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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1900-8-9, Page 2le:llOINO. 1 ' But a woman must be ant angel who wiU retuee a priceless jewel that exactly elsite •her eyes and eomplex- iou, and moreovee makes her at once terget for the envy and malice of her kind; for wherever Elizabeth went, thoee two enormous sapphires -- SO enormoue that they were seldom be- lieved to be real save by those who knew laer—riveLed every eye upon her arm. Two conditions had been attached to tirie gift, that she should /lever let th.ent out of her owe. personal poesess- tots, 4f1ct that she should never raise assatiey upon them or sell them, , Gayly enough Elizabeth had in.ade the necessarY promise to he' rich gocl- nether, nOW dead, but long ago she had repented her of making either. Gladly would she hare turned them Into money, for Jack's progress an the Bar was slow, and food and house- ' rent were dear, so was society, and life to town meant a perpetual dis- bursing of small and big coins, while the employment , purchased by the same was disproportionately small. But: she Lad given her word, and instead of breaking it, she had hit on a little plan by which she might ob- tain some money, and enjoy the hiss ot pouring it all one day into jack's brown hand, and so she had collogued with. Barry, and confusion had come of it, aud despair and death,. Long bolos° that she had sacrificed her own comfort to economy in the house, that she mig,ht take a small cottage in the country where fresh •air, urgently required by a certain precious somebody, could be obtained and so she had airily told Jearry they bed rooms to let, and he had moved into them gladly, not knowing the bad accommodation she had reserved to herself above. To Jack an attic, with Elizabeth in was a palace, and he bore philoso- phieatly what caused hen really acute pain; but she often went down to the cottage in Berkshire, as often indeed as her care tor Jack permitted. They had never fallen out of love with each other, these two—nobody had come between them during the five year of their married life, for theirs had been that perfect sympathy of heart and semi which makes united lives One tong feast of delightful com- pany. And who would have dreamed that any interruption to their happi- ness should ever come? And mow she was alone—and friends a -r 1 enenaies alike marvelled that she omelet remain in that house whose num- ber and story were on every tongue, and that no one passed without "a curious stare up at its pretty win- dows as if expecting to see a ghostly tragedy enacted. Sb.e who had once been so sensitive was surety not sensitit-e now, or she must have fled from, it long ago; but they did not know that her courage was stronger than her sensitiveness therethre she remained. When Jack came home—ay I but would he bear to put up -with her com- pany always, If his prison -doors opened, and sent him forth a free me Elizabeth did nelmjeneael as s°1 -The w° _eri..?riSid have done und ts. awful, strain,. Some people go down under adversity, others are braced up by it. If she had an enor- mous capacity for suffering, she had akso. a good constitution, so that high- naettled courage which rises to the oc- casion, as the thoroughbred horse wilt respond to the call upon hien.even if, in accomplishing it, he burst his heart and die. So her back g,rew to its burden, and if she wasted day by day, her spirit was yet unbroken and whole within her. Nervous as ahe was, indeed, with that terrible physical nervousness known only to the deaf, who never grow accustomed to the strangeness of people appearing suddenly, without sound, before them, and who are weary with the perpetual .strain of trying to hear indistinct, and unsym- pathetic voiees that irritate and wound their ears. Common people look upon a deaf person as only one degree removed from an idiot, and not only roar at him, butt think it necessary to elab- orately explain everything down to hie limited intelligence; much as an Englislarnan, when he is trying to talk dePendent for sympathy on a serv- ant who aeemed about to fail her. Did any • inio of the friends who clung to her absolutely believe her In- nocent ? And was tbis woman, who had lived about her person, and knew all tier waye, at once sorry for, Yet doubt- ful of her teo? 