Exeter Advocate, 1906-11-8, Page 3earee+-04-0+0+04-0+0+-04-o-4-0+04-04-04-0-4•o-eno+-04-o-eo+o+040
OR A A SAD LIRE STORY
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CHAPTEn: VI. -e -(Continued), ,
"But it would net be fair; it would be
asking you to give up toe much."
The meek abnegation of her rather
wont 'voice brings his •remorse upper-
most again on the revolving• wheel of
hia feelings. ,
'MIS net it my turn to give up some-
thing?" he asks, tenderly; "and, be-
sides, it is time for me to settle! Ian -
1 am tired of wandering!"
As ,this atroceous lie passes nis lips,
he catches his beeath. , Tired of the
Sierra! 'Tired of the bivouacs among
the dazzling snow! Tired of .the august
silence of the everlasting hills! Heaven
forgive hen ' for saying stet Pethaps
' there is no great air of veracity in his
assertion, for she looks at him distrust-,
fully; so distruelfulty that he reshapes
hie, phrase. "At least if I aan not I ought
to -be!"•
'
But still she -gazes .at him 'with a. wist-
ful and doubting •intentness.
"lf I could only believe that that was,
tru e
"It is true," 'replies he, evading her.
look; "at least true enough for all work-
,
ing purposes; we all know that life is a
series of compromises, a balancing of
gala and toes. I elite! lose Something,
1 do not deny that, but I gain more, I
gain you!"
„"That is such anmighly gain, is not
UV' she says \Vine melancholy smile,
as that intuition of the truth which
sometimes collies to unloved or tepidly
loved women 'flashes upon her.
"A matter of taste—e. mere matter of
taste!" rejoins he, hurriedly; aware of
the unreal ring in his own words, and
trying, with all his might, to feel as
well as speak light-heartedly.
She shakes herheadin a way which
tells him how poorly he has succeeded.
ln a desperate, if not very well -judged
attempt to convince her of his sincerity,.
his next speech is uttered.
"Why should not we ,be married at
once? to -morrow? the day after to -mor-
row? at the Censulate—of course there
Is a Consulate—or the English Charcti, I
suppose there are half -a -dozen English
Churches. Why not? We have nothing
to wait for, and we are both of ager
Ile bas had no unkindly intention in
the last words,- but the moment that
these are, o4 of his mouth, a glance at
Arnelia's unbloOming face and unyouth-
ful figure tell him that they were not
nappilenchos.en. At the first instant that
the auggegtion of an immediate marriage
reaches the hearer's brain, it sends a
llart of joy over her features. To be
»tarried at once! To put an end for-
ever to the interminablewaiting, to en-
ter at last—at last upon the possession
of the so -long deferred Canaan. -But in
a second that first bright flash as chased
away and gives place to a look of al-
most humiliation.
"You must be making fun of me, to
suggest such a thing!" she says in a
wounded voice; "you know bow wildly
impossible it would be that I should
leave them all—my father, Sybillite with-
out any preparation." •
"Without any preparationr replies
"Yee, partly," replies tbe girl, doubt-
fully* "but I have had troubles of ltlY
own, too. I daresay that Amelia has
told you, or- probably" (with ,a second
abd heavier sigh) "you have been more
pleasantly employed,"
"Amelia tact hint at some,disaster,"
replies Jim, struggling to conceal the
rather grim smile which is curving his
mouth; a feat' the more difficult since he
has no moustache., to aid him; "but •I
have beeewalting to hear all the details
from yourself."
°I know that you are apt to -think I
fancy things," says Cecilia, sitting down
on '8. third hard chair, "but here could
be no . fancy in this cage; I an) sure I
was as much engaged, as any girl ever
was. I had chosen the drawing -room
paper and ,. bought the dining -room
grater
"That isfurther than we ever gotnis
not it, Amelia?" says dim, breaking, at
the relation of this prosaic fact, into the
laugh he. ha S been with dillicult,y
swallowing; "but, Cis, if I were you, 1
should keep the grate; one does not know
how' soca its services may. be required -
again!"
