Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 16, Number 32, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 24 October 1894 — Page 7

THE Tof FLOOn - Urf sj sparrow* build their ass* Underneath the ears*; lean almost touch their breast* In tho straw and loaves. From the housetops o'er the way Curious pitteons peer At the as 1 rhymo each day— Only tenant here. Bos they pout, and coo and kiM All the bright day long! I can learn a trick front tblst Love—and then a song ' Bong for sivpcncct It is welli For the mnsio floats Freely as the notes that swell From the birds' clear throat* Bore's a song then: Life is sweat Though it hurries by: Cheerily the world I greet, Up six stories high. Knowing little of its cares: Closer to tho skies: Love—who will not climb the stairs— In the window flies. And I hold a man may lore Nobly, truly, when Be Is lodged so far above All his fellow-men I For ho breathes a purer alrt Days are never dlin: Stars that tinge the atmosphere Brighter seem to him. Buns are warmer—or, at least 1 Shine with greater grace: Nature is his soul's high priest* And his temple—space I And the world's rude voices risa Murmuringly aloft; For the distance to tbo sltlcs Melts and makes them soft In a garret life must be Far from busy throngs: Little sparrows, chirp to met l Teach my soul your songs! Teach me that Cod's world is sweet Though I dwell above; IVUp the print of children's feet : Iri fj i e pa th s o 1 lov c. ■ Srajysnd build your little nests the eavos: Though the heart that loves yea rests With life’s fallen leaves Bing! for life Is kind ana sweet As it hurries by; Cheerily the world wo greet Up two stories high I hunk L Stanton; In Atlanta Constitution

CHAPTER VI.-Continued. While she f.poke tho basket in her band tilted up and down, and a mysterious whine came out of it. Mrs. Minny, wide awake, was being entertained by tlie white-headed trio; they were discussing whether they would rather have a baby or a dog to play with; they decided in favor of the latter, for they never had a canine friend, while there was anew baby every year or so; in fact, the oldest girl had a careworn look on account of her duties as nurse. In tho door of the house appeared a white-headed child, who called out, shrilly:,. “Lady wants to know what's squeaking out here.” “Says she's going to get up and see,* if Dr. A-coms dorf't come and tell her,” shrieked a second white-head. Miss Fatten opened the basket, and a fluffy mass of disapproval bounced out, spun around, and made a vicious dash at Miss Fatten's ankles, whilo she stood ,a statue of patient endurance. “I’mused to it. Ilehatcs the basket,” she said, shaking him off. “I can’t blame him, for I’ve fetched him clear from DostiDg.” “Says she just knows it's her dorg,” yelled the third white-head; and the doctor, with various inane cajolements, coaxed the dog to the house. Luckily Mrs. Macon removed the infant, for, with a wild hark, Skye leaped on the bed, kissed his mistress' wan face, her hands, uttering joyful little barks, BdAhcnremMn.beidiig; old days, curled hirr—'ftir a l:**'? rewrd hcsijsSt.. her feet, looking at her with affectionate yes. “Put the baby down and see if he’ll growl,” commanded Mr*. Minny. “Yon heartless thing!” scolded Dr. John. Mrs. Macon gingerly laid the baby on the bed. Skye sat up, all interest and amazement, then with depressed de meanor slunk to his feet and scuttled

•HE KNELT DOWN AND GATHERED BOTH TO HER BREAST. over the side of the bed out Os the room. Bow Mrs. Minny laughed! Mlsa Patten heard her. “It’s many long days since I could laugh,” ahe said, grimly. “She is only a child,” said Oliver. He wished he had not come; he should have sent his clerk. ; "Is Aunt Hannah out there?” asked ;Mlnny, softly. j “Yes. She brought the dog.” “Is she very, very angry with me?” Eteously. “I did not want to be caught id mode to go home. I' want to tell Iher, though, if she worried how sorry 1 am.” i. “She can come If you will be quiet land let her do the talking,” cautioned Dr. John. j “I’ll be good,” she answered, eagerly. I “You know I do every thing you tell me I to. What will she think of him?”— Pith a look of pride at the red-faced indie. ‘After that she can never -call me frivolous again. Why, she's .quite a young thing in experience beside me. Wasn’t she good to bring my 4ogf” Aunt Hannah meant tabs severe and

