Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 18, Number 6, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 22 April 1896 — Page 3

** WHAT’S THE USE? 2>on't coddle up a woe. Don’t think about your foe. What’s the use? It only makes you worry, and keeps you In a flurry. What's the use? There’s no excuse. Don’t talk about yOur* wrong, It makes It last too long. What's the use? It Only gives you pain, and suffering again. What’s the use? There’s no excuse. Don’t talk of your disaster, It makes the tears flow faster. ~... What’s the use? It only keeps you weeping, and hinders you from sleeping. What’s the use? There’s no excuse. Don’t talk of your mishap, It’s only one more rap. What’S the use? It only can annoy, and your peace of mind destroy. What’s the use? There’s no excuse. Don’t talk of your affliction, it only causes friction. What’s the use? It opens an old sore, and worses you the more. What's the use? There’s no excuse. Don’t talk about your sorrow, trouble you only borrow. Wliat’s the use? It only makes you sad, and sour and glum and mad. What’s the use? There’s no excuse. — W. L. Ormsby, Jr., InN. Y. Sun. HEART OF the WORLD. BY H- RIDER HAGGARD. A Strange Story, Taken From a Manuscript Be* qneathed by an Old Mexican Indian to HU Friend and Comrade, an English, man Named Jones. Copyrighted, 1894, by H. Rider Haggard. CHAPTER Xll.— Continued. Maya halted on the brink to strip herself so that there might be as little as possible to impede her movements in climbing the stair, and twisted her hair into a knot. Next she tied the cord about her middle and the waterskin, to which she fastened the flint and steel, upon her shoulders. Lighting two of the largest torches she fixed them slantTngwise in crevices of the rock, so that their flames -shone over the mouth of the shaft, down which she threw, first a bundle of unlit torches, and lastly one on fire. This torch did not go out, as she had expected that it would, for presently looking down the pit she saw a spark of light shining one hundred and fifty feet or more beneath her. Now all her preparations were complete, and nothing remained to be done except to descend and search for the water. By the time that she was a third of the way down the shaft her courage returned to her, and "the only fear she felt was lest some of the niches should be broken. Fortunately this was not the case, although one of them was so much worn that her toes slipped out of it, and for a second or two she hung by her hands. _ Recovering' herself, she"* went on from step to step till at length she stood at the bottom of the shaft. After a few minutes’ pause to get her breath, Maya found one of the dry aloe stems and lit it at the embers of the torch, which she had thrown down the Eit. Then she looked round her to find erself in a large, natural cavern of no great height, which sloped gently downward fnrthe: than she could see. Turning her eyes to the floor she searched for and found the path that had been hollowed out by the feet of the ancients, but now was half hidden in sand and dust. It ran straight down the cave and she followed it for fifty paces or more, holding the light in one hand and some spare torches under her arm. Suddenly the passage took a turn, and there in the center of a wonderful place, such as she had never seen before, gleamed the water which she had risked her life to reach. This water, though clear as crystal, was not still, for once in everyAwo seconds a great bubble rose in the center of the pool to hurst on its surface and send a ring of ripples to the rocky sides. So beautiful was this bubble, and so regular "its appearance, that ’ for some minutes Maya watched it, then, remembering that she had no time to spare, set herself to get to the water, only to find that she was confronted by anew difficulty, and onej-Jthat but for her foresight might have proved insuperable. The rock bank of the pool was so smooth and sloped so steeply , to the water that it was quite impossible for anyone to keep a footing on it. The ancient had overcome the trouble by means of a wooden staircase, $s was evident from the places hollowed in the rock to receive the uprights, but this structure had long since rotted away. At the head of where this staircase had stood a hole was bored in the rock, doubtless to receive a rope by which the water bearers supported themselves while they filled their jars, and the sight of this hole gave Maya an idea. Untying the cord which she had brought with her, she made it fast through the hole, and having fixed the torch into one of the