Loading...
The Exeter Advocate, 1898-12-16, Page 2eve Ems ram. Ertit ',.5:010Erayatg J1aLt„,5 CLARE q,! ens late .. v�U . 4 f F F€NNOZC I�{ 4.4 "But, after all," thought the magas-' trate, "Buenos Ayres is one of the mar- kets for English goods." "That is a hat bought at Sydney," Blades (who bad understood) explained, Before the bold, decided, almost vio- Ient affirmations which Mme, Colard made that this was certainly the seller' of the portrait the young man lost coun- tenance a little. lie kept saying over and over: "You deceive yourself, Madame, I have never spoken to you. I have never seen you," When M. Uinory asked her if she, still persisted in saying that this was the man who had sold her the picture, she said: "Do I still persist? With my neck. under the guillotine I would persist." And she kept repeating: "I am sure of it. I am sure of it." This preliminaryexaminatieil brought "beet no deeisive result. It was cer- tain if this pertraie had been in that posers:ii.aa tri this young man and Leen sold by hint that he (Charles Prades) was an ae ecmplice of Dentin's, if nee the author cf the crixue. They ought, then, to be brought face to face, and possibly deli might bring about an inn- mediate result. Alta why not have this [meeting take place at oafs ce, before Prade:i was sent. where Dentin was, at Matas? M. Ginory,who had uttered this word "alazas," noticed the expre:siou of terror which flashed across and suds denly transfigured the young man's face, Prides s';emen?red: "Then—yea will held me? Then --I cam not free?" M, Ginory did not reply. Fie gave a order that this Prades ehc?uld beguarde., until the arrival of Dentin from Bazar In di,:az°lee. irl that walled priseu, i the cell which bad already glade lam; ill, Jimmie; Dentin spat. ¶this man wi;l the trooper'., air st timed almost to be in si state of cutlet:eh When the guard'! came to his cell, he drew himself t.d' and endeavored to collect all his energy, and when the deer was opened and he. was called lie appeared quite like him- self. When he saw the prison wagon which had brought him to Mazes and now awaited to take him to the Palais. de Justice, be instinctively recoiled; then, recovering himself, be entered the narrow vehicle. The idea, the sensation, that be was to near all this life, yet so far—that. he was going through these streets, fil- ed with carriages, with men and women. who were Lee --gave him a desperate, a nervous, sense of irritation. The air which they breathed he breathed and felt fan his brow, but through a grating. They arrived at the plait', and Jacques Dentia recognized the staircases which he bad previously mounted that led to the examining mag- istrate's rot in. He entered the narrow room where M. Ginory awaited him. Dentin saluted the magistrate with a gesture which, though courteous, seem- ed to have a little bravado in it, as a salutation with a sword before a duel„ Then he glanced around, astonished to see between two guards a man whom he did not recognize. M. Ginory studied them. If be knew this Prades, who also curiously return- ed his look, Jacques Dentin was a great comedian, because no indication, not the slightest involuntary shudder, not the faintest trace of an expression of having seen him before, crossed his face. Even M. Ginory's keen eyes could detect nothing. He had asked that Ber- nardet be present at the meeting, and the little man's face, become serious, almost severe, was turned, with eager interrogation in its expression, toward Dentin. Beruardet also was unable to detest the faintest emotion which could be construed into an acknowledgment of ever having seen this young man be- fore. Genet illy prisoners would uncon- sciously permit a gesture, a glance, a something to escape them when they were brusquely confronted unexpectedly with some accomplice. This time not a muscle of Dantiu's face moved, not an eyelash quivered. M. Ginory motioned Jacques Dentin to a seat directly in front of him, where the light would fall upon his face. Pointing out Prades, he asked: "Do yon recognize this man?" Dentin, after a second or two, re- plied: "No; I have never seen him." "Never?" "I believe not. He is unknown to me." "And yon, Prades, have you ever seen Jacques Dentin?" "Never," said Prades, in his turn. His voice seemed hoarse compared with the brief, clear response made by Dan - tin. "He is, however, the original of the portrait which you sold to Mme. Co - lard. " "The portrait?" "Look sharply at Dentin. Look at him well," repeated M. Ginory. "You must recognise that he is the original of the portrait in question." "Yes," ,grades replied. His eyes were fixed upon the prisoner. ".Ah 1" the magistrate joyously ex- olaineed, asking, "And how, tell me, did you so quickly recognize the origi- nal of the portrait which you saw only an instant in my room?" "I do not know," stammered Prades, not comprehending the gravity of a question put in an insinuating, almost amiable, tone. "Oh, well," continued M. Ginory, still in a conciliating tone, "I am go- ing