Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 November 1899 — Page 3

THE PATRIOTS TALISMAN.

CHAPTER XVIII. “You know the way to Eastcourt’s bouse?” he said to the old man. “Yes.” “Then make all haste. You will find me there.” Then he leaped back into his saddle, and shouted, with a wondrous energy: “Attention! Captain Douglas, you will form column by sections!” Then he called to a sergeant, who had been reared in Philadelphia. “Sergeant, you know where Jacob Eastcourt lives?” “Yes, sir.” “The rear garden of his house extends back to Pine street?” “Yes, sir.” “Then wheel out your section and dash down to the foot of that garden, and see that no human being leaves the premises by that way. You will know when I sweep into Spruce street. When I do, you will advance up the garden towards the house. Away you go!” In a very short time Major Seaton dismounted before the door of Eastcourt’s dwelling, and having seen that the building was entirely surrounded, he entered, accompanied only ~by Capt. Douglas, though others of the troop came up into the outer hall. When he entered the drawing room, which he did without ceremony, he beheld four persons—two men and two women. One of the men he recognized at a glance as the old bishop of Christ Church. The other he could not mistake. It was the man who had led him out from the Walnut street prison! Aye—he knew —the Earl of Wenlock! The, earl and—the bishop! What did it mean? With a tumultuous throbbing of the heart he turned and saw Lillian. “O! Robert! Robert!—My love!—heaven have mercy!” So cried the stricken girl, from her bursting heart ,and then sank upon the bosom of Patience Angell, whose strong arms supported her. Before our hero could recover himself sufficiently to speak, his sergeant, whom he had sent around by the way of the garden, with another trooper, came In by the rear door, leading between them .Jacob Eastcourt, whose arms had been lashed behind him, and who looked like a very demon in his black rage and furious despair. And in a moment more, as though an over-ruling Providence had set the work of the strange drama in motion, the door from the front wall was opened, and Stephen W’ilson entered. “My dear master!” cried the old man when he saw the earl, at the same time advancing and extending his hand. “Thank heaven, I find you alive and well! and thank heaven, I am alive to tell you so!” “Good Stephen, I have expected you. But—excuse me for a moment. Gentlemen,”—to Major Seaton and Captain Douglas—“if you will permit the ceremony for which our good bishop waits to proceed, I will, at its conclusion, be at your service. Major Seaton, I do not think you will refuse me.” Before our hero could answer, a startling cry from Stephen Wilson • arrested attention. He had just discovered the master of the house in the hands of two troopers. His old face was the picture of terrified amazement. His eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets as he ■tood like one petrified. ‘ Stephen,” said the earl, “what is it?” The old man came back to life. He gazed again upon the evil face of the prisoner, utterly demon-like now in its malenity, and then turned to his master. “Where—where did you find him, my lord?” “Find whom, Stephen?” “Why,” returned the aged servitor in surprise, at the same time pointing to the bound prisoner, “him!—that man!—Jason Bittern!” Allan Fitzgerald, Earl of Wenlock, started and staggered as though he had been struck a heavy blow. At the same moment Wilson caught sight of Lillian, who had raised her head, and was looking towards him. He caught his hands together and gasped for breath. A moment so, and then he seized Wenlock by the arm. “Merciful heavens! Look, my lord! Is it not the countess’ own self? And with Jason Bittern!” The earl looked, and then staggered tack against the wall, and tore away the tiff cravat from his throat. Then he covered his face with his hands, and for a full minute he stood thus, those around regarding him in speechless amazement. By and by he started back to life. “Stephen—on your life!—do you know that man?” « “Do I know him? Don’t you know him, my lord?” “I have only known him as Jacob Eastcourt.” “How? Eastcourt? And this his daugh“So— l ' . “Good heavens! my master, what wonder is here! It is all plain to me now. You did not know the man as I did. That man is Jason Bittern! Ask him who the lady is.” • The earl was shaken as by the palsy, but he quickly controlled himself and strode forward. “Villain!” he cried, when he had looked upon the man’s furiously contorted visage. “I know you now! Who is that girl?” 'Had the man- held -better control of himself, or had his malignity been less deep and demoniac, he might not have answered; but his passion made him insane, even to the revealing of the secret which he had guarded for so many years. ■ Aye—he was, in truth, Jason Bittern. He had seen and recognised Wilson a year before, and had carefully kept out of his way. But he had been caught at last. The British had forsaken him—had spurned him with loathing—and new his worst enemies bad him in their power. In truth, he was insane with furious and malignant hatred. "Fool! dolt!” be gasped, gnashing his ntft ift bf mfr Mg twin fl®. ami

