St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 24, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 4 January 1896 — Page 7

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CHAPTER XXIIL “Can’t help it, Bart.,” said Paul, a morning or two later. *I must go."” “But. my dear old fellow, ‘yon heanl what she said. Surely you could do no - more. It is a sad affair, but you are ‘ *Youeannot ﬂﬂ!mm ~,"m ~ Why nat aecept your fate and come hack ~ to England? Hang me if I thiuk our ~lives are worth much here; there is alWukﬁﬂh« or another watchYout of eurviosity.” - o © “Ne. It is something more than that. Remember what the Captain said as we cante out.” “Yes, I recolleet. Cock-and-bull tales about mnigger worship, fetichism, aud Oheab—VYoudoux, whatever it is.” “I'm afraid it's all too true, and it's risky being here. ILet's go off by the first boat.” “Wonld you go off by the first boat if it was Luece in question, and you were situated as I am!” . ®“No, I'l be somethinged if T would,” ~eried Bart, with energy. ~ “Os course not, old fellow. Now look here, I will not be a tie on you, I can take care of myself. Go back and leave me to ic.” *Likely,” said Bart, T menan it “What would Luce say? No, my bhoy, I'm going to stick to you like a modern Siamese twin—that’s what 'm going to do. Say you get killed, why, of course, I must die in consequence. An unpleasant outlook, but inevitable, so I'll make the best of it.” “Have you written to Luecie?" “Have I written to Lucie! What a - question! Os course I -have, five times, but E!zey’ll go by the same maii, I suppose. “You have not told her how sad a fix I am in. of course?” “Os course I have. Pretty sort of a lover I should be if 1 began by deceiving her. Between ourselves, old chap, I'm afraid I've made matters worse than they really are.” “Haow foolish!” eried Paul, impatiently. “Well, rves, I suppose it was. Like me; always applying the wrong remedy. What. going up there?’ he added, as Pau! moved toward the door of their were e the town. | T, one m! am going up there; and I'm | .‘W for I will not b beaten. j ey pepont. 1 know she 10ves.aue: . %it ,(l‘}il’}‘s' all thisg for hor mother's " ! “But that fellow—Saint-what's-his name *—l"m afraid of mischief there. It would be awkward if you had a knife stuck in you some evening.” 1 “Bah!’ said Paul, cheerily. *“Job for you. old fellow; you wouldn't let me dic.” “How do you khow? I'm an awful bungier, and I've had no experience in stabs.” | “L'li trust you. Come along. I rather hoi he may try something of the kind and bring me close to death, for Aube would repent and her mother would give way. There—eome along.” | “Well,”” said Bart, quietly, as they walked ia the direction of Nousice's house, | “I have quite formed my opinion of - %Anrnd that is?’ said Paul, quietly. | - ™Phat the place is a paradise, and the | people who inhabit it are not angels— | with one exception, old fellow, of course.” | ““So that being the case, I hope you fhinve yourrevolver with you.” 3 “Revolver? ® Yes,” eried Bart, ficresly, ; * and a pretdy nuisance it is. Pity they ! can't make revolvers soft. [ say, look | at that,”’ he whispered, as he took his <igar from his lips and stopped to remove | the ash. i “What?? | “That nigger. Now I could swear to him by his knotted hair and his size. i saw him once up at Madame Dulau’s, and twice over since. Ile follows and watches us.” | *leet him,” said Paul, dreamily, “if it | pleases him. Bart, old fellow, I have | only eves for one thing here.” : “Perhaps so,” said Bart, shortly; “but we l'il""d-'. take care of ourselves, or Yot will have no eyes for anything. Now, there, too. See that nigger sitting on the | fence? Don’t seem to notice him, but | I've seen him before, watehing us.” } Y G TRO ARMIOUS, 01 Lokl Sk Paul carelessly, and they walked slowly | o Liengeath the oserhanging troecs, meneby s dicia e sun's rays :%I\'\'.