spaces hollowed to hold the timbers of the stairway, she 6lid down the bank till she stood breast high in the water. For a minute or more she remained thus drinking her fill and enjoying' - the coolness of her bath, then, first having taken care to remove the tinder that was tied to it, she slipped the water skin frotn her shoulder, washed it out, filled and replaced it. Next she dragged herself up the bank, and by the light of anew torch started forAhe foot of the shaft. Here Maya Jested awhile, gathering up her energies, then she commenced the ascent. There were 101 of the notches, for she had counted them as she came down, and now again she began to count so that she might know her exact position in the shaft, of which she could see nothing because of the intense darkness. Before she had ascended fifty steps she was dismayed to find a feeling of weariness taking possession of her, which forced her to pause awhile, hanging to the face of the shaft. Then she went on again, and with great efforts r--ached the seventy-fifth step. Then it seemed that a voice called her, and she struggled .writhing.forward like a wounded snake, till darkness closed in upon her mind. When Maya recovered a few minutes later she found that she was lying upon the edge of the pit. over which henieet still hung. Instantly she rememrered

•11, and withs little scream of terror wriggled forward along the floor. Then she rose to her feet, ana picking up her linen robe, crept toward the entrance to the cave, where she put on her gar* ments and walked slowly toward the camp, bearing the precious water with her. Meanwhile, knowing ' nothing of all this, I also had been thinking. I remembered how, when 1 lay crushed beneath the rocks, the senor had ventured his life to save me. Should J not, then, venture mine to save his? It seemed so. Without water he would certainly die, and greatly as I dreaded to ‘attempt the descent of the cueva, yet it must be done. Leaving the hammock, I searched for the Lady Maya, but could not find her, sol called aloud: “Senora, senora! Where are you, senora?” “Here,” she answered. “What is it? Is he dead?” “No; but I am sure that unless he has water he will die within a little more than an hour. Therefore I have made up my mind to try to descend the cueva. Will you be so good as to watch the Benor till I return, and if I return no more, as is probable, tell your father what has happened?” “Stop, Don Ignatio,” said Maya in a hoarse voice. “There is no need for you to descend the cueva.” “Why not, lady? I should be glad to escape the task, but this is a question of life and death.” “Yes,” she answered, “and because it is a question of life and death, Don Ignatio, I have already climbed that hideous place, and —here is the water,” And once more she fell forward and swooned upon the ground. I said nothing. I was too much amazed, and, indeed, too much ashamed, to speak. Lifting Maya’s senseless form from the ground, I placed her in a hammock that was slung close by. Then I took the water skin and a leather cup and ran with them to my friend’s side. But now the senor was in a state of collapse and lay still, moaning from time to time. Undoing the mouth of the skin, I poured out a cupful of water with which I began to sprinkle his brow and to moisten his cracked lips. At the touch and smell of the fluid a singular change came over the sailor’s face; the empty look left it and the eyes opened. “That #as water,” he muttered. “I can taste it.” Thpn he saw the cup, and the sight seemed to give him a sudden strength, for suddenly lie stretched out his ajms, and snatching it from my hand, he drained it in three gulps. “More,” he gasped; “more!” But as yet I would give him no more, though be prayed for it piteously, and. when I did allow him to drink again it was in sips only. For an hour he sipped thus, till at length even his thirst was partially satisfied, and the shrunken cheeks began to fill out and the dull eyes to brighten. “That water has saved my life,” he whisperid. “Where did it come from?” “1 will tell you to-morrow,” I answered. “Sleep now, if you can.” CHAPTER XIII. IGNATIO’S OATH. At sunrise on the following day I lit a fire by which to prepare soup for the senor, who still slept, and as I was engaged thus I saw the lady Maya walking toward me and noticed that her hands and feet were swollen. “Senora,” I said, bowing before her, “I humbly congratulate you upon your Courage and your escape from great dangers. Last'“night I said words tb you in my grief that should not have been spoken, for it is my fault that I am