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The Exeter Advocate, 1897-4-1, Page 6A Bait RIQ11t's ort By Paul Ingelow. Tis"' young n11111 w;as by his side in Lae; e ut, "The river, he /need, with a Stmt. "I could swim, but sh_ _ ;ki; a raft, look' With a ghat cry he returned to Gladys .He- hurried down the bank. Moored there wee a rude raft, and .across it lay a pole. Yount; Vanes, estiniated the dictanee aerate: tilt strewn, It was not far, but; ev"th some apprehen- sion, he noted the swift central current of the river. • "They are cnmiug, •' announced Le 13zittat!eine; downs the road. "01.ely.4. It , dosed.: ,aboard" • "Olt. evenly. it reeee--is it safe?" "It is aur oily, our last resource, my .friend Le &eritu '— Vance untied the rope, secured the raft to 1 t;ce, and se: ed the pole. lie tried to told the ruse ,raft stationary for the nh.tegr phee to join hies. At jure that moment their purcuors cense up to the spat. Durand spinan„ boldly down the slope. "Rush nn them! e,Sze Vance, Secure the girl he raved, ex t !y. "Baek,stand back! ordered 1 ISritsa. He had seized a tecundt of o nee Is -lug can the beach. Title he seetzer :e..t.t his he,ni, keeping the pletier s.,.t ..: rt- wily at bay. 'pole out, never mind ttVel" 1he shouted to his aI t u .e all the s There seemed no mad ef tea injune- tion. The raft had iloet,.- i from :stone the rope once ostial, .lust a:: it was drawn into the central carie nt of the stream, ft cry of alarm rang aceass the still waters. "Mercy!" ga ire d the petrified Le Britta The branch with which he had kept Durand at bay theeeeti from hip nerve- • less. fingers, and tilt latter, like hiulue!f, abandoned the conflict to watch the raft in mid -stream. In that mad swirl of waters the guid- ing oar had been suddenly swept from Sydney Vance's grasp. At the complete mercy of the rushing vortex, the raft circled, toppled, swept wildly forward, Le Britta could see the terrified Gladys tiling to her lover. The face of the latter was white with :anxiety, "They are lost!" rang from the lips of Durand, as be rad down the shore, all heedless of Le Britta, to keep the im- periled refugees in sight. "The falls!" echoed the tones of one of his fellow -plotters from the embank- ment above. They are doomed!" A groan of horror burst from Le Britta's lips, He saw the raft whirl around. It was borne out of sight, it seemed to dip, it shot past an intervening rook, and when it appeared beyond, making fast and furious for the falls, the brave lover of Gladys Vernon, the beautiful orphan heiress herself, had been swallowed up by those dark waters! CHAPTER XILV.—NEARING THE END. "Whyl where are the folks?" Jere Le Britta asked the question in a tone of profound surprise, one morning, two days after the occurrence of the tragic events at the river side. Els face was pale and anxious, Ms manner grave, haunted with the grief and uncertainty that comes from solicitude, care and disappointment, and be had jest reached his home door -step, and had peered through the open win- dows to find the usual joyous laughter of the little ones aabunt, the happy, gentle face of his beloved helpmate nowhere in sict. .A servant had suet him with a wane:e ging grin. "" Mrs. Le 'Br eta are! the children have gone, air," was h,_ aeety to the photog- rap;trr's quick query. ":trona:''' "3e•. 5r." To a pienie. The doctor and Miss Maud would talo ,•J111. Tha-v have gone to laomsm=-deet .h. t i. ss. lh'y didn't expect you ]some, eiz.' Le Britta sn.[ •i trifle siully. He pursued l z-;inge ci enileiently to know just where he wo 11.3. them, he brushed up his mt.. disordered attire, proceeded to a livery stable,and was saran speeding down a smooth, broad road, intent on joining the loved ones in their brief summer entire:. It was a beatsful day, but Le Britta's heart was scarcely in harmony with its peaceful loveliness. A. deep sadness haunted his heart, a fervent grief racked his thoughts. .After all his earnest efforts to aid Gladys Vernon. it seemed as if fate had ordained a terrible destiny for the poor, persecuted child of fortune. For that scene at the riverside had found a most tragic: ending, Running down its shores, endeavoring to keep in sight the rushing raft, the surface of the stream, in appalled horror, the photog- rapher had arrived at tlse falls, to see the frail craft dashed to pieoes on the rocks below, and its late unfortunate occu- pants nowhere in view. Everything was forgotten in the dis- taste of the hour. Durand, white to the lips with dread, sought side by side with the anguished Le Britta for some trace of the missing lovers. Long before dawn, every member of the searching party has decided that the bodies of the refugees had been swept miles away down the turbulent river, below the falls. Durand disappeared ere Le Britta