-‘&\,‘ passing patches of dazzling light side by ’ side with clear-cut shadow of the darkoest hine, No word was spoeken for a few minutes, during which the younzg doctor kept on glancing uneasily at Lis companion, who walked dreamily on by his side, his eyes half cinsed as if they were dazzled by the sunshine. “What are you thinking about, old fellow 7" said Bart at last. “0)f Anbe.” “Yes, I knew that,” muttered Bart. Then aloud: “I say, what excuse are vou going to make for going there today? It was a complete dismissal last time.”” *Fixouse?? said Paul, bitterly—‘‘a man needs no excuse for going to a cabaret. I don’t know what the laws are here, bnt—! *“I can tell you,” said Bart, quickly. “(‘ondensed, as follows: Ilvery man can do as he likes.” - %] wvas going to say,” continued Paul “iz England so long as a man bebaves himself he can insist upon being received in a publie house. I'erhaps 1 am going there to drink.” “No need,” thought Bart. “Drunk already with love.” Very little more was said till they approached the house, about which six or eight blacks were idling; and as the young men came up looked at them doubtfully, as if a word would make them friends o1 enenics, Ther were received by Nousie at the

decr, and she looked at Paul gravely and sadly as be saluted her, and went and Eseated himself under the veranda. o ~ “You have come again ¥ she said sadly, | | “Yes,” he veplied, bitterly, *“For what ﬁny&hﬁkgﬂt? You knew 1 should | : M@mpﬂw usly at Bart, Then | | turning to Paul again, she said gently: | | ol iy to'bo Your triend. 1 wan o | | Well” he said, lodking up at her with | | sad swmile; Uit s in your power -help | -k R : s S XOTTIRETRE ™ SWETOTT, hastily, “You Y[ were unwise to come to a place like this, | where the people are sometimes danger. {ous. Why should you run risks by stay- . “Why should I run risks? You ask | me that he replied. “Madame. we need | not talk and argue, [ euly tell yon, frank--1 Iy, that 1 shall never give up till T see Aube another's wife.” | “Bat 1 tell you that you must not stay. | Your life may not be safe,” whispered Nousie, eagerly. : “Well,” he said, throwing himself haek: | “s 0 mueh the better, I shall be out of my | misery if they kill me.” 1 Ult would kill my child.” [ “Then let her live—let me live and bLe happy in her love,” i *I tell you it is impossible,” said Nou”li(‘, impatientiy. “You do not know, 1 | “annot tell you, only that it is not safe { for you to stay.” ; “You will let me see Aube? { “She is not here.” ; Paul atarted to his feet. “Not gone with—" ‘ ; He stopped short; he conld not spoak, { Nousie looked at him with her brow . 5 wrinkled. Then shaking ber head - “No,"” she said. “SBhe is with Cherabine out——"" i “Ah,"” said Paul eagerly. “Which way § have they gone®” | Nousie made no reply, but shook lmr! i head again, | “As you will,” said Paul. “Never mind: | i I shall find them.” i _He started off toward the forest, and | Bart hastily followed, but Paul turned { upon him fiercely. *“I can take care of : myself,” he said, “and 1 have words to t say to Mademaoiselle Dulau which are for her ears alone.” “But Paul, old fellaw."” “Bah! there is no danger out in the i { broad sonshine. Rton theps ! L. “Paullt i % “Stop there, 1 say, if you call rourself | i my friend!” 5 I Bart hesitated, aod then turned hack § and seated himself in the veranda, wateh. ; i ing Paul till he disappeared. § : “There is no danger now.” said Netale, ; { softly; “and they will not meet. Tell me; | { yon love him?¥" | I “We have been like brothers for years.” ; i “Then be a brother to him still,” said ; | Nousie, earnestly, “and take him t’mmi f this place. What he asks ean never b, i and if he stays he is risking death.” { “What ean I do?" said Bart, i She shook her head; and then, as if a sudden thought had oceurred to her, she ! whispered hastily: “You are good and kind and honest i and you have heen in Paris®” f “Yes," said Barr, waonderingly, “often™ f | *“And in London 1 “Hundreds of times.” : 1. “Then tell mie; is monoy sufe there s i { “Not very, uuless it is made safe.” E ::l'[vm' is it :n;.hlu. -.n.&_e-‘:’ : ; i b !:.'-'”i_\l!Hz!l;: it in the sands. Duving ! ¢ them., { ; “In London ™" i . Then '’ i i Yln Paris ™ i “Yeu! i “If you had much money, would rou | send it there:” ; ! *To be surs, T would,” ’ } “Hah!” said Nousie with a look of sat- | iisfm-tinn coming in her oyes. *“Thank | { You; that is good.” f i “Have you money you want to invest | f;!h:«rc-‘:" said Bart, looking at her. and ‘ ‘.'