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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1906-2-22, Page 3Nismoomasorrent +►+►,,*#t049:4+*+0'}0#39+0+3GE+A+0+0-+ +400+0'"":'tf+BOE+ fi-A4 Z 111[ llEM Of MNI[{1gli ole - THE STEWARD'S SON t 30E+30 ♦ 1.2 +>'E+30E f30s♦ 3CE+30E♦ �3� �+ ♦ 3.� 1301: 30H' E♦34E 3Cf♦3ri' 3:E�'30f+39f 37F#30E CHAPTER XXXVe. CDUnless you inherited any money from your father or mother, I take it that you are utterly without means," he ':gent on; regarding liar with a half smile. "All the wealth which the Earl of Arrowdale had.intended foryou will go t the next- of-kin, the present earl. Not a single penny can e n cl im1 n you a - Norah looked at him, but without speaking What ha said might be, true or falsee she did not very much care at the moment. He seemed disappointed at • the little effect the announcement of her povericv had made upon her. afraid you don't realize," he re. sumed, "or perhaps," and as he spoke, he. drew a little nearer to her, "the thought that is running through my mind is present in yours. Norah" -his: voice dropped and he glanced toward the door—"why should this --this injustice be? All the world knows that the earl, when he said 'my daugiLer,' meant your- self, and only you, and I, and. the magi Furlong, whom 1 can keep as quiet as he has hitherto been, are aware of We true story of your birth." in his eager- ness he did not notice the flash that came into Norah's lovely eyes, or that her hand clinched spasmodically. "Why should we not let' the 'matter stand as it is? Who will be harmed? Not the pre- sent earl. If all be true that issaid of him, he doesn't deserve more than he has got, and, in all sonscience, he has. got enough. If you are not the earl's daughter, you were regarded by him as such. He did mean you to have the money, and why should you not have it? Norah, it all rests with you and me, with you in reality, for I will. abide by your decision. Place your hand in- mine—with nmine"—with a great effort Norah sup- pressed the shudder that ran through her, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground—"place your hand in mine, say 'Guildford, let bygones be bygones, 1 will be your wife,' and the secret is locked within my lips until death! Why, see, if you become my wife, dearest, I shall have very little inducement to.. re- veal the truth! Norah, think, for God's sake, of all this means to you. I will not speak of myself. You know.,] love you; you know that if -41 1 have seemed hard sometimes, it is because' I loved you so dearly that I was prepared k go through anything to win you. • Forget the past—forget everything, and -and say 'that you will be my wife. See how helpless and alone you are." He shot a glance at her. "You need a strong arm. to lean upon, a clear brain -to rely on in this -:,his .crisis! Lean on me, rely en mei You shall be my wile and still Lady Norah, daughter of an earl, and heiress to his wealth!" Norah's heart beat fiercely • with the longing, the almost irrepressible long- ing, to look him in the face and cry "Scoundrell"—anything to express her indignation and loathing. But she did repress the desire, wonderful -to say. At that moment she felt the truth of some of his words. She was alone and helpless; she must not even indulge in the craving of her soul to denounce him. Here was a cunning scoundrel; whom it was imperatively necessary that she should fight with something of his own weapons: S,he_1ooked down in silence,. and, tak- ingttered a her sileaice- for consent,he u lows ery, and caught her hand. It was cold es ice, but his was hot as flre. "aloaahla he burst out, any yet in a guarded voice, as if the walls might have eats. "Noraht You will do this—ah!" His- success seemed to overwhelm him, and he gazed"' at her with distraught, eyes. Norah drew her hand away. "I—I' must have time," she murmured, huskily. . "You shall!" he responded, eagerly.. "You shall have all just as you please! Ah; Noiah, why ,have you withstood ane so long? Did you think that I did not .love you., That I should not make you happy? Happy!' He laughed. "There shall be no happier woman . in all the world! You shall see! You shall see!" He went to take her hand again, but she drew back with downcast eyes, and shook her bead. • "f1 am tired," she said. "I think I will go now. To -morrow—" "Ah, I cannot wait so long without seeing you!" he broke in, in a low, voice that thrilled with passion. "I will come again this evening. You will see me, dearest, if only for a moment. My—my happiness has eonie to nie so suddenly that I can scarcely believe, realize it. I must see you again to -day. Give me the papers—" He held out his hand. 