Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 February 1875 — Page 6

Our Young Folks.

AX unexpected hide.

BY SIDNEY DAYRE.

“,J'grak, l »pu may take Eddy into the yard ana play there, but be very careful of him, ter you know this is his chill day and lam hoping he may escape it. Play - gently and do not let him get over-heated. I’m going 10 bq very busy all the morning, so ymt eih be quite a nelp to me by taking good care of little brother. But foe sure you doifft go outside the gate." “ No, 'manun*. wc wi'hV’ answered Frank, with • a bridt|'fmile.' Orine, Eddy, we’lCpkfren ATlufgT It was such a pleasant yard that no little boys need have complained at being kept in it. There was & nice vegetable garden, wil& a 'hbrdcf ot flowers, and each, Httl* boy had a plat for his j own, with donning lifue tools to work it. ; Frank's flower-lied looked quite nicely, ! but Eddv had had ho many different j fancies that they greatly interfered with hiamusceas as a gardener. When early pens, WWgtci and peiatdc* were planted | ha decided to fill all his space with them, but betorc they came up changed his mind' to string-beans, oorn and melons- But when mamma began planting her flower-seeds and setting out verbenas, geraniums and other pretty things, he declared he would bave nothing but flowers. So, now, everything that had not been killed off, was growing up in the queerest hotchpotch you ever did sec, with a big morn-ing-glory vine snarled all through it, and Eddiy declared himself tired of garden- j ing. Frank's garden was about as large as a dining table, and lie had divided it j ofl into little beds about the size of a | *ptKp*lzed pocket handkerchief, with ; paths between. He kept it quite neatly, | and enjoyed working there very much. | There was a swing, too, and a rocking-i .horse; and they had croquet, tops, marbles and a great many other nice things. In short, it seemed as if their parents had spared no pains to make their home attractive to these little boys. But Frank, having reached the dignity of nine years, thought hi nisei f entirely too old le%e kept in the yard, or to ask leave to go out of it. lie was a good ' little bov in most respects, but in this ; matter Inclined to think mamma did j not know best. On this particular morn j ing they found pleasant work in the garden/ There were vipes to be trained, and some vegetables to be gathered for mamma. Then, too, they were greatly | excited over a brood of chickens just hatched. A coop must lie built for the young family, and they were very busy at tills until the voices of some of Frank's friends aroused him. “ Hullo, Frank! poking here at home all the time? Ain't you going down to the depot *'’ “What for/" “ Why, to see the fun. Don’t you know Gen. Sherman is going to pass through this morning? And there’ll be the biggest sort of a time. All the soldiers are going to be out and the fire companies, and the band, too. Hark, there goes arcannon! Come on, quick!" “ I don't believe my mother will let me go, Walt* t»he don’t like to let us go to the depot without some one to take care Of US.’’ . “Stuff! As if you were-not big enough to take care of yourself and Eddy! But as to that, you needn’t ask her." Frank was not at all inclined to listen to such bad advice as this, and ran into the house to beg his mother to let them go. “ She's gone to the market," said Biddy, in answer to his eager question. “ Oh, dear! Biddy, mayn’t we go to the depot?” Bat Biddy knew better than to give any such permission. “ Ye kuow what yer mother said,” was all she would say, and Frank returned to Walt with a very downcast face. “ I can't go; mamma is not at home." “ Pshaw! If she knew what was going on of course she'd let you go. Don’t be such a ruufl. There’s the band now! Well be too late.” A- - - -—- And forget)ing everything else in his excitement Fr«nk seized his brother’s hand and they all ran toward the depot at full speed. Flkfs were flying and companies parading. The bands were playing and the cannon roared so that little Eddy became frightened and dizzy. The morning was very hot, with thick clouds of dust living, and the two little boys soon became tangled in such a crowd that they really were in danger of injury. Poor little Eddy was almost fainting, and both would have given much to be in the quiet garden again. Then a railroad-whistle sounded long and loud close behind them. There was a little speaking done by men they couldn’t see, followed by deafening hurrahs and more cannon. Then another shriek from the locomotive and the fine fun was over. “ I’m tired and so hot," fretted Eddy, as the crowd scattered, and Frank tried to lead him home. “ Can’t we rest a little first?" Walt had disappeared in the crowd long ago, and now Frank looked around to see what he could do. A train of freight cars stood on a side track near by. Some of them stood open, and Frank said: ->• - ——— “ Here, Eddy, we’ll get into this car and let you rest a little; vou’ll feel better out of the hot sun." They climbed in and soon found themselves very comfortable. The car was loaded with furniture, not boxed but ■wrapped in sa- king and not very closely packed, so that there was some room to move around. It was a most attractive ! place for a couple of boys to clamber about in. “ We’ll play ct house-keeping." cried Frank. “ See, Eddy, I can lift these chairs off the sofa and move it around a little, and it will do for a bed for you; and this whatnot in the corner can be' | the pantry. I’ve got some crackers in j Sy pocket to put on the shelves. Wish ings were not quite so crowded here.” j For a half hour they found plenty to ' Interest them liu the car. They had ex- j amined everything in it and were just j proposing to go home when a sudden jerk startled them. “ What’s that?" and Frank sprang up to look out, but at this moment the door -of the car slid to with a sudden bang, rad with another jerk the car began moring, at first slowly, then faster and faster, till soon at a rapid rate of speed the two little truants were being carried, they knew not where. At t|ie first alarm Frank sprang to the do6r, rad by calling and pounding tried to attract the attention of some one oataide. Bat there was a confusion of n< depot; trains had been cqrainp and going all the time, gpd amid the puffing', hissing and whistling of lo©Othntives One feeble voice of the child WM 1 Off* So after a prolonged but useless