\'H!"ll'!fii_" at hoer stiddden oh imnee of sub- | { jeet from Paul's presence there to her | | money, She shook her head and smiled. “No! an English ecaptain ‘told me to send it there—to France and England sand I have done o fonr timee nt vanre s eiend Tge R, hzmﬁi’y{ ".%lum.y...'._‘,_ { not safe here, there are revolutions, and | rhuman tifeds less safe. My Busband was | killed.” il e " ) | *“And yet you sent for your child back | ': to sucht a [»':l‘-'n',” t i #Well, sir” said Nousie, simply, it is ] i her home. But vour friend: will you | | take him asway 7" ; " I cannot control him, madame.” re. | | plied Bart. “It is an old attachment, 5 |§:lnd he will risk evervthing to win her, } 1 Why do yoeu not give way?"’ : | Nousie sheok her head. i l “It is not possible,” she said, and she | l turned from him quickly as the mulatto ‘l » | woman Idugenie came in sight walking | - | leisurely toward the veranda, and Bart | t 1 noticed that Nousie's bosom heaved, and | | an anxious look came over her counte- l 1 | nance as the mulatto girl came up to her | . | smiling, after stopping to sav a word here ; | and there to the blacks who were idling : . about. | 2 i A look of angry resentment fiashad | n | from Nousie's eye as the wonian came 1 ?i nearer, and followed her inito the ¢ HIINION | |, ; room. Her fingers worked, but she grew | g | calm directly. as if h.".-"«ll effort, and 1 ‘ seemed to school herself into the custom- » | ary calm, suave manuer she adopted to | : l all who came to her place. | .| “Has he been here?” said Genie, after | l ihe customary greetings. -1 “Saintone ?” said Nousie, quickly. r | “He?" said Genie, raising her eyebrows o l carelessly. *Nvo; why shouid J want to ‘ : { see him?” and she laughed merrvily, I r | meant Jacaine,” l | “No, he has not been here this morn- i o | ing.” i

et ee— et —————————————— o P oty o' o teenc Sl ke I t 90 unprnow the Memntily) SOO ‘%vahﬁv py.” said Nousie quieth, | and seeming so be on her guard, as if she bt gt of e vision, eor wandered in a curious furtive way about - the place, and rested longest on Bart, who ‘was leaning back in the veranda thoughts fully smoking a cigar, &w&@m trying 10 m&&: plans as to what his cours %&K by to- “ ‘ : I\#’ ; ~ Nousie looked at her Vh!ﬁ“mmlx"i Iy, and her dark eyes seemed to affoet tt;g : turned and met her gaze, . S “Well#" she gz’id. sy - Nonsie shook her head. : “Fair Aube’s lover?” said Genie, in & low tone as she gave her head a ul!ght"f‘; movement in the direction of Bart, § Nousie shook hev head again, | “Ah! the other then--the handsome Englishman e o Nousie was silent, Lnt “g it g ed, and Henie langhed Soy, ,‘ “1 thought so,” she said. *Wofl, young people will Jove. When is he goiug to take her away ¥ A “What ¥ said Nousie, sharply, as ;j spaxm shat thiough ber breast, i “When is he going to take her across the seas?” o : .t “Sover,“ sl\id %W,‘ :&h’ ﬂqmm Ploa e Soma P o i ~ “Bocawse ho has come, and hie Wyes | her. He has gone now into the forest 10 meet her and say soft things.” “How do you know " “How do 1 know ¥ peponted Gonie, with A quict laugh., “How de I know every~ thing else ¥ “What do yon mean " sald Nousie 48 herself, “There in something bebind 8l thiss™ and the thought that it might in some way afiect her ehild put her more than oxer upon her gnard. - ; } “Well, it is right,” continned Gencier - “he has followed her to fetech her Ldek’ as his wife, to take her to his cwn eoun- } try. You have secn her and kissed hor, | Nousie; now let her go again” - “Why do you talk to e fike (his?" said Nousic, quickly, “What is my « hild {o yon?" . | “Nothing,” replied the womnn, with a k slight shrug of her shonlders, “nothing to me, but she is mueh to yon.” L “Then why should | lot' her go ¥ “To make her happy.* ' Nonsie's eyen flashed, bat she calmed herself, and sald carelessly 1 i “My child is happy with me, and will 5 stay.” | “ALY waid Genle, gquickly, “vou do not ; like the lover” : “*You have no right te ask me these i guesiions, Genie” | “No? Are we uot old frende ™™ | u\".