Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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OtOCGt &*~ ~HENR v^u7""?<>-"' cnArTut xt IN ONE ACT. Kav Webster! A visible menace, a weird, haunting dread, as the full truth burst upon the mind of the astounded, overwhelmed Arnold Dacre, for tfce first time in his bold, evil experience of wronp-doiusr, he quailed and weakened like the veriest craven. To dispose of a foe effectually, to map out a straight course of progress for ? ? -? ? ?5 Un?tA tVi n t +nn M new career, anu iu ua?c muv iuv. pear, silently, secretly, and score the first point in the game, was enough to dismay a more resolute soul than that of the over-confident plotter. In a flash he discerned the truth. Tho tell-tale ticket had revealed all. A goodconduct badge, entitling an inmate of the state penitentiary to certain privileges as a reward for meritorious behavior, who could have possessed it but the owner of that number, 2,324, who could have dropped it in tho carriage seat, but the driver of the vehicle? And convict No. 2,324, as Arnold Dacre well knew, was no other than the exclerk of the bank, the alleged embezzler, the^disgraced lover of Flora Merwyn? Kay Webster! He had escaped, that wae certain. He had returned to Ridgefield. He had arrived at an opportune moment, at a critical climax in the affaire of the bank? and be had acted! Struck dumb with a full realization of what that meant, the villain!! chilled ?Ksniuoimnrv Hroart TTfi had been mistaken when he had said that but two persons in the world possessed a knowledge of the vault combination, the dead banker and himself. There was yet another, but so securely had he wound a net of seeming guilt about that third person, so strongly had he shut bim in to a loathsome prison cell, that bo had never remembered that Ray Webster also knew the secret Key to the massive vault door. That knowledge bad probably saved Flora Merwyn's life, and had robbed the schemer of his victim. He had appeared mysteriously, he must have witnessed the interview between the schemer and his confederate, John Wharton. The ladder, the carriage! Rescuing the imperiled girl, conveying her to the vehicle, he had removed her from the power of her enemies. Then? Then! The strong man shivered as he recalled the awful debt of blight and wrong the innocent Ray Webster owed bim?as he recalled, too, the firm, resolute nature of the escaped convict. A worthier champion Flora Merwyn could not have found, for what vengeance and duty might fail to accomplish love would f certainly attain. "Baffled?beaten!" he found voice to hiss forth at last, and he stasreered into the open air with a wild impulse to fly the scene precipitately, ere the avenger appeared to betray, to unmask, to punish him. "The money,the fortune?the package I entrusted to John Wharton, that first!" ho gasped. "It is folly to remain here now. The story of Ray Webster would raise a storm of suspicion that the cor UUCI ante CYiUCUVO Ul I iv/ia lUVi *r j JU would augment to certainty. No, every hour's delay is fraught with danger. It Is flight row?flieht only. I must see Wharton, and at once." bittor scowl darkened the sinister face. Fortune was much; luxury }he key-note of this m^n's nature, but the face of flora Jlerwyn had tfeeri a lode-star in the past. He was susceptive of at least one genuine emotion?he valued her love, he had craved it, he had sworn to possess it, and now, with a muttered malediction he hurried ?forward. All that must be abandoned. tie arrived atouun nosrwu siuujfiugs. At the foot of the stairs stood a little group. They were discussing the old clerk's queer behavior. Dacre elided hito the shadow and listened to them unseen. "He's gone clear daft." spoke one. "Why! when I asked hitn if the bank would pay a dividend of ten cents on the dollar, he laughed in a silly way and said he expected two millions from the government in new gold coin to-morrow." "Yes," spoke up a second, "and he'3 t)een cutting pasteboard into bits, and pretending they were drafts on New York. Oh! his troubles have certainly driven him witless. Poor, honest fellow! little he dreamed of the villainy of others, that was to drive him out in the world a pauper in his old age." A covert smile crossed Caere's face as he stole noiselessly up the stairs. The court would scarcely attempt to question a lunatic as to the affairs of the bank. Oh! it was a royal zame, admirably played. Pitty lor it, that, after all this shrewo, careiui piouinc, dicqi should be necessary, with but half the precious prey at stake attained! The sounds of an excited voice raised in frantic, incoherent tumult quickened Dacr?