effort to make himself heard poor Frank sat down by his brother in ereut Iright and dismay The car had seemed verjdark after the sudden closing of the door, but some sunshiny came through the crackt ind they soon became accustomed to the dim light Frank saw that his little brother looked pale and ill. “You’d better lie down, Eddy,” lie said, “and let me fan you with my bat, it's so hot in this car.” “Not, it isn't hot,” moaned Eddy, “I’m so cold.” And Frank’s distress was complete when he saw the poor child was shivering in a severe ague chill. How bitterly he now repented ever having left home ! And his heart sank within him as lie wondered how long it might be before they could find their way out of this difficulty. But he was a brave little fellow, and determined to make the best of things. He had seen some door-mats in ■ a corner, some of which he now brought to cover Eddy, and spoke cheery words | to him. “Never mind, Eddy; this train will soon come to a stopping place, and then we can make some one hear us, and come and let us out.” * " How can we ever get back to mamma’s?” sobbed Eddy; “It will bo so far to walk.” “ Oh, w e won’t have to walk. There’ll be trains going back, arid I’ll ask some of the men to let us ride home, because ydu are sick. They’ll do it, I know.” But the train kept on for a long, long time, and Eddy’s sufferings were much increased as the cliill passed off and a violent fever set in -The j hot, close air of the . car was I almost stilling, and Frank saw with j much alarm that his brother was much | worse than he had ever seemed before. I This was owing to the heat, fatigue and | excitement of the morning. And poor I Frank suffered as keenly as so young a ; child could suffer, as he thought of his mother's airy room at home, in which everything would have been done to soothe and relieve Eddy. It was terrible to see him so ill without being aide to do a single thing to help him; to hear him beg for the cooling drink his mother would nave given him, and here w as not one drop of water to quench Ids thirst, or ‘to bathe his burning head. It was hours ; before the train stopped. Frank started I in eager hope as he felt the train slack- ! ening. Again he tried by every means in his power to make himself heard, but all in vain. A locomotive belonging to another train happened to stand very ! near their car, aha its constant hissing drowned hla For an hour they remained here, then an express train thundered by, and they moved slowly on again, Frank throwing himself down, worn out, and in despair as the weary rumbling began again. Night was drawing near, and he thought with horror of the prospect of their being obliged to pass the night in this dreary prison. Eddy tossed, half-delirious, upon his uncomfortable bed, tortured by the noise, constantly pleading for water. As it grew later, Frank himself began to feel sadly the need of both food and water, neither of them haying tasted anything since breakfast. “ I believe we shall both die here, and never get home to mamma again," he sobbed to himself. “God won’t take care of us because we are disobedient, knd it was all my fault! I’ll ask Him, though, and perhaps He’ll forgive us.” And the poor boy knelt down and prayed very earnestly. He then settled himself by the side of Eddy, who had fallen into an uneasy sleep. “ I’ll watch Eddy all night. I won’t go to sleep at all.” But Frank grew very tired and sleepy. “ it must be nearly morning, now,” he said, when nearly an hour had passed. “ I'll just lie down by Eddy’s feet for a few minutes. lean watch him so just as well.*’ He curled himself up, and in a few minutes had forgotten his anxiety, hunger and thirst in a sound sleep. A sudden shock awakened him; a jar so violent as to upset everything in the car which could be upset, and every car on the train seemed jammed together. Frank got up and raised Eddy to the sofa, from which he had been thrown The motion of the train had ceased, and they could hear the excited voices of men near by. They seemed greatly alarmed about something or other, but Frank was too unxious to make them hear him to wait long to listen. “ Help! help!" he cried. “Open the door, quick, and let me out!’ L “ Hark!” said one of the men, “ I thought I heard a child's voice!” * The voice continued, as, hammering on the door of the prison, Frank still clamored for relief. The door flew open and a man looked in. “ Who’s here? What’s the matter?” “ Why, it’s me and Eddy,” said poor Frank, in a voice breaking dawn between fear and gladness; “and Eddy’s sick, and we couldn’t make anyone hear us.” “ How came you in here?” “ We got in to play and some one shut the door.” The man lifted Eddy out carefully, and laid him on the grass. He was almost insensible, but the cool night air seemed to revive him; he opened his eyes and moaned: “Drink! drink!” and after taking eagerly of what was brought him, closed them again without attempting to look around. “ He’s sick, sure enough,” said the man, raising him gently in his arms. “Come, Jim,” some one called, “no time to be fooling there.” “ I’ll just take these young ones to the caboose,” he answered. Frank followed quietly as Eddy was laid in a more comfortable' place, and their rough friend wasjust hurrying away,when he stopped a moment and opened a little cupboard. “ Take some," he said, as he left them: some food was there and the half-starved boy ate heartily, having first wet his handkerchief and laid it upon ! Eddy’s head. He would not leave his | brother, though very anxious to know j what was goiDg on. The men seemed very busy in the darkness—on the track, j no: far from where they were, and had ! soon kindled a large'fire. Then all waited what seemed a long time, till a low. rumbling sound was heard and a light appeared in the far distance. At this moment some one dashed into the caboose, seized Eddy, and calling upon Frank to follow sprang to the ground and ran some distance away from the track. Then he stood, watching intently the locomotive which was fast coming nearer and nearer. The fire burned brighter and the sparks flew up into the darkness as men threw on brush, stirred it well tiqj and then also ran away to watch. “Thank God!” said Ahe man who still held Eddy in bis arms, as the whistle sounded and the locomotive moved more Blowly, stopping just before it reached the fire. He laid Eddy down. “Now I must go,