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.

though my crowning triumph is denied me, yet I have had sweet revenge. O! how I have made you suffer all these years! The blow killed your wife, as you killed mine when you drove me from Wenlock borough.” “Liar!” pronounced old Stephen. “It’s true!” persisted Bittern. “The disgrace heaped upon me killed my wife. She might have got well else. And her child died with her. Ah! Allan Fitzgerald, you didn’t count the cost when you set the hounds of the law upon me. I have made you suffer! —suffer! —suffer! And if I could have seen you married to your own daughter, I wouldn’t have cared what became of me!” “God have mercy!” ejaculated Stephen, like one awaking from a dream. The earl tottered back a few paces, and might have sunk to the floor had not Stephen supported him; but by and by his senses and his strength came back, and he turned towards Lillian, and in another moment he was upon his knees at her feet, his hands clasped, and raised supplicatingly. His utterance was convulsive and choked, and the tears poured down his cheeks like rain. “0! my child! my child! Pardon! pardon! pardon! May the good God have mercy, and forgive me! O! Lillian —my child!—can you ” She was upon her knees by his side, her arms entwined around his neck—and she called him—Father! She saw it all—she knew it as old Stephen knew it. Within the hour she had heard the story of his earlier life—the story of the terrible calamity that had befallen him —and he had told her then that he had loved her because she looked like the sainted wife and ‘mother! “Father!” she cried, clinging to him, and weeping still, “you loved me first, and you will love me ever, because I look like my mother!” At this juncture Seaton so far gained control of his scattered senses as to motion for his sergeant to rem’ove the prisoner from the room. And here we may bid farewell to Jason Bittern, alias Jacob He died in the Walnut street prison—died after he had been sentenced to death for the attempted murder of Robert Seaton at Valley Forge, by his two Huron agents, which Crime was clearly proved against him. It was said that he had died by his own hand. • After the removal of Bittern, our hero, with Douglas- and Stephen, withdrew into another apartment, where, when he had gathered his wits, he asked the old servitor for an explanation. And Wilson told the story as the earl had told it to Lillian. “But,” he said, in conclusion, “my master was not responsible for the death of Bittern’s wife and child. The woman died of fever, and her child, just born, couldn’t have possibly lived—so the doctor said.” “My soul!” put in Capt. Roderic Douglas, “what a heartless wretch the mar must be! What a vengeance he had plan ned!” “But,” piously added Stephen, “the good God couldn’t have let it succeed. It was not to be.” “And you had come to look for this man Bittern a year ago?” said Seaton ‘ “Yes.” “And you remember your visit to my father?” “Yes. And I have since learned of his death. What did he tell you of my visit?” “He left it for you to tell.” And thereupon Robert told the story of his father’s last moments. “You have the sword?” asked Stephen, anxiously. “Yes. It is here, at my side.” “And has the earl told you nothing?” “The earl?” ’ “He has not told you?” “No.”

“Then wait. He must first speak. Rest easy.- I think I see the end clearly now. But, it is wonderful! wonderful!” “Of course,” said Douglas, addressing the old man, “my presence is not necessary?” “It is not necessary, Captain.” “Then I will retire. What are your orders, Major?” “Good Douglas, leave those who have charge of the prisoner, and leave my orderly within call. With the remainder of the command you will move down toward the Point, and see what the enemy are doing. I suppose the* rear guard is over by this time. Your own judgment will direct you beyond this until Washington can send a force for occupation.” The captain bowed and withdrew, and shortly afterward Lord Wenlock looked in and called old Stephen out. By and by they both returned—the earl and his servant—and were seated. His lordship was pale and shaken, like one who was passing through a terrible ordeal not yet at an end. “Major,” he said, when he had composed himself, “Stephen tells me that he has told to you the story of my suffering at the hands of Jason Bittern—so you know that Lillian is my child.” Robert bowed, with a heavy weight at his heart. What had he to do with the daughter and sole heiress of an English earl? “This story you have heard,” pursued Wenlock, “and now I have another to tell you. Pardon me if I am brief. At some future time, when I am stronger, I may give you more of detail. Listen, young man: As you ant aware, my father was a Peer of the British realm. He was Robert Fitzgerald, Earl of Wenlock. He had two sons, of which I was the youngest Other children had died in childhood. My brother was named John Seaton Fitzgerald, and was Lord Fairford. He was ten years older than L When my mother died I was a boy, wayward and wild. Upon her deathbed my brother gave to her a solemn promise that he would shield and protect me while we both lived. I was her favorite. After ten y ear »~ when John God forgive me! forged a check 'upon my