to explain to you. It is certain that you recognize these features because you had a long time in which to bon IleMplate them ; because you had it a Chin long time iia your hands when you were trying to pull off the frame." "Tile frame? What frame?" askedthe. young Haan, stupefied, not taking his eyes from the magistrate'sfaee, which seem- ed to him endowed with some occult in n• power. M M. Ginory went o.... , "The frame which you had trouble in removing, since the scratches show in the wood, And what if, after taking the portrait to Mme. Colard's shop, wo should find the frame in question at AA, other place, at some other shop? That would not be very difficult," And , Ginory smiled at Beruardet; "What if we could add another new deposition, to that of Mme. Colard's? Yes; what if to that clear, deeisive deposition we could add another—what would you have to say?" Silenee.t Prudes turned his head around; his eyes wandered about, as if searching to find an outlet or a support, gasping like a naau who bas been in- jured, Jaeques Dentin looked at him at the same moment when the magistrate, with a glance keener, more piercing than ever, seemed. to seareh his very Foul, The young man was now pallid tad aazax=aauarel, it lenth Prades prauonneed some words. What did he want of hien? What frame was he talking cf and who was this otharadealer of wherein the mag- istrate spoke incl whoa] he had ealled a s Bend rinse;' Where was this witness with "the new depasitien?" "_ Rae is eairna�l;;la," he said, ca„tract; A feroekms leant at Mnie. Cotard, wino, on a ellen front t, Ginory, had entered, pale and full of fear.. Ile added in a nreuaeing tone: "One is even too auuch,” The lingers of his -right lewdcontract- , as if amend a, knife handle. At this "Idou deceive yourself." moment Bernardet, who was studying each gesture which the man made, was conviueecl that the murderer of Rovers was there. He saw that hand armed with the knife, the one which had been found inhis pocket, striking hisvi.ctim, gashing the ex -consul's throat.. But, then, Dentin? An accomplice, without doubt; the head, of which tbn adventurer was the arm. Because in the dead man's eye Dentin's image ap- peared, reflected as olear proof, like an accusation, showing the person who was Iast seen in Revere's supreme agony, Jacques Dentin was there. The eye spoke. Mme. Colard's testimony no longer permitted a1. Ginory to doubt, This Charles Prarles was certainly the man who sold the portrait, Nothing could be proved except that the two men bad never met. No sign of emotion showed that Dantin bad ever seen the young man before. The latter alone betrayed himself when he was go- ing to Mazes with the original of the portrait painted by Hendry. But, however, as the magistrate nn- , derlined it with precision, the fact alone of recognizing Dentin constituted against Prades a new charge. Added to the testimony, to the formal affirmation of the shopkeeper, this charge became grave. Coldly M. Ginory said to his registrar, "An order!" Then, when Favorel had taken a pa- per engraved at the top, which Prades tried to decipher, the magistrate began to question him, and as M. Ginory spoke slowly Favorel filled in the blank places which made a free man a prisoner. "You are called?" demanded M. Gi- nory. "Prader." "Your first name?" "Henri." "You said Charles to the commissary of police." "Henri Charles—Charles—Henri." The magistrate did not even make a sign to Favorel, seated before the table, and who wrote very quickly without M. Ginory dictating to him. "Your profession?" continued the magistrate. "Commission merchant." "Your age?" "Twenty-eight." "Your residence?" "Sydney, Australia." And upon this official paper the replies were filled in one by one in the blank places: Court of the First Instance of the Department of the Seine: We, Fame -Armand- Georges Ginory,exam- Warrant of commit• ining ia;islratoofthe ment against era- court of i' first in - des. stance of ,. 'depart ment of the Seine, Note.—Write exactly ,command and enjoin the names, Christian all officers and guards name s professions, of the public force to age, residence and na- conduct to the prison.; ture of charge. of detention, called the Mazes, in conformity to the law, Prides (Charles Henri), aged 28 years, commission merchant from syd- centimeters ney. Accused of com- plicity in the murder Forehead of Louis Pierre Ro vere. We direct the di - Hose rector of said house of detention td receive Eyes and hold him till far- ther orders. We cern Mouth Description Height meter execute thepresent or- ..i'`F` ebr4:vs. der, in case such ne- cessity arises, to which Hair we atttaeh our name and seal. General appearance Made at ythe Palaie de Justice, in Paris, the 12th of February, 1890, And below the seal was attached. to the order by the registrar. M, Ginory signed it, saying to Favorel; "The description must be left blank, They will fill it out after the measure= ]gents are taken," Then Prades, stupefied till now, not seemiug to realize half that was