St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 17, Number 32, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 27 February 1892 — Page 2

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—— l CHAPTER VI-Continued. | He seemed convin-ed of the truth of i this and brought out the paper, an old, time-worn copy of a New York daily. I 1 scanned this closely, and in the marine intelligence saw a marked pamgraph.l I read: : . “WRECKED.—The schooner Morningj Star, on the Florida coast, in a gale.. The | ill-fated vessel was beundl from London | to New Orleans. All lives saved but the | first mate, two seamen and a passenger, who having heroically stayed on board to the last helping off the others, wero swamped in the last boat half way between the wreck and the shore. The passenger€ost was one A:bert F. Arold, J who was bound for Amer ca to join hisjy wife and child in cne of the Southernll States. ” O fter reading this a thought s!ruck, me. Burton, Arcld’s mother had been an ElMurzaand had married in ¥ngland | while on a visit to re atives in that | country. Conld she be the one whose husband .was thought to have descr:ed‘ her, and was the Albert . Arold mentioned in the paper h«r husband coming to her? I found out Dby further conversation with the negro that| the initia'ls in the name of the senora’'s “husband were A F.: so 1 sett'ed my mind upon this point, and came to the conciusion, from the old{" man’s story, that the phantom !ady was no other than Burton’s sweetheart; also® that the people of the villa had consideredßurton’s legitimacy as resting under a cloud, and that fer this reason the match between him and the fair Zejyna - had been opposed and thwarted by the young iady’s parents. - The sun was setting in a blaze of gold and emera d and purple, throwing its -many-tinted lights up against the few | slight clouds that were floating lazily ! -along the sky, and a gentle Gu!f breeze just stirred.to a tremble the ripe leaves upon the trees, as 1 left the negro’s sbany and started musingly back toward | the solemn willa. | I had parfaken of supper at the ex- | s'ave’s humble board, and had learned | - much of ithe Mountinni history from his | - honest lips—much more than I need tell - here. ; et 2 3 ~; “Engaged in deep thought, I strolled _on ;:xd the gloomy old house. It was %@ 7ing dusk when 1 reached the shad°ow of the*building. I enter:d, went up _ gtairs and sat down upon an antique sofa M‘; ITON thefetds wna conntry. beyond, and | ~ watch them as they slowly disappeared in the deepening gloom of night. Inthe - hush and iistlessness of -the placg and the influence of the soothing darkness . Ifellinto a pleasant sleep. CHAPTER VII. THE PHANTOM LeDY APPPABS TO BURTON. Words warm with the elogquence and ecstasy of love and of woe, addressed in & wild, passionate vehemence, by a. ‘manly voice (to the phantom lady, so T ‘surmised),gcchoing tarough the grim old - house, sia.rtled me from my sleep. -1 _arose ard started down the hall, but stopped midway as I saw the library door sw.ng op~» and Burton step tor‘ward. ‘His face was pale and set as if his soul within were wrenched with a pain of sorrow so deep and unspeakable as to even render emotion inanimate and still. ,I knew l{_y his Jooks that his -phantom sweectheart had appeared to him, and that the yoice which had mvva.kem;gl me was "his. He strode for--~ward to the landing of the stairs, then suddenly stopped. How grand he looked there in the hall, standing so erect and solemn in the qloonlight! No bronze statue standing lcne and stately upon its marble pede tal, in ancient ruin, in the shadow of princely grandeur, could have presented a more striking picture. I amost expected to hear another outburst ,oof elcquence, accompanied by .some spiritualistic manifestation wilder and more beautiful than I had yet seen; but, instead. a groan echoed from the statue-like form and it began to totter forward. I leaped’to Burton’s side just in time to save him from a precipitate fall down the stairway, and to convey him down its dark and crazy flight out into the air. . “Is-that you, Hal?” he asked. I answered affirmatively. “Did you see her?” was his next guestion. “I replied that T had seen no one, having “ been as'eep in the hall until awakened by his voice. We both sat down on the front veranda railings an'd taking out cigars smcked them in silence. Burton brooding and dreaming, and I wondering what would come next. *lt must have been late in the evening when the silence was first broken” “It had become tedious, and Jo ventured to a:k Burton what the subject | of ghis profound