"It is all very well for you to joke,"
returns. Cecilia; •with an offended air;
"it may lie, play to you, but it is—"
"Not death, not quite death to you 1"
Interrunts Burgoyne, "glancing with an
expressive smile at her buxom outline.
"I think you will live to fight another
day, will not you? 13ut I really am ex-
tremely sorry; tell me all about it."
"He was perfectly right when we left
England," says Cecilia, mollified at
once, and apperently relieved by the In-
vitation to unbosom herself of her woes;
"nobody could bave been more so; he
came to see us off at Folkestone, and
the, tears were in his eyes; they were
really, it was not my imagination, was
it, Amelia? And at first he wrote all
right, and said all the usual things; but
then his letters gradually grew fewer
and fewer, and after I had written and
telegraphed a great many times, I do
not know how many times I did tele-
graph to ask whether he anti ill, and
you know how expensive foreign teelee
grams are, he sent me a- few lines, Oh,
suoh cruel lines; were not they, Amelia?
to say, that on reflection, he feared that
to
feeling he had for me was not such
as to justify his entering on so sacred
an engagetnent as Marriage with me;
but he ought to have thought of that be-
fore, ought not he?"
"Undoubtedly!" • ,
"I will never engage myself to a
clergyman again," says „Cecilia; pen-
sively. .
Burgoyne's thoughts have strayed at
the mention of the cloth of Ids sister-in-
law elect's truant 'admirer, to that mem-
ber of the same profession who has
latelyrobbedhim of his heritage, and he
replies With a good deal of feeling:
"They do play one dirty turns now and
then, do not 'they? Yes, Cis, stick to
laymen for the futurer
Cecilia receletas Ibis counsel with a
melancholy sigh, fixing. her large eyes
on the carpet, but presently resumes the
aim, raising his eyebrows. "Have not conversation in a livelier key. -
you been preparing them for the lasi 1 Let us talk about something plea -
eight .years?" „ ;enter," she says. "Had you a good
He feels a vague unjust irritation with journey? De you like your • travelling
companion? Why did not you bring him
her for opposing his proposition; though with you? Is he nice?" -
deep down in his heart he knotas that
he would have felt a much, greater an-
noyance had she eagerly desert with it.
As she does not answer .o. questimn
which the moment that it is uttered he
feels to have been rather brutal, he goes
on, against his will, in the same sarcas-
tic key.
8.0.1 afraid that you will -have to
'leave them all some clay; 1 am afraid that
our Bayswater mansion—by-the-bye, I
am sure a will not be a mansion, for I
am sure it will not have a back-door—
will not be likely to contain all. Your
lather, Sybilla—Sybilla and her physic
bottles take up, a good deal of room, do
they not?" .
It is fortunate" for Amelia that he, is
too preoccupied by the thought of her
own next speech to take in the full
acerbity of the last remark.
"If you would consent to wait till we
get home—father does not mean to stay
in Italy beyond the end of next month—
we might be married in June, that"
(with a pink flush of happiness) "would
not be so long to wail,"
In i second a sum of the simplest dia.
ceription executes itself, In Burgoyne's
head. It is now the second week of
April; they are- to be married in lune,
he has then eight weeks left. It shocks
himself to find that this is the eray in
which he nuts it. All tbeover action
that he, permits himself,' however, is to
eay with a shrug—
"As you will, then, as you will!" lidd-
ing, since he feels that there Is some-
thing diseourteous even to unchivalry in
tie bald an acquiescence In hid prospec-
tive bliss: "Of course, dear, the sooner
J get' you the better for mer ;
No lever 'could have -been overheard
giving utterance to a more proper or
• 1 I able .sen Um en t ; so the 1, it is lucky
that this ts just the moment, that, Cecilia
chooses for entering.
"De eot be afraid," she says, with a
laugh. ' "1 will not stay a minute, but I
just \vented lansay 'Hew do you do?'