apt to be unjust to women. Now I crave your pardon, and I will add that if in atonement for my past injustice I can serve you in any way now and afterward 1 pray you to command me." She listened, and answered: “I thank you for your kind words, Don Ignatio. If you wish to show yourself my friend it is in your power to do so. You have guessed my secret, therefore lam not ashamed to repeat that the senor yonder has become everything to me, though as yet I may be little to him. I ask you then to swear upon the Heart that you will do nothing to separate us, that whatever may be our need you will help us by all means in your reach.” “You ask me to swear a large oath, senora, and one that deals with the future, of which we have no knowledge,” I answered, hesitating, “I do, senor; but remember, were it not for me at this moment your friend who sleeps yonder like a child would be stiff in death. Remember, also, that you have ends to gain in the City of the Heart, where it will be well for you to have me as a friend should we ever live to reach it.” “There is no need to threaten me, senora,” I answered, “I'promise that I will not stand between von and the senor. Rut see, he awakes, and his soup is ready.” She took the pot off the fire, skimmed it, and poured the contents into a gourd. Then she walked to the hammock and said: “Senor, here is your soup.” lie was but newly awakened, and looked at her vacantly. *=' “Tell me, Maya,” he said, “what has happened?” “Last evening,” she began, “in picking a flower for me you were bitten by a snake and very nearly died.” “I know,” he answered* “Go on.” “After the danger of the poison was past you became thirsty, so thirsty that you were dying of it, and there was no water to give you.” “Yes, yes,” he said; “it was agony. I pray that I may never suffer so again. .But I drank water and lived. Who brought it to me?” “It came from the cueva, that place which we examined before you were bitten.’' “Who went down the cueva to get it? The place is unclimbable.” “I went down.” “You!” he said, in amazement. “You! It is not possible. Do not jest. Tell me the truth. Quick; lam tired.” “I am not jesting. Listen, senor. Yon were dying for want of water. I could not bear it, and I knew tha,t my father would not be back in time; so I took the water skin and some torches and went, without saying anything to Ignatio. The place was hard to climb and the adventure strange; but I came through it safely.” The senor heard, but made no answer. He only stretched out his arms toward her, and there in the wilderness did they plight their troth. - “Remember, I am but an Indian girl,” she murmured presently, “and you are one of the white lords of the earth. Is it well that you should love me?” “It is well,” he answered; “for you are the noblest woman that I have known, and you have saved my life.” Zibalbay did not return, until past midday, when he appeared with the water. n “Does he still live?” be asked of Maya. “Yea, father. “He must be strong, then,” he an-

r. . swered. "I thought that the want of water would have killed him ere now.” “He has had water, father. I descended the cueva and fetched it,” she added after a moment’s pause. The old man looked at her, amazed. "How came it that you found courage to go down that place, daughter?” he ashed at length. . i ‘The desire to save a friend cave me oourage,” she answered, letting her eyes fall beneath his gaze. “1 knew that you could not be back in thne, so 1 went.” _" ' ' * Zibalbay pondered awhile, then said: “I think that you would have done better to let him die, daughter, for I. believo that this white man will bring trouble upon us. It has pleased the gods to preserve you alive. Remember that your life belongs to tuem and that vou must follow the path that they have chosen. Remember, also, that one waits you in the city yonder who may have a word to say as to your friendship with this wanderer.” That same evening Maya told me of her father’s words and Said: “I think that before all is done I shall need the help that you have sworn to give me, senor, for I can see well that my father will be against me unless my wish runs with his purpose.” For two more days we rested there by the cueva till the senor was fit to travel, then we started on again. For ten days we journeyed across the wilderness. On the eleventh day we began to ascend the slope of a lofty range of mountains, and on the twelfth we reached the snow line, where we were obliged to abandon the three mules that remained to us. That night we slept with little to cat in a hole dug in the snow, wrapped