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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1895-7-12, Page 2THE BRUSSELS POST, HEART TO HE. .4 OR, LOVE'S IMTERRING CHOICE, CHAPTER I,—(COnairitiED.) self, The drawing -room was eti11 called time Hilda had fipJahod her cad in on Eof thethm0 messy glades of the and park By the 1m n one y g t a habb six- iose u o ate, stream of water nam r ab to .ed a- e Y I t ey ata y the a R pp roomed house in one of those dismalatreete that abound in the immediate neighborhood of the pelaoee of the "upper ten." The door of the }louse stood ajar, and Hilda ilpreng in, and darted up the dirty, rickety stairoaee, lit by flaming jet of gas. The door of the second-pair.baok was opep, and the child entered, closely followed by. Deloraine. The interior of the room was - close and ill -ventilated, a smoky fire burned in the rusty grate; a small deal table, a couple of broken cane-0eated theirs, and a wretched iron bedstead was the entire furniture it contained. The room was feebly lighted by a flickering tallow candle, set in a medicine bottle in lieu of a oandleotiok. Upon the miserable flock bed, covered with a tattered shawl which bad once bean woven in India's priceless looms, lay a woman, whose long raven hair, thickly streaked with silver, streamed over the pillow; her arm, worn almost to a skeleton, was flung over her face, and the deep•drawn laboring breath plainlybespoke her eutferinge. As the child entered and stole round to the aide of the bed, softly kissing the frail hand, the mother moved, and unclosing her Eyes, beld out her time to the little creature, her last tie to life, who clung fondly to that dying mother with all the force and pardon of her nature, Deloraine, who had paused a moment on the threshold to request the landlady, who had joined him, to send immediately for a doctor, now entered. When hie eyes fell upon the poor woman and her child he uttered a cry of anguish, exclaiming, in tones of •horror : "Great Heaven, it is Katie 1" Roused by hie voice, the sufferer turned round, and in broken, husky tones said : "And so we meet once more, Mork ?" "Oh, my poor Katie," said Deloraine, flinging himself upon his knees by that wretched couch, and clasping the feeble hand which Katie extended to him. "My poor girl, why did you ever leave me, and for this ?" looking round at the eordid room as be spoke. "I thought," said the dying woman "that you had ceased to lave me, and want- ed neither me nor our child. I have been true to you, Mark," the said eagerly, "true to my vows. I worked for our child es long ae 1 could, and then—I lay down to die. Now all is well, you will care for her, for the sake of our early love, our happy youth." "My poor Katie, my little wife," he said fondly, "I never loved any woman upon thio earth no I have loved yon. Ah, why did you not trust me ?" "Because I was always a jealous fool," grasped Katie ; "but all will be well now I have seen you again, and you will take oare of Hilda," looking tenderly down, as she spoke, at her child, who, wearied out, had fallen asleep, her head, with ite tawny gleaming tresses,pillowedupon her mother's bosons, "Perhaps 'tie better as it is ; 1 was never half good or clever enough for you, Mark—I am very tired now—I could sleep 1 think"—then, after a pauee, same in broken words, faintly uttered in the listen- er's ears, "1 am glad, eo glad, Mark, that you never loved Lady Grace, never oared for her ae you did for your little Katie ; " and then Deloraine, bending over her, drew the slender form intohis arms, and thus again, after long, weary years, she slept with her head pillowed on the bosom where it had so often lain. A - step upon the creaking stairs, a :matte at the door, and the landlady, followed by the hastily summoned doctor, entered the room. He looked keenly at Deloraine, whose stately form, clothed in faultless evening dreee, with diamond etude and fading stephanotis in buttonhole, looked so entirely out of place in the mean room with its sordid surroundings. After a brief examination of the patient, who seemed in a sort of stupor, he raised his head, and said to Deloraine: "Not a chance of saving her—vital power completely exhausted ;she cannot poeaibly last long"—then, as Math tried to ask the nature of her illneee, he added, "consump- tionof long standing, accelerated by want ; no power on earth clan nave her, ehe will probably pass away during sleep." "You will not leave me," asked Deloraine hurriedly, "any remuneration I shall be moat happy to "— Very well,' returned the other; "I will stay till the end," and going to the other side of the bed; he gently drew lhd sleeping child from the arms of her dying mother. Together, through the long hours of that sad night, Deloraine and the medical