med tation could be. | Pointing toward a wocded dell a-half‘\ mile away, which 1 could just faintly discern through the moonlight, he an- | swered: - : “Down in yon valley, svhero the woodbine and the ivy cling to the noble trees, ‘ lies the grave of her who would have | been part of my lif‘g if she had lived. S:nce her death, years ago. I have not lived; cnly in appearance She was my | soul, my existence. TUpon her every( word I hung as upon the breath of life. ’ Into her eyes I looked as into a lustrous ' sea upon whose balmy wavés I should | be borne away to lands of ever?astingf benediction. sHer raven tresses, lightly | falling about her queenly bodice, were as rays -of sunshine to my vision. She was my world, my heaven. Her very foo'step: sounding filled me with an ex- l guisite delight that was a sort of insano { ecstasy. We were cruelly parted by her | parent’, and before I could arrange to | secretly convey her hence she died of | broken heart: and I had rather diod.i These miserable years have been a | period of quasi-madness—a strange and i wildered dream,. part temporal, part | spiritual. To-night the spirit” of my | love appeared to mo for the first time, | but only for a moment, holding h.arj

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clasped hands above my head as if mutely bessing me. It may be that this was but an eccentric vision of a droam distracted brain. However this may be I feel that I too must soon pass away. I | feel that my strength is weakening fast,” ‘ His voice during. this spee'h was low and feverish: fitful and wild at first, then slow and solemn. As he quit speaking his breath began to come® heavily and hs {ell back; but I anticipated this and caught him bofore he could fall to the ground. I assisted, or rather®carried him into the parior where I had noticed a sort of couch sofa, and was looking aruond for something of | whch to make a light when suddenly the room became softly illuminated, and I saw the Senor Montinni and a number of the revelersof the night Lefore standing around the couch.® Montinnt cameo close te me and whispered: “Senor Burton is very ill; his time is¢near at hand. { You must go for his mother. We will ;see that he is kept as comfortable as | p.ssinle. His mother lives twenty miles up the bayou in the town of M-—— The packet steamer, Katie of the Dell, isdue to pass here about this time.. You had better prepare to zo at once.” Looking out at’ the window I saw a long train of sparks falling back from two tall dark pipes down the bayou, and | knew that the steamer was coming. Getting a few details of direction from Montinni, and taking leave of Burton, I ran over the hill to the la:ding justin time to hail the boat. The steamer's whistle an-wered my salute, the boat drew up against the bank to take me on, a':.d soon I was a passenger, my thoughts mingiing vaguely with the hissing of the engines, the splashing of the wheels, the trailing of the sparks, and recollec‘tions of the strange events at the haunted house. j CHAPTER VIII. | A MIDNIGHT ERRAND. Tho packet was a fast boat, and it was but little after midnight when it ‘drew up at the M—¥glinding, but notwithstanding the nighdé and the dark‘ness I followed .the direction given me and soon fou~nd'the' residence of Burton’s ' mother. The house, as well as the who'e town, was in the puliseless sleep of | night, and tl.e lLOlow thump-thump of the old-fa hioved knocker at the door | echoed dully along the street as I ap- | plied it. Presently a necress came to, | the door and asked in a frightened manner what was wanted. I told her that I was a ‘messenger' from Burton ' Arold to his mother, and that it was ‘necefsary for me to see that lady at { once. | The negress showed me into a small ‘but neat drawing-room, and turning a low-burning lamp up. to a full blaze left ‘the,room and went o call her mistress. dn a few minutes a tall, handsome ;mt;fn, of about fifty years, stepped into the room. o £ 3 . “Js this the Sencra Arold?” I asked, rising. She started and steppel back'but you so much resembled my brother 'who is dead that 1 thought you ‘an apparition. Yeu have come from my son. s he well?” The anxious look in the mother’s face showed that she feared the truth; so I immediately gave her a short account of his illness, and suggested that sho should bes at his bedside as soon as possible. This was an irrelevant suaggestion, for while I was Ziving it the Senora rang for her servant, and when that person had appeared she was given the order to wake up her two brothers and bave them get askiff ready ugf)n the bayou immediately. “We