“"‘ ; “Then let an old friend tell you what | o do” said Gende, smiling, “lef lum i take her buek with him. She will be | happy with the man she joves” : - “She will be bappy hore with me ™ 3 "Yes," sabl Gonle, very ealmly, bat with a twitehing of the nerves about ber | temple, “you have made yeur plaps” “What do yon mean?” i SOh,™ said Genie, 1 koow, 1 see with many eves, She is to be Saintonc's, in | she, and go up to the bg hogse ¥ ! Npugie gazed at her wildiy, end ihe | womnn smiled sx she saw the effect lug | wards bad produced { b b e B the grons YN- na grand : as Madamne Ramntons Malimme MNoguie | will be too high 1o knew her ald foends, 3 and th come to the feass” *Yon are wrone,” snid Noonsie. hinstily, , “No, lam right, Beiter pot. Nousie, | The young Englizhmian Joveax fat ! thems mare”, and 29 sawuy wiile be is | safe. Her.ay be hust : *My child stars with me ™ : SAS sou will,” saki Genie to bersell, “an | you will,”' and she went slowly out into | the veranda to tura aud gage thonghte | fully at Bart., She weomed 0f one motment | as if she were abont 1o weake a sign to ‘ him, but her hand foll 1o her shile, for at | that moment she saw Aobe vowlng along f the road, her hands full of the flowers | she had been gatheriag "herabine, wian | had accompanied Ler. was al loaded ‘ with flowers, and chatioring moerrily, as she gazed lovingly from time to time at | the aitght Gzurve she was proad ence nove ] o proatect f Clopnte smilod asif !t!rr’l-s“ 1 by the sspect | of the group, and <he wialked a littde way ; alorg the verand toownrd thess, aad out | f sight of those withio the rocin, t Phe plensant amile was on hNer [ace still, a% Aube drew pear. so iddent on her bluck compuanion’s remsiks that she oJid ot soe that they werg waotched till they wern close up to therhonse, when she stopped short, stavtled by the appearanca 1f ionie, who stood smitline #1 them in’ the same poenliar way i The look seemed to fascinate her, and | thotigh her Hps parted to snesk no worils ‘ ame, and it was soume vionyonts before sho woered herself, sl in response, bowed and passed on » (To be continued) Was Careful of li's Canes, l i | A small, quick-moving man with an i alert face and wearlng a cap and ladg overcoat, got on a Pennsyivania ra§lroad frain at a _saburban siation ™ $ TTR Nl Dand NE Eel e long sqnare canes, which he held o t o front of hign g litiTo cantionsiy. = §f anxious not to jidr them. Lbeccar ie had entered was well tilled, almost ex- | clusively with ladies going to the City on shopping expeditions. e evidentIy did unot care to cross the plaiform | to another car, but sat beside a lady, who thought it rather odd that he %\-}:,n:‘.'l keep: the two grimy-looking | canes in his lap instead of placing them | on the floor. At Powelton avenue sonje- | body got on who recognized in the per- | son of the man with the canes a prac- { tical engineer in charge of some exten- | sive excavating operations. and remark- { ed: “What have you got there, old ; man?’' “Oh, only twenty pounds of ‘ dynamite.” was the response.—Philas 31 deiphia Times. 5 ! Left His Game Foot to a University | A curious heguest has heen madeto | the Universily of Michigan by Robert t €. Greiner, wio, with his wife, waß killed in the boiler cxplosion at the} Gurnsy Hotel in Denver. In his will he | directs that after death hix right foot shall be amputated abo s the ankle and preseinfed to the Ann Ayhopr Medical School. It is to be mounied as a skeletom preparation and Ilabeled “Bob's Game Foot.” Mr. Greiner had a peculiarly defermed ankle and dislocated toe that puzzled the physicians. |

