Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 71, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 May 1901 — Page 2

Hetty, or The Old Grudge.

Conrncht. m•• d MSB, by Bober* Banner** Sena. (All rlcbts reserved J

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued.) “I see. A charmingly systematic and improving course. You need more time for reading, a home of your own to do your reading in, and somebody to look after what you read. And I need somebody to brighten my home and be a new interest to me, superior to my books, of which I think I have had enough for a while. I want my bottle of bachelordom broken to let me out into the current where the rest of the fishes —who at least look happier—are swimming. Suppose we combine our requirements and in so doing find satisfaction for them all. Let ■us get married. What do you say?” Mary hesitated, hung her head, fe|t her -cheeks reddening with a blush unseen in the deepening obscurity of the evening and sighed a gentle: “Yes.” Perhaps she had not long cherished the hope that some day Uncle David would make such a proposal to her; possibly her pulses did not at that very moment thrill with the triumphant consciousness of achievement; certainly nothing of the sort was apparent in her timid, submissive, maidenly manner—but then, it is very hard to guess at what a woman really thinks and feels at such a moment. It is altogether probable—for Mary had a warm, affectionate heart, inclined to be ■sentimental and even she would have liked to hear “love” at least -referred to. But she was sensible enough r to understand that it is not always those who say “love” most glibly who feel it •most truly. A man like Uncle David does not marry without the incentive of love, and when he asks a woman to be .his wife, she will do well to be satisfied with his proposal in the form he chooses :to make it. A serious, reflective silence fell upon .both, which, after a few minutes, Uncle "David was the first to break, resuming, .in a business-like way: “So much being settled, we may as well go on with the arrangements for carrying the agreement into effect. When shall we be married?” The abruptness of that summons to decisive action startled her, and she answered, with a little nervous laugh: “Why, having waited so long, it would hardly be becoming for us to be in haste ■now." “The longer we have waited, the less time we have to waste. It behooves us to do promptly whatever we have in view,” .he replied, dogmatically.

CHAPTER XXI. The upshot of the matter was that she proposed deferring their wedding to that Indeterminate date, “the day John and Hetty marry,” to which Uncle David readily acceded, with a sly smile, having reasons of his own for believing that that event would not be far off. Hetty’s heart would have been lighter that Saturday night could she have shraed Uncle David’s confidence in the immediate future, but the outlook did not, as she viewed it, promise well. Her mother’s opposition, though less bitter than it had been, was no less determined, and was now settled upon a new ground, from which it seemed impossible to dislodge her. She no longer made much of the old feud between the Mulveils and the Camerons, over which she used to lash herself into a fury. Now, with a dramatic intensity of expression that would have been ludicrous had it not been so evidently in deep earnest, she declared that “the curse of blood” lay between Hetty and her lover and must forever keep them apart. “Whose blood?” demanded Hetty, when this astounding declaration was •first made to her. “Simeon Mulveil’s, to be sure. Didn’t John Cameron lure him to his death?” “Didn’t he go to his death like a fool, chasing a man he had no business to follow?” “Yes, he had business. I sent him.” “Oh! Then, if somepody else than himself must be held responsible for his fate, I don’t see but what you, mother, and not John Cameron, are to blame.” That was precisely what the widow’s accusing conscience said to her, notwithstanding all her endeavors to persuade herself that not she, but John Cameron, •had caused the constable’s death, and it -was naturally exasperating to find that view so readily taken by another. “Of course, you would try to clear him, and I don’t wonder at it, for by rights you are as much to blame as he is. If you hadn’t enticed him to run away with you, your cousin would never have had to follow you and been led to his death. But I’ll not argue with you, Hetty, for you have no right feeling for your mother; but I tell you, once for all, and you may as well make up your mind to it, you shall never become the wife of a man who has the blood of a Mulveil on his head, and that Mulveil your own cousin, not if die is the last man in the world!” They had gone over that dialogue, with more or less unimportant variations and modifications, so many times that it seemed as if they were rehearsing something they meant to play by and by, when they both were “line perfect.” But they ended it variously; sometimes one, sometimes the other, and generally both, became angry. On this particular’evening, Hetty vehemently declared that whatever her mother or anybody else might say to the contrary, she would .marry John whenever he wanted her tq, “How do you know he wants you?” sneered the widow. “He didn’t marry you when he had a chance to. Either he didn’t want you, or he hadn’t the proper spunk of a man. Either way. I wouldn’t think much of him if I were in your .plade.'* It was a cruel thrust, but the girl parried it as well as she could, tossing her head with an air of indifference and answering mysteriously: "That is as far as you know about it We had good reasons. We can afford to wait until we are ready.” "Ah! And a fine time he’s having in ths city while waiting, no doubt. He ■eaa afford to wait It’s an old girl you’ll