were to go down,” she said, “by boat to C——, eight miles below, where we could catch the mail coaech for Blank, which would take us within a half-mile of the villa.” In the course of fifteen minutes the negr.ss returned and said that Sam and Tom were in their skiff at the landing, ready. The Sencra -had packed a few necessaries, among which was a small case of medicines, into a sachel, and after she had wrapped up well we started for the landing, where we found Sam and Tom, two strong negroes, in waiting with a sharp-prowed skiff. The Senora gave her orders, and_the stout fellows laid to their oars with a will, and several times I «'spelled” one or the‘other of them, to give a breath of rest. No wind stirred the water, and the skiff sped along down the bayou with a speed that brouzht us to C—— just as waling day was opening his eyes in the far dim east. We had time to take refreshment at, the little tavern of the town be!ore the coach started, and soon after breakfast we found ourselves in that o,d swaybacked vehicle, the only passengers. After having directed the driver to drop us at the nearest point to the Montinni estate, we began to ta.k over the a&airs® in hand. After I had exp'ained my connection with Burton, and told some of my experiences among the mysteries of the villa, I pulled from my pocket the old copy of the New York paper given® me by the negro Ben, and showed her the marked item of the shipwreck. There are times when the heart is fuil, when recollections ot the past crowd in upon the soul, and the commin’gled anguish and joy, the pent-up experience of years, the vicissitudes of life, porhaps, well up from the vaults of me:mory and overwhelm the heart. Far be_it from me to assume to describe the feelings of that widow and mother when she learned through thatd old and time-stained newspaper the true, cause of her widowhood away back in the tender years of her earlier life. Her sorrow for the sad fate of her husband, and her joy to know that instead of having deserted her he was coming to jein her asthey had arranged, and Il}mt he had acted bravely and nobly in those his last hours on earth, was a matter that drew forth my deepest sympathy at the time, and dwalls patheticically in my recollection yet, bat that is a private affair and belongs only as a mere ,mention te this story. Her sufferings during all those years of bereavement, when she had thought | that the man who had fascinated 'and won her maiden heart had de- | serted her and left that heart to eat \itsnlf away in the canker, the bitter{ness, the ashes of unrequited love and breken faith—these, too, I will pass over, | leaving their intimations to impress the kind reader as they may. ‘ l Slumbering sorrow when once really

awakened in the breast drives away alfl thoughts of business formality, Know< ing this full well I did noh_"cflstnrb tha Senora in her thoughts. ,Let the full, heart work away 1%9 grief with what little of joy that may beam into it. At abeut the midd¥e of the forenoon a blast from the driver's hern warned us ,bhat we were near our stopping place, and soon the coach stopped. Agter getting out we walked silently and quickly to the villa. ‘ CHAPTER IX, A BTARTLING VISITATION. A subdued purple radiance flooded the interior of the villa; a delicately sweet perfume floated about on the aliry draughts that wandered in fresh from thelr morning daHliance with the tlowers of many fields; and a soft, delicious spell secemed to reign fairylike over the semi« enchanted p'ace, If the Soul of the phantom lady had pervaded every room, carrying with it the atmosphere of the blessed realm where dwell the spirits of all like “her, ba'mier breath cou'd not have come to kiss the brow of him who was passing into the shadow. 1 kad been sauntering thoughtfully through the rooms and chambers of the old Louse for an hour or so, having, upon our arrival, left the mother and son alone in the sacredness of ‘their meeting,. for. under the circumstances, this meoting was saered. 