The Exeter Advocate, 1897-3-25, Page 6,eselee
A Dark ilit's ward.
By Paul Ingelow.
(OO.erigtnID,)
For one hour hekissed in nervous,
restless dozing, then profound slumber
ensued, and then, gradually, he seemed
8q awake, refreshed, rejuvenated, to the
old. practical life again.
Where was he? that was easy to figure
ottt. And Vance and his two captors?
What bad become of them?
Le Britta walked to the dour of the
hut, Eventide! For twelve hours he had
slumbered, while the sooundrelly,,Durand
was consummating his evil projects, he
had lain inert! but there was une satis-
faetion—his victim, Vance was probably
at liberty.
Le Britta saw the lights of a little
town about half -a -mile distant, and
proceeded thither. His clothes had
become torn, bespattered with mire,
soaked in the wagon and the river, and
at a small clothing establishment he
purchased a new outfit.
Was he near to the center of operations
of the plotters? Certainly somewhere
near here the fair Gladys was a prisoner,
and the plotting Durand made his
headquarters.
A. meal and rest put the photographer
4n shape for action, and apparently action
was needed in behalf of those he would
befriend now if ever.
He made some inquiries at the restau-
rant, but its proprietor, a stolid German,
announced himself as a recent arrival,
and not at all familiar with the sur-
roundings of the village or its people.
The minister knew everything, he
stated, and the minister's home was
down the street, "that way" and he
indioated a neat cottage a square or two
distant.
Le Britta proceeded thither. It would
do no harm to make a few inquiries,
but when he rang at the door bell of the
house there was no reply to his sum-
mons, and. he decided that the entire
family must be away.
In a thoughtful mood, he sat down on
the porch step of the cottage.
What to do next? 'was the question,
and a most difficult one to answer.
He had failed. signally In attempting
to rescue the stolen Vernon fortune from
Darius Meredith. To return to that
individual and charge him with
attempted murder would be to meet open
denial and defiance. No, be had played a
bold game and had lost, and the wily
Meredith would not be taken unawares
again, he felt assured.
He had liberated Vance—that was one
definite andimpurtant step accomplished.
If he could only find him again1—if he
could only locate Gladys Vernon, and
rescue her. If he could only reunite these
two, and say: "Let the fortune go -seek.
happiness in some other country.;"
The gate clicked, and Le Britta looked
up quickly. Was it t the minister
returned?
No, for the new -comer had arrived
driving a close carriage, and as he
walked up the graveled path his attire
and manner evinced nothing professional
or refined.
"Are you Mr. Dane—the clergyman?"
queried the new -coiner, quite eagerly.
"No," sprang to Jere Le Britta's lips,
but the word was checked instantly.
For, with a start, he recognized the
stranger as one of the very men who had,
carried him into captivity in the close
wagon the night previous.
Some quiek intuition of thought caused
Le Britta to parley with the man.
What did you want?" he asked,
simply.
"A marriage, sir,"replied theman... I�
with you to officiate at a marriage
ceremony at once."
CHAPTER XLIIL—AT THE OLD
HOUSE.
find himself in the: midst of Durand and
his friends, rends and probably a p b y at sorra isola-
ted spot. He should have learned more
from the driver—have secured police
assistance—a score of theories presented
themselves to his mind,: now that it was
too late to act.
The carriage proceeded swiftly. It
must have traversed fully ten miles be.
lonely and. unfrequentedroads ere a halt
was made. Le Britta was astonished as
he looked fromthe carriage, for the spot
was the self -same: one by the riverside
whither the boat had taken him the
evening previous—the lonely house where
he had sprung into the prison -wagon to
rescue Sydney Vance.
Twice Le Britta was on the point of
springing from the vehiole"`and escaping,
for he foresaw nothing but trouble when
he was confronted by Durand and recog-
nized by him, as he would certainly bo.