*s steps. He pressed the knob of the door that led into the old clerk's sleeping apartment. A vivid picture tilled bis vision as he did so. There stood the Sheriff, a cloud of concern and distress on his brow, reKardinsr a wild, uncouth fifrure, crouch; , ing against the bed, John Wharton's ashen face glowered forth strangely. Even Dacre, believing it al! a farco, all pretence, lost sigbt of the superb acting of his subordinate, in the awful frenzy the miserable wretch portrayed. "Checks?drafts?bills of exchange. Siep up genueiuen, iake juui uuuite, millions in fresh, crisp banK-notes, billions in government bonds and foreign securities, and in the vaults?sold!" Thus prated the old clerk, quietly enough. Of a sudden, however, he fixed his eyes on vacancy. With a terrible Scream, be sprang to the other side of the room. "Gold? No! no!" he shrieked wildly, "it is not gold. It is Flora Merwyn's golden tresses. Get her out?get her out! Mercy! do not cross the checks with red Ink?it is the life-blood of Banker Merwyn?murdered! murdered! Gold! ttold! gold! my heart is filled with it, and I am sinking, sinking, sinking to perdition!" A quick token of alarm came into Arnold Dacre's eves. Was this shamming?acting? Why this illusion to the missing girl, this terribly realistic horror in the haunted eves of the old clerk? Had the weak, vacillating mind, in acting a part, overstepped the boundary line or reality, and driited a hopeless wreck upon the blank sea of insanity9 "What shall we do with him?"' asked the Sheriff, in an awed whisper. "Leave me alone with him," returned Dacre, assuming a confidence he scarcely experienced. The Sheriff bowed assentinglv, and with a sigh ot relief left the apartment. Dacre closed and locked tho door after him. Then he approached Lis crouching, muttering hireling. "Wharton!" Something in the stern domineering tone of the tyrant, potent as of old to way him for the moment, fixed the rciud of the man addressed. : . "Well, faithful old partner," cried Dai n w i i \-j J FORTUNE. ere, slapping the trcrnbiing wretch familiarly on the shoulder. "You've pulled the wool over their eyes, all of them. Why, man! you would make your fortune on the mimic stage. And now, to business!" "Business? Yes ! yes! Rothschild cabled me yesterday?" "Shut up thatjargonl Your partol the farce is over now," interrupted Daere." We're to leave, Wharton, we're to divide, depart., ana enjoy uur iui mm in foreign lands?. Worth the plottinp and the waiting, eh! old friend? Quick, John! the package." "The package," repeated Wharton, like an automaton. "There was one of drafts?from the Bank of England.' Arnold Dacre started. He regarded iis companion sharply. Something in the dazed, uncertain eyes chilled him >vith a sudde-n, sickening sense of disaster. He shook him roughly. "Come, Wharton! collect your scattered wits," he ordered impatieutly.' "The package! I want it. Where have fou hidden it?" "It sunkj" With a shriek that filled lis auditor, John Wharton screamed (orth the word, and sprang to the floor with eyes of terror once mora. "There was Webster starviug to death in a prison ;eiJ. there was Merwyn murdered by us, there was pretty, eolden-haired Flora choked to death in the vault. They took it, and sunk,dancing, dancing, dancing!" The wild outburst terminated in a yell of agony. Frothing at the mouth, torn in a terrible convulsion, the ole' t>anK clerk sank helpless at the feet of the apDallad plotter. White to the lips, that plotter reeled where he stood. With a heart of lead, and a brain whirling, he realized that he had sold his soul for a glittering bribe that had eluded his eager grasp at last. For this was no acting?this was no feirned lunacy. He had given his hireling a part to play, and full-well had old John Wharton enacted the role. He would never be called on to testily in court?no fear of that now! No danger of complications arising from what those witless lips might utter! For Wharton was stark, ravins mad. CHAPTJEK XII. DISGUISED. With empty hands and empty heart, Arnold Dacre stood regarding the wreck of his last hope. Sin had brought its lit reward. His soul sank as he realized that those babbling lips might never betray the secret of the missing package.or, if ever, too late to avail him, for flight was now more imperative than ever. With an abundance of money, he could pick his path to