in our serapes. “How far must we travel up this snow?” I asked of Zibalbay as we stood shivering in the ashy light of the dawning. “Look yonder,” he answered, pointing to where the first ray of the sun shone upon a surface of black rock far above us; “there is the highest point and we should reach it before nightfall.” / Thus encouraged, we pushed forward for hour after hour. Fortunately the climbing was not difficult, so that by four in the afternoon we found ourselves beneath the shadow of the wall of black rock. “Must we climb that precipice?" I asked of Zibalbay. , “No,” he answered. “It would not be possible without wings. There is a secret way through it.” “Are you glad to see the gateway of your home, Maya?” asked the senor. “No,” she answered, almost fiercely, “for here in the wilderness I have been happy, but there sorrow awaits me and you. Oh! if indeed lam dear to you, let us turn even now and fly together back to the lands where your people live,” and she clasped his hand and looked earnestly into his eyes. “What,” he answered, “and leave your father and Ignatio to finish the journey by themselves?” “You are more to me than my father, James.” “But, Maya, having come so far I wish to see the sacred city.” “As you will,” she said, letting fall his hand. “See, my father has found the place and calls us.” We walked on to where the old man stood. “Although I trust you,” said the old man, “yet I must obey the oath, to suffer no stranger .to see the entrance to the mountain gate. Come hither, daughter, and blindfold these foreigners.” She obeyed, and as she tied the handkerchief about the senor’s face I heard her whisper: “Fear not, I will be your eyes.” Then we were taken by the hand and led some paces: then, as we judged from the sounds, our guides moved something heavy. Next we were conducted down a steep incline through a narrow passage. At length, after taking many sharp turns, the passage grew wider and the path smooth and level. “Loose the bandages,” said the voice of Zibalbay. Maya did so, and we looked us curiously to find that we stood at the bottom of a deep cleft or volcanic rift in the rock. This cleft was still easily passable after centuries of disuse, and did not measure more than forty paces from wall to wall. On either side of it towered sheer blaok cliffs. By degrees the pleft narrowed until it ended in a tunnel. We followed through the gloom till presently a spot'of light appeared before us, and in another minute we stood on the further side of the mountain. Without pausing Zibalbay pushed on down the hill, and suddenly turning to the right stopped before the door of a house built of hewn stone. “Enter,” he said, “and welcome to the country of the People of the Heart.” As the door was thrown open, light from the fire within streamed through it. and a man’s voice was heard asking: “Who is there?” Without answering Zibalbay walked into the room. At a table placed before the fire sat a man and wpraan eating. “Is this the way that you watch for my return?” he asked in a stern voice. “Haste now and make food ready for us, for we are starved with cold and hunger.” The man, who had risen, stood hesitating. but the woman, whose position enabled hpr to see the face of the speaker, caught him £y the arm, saying: “Down to your knees, husband. It Is the cacique come back.” “Pardon,” cried the man, taking the hint, “but to be frank, O lord, .it has been so dinned into my ears down in the city yonder that neither you nor the Lady of the Heart would ever return again that I thought you must be ghosts. Yes, and so they will think in the city, where I have heard that Tikal rules in your place.” “Peace,” said Zibalbay, frowning heavily. “We left robes here, did we not? Go, lay them out in the sleeping chambers, and with them others for these my quests, while the woman makes food ready.” When they’were, gone on their errands we (gathered round the hearth to bask in the luxury of its warmth. Soon the Indian returned and announced that our rooms were ready. Accordingly we followed him to a small sleeping room. Laid upon the beds were linen robes and serapes made in alternate bands of |ray and black feathers worked on to a foundation of stout linen. Standing upon wooden stools in a corner of. the room, half filled with steaming water, were two basins, which the senor noticed with astonishment were made of hammered silver. We put on the robes that had been provided and returned to the eating room. Presently the curtain was drawn and the Lady Maya joined us, bat so

changed that we started in astonishment.