5 The once strong young man, now weak and at times delirious in the burning and the' eating of the fever, pouring. the discontented elo. quence of his life’s great sorrow and despair into the tender recesses of that mother’s heart, and the reassuring words of love and comfort and sympathy spoken in return by that mother, are matters to*which you and I are not partfes” Wo can only guessby what has come under our own observations, and rerhaps our limited experiences, what transpired during that interview; but I do know that the heart that had been broken in early years:, and left bleeding and disconsolate by the cruel neglect and cold treatmant of proud and unfeeling parents; the heart to which he had been pressed in the days of his babyheod as If hls very being were a healing balm that might assuage its interminable aching, aye, the' most faithful of mother hearts, still yearned toward her boy in his manhood as it had in his i_nfancy. and™hat its chords of Symsrathy” would vibrate at the slightest word from that boy in a tender love as sweet as the whispered music of tho! Afolian *harp when the evening zephyr scarcely touches it and away. 1 had been wondering during this hour what should be done next; what the whole meaning cou'd be of my mission at the villa and among its mystic and shadowy people. As I was thus thinking, Ifelt a touch upon my arm, and upon looking up, beheld befere me the shadowy, beautiful form of the Senorita EI Muza. She pointed to one side, and following the direction she indicated I saw such a counterpart of myself that I had to look the second time to ascertain that thers was no mirror there to reilect back my form and visage. This person thus pointed out had the shadowy appearance I had noticed in all the spirigs. A pleasant smiloe overspread his couftenance when he noticed my discomfiture, and he said: “You are evidently surirse it i_l) fact that iou ig‘d"l resE - try through your mother, a descendan of the EI Muza stock, but of a different wing of the family. “There are,” ho continued, “only two representatives of the direct lines now living one<earth. These two are the Senora Arold and your friend Burton. The Senora is my sister, so I am the young man’'s uncle. My parents treated them shabbily because it was thought that the Senora had allowed herself te be disgraced by being betrayed into a false marriage, followed by apparent desertion cn the part of her husband; but they have fully repented of their harsh conduct since their advent into the spirit'world, where we have all met her ‘-husband, who was shipwrecked on the coast of Florida while on the way to join her, and have learned that-the marriage was valid. They wish to repair a3 well as they can the injury done their daughter’s happiness. She must be kindly taken care-of during the remainder of her natural life, and when she joins us in the future existence we will all be happy together forever. more. “This estate,? centinued he, “was a par.nership one. : The El Zegals are all in the spirit world, the Senora Arold was dis'nherited, and the whole estate, under certain canditions, falls to a nephew (by marriage) of M ntinni’s, who resides at Ven‘ce. The transfer is made subject to the management of an administrator. Now, there never has been any administrator appointed, but legal forms are drawn up accompanying Montinni's last will and testament, wherein places for an administrator’s name are left blank. We authorize you to afiix your name to them, and to take all legal steps nccessary to secure your ~position. The two-thirds of the estate left withodt,a will by El Zega! and El Muza are in such a position that they can be placed in possession of Montinni's nephew or given over to the discretion of the state. What we want you to do is to acquaint Montinni’s heir with>the power vested in you and to get a testified contract from him to the effect that if this property is given bver to him that he will allow the Senora Arold the freedom of the villa as a home and provide her with a proper maintenance during her 'natural life, and so make the transfer that if he fails in the leastwise to comply with his intrusted obligations his claim to the El Muza and El Zegal property shall henceforth be null and void. «You will find the papers in a sma'l iron safe in one of the closed rooms_up stairs. If you go immediately for them the doors will be opened for you. The heir's address will be found among the papers.” [TO BE CONTINUED.] HE told his love in burning words, »a tender love and true: the Boston maid blushed rosy red, and to hig arms she flew, and round her alabaster neck his rulldy whiskers blew. «I love you, dear,” she softly sighed—he ®mole a smile serene—*“because your lovely scarf-pin is the image of a bean.” Mgr. EplsoN keeps hipself well before the pubHc with his 800 odd patents. «We are now told that ha has devised an electric motor which will easily enable railroads to run trains at the rate of 160 miles an bour.

T A AGRICULTURAL TOPICS. A FEW SUGGESTIONS FOR OUR RURAL READERS. fmportance of Stirring ti:e Ground—Concerning Farm Labor—Value of Salt and Ashes for Pigs—Tlhe Daivy at the World’s Fair—Househol!d and Kitchen, Keep the Ground Stirred.