How well you are looking! end how
young!" --with an involuinary glance of
enmporisect from him to her sister;
glance, of which they are both 'rather
Oninftilly conscious. "Ahl'a (sighing)
"With al' your nocky Mountain exper-
tom, it is evident that tem have been
traving on easier time then we leader
"Are you alluding to Sybillo?" asks
lire; gravely. 'al have no doubt, from
'Ant 1 know of her powers in that line;
Unit she has been extremely trying." •
"At all events, he is net a -clergy-
man," replies Jim, with a rattier mali-
cious smile; "but, no, my dear, do not
let your thoughts turn- in that direction!
You must look at hen as poorwomen
look dt dianeondsr
"1 den sure I do' not know what you
meanr .deplies Cecilia, reddening. "I
have not the slightest wish to look at,
Mini I am not in spirits to 'look,' as
you call it, at any one!"
A moment,. later, she (Kids, with a
suspicion of malice in her tone:
"We are certainly' an unlucky family
in our loves! I heartlessly thrown over,
and Amelia engaged for eight years!" •
Burgoyne smiles. "Amelia is not go -
to be engaged any longer," he says,
putting his arm round bis betrothed.
"Amelia is going to be Married at
oncer
•••••MI
CHAPTEll VII.
It Would seem natural that,. alter so
long a separation, Burgoyne should dine
and spend the evening with his betroth-
ed; but such is not the case. For this,
however, he is not to blame; he is quite
prepared to stay with her -until she turns
him out. Had he not better school him-
self to domestic habits,„ since he is ao
soon to assteino them' for life? But in
consideration for Syhilla he is dismissed
undined. It is net that she ever 'snares
the family dinnea at their Want a part
io the salle a manger, but the thought
of their • entertaining a gucet with- a
conviviality far greater in her imagina-
tion than would be the ease in reality,
while she herself lies lonely on her
couch .01 .suffering, preys upon her spin.
ils so- remelt that her tinnily have to
abandon the idea. So, towards sunset,
Jim is dismissed. Ile has bo opportun-
ity for any particular endearments to
bis .18ey-love; as the Whole family are in
the room, and 'it is Cecilia; net
who vallinteers to walk neeess the hotel
°Qua -yard with him, for the odeantage
of a last 'Wad. What the last .Word is
he k not ,aloW to leenn
"You will take us sonic excurSions,
wil not you?" she says, with a persuasive
sir, putting her cnn through his..
"Father is so unenterprising, we have
eeally seen Scarcely anything; but you
Will lake. US some exemnions nOW, Will
not you?" . ,
"Are yea sure that your spirits ore
equal to theft?" inquires. Jim unkindly.
"1 40 not know about that, I an
sure,' naniee she, glOwing„ pink at his
tone; "hut one Must make no exertion
saMe time, and I think a Jane dietrae-
lion Weald do tne good, and se 1 am sure
It would to poor Amelia)"
"Poor Amelia will eliortly have the
distraction et belog married," rejoiod the
eeting Mae, who feels as if he could
net repeat the statement of this fact toe
often to himself and others.
"And I think It would be only eiait,"
continues Cecilia, persistently, "in fact,
I de not see how you can avoid it, if you
invited your friend le/ J1n ,us.'
But Jim escapee witheut having cora-
mated himself to this promise, and
wanders about the town in the lovely,
lowering light; finds himself on the
Lung Arno; staolltog along with the
leisurely loiterers, among whom, for
every two soft Tuscan voices, there is a
loud metallic Anglo-Saxon one. 'He
watches the amines rolling back ,from
their drive on the Cascine; the river
falling over the weir; the river yellow as
Tiber yesterday, and to -day shot with Henry Rover—In ray travels through
blue and green and silver, as it tumbles Pelestine, I stood upon one of the sun -
with a pleasant noise. The houses on
kvalsisieeyd hwithlserbef tJhuededaeaadndeclac_ould see the
Squire Boggs (interruptint)—The dead
see—Iee-ruealeme-say Hank, yer lyind
Are You aJapanTea Drinker.