man watched beside that dying bed ; and when the first faint rays of dawn we.e stealing in through the unehuttered window, Katie opened those exquiaite blue eyes, which still retained their former beauty, and said, faintly, "Lift me up, Mark," and, as he raised her up, she put her wasted arme round his neok and said : "Mee me once more, darling ; take care of Hilda." Pressing hie lips paeaionately to here, which were growing cold, he exolaimed : "Forgive me, my poor, dear Katie, for all a have made you suffer." A smile peaceful and pure, flickered over the dying face ; the clasping arms relaxed their hold ; the white lids oloeed over the lovely eyes, and with one faint sigh, her spirit winged its way to "whore, beyond those voices, there is peace 1" , CHAPTER II, " AFTIR LOttn Y&ARS," • Set in the midst of spreading iawna and fertile meadows, upon the banks of the ailver-winding Thames, half -Ivey between Windsor and Healy, stands Marham Abbey, which has been for the past hundred years In the potse00ion of tate Deloraine family ; Mark Deloraine'e great uncle, General Deloraine, having -bought the Abbey, and its rich lands from the widow of Sit, John Herbert, whose ancestors had received it from Edward VL, it having been seized by the rapaoi0ue bands of bluff King'Hal at the dissolution of monaeterie0 for his own use and benefit. Tradition affirmed that ainee this act of sacrilege, the broad lands of alerhatn Abbey had never descended io a directlino from father to ann. An Elizabethan dwellinq•houee had been built' round the remains of the old Abbey, wbioh had often been honored by the pre0en0e of the " Virgin Queen" her - "i the Queen's spring,' where thele is etill remaining the marble walla of the bath wbioh Her Majesty ie Paid to have used. The magnifiaeoehall, larger than the nave of it church, was hues round with sbielde of the proud race to whom it had belonged. laxquisite gardens, thieke;e of azaleae and rhododeodrene, wide,epreading lawns, or- namented with rare and only American forest trees, girdledtheold atone Abbey, which, standing in the midst of the faeein- ating soenery—for which this neighborhood le celebrated --was the home of Hide Deloraine, Ever lance the day when Mark Determine had taken Hilda from theside of her dying mother, her life had paased like a happy dream. Deloraine seemed au if be could never do enough for the child whoa early ohi?dhood had been so sorra wful. It was impooaible for him to atone to poor Katie for all the had antlered, but their child was left to him, and upon her he poured out all the love and devotion of hie nature. And Hilda, on her part, absolutely adored her father, who never left one wien of that idolized deughter ungratified. A kind and elderly governess was engaged to superintend her education, but for study Hilda had little love, 20 ride to hounds with her father, to sit beside him in his mail phaeton behind the two thoroughbred horses wbioh he drove so recklessly up and down the hill,* of that lovely county, t0 pull her light skiff upon the gleaming river, to play lawn tennis ; ay,eveo to accompany Deloraine and the keeper as they beat the covers for pheasant's, or tramped for long hours through the turnips for partridges— these were Hilda's favorite pursuits, and she yawned dolefully over Germanexerciees, and considered the hours spentin her pleasant study aterrible nuisance,and when, at nineteen, her kind governeee left her, Hilda had, it is to be feared, profited but little by her instructions. She could sing beautifully and play her own accompani- ments, sketch dogs and horses, waltz to perfection, but 01 real solid attainments Hilda possessed but few. She had a noble, unselfish disposition, was truthful and upright, a firm friend and proud, almost to a fault of ber noble name and unstained lineage. Her father occasionally took her to London for a week or two,hut they were both far happier in their lovely country home, among all the old friends whom Hilda bed known ever since Deloraine had brought her to the Abbey on her mother's death, which occurred when she woe ten years old. Let us resume our aoquaintance with Hilda, ae ehe eats surrounded by some of these old friends upon the lawn one sunny afternoon in June, busily engaged in mak- ing tea. The gown of lodia muslin, richly trimmed with costly laoe and ornamented with knots of roaehued ribbon, suited her peerless beauty and tall and stately form to perfection. The wavy tresses of her tawny, gleaming hair were wound round her grace- ful head ; dainty features, a pure, creamy akin, with magnificent eyee,blue as violets, completed her claims to admiration, and, indeed, in all the fair county of Berke, Hilda Deloraine had long borne off the palm for beauty, Sit ting on a low wicks, - chair, close by the tea