safety, penniless, he was as forlorn a fugitive as the escaped ex-convict himself. "The money?the money!?where was it?would it escape him after all his careful plotting? The thought burned into his reeling brain, and coupled with it was the bitter knowledge that he bad lost Flora Merwyn, that every waninc hour might be bringing the resolute avenger, Kay Webster, closer and closer upon his track. For Ray Webster was alive?he knew it. circumstances proved it, and the fair, crushed girl who had seen her lover seemingly dashed to his doom, and had frantically rushed away to share the fate ol g J^eloved father, had mourned hitr vainlyT "* Stunned, benumbed, helpless, Ray Webster had been flung by the treacherous waters of the river upon a broad rock. There, panting, nerveless, tie bad la4&{^ W *W9-.?c& what the scheming scoundrel Arnold Dacre had theorized as to his layer movements, was practically correct. He had finally gained sufficient strength to swim ashore to find Flora gone, and too late to overtake and warn her imperiled father, but not too late to resolve to defeat the schemes of the man whose false tesf'mony had placed upon him the brand of the convict He knew?ah! how surely he knew! that careful plotting had robbed him of his good name. He knew that the failure of the bank must be the work of his enemy, Arnold Dacre. By secluded lanes, stealing from shelter to shelter, fearing recognition, pursuit, arrest, he finally Rained the stables of the Merwyn nomestead, and thence the court thai terminated directly under the windows of the private office of the bank. His had been the hand that had placed the ladder against the window sill, his the face that had peered in 011 a scene that fully evidenced the villainy of the false-hearted cashier. He heard his injunction to Wharton, he realized the peril of Flora, he d seemed his own weakness as a champion?Le, a hunted fugitive! Ho saw Flora shut into the dark vault. Then, his pulses throbbing, he sprang Into the room, onco it was vacated. Memory supplied the old combination to the lock. Still senseless, he bore Flora from the apartment, down the ladder, across the court, and, placing her tenderly among the soft cushions of the carriage, tried to think out the difficult problem of the hour. Confinement and suffering had sharpened his reasoning faculties. As he re nectea on tne ooianess ana power 01 nis unscrupulous enemy, he decided that his first move must be to convey Flora to a place of safety. He dared not even trust the housekeeper. Planning swiftly, ho attached the horses to the vehicle. Drawing its curtains and donning the enveloping cloak and sheltering slouch hat of the driver, he boldly sped from the scono. Mile after mile he traversed. He had a definite point of progress in view. He reached it finally?a lonely, sequestered cabin in the woods. Removing Flora, he placed her tenderly on a rustic bench. Then, turning the horses' heads homewards again, he struck them a sharp blow, and steeds and vehicle soon disappeared in the distance Ho approached the open, vine embowai-oH wlndnw nf the fnttacre with an eager face. It brightened quickly as ho peered in. Seated In an old-fashioned rocker, humming a homely tune and sewing, sat an old woman whose sad, patient smile and silvered hair formed an aureole of angelic beauty to that careworn face. She looked up with a nervous start as he stored across the threshold. Then the slfsht token of fear disappeared from her face, aad she arose with extended arms and beaming eyes. Oh! Mr. Webster, my friend, it is your weicomei welcome. Ray Webster looked earnestly into the tear-stained, friendly face. "Mrs. Alden," he said gravely, "I see yon are surprised, you wonder how I, a convict?" "A convict? A martyr! Ob, Mr. Webster! do you think that I for a moment believed you guilty? I have written you, I tried to see you?" ' Yes, yes, 1 know. We will talk of that later," interrupted Ray seriously. "Do you remember telling me once, that if ever I was in trouble you would help me?'' ... "I would die for you!" cried the old ? woman, her wan face flushing with the earnestness of love and devotion.'' When uiy poor crippled husband and myself were turned irom our nine nome in Ridgefield, you nobly saved us from the poor-house. Your means purchased us this quiet paradise, you crowned our old aee with uoace and ulenty,, my husband died blessing you, and 1?command! ray life is yours." IJrieily, rapidly but coherently, Ray Webster told his story to ttieold woman. She listened with a shudder as he depicted the blackness of Arnold Dacre's heart, the misery he had wrought, her eyes were one great glow of sympathy and love, as he asked her to care for Flora Merwyn for a few days. "!