passing around bila, gave a sudden, violent start. A ery burst from, hint, "Arrested! Have you arrested me?" M, Ginory leaned oyer the table. Fle was calm and held .his pen, with which he had signed the order, suspended in the "air, The young Haan rushed forward wild with auger, and if the guards had not held him back hewould have seized M, Giuory's fat neck with both hands. The guards held Prides back, while the examiniug magistrate, carelessly prick- ing the table with his pea, gently said, with a smile: "All the same, more than one male- factor has betrayed himself in a fit et auger. I have often thought that it would take very little to get xaxyself as- sassinated when I had before me au ac - eased pereon whom I felt was grailty and who world notoeufess, Tillie away the man!" While they were pushing:Prides to- ward the corridor he shouted, "Cas nailles!" C a.- naillesl" M. Ginory ordered that Dentin should be left alone with him, "Alone," he said to Beruardet, whose look was a little uneasy. Tho registrar half rose from his chair, picking nit Ms papers and pushing thein, into thepocket of his 'emelt worn paper ease.: "No, You may remain, Favorel," "Well." said the magistrate iu a fns miller tone when he fogad himself face to face with Jacques Dentin, "bave you reflected?" Jacques Dentin, his lips pressed close- ly together, did not reply, "It is a counselor-acounselor of an especial kind ---the cell, He who in- vented it"— "Yes," Deutin brusquely interrupted, "The braiu sutlers between these Wt1..iS. I have not slept spice I went there, not slept at all. Insomnia is killing me. It seems as if I should go crazy." "Then?" asked A1. Ginory, "Then"— Jacques Dentin looked fiercely at the registrar, who sat waiting, his pen over his ear, his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands. "Theo, oh, welly Then, bereft is. I wish to tell you all—all. But to you— to you"— "To nye alone?" "Yes," said Dentin, with the same fierce expression. "My dear Favorel"— the magistrate began. The registrar had already risen. Ho slowly bowed and went out. "Now," said the magistrate to Jacques Dentin, "you can speak." The man still hesitated. "Monsieur," he asked, "will any word said here be repeated—ought it or must it be repeated—in a courtroom at the assizes—I know not where—any- where before the publio?" "That depends," said. M. Ginory. "But what you know you owe to jus- tice, whether it be a revelation, an ac- cusation or a confession. I ask it of you." Still Dentin hesitated. Then the magistrate spoke these words: "I de- mand it." With a violent effort the prisoner be- gan: "So bo it. But it is to a man of honor rather than to a magistrate to whom I address these words. If I have hesitated to speak, if I have allowed myself to be suspected and to be ao- oused, it is because it seemed to me im- possible, absolutely impossible, that this same truth should not be revealed —I do not know in what way—that it would become known to you without compelling me to disclose a secret which was not mine." "To an examining magistrate one may tell everything," said M. Ginory. "We have listened to confessions in our offices which are as inviolable as those of the confessional made to a priest." CHAPTER XV. And now, after having accused Dan - tin of lying, believing that he was act- ing a comedy, after smiling disdainful- ly at that common invention—a vow which one could not break—the percep- tion of a possibility entered the•magis- trate's mind that this man might be sincere. Hitherto he had closed his heart against sympathy for this man. They had met in mutual hostility. The manner in which Jacques Dan - tin approached the question, the resolu- tion with which he spoke, no longer resembled the obstinate attitude which he bad before assumed in this same room. Reflection, the prison—the cell, with- out doubt—a frightful and stifling cell -had done its work. The man who had been excited to the point of not speak- ing now wished to tell all. "Yes," he said, "since nothing has happened to convince you that I am not lying." "I am listening to you," said ,the magistrate. Then in a long, olose conference Jacques Dentin told M. Ginory his story. Ile related how from early youth he and Revere had been close friends; of the warns affection which had always existed between them; of the shams and deceptions of which he had been guilty; of the bitterness' of his ruined life; of an existence which ought to have been beautiful, and which,' so useless, the life of a vivenr, had almost made him— why?—how?