'Norah extended them to him, then drew them back gently. . "No, let me look at them," she said, firmly. "Very . well; but take care ofthem, dearest. Do not leave them where any- one nyone can see them—" • "Or steal them as the -the portrait was stolen," she could not help saying. He laughed. easily, then suddenly hill face paled. Her words had recalled: ,BeecaSouth. But only for a moment. Ah, dont be hard upon me, he said. "All Is fair in love and war. I would have ' gone through fire and water to Win 'you, just as now I woujd go through fire and water 10 keep. you. Must you go? Well, then—this evening. Remem- ber dearest, your fate• lies In your own hands. As my wife, you will be Lady Norah, the heiress—" "Yes, I will remember!," she said, very quietly, and, iviseiout raising her eyes, she passed ay him and left the room, She went straight upstairs, and, lock- ing herself hi the room, dropped into a chair, and, holding the certificates tight- ly in her hand,.:titxicd fo !hank. To attempt to describe the varied emotions which thronged and eddied through her heath woulrl be impossible. It would be false to human nature to say that she teas not dtsappoinlcd and shock, ed by the revelation! Only an idiot •f the truest hopeless pert would bear with- • out a .pang of regret that he was a no- body, instead of the somebody be hate considered himself. She looked round the room and through the window, and tried to realize that she was -simply Norah Woodfern, Catflerine Mayes' daughter, not the earl of Arrowdale's; and that the vast wealth;wbich she had thought hers had departed from her .and left her e I e penniless, And as she .realized it, a strange thought slashed through her mind. Was it possible that Cyril'spride had been the cause of their parting? iied he been too proud to marry the daughter of a peer? A smile, a sad smiie,;crossed her pale face. If it had only come earlier, this story of her birth, this loss of rank and wealth! She could have gone to him then, and said: "I am poor and untitled; but I am still yours,: if you•care to take me:"=. But this was too late now. He was Becca South's husband, and lost to her forever. The tears welled into her eyes, but she swept. them away. There was no time for weeping if she meant to escape the scoundrel who thought that he held her in his power. She got up and quikcly changed her dress for a plain travelling one, and put a few things into a small bag- Then she paused, as the question of money arose. She had plenty in the little ornamental cashbox in which she kept it, but' she took only the sum which had been left 'when tete• earl died from her last quare ter's allowance; and even that, she re- solved, she would take only as a loan; for it had not been given her tinder the impression that she was his daughter, and not an impostor? . Then she sat down, .and wish a few lines: , at cannot see you to-nzght. Wil you please conte tomorrow ? "Norah." and addressed them In Guildford Burton. Then, when 'her simple preparations were complete she rang the bell for Barman, but only opened the door sulfa eio sly wide to allow of her passing out 'note. "Give this to Mr. Berton, please, Har- man," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could; "and do not let me be dieturbeet I have a bad headache, and wilt ring when I want you." It cost her a greed deal to go without a word of farewell to the woman who had been so devoted to her; but she dared not risk it. She knew that Harman would see in a . moment that something was wrong, and Norah felt that she could not stand a single question from her. Hall an -hour a•I'terward, with a veil drawn across her face, she left the house and struck into a bypath in the park. • She stopped and looked round once, onlyonce, and a faint sigh trembled on her lips... She had grown fond of the grandly beautiful place; the memory_ of the man whom she had loved as a Lather, especially through his illness, brought thetears to her -eyes. It was hard to think that she had no further connec- tion with eh that she had considered part and parcel of herself, that for the future she was just -Norah Woodfern, a waif and stray on the great, bitter world and the reader will not think less of her, or set her regret down as one wholly mercenary. As she turned, she picked a brawn leaf—as dead as herast—anpushed p d it gently inside the bosom of her dress; then wenton her way. She had formed the vaguest of vague plans only. First came the idea of going straight to Mr. Petherick, and telling him all that she had learned from Guild- ford