HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1912-08-02, Page 6TIE WHITE LADY;.
OH, WHAT THE' THRUSH SMD.
CHAPTER IIT.-(Cont'd)
Abcat four in the afternoon 1 reached
Bletchley, where I sat down under a hay -
rails near the road, and pieced together
a. letter to mv sister, telling her briefly
that I had left Black Jack, and bidding
hor send me •a few lines in -care of the
General Post Office, London.
This done, I . continued my journey. I
should have been better pleased to see
Aline and take her advice; and as she
was in service at Bedford, not more than
eight miles from Bletchley, I felt sorely
tempted coarse 't working dr ss sand shabby
d so
few pence in my rocket, that I could not.
find inmy heart to go and ask for her.
I Posted my letter, and walked on.
Abont eight o'clock I passedthrough a
small village a few miles south of Ched-
dington, and here I bought a pint of new
milk and a roll for my supper, after
whioh I turned from the road along a
meadow footpath, and coming to a hazel
rove, stretched myself upon the bracken
y a bramble bush, and was soon asleep.
could not afford a lodging that night,
s I had but sixpence left, and a long
ay's march still lay between me and
ra• don.
I was awakened early by the shrill pip.
g of a blackbird, and sat up, feeling
l'e
old and stiff, and wondering where I was.
he grass and ferns were wet with dew,.
nd the dewdrops sparkled on every leaf
And twig; a cloud of gnats and hover -
flies flew round me, making a drowsy
bum; the air smelt of the grass and the
leaves and through the slim branches of
the trees I could see a blue-shirted,
brown -aimed mower whetting his scythe.
I rose, and, looking up at the glistening
sky, thanked God. I was hungry and
weary and almost penniless; but I felt
that this was good.
For the first ton miles I went on very
well; but as the sun gained power I be-
gan to feel weary and faint, My feet
were blistered, and my old shoes, scorch-
ed by the smithy fires, gave way, so that
I fell lame, and limped on at a sorry
pace.
And now I was to meet my first experi-
ence of Christian charitI was passing
a pretty little house sus„ beyond Box
Moor, and seeing a lady in a white mus-
lin dress and a white sun bonnet trim
ming a rose bush in the garden, I made
bold to ask her for a drink of water.
She was a young girl, as fair and as
pretty as the flowers she tended, but I
suppose she had never known want or
trouble, for she turned her light bine
eyes upon me very coldly and said, in a
sharp tone, "Certainly not. The servants
have to fetch every drop of our water
from the well, and we have none to waste
upon tramps."
I turned away from the garden gate
and limped on without a word. I felt
more sorry than hurt, I felt more ashamed
for her than for myself, and I remem-
bered the lady who gave me the lily, and
the gentle look she gave me with it, and
I began to understand dimly why that
look had moved me so strongly. It was
the light of love that had shone in on
my dark soul from those great sweet
eyes. The light of the love that is of
no sex, no nation, and no creed; of the
love that is Christ -like in its humanity
and divinity; the love That hopes all,
believes all, pardons all, and glorifies all.
--So I blessed the lady of the lily, and
ut•rteynrogress'was`painfully goer; and
it was well on in the afternoon ere I had
measured fifteen miles of the dusty road,
and found myself passing a row of mean
little cottages built at the edge of a
briekfield. At the door of the first house
a stout, swarthy woman of middle age
stood knitting, and I asked her, although
her face was by no means inviting, if
she would give me a cup of Water.
She looked at me steadily for a mo-
ment from under her great blue cotton
hood" then said, in a deep, rough voice,
"Aye, marry. why not, bey? Ye looks
th' ye d coom fur, and it be hot, it be,
au' these rooads vaary doosty."
I thanked her, and said I had not pass-
ed a stream for many miles, and was very
thirsty.
"Why. sure -iv." said the woman, "and
belike ye'il doom in fur a while, an'' I'll
wet ye a coop o' tea; wheerby it's joost
now ready, in manner o' speakin', an'
my 'oosband '11 be in fro' the brickfield
ones minute.
Nor would she take a refusal, so that
I found myself directly seated in a cane
chair at the rough deal table, with a cup
of tea and a plate of bread and butter
before me, and the wood woman stand-
ing by my side knitting, and uttering
words of wonder and sympathy as I told
her of the distance I had come, and must
yet go before I reached London.
