Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 May 1891 — Page 5

CHUB.

A Romance of West Virginia.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER XL ANOTHER SURPRISE. “Well,” said Tom Bigger 9, “this is the gaul-darndest idee out yet. ” “I can’t understand it,” said Hank Dawson. “I do, dad. ” Chub spoke cheerily. It was wonderful the pluck Chub Dawson displayed. Nothing could dash her bright spirits. Although upward of forty-eight, hours had passed since she had seen her beitrothed —he had met her at a neighbor’s the morning of the day set for their wedding—although everybody gave Dan Bash up for dead, or worse than dead if living, Chub’s faith in him, her belief in his restoration to her, was not lessened an iota. “Dad! we’re all wrong. Maybe it Isn’t as we’d a right to think. Maybe something else has happened to Dan. The Monks maybe ain’t in it at all —or, leastways, I believe Squatty don’t know just now any more than we do. Say, Squatty, where’s the rest of your gang?” “We11,.1 suppose Ned and Bill will be nigh your house now. ” “?What are they doing there?” demanded Hank Dawson, fiercely. “O! don't you make any mistake, Mr. Dewson. Nobody would go to your house to touch a hate. You might hang all you’ve got on your fence and none of the Monks would come nigh it.” “I believe you,” said Tom Biggers g’imly. “You’d rather tackle a locomoti /e with a full head of steam on ” “Well, what are they over at mv place for?” “Why—didn’t I just tell you.” “Speak out. ” “They’ve a notion maybe Dan Bash would be making for your house.” “Well? What then?” “O, dad! Don’t you see? Why, the Monks would catch him and do something with him. ” “Kill him, do you mean?” asked Tom Biggers. “No! They’re so mad at me, it would do them more good to keep him somewhere and torment him. That’s more like the Monks. Ain’t that what they were after, Squatty?” Chub asked. “Yes.” “I knew it, dad.” There was a brief silence after this confession, extorted from Squatty’s trembling lips. The trio looked at the trembling wretch, then at each other. Poor Squatty’s hands were shaking now like those of a paralytic. ““I guess we’ve got all he’s able to tell us,” said Hank Dawson gloomily. “What will we do next, Chub?” “In the first place, dad, let us decide what we’ll do with Squatty." “My God! you won’t do nothin’ to me. I couldn’t help it. They made me do it. I’d get shot in my tracks if I didn’t do as they told me. ” “Stop your whining,” said Hank Dawson. “It’s a pity the Almighty lets such carrion as you live. You’re no more account than a crow—you’re a durn sight meaner. ” “I know I am,” said Squatty. “Shut up!” exclaimed Tom Biggers, angrily. “I tell you what, dad,” said Chub. “Let us send Squatty on ahead of us, just the same as if he’d not been interfered with. Then we'll follow, and go on to the Corners, and maybe we’ll meet the Monks. They wont want to fight you, I reekon. “What if Squatty tells about meetin’ us.”

“I won’t —I swear I won’t," said Squatty. •“Let him," said Chub contemptuously. “Let him, if he dares, break his word to me." “I won’t—l won’t, Chub.” “Of course you won’t,” said Tom Diggers. “You’d best say your orayers if you do " “I don’t exactly follow your idea, Chuh, ” said her father, “but I guess you know what you want. You just mean that this hound is to be let go, and join the gang of cutthroats that he belongs to, and we’rfe to spy on them, instead of them takin’ us unawares. ” “That’s it, dad. ” “That’s all right. You can go, Squatty—git out.” “Yes—light out,” said Tom Biggers. “Not yet, Squatty,” said Chub, in warning tones; “you’ve found ways to obey the Monks. If you don’t find a way to let us know just where the gang is by 10 o’clock—mind, that’s six or seven hours yet—plenty of time to get around —if you don’t let me know where the gang is, or the Monks at least—look out for trouble ” “I’ll mind you. Be sure I’ll let you know. ” The next moment Squatty hurried off in the darkness. “I’m most sorry I didn’t let the dog follow him,” said Tdm Biggers. “A bargain s a bargain,” said Chub. “Not with that gang,” said Tom Biggers. “I wouldn't believe one of them—not if the rope was around his neck, and his legs in the giave. ” Whereat Hank Dawson coughed. It was the first sign of change in his mood. His fierceness had evaporated. “Lord! Did any one ever see such a toward as that poor fellow ” “I don't think he Is a bit worse than the Monks, dad. Did any one ever know them to show fight unless there were two or three of them together. ” As nobody had. there wa, no more to be said on that subject “Listen, ” said Tom Biggers “That’s him breaking his way to the road.” “I’m net so sure about that,” sa ! d Chub, as she inclined an cars. “Dad, don't that sound seem to come from below, instead of above?” “It does. Chub. ” “Let’s go back on the road quick as we can." They were already in their saddles again; Hank Dawson had held the pine knot until it was nearly all burned out “Throw it down, dad,” said Chub. “Maybe its best to be qu'et—so’s nobody’ll suspect us. We’ll hurry up on , them. ” As they rode back to the road it was very evident Chub’s surmise was correct The sounds they heard did rmt come from the part of the road iSquatty said he wou'd take ~ , “Queer,” said Hack Lawson. “Sup- \ \