The thought that in every dilemma of
the past, however, aid had oome at an
unexpected time, a realization of the fact
that within an hour the destiny of in-
nooent.Gladys Vernon would be made or
marred, nerved the photographer to pro-
ceed with the exploit in hand, at least
until he had penetrated the lair a the
enemy, and had learned how the land lay.
"This way, sir," spoke the driver, as
the carriage halted.
It was directly at the side of the old
house and near a vane-oaver-ed porch, and
as he sprang from the driver's scat and
opened the carriage door, he started up
the steps.
"Bather dark andmysterious this, I
fanny," murmured Le Britta.
"i!h? Ohl that's all right, sir.
There's only a few minutes talk, a big fee,
sir, and I'll drive you home again."
"But why all this haste?" persevered
Lc Britta.
"Mr. Durand will explain all that sat-
isfactorily to you. This way; just sit
down for a minute or two, and excuse
the darkness. I'll bring a lamp and Mr.
Durand."
He pushed a common wooden --chair
toward Le Britta as he spoke•. The latter
could not see it, he could only feel it.
and, groping about, he sat down and
waited in painful reflection.
Tha door stood open, the horses and
carriage were without, escape lay at
hand. It was not too late yet to retreat.
He listened. Only the departing foot-
steps of the driver down sono uncarpeted
corridor echoed vaguely on his hearing.
Was Gladys Vernon in the building?
Were Durand and the driver the, only
other occupants?
"If I only bad a weapon," murmured
Le Britta, "I wonld boldly face these
scoundrels. As it is"—
He took a step toward the door. ` Re-
treat seemed prudent. Better to watch
the house in hiding, than risk exposure
and defeat by boldly facing overpowering
numbers.
Just then, however, from the direc-
tion the driver had taken, sounded foot-
steps, then a light glowed, and then a
quick voice spoke sharply:—
"Who's that?"
"Durand's voice!" murmured
Britta, excitedly.
"Tom."
"Ah l you have returned? Glad of it.
Bill only just came back. I was afraid
you might miss finding a minister, so I
posted him off, too."
"Well, I've got your man."
"What man?"
"Mee Dane, the minister of Acton."
"What!"
Durand's tones expressed the profound-
est surprise. "I say I've got the minister."
"Mr. Dane of Acton?"
"Yes, just brought him. He's in that
room waiting to see you."
"Nonsense!"
"Why."
"Nonsense, I say!" reiterated Durand,
forcibly.' "Bill himself has just brought
Mr. Dane of Acton, and he's with the
bride now 1"
Jere Le Britta tried. hard to preserve a
composed demeanor, as the last words of
the driver of the carriage at the gate
revealed to him in a flash the golden
opportunity of a lifetime.
It did not require much thinking to
surmise the true condition of affairs. The
man before him was one of Ralph
Durand's fellow -plotters, and he had
been sent hither forthe village clergy-
man.
Why? why, but to enable Durand to
carry out hispreviously-announced plans?
Doubtlessly, the two men had hastened
to Durand after the runaway accident,
and had reported the escape of Sydney
Vauoe. Thoroughly frightened,the villain
had been obliged to act quickly. He
proposed to hasten the marriage cere-
mony He had sent this man to secure a
licensed clergyman to officiate.
He did not know Le Britta, for that
momentary glance through the broken
door of the prison wagon had been too
fleeting to fix his features on his mind.
More than that, he did not know the
clergyman by sight.
"He takes me for the minister," mar -
inured Le Britta, excitedly.
A wild suggestion entered the photog-
rapher's mind. Recent perils, a late
acquaintance with exciting and unfamil-
iar events of a decidedly sensational
nature, had made him more reckless than
usual.
Dare he asume the place of the clergy-
man—dare he accompany the man in
the carriage?
What would be the result; whither
would it lead him? Productive of benefit
or trouble the intrepid Le Britta was
resolved to locate the imprisoned Gladys
Vernon, was determined to save her
from wedding the scoundrel Durand if
possible.