but I'Jl come ■ baqk and see ,to you." Many people got off the train to look about,, and in listening to theif excited talk Frank managed to get some idea of what had taken place. A wheel of one of the freight cars had broken just before tlie train reached the switch upon ’which it was to wait to allow 1 the passage of an express train, which was not far bqliind them. Messengers had been sent back upon the track but could not reach any station to stop the approaching train, and it had been feared that a terrible accident might occur, as the freight cars could not be removed in time. The passengers soon heard of the danger which had threatened them, and many thanksgivings were offered for their escape. Tlie person who had cared for the comfort and safety of our poor little waifs did not forget them. Busy though he was, lie found time to speak of them to some of the new comers, who soon came to look after the forlorn children. Eddy was taken to the sleeping-car, where lie was kindly cared for. All were astonished at finding them in such a strange situation and Frank was soon called upon to tell how he came there. He again related bow they had been shut up in the car. “ Where did this happen—where do you live?” * “ At Centerville.” “ What! two hundred miles back?” “ Oh,” sobbed Frank, “ are we all that w T ay from home? How 1 will we ever get bark there?" “Never mind,'my little man; you shall be sent home all right. But bowlong have you been in that car?” "Since jestesday morning.” “And nothing to eat?” “Only two or three crackers.” “ Well, you certainly have paid rather dearly for your frojjc, let alone coming very near having your poor little brains knocked out. But don’t fret now; your troubles are about over, I guess. Tell me what your father’s name is.” So in the early morning, when thctrain went on and reached a station, this telegram was thoughtfully sent to parents worn out with weary searching and keenest anxiety for the little ones they loved so well: “ Frank and Eddy are safe and in good bands. Will reach home on the five p. m. express.” Little Eddy was sick fpr days after, owing to tlie exposure and fatigue of his unexpected journey. And Frank never forgot the severe lesson his disobedience taught him. The fact of his own fault having brought himself and his little brother into such danger, and caused such suffering to his parents, made a deep impression upon him, and he became more willing to follow the advice of those older and wiser than himself.—Little Cwjwral.