table, was the tall figure of a young man. Roger lontacute stood six feet two in his shooting boots, and was the beau ideal of an English eouotry gentleman.. His otose•crnpped hair wits of light brown, so were also the bold, keen eyes ; hie complexion was tanned by exposhreto wins} and weather ; hie kindly, genial mouth, unshaded by a muataohe, had ever a frank smile far all around him. He was Hilda's greatest friend and firm ally. He was the nephew and reputed heir of Mre. Palmer, a widow lady, whose estate atretohed far away upon the opposite bank of the river, and who was the Dolor - eines' nearest neighbor, though her beauti• fnlhouse, theTemple stood in theadjoining county. Roger was the only child of Mre. Palmer's dead sister, who bad greatly offended her family by her, clandeetioe marriage with a young officer whose glittering uniform had captivated her fancy at a ball at Windsor. The epailed and petted girl had paid dearly for her disobedience, her father croeaed her name from hie will and forbade her to be mentioned in hie presence. She did not long survive her young husband who fell in the Crimea, and Mre Palmer, who was many years older than that once idolized abater, sought out the little orphan and brought him home to the Temple. Proud and sold though she was, the loved Roger with a depth of affection of which he was quite unconscious. He had been educated at Eton and Oxford, where he had gained much notoriety ae "stroke in the university eight" and other feats of prowess, but. "the schools" knew him not, and, hie education completed, he returned to the Temple to 511 the poet for which he woe so well fitted—namely, to hunt, to shoot,,to row and to be, in all but name, master of the broad acres and fertile lands belonging to Mrs. Palmer, all share in which hie mother had forfeited when she renounced all for love and considered "the world well lost." Seated upon a tiger eltio rug upon the mosey turf, busily engaged in demolishing a plateful of strawberries and cream, was a young lady, slight, graceful, and pretty, with brilliant dark eyes, rose -leaf complex- ion, a tiny impertinent little nose, laughing lips and dimpled chin. A very' short skirt of white serge permitted a view of the most exquisite feet and anklee in the world, clothed in scarlet hose and square -toed Cromwell ehnem. The tight sleeves of her scarlet and white striped Jersey showed the beauty of her arms to advautage, Altogether, Maria Healthcote, the only daughter al the Vicar of aiarhum, and Hilda'° most partloularfriend, was a little damsel calculated to turn the heads of moot of the male population of that neighborhood nor was the ignorant of the tam. She wan dividing ber attention between the straw- berries on her lap and a gentleman who stood by her, and, it truth must he spoken, the little coquette was rather indignant at the scant measure of notice he was according' to her lively sallies. But the attention of Nigel Wentworth wee differently engaged. While he stood by the side of Miss Heath- cote and listened to ber gay remarks, hie deep gray eyes were watching Hilda and Roger, and a bitter fooling of hatred for the young man p000eeaed Iiia" soul as he toted Hilda's downcast looks and lovely blushes. What would the calm, worldly lawyer have given if he had had power to move her thus? Unfortunately for himself if there was one pereoh in ell the world whom Hilda inatinctively disliked it was the cold, worldly man in whom her father put such abundan', truth, And yet Nigel 1V' oetworth was a man whom many women admired and tome had dearly loved, . He wan a man of excellent family, tome private He felt uttonly belpleae, Well, it could solloitora whoseboeinese woe a large and ii flourlohing one, Ear the reef, lie was tall ,and of a stately presence, with deep-set gray eyes, haughty ieaturee and tlose•eut dark hair and whiskers, ?;7e had long been an intimate friend of Mark Deloraine, though so many years his junior, and ltfark admired The auphod sunk to rest, leaving a glow and trusted him mar0 than spy ono else in Y g y the world, "And de you really mean to say, Mr, Wentworth, that you have never heard of the, Abbey ghost eo intimate as you are, too, with the Squire?" Marie was oohing, in her gay young volae. "Hilda, love, herein Mr. Wentworth, who nae positively never heard of your balloted room." "Well, tell him the story, dear," re. joined her friend, "but I can easily un- derstand why Mr, Wentworth has never heard of it for papa hates to bear it mentioned. They oaythettheappearance of Lady Frances always bodeewoe toourfamily. "Really,oHilda, that theme bard lines,' here put in Roger kfontacute, The hor. rid creature has no bueinese to disturb innocent people like you and the Squire," "But pray what did this anoeotrese of yours do, Misa