—through need of money and a lack of moral sense, descend to. crime. [To P,a CONTINUED.] Why. mend every man in He—Why are yon ,so cold? the public to lend as She -It may be because yon are some- eistance in order to thing of a frost:—Indianapolis Journal. HOT CAKES. The Mysteries of, Making and ini;, Hemi •heate. A pancake and a griddle cake are two distinctively different varieties of hot bread, Tho pancake proper is a very thin cake baked on a pan or sheet iron spider. This cake belongs properly to the European cuisine and is considered more of a dessert than a breakfast dish.. The griddle cake is a somewhat thicker cake and one entirely uukuown in Eu- ropean cookery, The only cake approach - hag our griddle cake in use on the other side of the ocean is the Scotch scone, re- marks the New York Tribune in preface to an entertaining disquisition on the triumphs of the griddle, in which occur these items: Properly speaking, the griddle cake is made of buckwheat, but in addition to these cakes we "now have the griddle cake of Indian meal, a direct evolution of the old hoecake or ash cake of the south, and the Philadelphia flannel cakes made with wheaten flour. Recently griddle cakes have been made of graham whole wheat and of various other douse, but such cakes are not often successful. The rice and the hominy griddle cakes of the south, ou the contrary, are most excellent, and so are the bread cakes of New Msaglaud, The qualities of graham and of most brown fours are sada that they require abundance of time in lbak- iug, and a griddle calve untie front them is hard and crusty on the outside hetore It is done through. The soapstone griddle cake is cue in which all tenderness and wholesome sweetness have been eacriticed to the tri- fling aunoyauce of the snfoking fat of frying, Oakes baked ea a soapstone re- quire the use of =lasses or souse other material to remake them brown, and tbie gives thein a coarse, rank flavor, .For buckwheat cakes buy the best brand of pure buokwheat. Purchase it in quantity from the mill if you cean before it bus passed through any second bauds, where it maybe Adulterated with inferior flour. To four cups of pure buckwheat flour add one small cup of yellow Indian meal and a tablespoonful of salt. Minting) cull oI cold milk with three cups of hot wa ter, making the mixture lukewarm. Add the liquid slowly to the dry intredieuts, so as to prevent Mums. When the batter is all mixed suacothly, add a melted yeast sato and beat it as vigorously as possible for at least six minutes, These cakes sbonld be set in an earthen buck- wheat pail with a tin cover and a shout capped with tin. Put them to rise about 7 o'clock in the evening. On a sold. night cover them up closely iu a bread blanket or a wedded cozy, kept for the purpose, and let them stand behind the stove or in same warm place. Just before baking them anis an even teaspoonful of soda in a cup of warm mills and heat this into the batter, The cakes should foam up in great bubbles after adding the soda. Myatt little beef 'net tried outand n "swab" with which to grease tee griddle. Be careful to snake the cakes perfect circles; it makes a great deal of difference hi their ap- pearance on the table. A rouud griddle is the best shape. It should bo of polished iron, so that it is easily cleaned. Do not use a particle of mo- lasses in bnckwbeat cokes. It is a fre- quent device of economical women who wish to secure brown cakes and are not willing to mix them with milk. No cakes made with water alone are as ten- der as when some milk is used. Bak - Footstools For Christmas. A very inexpensive Christmas gift for a man is afootstool, which can be made to do double duty, serving as slipper case as well. Procure a small wooden box, with cover, which should be fasten- ed on by small hinges. Fasten casters on the bottom so that it can be moved easily. Cover it neatly, padding the top' with pieces of an old quilt. The outer cover should be of art denim linen, or t ome other serviceable material. Out- line on top the following lines: Close the curtains, stir the fire, Draw your chair a little nigher, Get your slippers, but if you'd be In perfect comfort then get me. Line the inside of the box neatly with iilesia or sateen so that it makes a _good receptacle for slippers, Cardease For Christmas. A cardcase makes a pretty Christmas gift. The pattern given is embroidered with gold bullion work on white kid. The design represents four leaved olo- • CAPDCASE.DESION. vers for good luck, one of which is giv- en in detail in the natural size to show the stitch; says the New York Tribune. The embroidered leaf is surrounded by gold beads, and a gold paillette marks the oeuter. , Bloek Type on Visiting Cards.. The latest style in engraved visiting D ards still remains the block type. This is the very swellest form, but so expen- sive that the great majority of people still use the old style script, which is perfectly good form. The latest card is almost square in shape, and, although thin, not so exceedingly thin as was the hd, a year ago• CARE OF CALVES, Mow to Wean Thens and Teach. Then" to Drink, A great deal of the profit of weaning calves, whether grown by band or nursed by their dams, will depend very much on the kind of care they receive. We do not care how good their breed- tug may be or how well they may be fed as yearlings or finished for the market, they will not realize their full promise and possibilities unless thea are properly cared for the first winter. There are