Different indeed was she to the illclad and travel-stained girl who had been our companion for so many weeks. Now she was dressed In a robe of snowy white bordered with embroidery of the royal green (and having the image of the heart traced in gold thread on the breast. On her feet were sandals, alsp worked in green,' while round her throat, wrists, waist, and ankles shone circlets of dead gold. Her dark hair no longer fell loose about her, but was twisted into a simple knot and confined in a little golden net, and from her shoulders hung .a cloak of pure white feathers. Zibalbay entered soon after followed by the two Indians bearing food. He was simply dressed in a white togalike robe, similar to that which had been given to the senor and myself, a cloak of black feathers, his shoulders covered, and round his neck was hung a massive gold chain, to which was attached the emblem of the heart also fashioned in plain gold. “The food is ready,” said Zibalbay, “such as it is. Bo seated. Nay, daughter, you need not stand before me. We are still fellow wanderers, all of ns, and ceremony can wait till we are come to the City of the Heart." Then wo sat down and the Indians waited on us. What the dishes consisted of wo did not know, but after our long privations it seemed to us that we had never eaten so excellent a meal. Already a difference to the senor could be seen in Zibalbay’s mode of address. Formerly he had called him “senor,” or even “friend;” to-night when speaking to him ho used a word which meant “foreigner,” or “unknown-' one,” and •E'en myself he called by name without adding any title of respect. “Come hither,” said Zibalbay to the Indian, when he had handed us some cigarettes. “Start now to the borders of the lake and advise the captain of the village of the corn growers that his lord has returned again, commanding him in my name to furnish four traveling letters, to be hero within five hours after sunrise. Warn him also to have canoes in readiness tobear us across the lake, but as he values his life to send no word of our coming to the city. Go, now, and swiftly.” The man bowed, and snatching„ * spear and a feather cloak from a peg near the door, vanished into the night, heedless of the howling wind and tho sleet that thrashed upon the roof. Then Zibalbay said: "Como, daughter, it is time for us to rest; our journey has been long and you must be weary. Good night to you, my guests; to-raor-row I shall hope to house you better." And with a bow he left the room. Maya rose to follow his example, and going to the senor, gave him her hand, which he touched with his lips. | TO BE CONTINUED. 1 KIT CARSON’S SISTER. A Dame of Eighty Who Remembers Many Thrilling Episodes. We have all heard of Kit Carson, the famous hunter and scout, whose stirring adventures in the first half of tho century have furnished foundations for no end of border tales. But perhaps few persons know that the sister of the redoubtable Kit still survives in the person of Mrs. Mary Carson Ruby, who resides at Warrensburg, Mo. She was born on May 25,1814, in-Ceoper’s Fort,. Howard comity, Mo., her father, Walter Carson, having moved there a short time before from Madison county, Ky. Mrs. Ruby’s earliest recollections of home picture a log cabin, strongly barricaded to protect it from predatory bands of Indians. Though over 80 her eyesight is still good and her memory excellent. One of the Btories she tells her grandchildren is how tlieir granduncle Kit came to be a great hunter and scout. lie was such a bright boy that it was intended to make a lawyer of him, but this plan was frustrated by the early tragic death of his father. Poor Kit was then apprenticed to a tanner. He objected to this heartily and begged to accompany his brother to the far west. But, as he was only 15, they refused to take him. Kit had a will of his own, however, and after they lmd started he got hold of a mule nnd caught up with them at Independence, Mo. That settled it und Kit went west. The brothers did not. return for 15 years and Mrs. Ruby suw Kit only twice after the day he galloped off on his mule. Ixmg after, when his name had become a household word throughout the fast-growing west, he was called to Washington in connection with important business concerning our government nnd that of Mexico. When It was concluded lie returned to his old home, where he died a few days later. —Denver Field nnd Farm. Nature's l.lglitntng Hod*. There is often great loss of projierty, nnd sometimes of life, in the severe electrical storms that rage at certain times of the year in Russia. To protect the houses of the peasants, which are frequently struck by lightning, the Russian government has recommended that the peasantry be encouraged to plant white poplar trees around their dwellings, to act as lightning rods. The suggestion arose out of some investigations concerning the liability to lightning stroke of certain species of trees made* by a Russian electrician and the government forest inspector. They spent 109 days in the great forests near Moscow, and of the 597 trees that during that time were struck by lightning they found 302 were white poplar, nolwithstanding the fact that that species is comparatively rare. 7“ Undoubtodly. Sapsmitli—He struck me a -heavy Mow .‘n my wight eye with his fist; and then, when I stwufrgled to my feet, he stwuck me in the otha eye, completely blinding me. But I was game to tho lavvst. haw Juwvel Grimshaw —H’m! What did you do? Sapsmith—l cried out as my friends were eanvying me away: ‘Til see you latah!”—Puck. - A Great Deal of It. lloja-:k—Gilhooly has the bicycle face. Tomdfck—ls that so? Ilojack—lt is. He has the face to borrow mine every day/—N. Y. World. j— * A shadow can be made to look mors dreadful than a thing of life.