"Aye," she said, "but Loondon's no good
Place, boy, an' ye'd be better back at
boome. But ve must not goo tbeer whiles
ye rest yersei'. and' ye're lame too, as I
see, poor boy; awe, but it be a long rooad
ye 'ave to travel,
And then the husband Dame in and bade
me welcome, and took his tea, and eon -
versed with his wife in short mumbles and
gruff growls, iutierspersed with muttered
Aye, .wells, an, "Dear 'earts," and "Nay,
nivers," as he learned the history of my
pilgrimage.
But after tea this apparently uncouth
laborer set to work with cheery kindness
to doctor my Crippled feet, He ran soaped
worsted, through the blisters, rubbed them
With soap, gave me a pair of well -darned
woollen socks to wear, and when, about
six in the evening, I resumed my jour-
ney, stood at his door and barked out
after me, "Good speed, sonny, 'flow an'
easy does it, A big 'eart beats a big '111."
And so I trudged on refreshed and rest.
ed, and feeling less friendless arid Moro
hopeful than at any time since I Ieft
Halesowen.
That night I slept in another brickfieid
wrchin sight of London, and at ten o'clock
next morning entered the great city, and
walked on, wondering and bewildered by
the bustle and the noise until I stood
at the foot of Ludgate HilL
As 1 stood in the middle of Ludgate air -
ens and watehed the human river flow
round in converging and diverging
streams, the embers of my hope died out,
and a sense of utter loneliness carne over
Ree. ,All that vast city round me, all
those teeming millions of fellow -creatures
so near to me, and amongst ib all I had
net a friend, not one soul to speak ,tet•
For an hour I stood and wa;eltad the
crowd. No one noticed me. aro one seem-
ed to notice anything, eleerybody was
pager, and self-contained, and In a hurry.
On all the faces there seemed to rest the
same grey shadow of care, in all the eyes
there seemed the same cold Iight of -sus-
picion, and at length 'I became conscious
of a strange feeling, hall shame and half
fear, as a grim fancy grew upon me that
if I dropped dead there in that street the
men and women I saw would simply step
over me without looking down, and that
my death would make no more lasting
impression on thatawful human river
than the fall of a• stone into a troubled
stream.. -
This was my first experience of London,
and it has clung to me. Even at this day
I could not pass that spot without shiv-
ering. as a, man shivers when a cloud
covers the sun. London people are much
like other people I know, but the sight
of a vast and busy orowd is terribly de-
pressing. The, huge grey columns of Rus -
sign infantry. which used to come down
upon no in the night outside Sebastopol,
did not appear to me nearly so hostile or
tremendous as the people in tbe London
streets appeared that day. It was with a
Plum face and a heavy heart that I con-
tinued my walk towards the post office.
There was a letter for me, addressed in
a strange hand. I went out under the
portico to read it:
VARIETY 1S THE
SPICE OF LIFE
The preparation of appetising and
nourishing food is often a perplexing
matter, but variety in food is essential
and the troubles of the housewife have
been greatly lessened by Bovril which
is the most convenient forts in which a
dOntpletee food .don he prepared. Ina
minute you earl have comforting and
nourishing bouillon or Bovril Tea.
Bovril Sandwiches, thin bread and
butter with Bovril spread lightly
between,or hot buttered toast with a
little Bovril are positive delicacies.
iloarii is excellent for gravies and soup's
al a little used itt reheating meat adds
e _•hr,ic' nicinanev and improves
dig estlibl ita.
Dear Sir, -Your sister, Miss Alice Homer,
is very ill, and wishes to see you at once.
Please come quickly. Her condition is
serious.—Yours truly.
HELEN ARMITAGE.
I stood looking blankly at the paper
after I had read it. Alice ill. Come at
once. Condition serious. Yes, and I had
passed within a few miles of Bedford, And
now Bedford was full forty miles away.
and I was hungry weary, penniless, foot-
sore,
ootsore, and almost shoeless.