WOt boe b s ous | 149011 US FOR FARMERS | I G T uniße FOR | | Gioanaine shoud Not Bo u | Jleel Shnnce~The Farmers’ Table } %Mn Supplied, | g sy sb, | R Sk ooE9 el i | Winter feeding depends largely on the Antelligence o the favner, says the | Palladelphia Press. It he is eavefui | to use good stock and sends every animgﬁm,mg;imu condition he ! Jean make stock raising pay, even in a | depressed market. beeause there is almﬁ;%: deand for choice, and half a {eent mere per ponnd in the prices ob- | tained wakes o luege difference when severnl cittle are sold. There is also a double gain when an animal is made | fat, for in addition to the extra cent or fmore to the price obtained per pound | there Is also the gofn bn welght, I a | steer welghing 1.000 pounds and not in POREES W e L L s SSO or 12 | f same time beeomes more valmable and | realiy without any cost to the fanver. It may safely be siatode B@Wever, that | a prime steer will bﬁ:&%ﬁ&ﬂmu the | price named. The Kl 2 additional nay Appeay o & sl sawm, bat = 535 138 per | cent over the Brat cost of SO, Huyiog a Cow, Cattle baving. as commonly carvied on, i& too mach o eof chanee, 11 Ix | fasny for g tiadern, who Kpnows the triceks z.,r the imde, says the Connectiont zl'””‘lf‘ti io fmpoese npail the average thiayer, andl even farmers of wmoch gu'!:u'\'s-!he-iﬁ ad expericnes are somnei‘ilw*w foabead by the misstatoments of éthc- g leor and by the sKillfal muannes In which the vows arve dociorsl pind mapipudated b order 1o nake a showsy bat delusive appearanes The only Ffately safe and reasopable mothod of §imtr!m~n is so regquire o Smrantee of 5 %u viaiy viehl of milk uhdder cortain von i‘ ditionus of care amd feeding for a periosd i of sevoral sitvse sive davs, withibahling ?g::n,’ as 11 peloe nntil the Test s pude | This plan oo n bee readily adopted when %h!:ws and aeiior pre peighlaors amd a Zspmhstsnn o - o baving vattle ot ane {of the large pubdic eatile yards, [t i« Efw“f! sos the niong tegecd] paryluise ;fn take Wil Bom a tie] aovmstianesd ;ia” tise i t& sf vestiers iel ";"z}: g fags o discwver defects or poctliarities of E’c"‘rgw ¥ oaualiiv asad coeulditious § g ety aNorrd {oe s le g : The Farmer’s Tabile 110 i WL T &3 % Pt ;;, il SCinieras ;£t Liu i FIRY i ¥ Crops and PM'otatoes ¢ Vot sitprs Tor THTT I BErs « i 1 Or ETAsK i { 13 T ' ¥4 i =T o 2 1 | porn, coniting grain and fodds ] { the geain of o goedd corn vield surpasses i waeleght puost vicdds of pasiure clovel grase. The corp bhas certainly more i‘ trition lar iatie £ than s tiw | grise The hog's stomaeh s mach }~‘,: aller thau Ihat of other domestic and «gr.z:!'xs, It pegdds s Tood a9 coneentmi |ed form, Yet, amd here comes in 1 ; eof clover amd grass, the hog whiloh i ] corn peeds niso 2oine oulky and no { vory merition® food to prevent the oo » il,‘w',u entrmated nuiriment of corn from i injuring Hs digestive organs. But even for this purpese ciover and grass are !““'» chivapest feeds Beots and mmanged i wirize! can be grow il i so much grea iv:' bulk per acre than can anv kind of | mrass, but where Innd I 8 at all valas ble they will have the preference. Be gides, the roots are easily Kept for win ter use, and are then muech better than clover. eithor . el or put np ss en | silage. Ilos | ehange fro o earty feed. They { will eat much i;zx_*{;vgmsu‘luyivs of beeis, | s " . - , Cheapest Food for Hogs, i The peotato crop requires thorough | cnlivation of the soil, and when it isa suecess its tops form a shade over the f surtace. Then when it is harvested the | ground must be dug over another time. : All of these facts tend to develop soil | feriility. and as the seil is usnally left | paked through the winter much of this | remaing for the following crop. We | could always grow better spring arain after petatoes than after corn, though l;:l‘:!il! on the potato land was more apt lh) have weak straw. The potato uses | up potash in the soil, while the culiiva- ; tion it receives inepreases the amount l of nitrogen. We ence fall plowed some s corn ground, but it did not produce so i good a crop of spring grain as land ad- ' joining on whieh potatoes had been | grown. We do not doubt that the corn t erop is more exhaustive of fertility than a crop of potatoes, as the latter are SO i per cend walter, and most of the remain- | der is carbon derived from the aip. ! Exchange, Prepare for Cold Weather. i Before winter sets in take a few days’ time and ake the farmbonse as coifortable as it can be made. See that } the collar windows and doors are fastcned, the glass in the sash, and the walls are tight. A cold, wet cellar will l make the house cold and damp, and will surely bring sickness to the nouschold.

