Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 March 1891 — Page 5

ERIN. BY KIL COURTLAXD. in songland, and in dreamland, That I love to think of thee, Like a radiant emerald flashing In a zone of purple sea. And where cotton-fields are whitening, Down the gold-touched autumn lands, I will sing thy songs, dear Erin! Captive held in captive bands. And I think of rights in shackles, Flung behind dark prison bars — Of thy lovely lakes. Killarney, Silver tears dropped from the stars. Oh, mavourneen! from thy harp strings I would wring a happier chord, For I cannot fight thy battles — Oh! I cannot wield a sword. I can only pluck the shamrock, And its tiny leaves entwine With the Southern rose and lily— With the yucca and the pine; Only tell thy wrongs in story, Only chant thy anthems sweet* If I cannot bring thee glory, I can lay love at thy feet. So in songland, and in dreamland, Erin, oft I think of thee. Like a radiant emerald flashing In a zone of purple sea. Anderson, S. C.

Dr. Elfenstein's Mission

H Remarkable Romance.

BY EMILY THORNTON.

CHAPTER XXVIII—-Continued. “ ‘Reginald, for Heaven’s sake, tell me khy you thus deal with me? Have I ever harmed you?’ “ ‘You have by being in my way. Set aside yonr title, estates; yes, even,’ he laughed horribly, when, after a pause, he added, ‘your future bride are mine! All mine! To-night I announce to you, all think you dead, and virtually you are so!’ “ ‘Reginald! Reginald!' I shrieked, as he disappeared from view; ‘hear me, take all, but leave me liberty and Constance!’ “A mocking laugh was my only reply. “From that hour I have seen no human face, heard no human voice! “These walls, I know, are several feet thick, built so that no sound can issue from them. Not a movement can be heard unless the panels are open, and then but faintly. ‘ So at once I knew, that to the world, what he had said was true, I was dead! “Sometimes, even yet, 1 dream that this is but an idle fancy, and once again I wake to feel my chain, to loathe my prison. “Then I seem to see my own loved Constance near mo. I call upon her, but as I stretch out my hand to find her own the vision fades, and I know that it was an illusion of the brain. Yet the memory of those fearful words ever remains: ‘Your future bride is mine, all mine!’ “Can this have become a truth? “Has my darling forgotten me; does she, too, deem me dead? “Oh, Constance! Constance! “So I start from my bed with her name upon my fevered lips; I open my arms to clasp her to my bosom. “In vain! I am alone! Horribly, truly alone! “Often have I prayed to die! “Life has become a weary burden, but my prayers are not heard. For some purpose of his own, God wishes me to live. “Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight! “For months, with a pencil which I have found in my pocket, have I, on scraps of paper torn from books, written and placed on the plate a wild prayer for at least pens, ink, and paper to amuse my lonely hours. “Books were at hand, a wells-tored library being in my room, but I wanted writing materials —something besides this endless reading. “At last, at last, my prayer is granted, and I have a new way to give vent to my feelings. “Thank God for the privilege of writing. “Here, now, have I written the cause and manner of ray strange captivity. For no crime committed, no offense given to court or neighbor, I am yet a victim to a brother’s jealous envy of my position and my funds; 1 am a close prisoner. “One thing I have expected at his hands which as yet has not taken place; I mean starvation. “I have thought that so selfish a being as he has proved himself to be would some day demur at the confinement consequent upon attending to my wants; I was sure he would wish to travel, or visit, away from Giendenning Hall. “But 1 know his movements, I know his peculiar jerk, as he slides open the panels, and now, after eighteen years I am certain that no hand but his has opened them and given me my food. “Such food! “All cut up into mouthfuls (as they fear giving me a knife) mixed together upon one wooden plate. “Sometimes I loathe the sight of this strange jumble, but whether I eat it or not, 1 always take it, fearing if I do not return the plate, even this nightly visit will cease, this meager food be stopped. “I know now that he has married Constance. “As I prayed for pens, ink, and paper, I always concluded, ‘tell me, oh, tell me of" Con stance.’ “So with the paper came at last this cruel note: “‘I grant this one prayer. Never again dare send another line to me. If you do disobey in this, your food will stop, and you be left Ho starve. Once for all, I say, the world thinks you dead, and thinks Fitzroy your* murderer. He was tried, and as your dead body was not found, acquitted, but all think him guilty. Under this suspicion, he left the country and no one knows whither went. lam Sir Reginald Giendenning, and your constant Constance has been my wife just sixteen years. This is the last communication you will ever receive from me. Beware how you send another line upon the shelves.’ “After reading this note I must have fainted, for when I next recollected anything Mvhs lying on the floor in a pool of blobd. “In falling I had hit my head against the iron chain, and gashed open my forehead under tpj hair.

