Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 September 1891 — Page 5

DOUBLE DICK AND JOE; The Poorhouse Waifs.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER XIX. JOB PARALYZES THE LAWYER. I must go back to the morning of the flay on which Dick’s triumph ended so unfortunately in the ring. Ike Jenks, alias Pratty, passed up the street on which Monsieur Dufaur’s Academy was located, at the time Joe had said she was to be seen at the window. He saluted her and strode on, turning neither to the right nor the left. Shortly afterwards—a few minntes later—as Joe looked out on the street She saw Job Wonder staring at her. How long he had been there she did hot know. It could not have been long. He seemed to have “took root," to use his own homely language. The moment he saw he was observed, he walked away quickly in the direction opposite to that Mr. Pratty had taken. Ten minutes later the precious lawyer’s clerk and farmer met “Well—you saw her. ” “Yes—but great pancakes! Who’d a know’d her! Why, if I’d run agin her plum face to face on the street, I'd never said it ’twas Jee.” “You say it is her now?” “Her. I reckon I ought to know." “That’s the important point Sure there’s no mistake. ” “Look here young man. Is it likely my sight s failed since I left home? I hain’t drunk a drop—ne’er a drop. I’ve not gone and had my old roots grubbed out o’ my mouth like Bijah Harkins, ’n’ took gas, an’ gone clean crazy. I’ve been hyer long enough to get used to the •air; ate wholesome victuals—the butter might be a little better—but I’ve took precious good care of mySelf—and if I ■don’t know that gal from all other gals, then you’d better ’pint commissioners, and put Job Wonder in a lunatic asylum.” “All right. When will you go back to my uncle’s office?” Arrived at Jeremiah Jenks’ office, that individual took the farmer in hand in a professional manner that was the essence of cheek. “Well, Mr. Wonder, you are satisfied you have seen the person we are both Interested in. What do you propose?” “Me?” “Yes. ” Jdrem’ah Jenks was biting his fingernails.

Job Winder’s suspicions were aroused. “Why, I’m going to ask that gal to go home with me right oft, I’d done it on the spot—but your nephew made me promise I was only to look at her to make sure twas her —and more’n that— I wasn't to do nothin’ till we’d talked it ■over. ’N’ now I’m just biMn’ over with things to say, if you’ll let me say ’em. ” “To begin, with, Mr. Wonder, do you think she would go with you if you should promise everythirg you can think •of?” “Lord! Why won’t she?” “Why did she run away?” “Oh! that was all a mistake. I’ll make that all right. Just as soon as she knows Samanthy and my wife’s sorry, •and glad to get her back.” “Stay. Do you think she isn’t pretty comfortable where she is? Isn’t she well dressed? Isn’t she looking better than she ever did?” “By gum! I’d never know’d her! she’s •licked up that wonderful ” “What could you offer her that would compare with the life she is living now?” “Eh?” Job Wonder rose and stared at the lawyer. He had never looked at it in that light before. “See hyer, Squire. You lawyers be squires. I reckon. I took that gal Joe out’n a county pcorhouse. I signedpapers for her. They meant I wasn’t to let her be a burden on the county. An’ in Acorn County we allays live right up to what we sign—right up to the handle every time.” “Well?” The farmer wished he would quit biting his naiils, but he went on. “Why—that’s the sum total on’t. It’s my duty to take care of that there gal! to bring her up till she’s of age—or till such time as I’m satisfied somebody else ll take good care of her. ” “Well?” “That's enough, ain’t it? Can’t I take her? Who’se any better right, I’d like to know?” “Is that all? Are you through?” “Yes, I be. Now fire ahead—spit it right out, and I’ll sample your say.” The lawyer smiled. “We don’t do things in this State in that way. If that girl says she was not treated right, you can’t get any officer in New York to sign a paper authorizing you to touch her—not one.” “I can’t!”