"Ah 1 a marriage ceremony," spoke Le
Britta, with quiet dignity. 'Where are
the parties to the oontract?"
t "It's -it's quite a distance, sir!" spoke
the anan with marked agitation. "It's-
it's a peouliar case."
"It must be, to include such haste.
May I ask who sent you.?"
"My—my friend, sir; a Mr. Durand..
Quito wealthy gentleman."
"And the bride?"
"A young lady. Both are awaiting
Ton. ' I was instructed to say to you that
your fee will be large and promptly paid,
In advance, if you like. Please don't
disappoint me, sir! You are the only
olorgyesan in the district we can reach."
"Very well, .I Will go," announced Le
Britta.
The driver seemed delighted. He hur-
ried him to the carriage, bestowed him
safely within, and, springing to the seat,
urged up 61 horses.
Jere Le Britta reflected- seriously. It
was easy to accept a situation, but far
more difficult to fano it when its issues
became complicated. He saw his mis
, take as he cogitated over the ,possible
results of his strange journey. When
Le
CHAPTER XLIV.-LIBERTYI
Le Britta started violently. The reve-
lation contained in the unexpected an-
nouncement of Durand fairly electrified
him.
The assumption be had undertaken
was about to lead him into complications
and difficulties, likely to arouse suspi-
cion and enmity at once, even if he was
not recognized by the plotter.
He heard Durand's assistant whistle
incredulously.
"The minister, Mr. Dane, with the
bride?" he repeated, blankly.
"Yes," returned Durand.
"And I just brought him"--
"You did not."
"From his very home—"
"I say, you didn't!" retorted Durand,
irritably.
"Will you come and see?"
"Well, I will; but, as I know Dane, I
am not likely to be mistaken."
"Then my man"—
"I don't know."
"He must be an imposter."
"Or worse."
"A spy. Hist!
his guard."
Le Britta bristled with excitement.
He glided across the room. His inten-
tion was to make for the outside door.
At just that moment, however, a gust
of wind drove the door to with a slain.
Le Britta sprang to the knob and seized
it. .5. spring lock, it held firm, and he
had no time to seek out its mechanism.
He dashed across the room, as in the
approaching light of the lamp in the
hands of one of the intruders, he made
out a doorway dimly. The door yielded
to his touch. He crossed its threshold,
to find himself in a dark, narrow corri-
dor, penetrated its length, passed up a
stairway, and halted, thrilled and un-
certain, at the sound of a familiar voice
that recalled the past vividly.
"Gladys Vernon!" he murmured; ex-
citedly.
Yes, the heiress of Flawthorne villa was
certainly in the room beyond, and she
was speaking.
In a row, tremulous, pleading tone of
voice, her accents fell distinctly upon
Jere Le Britta's strained hearing.
He could not catch • her words, but he
knew that the poor girl, faced. with the
dread alternative of wedding a scoundrel
or sending her lover to the gallows, was
pouring her .sorrows into the ears of the
clergyman. '
"My poor child!" he heard the latter
speak; 'this is really an unexpected dis-
closure. I was led to suppose that, you
were a willing party to the ceremony. I
declares I hardly know •how to act in
the matter. You say you will marry
him, and yet you shrink from him. I
will see Mr. Durand. I will talk with
him."
Le Britta •had-eust time tosecrete him-
self in a shadowed niche in the corridor,
as the door of the room, on which his at,
tenter and interest were centered,opened,
and a dare of light illumined its three-
.
gttey griv9ed at their tl,es ipe,tion he would 49 .curd _the,•ggtnieter _g�pr pehieeway
We'll take
him off
sown the corridor and descend the stairs.
u
Elehadgonoinq quest of Duran d,
In a flash Jere Le Britta had opened
the door just closed. Into the room he
sprang.
"Gladys—Miss Vernon!"