“Would to God that I had died then and there! “I did not die; I lived, and crawled to my bed, where I lay until the rays of the sun penetrated through the one window in the ceiling. “I lived, but my head whirls, my brain j is dizzy, I fear I shall go mad! “Oh, innocent, ruined brothel * “Oh, forgetful Constance! “When shall I cease to think of these two? CHAPTER XXIX. THE JOURNAL CONTINUED. Carle Elfenstein paused when he reached these last words, and large tears of sympathy still rolled over his cheeks, as they had often done during the reading, while every one of his intent listeners was similarly affected. Conquering his emotion by an effort, he again read on: “May 24, 18 —Nearly seven years since I last wrote on these pages. Not once during that time has there been a ehange in my lot until to-night. “To-night a different hand opened the panels. “I knew instantly thf.t it was not Reginald’s. “Something, certainly, must have happened to him. “The jerk was wanting. “A soft, uncertain way of pushing them apart attracted my attention. “There was a longer pause, a seeming study of the modus operand! of the revolving shelves, and a slighter push made them turn more slowly. “Yes, I am sure a stranger has been let into the secret of my confinement, and that stranger, I think, must be a timid woman. “My God! perhaps it is Constance! “Can it be? Can she have the heart, even under compulsion, to keep me.here a prisoner? Can she know that, it is I, her former devoted lover, to whom she now offers this revolting food? “Anything but that, oh, God! Anything but that! “I cannot eat this stuff, fearing that my once loved darling deals it out to me. “But she is afraid! “I know it by her w'ant of strength, by her feeble pushes. Sometimes she can hardly whirl the shelves, so I softly creep to her assistance, and with my own hands help them around. For the world I would not alarm her by the slightest noise. “My poor Constance! “I have been thinking so much, lately, that my head constantly aches. Indeed it always aches since I cut myself so badly In falling on my chain, seven years ago. “But, as I said, I have been thinking. “I have been studying the manner in which those iron shelves are fastened, and to-day I again examined the screws. “Only screws keep them in their places, and a knife would surely aid me to unscrew them; then I could push them over, and as I know the workings of the panels, I could soon be free. “To be sure I am chained! “But a knife would also unloose this chain, sever these bonds. “A knife! A knife! God grant me a knife! “Such is now my daily wish, my cry. “A knife! A knife! “June 6, 18—Something terrible has happened to my brain. lam wild! lam undone! 1 can remember nothing! “Who am I? Where am I? “All, yes; I have it! I was a peer; I am so ho longer. “I am a poor minister of the gospel, confined here for the sake of religion. “I am, in short, Rev. Edwin C. Stiles. “How strange that I am here! I can remember nothing. “But I have a Bible, and I read and preach long sermons, and pray continually. “Yes; some day I shall, I think, be released, by God’s power, and then I shall devote myself to his cause. “I shall preach the gospel. “How strange my head feels! Sometimes I think I am going mad! “I pray that I may not be mad. “July 18.—I am preaching and praying constantly. Night and day I plead with God to send me a knife. “Will my prayers be granted? Shall I ever have a knife? Can I ever cut my way out of this weary prison, out to liberty, and preaching God’s holy word? “Heavenly Father, set me free, and my whole life shall be given to Thy work, Thy cause. “July 19.—Glory bo to God! Hallelujah! Amen! “My prayer is heard! A knife came to me with my food; sent me, I presume, by accident. It was forgotten, and now it is mine! “Accident did I say? No, no; it was sent by God in answer to my prayer. “I shall write no more. I shall instantly get to work; I' shall soon be a free man. “But these pages, written as it were, with my heart’s blood, I shall never once leave out of the reach of my hands. “I am Rev. Edwin C. Stiles, a minister of the gospel, and these lines are my diplomas, my badge of office. “Ha, ha: a knife is mine; my own! And now I shall work myself free!” Elfenstein paused and passed his hand over his forehead in deep thought. A sudden idea had seized him; it was this: Ethel Nevergail and he must have been in the corridor when this poor creature escaped! Yes; poor creature! These last lines told that he must have been insane, or nearly so, at least, when he escaped. But he had no time to think; a few more words remained to be read and his audience were eagerly waiting. These were written in pencil and the letters were crooked and feeble, as though done in great weakness. “August 18, I am sick, dying perhaps! O, joy if this should prove to De death! “I am weary, tired, worn out, but I thank God I am again myself. “Now I know I am Sir Arthur Giendenning. Lately I have been confused and thought myself a minister, tf My brain, my poor brain, was unstrong- At last lam myself. “A knife came to me and I took out the screws from the shelves, opened the parrels after pushing the shelves aside and escaped from my prison. “In the corridor I came upon a young girl and a man. “Strangers; I knew that at once. Both were strangers. Yet I feared recapture. “I rushed forward, dashed the light from them and then another frenzy seized me and my poor head nearly burst with pain. “I uttered a cry in my agony. Then another, as I rushed through the wellknown ruins. “My God! had those cries betrayed me? “Would Reginald pursue and drag me back? I vowed not. T would be wary.