could find heart to condemn him for all his plotting and cruelty that had availed his Finked soul naught, but had brought death to two loving creatures. All the next day Le Britta sought vainly for some trace of them, and then, overwhelmed with grief, he prooeeded to Hawthorne villa, acquainted Gladys' Wends, the lawyer and the doctor with else details of the tragedy, and returned madly homeward. Little hear4 had he in festivity, but befeltthat he needed the sympathy of sa loving wife and friend amid his dark sorrow. Ile drove along the smooth country road toward Pomme-de-terra cliffs, .realizing gene. i y that his efforts in behalf of the wreeeed and persecuted victims of .Crime had failed of one tangible result. "Gladys and Vance dead, Durand free, the fortune gone! he murmured, de- pressed and tad. It ends the case In f,'iouin and etisttetee.' .Ponnme-ticete re (dills was a typical picnic ground. The :;tuffs, the river and grand alternations of forest and'` plain mado it doubly attractive, and even at e. distance the thoughtful Le Britta could make out gay tittle parties of pleasure - seekers. At last, near the old rustic iota r att the river he can 1st sight familiar 11iar g 5 dress, a pretty blending of bine and amber he had often adinired on bis charming helpmeet. He drove the horse to a shady greet>, dismounted, and approached the eool spot near the river. ,Tyree,, old friend!.' "Melt!" exclaimed Le Britta, turning 1 sharply as, making his way toward the river, he wasi suddenly challenged. j Dr. Richard Milton grasped Le Brava's I hand heartily, kliti kc'u eyes scanned his 1 friend's face, penetratingly. "Yon have bad nets, Jera," be remarked, "I can sat it in your eyes." "Yes, Dick," replied the photographer, loohnily, "the very worstc g newv.. but itrnust not distress the little ones and our friends yonder. ,I have no right to bring eloont upon Their enjoyment" "You Ii;latit tell mo, all the s'uue," perelettel the decto'; end- forthwith he led hie friend to a eraeey knoll, where Le Britta soon related all his tragic. story. Dnetor Milton listened with 't grave, startled fate. Ile et,uld not enamel! hitt deep distress and agitation 'when the photographer had coin:endded his graphic reeitai. "Too bad!" he commented, "for I was just bo xiuuin tics see some very ' bright light sin a very dart. inneet.'. "Ceneerning this exile theme?„ "1.110 emote caeel, 1'a a" "1 do not understand roti, ,e-ketry "Yen remember t1,' tramp?'' "Dave Wharton': Yes" "Anel his daughter?" "Poor, brave e iiiei! 1 eau never forget her" "YOU know, when you left use, I prowuieed to look after diem?" "Which, of course, you did" "Yes; but I could not spare the time to go to the deserted cabin where they lived, and. I eemoved them nearer home, near here, in a pleeeant cottage, in fact" "Always kind as ever to the ponr in distress, Diek!" murmured Le L'ritta, earnestly. ""The little one f:nsei/anted me with her patieuec and affeetion. 1 fended 1 might operate and re -tare her sight. At all events, the serious illness of her father called for grave attention—I reusoved thein, as 1 say." "And the tramp?" "Got decidedly better. I went to the cottage one day to witness a touching scene. The little child was kneeling by his bedside praying for him, and he was in tears. I thought it a good time to tell hien all. I did so. I made him realize all you had done for him; I made him com- prehend the importance of his proving Ralph Durand the murderer of old Gideon Vernon. From that moment, he seemed a changed man. Thoughtful, silent, he would mysteriously say when I broached the subject of the missing fortune; "Wait till Mr. Le Britta comes back.' One day be disappeared, to return two days later. Since then, be has been in a feverish state of excitement to see you. Your folks wanted an outing and I brought them here. The blind child and her father are with them in the grove yonder. I am curious to learxi what revelations Wharton has to make to you, "for I believe that they are important, and refer to the Vernon case." • "Alas!" murmured Le Britta, broken- ly, "of what avail are revelations, now that Gladys and Vance are bothdeadi" He accompanied the doctor to the little group near tberiver, however. There was a hearty greeting, and it was only after wife and children and pretty Miss Maud had overwhelmed him with anxious ques- tions that he found time to speak to the little blind girl. Her angelic face lit up with delight at his friendly tones. Her father looked like a new man in proper clothing, with the signs of his former dissipation vanished from his face, as, gravely, anxiously, he said— "Mr. Le Britta, I wish to speak to yea confidentially. Le Britta led the way from the spot. "It's about the treasure, the hundred thousand dollars," spoke the tramp; "you see"— There was an interruptinn. As he spoke a wild form clashed through the trees across their path. It was that of a girl, young, pale, beautiful. With a terrified shriek she ran toward them, clasping her hands pireous- ly,gazing back as if apprehensive of pur- suit. "Save me!" she cried, wildly, "oh, save sue!" Jera Le Britta ricoiled as he regarded the forlorn figure before him. For, wonder of wonders, the dead mine to life, the grave robbed of its victim, it was— GLADYS VERNONI CHAPTER XLVI.