IF SO, ASK TOUR GROCER FOR
either side of the Arno, the domes and
roofs are all clothed in a strange seren-
ity of yellow light; a golden air so trans-
perent and fine and crystal clear; so free
from the soft blur of mist—lovely, too—
through which we see ohjects In our wet
green home, that Jim feels as If he could
stretch out his hand and toucle the hill
that backs gold towers and bridges, and
see whether it really is made out of one
whole amethynt, as it looks. The beauty
of the world has always been very much
to Burgoyne, though hitherto it has been
chiefly in the austerity of • tier high and
desert places that he has bowed. the
knee before the Universal Mother. This
little gold 'evening gay, .sunset clad in
the colors of tlie New Jerusalem, lifting
her heeeenly. campanile to as heavenly
a sky, is to him anew and Wenderful
thing. Her loveliness sinks into his
soul, and with it a companion sadness
Uffizi, the Academia, San Lorenzo. It
is doubtful whether Amelia enjeys these
excursions as much as she does the
selection of bedsteads and saucepans,
her pleasure. being en some degree
marred by a feverish amalety to say
what, she thinks her lover expects of her
as they stand before each immortal
canvas. In her heart she thinks the
great statues 1n the Medici Chapel
frightful, a heresy in which she is kept
an countenance by no less a light than
George Eliot, who in one of her letters
dares to say of them, "they remained to
us as affected and exaggerated in the
original, as in copies and casts." To
Amelia many of the frescoes appearher
as deep: From henceforth 111e sight of lamentably washed out,, nor are
earth's fair shows will be, for the most -
part, forbidden him. He has always.
loved to look and adore in silence and
alone; henceforth he will never have
the right to be alone; hexickforth he will
never have the right to go anywhere
efforts to hide these sentimenis attended
with any conspicuous success, since no-
thing is more hopeles.s than for one
utterly destitute of a feeling for Works
of art to feign it, without having the
imposture at once detected.
Burgoyne's mind during these expe-
without his wife. Strange and terrible
ditions is a battle -ground for pity and
word to which he tries in vain to accus-
tom his mental ears; and, thanks to the rage; pity at the pathos of his poor
love's endeavors; rage at their glaring
narrowness of their means, neither of
them will be able to stir from the strait
precincts, of their pinehed home.
'He comes' back to his hotel, through.
theepiazza of the Damao. All the infinite
richness of cupola and arch, 'high up,
are still wrapped in thefiery rose cloak
of sunset, while below- the body of the
great church with all its marbles and
traceries, and carved wonders, is clad
in the sobriety of -twilight. On reach-
-failure. Cecilia sometimes accompanies
the lovers, but his does. not make mat-
ters much better. Cecilia devotes but a
very cursory notice to the pictures; her
attention being almost wholly. centred
on -the visitors, and on finding resem-
blances for them among the inhabitants
of her own village at tonic, for the ac-
curacy of which she appeals at every
moment to her sister. Every day she
e
g -the Minerva, he fin.ds that Byng has -asks 'Burgoynto fulfil his peomise—a
'
not yet returned or rather that he has promise which he as punctually assures
beed in and gone out again. He emits
dinner half -in -hour for hint, and then
dines without him; dines in solitude,
since it is not till his cep pf coffee is be-
fore him' and his cigarette betaveen his
lips, thathis young friend appears. It
is evidently no -unpleasant, errand that
has detained bim, for he arrives beam-
ing, and too -excited even to 'perceive
the menu which a waiter offers hint. -
"They have arrivedre he cries; Oddly
enough it -never occurs to Burgoyne to
inquire who "they" may be; it seems as
much a matter -of -course to him • as to
the handsome pink and white boy be-
fore him, that the pronoun must relate
to Elizabeth le Merchant and her
mother.
'His only answer, however, is an
"Ohl" whose torte is rather more eager-
ly interested than he could have wished.
"I thought that they could not stey
more than another day in Genott," con-
tinues Byng, at length becoming aware
011 110 menu at, his elbow; but only te
wave- it impatiently away. So I
thought I would just run. down to the
station tomeet the evening train., the
one we came by last night; hdowever, it
must," have been More punctual than
yesterday, for, before I reached the sta-
tion, 1 met them; I mean they passed
me in a flacre. I only caught a glimpse
Of her lace, but I saw her hand; it was
lying On the cardeage-door like a snow-
flake.'