“Green Boys.”

We have seen a lot of city or village boys gather around a boy from the back country and make fun of him, and talk about his “ greenness,” because he was; not up to all their ways of acting, and very often ways of mischief. And very often the country boy feels chagrined about it and goes home quite sad. Yesterday we were having a chat with some city boys, sons of wealthy parents, and in our conversation the word buckwheat was mentioned. We asked the boys when it was sown, how the plants looked, how they got the buckwheat flour out of it which makes their nice morning’s “flatjacks”—or “ flap-jacks,” as some call them. Our country friends would have laughed at the answers. One large boy said they sowed buckwheat in the fall and cut it the next summer, he believed. Another said he supposed they sowed it the same as any wheat, and cut it and ground it the same, and he supposed it was only so called because it was a kind first Raised by a Mr. Buck. None of these boys could tell anything about the-gppearsmee of the plant or grain—though one thought it looked more like oats than like wheat. (They had all seen oats fed to horses and seen wheat at the city grist-mill.) Now, were not these boys just as “ green” as any country lad that ever visited the city? The truth is, city boys are fully as “green” about things in the country as country are about things in the city, and the country boys have the advantage of knowing less about mischief. It’s all nonsense tor city boys to put on airs and laugh at country boys, for the latter know a great many usetul things which the former do not know, and if one of each class should be left a homeless, friendless orphan, the farmer boy, with his strong frame, his practical skill and self-reliance, would stand the best chance of taking care of himself. Let the city boy and the country boy each have a mutual respect for what the oiher knows that he himself does not know—and remember that one is just as “ green” as the other when he gets inio the other’s territory. By the way, we know of a city boy who'is collecting a cabinet of all kinds of grains and seeds used in agriculture and horticulture, and is studying the habits of the plants. That boy will not be so “ green” when he goes out to see his country friends. This is a good example for many other city boys. American Agriculturist.

A Breathing Care.

In the range of mountains in Western North Carolina known as the “ Fox Range!’ a most singular phenomenon exists. It is a “breathing cave.” In the summer months a current of air comes from it so strongly that a person can’t walk against it, while in winter the sue--, tion is just as great. The cool air from the mountain in the summer is felt for miles in a direct line from the cave. At times a most unpleasant odor is emitted upon the current from dead carcasses of animals sucked in and killed by the violence. The loss of cattle and stock in that section in winter is accounted for in this way. They range too* near the mouth of the cave and the current carries them in. At times, when the change from inhalation begins, the air is filled with various hairs of animals; not frequently bones and whole carcasses are found miles from the place. The air has been known to change materially in tem-perature-during exhalation from quite cool to unpleasantly hot, withering vegetation within reach and accompanied by a terrible roaring, gurgling sound, as a pot boiling. It is unaccounted for by scientific men who have examined, though no exploration can take place. It is feared by many that a volcanic eruption may break forth there some time. Such things have occurred in places as little unexpected. ♦«* • t A Philadelphia doctor pronounced it ah “ electric fit;” the Coroner’s jury rendered a verdict accordingly, and the poor man went to his grave with that terrible stain on his character.