By J. H. CONNELLY.

have got to be when he troubles himself about you again. You needn’t look for him in a hurry.” “Old McFarlane’s cornin’ up the lane, cornin’ a-courtin’ mam,” shouted Danny, in a sing-song tone, poking his grinning face in at the kitchen door. “Get out, you shameless young villain!” cried Mrs. Mulveil, making a feint of throwing at his head the heavy candle molds into which she had just drawn a set of wicks. The lad fled, chuckling and humming: “Cornin’ a-courtin’ mg,m,” up to his garret den, as the old lady sprang to her feet, exclaiming: “Drat the man! What does he want to come here for? The idea! Come, and do up my hair, Hetty. I declare, this sunbonnet pulls it every which way. He's a nuisance; but one must be civil to neighbors. Get me a clean collar out of the upper bureau drawer. There! That’s him rapping at the front door, now! Run and let him in!” Hetty admitted Mr. McFarlane, greeting him pleasantly, for she liked the plain, unaffected, simple-minded old fellow who almost worshiped John, and, having seated him in the parlor, returned to assist at her mother’s toilet. The widow’s tongue ran on as if she felt it incumbent upon her to discover some reason, other than the real one, for her visitor’s coming, but she lowered her tone. “I suppose he’s come to see about seeding down the old fallow-field in winter wheat on shares, this fall. He said something about it the last time he was over.” “He evidently does not believe in postponing things until the last moment.” “Oh, maybe he has made up his mind to give what I asked for the two-year-old steers.” A spirit of mischief, akin to that possessing her brother, suddenly inspired Hetty to whisper in her mother’s ear, with an affected intensity of utterance: “Danny and I are going to have some fun with him!” The widow’s blood ran cold. “Oh!” she gasped in horror; but before she could find breath to protest against and sternly forbid all fun with Mr. McFarlane, Hetty had fled, and would not be summoned back. Outside the kitchen door, Hetty was speedily joined by Danny, who glided down from his loft as soon as his mother had gone to receive Mr. McFarlane in the parlor. “Say, Hetty,” he demanded, with an air of mysterious excitement, “you’re going to church to-morrow, ain’t you?” “No; I’m replied curtly. Staying away from church on Communion Sabbath seemed to her a sort of protest against fate. And why should she go to church when John would not be there? “Oh! But—say, sis; you’ll miss lots of fun if you don’t go—only, if you do, you want to sit near the door.”

“What mischief are you up to now?” “Cross your heart you’ll never tell?” She laughingly made the gesture and repeated the formula, “Hope-I-may-nev-er-s’help-me!” which, in boyish estimation, was equivalent to an affidavit, and Danny, feeling that his secret was safe, went on: “Me and Sam Bingham ” “Yes—always when there’s any deviltry afloat it’s you and Sam Bingham. I wonder if you two will go to the penitentiary together.” “Never you mind about that! ’Tain’t your put-in! Jes’ listen! Me and Sam Bingham have got the biggest kind of a hornet’s nest out in the barn. We found it in the woods, more’n two Weeks ago, and have been savin’ it up. Last night we plugged up the mouth of it, cut off the limb it was on, and brung it home.” “A hornet’s nest! Mercy! Why don’t you burn the horrid thing at once?” “Burn it? I guess not! I haven’t had a mite of fun since I smoked out the singing school with red pepper on the stove, and you bet I’m not going to burn any hornet’s nest when I can stir up a whole community with it. Burn that nest, with more’n a thousand or a million lively hornets in it! Not if I know myself!” “Well, what are you going to do with it?” “We can crawl under the church, and we’ve found a loose board that we can shove up under the pulpit. To-morrow morning, long before anybody else gets there, we’re going to poke the hornet’s nest up under the pulpit, with a long string tied to the plug in its mouth and carried away outside and hid in the grass, so that we can pull out the plug when we think it’s a good time. The lower part of the pulpit, you know, between its floor and the floor of the church, is closed in with criss-crossed laths, with little square holes between them, so that when you're under there you can see out, and if meetin’ was in, you could see Deacon Hill’s bald head shining like a varnished pumpkin. Well, say, sis, I bet when there’s a hornet coming out of every one of those holes, a good many of them will see nothing but that bald head, and think of nothin’ but jabbin’ it. They’ll be fightin’ mad, every last one of ’em, and, great Scott, how they’ll make that congregation get up and dust! That’s why I said you’d better sit near the door.” “Oh, Danny, it would be a horribly wicked thing to do! Just think how many folks would, be stung! Why, it would break up the meeting!” “Knock the meetin’ sky high, sure enough; but just think what fun it'll be to see ’em scramblin’ and crawlin’ to get out of the doors and windows; and old Mr. McLeod will get his dose, I’ll bet! They’ll make him dance worse’n he made me the time he curled his black-snake whip around my legs!” “You bad no right to take his colt out of the pasture to run races.” “Great Scott, Hetty! A fellow might as well die if he isn’t to do anything but what he has a right to. It’s the things you haven’t a right to that you get most fun out of always.” "If you act up to that, Danny, you will