'Whither shonld turn in her de- sertion and loneliness? Was she not in es piteous plight as the ruined heir of Linne? '0, ace for he stands on the cauld eatesay, And nee ane bids him' come int" Ay 1 hat like the broken, weary, friend -forsaken youth. she "minded het- " of so methi n g. "Hie neither left him a little wee key A little before she do'ed ; And bade hint leteop the little wee key Till he was nutlet in need." And the key fitted the hidden door, in which the Lady of Linne had stor- ed away niuckle gold against the time of her eon's ruin and repentance, and so he became rich again, and; let us hope, sinned no more. So now Elizabeth, bethinking her of her own secret treasure, flung aside the self-restraint, that, she laad fought so hard to maintain, and with a long, sobbing sigh of love and longing, COY- erad her face with her hands . "Daffy. . ." she said, below her breath. " I want you my little love my dear. . . . I can't live without you; . . . and yonr little feet will dance just as happily here as there a . . and you will not know ;. . . . so you mutst come, Daffy, for we are all alone together now you and I," --- CEIAPTER VI.. "Good mummy," said the boy, as he climbed into her arms and drew her head down to his. She closed her eyes that he might not see the tears that came into them With his cheek pressed against hers she teas in heaven, and would have lik- ed to rest thus for ever. -- "Daddy coming 'ome early ?" std Daffy squeezing his velvet embrace still closer round her neck. "Not to -day, lovey," she said, her brief spell of joy over. "Daddy is—is away just now." "Why you not gone too?" said Daffy sttting up, and looking earnestly at his mother. „"He has gone on—on business, Daffy." "0! said Daffy, only half satisfied, but anxious, as usual, not to appear ignorant, After ponde'ring awhile he said: "Barry gone away, too?" "Yes," said Elizabeth. putting up her hand to her throat as if some- thing choked her. "Ho promised me. a new rocking- 'orse," said Daffy, with grave dis- pleasure. "Just like a Shetlun' pony —with a hairy skin and a real tail— does '00 sink he's ferg,otten it ?" She bowed her head on his ueelr, to hide her eyes—she could not answer him. "P'r'aps he'll come 'ome before I go away," said Daffy, cheerfully, "'ope so —Barry and me used to 'aye velly 'igh jinks—that's what he used to call 'em —I used to call it fun." She hen rorgotten how good Barry had used to be to her boy; . . how they had played, and romped togeth- er ; how, one night, on going up to the nursery, she had found Daffy hits, golden yead on 1___,.ne,,a.ente—atrs eavttsi,•elingtIsytsSoinL.3rearesk' and Barry listen- er French, holloas at a Frenchman. It had come with such cruel swift- ness on Elizabeth, and it had come to remain forever. A bright, eager child, thirsting to be first in her school, over work, a audden chill, and then --silence to all the sweetest sounds of nature, and the tenderest, inosi delicious notes of the human voice. To sit alone, while others laughed, to be the fool of her company, when most eager to under- stated, to see life only from one nar- row stand -point, and hear it not at all with - " WiSclorn at one entrance quite shut out " • . this was the life of Elerabeth, and she had borne it, yea, and gayly, with love to turn all it broken promise to gold; but now that love was gone, the sil- ence seemed to touch her heart, and she shrank farther into her chilly lone - as one who cmild never be warm egain. Did she ever seem to hear poor Bar- ry's step on the stair as she sat alone; listening to the inner Voices, and sounds -that no other might Lear? Did she sometimes look up, half -expecting to eee, him standing beside her, pale, with reproach in his enen, asking her if he had ever, throtigh all their Yea -to of friendship, used her once discour- teously ? " 0 I ray God!" she cried once with a paaenee she rarely showed, "why did I go dOwn stairs that night?" And then she had. started, to find Rase beside her. Rose, whose clear voice else could always hear, who had stisdied h,er comfort and health non- tinually, and who in her own reserv- ed way seemed sincerely attaehed to the young mistress who was so de- pendent for coneideration on lth°81' around her, and whom 110 one could be witth long without • learning to love. Elizabeth looked aearchingly at the woman, as he deftly arranged