I would utter no more cries, even II i died in suppressing them. “The night air revived me. “Blessed air. 1 had not felt its cheering influence, drawn a fresh mouthful of outside air, in twenty-five years. “I opened my mouth, 1 expanded my chest, 1 drank it all in. “What cared I for the storm, the howling wind, the falling rain. “It was delight, it was rapture! I was free! I was free! “I knew not where to go, but sped away, away, and rested not, until I was hidden in the cave in Demon’s wood. “There I slept and rested. There I quieted my overwrought nerves, and thanked God for the blessed knife that He, and He alone, had sent me. “Morning came, and again I tried to think. “My brain seemed heavy, and I could scarcely remember my own name. “But it came to me after a while. Rev. Edwin G. Stiles, a minister of the gospel. But how could I preach in these threadbare clothes? I must get suitable garments. 1 had money; 1 always had had money. . I had it in my pocketbook when cast into prison. My persecutors did not rob me. “So 1 took the cars and went to Liverpool, where I bought a suit of clerical clothes, and books and papers, to sell for Christ. “I also bougtit a little wallet, in which to lock up these pages. Something tells me 1 must never part with these papers. “Yes; 1 have them safe. Now, lying here, the wallet is safe in my hands. “I returned to the village then, and must have waudered around, selling my books, as Rev. Edwin C. Stiles. “But now lam sane. My senses have returned. 1 am Sir Arthur Giendenning, and I am dying! “I know I must have been insane, or partly so, for the last few weeks; but, thank God. my mind is clear, perfectly clear to-night. “It came back to me in such a strange, unlooked-for way! “It came back, and I found inyseif standing at the foot of Reginald’s bed, in my own old room, at Giendenning Hall. “I stood there, I say. gazing into his eyes, and he seemed very ill. “Horrible! How he glared when he saw me silently looking down at him! “He half raised himself, as if to push me off, and shrieked out: “‘Great God! Mercy! Mercy!’” then fell back senseless upon his pillow. “I could endure no more. “Horrified at finding myself in his presence, and fearing another imprisonment, I turned and lied. “Fled! Yes, fled! Fled from my own room, my own house, my own brother, back to tliis cave, where I immediately was taken ill, and could scarcely move for days. “I had food to last for a week or more, and’ I crawled out, once in a while, for water. “But now food has gone. lam too weak to drag myself to the spring. I thirst. I am burning with fever. I think I shall die! “But if I do, what of it? “God knows best. “But supposing I do not die. What then? “Shall I make myseh known, and so expose my brother, and reclaim the title and estate he has wrested from me? “Never! Never! “He is my brother, child of the same parents, and—the husband of my lost love! “Poor Constance! She shall never be made sad by acts of mine. She shall not shed a tear over the loss of wealth, title, or reputation, if I can help it. “But, blessed be the name of the Lord, I shall never sigh for my lost home, for I am going to a rich inheritance above; ‘A house not made with hands eternal in the heavens.’ “I know by my waning breath, my fading sight, that this is death! “Farewell earth! I shall write no more; but with my latest sigh, 1 thank God that I die a free man.” [to be continued. |

How the Dress Coat Came.