“No! On the contrary, if anybody will £ome forward and give a statement supporting her statement of the cruelties practiced, she would be protected from the authorities of Acorn County!" “Great thunder!” “That is the fact." Jeremiah Jenks’ nail was bitten pretty close now. Job Wonder’s face expressed disgust and dismay. “I’m not concerned! I’m no poorhouse—nor no commissioner, fior overseer, either.” “Na” The manner in which the lawyer spoke angered Job Wonder. “What makes you say ‘No’ that way? You mean something. * “I do.” The lawyer turned square around and faced the farmer. “You have a motive in coming here—what is it?” “I don’t know whether you’d understand it—taln’t likely you would—bein’ a lawyer.” , , “I’ll try.” “I come to New York jest because I took a liking to that girl. There’s not a heuter agin me. I’d like to see any man said there is a heuter agin me." “What do you mean by a heuter, Mr. Wonder?” “Pshaw! I mean nothin’ in reason—no sort of ground for any fault—just nothing at all. ” “Oh!” “See hyer, Mr. Jenks. Spit It out, an’ done with it ” “W’eU, Mr. Wonder, I’ll put a case. ” “Go on. I’m listenin’. But don’t use no law lingo. Just you break it up, ad’s I k!n urqjerstapd it ”

“WeHt say the girl has not been fairly treated." “Who says so?” “No matter. Possibly there are peraons who heard you pity her, and say the Superintendent of Barnesville ought to be cowhided for whipping the girl, • “That’s that dod-blasted Breen! He*s a dirty sneak, an’ all the world knows it.” “Suppose there was a friend of Joe’s, or friends, who were disposed to look into the matter, and they found a bad state of affairs at the poorhouse?” “Well?” “And suppose they learned that you got her, and that the girl ran away from you because she was unjustly accused of stealing, when a cloud of witnesses can be brought to prove her Innocence was clearly established ” “Now I know it’s that rascally, dirty, sneaking, cowardly Breen. ” “There’s more than Breen for witnesses, " said the wily lawyer. “Now then,” said Job confronting Jeremiah Jenks angrily, while the color flushed over his face until it became purple, “I’ve got your measure. You think I’m scared. Well, I ain’t—not a mite—not a mite! Now you thought you had a greenhorn. You think I’d pay somethin’ rather than have my name mixed up, that I’d do most anything to keep my sister and wife’s name out o’ the dod-blasted newspapers. But you don’t know your man. No! you don’t by a jugfull. My sister’s like me—we’ve both made mistakes —but I’d like to see the man that’s got any better record than hers or mine, an’ as for my wife's name—Lord! All Acorn County will stand right up for Maria Wonder! You thought I’d like to be shet of the hull business, bein’ as how I’d took the girl home, ’n’ she’d scooted, ’n’ I’d made myself sort o’ responsible. You got some hindsight plan workin' —but I’ve got just enough foresight to steer clear o’ all your traps! You expected I’d plank down mebbe a hundred dollars or more just to get the girl to hold her tongue or help to get her away. I don’t want her away, I don’t keer where she is, as long as she’s with respectable folks. But I’ll tell you just what I will do. I’ll introduce myself to the folks she’s with. I’ll have a square talk, and if she gets into any trouble, an’ they’ll let me know in time, why then I’ll spend—well, you’ll find out how much money I’ll spend to find out what you’ve been up to. sendin’ answers te honest men’s advertisements, and holdin’ of ’em in town, ’n springin’ your forty little mosquito traps onto ’em! You mind! I'm goin’ now. You’ll mebbe wish you’d never seed Job Wonder before I get through with you. ” And whirling out of the office, Job Wonder walked away, leaving Jeremiah Jenks almost white with rage. The lawyer struck his desk with his clenched fist in his impotent wrath. At the same time a low chuckle—a sly chuckle—sounded in the back room. It was Ike—the hopeful Ike. He laid his head on one side, and said to himself: “Oh, my! Ain’t that just paryllzing?”

CHAPTER XX. JOE DISAPPEARS MYSTERIOUSLY. Job Wonder was a man who never lost time once he made up his mind. He walked straight from Lawyer Jenks* office to Monsieur Dufaur’s academy, and rung the bell. “They can’t do no more’n put me out,” he said to himself, “an’ I’ll give ’em a chance, now my dander's up. I ain’t goin’ to stay hyer in New York all this time, ’n go home to Samanthy and Maria with my finger in my mouth.” The welcome Madame Dufaur gave him surprised him. Madam thought he was calling in relation to a pupil, probably. “My name’s Wonder—Job Wonder.” Madam bowed. “I’m from Acorn County. ” Madam bowed and smiled. “You have a gal hyer—they call her Joe.” “Eh, sir!” Madam’s face was severe now. She said to herself, “This man wants to take her back w to that cross sister of his. ” “Why, I called to see Joe, but es you’ve any objection, I’ve nothin’ more to say, ’cept I’m down right glad to see her in a nice place, n lookin’, Lord! I never did think she could look like she does. ”