In pity and concern he regarded the
pale -faced girl before him, who, with
startled alarm, stood regarding hien.
"You do not .know me?" he began.
"No-yes—oh, Mr. Le Britta!"
Sobbing amid her despair, tottering to
his support as to that of a true friend,
Gladys' eyes, so full of anguish, showed
a token of recognition.
Le Britta's nerves were at a high ten-
sion. He , realized that the most vital
moment in the affairs of the persecuted
heiress and her friends had arrived; that
share was no tiiue to lose in explana-
tions. Delay meant peril—deep, certain,
disastrous
"Miss Vernon," he spoke,hurriedly and
seriously, "/ undersand all. Do nut
speak or delay. Follow me."
"Oh! Mr. Le Britta"—
"Yonder door t It leads"—
"To the garden."
"Then, hasten!"
"It is looked."
"The window, then!"
Le Britta hurried to the window in
question. He resod it and glanced out.
A few feet below was the garden.
Gladys had not followed. him. She
still stood in • the center of the room,
swaying, wondering, in doubt.
`"Comol" he spoke, peremptorily,
almost sharply.
"You wish me to leave here?"'
"Yes. We must Ily without a Moment's
delay."
Gladys uttered a faint wail of
and despair.
"Mr. Le Britta, I• dare
moaned .
"Dare not seek liberty?"
"No."
"After captivity, suffering
here means sacrifice, doom."
cannot help it," murmured Gladys,
brokenly. "Ohl you do not know!"
"Yes I do know" interrupted Le
Britta, vehemently. "I comprehend,
now. That scoundrel Durand -you feat
his power!"
He threatens'."
"What?„
"My lover Sydney Vance. He is a
prisoner in his power!"
distress
not!" she
To remain
eNo I"
"He told m&
"Falsehoods! Sydney Vance is free."
"Free?"
"Yes, Gladys, I beseech of you, do
not delay. Bark! They are coming this
way. You must, you shall escape l }
Almost forcibly Le Britta drew the
distracted girl toward the open window.
He lifted her through. The very
moment they reached the ground, a wild
ejaculator of alarm echoed through the
apartment they had just vacated.
"Gone—the girl is not here!" rang out
Durand's excited tones.
"Run—do not tremble so, I will see
you safely beyond that villain's power,
believe me 1" breathed Le Britta, as,
clasping Glady's hand, he started along
the side of the house.
Looking back, however, the photo-
grapher discerned new cause for alarm.
Durand had discovered the avenue of
escape of his fair prisoner, and at that
moment leaped out into the garden.
A little ahead Le Britta made out the
carriage that bad brought him hither. The
horses stood unhitched and no one near
them.
"Gain that vehicle," he spoke,
hurriedly, to Gladys. "Ah 1 here we are.
Quick! jump in"
He tore open the carriage door, and
forced the girl within. Then he made a
spring for the driver's seat.
A quick hand grasped him, however,
a fierce, hissing breath grazed his ear.
"You meddling impostor! Who are
you?"
"Release me." •
in the powerful arms of Durand, held
at a disadvantage, Le Britta could only
struggle helplessly.
A swirling cut on the air mingledwith
a thud and a gasp of dismay, and the
hold of the plotter was suddenly
released.
Turning dismayed, the startled Le
Britta saw a form on the carriage seat
whirl the whip.
He must have just sprang there from
the other side, for it was a stunning
contact from the heavy whip -handle that
had laid Durand prostrate on the ground.
There he lay, dazed, helpless, for the
moment at least.
"Into the carriage, quiok!" ordered
the imperious voice of Le Britta.
"Morey!" breathed the photographer,
with wondering emphasis
"That voice—oh t my wronged love!"
murmured Gladys
"It is Vance!" gasped. Le Britta, as he
sprang into the carriage beside the
trembling excited girl.
Yes, it was Vance, arrived, it seemed,
ejast in time to turn the balance in favor
of imperiled friends.