Perhaps few men who wear the conventional cla ivhammer coat are aware of its origin. Mr. W. W. Story, in his delightful Conversations in a Studio, says: The dress coat is the great product of the French revolution. The old coat out of which it was created was not beautiful in itself, but it had a certain character and effect as a costume. It was long in skirt and buttoned across the chest. The sleeves were loose and turned up, with facings from beneath; while in full dress, lace ruffles depended over the hand. Also the coat was faced with a different colored lining,' which it showed when unbuttoned. In walking, the skirtg, faced also, were turned back and buttoned up to two buttons on the back. Gradually it was lopped and reduced to the thing it now is. The skirts in front were cut away instead of being turned back. But the two foolish buttons behind were still kept after their use had gone. The front was permanently turned back, and the coat made too narrow to button, the foolish cuts now remaining in the collar representing the old division of the front lappets. As time went on more and more of the skirts were cut away, until they were reduced to the ridiculous swallowtail in which Beau Brummel said there was safety. The collar was piled up behind the facings and colors were don© away with, and thus little by little grew up the glorious thing called a dress coat. t ,

He’s a Highflier.

“Say, Cashem.” said honest old Mezekiah Plowshare to the cashier of the Jaytown National Bank, “I want to send SSOO to my boy over in Paris.” “Titian?” asked Cashem. “He’s getting to be a great painter, isn’t he ? He’s been studying art now a long time,. ” * . “ Gosh, yes,” replied Hezekiah. “He’s climbing way up to the top. Wrote me the other day he had painted the hull of Paris an’ wanted to begin on Borne. Says he’ll make them Bomans howl when he shows ’em what he kin do. That’s why I’m sendin’ him the stuff. Pm mighty proud of that boy of mine, I kin tell you.”— Chicago Times. Cast forward the eye of the spirit; awake in your souls the imaginative power, which carries forth what is fairest, what is highest life, away beyond the stars .—Goethe.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

HOUSEHOLD AND AGRICULTURAL TOPICS DISCUSSED. A Budget of Useful Information Relating to the Farm, Orchard. Stable, Uarlor and Kitchen. The Independent Farmer. How pleasant it seems to live on n farm. Where nature's so gaudily dressed. And sit 'neat h the shade of the old locust tree, As the sun is just sinking to rest ; But not half so pleasant to hoe in the held, .Where the witch grass is six inches high, W ith the hot scorching sun pouring down on your back, Seems each moment as though you would die! "Tis pleasant to sit in the cool porch door, While you smoke, half inclined at your ease, Looking out o'er your beautiful fields of grass, That sways to and fro, in the breeze, But not quite so pleasant to start with your scythe, Ere tbp morning sun smiles o'er the land. And work until your clothes are completely wet through, And blisters shall cover you hand. In keeping a dairy there's surely delight, And it Bpeaks of contentment and plenty, To see a large stable well filled with choice cows Say, numbering from fifteen to twenty I And yet it seems hard, when you've worked from the dawn Tin the sun disappears from your sight, To think of the cows you have got to milk, Before you retire for the night. But the task fairly over, you cheer up once more, And joyfully seek your repose. To dream of the cream pot a with luxury filled, And milk-pans in numberless rows; But the sweet dream Is broken when, early next day. You’re politely requested to churn, And for three weary hours, with strength ebbing fast. The victim despoudingly turns. But in raising young pigs is surly a charm, When they sell at tne present high price, And of all the young stock which a farmer can raise. There’s nothing that looks half so nice. How cheerful one feels as he leaves them at night, The encouraging number of eleven! But his joy slightly wanes when he goes out next day, And of live ones can count only seven 1 ’Tis pleasant to sit by a warm winter fire When night draws her curtain around, With both wife and children to make home complete, And peace and contentment abound; But ecstaey fades when you shoulder your ax, And trudge oft a mile through the snow, W’hile the cutting west wind drives the bhow in your fcce, So you scarcely can see where you go. But no one disputes that the farmer is blessed With true Independence and labor— Whose food don’t depend on the whims of mankind, Like that of his mercantile neighbor; For God in His mercy, looks down from above And paternally gives him his bread. Provided—he works eighteen hours every day, And devotes only six to his bed 1

THE FARM.