•old, perhaps to speak her mind s little; she had .not forgiven the long, anxious months; but the sight of the girl lying there white and frail, the baby in her arms, softened the stern old face, and with a sob she knelt down and gathered both to her breast. CHAPTER VII. “Craig,” said Dr. John, sitting down on a nail-keg, “why did you come here?” “Because yon sent for a lawyer and for Miss Patten. I connected the mystery with tbo young lady I had assisted to run away, whose fate has been a good deal of trouble to me ever since. I wanted to help her, if need be. Ia she very ill?” “Getting better fast. It was mad folly to start on a jourgey sick as she was. I don't blame you, Craig, for that long ride and the risk yon ran; she is very winning, this troublesome little lady, and brave too. It is a wonder what a woman can endure, a slight frail creature whose hand yon could crush in your fingers.” ‘•But she had,” said Oliver, nncasily, “plenty of money, had she not?” “She was traveling in the day coach, and has, I think, about five dollars in a shabby little purse. Miss Patten was right when she said we should not see Mrs. Minny nntil the money you gave her was all gone. Where lias she been all these long months? By her finding the dog, Mias Patten probably knows now.” “Yes, and it was as I thonght—something entirely original. Near Boston Mrs. de Restaud got acquaintted with an elderly female who ran some sort of a retreat for aged pets, Invalid dogs and cats. The idea was so novel Mrs. Minny decided to stop over and see the place.. Finding Mrs. Blinn agreeable, and Sykc contented in the society of his kind at the retreat, she remained. She met a sailor from Newcastle in the street one day, and he told her Mis3 Patten had not been home for a long time. So she decided not to write anyone, but to remain hidden. One day,a few weeks ago she came home from the village much upset, and acted oddly; she had either seen someone or read something in a newspaper, for the village" storekeeper saw her poring over one, looking much upset. Two days later, leaving a note containing board for her dog, she disappeared. This Mrs. Blinn, who seems to be a good sort of a person, worried a great deal, looking for her everywhere, and in her search wrote to the postmaster at Newcastle, for she had heard Mrs. Minny speak of having been there. Through that letter Miss Patten found Skye, and then started for Denver.”

“She may have seen De Restaud, or that servant of his,” mused the doctor. “Well, now you are here—though I’d much rather a stranger had come— I want you to draw up a paper setting forth the facts in this case in proper legal phraseology.” "I fail to comprehend just what yon mean.” “You see,” explained tho doctor, “tho French people are particular about documents; and’ between the property of De Restaud’s father and this child of Mrs. Minny's there is only a feeble child.” “Mrs. Minny’s child?” repeated Oliver. “Why, of course. Perhaps I had not mentioned it. A nice boy—healthy, I think, and bound to outlive his cousin across the sea. The little chap born In that poor place, that switchman’s hovel, may bo the heir of millions. So there must be no flaw in his title or tho record of his birth.” "A child, and she here friendless, almost alone.” Oliver’sface saddened. “Poor little thing!” he muttered, “what a hard world It has been for her!” “She is sensible abo* it, too,” went ~<m . fes- me to wrltoifoi' a lai’. jcr and-havr s-ißytMnjj straight.” “Did she suggest sending for me?” asked Oliver, oddly. The doctor hesitated. “No: she has forgotten you, old boy. Women are not particularly grateful. Then it has been a long time since she saw or -heard of you. Your vanity may be hurt, but is it not better that she has forgotten?”