Berton. Afterthat—well, all was dark and unfathomable. Perhaps the old lawyer, who had al- ways been kind to her, and especially kind and gentle of late, would show her some way of gaining a living. Slue thought of Lally Ferndale, as .she bad thought of her many times since the revelation, but she shrank from going to her. It was scarcely pride so much as ipnate delicacy. Besides, what had. she. Norah Woodtern, to do now with earls and countesses. She must put all Lir past life away from her completely. No, she would not go to Lady Ferndale, much as she loved her, and knew she was loved' by her.. When she reached the high road she looped round rather fearfully, though She . felt that there was no ause for feat. If Guildford Berton had chatted to come upon her, shedecided that she would not be daunted: If necessary,she would call for Help to the first passerby, ani would proclaim the truth to the whole village. • But Guildford Berton was pacing up and down his room, wrapped in as ecstatic sense of triumph and self -sail:¢ faction at that moment, and she saw fa one but a few childrexi on her way through the village. i She found that she had to wait nearly an hour for a train, and the station master, touching his hat respectully, suggested that she should go inside Ike booking office and sit by the fire "It's not so draughty as the waiting- room, my lady," he. said. And the "nay lady" brought the color to Norah's face es she thanked him. "May I ask if you have heard ane thing about .Becca South, my lady?" 1> said, AIS he brought a rug for her feet Norah looked up with a start. "N -o," she said. "Ah,"he remarked, with a smfle1 "No news is good news, my lady. I dare; say the girl is happy enough whin ;Lon:' don there:; Santleigh was too quiet fob' a lively one like het'. But, still, it wax' very ungrateful of !tor not to write after all your ladyship's kindness to her." Norah murmuredan inaudible r sponse, and, to her relief, he went ahoit his business and left her alone. The train cane up, and the statiea master ptit her into a carriage and gtt her' a footwarrner. She had deemed best to take a first-class !Stet to avo1' a.l.treating . the ': attenitien and remail which would have been caused by tib' asking for a third, and she drew back behind the curtains and out of sight un- til the train kind started. It was an express, and, feeling • very weary and in that state which the re- action from intense excitement and emotion produces, she got a porter*to call a cab, and told the Mian to drive to Mr. Petheriek's office. As the, eab stopped she saw, to her' dismay, that the office was closed. She had not takeh the important ques- tion of time into her consideration, and elle sat and looked at the drawn blinds and closed door in a sort of stupor. But as she sat asking herself what she should do next, the door opened, and a clerk carie Out. He was an old man who had once or twice been down to the Court on busi- nese. connected with the estate; and he eagle forward hat in hand, and with: sur- prise stamped on his ,wrinkled face, as Norah called to him. "Mr. Petherick, my lady!" he said. "He is not in London!" Norah's heart sank like lead. "Not in London!" lfe repeated,and. her voice trembled.. "No, my lady. He's gone .to the Con- tinent. I think that he has got some kind of a clue to the viscounts -1 mean Lord Arrowdale's—whereabouts, and lie has gone to try and follow it up, I'm very sorry," he added, as he saw the dis- may and disappointment in the lovely face. "Is there anything I can do, my lady?" Norah shook her head. What could he do? What could she. do?.. "I don't even know. Mr, Petherick'p ,address'," he:said, after a pause, "or I'd ness," telegraph to him, ,if it's important busi- ;'It is, it is," said Norah. "If there is anything I can do—" But Norah shook her head as she tried to thank him. "I—I must 'go to an hotel," she said, faintly. "Can you tell me—" "Your ladyship's house in Park lane,' ventured the old man, rather surprised. Norah's face crimsoned, and then went pale. She was no longer"your lady- ship," and she had no house in Parltt Lane or elsewhere. - "1—I should prefer an hotel," she faltered. "Yes, my Indy, and a quiet one. There is one near here—it's not very fashion- able; but it is quieter- and more suited fora lady alone. But perhaps your ladyship is meeting some -one?" "No," said poor Norah, "1 am quite alone." "Then Godfrey's might suit, my lady; it is in Winchester street. I'll tell the cabman, and I'll do myself the honor of calling to -morrow, in case 1 should be of any service. I may hear from Me. Petherick= to -night. ' Indeed," he added, ase he saw the perplexity did not disap- pear from her face, "if your ladyship will not think me presuming, I will ac- company you." Norah accepted the offer gratefully. and be rode with her to the quiet street, and did not leave her until he had pro- cured the best room and impressed upon the landlady the importance. 