Deloraine ?" asked Went- worth, in his gravely satirical voice, And Hilda replied: "She was the widow of an ambassador who died :n France in 1696, leaving her the sole guardian of her only son; she must have been an awfully eovere and oruel woman, for the story goal that she beet the poor little creature to death for refus- ing, or perhaps being unable, to learn to write; they say she still haunts the chamber where she killed her son, and when any evil fe about to happen to one of the in- habitants of the Abbe; she may be seen, dressed in her weeds, coif and wimple, endeavoring to wash her hands in a eelf- supported basin. The legend adds her ghost will not be laid until the blotted copy book is found—but hush 1 here comes papa." "Well, dear" springing to her feet and greeting her father atbectionately, "are you come to have some tea? It ie almost cold, I fear." "No, dear,I do not want any tea. Parkes brought some into my study." "What is the mutter, papa, dear ? Yon look so worried," ogee Hilda, as she laid her hand tenderly nn her father's arm. "Nothing, Hilda; I am rather vexed,that is all, child, I have had a letter from your Uncle Reginald to say he cannot come to your birthday festivities next week." "Oh, papa, dear, I am sorry; I know you will disappointed, you have not seen Uncle Reginald for so long."' "Twenty years, Hilda ," said her father sorrowfully; "he came to see me just before he started for India; you were a baby then." Then, 0.0 the dressing -bell pealed out through the still air, and the ladies rose to go indoors, Deloraine turned to Nigel Wentworth and said : " Come into the library after dinner, there's a good fellow : I want to ask your advice upon a matter of some importance." Wentworth, looking at his friend, wag surprised. to see that he wan looking very pale and seemed greatly disturbed. He took no notice of this, however, and, Baying, " Very well, Deloraine, I will be there," followed his boot into the hall. fortune, and the head of a firm of London not be he ped, and be inuot treat to ehanee, 1n a reek he recovered from his sprain and spent hour° in ueoleae reflection ae 10 the meaauree he ehould adopt, end Ia thle dilemma we must leave him at present, CHAPTER III. "SIG.\'ED, SOALHO ACU DELt1'ERED." " Thank Heaven 1 that's off my mind," exolaimed Mark Deloraine, ae he contem- plated his signature which, followed by those of three witneesee, be had juet affixed to the parchment deed which lay open befcre him on his study table. " Yeo," replied Nigel Wentworth, drily, " it's quite as well that you were disturbed by the tone of Colonel Deloraine'a letter, it you wanted any incentive before execut- ing that"—pointing'00 the parchment. "I cannot think why it was not done years ago." " I could not bear—I did not wish it," replied Mark, hesitating strangely ae he spoke. " Hang it all, man, it's done now, never mind inquiring into the why and wherefore of it0 remaining so long unat. tended to ; there was no great hurry, after all ; I am 'still in the prime of life, and"— " That ie very true," replied Ins friend, gravely, '" still, life is 0o uncertain, and thie wan so obviously your duty • had. 1 known all the oircumstanoee I should have given you no peace, I Dan assure you, Deloraine." " I can well believe that," replied the other, with a short laugh. " Well, I will put this away now," ualnckiug, as he spoke a fire -proof (beet that was fitted into the wall by the nide of a huge carved mantelpiece. ".You will know.where to find it, Went worth, in oaaeit is needed," lie added, handing the will to his solicitor and giving him the key of the safe, Wentworth had already prepared a parcel to resemble uhe.wili. He quietly and quickly substituted one for the other and concealed the true will in the breath of his frook coat. "1 must be off naw, Deloraine ; my train leaves at half -pant four. 1 ehall be down again next week to pay my respects to Mice Deloraine on her coming of age.' Mark looked sharply at hie,friend. Was it a fanny, or did a sneer curve Went - worth's lips ae he spoke? The lawyer mueed long and deeply as the express train to town bore him through the pleasant landscape, and the result of hie meditations was eat iefaotory, to judge from the expression of his face, as he looked out of the carriage window on the lovely landscape before him. "Ah, my peerless Hilda 1 I think I have you in my power now," he muttered to himself with a smile. He little knew what that day would bring forth. A truck on the line was not sufficiently quickly shunted to escape contact with the express train which oarriod the iawyer,and a smash ensued, though without much damage to the tr'avellere. Wentworth received a severe fracture of the ankle, cad an severe was the pain that he was carried out of the carriage in a dead