“Well, sir, I am listenin'. ” “Yes, I see you be, but you don’t take much stock in me. You don’t say so, but I can tell, ginerally. Howsomever, bein’ as how I come hyer in answer to that pesky lawyer’s letter, an’ spent my time an’ money, why, I thought I’d drap in ’n give you to understand that, if anythin’ happens to Joe, I’d like you to let me know. I’ll spend money on findin’ out anybody that meddles with her. She’s in a fine place with you—a beautiful place- ~’n I don’t—l wouldn’t interfere for anything, mlssis-r-that’s all I called to say.” “Pray keep your seat, sir. You speak of danger. Why do you think anybody would trouble Joe?” “I don’t think they will. 1 just thought if anybody should, you know. ” “This is strange.” “Yes, ’tis kinder silly—but that’s all, ma’am. Not another thing as I know of.” “Well, you are as kind as Joe says you are.” “Did she say that?” “She always speaks kindly of you, Mr. Wonder. ” “There now! Who’d a thought it? Well," I thought mebbe she wouldn’t bear spite agin me. I took a fancy to that little mite—but Lord! how you’ve been Improvin’ of her. I bet my wife and Samanthy wouldn’t know her if they’d meet her. That’s all, ma’am. I was going to ask her to go home with me if I found she wasn’t fixed to her own mind. I’m obleeged t’ye, ma’am, I’m sure. Give Joe my respects. ” “You can speak to her if you wish, Mr. Wonder. “Well, now—i’s you’ll obleege me, ma’m.” Madame Dufaur went out and returned with Joe—who ran to the farmer and extended her hand. “O! Mr. Wonder—you don’t want me to go back to the poorhouse!" “Why, bless yonr heart —I wouldn’t let you go back to Zeke Caper, not for five hundred dollars. ” “Then I’m so glad to see you, because you were so kind to me. ” “Pshaw, now—how you talk.” “It’s true, Mr. Wonder. You are the first one that ever gave me a kind look or word. ” “Poor gal—l reckon that’s true. ■ “Are you going homo right away?” “ ’Soon as I ean make a train, miss. ’ “Don’t call me miss, Mr. Wonder—call me Joe. ” “Well, I will You ain’t spoiled if you do wear fine clothes. ” "LVa try not to spoil people,” said

Madame fyifanr, who wm m%ch amused with his manner and language. “Well—if you’d come down to Acorn County. I’ll guarantee you a job that’ll last you all the year round, if you can Improve folks as you have improved Joe, hyer.” Joe blushed vividly as he looked at her. “You’ve got kinder toned down like—but there’s a lot o’ devilment in them eyes yet Well—l’ll tell Samanthy and Marta how I found you—and nobody ’ll be gladder ’n just Samanthy.? She s took on mightily ever sence you ran away—she’s dead sorry it happened.” “Tell your sister I never give it a thought now. ” “You may be sure I’ll carry home that message. It’ll sorter ease her to know it Well, I’ll be goin’ now. Good-by, Joe—good-by, ma'am—and mind what I’ve said. Good-by, ma'am. ” And Job walked out, bowing and swinging his hat as politely as if he was talking to a parson. “If I had thought of it ” said Madame Dufaur, “he eould have gone with you and Miss Murray to the circus; now I must go with you. I dare not trust you alone. •

That was the little speech Madame Dufaur smiled at She dare not trust two young ladies alone—but she did not want to see the circus. Such an idea was absurd! So, the same evening, Madame accompanied the two misses to the circus. What happened there has already been told. I have been thus particular in relating these details in the order in which the events happened, in order that the reader will realize the bearing they had upon subsequent events. When Joe beheld Dick on Firefly she started and trembled so that Madame Dufaur thought she shivered with,the draft of air, and bade her draw her wrap closer about her. Joe,was spell-bound. She had never beheld anything like a circus. It was all new, wonderful, charming. She was delighted with everything. When the white mare was led around the ring she fixed her gaze on the rider, in whom she beheld a strong resemblance to Dick., She did not dream it was Dick; such a thought never entered her mind. But there was a something—Joe could not define the feeling—that sudden'y recalled poor Dick, whom she at that moment thought was In Barnesville PoorPouse. When Dick fell from the mare, and lay at her side stunned, she was the first to lift the girl’s head (as she and all the spectators thought), while Madame Dufaur fanned DicK. There was a sharp, drawn look in Dick’s face that thrilled her—it was so like poor, dear Dick who had fought her battles and braved Zeke Caper, that Joe shed tears.