be not only a bad boy, bnt a very wicked man when you grow up.” “Oh, well, I don’t mean anything serions, you know, but just fun.” “Turning those hornets loose in church would be very serious and not at all fun ny for the folks who got stung, and you must not do it. I will not allow it.” “You won’t! I don’t guess you can stop me. Ain’t they my hornets? Suppose I had the idea of making pets of them and have changed my mind, and being a very kind-hearted boy, I choose to give the poor insects their liberty.” “But not in church.” “Why not? Isn’t that a good place? Isn’t Mr. McLeod just the right man to tackle them? The last time he saw me in church, he preached about Elijah and the bears and the boys, and he looked square at me, as if he wished he could feed me to a bear. But he’d better go to training on little things like hornets for awhile before he begins ordering bears around.” “If you don't give up the awfully wicked idea, Danny, I’ll tell on you and have it stopped. I really must. I wouldn’t have such a thing on my conscience.” “Oh! Indeed! After you’ve crossed your heart you wouldn't tell! A nice, soft, tender, mushy sort of conscience you must have! Just it on your own affairs and let mine alone. I never did anything as mean as you have.” “Why, Danny! What did I ever do?” “You coaxed John Cameron to run. off with you and then wouldn’t marry him, just to make a fool of him. And it’s on your account he stays away so long.” The cruel allegation that it was her own fault she was not long since John Cameron’s wife —all the more hard to bear for having a spice of truth in it—quite overcame her. Turning her back upon the boy, without reply, she walked out to the front gate-and stood leaning over it, lost in reverie tinged with regret. Danny ran up to the garret over the parlor, “to see how Scotch/ was getting along with mam.” The worthy Mr. McFarlane’s getting along was due to no endeavor of his own. He simply allowed himself to drift on the current of conversational circumstance. Luckily for him, the widow had no mind to see the bark of his evident good intentions wrecked for lack of piloting. Love-making maj’ be either the evolution of impulse or the product of art. The period of youth, when impulse inspires that efflorescence of the inexperienced soul, Roger had passed through safely, without a temptation in that direction disturbing his serene devotion to the acquisition of a competence. And the engrossing cares and settled habits of his maturer years had left no place in his life for cultivation of that alluring but dangerous branch of art. The methods of courtship were as unknown to him as those of the higher mathematics. By cautious experiment and rehearsal before his mirror, he had learned to assume an expression of countenance that seemed to him very affectionate, even languishing, and, having tried its effect upon the widow, he flattered himself that she had caught a correct understanding of it. With the exception of his occasional employment of that expression at stated intervals, his visits to Mrs. Mulveil were as devoid of sentimental demonstration as were the official calls of the assessor of taxes. Seated at a respectful distance from the buxom widow, Mr. McFarlane talked. It could not be said that he “kept the conversational ball rolling.” That phrase conveys altogether too forceful an idea. Rather his talk flowed mild, persistent and a little muddy. Weather, crops, his farm improvements, and the doctrine of regeneration by grace were his staple themes, interspersed with casually remembered fragments of such meager news of the day as might have come to his knowledge. Hetty’s reverie was suddenly broken by an eager clutch upon her arm and Danny’s voice excitedly whispering in her ear: “Say, sis; I ain’t going to touch off the congregation with them hornets.” “I’m glad you are not, Danny. I hoped you would see the wickedness of it, when you came to think?’ > . “Oh, wickedness nothin’! tt ain't that. But John Cameron will be at church tomorrow, and I don’t want him stung.” “John will be at church to-morrow! How do you know that?” “Just heard old McFarlane tell mam. Uncle Dave Henderson brought him home to-day. That was what made me change my mind.” “And I’ve changed my mind, too, Danny; you dear, good boy. I’ll go to church to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXII. For the first time in almost half a century, Mrs. Mulveil looked with suspicion upon the honest face of the tall clock in the corner of the sitting room. Long ago N it had taken to running the lunar changes in a spasmodic, fantastic and untrammeled fashion peculiarly its own, and she could hardly remember when it might be depended upon for the day of the month, but its approximate reliability as a timekeeper had become a matter of faith with her. This Sunday morning, however, its hands pointed to half-past seven when her feelings, the length of the shadows and the dew on the grass all told her the hour was not yet more than half-past five. Happily, she did not suspect Danny of having suborned the aged witness to deceive her. fietty did, however, gratefully, and furthered his impatient desires, with which her own were in harmony, by pretending unimpaired confidence in the veracity of the clock and arguing that it would be better to trust to it, even if by so doing they were brought Somewhat early to meeting, rather than run the risk of arriving there after Everybody else. The result yyas that the chores were hurriedly performed, breakfast hastily dispatched, and the widow Mulveil’s old “dearborn” was the first vehicle drawn under the maple grove surrounding the church that communion Sabbath morn. But hardly had it taken the choicest location for hitching—near the spring and where the horses would be under shade all day—when there were more early comers, and by the time the sexton appeared to open the church doors a dozen families had arrived, amongthem the deacons, whose duty it was to set the communion tables. , “' (To be continued.)