her tee. on a small table near. Why did she find it a oonstent struggle, now to be teind 10 her? Was the difference in herself, or in Rose? The latner tim not epeatc, and some- thing in her silence, and her averted beacl, struck Elizabeth painfully, and sienee of profound humiliation stung her through and through. She was a Woman scset.rted by her husband, and against the stony rock of her heart then and pity gush- ed out, pity for the man to whom she had been so merciless, whom she had! 4 condeinaned unheard, knowing the powerlessness of the mute lips to open and clear him of the charge with which he had been dishonored. Soon the little busy feet were stump- ing up stairs again, this tirae to the drawing -room, where, in a hidden corner, known only to himself, Daffy .had left an "ingin" ,that was inestim- ably dear to his faithful heart. Elizabeth could not stop him with any show of reason; so she followed him over the threshold of the darken- ed room, yes, even through the fold- ing -doors and right up to the recess, where Daffy fished out his battered treasure, and hailed it with rejoic- ing. But coming away he missed some - tieing, and paused. "Where is your bed?" he said, "does you 'member, mummy, when as steep- ed downs'ere one night, cos you said you couldn't s' eep up stairs? How us did enjoy- ourselves!" And he hugged himself up together at the memory of it. • "Dolly says," he added,eshaking.his dear little fair head, "yououghtn't to s'eep down 'ere by your Ione self--, naughty man might get in and hurt you, wiz no Daffy 'ere, to take care o' you!" "Come and see the white mouse," she said, and led his dancing steps down stairs to the dining -room. The "Pink 'un," was glad to see his young master, and did not bite him with his tiny teeth, as he usually did Elizabeth when she explored his box with her forefinger. For awhile she sat and watched the little animal fro- lieleing round Daffy's small person— popping in and out of his tfrills, and playing at hide and seek in his curls— having by no means that horror of mice shared by most people, and sim- ply loving all aniraals great and stnall. , Then came his dinner—for he had arrived early—and then he went LO sleep, and Elizabeth watched by him, his dimpled hand held fast in hers. He would be almost entirelyin her care now, for she had 'thought it best for his nurse to "remain in the coun- try, and Rose had snore than enough to do already, nowethat she was maid and parlor -maid combined. Despair had lately made Elizabeth his prey, but the cloud was lifted now, as she looked upon the dear little com- panion all her own, whose happiness she entirely made and who must in fu - Lure make hers. lta her misery she had hardly dared to think of this oise pricelese treasure remaining to her, and now she llama - bay thanked God for it ana vowed that the touch of this little hand should hold her back from felling, into each hopeless abysses again. When Daffy awoke he expressed himself ready to get out for a 'walk, and when dressed called Upon Roe to fetch his mother's hat, "Not, toeday, lovey," she said, 01110- thex's tired. Rose will go with you." .Daffy hung his head, bitterly •dis- appointed. But all his little lifehe had thought of his mother beth. self, and now he did not urge his own claim, but, with a loving air of pro- , ectIon, led her to a sofa, where. he , made her lie down, and having stuffed every pilloW in the ream under her head, and carefully, covered her feeC with s large antimacassar,' and softly kissed the top of her nose, he went away on tiptoe with Resew keeping up an appearance) of oheerfulnees to the last, Elizabeth lay listening to the little hushed ateps as they- Went out of the door, and in fancy she passed with them up the street. Would, ev- ery one who met him look coldly on the child for 'his mother's and father'a sake? Was that little golden heacl to bebowed with shame already for a sin that was not his?" But if suoh ,glances fell, Daffy •did not know it. He had not gone far when he stopped, puckering up his nose and. brows. "Got a pain in my shoe," he said, "take it out for mei" Rose looked softly round. Only or- dinary dawdlers and passers-by were to be soon at the corner of a street that led at right angles to the house atethe back of No. 13. "We will. go to the shoemaker and leave it taken out." she said, and