The horses leaped forward at the crank
of the whip. Speeding down the road
Le Britta ventured a look backward.
"They are following—the other carri-
age!" he ejaculated.
"They shall never overtake us,"
muttered the resolute driver." Gladys,
courage! We are free at last!"
Gladys uttered a joyful cry at her lover's
cheerful tones. with eye,hand and whip,
Vance urged forward the mettled steeds.
Suddenly he brought then; tog halt,
that jarred the vehicle in every spring.
"What is the tronble?" called out Le
33ritta, apprehensively.
"Blocked."
"Row?"
"No bridge. Seel the river—the shore
—but the bridge is down."
"Why?"
"We have taken the wrong road."
"And they are in pursuit!"
"Shall we make a stand?"
"Unarmed? It would be folly."
"Ah;' ex claimed . Vance suddenly.
"Here is a road.""
He directed the horses down a rough,
rutty side -road. He halted a second time,.
dismayed, however, for the horses reared
and plunged as they were met by a
formidable heap of brush piled up directly
in their course.
"No thoroughfare" murmured Le
Britta.
"Then we must make a stand and
fight for it," announced young Vance
determinedly.
He had sprung frons, the carriage swat,
and now tore open the "doer of the
vehicle.
Gladys sprang to hie arms like a flut-
tering, frightened dove.
"Oh, Sydney I fear, I tremble!" she
panted.
"They shallnever tear you from my
side again!" spoke Vance resolutely.
"`The lamp—.extinguish its That '1 as
guided those men after us," olaoulated
Le Britta, suddenly.
"Too late! ,they are coming this way,"
replied Vanoe.
P
Down the road. three forms were
indeed speeding. Durand and his two
villainous adherents:
Hot on the chase, they had located
their prey, whom the taking of a wrong
road shad led into a trap.
"Vance, quick! look here!" spoke Le
Britta, hurredly.
He had been investigating. their sur-
roundings, and not , ten feet down a
shelving bank he discovered the river
renewing swiftly.
TO BID CONTINUED.)
London's .Population.
London's population continues to in-
crease rapidly, but recent census figures
reveal a change in the character of this
growth which has both surprised and
puzzled the English statisticians. Up
to times comparatively recent the city's
increase was chiefly at the expense of
the country districts and of other lands,
the number of births within the metro-
politan limits, when not less than the
number of deaths, being not nearly
enough in excess of it to account for the
annual increment. Thus, in the period
of 1871-80, the increase in population
was more than 100,000 in excess of the
births over the deaths. In the years
1881-90, however, the balance was the
other way, the addition to the popula-
tion being nearly 118,000 less than the
uatural increase. In the period 1891-5
the excess of births over deaths was
230, 000, but the actual increase in the
population was slightly less than 200,-
000. From these figures it appears either
that. London born children are the vic-
tims of an excessive death rate or else
that the opportunities to be found in
the great capital are no longer attractive
enough to satisfy its native inhabitants,
large numbers of whom, therefore, have
been led to seek their fortunes else-
where. The problem is a rather obscure
one, and the new social current has not
yet been flowing long enough to make
easy a determination of its direction,
extent and cause.—New York Times.
Pulverizing Ores.
Two ingenious improvements have
recently been brought to notice in the.
construction of machines for . pulveriz-
ing ores. The peculiarity in this case
consists in having two pulverizing cyl-
inders arranged concentrically, one with-
in the other, capable of being revolved
rapidly in opposite directions, the rate
of speed of the inner cylinder exceeding
that of the outer. The latter is also pro-
vided with a series of inwardly extend-
ing teeth, the inner cylinder having an
outwardly projectingseries oapable of
passing between the teeth of the other
cylinder, the ends of these teeth extend-
ing close to the Fva11s of the cylinders,
thus forming an annular space between
the walls. A slowly revolving feeding
device conducts the ore from a station-
ary hopper into the front end portion of
the annular space, where it is acted
upon by the rapidly moving teeth, sub-
jecting the ore to a continuous series of
hammerlike blows, which break it up.