Match Prohibition in Switzerland.

The manufacture of the old phosphorus- match will be prohibited in Switzerland. A baby cuts his teeth before he Is on speaking terms with them.

FARMERS CORNER

Tile and the Laying of It. Horseshoe tile are not as good for the purpose of* draining as round tile, says a correspondent of Country Gentleman. While they would be reasonably sure to stay in place If properly laid, they are not as efficient as round tile. The reason they are not as efficient is shown in the cut. If but a small stream of water is flowing, it spreads out over the entire flat surface of the horseshoe tile, and there is not depth enough of water to cause the removal of silt or sediment which may accumulate. It is far more difficult to lay horseshoe tile and do good work than to lay round tile. If the round tile-does not make a tight joint with its neighbor, it may be turned until a place is found where the joint is reasonably satisfactory. If the horseshoe tile does not fit with its neighbor, then the shovel must be used and earth removed or filled In as the occasion may require. If horseshoe tile are used, they will do better work if they are laid with the flat tile up, for then conditions as to flow of the water are produced which are nearly like those present with the round tile. When round tile are laid, it is well to lay a piece of common tarred building paper over the joint before filling in with earth. No matter how tight dhe joint is made there is

ROUND TILE.

always a slight opening, and there is a possibility' that soil may pass into the tile and obstruct the passage. After the tile are placed a small piece of building paper laid over the joint just before replacing the earth will' insure against obstruction.

The Round Silo. As every student of mathematics knows, the circle is the shortest line which can Inclose any given area. When the material for building a silo is an important object to be considered, the round silo will contain more than any other that can be built at the same cost for lumber, and thus it is the better form for many, but we think not for all. A silo built In the barn taking one or more of the bays used for hay, and extending from the cellar floor, if there is a barn cellar, to near the roof, can often be put In at small cost, simply by lining the outer walls and making strong partitions on the inner sides, and the space so taken up will not be needed for hay unless the stock kept Is to be Increased, as the ensilage In it will feed more animals than all the hay that could be packed in It, as farmers mow away their hay. Of course we are not speaking of baled hay, because the farmers do not often bale hay that they intend to feed out at home. But a cubic foot of ensilage In a silo eighteen to twenty-five feet deep will average to weigh about forty podhds, which is a fair amount to give a cow each day with the hay and grain that should go with It, and a farmer can very easily figure how large a space would be needed to provide food for his stock. Many of them could not as easily figure the solid contents of a round silo If given dimensions, though they may have children who have graduated from high school who could do so. But the silo in the barn requires but little extra lumber and no extra roof, and it keeps the food very near where it is wanted. Those who have limited capital often have to choose the Reaper way if it is not the better way.—New England Farmer.