A Cheap Fence. A very cheap fence can be made with wy're netting four feet high and fastened in position as follows: Buy 2x3 inch scantling, 10 feet long, and cut into two pieces, or get stakes of any kind and sharpen the ends; then start a hole by striking down into the ground with a :rowbar and working it back and forth co widen the hole, when the stakes should io driven in a foot or more and be set six feet apart. At the bottom nail on Ix 2 inch strips, twelve feet long, and similar strips a ittle more than three feet higher up, tvlien you will bo ready to tack on the wire, which is done with small staples made for the purpose. This will leave a :ittle more than six inches of the wire netting (which will support itself) above the upper horizontal piece and the tops )f the stakes, so that if a lien flies for ;be upper lath she will strike the wire md be thrown back. It will, however, io found that the bird’s attempts to get >ut will all be made lower down and through the wire which seems to present 10 obstruction until they try it. To move a fence of this kind, of course, the wire must be taken off and the stakes pulled up and reset, which can all be lone in a very little time. While the fence seems a frail one, it will nevertheless, stand a very hard storm, as'it offers levy little resistance to the wind. An illustration and directions for makng a movable fence that can be still nore readily changed from one place to mother is given by Stoddard in his little >ook on “Poultry Architecture.” This fence, as shown in the second cut, is nade in sections, af.d can be quickly sot ip, and can be packed closely and laid iway when not in use. The lengths are twelve feet long and the fence live feet tiigh; the pickets are laths, sawed a foot longer and a quarter of an inch wider than usual; but common four foot laths are often used, and except for high-fly-ers, like Leghorns, are good enough. The object in using lath is to secure lightness, and for the some reason the posts are 5x1% inches and the rails and braces are Ix 2 inches. In constructing it the horizontal rails should be nailed to the posts outside, and the pickets fastened on outside the rails, when the diagonal braces should be nailed on outside the pickets. The fence is to be set up zigzag to secure a wide base and prevent falling over, and the ends of the lengths are to be fastened together with coarse twine or wire. In locations where strong winds may be expected a few prop<s or stakes driven down in the corners may be needed. In locating fences *or confining fowls reference must be had ',o the hennery and their usual roosting olaces when practicable.

the stock-ranch.

Wliey for Figs. Tlio reason that calves and swine do rot thrive on wliey in many instances, .s due generally to an overplus of acid in it. Whey gets rankly acid by being kept in old sour siyill barrels at home, and if the maker is slack the whey tub at the factory is a potent generator of acid germs. The writer knew of one maker once who put to practical use his faith in the virtue of whey as a hog diet. As is not infrequently the case the patrons of his factory did not take away more than half of the whey to. which they were entitled, so there was always a goodly amount of the waste fluid left in. the tub daily to be run onto the ground. The maker being of a frugal mind and sorry to see so much excellent swill go to waste conceived the idea of utilizing it to his profit by investing in a number of young porkers to prey upon it. With admirable judgment he located the pig sty far enough from the factory to preclude all possibility of unpleasant odors traversing the distance, and theii he began to put the whey into those dozen or so pigs. By the aid of a handful of cornmeaj to the pail of whey the result was astonishing, and the young swine throve like kittens on new milk. By the way, the speculative cheesemaker took pains with the character of the whey, and fed it out when only moder-

ately sour. In the fall he bought grain and fattened the shotes, and after selling them and his expenses out, lift a nice little margin of profit that he lightly attributed to the whey. —Qeorgc Newell, in Ohio Fanner.

THE HOUSEHOLD.