amount—forged my father’s name. John was then in the metropolis, an officer in the Life Guard, and living extravagantly. He was suspected of the forgery. Suspicion never rested upon me. I was my father’s favorite, as I had been my mother’s. “And there was John had loved Sir Richard Moreton’s daughter, Isabel—had loved her with all the strength of his great heart, though she was of my own age. And so I loved her, and my love she returned. My brother nobly relinquished her to me when he knew that her heart was mine, and this led him still deeper into reckless living. When he knew that the forgery had been committed, and that he was suspected, he came to me. I confessed to him that I had done the deed. He went away and came back in an hour —came back looking pale and old. ‘Allan,’ said he, ‘if I will shield you this time, will you promise never 'to sin again?’ I gave him the promise. Then he said, ‘Allan, our father loves you best. Isabel loves you. You are for their joy. I am nothing. Go home and leave me to bear the burden!* And he pushed me from him. I went home, as he had bidden me. A week later we learned that he had sold his commission in the Guards and left the country; and from that time he was lost to us. Word came, finally, that he had lost his life in Prussia. “And I—l —coward and craven! —suffered the stain to rest upon his name. When we thought him dead, I assumed his title of Lord Fairford, and Isabel became my wife. The fearful visitation of Providence which followed, you know. “Something over a year ago I heard of a man in America answering to the description of Jason Bittern. Stephen Wilson was sent over to find him, if possible. He did not then find the man for whom he searched, but he found another. He saw your face, and that led him to your father; and in your father —the Gerald Seaton of Frederick’s army, and the Gerald Seaton of American fame—he recognized John Seaton Fitzgerald, the true Lord Fairford, and true heir to the Earldom of Wenlock. Hold! —Let me finish before you speak. Stephen, can you produce those papers?” •Stephen Wilson reached out his hand for our hero’s sword, which was drawn from its scabbard, and given to him. He laid the yeapon across his knees, and then, with the point of a stout knife, he drove through the upper part of the hilt a wide, flat, thin spring-pin, the ends of which, when in place, had formed figures in the fret-work of the gold. This done, he easily removed the signet of the pommel, revealing a hollow in the handle, from which he drew a tightly compressed roll of papers which had been wound around the long tang of the blade. “Major,” said the old man, at a nod from his master, “these papers your father placed in here in my presence. Most of them he had owned for years, but a few we prepared together. Will you look them over?” Our hero took the roll with a trembling hand, and for full half an hour he sat poring over the remarkable documents—scanning with military exactness, until he had gained a full knowledge of their contents. He had been strangely excited during the examination, and many times exclamations of wonder had broken from his lips. Finally he looked up. “Well,” said Allan Fitzgerald, “what have you found?” “By these papers,” answered the youthful Patriot, with bated breath, “I find that my father was the eldest son and heir of Robert, Earl of Wenlock; I find clear proofs of his identity with Gen. Gerald Seaton—proofs of his marriage with Christine Verden, in Berlin —proofs of my bfrth —and also clear proofs of my own legitimate heirship. And, further, I have here my father’s dying declaration that sever, in all his life, did be commit a crime against the laws of the land which had given him a home! And I find this, in his hand, addressed to myself—‘My Son —When you know that my brother Allan has acknowledged and established my innocence of the crime for which I suffered in his behalf, you may, if you wish, assume your true name and title.’ And to this he signs his name—‘John Seaton Fitzgerald, Lord Fairford.’ ” “My dear boy,” said Allan, “it has been done. When Stephen came home and reported his wonderful discovery, I made a full confession to my father, and published the same to all whom it could concern; and, as soon as I could, I came to this country for the purpose of finding my wronged brother, and surrendering to him his rights. When I arrived I found my brother dead, and his son where I could not reach him. The next arrival from England brought to me intelligence of my father’s death. Between myself and the earldom stood an unknown boy, who dreamed not of his heirship. The iron entered my soul. I was a coward and villain again! To my brother I would have surrendered my false claim—but to the unknown son—O! the allurement of the coronet was too much! I fell. But God would not let it be so; and I can thank Him now for the in terven tipn of His mighty hand.” At this point Allan Fitzgerald arose, and paced several times across the room. At length he stopped and laid his hand upon his nephew’s shoulder. “Robert, I will leave you for half an hour to consider. Would you like that Lillian should confer with you?” “Sir!—l ’’ “Hush! If you would like her counsel, you shall have it —you may have it for all coming time, if you wish.” And with this Allan and Stephen left the room, and a little while later our hero held Lillian in his arms. That half hour was sacred! At its close Allan Fitzgerald returned. “Robert, have you considered?" “Allan,” returned the youth, holding Lillian by the hand as he spoke, “do you give to me this precious charge, to be mine for life?” “Yes, with all my heart; and I bless God for the opportunity.” “Then, my lord, you are . now. and henceforth, Earl of Wenlock! Lillian and I want not the title. If you can, from your abundant store, help mr, —” Allan put out his, hand. “Hush! Make not the sacrifice hastily; but in any event, know this: My child is wealthy beyond your power to expend in this land; and. moreover, the revenues of Fairford shall be secured to yourself. As for the earldom, and the broad estates of Wenlock ” “They are yours, my lord,” interrupted Robert. “My decision is final. America is my home, and I will not forsake it.” “And you,-my ehild?” "I am Robert’s, and I decide with him!” .0 0 0 0 0 0 • Years had passed. In the drawing room