"Like My , grandmother!" cries -Bur-
goyne in a rage, for which he cannot
quite account to -himself, at this ingen-
ious and novel simile.
Byhg laughs; the laugh of a thorough-
ly sweet -natured person, who, in addi-
tion has some special cause for good -
humor.
"I do not know what color your
grandmother was; but she most have
been very unlike most people if she was
like a snow -flake
Jim's cross mouth unbends into a re-
luctant smile. It Is not the first time
,that he has discovered heev Useless, and
also impossible it is to be out of humor
with Byng.
"I had a good mind .to tell my Mien
man to follow them," ccnitinued Byng, in
an excited voice; "but, In the first place,
I did nst know how to say it—really,
Jim, we must get up 'a little of the lingo
—and, in ,the second' place, I thought it
would be, rather too much in the private
detective line." ••
"1 Wink 11 would have been extremely-
ungeallemanliker rejoins Jim, se-
verely. -
Byng reddens; but still without losing
his temper.
"That is coming it rather strong, is
not it? Mite anyhow, 1 did not do it."
And then, by tacit agreement, they both
drop thensubject. -
During the next three or four days it
is not named between them, nor, in-
deed, do they. see much of each other.
Burgoyne spends the greater part of his
days with Amelia. Whatever cause for
the accusation he may have given dur-
ing the .previous eightyears, nobody
can say that he neglects her now. He
passes long hours at her side, on the
same hard chair that had supported him
on their first interview) in the little diae
mol dining-roorn; going into caleula-
lions of heuse-rent and taxes; ()tending
up lists of necessary ruminate He even
makes a •bid for Cecilia's drawing -room
grate; but that young lady telbeSe fore-
casting mind can look- beyond present
grief to future autiehine, refuses to part
%int it. The lovers ode not always,
however, studying , Maple's and Oelz-
mann's.1is1 Scalletimes Jim varies the
diversion by' talciag his future wife to-
picluee galieran and churches,. to the
ha that he never made—to introduce
his friend to her. He has a strangely
strong reluctance to comply with this
simple request, which yet, he knows,
will have to be complied with some date,
When Amelia is his wife, Byng will
have to know' Cecilia, for. she. will pro-
bably spend a great deal Of her time
with them—make their house a second
home, 'in fact..
• And Meanwhile Xim is keenly, and for
some reason sorely, conscious of the
fact that, during the hours in which ho
is stooping his weary head over cata-
logues of fenders and fireirone, -carving
knives and- fisk slices, blankets and
ticking, 13yrig is searching Florence
through her length and breadth for their
two countrywomen. It is not indeed
necessary to credit his friend with any
special quest to account for his. wan-
derings through the "adorable little
city," as Henry James most truly calls
it, since he is a young man of a wide
and elert cualcisity, with a large appe-
tite for pleasure both intellectual and
the reverse. Jim, whose acquaintance
with him :has chiefly been with his
rowdy undergraduate side, bear -fight-
ing; and proctor -defying, is astonished
at his almost tremulous appreciation of
the Ghirlandajos, the Lorenzo .di Credis,
the Giottoa, that , in a hundred chapels,
from a hundred walls, shine down in
their mixed glory of naive piety and
blinding color upon him.
One day the elder man is sitting in Ids
bedroom.' ,with a despatch -box and , a
sheet of paper before him. Fle is em-
barked upon a weary calculation as to
what his gun e will -fetch. He has made
up his mind to sell them. Of what fur-
ther use can they be to, him? He will not
be alkwed to shoot at the Bayswater
omnibuses, which will be the only game
henceforth within his reach. While he
is thus employed upon an occupation
akin to, and about as cheerful as that of
Bawdon Crawley before Waterloo, Byng
eenters. .
(To be continued),
FAIIM NOTES.
In order to make tweatieth century
farming a success we must make a
thorough study of the scientific princi-
ples which underlie 'the various phases
of agricultural science and then !make
practical application of them on the
farm.
There are many purposes for which
we can find use for concrete on the
farm, beside making walks drpin house
to barn; or frorn.roadside to house, clib.