I looked at the post -office clock. It was
twelve noon. I put the letter into my
Pocket, and asked the way to the nearest
railway station. There I found a map,
and by it discovered what route I must
take. I also begged a bit of string from
a porter, and, having fastened my broken
boots together as well as possible, I set
out on my walk at a few minutes to one.
CHAPTER IV.
It was still very close and hot, and what
with the heat, and the crowd, and my
lameness, I made very poor progress for
the firsi. four or five hours. But I did
in my mind nothing' but the' t,
Alice, i11 and miserable eV
agaiust hoe for the sound ea
A little after two—I beard a
in a village I was nearing the
sided into bellow rumblini e
flashes, though the rain fell,
more heavily than before.
hungry now, nor thirsty. only
giddy and so tired tlia+t I co
force myself to drag one foot
other. I stopped for a minute,
ing off the muddy remnants of
threw them into the road, ass
barefooted, and suffering sevoa,ei
step: until it last, more dead t
I passed the first.. villas on:•
side • of Bedford, just es the ;e
chiming the quarter after five. �l
It was broad daylight, the r ;,
ceased. the 'sky was blue and a+ lost
cloudless, and, the air was rich wits the.
scent of the summer'f!ow,r5. I d'ac-
complished nay task. The night a(.d.. the
journey were over, and I was in Bedford.
• I found Mfrs. Armitage's house 'it ` few
minutes later. Xt was called Fern :'rode°,
and stood in a pretty garden just off the
main .road, I stopped and leaped union
the gate.. The, blinds were drawn; the
door closed. Nobody :seemed to 110 stir-
ring. There was no light visible in any
window. The gravel all around the • porch
was strewn with the yellow petals oi'the
tea roses beaten down by the storm; en
the left a bed of scarlet poppies `hung
their dripping blooms like wet—flags, 'and
in the little thicket of laburnums a thrush
was singing cheerily as thrushes only, do
sing in the early morning. . ;
l don't know how it was,nor whht,but
now, when stood for the first timc,with-
in sight of the house I had come ea far
to find, the conviction suddenly came ne-
on me that I bad come in vain. "Too late,
too late, too late'" seemed to be the har-
den of the thrush's song. and the rain-
drops on the roses looked like tears."
Well, I must know, the worst, I went
round to the side -door and rang the bell.
,The door was opened immediately .by a
stout, middle-agedwoman in a Servant's
dress and cap. She started back in alarm
when she saw me, and would have shut
the door, but I put my bare foot over the
threshold and managed to croak out the
wordfs, "I am William Homer. Ma Sister
—Alice—is
The woman appeared. bewildered, "I'll
ees and call miosis," .she said, holding' the
door irresolutely in her hand.
"First answermy question," said T -"Is
my sister dead?"
The woman looked at me. and I saw"the
answer in her eyes, and it was, Yes.
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CHAPTER V.
Having read my answer in the servant's
eyes, I did not wait to hear it from her
lips. My sister was dead. What could.
mere talk avail? Without a word I turned
away from the door, and limped down the
gravel path, between the quenched flame
of the popn:v bed and the rain -crushed
Sweetness of the mignonette. The thrush
still sang in the -tree. I heard his note,
"Too late, too late!" All around me the
world was hushed in the tranquil still-
ness of the early dawn; all above 'mo
stretched the liquid blueness of the sum-
mer sky. I. seemed to feel those things
as in a dream. I reached the road, turned
to look at the house again, saw all the
picture as through red glass, heard a
strange buzzing like the song of swarm -
not try to force the pace. Anxious as I ing bees, felt the earth heaving under my
was not to lose one single minute of feet like the deck of a ship at sea, and
time. I was yet well aware that it would then something s:ruok me across the tem -
tax my powers to the utmost to get pies and I knew no more.
through it all, and that my only chance I had fainted, and had fallen heavily
was to go steadily so as not to break
down before the end of the journey.
I left London by Highgate Hill, pushing
On thence through Firebley, Trill Hill. and
Zistteo'to' St. Albans, <which place `I passed
about six o'clock, and feeling very faint,
sat down by a bridge across a Tittle brook
to rest and bathe my feet in the cool
on my face in the road,, gashing my lore'
bead deeply.