The window sash and the doors, if they ‘have shrunken, should be stripped with rubber. Two thicknesses of black flan. nel can be tacked neafly against (he door jams and window sash. This will cost but little, and will keep out an immense amount of cold. Many an old house that is us cold as a barn may be ‘made very comfortable by the aid of a few laths, shingles, nails and putty. 1f you burn wood Lave several cords hauled up nud placed in cellar. The wood can be sawed and spidt when outdoor WOrk cannot be done, llf coal is used for the house fire, have it placed in a bin in {he cellar, and have a box, holding about half a ton, set upon the side Poreh. This coal will be kept dry, and ' 5 casy to get at. The same should be P arranged for the kitchen, If the pump s under the poreh roof, and Landy to ! the Kitchen, and the coal and wood are converient and Kept dry, housework beL comes a light task, wnc home life Is Cmade mueh more pleasant. All this Cean be done at small cost, and should Q not be forgotten.- Baltimore American. ; Cleaning Land by Grubbing. We often see recommmendations for cleaving lind cncumbered by trees or rocks by gruabbing and digging them Cout, But there are very iimportant Hmititions to this policy. It will do very well where there are comparatively few (roes or rocks on an acre whose reJil leave the land sui for cover a large part of the surface. to s them ont beeomes wneh 100 ¢ ostly to be practieable, except near cities, where dnnd i very valuable and there is a market for stone for buikiing purposes. It each tree will require to be dug around for the disianee of tliree feet on ench side, its removal cannot he effeeted for much less than a dollar. That wonld recliim one square vard of land, and ot £2OO per aere it would enly he worth three cents. From these tigures ; it will be =eon that there is mueh land ! tovered by trees and rocks that can Bever be used for anyihiog but wootl- ! Bund, catting ont the supoerihicus trees | s 0 & (o zive what are left a better | vhinnes (o grow, amnd encouraging new growin by Keeping stock away as much as possible. American Cultivator Turnips ve, Carrots {for Horses, tarrods bave albways been extolied as the par eseellenee of horse feod, and 1o f evdinin extent they are. Carrots fed o Young <tk make them frritable, tervons, amd (i the case of vonng stal Hons vichons, sarvs the Agriealturist, Carrads awe thedr ohifef value ag a food far oy to the pectie aeid contained t boser mitteh axsists lll‘:i e 3l ARN pesiniiation, aml soy this ren olt ure ol for olid horses Horse el b thoroughiy understand thelr | td Feedd them generonsly to old | AN i within iny ¢ spevicnes that | » : Tast « an aviicle of 00l il ; 3 i eapred it et thian varrots foi |‘ i s i rs o Swiddes, ont 13*‘!1!] . aml sprinkle with cormmeal ;x;!-l; ¥t g i salf nrud glossy coat, !?XP‘! Vo dook. WHE HHO Ko spbiiie b | o ' ! %o tell the stors ‘ Why Some Poultery Don't Pay, ! toes aldd | rwided] | ! « wo swharp writ | | o PGP Gunders 4 j e [ed too D Fit ; i 4 ! overed y X | c e | | 1 friesiy : tlail i : il» ¢ eXDuNed all sorts « T’% Cheve 61 v many drones in the Fhey are foreed to roost ontdoors at | night | They are exposed to the danger of owls, loxes, weasels, and other enePreventing Burdocks from Seeding. Though only a biennial, the burdock a bad weed, from its innumerable VO T animal that comes in coniact vith ripened plant, savs the Amer can ~“H’;.',.:- Cutting the burdock dawn when it begins to form blossoms will usually kill it, as at this stage of ;:-.‘.w‘-,:'n I§l<.~ root has but little vicor est. But when these large burdocks to make hot tire. If Weeds a; ] iy O slone.. Soe ol the _Soed will 'W‘?hf‘w;‘.‘ Xxu;y--‘_f"".‘{il‘»\._t-I'E_LZi;ll.' ; pile and escape destruetion. In a .\?