It is still further reduced by the next
succeeding teeth until the product dis-
charged by the machine is in fine atoms
or dust, the whole being finally bolted.
This mechanism is duo to the ingeni ity
of George A. Cleveland of Providenoe.
—New York Sun.
Philanthropy In Mexico.
The Royal Hospital of Mexico (for In-
dians) was founded 1553. It covered
3g acres—good elbow room for its nor-
mal 220 patients. In the great epidemic
of 1762, by crowding, it cared for 3,361,
and it is still operative. This is but a
beginning in the list. The Benefioencia
Publica alone has charge of ten institu-
tions in the city, on which it expends
$25, 000 a month—like the industrial
school, the school of correction, also in-
dustrial; the asylum of the poor,
whose plain exterior hides a truly
beautiful home for the 900 inmates,
mostly children, who are educated and
given useful trades in an atmosphere of
flowers and music; a hospital for the
wounded, a maternity hospital, a
school for the blind, an insane asylum
for men, another for women, and so on.
It feeds 3,400 people and supervises the
public sale of drink and food. When
the great new hospital—on the French
detached plan, with 35 buildings, 50 feet
apart, at a cost of $809,000—is com-
pleted, the present hospitals, all of
which are very valuable properties, will
be sold.—Charles F. Lummis in Sar -
per's Magazine.
A Clever Impostor.
"Some time ago," says the Philadel-
phia' Record, "a well dressed young
woman was taken ill in the street and
was removed in asupposed dying condi-
tion to a hospital up town. The woman
recovered shortly after admission, and
it was then that a peculiar bleeding of
her gums was noticed. As the doctors
at the hospital had never seen a similar
case, the woman was requested to re-
main that it might be examined. After
several weeks they gave up in disgust,
and the woman was discharged. This
programme had been carried out time
and time again by the woman until she
had visited nearly every hospital in
town. Several physicians became suspi-
cious and, laid a plot which the unsus-
pecting woman walked into. Strict
watch was kept from over a transom,
and just before time for the doctor's
visit she was noticed sticking a large
needle in various parts of her gums. By
the time the doctor arrived her mouth
was in a frightful condition."
WELSH MOUNTAIN SHEEP.
Hardiest and Most Easily Reared Lambe
In Existence,
We find in an English journal, The
Illustrated Penny Paper, a cut and de-
scription of what seems to be one of the
most profitable breeds of sheep to be
found anywhere. From the description
of the Welsh mountain sheep we judge
they would be exceedingly profitable in
the United States, especially among
that too large class of farmers who are
careless with their live stock. The Welsh
sheep is particularly hardy and would
at in. well on poor and rocky lands with
scant herbage. The English writer do
scribes these sheep thus:
In size they are small medium. It
would take a very good early lamb to
weigh 40 pounds in October. Some 1
handled lately were under 30 pounds,
but they were very small and very late
ones. The great cause of the small size
in these sheep is in premature breeding.
It is quite common to see rams running
with and serving lambs not much over 6
mouths old.
The Welsh sheep farmer is nothing if
he is not keen and anxious to multiply
his stock. They cost him scarcely any-
thing. He has a free mountain range
going with his farm, He clips a great
part of his flock twice a year, and he
lFnn That Billed.
In Russia a necessary formality for
the happiness of a newly married couple
is that their parents should be wet from
head to foot. In summer they ere duck-
ed in the nearest river or pond, and in
winter they are usually rolled in the.
snow. At the village of Sysertsky, in
Upha, recently, the wedding guests, be-
ing drunk, as is customary, poured
buckets of water over the bride's father
with the thermometer at 10 degrees be.
low zero, whereof he died.
'WELSH MOUNTAIN LAMBS.
sails his lambs at a very low price before
winter sets in, so as to have uo trouble
about winter keep and care of the flock.