' And now, to think, after all that happened to her, that Dick had his adventures to relate. How charming it would be to listen to his account of his experiences. The world was beginning to be a bright, beautiful world to Joe. She was like a bird the remainder of the day. She sang and danced through the rooms; Madame Dufaur smiled, and nodded quiety to her husband, who eyed Joe in his turn curiously. Joo thought Dick would surely return in the evening with the clown's wife or clown; but evening came, passed, and there was no sign of either. Then Madame Dufaur consoled her by telling her they would come in after the evening’s performance. “In the meant.me, ” said Madame, “I want you to do an errand for me." Joe was only too glad of the opportunity to go out. She felt the four walls rather irksome that evening. She got her things, and receiving her instructions left the house humming a new song she had heard Madame Dufaur singing. It was not until she was gone that Madame Dufaur recalled Job Wonder’s words that seemed to convey a warning. Then she laughed. “Nonsese! what eould happen a child like that, ” and Madame Dufaur smiled. But she pondered deeply when half an hour passed and Joe did not return. At the end of an hour Madame Dufaur was in a fever of apprehension. “Something has happond to Joe,” she I said to her husband. “Eh—what is it?” Madame told him her forebodings—related the farmer's strange warning. “It is not possible!” exclaimed Moni sieur Dufaur—“but I will see! I will soon 1 see!” And Monsieur Dufaur darted off to the police author.t'es. He found little encouragement there—however, he did all that presence of mind and discretion could suggest When ha returned home, hoping to find Joe there, his grave face betrayed the truth to Madame Dufaur. “Ah! Poor child! Something terrible /has has happened to her.” j Monsieur Dufaur turned his face ! away and looked out of the window at the people passing. But he said never a word. [to be continued.]

Philosophy of Bolling an Egg.

The white of an egg is albumen, and the yelk also, but containing a peculiar oil, says. Dr. A. 8. Heath, in the American Agriculturist. It is the albumen that, heated at 160 deg. F. t coagulates and renders the egg delicious, tender and digestible. But if the temperature is raised beyond the perfectly coagulating point, the albumen will dry, shrink and become leathery and indigestible. Large eggs placed in boiling water will not properly “jellify,” or coagulate the albumen of either the white or of the yelk in three and a half minutes. Then, to secure the desirable degree of cooking or coagulating of the albumen of the egg or of a steak, the temperature should be just sufficient when longer continued to .perfectly cook, and not sear and hornify the nutritive element of food, until cooking impairs digestibility rather than, as it should, promote it. A meal presupposes preparation, calculation and forethought. Then why not as ’well apply these to uniform, certain and perfect cooking of eggs. Ten minutes before the meal hour put the eggs into a vessel into which boiling water has previously been jpoured, cover and set aside, and when the meal is ready to be served the eggs will be perfectly cooked. If some of the family desire their eggs harder, two or three minutes longer will be perfectly digestible. Too much fuel is wasted in spoiling food that should be made delicious and digestible, but which too often is innutritions, indigestible and tasteless. Whim a girl breaks pff a match somebody is sure to be “fired."

HOME AND THE FARM.

A DEPARTMENT MADE UP FOR OUR RURAL FRIENDS. Abo at Being Practical—A Cart for Driving Fosta—Some Live Stock Don’t#—How to Make a Cheap Milk Tester— Pointer. Concerning Poultry Household and Kitchen. Farms and Farmers.