When I recovered conseiousness Z .was
sitting on,the,aaath,. with.my-back agasaiart
the garden wall. and the servant kneelitig
beside me etaunol:du my wound with u
napkin,and. tweed ,:a`me to drink from
a ekes of water sle p d,in her shaking
water. hand.
While I was sitting there two little girls , I wetted my lips, ;:'.: '„shed the glass
came along the road. ,They were poorly away.
but cleanly clad, and were eatine bread "Are you bettor?"' adv!; a voice, which
and apples. They glanced at me with some sounded a long way off.. I turned my
apprehension and hurried by; but when heavy eyes and saw a tall, grey figure,
they had gone some little way stopped, like the shadow of awoman, standing be -
and after a few words of talk tbe biter tween me and the trees. I tried to speak,
of the pair, a round -eyed, ruddy -faced tried to rise, and fainted again.
child of seven, came slowly back, and, After a blank space: of time, whether of
approaching rue timidly, held out to me minutes or of years I could not judge, I
her piece of bread. found myself once more. - I was lying on
I took it without speaking, and she, my back, and staring• at the ceiling of a
never looking in my face, ran off to her strange room. It was. a yellow eeiline.
sister, and both went skipping and laugh- and upon it was a raised pattern of flow-
ing down the road together. ers and leaves in gold. The sunlight OM -
R was a little thing, but it meant much ted on the edges of the mouldings and
to me, I ate the bread—about four ounces hurt my eyes. I shut them and lav silent
—took a drink from the stream. and re- for a while, wondering where I was, try
-
Burned my journey. There were still thirty ing to recall my own name, until there
miles between me and Bedford, and but fell faintly on ma ear the sound of a
for that crust I think I should have died bird's song. which said, "Too late, too
upon the road. late, too later" and I realized at once
And I did not want to die. Alice was that Alice was dead that I was lying on
111, and longing to see me. I must get on. the sofa in the drawing -room of her mis-
With painful distinctness I recalled the tress's house, and that the portly man
weary hours of illness when I had lain in black, sitting on the edge of a hand -
at home, weak and querulous from fever some chair and holding my hand in his,
and hunger, counting the ticking of the was a doctor.
clock and listening for my sister,e step. My first feeling 'was one of shame, my
And she had never failed to come, nor next feeling one of pride. I remembered
to comfort me by her coming. And now my soiled and shabby dress, my shoeless
she lay sick, amongst strangers, listen- feet, my weakness and my destitution,
ing for me. I looked along the dusty and my heart burned with the thought
road, now half covered by the blue sha- that these 'Melt people should see ne- mis-
dows of the hedges, and I tightened the ery. and perhaps regarded me eoldlS as
strap round m9 waist and tramped dog- a burden on their charity.
godly on. I struggled into a sitting police,
With the exception of the short rest near snatching my hand away from the';~,doe•
St. Albans, I never halted once from the tor, and said rudely, "What are you{ do -
time I left the city until nearly midnight. ing? Let me go.” u ,
By this time I was just beyond Harling- The doctor smiled good-humoredly.;'i
ton. about twelve miles' walk from Bed- "All right," he said; "no one wil de-
fairly exhausted, I threw
rd- and beim' a y e s p
de -
ford, ,
tain you. Get up and march."
I tried to . do this; but struggle
would I could not drag my heavy 1
from the couch. My back seemed br
me arms hung down like bare of le.
sank back, helpless, and tears • of
and mortification filled my eyes.
"Clara." said the doctor, in a'
thick voice, "ask airs, Armitage f
can spare us a moment of her tint
I lay back upon the cushions and e
my eyes. I did not want to see the
lady of this .line House. I remembere'
young girl who had refused me a
01 water. I wished that the lightnin
struck ane dead rather than that 1: e
live to see the cold :glance that tel
I was an intruder.
And then I felt a cool, soft hand
ing my face, and heard a woman'e.
such a lea, sweet voice, sayine.
fellow! what an awful thing! and
but a boy, a mere `boy." and 'I
up and saw a tall lady, dreseed all it
and with grey hair and grey Oyes
was loaning over ene with 'a look o
tie sadness, just as my sister did
Tears when I was Still a child
They fed. me, and nursed me, and o
me, those kind smooth,in :spite
Dented protestations; and when
sister was laid in the earth, i .f
forted by the assurance that,
years of her life had been mad
by love and tenderness, and That
valley of the shadow of death kip
had upheld and sweet words else
spirit.