To Transfer Prints to Glass, First coat the glass with damar varnish, or Canada balsam dissolved in an equal volume of turpentine, and let it dry until it is very sticky, which takes half a day or more. The printed paper to be transferred should be well soaked in soft water, and carefully laid upon the prepared glass, after removing the surplus water with blotting-paper, and pressed upon it, so that no air bubbles or drops of water arc seen underneath. This should dry a whole day before it is touched; then with wetted lingers, begin to rub off the paper at the back. If this be skillfully done, almost, the whole of the paper can be removed, leaving simply the ink upon the varnish. When the paper has been removed, another coat of varnish will serve to make the whole more transparent. Tills recipe is sold at from $3 to sls by itinerants.— Exchange. • How to Talk. Read books which will make you think. What wo want most is to be made to think. No one can talk who cannot think, and thinking is by no means as usual an accomplishment us many so called. The want of thought is at the root of many a social failure. Good reading will present different subjects to your mind. If one of them interests you, take it up as a study. Little by little you will find many points in it which may seem obscure; don’t be satisfied to leave them aside, but read such works as are likely to bear on the subject, and never rest content witli halftruths when a glorious revelation may boawaiting you. Try to retain important facts, but do not give up originality of thought or independent judgment when you feel it to be sound. Read and think—read and think. When the importance of serious thought is fully understood, good conversation will once more flourish, and we shall taste again the delights of kindred thoughts. The quick repartee, the witty answer, which often sheds an unexpected light on some knotty points pored over in vain, the thoughtful question revealing the till then hidden beauties of the mind, all these joys once known will be counted as among the purest of life. Instead ol' a crush of people thronging our beaten rooms, why not gather around us half a dozen chosen friends with something to say? What pleasure, what sweet recreation, we should find in such society! A quick intelligence, a cultivated mind, a good memory, are all useful qualities which will make the art of conversation easy to acquire; but even if these are lacking, an ordinary amount of intellect, a good heart, and some of that precious common sense which is, as it wore, the birthright of nearly every American' woman would be sufficient, if judiciously used, to create a revolution in conversation which would make many drawing-rooms as pleasant us those famous ones whose departed glory we would not mourn, but look upon as a stimulus to better things. Hints to Housekeeper*. If grease splatters your favorite WIF ton, mix half a glass of fuller’s earth and the same amount of magnesia with boiling water, apply it hot, and brush off when dry. Small grease spots may be removed with a hot iron and blown paper. If a cellar lias a damp smell, and cannot be thoroughly ventilated, a few trays of charcoal, set around the floor, shelves, and ledges, will make the air pure and sweet. If a largo basketful of charcoal bo placed in a damp cellar where milk Is kept, the milk will be In no danger of becoming tainted. In restoring draperies or curtains of art needlework or muslin, they should first be .well shaken to get out the dust, and then soaked in clean water to remove the worst of the dirt; they are then washed in topid water witli good white soap, rinsed through cold water with a little salt in it. aim\jried quickly in the shade. They should be folded before getting quite dry, and ironed lightly with a not too hot iron. A fkw pieces of horse-r&dlsh root put among pickles will keep the scum from rising on top and improve their flavor. || Ink stains on mahogany must be obliterated by touching the spot witli a feather dipped in a teaspoonful of water to which a few drops of nitre have been added, and directly the stain disappears. Rub it over quickly with a cloth dipped in cold water.

ifit POULTRY-YAUD.

Marketing KggM. An exchange says there is probably in no one article of the same relative value so much loss from injudicious management as In eggs. Some shippers will gather up in small lots a sufficient quantity to Jmake a shipment; having the amount on hand necessary to make a shipment, they search the stores for old boxes, barrels, etc.; anything that will hold the eggs, in their judgment, is good enough. It always pays to pack eggs in cases or egg carriers; they are uniform in size, self counting, no experienced packer required, clean and convenient to handle, only a small space required to pack them, will carry eggs much safer than any other package, scarcely any loss by breakage, save in freight, and they go into market much cleaner. Railroad employes cannot roll them aboat as they do barrels, and the best and above all, eggs in cases bring from two to five cents per dozen more than in any other package. Why is it our market reports are always quoting eggs with such a wide range in prices? Simply because of the injudicious management and unskilled handling. In packing, make two grades of eggs, that is fresh eggs; keep the clean eggs by themselves, and the uncouth ones the same. A little fresh, thoroughly clean and perfectly dry straw, or if proper straw isn-t obtainable, several layers of clean, dry paper should always be put in the bottom of the box, and also next to the lid. The straw or paper serves as a cushion and tends to prevent breakage. Stale, dirty, damp or musty straw or hay should never be used, as it not only injures the appearance, but affects the quality of the eggs. Care should always bo taken to prevent eggs coming in contact with any foreign odor. In shipping a long distance be sure that the eggs are not only sound, but recently laid. Eggs may be candled and repacked, bat if they are stale, though apparently sound, they will be sure to reach the market in bad order, or will so

rapidly change that dealers will lost money on them. This rule is especially applicable to Eastern and Salt Lake shippers; the motion of the cars so muddles eggs not entirely fresh that they appear cloudy and stale, and will soon spoil, if, indeed, they are not already bad. Do not hold lots after they are packed. Ship at once while fresh. Western Turkey Raising. First—be careful of the eggs; gather them in so as not to let them get chilled. When the hens want to set break them all up but one (which is very easily done by shutting them up for a few daysHhen divide the eggs, giving her as inuny as she can cover—twenty at least. Give the others to common hens; when hatched give all the tuiks to the turkey; make a pen of boards set up on edge out in the shade,off a piece from the house and barn, so they will not be disturbed. In this pen put the young turkeys: let them stay there about a week, then drive them out into the meadow; go regularly every day and feed them; they may be a little shy at first, but will soon learn who feeds them. 1 seldom keep more than four or less than three turkey hens, and raise forty to seventy young turks. Be careful to feed them cooked food. 1 have no trouble raising them with chicken hens. Have to select a kind of quiet one, then put the turkeys in a pen as described above until they learn her language. Select a strong breed. 1 prefor the small bronze, as they are very hardy.—Exchange.