RECIPES, ETC.

--Apple Cobbler.—Pare, core and Slice twelve large tars apples, add to them the juice of two lemons, grated peel of one, and sweeten to taste; stew very slowlv for two hours, and then turn into a mold. When cold, serve with cream. —Horseradish Sauce. —Grate very small a stick of horseradish; then, with a couple of tablespoonfuls of it, mix a small teaspoonful salt and four tablespbonfulS of cream; stir it briskly, and add by degrees a wineglassful of vinegar. Excellent to serve with cold roast beef. —Stufling for Fowl or Meats.—To a quart of finely-chopped bread add two spoonfuls of powdered sage, a teaspoon-, ful of black pepper, two spoonfuls of chopped salt pork, or three Spoonfuls of pork gravy, and two eggs; mix thoroughly, stull the fowl full—or, if for meat, press it tightly down and bring the meat over it firmly, either by sewing or tying with a string—and you will have a most appetizing dressing. —Farmer's Wife. —To Cook Cabbage.—Chop the cab-bage-head fine, or cut it as small as you can well with a knife. Half of an average lie.ad is sufficient for a meal. Put it into a kettle, and popr over it about a pint of bailing, water. Cover it and keep it boiling steadily (not letting it burn dry by too hard boiling) for half an hour. Pour off what water remains—the cabbage itself supplies some water in cooking—and pour in a teacupful—or two if you like—of good milk, saltiug to taste. Let all boil up together, and it is done. If you put in considerable milk it will be much liked if poured over “ white gems” split in two. —American Agriculturist. —Mrs. J. G. Kidd says in the Western Farm Journal: “ Take a goblet with the foot and stem broken or cut oft' so that the bowl will be perfecttake charsc red flannel, the redder the better, stitch it nearly around the bowl, or goblet, so as to cover it completely on the outside; dip it iu water, so as to wet it thoroughly, then roll it iff flaxseed; the seed will stick in and on the flannel; be sure that the seed is distributed evenly, then stand it on its mouth, or large end, in a saucer or small plate; put water in the small plate or. saucer, and renew or add to it as it absorbs. Never let the vessel get dry, nor suffer At to. chill or freeze. It can and will grow in any part of the room, and will be a deep green with red ground.” —Hanging Basket. —These floral beauties are now so common as to need no description, but whether made of wire, earthen or rustic work, the same rule should be observed in filling them, viz.: Creeping vines around the margin, something tall and showy for the center and an ivy or other vine for "Climbing the handle. Earthen ware or rustic baskets are better than wire for the house —the former being made In a great variety of shapes and sizes, and are very cheap; the latter larger and stronger, but more expensive. They may be obtained at nearly ail florists’. Hang them in a sunny window, and sow and then immerse in a tub of water and let them thoroughly soak through, as they are apt to get very dry.

Broom-Corn Culture.