I Went through the funeral
calmly and without emotion. 1
Pang ' of anguish' at the tltougl
Sister's death. My spirit seerxi
steeped in a strange, unilatliral'
ity. I saw the yellow earth 'nil
the graveside, with daisies
throt gh it where it lay the-th'i
heard the dull droning of the
voice, and the joyous trills am
of a skylark's sone filling up,.
in the solemn service. x led
X limped And staggered along with head the glistening tare and thong
myself upon a patch of grass by the road•
side with the intention of taking a full
hour's rest. But before I had been there
many minutes I felt a great spot of rain
upon my face, and. looking up, noticed
for the first time that the sky was en-
tirely overeast, and that a chill wind was
pursing up the dust in the road and caus-
ing the tree under which I lay to shiver
and sigh.
Then came a low rumble of distant.
thunder. The big rain -drops splashed
down thicker and teeter, and a faint flash
of lightning showedacross the fields, re-
vealing for an instant a ilhcuette of
poplar tree and steeple against a .back.
ground of coppery cloud.
There was going to ben swan. Per a
few moments I knelt there in the dark,
thinking what I hod better er do , but a
sudden idea that the lightning might bill
me before I had acoompltsned mv 'ask
decided me, and I scrambled up and stag-
gered forward.
Within a minute I was in the 'hick of
One of the moat tremendous storms 1 have
over Veen. The rain fen in torrents. The
road become a muddy stream, the footpath
almost too greasy to walk anon. I was
drenched to the skin before I had gone a
furlong. The water ran down my breast
and back, trickling from my fingers and
face, and through the Boles in my boots.
The thunder burst over my head, peal
after peal, with sudden detonations, dike
the explosion of heavy shell. and the light-
ning.,rent and needed the sky from end to
end with blinding sheets and dazzling
ears of time, Twice the bolts struck trees
Close by me, rending and smashing the
boughs and sending the leaves and twigs
about me in showers. Once the lightning
seemed to blaze right in my eyes, so that
I r-culd not see for many minutes, and
that time a thunder -clap exploded, as I
thought, within a yard of Me, with a
noise like the discharge of a great gun
and a shock that made the earth shiver.
But through it all, for two awful hours,
a I
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d.i
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ed.
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glorifying in its release from the muddy
esh. I heard the parson beg forgiveness
for. the sins of our dear sister departed,
rad felt tempted to laugh. It was era
esque; the idea of a- mere man inter-
ceding with QQd on behalf of'the white-
ouled, golden- earted . Alice! What was
there to pardon in her blameless life?
What mortal spirit could deserve a bright-
er crown.
And then the earth rattled on the coffin,
and the parson closed his book, and the
ark sang out a fitting requiem, 'one of
oy, and triumph for tbe death of a wo-
man and the birth of an angel, and we
moved away in,silence through the sheeny
grass, .and 'amongst the lichened tombs
where so many of the strong and the frail
lay dead—forgotten of the sons of m6n.
That night Mrs. Armitage came to me
as I sat in the garden watching the swal-
lows play, and laying her hands upon
my shoulders said, "My poor boy, you
have not yet felt your trouble; and when
it comes upon you it will 'not be well for
you to be alone. I have gone through. it
all myself, and I know the bitterness of
the trial. You will stay here. We will
find you work. Promise me that."
But I shook m9 head and answered that
I must go my way—I felt that I must
press on.
The good widow' reasoned . with me in
rain. I would go, and I would accept no.
help in money except one sovereign, and
that but as -a loan. So she said, "God
bless, yon, my, poor boy. . Be; good, �niy
dear, be good," and I set out 01106 again
for London•
the waiter. His name was Harry pield-
ine• and he appeared to be about fourteen
years of age. He was very. thin and pale,
and his clothes were covered with white
dust. I asked him to sit down, ordered
him some tea, and waited for him to tell
his story.
He had no parents. His mother had been
dead live years. His father, a soldier, dis-
t charged as unfit for service, had died in
Dover workhouse a month ago. The boy
after trying to enlist for a drummer,
and being rejected. owing to a defect in
his left hand, had lived upon the charity
of the soldiers in the Shorncliffe Camp un-
til the provost had expelled him, ,when
he set off and tramped to London.