po*e you go ahead with your dog, Tom, or send the dog on. ” Tom acted on the hint. Hero bounded away,, and soon the party were on the traveled road. At that moment Hero gave tongue. Then there was a pistol shot, and all was silent —as silent as the grave. “Blast It all! they’ve killed my dog!” exclaimed Tom Biggers iu a rage. CHAPiER XIL THE MEETING AT THE CORNER. “What does It mean, anyhow?” said Biggers, turning to Chub. “It means we’re tricked—fooled by that skunk Squatty,” said Hank Dawson, “if I had him now, I’d smash his bones ” “Maybe we’re wrong, dad,” said Chub. “How do we know it aint the Monks been stealing along after Squatty, and the dogs 9cented them, and they’ve shot him.” “Well, let us turn back and see, ” said Hank. “No! Don’t, dad. ” “Why, Chub?” “It’s one thing to meet them at home, another to fight them up here, where they’re at home, and you don’t know who you’ve got again you!” “That’s so, too. ” “Everybody would know who to go for to try in court if they.came to you—up here, it’s hard to tell each other. The Monks would swear out of it. ” “That’s so, too. ” “I wonder if the dog's dead?” said Tom, slowly. The words were scarcely uttered when Hero limped back to the spot they stood on, whined, fell, and dropped in his tracks. Tom got off his horse and cursed as roundly under his breath as if the ruffians had killed his dearest relative. “Is he dead, Tom?” “Dead as a stone. Now, then, you may bet I’ll get even with them as killed Hero. If I have to hunt ’em ten years, I'll get even with em ” “Let us go back, dad,” said Chub. The trio retraced their steps, but no sound was heard. At one time Chub thought she heard a moan, but it was dismissed as idle fancy, and they moved on. “It’s no use, Chub.” “No, I see it isn’t, father,” said Chub sadly. “I reckon we may as well give it up now, and go after Squatty. ” So they turned their horses’ heads again and resumed their journey home cautiously. They were on the lookout, and rode along iu silence, trusting that fortune might enable them to hear or see something that would assist them in clearing up the terrible mystery that involved the fate of Dan Bash. But they were doomed to disappointment. They reached Hank Dawson s witfiout encountering anything unusual* All was as it should be at Hank Dawson’s. They rode on to the Corners. The morn was beginning to get pray at this time. The Corners was as silent as the grave. Not a soul was in view. So they turned over the sloping hillside, and putting up their horses and feeding them well, the party entered Hank Dawson’s comfortab.e home. What a picture was presented there! The dishes prepared for the feast were as they were left by the merrymakers. Many of the rich viands were as yet untouched. The evidences of a grand frolic were on every side. “This don’t look much like a wedding,” said Chub as she made room for Tom Biggers, “but you mark what I tell you. They’ll be the jolliest time here when Dan Bash gets back, as he s sure to do. ” “Don’t tain that way, Chub,” said her father sorrowfully. “Why not, dad? I feel that way, and I’m going to talk that way till Dan is found, as he’s sure to be soon.” “Tell you what,Chub,” said her father. “Let’s a|j go to bed for an hour or two and bigin again.” “After we get a little to eat, dad. Nan and Tom must be pecky, and I know I’ll be the better of a bite.” She busied herself, and while her father made a big blazing fire in a few minutes, Chub soon had a pot of tea ready, which they all appreciated, and after eating heartily they all ret red for an hour or two of sound rest As Chub lay sleeping she had a strange dream.