“Undoubtedly,” Oliver said, coldly. He went toward the house hurriedly. “A freight train passes here in a half hour; I will go on that; so get your papers ready and have the people here sign their statements. Miss Patten should also get that Mrs. Blinn to give an account of Mrs. de Restaud’s stay at her house.” Mrs. Macon cleared the kitchen table and brought pens and ink. Oliver wrote swiftly, comparing his notes with the doctor's remembrance and Mrs. Macon's assertions. Finally she and her husband signed their statements, the doctor his, and then Oliver looked at the clock. How hard that writing had been to him noone ever knew. From the closed door came the murmur of voices—one that thrilled every nerve an'd set his heart fast beating, A feeble cry now and then sounded strangely—the little life that had come in this far-off place and that might mean so much in the future. Outside, the white-headed children played in the sunshine. Skye, liberated from his hideous basket, which he always regarded with terror and plaintive whines, rollicked with then, glad of his freedom. How infinitely painful to record those facts before him, and to think of her as he had seen her first, that ehlld woman in her clinging yellow gown petalled like a flower with its wide ruffle, her glowing hair, her beantlful pathetic eyes! She had gone so far from those days In bitter experience and suffering. Was she changed, grown saddened and old, care-worn with thought?—a calcnlating woman, forced to he for "tin child’s sake? Odd, in his mental picture of her he conld find no place for the child. He could remember her with the littld Skye terrier and that childish manner, but as a woman, a mother, never. 111, friendless, homeless, no waif of Urn streets was aver more desolate

than she when she stepped off the train at this barren spot, forced to accept the oharity of strangers. Her dead father wonld have risen from his grave conld he have known. Ilis every thought, his sister said, hod been for little Minny. WeU it is the dead do not know. t “How fortunate yon were on that train!” Oliver said, suddenly. Dr. John started. “Me? Yes, it was, and that I should have found our little runaway. I own np I looked for her all the time I was away.” The door opened and Miss Patten came softly in. "She is asleep, poor dear,” she said, gently. “I guess my eyes is red. I was npset, and she don’t seem to think she done any harm in not letting me know where she was, she was so dev prit and scared-like.” “When you return to Boston,” said Oliver, “have Mrs. Blinn make a statement of Mrs. de Restaud’s stay in her house. I must caution you also to be very careful of the marriage certificate and all other papers yon may have concerning your niece.” “You can trust me,” said Miss Patten, grimly. “I took ’em away from that farm of theirs when I was a-visit-ing there, and 1 mean Minnie’s baby shall have his rights, for lie’s part Patten, anyway, and would ’a’ been my brother Sam’s giandson. Sorry I be he ain’t alive to see him. Minny says she saw a Posting paper that offered a reward for her whereabouts or any information concerning her, giving her name right out in the paper, and that was what made her go away from Mrs. Blinn’s, who was a kind, good woman, 4PJrhe _a foolish business; but I defiwknow why dogs and cats shouldn’t be took care of, and folks in Posting is always running to some new freak. Minny evidently thought Mrs. Blinn would tell on her and get the reward; but Mrs. Blinn said she’d ’a’ done by Minny as her own child.” “Was that what made her come west?” asked Dr. John. “The poor little soul thought it her duty to go to her husband, brute as he is,” said Miss Patten, brokenly. “And to think that I said she was frivolous and hadn’t no'stability! much grit as I’ve got, I wouldn’t dare go to that wolf's den on the Troublesome and to be in that man's power. I always thought he wa'n’t right in his mind. Minny cal'lated on account of the baby he'd be more kind, and for the baby's sake she ought to make np with him.” Oliver drummed idly on the windowsill. Dr. John walked up and down the room, that had grown so still one could hear the ticking of tho clock. “Wimmen,” said the switchman, slowly, “don’t git no credit for bein’ bravo and goin’ through things 'count of what they thinks is their dooty. My