While we will not pretend to advise in this matter of broom-corn culture, or say that a market could not be found for a few more thousand tons than are now produced, still the fact should not be lost sight of that only a certain number of brooms are used annually, calling for only a certain number of pounds of materials in their manufacture. There is seldom any very large deficiency in the total product of the country, and when this does happen and high prices follow, as in 1869 and 1870, there is pretty sure to be a general rush into broom-corn culture and a corresponding fall in the market. In nine cases out of ten a farmer will stand a better chance of realizing good prices for any of the staple crops by commencing or increasing the area of land devoted to them, at the very time when the majority are abandoning their culture on account of low and unsatisfactory prices. The sale of a few tons of broom-corn at $l5O is sure to be made known and talked of, but at S4O no one would think it worthy of notice or remark. The cultivators of this crop are not alone to blame for becoming, excited in times of high prices, for the manufacturers and dealers frequently contribute very materially to a rise when there is really no occasion for it. In a circular lately received from C. E. Grant & Co., of Chicago, dealers in this article, we fine some very pertinent remarks on this point. They say: “No product of this country has shown greater fluctuations in price than broom-corn. When prices are extravagantly high, dealers and manufacturers are ambitious and even in their desire to purchase; but when the market is surfeited, as an article of commerce, it has not the redeeming qualities of guano.” Still, there are hundreds of farmers having land adapted to the culture of this plant who find it a profitable crop, taking a series of years together. Any good, rich land in a climate where Indian corn succeeds will answer for broom-corn; but it is an exhaustive crop, and the farmer who attempts to make it a specialty will have to pay considerable attention to keeping up the fertility of his soil. In planting, the seed should be sown in drills. "These are usually about three feet apart and the seed should be dropped every six inches in the drills or a liule thicker, and the plants be thinned out after they are a few inches high. Although it may cost more labor to sow thick and then thin out, still it is the surest tfiiy to get a good even stand of plants. The one common error in raising this crop is in allowing too many plants to grow, the result being short and uneven brush. The seed can be sown better and more evenly with a seed drill than by hand, and the rows | should be straight; the more care given I to this the easier will be the cultivation, j Hoeing, weeding and other culture usually given to common cKrn should not be neglected, for the better the care the better the results. When the seed is just past the milk, or begins to harden, the tops should be broken down about a foot below the brush and then allowed to bang until ripe. Some practice a different system of curing, and bend two rows together, breaking the stems about two feet from the ground, after which they cut off the tops and place them on the-e bent rows to dry. When the brush has cured somewhat in the field, it is cut and spread out to dry, and if under an open shed or in a building where shaded it will be of a better color than when exposed to the sun and dews at night. Great care is necessary in Curing, because if placqd in very thick lasers the brush will soon become, moldy and is removed when taken from the^field

curing will be hastened and the work of handling less laborious. Where large quantities are raised, machines worked by horse power are used; but for a moderate-sized crop ft batchel somewhat like; those used for flax’, buto£ larger size, may be employed for the purpose. A. cylinder, two feet long, and about the>same in diameter, studded with wrought nails, the points projecting outward, and ’then supplied with bearings and a crank for turning, is a convenient style of hatchel, one man tunring while another applies the brush and removes the seed. There is considerable labor about all the operations connected with broom-corn Culture, besides more or less risk of the crop becoming injured in curing. After being properly cured it is baled for Market. Five or six hundred pounds is a fair yield per acre when all the conditions are favorable and requisite care is given. The total number of tons manufactured in the United States and Canada is about 12,000 per annum. —New York Sun.

The Better Way to Make Chicken Boosts.

The way many roosts are made is exceedingly objectionable, as the fowls have difficulty in getting on the rear poles when all the positions 'near the front part are occupied. Roosts for heavy fowls should be so arranged and constructed that they can step on and ofl without danger of falling and injuring themselves. Besides this many roosts are arranged in such a manner that one cannot move around in the hennery unless he drops on his knees beneath the fowls. The past season I have been constructing a lien-roost on a new plan, which pleases me better than any other style of roosts I have ever met with. On one side of the hennery, which is about twelve feet in length, there are three shelves, twenty inches wide, one above the other, and about twenty inches apart; The back edges of the shelves touch the wall, so that nothing can fall down behind them. About three inches above the middle of each shelf a roosting pole extends their entire length. The ends of the poles are so supported that they can be removed without difficulty 1 . The fowls ascend to their roosts by walking up an inclined road, with numerous cleats nailed on the surface to prevent their feet from slipping. This inclined board is placed parallel with the shelves, close to the front edges, so that as a hen ascends she can step on the first shelf or ascend to the next or to the top roost. The shelves prevent any droppings from falling on the fowls below them. More than this, the roosts occupy but little room, which is so admirably appropriated that one can 6nter the hennery at night and get a desirable view of every 1 fowl as they 1 are arranged in regular rows- within convenient reach. Another excellent advantage is, all the droppings are received by the shelves, so that the accumulations may be collected with a shovel. Twice every week the poles are removed and the shelves are scraped clean. During the past two months the accumulations collected from •the shelves filled a barrel. Such fertilizing material is worth more per hundred pounds than the best Peruvian guano that farmers can obtain after it has been adulterated for market. By June next there will be a sufficient quantity of choice manure to apply to one acre of growing corn. The roosting poles are about four inches in diameter. Fov/ls prefer a large to a small pole for a roost. In lieu of round poles scantlings, three or four inches square, would make excellent roosts. Fowls are not half as liable to fall ofl' the roost at night if the poles are broad or flat as when the roosts are no larger than a broom-handle. When fowls are allowed to roost here and there they will smear everything with offensive droppings, and one cannot collect a barrel of the valuable accumulations during the entire year.— N. Y. Herald.