he trotted along, well, satisfied, beside her, down a small piece of street, across some mews, and in to a narrow alloy, ' where the few shops and tenements were poor and 1.0000. °Doe more she glanced swiftly round, then stopped at the door of a cobbler's shop, and without wailing for an answer; event in. An old man, sitting at hip bench, looked up at the smart Frenchwoman, and gruffly asked her her business. A young one, who worked with his baolt turnect to them, did not even lift 1.1i3 heed,. "This little boy's shoe pinches him," said Rose, "will you see it you can Make at more comfortable ?" Daffy's mother wished to keep hira a .child as long. as possible, so he still wore petticoats—white, fresh, worked petticoats, that looked out of place tn the broken chair, upon which the cob- bler sat him, before kneeling down to remove his tiny shoe. Rose stood looking carelessly about her, her glance presently falling on the dark unkempt head encl profile of theman who worked doggedly ,f)ti, not even taking the trouble to neytine the smart bit of brestoix prettiness, ex- quisitely neat and dainty, behind him. "It's dorn now," said Daffy, with a sigh of relief, as, after certain puisch- iings and hammerings, the now easy shoe was fitted on, and he followed Rose contentedly enough to this door, to which sh3 had insensibly drawn the cobbler. "Your assistant lookvery ill," she said, as she paid the sixpence demand- ed, "what ails him?" . "Row do I know ?" he said, irrita- bly, "he was the best workman I ever had till this murder round the corner, arid when they came prying here about skylights and what not—though no one has used that attic these ten, years —he seamed to get the affair 'tin his nerves, and he has been drinking and playing the fool ever since. But he is French --as you see, and foreigners are a term lot," with which ungallant speech he disappeared back into the shop. , CHAPTER VII. • "She wiled him inbo. ae chamber, 1 She wiled him into two; She wiled him into the third chaniber, And that was the svarst ave.": - • It was curious how often Daffy's shoe I w3;31-t-itC.I.,PMA4irkaa; • a1-faean-t ..taitalaenessaal TV -ere spent in repairs atthe cobbler's round the corner. , But the old man who Sat nose a -rid knees .over his bench, going doggedly an at work that seemed always inter- minable, and which seldom brought in much money, always turned the child over to his assistant, and spoke gruffly to him and Rose, having no desire, now he knew their identity, to see them there at all. He had been angry and offended at what he considered intrusion of the de- tectives on the privacy of his skylight, or rather on the attic beneath it, and blamed the who;e tragic affair as a direct injury to himself, and done on purpose to annoy him. • What right had people from the "Yard," dressed up to look like gen- tlemen, poking about -his bits of things, hunting for footprints in the, dust, as if he were more dusty than other peo- ple, indeed, and measuring the wall outside to see its .depth, and if it, had any scratches ors it, as if, at his time of life, he wanted to go climbing hip and down it like a chimpanzee? Anch it was an insult, too, to ask him if he ever went out in the evening to fetch a drop cif beer—couldn't a man who had lived forty years in one house do•as he liked? Why, it was inter- reringt with the liberty of the British subject, and, a thing by no means to be ,abided. And as to dragging up a.n old man like him to give evide,nce anthe trial, he didn't mean to go, un- less he were carried, and not to speak then, if he didn't choose. So when Daffy came in like, a sun- beam, bringing his prattle aria smile into the dusty place, the cobbler seem- ed 'to haveputsome of his own wax in his ears, and neither saw nor heard anything. " te-rao be sure, Janin's bench was behind him, and that chattering Frenchtvo man sometimes dropped into her own lingo, which, of course, no one there .could understand save herself, but the sixpences were certain, and he could not afford to turn money , from the door. And she waso good cuStomer ; she ordered as Many as four pairs of new boots and shoes for herself and Daffy, during the month that elapsed between the commital of jack St. George and the day of the trial, boots and shoes that were fitted, and tried on, or returned and called for, till . , Daffy began to