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“ WIMMEN DON’T OET NO CREDIT FOB BEIN’ BRAVE.” wife thinks It’s hern to live here 'count o£me, whep she left a good home back east. That little woman in there is lamin’ tho woman natur’ of endurin’ for a man; but where my wife ’ud live and make comfort outer it, she’d jest IP d“You’ve read her right,” said Miss Patten, solemnly, “an’ I’m goin’ to take her home with me. She ain’t goin’ no further west, nor to no lone farms in mountain valleys, which was nearly the death of her afore.” Oliver glanced at the clock, then abruptly said good-by. He left no message for Mrs. de Restand, nor did Miss Patten ask him for one. She was rigid in her ideas of what wo* proper, and he respected her for it. “P’r’aps,” she hesitated, “you’d like to see the baby. I conld fetch him out without waking him.” “No,” Oliver smiled; “a city bachelor, as you called mo once, Miss Patten, has no interest in infants. I—l think I should be rather afraid of him.” He and the doctor walked up and down beside the track, waiting for the train. The latter had his big pipe hut not his flowered dressing-gown. His embroidered cap was at the retreat for invalid pets. Skye had not chewed it, Mrs. Minny asserted, for she meant to keep it forever, especially now, as he was such a dear man. “She—she—likes the baby?” Oliver asked, awkwardly, as he lit a cigar. “I am sorry to say she does not manifest any rapture at all. I think she was more delighted to see her dog. I always have the idea when 1 see her with j'oung Francois that she is a little girl playing with her doll. She ia afraid of him if he cries, and moans because he has black eyes and looks like the Frenchman.”

“Well,” said Oliver, smiling sadly, “the chapter is ended. I have turned a page in my life’s story. She will be safe and sheltered now, and I delegate to yon my position as adviser. In the next elopement Mrs. Minny makes you must he the assistant. There is my train; and so good-by.” Oliver thought the whole affair would pass from his mind, especially as Dr. John on his return said they had gone to Maine and Mrs. Minny had never mentioned him; bnt one day a month from that time at th switchman’s house a letter came to Oliver. He looked at the scrawly superscription, the post-mark Newcastle, and he knew well Hannah Patten did not attempt an Italian hand. Ha smiled with pleasure: it was good

to W remembered after tb long silence, and he hod braved many dangers for that ungrateful young woman, the worst an encounter with her frenzied husband. • Dxab Mb. Olivsb: To think you wars so near and 1 eould not ses you I I cried when they told me. I am not going to pay your money back yet until I get my own from |4r. do Bestaud. We havo put our case In the banda of an old lawyer hero who was a college-mate of my dear dead father, and ho thinks 1 ought to got a divorce, and has written to Mr. fl Restaud so. Wo watch the baby closely, for fear Henri will try to steal him. 1 hart never thanked you for helping me run away. How good you were! I think of you often: but Aunt Hannah will never speak of you, aud folks here think it is dreadful to bo divorced. They say 1 am she that married a Frenchman—2 suppose they think ho ia from Canada—and is going into the courts to get a separation from him. For no fault of mine I must he disgraced. Rvou Aunt HauDah admits 1 never ought to go Book to him: it wonld not be safo. *T had a nlco time at that dogs' home; It was a funny place, with the nicest old dogs and cats. Skye had a grand time One dog Was fifteen years old and had to be fed on gruel Still. I think tailing core of poor animals Is better thsn theosophy and those fads, and Boston does have somo real good freaks. I expect somo day they will build an old maids' home. You never saw so many old maids as there are there. Mrs. Blinn has seven sisters In one of those Newton towns—there's an endless chain of them—and not one of them—the sisters, not the towns—ever had a beam "Please do not dislike me, or at the mention of my name put on your haughty look, an you did when I said 'things offending your nlco sense of what a woman’s conversation should bo; and write me one little letter to s&7 you aro still my good friend. I shall nover ask you to help me again; Ido not need it: so you will be safo In continuing our acqunlntauoa Aunt Hannah does not know I havo written you I get. too many moral lecturca anyway from hr, for she say3 1 must educate myself so my non will have a high opinion of me. He does sot bother about me, but divides his attention principally In blinking at her and the latno, with a leaning towards the light. That last la naughty, I* It not* : .. . ■‘Always your friend (as the doctof calls me), THZ Tboubdesomb Lady.” The wound was not healed, Oliver thought bitterly. Why tit all women must he care for this one and be so haunted by her memory? Every look of hers, her words, her gestures, the little yellow gown, were as plain to him after a year as if he had seen her but yesterday. He had striven hard to forget, to do his duty. Yet was there harm in writing just a few lines? The narrow path was terribly lonely in life—not a path that had been his in the past; and yet —and yet she was a child. That stern honest old woman believed in him and trusted to his honor. While he mused, the shock-headed boy knocked and thrust in his freckled face. “Oent ter see yer,” he said, hoarser than usual, for there had been a baseball match the day before, and he had been excused from duty, beonnse his “mudder was sick.” “Show him In,” said Oliver, locking the letter in his desk. The last man he expected to see entered the room, shut the door behind him, took a chair, then, with almost a threatening gesture, moved it close to the desk. Henri de Restaud!