HANY farmers have a great deal to say about advice being practical. Cail their u attention to’someX thing in an agri- \ cultural journal 1 which, may be, you think is of 1 real value, and J often they will \Jk turn up their noses at it and wp say “It isn’t practical.” I n consequence of so much use being jr made of this word Jt one would naturJ ally think that

the general average of farmers are among the most practical men in the world. On the contrary, we believe, measured by good business standards, that no calling furnishes more unpractical men than farming. Practical means doing things in the best manner and according to the best profit. To be “practical'’ calls for the putting in practice of sound theories and the use of the most intelligent methods. Is the practice of our Western farmers in wasting the fertility of the soil or in the breeding of their farm animals really and squarely practical? Take the dairy farmers of any State In the North. Can we believe that the majority of them are governed by sound practical ideas concerning cows when the average yield of milk per cow is only 3,000 pounds a year? If a man is really practical will he not set to work In dead earnest to milk and feed apractical cow? Can men be called practical who have kept a herd of twenty or forty cows for years and yet have never taken pains to know by a simple test which cows were not paying their keep? Would a practical manufacturer allow himself to remain in very expensive ignorance for years concerning some machine, and never show energy sufficient to test it to see if it is not running him in debt? Think of a dairy farmer who pretends to do business for profit; who sneers at the agricultural papers because they are not practical, going along year after year with half the cows in his heard absolutely not paying for the food they eat at market prices. Men who talk so much about other men being practical should first establish clear, well defined standards of what is practical. The fact is, what is practical with one man may not be with another. Every man gives to himself or to others, according to the size of his measure. Intelligent men put into practice intelligent methods, and they make money by them. Such methods would not be practical for men who don’t understand their business Well enough to execute them. But the fault is not in the methods but In the men. The method may be highly practical but the farmer unable, either for lack of means or comprehension, to put In practice. A good definition of the word practical is that which conduces to profit. If a course of action proves unprofitable through any fault of ours, then it is not practical. Except it may be once In a great while, we learn from it our own deficiences. It is well to remember that It Is never “practical” to measure modern agriculture by obsolete Ideas. The farms of to-day carry more or less machinery. As a rule it is rather poorly cared for. A good farmer who has a good idea about machinery carries with him constantly a strong advantage over his more careless neighbor. One of the most frequent difficulties in the working of power machinery is the accumulation of dirt and gum in the bearings and journals, caused by the use of fat oils fcr lubrication and infrequent cleaning. The American Engineer gives the following directions for cleaning which are worth remembering; “For each l,odo parts by weight of water, take about ten or fifteen parts by weight of caustic soda or 100 parts ordinary soda. Let the solution boil and enter the parts to be cleansed; either boil them in this lye or let them steep in it for some time. All the dirt and resin is completely dissolved thereby, and it remains only to rinse and dry the parts. The action of the lye is such that It enters into combination with the oil and forms soap, which is readily soluble in water. In order to prevent the hardening of the lubricant on the machinery parts, it is only necessary to add about one-third kerosene. An occasional lubrication with kerosene alone is to be recommended.”— lnter-Ocean.

A Driving Cart. Those who have used a wagon to drive posts In and have found it Inconvenient should carefully examine the post driving cart which is shown. Take a common low wheel cart and remove the sides and ends and and on the floor that is left, build a stout chest on which you can stand and drive posts, which are held erect by two steel arms that are firmly secured to the side ot the cart. These arms are constructed as shown in A. Hinge a door to the rear end of the chest,

as yon will desire to carry your ax, space, sledge, wire, stretcher and hammer with you. On the side of the chest nail a small box of two compartments, one for nails and two for staples. On the side of the cart can be carried a few boards and posts. Of course this only for repairing, and if a man repairs twice a year It will not take long and but few posts and boards will have to be taken along. But if the fence is old and wants much repairing load your wagon with posts and boards and string them out where wanted, letting your man follow with the cart Then the team can be taken to the house and put to work. By so doing a man and a team is gained, for with this cart one man can do as much and do it as well as two men with a team with a load of material.—M. LaF. Haney, in Farm and Home.

THE DAIRY.

Tho Hutton Milk Tootew A new milk testing machine has been invented be Prof. J. R. Hutton, formerly chemist at the Storis, Conn., Experiment Station. It is not patented, is extremely simple and can bo constructed by any one who has a little mechanical genius. We have seen it work and know that it will do all that is claimed for it. It costs but a dollar or two to make It and