I'VERY farmer understands the : value of a frequent stirring of the soil in the corn fleld. The *value of. this, practice, however, is greatly increased in sea- - sons of drought. " The reasons is that the top of the soil by frequent stirring is - made to act the part of a sponge, and arrests the | moisture that is

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being constantly posred into the air above. Says an agricultural exchange: We once made the following experiment, to obtain an approximate idea of the amount of moisture thus drawn off, and the hindering effect on evaporation through constant stirring of the surface soil. ‘ During a prolonged drought a place in a well traveled highway was selected, where the fine dust was several inches deep. A large bell glass (a two-quart Mason fruit jar will answer the same purpose) was well chilled by contact with ice, wiped perfectly dry and placed mouth down on the dust and covered with several thicknesses of -white cotton cloth. After a period of five minutes the cloth was removed and it was found that sufficient moisture had arisen from the dust, and condensed on the cold glass, to run down its sides and form a wet ring in the dust, quite plainly discernible. On the side of the road was a fleld of corn which the owner had not cultivated for more than a week. The dry weather had formed a multitude of fine cracks in the soil, out of which moisture was passing at a rapid rate. T'o determine the difference in evaporation of the unstirred ground in the cornfield and _the frequently stirred dust in the road was a fact that would be valuable to know. Accordingly we again chilled the glass and placed it in the cornfield in the same manner and for a like period of time as in the road dust. The result showed to our satistaction that the moisture was pouring ont of the cornfield at least three times faster than in the road. Had the owner of the cornfield kept bles Simaand . o irrl) H‘-\,hj on f» ) ively, besides destroving the noxious weeds. It was worth to us all the time and trouble taken in the experiment to know this principle and learn how therecafter to turn it to valuable account in the cultivation of corn and other crops. An mmovable Grindstone. Who has not been annoved when grinding by the wobbling of the grindstone on its frame, especially when the treadle was in use? llhave never

found anything equal to the arrangement shown in the cut, ‘writes a correspond e n t in Farm and Home Tweo heavy posts are set in the ground at least three feet. At the proper —height they are i sawed off level Yand the grind-

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stone bushings secured in place on top of them. Another advantage offered by this frame is that it does not interfere with the grinder or his tools. It should be well braced, if the ground be soft, by placing stones or blocks of wood against the posts at the top and bottom of the hole underground. If a third post is set facing the grindstone and a bracket or narrow shelf attached to it, the can to supply the stone with water may drip from it as shown. Wages and Treatment of Farm Labor, The laborer has aiways resisted the introduction of labor-saving machines at the outset, sometimes to the destruction of the offending innovations, fearing that the demand for his service may decline and wages fall. It 1s ever a futile opposition and a foolish fear, as the result isalways an increase of demand and production, the elevation of labor and increase of wages. Xifty years ago the wages of farm hands employed by the year ranged from $8 to $lO per month, rarely sl2 in regions of unusual demand. The range for labor is now from S2O to 830 per month, in extreme cases somewhat higher. Last year, in the midst of depression, the average wages of New England was $26.64 per month, of tne Middle States, $23.62, of the Western States, $22. It has been very steady for years. It was lowest in 1879, when all prices were very low. “The labor of colored men has also advanced as it has become more intelligent. The farm labor of the Southern States averaged $14.77 last year. It is a common complaint of farmers that labor 18 too high. As the burden of rural drudgery is relieved, the proprietor is incfined to take things easier, as he