'of her guest. Then, with reiterated oilers of his services, he went and Norah was left. alone. They got her some tea, and she went and' sat beside the window, and looked out with eyes that • saw nothing.. She was too tired to even think, and in a half-conscious, mechanical way, she found herself watching the passersby. Suddenly she saw a face at the win- dow of the house opposite that seemed to her vaguely familiar, and in a mo- ment or two the recollection flashed upon her—the face was that of John Wesley, the famous poet, the gentleman she had met et Lady Derrington's, Cyril's friend Jack. A thrill ran through her, and she put her hands to her eyes, for the sight of him brought back with painful sudden- ness the remembrence of Cyril himself. It was some moments before she could look again, and when she did, she found that Jack had thrown up the window and was leaningout,a look of expec- tancy on his hadsoe spirituelle face. As she looked, she heard the sound of wheels, and holding the curtain, she bent forward. A cab stopped at the. door just beneath the open window, and someone got out. "Hallo!" She heard Jack's deep, musi-_ cal voice. "Ballo, old man; hurry upl" A strange curiosity, something more and deeper than idle interest, caused her heart to beat with eagerness, and it was with scarcely . a shock of surprise she heard Cyril's voice-Cyril'sl—call back "Hallo, Jack! All right. How are you?" She rose—she scarcely knew what she was doing—bieatbing fast and painfully; . and watching intently. -Was he alone, or-or—but yes pf course, there would be another withThim—his wife, Becca! But the cab stood between her and the door, and she could see neither Cyril nor any one else, and 'a moment or two later the cab drove away, the door shut,. but directly afterward she saw -the figure of Cyril enter the_room, and heard the voices of the two men as they clasped hands. Faint and ovetvhelmed, she sank trembling into the chair, and hid her face in her hands. Meanwhile, Jack and Cyril wore ex- changing greetings; and the former was looking et 'the latter earnestly. "You dont look quite the thing yet, lad, he said. "The picture finished?" Cyril shook his head. "No," he replied, with a laugh that had very little 'merriment in it, "and not likely' to be; it is I who 'am `finished: All the pluck seems to have gone out of me. But why did you send for me, cid man?" he broke off. "I've news for you." Cyril started. "About -about her!" "Well, indirectly, Cyril. It is .grave news. Your uncle, the Earl of Arrow- dale, is deal!." Cyril started and looked down, sorry!" he said, "Dead ! And he looked well and strong enough there in Santleigh Woods to last for years, Dead! Heigho!" The earl is dead;, long live the earl," said Tack, significantly. Cyril bit his lip and sighed. "What is la'tie done?" he said. "I'd rather let• the whole thing: slide." "That's nonsense, my dear boy," saki Jack, quletly, "You are the new earl, and must take up your coronet and mantle." "And Norah?" said Cyril,_ hesitating as he always did when he spoke her name. Jack nodded, "The earl has left her every penny, every .stick he was able to leave," he re- plied, "She Will be an immensely rich woman,, and the new' earl will he none of .the richest." "Thank Iieeveni" said Cyril. "I—Fro ;glad he lies left me nothing but what he was compelled, Jack. May she be happy! Ah, liow happy this wolrld vtr me it—ii-•-she and 1—" liehae turnadeed away and tried to whistle. "You haven't heard anything of-eof her?" he allied, Jack paused a moment. "Well;" he said, reluctantly, "I may as well tell you. There was always a rumor that she 'meant marrying that Mr. Guildford Merton, but since the. earl's death the rumor has grown very distinct and positive." Cyril sighed. "God send her happiness!" he said, be- neath•his breath. `But --blit 1 think she is worthy "a better man." "Cyril Burne, to -evil." "Yes," said Cyril, with manly modesty: "Yes, Jack, I'd back myself to make her happier than that fellow could do. Somehow, I don't believe in him; I don't like him." "One seldom does like one's rival," said Jack, cynically. "But 'the best thing. ou do is toMeanwhile. can forget her. Ytt you had better present yourself before, the. family lawyer, Mr. Petherick —they have been advertising for- you, my .lord! By George, if I hadn't come home teed seen the papers, they might have gone onnhunting and advertising till all was blue. I suppose you never looked at the English papers over there?" "No," said Cyril, moodily; "I'd some- thing else to think of." Jack Wesley laid a hand on tbe broad shoulder; "Look here, 'Cyril," he said, "face the music, many You have got to play your part in the world's drama, and a pretty large part it is: No more artistic vagu- bondage, no more fretting after what e lost. Forget her, lad -forget." Cyril touched his hand gratefully. "You're all right, Jack," he said. "You mean well, but as to forgetting her lie laughed. "Hell you I seedier all day. 1bng-By God !" He broke off with sud- den vehemence, "I ;see her now!" and suddenly,. -white and startled, he stared through the window across the street. "What on earth's the matter?" de mended Jack. "is It a ghost, or have you taken to drinking?" "It's—it's a ghost, perhaps," said Cyril, brokenly, "but its hers! No! Jack, look, there is Norah! 'Where? Why, there at the window opposite!" and lie dragged Jack cautiously behind theaeurtain. "Don't let her see you, man! Great Heaven and earth what' is she do- ing there! Norah at Godfrey's Hotel!" "You must be the victim of hallucina- tion," began Jack; .then he exclaimed . "By George, you're right; it Is she!" Cyril, pale and breathless; stared: at him,; and then eagerly returned to the window opposite. "Jack, look; she's—she's in trouble!" he said, hoarsely. "See! She doesn't think anyone can see her -and, -and shes crying. Great Heaven, what does It mean?" ' "Can't say," said -Jack. "I should go and ask her if I were you." "I3y Heaven, I will!" exclaimed Cyril, swinging round upon him. "Yes, i will! No matter what has passed,. no- matter amatter if she sends me away; she's in trouble, and i've—I've_got to go to her. Where's my hat?" and in a state of ex- altoment he caught it up and roan down the stafrs as if Godfrey's Hotel were on fire, and he was off to rescue Norah. Jack Wesley stood looking after him, then' dropped into a chair, and groping for his pipe, lit it and fell to smoking, waiting patiently, philosopher as he was, for the issue of events. • Cyril went across the road and en- countered the hall porter. "1 wish to see Lady Norah Arrowdale, please," he said. There was something so masterful in the voice, so commanding in the stal- wart, soldierly figure, that the porter, who was not used to this bind of swell, and who was rather thrown off his bal- ance by having a titled lady In the house, at once began walking upstairs, and Cyril followed. The man opened the door of the, sit- ting -room, and Norah dropped her hands suddenly, but turned her face away to hide the tears and tear traces, so that Cyril had time to nearly reach her side before he spoke her name. "Norah!" She started, and turned to him with something in her face, in her lovely eyes, that made his heart leap. It said -ah'. quite plainly—too distinctly to admit of his mistaking—"1 love you 1" "Noraht" he breathed, and he. held out his arms with an inarticulate cry. She echoed it, rose and leaned toward him; 'then, .as if suddenly smitten by a deadly dart, she checked herself, and drawing Herself to her full height, said in a voice that thrilled with sorrow, re- proach and. indignation : "Where is your wife ?" (To be continued). . • TI•IE BAiKU OIL FIELDS. the Some idea of the enormous quantity of petroleum which is obtained from the Baku oilfields can be gained when it is stated that a pipe -line twenty-eight inches in diameter, flowing with oil night and day the whole year, at a rate of three feet per ;second, would barely convey away the precinct of the fields. During the last fourteen years 96,500,000 tons .of oil have been removed from an area of less than six square miles. There are over two; thousand producing wells on the Apsheron Peninsula, and their average depth is 1,148 feet, The Baku Oil -wells are very expensive to 'worn, however, It being necessary, says "1 n gindering" to adopt methods to ensure it does through nourish - the exclusion of water, Each well takes meat -the kind of nourish- SAFEGUARD.youll.. 13Y 'C xi _ ,'{. gat � ., i .