>he must Dot return to Ridgefield," he said. "But when she wakens the thought of 1 + \ : I 1 ut?r i<? Liiui win iuj^v:i uvi tu liastcii thither." "It must not be?you will tell her that a friend?a true friend rescued her from the bank vault. She thinKS me dead. You must not enlighten her yet Keep her here until I return." "You are going away? You may be recognized!" "I will be careful," replied Ray, solemnly. "I have a great worK to do, and and lor the sake ot this beloved, bereaved, creature, I will not court danger. But I need money to prosecute my plans against /irnoiu uacre, x neeu amsguise? The woman started. "Stay!" she spoke quite excitedly. "A discuise? The gypsies taught me a curious art once. Mr. Webster, will you consent to remain here until to-morrow morning, if I agree to furnish you with a disguise that your own friends would never pierce?" "Can you do this?" queried Webster, skeptioly. "Yes." He gave a dubious consent. Flora, still white and helpless, was brought into the hut, and Mrs. Alden placed her on her own snowy bed. "She has suffered a severe shock, that is all," she said comfortingly to the anxious Ray. "Do not fear. I shall revive and control her. Come with me now." She led the way to a shed and to its attic. "You will bo safe here if traced," she said. "There is a cot upon which you can rest" "But I can not sleep, Mrs. Alden," demurred Webster. "Every moment is precious." "Trust me," smiled his hostess encouragingly. "You will not regret it. Drink this," and she tendered a cup,into which she poured a mixture from a bottle. Drug or sedative, it sent Ray Webster's wearied senses into dense but refreshing slumber almost immediately. It was daylight again when heawoka "A night?a whole precious night gone!" be criea, springing in uismay w his feet "Do not excite yourself," spoke a reassuring voice, and he looked up to see his faithful hostess putting away a cloth mask, shears, piements and some saucers containing stains of various hues. "Flora!" ejaculated Ray in a palpitfttine breath. "She is sleeping quietly. She revived during the night, but I gave her a composing draught. Do not fear. I will carry out your wishes regarding her. And now you can go il you like, and heaven guide you in the battle of right acraln9t wrontr!" '"Yes, I must go," repeated Rayslowlyl "I must secure a disguise, I must get some money." ice oia woman pointed to a suii< ui neat, home-spun clothes lyintr across a a chair, and to a little bag heavy with coin, "Both are Drovided for you," she smiled, "I am thankful my little savings come in so appropriately, and, believe me, I can spare them." "How shall I thank you?" murmured W ebster gratefully, "but the disguise? these clothes will aid it, but my face?" The old woman extended a pair of dark blue spectacles with a curious smilo. "Put them on," she directed. Ray Webster obeyed mechanically and WOnHgjingl^ "Now, loo<.M As she 9p6k&, she held a small mirror before his face. "I told you the gypsies had taught me somo curious things," she reiterated. "They showed the play actor's art?bow, with peculiar pigments ana stains, a face could be masked. I could disguise any one. Look, Mr. Webster. You wanted a disguise. Is it safe?" Ray Webster did look. For a moment, utter consternation filled his soul. He could scarcely credit the evidence of his senses. The face that reflected back at him from the little mirror, was utterly unfamiliar and strange. And then, a tierce, wild joy supervened. He had sought a disguise. The deft hand of a faithful friend had supplied it marvelously. It was more than disguise, it was a total chango of his previous identity. Why! even Flora would not know him. He was safe to go out into the world now?secure to follow his enemy into his very lair. Like a young knight arrayed for combat, he sprang up ready for battle. Juan 10 man at even ouus, me ra.ce i,u the swiftest runner. Let Arnold D&cre loolc well to himself, in the coming conflict of wrong aeainst right, in the unrelenting warfare of the champion of love, honor, and dut/! I TO BE CONTINUED. 