Fence Posts.

Over twenty-ttvo years ago I hit upon a plan of preparing fence posts that insures their durability better than any way that I have ever heard of. I don’t admire the plan of “ hiding a light under a half bushel,” so I will give you my experience. My attention was called to it by seeing fishermen putting nets and lines in hot coal tar, as they told me, to keep them from rotting. I was then fencing a lot, using cedar posts, and as I was short two or three I got some common white oak pieces from a saw-mill, four inches by six, and put them in boiling coal tar to the depth of over two and half feet; kept them there from twenty to thirty minutes. There was a shallow drain across the lot in which there was water in wet weather during winter and spring. I set these posts in that low place, leaving six or eight inches that had been in tar above the ground. I made no further experiments then. Six. teen years after that I had occasion to move the fence, and I found the cedar posts me re or less decayed. Some had taken a dry rot, and would break oft at the top of the ground; many were half decayed, and few, if any, entirely soqnd. To my surprise I found the tarred oak posts as sound as when put in. I used them in making a shed; about a year ago the shed was torn down and the posts were cut off at the ground, showing no signs of decay. The year after tearing down the lot fence I put a post and plank fence along the side of an orchard which adjoined a public road. The gate-posts and some others prepared in the way I have mentioned, i did not have facilities t* prepare many. To-day many of the posts are one-third rotted off at the surface of the ground, and all more or less decayed, except that where tarred they are apparently just as sound as when they were set. I have since been using the boiling tar in various ways on timber, where there was danger of its rotting, and with like results. I think the heat measurably injures the elasticity of wood, but that it does it no injury for fence-posts,. I know that in making plank fence the great objection is the cost and frequent renewal of the posts. This method, if once adopted, will be of almost incalculable benefit to many prairie farmers. My plan is this: Get a cylinder, say No. 12 iron, not less, and from fifteen to eighteen inches in diameter, and long enough to insure the immersion of posts to a proper depth, say three and a half feet, have a east-iron bottom riveted on, and all is ready; it is much the best to have the posts seasoned a year, for otherwise the sap boiling out as the tar fills, the pores of the wood makes a renewal of the tar necessary oftener than if dry. — Cor. Rural World. A Fairfifld (Me.) youth announces that he will give achromo to the young lady who will take him “ for better or for worse.” No special rates for clubs, however.

Farm Stock In Winter.