He had walked twenty-five miles that
day along the dusty roads without food,
and had sold his waistcoat and,,.necker-
chief for fivepence to a Jew clothes -deal-
er. He told. me, with the ghost of a smile,
how he had spent an hour in fruitless
efforts to persuade the Jew to give him
another penny; and how the waiter in
the coffee -room had sent him out to beg
for the same amount. But," said he,
with a sigh, "I could only get' a halfpenny,
and he wouldn't let me until I had six-
pence."
(To be continued.)
EAGLE ATTACKS DOG.
CHAPTER 'VI.
In the loneliness of the groat city my
grief began to make itself felt. Day after
day as I went from place to place seeking
work, or lay on my bed listening to the
distant roar of the traffic and the tolling
of the bells, the, shadowy cloud of sorrow
assumed more 'definite shape, and the two
awful ideas that.I was utterly alone, and
that I should never see Alice again—never
never, never—took such hold upon me that
T began to hate my life, to shrink from
contact with my fellow -creatures,, and to
brood upon the thought of death.
One night, as I sat in the dismal coffee -
room of ` the plane where I lodged, with
my head in my hands and blankness in
my heart and eyes, I gradually became
conscious of a boy's voice pleading .for
"just one chance -just this one," and of a
gruff voice, known to me as the waiter's,
answering, "no," and "no," and "no."
I got up and called the waiter to me.
`What's the matter?" I asked.
Thewaiter shrugged his shoulders, "Ow,
it's nothin'," he said; "only a boy as
wantsa bed, an' 'as no bras to nay fer
it. Common enough, ti,at there in our
business."
The waiter brushed an imaginary crumb
off the•'table, andset the castor straight
"Where is the lad?" said I.
"He'g
gorne out a-lookin' fer a copper,'
he answered. `It's rather 'ard lines, it is
'Cos 'e's Only an 'apenny short of 'is price
'e is; an' 'e's been a hour a•tryin' to col
lent it in the Strand, 'e 'ave; which no
body down't give nothiu' away as they
wants in London, they ,down't."
Tho idea that he might have given the
boy the halfpenny did not seem to have
occurred to the waiter at all. I asked
him to call the boy back and send him to
MO..
Then I counted my money. I had two
shillings and a penny. 'Unless I found
work to -morrow, I should be soon desti
tate. But this was a cheap house, and
d
the beds only sixpendo, so that I was
rick enough to entertain a guest,
)th
The boy came back in a minute w
From Shidzuoka corns a graphic
account of a bloody combat be-
tween. all eagle and a dog, says the
japan Advertiser. A few days ago,
at about 8'a,nu, while one Ano was
engaged in farming at tbe•foot of a
hill called Awagatabe in a suburb
of Shidzuoka, he saw his favorite
dog scamper away in unusual ex-
citement. The farmer,. struck with
curiosity, followed in the direction
in which the dog ran and was
amazed to .see the animal jumping
about and barking furiously in a
thicket near the bottom of a large
pine tree.
On closer scrutiny he found the
dog was waging a savage battle
with a large eagle nearly five feet in
height. The bird would descend
upon the dog and .attack it with its
powerful talons, while the dog
would spring away alertly trying to.
bite its enemy. The exciting com-
bat continued for some time, but
at, last threatened to end in the de-
feat of the dog.
The farmer fetched a hatchet and
rushed to the succor of his pet,
raining upon the eagle repeated
blows. The dog, encouraged by
this help, attacked its antagonist
with redoubled vigor, and after a
while the eagle fell to the ground
quite exhausted and covered with
blood. Ano took the captive home
in triumph and has since beeu'keep-
in e; it in his house.
The eagle proved to be of enor
mous size and is said to be attract-
ing great curiosity among the vil-
lagers..
Take A Scoopful
Of Each—
Side By Side
Take "St. Lawrence"
Granulated in one
scoop—and any other
• sugar in the other.
Look at "St. Isaw-
ratee" Sugar its
perfect erystais its
pure, white sparkle--
its even grain. 'rest
e!II
it point by point, and you will see that
io
Absolutely
-Best
u ever reined—with a standard o writ
is otic of the choicest sugars # purity
that few sugars can boast. Try it in your home.