•AB HEALTH Ceylon Natural GREEN Tea instead of the adulterated Japan Teas, LIAD PACKETS ONLY. 40o, 60o M40 00o PER Le. > AT ALL GROCERIh UIIGIIEST AWARD!' ST. LOURS, 1904. +++♦++++++++++++++++++ About the Farm ♦++++++++++++++++ FEEDING BEEF CATI LE IN WINTER. -The almost universal history of ani- mals put in for, winter feeding isthat their life has,been a series of alternating periods between advancement and stand- still, or ever; retrogression. In order to. make the venture satisfactory as regards the number of pounds gained, the habits of the animals need to be changed, both as regards regularity of and continuous feeding, as well as the habits and capa- bilities .of the animal's. system in not only consuming food, but that of assimi- lating as much as may be the available nutrients contained in the food. - The winter quarters neednot be ex- pensive in order to get a good profit from the feed consumed. The necessary essential is comfort, which may; be sup- plied by a dry yard for exercise, shelter from storms by a shed opening to the east, well bedded, or a well ventilated stable without drafts of air, also well oedded. Repeated experiments have shown that animals allowed to spend. much of the time in the open air con - RUM more food and make better gains than when confined in the stables. They should have free access to pure water at all times. The preparation for the course of winter feeding may have taken 60 days. and .by the first of January each animal ought to be taking a bundle of shock corn that contains eight to ten good ears twice a day and have been both growing and fattening. The noonday meal may consist of clover hay and other roughage to the amount that will be sten up clean. A midday ration of ground feed, like one-third each of corn, oats and wheat bran with 5 per cent. oil- meal added, which can be increased a little every day from two quarts until five or six quarts are given each ani- mal. A moderate allowance of roots can be given with much benefit after 'he evening meal: This plan of feeding can be followed until the time comes to be- gin to.ripen for market. When' the ripening process is begun about the middle to tbe last'of February, the amount of roughage can be dimin- ished and the concentrates increased. Clover hay, fed in small quantities; is perhaps as good for roughage as any- thing found on the average farm. The grain should be ground and the following is a good mixture: Corn 50 per cent., oats 20 per cent., wheat mid- dlings and bran 20 per cent., oilmeal 10 per cent. Of this mixture each animal should consume 20 or more pounds per day, varying the amount as the appetite demands. Add a few roots each meal, • ..spam JIIY LI —That's what a prominent druggist said of Scott's Emulsion ,.a short time ago. As a rule we don't use or refer to testimonials in addressing the public, but the.above remark and 81111:11 a r expressions are made so often in connec- tion with Scott's Emulsion that they are worthy of occasional no t e. From infancy to old age Scott's Emulsion offers a reliable means of remedying im- proper and weak develop- ment,`restoring lost flesh and vitality, and repairing waste. The action of Scott's Emulsion is no nitre of a secret than the composition of the Emul- sion itself. What it does about twelve months' labor, and be- tween £4,000 and £10,000 of capital to complete. It is interesting to note that more than sufficient gas to supply all the requirements of the Baku oil•flelds daily escapes Into the air without any attempt to use it. i1 only this were con- verted to useful work, the producers would save at ]east 962,000 tens of oil annually. f•1INDOO LAWS FOR LADIES. The Hindoo poly books forbid a wo- man to see detneing, hear music, wear jewels, blacken her eyebrows, eat dainty fond„ sit at a'evirtdow, or view herself' in a mirs•nr, during the absence of her husband; and allows him to divorce her if she has no sons, injures his property, scalds him, quarrels with emitter wo- niali, or presumes to eat before he hos finishedhis meal: meat that cannot be ob- tained in ordinary food. No system is too weak or delicate to retain Scott's Emulsion and g ather good from it. 'We will rend you o sample fru. ewe that thbptctuti in thi fo#m at • labelfson the wttppet tvity batik .1.1Bmut,lonlar SCOTT & BOWNE Chemists Toronto, Ont. 60e. tai $l; all ituateho Lr? both for the beneficial effects in aiding digestion and to prevent animals , get- ting tin tired of ground feed. Much depends on the man handling the stock and feed, but with reasonably goodmanagement, animals fed in this manner should Le ready for market by April 1. THE LIGHT BRAHMA. Most farmers look upon utility as the important thing to be considered before embarking upon any new enterprise, writes Mr. G. W. Cormack. They ask, Is there a fair profit in raising thorough- bred fowls? ` If so, • what breed is best adapted to. the farm, and how must such a breed be kept to insure the best results? .I confidently believe, by reason of years of experience and by reason