faint. Among the people crowding around and locking on were, as usual, several roughs. , At the feet of one of theta fellows fell the will from Weutworth'e that. Quick at seeing a ehanee of making something out of the document, the fierier l quickly concealed and made off with it, and no one was better able to appreciate the value of the " find." He Was an ex- , attorney's clerk, dismissed for peculation and selling information out of his employ- er's officio. lie took a good mental photo -1 graph of the injured man before he left the, scone. i It was not until Wentworth bad been 4 twatity.fourhours at home that he thought of the will, intending to destroy it. When be dieeaVered its absence he became almost, dazed with dieeppointment and fear, Had he left it behind Ibm,' of dropped it en route to the railroad 1 One thing ' wet ocrtain�•it was gone and now wee in eomebody'e possession. He wee Confined to hie chambers and unable to tette any active steps for its r000very, of res light behind. The ek was a faint 004 green, melting into the twilighv gray; a faint star fluttered here and there in the darkening sky ae Hilda Deloraine tock her way across the park, after otrolling as far 00 the vicarage with her friend Maria, who had been helping ber over the numerous orrangemente for the gay doings on the morrow, when the 'coming of age of the petted young heiress was to be celebrated on a somewhat magnifieent scale. The villagers were to be feasted in one marquee upon the lawn, the servants in another, while "the county" were to be entertained in the grand old ball, under the droop. ing banners of that proud race whose very name wee almost forgotten now. Hblda walked slowly, along till she reached the Queen's spring musing dreamily ever other things than the coming gaieties. The evening wee' delicious ; the air, per- fumed with the scent of a thoueand blos- soms, fanned the gee fair, cheek and ruffled' the golden masses of her gleaming hair. She eat down to rest upon the moss -grown etepe that led to tae marble basin, and dipped .her hand is the cold, pellucid water. She made a fair picture in tier white gown, leaning back against the broken marble balustrade of the bath, with the moeseo of tangled foliage around her, the glittering sky above, and the gleaming water, half hidden by water lilies, at her feet, And 0o thought Roger Montaaute, as he crossed the park and saw her sitting there, ho still that in the gloaming ehe might have been taken for a woodaymph, Lifting her eyes, as she heard his foot.' fall upon the mossy turf, a lovely color flooded her cheeks, and as he eagerly clasp. ed the hand she extended to him, her eyee fell beneath the ardent glance's of his. " You look like a dryad, sitting here in the dark, Hilda," said the young man. "What brings you so far from home?" " I have been home with Karin, Roger," ehe replied. " Papa 10 gone to town, and we have been so buoy preparing for to- morrow ; I am tired," she added. "Busy 1" laughed the young man. "Now, confess, you and Maria have been getting in everybody's way all day, and that has been your share of the work." " Indeed, Roger," said Hilda, earnestly, " we have been working quite hard. I cannot, tell you how many baeketfula of rosea we have made into wreathe to decorate the ballroom." " I know who will be ' Queen rose of the rosea,' " acid the Young man tenderly. Then, as he took her band in hie, he amid, very low, and in a voice shaken by intense feeling : " Hilda, I have loved you for. years, darling. Do you tbink you could be happy with a stupid fellow like myself, whose only merit in your eyes would ooneiat in the passionate love he feels for you ?" and as Hilda raised her eyes to his, be read hie sneerer in their clear depths, and, taking her in his arms, kissed her, oh, so tenderly ; and then, drawing her hand through hie arm, they walked to- gether through the glades of the park, as bonnie a pair of lovers as was to be met with in all that fair county of Berkshire that night. That the course of their true love would run smooth might be eeaily propheeied,and earth and sky alike seemed to smile upon the youthful pair as 'they lingered in the dewy flower -perfumed gar- den under the light of the gleaming stare, (To BE OOBTI.:rvxD.) A NOVEL STREET SWEEPER. A Machine Which Earriee Its Own Sprinkler and Saves work. A new and novel Street sweeping mach- ine was put into actual work on Philadel- phia streets the other night, • Itis called the Philadelphia sweeper. The decided novelties of the machine are that ib curries its own sprinkler—the rear part of the tank holding the water —that, instead of sprinkling tbeatreet to keep the duet down, the revolving brush is kept dampened all STRIEIT SWEEPIIIO 10A011100. the time, thus avoiding the mud and water on the