[to Ei continued.] BEAUTY ON THE INCREASE, The Women of To-Day Better In Every Way Than Their Grandmothers. The assertion that our national beautyjs declining is more easily made than substantiated, for it is difficult to adduce satisfactory evidence. Supposing we place in the witness box a number of octogenarians or nonogenarians, we are not wholly convinced that their pleadings and opinions aro free from bias, it being an admitted fact that elderly people are in the habit of exalting by-gone generations to the depreciation of the modem. I do not say this is done maliciously, but with advancing years one is apt to change one’s critical standpoint, and to verge on pessimism, if not be actually swamped by it, says the Gentlewoman. Nor can we judge of a national typo by pictures, as artists naturally choose the handsomest models procurable. I am inclined to hold, with the Daily Graphic: that youth may tabu Look at the park in-sumn.iasrgG.tß-country houses or accompany me to the covert side, and you will agree that beauty incarajito is still among us. Tell me if wo ae not rearing our you** more wisely than did* our lackadmsical grandmothers. ArWve not cultivating graces of bodily motion, and sitting at the feet of hygienic science? How can the girls of yesteryear compare with tho maidens firm of limb and sound in lung who know and appreciate the value of open air and exercise? Is coddling so rampant? Is Julia now afraid to walk a mile or two in stout boots, no matter what the weather? Think it over fairly and impartially, and 1 shall be surprised if you pass verdict that the allegation of declining beauty stands proven. Yet another word on the subject. Mr. James Payn, in the Illustrated London News, is gallant enough td put in a word for the present-daygirls.. Whether as beantlful as formerly or not, they surpass women of all other nations/ A friend of his who Is familiar with Circassia tells him that tha women of that country are not to be compared with our own for good looks. It is the picture outside the cream pots which has misled the world. And it is certain, he adds, that eastern potentates who are, or who think themselves, connoisseurs in the matter, award the palm to the feminine population of these isles. The constant inquiry of the shah of Persia, on both occasions when he honored ns Frith a visit, was: “How much do yon ask?” addressed to the fathers and husbands of the ladies he had a mind to purchase. Sometimes the Way, “He offered her his hand and fortune.’ "Did she accept?" t “No. the first was too large and the second too small.”—Answers. NaDoabt About It. Lena—She would he better off with/ out her husband, wouldn’t she? Laura —I should say so. HU life ia Insured for 840,000.—Truth. . —The "Irish potato” grows wild ia the mountslns of Chili and Peru, when it is undoubtedly indigenous