grow pale from the amount of time he spent in the stuffy little place. janin's sombre eyes resting on him, began to alter -their expression strangely; so that one day, when he was kneeling down, Daf- fy- ventured to put his hand on the man's swart head, and Leave, it there. "It's very 'ot,' said Daffy, shaking his own, and the Man, looking up from beneath the lit t le hand, held his breath, as if the angelic innocence of the blue eyes pierced his heart, and let a shaft of daylight into a pool of blackness and despair. "It aches, little master," he said. "Like mothers,'said the child, with quivering tips ; "he's always got a' drefful Jfain here" --he pressed his hand down, in the centre, of Janiri's ebony locks,' "and it won't let her sleep—not never." Ja.nin did not stir as he kneeled there, one palm preesed on the floor, the other still holding tIto half -fitted shoe on the chinl's foot. "And I gate a pain too, sometimes," said Steffy, sorrowfully, "can't boar to see mother natserbul, and Daddy neve' er comes The tears rolled down Daffy's cheeks, and hia heart heaved beneath his white worked pelisse an if it would burst. , TO be Centinned. 4,,r)EN- esta,a.Th-s-h SUCCULENT FORAGE. utecnortanee of Leguminous Crops anal tremporney.rnstsures. Just xis it LiniSt be generally admitted that a system of diversified farming le preferable for the country at large so it must be agreed that 'succulent forage crops may be made to ferns a very im- portant part in the rotations to be fol- lowed in practieing such a System, re- marks T, A. Williams. In discussing tlie use of succulent forage he says: These crops can usuallY be grown in such a manner as not only not to in- terfere in any way with the regular yields of grain or other primary crops, but even to the great adyantage of the latter on account of, the direct benefi- cial effect which they may exert on the fertility of the soil. This is especially true of such leguminous crops as vetch- es', cowpeae and crimson clover. A strong point in the favor of grow- ing crops for succulent forage lies in the fact that an increased number of stock rimy be maintained on a' given amount of tend and that the dairy products may be'very Materially aug- mented both on account of tlte possi- bility of handling relatively larger numbers of milk cow e and also of,the greater retUrns tbat may be secured from each animal. This is of special significance in the older, more thickly settled portions of the country, as is also the tact that the keeping of thie iecrensed number of stock insures more manure fax the land. This last is in itself an item of great Importance in the maintenance of the- fertility of the fern) and, teleen in connection with the direct beneficial effects upon the soil of many of the crops grown for soiling and ensiling, is a most substan- tial argument in favor of giving these ceops a regular place in plans of crop rotations. Another point in favor of the grow - ID.' of these supplementary forage crops is, the fact that the general health of farm stock may be kept in better condition, especially in winter, by the Sudictous use of succulent for- age, which serves as an appetizer and promotes the digestion. Too little place IS given to temporary pastures on the average American farm, lint one effect of the recent pe- riods of drought has been to turn at- tention more strongly to this method of producing forage. Often it is much more profitable to furnish stock with succulent food in this way than by soiling, the extra labor and expense of • cutting the crop and hauling or carry- ing it to the feeding place being etayte,de ita—nof alavaenfeettaia:-uientd le -e -tip suffi- cient belp on the farm to attend to the e-ork of soiling properly, but by the suse of the temporary or annual pasture the stock -may be supplied with the de- sired feed and the permanent pastures brought safely through a droughty season because of the lessened drain on their resources. True, this may uot be the most economical manner of feeding succulent forage, owing to the waste from the trampling of the alai - Mats, but it is much better than keep- ing the stock on overgrazed pastures both as regards the'condition of the animals and the future productiveness of the pastures. In certain parts of the country, nota- bly in the middle west and some sec- tions of the south, this practice