various devices to wean calves c al,F FEEnER. and make them drink, among whie-b is Au artificial feeder in imitation of n cow's udder, A correspondent of Hoard's Dairywau gives the fallowing sensible advice: "Instinct teacices the calf where to seek nourishment and to get it, and I would not interfere with nature till the calf is three days old and acquires a little experience, if not sense. For the good of the cow, however, I would not allow him to suck more than twice a day. Then after three days, by adopt- ing Mr. Cbeevor's plan, once to get the calf in "sucking mood,' any person who will be-gent/le and patient peed have no trouble in teaching a calf to drink with- out help within the next two days, I speak from an eeperieuce of forty years on the farm, and have broken a great many calves to feed, I used only gentle menus and not one time in twenty did I need snore than three trials to 'break' a calf. I fed night and morning, and almost invariably at the fourth feeding and often at the third the calf would put his head in the pail and drink with- out any assistance frown aro except to hold up the pail before him, I make no exception of 'obetivate' calves, for I do not believe in tbetu. The obstinacy is really in another quarter," Liquid. Food and the Alilk Yield, According to The British DairyFarm- er, M, Daucel, principal of one of the dairy schools in France, reports his ex- periments to determine the effect of the quantity of water cows drink upon quantity and quality of milk. He says that by inducing cows to drink more water the gnautity of milk yielded can be increased without injuring its qual- ity. He asserts that the amount of milk is proportional to the quantity of the water drunk. In experimenting upon cows fed in the stall with dry fodder, that gave only 0 to 12 quarts of milk a day, when this thy food was moistened with from 18 to 23 quarts of water daily their yield of mills was increased up to 12 to 14 quarts a day. Besides this water taken with the food, the cows were allowed to drink the same as before, and their thirst was excited by adding a little salt to the fodder, The milk was of good quality and the amount of butter satisfactory. He found by a series of observations that the quantity of water habitually drunk by each cow was a criterion to judge of the quantity of milk that she would yield. A cow that does not drink as much as 27 quarts of water a day is a poor milk- er, giving only 5ed to 7 quarts a day, but all cows which drink as muck as 50 quarts of water daily gave from 18 to 23 quarts of milk daily. He believes the amount of water drunk by a cow is a test of her value as a milker. Mixing Cream. We often hear a great deal about the importance of testing the cows with a Babcock tester in order to find which are the profitable dairy animals, says a writer in The National Stockman, but there is little said about theimportance of testing the buttermilk. A friend of mine in town • said that he engaged to take some buttermilk from a farmer who came to market, and while the first lot was nice and rich the second lot was poor as could be. He thought the farm- er was cheating him, but in all proba- bility the farmer did not know until his bntter was churned whether the butter- milk was to be poor or rich, as the rich• nese of the buttermilk depends entirely upon the condition of the cream when itis put into the churn. Cream that has not been thoroughly mixed 12 or more hours previous to churning is almost sure to lose some of the butter in the buttermilk. The reason is obvious. 'Cream of different degrees of sourness requires different tirne for the butter to come, and the sourest cream comes first, and 'the buttermilk from this cream raises with the oream that is not quite so sour and has not as yet come, and it is all drawn off as buttermilk. Salicylic Acid In Milk. Dr. Henry Leffman of Philadelphia, )prominent chemist of that city, recent - Ly stated that many diseases of infants which occur during the summer months may be induced by the use of milk and artificial foods which contain salicylic acid. He stated that the drug had an enormous and increasing sale, and that several forms are being put upon the market. Speaking of the artificial form used by brewers in the preparation of bottled beer, he thought it poisonous and that its sale should be prohibited. In Trenton recently salicylic acid in milk caused the death of several children.-- Medical hildren.