—RETRIBUTION. "Save mel" repeated the frantic Gladys Vernon, and then recogizing Le Britta, she tottered bank to a tree, and stood there, dumbfounded. "Miss Vernon!" gasped Le Britta, "I thought"— "I was dead? drowned! yes! yes!" interrupted Gladys, incoherently, "but we escaped the flood by gaining the rocks in the center of the river near the falls But he is hurt—he is in peril!" "He? whom?" queried Le Britta, curi- ously "Sidney—Mr Vance That man—do not let him take me—help" "Hello!" There was a crash in the wood, and a form burst into view, panting, excited, evil -eyed With the startled ejaculation the new- comer,Ralph Durand, stared at Le Britta "You here!" be scowled, darkly; "always the marplot of my destiny 1 That girl! She is my legal ward I demand her possession" "Never!" cried Le Britta, placing a sheltering arm about the pale and terri- fied orphan "We shall seat'" raved Durand "Ahl yore have friends So have I, and theyare within call What do you want?' About to utter a signal' to his boasted friends, evidently at a near distance, Ralph Durand started hack,asLeBritta's companion advanced toward him. His eyes fined steadfastly upon his face, the tramp uttered the ominous words— "At last! you are the man I" At the same time he put forth a hand as if to seize the ruffian. "Eh? What's this gibberish ?" scowled Durand. ' I say you are the mans" "What man'' ` "The.murderer of old Gideon Vernon! Isis: Le Britta, I solemnly assert that I' identify this man as the assassin of the master of Hawthorne villa. Seize him! 17onot allow him to escape!" At the ringing words of the tramp, Ralph Durand recoiled. Pale as death b:. regarded Wharton with apprehension "Wbat mummery is this." he choked otic, a°rfr�'tr?XiX`E�s'n "No mummery, Ralph Durand," spoke Inc Britta, sternly. "Our friend speaks the truth. Providenee bus destined this strange meeting, for this man was a wit- ness to the tragedy that robbed Gideon Vernon of his life.' ".lo is falsol" "lt is true!" Ralph Durand had recoiled step by step This accusation Ineaning peril and arrest, caused ]ecru to nsonhentarify forgot the ohjoet of his intrusion. "Hold on! You do not get away so easily " spoke the tramp, springing lu his path. Stand back!" "No, you are my prisoner—an assassin You sinall answer to justice." "I will not!" There was a quick struggle No equal in his weak unnerved condition for the swarthy Durand, the tramp was sent reeling back trans the eonfliot "Horrors!" ejaculated Le Britta as simultaneously, there echoed forth the sharp report of a ilre-arm, "Isle has IclIle:i him 1 " He glanced apprehensively' at the pros- trate Wharton, and then at the smoking revolver in Durand's hand. Had the miscreant added another crime to the long list as a fit finale to his career of wickedness:" \o, for Wharton regained his feet unhurt, but .Durand.. with a frantic cry of pain and einem, reeled whore he stood, toppled and tell prone to the earth "Whitt hate happened?" panted the ter- rifled Gladys "Retribution I" pronounced a solemn voice, and Dr Richard Milton appeared on the scene "Dick!" murmured Le Britta "I witnessed the appearance of this. metal hastened hither He is Ralph Dur- and!" los" "He leas. met his doom" "" Why„— "Do you not see.? In drawings, weapon to resist aur friend, \\'harton,he exploded it accidetally. Swearing will do you no good, any snap," added the dootor, kneel- ing beside the prostrate Durand, who was raving wildly. 'You had better be think- ing of your sins instead of adding to their enormity." "Will I die?" queried the shuddering craven. Doctor Milton examined a gaping wound in the chest. "There is no use in deceiving you. Your hours are nuninerod," spoke the doctor, gravely. "Make your peace with earth and heaven, for you will not survive an hour" A frightened expression came into the wounded man's face at this statement All the defiance and rascality of his nature seemed to ebb to the most cowardly shrinking, as he found his feeble strength pitted against that of the grim destroyer, death. It was only when Le Britta began to talk to him that he became more calm. As the honest -hearted photographer de- picted his evil deeds, the results of their enactment, the possible restitution within his power, the evil face broke in the intensity of his malignant hate. He