of sow- ing supplementary pastures has be- come much more common than former- ly, partly because of the effect of drought on the yields of forage from the permanent ,meadows and pastures and partlythrough the increased 'de- ena,nd for succulent feed arising from the growing interest 111 dairying and the increase of ,stock on farms hereto- fore largely devoted 10theraising of cotton and grain. , In the main the crops that are grown for soiling can be also used In these supplementary pastures, but them are certain varieties which are best adapt ed for this purpose. Among such meat be mentioned rye, turf oats, sorgliurn, rape, vetches, field peas, millet, bege gar weed and bur clover, The Field Pen. One of the first legmninous crops to be grown in the United States for suc- culent forage was tbe field pea. For many years the cultivation of this crop was confined largely to the New fang - lend states, but of recent years it has received more attention end is now quite generally grown in the northern United States, where it is deservedly popular not only as a succulent forage, but also as it hay crop. There are a gloat many varieties L1OW On the mar- ket, varying widely as to hardiness, date of naaturity and yield. The seed is usually sown with some of the small grains;' chiefly oafs, the mixture con- taining about equal quantities of peas and grain. The crop is perhaps most commonly used for soilitit'; but is equally valuable for pasturage and silage. The combination makes a for- age of high feeding value and palata- bility, and the yield istusually good. In the Wool Interest. Prospective sheep growers will find much to interest them in bulletin No. 178, by Professor Numforcl of the Mich- igan siation. In investigating ethe bad repute of some of the alichigan wool he says thegprincipal cnuses are dirt (though washing is uot demanded), the lacic of care in preparing the fleece for market and the unevenness of the qual- ity of the 'wool. The recommendations mainly are: nfarket the wool clear of dirt, burs, tags and paint inarks;' the fleeeee loose- ly, but well secured with small linen, flax or hemp twine; do not cross Indis- criminately; breetimfor evenness of fleece throughout. iI ELECTRICAL OEWOOLING. Irlitehine Sold to Shear a Dozer Sheep ott Boar. A process has recently been patented by a l3radaoed (England) syndicate for removing wool from skins by means of an electrical apparatus, says The Elec- trical Review. The invention origi- nated with a Bradford lady, airs. S. L. .Johnson, 'and con'Aists of an electric cautery, or fleshing knife, in such a handy form that the wool may be shorn or cut from the skin rapidly and without injury either to the wool or to the pelt. The fimin of the apparatus, which is held by the hand, is shown in the accompanying lilusIration. Elec- tric cables,which pass through the handle and which are not showa in the illustration, are connected to the two terminals, and thence the current is passed theough a wire of platinum - ELECTRIC SHEARINU MACHINE. tridtuns alloy, which is thus rendered incandescent. The wire is fastened to am] supported by a higbly refractory substance, specially made for tbe pur pose, the current required being about 60 amperes at four volts. The -method of removing the wool is simply to push the cautery along the surface of the skin. The redhot knife, If it may be so called, iinmediately mows down the wool, and the only limit to the speed at whIcnetheettnealt can be done is the adefitair-ss of the operator. e iInaworit is performed so quickly that the beat in no way injures either the skin or the wool. It in estimated tbat a girl, with a few hours' practice, would be equal to dewooling from eight to ar dozen skins per hour, and the cosi- of the current Is so exceedingly small, being estimated at the seventy-second of a cent an bour, as to be almost a negligi- ble quantity. 