1 The exposition which the people ot Tennessee have created to commemorate the centennial anniversary of the State should be a source of national as well as local pride. Those who have been familiar with all the great fairs which have been held in this country place none but the "World's Columbian Exposition of 1SH3 ahead of the one now open in Nashville. The Philadelphia centennial and the expositions of New Orleans, Atlanta and San Francisfn nil stand second to this. The fact that President McKinley recognized the Importance of the event, and Journeyed from Washington with his cabinet and personal party indicates the national character of the fair. Buildings erected by many of the States of the Union and the splendid exhibits from all parts of the country are supplemented by surprisingly pretentious displays from foreign countries. So much for the quality of the fair. It is not failing of recognition. The people of the Southern and border States are flocking to Nashville in special trains over all lines. Northern visitors attend in large numbers and receive a cordial welcome. As to Immediate finance, the directors taice priue m tue laci ioat within three weeks after the opening of the gates, while much was still incomplete, they began the payment of their debenture bonds, and there is every prospect that the close of the season will show a profit over all expense. Year after year every largo city in the country has a chrysanthemum show, and yet no one has discovered a way to utilize that cabbage-like blowout for slaw purposes. Is Yankee genius decadent? DECREES OF FASHION. SOMF PREVAILING STYLES IN THE DOMINION OF DRESS. Natty Tennis Salt of Cheeked Linen, Showing Ecru and Blue, With Skirt Specially Adapted to Wash Fabrics? Stylish Plaited Waldt of Figured Blue Dimity. May Mail ton writes that checked linen showing ecrn and bine was chosen for this natty tenni3 suit; the collar, cuff's, belt and front decoration SUIT OP CHECKED LIVEN. of the tkirt being made of plain bltte. Three box-plaits are laid in the back ' and three in the front, the centre pint in the front concealing the closing which is made with button and but- j LADIES' BOX-P ton-holes in a fly. Smooth unrier-arm t gores separate the front from the back 1 whinh has anointed voke. A casing is 1 sewed at the w&ist line through which \ tapes are ran to regulate the fulness, < and the lower portion of the waist is \ worn beneath the skirt. The turn- i down collar that finishes the neck is ' mounted upon a high neck-band, and < can be made removable, if so desired. ] The sleeveft, of moderate width, are j gathered at their upper and lower < edges; straight cuffs finishing the wrists ( and openings being made in back of ( sleeves that are finished with pointed ( overlaps closing with link buttons. A narrow belt encircles the waist. ] The skirt is admirable for summer ] wear, its straight-back breadth adapt- ' ing it specially to wash fabrics. The 1 sides display the fashionable ripple ( effect on each side of the gored front, the straight back breadth falling in ] graceful folds from gathers at .the top. j The placket is finished in centre-back and the top is completed with a straight 1 belt. j The style, which is an unusually , smart one, can be developed in percale, cheviot, duck, dimity or gingham with f>r>11ar and cuffs to match or of white linen. Blue serge is also suitable for making and the suit can be worn for yachting, shopping or traveling as well as for tennis. To make this waist for a lady in the medium size will require three and one-half yards of thirty-si:i-inch. The skirt will require five and one-half yards of the some width goodfi. Popular Dcflign for Uox-I'laitctf Waist : The plaited waist has ever been a ' popular design, and its appearance in sheer summer fabrics will undoubtedly meet with approval. Figured blue dimity was selected for the stylish waist shown in the largo illustration and described by May Manton. The collar and cuffs are adjustable and made of white linen. A jaunty slock of red surah completes the neck, and the belt is of red leather. The waist iB unlined and the adjustment is accomplished by shoulder and underarm seams, together with under-arm gores, which separate the fronts from the plaited back. Five box-plaits are laid in the fronts, the closing b eing effected by button-holes worked in a fly. The sleeves are of the regulation shirt style; they are shaped with inside seams only and gathered top and bottom. The wrists are completed with linen cuffs of the newest design. The waist will develop in percale, dimity, cambric, lawn, gingham, madras, Bilk, etc. The design can also be successfully carried out in . t light-weight cheviot and Frea flannels, and worn for yachting cycling, the warmth of the mater