yield in dry seasons; second, it is easier to keep the ground clear of weeds; third, vegetables, grass, etc., are made more palatable; fourth, weeat and clover tlo not heave out so lemma by freezing and thawing; fifth, tile soil does not wash so much; sixth, it makes the soil more fertile. To say that ditching prevents dam - ago by drought may seem strange to those wbo have never tried underclrain- iug their land, but those who have ti.iecl it know that the crops over and near a tile ditels are better in a dry season than weere no tile are used. The droughts that do tbe most damage are those wiset-e a dry summer and fall follow an open winter and a wet spring. This is caused by the wet w'(1( 31)01' re the spring making the soil run ,togetber and becoming compact. When dry weather follows, it is more injurious than if the soil is loose, as 11 generally Is over and near a tile ditch. As to the second reason—it is easier to get rid of Nveeds—a little observation will prove it to be correct. It is in the wet spots in the wheattields where the 'heat is, killed by the water that the , dock, ragweed, chess and other pests are the WorSt. It iS the same way in the cornfield and potato patch. The low, wet places are generally the most difficult to keep clean. The third advantage is that the prod. ucts of well drained land are more pal. atable than those grown on wet land. The same variety of potatoes planted in different soils will produce potatoes of dissimilar qualities. Those grown on well drained land will cook dry and tnealy, while tbose grown in a wet, heavy, clay soil will .be of an inferior quality and will be soggy wben cooked. The fourth advantage claimed—that wheat and clover are not injured so much by the ground's freezing and dotes not need explaining. As to the fifth claim—that the soil does not wash so much—I aln not quite so positive as I am about tne others. The loose ,soil over a tile ditch will wash easily it' the tile does not have the capacity to carry all the water that runs to it. As to the lest claim—that it makes the soil more fertile. 1 WORD by this that it not oulv meltes the land more • prod octive, but that it adds fertilizing elements to tile soil the 5311119 as we do wben we eover the ground with ma- nure, or fertilizers. Some cnay inquire when these elements are applied. The answer is, every Slay in the year and by the water and air that pass through \- the soil. *-1 While a heavy coat of stable manui may make better crops for six, eight or, ten years and an applicetion of com- mercial fertilizer will show for several years, if they are not renewed the soil will not show any gain from them aft- er a time, but the tile direle like "a thing of beauty." is -a joy forever." The Den Davis APPle. "The 13e1 Davis apple in many ways has. given pleasure to thousands and brought dollars to hundreds, but no DEN DAVIS APPLE. one knows who Ben Davis was or fol. where he lived or died. All that 1 , known of its history is that ft can, into favor with orchard planters Ili -the southwest, and the name traveled with the tree. In tlie markets of Phil- adelphia there are probably more of this variety offered for sale during De - certifier and January than any other. Its ruddy cheeks on a pale yellow ground are tempting, and its eating qualities are by no means poor, yet it could not be classed as specially fine but as an all round good variety it h. popular points. And then it Is it good tree for the tnarketman in this. that it does not take as many years to come into bearing as some kinds, like the Northern Spy, for instance and IS ft regular yearly bearer, not requiring the resting spells that some demand. and seems to be no favorite with apple dis- eases that feast on other kinds. Alto- gether It is a safe variety to plant." So Meehan's Monthly sums tip this much discussed fruit in connection with the illustration here given. The Other Side of Broom Corn. As the phenomenal price of broom corn will attract many to enter into, -this industry, It may be well to recall some of the less roseate facts about it. For instance, that it Is a crop requiring special knowledge and tools, is trou- blesome and expensive to harvest and tImaeln precarious because quickly detiitiged by unfavorable weather and at times very low in priee.