streets neoeeeary in the old methods; and the most important of all that the dirt taken up is thrown dlreotly upon the end- less carrier which takes it up and empties it into the tank composing the front of the machine. The tank is removable and when filled is lifted out and an empty one sub- stituted, while the filled one 1e carred away, diapensing with all shovelling and duet. The machine weighs but 1,300 pounds, and in its trials has demonstrated 11.0 merits in a way very gratifying to those iutereated. Business on the Suez Canal. There are some interesting pointe in the Suez Canal figures for' 1804. The year' receipts amounted to 76,051,000 francs and, after deducting expenses, interest and sinking fund, there remains a balance of 40,367,000 franca. The reports state that 3,052 ships, of 9,039,176 tons, aniseed through the canal last year, conveying 105,080 passengers. Of these vessels 186 had not previously made the passage, and 3,180 passed through at night by the aid of the electric light. The average time of transit was nineteen hours and fifty-five minutes. The average tonnage par ship is steadily increasing, and ie now 2,308. Forty-five passages were made by eleven ships with petroleum in bulk. After speaking of the dredging operations, etc., the report touches on the rise in the rate of exchange with Asiatic countries, the greater activity of tranaporte, and the in-. urease of 76,000,000 francs in the English trade with the Far East. Jute, raw ootton and wool figure in thie increase. Austra- lian' trade hag also improved, especially the export of butter and fruit. The Mee- oageriee Maritimes paokete will now make 126voyagee annually instead of 100, Of the 8,352 ships using the canal, 2,386 were English,, 206 German, 101 Dutch, 185 Frenoh, seventy-eight Austrian, 0ixty. three Italian, forty, one Norwegian, thirty. five Ruooien, thirty-three Turkish, twenty- eight Spanish, six Japanese, IVO Amerbean, two Egyptian, two Portuguese and two Nicaraguan. JULY 12, l890 THE FAR. lleonornlogl Use of Sli3mrned M1110 on the Farm. It is quite important, where dairying is a leading induetry, on the farm, to make the most of it poesible, and especially at a titne like 'Ulla when competition, le strong and priee0 correspondingly low,. Thie article will relate to the most pro. fitable uses to which . the milk eau be put after the cream has been removed, What- ever tion be gotten mut of this will be near. ly clear gain, as it ie a perishable product And if not soon disposed of will become nearly or quite a total lose. With proper care it con be made to re. turn from tan to twentyfive cents par hundred pounds on the average farm, away from any special markets for its sale. How shall it be done, is the mention, There are several waye. Now and then a farmer hoe found a profit in feeding it directly back to the cows while yet sweet. Milk from cold setting can also be suooessfully'fad in the ewe way, only it would need to be warm- ed. It will keep sweet longer than that from the separator. It would probably not be beet to feed milk to cows after becoming sour or thick, ae the eifeoto onthe future products of milk and butter might be un• favorable. Another and important use to which skimmed milk' can be put is in feeding to calves. As a rule, farmers should raise. enough heifers to keep their dairies in good supply, a0 it will be much better than purchasing cows for this purpose. After the first, week or two skimmed milk can be made to form the principal part of their diet. A small amount of wheat middlings or linseed oil added will be a help, and as the animals get old enough they should be furniahed with what niob, early cut hay they will eat. Thus fed until several months old, they will get a fine start and with proper care afterward will grow to make fine heifers and cows for the dairy. A farmer should take interest and pride in this part of his.work,and,rightly managed, he will be well satisfied with this disposition of the skimmed milk from the dairy. Where large numbers of cows are kept, it has been quite a common practice to. feed calves to cell either as vests or to go among farmers desiring such stock to keep. They have even been shipped by the car- load to the West in years gone by. Now,. when there appears to be a scarcity of cattle, and must be for some time to come, fanners should find it for their interest, more than for the past few years, to - niers an increased amount of young stock. It will be wanted on the farm and must be in demand in the markets. Still another way in which skimmed milk can he profitably used as in feeding to swine. It would be an unusual thing to find a dairy farm without these useful animals, They can be made to serve an excellent purpose in utilizing not only the milk but other perishable or waste pro. duets of the farm, orchard and garden, turning them to good account in the manufacture of meat and fertilizers as well. This last should not, be forgotten, as it is so intimately connected with the increased production of the farm 400 the consequent them. 