—Medical Times. CLEANING CHICKENS. low They Should Re Washed, to Fit Thein For Eating.. A correspondent of The National Stockman calls attention to the neces- city for thoroughly washing chickens to make them fit to eat, She (the corre- spondent is, of course, a woman) says: "We all know that ebiokens dust their feathers wherever and whenever they have the opportunity, in the road, in the ash heap, in the barnyard, and, more. than that, we indulge them in it, be- cause it keeps off the vermin, Would we expect to get our own bodies oleae of ordinary accumulations with a show- er of hard water? How, then, eau we expect: to prepare the skin of the fowl fit for consumption under these circum- stances? "' l never saw any one clean a chicken as you do,' said my mother when last, she visited nae_ Then 1 beard her say to any husband a few hours later that she could relish my ehieken because she was certain it was clean. This is the meth- od: Tho chicken is scalded in a clean dishpan with clean well water,. (Have actually seen people .scald them in the mop pail and swill pail.) Then it is re- lieved of all piufeathers, etc„ and sin;geed after the usual feebie's. The disiaeau is rinsed out and the fowl washed therein with a tepid ends of clean rainwater and soap powder, the skin being sexubbed thorougbly with a 5 cent vegetable brush. The brush will cleans) without breaking the skin, One wlio thinks the 0011 of a fowl does not need much cleaning Omuta contrast 01111 befere and after tine bath or take a good look at the bath water. Next, the fowl is well riused with cold, clean well water, which finishes the cleansing process before disseotiug and plumps and firms the meat as well. "After the dissecting the pieces are washed through two or three waters or until all traces of blood have disap- peared. Tein is not as much trouble as the description might cause a reader to think, and anyway 'we would rather oat one prepared in this way, if it took an extra hour. So will you after you have once tried it. No scum over rises while cooking, and the meat is white and sweet." Chicken Ciintter. Sunflower treed is splendid for fowls during molt, It adds Muster to the plumage, 1)o not crowd the fowls in their win- ter quarters. It is better to give toe Hauch rather than too little room. Pullets are commeuciug to lay, Good, comfortable houses and subetel) tial feed- ing will keep theta at it all through winter. Use board floors in all your houses. Dirt floors are dangerous and cause many complaints that could be easily avoided, The litter on the floors of the house and scratching shed should bo knee deep, and all grain should be senttered in it. Don't be afraid of the grain being wast- ed. The fowls will find each tiny kernel. Fresh green bone is considered by many a perfect food for hens. Some farmers buy fresh meat all through the summer and have more or less fresh bone that could be profitably ground fat the poultry if they had a mill. The butcher who drives his wagon to your door will also supply you plenty of bones at small cost. If the flock is kept confined, the food must include meat or scraps. Wheat and barley are good grain, but a variety shon]d be given, and a good way to do this is to mix several kinds and let them pick out wbut they want. Hens are early risers and want to be fed as soon as they come down from the roost. See that they are well supplied with clean water and a box of ashes or dry earth to dust themselves in. To keep off lice soak the roosts with kerosene, and with a garden syringe throw bot lime wash all over the inside of the building.—Feather. Lay Two Hundred Eggs. Can we produce hens that will lay 200 eggs per annum? Without a doubt. How? By scientific breeding, as for a good butter cow or a cow milker, as fox a good trotting or high jumping horse. Experiments have been made to increase the number of rows of corn on the oob with success. The same method is ap- plicable to poultry breeding. We will start with a hen that lays 120 eggs. Some of her chicks will lay 150 per year. From these we will pick out lay- ers, and so on until 200 or better are the result. At the same time it is just as essential to breed out males from prolific layers as it is the females. In fact, it it more 80. If we look after the breeding of the females only, we will introduce on the male side blood which is lacking in proficiency and thus check every at- tempt in progress. It is just as essential that the male should be from a hen °' It which laid 175 eggs and from a male that was bred from a hen that laid 151 eggs as it is that the hen was from one that laid 175 eggs and whose mother laid 150 eggs.—Poailtry Herald. Fitting Geese For Market. When young goslings are to be dressed for market, they are killed by cutting them in the roof of the mouth, severing the artery or by stunning them by, hit- ting them a sharp, quick blow on the bead. The picker uses a box in" front of him about the height of the knees, bolding the bird with the left hand and clasping the feet and wings together. He places the head of the bird against the box and holds it in place with the knee. Pick the feathers from the body of the bird, then dampen 'the right hand and brush the body to remove the down. Leave about two inches of feath- ers on the neck, and also leave feathers on the wings at the first joint, Lay the wings against the body of the bird and tie a string around to hold in position. Place the birds, when picked, in cold water foran hour or so to plump them. If they are in too long, they are liable to bleach and become water soaked.-- Feather. oaked.—Feather.