of an elegant mansion, the deep Day windows of which overlooked the Delaware river, stood Robert and Lilian Seaton, and at their side, playing upon the carpet, were two bright-faced, sunny-haired children—a boy and a girl, named Allan and Marian. Robert wore the undress uniforms of a major general of the American army—he wore it now because he had just returned from a visit to Congress, in session at Princeton, where he had been summoned to meet Gen. Washington. And nobly had the true-hearted Patriot won the right to wear it. Not one in all the army had been more brave; not one had dared more danger; and not one was more generally beloved by all who truly knew him. Robert bent ever and kissed his smiling, happy wife. She had an open letter in her hand, which he had brought from Princeton. “Have you read your father’s letter, Lillian?” “Yes—and oh! Robert, he is coming to see us. And he wonders, now that blessed peace has come, and the dark days of strife are over, if you will be still content to relinquish the earldom, and to remain plain Robert Seaton. What say you, darling?” “What say you, my wife? Do you long for the coronet?” “Oh, no—no! Have I not you, my husband! And look!—Behold our children! Oh, my heaven of love and peace and joy is here!” Robert caught her to his bosom. “Dear Lillian, lam content. Not for George’s royal crown would I exchange the noble heritage I have helped to secure. We shall leave to our children something of far more worth than tinseled insignia and sounding title. We shall leave to them that priceless heritage—a Country Free and Independent! Bless the Lord, O, my soul! for all His tender mercies!” (The end.) Copyright.

Spiders of Ceylon.

Far up Im the mountains of Geylon there is a spider that spins a web like bright yellowish silk, the central net of which is five feet in diameter, while the supporting lines, or guys, as they are called, measure sometimes ten or twelve feet; and, riding quickly in the early morning, you may dash right into It, the stout threads twining round your face like a lace veil, while, as the creature who has woven it takes up his position in the middle, be generally catches you right in the nose, and, thouh he seldom bites or stings, the contact of his large body and long legs is anything but pleasant. If you forget yourself and try to catch him, bite he will, and, though not venomous, Ms jaws are as powerful as a bird’s beak, and you are not likely to forget the encounter. The bodies of these spiders are very handsomely decorated underneath, being bright gold or scarlet underneath, while the upper part is covered with the most delicate slate-colored fur. So strong are the webs that birds the size of larks are frequently caught therein, and even the small but powerful scaly lizard faits a victim. A writer says that he has often sat and watched the yellow monster—measuring, when waiting for his prey, with his legs stretched out, fully six inches—striding across the middle of the net, and noted the rapid manner In which he winds his stout threads round the unfortunate captive. He usually throws the coils about the head until the wretched victim is first blinded and then choked. In many unfrequented dark nooks of the jungle you come across most perfect skeletons of small birds caught in these terrible snares.—Pittsburg Dispatch.

A Cat Story.