She thought she was walking on a bright morning a ong a mountain path. The path seemed natural at first, but as Chub strolled on she realized that it was a strange freak of nature. It was not a path at all. It was a channel cut in the rocks—a cleft. The vines grew in it; the sun shone straight dqwn in it, but she could not see on either side. She could see the tops of the trees. She heard the birds clearlyfelt the breeze blow her hair. Then something seemed to hold her there. She was-unable to go forward or back. She was paralyzed. She was not afraid, however. She simply wondered what was the matter. Then she discovered suddenly that the vines formed a vast network; they held her arms, her feet She was like one tied, bound hand and foot. She could not move a finger. She was crying out for help when she awoke. “What is ft, Chub?” It was her father’s voice calling her. “O! I’ve had such a strange dream, dad.” Then Chub got up and dressed herself with nervous haste. Hank rose at once too, and soon their guest joined them. “I've had the strangest dream, dad. I know where Dan is now.” “Where is he, Chub?” “He’s caught —he’s held fast somewhere. Them Monks, I reckon, can tell. Leastways we’ll hunt ’em up, right away now, and make them talk. ” The breakfast was speedily prepared. They were so anxious to resume the inquiry that they ate sparingly. Then they saw to tbeir horses, and half an hour later they were on the road, and at the Corners The sun was hours h’gh, and all was bustle at the Corners, where Eli Potts was waiting on his customers at the bar, and his wife Susan was scolding her help ior not being able to waft on her eust imers as fast as breakfast was called for. Manv were late callers —si c i a rush was never known at the Corners Tavern before since Eli Potts took charge of it As Chub and her father rode up they beheld a number of horse- and men near the tavern. Chief among tne group was Ned Monk, and a little distance from him was his brother Bill. A little further from the main group, Pete Monk stood talking with Bob Squatty. Besides these three, there were one or two others who were associates of the Monks The crowd were talking of the mysterious disappearance of Dan Bash Nobody made any pretense of conceal-

ment The entire county was aroused now. Pine County wa9 excited as it had never been excited by anything before. The crowd of loungers looked at Hank Dawson and his daughter and Tom Biggers as they rode up and dismounted. Hank was in quest of news—others sought to learu from him whether anything had been discovered that would throw light on the strange case. Chub Dawson addressed those whom she was intimate with cheerfully and hopefully. Thdre was a sparkle in her bright eyes as she glanced at the Monks, who affected indifference. The indifference was poorly assumed. They felt uneasy, and to make up for lack of ease, they talked very loud. They had been drinking freely too. early as it was. They all swaggered more or less, as was their wont The latest comer in quest of news, and on the lookout for fresh developements in the mystery that thrilled all Pine County, had been served. Eli Potts and his wife stood at the door. The dozen or more loungers on the porch, and the half score leaning on the bars and around their horses, were suddely startled by Chub Dawson, who said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all there: “Now, dad, I reckon it’s time to talk to the Monks.” Ned and Bill Monks suddenly stood shoulder to shoulder. Pete and Squatty shuffled up behind them. “We are right here,” said Ned Monk. “Anybody kin talk to ns,” added Bill, with a sly look and a strange smile that made his countenance, evil as it was, appear more villainous. “Humph!” exclaimed Hank Dawson dryly, “you're most too ready, for the majority as knows you, Bill.” Then pausing to add effect to his words, he added, “and as for being here when you're wanted —by gum! it’s the first time I ever lcuow'd you to be on hand when you was wanted for anythin’ useful, Nod Monk.” The Monks exchanged looks of rage, while the listeners laughed at the thrust the brawny blacksmith gave them. As for Hank Dawson, he laughed himself, laughed loudly. Then he changed his mood suddenly. Turning to Ned and Bill Monk sternly, he said: “Now, then! what have you done with Dan Bash?” The crowd approached, gathered closer around the principals of this strange scene. They foresaw something extraordinary. “Answer me! Say it right out now! and mind —mind what yon say, for you’re in mighty close quarters!” The giant of Pine County faced them as if he felt able to deal with the Monk gang individually and collectively. “Say, out with it! What have you done with Dan Bash?” Bill Monk looked at Ned, Ned looked at Bill, then Bill cleared his throat, put a bold face on, and said: “I reckon that’s a question you can answer; you seem to know. ” [to ue continued.]