began to whimper, be sobbed, he broke down utterly, and then, reluct- antly, with late atonement for his evil deeds, he admitted the truth of the tramp's testimony, and in the presence of witnesses, acknowledged the fearful crime that had robbed old Gideon Vernon of his life. Gladys shrank in horror from him, the others regarded him as a monster. Le Britta alone strove andpleadod with that wicked spirit in its last hour of earthly experience. He prayed fervently for the soul speed- ing its way unshriven to the Creator whose laws it had violated; he tried to make Durand realize what he owed of penitence and subnsi: sign and penalty to outraged justice, Saint and sinner, thus they remained until Doctor Milton touched his friend on thcarm,whispering softly:— "B e hears you oftly:— "Behearsyou no longer—he is dying." Thus passed away the man who had paused so much woe to many human hearts, in his last moments revealing the fact that the secret he held over Gideon Vernon was a forged note, purpnrting to have been executed by his dead son. The tramp and Doctor Milton mean- time, had :•athered from Gladys the story of her escape from tlhe island in the river' with her lover, their flight,the pundit of Durand and his allies, their capture, and her last escape. They went with her to the mill, and there, guarded by Durand's two acoom- plioes, they found Sydney Vance, a bound prisoner, He was soon released, and the two men, acquainted with the details of Durand's doom, made no resistance when threatened with arrest if they did not accompany them to the presence of Le Britta. Like a judge on the bench, the photog- rapher disposed of their cases. He made those hardened, villains blush for their meanness in 'a" %insetting a poor orphan girl. He showed them how their sin, dis- covered, had failed of any reward, and he bade them appear at the inquest the next day, ander penalty of being arrested for their share in dead Ralph Durand's iniquitous plots. There were no further festivities that day, for thetragic oecnrrence of the hour. had cast a gloom over the little company. Then, too, the forlorn condition of Gladys and ''Vance required attention. Their wild flight and lack of rest and food had made them pale and fatigued, and Le Britta insisted on an immediate return to town. What a warm welcome the desolate Gladys received from the gentle -hearted Mrs.Le Britta, and how sisterly and kind was the sympathetic Maud! That night, like a cluve returned to its nosy home -cote after storm, wreck, and peril,the beautiful orphan slept as seren- ely under the roof of the happy Le Britta, as if housed under her own mother's loving care. CHAPTER XLVIL--CONCLUSION. Wedding chimes! • Jera Le Britta laid down the book he had been reading, arranged. ' tie and gloves at a mirror. and prepared to descend to the drawing .rooms of Haw- thorne villa,' as into its open windows was wafted the clear slivery jangle of ".Bells bells, bolls! wedding bells— What a world of happiness their melody foretells 1" Six months have passed since the day that the family picnic' terminated in a tragedy, and strange and startling events have occurred since that time. As in a dream, the photographer paus- ing on the broad stairway of Gladys Vernon's regal home, surveyed the throng below, reflecting on the happiness it engaged in, and thanked heaven for his involuntary part in bringing it all about. From the Hour that Gladys Vernon 'he-, came f inxuate an o the Le Britta home, her troubles seemed to dissipate. The identification of the tramp st Ralph .Durand a the real assassin of her falter, the eonfes ioii of the villai;v himself, and the additional testimony of his two ooward.ir accomplices, was sufli- ciont to clear the proud name of syduey Vance of every statin of seeming guilt. The world knew the truth at last. The world impulsively bestowed the hero's crown on the brave, single -hearted man, who, for pure love of his fellow -beings, had risked lite and fortune to rescue a friendless orphan from the power of a scheming scoundrel. In bis gentleness of soul, ,Tera Le Britta could notbut forgive Durand's two emissaries, and with an impressive warning he bade them go and sin no nhoro. To the sinister Meredith, however, he gavo - a-- ttern, eonuonlacor'y lecture that checked his raseality and made him atone far the crimes he had com- mitted. The culminating point in the entire CARO was the final revelation oQ Wharton, the tramp. It woe the prrniuction of the Iniseing hundred thousand dollars. His explanation was simple. Tim very night that Le Britta had been shut up in the iron vault by Darius Meredith, the tramp had surreptitiously entered the place and recovered the . stolen packet of which he hied been robbed. Six months past by in straightening out the tangle of the Vernon fotuue, and