Analysis shows, "51). Lawrence Granulated" to be "99 gg)ioo to zoo¢
Pure Cane Sugar with no iinpurities,whatever"
"Most every dealer sells St, Lawrence Sugar,"
S71. LAWRENCE SUGfluI REFINERIES MOTE% s MONTREAL,
Absolutely
u �> Pure
bent low, teeth and bands clenched, and fluttering bird might be my
On the Tarin
SUMMER, C7ARE OF PIGS.
1lfany farmers tlt.ank that they
cannot afford to £eed' the pigs liber-
ally during the summer season.
The pigs are allowed to shift for
themselves in many instances and
of course do not make much; growth,
but one may see a pretty good pro-
fit in feeding at the present high
price of both feed and pork, writes
Mr. A. J,.Legg.
The hog wall just about live on the
pasture they can gather from the
field and what grain is given thee,-
goes
hexagoes to growth and anyone who has
tried it has found than only a mod -
erste ration fed to the shoats on,
pasture will make a good growth
throughout the season.
Early spring pigs of any good
breed can be made to average
pound of gain a day by the tire
they are eight or ten months •old,
and a large part of this can be
made on pasture.
The pig that is fed enough food
to keep it growing rapidly from the
start to finish is usually. the most
profitable porker.
In some section where there .is,
sufficient waste erop to fatten the
hogs it xray be profitable to allow.
the shoats to shift for themselves.
However, usually` the hogs that
are allowed to shift for themselves
and get fat on the waste are easy.
victims of choleraand swine• plague.
If there is a fair profit in feed-'
ing hogs the business should be con-
ducted in as careful and business
like way as the feeding of cattle and
sheep.
DAIRY NOTES. •
One way to save feed bills is to
protect the cows from flies during'
the Bummer and the cold weather
in the winter.
The length of the stall should be
adjusted by the size of the cow, and )
always used by the same cow.
Excellence is always relative. Its)
relative degrees can only be gauged
with accuracy when accurate re-!
cords are kept.
Nothing ever came' so near turn-
ing December into June for dairy.
cattle and sheep as the silo.
Thesilo lends itself ad
efforts at.intensive far* i
Breed for type, but st
cure individuals that Po"se§
certainty= the oharacterlsties wJl
you desire your favorite. type of
dairy cow to possess to perpetuate
in your herd,, •
We should never be deluded into
thinking that an animal with a
pedigree 'entitling, her to registra-
tion is more valuable than another
simply on account of such registrar.
tion.
Individual excellence is the only
safe guide to bedepended upouin
selecting cows to build up a good
herd.
The best cows are none too good
when measured by their profits, but
all of us cannot afford to go out and
buy the best; hence we should try
to do the best we can with those
we have until we can secure better.
ev
511
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IN THE SHEEP FOLD.
One sign of an overfed sheep is
the frequent,. stretching and spread-
ing
preading out of the legs. When these
symptoms are observed give a bra
mash and an ounce of linseed oil.
It is a mistake to rend the bee
lambs to market, as they are neve
desirable and bringdown the ave
age of the shipment.
When a buck lamb is about three
months old it begins to develop,
coarseness and a disposition to'
fight.
A 'farmer from,, Maitland, Mo.,,
writes : "Will dipping sheep' affect
the quality of the wool 2" Perhaps
not if the sheep is not clipped for
two or three months afterwards,
but why dip when the wool is longi
This should always be done imme-
diately after. shearing.
POULTRY HINTS.
Hens suffer from overfeeding as
much as starving.
Even a warm rain is bad fee very
young chicks, and arrangements
should be made so they can get to
shelter quickly when the showers
come. ,
If many chicks are raised it is..
good plan to keep a large 'tett
near the 'poultry -house in which t
drinking vessels can be boiled
least once . a week. A handful ; ol,.
eommon'.soda thrown in the water
will help.
At the first .sign of droopiness in
a chick separate it from the rest of
the flock and if it does not quickly
recover' use the axe and bury the
body.
r
Next to investing in gold mine
starting en amateur garden lose
the most money.
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