of the experience of the best known men in the business, that the Light Brahma possesses more desirable qualities for the farmer than any other breed. The eggs are large, dark shelledand much sought for by those who appreciate rich and palatable eggs. I agree with that. Wes- tern poultry man, I. K. Fetch, in the be- lief that a Light Brahma, hen will lay more pounds of eggs than any other breed. When properly fed and housed their laying qualities leave nothing for the farrier to complain of, but it must be remembered that since the Asiatic breeds take on flesh rapidly. they soon - become fat, and fat hens are rarely good layers. Since they are seldom broody until late in the season some other breed should be used for hatching. A feature that appeals to many who desire 'o breed a fowl easilykept, is,the fact that a very low fence suffices to keep the birds from roaming. No fowl does bet- ter when contined. Their beauty apt peals to others; no one of the various breeds presents a finer appearance. Of course, the farmer looking solely for proflt will not feel this greatly. Thequality of the Light lirabma as a table fowl is unexcelled, whether a broiler, a rooster or a • full-grown bird.. When a year old a cockwill ` weigh eight to twelve pounds, live weight, and instances of males weighing sixteen pounds are well authenticated. The fe- males weight from eight to '• twelve pounds. Sharp business.. men who raise roosters for profit have selected the Light Brahma as the row) producing the largest return. The famous soft roosters are Light Brahmas. They at times net the producers more than L"2.5t1-.eset>'fC""- the height of the season without his having to, hunt a market. 'These fowls are in such demand 'that they are rarely quoted in the market reports because the final seller orders them days or- even_. weeks in advance of their shipment. For all the purposes of a market fowl the Light Brahma is the most profitable.' and therefore the breed for farmers to raise, because it combines fn its make- up, size, • quality, docility, . beauty and utility. -For the same number of dollars invested no stock will pay better than , a flock of Light Brahmas, bred and managed to develop the profit producing qualities. The argument that the breed- ing of fowls, such as described, involves continual care, is of no weight, for how can a farmer -realize as much from any other branch _Qf farming. A thing not worth working for is not worth Having. FARM NOTES. Probably no asset of equal value Is more generally neglected or more gross- ly abused on the average farm than is the wood. The hestiotway to prevent the depreda- tion of rabbits in the orchard is to wrap the stem of each tree with building pa- per, leaving air spaces between paper and tree. The blood and liver remedy answers only temporarily. Sheep require more fresh air than any other farm stock, excepting turkeys. Too many sheep are often huddled to. gether in close quarters, and they can- not move about easily, but jostle, crowd athndey pusget,h; that's about all the exercise It has been too much the custom in this country for farmers, when they want a large grain crop,' to increase the production of a small area. The large area business almost invariably tends to impoverish the soil, while the other prac- tice adds to its value. Many farmers wait several years after painting a building before painting it again. They wait until the building 15 in bad condition ;and, it requires as much paint "to cover it as at first. Buildings should be painted one coat every two or three years. This done, not only will the cost of repairs be lessened, but ap- pearances of the place will be much unproved, Fresh paint applied often, even in small quantities, p kce p s. wood and metal from decay. Results show that the proper basis rf comparing foodstuffs is according to the amount of digestible protein they con- tain. It is thus apparent that farmers often make the mistake of feeding wheat bran which contains only twelve per cent. of digestible protein, as compared with cottonseed meal, which,' when pure, contains 37.2 per cent Of digestible pro' tele. As cottonseed meal and wheat bran can often be bought at practically the seine price, the farmer who buys wheat bran pays three times as much for the. digestible protein contained as the far• me,r who utilities cottonseed meal. "bo you think your sister likes to bsivs me come here, James?" "Rather, You bring her sweets and flowers." 'Tin glad I.€air make her ha»py.' "Yes; end the man she's engaged to don't mind it either, for it saves him that »auth .. mown/ towarti4 housekbtk itfg;,'