now, with the past only a dark memory, with the future a path of flowers, illu- mined with golden sunshino,t;ladys Ver- non was about to wed the man she so dey ved, ThatvotedlafGclornoon, :cera Le Britta, an honored invited guest, had taken a pie- turo at the villa that was to be a rare memento of the photographic art as well as a treasured souvenir. It showed Gladys in fair bridal array, it showed brave, staalwvart Sydney Vance by her side, proud and happy, in the company of the ono woman he had ever loved. The tramp, the new Dave Wharton, petrified by Buttering, open-faced in the pride of reformation, was a lay figure in the background, where also lingered the modest Doctor Milton, pretty Mies Maucl smiling by Ms side. Le Britta was compelled to officiate at the camera, of course, so he was repre- sented by his beautiful wife and two loving cherubs. And in the foreground, her face like that of an angel, beaming, grateful, serene, :vas the little blind girl,and a 1.10W expression do those gentle eyes told that faithful Doctor Milton's patient work had brought a result, and she saw God's blessed sunlight once more, and was the happiest of all God's blessed creatures, in all the wide, wide world, that lovely spring morning! "Oh! what we awe you, Mr. Le Brit- ta!" murmured Gladys, as she placed her tremulous hand upon his arse. "See what your sacrifice and perseverence have wrought—happiness for 'half -a -score of people. We oan never thein,: youl" "Not to nee," replied the photog- rapher, gravely, "but to heaven we must be grateful. Its instruments are ahoseu and armed, and wrong will always be crucified in the end, right must triumph. I have done my duty—its reward makes this day seem like the days that will dawn, never to fade beyond the gates that aro ever ajar!" Wedding bells! How they rang out How they echoed in the ears of the joyful coterie of friends who at eventide bade happy Gladys Vance a brief adieu! The heart of Jera Le Britta was too full for utterance as they drove home- ward in the gloaming, Victory had crowned his efforts, success promised in the practical every -day Iife ahead, health, prosperity, and happiness were his. To work with men, to work for men —what a glad existence! To better the condition of humanity in his daily tasks, how calm, how radiant the results! Pinion -poised, across their path, as he reflected, a lark sprang from the heather. Up it arched, flying straight into the. face of the calm and holy stars. So the soul of the thinker seemed to soar to higher life, to nobler ambitions and im- pulses. He followed the quick flight of the bird. It seemed a promise for the future, a lessen from the past. For, amid the glory of the spangled night, the lark seemed singing at the gates of heaven! THE END. A Criticism on Coleridge. My opinion as to the Lecturer is that He possesses a great reach of mind; . That He is a wild Enthusiast respecting the ob- jects of his Elogiuin; That He is some- times very eloquent, sometimes paradox- ical, sometimes absurd. His voice has something in it particularly plaintive and Interesting. His person is short, Thick, his countenance not inspirited with any Animation. Ho spoke without any Assist- ance from a manuscript, and Therefore said several Things suddenly, struck off from the Anvil. some of which were enti- tled to high Applause and others Incurred mental disapprobation. He too often In- terwove Himself into the Texture of his Lecture. I formed an Acquaintance with Him: that is, I generally spoke to Him at the End of the Lecture—with which He appeared much pleased. He was in some respect, I told Him one day. like Abelard. —Jorningham Letters, 1780-1848, The Horse and the Wheel. "After all, there's a close affinity be- tween the bicycle and the horse." "How so?" "I saw a redheaded bloomer girl today, send there were three white bicycles direct- ly behind her."—Truth. Iris Noble Title. Lord Leighton, when asked by what title be would be called to the upper house, at once replied, "I ani a workingman and cannot afford to change my name, which is my trademark," There result many minor social confusions when the altera- tion In status is accompanied by an altera- tion of the patronymic. When, for in- stance, Sir Jaynes lideGarel-Hogg, raised to the peerage undo" the title of Lord Mag- heramorne, first dined oat 'with his new dignity, the Vietnam, unable to master the sound, bub refusing to be beaten, an- nounced, "The rate Sir James MoGarel- t ogg. "--San Fraanclen Argonaut. Obeying Ceders. Kind Lady --.Ah, i� you had only done what your another told you, you might not ce in thlesituation. Conviet—I don't know. She told mo to eo out into the worth and shake money.