providing an excellent preventi against sudden chill. To make this waist for a lady in t medium size will require four yai of thirty-six-inch material. Beautiful Ribbon Glrdleft. They are making the most beauti: ribbon girdles this year, according the St. Lomis Globe-Democrat. No ing like them was ever seen befo: They are entirely supplanting the be which is now considered ungrace and a little out of date. Girdles v? in width from three inches to the dep of bust line and are made of ribbo of all colors. A girdle that begins at the hips a reaches to the belt line should be ma of satin ribbon three inches wi< There is a foundation of black crii line, upon which the ribbon is sew( it is lightly folded and carried arou the figure nine or ten times, fasteni with two large bows, which can :lrawn through jeweled buckles, eery pretty finish for the girdle is embroidered lapel. This is a piece ihe cloth, upon which iridescent bea ind mock gems are sewed in patteri tn the back the revers have two poii each finished with the jeweled trii ning. The girdle and revers are, of conrf adjustable, and can be worn with sh waists or old gowns of any kind ;olor. Linen Lawn Much Worn. A fine linen lawn is being mn worn in Paris, and an entire costui :>f singular charm, suggesting that should be taken to Ascot, made wi the skirt crossed with insertions Maltese lace in diamond patterns, w ieen, the bodice showing the same c joration, fastening down one side wi a frill of lace, and cut square at t top to show a little chemisette of whi [isse; this drooped over a belt at t back and in front, made of white ki fastened with a buckle elaborate jeweled. , Dainty Frock For a Little Girl. This dainty little frock is design "m mVl a ViAtnroon +.V10 a iron of twrt ft' IV* WW... vv^ ~ ? A7TED \T^T. . ' ' ;en years. Plaid woolen was the m ;erial selected, with narrow velvet ri ?on and tiny gilt buttons entering in ;he decoration. The Incoming fulne )f the waist is due to gathers at t ipper and lower edges, where th ire confined by velvet-trimmed banc rhe garment closes invisibly at t :entre-back. Buttons and buttc tioles can be used in closing if pi ierred. Prettily shaped epaulett 3itend over the shoulders that a ilso decorated with velvet and buttor ind have a pronounced flare at t' auter edge. The full-round skirt.has a Btraig lower edge that will permit of a wi hem or can be trimmed as illustrate The top is gathered and sewed to t bottom of the waist, a placket finishi it the centre-back. Lawn, nainsook, <;hambray, gir dam, dimity, cballie and iignt-wc fabrics are commendable for makii Braid, ribbon, velvet or insertion w trim it effectively. The guimpe -worn with this frock of white cambric, and two yards w girl's guimpe frock. thirty-six-inch material will berequii for making. To make the frock fo girl of six years will require tin yards of the same width material. The newest stitching for gloves in two shades. For instance, two ro of lavender inside, with black stiti ing all around, making the outside a inside row of black. . - ch nrif r Tir" '-riV '-*1 -' " '-1 '-'r'-J-LIJJ '1' .' " to I thr?' Hills on an Acre. j L| As there are 4860 hills on an acre t when crops are planted three feet apart ( ^7 eaoh way, it is easy to see that the <; | maximum crops of corn or potatoes are j rorv mnfih above the average. One c j bushel of potatoes to thirty hills would ( give 167 bushels per acre. One bushel , j of corn to 48$ hills would give 101 4-5 ] ' bushels of corn. It should seem as if f / khese yields might be attained by any ( i farmer, but they are not.?Boston Cul- \ fcivator. i ng be Shading and Fastening a Coop. i A The device shown in the accompany- 1 an ing illustration can be applied to al- ' of most any form of chicken coop, whether ds already built or to be constructed. A is. narrow board nailed on each end pro- 1 its jects, as shown in the sketch. In the j * ; "f CHICKEN COOP ATTACHMENT, it th projection, two three-fourths-inch ?f holes are bored, and a pin fitted to en&8 ter them. The board front is then le- hinged at top, where it can be fastened th Qp a8 an awning for protection against he the snn and showers, and fastened rte down at night to prevent the entrance h? of animals.?American Agriculturist. d> jjy The Bean Weeiil. There is no way to prevent the bean weevil from depositing its eggs in the young green beans. What can be done 0d to le?sen the evil is to destroy the larvae in the beans after harvesting, says ? Yick's Magazine, and thus prevent any great increase