'THE BUSY WOMAN AS ALWAYS BEEN, THOUGH YOU VVOULDN'T THINK SO. fler Energlee find letiento Are l'urnea In New astreeteans as Seer Sur. roundings Change, bolt 'oWomatt and Iter Work', As Nothing New. My, my, what a stir there has been of late about "woman :tad her work!" One would thiuk that the busy woman had oula just appeared upon the scene mid was, therefore, such a novelty that ni make note of all sine says and does, and, furthermore, oiscuse what she is hoping to do, is of wonderful and thrilling inter- est. „ The busy wonmu, as a matter of fact, has alwaye been.It may be that she is only just "discovered," having previous- !, been accepted nery much as a matt of course., The day of the busy woman dates back mucli tuella!, of COurt5e, than the civil War—in fact, there are stories of her bak- ing and bsewing and spinning that are - mattes) along with the accounts of the doings of kings and princes in the days of old, and a word of praise tor Lel' hae beer.' jotted down by the scribes. But as the civil war is a convenient period tonne t1 look back to and after all mean no . ..very much. in the lives of Atnesimin wonal, 'en:the weasel] of the sixties, who dwelt. ie 'both the north and the south, it may be interesting tor just a moment's recalls g. The New'England Wouian wee up with the sent. Mid directed her "help" and : shared With theinethe. work.. Her house was es Spick and .5::;,tin as fi neiv pie, and she always had time for a 'tea drinking," With her WOMell friends in the afternoon,. She made the "seed cakes" aereelan-thesCO were no convenient bakeeieS .to eupply. her .with a "ready made"- eake. No one .considered it remarkable, that she was :eleven enough to niake her Own . takes; Sometimes a .fieighbor Who thought . • them particelarly, good would beg the., .recipe, and this wes,cemplinient enough. . And the women .of.the south in thessix- . tie—has it everbeen aonr good fortune to see a little notebook, or' "daybook" xis : they NireIC called, kentby your greed - mother or your Mother When mistress of • 'a .plantation? If you have, then You Imo* something oft,adarit busy days Worn- • en used to know in the !pug ago, as well es theyknow them now, and 1 do pot be, love there was much speculation then .. %bout the "dangers of overworkar Oee- tain it is that our grandmothers lived to a good old age and were very charming, gentlewomen, :Which latter 1)1i0S that they took time to look at the social side e of affairs and cultivate the art of grace- ful Manners. The southern woman of the sixties nev- er neglected' or ignored her nesponsibili- ties in the matter of her dependents. She inade a daily round of the ,little .cabins dotted !seta and thereabout, the "big house," took medic:hie to the ailing and in a 'soft ana gentle voice read the.Bible Permanent and Profitable. Not only Is stock farming the most profitable system of agriculture in all civilized countries, but it is the most permanent, says Farm and Ranch. No- where has it ever been adopted and abandoned. -.We have heard the opin- ion expressed that_ laud is becoming too dear for raising cattle or hogs or sheep.. This is a broad, fiat mistake. The rich- er the land the better it is adapted to the feeding and developing of live stock. No one dispute tins propo- sition. As the productiveness; of land, ether things being equal, regulates the price, it will be seen that the dear- er the land the better for raising stock, as a general rule. Beef, pork, mutton and dairy products are profitably pro- duced in the older states and in Eu- rope on lands worth .frou4.$100 to $300 per acre. The most valuable farming lands in the world are the stock farms of this country and Europe, because the fertility is maintained and even 'improved, and the intelligent labor and 'thought mequired to make stock farm- ing successful are reflected on every Ventura of farm life, and the civilizing influences cluster around it, and the comforts and luxuries of life are made to abound. Texas farmers alone should market 1,000,000 fat cattle, 6,000,000 fat hogs and mutton sheep by the square acre. It can he done, and in cou'rse el time we expect to see these figures exceeded. Then will prosperi- ty take up her abode on the faem. Horses In Large Cities. The great cities of the world use isp an enornsous number of' horsesevery year, and these must constantly be, re- suPPIletl.by horses from the country oi; from ,foreign parts. It is stetted that in the suburbs of Loudon alone t[iere 750,000 horse e In use end th t 100,000 horses must 'every year be .sept into - these suburbs to .take the phice of those worn out. city of .Berlill takes 100,000 new horses every year. A' large 'superior of the horees tisecl in oinnihnses and ori train lines both ha England and on the continent are ins- perted from the United States. The horses' from the United Stales Inc ship - pen from the ports of New York arid Boston, to the [mates of Leaden, Liverea, pool aurl Glasgow,' and ntlite a largo number are transktiPped at London for the ports of Antwerp rind Havre. The ocean' rates on horses from New York hutet Boston aro from 15 to 16 per.hen.cl, including feed and attendance', nsnr- •nncee fax the voyage and for ten days is Iter ' Its naing alicl dock charges.