-- 3etrolt Free Press. SADDLER AND. DRIVER. The Combined north Can Be Bidden. and Driven Equally wen. A horse with all the saddle gaits that isproperly broken to harness and showing therein. only a clear trot l S called a combined horse. It should be. as Much within, the scope of a combined horse's usefulness to pall behind a col- lar as to carry weight. There is today a demand unsupplied' for this animal. The best saddle horses produced the past five years, as attested TA:LL:NUADGE Ann nIS MUSE. by the awards in the gaited classes at the largest fairs and shows, have all been good drivers, and the majority of them saddle bred on one side only. This makes the breeding of the combined horse within the reach of all, provided they insist upon stallion owners adding a saddle horse to their studs. A colt that is intensely saddle bred will de- cline to trot. This is to be avoided, as the trot is the foundation of all gaits. Therefore a toppy, square gaited, active trotting mare is a good beginning for a combined horse. Speed is not essential here. Spirit, together with what is known as a level head, is much to be preferred. Pacing wares should never be used as a medium to bring forth a combined. colt. The trot and the rack are similar. When performing at the rack, each leg moves independently of the other, the front legs out straight, with very much the same action as the trot, except that they move faster. When you trot the saddle horse, you improve his rack. Therefore it is not harmful, as many stoutly affirm, to work or drive a saddle horse. On the other hand, no saddle horse is altogether safely and properly broken until he has had sufficient ex - HOLDING THE imam perience in harn'ws to teach him that what is behind him will not hurt him. By careful word: with your horse, both under saddle and in harness, youwill be surprised how seen ho will understand to properly perform in the dual role. A snaffle only should be used in harness. And as it is the same bit he has been trotted on under saddle, ho will take and. keep this gait without a word. from you. Ilse the double bit when riding. These two bits, when properly adjusted, axe much less severe ou the horse than the single curb, and by its use you are better enabled to commemicate to your horse, he knowing what gait you wish him to take from the lines you give the pressure on. To properly handle the lines with two bits, take the reins in the left hand at the place where they are joined, the curb lines being sewed together and held inside the snaffle lines, which are buckled. When seated in the saddle, put the fingers of the right hand inside the curb rein, the thumb on out- side of snaffle, simply holding the reins while you take them up properly with the left hand by putting the little finger between the snaffle and curb reins on the left side, the third finger between the two curb reins, the middle finger between the curb and snaffle on the right side and bringing all four reins which have passed between the fingers up on the side of the index finger and held firmly in place by the thumb of the same hand, with right hand. After drawing the reins in as much as needed (never hav- ing removed it from the ends of the reins) put the third finger between the two right hand reins, the second be- tween the snaffles and the first finger between the two left hand reins, all held in front of the left hand, leaving the thumb and little finger free to grasp the whip, which must be carried as nearly horizontal as possiblb. Always ride with both hands on the reins, the right in front of the left, but LEFT HAND. always take your right hand away from the reins if you wish to use your whip or hand for any other purpose, returning it to place as soon as possible. 111'2,e :, reinsare alwa s held linin bythe�r ibu� y of the left hand holding tliem in place,' A11 this can be pat into action muc easier than one would. suppose. Practice; holding the ,lines by first plaoing the bridleon the doorknob with the door ajar. The door i11 r es onat o the turn- ing movements.. To make a double bridle take your single curb bit riding bridle, It is to be supposed that this bit is a mild, straight stein curb with chin curb strap, Slip a bridoou 'with snaffle bit through; the brow baud loops. With a set of lines for each bit, place both bits in the horse's mouth.' By holding your snafile lilies a little short you will get the best results, except in the rack, when the greater pressure should be on the .curb reius. This manner of bitting is all essential for the proper handling of the combined horse. With a very little extra time, which to a lover of a horse should bo a pleas - are, colts OM be nearly doubled. in Value by the additional training udder saddle if intended for the market, but if inept at home they will be a source of pleas- ure and health to every member of the family The combined mare Lou Chief, with band color an,drlking, but with size, style, dash, good conformation and meddlers, sold for $8,000. Patsey Mo- Cord sold last mouth for $1, 500. --Frank Tallmadge in National Stockman. Stock at the lards. The Chicago stockyards handled 2,600,476 cattle in 189x, au increase of 11,918 over the receipts of the previous year. Native beef steers averaged $4.05 against N. 50 in 1895. Prices for this class ranged from $2,90 to $6. 