It is used for cellar anti stable and
poultrytouse floors, for stock water.
troughs and tanks, for lasting bridge
abutments, and even for fenceposts.
Don't let the carelessness of ether
persons do damage to your woodlot by
fire. It is worth while, in the danger-
ous seaseri, to see that the borders of
the woodlot are clear of inflammable
material. Especially Clear away the
leaves so as to form a tniniature fire
lane about the forest. Forbid the care-
less use of matches and the building of
campfires. Don't be in too great a hur-
ry tO realize on your woodlot invest.
Mena Bo satisfied with a permanent
revenue, whieh is the interest on your
forest pital. Yeu may materially In-
crease this interest by managing the
woodlot itself so that the thinning al-
ways beere a wise • proportion to the
yield. fvfeantiene, the steady rise in the
value of all forest prodeete will add lit-
tle by little to the 'market value of your
timber. Years hence, when yeti neeca
it, the woodlot Which has supplied you
all along will in all probability bring
you far more than -at present.
CEYLON Gams TEA.
IT IS ABSOLUTELY PURE AND FAR MORE
DELICIOUS THAN JAPAN,
Lead meets only. 400, 500 and 000 per lb. At sff grocers.
1011•111111111•1•1•1,6,
About the Farm I
GETTING PROFITS FROM HENS.
No one need fear the "fancy" being
over done. The "short-term,' fancier
and the ,demand for good birds by those
sterteng en the business will keel) 111) Ltd
active call for high clans stock tor
many years to come. The small per-
cent of really high class exhibition birds
from the averaging Mating. will also
help to keep the market alive. From
dye to ten percent of the best matings
produce top birds.
Fifty per cent.,of any variety or breed
should be sold for table use or kept
for market eggs. Line breeding, it clos.
er following of pedigrees and severe
selection will improvethese averagea
lu any breeder's. yards. The fancy pre-
sents as much of an opening to -day as
the breeding of any class of pure-bred
stock. 4 .
Poultry raising can be entered cheap-
ly and for the man of real ability as
a student of breeding, the returns will
come sooner than in any other field.
Hard work with the hands and good
head work, will put the breeder to the
fore early.
There are many men who are putting
the best they have into the business f
poultry breeding; and they are making
names for honesty and success. Stand
up for the fancy and the business in
general. There is room at the top, and
applied manhood can get there. The
fancy is a recognized calling and many
glory in it.
Some hens are not worth their keep.
Others produce enough to cover the cost
of their handling. The hens that pay
are those that more than meet the ex-
pense of money, and Lime necessary to
make them - worth while. The last, is
the one we will. desire, and the one we
can have if willing to pay the cost.
What is necessary to own birds that
pay? It takes more -than money to do
this. You can buy birds tharpay, but
,11 is another thing to bave them pay
yoit 'after yon owia them.- 'Not only
must You have the right kind of hen,
but you must use time and thought hi
caring foi them to make her of the
"paying kind."
The paying hen is usually hatched
from a paying strain. The paying hen
that conies out of a flock of good-for-
nothing birds is seldom met and it not
worth hunting for. It takes time, it
takes money and it takes born hen sense
to produce a 'flock of paying hens. It
takes a very little neglect to send this
flock back to the class of non-paying
birds.
Paying birds are a -delight to the eye.
You show thein to your friends„ and
linger in your description of what they.
are and what they have done for you.
You gladly take care of them; you aro
willing to properly -mate and feed them,
and you look for fresh blood to improve
thern:
Paying birds never make up a large
part of your flock when you sell the
cream of the choice chicks every year.
Money -making flocks ava made up of
the best you raise always letting the
second quality' go to market.
Paying birds live in houses free from
vermin and semplie4 witb pure air and
water. They get feed that is needed to
bring the profit to the proper point.
Cheap food, because it Is cheap, never
h.eIped to produce the paying hen and ,
kept her running to the nest. •
Hens that pay splendid profits are
what the world is asking for, is look-
ing for and is demanding. Are you go-
ing to be among the breeders who will
1111theorders for this kind of birds?
SHEEP BREEDING.