should do, if he can aiford it. giving himself more time for reading, study, management, and social duties and | privileges. And the laborer is also worthy of his hire.—American Agriculturist. : % —_— LIVE STOCK AND DAIRY. Salt and Ashes for Plgs. Animals that are confined in close quarters and fed on concentrated food always require certain mineral eclements which nature supplies to them in the fields and woods. The need which pigs have for salt and ashes is well known, but it is not so generally practiced and lived up to. When the pigs are roaming aboyt the fields and woods they do not need the ashes, but when confined in their winter quarters and fed concentrated fcod a weekly supply of wood ashes will be of inestimable value to them. We have not yet found out exactly what element in the ashes they desire, whether it is the charcoal, lime .or potash, but it is certain that the ashes themselves are very beneticial. One of the benefits of feeding them ashes is a better appetite for their rations of meal and fodder. They eat more and steadier, and their food is better digested and assimilated. Experiments at the station with a great number of pigs have proven this fact' beyond dispute. Salt does not entirely take the place of ashes, for where food, water and salt were given in abundance, and the ashes omitted, the pigs did not vake on as healthy a growth. Where both were omitted the animals became sickly, and seemed to want something which the food and water could not supply. Corn is a very rich food, and it goes l to meat and muscle in away that no other food does when fed to pigs, but its very richness often clogs the system and prevents the best results. The stomachs of the animals can not digest and assimilate it. The same is true of all the other highly concentrated foods. They generally clog the appetite and prevent the highest results. Ashes and salt come in as splendid articles to prevent such disastrous result. They act as tonies and medicine, clearing the system of effete matter, and giving stremgth and tone #o all of the intorx)nl organs. It is probably in this way that ashes help the pigs. They set (lil‘v('t‘.yl upon the digestive organs, but really addgnothing to the body. If corn is} making the pigs puffed up, and t.hoiri appetite is poor, a liberal supply of | salt and ashes shouldl he given at once. | Hard wood ashes of the Dbest quality I should be used for this purpose, as | they seem to give the best results. The ashes and salt should be administered in equal quantities, either with the food or kept in a seperate vessel in the pen for the pigs to take when they felt inclined. The Dalry at the YWorld’s Fair. Rules to govern thew‘tim of Aairg te. b oade 4 1y 1 SRR Y the Txe D Committee of the Columbian Association. There will be two breed tests, one for four months, one mcnth of which is to be devoted to cheesemaking; the other for seven months, thirty days and six days and under the same committee as the other. Each cattle association competing shall furnish twenty-five registered cows of their breed, except the Red Polled and Brown Swiss associations, which may compete with an entry of fifteen cows each. An accurate account will be kept of all food given their cows for thirty days before and during the test, and all kinds of dairy products so made in the test and charged to the cow so fed at the market value. Owners will be at liberty to feed as they choose, provided ordi'nary foods are fed to the cattle. (zreat care will be taken to guard ‘against fraud in every way and the cows will be closely watched as well, also their products, to see that they are exactly as stated. Awards will 'be made for increase of flesh, the ~amount of butter or cheese made by individual cows and for the best dairy ‘and also herd of five cows. ! Notes. - ProvIDE good winter shelter for all classes of domestic animals. THE quality of the food has much to do with the quality of milk. ON account of maintaining animal heat a more fattening ration should be given during the winter than in the summer even with growing pigs. ~ BE careful of the eyes of animals. They are just as (lvlicu%\ as the eyes of human beings. >cople often work around stcok very carelessly } with forks. BLANKETING a horse +in the stable makes his coat short and sleek. This makes him look more valuable, and i it is easier to keep him clean than a ' long-haired horse. CALVEs need the best attention, | especially in winter. The growth | they have attained during the sum- { mer must not, be allowed to stop, nor 'must they be permitted to become | POOr ROW. THoSE who have tested it claim that sweat spirits of niter is the most valuable preventive of milk fever that is known. Give two ounces immediately after calving, and repeat the dose in two or three hours. ! A CORRESPONDENT asks if there is |a breed of cows that are especially | cheese cows? Any cow that gives ' plenty of good milk is a good cheese cow. The Holstein-Friesian has been ' supposed, however, to have special merit as a cheese cow. ’ THE hog is unquesticnably proof lagainst diseases to a greater extent than any other living creature. If ‘ anything else that breathes were kept in such filthy quarters and fed on such rotten and bad food as thousands of swine are there would be an epi- ! demic. :