50. It was a year of low values, owing to de- pression st ion at home and the lowest prices abroad for the past five years. Bottom was touched in March, viYhen good to choice steers olid not average over $8.75.. Values for good cows and heifers have fluctuated within uaa.'row limits, and the difference in price between steers and heifers of equal quality has materially lessened. While the receipts of steers have increased, cows havecome to mar- ket in lesser numbers than last year. Female stocks have been reserved for breeding, and this should stimulate the deutandl for hulls. Receipts of Texans decreased 36,000 and northwestern rangers fell off 100, 000. The export trade largely increased, showing a gain of 54 per cent over the previous year: The number tagged for export ww-ats 243,- 800. This foreign demand continues strong, and the situation is encouraging for the Bolder of well fatted cattle. The highest prices of the year were paid in December, and the advance has been marked since the opening of the present year. Feed' For Cows. A cow's food should contain about 14 pounds of starch, 2,6 pounds of nitrogen and ono -quarter pound of fat, the latter in. most ended being found in a large enough quantity in the former two. Farmers who have used silos for the storing of their fodder find that their expense attending the feeding of the cows bythis method is trivial compared with beets. Protection to the cattle in the winter is of special importance for the maintenance of a standard product. Tho starch in a cow's food acts as a fuel, but not sufficient to keep the .animal's temperature at normal. Experiments have proved that cows kept in the fields, although eating more than those pro- tected in the barn, drop one-half in thole production in three months, while those in the barn remain at standard anti con- sume no more than usual. Mauy farm- ers complain of stringy milk and are at a loss to understand it. Itis because the cow's udder is not cleaned as often as it should: be, and when she is milked the musty dray from her bedding, which has colleoted on her udder, drops inthe pan, with stringy milk resulting. Elandling a Jack. Concerning the procreative capacity of the jack when. moved about from place to place, a well known authority says: The best results from stftuding a jack are derived by putting him in a good, roomy paddock, with a nice, clean, dry box stall in, which the door is never closed. Let plenty of grass and good, pure water always be present and feed a good sheaf or shelled oats and bran ra- tion. The moving the jack around from place to place will not interfere with his producing colts if he is properly handled and not moved fax enough to tire him materially. In moving him move slowly and see that he is not over- heated and that he is permitted to cool off before being used to mares. Be sure not to overbroed, as this injures him more than all else. It is colts you want, ., not services. Twice a day and not near- er together than eight hours will bring the best results. Live Stock Points. If New York had only a few royalties to enter beasts annually at the live stock show, what a howling success it would be, instead of the unfortunate orphan it is now. The Four Hundred would flock in droves to gaze in un- speakable awe and admiration upon the big hog of the Prince of Wales or the fat heifer of her majesty the queen, and all the rest of New York's lower mil- lion would follow suit. Even a swine belonging to his royal highness would be an object of adoration to first society. Why do not the managers of this poor starveling show take the hint and get Albert Edward to send a pig or some other beast to their display? It would be. thousands in their pockets. Live stook, association managers in Great Britain understand this very well, and royal and noble names aro always among the lists of mei biters there. For instance, the ustee0at cattle show at Islington this year Nw cls a great success, with 574 entries. We know why it was a great success when we road that among the animals were specimens belonging to the queen, the Prince of Wales, the Doke of York and Lord Rosebery. Pacing horses .aro not in demand for Europe. They have never become the. fashion yet, and few European parse' fanciers know what they are; It is the verdict of good judges that J g auction sales for swine are not an un- mitigated success.