It may interest your readers to hear of the determined efforts of a mother cat to save her kitten from an untimely death. The two had a luxurious bed on the top of some hay in a barn, but one morning, while the old cat was away,, the farm people came, and, not noticing the kitten, buried it under six feet of freshly cut grass. Four hours later I heard of this, and was told that the kitten was dead and buried under the heap of grass. A friend and myself Immediately set to work to see If the kitten could still be saved, and we dug downwards into the grass and made a long search, the old cat intently watching our proceedings. No signs of the poor little mite were forthcoming, so reluctantly we gave up the search, and I returned to the house and took up a book, intending to read. But the old cat followed me and uttered the moat piteous howls, and made me understand clearly that she felt I could find and save her kitten if I would. “Do look again; I am sure it is there,” she seemed to say, so we went together, and I searched and burrowed diligently, the cat watching the while. This time my efforts were crowned with success, and the kitten emerged none the worse for its adventures, and joy 1 and content reigned in the heart of. the mother cat—Landon Spectator.

A Turkish Dainty.

The Sultan of Turkey has a great liking for a delicacy known as “rahat,” and keeps in his palace a man exclusively to manufacture It for him and his household. “Rahat” is a great favorite with the Sultan’s wives, who indulge plentifully in this luxury. The different flavors given to this preparation are obtained from the juice of pressed flowers, such as roses, violets and lilies, and a special hand press is employed for the purpose. “Turkish Delight” is the popular name for “rahat”

Costly Publication.

Over 100 volumes of the Rebellion Records have been published by the government at a coat of $2,600,000. A public library in a town near Boston has a full set, and the librarian says tn his report: “When Henry B. Pierce was alive he used to look at some of them once in a while, but now there Is only one man in town who ever calls for any of the set” When a man builds a house be Is to dignant if Ma friends do not can and rave over it

AGRICULTURAL

Novel Kicking Strap*. An excellent device to prevent a horse kicking when in the harness ft shown In the illustration. A heavy strap is buckled around the lower part of the collar in front and passed between the front legs. About a foot back of this a pulley is attached and a light strap, a, Is buckled around the girth to prevent it from falling and getting the ropes, straps, etc., entangled in the home’s legs. A strong rope is run in the pulley and extends back to the hind legs. Iron rings, b, are tied in the ends of the rope and one is placed directly in front of each hook. Two straps are then buckled through the ring and around the leg, one just above and the other just below the hock to prevent it from slipping up or down. It is readily seen that while walking, the rope works In the pulley,

KICKING STRAPS FOR HORSES.

but if the horse attempts to kick with one foot, the other resting on the ground will hold it flrm, or if an attempt is made to kick with both feet the result will be the same.—Orange Judd Farmer. Double Your Wheat Crop. The quantity of wheat annually produced in this country is apparently large, and we are said to supply the world, though, in fact, we export only about one-fourth, our home demand being great. A slight decrease in the yield per acre would leave us nothing to send abroad, and, but for our enormous com crop, provides a large supply of grain as a partial substitute for wheat, we would not have enough wheat for our own people. These facts are mentioned to show that the wheat crop will always be an important one with our farmers, and that with the same area in wheat the annual production could be much larger, and the average yield of wheat per acre is only thirteen bushels, which could be easily doubled by proper cultivation and the intelligent use of fertilizers. A Pig Trough. The Illustration shows a kind of trough for feeding pigs which is very convenient, durable and easy to The end boards are long enough bo that the pigs cannot turn the affair over, and owing to the upright board running lengthwise of the trough and dividing It into two parts, they are also prevented from getting into it and fouling their food. Strips four inches wide are nailed to the edges of the trough at requisite distances, separating the trough into proper spaces for each pig, and thus

AN EXCELLENT PIG TROUGH.

prevents crowding. In order to avoid fighting among the animals there should always be more spaces provided than there are pigs to feed.—Fred O. Sibley, in the Farmer. Feeding Cora. Com should be fed with judgment. Old com is better than hew, and there is a loss in the crib while waiting for prices to go up, as com dries some the older it gets. Com that is smutty or moldy should not be put in the crib, as it is injurious to all kinds of stock, producing a disease styled by some as “stomach staggers.” If smutty com is placed in the crib with sound com there is a possibility of the sound com being affected. The same rule applies to com fodder; use only that which is clean and free from blemish. When cattle refuse certain kinds of com fodder the chances are that there is something wrong with it Removing Scales from Lega. A few summers ago our fowls were troubled with scaly legs. In some instances the toes would become covered with scabs, which would eventually drop off. Reasoning that the disease Jwas caused by an insect and that