_w\ fire made from green weeds there is a i stratnm of carbonic acid gas at the bottom of the heap, in which nothing will burn. l Toads a Nuisance in the Apiary, ' One day last summer I noticed a large plump-locking toad on the lighting Lhoard in front of my hives. Watching Lhim a few minutes, I saw him take a Lee. and within another minute another one. To investigate the matter iurther. T took Mr. Tead to the woodpil and cur his head off aud }‘:'(l('e-f'd\‘(l 10 make an examination of his stomach. To my surprise, I found that it contained 46 bees, which, to judge from their appearance, were all taken in that same woraing. I bave kept bees for last 35 vears, but this is the first time | I have seen toads cateh them.—T, R:li~i ey, o l | Farmeoers' Institutes, ] . To secure the maximum good the in I stitute shouid be largely attended 'h-\ , earnest, enterprising farmers, with | {heir wives and families. ]"I.:i“!l neet- | ine should be made in Hu: highest de oree interesting and pmh-mhlu !n :.l” Tn attendance, and the fruits of the in«titute should not only be great, but Jasting. in their Lenefits, To sv('m‘.u q large attendance at a farmers’ instiiute demands that the local interest bhe thoroughly aroused prior to the daic -of the institute,

= . . : « s2!!1 . THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. - 00 L. s e e . ‘""NTEREST"NG AND INSTRUCTIVE EESSON.. e S s Reillections of an Hlevating Character ~Wholesome Food for Thought— Studying the Scriptural Lesson lotelligently and Profitably, — Lesson for Jan. 5. : Golden Text.—Thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways.— Luke 1: 76, - “ The lesson this week is fonnd in Luke | 1:5-17, and has for its subject the | “Forerunner of Christ.” ] We are to spend now six months with y | Luke. Tt is well to get, at the outset, a | broad view of this gospel. Take a rapid .| run through the book, chapter by chapter, ’ noting a characteristic verse here and there, fixing the way-marks as you go. It ' | is the gospel of the Son of man, the d®ine L} healer and helper of humanity. Among | the things therefore peculiar to this narrative are the angelic announcement of Christ’s birth; the anointing of Christ by "| a sinner 2t Capernaum, the seventy sent "1 out and the wounderful parable of the 1 Prodigal Son. Luke was a physician with - | a phyxsician’s way of looking at things, | and this in turn may account in part for | such things not named clsewhere, as the | account of the ten lepers, the rich man {and Lazarus (not a parablel, and the beantiful story of the good Samaritsn. something quite aetistic.” a - ."mh».‘m} o | is a fine literary tonch to the pAv*REMprs of the gospel throuzhout. Tradition says that besides being a physician by oc¢cupation, Luke was by taste a pah&% Ceortainly, these lessons on which we enter reveal the artist spirit, and the life of Christ is unfolded o us, as it were, in panoramic form and {rom an artist’s portfolio. The writer of the gospel is but little more than a half century’s remove from the events which he records, Luke's gospel being placed at from 58 to 60 A, D. Other narr tives of Christ’s life had, it seews, already appeared, probably Matthew’s among the number. He writes to give his impression of the chardeter of Jegus, not indeed as aa eye witness, to ‘mnrh that he nacrates, but as one well lini'nnm--l and deeply sympathetic. e pens his account, apparently, under the influence of PPanul, with whom he was mnech associnted, and holds forth particularly Christ's friendship for all mankind. The story opens with the mention of a ceriain priest nnmed Zacharias, Yet it is not as priest but rather as-prophet that he fizures here. Christ did not como byway of sacerdotali®n, Zacharias' censer and robwe pass out of «ight