FARM AND GARDEN. SHEEP FARMING PAYS. If Properly Managed it I* Sore to Kotnra a Fair Profit. Sheep farming requires the least labor of any kind of farming, and is one of the most profitable if properly managed. It is the least laborious because sheep are more easily kept than other animals. They will eat food that no other kind of stock will touch, and they require less personal attention, besides being more hardy and less liable to disease. They are the most profitable became, In addition to the foregoing, they are the sources of two valuable products, while with other stock but one is looked for. Even though wool is low, the fleece will bring enongh to pay for the keep of the animal, and the mutton will be the profit. Formerly sheep owners bred simply for wool, and as the highest development in the wool-bearing capacity is incompatible with the perfection of mutton-producing ability, the latter suffered to such an extent that the flesh of the animal was practically unsalable. Mutton-eating was steadily discouraged, and the genuine lovers of this meat had recourse to Canada, where mutton sheep were reared. That this belief in the inferiority of the American product still exists is shown by the fact that “Canada mutton” signs are still exhibited in the butchers’ shops and wagons in New York. But with the discovery that the production of both flesh and fleece in a high degree is compatible in the same animal, the demand for mutton has grown. At sight of this delicious, juicy meat prejudice has faded and is fading away. It has become a formidable rival to beef, and its consumption may readily be increased a hundred per cent. And yet many men are talking as if the business were ruined and are getting out of it as fast as they can, ignorant of the fact that it is the best farm property they have to-day. These are the men who forget that conditions have been reversed since they went into the business. Mutton is now the staple and wool the by-prod-uct. If the wool pays expenses, that is all that should now be asked of it.— D. Florens, in N. Y. World. '

ABOUT ESSEX SWINE. Some Merits and Defects of One of the Oldest Breeds. This is one .of the oldest English breeds of swine. Its merits have obtained lor it a well-deserved popularity in this country, as well as in its native land. The modern Essex breed is the result of a cross of the original stock on the Neapolitan. It belongs to one of the so-called small breeds. Essex swine are black, or, rather, ash-black in color; they have a shortdished face, broad between the eyes; erect, thin ears, full jowls, short, thick neck, body of medium length, broad, deep and straight, with heavy hams, bones fine, but sufficiently strong to support the body; hair fine and soft, but thin; no bristles; legs short and fine, but straight and set wide apart; hoofs erect. When matured, the improved Essex will weigh from three to four hundred pounds. They mature early, are prolific and possess great vigor of constitution. They fatten easily, range well and, not being troubled with mange or sun-scald, are a peculiarly valuable breed for the south. The Essex are excellent as a cross, being sure to give quality and early maturity to any breed. When crossed upon common or coarser swine they will improve them almost beyond recognition. The objection urged against them is their tendency to fatten rapidly, which causes the carcasses to lack the desired proportion of lean meat. This

PRIZE ESSEX HOG. objection can be largely overcome by limiting the amount of food and compelling exercise. Being good grazers, they should be allowed unrestricted run of pasturage and no corn or othor fattening food until it is desired to finish them olf. On the other hand, their tendency to fatten is a great recommendation where roasting pigs are desired. The meat can be made fit for pork at any age, from a month upward. In England these hogs are marketed in great numbers when from five to eight months old, for light family pork, and for that purpose there are none better.—N. Y. World. Feed the Tooni Stock, Lambs, colts and calves should be kept continuously growing, whether they are to be kept over winter or sold in the fall. When they go into winter quarters the observer should be able to note their sleek, fine, healthy, robust condition. Such growth can only be obtained by judicious management and attention. Oood pasture, pure water, perhaps a little grain during the droughty season and frequent salting are needed. Potato Exporta and Imports. In the year ending June 1, 1898, we imported potatoes to the value of 83,080,589. The heaviest importations were.at New York, 81,497,828; Boston, 8304,067, and Philadelphia, 8110,879. In the same period we exported 8700,033 worth of potatoes. The bulk of this trade was with the countries south of ns. Cuba, 8554,168; Mexico, 897,604; Venesuela, 891,097. The scraps from the table are as profitable when made into eggs as If fed to the hogs Perhaps mors so.