I have seen fair lambs of this breed sold
in the November fairs at 6 and 7 shil-
lings each ($1.50 to $1.75), and the
farmers consider themselves fairly well.
paid for rearing them if they can sell
them for those prices. As to the type,
here are a couple.
Mothers at 10 months old sometimes,
no wonder they run small and product
only one young at a time. Inhabit these
sheep aro quiet and give little trouble,
but they love to be on the tops of the
mountains in fine weather. There is
money in these sheep as lambs for mar.
ket, if any of my readers want an open-
ing. Surely if Welsh mutton in Loudon
is worth 8 pence or 9 pence (16 to 1S
cents) per pound, and if lambs at 25
pounds can be bought for 6 or 7 shillings,
there is money in them. Welsh sheer:
farmers do not get it—not they. It goes
into several pockets on its way to the
family table of the town consumer.
The meat, as the farmers themselves
know it and eat it fresh off the moun-
tains, is delicious. There is no other
mutton like it, and I think for invalids'
fare and for easy digestion it is the ten-
derest and sweetest of flesh foods know
of. The lambs will not fatten to any ad-
vantage. They want a few weeks' good
keep, and then to be killed and eaten
during the early winter months. Of
course the meat is nearly all lean. If
fat there be, it is inside the animal, and
not mixed up with its flesh. Let me de-
pict what some anxious "looker out"
may like to know of a small farmstead,
with a plain and sometimes badly built
cottage on it, attached to 10 or 20 acres
of poorish pasture and arable land in.
some out of the way valley that is rent-
ed at 10 shillings an acre—house, farm-
stead .and all—and that has with its
tenancy a right on the mountains to free
sheep pasturage for, say, 1,000 sheep.
Such farms are quite common in both
North and South Wales.
Horse Heads.
The illustration here given is copied
from a quaint and interesting German
book called the "Guide to a Knowl-
edge of the Exterior of the Horse." The
writer divides horses according to the
shape of their heads into three classes—
LIVE STOCK 'SHIPMENTS..
Mutual Quarantine and Other Regulation*
Between Canada and This Country.
The agreement between the United
States and Canada relating to oattle,
sheep, swine and horses is as follows
Each country shall accept the veterin-
ary certificates of the other.
The chief of the bureau of animal in-
dustry and the chief inspector of stock
for Canada will mutually` inform one
another of any outbreak of contagious
animal disease in either country, or of
disease in animals imported from eithe
country.
21 90 day quarantine shall be enforced
by both countries upon all cattle im-
ported from Europe or from any country
in which contagious pleuropneumonia
is known to exist. A 15 day quarantine
shall be enforced upon all ruminants
and swine imported from countries in
which foot and mouth diseases have ex-
isted within six months and upon all
swine imported from all other countries.
Brooding cattle admitted into this.
country must be accompanied by a cer-
tificate that they have been subjected to
the tuberculin test and found free from.
tuberculosis; otherwise they shall be
detained in quarantine one week and
subjected to the tuberculin test. Al]
cattle found tuberculous must be return-
ed to the country whence shipped or
slaughtered without compensation.
Cattle for feeding or stocking ranches,
must be accompanied by a certificate
showing that they are free from any
contagious disease and that (excepting
tuberculosis) uo such disease exists in'
the district whence they came.
Cattle in transit will be admitted at
any port of the United Status and Can-
ada in bond, or in bond for exportation
by sea from any Canadian pont or from
Portland, Boston and New York.
No animals covered by this memoran-
dum may be placed on board cars till
the litter from previous loads has been
removed and the ear thoroughly cleaned
and disinfected. Inspectors may cause
such work to be done at the expense of
the railway company, or prohibit the
use of cars until it is done.
Sheep may be admitted subject to in-
spection at port of entry and accompa-
nied by official certificates that sheep
scab has not existed in the district where
they have been fed within six months.