grease or oil is fatal to all insectwfj|| mixed one part of lard with two of kerosene, and rubbed this oa<<B« affected parts. But this proved ■. i and disagreeable task, although were encouraging. After several app| £;j cations, the scales would drop off, fesj ing the legs and feet clean and ifpgM The next time it became treat fowls, however, we tried a plan that was easier and proved,*® more satisfactory. We filled an tin can about two-thirds full of WftHil and then poured in two or three tabk||| spoonfuls of kerosene. Then, hol(iiflß| the fowl firmly in the hands, ltsljjp|i were dipped in the solution and Mjl|| there for a moment or so, or until tft mixture had time to penetrate bened®| the scales. Two applications were that was ever found necessary, and t®|| worst cases were entirely cured.—l. Irwin, in Epitomist. 9| Building an Ice Home. j Having observed several cheap i<3® houses, the following plan seems fIK most satisfactory: Take poles or n®H|| twelve or more feet In length, build a pen some eight or more high, or even less. Then take two feet shorter and build pen inanH| of other. Fill space between pens - straw, chaff or other non-conduct)®* Place boards on ground for Ice to on. Build on as dry a spot as you cajHl but avoid shady places. Use phfl| boards for roof. Since needed the gable ends may be la| open. Cheap lumber may be used !■ ' stead of rails, and frequently an outbuilding can be used for ice. ; S ways use good ice for filling. Guta square pieces, lay pieces flat, and fi crevices with pulverized ice. space of at least nine Inches betwajH : ice and wall, to be filled with sawdMl I Use plenty of sawdust on top of icmy The dimensions given can be mad', smaller. A cube of Ice Bxßxß feet cm tains approximately fifteen tons; flxffifl feet about one-rhalf as much.— Tatman. ft|

Setting Trees. L J|® ® People have often made mistakes ■IME| buying from unreliable firms, fi® greater mistakes by not taking care® g what they have bought. In settl® trees, dig a hole twice as deep as y® want tree in ground; fill In with go® rich top soil one-half the depth ij® set the tree firmly; tramp down t® roots well, cutting off all bruised nx® and your tree will be pretty surej,.. live. Then you must cultivate y<® . trees; give them such nourishment a they require. Who would plant com and not look at it again until hmw" time and expect a crop? Yet I find 9 per cent of our farmers expect th® same thing from trees, and then blamq the nurseryman for which they bmß themselves to blame. The same is tn® of seeds. Don’t buy and plant you don’t take care of, if you wish S succeed.—E. F. Sebring. = J Roosting Arrangement. j| Where a small flock of Leghorns 1 kept, it is Important to provide a . warm roosting place for them If wintsl eggs are to be looked for. The cut sho®

A BARREL KOOST.

a simple way to make such a warm ■ roosting place. The barrels shut | close together in use, and the fowl enter and leave by the opening that M ' - shown. The barrels can be removed a warm weather approaches, and a® j usual roots substituted.— American AM riculturlst I|| Kansas Meat and Eggs. . S Every balancing of her books et® phasizes anew the fact that Kansas7| pre-eminently a stock-producing *® . 2 gion, and the compilation of assessor® returns just now completed by W •'? State Board of Agriculture, the value of meat animals slaughter® • ■ or sold for slaughter and the poultrw and eggs marketed in the year endM®!M in March 1, make an exhibit that | very gratifying Indeed. For nninwtMM slaughtered or sold for that purpoJ the total exceeds $50,500,000, wt® is $1,500,000, or 3 per cent., more I® in the previous year. In 1896 the va4® wis $36,592,057; in 1897. $37,781,«| ‘ ' tn 1898, $49,123,517, the total for ® four years' surplus being $174,031,1® This year's value is the largest ev« reported, and an increase over the.® ures for 1896 of nearly $14,000,000,33a value of poultry and eggs during the year was $4,241,809, an |® crease of $96,136, or 2.26 per ce® also the largest yearly amount everaß turned for the State. Rye for Pasturage. Young rye is one of the most vs® able crops after frost appears than crt* ~4’ be grown on a farm containing stocM as it serves as pasturage and prov iej green food for quite a period after a other green crops are gone. It gives the earliest green food Inti® spring. Rye is so easily and obtained in the fall that there is I®' reason why a plot of it should. notjHLd seeded every fall where stock eanjH kept. Do not allow the animals on thM ‘ rye when the ground is wet and as they may do damage by trampXl bv otherwise the rye will stand erasing