'Teach them to come at the mind of your voice; it will nave 0100y a Weary, trump in searching woods and fields, UAtil they"shoot the red," which will be when they are ten or,twelve weeks eld, they will be tenderer; but after that time they will be hardy, Good Dare et first will bring the Wee down to a minimum, Six weeks' time is eufiicient to fatten for market, Feed twice u day all the whole Dorn they will eat, but do not attempt confinement, as a turkey chafes under restraint, and will lose flesh rather than fatten, They will not take more exereiee than 10 nece040ryto keep in good health. Thoroughness. • There ie one point that should be strongly emphasized at, this time and 'that le , thoroughness in every detail of farm work. A lank of thoroughness in preparing the oil,, in oultivating the crops or in harvest. ing will affect the growth and yield of the (cops very materially. With nearly all the crops the next two menthe work will practically determine the growth and yield, In the cultivation i is often the last one or two workings tha pays the beet profit ; with this ae with much other farm work no sot rules can be, followed every year and the beat results follow. The season and the condition of the soil ae well as the growth of the planta must be coneidered in determining how the cultivation should begin and how many times it should be repeated in order to be thorough. But thorough cultivation is one of the essentials necessary to the securing of a good Drop. So far as possible the work should be planned ahead so that everything Dan be done in good season. A few days' delay in cultivating a crop when it needs to be done, or to harvest the orope at the right stage will affect the yield and Otte quality of the crops. It loses e fully ao important to harvest the crape in a good oonditiun ae it 18 to grow them well, Not only in the growing and harvesting of the crops but in the feeding mud manage. anent of the stock is thorough work neceaeary..Every detail in the management must be looked after, the stook must be cared for in a way that will make the most out of them and;thiaimplies thorough work in the breeding, feeding and cure. Generally the better thetreatmentthe better the profile. SLIDING AFTER A SNOW -SHOE. The Remarkable Ride or a Tonna Eng- lishman in Colorado. John Gladwyn Sebb, known by hie friends 1t0 Jack, was a young Englishman who had last his patrimony and had gone', to Colorado' to seek hie fortune in mining. Winter had set in, and he was living in a log cabin, from which, on snow -shoes, he went alone to visit the three mines of which he had the 'charge. He usually travelled at night, partly to get an extra day at the mine, and partly because the snow was then :n a better condition, with fewer chauoee of an avalanche above tim- berline. One of the liveliest of the three solitary adventuree ie thus described by his biographer: ,Tack started at one o'clock in the morn- ing, and bieoeed with a good moon made capital time, so that he reached the crest of the range by daylight. The snow was prosperity of the termer. iu excellent condition, just soft enough to A thoroughgoing business man of my own State has lately turned his attention to farming and is making a grand success of it too, as these kind of men are apt to do. Dairying is the leading industry and along with this, or resulting from it, the keeping of swine is made a specialty. Breeding and feeding first-class pigs for the market is carried on ' upon a large suaie. This man finds that the largest profit can be obtained from the skimmed milk when fed to the pigs in connection with grain—wheat middlings mostly. 1f he has milk enough fur ten pigs, then would keep fifteen or more and make up with the grain. This he Bays makes a better ration than the milk alone. In this way he groove and fattens fine pigs, and oalculatee he gets about twenty-five Dente per 100 pounds for the skimmed milk. With the keeping of so many swine a large amount of manure is made to which the farm is responding in greatly increased products. The average flock of poultry kept on the farm will make it good uee of quite au amount of skimmed milk, returning a profit fully as great aa when fed to calves or pigs. So from all the ways mentioned for the disposition of skim milk on the farm, it may be safely concluded that little need go to waste, and that where properly managed it can be turned to gond account, helping by so much, although 10• directly, to increase the receipts from the dairy and so make thie industry more