The method requires a pipette to measure the milk, graduated tubes to measure the fat, amyl alcohol, concentrated sulphuric acid, and a machine to whirl the tubes. One form of cheap and simple is shown in the cut This consists of two parts, the whirler T for holding the tubes, and the wheel A to drive it. The whirler has one or more cross-pieces, twelve inches long, centered on the upper end of the upright shaft O. The tubes are held in blocks, which are fastened to the ends of the cross-pieces by strap-hinges. The blocks are three and one-half Inches long, made from 2x4 inch scantlings, with three holos, one inch in diameter, and three inches deep, bored in the end of each. The operation of testing is as follows: (1) Add amyl alcohol to a tube of a depth of nearly one-fourth inch. (2) Add one pipette measure of milk, after stirring it thoroughly to get a fair sample. To fill the pipette, suck up until the milk enters the mouth, press the tongue over the hole, and deliver tho contents into the tube blowing out the last drop. Add sufficient concentrated

sulphuric acid to dissolve all the casein. This usually requires enough to fill the tube up to the lowest mark, but since both the size of the tubes and strength of the acid varies, the correct amount is best learned by observation. After adding the acid hold a small cork firmly in the mouth of the tube, quickly Invert, then shake vigorously until the curd is dissolved, and the contents become a hot brown solution. Then nearly fill the with weak acid, made from equal parts of water and strong acid. Place the tubes In the whirler, and turn rapidly for about half a minute, or until all the fat appears in the neok of tho tubes as a clear yellow oil. Read the per cent of fat in each by taking the reading opposite the bottom of the fat from that next above the curved line at the top. Empty the tubes while hot, and rinse with clean water. Cream Is tested In a slmllr way, usings a smaller sample. Add two pipette measures of water to one of the cream, and take one of the mixture for the teat. Multiply the reading by three for the per cent of fat In the sample. A better way Is to use a smaller pipette for cream, delivering 4.5 grams. The time required to make a test Is about two minutes, and the cost varies from one-half to one-fifth of a cent according to the cost of the chemicals. One-half pound of alcohol and five pounds of acid are sufficient tor 100 tests.— Farm and Home.

LIVE STOCK.

Branding Cattle. The Clarendon (Tex.) News gives the science of branding in the following exposition: The object of branding is to produce another and different crop of hair where the irons touch, which may be clearly distinguished from the other hair about it. This is effectually done by burning the outer cuticle of the skin. To burn deep does not improve the brand in the least. The iron should be heated to a dark cherry red and quickly applied. When the burn is almost instantaneous, giving but an instantaneous sting, when the pain ceases, as has been a thousand times proven be the actual cautery to the human subject. If a half heated iron is held to the skin a long time it cooks through the skin and makes an ugly sore, which subsequently gives the animal great pain. It is true that there is a good deal of this sort of inhuman branding done. It is Inhuman and injurious to the hide of the animal for purposes of leather. It is also true that a burn on the outer cuticle will ultimately show through the entire thickness of the skin, owing to the changes that take place in the skin in consequence of cicatrix on the surface. Leather is tougher, firmer, and more durable where brands have teen applied than where they have not. The only drawback is, that it will not finish smoothly over the brands. In other words, the more a side of leather has been properly branded the better it is for wear.

When to Breed.

It is going the rounds in our exchanges that a sow should be bred as often as she will breed, to attain the best success, saying that a sow will couple in three to five days after farrowing, and that she should be bred at this time, reasoning that if allowed to run too long without being bred she will, by laying on too much fat, injure her breeding qualities. We don’t know by whom this doctrine was started, but certainly by seme one short in that commodity know’ll as experience. A sow bred at this time cannot suckle her pigs more than six weeks, and it is very doubtful if she should for this length of time without detriment to herself and coming litter. Any one knows that an average farmer cannot succeed welt with pigs weaned at six weeks old. Men of experience also know that a sow must have a period of rest between lit* ter*, er else she will soon fail A sow

may bring two or three litters of parinf numbers bred in this way, but after* wards, unless rested, she is liable to be* come an utter failure.—M. in Stockman.

A Fnw D«n*ts. Don’t breed that old broken-down mare. It won't pay, but will be an injury to thp breeding industry. Don’t expect an old worn-out horse to do as much work as a young ana sound animal. Don’t use,heavy harness. Light ones properly made of good leather are stronger and last longer, while being easier on the horse. Don’t overload the team. It is better to make two trips than to strain the horses or get them in the habit of balking. Don’t feed corn or corn meal to the horses during the hot weather. Corn is too heating. Don't spare the oats. Tho well-fed horse stands up under constant work when the underfed falters. Don’t imagine that when you water your horses three times a day you have done all that nature demands. Don’t let the horses oat too much green grass. A little while in the pastures after a day’s work will do them good, but too much green food will work injury and cause the horses to sweat easily at work. Don’t run down your neighbor’s horses. Praise them when you can, and when you can not, say nothing. Don’t think because your neighbor has bought a stallion that he has been necessarily cheated and has bought a failure. Give the horse a chance to show by his progeny what he is. Don’t let the stallton stand idle in the barn. Make him work, for it will add to his potency and help pay for his food. Don’t forget that a box stall is much better than a narrow one for the horses, especially when they have worked hard all day. You like a wide bod, so does a horse.— National Stockman.