of the insects. Those mating a business ot raising Deans are careful to destroy the larvae or grubs, and this is done by placing the beans 1 in tight casks or compartments and 1 there evaporating, or volatilizing, car- ] bon bisulphide; another method is to ] subject the beans for an hour to atem- ' perature of 145 degrees?this can be 1 done 'without injtlring the vitality of the seeds. f _____ Geese on the Farm. Geese in the market will se.ll foj from fifty to sixty cents, but the kind of geese sold are really worth no more. There has been but little improvement of geese on farms, and it is seldom that they exceed eight or ten pounds in weight. The Toulouse and Embden geese are fully twice as large as the common geese (one being oijce exhibited weighing fifty-two pounds alive), and a pair would lay the foundation of a paying flock in a few years. The fat goose is a luxury enjoyed only by those who know something of them, and it brings a good price. Turkeys ' sell higher, but the profits are no larger than from geese. There is a great loss of young turkeys each year, while geese seem to thrive on a grass plot or a pond that cannot be used for any other purpose. As geese will breed until over twenty years old, a flock of the large varieties once obtained will return an income every year, which would be satisfactory com- , pared with the capital invested?The \ Silver Knight. , Good Water. 3 The idea that a flock of sheep -will ' get aloag almost any way, so far as ? water enters into the consideration, 1 a. has cost breeders more money than 1 ,b_ many of them are aware of. That ] numbers have passed through the en !S8 tire summer without water is true, and ' jje that those accustomed to daily access 1 ey to water can be deprived of it for sevj8> eral days without apparent serious inbg convenience is a fact that may have ,n. been demonstrated; but aside from , .g_ these facts every man of experience ^ ;es knows that sheep not only relish , tre water, but that a full and regular sup- , 18 ply is necessary to their comfort and ( kg thrift, from -which alone is to be ex- , pected the maximum profit. The best ] source is a good running stream. The ( (j6 less this is affected by drouths and , S(j freshets the better. A stream is bet- , jjg ter than wells, from the fact that it is ^ Qg always accessible, of better tempera- j ture in hot -weather, and seems in ^ every respect more inviting. With , I this is associated the added care and ] !g labor to keep within ready reach of . rill the flock a constant and liberal supply . of water. The troughs about it should jB be kept full, so as to avoid the extreme 0f variation in the temperature of the ? water where the pumping is done only at such times as the animals are allowed access to it. Wind pumps, with trough so arranged that the surplus j water is returned to the well, seem about to reach the limit of convenience and desirability in this direction. . Ponds, both natural and artificial, & f.Vininrli ifisa desirable than the above y D mentioned sources, are a frequent de- , pendence. Though a great conveni- , ence, and furnishing water in many instances better than none, these should be the last resort of the flock master, as the stagnant wa+er, under the heated temperature of the summer solstice, becomes not only uufit to drink, but at the same time a breeding place for myriads of animalcules, causing qt aggravating disorders anil k diseases when taken into the stomach P of animals.?Wool Growers'Quarterly. The Horse's Feet. From the birth to the death of the horse, says a fellow of the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons, the hoof requires attention, if it is to be kept in a healthy condition. It is before the hoof is shod that the feet are generally neglected, and the animals suffer ac? cordingly, because they are young and :ed immature, and the bones and other r a tissues are soft and could he easily msree torted to suit the conditions under which they are kept. The feet of foals and growing horses should therefore 1 18 have attention given to them, since neglect at that period ofteu sows the seed of continuous trouble. The hoofs nd should be kept clean by being "picked out" as often as possible, to prevent any dirt or hard substance being buried WH J . .V '^r, n the fissures of the feet. They should . )e examined from time to time M >very six Or eight weeks), to detect anj iefects of shape that might be taking )lace. If the feet are not growing level ind symmetrical, they should be