If disease exists in any of them, they
may be returned or slaughtered. Sheep
may be admitted for transit in bond
from one port to another in either coun-
try, and, if for slaughter, they may be
admitted without inspection, Subject to
inspection at shipping port, they may
be admitted into either country fox
transit to any shipping 'port in. Canada
for export by sea, or to the United States
for export from Portland, Boston and
New York.
Swine may be admitted without in-
spection for slaughter in bonded cars to
bonded slaughter houses, or when form-
ing part of a settler's effects and accom-
panied by a certificate that swine plague
or hog cholera has not existed within
six months in the district whence they
came. Lacking such certificate, they
must be inspected at port of entry, and,.
if diseased, will be slaughtered without
compensation.
Horses maybe admitted in bond from
one port to another in either country
without inspection at the shipping port.
Horses may be admitted for rasing,
show or breeding purposes on inspection
at port of entry. Horses may be admit-
ted for temporary stay, teaming ox.
pleasure driving at points along the
frontier for a period not exceeding one
week on port of entry permit of customs
officer. Should he observe any cevidence
of disease he will detain the animals
and report to the district inspector, who
will decide whether the animals may be
admitted, and horses used for driving or
riding to or from points in Manitoba,
Northwest Territories or British Colum-
bia on business connected with stock,
raising or mining, and horses belonging
to the Indian tribes, may be admitted
without inspection, but must report to
customs officers both going and coming.
Under all other circumstances horses
must be inspected at port of entry.
RAM'S HEAD, HALF' RAM'S HEAD AND
STRAIGHT HEAD.
the straight head, the ram's head and
the halfram's head. In these three
classes the entire equine race is included.
The writer proceeds to tell us that the
ram headed type is found, today in its.
highest perfection among the various
equine families of Spain and Holstein,
among certain strains of blood in the
horses of. Austria and in Italy.
Belonging to the half ram's head type
we have the Norman, Berber, Russian
and Polish horses.
What the author designates as the no-
blest blooded of all the horses of the
orient are marked by the straight head.
A straight profile in a horse is therefore
like a Greek profile in a human being, a
mark of high birth and aristocracy.
It is agreeable to note that the stock
of young hogs in the country generally
is fully as large as it was a year age.
and probably larger than then. This is
a good thing, for there will be a big lot
of old corer to be eaten up between nov
and next fall.
Best Market Rabbit.
The best market rabbit today is un-
doubtedly the Belgian hare, which is
not a hare at all. The Orange Judd
Farmer says that the young grow very
quickly and at 3 months old will dress
from four to six pounds and, well roast-
ed, are a dish for an epicure. They have
none of the gamy flavor of the wild rab-
bit. The flesh is white, firm, fine grained,
tender and of delicious flavor.
Live Stock Points.
What the silo does is to. furnish a
juicy summer food ,to animals in win-
ter.
When timothy is to be fed to young
animals that want to be pushedalong
rapidly in growth, out it in its first,
blossom. For horses it should be out a
little later, but not so late as the time
of the second blossom.
Silage is palatable and easily digest-,
ed and makes an excellent food, not,
only for milk cows, but for fattening
steers and other animals.
Hay or fodder that is allowed to get
too ripe before cutting loses a fifth of it.,
nourishment.
In spite of the hog disease that rav
aged some sections in 1896, there were+
many more hogs• marketed at leadingl
points than in 1895, and their weight;
averaged probably ten pounds more peh
head. The fact that the price was some
'what lower than the previous year seem!
only to have made the buying more.
lively:
Colman's Rural. World regards the
Poland -China as the typical slog of the
corn and grass belt. It declares that
when the Berkshire and the Poland.,
China are respectively raised for a fen
generations in the belt indicated, they
assume a type very nearly resembling
each other. Still breeders in the central
southern states and those bordering on e
the ' gulf have generally settled down
into the conviction that the Berkshire it
the hoz for them.
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