will do as accurate and much more rapid work than any of the testers put on the market and sold for sl2 to S2O. The principle of tho method is this —A definite amount of milk Is treated with amyl alcohol and sulphuric acid, and then subjected to rapid centrifugal motion to force tho fat into the neck of the tube, whore tho per cent, of fat is measured from the graduations. In

Ton Can't Do It. You can’t keep chickens in health without grit. You can’t make eggs from feed that produces fat. You cant make a hen sit until she wants to. You can’t keep fowls thrifty without green food of some kind. You can’t make profit with a crowded yard. You can’t succeed without hard work. You can’t build up a trade without capital. Yqp keep fowls in good condition that are literally covered with lice. You can’t put brains into an incubator and brooder. You can't have a good growth by Inbceedlng. You can’t get any satisfaction out of a lazy hen. You can’t make a living out of one branch of poultry alone. You can't be a successful fancier until you have become well versed in poultry culture. You can’t afford a big expense in this business; the less help you haws the better. You can’t speculate on tho markets. Prices change with tho whirlwind. You can’t become practical by books alone; jou must combine experience with them. KeniHtljr for Chicken Lloe. A reader asks for a remedy lor lice on little chicks. Powder both hens and chicks thoroughly with either Persian insect powder (Bubach) or carbolic acid powder; use for the purpose one of the little bellows that is sold with the powder. Hot lime whitewashing three times a year of all poultry houses and appliances, while tho dusting-boxes, nest-ing-places, etc., are well sprinkled with hot lime water in which has been dissolved carbolic acid, a wine glassful to the gallon, will effectually destroy and keep the places free from these pests. A dust bath In which has been mixed soma sulphur will also prove beneficial.

Lauedry Work, One of the most troublesome things, especially for the woman who boards, is to find a laundress who will do her work properly. Fine undergarments do not require to be rubbed heavily. They are test rubbed through the hands, rather than on the board. It Is exceedingly difficult to get the ordinary laundress to understand how to wash such garments. The unskilled hand may tear holes in the sheer lawn and ruin the garment in the first washing. Above all things the laundress should be cautioned against the use of starch in all garments except a petticoat. Some laundresses have a fatal fancy for the use of starch in all kinds of underwear. Never allow a laundress to wring garments by hand. The wringer does the work with less wear and tear than any hand-wringing. Where silk underwear Is worn, it should be washed quickly and rapidly, with some kind of white soap, in warm water, thoroughly rinsed, wrung as dry as possible, and pressed out before it is thoroughly dry. Flannels should be washed in exactly the same way, except that care should be taken to keep the water at the same temperature as the room.— Good, Housekeeping.

Beea Hiving Themtolves. Whoever has kept tees has counted as chief among the difficulties in the business that of making them take to their new homes naturally. After most persistent efforts and often pain from bee stings the swarm will often fly away to some hollow tree and be lost. A New York man is saM to have invented a selfhlver. When the swarm leaves the hive it is arranged so that it must pass through perforated zinc cages, with boles large enough to pass the workers but not the queen or drones. The cage is connected with a passage to an empty hive near the one from which the swarm issues, and into which the queen bee soon*makes her way, accompanied by a few workers who never leave her. When the swarm finds it has no queen it returns and makes its way readily into the new hive, and the job is done, while the first knowledge the tee keeper has of the swarm is seeing it at work in its new home. The self-hlver can be easily attached to different hives in succession, as they are found to be on the eve of swarming.— Practical Farmer. Pickled Barberries. Soak nice large bunches of . barberries in salt and water for a few hours. Remove from the water and pour scalding vinegar over them. Spice the vinegar if you prefer. These are ornamental for salad garnish* ing. They may be kept for some time i« the brine, and then freshened when used.

THE POULTRY-YARD.

THE HOUSEHOLD.

THE APIARY.