FARM AND GARDEN THE FIVE-ACRE FARM. How It Can Be Made to Yield Handsome and Certain Returns. To make the most of a small farm It must be made to yield its fruits at supji times its they ore the most valuable, which means to prolong the season to the greatest possible extent consistent with economy. There is great pleasure and profit in having vegetables both early and late. There is a decided relish in very early vegetables, if of our own production, and providing they can be produced at a reasonable price. Tho hotbed meets all these conditions; when properly managed It will furnish muny vegetables nearly two months in advance of the garden, and of much better quality, because they are grown more quickly and at a moderate cost. But the hotbed to be profitable must be made useful the entire Benso<n, or at least from March to January. After it has furnished us with an early crop of radishes and lettuce, together with plants for early cabbage, cauliflower nnd tomatoes, it can be made highly useful for cucumbers, not our garden varieties, but tho English frame sorts, which do finely with us in summer when grown in a frame, which should he kept well shaded on sunny days. We have grown ns large and wellshaped cucumbers in these frames as we have ever seeu grown in the greenhouse. If cucumbers are not desired, sow a few seeds of tomatoes about the Ist of June, not later than the 10th; these will ripen their first fruits upon the approach of frost, when the sash should be put on, and the senson of tomatoes can be prolonged for at least a month. After these are gone the frame can be filled with lettuce plants, which should be in readiness, and, wllhJitUe protection, the hotbed will furnish a supply during December. A goodly number of cold frames should be in readiness in spring to receive the young plants of tomatoes, cabbage and cauliflower, in order to harden them off before transferring them to the garden; this will afford the lettuce all the room it will require for heading, as the other plunts should be sown in alternate rows in order to make all the space useful. The hpportnnce of this kind of farming is understood or appreciated. It is carried on extensively near all large cities, and is made profitable by those who understand it. But it is doubly valuuble to the small farmer who grows not so much for profit us for pleasure, for those who are willing to pay to their gardeners what their vegetables and small fruits would cost them in the market, and the rental of the farm besides, for the satisfaction there is in having every tiling freßh nnd strictly first-class in every respect.—Rural Farmer. TIGHT HAY CHUTE. How to Prevent the Eicepe of Pine Dust _* and CluifT. Where the hay is stored in the second' story hay chutes must be provided for each stall. There is a right and a wrong way to build these. The cut shows the right way. Let them grow larger as they descend, and then tho hay will not catch or clog in them. At the bottom have an incline to throw the hay toward the opening, as Hhown. Have u guard over the top of chutes to keep

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jjeople from walking into them when moving übout on the floor overhead* One sometimes sees stables where the hay is thrown down an opening over the horse’s head, without the use of n chute at all. Ah a result the mane, foretop ami hair of the horse’s hear] is filled with dust, chaff nnd sizars of hay—a slovenly method. Sometimes, aiso, one sees a chute made of slats. This is much better than a simple opening. But dust and chaff will escape through the slats and get on to the horse. Better do ftie work thoroughly and make a tight chute.—N. Y. Tribune. LIVE STOCK ITEMS. What is the difference In feeding value between white and yellow corn, we are asked. Practically none. When the fattening process begins it should always be crowded to the very limit of the animal’s uppetife. diving the pigs the run of a good clover pasture will help materially to secure a good growth at a low cost. At the present price for horses the owner of a mare can better afford to pay the scrub stallion owner to keep away his horse than to pay for service. , There has been a great deal of hog cholera this year, and much of it has come from bad water. The drought dried up the streams and wells and the stock got water where It could, ami much of it was very bad water. Waldo Brown says that there is less risk of loss of fall litters than of those dropped in the spring, for hi April we are liable to severe storms anil sudden changes in temperature, and it is more difficult to keep the sows in a healthy condition through the winter thun in summer, when succulent food is abundant—Farmer’s Voice.