Grade Mothers. It seems to be a principle In breeding that when two animals of different breeds are mated, the influence of the one which Is the nearest pure bred. If both are in equal vigor and strength, will be the most potent In its effects upon the offspring. If one Is weak or In poor condition, the other may attain the ascendency, as surely will be the case with the one that Is of a pure bred and the other only a grade. When both are eqaal in breeding and health, it Is unsafe to predict which parent the offspring will most resemble, as It may vary according to their condition at the time of mating. This will explain why many who have begun to grade up their herds by the use of a pure bred male have succeeded better than those who have tried to effect a cross between two good breeds. And this is true of poultry as of animals. Clover and Corn for Stock. If one could raise good crops every year of clover and corn, there would be little difficulty In providing stock with suitable food, says a Michigan farmer. Clover I regard as a double ration, taking the place really of hay and grain. It Is possible to winter horses and stock on clover without producing any 111 effects or reducing them much In weight and strength. This I would not advocate except as an experiment or In an emergency. What our stock needs Is variety, and while clover might supply both hay and grain constituents there would be the possibility of inducing sickness and poor appetite ■from the-lack of variety. Clover, of course, produces a direct beneficial effect upon the soil and adds to it more than the corn trisw .».way. Persistent

HORSESHOE TILE.

cultivation of corn on any field must In time reduce the soil fertility to such a low point that succeeding crops will suffer. With clover as a part of a rotation there would be little chance of such soil degeneration. Raising pr Baying Feed. Where the farmer grows the fodder and grain for his animals he is justified In feeling that it has cost less than it would if he paid the cash for It in the market if he has been successful In gettaing good crops. He has made a market for his own labor, the labor of his team and use of tools, and for the manure that was a waste product of his stock. All of that forms a part of his profit, and the crops may be said to have cost him the seed, hired labor and fertilizer bought. But It may not be the cheapest feed for him to use. He may be able to sell it and purchase other food materials that would give him enough better results to repay him for the labor of drawing both ways. Bran and gluten feed produce so much more milk than corn meal that he may sell the corn he has raised, and buy the other feeds which he dpes not raise. Other foods are better for hens than the corn, or even than oats. The man who tries to be so independent as neither to buy nor sell, had better set up a hand loom and a cobbler’s bench, to save spending money for clothing. We could fatten hogs and cattle on turnips and onions cheaper when w sold them and bought our corn than we could to have fed the roots, and we thought cheaper than if we had grown the corn. —Exchange.

Weights anl Measure*. The old saying that “a pint is a pound all The ’round” does not hold good with the many grain feeds. They vary much, and as the papers when giving balanced rations usually express themselves in pounds, while the farmer usually feeds by measure, dipping it up with the handy two-quart measure, it may be well to know just what a quart weighs. We copy from the Rural New Yorker this table, which we think is nearly accurate for weights of a quart. Coarse wheat bran % pound, coarse wheat middlings 4-5 pound, wheat, mixed feed, 3-5 pound, fine wheat middlings 1.1 pounds, linseed meal the same, gluten feed 1.2 pounds, gluten meal 1.7 pounds, corn meal and cotton seed 1% pounds each. To dip up a measure full of fine middlings is to give more than twice as much as to use the same dish full of coarse bran, which may be a good reason why many get the best results from feeding the finer grain, while corn meal weighs three times as much as the bran.—Massachusetts Ploughman. ,

The Pea Louse. We hear of some who say they will not try to grow green peas this year, because they lost their crop last year by the aphis or* plant lice on the vines. We would not cease to plant them for two reasons. If the insects came on so abundantly as to threaten destruction of the crop, we would plow them in, which would destroy every insect, and the green crop would be a good fertilizer on which to grow some other late crop, as winter beets or cabbages, or to set tomatoes, or to sow’ spinach or kale for next spring. But more than that these plagues of plant lice are seldom troublesome more than two or three years in succession, often disappearing as suddenly as they came, while if no peas are to be found they can as well live on the clover as on peas. If there are peas they prefer them to clover, and they are destroyed with the peas.—Exchange.