— recto nt!oxi Iii Dipplt)g. One Of the luost import:int peecall- Liens to be talcen'. in tile dipping of sheep Is to avoid exposure to '00111 rains itnmediately afder., to the dying. Her little white fingers were marked with red rings that the heavy shears had made when she cut out dozens of garments to clothe the old and • 11.re. rotting Of'—tair caresefeeenpaople who -- sang ansi toiled in the cotton tindeet acco fields. There was het- own little lia'Oedeme.„\, children, too, to keep a watchfun° eyeee over. She planned all their pretty • frocks aud put in many of the stitchednt herse.lf, for ‘ 'fine needlework" was the'S pride of the w-oman of the sixties. Aunt though she may have doue so.. it, isn't bra record that she ever dropped auy of theSit t tasks and rushed away to some far place, Lor the "rest cure." te And have you any relics of the time te that the men in gray marched away? I a mean relics that are handiwOrls of the women of the sixties? Perhaps you have tt a little old hat that is made out of tpal- tuetto braid or a bonnet made from the fiber of a gourd or slippers imide from the cloth of a coat that was left by the men folk when they put on their soldier uniforms. And, maybe, up in your attic, thrust away with the trash, there is a little pair of gloves knitted from the thread raveled from a pair of silk stock- ings or a hat trimmed with flowers made from dyed feathers. If you have any such relics, of course they are good fOr nothing except to tell the busy wo- rneirof the present day how the women of the sixties faced a trying time with ,pluelc and energy. No, the busy and bright and capable woman _is by no means a new institu- tits's. I have only turned back the pages of the record of her affairs because, it is all the more to her honor and glory that she has ahvays had a place in the civilized world, just as she iso -doubt will always have. We all rather like an in- stitution with a history. 'Truo, the busy woman of the present has her energies and abilities directed in different chan- nels from those known to the women oa the sixties, but this is uot because she has changed. Iler surroundings have changed, and the capable woman always rises to the (mei-salon. A very clever. and interesting womo the other day ro,aa a paper 01 othei cheat ,ncl intee a•0 and .she told of befy woman's bus. day. She noted the nunehec of club mac ings she niight,possibly attend, the lune eons anti' dinners and teas but never word said she about how busy she inigl. be at lionie. Of course she May have thought -the home subject too prosaic and uninteresting. and unimportant to num- tion. This bright reader cautioned agaiust the dangee of "oyer.workin,g," paying' tribute 10 the saving grace that Came' as the only reel rest 'in- the week nenes busy woman went to church oa 'seems to me that the aftaius of the busyrwoman at house should not be too - preemie or unisupostant to tette cogni- zanect- of. If she ie a true hearted wo- nean, she will never neglect lieu' home ' cantles, though she be adopted .itito IL ,clozen clubs with as manY lettere stand : - big for their titles.--nlargtiret T-Itinnis in St. Louis Ilepublic. • MnrIcing Linen. , For handkerchiefs the small',separate f ° meript initial letters o one's mune are the best form, atonogeanis rind single. letters are used or even the LISIlle:wriftert: out in full, but the initials are likely to look best. The embroidery is'done in the French white or worit the sant that is used for an-retch:tee one's underwear . • and in a Itirger way .for towels, table, and bed linen, This is sort Of WWII stitch, ,ancl tine larger letters ,should al- Wnys bo imtldO.d to 1)1'0(1170on. raised rind heavy effect. has plenty of time and good tasto. as well as good eyesight. 'the letters on sheets, napkins and towels. winy be the nucleus of ail eleborete piece „ of embroidery ,Worked out With qcontlins, • flower-de-liice or :city design prefeerg' 11