presently, and the priest stands before us in & very humble guitse, an erring man, confessing fault, but at the same time introducing to us John the harbinger of the Christ. The | priest of the temple is thas seen to be but s a :'\‘,E}‘ l!xu’ﬁ‘.i"(']'- r of the f"l!:}r‘::' of the trae Lord of glory, and he mayv bat venture to leose the shoe latehets of him who in his turn cosnts himszelfY unworthy for such offices to the Christ, How absurd § i this light the claims of a modern priestho ul! “His wife.” however, is even more prominent in the picinre that is sketehed t for ux, Luke is deseribed as the evangeVet wha ha more. 1o sav_aof wonan's P ministriss than any other of the mspirea | four. In this he is in Keeping with the new amd broad Lhimmanitaria sentiment that charaeterizes his gaspel. His is the really new woman, and the only one we : need concern eurselves about, made new ;;r,; froe n Christ Jesns.: A grand and { blessed day is ushered in for womanpKkind i'\\ﬂ:i the two songsd, in feminine treble, | with which Lauke's glad tidings open. 14\"“5 the same strain is presently in the i I‘.:»3\~.ié'4\‘ : - . G = ? It was 1o “righteous” and ;'.;(;\I“A“r-\ | peonle that God's first intimations of the ;.'.w,‘;_); Messinh were given. Paul adds | to a similar deseriptien at Phil. 2: 15 as | in part explaining it, “Sons of God, with- { out rebuke in the midst of a crooked and | perverse generation,. among whom ye | shine as lights in the world, holding forth t the word of life.”” Is it not this sort alwavs that hold forth the word of life and E retainding of Christ jead the way to him? iAn»i such lives also seem to vemind of i the second coming of Uhrist, foer Paul immediately adids, *That [ may rejoice in the day of Christ.” For Christ's sake: ibe blameless. The story is {amiliar; the t priest faithfully, but perhaps with some- ' thing of perfunctory indifferenee, peri forming his rouiine offices at the altar. i.\‘:e lonly the startling apparition. of an P angel and the premise of a son who is to '; lead the way of the Christ. It say thing i is needed to show the crude unreadiness { of Zacharias’ mind, his first inquiry, hint- ! ing doubt, declares I‘ W ~'!:=f2 l KNOW | this?' True indeed, “The Jews require L a sign.” Weil, Zacharias, you shall have | a sien. “Behold thoa shalt be dumb and , not able to speak until the day when these { things shall be }"'r?.":'vi"!‘“ \\ much as {..ln atnieasdie We lay ail of -us | preach and teach the tiospel, be Ghauted { like unio John in that we are forerunners | of Christ, preparing the vag for his entrance into needy hearis. Charles Spurceon declared that one of the most helpful sermons that he had heavd sand a good speaker may also be a zood Nstener, eloouent withal) was from the text of Sceripture (John 10: 41), “John did.no miraele; but all things that John said of this man was true.” Spurgzeon said that when he dicd he hoped it might be said of him that all that he had testiied of Christ was true. The power of a truthful testimony, the witness of the lip and the witness of the life alwavs tirue to Jesus, The effectiveness of such a message, opened {o us all. is hinted in the verse that follows: “And many believed on hiin there.” Keep on, faithful teacher. Tell the truth about Jesus., Some one will come along sometime and rean the fruit, but God shall have the glory and our Christ be satisfied. ! Next Lesson—*"The Boy Jesus.—Luke i 2 40-52. i Happy Thonghit. ' Wool-IHow are the Neweds getung , along? - van Pelt—Very nice. Having discovered that they could never think alike, they agreed to paiv and let the cook have the deciding vote.—New York World. o Detfinition. She--What is a burlesque? He—A take-oil. She—A take-off of what? ll(.”(‘]‘,)y‘hf.\'_ ;:.\nquiﬂ;}',——l’i;'k*}[\)‘tp’