CHEAP POULTRY HOUSE. Comfortable sad Roomy Enongh fee Twenty-Five or Thlrtv Hene. The following plan is taken from an excellent little work entitled; “LowCost Poultry Houses.” published by tbo Fancier’s Review, Chatham, N. Y. It was built by D. L. Somerville, of On-

Tlti. L—ELEVATION. tsrio, at a cost of 882. It shows plana for two pens, but it can be duplicated or enlarged to an-*xtent desired. Fig. lis the elevatiotfrs. is 10x10 feet, and 9 feet high in fronY and 5 feet in the rear. Tar paper is used as sheathing. The floor is double, with tar paper between. Roof, No. 1 shingles. If any-

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FIG. 2.—GIiOUKD PLAN. one prefers a ground floor, the cost will be that much less. The cost of material is as follows: 400 ftr-Common boards 4 00 "22<T “ flooring 1 75 400 “ common boards, lining.B 20 200 “ spruce or hemlock 1 80 2 squares No. 1 shingles 4 00 200 ft. 2x4, 10 feet long 2 10 90 “ 4x6. 16 “ “ sills 90 22 “ 2x4, 19 “ plates 22 90 “ 6xo, 10 “ •* window sills 90 64 “• 4x4, 12 “ “ rafters 64 60 ft. common lumber for drop boards, nests, etc 48 Lath for partitions. CO Hardware 1 80 Windows 2 40 Labor of carpenter 5 00 Tarpaper 2 10 Total cost....* ....131 85 WINTER BEE-HOUSE. How to Bnlld One That 1. Cheap, Warm and Very Comfortable. / Prominent bee men recommend the construction of winter quarters for bees of .straw of any requisite size, building two walls, that is, an outer and an inner wall of straw; the straw is confined by stakes, and the space between the two wails to be filled with sawdust, or something of that nature; a cheap roof and one door. Such a place might be made cheap and very warm and comfortable. It need not be very large. It can be modeled to suit yourself. Asa more expensive affair, after considerable progress has been made, Mr. Quimby recommends a room built as follows: The room for this purpose is Bxl6 feet, and seven feet high, without any windows; a good coat of plaster is put on the inside; a space of four inches between the siding and lath is to be filled with sawdust. Under the bottom construct a passage for the admission of air, another overhead for its exit, to be closed and opened at pleasure in moderate weather, to give them fresh air, but closed when cold, and so arranged as to exclude all light A partition also extends across, so, that when putting in or taking out, one need to disturb only one-half at once. He says he has wintered bees in this manner for years. Such a room will accommodate about 100 stocks of bees. The room with same proportions as to length and breadth can be made of any size.— Fanners’ Voice.

AMONG THE POULTRY. The runs should be spaded once a year anyhow. Feed ducks and turkeys always where you wish them to roost. t SKrrßSWßP.iwßifitccli sever be per. . in it ted to go to waste. If is t<yo good for poultry. When the floor of a poultry house is earth, the top should be removed once a year and fresh earth put on. Sell off the roosters. They are not needed in the winter, and it is best to have new blood in the spring. Roosts may be immersed in kerosene oil and the oil set on fire, as a remedy for lice, if the roots are movable. Attend to leaky roofs in the poultry house, ;Jfb water should ever be permitted to find its way through the roof. X Whoever permits broken windows or cracks in the poulJFy house in winter would seem to hive little appreciation of eggs. Tarred paper on the oatside of poultry house that is full of craeks, well battered down, will be an excellent application. The fall of the year is a good time to buy pure bred poultry. Breeders aro apt to sell at very reasonable prices to get rid of their surplus stock. Is buckwheat suitable for hens? asks a subscriber. Yes, but it should be fed with other grains It is too much of a fat producer to be fed aloae. Whitewash the nests by immersing them in a tub of whitewash, Which should be strong enough of carbolio acid to give out a smell of the acid.— Farmers' Voics Silage as a Poultry Ration. There is nothing in the world which hens enjoy better in the winter timo> than silage. They will greedily jhmp into the cow stalls and rob the cowso t their share if possible. Green silage is a delicious food for them in the wine ter time and it ought to be just aa profitable to raise and store this for thq hens as for cattle. Good, sweet greent cornstalks carefully preserved in the eilo makes a tempting food ration ttut stimulates the hens to better health and productive Work. The profession al poultry man who raises hens by thd hundreds might well consider the ad* visability of preparing silage for their winter food. Those who have only m few on the farm should take some ol the silage prepared for the cattle and give it to the poultry every dag or twee —Breeders’ bluetts.