The Monkey and the Cigar.

A correspondent of the London Telegraph relates the following incident: Some years ago I was bringing two monkeys home from the West Indies, which I had named “Jack” and “Jill.” Jack was a brown monkey about the size of a fox terrier, while Jill was smaller, and of the type known as “white-faced.” One day Jack was indulging his curiosity into my pockets, and among other things fished out a cigar. He smelled it, and before I could stop him bounded off to his cage with his prize. Jill rushed after him to see what he had got, and he considerately allowed her to Bmell and no more. Then he tore it up and began to chew it, and presently worked himself up into an ecstasy of delight, taking the half-chewed cigar from his mouth and smearing it over his face and body with maudlin satisfaction. Jill sat the while at the other end oi the cage regarding her lord and master with wondering interest, but afraid to disturb his revels, though she once oi twice crept cautiously up to obtain a nearer view of the cause of all this excitement, and to make a sly attempt to get hold of it. Jack’s excitement began to get too much for him, and he rolled about his straw and twisted himself into all sorts of contortions in uncontrollable delight, and at last fell down in a helpless state of intoxication. Thereupon Jill carefully covered him well over with straw and mounted guard over him, energetically resisting any attempt on my part to see how he fared. She remained steadily at her post until he awoke and emerged from his covering, looking very, very seedy, sick, and sorrowful.

The Set of Steel Wire.

Gr. Leverich, of the Brooklyn Bridge staff of engineers, was associated with the late Colonel Paine for over twenty years, and relates some interesting reminiscences of his connection with the big structure. Wheb the big sustaining cables for the bridge were being constructed considerable difficulty was experienced with the coils of steel wire, which, being pretty hard, had a strong tendency to spring back into coil form after being straightened out. This wire in the manufacturing process is reduced to proper size by being drawn through holes in a steel plate. Colonel Paine found, that the coiled wire was not so strong by ten or fifteen per cent, as if it had been kept straight, and he tried to get the manufacturers and Colonel Boebling to have the defect remedied. One day Colonel Paine drove up to his house in Jersey City, and taking a box of coiled wire out of the vehicle stretched it out straight, and lo! it remained as it was, without -any tendency .to coil up again. The Colonel had discovered an extremely simple method of accomplishing the desired result, which was, instead ol coiling up the wire close to the perforated steel plate after it had been drawn through, aod thus making it set, to draw it out some considerable distance before coiliDg. The suspension of Colonel Forsyth, of the Seventh Cavalry, during the Pine Bidge campaign seems to have been uncalled for. The investigation proved nothing whatever against him, but much in his favor. In this world misery constantly peeps mockingly over the shoulder of happiness, and just as we are about to grasp her bv the hand he knocks her roughly aside and with a strong grip grasps our outstretched hand in his own.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE . FARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. Some Valuable Information for the Plowman, Stockman, Poulterer, Nurseryman, and Everybody Connected with the Farm. THE FARM. A Valuable Fertilizer.

GOOD farming doesn't stop at the door of the poultry house. It goe-3 inside and gives . tho fowls as ra- \ tional care as is \ bestowed upon the \ rest of the farm rift] stock. It also takes I special pains to A preserve every Mb particle of tho valuable fertilizer $ that is made there. g* menibered that no stock upon the farm is fed such 9l concentrated food as that consumed