ALMOST A NECESSITY. No Poultry Raiser Should Try to Do With* out Breeding Houses. Small breeding houses have come to be considered almost a necessity upon the average farm as well as in the yards of the fancier. The farmer has learned that it is economical and much more satisfactory to pick from hjs flock the Inost promising pullets and n well-bred mule and pluce them in a commodious yard with a snygjittle house of their own. From this yard will come all the eggs that can he used for hutelung. The eggs from hens having the entire range of the farm may be disposed of in the general market and used for household purposes. The accompanying illustration is of a small breeding house which has been in use for three years. It was originally a large organ box and has been mode over somewhat. Very little extra material was needed to complete it. X half sash, tar paper, hinges, hook and staple, and a few boards picked up about the farm were all the extras needed. This house accommodates in perfect comfort a pen of eight or ten hens and a rooster. The tur pnper we have found expensive uiul shall never purchase more of it. It is rotten, does not wear

A SMALL BREEDING HOUSE. well, and for outside purposes it la worthless. For covering, Btretch muslin over the top and tack it on firmly. Apply one coat of hot tar, let it dry, then put on another. If to the tar a small proportion of fine wood ashes is added, the coat will be firmer and more lasting. Upon the last coat ns fast as put on, sprihkle sand plentifully. Suck a roof is wlndproof, waterproof, and with the addition of anew coat of hot tar every year, becomes practically indestructible. Such houses are ideal homes for broods of chickens. Two or three hens with their flocks may occupy such a house, and with the nihlitiou of roomy yards are well provided for until the chicks are half grown. If not crowded they may remain there until removed for winter quarters. When three weeks old, the gates are opened nnd they go hunting all day long when the weather is suitable. When weaned they have a comfortable, permanent home tp return! to. I have used these houses with marked success. —Orange Judd Farmer. DRAFT-HORSE BREEDING. A Revival Which Moans Prosperity Throughout the West. The revival of draft-horse breeding in the horse-breeding states, after this unprecedented decline in breeding for thrtie years, is simply the law of supply ami demand. The revival of business nnd commercial industries calls for more big draft horses, while the supply of good horses is far short of tho demand, und must be until we can produce u new supply and muture them for the markets. I’riceß inennwhllq must advance and the weights increase to 1,800 nnd 2,000 pounds, while In 1892 a 1,000-pound horse was a good draft horse. Farmers have about concluded that they will stick to the farm, ants II they farm draft horses are the moat subHtuntiul, reliable and profitable branch of stock breeding. The revival of draft nnd coachhorse breeding throughout the western stntes means greater prosperity Already these horses top the markets, nnd the many foreign buyers are eagerly looking for the best of them, while our own city markets complain of the short snpjjly, just when they want more of them and a little larger and better than ever before*—Live Stock Journal. WORK* OF JHONEY BEES. Calculations In Regard to the Nectar Collected by Tlietn. A writer in the Revue des Sciences Natyreiles makes the following calculations in regard to the work done y the honey bee: 'When the weather is fine, a worker can visit from 40 to 80 flowers in six to ten trips and colleftt a grain of nectar. If It visits 200 or 400 flowers, it will gather ftvo grains. Uuder favorable circumstances, it will take a fortnight to obtain 15 grains. It would, therefore, take several years to manufacture a pound of honey, which will fill about 3,000 cells. A hive contains from 20,000 to 50,000 bees, half of which prepare the honey, the ortier liHlf attending to the wantßof the hive and the fumily. On a fine day, 10,000 or 20,000 will, in six or ten trips, be able to explore from 300,000 to 1,000,000 flowers, say several hundred thousund plants. Again, the locality roust be favorable for the preparation of the honey, and the plants that produce the most nectar must flourish neur the hive. Ahlve inhabited by 30,000 bees may, therefore, under favorable conditions, receive about two pounds of honey a day. Road Horses Are Profitable. Plenty of people are making money out of the horse business to-day, but the majority of those who are securing a fair proportion of the coin of tho • realm are hreeders who pay particular attentiou to breeding and developing trotting horses into handsome park and road horses, for which animals there is a demand at present which cannot be supplied. Too many of the breeders expect to breed In every Instance sensational race horses, and pay too little attention to the carriage horse or the one for which there is a never-failing demandj—Column's BuWorld. Corn is our mainstay for fattening purposes. Yet on an exclusive diet of corn a hog will sometimes gain less than if it had some other kinds of food*