THE APIARY.

How Far Will Bees Go lor Honey. A writer in an exchange gives someexperience on this much-vexed question, in which he says: This is a subject that has always interested me, and I have made it a point to gather all the information I coultl for tile last five years. It has been about that long since I learned inv A B C in bee culture. I lived in the center of what is called the ‘‘Cross Timbers,” a belt of timber that runs across Toxas. Now, where I live it is about five miles on either side to the prairie. I was the first one to get the yellow-banded bees in this part of the country, and, in fact, the only one; and the first year 1 got them I happened to be about two miles out on the prairie, where the horsemmt was in bloom. On looking I found it ti was covered with bees, and, to my surprise, 1 found about half of them were of the yellow banded race. It caused me to watch them, thinking that I should find that some of my neighbors had the improved race of bees, but not so. By watching carefully I noticed that they would rise high In the air and make a direct line for my house. I asked nearly all of my neighbors between there and here if they know of any one who had the Improved raee of bees, and they did not, but that they knew that no one had them but myself. On this occasion mv Italians musthavo flown seven miles for forage. I have also seen them two and three miles out on the prairie lu the other directions, and made the same inquiries, but no one could tell me of any one who had them but mvsolf. To further prove that they will go seven or eight miles, I remember that this year has been noted for draught; and what rain has come has been only partial showers. In Juno, when the horsemint was in bloom, everything here was burned up; but six or seven miles out on .the prairie they had plenty of rain In time to make the mint crop slendid; and the truth of it is, I got sixty pounds of extracted honey to the colony from the mint last year, and the evidence seems to be that they got it six or eight miles away. While the bees were gathering this amount there was hardly a bloom of any kind to be found nearer than six miles of my place. It was so dry In this neighborhood that all vegetation had parched up. Now, then, I think this proves pretty cloary that bees will go six and eight miles to gather honey. .

THE DAIRY

. Dairy Rule*, 1. Milk from healthy cows onfy should be used, and not until at least four days after calving. 2. Any harsh treatment that excites the cow lessens the quantity and injures . the quality of her yield. 3. Cows should be allowed an abundant supply of wholesome, suitable food, and as much pure water as they will drink. 4. A supply of salt should be placed where cows have access to it every day, 5. Cows should not be permitted to drink stagnant, impure water, nor to eat cleanings from horse stables, leeks, turnip tops nor anything that would give the milk an offensive taint. li. All milk vessels should be thoroughly cleansed; first being well washed, then scalded with boiling water, and afrorwards sufficiently aired to keep them perfectly sweet. 7. Cows should be milked with dry hands, and only after the udders have been washed or well brushed. 8. Milking should be done and milk should be kept only where the surrounding air is pure and free from all objectionable and tainting odors. Milking in a foul-smelling stable or yard imparts to milk an injurious taint. Sour whey should never be fed, nor should itogs be kept in a milking yard, nor near a milk stand. ». Tin pails only should be used. 10. All milk should bo property strained immediately after milking, and for that purpose a detached strainer is preferable to a strainer pail. 11. In preparing milk for delivery to a cheese factory, it should immediately after straining be thoroughly aired by pouring, dipping and stirring. This treatment is as beneficial for the morning’s milk as for the evening’s, and is even more necessary when the weather is cool than when it is warm. 12. In warm weather all milk should be cooled after it has been aired, but not before. 13. Milk kept over night in small quantites—say in tin pails—will be in better condition than if kept in larger quantity in one vessel. 14. When both fnesses of milk are conveyed to the factory in one can, the mixing "f the morning with the evening’s milk should be delayed till the milk wagon reaches the stand. 15. While the milk is warmer tnan jthe surrounding air it should be left uncovered, and when colder it may with advantage be covered. 16. Milk pails and cans should be protected from the rain, and milk stands should be constructed to shade the cans from the sun. 17. Only honest milk with its full share of strippings should be offered; violation •of this requirement leaves the patron liable to a heavy penalty. —Western Fanner.