by fowls, that are properly cared for. The natural result is that their droppings contain more valuable food elements than any other manure made upon the place. I have never realized this so forcibly as during tho past season when 1 used it in mv garden side by side with commercial fertilizer. The fact that the poultry ntdfaure gave better satisfaction than the artificial compound was probably duo to the care which had boon taken to properly preserve it. 1 believe it is an exception to the general rule when proper care is given to this dressing by farmers. It is either allowod to collect in heaps under the roosts, where it may remain for mouths rendering tho air impure, or it is thrown out of doors to be wasted by rains, and its nitrogen (the specially strong and valuable point in this fertilizer) dissipated in the air. My own method is to remove the droppings frequently from the pens and place them in barrels, with a generous supply of dry absorbent, such as road dust, but, never wood ashes or lime. Such a plan involves rather more labor perhaps than most farmers would think they could give to tho matter, and so I am of the opinion that the verv best general plan that can be adoptod is to clean out the pens thoroughly, and then cover tho floor to the depth of at least six inches with perfectly dry road dust, which can always bo obtained during a dry time in the summer, fall, and spring. All tho droppings that fall into this dust will be quickly covered and their moisture absorbod by the constant scratching over the wholo room, particularly If oats and wheat are thrown down occasionally. By this arrangement there will bo no heaps formed beneath the roosts, because tho scratching of the fowls will level all, and keep an even mixture over the whole floor. The finest dust will fill every crack and cranny, and provide a bath each day for the fowls, so that vermin will be unknown. In this way I think tho pens need not bo cleaned out more than twice a year—ln the fall and spring. The manure laden dust will be found to be most excellent dressing, and It will have the merit of not being so concentrated in this form, and so will not bo likely to be injudiciously used as frequently happens with the undiluted article, and yet not a particle of Its value will be lost, while the pens will be kept sweet throughout the year, and the fowls kept free from the common pest of vermin. Caro should be taken If this plan Is followed that the drinking water is not spilled, for when road dust under cover becomes wot, It dries very slcJWiy, and dampness in tho poultry house is especially to be avoided. —lVebb Donnell, in Practical Farmer,

THE GARDEN.

Outlook for Gardeners. When one has discovered which kinds of crops ho can best produce, It is Important to hold steadily to raising them, and not on account of fluctuations In the market to shift from one thing to another from year to year. This is the regular movement, ebb and flow, of the great mass of cultivators, and the result is that some crops are always overproduced or underproduced. The onion Is a notable example of this sort. Among fruits the strawberry is constantly subject to this shifting movement. Only the steady cultivator gets any benefit by a short crop, while the mass of growers are nearly always.met with a full and lowpriced market. Unusual success in any particular crop, by reason of superior local advantages, will often induce many others to undertake similar production, and often with the effect of finding sale with little or no profit at most, or perhaps worse, with an actual loss. Celery growing the past year has been widely extended, and in many cases far beyond the needs Of local consumption, leaving heavy stocks to be thrown into the great markets, where but little is realized from them. A notable instance among fruits in the Northern States at the present time is grape growing. Certain localities favorable to the production of grapes of fine quality, having established a profitable industry after many years of trial and difficulty, now find that their success has encouraged many persons to plant vineyards on grounds with no particular adaptation to them, and with the result of producing a large mass of fruit of inferior grade. The result Is not that the good fruit brings the best price, but the piTce of the fruit of poor quality determines that of the whole, without distinction. Such is the fact.— Vick's Mufjazine. A Clever Garden Help. Do not plant a seed unless you wish it to grow, and then remember that plants and pigs are alike in habits, feeding and growth and require the same care. To refuse both food would be to put the pig soonest out of his .misery. The plant might survive a few days. Use the best cultivator. One implement of great

utility to gardeners is a cheap b&nd roller, which is run on the row after it is planted and which may follow the plow as pulverizer. A simple contrivance is a heavy block off an elm or oak log sixteen inches in diameter and twelve to fourteen inches long. It may have a light

frame work by which to propel it like a a wheelbarrow. For transplanting bore holes the desired distances apart, and Insert pins of proper length to punch holes to receive the plants. Push the roller in a straight line, follow with the plants, water them and fill the place with fresh earth at once, leaving it without pressing. Tho operation is quick and if well done not one in 1,000 plants will die.— Charles Dcland, in Farm (tad FircsUlc .

THE POULTRY YARD.