Ration for Hogj., I don’t think It. profitable or necessary to give a pig all the milk it can drink to produce the most rapid growth, says S. F. Barber, in National Stockman. I mostly dilute the milk from one-third to one-half with water, and then by the addition of foods rich In protein (those foods which produce the blood and bone material) I can develop a pig very rapidly. Rigs Should be fed bulky foods, such as coarse bran. Buffalo gluten feed, oats chop, etc. I never feed corn to a pig under five months, and then only to top them out. Persimmons from Seed, Persimmon seeds are vbry easily sprouted if treated properly. If they have become very dry, it is possible that germination will be slow, or perhaps they will not grow at all. They should be mixed with sand, kept moist all winter and planted in the spring when the soil is In good condition. A depth of one or two Inches Is about right to cover the seeds.—Rural New Yorker.

Farm Notes. Transplant the early sown lettuce. Mongolian pheasants are being successfully reared In Ohio. The farmers of northeastern Ohio are making a great thlbg of the onion crop. To push along the lima beans and cucumbers start them on sods in the hotbed or cold frame. • Cottonseed h,ull ashes are In great demand as fertilizer by the tobacco growers of Connecticut. A commercial estimate of the cranberry crop of the United States for 1900 places it at 189,000 barrels. All the world seems to have gone to raising mushrooms lately. Luckily, their popularity seeins to be Increasing with the supply. ’ Spurry is sahi to be of value as a catch crop on light, sandy soils, which It Improves when turned under. It requires considerable moisture. Sow eggplant in the hotbed and transplant high to other beds or pots. Plants must have good beds, for a check in their growth means all the difference between profit and loss, sajrs TW-M-rr

THE SASKATOON DISTRICT.

One of the New Western Canada Districts. The Great Advantages of Sett’emeat Where the Soil Is oi Unexampled Fertility. During the past year or two a large number of American settlers (those going from the United States to Canada) have made homes in the Saskatoon district in Western Canada. They have found the climate all that could bo desired, and their prospects are of the brightest. In writing of It a correspondent says: The lands for sale are choice selections from a large area, and every firm is within easy distance of a railway station. Experience has shown that this district enjoys immunity from summer frost, from cyclones and blizzards. The South Saskatchewan, flowing through the tract, is one of the finest rivers In the country, being navigable and having an average width of stream of 1,000 feet. The agents of the government of Canada, whose advertisement appears elsewhere in your paper, and who will be glad to give full information, tell me that within the limits of the tract there are two distinct varieties of soil. One is a rich black loam, and the other is a somewhat lighter loam, containing a small admixture of sand. There appears to be no appreciable difference between the fertility of these two kinds of soil. Both are alluvial in their characteristics; both are marvelously productive, and both rest upon a subsoil of clay. The advantage of this formation is that It retains the heat of the day during the night, and is favorable to the early maturity of crops. Every kind of crop will here attain the highest perfection of quality. The land is admirably adapted for stock raising and dairy farming, as well as growing grain. Some idea of the richness of the natural grasses of the prairie may be formed from the fact that more than 200 tons of hay were gathered within a short distance of Saskatoon, and stored up for use during the winter. A growth so luxuriant demonstrates beyond all possible question the suitability of the land for pasturing cattle, and no doubt this important industry will be largely carried on. Nature has been lavish In her gifts to this territory. Not only Is the soil of unexampled fertility, but the climate is delightful and healthy. Such is the testimony of every settler, and this testimony Is confirmed by enthusiastic opinions from every traveler, explorer,, missionary or newspaper correspondent, who has ever visited this farfamed Saskatchewan Valley. In for-, mer years vast herds of buffalo came here to winter from the elevated stormswept regions south of the United States boundary line, proving thereby the adaptatiofi of these rolling prairies to the purpose of raising stock. The land is drf., with sufficient, but not excessive rainfall, capable of early cultivation in the spring, and free from summer frosts. The configuration of the country renders artificial drainage unnecessary, and prevents the accumulation of stagnant pools; mists and fogs are seldom seen. The days of summer are full of sunshine, under the genial Influence of which crops rapidly ripen. Autumn Is characterized by an almost unbroken succession of fine weather, during which the crops are safely garnered. In winter it is cold, but extremely exhilarating and pleasant, owing to the wonderful dryness and bracing qualities of the air. The winter is a source of profit as well as enjoyment to the people, being far healthier than a humid climate. Water and Fuel—These two prime necessaries of life are plentiful throughout the district. Many birds form their sounds without opening their bills. The pigeon is a wellknown instance of this.

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