self•euetaining and profitable. Rearing Young Turkeys. It is beat to confine the brood for a week at least after hatching. Should the another hen then become restless, the may be let out during the middle of the day. As the turkey retiree early, and dislikes being disturbed after aettlingdownier the night, be sure and coop them before the sun seta. The young turkeys will eatbut little dur- ing the first week. Feed separate from the another, for she will devour all the food within reach. For downright greedineee, an old turkey hen has few equals: Dry bread soaped in sweet milk to one of the best foods for the young, as is curd from fresh buttermilk. A whole flock has been raised on warm ourd. A custard made of one egg to a pint of milk, thickener} with bread(uo sugar), is a mond food. When about two months old feed whole wheat part of the time and unix corn meal with their feed ; this ehould not be fed exolus- ively. Allow pleuty of liberty, ae unufiue• shoe had gone overa precipice,or splintered make his twelve -foot Norwegian shoes bite well. All the lower branches of the pines were covered, and in the gaieties the anew must have been twenty feet deep. On the crest the wind had swept the ridges clear, and Jack had to carry his shoes for hall a mile or so, till he came to a long valley. Here he fastened them on again, and started downward; elowiy a0 first, then faster and faster ae the grade grew steeper. Suddenly, at the top of his epoad, be found himself inthe air, and Dame down with a force tbot nearly stunned him. He had struck a sheet of ice, hie ehoea had loot their bold, and down he had gone on hie bath. Both shoes came off. He clutched at them instinctively, but caught only one. The other was instantly 'beyond reach, sliding down the mountain -side. As Jaok watched it disappear he felt sick. If the shoe was gone, he might reckon on hie fingers the number of hours he had to live. There were four or fire miles of anew, from ten to thirty feet think, between him and his destination. To wade through le was mpoesible. Before him weretwenty miles of mountain and valley to the nearest camp. To stay where he was meant to be frozen to death in a few hours. He must recover that shoe or he was lost. It would of course elide down the eteepoet grade, and would pass into the lower valley by the way of a rocky gorge, which Jack would see from where he stood, and which wars a breakneck place, with mountains of snow in and around it, whence it would be impossible to climb, should the search be uoeucoeaeful. Any chime was worth trying in so des- perate a case, and Jaok thought that, es the ghee he et.ill had would naturally follow its mute if placed 011 the $ame grade, his best pion was to lie down upon it, start eliding, and trust to its being stopped by whatever had' arrested its fellow. Of course, the odds were that the first ment will hill youug turkeys. When the mother begins tramping wildly from one side of the poop to the other, better lather out unless the weather Is unfavorable. When young turkeys are hatched dust both the Iten and the young turkeys with fresh iueeot powder, and rob a drop of tweet oil on the bowie r do this 'once a week. It they droop look for lice, ae nearly .one-half the young die trout that cause; search closely on the akin of the heads and nooks. When about the size of partridges, and old enough to follow the mother in long rambles, the young will nee3. but . little. attention-eimply a little food morning and evening, They much prefer bugs, grass. hoppers, insects and seeds to a more oivilix' ed ration. Do not pegleet to bring them home et night and put under shelter until old enough to Ay into trees and care for themselves, Turkeys do not always holed wifely the boat resting place for the night, henee vermin sometimes attack and annoy on a point of rock, and that the sante fate would overtake the oecondt sgatherwithi11 burden; but if a man must die, a quick death is better than slow torture, and Jack deuided to risk his fate, He found the spot whore the aooident had happened, put the remaining shoe on the track, lay down along it, rounding his ghost as much as poesible, and steering with his elbows., Down they went, sometimes slidiug along smoothly, sometimes plowing through the soft drif t, on and on, it seemed to the anx1one.. traveller, interminably, He kept a 411a01 lookout for any traoo of the lost shoe, and also for any ghastly header that might be in front of hint. At last he Dame to a tarn in the gtelly, and could ttaroelybelievehis eyes. There. was the lost shoe etioking out of a drift in front I Slowly and anxiously he extricated it, fearing to find that the toe had etruok a rook and splintered. No it was all right , and in a moment more hie woe safe, and swooping down into the timber.