Potato Parlngi* lor Chickens. Mrs. J. M. Wetherell, Alameda County, California, writes: “Since I have kept poultry, I have pared my potatoes thicker than formerly, and find a balm for my wounded conscience in tho thought that what is lost by the family is gained by the poultry. I boil the potato parings, and when they are cooked I put them through a meat grinder. I then mix bran with tho ground potatoes until the mass is dry and crumbling, when I feed it to my young chicks while still warm. Sometimes I add before grinding one or two raw onions and a little salt and black pepper. The chicks not only enjoy It, but it is a very nutritious food for them.” Chops for Sitting Hens. As a precaution against storms and severe cold, all the coops for sitting hens should be placed in the poultry-house or under a shed. When the hens come off with their broods tho coops should bo carried into tho barn during tho stormy weather, and they should be so constructed as to permit of carrying tho hens and chicks in tho coops. No matter how closely a hen may hover her chicks, she cannot protect them in wintor when they are exposed to severe cold, and the chicks will sometimes become chilled during the day when they are picking up bits outside of the coop. All coops for hens with broods should be well littered with cut, hay, and every care used to have them as warm as can bo. When tho hen is sitting, her nest should bo in a warm place and her food placed whoro she can reach it without being compelled to go very far from the nest.

THE HOUSEHOLD.

How to Witih Flannels. Flannel underwear and woolen stockings would last two or three times lbuger than they ordinarily do if they were properly washed. Many pooplo put them In the general wash, and lot them go through the same as any other piece of clothing—from hot water into cold. This is all wrong; one such wash will shrink and stiffen woolens so that they will bo very much smaller, and also harsh and thick. If properly washed, there is no necessity for woolon underwear or stockings becoming hard or discolored at all; they should be as soft when worn out as they were when new. White flannels often assume a saffron tint after one bad washing, while with proper care they should remain white till they turn yellow with age. The first thing to do )r to make a lather of lukewarm water and some pure white soap (Castile or borax soap is best); a little borax may bo also added, or ammonia, two tablespoonfuls to a pail of water. This will loosen tho dirt, and also tend to keep the flannels soft. Put your woolens In this, and rinse up and down a great number of times until the flannels seem clean. Soup should never be rubbed on them, as it leaves a mark or hard streak wherever it Is rubbed. Do not use a board; if there arc any soiled streaks around the wrists or necks of the shirts, rub between the hands. If tho dirt will not move without soap, rub the soap on tho palms of the hands (not on the flannels), and then rub tho flannels between them. When the flannels are thoroughly clean, squeeze them out carefully and put them into the rinse water. This should be lukewarm (never hot) about the same temperature as the water In which they have been washed. Rinse up and down until they are free from suds; then squeeze between tho hands until you get them as dry as posible; never use a wringer, and try to do without even wringing with tho hands. Hang up at once, and never let them lie in the clothesbasket. llaqg shirts by the shoulders at first, drawers by the belts, and skirts by the waistbands. When they are half dry, reverse the position, and let them finish drying. Scarlet flannels, if they are of good quality, will keep their color if washed as above and each detail carefully attended to. Some old housekeepers, however, prefer to take the following precaution In regard to red flannels in order to bo sure of their not fading: Mix a half cupful of flour with a quart of cold water, place over the fire, and let it boil for fifteen minutes. Stir this Into the warm suds In which the flannels are to be washed, and then proceed as above. Salt is sometimes used in washing colored woolen stockings In order to keep them from fading,- but we have found It rather harsh, and prefer to wash them, as well as other woolens, as wo have just described. In winter the flannels should be washed first before touching the other clothes, so that they may have plenty of time to dry. We prefer not to iron flannels, as they can be smoothed out with the hands and laid into shape. If you prefer to iron them, be sure and use a warm iron (never hot), and press them on the wrong side.

THE DAIRY.

Dairy Mote*. * Don’t let a dairy meeting in your neighborhood get away from you, whether you know much or little about the science of dairying. Skvkrai, correspondents have incidentally said recently that they are warming the water, this winter, for their cows are pleasixi with the result. We are not surprised. Evebv pound of oleomargarine that is sold takes the place of a pound of genuine butter, and for that reason, if for no other, hotels, and board-ing-houses should be forbidden by law, to feed It to their patrons without knowledge. Once in awhile, and oftener, somebody gives the public the benefit of his belief about abortion in the herd, and when we get through reading it, we know Just as much as we did before. The butterine makers kick like a “bay steer,” at the idea of preventing them by legislation, from cramming their dirty products down the throats of 5 those who cat at public eating houses, but they must be made to be decent. The practice of the golden rule toward the herd is just as important as its practice toward our fellowmen. Do unto the cow as you would be done bv, if you were in her place, is about ali there Is to the proper management of the herd. j • One of the leading live stock papers of the West tells it readers, says an ex-

change, that stunted calves will certainly, make, as far as appearance goes, “scrub”' animals, and that this will be the case without the slightest regard to the breed which they represent or to tho quality of their breeding. This is sound doctrine which all live stock owners will do well to heed. By good care and skillful feeding they can improve the appearance and increase tho value of a low grade of stock at its present degree of excellence if the younß animals are not well fed or are not given proper attention.