THE POULTRY-YARD. Purification, | Y A time and labor saving way to | purify the poultry-house is pacticed | and praised by a writer in the Ger- | mantown Telegraph: I attach my spraying pump to a kerosene barrel, and shoot water into every part of i the house—cracks, corners, roof and ; all—and then sweep it, after which I i fill the barrel half full of lime-water and spray #e inside of the house with i it. I think it much better than , whitewashing, and more quickly and, | easily done. 'The lime getsinto spots | not possible to reach with a brush, and leaves the inside of the house in | good shape. . Wire Fences to Yards, | The-wire fence does not kecep the | winds out of the yards. When such | a fence is made, the lower partshould | be of boards, and they should be put | together so as to be close. A fence seven feet high, composed of three feet of boards and four feet of wire, should be high enough to keep nearly all breeds of hens within bounds, and the beards will make the yards much warmer and more comfortable than when wire only is used. It 1s an advantage for the hens to be ocutside semetimes,‘for they will not be content to remain in en clear days; but to send them outside on a cold, windy day, with the yards enclosed only with wire, is to expose them to a very severe test. A yard should have wind-breaks of some kind if the hens are to occupy them, and this can pe accomplished »n several ways; one by having boards at the bottom, and another by armnging corn stalks on the north and west, sides of the fence. Anything that will break the force of the wind will be found beneticial.—Farm and Fireside. Points on Poultry. TAME hens, like other {ame and gentle stock, have the advantage of using all their food for business. Fright wastes food in the lird as in the cow, and also frequently causes broken ege= brokén windows in the hennery, and other losses. CorN is too fattening for fowls as a steady diet in mild weather, but for supper in cold weather nothing is better than a full crop of it heated slightly before it is fed. ArrrLes decaying in the cellar, and there are plenty of them this winter, will be used economically by the poultry. Ducks and geese have been wintered on them almost exclusively. A pisu of dry bran,jstanding constantdy in the fowl house, will do the birds good, both in the exercise they will get picking the fine stuff, and in making them drink more. It will not fatten them, while they will improve upon it. - TaE incubator has taken the place of the hen on many farms the past emacon moculiing -10 many cases in a ~ HOUSEHOLD AND KITCHEN. ' Old-Fashioned Remedies. | For sore and inflamed ey°s use ' Jurnt alum. Place the aluwu ona “hot iron till it stops bubbling; then dissolve it in cold water. It will smart but it will do good. ¥or dysentery or diarrhea, a strong decoction ‘of white oak bark tea is -good, a tablespoonful at a time. Two or three doses are usually sufficient. For erysipelas and salt theum use the oil Los tansy. . One application cured erysipelas of twelve months’ standing and salt rheum after the doctor had given it up. Ten or twelve drops of kerosene oil on sugar, taken on going to bed, will break up a severe cold. It is very healing. ; Useiul Knowledgo, g To CURE A BURN WITHO®T LEAV- | ING A ScArß.—Mix beeswax and lin'seed oil together, spread over the ' burn thick, and let it remain until it | comes off. To TARE BTAINS OUT OF SHEK.— Mix in a vial two ounces of essence of lemon and cne ounce of oil of tur- | pentine. Grease and other spots t rubbed gently with a linen rag } dipped in this wash will disappear. | TINCTURE OF RosEs may be made |by taking the leaves of the common {rose and placing, without pressing | them, in a common bottle, pouring | spirits of wine over them, closing the | bottle and letting it stand. j To CLEAN ARTICLES OF WHITE | ZepanYß.—Rub in flour and magnesia, | after which shake and hang in the | sun. Kiteben Recipes. CoCOANUT JUMELES.—One cocoaaut, two cups sugar, two cups flour, one cup butter, three-quarters cup l thick cream, whites as two eggs. I CocoAxuT CAKE.-—One cocoanut, | one pound sugar, one-half pound but- | ter, six eggs. Leaze in the pans i until cold. | NICE SPONGE CAKE.-—Ten eggs, one | pound of sugar, half peand of flour, | juice and grated rind of one lemon, | teaspoonful of salt.—Ms. C. G. Fur- | bish. { OLD-FASHIONED PUMMKIN PliE.— { One quart of steamed pumpkin, two ? eggs, one quart of milk, one teaspoon--1 ful of ginger, one of salt, one of cin- | namon, a little flour, ene cup of { sugar, one cup of molasses. Makes | three pies. } Swiss CAKE—One and a half cups ‘ of sugar, four tablespoonfuls of melted i butter, t\_vo eggs, one cup of milk, one | teaspoonful of cream tartar, half teai spoonful of soda. Flavor with rose ‘water.——)[rs. C. G. Furbish. | CHOCOLATE COOKIES.—One and a | half cups of sugar, two-thirds of a cup of butter, one-half cup of chocolate, two eggs, one teaspoonfulf of soda, two of cream tartar. Mix stiff and roll thin.—Mrs. C. G. Furbish.