Already we begin to receive numerous inquiries in regard to various diseases peculiar to farm stock. The winter is scarcely half over, but diseases of cows, holies and other animals appear to be prevalent in many localities, which prompts the somewhat pertinent question, Why is this so? Cannot farm animals be kept in as good health during winter as summer? Or must we conclude that winter is naturally an unhealthy season for the brute creation, and at the same time a healthy one for man?* In summer, horn ail, mange, worms, indigestion and simijar diseases are seldom heard of.; but when cold weather comes, and animals are dependent upon man for shelter, food and water, disorders of various kinds appear to spring into existence as if by magic. We do not wish to accuse anyone of being disposed to shirk their duty in their care of farm stock, but there must be so.me radically wrong management, or else disease and losses would be less common. It must be admitted, however, that we bave among our farmers far too many apologists for cruelty to animals, who are ever ready to declare that young colts must be toughened by exposure to the cold of winter, with food of the coarsest kind. If their hair, before spring, points the wrong way, it makes no matter, as this is only one of the unmistakable signs that the toughening process is fairly under wav. Young calves are frequently treated in tlie same manner, their owners offering no better reasons for this cruelty than those given \ for toughening colts. We have been gravely told for years that farm stock do not require any shelter or food beyond what they can obtain for themselves in tlie prairie regions of the Western States and Territories. Some persons even claim that sheep are injured by protection from the cold rains and sleet which are quite common during the winter months in all the regions of the far West, claimed to be mild. But losses from diseases do frequently occur, even in the most favorable climates, and the greater portion may be directly traced to want of proper care during inclement ;weather. Losses through neglect of supplying animals with the means of warding off and resisting disease are not confined to the newer States; but in the older settled ones the cow and horse doctors are frequently in great demand during the latter part of winter and the early spring. Far too many of our farmers are content with no better accommodations for their cows, sheep and hogs than an open yard surrounded by a board fence. A straw stack, a few musty corn-stalks, with perhaps an occasional forkful of hay, are deemed sufficient for oxen, cows and sheep, and, it is very likely, if they were warmly housed these might answer; but when animals are exposed to the cold of our Northern winters such coarse food is not sufficient to preserve good health, much less prevent the loss of flesh. Comfortable quarters, in the form of stables or close sheds, should he the first things provided, but they are tar too frequently the very last. Farm stock of all kinds will thrive onTess food if provided with shelter than without, consequently the cost cannot be urged as an objection or excuse for not providing them. Now, we will remind those farmers who may say that this is all nonsense, or attempt to dodge the question in some other way, that all breeders of choice stock, as well as the most successful dairymen, who are supposed to understand their business thoroughly, almost without exception, keep their animals in warm stables during the winter months. In addition, we find that they raise more or less roots for their stock, to feed along with dry fodder, knowing from experience as well as theory that these are beneficial in preserving the animals’ health, even if for nothing else. If the supply of roots does not hold out, or is deemed insufficient to keep the animals in good flesh and health, then grain, either whole or ground, raw 1 and cooked, is added; in fact, the farmer who expects to derive a profit from his business will seek every means to promote the health and comfort of his animals. The supplying of water to farm stock during winter is a very important matter, although more generally neglected than even the providing of shelter. Many a herd is obliged to wade a half mile or go without water, which they usually do until compelled to seek it in order to quench a raging thirst. No man can expect his stock to remain healthy or thrive under such circumstances, and even when the water is near by in well or cistern it will not always answer to depend upon hired help to give it to the animals. In many years’ experience with animals we have always been very particular in regard to giving them a full and regular supply of water both winter and summer. A dozen horses or cows may feed at the same stack and yet not all b© thirsty at onetime; still many a farmer adopts an arbitrary system of watering his stock; which compels each individual animal to take water at a certain hour or not at all. The wants of each individual should be regarded in this matter, as well as in that of food or anything else. But when animals arC driven to water, or have it offered to them ß at certain hours in the day, natural desires are not always promptly met or satisfied. In summer animals should have water within reach at all times, except in the case of horses at work, aDd in winter if ft cannot be conveniently supplied in this manLer it should be offered them not less than three times, and four is our rule with horses. One day an animal may not drink but once, while on the next it will drink water several times in response to the demands of nature. If every stock-owner would study the natural wants of his animals and endeavor to supply them to the best of his tsbi'ities we would hear less of diseases and more of success and profit inflaming.— N. Y. Sun. A fresh-water clam, according to a foreign scientific journal, was last year shut up in ». perfectly dry drawer for 231 days, and then, being plunged in o water showed signs rtf’ remarkable activity. This was during a voyagefrom Australia to England. On its arrival' at Southampton, 498 days after leaving its native marsh, it was again put into the water, where it opened its valves and renewed its former habits as a mollubfe. If a man finds himself “stuck” on a one, a five, or even a ten dollar bill he stoically resolves to '‘ grin and bear It,” as it won’t “ break” him. anyhow, but a counterfeit SSOO greenback is a disagreeable thing to find in one’s '•mall changfe. A very well executed counterfeit of that denomination has lately been discovered in circulation iu Maine.