THE KITCHEN.

Kitchen Helps. In many houses tho cause of poor broad can be traced to the bread being set to raise where a draught from a door will strike it, or insufficient steady warmth. In a bakery all this is guarded against, the raising-room never being allowed below a certain temperature. Tho accompanying cut, which wo takofrom an exchange, could be made very easily at home, from light timber. It is twenty-throe inches square and twentyeight inches high. Tho .shelves are of wire, and a lamp placed in tho lower part

makes tho warmth. This must not bo one that has too largo a flame, or it would cook it. On the shelf abovo the lamp place a pioco of heavy shoot-irou. This will insure your bread an oven temperature. Tho other cut Is a convenience for drying tins. Did you over try ticking for dish-tow-els? Got a light-weight quality and make-them a half a yard wide, and usetho original width for tho length of the towel. For dish-cloths, Turkish towoling i» good, or cheese-cloth taken double and basted. In theso days of cheap material it doesn’t pay to use a dish-cloth too long. When its days of usefulness are oyer* burn it

With greasy dishes, it is best to rub> them off with paper and use it to kindleflros with. This saves your dlsh-clotha. and towels, and tho dish-water does not clog up tho waste-pipes so much. If you just throw water in tho yaru, it will not contain sediment to litter up the yard. In tho early days of spring, every bit of litter about tho yard should be raked together and burned; the articles that will not burn should be carted away.. Nothing spoils a place like litter. ChHIH'XIK IRVING-

Heelpe*. Pumpkin Cuhtahd— Cut a pumpkin into squares, stew slowly until well cooked, then press through a colander or sluve. To every pint of pumpkin add a piece of butter about twice the si/.e of a walnut* half a tcaspoonful of salt (scant,) onepint of good milk, half a teaspoon eacbi of mace and cinnamon, one teaspoon of ginger, one cup of sugar, and four wellbeaten eggs. Bake in a pudding-dish* without crust, or in pie-tins with a light crust. Graham Biscuits.— Put one quart of. graham flour into a bowl. Rub into it two • ounces of butter. Add a teaspoonfui of salt and two teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Mix and rub again, until thoroughly, blended, then add sufficient milk, about • a half-pint, to make a soft dough.. Torn, out on the board, knead lightly, roll It . into a sheet about three-quarters of an < inch thick. Cut into biscuits. Place in . greased pans and bake in a quick oven 1 twenty minutes.

General Notes.

No plant needs more water than it can drink. Mixed barnyard manure is betterthan clear horse manure for most garden, crops. It is always better to lot somebody" else test the value of novelties in herbu culture. Don’t pile up trash from the garden and trimmings from the bushes and vines. Burn them. A, little nitrate of soda placed about the tomato plant before boelng will increase the yield. It is better to plant vegetable seed pretty thick, and thin out. It is more profitable to thin than it is to replant. Will cabbage grow on new land? asks “an amateur." Yes. Manure the land well. Guano in the hill is first-rate for cabbage. An orchard of 800 acres has recentlybeen set in Osage County, Kansas, by a man who already has one of nearly 450 acres. When drawing out the manure do not forget that the garden will repay for a liberal top dressing of that that Is well rotted. The worst thing that can be impressed upon the mind of a farmer Is that a complete education is of no advantage tb the pursuit of agriculture. On the other hand, the best thing for him is to be thoroughly imbued with the idea and belief that a farmer should be a well in- > formed man, with s well trained mind able to perceive the close connection there is between his practice and the physical science; the value ol habits of thought, a retentive memory, and a facility for the perception of the of facts to one another. He should be able to use all his montal faculties, well) developed by training as well as his hauds and muscular strength. He should 1 be taught that the hoped-for-rtgenera-tion of his vocation and the most profitable pursuit of the business are to come from the foundation of better rural schoo's and the better education of hi*, children.