ren< lered A by rasping away the horq /{: yhich j| not naturally worn down; [f that i? neglected, the animal will soon ha^ the fetlock joint bending jver to\^ds the outside. On no pre? sence whatever should the front of the v: walls be. interfered with, for the glazed coating of its surface protects the horn beneath; it should therefore be left untouched. It would be aa well to disabuse people's minds of a very popular fallacy, ? viz., that we? aoft ground; and even manured yards, ire the best places to keep your tiorses?and some would even havQ ) :he frogs and soles pared thin to al- ' low the moisture to penetrate moret easily. No greater mistake is mad^ than that, for the preservation of th<s hoof depends to a great extent, on the] soil the animal was reared on. Thcj, best-footed horses are bred oh dry soils, and that is undoubtedly thq kind of ground best adapted to thflj healthy growth of ' horn. Young horses require plenty of exercise, ana anless they are allowed it, the growt^ ^ jf the horn, etc., is sure to be defeo;ive. Then the question arises. When' jught a horse to be shod? The on? > jwer is, when the work required of thai mimal wears the horn away fasted ;han it is formed or grown, or in'otheif vords, so long as the horn of the fool ;an stand the wear required, it will lot need protecting, (shoeing). Morejj )ver if the horses are not shod so mill nnf Vio WArtfl/l flft """J "*" ~~ "? ? ??j md fewer would be ruined in theiiN couth, as is often the case at the pres^ jut time. * - , A Watering Pail or Sprayer. i Where one has a tub or barrel of water or liquid dressing at hand to put ipon the rows of growing crops th$ nost expeditious method of applica;ion is with an old tin pail having itft bottom perforated. One can thus dip up a pailful and walk quickly or . i OKtJ NOVEL BPBAYEK. V 3lowly, as needed, along the row a, letting gravity do the most of the work af watering. Such a plan, however, frequently results in wetting the ilothes or feet. Where much of such watering or 3praying is to be done, have a pail made with one side 'extended downward as shown, to protect the carrier.' Hanging from the side of the pail a jurved piece of tin or sheetiron will inswer the same purpose.?New York rribune. A Turtle That Is a Giant. The Waterbury (Conn.) American Sflyb Uttl 1UI OOYCiai jcaio ou umuouog turtle has been seen from time to time it Smith's pond, which is sitnated ibout two miles north from Watertown centre. Some pretty fishy?or more strictly speaking, tnrtley?stories have been told about it, one of which jomes from E. H. Oviatt, the wholesale milkman. Last Saturday, as Mr. Oviatt, in company with another gentleman from the Brass City, was fishing there they were annoyed by something taking their live bait as fast as it 3truck the depth. The bait would be j bitten through the middle as fast as . 4 they could replace them. Finally "** they succeeded in hooking this im- M mense turtle and drawing him up . ^ alongside of the boat, where they had a good view of his turtleship. What was their surprise to find thpt he was larger than the head of a mo- * [assess hogshead and covered with moss. His head they describe as being much larger than a beef's heart. After wrestling with him for some time and suggesting various plans to get him into the boat, they were unfortunate enough to give a little too strong a pull on the slender fish line aud "Prestissimo! Change!" the huge turtle was at liberty again, and . all that the two lone fishermen had to show for their desperate struggle was the fish line and their own perspiring and downcast countenances. The hook had given out. George Freeman, an expert at fishing, and a frequent visitor at the pond, declares that he has seen this same turtle on several occasions, and tnativir. uviati? assertion in regard to its size is no exaggeration. Causes of Pauperism. Investigations made by the Bureau of Labor Statistics of Massachusetts showed that of 3230 paupers examined, 2108, or 65.26 per cent., were Jk addicted to the use of liquor; 866, or B 26.81 per cent, were total abstainers, while in regard to the other 256, o 7.93 per cent., no information couluJJH be secured. Of the total abstainers 41 | per cent, were minors. Out of 2701 1 cases 1274, or 47.17 per cent., attri* I buted their pauperism to their own I - ' T? UJO <1.4 QO | intemperate nauus. j." j'jts. ui ui.u? ^ per cent, out of 2379 cases one or botb 1 parents were addicted to drink. I The Loudon people are computed j to spend $G, 000,000 daily. ? j J i A