The sheep -breeding business, to me
appears to be divided into three sec-
tions, each one somewhat shinier in
aim, and yet differing considerably in
the carrying out of the work, as it must
be, to secure the harmonious whole,
writes Mr. John Campbell. First, we
have the flocks where the aim is whol-
ly, the production of the autcher's
lambs, and the fleece to help pay the
keeping expenses. Next we -have the
flocks of higher merit, which may be
named the sub-stanclard ones. They
furnish the rams to the producers of
market lambs. in the third division,
we find the high standard, registered
purebred flocks. Perhaps it may pe
well for us to first consider the import-
ant place the last class occupies, as 11
1; the fountain from Which all, or nearly
all, improvemerft springs. Without the
stud flocks being of the best, we cannot
have ,the grades between -them and the
butcher's block, of the superior and de-
sirable quality.
&metiers are born, not made. Here
is where skill, capital, and labor must
combine to reach the highest aim. And
all three must be eombined in the one
individual, tn, order to obtain the out-
standing 'success. To establish and
maintain a ram -breeding flock of a high
larder, which will yield profit to the
owner, and transmit merit and worth
Lo the flocks in which sires from it are
used, requires keen judgment, constant
study, untiring industry, and the ready
'available capital to secure such sires
and dams, as will be required.
The first and foremost thought must
be, where, can the sire we need be
seen? and when found, the money to
buy him must be mord' lightly valueda '
than our need. We have seen men of
means invest freely in establishing pure -
breed flocks, and right well pleased we
all should be, as they are good nate-
mers, and in some ways are most help-,
fut to the industry. Yet for all that, it
is the one whose bread and butter large-
ly depends, on his successful efforts that
attains to distinction as a breeder. And
it is he also, who keeps on improving; •
his flock, year by year, not so much by
purchase, as by skillful mating and care-
ful feeding. His surplus stock is eag-
erly sought by those who have come
to realize the safety and certainty, in
using such in their 'lecke, being as-
sured that good results can scarcely
fail. •
The building up of a high standard,
pure-bred flock is a. fascinating business,:
but losses and crosses abound there as
well as in other larm operations. Be-
cause of the latter and the greater dis-
appointments, pluck, fortitude and per-.
severance are occasionally in demand,
03 well as skill and sufficient capital: •
We therefore need not fear theadisase
Irous increase of such flocks, for if any-
where the old saying of, "there is 81 -
ways room at the top" holds true, it
is in this division of sheep husbandry.
LIVE STOCK NOTES.
Fattening animals should never be
allowed to become hungry; nor, on the,
other hand, should they be fed too'
heavily. Too heavy feeding clogs the
appetite and too long periods between
feeds makes the animals restless
• The natural horse first eta his filla
then sought his drink, and there is prace
neatly no danger in watering a horse
right away after he eats. The clangor,
is fa greater if he is allowed to go
without drink for several hours later
when the food has gotten out of the
stomach and is passing through the
second stomach (duodenum) or farther
along the alimentary canal, where the
water would in its passage to its pro-
per place of necessity wash atm food
along.
The Danish Government's experiments
'contineed for five years with 1,150. caws
scattered through 110 dairies, felled to.
show that feeding fat into milk was a
commercial possibility, beyond making
the cows increase their milk. It might
be that this feeding for fat,. continued
through several generations, possibly
would have „its beneficial effect, but as
the director points out: "Breeding is the
only way that an ineeease of fat in.
milk can be secured," and some bate
breeding reports seem to indicate that
CV011 then the influence must come from
the sire, which means that breeding
heifers back to their own sires is about
the only plan by which this increase
can be maintained and perpetuated.
.11.14,1111
404004014444400004)40.01144440142c
I
4
A Boston schoolboy was tall,
weak and sickly.
His antis were soft and flabby:
He didn't have a ,strong muscle in his
entire body.
The physician who had attended
the family for thirty years prescribed
Scott's Emu/don.
NOW:
To feel that boy's arm you
would think he was apprenticed to a
blacksmith.
ALL DRUGGISTS; 50c. AND $1.00.
414410004400444044044440